Emily Vanderbilt went into a dark, freezing haze.

Her mother dead on the floor. Murdered by those bastards. Her greatest treasure, her most faithful friend, just taken away. Just as she and her father were driving to pick her up for dinner, speaking of their plans for the future.

They entered the apartment and there she was, lying on the floor. Her father ran to her.

'Jeena!' He screamed.

'BJ!'

'MOM!' she screamed and wanted to run up but his steel voice and reasoning about possibly destroying evidence stopped her, just standing there, staring at the crumpled form on the floor.

'She's dead.'

'Dad, no, try to resuscitate her!'

'There's no use!'

" She has been dead for hours, she's cold' came the response and then he approached her and held her.

Then at some point came the police, the medical examiner kneeled by her mother's side. "Killed by bullets to the chest" – he announced.

Impossible. That woman, lying there was NOT her mother. Her father and the police still prevented her from entering the room not to spoil any evidence.

But there was none to be traced anywhere. Just blood and some bullets. Sneakily, she approached and grabbed one of the bullet casings, hid it into her pocket.

Still, the same, she could not touch her, could not hold her, for the one last time.

She felt herself freezing, in this warm but airy room, wearing her coat. She could not get out. She could not stop staring. Her treasure dead on the floor. Murdered. Something squeezed within her, harder and harder. Her martial arts tutor's words started ringing in her ears. Be strong in the face of opponents.

Death and THEM, whoever they were, were the cause of this tragedy.

She moved to the policeman before her father tried to stop her impulsive gesture: "I am the daughter, any information on who did this?"

"No, Ms, just a few bullets.." She slipped him a hundred buck banknote, not caring if he would arrest her for bribing. He took it and said. "Miss, it was a mob hit. Someone clearly drugged her and shot her."

A dagger could not stab deeper. They knew her mother and her father knew her mother had dealings with the Italian Mafia, but her mother, Bo-Jeena – BJ, was an independent being. Her father was not a saint, either, as a filthy rich businessman, he had dealings with mafias all over the world. Heck, the world belonged to the Vanderbilt International.

He had warned his wife not to deal with these people…

And yet she did. And it ended on this floor.

Emily was never protected, even as a child, from the knowledge of her family secrets. They tried to dismiss her away as a child who couldn't possibly understand. But she was a child no more, for so long. Her childhood died with the safety she had lost with the fear, way before when her grandfather died when she was 10.

Ever since then, she knew of all those secret trips of her parents and what they might lead to… Veiled with comforting words, she saw through the messages clear right through. Hiding in the corridors of the house, silent as a mouse. She heard the conversations, the whispers. She heard the truth.

And it made her suspect there was more to the family that they wanted her to know.

Her mother, her father, had pretended it was alright. They seemed to live so normal.

She went to high school, then to college, university, but, she chose martial arts as one of the school offered sports. She didn't live with her parents anymore, but she felt something bad was going on. She took up more martial arts. She had regular singing classes and with her voice and discipline she could break glass with her opera voice. She took up archery as an addition to her martial arts, to give her focus and something more to distract her.

But none of it mattered in the end, when she came home and heard the whispers. The secrets. It dragged on for years and years, in quiet acceptance and hoping for the best.

And then her mother was dead, there on the floor.

It was the end of her life as it had been, end of the illusion. It was the beginning of Ice.

Ice Archer, or the Cavalry, they came to call her. She did not care what they named her, as long as her mother's murder was avenged.

Malcolm sat by his self-made fire in the mountains, thinking about his next mission from Ra's Al Ghul, strategizing on how to approach his target. He eyed his bow and arrows, making sure there would be enough to dispatch everyone that needed to be killed before the great finale.

Suddenly, he was distracted by continued noises.

He wasn't sure what he was seeing right in all this falling snow. It seemed like someone fighting… He grabbed his bow and crept closer…

Goddamn, it was a female fighting… a wolf?

