CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST PART ONE ( i )

"Keep up, Merlin, we've got a busy day ahead."

Gaius strolls through markets with the cool mists of the morning still lingering in the air. Beside him, Calliope walks, her sword and daggers hanging from her belt. She catches the attention of the townspeople, most looking over her with wary eyes. They know who she is, the whispers of the girl who killed the Red Dragon float amongst them and claw at her chest. The people don't look at her the same way they look at Arthur or the knights. With them it's praising triumphant and brave heroes. For Calliope, it's more of an aura of awe mixed with curiosity and respect—from the women at least. Some of the men glare at her, but she sees the fear they try to hide.

It's an odd event for her to be here instead of the training grounds or on a patrol, but she hasn't been able to use her sword in a month. Every time she prepares herself for something as simple as a sparring match, she is brought back to Drak's palace, in the Great Hall where he killed her mother, and she unleashed a brutal fury on so many men she lost count of them.

For the first week, she barely left her room and denied any visitors, even Arthur. She spoke to no one. Calliope laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling with a gaping hole blown into her chest. When the King asked for a reason for her denial of duty, Arthur spoke on her behalf saying she received word of a family member's passing. Uther, surprisingly, allowed her the week to grieve.

She thought her grief would be like a tidal wave, but instead, she just feels... nothingness. And it's even worse.

The second week, she returned to the sparring ring, but as soon as she unsheathed her sword, she couldn't bring herself to use it. She walked away from the field, and hasn't returned since.

The third week, Arthur tried to reach out. When he knocked on her door, she didn't answer. He lingered for a few minutes before she heard his footsteps leaving the hall.

And now, on the fourth week, Calliope continues her routine of coming to help Gaius and Merlin with their work. It's not much, but it's a sufficient distraction and does not involve any type of fighting. She can sit at a desk and fill vials and gather ingredients and let her thoughts fade away. At night, she can slip away to the tavern and drink until she stumbles back to her room and collapses on her bed. It's the only way she can make herself sleep.

"It's a busy day everyday," Merlin calls out, jars and canisters bumping each other in his arms as he tries to keep up. The assassin told him everything that happened during her and Arthur's trip when she finally started talking again, and he did his best to try and comfort her, but something has been off with him. When the sorcerer looks at her, just for a moment, something passes through his eyes. Something like caution or worry, and perhaps a hint of fear. "You and Arthur work me to the bone."

"Do stop moaning. At least the work's interesting."

"Gaius, we're collecting pots. We do the same thing each and every Thursday at exactly the same time. Nothing interesting ever happens—"

The sorcerer stops, and Calliope turns her head as he lets out a startled gasp. A short, cloaked man with large ears has grabbed his arm, his dark eyes wide, "Please, we seek Uther Pendragon," he says. "Where can he be found." His voice is raspy and sets Calliope on edge.

Calliope feels the tug to unsheathe her sword, but she keeps her hands at her side. The man presses a wooden object in Merlin's hand, "Uh..."

"We have urgent business with the King."

Gaius steps forward to grab the object, "I'm sorry, any business you have with the King will have to be pursued through the usual channels," the physician's eyes get caught on the object as he turns it, his eyebrows pinching. "But this is the seal of the House of Tragor. Where did you get this?"

"It does not belong to me."

Another cloaked figure emerges, pulling down the emerald hood and revealing a woman of much beauty. She has smooth, ivory skin and chestnut brown hair that seems to soak up the morning sunlight.

"It belongs to me."

Gaius and Merlin are both taken aback, but the physician snaps himself out of a daze to bow, "My Lady," he motions for the sorcerer to do the same, "Merlin." The pots tied around Merlin's shoulders make a loud sound as he bows, and Calliope rolls her eyes as she makes her own polite gesture. "This is Calliope, a guard close to the King's personal household. She can escort you to the castle."

Calliope grits her teeth, wanting to snap at Gaius for volunteering her for the job.

The Lady raises her eyebrows as she surveys the blond, "A...female guard?"

"Yes, very shocking, I know."

"Cal," Gaius warns under his breath. "Try to be polite."

