CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
BLOOD OATH ( i. )

Calliope didn't sleep.

How could she? Every time she closes her eyes, she remembers the man from the Throne Room and his terrified face as he exposed her hiding place. Why now? After being silent for so many months, for not carrying out one single kill, there is no explanation as to how anyone could find out the Red Dragon is in Camelot.

Well, there is one possibility. Sepharin. His hand has to be behind all of this. It's his warning that he's coming, or maybe he's already here watching this all play out with a wicked smile. He wants to see her lose everything; to have to feel helpless as everyone turns on her and a place she had began to think of as home crumbles under her feet. A part of her wishes he would just kill her instead of this slow, burning torture.

And when morning comes, the full moon being the very next night; the night of her death, she is forced to head to the Throne Room with Arthur and the other knights bright and early. The King wants to get ahead of this situation before people panic and before the Red Dragon can strike.

Calliope can ensure that the Red Dragon will not in fact "strike", but she can't exactly tell him that, so she'll just let him keep himself and the knights busy with a wild goose chase.

The blonde stands next to Sir Leon behind the table, surprised the King is letting her in on this meeting, but he's desperate for all the help he can get. She crosses her arms over her chest, looking down at the map of the Five Kingdoms and examining how they have marked the places of her known kills with pretty decent accuracy. Though, she would like to reach down and adjust and add a few red x marks, she controls herself.

Once everyone is present, the King takes his place at the head of the table, "The Red Dragon is officially, across all the Five Kingdoms, the most wanted fugitive in the world, " Damn, that's a little harsh.

Arthur steps forward, motioning to the map on the table, "On this map, we have to the best of our abilities, marked every known kill he has inflicted; however, the assassinations are random and unpredictable. He seems to work from his own agenda, and if anything, that only makes him more dangerous."

"Why do you think he's come to Camelot?" One knight asks.

Before Arthur can answer, Calliope raises a hand, "Yeah, excuse me, how do we even know this man's information is legitimate? I mean, the Red Dragon hasn't killed in months, so maybe it's just a rumor."

"Thank you, Calliope, for your input," he says as he grits his teeth and before his father can have an outburst at her for interrupting, "Even if it is just a rumor, something like this needs to be taken seriously, which you aren't that skilled at, so maybe you should just leave."

Clenching her jaw, Calliope nods, "I think you're right," she spits out before storming away from the table.

She makes her way to the door, passing a guard who's entering, "My Lord," he bows before stepping further into the room. "We have received word from an informant." The blonde pauses right outside the door. "The Red Dragon is a woman."

Sepharin. Goddamn him. He keeps adding the pressure, letting it build and build, hoping it will drive her mad.

Not wanting to stick around for the debate, Calliope hurries back to the physicians chambers. Even if Arthur or any of the knights find out she's the Red Dragon, what would it matter now? Tomorrow night, she has to preform the ritual to break her blood oath. She's a dead assassin walking.

When Calliope closes the door, she leans against it for support, shutting her eyes tightly and breathing deep. Stay calm, stay, calm, stay calm. You can't lose it now. Steadily, she breathes in and out several times in an attempt to control her emotions and the alarms constantly going off in her head. She has to stay strong. Fear is weakness. Fear is weakness.

Getting ahold of herself, Calliope opens her eyes, a small sense of balance returning to her body as she spots Gaius across the room sitting at the table with Merlin. Both of them stare at her, concern drawn out on their faces. Last night, after the meeting in the Throne Room, they tried to talk to her, but she was void of any emotion or light. She went right to her quarters and slammed the door, and they hadn't bothered her since. Even now, they exchange a nervous glance before trying to speak a word.

Sighing, she strides up to them and plops down beside Merlin, "They know the Red Dragon is a woman," she lets out, her stare focusing on the surface of the table. "I'm sure Sepharin is behind this. He's trying to get in my head."

"You think he's in Camelot?"

"I know he is," Calliope replies, strong and fierce. "He's here....watching me—watching all of you, and waiting for the perfect time to strike."

Merlin leans forward, "Do you think he knows about the dagger?" Furrowing her eyebrows, she gives him a look of disbelief. "I told Gaius that we read about a dagger that can kill an immortal being, and that we're leaving tomorrow morning to get it."

A half-truth. Calliope nods, releasing a breath, "It's possible, and if he does, we're in for one hell of a fight to get it. He'll try to get me killed before we can even leave Camelot."

