CHAPTER THREE
THE DRAGON'S CALL ( iii. )

"How could you be so foolish?"

Calliope closes the door tightly behind her, listening as Gaius expresses his frustration to Merlin for his fight with Arthur. But it's no where near the harsh lectures Gaius has given Calliope in the past for her dangerous lifestyle.

The young sorcerer keeps his back turned, his voice full of anger and emotion as he speaks.

"He needed to be taught a lesson."

Gaius takes an urgent step, "Magic must be studied, mastered, and used for good, not for idiotic pranks."

Merlin finally spins around, facing Gaius with a force behind his stare, "What is there to master? I could move objects like that before I could talk!"

"Then by now, you should know how to control yourself."

"I don't want to! If I can't use magic, what have I got? I'm just a nobody, and I always will be," Gaius's gaze softens as Merlin's voice returns to its normal tone. "If I can't use magic, I might as well die."

Without another word, Merlin disappears into his room, and the tense emotions he leaves behind stings the air.

"He just needs some time to cool down," Calliope offers a voice of support as Gaius shifts his eyes to her.

"Don't act so innocent, Cal," he says. "Word travels fast here, especially when you tell the Prince to shove something up his... 'royal ass'."

"Come on, Gaius, you know it's funny."

"It doesn't matter if it was funny or not," Gaius places a hand on her shoulder. "Prince Arthur is the future King of Camelot, and you should treat him that way."

"But—"

He stops her sentence, "Calliope, you came here to lay low, and insulting Prince Arthur is the last thing you should be doing," Calliope hates how wise Gaius can be sometimes; he tells her the truth even if she doesn't want to hear it. "You need to apologize to him, and before you protest, you can't get angry with the Prince for being prideful when you can't even to muster up the humility to say 'I'm sorry.'"

Defiance pauses on her face. She knows Gaius is right, but she doesn't like it.

"Once again, Gaius, you're unfortunately right."

He smiles, "Now, off you go. I expect to hear a full report of your apology before the celebrations tonight."

Calliope has a difficult time swallowing the fact that she will be the one apologizing when she sees Arthur again. The thought causes her stomach to churn in an agonizing way as she pictures his proud face staring at her—his cocky grin and insufferable comments that will definitely test her patience, which has never been one of her stronger qualities.

But, she can't accuse him of pride when she is too caught up in her own. Although the thought of telling Arthur she's sorry makes her want to vomit all over the stone floor of the physician's chambers, Calliope pushes down her own opinion on the matter. She'll have to keep her thoughts at bay to do this.

Calliope stands up, glancing into Merlin's room as Gaius sets down a bucket of water and a worn cloth at his feet to tend to the angry red marks on Merlin's back.

Turning around, she lets out a reluctant sigh as she begins walking towards the dreaded moment of her apology for something she isn't sorry for at all.

♛ ♛ ♛

Calliope gives herself a silent speech as she stands outside Arthur's door, trying her best to stick with the apology plan. Can she go through with it? She promises herself that she will not say anything rude or insulting.

As soon as she knocks and the door is pulled open, she is greeted by Arthur and his stupid smirk.

Some promises are hard to keep.

"You're late," he says, cocking his head to the side, arrogance lacing his entire being.

"You're lucky I even showed up," Calliope retorts. Be nice. Be nice. Be nice. She forces a half-smile. "So, what exactly are we going to be doing?"

As Arthur leans against the doorpost, she can't help but let her eyes wander to notice that his long-sleeve, blue shirt makes his eyes stand out more than usual. She also notices a tiny scar on his right cheek. She wonders how he got it.

Calliope always notices the small details on others most people would just breeze over. Usually, it's to discover their weaknesses, but this time...she's just looking, and she's not entirely sure why.

"I'm giving you a tour of the castle. You know, so you don't get lost and barge in on people," he says, earning a hateful glare from the blonde. "And, by the way, I don't normally take time out of my busy schedule to do these kinds of things, so try to be grateful." She holds back the comment that he is the one who invited her to do this in the first place.

"That's very kind of you," is what she manages to say through gritted teeth.

He pushes himself off the door, "Come on then. We don't have all day."

Calliope takes a moment to gather herself, pushing down the frustration so she can get through this tour without kicking Arthur in the throat. Although, that may be a hard task with her quick-temper and his ability to nag at it.

She follows after him, catching up with him in the chilly corridor. Instead of focusing on Arthur, she decides to distract herself with the intricate design of the castle. Every stone seems to be even and square, held together by centuries of layered foundations. The strong walls echo stories of the past; of people that once walked these halls before Calliope even existed.

Guards stand watch around every corner with their thick armor hiding their solemn faces. They stand unmoving underneath the arched doorways and ceilings that look taller than the looming mountains from their viewpoint. Servants and maids stir throughout the torch-lit hallways, each one carrying different objects in a hurry to get to their impatient masters that never appreciate their hard work.

