Standing Resistance
Chapter One
A part of the crowd: he settled to make himself to be just that. A part of the hustle-bustle of the streets' everyday mixture of business and drama; so much changed since his time. He glanced around him in the crowd, not particularly paying attention to the sea of countless faces that surrounded him. Merlin sneered at them to himself. They were so clueless, so oblivious to the truth of the world. He couldn't deny that ignorance is bliss, because ignorance was better than that. The promise of innocence that oblivion entailed, walking to the ends of the earth with a doe-eyed expression in each inch moving forward… Yet then again, being veiled from the dark secrets the world has kept from the great majority of its inhabitants is a luxury one must sacrifice to reach the ends of the earth.
Upon realizing his bitter attitude, Merlin scowled at himself. He shoved his cool hands into his pockets. So much changed, maybe too much. He glued his eyes to the pavement as he waited for the light to turn green to cross the street filled with many hurried and tired people.
And here he was: the unsung hero of the ages' past, unknown to everyone but a legend, all his deeds seen only by the heavens above him as true events in history. He was the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, with a destiny crafted to perfection to guide the Once and Future King to unite Albion. But he was made this way; a light moulded into the shadows, to wear a mask whenever his light shone brightness upon the people, a single drop of pure water in a sea of black ink, his identity so hidden from everything and everyone. He was all alone, with no one to walk beside in the lonesome years of the eras that had passed.
By the corner of his eye, he saw the red glow turn green, and he began to walk the length to his destination. He lifted his eyes, and when his gaze settled on a face from afar, he froze. The people who crossed the street at the same time as he walked passed by him, leaving him a lone figure in the middle of the busy road.
No, it couldn't be. Definitely not. It could just be a mere coincidence. Many women had dark long hair, didn't they? Around that height as well, probably…
Except that it wasn't just any woman. He would recognize that back anywhere. That curtain of lush, long black hair that tumbled down her back in waves turned, amidst a distant crowd from the other side, and those familiar pale emerald eyes aligned with his once more after so many years. She wore that same smirk that had always tugged at the edges of her lips and that same twinkle in her eye that told of many hidden secrets kept tangled behind her crimson lips. Her smile grew as she turned her back on him once more and continued the clanking of her heels against the cement of the sidewalk.
A long honk of a car pushed him out of his trance and he broke into a run, not caring about the fast driving cars that passed by him or those that almost crushed the bones of his body. He ran towards her, towards the centre of his past as he pushed his way against the tides of people between him and her. Tears began to well in his eyes. It couldn't be a trick. He was sure it was her. Or was it just his loneliness, bringing up the pains of his past? Was insanity finally upon him? Was his grief and hurt finally conjuring a more delirious torture?
Soon, with each hurried step he took, anger began to build up in his chest and the rage that he thought had long died down filled his mind as he began to see red. What was she doing here in the first place? She had almost killed him the last time they met, and she shows up here unexpected?
Just before she turned around a corner, she paused for a while to face him. He froze under her fiery eyes once more. The same glint in her eye shone from between the waves of the great unwashed and raised her forefinger to her sinful lips. She gave a playful and teasing wink and continued their chase.
Anger flared and burned inside him as he quickened his run. He could almost reach her within arms-length, just a little more…
She turned again and pushed her way inside a glass door that led them into one of the elite and expensive restaurants of the city. Of course she would lead them here. He could faintly smell the trail of her perfume, the scent never changing even through each tick of the clock. He was intoxicated by her, like it was before when they were young in age and he was merely a boy. She filled his senses as his world narrowed down only to her. He finally grabbed her arm and opened the nearest door, shoving her roughly inside and following her. He closed the door swiftly and quietly as he could; locking the door and opening the light switch, he pressed her against the wall, entrapping her between his arms with his hot panting breath close to her face. He noticed that he pulled them inside a broom closet, but it was the last thing on his mind.
Memories of what had been before came back flooding his thoughts in their close proximity. He remembered how his body would press against hers, leaving no space between them. He remembered those sinful lips locked with his, angry, passionate, lustful, her tongue thrusting into his mouth fighting for dominance. He remembered the feel of every dip and curve of her body, her breasts against his chest, their hands entangled in each other's hair, her pale arms wrapping around his shoulders, his neck. He remembered how he would raise her knee and she would wrap her leg around his waist, pressing her centre against his hardness, how she would tease him and play with him. He remembered her moans and all the sounds she would emit because of him, and that was all that mattered, that he caused her pleasure. She had evaded every single thought he had that ran through his mind. He remembered everything. It was all engraved in his mind, each detail haunting him in every second of his life.
