Arthur was Merlin’s soulmate. His name was written along his left wrist in flowing manuscript, shining golden like when his hair caught the sun just so. Merlin looked at Arthur’s hair, gleaming in the midday sun, and a little thrill went through him at the fact that he had known the colour of Arthur’s hair long before he knew him.
Merlin was not Arthur’s soulmate. He knew this as certainly as he knew the grass was green and his eyes were blue. Merlin had introduced himself, held out his hand and said ‘Oh, I’m Merlin!’ with a little smirk, not knowing yet that he was talking to the one whose name he’d been admiring all his life.
Arthur had heard the name, and looked at Merlin with… nothing. No recognition, no anything to imply that he’d been tracing Merlin’s name on his skin since toddlerhood. Just teasing derision at this insolent peasant who dared go against a noble. Against the Prince .
And then Merlin had learnt Arthur’s name. And for a while, he’d thought it was a different Arthur. After all, there could hardly be only one Arthur in the world, could there? And this one was… well, an idiot. Hardly worthy of the beautiful name flowing across Merlin’s skin. And he’d shown no recognition at hearing Merlin’s name. So this couldn’t be his Arthur. Nope. No way.
And then he’d met the dragon and heard talk of destiny and two sides of a coin and ‘the half which makes it whole,’ and he’d started to doubt himself. Then he’d gotten to know Arthur and he’d really started to doubt himself.
Arthur could be kind, when he wanted. The harsh exterior was just that - an exterior, a mask. Probably as a result of Uther being… well, Uther. It was no wonder Arthur didn’t know how to show his emotions. But there were moments, rare, shining moments when Arthur said something or looked at him a certain way and Merlin knew that the real Arthur, the one he tried so hard to conceal, was kind and good and definitely worthy of the beautiful name flowing across Merlin’s skin.
And then Arthur had grabbed his wrist to pull him along during a hunting trip and Merlin had felt the wonderful tingling sensation he’d only ever heard about, the one you felt when your other half pressed their skin to your soulmark. And all his doubts had vanished.
But Merlin wasn’t Arthur’s soulmate.
He thought it odd that he’d never seen Arthur’s soulmark, considering that one of his chores as Arthur’s servant was to bathe him. Not that Merlin really considered it a chore - he had to watch Arthur get in the bath, no thought to modesty as he strode around his chambers like he owned the place (which he did), and watch those swathes of golden skin sink below the water. He had to run a washcloth over that gorgeous body, watching droplets run down into his clavicle and… okay, Merlin needed to stop thinking about bathing Arthur before his breeches got unbearably tight.
But the point was that in all the years of bathing and dressing Arthur, he’d never once seen his soulmark. It was probably on his head, or the sole of his foot, or the inside of the cleft of his arse. One of those places Merlin couldn’t really get a good look at without being accused of perversion.
Merlin had asked once.
‘Funny that I’ve never seen your mark after all these years of bathing you like you’re a toddler who hasn’t learnt to wash himself.’
And Arthur had grinned and teased, as was the norm. ‘Jealous that no one’s been unlucky enough to get your name, Merlin?’
And Merlin had scowled and hit him with the washcloth, which Arthur had thrown right back at him. They’d started a water fight, then, and really Arthur should not have stood up in the bath, he really, really shouldn’t. But at least Merlin had a nice image to think about when Arthur was being a prat.
~~~~~
Ever since he’d learnt Arthur’s name, Merlin had started to hide his mark. He knew he wouldn’t buy that it was a different Arthur, so he always wore too-long sleeves, even in the summer.
Because Merlin knew that he wasn’t Arthur’s soulmate. And that was fine, really, he didn’t care at all. He was fine.
And then he’d met Freya. And oh, how cruel the fates could be.
He’d never forget her face in that moment. When he’d smiled at her, trying so hard to make her feel safe because she was safe with him, she would always be safe with him, and he’d said ‘My name’s Merlin.’ And she’d lit up, still shy but with the most beautiful smile gracing her lips.
‘Merlin?’ She’d asked. And she’d turned around, pulling her hair around to one side and showing off the pretty blue mark on her shoulder blade.
His name.
‘I’m Freya.’ She’d looked over her shoulder as she’d said it, clearly expecting some sort of reaction, for him to whip off some item of clothing and show her her own name shining on his skin. He imagined it would be a deep, beautiful red.
And he’d stared, suddenly wanting to cry. He didn’t even know how to describe how he’d felt in that moment. And she’d seen his expression and her face had fallen. She’d let her hair fall back and turned to face him, all traces of happiness leaving her.
‘It’s not me?’ She’d whispered. Her voice hadn’t cracked, and maybe that was the worst part. That she didn’t even seem surprised. That the fates had already been so cruel to her that the fact her soulmate did not share her mark didn’t bring even a single tear to her eye.
It was so unfair.
Because he’d loved her. He really had. He’d have done anything, gone anywhere for her.
But she just couldn’t believe it.
‘You shouldn’t leave your life here.’ Your soulmate . She didn’t say it, but the words rang loud through the air.
‘I don’t want to have a life here. I don’t want my soulmate. I’m not his anyway. I want you , Freya.’