She wrestled with it for a while and he wondered if he should help, but he felt a cruel fascination in watching what she would do. The animal bit into her a few times, but she seemed to wear good leather, so he supposed it would hold. For a moment, looking at her clothing, he thought she was a member of the League, but her leathers were something different. She wasn't one of his group. He held back and watched.

Finally, she had the wolf pinned down with something, and it whimpered and stopped snapping its teeth. She seemed to say something to it. Too curious to stay away, Malcolm slowly started to approach them. As he got close, he heard she was humming something something softly that had the animal start to behave submissive and whimpering. She softly caressed its fur and the wolf was relaxed enough now so that it seemed more like a petted dog than….

"Who are you and why are you here?" She released the animal and it stood by her leg, baring its fangs.

It turned out the THING in her hands was a bow and now it was aimed at him.

He spoke in a soft voice to placate her "I just thought you were in trouble, I saw the wolf… I thought I could help"

"Are you a hunter?" – she snapped quickly, her eyes drawn to his bow.

"Yes, of sorts" – he answered after a beat, his own bow drawn and ready to shoot.

She eyed him warily for a moment, then lowered her bow and.. petted the wolf

He couldn't help but do the same. Lowered his bow and arrow ready in his other hand.

"How did you do that? You were just fighting it" – he said, approaching the animal carefully. It leaned into his gloved caress, but he withdrew after a second, never the one to trust.

"I have an affinity for animals"

He didn't comment on that, did not really know what to say. He had no affinity to anything…. Anymore. After Rebecca died. There was Tommy… But he couldn't stay with him, and the boy had the best caretakers and schools in the world.

The silence dragged on and he saw her shaking slightly after the fight, so he offered:"Listen, I have a camp in a cave nearby, if you should need to warm up for a while"

She eyed him warily for a moment, then she nodded in silent agreement. "Let's go" she said curtly.

The wolf really surprised him cause it started behaving like a dog by her side, wagging its tail, licking her gloved hand.

They climbed up to his fire and the cave he was staying in. The wolf lay down with a growl in a distant corner, watching its new mistress.

The woman sat down, putting her bow aside. Malcolm couldn't help but look at it.

They warmed their hands a bit near the fire and he saw her take a few deep breaths after the fight. She stretched her muscles and seemed to relax a bit.

He decided to use his moment.

"You have a beautiful bow, may I look at it?"

"Only if I can have a look at yours" she snapped quickly, clearly still not trusting him.

Tentatively, he picked up his bow and held it out to her.

Bows and quivers changed hands.

Her bow was the same type as his, a black compound, but with etched markings. Her arrows were something else. He touched the tip and it felt like cold fire running through his hand.

"What are those made of?" he couldn't help but ask.

"A special mix of titanium and an ice component" – she answered, a tad dismissively – "And yours?"

"Custom made titanium" – he answered, sounding as vague as she did.

Emily had no idea what to make of this man. With a bow and arrows like this, he couldn't be here just hunting for deer. She looked at him staring into the fire, then shot a glance at the gear in the cave. He was a killer, like her.

"Listen…" She started, tentatively. "I'm not here just to hunt animals and I see neither are you"

He kept staring into the fire for a moment and then suddenly he turned to eye her as she sat there, head to toe. She felt as if she was being X-rayed, the intensity of his examining gaze kept her frozen in place.

He finally said.

"No. I am not."

"Why, then?"

His gaze went distant for a time. She couldn't help but notice how intensely blue his eyes were, like hers.

She always searched for the color of people's eyes. Something ingrained, maybe.

"I lost someone" – he said suddenly, in a low, flat voice, not tearing his gaze away from the flames of the fire.

"So have I" – she replied, the memories of all her losses all too fresh in her mind, her eyes almost watering.

He remained silent but she saw the glance he threw her way before staring back into the fire.

Malcolm stared into the flames, thinking. All the losses. Rebecca. Tommy away in some school he had sent him to. He stretched his hands in front of the fire to make them warmer, his companion did the same.