Huffing, she motions for the two new arrivals to come with her, "Right this way to His Royal Excellency."

Merlin coughs through a laugh at her tone, and Gaius sends her a pointed look, which she ignores. The Lady seems unsure of her escort as they walk through the streets, side-eying the assassin every few seconds, as well as the many weapons at her disposal. Honestly, Calliope couldn't care any less about who this Lady is or why she's here. As soon as she has been delivered to the King, Calliope will go on about her business until it is an appropriate time to go to the tavern.

Calliope catches the Lady's servant walking very close—too close with his nose turned up as if he's sniffing the air around her. The assassin withholds the urge to smack him in the face.

"Would you mind getting out of my personal space?" She asks.

"Oh, don't mind him. He's not the brightest," The Lady says, shooting her companion a warning glance as he backs up from the assassin.

"Clearly."

The Lady looks over at her as they walk through the castle gates, noticing how the guards standing watch perk up and straighten their backs at the sight of her, "Forgive my curiosity, but where I come from, women do not typically engage in fighting."

"You'd be in the majority then."

"How did you earn the King's favor?" Calliope snorts. "Well, you must have done something to deserve such a place in his household."

The assassin comes to a halt, finally turning to glance between the Lady and the man who was sniffing her, "The King values strength above all else. I was able to best his best knights in a series of duels, and then I guess he had no choice but to realize that I could be an asset to his kingdom."

"He sounds like a very wise man."

 She grins, and then can't help but laugh, "Yeah, the wisest."

♛ ♛ ♛

Calliope stands outside the Throne Room as the Lady's arrival is announced to the court. She's about to slip away until Gaius grabs her arm and drags her by her sleeve into the room along with Merlin. She grumbles in protest, crossing her arms against the fabric of her black tunic and leaning her back against a pillar.

From beside his father, Arthur's ocean blue eyes catch hers. She can see the words within them that have been brewing for a month. How are you doing? Do you need anything? Please let me back in.

She looks away. Amongst her distance, he's had more free time on his hands. Free time in which his father encourages him to get closer to Lady Victoria. More afternoon walks through castle grounds, romantic picnics, and gossip filtering through corridors that they make a lovely pair. The wedding will be exquisite. What will her dress look like? When will Prince Arthur make the engagement official with a ring?

Calliope wishes she could say it stung. She wishes she could feel something—even jealousy or heartache, but when she looks at the two of them together, there is only that hollow void, a solid blackness drowning everything out.

Another pair of eyes is on her. Lady Victoria's, with that subtle smirk as she stands next to her betrothed. She must think things between the Prince and the assassin are over. She looks as if she is a warrior emerging a victorious battle. Yes, she's won, just not in the way Calliope imagined.

"Lady Catrina, is it really you?" King Uther stands from his throne, his eyes wide with unbelief.

Lady Catrina steps forward, shaking her head, "I can hardly believe it myself."

"We heard tidings from the North. That the House of Tragor had fallen to invaders."

"All that you heard was true, My Lord...and worse."

"Your father, the King—?"

"Gone, Sire," Lady Catrina answers, the King stepping closer with his face pulled down in sympathy for her losses. "The enemy attacked without warning. We were outnumbered five to one. He could not endure. I would have never survived had it not been for my faithful servant, Jonas," her head turns to the short man before returning her eyes to the King, "but we did survive, and we have made it this far—"

The King lurches forward as Lady Catrina falters, falling right into his arms. Their faces are inches apart, and Calliope quirks an eyebrow. How did you win the King's favor? The question flashes through her mind again without warning. Her suspicion arises, the one that is usually right about people who come to Camelot, but she can't bring herself to care.

"Forgive me, My Lord. I fear my trials have taken their toll."

"Your sufferings are beyond imagining My Lady. It would be an honor to help you in any way we can."

"A bed for the night would be most welcome," she answers with an innocent smile and a breathless tone.

Uther nods, "Then consider yourselves our esteemed guests. It's the least we can do."

Lady Catrina's eyes never leave the King's, "Thank you."