And she’d smiled a soft, knowing smile, and let him run off to pack. He hadn’t realised, then, what that smile meant. He’d thought she was accepting that he wanted to leave with her. He’d been so happy.
If only he’d realised.
He’d taken her to the lake, and she’d finally let the tears fall.
It was odd, the intensity of the love he felt for someone he wasn’t destined to be with. But Merlin was pretty sick of destiny. How could it be so cruel as to deny him his soulmate, then deny him the girl who he belonged to?
From then on, Merlin tried to forget about his soulmark. Arthur didn’t want him and he couldn’t have Freya. What was the point in soulmates, anyway? Why couldn’t he choose? If the marks didn’t exist, he could have run away with Freya. They could be happy. He wondered what they’d be doing now…
So he tried to ignore the name on his wrist. It wasn’t worth the pain.
~~~~~
Merlin stood behind Arthur’s chair, watching with pride as his king greeted the leader of a druid camp. It was kind of surreal that they’d got this far - that Arthur was willing to hold talks about magic, that he thought his father’s laws were unjust. For the first time in a long time, Merlin could see himself telling Arthur about his magic in the near future. It was a dizzying feeling.
And then it happened.
‘Of course, I do not hold authority over all druids, merely this camp. If you come to an agreement with the Druid King then the rest of the druids will be happy to form an alliance with your kingdom.’
‘I see. And where can I find this Druid King?’
The druid’s eyes flicked very briefly to Merlin, then back to Arthur.
‘Emrys will reveal his whereabouts to you once he is assured of your surety of the alliance.’
Merlin couldn’t see Arthur’s face, but the way he leant forward in his seat and the urgency in his tone was very telling.
‘Emrys?’
‘The name means something to you, My Lord?’
Arthur leant back in his seat and was quiet for a long moment.
‘I… have heard it before. You say he is King of the druids?’
The druid leader inclined his head. ‘He is known to all magical creatures. He is magic itself.’
Arthur cleared his throat, suddenly restless.
‘He is powerful, then?’
‘Oh, yes. The most powerful warlock to ever walk the Earth.’
‘And how can I assure him of the sincerity of my actions?’
‘He will know, Your Majesty.’
‘…Right.’ Arthur shifted in his seat. He cleared his throat and said, rather abruptly - ‘If we are all happy with the result of today’s talk, we will break for the day and reconvene tomorrow.’
There was shuffling of clothes and papers as people made their way out of the room, until finally only Merlin and Arthur remained. Arthur was immediately out of his seat and pacing.
‘Are you alright, My Lord?’
Arthur continued pacing.
‘…Arthur?’
Arthur stopped in front of Merlin, looking more troubled than Merlin had seen him in a while.
‘Merlin, I like to think I can trust you. If you have ever valued our friendship in the slightest, then what I’m about to tell you does not leave this room. Under any circ*mstances. Okay?’
Merlin blinked. What on Earth could Arthur be so concerned about other people finding out?
‘Of course, Arthur.’
Arthur visibly steeled himself.
‘Emrys is my soulmate.’
~~~~~
Merlin really hated the fates. It wasn’t enough that his destiny caused him so much pain and loss that he sometimes thought he’d rather be dead than deal with it all. It wasn’t enough to give Freya - who was so beautiful and so special - the name of a man who could never put her first, who had another’s name scrawled on his skin. No. Now it had to go and give Arthur Merlin’s druid name instead of, you know, his actual name. How was Arthur ever supposed to recognise him?
It hurt. Looking at the golden name scrawled on the ball of Arthur’s foot, the name that was his but not really his. And all Merlin could think was that it was unfair.
Arthur was his soulmate. The one person he was supposed to be able to be himself around, the one who was supposed to know him, really know him. And he’d been given the wrong name.
Merlin was Emrys. He knew this, he accepted it, however begrudgingly. But Emrys was not Merlin. Emrys was the one with the destiny, the one who would help unite Albion, the one who would help bring magic back to the land. That was all he was. Merlin was So. Much. More.
How cruel, that the name scrawled on his soulmate’s skin represented only a fraction of who he was. What about everything that made Merlin Merlin ? Was that not good enough for Arthur?
‘You see?’ Arthur asked anxiously. ‘Emrys. The Druid King . I was starting to think I’d never meet my soulmate.’
Merlin stared.
‘Of course my soulmate would be magic itself . That’s not very fair, is it? I mean, imagine being the very embodiment of the thing that was so ruthlessly hunted, only to have your soulmate be the ruler of the kingdom that made it so.
Although, maybe it makes a sort of sense. After all, what better way to join magic and non-magic than with a union? A union of two people destined to be together? It’s rather nice, don’t you think? . . . Don’t you think, Merlin?’
Something had stirred inside Merlin at Arthur’s words. Maybe… maybe Arthur would understand. Maybe he could talk to him. Maybe he would understand that there was more to Merlin than the magic.
Something drew Merlin forwards. And before he knew what he was doing, his thumb was pressing lightly over his name. Merlin didn’t even notice Arthur’s hitched breath and wide eyes as he felt that all-encompassing tingling that could only mean one thing - he was too focused on the letters, which shimmered slightly at his touch and morphed into a new name.
Merlin .
