He'd demons, and holy knight from king Arthur's kingdom, but nothing had ever made his heart break like this. The healers had said you'd live, but your memories were fractured. When Tristan stepped into your room, you smiled politely, not knowing who he was.

He froze at the door, half-smile trembling as if it might fall apart completely. "..It's me," he said softly. "Tristan." You tilted your head, the confusion in your eyes cutting deeper than any sword. He swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. "We - um, we trained together. You always beat me in archery."

You laughed a little at that. It wasn't the same laugh. It wasn’t yours.

He stepped closer, kneeling in front of you, his hand hovering near yours but not daring to touch. "You don't have to remember right now," he whispered. "I can wait." And then, with a small, broken smile: "I'll just have to make you fall for me again."