Chapter Text
When the words first appeared on Virgil’s skin, he thought they were a joke.
It wasn’t like it’d be unprompted, especially not then. They were going through the time of their lives that they were hit hard by puberty, promising them acne and the reveal of their soulmates via names that would write themselves onto their arms. ‘They’ being Virgil and his classmates, who attended a school for training ‘magically gifted’ children. Naturally, some students thought it would be funny to cast an illusion spell that would make fake names appear on their still blanks wrists… some students including Virgil.
Just last week he’d cast that spell on his best friend Joan to make their other friend Talyn’s name appear on their wrist. They’d run all over the school proudly showing it off before someone had pointed out that the last name was misspelled, to Virgil’s embarrassment and Joan’s frustration. Virgil had assumed they’d let it go when, the next day, both Joan and Talyn had woken up with each others names on their wrists, for realsies this time. Virgil had claimed he’d just been making fate get it’s butt into gear- and got a pillow to the face for it. Needless to say, when he’d woken up a week later with four names spilt across his wrists, he’d assumed this was just Joan’s revenge.
First off- four names? Really? Yeah, the more magical someone was the more soulmates you’d have, and most of his classmates would wind up with two, the rare and powerfully gifted would have three, but four? All at once? You had to make your prank believable, at least. Common Joan, that was pranking 101.
Secondly, he’d obviously over done himself picking out the names. Maybe. Three of them he didn’t recognize, but the top one on his left arm, scripted in the red letters that looped and curled more than any penmanship Virgil had ever had to read before? Yeah, of course he recognized the name ‘Roman Princeton’- the younger brother of the royal family. Yeah right . Under the Prince's name was someone called ‘Thomas Sanders’, written in really weird black text. The T at the start of his name looked like a backwards P, the O looked like the biggest letter, and everything was stretched in weird proportions. The names on his other wrist were two shades of blue- the top one, a sky blue, had someone named ‘Patton Morelaces’ in childish, wide letters that looked like whoever had written it had been having fun, oddly enough. Under them was the name ‘Logan Berrie’ in indigo, the letters tilted to the side in a way that looked quickly penned. Each one had its first name over the last, on the inside of his wrist, just like soulnames were supposed to be.
Virgil Storme didn’t believe them for one second. Sure, it was possible he’d been pranked on the same day his real soulmates showed up on his arms (that did seem more reasonable than someone thinking he’d fall for having four soulmates, actually) but until he removed the illusion spell he wasn’t getting his hopes up, not one bit. So he rolled up his sleeves, pulled his textbook out from under his bed, and set to work casting the the spell that would cancel out the fake names.
He was at the top of his class. A quick learner, they called him, and great at retaining information. He read ahead all the time. The spell for getting rid of illusions was way simpler than the one to cast the illusion in the first place. But… he couldn’t get them to disappear . His next thought had been frustration- he knew he must be doing something wrong, he just didn’t know what . He read and re-read the enchantment, experimented with how he was holding his hands, switched between casting one one arm and then the next, tried reading the spell backwards to see what he’d missed… nothing changed. He paused mid chant, lowering his hand and looking closely at the names written on his wrist.
Maybe, it wasn’t an illusion at all? Virgil licked his thumb, then set about rubbing the red letters on his wrist with enough force to make his skin heat up under his scrubbing. He was expecting to see the letters smear or flake away, the result of good old fashioned ink or paint while he’d been sleeping. It was the type of thing you saw all the time in a normal school, but Virgil hadn’t even thought of it when magic was at everyone's fingertips. Annnnnnd… it still wasn't coming off. At all. He narrowed his eyes, switching to rubbing his other hand, determined to get something to come off. There was no way he-
He was going to be late for class. Shit . Cursing under his breath, Virgil started to pull down his sleeves, paused and then darted to his wardrobe in the corner of the room. Sure, normally his clothes littered the floor of his room, but he had some stuff he never wore stuffed in there. Specifically, a pair of leather bracers that he normally wore to practice firing enchanted arrows. He slapped them on and snapped his fingers to fasten them on in an instint, grabbed his bag off the floor, and dashed off into the hall.
The halls were crowded with people wearing the same uniform as him, either heading to their own classes or chatting with friends in the hallways. Virgil pushed past a few people while muttering apologies and excuses, trying not to image everyone was somehow totally aware of the writing on his wrists under his bracers that themselves were hidden by their sleeves. He pulled his eyes off the floor, scanning the halls for any free paths to take, which cleared just enough that he spotted his friends down the hall and locked eyes with them. He paused briefly to wave to Joan and Talyn across the hall, but that just made his sleeve slip down a little and he pulled it back up, hurrying along his way. First up was mathematics, you know, the most un-magical thing you could learn in magic school and a wonderful way to start his day (Virgil thought to himself, sarcastically).
Well, not like his notes looked like any different for this class than they did for any other. He could probably submit an alchemy circle with some numbers scribbled on the outside and he’d get an A+ for it. Maybe he already had, since he couldn’t remember what these triangles and squares were supposed to mean, or how he solved for the area of a triangle. Look he was good with words, not numbers okay?
It was a long day.
Charms was next, giving him a chance to unwind from the horrors of math class, to Potions where Joan mixed in too much dragon’s blood to their and crystallized the whole thing, to Poetry, and finally a break for lunch. Virgil felt ready to enchant his robes to go to class for him and pretend an invisibility charm had gone wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time. He dropped his tray in his usually spot, next to Joan and across the table from Jamahl. Talyn had lunch during their last class, but Virgil still felt a little surprised not to see them here anyways. “Hey.”
