A/N: Obviously I do not own Tammy's Characters, I do not own the King Arthur Tales, I do not own any works of literature I reference, If I did I would not be posting them here, I would be making money off of them which I most definitely am not.
Beauty: 1: In Which there is a Meeting and a Convenient Rainstorm
Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round heads in the square holes. The one's who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. You can quote them. Disagree with them. Glorify or vilify them. But the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the one's who do.
Life was boring, well, her, life was boring. It was a whirl of pretty dresses, good and bad wine, and parties, an endless amount of parties. She had been told she was beautiful, as beautiful as the Lady Helen of the non-existent Troy, as beautiful as Athena, as Cupid's consort. But if being that beautiful was the cause of her cage she wished it upon someone else, someone who wanted it, because she certainly didn't. She had never asked to be beautiful, she hadn't asked for green eyes and blonde hair, all of her life she had wished for blue eyes, because the rest of the world had blue eyes and dang it!- why couldn't she just be like everyone else? Why did she have to be the pretty one? People always wanted to know about the pretty ones, wanted to read about the pretty ones. No one ever wanted to read about the fat ugly ones. No one but her. She had always wanted to know what normal everyday people did, her priest had answered her by saying that normal people daydreamed about being her.
Me. Why they want to know about me I'll never know. I'm not that interesting, I'm very boring in fact, and I'm just me, just Kallisto.
She was on her way to Tortall, her mother was a social mountaineer, and said that the best match could be found in Tortall, and they were on the final leg of that journey, going through the city if Kallisto's ears were doing her any good, of course they were, she had relied on them most of her life. She had her eyes closed, trying not to bounce as her maid put the final touches on her face paint, more of that blasted brown kohl, she didn't even want to know how much it cost or how it was made. Her mother had probably had it created special by some mage who could have been saving children but instead was creating brown kohl.
She heard a loud, grating noise as the gate open, and she knew that soon she would be released back into sunlight, back into elusive freedom that taunted her, but stayed just beyond her grasp. The door opened, her mother exited first, giving Kallisto just enough time to slip off her shoes before she too was guided into daytime. There was a crowd, there always was, but she ignored them, focusing on fresh air, sunlight and the sound of nature. She opened her eyes to look at the crowd, one tall young man caught her eye, he had purple eyes, and he was viewing her with a look of disgust, He thinks I'm just another brainless beauty. She thought sadly, all of the ones worth having wouldn't have her, because they didn't want a woman who said nothing, they didn't want trophy wives. They wanted women that would challenge them, women who weren't afraid to speak up. I'm afraid to speak up, but not to men, to my mother.
:
"Pink or purple? Mi'lady." Asked her maid, Kallisto didn't look up, she was too engrossed in her book, Theories on the Source of Magic. After a moment she looked up.
"I don't know, which would you wear?" She asked, and the maid blushed.
"The purple, with your hair down, like Morgan le Fay. Mi'lady. " The blushing, plain looking maid said. Kallisto smiled, she had told the girl the stories of King Arthur, Gawain, Mordred, Morgan, and the girl had taken them and held them close to her heart, and Kallisto thought it was a wonderful thing to see. She didn't understand why all people were not to be educated, it didn't make sense everyone was able, why shouldn't they learn too?
"Then that's what I'll do." She decided and the maids went to work.
She was fashionably late, as always, her mother and frowned when she saw Kallisto's waist length hair down about her hips, but then decided that trend-setting was allowed and Kallisto had descended the stair, slowly, gracefully, like the rest of the beauties before her. Boredom, one word to describe a world of slow death, connived with anguish and mental deterioration. If I have to listen to one more comment about my hair…She slipped out onto a balcony and down a flight of stairs before the gaggle of geese called women could follow her.
"Honestly," She muttered as she walked through the empty, slightly untended garden, she had exited the perfect one ages ago. "Doesn't anyone in this place know that there is more to life that clothing? Or hair? Or ridiculously crafted face make up? Doesn't anyone know that people die everyday from starvation? Or that there are wars being fought over the stupidest things? I hate myself, I hate my life, I wish I were norm-"
"Don't say it." A male voice said from nearby.
"Don't say what?" She asked, not realizing that the hem of her dress was muddy, and forgetting that she had kicked off her shoes under a rose bush and not caring that tomorrow they would be the home of mice. She did notice that it was the purple eyed man speaking and that there was mud under her feet and that she was wiggling her toes in it.
"That you want to be normal." He answered, examining her with his eyes, she didn't care, she was used to it, and she was tired of it. Men always 'raped her with their eyes' as her mother so daintily put it.
"All I have ever wanted to be is normal. I know that you immediately judged me as a brainless idiot, from the moment I saw you. I know that you still think it, because only a brainless beauty would wish that she was a barmaid, a simple girl that couldn't read and only wonders if the stable boy was going to kiss her again. A girl whose mother hadn't been plastering disgusting concoctions on her face since she had grown breasts. A girl who didn't have to wear shoes, a girl who didn't have to worry about virtue and being alone with anyone of either sex, a girl who didn't know the woes of the world and therefore didn't feel the need to somehow do something about it- only no one will take her thoughts seriously because she happens to be gorgeous. I didn't ask for this, I've never wanted this, I hate this. If I was a normal girl I could at least run away and join some woman's troop, but I can't even do that, because people would recognize me, and my mother would drag me back. Beauty is not a blessing, it's a curse." She finished and realized that she desperately needed air, and then she realized what she had done. Goddess, I just spilled all of my thoughts out to a man I don't know anything about. He looked shocked, and intrigued, and something else that was part passion and part mystery. Then she did something she hadn't done for a long time, she turned and ran, her skirts above her knee, her feet sinking deeply into the mud, her hair behind her and he skin glowing in the moonlight, like Morgan le Fay, like Helen, she ran from her past, into something much more magical, but equally unwanted.
Thom was floored, this girl, the one he had labeled a green eyed vixen, was completely fascinating, not because of her beauty, but because she didn't want it. She honestly despised her own pretty face. It was mesmerizing, he never would have guessed that beautiful women didn't enjoy being beautiful. Perhaps it had been too bold of him to assume such, but this girl didn't want to be labeled as beautiful. Just like you hate being labeled Sir Alanna's son, she wants to be known for being herself, not for something she has no control over.
And then he understood, she had never been taken seriously, she was a beautiful blonde, and she wanted to be known as an intelligent young woman who could think for herself, not as a beautiful girl enjoying herself while her mother used her to try and become queen. He began running after her, and then, like in the cheesy romance books, it rained.
A/N: Um, right so, this is it, and therewon'tbeanupdateforthreeweeksbecauseI'mgoingtoUkraine…Don't kill me, but do review because I'm not sure it's any good and therefore don't want to waste my time writing something two people will read.