AN: Hello, dearies! Here's a new update, and forgive me for any mistakes or whatever you find unsatisfying here. Busy busy busy life as of now, and I did my best to update. :) Enjoy! Don't forget to review after reading! :D (Warning: this chapter, like all my other stories and chapters, are un-beta-ed and not proofread or editted; please please forgive my mistakes!) Also. If you want, please listen to What You Know by Two Door Cinema Club before reading this chapter. :) It would do good if you do.

Standing Resistance

Chapter 6

"Thank you, Andrew Brosius. We'll keep in touch."

Smoothing down his trousers and straightening his blazer, Merlin stood from his seat, shaking the hand of the man in a tailored grey suit and cropped brown hair with a polite smile and a nod. When the business man who was his company moments earlier had walked a distance away from him with the envelope Merlin gave him under his arm, he plopped back down on the soft leather with a heavy sigh.

Merlin crossed his legs and propped his chin on his elbow as he leaned against the armrest of the couch, peeping out to the majestic hotel restaurant view. It was very much similar to the one his flat offered him, and as he stared out unto the dimming skies that bathed each surface of every brick and pavement in shades of purple that varied from the most vibrant of violets to the palest of lavenders, his resolve to ignore his current issues with Morgana crumbled down bit by bit. It ended up with him plucking his phone out from the pocket of his jacket and staring at the cellphone number Gwaine had sent him the day before, contemplating whether or not it would be best to contact her.

A frown was firmly settled on his brow as he thought.

But what would he say? He wasn't even sure what position they were left in their relationship since the day before, when Morgana had practically barged into his apartment and acted so damn confusing that it almost drove him mad. He knew he wanted to talk to her, and since she had blocked him out of her mind long ago to do it telepathically through magic, there wasn't much choice in the matter. But this certainty didn't exactly answer the burning question he had in his head.

Just how does anyone start a conversation with Morgana Pendragon, the last High Priestess of the Old Religion and the illegitimate princess of the Kingdom of Camelot?

Screw it, he thought.

He was acting like a teenage boy, finally getting the phone number of the girl he'd been ogling at for weeks, months, years. And if he was going to act just a tad bit younger than his years, then he might as well do something about it. He entered her phone number, and as he pondered as to what to say to her, he settled with a simple hello.

Hello, Morrigan.

Merlin stared at his mobile phone in each passing moment since he sent his text, and about seven minutes later, when he had about chewed down his whole thumbnail, came her equally short reply.

Hello, Ambrosius.

Of course she understood the basis of his current name. Andrew Brosius. Ambrosius. It was well only the Welsh counterpart of the name she grew to fear in her earliest and darkest years in search for vengeance. It wasn't hard to work out, especially for her, but still.

Merlin allowed himself a small smile as he stared at the two words she had replied to him. At least she was talking to him, even through text.

What are you doing right now?

Morgana raises an eyebrow at his text. What was Merlin trying to get at in this conversation? He truly did get her number, and from Gwaine, no doubt. But it wasn't like her to back down on anything, to remain passive as he pushed on to be the aggressive one.

What are you doing right now? Morgana turned the question back on him. She set her mobile phone back down on the coffee table when she saw that her message was sent, and she stared outside the window as she leaned back against her chair. Papers were strewn about on her table, all filled with designs and lists and plans, and her eyes were beginning to tire as her day progressed.

She sat in a small café, a place barely noticed by anyone passing by as it was squeezed between two brick buildings. The shop was almost about empty with only her as its customer for the time being. The sky bathed the city with a soft purple hue as the sun began to set, the light violet colour of the wisterias that wound across the flowerbed outside and at the sides of the windowpanes intensifying by a certain degree under the dimming fiery clouds.