Except that his mind wasn't just reliving his memories of the cursed woman in front of him. His eyes that were shut with the waves of desire and pleasure that washed over him shot open and he tore his lips away from hers, putting as much distance between them as he leaned on one side of the closet while she on the other. The straps of her dress fell from her shoulders, her lips red and plump from their activities, her face flush, and her immaculate jet black hair was a little dishevelled. But she had that same crooked smile ghosting her features, and that unnerved him.
"Well this is cosy," she spoke in a hoarse and seductive voice, not moving from her position.
"Morgana," he gasped. Seeing her and tasting her once more left him dazed. Then, he got to his senses and his anger started to bubble once more. "What are you doing here?" he growled dangerously under his breath, trying to compose himself. She straightened herself and fixed her hair without as much as a wince under his glare. "Why, visiting, of course," she answered as if she came to see him exactly that day each week. "Don't you miss me?" she asked, as if tempting him, daring him to tell her that he did miss her and want her. He would not relent.
"How can I miss you when I loath the very sight of you?" he hissed at her, taking a step forward. She feigned hurt in her expression, pressing her palm on the area above her heart. She never did step down from a challenge. "Ouch! That hurt. Because I missed you," she replied in a low voice with a hint of sarcasm, taking, too, a step forward so that their bodies were almost touching.
He looked down at her as the woman in front of him kept on brewing the boiling anger inside of him. "You disappear for more than just a few decades and you come to me like no time has passed. You crazy woman," he spat, "just tell me what you want and leave me alone."
Her face turned to complete seriousness and for the first time since he saw her again, she could not meet his gaze.
"All this time you were away, without as much as a word from you, you disappeared. Where the hell were you, Morgana?
"Who said I wanted anything?" she recovered herself as she ignored his question. Morgana forced herself to lock her eyes with his again. She kicked herself mentally for letting him see a moment of weakness in her. "Maybe I just came back to play with you," she said breathily.
Seeing the shift of her attitude and the waver in her confidence, Merlin's eyes softened at seeing her so vulnerable so suddenly. He cursed her silently for being always able to sneak to his soft spot, no matter the situation, to get past every defence he carefully built around himself. He stroked her soft cheek and she leaned into his touch, missing the softness his large hands could offer.
"Just tell me what's wrong," he tried a more gentle approach.
Without her consent, her tears began to blur her vision, and then she broke down and collapsed against his chest as she let out quiet sobs. He enveloped her in his arms, in his embrace, as she clutched at his shirt as if she were drowning in a bottomless sea, with only it to hold on to. Damn he for being able to make her be like this if he so wished. Damn this man in front of her for always making her feel exposed, for making her shed her skin of cruelty and coldness right before his eyes. Damn him for making her break.
He worried for what had caused her to act like this, to come to him after a long time. What made her break like this when she was the hardest and most stubborn human shell that he ever knew?
Morgana let out all her tears, all which had accumulated throughout the centuries, all of the tears and cries that should have been shed for every suffering she had to endure, for the loss she felt against her dreaded fate.
When what felt like years had passed, her sobs subsided and she raised her eyes to meet his. Her face looked no different from how it was the last time they met those many decades ago. It was still youthful, her flesh and blood still in the prime of its life. The difference was only her eyes, which were hard and cold that held an age of wisdom that contrasted to her young build, changing into the vulnerable girl that she was before all this madness started only within a matter of seconds.
"I missed you," she whispered so softly that he strained to hear it. He rested his forehead on hers and planted a chaste kiss on her lips.
"I… I missed you too," he replied, as if admitting a secret he kept for so long. They stayed like that for god knows how long. It was a surprise no one came to try to pry the door open, leaving them in the world they entrapped themselves in, inside the memories that haunted them since the darkest time of their sad tales.
They could start over. They could turn over the page; start a new chapter in their lives. They could do it right this time and make up for all their past mistakes. It was all a matter of patience and forgiveness, if they let it all to happen. They could turn their story around, if only they let it.
As if reading his thoughts, she lightly shook her head and gave him a sad smile. "We can't go back, no matter how much we want to. We can't undo everything and try to make up for everything we did."
