A/N: My Second Hundred reviews! Thank you all so incredibly much!

Becky sighed and picked up her hairbrush. After the events of the night she just wanted to get to sleep somewhere safe and warm and familiar. That was why, after Dave had dropped her off at her apartment, she had taken a cold shower and gotten into her pajamas. The shower was mostly to convince her that she was still awake and that everything had happened, and everything was still going on.

Despite the assurances that what had happened with Morgana was worse, Becky didn't feel comforted. She knew that she had been, in many ways, spoiled. She had come in at the very end of the conflict with Morgana and had played a very small role. Besides the period of gut-wrenching fear when Horvath had kidnapped her, she had never been directly in danger. Becky hadn't even known that Dave was in danger for long enough to really start to worry.

She started brushing her hair. Things were different now and much scarier. There was a mysteriously alive-again evil sorcerer stalking her boyfriend. So she was scared, scared for herself, for her new friend Veronica, and scared for Balthazar though she had been given the impression he could take care of himself. Veronica probably could as well when it came down to it. She had seen the way that she had handled the sword earlier. Becky was, however, very afraid for Dave no matter whose descendent he was. Mordred was concentrated on killing him after all.

Putting her hairbrush down she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There had been absolutely nothing she could do that night except scream and be used as a crutch. She felt weak, weak, weak. Becky had never been in a position where she would need to protect someone. Oh, there had been the friends where she'd helped tell off bullies, that sort of thing. She had been strong before, like when her grandmother's dog Alix had died in her sleep.

No one had been in danger though, not really, not even Alix who had been very old when she had passed. Becky couldn't protect anyone from magic though. She couldn't be strong and indomitable against supernatural pain or death. She couldn't even help anyone around her, not even herself. She was the weak link in the chain. She, out of all of them, didn't belong there.

Turning away from the mirror she went into the bedroom. Breathing out she pulled back her comforter and got in. Before a few months ago the worst thing in her life was the possibility that her mother would show up. Now things were very different. She was no longer as confident as she was, she felt like she was very young again, up against a world of strangeness.

Swallowing hard she turned off the light, wishing for sleep to come and obliterate her thought process. It was nearing one in the morning, much later than she normally went to bed, and no one else was up. At least in the morning she would be able to tell a garbled version of the story to her grandmother perhaps, get her fears out.

After around an hour she finally got to sleep. She dreamed she was walking in a castle somewhere, lavish in its interior but built like the fortress it was. Everyone inside swirled around her. Knights walked boldly, servants hurried to their destinations, and fair ladies stepped lightly with their noses in the air disapprovingly. No one paid any mind to her, which wasn't how her dreams usually went.

Frowning she looked down at how she was dressed. Instead of blending in with everyone around her she was wearing the same blue flannel pajamas that she had gone to bed in. That was exceedingly odd for her dreams. She looked around her doubtfully, wondering just what had caused this one. Generally her subconscious had a root cause, but she couldn't find one. It wasn't like she had been watching any period dramas or anything.

Then again, she also knew that this was a dream. Mostly, in her experience, she had woken up shortly after she discovered that she was dreaming. Becky had gone into this dream knowing that she was dreaming though. Of course, the day had already been very unusual, so this probably didn't mean anything at all.

Her eyes slid over to the opposite wall. Two guards stood in front of a heavily locked door. Since there was nothing else to do Becky walked over to open it. Tentatively she put her hand to the door, and it went through it. This was no less shocking than anything else that had happened, so she didn't really mind. Since the guards didn't seem to be paying any attention to her she went through the door entirely.

The room was decorated sumptuously. Gold hangings with red dragons on them adorned the walls as well as several tapestries. Most of the furniture looked fine as well, and a large fire crackled away in the hearth. Near the fire there was a small cot. The sheets looked coarse and a roughly carved chest had been shoved underneath it. The small bed and chest contrasted with the rich surroundings, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Looking at the other side of the room she saw what looked like a cradle, only it was slightly bigger. There was a large overhang, again with the red and gold motif. Snuggled under velvet sheets was a young boy with golden hair. He appeared to be fast asleep, and the small light that came in through the window was fading quickly into darkness. A bandage was wound around his head, looking as though it had been freshly changed.

A young woman was sitting next to the bed, mending something. She was Becky's age, perhaps a little older. Becky walked closer. Although the woman was young she had pure white hair that spilled down her back and across her shoulders. She was also sewing blindfolded. Every now and then she would pause and run her fingers over the stitches. Her lips moved in silent calculation and she would go back and remove a stitch or add another one.

Again, she contrasted against her surroundings. Her hair was down with no adornment, and she wore no necklace. The dress she was wearing appeared to be made from the same course material that the sheets were made of. The only thing that looked like it was of any value was a small ring on one of her fingers, a simple metal band.

