CHAPTER FORTY
LANCELOT AND CALLIOPE ( i. )
( NOTE: some aspects of the next two chapters diverge from canon )

Calliope swings her pack over her shoulder, two long daggers strapped to her back in a cross-cross pattern, her sword enclosed in its decorative sheath at her side.

Any onlooker might think she's throwing herself into battle. Adorned in midnight-colored leather, she looks like a horseman of death. Her platinum hair contrasts the darkness surrounding her as the wavy locks stay out of her face in braided patterns that come together in a ponytail.

Ever since Morgana's "kidnapping" by the Druids two weeks ago, Uther has increased her security ten fold. One of which is Calliope being decked out in her most dangerous weapons, looking as if one glance alone could slice through skin. The tactic keeps many people from raising their eyes to meet her own, and the King hopes it might discourage bandits from daring an attack on their way to visit Morgana's father's grave. The trip will take less than a day, and a few other guards are coming along as an extra precaution.

Gwen is there as Morgana's emotional support because comforting people has never been one of Calliope's strengths.

As she tightens her fingerless gloves, Calliope hears the King's ward descending the steps, where her saddled horse awaits. When Prince Arthur appears to help Morgana onto her horse, the blonde can't help but think of their encounter two weeks ago. Him in her room, his hands on her waist, pushing her back onto the bed...Calliope chews on her bottom lip as she tries to blink away the memories. To forget that's he's still engaged to Victoria, and this, whatever they're doing, can only end one way.

During their night together, she was tempted to give into all her desires, but the Prince did not stay in her room. He left before sunrise, leaving the ghosts of his touch on her skin and the taste of his lips lingering on her own. Heated kisses are one thing, but sleeping with him...that isn't something Calliope thinks she can do right now, not with everything else going on around them. 

She doesn't want to give herself completely to Arthur because though the physical stuff between them seems easy, there is so much underneath she's not ready to face.

"I hope your trip isn't too upsetting," the Prince says, looking to Morgana as Calliope hoists herself into the saddle of her horse.

"Thank you Arthur," Morgana replies.

As Calliope grabs the reins, Arthur looks to her and the other guards, "Ensure you return to Camelot before dusk."

"I'll look after them," Calliope answers, nodding to Gwen and Morgana, and then, she meets his blue stare. "I promise."

The Prince's face gives away that he has more he wants to say, but he simply steps back, and Calliope lightly kicks the sides of her horse, stealing a glance at him over her shoulder before they exit the courtyard.

The early mists of the morning still graze the earth below them. Calliope keeps her eyes on the trees, aware of every twitch or movement amongst the greenery. Something in her chest, like a tug or a consistent whisper, pulls her senses on edge. The conversations encircling her are distant echoes. Not too distinct from the breeze or low hoofbeats against the dirt below her. The assassin's focus is keen. One hand grips the reins while the other sits on her thigh, just shy of her sword.

She can attribute the constant need to look over her shoulder to obvious reasons, but there is a deeper feeling nagging at her, a voice urging her to make everyone turn back. Calliope tries to push away her paranoia, but it sticks to her like a leech.

Calliope is so entranced by her own mind that she misses Morgana's words until the dark-haired girl raises her voice, "...Cal? Hello, Cal?"

Her head snaps over to the King's ward, "Sorry, what?"

"Are you alright?"

The blonde nods, "Yeah, I'm wonderful."

"You know, you've been so secretive these days, well, more than normal anyway," Morgana says. "I'm starting to think there's a man involved."

"It's Arthur, isn't it?" Gwen adds with raised eyebrows and a knowing glint in her brown eyes.

Calliope scoffs, rolling her eyes, "That's just ridiculous. Arthur and me...we're..." she trails off, searching for a fitting definition that wouldn't come. Morgana and Gwen exchanged a grin, and the assassin shook her head. "We're friends. It's nothing more than that."

"Now that might be the biggest lie I've heard in my entire life—"

"Shut up."