"We can, if we let it!" he stood his ground. "Why are you so convinced that trying would do nothing?" He pleaded with her, begging her with the conviction in his eyes. His electric blue eyes were stoic and hard for a moment before he continued as his expression went back to the soft and compassionate man he used to be. "I will never forgive you for all that you did in the past, I will give you that. Never. But I will also give us, this, a second chance. I will try to forget, I'll try to let what could have been before happen now. Please," he pleaded again, but he saw a spark of anger in her eyes now.
"Do you think I have forgiven you? You left me in the darkness! You chose Arthur over me. You poisoned me and lied to me so many times that I lost count. You betrayed my trust," she barked back, with hurt shining in her eyes. "You think you're some hero; I loved you and that shit is what you gave me, hm? I had thought you were my friend, but it turned out that I was wrong." She turned from him to open the door, not caring to look at the guilt and pain, anger and guilt flash in his eyes.
"This was a mistake," she said before she turned the doorknob. He looked up at her from his position leaning on the wall with his head down. "I thought that if I saw you again, I could at least feel human again. I take it back. I was a fool for even considering it." Morgana pulled the door open, taking a step out, only for her waist to be caught in strong arms and pulled back in, the door locking once more in front of her. Her eyes widened as she felt the hot breath of the man she hated and loved, the man who tore her soul apart.
Merlin loosened his hold, the passion and lust and anger dying out into his old gentle self.
He strokes her pale shoulders, shuddering under his touch. He was sure that it wasn't from the cold; it was hot and humid in the broom closet.
Where was her anger? Where was the wit and cleverness she relied upon? Where was the fire that consumed her hate? Where was her want for vengeance?
"It's always been you who stopped this from happening, you know," he whispered in her ear in a raspy voice, his eyes hooded with arousal. "You never trusted yourself in giving in. You won't give me a chance. There can be another way. There is another way, we can find it."
She turned to face him, a smirk playing at her lips. Her crooked smile wasn't of mockery, of the disdain she felt towards the man. It was of sadness, of pain for what could have been when they were still young. She shook her head and planted a light kiss on his lips. Before she could pull back, he claimed her lips once more, his soft ones bringing fire to her core. She kissed back before she could think twice about her actions.
His tongue brushed against her lips, asking permission for entrance. She widened the opening of her mouth and he thrust his tongue to tangle with hers. He brushed his palms on her waist and hips, not daring to go any higher or lower. But then, Merlin lowered the straps of her loose dress to pool over her hips. After a millennium, only his hungry eyes gazing over her body made her squirm with insecurity. With a swift motion, he unclasped her brassiere and removed it, throwing it at their feet, and cupped her breasts with his large hands. He gave her perky and rosy nipples a squeeze and she tore her mouth from his, gasping at the sensations he sent down to her centre.
He nibbled on her earlobe before he assaulted her neck with open mouthed kissed, down to her shoulders, her collarbone, and went down to her stomach. She bit her lip and tangled her fingers in his hair as he purposely skipped where she needed his mouth to be. He moved a little higher and put her nipple between his lips and sucked. She moaned as he flicked his tongue over her breast and nibbled. When she thought she was about to go mad, he moved to her other breast and did the same ministrations.
"You're so beautiful," he said in a rough voice in between the kisses he showered her breasts. "Every goddess envies your grace and beauty, your eyes more beautiful than the rarest of jewels, your skin paler than the moon, and your lips are redder than the blood flowing in my veins. With every woman I have been, I thought of only you and cursed myself for it. You invaded my mind like a poison, and now I'll have you for it. You're mine," he claimed boldly with a snarl. She shuddered at his words as she remembered the kind and boyish man she used to be with who was now shrouded with darkness. A darkness their destiny had caused.
He began to stroke her inner thigh lightly with his fingers, up to her hips, avoiding the spot where she needed him most again. Agitated, she rolled her hips against his member and he growled, cupping her in his hand and kneaded her with his palm. She moaned once more and tugged at his jeans and boxers as it fell to his feet, finally freeing his arousal from the confines of his bottoms. Her knees felt like gave out as he pushed himself against her on the wall, only his body keeping her from falling to the ground as he pushed her thong to drop on the floor with the other discarded garments.
His hard manhood poked on her thigh as he thrust two fingers inside her, pulling them out again from her entrance and pushing his fingers back in a slow rhythm. She whimpered and moved her hips to meet his hand with impatience, grasping his cock that was nestled in black curls of hair tightly in the process.
