Credits and disclaimers: Ambrosia and Flame belongs to Farli, used with permission. :) The Captain belongs to me...more or less.

Notes: Knowing the Subreality muse mythos would be helpful (the Operation: Ultimate Writer SCRR comes to mind...), as would reading Farli's story, "A Dragon Mage Scorned!". They're not necessary, though. I don't know exactly how the Flame/Calliope confrontation will go, but this story shouldn't affect it in any way.

If anyone wants to use this story as part of the background of the Muses, bear in mind that the other Muses know absolutely NOTHING about the "inner Calliope" and a certain event that happened to her (you'll see what soon enough). Period. No loopholes.

Timeline: Takes place during "A Dragon Mage Scorned!" and before "Operation: Ultimate Writer."

This story is rated PG-13.

"Just one more thing -- take these files to Ambrosia and ask her to review the profiles of the new Muses. Inform her that I need the reports by tomorrow morning...

"But--"

"Yes, Ganymede?"

"...I'll send them at once...

"Thank you...

At last, the end of a long and frustrating day. I really should have reprimanded him for questioning a perfectly reasonable order, but good secretaries are hard to train. Ganymede fits my requirements almost perfectly, despite him having been Zeus' lover. Zeus was never known to lust after more than a pretty body. This one, however, seems to be a pleasant exception.

I take a sip of my tea, perfectly made as always. I must remember to commend him one of these days. I have long meant to assure him that he has always fulfilled his duty well (with a subtle suggestion that he had better continue to do so), but somehow it continuously slips my mind.

Odd, that. I usually have a very good memory.

Then again, I'm a busy deity, more so than most of my pantheon nowadays. As the Queen of the Muses, the ever-flourishing wells of inspiration, I cannot let myself be any less than vigilant. In fact, I don't think I have had a vacation since the last of my sisters left. Not that I need one, of course, and it would be quite impossible to hand over my burden to any of my subordinates.

Speaking of subordinates...

My eyes fall on the files currently occupying my desk. This office, with its antique artwork and mahogany furniture and real paper files, is a mere affectation on my part. I could, if I wanted to, create something far more efficient and -- how do I say it? -- cutting age than this little artificial oasis of humanity. A weakness, perhaps, but not something any enemy of mine could exploit to his or her advantage.

Oh, I know all too well how the Muses perceive me. I am, in their eyes, a stone-hearted temperamental bitch who could not look beyond her own ego. I am an arrogant stick-in-the-mud. I demand the impossible. I am a demigoddess scrabbling for full goddesshood. I do not understand them. I have little empathy or sympathy for them. I am a ridiculous posturing fool, who has less power than she thought.

As with most rumours and gossip, there is a small kernel of truth in the insults they have chosen to heap on me. Very small, and usually twisted. Such as this one "common knowledge," that I fear one of my Muses. They would have done well to remember that Muses are not Mary Sues, and they are neither all-powerful nor all-knowing.

I pick up Flame's file, methodically skimming through it. Quite unnecessary, as I had more or less memorized it. She is old, this one. Older than me and nearly as old as the Titans. A powerful being in her own right, and careful deliberate actions on my part assured that certain factions among my subordinates assume that I fear her.

Her first mistake was believing it.

Her second mistake was putting herself under my power. If I were to go against her in terms of brute force, I would find myself hard-pressed to emerge the victor. But I am the Queen of the Muses. If I were to dismiss Flame from being a Muse -- and I most certainly can -- she would be nothing except an ancient deity hanging on long after her time had passed. If she were to exact vengeance upon me, she knows what she is risking. I am the center of the Muses. I am tied to them and they are tied to me. Without me, they will fall...and I know she would never harm her friends.

For that matter, what god or goddess would dare to attack the one who -- in effect -- controls the creativity of those who create songs and stories for them? My position, if not my power as a goddess-like individual, virtually make this certain. No, the tricksters might help her annoy me, but would never risk my wrath.

Furthermore, I know all about her Achilles' heel: her long-lost paramour, the memory of whom prompted her to stay with Farli. If she is no longer a Muse, she would lose this tenuous link. I can, if I wanted to, threaten her with it like a sword hanging over her head.

But I am not as cruel as that.

Because I do have some honour left.

Because I can understand only too well.

Because I remember--

Zeus, I should never have strayed into memory lane.

Too late to back away, now. Slowly, I unpin the brooch I habitually wear, cradling it in my palm. Shaped like a quill pen, this little gold and mother-of-pearl ornament is all I have left of...him...aside from my memories.

My sweet, lost lover. I was drawn to you like a moth to flame, knowing all the while that it was not meant to be. I think you knew, too, but you chose to ignore it -- and loved me all the same.

You were shy and intelligent, with a quiet handsomeness, a combination I found more attractive than the preening Casanovas who vied for my attention.

Your enthusiasm, more often than not, was infectious. I still cherish the endless nights when we held each other in bed and talked, as equals, about the ancient tomes you unearthed from the very depths of a dusty room.

In the end...

I can still recall the heart-crushing sorrow in your green eyes, and the feel of your soft dark hair between my fingers as we embraced for one last time. You always thought yourself unworthy, my love, and perhaps it would have been easier to let you believe so when it comes to me.

But I couldn't leave you like that. Not you. Never you.

I did my best to grant you a kind of immortality, in my own way. You would have been amused to know that you were reincarnated as a fictional character, love, though you are long gone by then. He is very like you -- I personally made sure of it.

If you were here now, you would grace me with that gentle smile of yours and make a wry joke about finding immortality in all the wrong places, hoping to see me laugh. Then I would take your hand, and we would make love until Eos brightens the sky in her rosy chariot.

Closing off my heart seemed to be the best decision, after him.

If I fear Flame at all, it is because I fear that her longing would override her sense of duty, rendering her unfit as a Muse. I cannot and will not allow that. I nearly did the same, ignoring my responsibilities as the Queen, and jeopardized the Muses. Never again. She would do well to learn from -- I pick up another file -- another Muse, now known as the Captain.

Never, ever mix personal with professional. I learned it the hard way, as did the Captain. In her case I have to admit that she hurt my pride badly, but it was not the sole reason why I transferred her. She believes otherwise, because it makes the transition easier for her. I let her do so, as I choose to be lenient about Flame, because a little rebellion (albeit a controlled one) once in a while is better than an oppressive atmosphere of resentment against me. Some of the other Muses will look upon them as heroes, and cheer privately. They will then go back to their work content in the knowledge that things are not too bad, that someone else had done the dissenting for them.

I will, however, confess that I am nearly as arrogant as they say I am. How could I not be? I am a bitch, and I say this without regret because it helps me survive. I can be vicious and vindictive. I also have my weaknesses, such as finding the temptation of being a Muse for the best writers nigh irresistable.

But I am not a fool.

THE END

I leave it up to you whether to accept this as "canon" Muse history or not. As far as the other Muses are concerned, Calliope is still an arrogant Bitch Queen -- which she is, but that's not the point. ;) None of them know, nor do they suspect. Ever. There are rumours dismissed as untrue (as in "Is That A Mutant In Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Glad To See Me?"), but no more.

I don't really know why I wrote this. I guess I wanted to delve deeper into her motivations. It pains me to read a two-dimensional character, and since I sorta started the whole Calliope thing in the first place...I just felt obligated. Maybe Calliope took the Captain's place for one night and compelled me to write this. She frightens me, that's all I know. :)