Everyone has one person they are destined to love forever and always. This was dictated long before the old religion. This rule is older than time itself.

When a child is born, somewhere on their body, a name is marked on them from their time before the womb- when they are but cosmic energy swirling with another for eternity. Where the mark appears is at random, but always to be etched into your skin- more apart of you than anything else.

The name is blue or grey when these two chosen have not met yet. It is green with life when they know each other, but do not yet know it is each other. The letters burn red with passion when they are united, and, over time, they fade to black after their lover's death.

When you die, magic returns you to the cosmic energy you were born from, continuing your immortal dance with your fated.

Arthur's is bold across his chest. Gwen's is a wonderful cursive around her thigh. Percival's is across his arm. Gwain's is undecipherable on the heal of his left foot. But no one knew where Merlin's was- though there was a few guesses.

"Maybe no one has seen it because it's under all that bloody hair," Arthur stated one day over a mug of mead at the tavern.

"Just because we haven't seen it means it's on his scalp," countered Percival.

"Well he wouldn't have been able to hide it from us for this long if it wasn't," Arthur countered before staring into his mug, brows crinkling in frustrated thought. "He's so clumsy. I have no idea how on earth he survives all of our adventures. Can't even handle a sword."

Gwaine throwed down his empty mug and lets out a loud laugh.

"I don't blame him for not telling us. If we've never seen it, it might be on his sword!" Then Gwaine doubled over in laughter before throwing his head back again after seeing their reactions and falling, promptly, off his seat.

The conversation was dropped then until the next morning when Arthur mused to Gwen about it.

"It's not that I'm really curious," he continued. Gwen rolled her eyes in response, fixing his jacket with a sly smile. "It's just, you think he would trust us enough to tell us."

"Honestly, I don't see why you would have to ask anyways." At Arthur's curious glance, Gwen continued, "It's pretty obvious.

"I don't think it's obvious," Arthur argued. "None of the knights think it's obvious." Gwen put both hands on her hips and shot him the look. He mumbled an apology- something about not being rude to his queen. Gwen just smile and stood up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Why do you think he always wears that scarf?" she whispered in his ear before leaving the room.

This resulted in three days of half thought out plans by the knights to remove Merlin's scarf. They resulted in one very wet Merlin, one slightly singed Merlin, one very covered-in-rotten-vegetables Merlin, don't even ask about the rabid dog, and much more.

They had just tried storming unexpectedly, during him changing clothes, for the fourth time when Merlin finally snapped.

"What is WRONG WITH YOU ALL?!" Merlin yelled at them, bare-chested yet still wearing that damnable scarf.

"Umm…. we, we umm… we"

"WHAT?"

"They wanted to see your destiny mark, Merlin," Gaius clarified. All of the knights stared at him dumfounded.

"What." Merlin's voice was flat.

"The whole kingdom knows about it. I'm surprised you haven't heard about it yourself."

"But how did you-"Arthur began to ask.

"While you are wonderful warriors, I regret to inform you sire, you are not very skilled in secrecy." This was said with a slight smile before the old man turned back to his potions and left the others in silence.

A few moments later it was broken by Merlin's laughter.

"That's what this is all about?"

"Well, yeah." Laughter tumbled from his lips again before suddenly ending. He looked down at his hands for a moments before asking, "If I tell you, will you leave it alone?"

"Of course, Merlin. We wouldn't ask you to show us your mark or anything. Even that is too much," replied Arthur as he placed a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder. A slow nod followed before Merlin, speaking in a trembling voice, shook his head.

"No, you should know." With hands that suddenly seemed much too small, Merlin gently untied the knot holding the bandana around his neck. A chocked sob escapes his lips as it slips down off of his shoulders.

The only sound was a hitch in Lancelot's breath as the words Freya were swirled out in a swooping hand. It was darker than ink itself.

Sadly, when Merlin did not offer an explanation, no one had the courage to ask for it.

Instead, at night, they rub their fingertips over the words shinning bright against their skin, unable to comprehend what it would be like for it to fade to death.