"Cal, I was only joking."

Calliope brings her horse to a halt, "No, seriously, shut up," she scans the two hills above the road. "Something's watching us."

Everyone else stopped as well, but none of them could have been prepared for the hoard of men that jumped up and began descending the hills, entrapping them on both sides. They're outnumbered. Bad.

Calliope only had time to let her instincts take over as she urges her horse forward at a bandit coming at her on a white mare. Steel rings through the air as her blade punctures his side, crimson spurting as he fell from the saddle. When she turns, she sees almost every single guard being cut down, and she jumps off her horse to lunge into the thickest part of the bloody skirmish.

Her blade enters the back of the nearest bandit, and she kicks him over as he gasps. She pushes her way forward, dodging arrows and deflected blows, until bodies are falling behind her. Her clothes are splattered in blood that's not her own. These bandits may have been wielding weapons, but their form is amateur at best.

"Hey, blondie!" Calliope freezes just before slitting a man's throat. Her eyes move across the road to where two bandits hold Gwen and Morgana, swords against their necks. "Unless you want to watch these two bleed out on the dirt, I suggest you drop your weapon."

The assassin breathes heavily, eyes narrowing as she lets her blade fall to the ground. The man stumbles away from her, and seconds later, her hands are forced behind her back, and she's pushed down to her knees.

A man—the leader of this ambush—walks up to her. His teeth are a rotten yellow and his hair is buzzed, only showing more of his ugly face. The man leans down, his horrid breath infiltrating her nostrils.

"Well, aren't you a pretty one?"

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Arthur will admit that when Morgana's party did not show before dusk, his heart dropped in his chest. He continued to stare out his window for a little while—just waiting to see the horses trotting through the gates—but they never came. He could only think about the worst possible situations as he gathered a group of knights and Merlin to go after them. He's worried for everyone that accompanied her, but one face remains steadfast in his mind. Even the possibility of Calliope being hurt...or worse, it made his insides churn in a terrible way.

She's the last person he ever expected to care for so deeply, but the minute he laid eyes on her, he couldn't stay away. She just had this mysterious presence that drew him in; a beautiful tragedy that gripped him, and his mind wouldn't let him rest until he had solved it.

The few women he had ever cared for romantically were roughly the same. Nobleman's daughters passing through with their fathers or princesses as welcomed guests of Camelot. They wore their pretty gowns and jewelry, adorned with elegance and grace—polite and always letting him take the lead. They were kind and patient and perfect. But as the Prince has learned, perfection is overrated.

Comparing them to Calliope is almost impossible. She's the darkness around moonlight, coaxing him to venture further into the night. Her affection is dangerous—lethal like bloodied daggers—and that might be what tempts him so endlessly. She's an assassin, trained to kill and destroy, but no one has ever made him feel so soft. So...vulnerable like he might dissolve under her intense stare.

When he comes across bodies strewn across the road, he's jolted out of his thoughts. Arthur doesn't hesitate as he jumps off his horse and takes in the scene of every guard that went with Morgana lying dead on the ground. Along with several bandits, killed with a precision that could have only been Calliope's blade. That means she's alive. If they wanted her dead, she'd be in this open graveyard.

"Check to see if anyone's alive," he orders the men. The Prince notices a long sword protruding from the ground, recognizing the steel immediately. He grabs the blade, glancing to Merlin. "This is Mercian craftsmanship."

Merlin moves around him, "Arthur..." he picks up a piece of parchment that was stuck to a guard's back with an arrow. "It's a ransom note. They've taken Morgana hostage."

They can't have gotten too far. Arthur's eyes scan the road for a trail, his eyes catching several boot prints.

"The tracks lead off this way."

With his sword drawn, Arthur runs deeper into the woods, not caring how far behind his men are. His only thought is finding Calliope and making sure she's okay. His world has stopped spinning; his mind is racing and nothing will be set right again until he can hold her in his arms, but the possibility of that being gone forever is almost enough to wreck him completely. He doesn't care that she can take care of herself—that she's stronger than he could ever dream of being—he needs to find her.