Becky looked at it, expecting to see a stone in it. She had been thinking about magic when she went to bed after all. Instead she saw that it was just a plain metal band. There was a gold tint to it, although it couldn't possibly be gold. She started to wonder if it was perhaps a wedding ring of some sort.

Suddenly the door opened. The woman, despite her blindfold, looked up. A man who appeared to be about forty came in and shut the door quietly behind him. He looked around. Becky saw the woman's hand reach out blindly for a minute, as though sensing something. Her mouth opened a little and she hurriedly got up, flinging her mending aside. She ran straight into the man's arms, and he caught her in a passionate embrace, kissing her deeply.

Becky felt suddenly embarrassed to be dreaming like this. She looked away. The moment between these two seemed intimate, stolen, and very private. Being a spectator to this didn't seem right at all. Then again, it was her dream that she was feeling embarrassed about watching. She wondered if maybe it meant she was having some sort of internal problem, besides the obvious.

The woman pulled away from him.

"But how?" she asked, "I…I know you're not allowed…and those guards-"

"A quick displacement," he said, "It won't last for long my love. But it's all I can do. I'm not exactly kept in the best shape."

He gave a strained, wry grin. Now that he mentioned it Becky saw that he looked thin and pale. There were dark circles under his eyes and he seemed tired. The woman's fingers quested over his face, feeling his cheekbones and chin. Apparently she noticed sightlessly what Becky could see.

"I thought something was wrong, it felt off when you came in," she said quietly, "I…but…it feels so good to be near you again."

"Yes my love," he murmured, bringing her closer, "I'm sorry that I can't steal us some more time."

The boy stirred in his bed. The man looked over the top of the woman's head and looked at him searchingly.

"Will he wake?"

"No, he sleeps deeply," she said, smiling, "Not much trouble at all."

She paused.

"He's a sweet child," she said softly.

"And his father is evil incarnate," sneered the man, looking over at the child angrily, "Do you know that he killed an adviser in the hall today for sneezing at the wrong time?"

"Don't-" she started.

"Love, he was begotten of a forced marriage, out of wedlock. Can anything good come out of that?"

"The sins of the father are not his sins," she said firmly, "He is scared of his father. Whenever he visits he tries to leave the room. And the other day he came in here in one of his rages and smote him on the head. There's only a cut there now, no lasting damage, but it had to be bandaged."

The man looked doubtfully over at the sleeping child.

"I trust you," he said, "I trust you."

Once more his glance looked over the child. It returned to the woman's face with an almost pleading expression.

"Are you sure though?" he said.

"Positive," she said, "He is good. You know this. You've seen him."

"I had hoped," he said, "But I had great hopes for his father too. It's made me much more cautious about those whom I place my faith in."

She nodded slowly and leaned her head onto his chest. He rested his chin on her head for a moment, closing his eyes.

"Then we'll go ahead with the plan?" she murmured.

"Yes," he said, "Yes. Then we'll finally be free."

A loud noise at the door made them both look up sharply. Keys were jangled and the man reluctantly tore himself away from the woman. He headed towards the window and she hurried back to her seat by the bed, picking up her mending. Before leaping out he cast one last longing look at her. Her hand reached out slightly in a gesture of farewell, and the keys scraped in the lock. The man went out the window.

Slightly alarmed Becky hurried over to the ledge and looked down. The man had a glowing ring and was sliding down the walls, nowhere near as fast as he should. Becky looked curiously after him for a moment before redirecting her attention to the opening door. A guard peered his head in and barked;

"You there!"

The woman looked up at the same time that the boy awoke. He looked up blearily and then with some alarm at the guard. Gently the woman reached a hand out and touched the boy's shoulder, urging him back to sleep. She turned her head to the guard and Becky had the feeling that, if she hadn't been blindfolded, she would be glaring.

"You've woken up the prince, I hope you're pleased," she said coldly.

"None of that," he snapped, "Have you seen the Sorcerer?"

"I haven't seen anyone since I was four," she said irritably.

The guard rolled his eyes.

"Fine, have you met anyone?

"I've been in here all afternoon."

She pointed her thumb angrily at the two guards who had peeked in after the third.

"You can ask them."

Snorting the man slammed the door shut. The bolts were drawn again and the woman leaned forward in her chair, resting her head in her hands as though exhausted or depressed, or possibly both. She looked up suddenly, as though confused. Slowly she got up, letting her mending fall onto the ground. Her hand was extended, as though searching for something.

Finally she came to a halt a few feet away from Becky. She turned her head towards her, her lips moving but no words coming out. Her hand fell down and she said;

"How…but…who are you?"

Becky awoke and looked over at the clock. It was only around five in the morning. She felt like she hadn't slept at all though, hadn't been refreshed in the least by those hours. Moaning she let herself fall back onto her pillow, tossing and turning. After a little while she finally managed to fall into a dreamless sleep.