"Pardon me."

Veronica glanced up briefly from her horse to see Mordred in the doorway. He looked bored and irritated, as though he couldn't be bothered to wait for much longer. She was surprised to see him there, but didn't let it show. The Orkney princes showed up every now and then, their friendship with the male apprentices repaired. They were somewhat careful around Veronica, perhaps remembering her scornful laughter.

Mordred was different though. Every now and then he would appear with his cousins but mostly he stayed away. She was always grateful when he did. His appearance always put a damper on the mood, being unlike his boisterous cousins in every way. They didn't even look alike; the boys were red-headed or brunette with swarthy complexions. Mordred however was golden blonde and pale, not even looking like his mother.

Yes, his mother. There had been no love lost on that account, being around his mother made her nauseous. Veronica didn't have strong feelings for Mordred either way; she just had a vague air of dislike, probably left over from her run-in with his mother. She turned back and continued to brush her horse before saying;

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if Merlin was in," he said, sounding more irritated by her casual dismissal, "My mother wishes to know why he hasn't responded to her invitation."

Quietly Veronica noted the lack of an honorific before Merlin's name. The fact that he had come directly to her instead of going into the Keep, as the proper thing to do would've been, was wrong too. Instead he hadn't even presented himself, just gone straight to the nearest person and then acted like they were wasting his time.

Ignoring this blatant disrespect she wondered what exactly the invitation had contained. The last post had come over two months ago. He had received a letter, certainly, but he had said nothing about it to them. There had been a few explosions from his side of the tower, a sure sign that he was angry. However, he wouldn't answer any questions about it.

"He is out," she answered simply.

"Where?"

Truthfully he had gone into the city to advise King Arthur with Horvath. He always did so when he was summoned, and the King summoned his old tutor quite often. He would bring one of his apprentices, switching them out so that they would not be strangers to the court. Although there was no real need for her to conceal this, it was a very common and well-known occurrence, she felt taken aback by Mordred's peremptory tone. So instead of telling him she said;

"On business.

"Anything more specific?" he snarled.

Veronica raised an eyebrow and put down the brush.

"Not for you, no," she said.

"Where do you get off talking like that to me?" he snapped, "Do you know who I am?"

Oh yes, he was very much like his mother. Very calmly but inwardly seething she said;

"He should be back in a day or two, nothing too long. I advise you to come back and discuss such matters with him then Lord Mordred."

With a slight curtsey she turned away, feeling rather smug about the whole incident. She began heading towards the small closet which had been built to store cloaks in case Merlin needed to go away on a long journey at the last minute. She had put her good shoes there before coming in and intended to fetch them. Right before she could retrieve them though, she felt pressure on her back.

Seconds later she was shoved forward and into the closet. The door closed behind her, and she heard it lock.

"That should teach you some respect, peasant girl," Mordred said coolly outside the door.

For a minute all she could feel was anger and the need to find a spell in her mind to blast down the door and teach him a lesson. Then another, unfamiliar feeling crept in on her in the dark, confined area of the closet. A memory rose, unbidden to her mind of a time six years before…

It was dark down there. During the day she could use the sunlight that filtered through the floorboards to look at the pictures on her scrolls, but not during the night. Not so much as a candle was allowed, lest the light be seen through the floorboards. All in all the area was small and the roof so low that when she stood her head skimmed it. The air was heavy, it always was, and it was quiet.

Paul meant well when he put her down there, he really did and she knew it. It was the only way for her to be kept safe. However, in the quiet, in the dark, she felt only as though death itself was waiting for her. She tried to keep calm during these times, but she always felt as though she were about to lose her sanity down there. Holding onto it was a nightly struggle, sleep was nigh impossible.

The feeling intensified and started pushing her down, enveloping her, choking her. Panic came as she attempted to fight off this feeling and clear her mind. She needed to do a spell, any spell to break free, but she couldn't. The more she tried the more the panic rose and the more she felt like she was being pushed down and smothered.

Balthazar was in the courtyard when he first heard the screams. The servants who were out there for one thing or another dropped what they were doing to cross themselves. Balthazar himself was tempted to follow suite, but he could hear that they were much closer than one would think. Not really thinking about it he ran in the direction of the stables.

The first thing he saw upon reaching his destination was Mordred. It was unusual to see him there but stranger still was the expression on his face. It was one of pleased surprise, as though something had turned out much better than he thought. From some distance away, still running, he followed his gaze to the cloak closet and formed a crude idea of what had happened.

Shoving Mordred aside he unlocked the closet and flung the doors open. Veronica practically fell out into his arms, breathing as though this were her first air. From having to let in visitors to the Keep who had been hunted by dragons and evil sorcerers he was able to recognize hysteria when he saw it. What surprised him was that she wasn't crying like they had all done.

Muttering odd comforts he waited until her breathing had become regular. After that he turned to Mordred, still looking mightily entertained.

"What the hell did you do?" growled Balthazar.

"Locked her in a closet. What does it look like?" he replied, smirking.

Balthazar gritted his teeth together and looked back at Veronica. It was then that he started to wonder how big her hiding place had been back at her old village. She had been in there nearly a year with very little human contact. It must have been maddening and horrifying for a nine year old, for anyone. Then for someone like Mordred to make her relive that, even unknowingly, and then just listen to her scream-

"You're going to regret that," Balthazar snarled.

Before he could fulfill his threat he felt Veronica start to twist his arms away from him. He watched as she stepped forward and looked at Mordred who was still smirking. Then she drew her hand back and slapped him; hard. Her ring cut his face, leaving a thin cut from his ear to his upper lip. It started to bleed as he looked at her in shock, then anger.

"How dare you-?"

Wind started to pick up and Veronica's stone glowed. When she spoke it was with command, with fury.

"Leave NOW."

Looking between her face and Balthazar's Mordred quickly made up his mind. They watched him go until he was out of sight. After that the wind died down, as did the glow in Veronica's ring. He saw her shoulders slump and she sat down weakly onto a wooden bench, breathing deeply.

Balthazar looked at her, trying to understand what had just happened. Before him was a woman who'd been uprooted and passed through fire and yet survived. No, she hadn't just survived; she'd become stronger. Even in the throes of panic she'd been master over her tears. Balthazar sat down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Neither of them talked, and in time she was sufficiently recovered to go back to the Keep.

When Merlin and Horvath returned the next day he quietly relayed the incident to him. Horvath had been all for killing Mordred where he stood, something that Balthazar had agreed with. Merlin though, as was his habit, counseled patience and to simply tell Morgana that her and her son were no longer welcome in their presence. However, Merlin began watching Mordred after that, worried about what lay ahead in the boy's future.