The sound of footsteps causes him to halt and take cover behind a tree. Arthur holds up his hand, signaling the other men to stop. The Prince takes a deep breath as the sound gets closer. He prepares himself to fight whoever is standing in his way, and then, he steps out.

But he is not met with ruthless bandits.

His breath hitches, "Morgana, Gwen?" The King's ward is in only a white slip with dirt and mud caked over her and Guinevere has cuts all over her arms. Arthur scans the woods behind them. "Where's Calliope?"

Tears well in Morgana's eyes as she shakes her head. Arthur was wrong. His world has not stopped spinning.

It has broken apart completely.

♛ ♛ ♛

The fact that Morgana and Gwen got away gives her some solace, but Calliope cannot fight away the pit of growing dread in her stomach. Their plan was smart, but there wasn't enough time for all of them, and Calliope has the best chance of getting away on her own, so she stayed behind to fight off the bandits, and she took a lot down with her.

Her body is bloody and bruised as she is dragged back to camp, kicking and elbowing and gritting her teeth until she is thrown to the dirt. She spits out a mouthful of blood and looks up to the leader with a sharp glare.

"How could you let her escape!?" He yells as he kicks over a pot into the fire, sparks exploding into the air. "You let this little bitch kill our men! She's worthless to us!"

"Why don't you grow some balls and fight me, and I'll show you how much of a bitch I can really be," Calliope spits at his feet.

The man eyes become overcome with rage as he leans down and yanks Calliope to her feet by the collar of her shirt, "I'd choose my words wisely if I were you, blondie."

"If you're going to kill me, do it," she says with narrowed eyes. "If not, then get out of my fucking face."

Something shifts in his eyes as he glances over Calliope for a few moments, "There's something oddly familiar about you..." he trails off, and a realization hits him, a grin lifting his lips and showing his yellow teeth. "Forget what I said. This one does have value to us."

"Who is she?" One of his men asks from behind them.

"This my friends," he lets go of Calliope's shirt, "is the girl who stole from Hengist two years ago."

Calliope's eyes widen, "You're Hengist's men?"

"Indeed we are," the man backs away, "and your visit is long overdue."

Calliope realizes that she might be fucked this time.

Yes, she was an assassin, but she had to steal every now and then to survive, and Hengist ran a brutal fighting ring where people loved to throw away their money. When she entered, everyone bet against her and she won bags and bags of silver, but that's not what she was after.

Hengist was impressed with her skills and invited her to dine with him, and then, while staying as his guest, she broke into his vault and stole a considerable amount of his riches. He never knew her name, but he tried to place a bounty on her. You can't put a bounty on a ghost.

Calliope makes a move to escape, but she is met with a fist to her temple, and the blunt end of a sword that knocks her to the ground causing her vision to blur and fade into blackness.

♛ ♛ ♛

Every bone in Arthur's Pendragon's body is screaming at him to go after Calliope, but he had to see Morgana back to Camelot. Every second that passes is only another second she is carried further and further away. He can barely hold himself together from having an outburst as the court gathers to welcome the King's ward home.

His father extends his arms as soon as Morgana's enters the Throne Room, her face still covered in a few scratches.

The King embraces her, "It's such a relief to see you safe. I couldn't bare the thought of anyone harming you."

Morgana shakes her head, pulling away from him, "The bandits still have Cal."

Arthur steps forward, hoping his information might spark enough reason for a rescue party, "We believe they were Mercian—we've received reports that Hengist has crossed the border."

His father's eyebrows furrow, "Hengist?"

"Then we must send a rescue party," Morgana insists.

"If Hengist is holding her, it would take an army to rescue her."

"We can't abandon her!"

"How many men would you have me sacrifice to save a...guard?" His father's words hit a deep part in Arthur's chest.