When the court dismisses so the Lady and her servant can be shown to their chambers, Calliope exits the Throne Room beside Merlin and Gaius, her mind itching to indulge in rising suspicions, but Calliope silences them. So what if she's here with bad intentions? There's plenty of knights and guards to handle any trouble, along with Merlin who has saved the day too many times to count.

She won't be much help anyway, not when she can't even swing her sword. It's better for her to stick with Gaius in his chambers and help brew remedies and gather herbs.

As the three of them turn down a corridor, Merlin sighs, "She's very brave. It's just terrible what she's been through."

Gaius doesn't offer Merlin a glance, and Calliope notices the troubled look in his gaze, "Terrible indeed."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Gaius answers.

Another voice echoes through the hall, "Merlin!" They each stop and turn, Calliope's eyes flickering to find Prince Arthur standing at the other end. His stare lingers on Calliope for a moment before he motions for the sorcerer to follow him. "Job for you."

Merlin sends a look of annoyance towards where the Prince vanished through the hallway. Turning to Calliope and Gaius, he throws out his arms with a long breath, "Work, work, work."

As he disappears after Arthur, Calliope wonders what has caused this permanent look of concern on Gaius's face, and if he has the same suspicions about Lady Catrina as her. After all, it had been a very quiet month in Camelot, the calm before a storm—the eerie silence before a tragedy.

Calliope can't help but prod, "Gaius, I know that look."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't act dumb," Calliope says. "You aren't so fond of this Lady Catrina, are you?"

The physician knows her to well to try and lie or dismiss her questions, "I've met her before. When she was very young."

"And she didn't remember you?"

Gaius shrugs, "It was a long time ago, but I did treat her for a disease. Perhaps, she doesn't recall or her hard travels have simply jumbled her mind. It could be nothing."

"What kind of disease?"

"An incurable one," he says, looking down the hall as a few guards pass by.

Calliope nods, "Well, if I had any interest in this situation, which I don't by the way, I would suggest testing your suspicions in an innocent, subtle way."

The physician grins, "That's exactly what I was thinking."

♛ ♛ ♛

It's almost midnight, and the tavern is raging with activity.

The stench of ale floats to every corner, drunken laughter drowning out any noise from outside. At one table, a large group of men hunch over an intense game of cards, sometimes yelling their grievances, other times barking out approval and slapping each other on the back. A few brawls had broken out, one stumbling into Calliope's table. She simply kept drinking and raised her glass to them.

The tavern maids know her by name now. They always have a glass of ale ready for her when she sits down, and frequently come to refill it. She usually loses count of how many glasses she consumes. Once her eyes grow heavy, she knows its time to leave and fall into bed. She'll also admit the temptation to sleep with a stranger has plagued her mind; just to see if it will awaken any thread of feelings in her chest, but she can't make herself go through with it. Not yet at least.

But when one bold, unassuming gentlemen approaches her, she doesn't give him a look of daggers that would send him running. Instead, she lets him lean one hand against the table, his body close to her own as he leans down slightly.

"It's sad to see such a beautiful woman sitting alone."

Calliope meets his chocolate eyes, "Are you offering your company?" He shrugs, and she leans her head closer to his. "I will warn you, I grow bored easily. It's a great task to keep me entertained."

His hand touches her thigh, and she doesn't jerk away, even though her chest still feels empty "I appreciate a challenge."

The man licks his lips—they're so close to her own. She waits for some small spark or desire or desperation for someone's touch to come, but it never does.

And right before the encounter can go any further, the door of the tavern bangs open with an echoing thud that causes everyone to go silent.

Prince Arthur, in all his royal glory, stands in the doorway—fuming with unspoken anger. Calliope sighs looking to the ceiling, "Oh God."

When his eyes land on her—and the man who still has his hand very high up on her thigh—his nostrils flare. This gentlemen has no idea what he has gotten himself into. Poor lad.

The Prince stalks across the room, conversations sparking again, but his eyes never leave Calliope. The man straightens his back, his hand returning to his side as Arthur stops mere inches from him, his jaw clenched and tight.