Every inch of this castle tells a different story. Calliope wishes she could understand the language of the creaks and groans of the stones that hold the walls together so perfectly. Maybe they could exchange secrets.

The walls know everything; they see every hidden movement and every whispered word carried by the lull of even echoes behind closed doors.

Do the walls of this castle already know all her secrets?

"—And over here is the kitchen, but don't bother the head chef too much. She's not really a people person."

Calliope catches the end of Arthur's sentence. She gives him a nod as if she's been listening to every word he says.

"Well?" He raises his arms in question. "Do you not have anything to say?"

Actually, she had a lot to say, but they're not pleasant words, "Nope. I'm good."

Arthur's eyebrows lift. He catches the way she clenches her jaw and how her muscles seem tense. "You're good?" He looks up with a short laugh. "Are you the same person I met two days ago? Or has an actual polite human taken over your body?"

"Thank you for the tour. I should be able to find my way around now."

"Have you been hit upside the head?" Arthur leans closer to her. "Are you mentally ill?"

She heaves an annoyed breath, "No, I'm not mentally ill. I'm just working on keeping some of my opinions to myself," Calliope says in a calm voice. "Mostly, my opinions about you."

Arthur places his hands on his hips as he looks at Calliope, awaiting a better explanation, "And why's that exactly?"

"It doesn't matter," Calliope exhales in frustration. "Look, just... I'm trying to change and be a better person or whatever, and I can't do that by constantly insulting the Prince of Camelot. No matter how much of a prick he is."

"Why do you need to change? You're definitely rude, but you don't seem like a bad person."

Calliope lets out a quiet laugh, looking to the floor, "You'd be surprised."

She feels the prince looking at her as she keeps her eyes on the smooth cobblestone, trying to read her cloaked expression, but it's impossible, "Everyone has done things they're ashamed of."

"Even the Prince of Camelot?"

"Perhaps on a few occasions."

A few moments of silence fall over them, and then, Calliope finally says what she's there for—

"I'm sorry," she catches his gaze again, "for the rude things I've said to you."

"I changed your mind then?" He asks as a smirk lifts his cheeks.

"Don't ruin this," she fires at him. "I'm not saying you changed my opinion of you. I'm obviously saying sorry to be the bigger person."

"I'm sure."

Calliope crosses her arms over her chest, "Well, the tour's over so don't you have more important things to do than just stand here all day like an idiot?"

Arthur isn't surprised by her change of tone, "How many more insults have you been holding back today?"

"Oh, you have no idea the number of times I've held my tongue. I had so many opportunities to tell you what a terrible tour guide you are."

"What?"

"You have no enthusiasm, and you walk around with me like there are one million other things you'd rather be doing with your time."

"Well, there are."

Calliope taps her foot with a pinched expression etched on her face, "Then, I'll just let you get to whatever it is you want to do. I'm sure it's very important."

She spins around on her heel, "Wait, Calliope," stopping, she looks over her shoulder at Arthur. "I'm sorry too."

Calliope almost falls over in shock. Arthur just said he was sorry; what an unexpected development. She can't think of anything to say. Instead, she just offers him a small nod of thanks and walks away with her mind racing in unbelief.

♛ ♛ ♛

The main hall is sparking with constant conversation in the anticipation of Lady Helen's performance. Calliope has never heard a royal singer before, but in her mind, the person with the best voice in the world will always be her mother. She couldn't imagine a sweeter melody than the soft comfort of her mother's tone.

Calliope glances around, her eyes scanning the room full of important people and servants. She feels out of place wearing the silky green dress cascading around her. Calliope prefers a simple shirt and leather pants with her brown riding boots. Dresses like this present the exact opposite attitude of her real personality with their detailed embroidery in the fine stitching that hint she's refined—polished. The dress glides with her when she walks, radiating an aura of elegance in her stature. She can play dress-up just as well as any royal—she can blend in with any environment, change her voice and expression to fit any scenario.

It's what makes her deadly. An assassin who fights for gold is an employer of Death, but Calliope never cared about gold. Her kills have no monetary price—she wove together a string of revenge from the pain of her past. She is no henchmen of Death; no demon sent to torment lost souls. She is Death's equal, marking names and faces to join the abyss.

A few strands of her light, blonde hair are pulled away from her face in braids, which feel like the only normal part of her body. Calliope shifts uncomfortably as her eyes move to the door.

Lady Morgana walks in gracefully, her red dress falling around her curves with perfection, not one hair or strand out of place. Every man in the room watches her in a trance of fascination, and she enjoys the attention—she craves it.

Calliope drags her gaze away from Morgana, noticing Merlin and Gwen chatting near the corner. She strolls up to them, and they greet her with pleasant smiles.

"You dress up quite nicely, Cal," Gwen says.

Calliope wonders if Gwen wishes she could change out of her quaint servant's dress, but even in something so plain, she still manages to look beautiful.