The tables in the café had decorative lanterns on the middle of each one, their intricate patterns and designs casting odd and peculiar shadows on the faded pastel blue walls. The furniture looked like antiques, the cushions soft as if worn and always used, and the coffee shop made her feel relaxed, more at home than she would be in her own flat. Morgana could hear the shop owner humming "Hey Jude" by the Beatles in a slightly off-key tune, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and newly baked muffins wafting in the air. The lights above her fell upon her skin faintly, and the whole scene in the dusk of the day made her want to sink down into her chair and just close her eyes and shut everything out.

Hung on the walls were old shelves and frames, preserved memories and what Morgana assumed what were handicrafts that used to be vibrant and striking, washed out photographs and paintings, and jars of dried flowers and plants as they filled up the café. There was one rather large yellow glass jar on the edge of the shelf near the door, and instead of withered flowers poking from its mouth, there were wisterias, exuding a wispy scent in each small breeze.

What if I just lived like this? asked Morgana to herself. It wasn't a bad idea to have a simple shop to handle and maintain everyday, pruning out a small garden, baking cakes and scones and making tea or coffee…

Morgana almost laughed at herself. Her, Morgana Pendragon, have a peaceful life?

She scoffed. Foolish dreams, they were. It's not like destiny cared about what she wanted.

Morgana fished out her iPod out of her bag and inserted one of her earphones into her ear.

The sound of her mobile vibrating on the cool surface of her table brought her out of her trail of thought.

Just sitting here, thinking of you.

Morgana snickered. God, what was this? What has become of the mighty Emrys?

I didn't know you were such a cheese ball now, Morgana replied.

She sighed to herself. She told herself she'd try to distance herself from him as much as possible, to try to cover the inevitable truth she's been dreading. But what she was doing now was quite contrary to what she initially wanted.

Hey, you know you like it. ;)

Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. She couldn't believe it, making her read the single sentence at least half a dozen times. In the end, she lets out a small chuckle. He really was quite adorable sometimes when he's acting like an adolescent, that she couldn't deny.

You're so full of yourself, Emrys.

She received a reply no later than half a minute later.

A thousand years is a long time to know what people really think about you, you know. Now answer my question: what are you doing right now?

Morgana let her grin reach her ears at his persistence.

I'm taking a break from work. I'm just resting now, listening to music.

She let her eyes graze over the papers strewn about on her table, scowling while doing so. There was just so much more work to do, a lot of expectations to meet. The ballet production that was one of her latest projects had received high praises and such, and now she had to dig through her creativity to top it off.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she tapped the screen to view the message.

Oh, really? Listening to what? he replied.

She smirked a bit.

Two Door Cinema Club.

Their song blared in her ear, the smell of cinnamon rolls baking in the oven coming next after the muffins. She glanced at her now empty cup of jasmine tea, her mouth watering at the fragrant scent of pastries from the counter. When she read Merlin's next text message, she didn't expect it to shake her to her core.

And I can tell just what you want; you don't want to be alone. And I can't say it's what you know, but you've known it the whole time.

It wasn't a surprise that he knew the band. It was his choice of lyric that shook her. They struck her exactly to the heart.

And there it was: the secret she had tried so hard to keep down her throat, the desire she had pushed away to the back of her mind, the fact that she had futilely rejected. In just a few lines from a simple song, he had taken the one thing she had denied for over a hundred decades and kept in the deepest, darkest recesses of her icy heart, and he had put it under the light for her to see.

Merlin had once more shed light upon her darkness, and she hated him for making her feel a pang of pain deep in her chest.

With shuddering hands and a stoic expression painting her face, she typed out a message, deciding to ignore the thought on whether he had picked out those words on purpose or not. She let out a bitter laugh as the song "What You Know" started in her ear. Such perfect timing.

How did you know which one of their songs I was listening to? Did you use magic again, Andrew?

