Standing Resistance

Chapter 8

It was one of his favourite moments, to awaken with her in his arms.

Merlin blinked his eyes open as his vision focused on the sleeping face in front of his, her mouth only slightly agape as gentle breathing blew from her rose lips, her waves of long ebony hair laid across her pillow in a fan on the space behind her, and their limbs were in knots as their arms were draped on each other in a somewhat tight embrace. He smiled and held her closer to him, emitting a contented sigh from her as she snuggled her face into his chest.

He looked about the room, and saw that there was a glow, like fire, that lighted the room in shades of soft pinks and fiery reds. His gaze settled on the cityscape outside his window and saw that the sun was sunken half-way into the sea of tall figures of concrete. Thick dark clouds framed the jagged horizon as they were barely illuminated by the raging colours of autumn from the ascending sun. A sign of another day of rain, without question. But he could hardly bring himself to care about the outside world when he was tied up in an addictive warmth by arms and legs and satisfaction with the woman he has admittedly been pining for ever since he had called himself a member of the Pendragons' royal household.

A several weeks had passed when she showed up at his door, and his body tensed in the memory of her beneath him, her kisses wet with her tears as her cries died in her chest before they even reached her throat, but relaxed when Morgana moved in his arms. Merlin grinned as he held her, like a young schoolboy would upon finally lying with his first love.

Finally, she was his, and he was hers.

But he saw through her. He knew something was wrong.

Merlin's eyes glazed over his bedroom, their bedroom, once more. As the days went by, more and more of her personal things and belongings mixed in with his, and soon after, it had become her flat as much as it was his.

Boxes of perfume and jewellery and small bags and pouches were laid out, scattered on drawers and tables, some situated on the bathroom sink. Quite a number of her clothes had been hung and crammed together with his inside his closet as additional bars of soap and bottles of shampoos and oils were put with his by the shower. It had started to smell like the stacks of books, some yellowed and frayed with age as some were fresh and barely opened, that she had accumulated in nearly every single nook as most of them had no space in his bookshelves. She had situated heaps and racks of fabric and cloth, mannequins, and a sewing machine inside one of his spare rooms, where she did her work. Food was more often on the table than not, and his flat had become quite a home with the smells of cooking and the sweet singing voice of a very beautiful woman.

There was no doubt about it: Morgana Pendragon was now part of his flat.

They had tried to kill each other at first, during those years, as they were freshly wounded souls out from the battle of Camlann. The betrayal of yet another attempt at her life was ringing in her head in a constant beating, while the pains and anguish of losing his king and best friend had made him a shadow of the man he was. They were driven to the brink of sanity by destiny's cruel hand, and the last place they wanted to be was in each other's company.

But time went on without mercy, all of their friends and allies withering under the age of the moon and sun of this realm as they were pulled further into the next. Loneliness had begun to gnarl at Merlin's bones then, despaired at his young face never-changing as the people around him descended deeper and deeper into the earth. It was when he saw familiar pale emerald eyes in the crowd one day after many a decade, untouched by time as he was, that had begun his search for her. She had slipped further out of his sight that day, and Merlin had seen the hatred that resided her light orbs before she disappeared that confirmed to him that it was her. Instead of being discouraged, he had pursued to seek her out, for he knew that it would only be her to keep him company through the ages. Each time they had met throughout the centuries, they had met in fire and passion and anger, starting meaningless quarrels over mistakes and faults that had happened lifetimes ago, and ending with one leaving the other in their unconscious with an emptiness that sunk deep in their chests.

But it was their last encounter, in that different era of sways of jazz and liquor, which he could not get out of his mind. His hold around her waist tightened, his gaze set onto the rising red sun, as memories of what was a lifetime ago were reliving themselves and reopening old wounds that had just begun to close. It was a time he couldn't understand, and it was a pain that was different from anything he had ever experienced.

He heard a small sound from the face next to his, and saw the small frown that schooled her delicate features. Realization came to him and he immediately loosened his grip on her, contenting himself with watching her be at peace as her grimace also ceased.

The faint pink glow of the room was cast upon her pale skin, her figure under a tangle of blue sheets as ethereal as the view of the sun's domain in its bounds unreachable by time. He watched as shadows played in every dip and soft curve of her body, their dance in sync with her breathing as it quickened its pace. Her long dark lashes fluttered and she breathed out a sigh, a slow smile gracing her lips as her jade eyes opened lazily to search for his.

"G'morning," she greeted him softly, her voice still heavy with sleep as she tried to blink the drowsy look out of her heavy eyes. Merlin grinned and pecked her nose, earning a small smile before she yawned.

"Want some breakfast?" he whispered near her ear. She nodded, but made no attempt to untangle her arms and legs to let him stand from the bed, and neither did he.

"How long have you been awake?" Morgana inquired.

