They did not go out to fight every day, in fact, because of Archer, they only went out twice a week as a group and on one day, she would be sent out alone to face her challenge with nothing but her bow and arrows. The crowds begged for the Faceless Archer, wanting to know who lay under that hood.

The first time Archer had walked out into the arena a group of women had screamed and dropped favours to the ground, opening their corsets whilst screeching with laughter. Archer rolled her eyes and did not even look at them, though Elyan enjoyed the view.

He was the most cheerful of them all, bounding everywhere he went however late at night, Archer sometimes heard him sniffing with tears as he trembled, all giddiness gone from him. She understood and although he had no idea she knew of his weeping, she never brought it up but did offer him a hand on his shoulder each time they walked together, giving him some comfort before moving forwards again.

The oldest of them was Ywain, who had been fighting for three years now but they refused to let him go as he was an old favourite of the crowd and he brought good money as he could kill spectacularly and give his audience the show they wanted.

"So what impossible challenge have they set us today?" Elyan wondered aloud, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Archer ran her fingers over the bow she always used, making sure it was workable before sliding a quiver onto her back. "Lions? Tigers? A hundred enemies?"

"Your mouth?" Ywain snapped. "It is more challenging to cope with than their food." Archer grunted in agreement. The food was sometimes unbearable, with overcooked meat, flavourless stews which was more water than food and bread that could choke you to death if you did not chew it well.

"Just saying, we haven't had a lion out there in a while." Archer frowned. A lion? Did they actually send then up against wild beasts like that?

"I see you've lost your nerve a little." Gaheris smirked at her, sharpening the curved blade he carried. "Not feeling ill are you?" Archer shook her head.

"No."

"Could have fooled me." She growled.

"Why don't I stick an arrow through your skull, then we'll see who feels ill." He chuckled, looking up to her then nodded his head, mutual respect flickering between them. They were hardly a team but there was at least a small sense of friendship between them. Lamorak and Archer seemed to fit in so easily with them that they could all fight and win their battles with ease, though their owners were beginning to increase the challenge more and more every week. Apparently sales had tripled since Archer's arrival as no one had ever seen a gladiator with the skill she possessed with a bow before. It was unparalleled.

Lamorak touched her shoulder as he passed and she looked to him briefly. "Anything?" He asked.

"A little. Last night I saw grassland. Grassland and horses." She answered quietly. "It's beginning to come back."

"Good. I am glad for you." He said kindly then prepared himself by strapping on the armour. Archer turned and faced a torch, watching the flames dance as she frowned slightly. Her mind had slowly been feeding her back memories, though nothing of use. Most prominent in her mind was the open land and distant mountains of what she assumed was her homeland, sometimes seeing a tribe of tribal people whom she could not yet remember fully.

However this clashed with Lamorak's information of where she had been picked up from. Briton. What had she been doing there? From Lamorak's description, there were few mountains and the part of the country she had been snatched from was civilised, with villages and cities, not clans and animal skin tents.

Still she did not give up. Things were returning to her in their own time, so all she needed to focus on was surviving. More easily said than done. Drawing her eyes away from the flames she followed the others up the walkway and into the arena, taking deep breaths to mentally prepare herself.

It seems her body knew more than she did. It knew how to fight, how to defend herself from danger without her even needing to think. Sometimes she would see images of battle flashing before her eyes and once, she even saw the bright red flag of King Arthur and the golden dragon dancing in its depths. Had she seen him in a battle before?

When the gong was struck, chariots shot from the larger mouths of the pits, spitting out the horses and their riders as they cheered, ready for battle in shining armour and flying cloaks. Archer instantly drew back an arrow and shot, killing two in one chariot as three more rode out and began to circle.

The four men formed a circle around Archer, letting her shoot at the chariots but when barrelled towards them, they all sprang out the way. Lamorak swung his sword but the blow glance off harmlessly, throwing him back further. "Regroup!" Ywain snarled, getting to his feet but had to duck as a chariot sailed past him, a sword swinging at his head.

