Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
A/N: Not the slightest idea what came over me, really. First Underworld story. MichaelSelene, Post-Underworld Evolution. Read, enjoy, let me know what you think.
They have shared a hundred years with war.
Time has not marked them, no scar or wrinkle, outside their eyes—endless pits of knowledge and weariness.
A hundred years and he is no more accustomed to the life he is forced to lead. A life of constant alertness and bloodshed and synthetic copper that sticks in his throat—though there are also moments when it is real blood that seeps his mouth, blood that tastes entirely of her and lust and hunger.
For her a hundred years with him has been the first defined century in over three hundred years, moments draped in shadows and sunlight and, for the first time since her family's slaying, an emotion other than vengeance. There has been warmth and tenderness and moments of unguarded joy that are always followed by utmost worry. Little can be left unguarded with any intent to survive.
They have shared a hundred years with war, a hundred years with love and little rest. There have been a hundred years of running, of fighting, of fear.
Time has passed not in days or nights, but by moonlight and sunlight, which now bleed together in an eternal mesh of gold and silver as muddled as their lives. A hundred days in sunrises and moonsets, of curt words and swift decisions that have saved their lives a hundred times over.
They have shared a hundred years with each other learning and remaking, creating the other anew. They have seen a hundred winters melt into a hundred springs.
A hundred mornings when she fears they will not see the next dawn rising, and a hundred-night falls when he promises they always will. For all the questions that remain over his new path in the world he has not a doubt in her, his guide through the underworld in which their war is staged.
They have shared a hundred years of war, but they have lived a hundred years with hope.
End
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