"I think the best thing for you to do is lay low," Gaius says. "Let the knights stay busy with their search. I'll do my best to keep the King off your trail, but if Sepharin reveals anymore information..." The physician shakes his head. "I'm afraid all roads lead right to you, Cal."

Calliope runs her hands through her hair in frustration, and before she can express her thoughts, the door is pulled open. Her breath hitches, thinking it's the guards coming for her, but instead, Morgana and Gwen walk into the room.

"We just wanted to check on you," Morgana says, closing the door tightly behind her. "Everyone is on edge right now—Uther most of all. He thinks the Red Dragon is here for him because Tauren failed."

Of course he makes it all about him. Calliope fights to keep herself from rolling her eyes, "I don't think we should be jumping to conclusions right now."

"Cal's right," Merlin stands, offering the blonde a quick glance. "The rumors haven't even been confirmed."

"They're not rumors," Gwen insists. "Sightings of the Red Dragon are spreading all over the city."

What? Sepharin is going to the extremes to expose her, "How is that possible when no one knows what the assassin even looks like?"

The servant shrugs, her eyes laced in uncertainty, "I don't know, but there's a curfew tonight, and there are guards around every inch of the city. It'll be almost impossible for the Red Dragon to strike, so we should be safe."

The Red Dragon isn't what everyone should be worried about. If anyone will be striking, it'll be Sepharin, and Calliope has to find him before he does. Is it stupid? Maybe, but she needs to try to get him off her back until her and Merlin can leave for the Wailing Caves.

Calliope nods, "Well, that's good to know."

The blonde leaves them, heading for her room to try to get a small glimmer of rest after not sleeping in almost twenty-four hours. But when she opens her door, she freezes.

There, perched on her mattress is a folded piece of cream-colored paper. Cautiously, she picks up the rough parchment, folding it open to read the midnight-colored ink drawn out before her.

Come find me in the place it all began.
                                                            —S

Crumpling the letter, she tosses it to the side. No hesitation is present on her face as she reaches under her bed, grabbing her sheathed sword. Calliope clicks it around her belt, and then, she storms out the door.

"Cal, where are you going?" She doesn't answer. "Cal?

When she reaches the door, Calliope looks over her shoulder, "Stay here. Keep the door locked, and don't open it for anyone."

"Wait, Cal—"

The slamming door muffles the rest of Merlin's words, and then, she hurries for the stables, about to return to the rubble of her village for the first time in nearly ten years.

♛ ♛ ♛

The ride to her village towards the outskirts of Camelot's farm land is only about an hour. During that time, flashes of the last night with her parents plague her thoughts—the screams, the fire so hot it made her face burn, and the smoke, so thick and ashy as it infiltrated her lungs. She remembers how helpless she felt, and how she had to just stand there and watch as everything came crashing down around her. But now, she is not nine anymore. She's not a helpless, scared little girl.

Her body is marred with scars of the past so she carries her ghosts around with her everywhere she goes, and she's never been able to let go. She's always thought that her soul is too far gone to be saved; that redemption is a foreign concept she will never be able to reach, but stopping Sepharin and the blood wraiths is a good way to go. Her final act on this earth to save those she cares for, and maybe...just maybe that will be enough white to drown out the blackness around her heart.

At the top of a small hill, Calliope can see the remains of her village. Only a few halves of houses still stand. The rest is rubble and faint remnants of life. Her chest feels like it might cave in. Suddenly everything in her is hollow. This place...she's always been to scared to ever return; to ever face the demons made of soot and ash that still whispers and linger in the misty shadows. She can hear them calling to her, asking why she didn't save them.

A small voice tells her to turn around—that she can't face this.

No, she thinks, mustering up as much courage as she can as her mind threatens to spiral into a harsh state of panic. I'm ready.

Calliope clicks her tongue, urging her horse to trot down the hill. Her muscles tense as she is encompassed by the ruins, keeping her head on a swivel for the other assassin. Flashbacks ebb at her mind. Echoing screams claw at her thoughts. She shakes her head. Don't let the darkness win.

Near one of most formed houses, she dismounts her horse and ties the reins to a dilapidated fence beside the charred wood. Part of her is surprised no one ever tried to rebuild here. The farmland is still good, but maybe, any visitors could sense the deep haunting that cloaks over this place; a cemetery for lost, forgotten souls. Calliope shakes away the eerie feeling as she steps into the house, dirt kicking up under her boots.

