❝ when she looks into his eyes, she feels the gripping temptation to tell him all her darkest secrets; the names of the men she has killed, but she learned a long time ago that the only people who can keep secrets are resting in overgrown graveyards...
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Calliope can't remember the last time she woke feeling so rested.
Not once during her peaceful slumber did a nightmare awake her. Instead, she found a serene stillness wrapped in the warm, silky sheets. She tries not to think too much about the other factor that could have contributed to her undisturbed night as said factor lays next to her, his bare chest pressed right against her back as it rises and falls gently.
The prince's strong arms create a safe haven around her. One is tucked neatly under her head while the other is strung lazily around her waist. She doesn't remember at which point in the night their bodies intertwined—or who had snuggled against who—but she doesn't push him away, even as rays of fresh sunshine trickle passed the cardinal curtains.
At first, when she woke, her body tensed due to a flash of not knowing where she was, but that faded almost immediately. Calliope has just been lying, unmoving with Arthur's embrace surrounding her, for thirty minutes now. She doesn't want this serenity to end, or to face what the rest of the day holds.
But, as Arthur stirs, she knows it's almost time for her to leave. From behind her, she can feel when he wakes, his arms stiffening as he realizes their position, unable to tell if the blonde is awake. She wonders if he'll make a move to remove his arms from around her. His hot breathe fans the back of her neck, causing an electrifying sensation to trickle through her body.
Eventually, Calliope clears her throat, and his arms retreat back, "Uh, sorry," he mutters as she sits up, her legs dangling off the bed. "Have you been awake long?"
"About a half hour." Her back is still turned to him, but she can almost hear the unspoken surprise on his face, and before he can ask why she didn't push him away, the answer being too complicated, she glances over her shoulder. "I didn't want to wake you."
As the prince sits up, his mouth opens, but closes again. Arthur rubs the back of his head, trying to figure out how to navigate these roaring waters, but then, a crashing sound jolts through both of them. Calliope nearly jumps up, searching for a weapon, until her eyes wander to the servant's entrance to see Merlin standing there—eyes wide with a scattered tray of breakfast food on the floor beneath him.
He looks to Calliope first, and then to Arthur, dumbfounded.
"Um..." He inhales awkwardly. "Good morning...Arthur and...Cal...?"
"Merlin," Arthur starts, irritation in his voice.
"Yes, Sire?"
"Get out."
"Right," he glances down at the food. "I'll just clean that up later." He moves faster than Calliope has ever seen to get out of the room.
Her head tilts to look back at the Prince, who is still shirtless. Last night, she was so tired that she didn't even notice when he had discarded his shirt, but now, in the glow of morning light, it's so hard to keep her eyes from wandering.