He wondered, then hesitantly asked:

"Whom have you lost?"

"My mother. She was murdered" – she said it in a flat voice, like she was accustomed to saying it. But the pain showed through.

He did not know what to say. "I'm sorry" would seem so trivial. He just looked at her she and she saw the compassion in his eyes.

"And you?" – the question fell from her mouth.

He lowered his gaze. Rebecca… in death. Tommy… he had left him, he left his son and did not know if the boy would ever forgive him.

He gathered his breath to respond

"My wife."- it came out in more of a hoarse whisper than full voice.

Their gazes locked again. She clearly was not one of the trivial "I'm sorry" saying persons too. She only sighed and her eyes watered.

Eyes can say much, and their gazes met then in mutual sorrow and compassion.

"You miss her, like I miss my mother, though a different way" – she said suddenly after they had been sitting by the fire a while longer.

"Yes" – was all he could say in response, memories flooding his mind.

He noticed she kept sitting there warming herself by the fire, leaning against the cave wall. Suddenly, she put an arm on his shoulder, like a fellow warrior would do.

"We will get through this"-she said and he noticed her eyes had suddenly turned steely.

He stood up and looked at her. He knew.

"You want revenge." – he said

She kept sitting, but staring at him, her back straightened.

"Like you wouldn't believe"- she said and stood up, still shaking from cold, but with the determination ingrained into a warrior. She held his gaze, steel meeting steel.

"So do I" – Malcolm found himself saying before he even thought about it.

She eyed him for a while and then looked at the makeshift bed he had in the cave.

Her shoulders slumped.

"Can we rest?" she asked, her voice smaller than she expected.

"Of course" – he said, leading her to the matte race, like a gentleman would do, feeling tired himself and so in sync with this strange woman he met now. How old could she be? 22 at most. And yet…. She had been through so much and he saw she had training and had become a warrior like him.

He saw she needed rest and…. oh God, he needed it too.

But most of all, they needed warmth.

So they lost their leathers, stayed in the myriad of underclothes that a warrior wears, but they held each other for warmth. As the snow and frost gathered in the mountains around the cave, they kept holding each other, alive from the fire and the warmth from any the frost in this embrace.

He woke up, her eyes meeting his eyes, steely blue. "Ready for a fight?" He claimed this once, not an ounce of his body offering to help. Oh, it hurt. She had expected to wake up to tenderness... But then again, she had in the past, woken up to violence like this.. why should she be surprised?

Malcolm had woken up, feeling so comfortable….

He looked at the woman beside him… it was not Rebecca. She looked so beautiful and in his dreams about Rebecca, she had said it was okay to do this, to be with Emily…He twisted uncomfortably and she woke up. "Is something wrong?" Emily asked and then her lips were closed with a kiss he gave her. After, she gave him a long look. "You did wake up thinking about your wife, Rebecca? Tell me, I will not feel offended, I'm not like that."

The girl had insight. "I woke up…" He broke his words, then took a deep breath. "To both of you"

"You woke up to pain." She said it as a fact, not a question. She clearly knew about pain. How did she know him so well?

"Yes"- he said with a sigh. There was no lying here.

He breathed in deeply, but it ended with a sob, instead of a normal sigh.

Before he knew it, she was sobbing, holding on to his side. He allowed himself the comfort to cry along with her, only the darkness of the night hearing them. Then, they both fell into the merciful, lovemaking sleep.

He was gone when she woke up. A note was left. "Thank you… for everything. Until we meet again." For the first time in years, someone actually appreciated her. The love they had made, kept so secret, the tenderness, whispered only in her ears. The cries he held with his lips and shared. She held onto her bow he had also seen hers and admired.

Years passed.

Both of them had killed many.

She earned herself the nickname "Ice Archer" and "Ice Cavalry" throughout the years.

She and Malcolm, the Dark Archer, cooperated on some missions, but it did not seem to do much of a difference.