The house is empty. A caved in roof blocks her from going too far into it. Although, she gets a strong sense that she is not alone in there. The sound of her sword being unsheathed echoes around the ruins, and she turns swiftly, the tip of the blade pointing right at a broad chest.

There he stands. Sepharin.

His raging eyes meet her own, immediately putting his hands up in surrender, "I think you and I both know that won't kill me."

Not caring, she presses the blade right against the fabric of his black, leather tunic, "It'll still hurt like a bitch."

The edge of his lip turns up into a smirk, "And here I thought we could have a civil conversation," she refuses to loosen her pressure. "I'm not here to fight you, Calliope."

"I won't fall for your tricks this time," she replies harshly. "You've got the entire city looking for me, so why would I believe that you're truly just here for a friendly little chat?"

"Ah, yes, that," he says with a wicked grin. "It's just some innocent fun. I think you're being a little dramatic about it."

Without a warning, she slams the hilt of her sword against his face and pins him against the wall with her blade pressed right against his throat, but Sepharin doesn't fight back. He just stares down at her, eyes glinting.

"You want to see me executed, is that it?" she asks in a threatening tone. "Killing me yourself just wouldn't be enough. You want to rip everything away."

"No," he answers. "I want to show you that your pathetic friends in Camelot will never see you for who you really are. Your power will always scare them, and they will never understand you. I mean, how do you think your Prince will react when he finds out you're a cold-blooded killer?" That small little line gets to her for a half-second, and he can tell. "I think you already know the answer."

"So, this is why you left me that letter? To taunt me? Because it's getting kind of old."

"I left you that letter because I want to remind you of who you really are," No, she's not that person anymore. "And that at the end of the day, just like me, you will always choose revenge over everything else."

"You're wrong," Calliope says. "I'm nothing  like you."

Sepharin leans closer, the blade drawing blood, but it doesn't affect him, "I bet I can prove you wrong with six simple words," Calliope's heart pounds as he continues. "I know where your mother is."

And just like that, she's snapped into an entirely different perspective. I know where your mother is. The words echo and echo until they completely take over.

Struggling to remember how to breathe correctly, Calliope steps back, her eyes wide as her blade falls out of her hand because her grip completely falters.

"You're lying," she finally manages to say.

"Am I?" He asks, with a clever smirk. "I guess you'll never know for sure."

This is a gamble—a last stich effort to get to her, and she hates to admit it, but it's working, because if there is even a chance that Sepharin is telling the truth, she could find her mother. Finally, after all these years, she could see hear again; hear her voice and feel her embrace.

Raising her eyes from the floor, she speaks, her voice hoarse as she tries to keep herself together, "And what's your price?"

"I think you know," Prince Arthur. No, it can't come to this. She can't be forced to choose between Arthur and finding her mother. "The blood wraiths want him, Calliope. The idea of having his soul with them for eternity; a Prince's soul...you know they won't give up the chance." The older assassin takes a step closer to the blonde. "I promise I can help you find your mother, and if you kill the Prince, you'll have the freedom you've been fighting for these past three months. Just one more kill; one more, and you can have everything."

She should be sent straight to hell for even considering it, "I-I..." Calliope trails off.

"It would be so easy," he continues. "Arthur trusts you; he may even love you. All you would have to do is go to his bedroom. You know he'll gladly let you in, and then, one blow from your dagger, and it will all be over."

Calliope's mind is racing; two different parts of her are yelling two completely different things. It's overwhelming.

She watches as Sepharin starts backing away out of the house, "You once told me in Crasmere that you will go as far as it takes for your family," he meets her eyes one last time. "I wonder...is that still true?"

He disappears, and a tear cascades down Calliope's cheek.

As far as it takes.

♛ ♛ ♛

As night falls on Camelot, Calliope finds herself outside of Arthur's chambers, a small dagger tucked away in her sleeve. She's not sure what will happen when those doors open, and can hardly even bring herself to knock.

For a second, she almost steps back and retreats. I can't do this, she thinks.

But, she imagines her mother; out there and alone in the world thinking Calliope will never come for her. Who knows what she has had to endure over these ten years. She doesn't want her mother to have to be in any kind of pain for even another second. Anger rises so fast that Calliope nearly sees red at even the thought of anyone hurting her mother.

She has to find her. She has to save her and do what she couldn't when her village was attacked, but the price...killing Arthur —putting a blade into his heart— is it something she can truly pay? She never even considered herself being put in this situation, having to choose between two people she cares for deeply.

No matter what waits for her on the other side of this door, she must face it.

