Nyx heaved a low sigh and wipped the sweat from her brow with towel drapped around her neck. She had been excercising her swordsmanship, trying to get back to her routine. It had been a long time since she had been in top condition. 'I should lay off the Frappuccino's,' she thought. 'They go straight to my thighs.'

Grabbing her stuff, she headed into the shower.

Hot needles of water stung her bare skin as the steam rose from the flooring. She backed up against the tile and breathed.

'Ahhhhhhhhhhh...' she sighed. Breathe in, breathe out. In then out. Much better.

Her body began to relax, but her mind was constantly at work. The Game. Everything was a game. Winner takes all. 'There can be only one.' The words echoed at her. She clenched her eyes tightly in desperation. She didn't want to think about that.

Milton's face took form. Oh why couldn't she remember?! He had been so good to her. But he was determined not to delve into their past. The Guardian's Council would not be pleased if they--she didn't finish the thought. Instead her thoughts drifted away, far away. Her body realxed more and her breathing became more shallow.

---------

c.789, Wales

It was dawn. The mists covered the vale, enveloping the surrounding woods.

A young woman's body lay bruised and broken at the bottom of a ravine. Her arms and legs flung every which way but as it should. Her long ebony hair drapped over her face.

The sound of horse hooves broke the silence. "Whoa." A man's voice called out and the beast stopped a few yards from the girl's body. He dismounted and proceeded to approach her with caution. Towering over her, he caught no sight of any weapon. She was an Innocent.

He got down on his knee and brushed the hair from her face. And carried her into his arms.

"Just a child." He muttered, shaking his head. Another added to the great multitude of the damned.

Spontaneously, the girl's eyes snapped open and she convulsed in his arms. She gasped for breath. A terrified look splayed across her face when she took sight of the stranger. She screamed.

He clamped his gloved hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. She struggled to be free of him, but the man was far stronger than she. He loaded her onto his beast and mounted behind her. They galloped away into the thicket of the fog.

He brought her to his estate. They dismounted the horse in the shed.

"Now if you promise no to scream, I will take my hand from your mouth."

The girl noded feebly.

He unclasped his hand. She ran from him to a dark corner and cowered.

"I won't hurt you." He said gently. He attemped to reach out to her, but she clawed at him, striking his face and gashing it. Blood thickened on the mound. Instinctively he raised his hand.

She shrank back and shielded herself from his fist.

His face softened and he brought his arm down. He knelt before her and grinned. "See. I am not going to hurt you."

The wound on his face was healing on its own. She gasped in shock. "Face..."

She studied him carefully in the dim lighting. He was a man in his mid thirties with strongly chisled features, deeply set, puppy-soulful brown eyes and russet hair. His attire was that of nobility. Her rescuer was handsome, finely dressed man in black riding pants, a white long sleeved shirt, knee high boots and a black cape.

"Yes. See, it's alright. My name is Methos." He said as he motioned to himself. "Do you have a name? What do they call you?"

"Victoria," she replied in a soft voice.

"That's a beautiful name." He smiled and helped her to her feet. "There is much you need to learn, Victoria." He took off his cape and wrapped it around her fraile shoulders. "Come. I will fix us something to eat inside."

---------------

Present.

The images faded back into memory. Nyx warily opened her eyes. She shut the shower knobs and stepped out. She managed to kill two birds with one stone: taking a long relaxing shower and a nap. She stepped out of the shower and fumbled for her towel.

"Looking for this?" A familliar voice from her fancy boomed from behind.

Nyx's head snapped over her right shoulder. A flurry of blue flung at her face. Someone had tossed her the towel.

There standing in the doorway was Methos.