Morgana doesn't back down, "As many as it takes! Cal gave herself up so that I might escape. I owe her my life."

The King nods turning to his Throne, "She did so willingly, and she will be honored for it."

The dark-haired girl storms after him, her voice raised, "I don't want her honored. I want her rescued!" As she grabs his arm, Uther glances down at her. "She is more than just a guard. She's my friend."

"A guard is of no value to these bandits. I fear she is dead already," Arthur clenches his jaw, fighting a strong urge to scream at his father. "Calliope is...resourceful, so she may very well escape on her own, but nothing more can be done of it."

Morgana shakes her head, not willing to accept his words, "No!" She turns, glancing around the room with a frantic expression. "We cannot give up hope!" And when her eyes land on Arthur, he feels the pull to speak up, but that might cause his father to intervene on his plan to go after Calliope as soon as this meeting is over. "Arthur," she walks up to him, and he does his best to hide the emotions threatening to rise to the surface. "I'm begging you—you have to do something."

The Prince avoids her gaze, "My father is right. I'm afraid there's nothing we can do."

"How can you say that?" She says, her tone chilly and harsh as all her anger is directed at him before she turns to every other silent person in the room. "How can you live with yourselves? All of you!"

Gaius steps in to lead her out of the room, and Arthur waits until everyone has dispersed until he goes to his own room and begins packing a bag.

Because there's no way in hell he's leaving Calliope with those bandits, and he'll fight through whoever he has to in order to save her.

♛ ♛ ♛

Everything is a hue of ugly colors.

Calliope's vision is hazy as everything mixes for a few seconds. Sounds, colors, light—it's all the same. It isn't until the aching of her entire body hits her that the assassin is able to realize that she's in a cell, and the sorry excuse of a sleeping cot underneath her is cold as ice.

The blonde pushes herself into a sitting position, but she doesn't have long to get her bearings because footsteps echo through the hallway and stop in front of the door to her cell. The lock clicks, and as the door is pushed open, the leader of the bandits who ambushed her appears with the same smug look on his scruffy face.

"Morning, sunshine," she notices a group of men behind him; a calvary sent to escort her.

She motions to them, "Are you afraid of me?"

The man bursts into laughter, "Me afraid of you? Now, that's a funny joke, blondie."

"The small army behind you says otherwise."

A flash of anger sparks in his dark eyes as he motions for the men to grab her. Calliope is not compliant as they drag her into the hallway, managing a knee to someone's groin and an elbow to another's nose. The men curse under their breath and struggle to keep their hold on the thrashing blonde as she is escorted through the torchlit walls made of stone.

She's brought into an open room with a hand-crafted chair seated at the back. There are a few square-shaped holes in the walls that act as windows, allowing a light breeze into the room.

"Well, well, well," Calliope recognizes that voice. "I must admit, Kendrick, I was disappointed to hear you let the Lady Morgana get away but..." Hengist comes into her line of sight, covered in furs to try to hide his protruding belly. "This is far more impressive."

"She was traveling with them," Kendrick answers. "Took out over half my men on the way here."

Calliope clenches her fists as Hengist approaches her, and he takes her chin into his hands roughly, "Now that is a crime she must pay for severely." The assassin spits in his face, and he cries out in anger before striking her with the back of his palm. Her cheek stings as her gaze drills into him. "You have no idea how much I'm going to make you suffer. It won't be quick death. No, when you face the end, you'll be begging for me to kill you."

"I won't beg for anything," Calliope answers, her voice strong. "Soon, you'll be the one at the edge of my blade—that, I promise you."

Hengist chuckles, "We'll see about that. Take her back to her cell," she feels his men surrounding her again, "and tonight, she'll put on a good show for us all."

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hey everyone! back with another update! hopefully i can get the second part of this episode out before monday, but this could end up being the only update this weekend.
anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed! remember to vote and leave your thoughts in the comments :)