So, she inhales sharply, and then she brings her fist against the door to knock loudly. A few seconds pass before the door is opened, and Arthur is standing in front of her in his usual loose, red shirt. His deep, blue eyes catch hers, and for a moment, Calliope thinks he may turn her away. They aren't exactly on the best terms. Their last conversation flickers through her thoughts, and she cringes internally.

"You know," he finally says, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed "leaving Camelot by yourself with an assassin on the loose isn't exactly a smart move."

Calliope manages a hesitant smile, "Can I come in?"

Please say no. He's better off slamming the door in her face.

But, the Prince moves aside and tilts his head, motioning for the blonde to step into the room. Calliope feels like she might throw up when his door closes behind her.

She doesn't give herself time to think. Something starts coming up her throat. It might be her lunch, but instead, it's a pouring out of words.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly, nerves igniting. Her words almost as tight as her chest. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, and I understand if you want to hate me for it."

His eyebrows lift in surprise, his eyes softening, "I could never hate you, Calliope."

Oh, yes you could, she thinks, if you knew what I'm considering right now.

She twiddles with her thumbs. Her mind is at war within itself, "I just feel so heavy all the time and tainted, and I would never want to put that on you," he opens his mouth to speak, but she steps closer to him and continues, across the floor and flickering candlelight, she means every word that flows from her lips. "Because you're good, Arthur. You're so good, and you're the king Camelot deserves, and it's just too dangerous for me to...to..." she can't bring herself to say it. The words are on the tip of her tongue, but something gets in the way of their freedom; of speaking them into existence.

Arthur starts to close the remaining distance between them— to tiptoe near the blurring lines encircling them, "To what?"

"To have something I'm scared to lose."

He's so close to her now—so close, she raises her hand and places her palm against his chest, right above his pounding heart. Arthur's hand closes around her own, and before anything else can happen, Calliope leans forward and wraps her arms around his torso, burying her head into his strong chest.

She releases a long breath of relief as she is enveloped in his embrace. It feels so safe and warm, and he rubs comforting circles on her back as she tries to keep herself from falling apart completely in his arms.

Calliope remembers the dagger in her sleeve. She lets it slip ever so slightly so one more motion would cause the handle to fall into her hand. Squeezing her eyes shut, her heart hammering against her ribcage, she feels tugged in two opposite directions. And then, when she feels his embrace tighten just before she forces herself to choose one horrifying option, the Prince begins stroking her blonde hair, and that is enough to make her crumble.

She can't do it. She truly can't, and she hates herself for even thinking for one moment that she could.

Leaning back from his embrace and withholding a hurricane of tears —collecting from the emotional and physical strains she has endured— Calliope bites her bottom lip, "I really don't want to be alone tonight." Her last night.

Because now that she has decided not to go through with Sepharin's deal, she must stop him and the blood wraiths. She must go to the Caves tomorrow with Merlin, and put an end to this chaos once and for all.

But for now, under soft moonlight and flickering candles, she wants to feel peace...one last time.

Arthur looks down at her in surprise nodding, "Of course. You can stay here."

It's late, and exhaustion snaps into her body. She wonders how she's even still on her feet after so long without rest or sleep, and Arthur's big, soft bed has never looked so good.

Walking across the room, Calliope unlaces her boots. She hears Arthur going to the other side of the bed, and when she swings her legs over the mattress, he is standing with uncertainty, unsure of the boundaries still present between them, but also a small hint of something else entirely washes over him at the sight of her lying back in his bed. Amongst his sheets and pillows.

But, Calliope is too tired to read into anything. Sleep is already starting to take over her mind at the feel of the soft pillow behind her head. Calliope pulls the sheets tighter against her body, rolling over to face Arthur as he climbs in.

For a second, she just stares into his eyes, those shining, ocean blues, before she finally speaks again.

"Goodnight, Arthur," she says, quietly—gently.

The Prince of Camelot never thought he'd hear those words while this fierce, blonde beauty lies right beside him. He always thought their quiet goodnights would be words of parting in the darkness when he wished he had the courage to ask her to stay.

So, as her eyes drift closed, her breathing evening out as sleep wraps around her without hesitation, he reaches forward, tucking a stray strand of her icy hair behind her ear as he replies in a soft whisper—

"Goodnight, Calliope."

♛ ♛ ♛

okay, here is part 1 of blood oath. i'm thinking that it will be split up into 3
remember to vote, and leave your thoughts in the comments  :)