She was aware that Merlin knew he couldn't access Morgana's mind. But she needed to remind him that no, she didn't want his company. She didn't want him back in her life anymore. That every moment she was spending to reply to his messages wasn't because she wanted to, but because she knew she had no choice in the matter. That no matter what she did, he would try to find her, and he would. She knew and he knew that if he wanted to, he could still get into her head even with the barriers she put inside her mind, and he was simply letting her be. She knew that whether or not she wanted it, he would still get to her. But despite the obvious facts of who truly had the power, the least she could do was to let him know that she didn't want him to find her, that she didn't want him to wrack through the distance she purposefully put between them in powerful and raging waves that would hit and crash through her. She wanted him to know that she wouldn't go down with a fight, that she was an unwilling participant in all this.

That was all she could do in this twisted path they had taken.

All she could do was lie to herself.

Buzz

Ha ha, that's very funny, Morrigan. You Pendragons and your sense of humour, goodness, I wonder how I've survived through all these years with you.

Morgana wrinkled her nose.

Hey, don't you compare me to Arthur! she typed in a furious manner, seeming more like a whining child than a woman defending her pride. That prat had an awful sense of humour. He wasn't a very good sport, either. His jokes weren't all that good, and what was worse was that when you pull one on him, his royal douchey arse comes out brighter than the sun.

Morgana pouted, unwilling to be compared to such an immature baby that was his brother.

Oh gods, I know. I don't even know why I became friends with the clotpole in the first place. The first time we met was also the first time I saw his idea of "fun". So full of himself, that arse.

It was then that a sudden realisation hit Morgana.

How did you two meet, anyway? she asked.

In all those years, in all that hatred and bitterness, through everything they've been through, Morgana never really knew a lot of small details in the matter of the two supposedly great people. One of those small details is how Merlin and Arthur met, how the destinies of the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk on earth and the Once and Future King finally collided as they were meant to.

A woman in a floral apron approached her, holding a carved wooden tray in her hands. She wore a kind smile, her brown hair up in a bun on the top of her head, and her figure was a bit round and plump. She reminded her of Hunith, Merlin's mother, and she choked each time she sees her in this woman. It was her eyes, a dark sea-green, that kept on reminding her that no, it was not the woman she had always seen as a mother figure. This was not the woman who had the same eyes as a certain man she longed for.

"Hello," the woman greeted Morgana cheerily. Her eyes went down to the items on the tray, seeing that on it was an elegant white teapot with steam escaping its stout and a fresh cranberry muffin on a painted plate. The woman set the tray down on the edge of Morgana's table and transferred both the teapot and the plate as she tried to push as little papers as possible for space.

"You've been coming here so often," the woman started, "and so I thought I'd give you something to nibble on while you work. Tea and muffin's on the house." She smiled at Morgana tenderly once more before she wiped her hand on her apron and gingerly placed her hand atop Morgana's. "Don't work yourself to hard, young lady. I don't want you to drop of exhaustion on my floor." And with that, she retreated back behind the counter, placing the newly baked pastries behind the glass for all the customers to see.

Morgana stared at the spot where the woman stood and held her breath.

She longed for a mother dearly, after losing hers at such a young age. When Merlin's mother came into her life, she embraced the woman as a mother figure to quench her thirst of maternal love.

It was Merlin's mother who did that for her.

Hunith, not her mother, but Merlin's.

Ah… Merlin.

Her eyes went back down on her mobile in her hand, the vibrate of her phone that signalled of a new text message having gone unnoticed by her earlier, and checked Merlin's reply.

The prat was using a servant as a target, making the poor boy run around while clutching a shield. Arthur threw daggers at him, and not once did he miss his target. I told him to stop, and I think you have the general idea of the outcome: me, being acquainted with a soon-to-be-dear-friend that is the stocks. Destiny it may be, but could it have made our first meeting a little bit less embarrassing for me?

Morgana laughed heartily at Merlin's short and summarised story, imagining in her mind just how it had all transpired. Arthur, the bully and the royal pain in the arse, and Merlin, the boy who craved for justice with a heart kind and tender.

What a shame! Morgana typed in reply. I wish I could have seen it! I wonder what you said for Arthur to decide you worthy of the welcoming arms of the stocks.