"Gaheris!" Lamorak called as the warrior was shot at by an archer. There was one swordsman and one archer in each chariot, with Archer herself was trying to follow but they came at her too quickly, giving her no chance to stop and shoot as she had to keep moving out of the way.

Suddenly her eyes locked on the horses that stood quietly to the side, their black coats gleaming in the harsh sun. "Ywain!" She called and pointed to the chariot and he instantly understood her meaning. Archer began to run, shooting an arrow which struck the driver of one of the chariots, the sudden jerk of the reins pulling the horses up short and they reared, narrowly missing Elyan who then thrust his spear into the archer, climbing up onto the chariot with Lamorak before cantering forwards, guiding the chariot around.

Ywain grabbed the reins as Archer turned, seeing Gaheris fighting with off blows from the last two charioteers, their blows hammering against him but he valiantly deflected them, keeping his strength for the right moment.

When the opportune arrived, Gaheris swung around, lowering his stance and cut into the horse's chest, causing it to scream and stumble, throwing both men from their chariot as both horses crashed to the ground, the other managing to tear itself free then galloped away.

Gaheris turned to face the archer, who aimed and released the arrow. Before he could blink another shot forwards, splicing through the shaft and he looked to see Archer sailing past in the chariot she and Ywain had domineered, her next arrow taking down the archer which left the swordsman for Ywain. He readily surged forwards, their blades clashing together with a powerful ring.

Arrows flew at them and Archer ducked, glancing behind to see the last chariot chasing after them. Pulling two arrows from her quiver, she locked them in place then released, seeing them glide through the air and both hit their mark, taking them down.

It was all over. These days Archer hardly even remembered the fights after they were done. They were so intense that all she could recall was the beginning and the end. Hot spices danced on her tongue from the air, the distant smell of fish suddenly riding in on the hot breeze that burned her already overheating skin. The cloak was difficult to wear all the time but it was necessary.

They gathered together, looking at one another before Gaheris spoke. "Nice shot." He said to Archer who bowed her head. He laughed. "You're not so bad I guess."

"You're just a crazy bastard." She replied and he smirked at her, clenching a fist then gently punched her in the shoulder as a sign of friendship. Elyan grinned, slinging his arms over Gaheris and Ywain's necks.

"Does this mean we're all good?" Ywain glared at the younger boy.

"Get your filthy arm off me boy, before I break it." Elyan quickly withdrew, lifting his hands in surrender.

"I yield." He teased before turning, greeting the crowd with a grin. Archer and the others did the same, accepting the crowd's thunderous applause and bellows. She did not want to stay there long, she wanted to go and rest as that was where she seemed to retrieve her memories best.


There was silence in the round chamber, everyone looking morbidly forwards. It had been four months since Amaya had been taken and not a word of her had been heard. She was gone. Suddenly Galahad spoke, his voice cracking. "Why does she not come back?"

"It's not that easy, pup." Bors said in an uncommonly gentle tone. "If she's prisoner then she'll have to fight her way out and then cross however many countries she was taken through." Shaking his head Galahad pressed his eyes shut.

"She'll come back."

"Galahad…it's been four months." Gawain murmured softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If she were able to escape then…"

"No! She'll come back. She promised me, she promised that I'll never be without my sister again!" Galahad leaped to his feet, glaring at the hopeless faces before him. "I will not give up on her!"

"Galahad, you need to try and move on." Lancelot said to him. "You are making Maia wait for her wedding." He flinched. Galahad still had not proposed to Maia as he had planned because of Amaya's disappearance. He wanted his sister there for the ceremony, to be there when he committed to Maia forever.

"She'll return to us. Any day now she is going to walk through those gates and demand to know where the hell we were." Galahad said more for his own benefit than anyone else's. He turned and left, striding away to seek out Maia. He needed her comfort, her assurance that he was not wrong to give up, to trust in his sister's strength, courage and intelligence to free herself and return back to where she belonged.