"My-My Lord," the man bows. "I had no idea—"

"Leave us," Arthur orders in a dark voice that makes the man stumble as he practically runs out the door.

Silence passes between the two before Calliope downs the rest of the ale in her glass, "That was quite dramatic, don't you think?"

"You need to come with me. Right now."

She waves her hand in his face, "Fuck off."

He snatches her hand in his own, causing her to meet his fiery stare, "I said, it's time for you to leave."

"And I said," she leans closer. "Fuck. Off." Arthur grits his teeth as he keeps her hand in his grasp. "You're spoiling my fun."

Calliope's breath catches in her throat as he leans down, his face inches from her own, steam practically radiating from his irate gaze, "If you don't get up and come with me right now, I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here."

"Aw," Calliope taps his nose. "You're so cute when you try to be scary."

A beat passes—the two of them just staring at each other, Arthur's shoulders heaving with the building frustration—and then, he grabs the blonde and throws her over his shoulder.

"Hey!" Calliope yells, silence in the tavern again as he walks out the door with her kicking his back. "Put me down!" The door closes behind them as Arthur trudges into the street. She's too drunk to fight against him. "Arthur! Put me down! Put me down, or I'm going to start screaming at the top of my lungs—!"

She gasps as he drops her to her feet, her boots meeting the dirt. Calliope stumbles at first, the world spinning, but she finally takes a deep breath and the world stills again.

Just enough for her to look at Arthur, right there in front of her, hands on his hips as if he's preparing to scold a foolish child.

"What the hell was that?" Calliope asks, her voice echoing through the night.

"I should be asking you that question!" Arthur matches her tone.

"Oh, are you upset I let that guy put his hands on me? Is that what this is all about?"

He steps forward, "This is about how you're getting drunk here every night. You won't come to training or patrols, and I can only give my father excuses for so long," Arthur inhales sharply, his voice softening. "I understand you've suffered a terrible loss, and I'm so sorry it happened. I wish I could have stopped it, but I won't let you do this to yourself."

"Do what exactly?"

"Throw everything away!" he exclaims. "Everything you've worked for in Camelot! My father is finally starting to respect you as a warrior. I thought you wanted that." Arthur's eyes search hers for any semblance of life. "You're just...you're fading away, Cal."

He's right. She is fading away, and she has tried so hard to grasp at straws to keep from teetering off that edge, but she isn't sure she can do it anymore. Calliope laughs—she actually lets out a sad, sarcastic laugh, and Arthur furrows his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, it must be such an inconvenience for you."

Arthur steps forward, "Calliope—"

"I don't owe anyone in this city one damn thing, especially your father," she says, tears prickling at her vision. "My mother is dead. The reason I kept fighting all these years was to find her and save her, and now she's gone!"

"I know," he says, "and I want to help you through it. I want you to know that you still have someone who cares about what happens to you."

"Well maybe that's the problem," Calliope answers, bluntly. "Maybe you care too much. Maybe you should try not giving a shit about me. I mean, this," she motions between them, "doesn't make any sense. Do you realize that? We make no fucking sense. It's always been doomed from the beginning—the second we met, you had no idea you were dealing with an enemy of your kingdom, and now...Now maybe you're just finally seeing me for who I really am."

Arthur shakes his head, "I don't believe that. I know who you are."

"You're lying to yourself then," Calliope throws out her arms. "And my advice to you, Arthur, is to—to go on and live your life with Victoria, a girl raised to wear a crown," she sees him scrunching his face in denial, "You know, deep down, that's not me, and it never will be because I was the girl raised to be a weapon and nothing more."

As a light drizzle of rain begins to turn the dirt underneath their feet to mud, Calliope leaves Arthur outside the tavern.

She went there to find an escape from her mind, but now...

Now, she's drowning in it.

♛ ♛ ♛

here's another chapter with a lot of angst lol!
but remember, cal is dealing with extreme grief right now, and that's not something that can be resolved overnight haha.
i'm thinking i will be able to get through episodes 5 and 6 by the end of next week, so keep an eye out for a few more updates soon!

remember to vote and leave your thoughts in the comments :)