She had been trained in a completely different place… Japan. In her celebrity identity, she was a model and a singer. At night, she was someone else.

But she knew about the League. And its members. Especially Talia As'al Ghul.

Then she heard Malcolm was released, as an honored member.

Now he hung from the chains…

Yes very much honored. If she, Cavalry could laugh, she would, but she was there on a rescue mission. It was Talia, rivaling with Nyssa for the "Heir of the demon" title as sisters of Ra's Al Ghul. So petty, in Emily's mind. She made it down to the quandary, light feet, running down the steps, snapping the guards' necks…

And then she saw him and Talia.

And Thea, Oliver, the pretty girl in glasses who must be Felicity, and a military man, who must be Diggle. She and Malcolm shared the intel before of what he was planning to do and with whom he had cooperated with, so she recognized them all.

And now she had to rescue them all.

Talia was way more twisted than her sister, Nyssa. Heck, she was even more twisted than their father, Ra's friggin name- Al Ghul. League of Assassins, It pissed Emily off. It pissed the Ice Archer off. That was never good.

Emily hid herself in a corner, quietly, soundlessly snapping the necks of Talia's warriors. They were done.

Talia seemed to have Malcolm under some sort of sedation. Emily cursed under her breath… she was no fool, she knew what it was and smiled under her mask. Curare. Poison.

But then again, she was the Cavalry, however much anyone believed in her. She was called that for no reason.

"Finn, respond. Shan respond. Cheng respond" Talia was calling her warrior menagerie one by one, all of them dead.

Emily remained in the shadows, hiding from Talia's view as she smirked with the knowledge that all of her opponent's warriors were down. But she had the greatest opponent yet to face. Her eyes were locked on Malcolm, the way the self-called Heir to the Demon had him breathing through air tubes. The bitch was now goading the clueless Thea to cut her father to bits, thinking he was not going feel a thing.

Seemed like a good moment to come out of the shadows. She steeled herself.

"Thea, he will feel everything." She pulled away my her cowl, so Thea could see her gaze.

"What?" Talia and Thea spoke almost in unison.

The Cavalry wanted a go at Talia, but Emily knew, as a warrior, she had to hold back, first try to placate Thea, who held the knife.

"Thea." – she said in a firm voice, throwing Talia a glance to tell her to shut up. The other warrior was at a loss for words at the moment.

"Drop the knife."

"Why?" – the girl asked screaming, not sure what to do anymore, manipulated to the brink.

"He is your father and Talia – she indicated at the warrior- is using you, "is manipulating you to do her 'job'" – she did not hide her disapproval in her voice.

The knife fell from from Thea's hand.

Then it was time was a face-off.

Both Talia and Emily dived for the knife, Emily making a move to hide Thea behind her. Must have been when the girl trusted her. She followed Emily's every move and asked in a whisper "Do you have another knife I can use?" Emily was not as trusting. "Prove yourself first. You are your father's daughter, help me in the fight" She gave the girl a knife and threw herself at Talia.

Talia clearly took pleasure in the fight. But that was her weakness. She tried to stab to kill whenever she could. She seemed not to know whom she had as an opponent. Emily ducked and reached her aim. She caught her opponent's arm, then wrestled her knife from her. A quick kick disabled Talia for a minute and Emily ran, long enough to get to Malcolm, who already managed to wrestle free one of his hands out of the chains. He wrestled out his remaining hand as he stood there.

"Hand me a shirt" he said curtly and she complied, as a fellow warrior would. He got dressed in his black shirt and she got surprised with a battlefield kiss of the year. Oh, the man could be PASSIONATE.

"Talia!"She was running towards them. Emily was sick of this. And that was never good.

Both she and Malcolm kicked backwards, getting the woman off her feet.

Then he kept kicking as was his custom, she could not say he did not pleasure in the bitch getting her due, until she dragged him off. "It's enough, let's go!" He did not have to be told twice.

And so they ran, to freedom, to life. And whatever the future would bring. They made it. At least for now.