Aw, stop kidding yourself, Merlin answered. You know that if you were there, you would have tried to stop Arthur. That might never have had to happen.

Morgana pressed her lips a little tighter at that.

Yes, she tapped into her phone. I would have, back then.

And would you not now? Merlin answered.

Morgana's fingers froze as it hovered over her screen, staring at the five short words with unsure eyes.

Here it was again. Merlin offhandedly threw one of his tests on her path, making Morgana face what she tried to avoid.

She knew what this was about. This was about whether she was still the same girl as she was then: the feisty, strong-willed, compassionate king's ward. He was digging for a chance of seeing her again, underneath the surface of dust and facades accumulated over the hundreds of years. He was looking for a hint that she still saw him as a friend, if there was still a small amount of companionship preserved even through all the wars and battles that caused them to drift apart.

Morgana did not know what to say. Her decisiveness wavered for a few moments, and that was all it took for her to put her phone down, pour out some of the steaming water into her cup, and sink down further into her chair as she clutched at her tea with shaking hands.

Merlin stared down at his cellphone as he sat on one end of his dining table, one hand cupping his chin with his elbow propped on the surface of the table and the other drumming its fingers against the cool glass. His impatience and fidgety attitude was brought upon him by one reason only: Morgana was not replying.

He groaned and buried his face into his hands. Gods, Morgana really was making him into such an adolescent boy. He had more important matters to attend to! There were hundreds of papers to go over and sign, and what was he doing? Sitting around and waiting for some girl to answer his texts, ridiculous!

Except that it wasn't just some girl. This was Morgana. The illegitimate princess of Camelot, the daughter of King Uther Pendragon, the last High Priestess of the Old Religion, he reminded himself again. Yup, he was pretty sure that she wasn't just "some girl".

But there was one thing he was sure of. He was sure that as of now, Morgana, the old Morgana, was somewhere in there.

Merlin checked the time. 11:38. He glanced out the window, looking out at the cityscape that greeted him everyday in his flat. The lights of the windows glowed against the dark skies, and the streetlamps and cars seemed like small sparks in a frenzy of a race, and he would have thought before that it was like watching stars of all colours dance around each other in harmony, like it was a magic that was unknown to him and such a foreign concept would it seem to him.

But that was before.

Buzz

He hastily picked his phone up, hope and anticipation building up in his chest as he expected it to be Morgana, finally.

But it wasn't.

Merlin's face fell as he saw that it was only one of the companies he has been doing business with as of late. He would read it tomorrow. As of now, seeing that the message was not from Morgana, he was tired and utterly disappointed, and he wanted to rest.

The doorbell rang as he stood up from his seat. Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes. Honestly, did people even know that there is such a thing as proper timing?

Merlin dragged his feet as he moved to the door of his flat, his gaze downcast and his shoulders slightly slumped. His mind wasn't working properly anymore, and his thoughts were incoherent and confusing for him. Sleep, that was all he wanted now.

Upon opening his door, he was greeted by a face he ached to see for the whole day. It was the face he wanted to touch and hold so badly, and the one he feared that would turn away from him lest he made a mistake. It was the face of the person he hurt so badly before in the past, and it was definitely not the one he was expecting to see here, now, almost midnight. It was the face that haunted him during the better part of the day, and he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

Morgana licked her lips nervously as she dug her fists further into the pockets of her scarlet red coat. She stared at Merlin's surprised expression, and her confidence was starting to wane.

No. She would do this. Morgana closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down the nerves she was starting to feel. She had to go through this, and no matter what, she had to do it. This was her last chance, and she would not let it go to waste.

She looked him dead in the eye, letting her expression show the raw emotion behind it. Merlin's lips parted slightly as he stared at her expectantly; surprised at the openness Morgana was displaying, waiting for her to make her next move.

"I would," she whispered, her eyes hard and her jaw set. "I still would."

AN: I know it isn't my best chapter, because I hate writing these particular parts of stories. Too fast-paced for you? How was it? Tell me your thoughts, and please leave a review! :D