He had been walking with his head bowed and his thoughts so deeply set in his mind that he did not see Tristan until he had put a firm hand out against Galahad's shoulder to stop him. They looked at one another and suddenly, Galahad could not hold it together any longer. He grasped Tristan into a one armed embrace, lowering his head to the scout's shoulder as he wept, mourning the loss of his sister.

Tristan just stood there, unable to move for fear of him breaking too. However he shared in the young pup's grievance. It was because of him she was taken, he had failed to save her. She was gone because he had not been better and he cursed himself every day for it.

Slowly the scout lifted a hand and placed it firmly on Galahad's shoulder, offering him a small measure of comfort as the young man continued to howl, uncaring about who saw or heard. Tiny feet came pattering down the corridor and Maia swept into view, nodding to Tristan before taking Galahad into her arms, both of them dropping to the floor. Tristan remained standing there, breathing deeply as pain tugged in his chest.

"Maia…Mai…" Galahad chocked, holding her face in her hands. "I want her to be there Mai but…what if they're right? What if she isn't coming back?"

"What does your heart tell you?" She whispered softly and Galahad swallowed, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself.

"That she will." Maia smiled softly, brushing her fingers against Galahad's hair.

"Well then, we shall wait." She replied easily. "For as long as it takes. I want her there for our wedding as much as you do, Galahad and I am willing to wait ten years if that's how long it takes our sister to find her way home." Her lips pressed against his and Tristan looked away, unable to watch. He began to walk past them but her words met his ears all the same. "I am not giving up on her and neither are you. That's all that matters right now, that we do not give up hope."

Tristan was still searching. He rode out into the woods to catch bandits and would interrogate them viciously before walking away empty handed. He had enquired at every port but none would admit to transporting slaves and none of the dwellers had seen a raven haired woman with midnight blue eyes.

The entire city mourned the loss of Amaya. The battlements were filled with flowers and at night, villagers would creep up onto the eastern wall and hold vigil, candles flickering in their hands as they prayed for the return of their Wolf Maiden. His arms ached to hold her again, yearning to see her face, see her smile at him the way she only smiled for him.

Demon whined softly, nudging Tristan's hand as the mutt caught up with him. The beast had latched himself onto the knights and their ladies, pining for Amaya. Arluin was sick, refusing to eat and would stand alone in the fields, wasting away and would only eat if a servant girl with black hair and darkish eyes would give Arluin his feed whilst wearing Amaya's clothes but after a few weeks, the horse had seen through that trick and refused food even from her.

Deciding to go and see the poor creature, Tristan made his way to the stables. Demon and Arluin greeted one another pessimistically, rubbing noses as the dog whined pitifully. They missed their mistress. "Please eat something Arluin." Tristan murmured to the war stallion who was growing thinner every day. "Maya will be heartbroken if you die before she returns." The horse snorted softly, reaching out to press his velvety muzzle to Tristan's cheek. "I know your pain, believe me, I do." He sighed, stroking the horse's neck.

The mare next door, Bow, called out softly to Arluin then began to nuzzle at the wall, as if trying to coax him to eat also. The horse lifted his head away from the stall then turned to stand alone in the corner. Sighing, Tristan wondered what to do. He was reluctant to force feed him as it caused a considerable amount of pain to the horses and Tristan did not want to add to Arluin's grief.

Slipping a hand into the pocket in his shirt, Tristan drew out a plain white handkerchief. "Here boy. Come here." Tristan beckoned softly and Arluin lifted his head, sniffing the air as the scout unwrapped the cloth to reveal a single black curl laying against the snow white of the handkerchief. Instantly Arluin moved forwards, stretching out to sniff the lock of hair and the scent of his mistress washed over him.

Sliding into the stall with Demon Tristan crouched by the bucket of mash and Arluin slowly lowered his head, beginning to lick at the meal as the scout held the lock of hair to his nostrils, allowing the horse to inhale the familiar scent which brought him comfort. Demon crawled forwards then rested his shaggy head in Tristan's lap, gazing up at him with soft brown eyes. "I know you miss her, I do too." Tristan sighed. "But we have to learn to be strong without her. For now."