He shrugged a shoulder. "A while." Satisfied to leave it at that, she nodded, and sunk in deeper into his embrace. His lips twitched upwards as her hand came up to twirl the small locks of his hair on the nape of his neck in between her fingers.

"You'd need to let me go if you want any caffeine in you system," he reminded her with a small laugh. She growled and pulled him closer to her, leaving no space between them as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. He closed his eyes and began to rub circles on her back, soothing out the knots and tense muscles with the heel of his palm and the length of his fingers. Morgana moaned in delight as he kneaded and rubbed the stress from days' work from her bones, melting into his arms in surrender to his hands.

"How'd you become so good at giving massages?" she asked as her eyes shut. "You would probably earn more in a year as a masseur than a king would in his lifetime."

Merlin chuckled. "Arthur's servant, remember? I was bound to discover how to relieve the ache in my muscles or I'd be as stiff as a stick in a day," he deadpanned. He shook his head in mock exasperation as she giggled into his neck.

Morgana whined when his hand stilled and settled on her back. He pulled himself away from her to look at her face, and his fingers slid across her skin to stroke her cheek. She shivered under his touch, and she found herself unable to look away from his bright blue eyes.

"Come on," he laughed at Morgana's pout. "Food, yeah? I'll give you all the massages you want, but I'm starving."

Morgana rolled her eyes and collected herself from his arms. She sat up and looked out into the blazing horizon, the sheets falling from her figure to reveal her nudity. Sitting against the faint red light that was slowly fading, a side of her face was illuminated by the colours of fire as she cast her light jade eyes upon the rising sun, and the other was hidden in soft, gentle shadows as it was framed by her dishevelled locks of raven hair. The sunbeams upon her smooth, even skin made her seem to glow, its hue settling into a rose colour as she sat watching. She looked like a war goddess staring out into the bleeding wound of the world, thinking, with watchful eyes, and seemed content in watching it die as she withheld secrets at the tips of her fingers that would lead it to its salvation.

She sighed and let her legs dangle at the edge of the bed. "It's too early to be awake," she grumbled. "It's not yet even past dawn." Morgana walked, her body bare from any cover of fabric, and Merlin couldn't help but follow her with his eyes as he, too, sat up. When Morgana noticed the lack of movement from him, she stopped in front of the bathroom door and turned to face him, her eyebrow raised and her hands settled on her hips as she caught him watching her.

"Well? I didn't give up the warmth of the bed for nothing, did I?" she snapped with feigned annoyance. Merlin grinned and stood from the soft sheets, walking to her briskly to give her a quick kiss.

"Yes, my lady," he answered her with an exaggerated bow before padding off into the kitchen, not even bothering to fetch his robe.

Morgana stood by the bathroom door, her eyes on his backside as he went off for her coffee. She shook her head as a small smile crept to her face, and finally stepped into the shower.

Merlin stood in front of the coffee maker as the black liquid dripped into a clear pot, its strong aroma wafting into the cool air. When it was halfway through, he proceeded to retrieve the flour, milk, and eggs from their respective places in the kitchen, and settled them beside the stove.

He was happy, without doubt, that Morgana had come back to him. The empty halls of his dwellings haunted him with the echoes of his past, his mind tortured him with memories of what used to be, of his dreams as a boy in a distant era, and his heart submerged deeper and deeper into a dark path. A man bitter with age with a boy beneath it all, hoping, wishing, that the nightmares would stop.

Now, laughter and hushed secrets filled the empty spaces of his home, the mirth in her eyes lighting each dark corner of his rooms, and she shared his love and desire in this strange world in a strange epoch of this world's time.

But through her smiles and kisses, throughout the time they had been together in this day and age, he could not help but notice the gaps and holes in the words she spoke. She avoided and deflected some questions, changing the topic whenever he asked of what she meant about why she could not be with him. Morgana would smile nervously, tell him that it was nothing, and move on as if there was nothing said. Either she would have a distant look in her eyes when he wasn't looking, or she couldn't take her eyes off him for a moment. Whenever he raised his suspicions of her actions to her, her eyes would blaze in anger then in defeat, and Merlin could not help the frustration that burned beneath his skin.

Merlin felt that it was somehow connected to their last encounter, all those decades ago, and he grew restless because of it. It was a past he didn't want to remember, but it would not leave his mind whenever he could see the worry and fear and sadness in her eyes, whenever he could see her forced smiles and trembling fingers.

She was keeping something from him, and he would do what he could to find out what it was.

AN: Hello, dearies! Here's my update for the month. :)) This chapter was unbelievably hurried, so please forgive the pacing if it seems off or the characterization a bit wrong. Unbeta-ed, unedited, so please, please forgive any mistakes that you might notice.

Please leave reviews! You know I love them with all my heart. :))