"Thank you, Gwen."

Merlin quirks an eyebrow, "You don't seem like someone that would even own a dress that nice."

"I know. I hate wearing this damn thing," Calliope breathes in exasperation, tugging under her arm at the seams that rub against her skin.

"How'd you even get it?" Merlin asks.

Calliope ponders an answer, 'Well, killing people for a living is a great way to steal as much money as you need,' but decides not to include the details.

"Always a little interrogator, aren't you, Merlin?" The sorcerer sends her a pinched glance, earning a light chuckle from her. Secrecy, secrecy.

Grand melodies of loud trumpets echo through the room. Calliope turns away from her conversation as the tall double doors are pulled open in a synchronized motion. King Uther strides into the room, his golden crown decorating his head as it announces his authoritative presence over the entire room. He stops by the long table waiting for him; three chairs sit behind it: one for the King and the other two for Arthur and Morgana.

The King turns to his people, "We have enjoyed twenty years of peace and prosperity. It has brought the kingdom and myself many pleasures, but few can compare to the honor of introducing Lady Helen of Mora."

Calliope walks with Merlin to a corner a few feet away from the table as clapping envelopes the room. Everyone takes their seats, listening with eager ears as the sound of a soft harp begins flowing through the air.

Lady Helen stands on a low platform, and Calliope feels the eeriness returning to her as she looks upon the singer. Calliope tries to push it away, but as Lady Helen begins singing, the creeping feeling starts to take over her thoughts. It's an invisible panic shouting in her mind that something is off—someone is in danger.

But the audience is enchanted with her silky voice. None of the words she's singing make any sense to Calliope, and it only increases her panic. She turns her head to Merlin.

"What language is that?"

Merlin shrugs, "I have no idea."

Lady Helen steps off the platform, her singing growing louder with each slow step she takes. Calliope's eyes scan the tables where the audience sits, something clicking in her brain when people randomly start to fall asleep.

Calliope feels her own eyes growing heavy, "Cover your ears!" Merlin says in a hushed whisper. "She's singing an incantation!"

Calliope immediately throws her hands around her ears, the sleepiness jerked out of her. Lady Helen continues walking towards the King's table with her focus on Arthur. Every person except her and Merlin have fallen asleep; spider webs begin to grow on them, keeping them entangled together and unable to move.

Out of habit, she reaches to her side where her sheath would be, but she curses under her breath when she realizes her sword isn't there.

Her eyes widen when she spots Lady Helen reaching into her dress as she approaches Arthur. Calliope sees the glint of metal revealing a sharp dagger in her right hand.

Lady Helen pulls back her elbow, ready to launch the dagger right at the Prince's heart.

A jangling sound from above catches her attention. Calliope looks up, seeing a heavy chandelier coming loose from the ceiling right above Lady Helen. It makes a loud descent until it collides right with Lady Helen's back. She hits the ground along with the echoed thud of the chandelier, glass breaking and scattering.

Calliope removes her hands from her ears, looking to Merlin, "Nice save."

Everyone begins to wake up, looking around the room in confusion as they tear away the spiderwebs from their bodies. King Uther stands, peaking over the table to see that Lady Helen's appearance has shifted; the spell has worn off and turned her back into her true form—an aged, wrinkled woman who looks as if she's decaying from the inside out.

The dagger still lays by her hand as she pushes her upper body up with her final ounce of strength. She grabs the handle of the dagger and draws back her arm for one last, desperate attempt to see her plan through. In one quick motion, the dagger is soaring through the air with Arthur's chest as its destination.

Calliope takes a step to move towards him, but Merlin has beat her to it. He lunges himself at Arthur, pulling him to the ground just in time for the dagger to land in the back of Arthur's chair instead of his chest. The witch takes her last breath, her body lifeless as her head hits the ground with a hollow thud. Calliope stares at her body with raised eyebrows, her heart still hammering.

Arthur and Merlin get up from the floor, King Uther already looking over Merlin with shock and gratitude.

"You saved my boy's life. A debt must be repaid."

Merlin places his hands behind his back awkwardly, "Um, well—"

"Don't be so modest. You shall be rewarded."

"No, honestly, you don't have to, Your Highness."

"No, absolutely," King Uther insists. "This merits something quite special."

Merlin shrugs lightly, "Well—"

"You shall be awarded a position in the royal household," King Uther puts his hand on his son's back. "You shall be Prince Arthur's manservant."

Calliope holds in a laugh.

"Father!"

Then, clapping erupts in the air. Calliope's lips turn up in a grin as she joins in with her eyes on the two boys. She strolls up to Merlin, her hand landing on his shoulder.

"Well, isn't this just a dream come true?"

Merlin shoots her an annoyed look, and so does Arthur. He shakes his head and walks away, unable to believe that he's going to have to deal with Merlin—and probably Calliope as well—for every day that is to come.

graphic by sixty6ix