The man made a choked sound as she stroke his member in a slow and painful torture, like he was doing to her. A sweet revenge. They continued on to bring each other to the brink, seeing who would break first. Their hips moved to meet each other's hand. A hot energy began to take over her body as she let go of his manhood and once more claimed his lips, his fingers removed from her maidenhood and he positioned himself in front of her entrance before delving into her heat with a rough push. They both breathed out sounds that brought fire into their passion as he began to pump madly inside her.
He moved his head down to rest on her shoulder, her death grip in his messy mop of black hair, much like hers. Merlin groped at her bottom as he kept them upright against the wall of the closet, her legs wrapped around his hips as he continued to thrust his member inside her. Their moans filled their ears, making them all the go faster.
He looked up to meet Morgana's eyes that were half closed with ecstasy, only for her to look away from him. He frowned and once more rested on her shoulder that was covered in sheen sweat, filling his sense of smell with lavender and cream and something that was purely her. He groaned as her walls began to tighten around his cock and he quickened the pace they were maintaining. Tears began to fill his eyes as he continued to push himself against her, thinking of their past while her hands moved down to his back and her nails digging in his skin.
Why did it have to be like this? How could they make love over and over again each time they met and yet she denied him the intimacy of meeting his eyes after all the years of betrayal and loneliness? They shouldn't have made love in the closet they were in; they could have avoided all the pain they inflicted upon themselves, they should be lying on the soft mattress they could have had together in a home they built themselves now from all those years ago, filled with love and gentleness, not fire and hurt.
Her lips quivered as she felt a cool tear drop from the man's eye that melded with the hot trickles of sweat on her shoulder. Morgana began to feel her own tears burn and flood her eyes but she blinked them back. She would not shed a tear for what could have been, for it was pointless to cry about it now. She already had wept in front of Merlin earlier, she won't do so again.
He roared inside her as they showed all their anger and hurt through each thrust and each time they met. All the lies and betrayals throughout the years, the revenge and satisfaction they could not acquire, the love that was denied from them and that they push away.
He placed hot kisses on the crook of her neck. She began to tighten around him once more as the pleasure began to build up within them.
With a final thrust, a wave of heat and passion washed over them as he collapsed against her, holding her against the wall while he let himself go. Morgana caressed his back then his nape, up to his black curls of hair as they stayed that way for a while, milking him for the eternity that was denied from them. At some level, they did not want the illusion they made within the confines of the closet to end, scared to shatter the few moments of their so-called love to go back out into the loneliness of the world outside.
Eventually, she lightly pushed him away and he pulled back from inside her, and they let out a soft gasp at the lack of heat, of the completeness they shared seconds before. Merlin stood in front of her with a few inches of space between them as she pulled up her thong once more and grabbed her bra from the floor and put it on. He slowly pulled up his boxers and pants, not bothering to button them up, and when he looked up she had collected herself already, no smear of makeup on her face, no stray strands of hair on the top of her head, almost no visible wrinkles on the dress she wore. Ever the princess. He looked at her under the muffled and matted bangs on his forehead with a frown on his face, while Morgana looked at him with a cold expression. He knew better, though. He could still see the vulnerability of the young girl he had loved all those years ago in her eyes, the twinkle in those pale emerald depths not as bright as they would have been on a normal day.
She smirked at him as if he were merely a plaything, like he were nothing, but he saw it falter. She never was one to accept that he had more power than her. He stepped forward to plant a heart-shattering kiss on her lips, his eyes closing for a half-second. When he looked back at her face, he saw that he had wiped her crooked smile off of her face.
The woman moved to open the door only to hesitate, looking back to see the broken man she had loved lean against the wall on which they had made love. She saw the unpleasant twist of his lips, his messy black hair that was darker than the midnight sky, the tiredness in his hooded eyes that begged her of the path they could have taken all those years ago.
He was her only constant companion, no matter how far the distance between them may be. Only he would be there as each second that passed continued to fail to let age fall upon her youthful body. She studied his lean figure, and thought of the false hope they would never let go. He may be the only one to make her loneliness fade away, but their chances were long gone. They could never be. Not anymore, anyway.
She only gave him a small sad smile and walked out of the closet, closing it quietly behind her, as the man slid down to the floor and let a single tear escape his eye as he hid his face in his hands under the dim light.