“Sup.” Joan raised their hand in greeting and let gravity take it back to the table.
“Hey dude.” Jamahl nodded at him, lifting his cup for a drink. “How’s class?”
Virgil sighed. “Same ol’ same ol’.” He repeated, lifting an apple from his tray. He turned it over in his hands, his eyes drawn to the edge of leather peeking out from under his sleeves before being pulled back up to the guy sitting across from him. “Did Joan tell you how they crystalized our potions project?”
“Hey, I talked the teach’ into thinking it was intentional.” Joan added. “We were just supposed to make a potion that would heal people- no one said it had to be a liquid, plus it’s easier to store little hard pieces of almost-candy instead of a bunch of glass bottles full of candy!”
“What did the teacher actually say to that?” Jamahl ask, looking directly at Virgil.
Virgil shrugged. “That crystallizing healing potions just dilutes the effect while also making it take longer to actually take effect when you eat it. But he gave us some pity points for creativity.”
“I like to think of them as artistic points.”
“But hey, we passed.” Virgil took a bite of his apple. “And tat’s wat conts.”
“Dude, don’t talk with your mouth open that’s gr-”
“Shut up you guys aren't gonna believe what I heard.” Rémy snapped, jumping into the seat next to Jamahl. He slapped his hands on the table, looking around as if someone was about to jump in and drag him away before he could spill his latest gossip, leaning in with a ear to ear grin on his face. “Guess what high class aristocat just got his soulnames this morning?”
Virgil froze, lowering his apple to his tray. “Wait,” He squinted at Remy as if that would make him come in any clearer. “How would you know if they had?”
“Fair point, fair point, but !” Rémy held up a finger, pausing for dramatic tension and to look incredibly pleased with himself. “My Astronomy class- which is great by the way you guys should sign up, we had a field trip up to the capital this morning and we just got back. But , while we were there, everyone was talking about the Princes soulnames appearing.”
“Oh, good for him.” Joan said, lifting their drink to take a sip.
Rémy hushed him. “No, you don’t get it! They wouldn’t release any names publicly, but apparently one of them was a baker's son! And another was the son of the captain of the royal guard , who’d apparently been the Princes best friend before this! You guys ! And non-binary pals! He had four !”
“Three soulnames?” Jamahl asked. “Huh… what a waste of perfectly good magic.”
“No, no!” Rémy waved his hands in front of his chest, bouncing in his seat. “Not, four as in ‘the Prince and his three soulmates makes four’, four as in, ‘the prince has four soulnames on his arm!”
Joan’s milk hit the table and tipped over, spilling milk onto the rest of the table. “That… that is a waste.” they muttered in shock.
Fair enough, Virgil had to admit. If the Prince really had had so many soulmates, it’s not like he’d ever become a wizard or sorcerer or mage or warlock or bard or anything, his destiny was set in stone the moment he’d been born. Same was true for the son of the captain of the royal guard- his family would have served the royal family for generations past, and would for many moving forward. Now, it wasn’t too late for the Baker’s son… if any of this was true.
He just had his suspicions as to who’d really cast the illusion spell now. What a convenient trip for Rémy to have conveniently heard just the right information to make Virgil conveniently start to believe the names on his wrists. Hah. Well, if this was the game Rémy wanted to play, Virgil would play along. He leaned back, pretending to be just as surprised as the others and ignored his own wrists.
Surprisingly, Rémy didn’t even seem to consider asking Virgil about his wrists, which was very patient for him. Well- maybe on the inside he was dying to ask Virgil about it, but on the outside he someone managed to avoid even glancing at Virgil’s wrists or giving anything away in his tone. Or maybe he’d planned to be back sooner, and assumed Virgil had already figured out how to remove the charm? But if he had, why would he even risk exposing himself with a fake story- unless the Pince really had gotten his soulnames, and Rémy was using that as cover for his prank. Was Virgil overthinking this?
Yeah, probably.
You know what, he knew how he was gonna handle this problem. After classes he’d go see a professor and get this spell removed once and for all, that way Rémy couldn’t hold it over him that he’d failed to cast such a simple removal spell in the first place. In the meantime he kept up with the conversation, which was slowly moving to upcoming tests in their potions class, continuing to enjoy his lunch.
The bells to signify lunch as over seemed to take forever to come, even though Virgil knew logical knew it was the same as every other day. He only had fortune telling (which was mostly how not to be scammed by someone claiming to see the future 101), followed by History, and then he had a free period. Thank the stars. He excused himself from the class, slipping into empty halls and heading straight for the office of the Charms teacher.
“-no students under ‘Virgil Storm’ in this school.” an adults voice said, from an open door near the end of the halls. The records- with a school full of kids who could literally fire magic from their fingertips, someone had to keep a close eye on who was and was not attending. Virgil slowed as he heard his given name, confused as he heard the voice continue. “We keep track of every student that passes through these halls, and not a single one has the last name ‘Storm’. I… understand that you may wish to be sure, but he’s simply not attending the school.”
Oh, really? Virgil felt a stab of annoyance in his gut. He’d been given the name ‘Storme’ when he was born, on account of literally being born in the middle of a thunderstorm. It was a story his parents told him all the times- but the school wouldn’t accept it. They tracked magical potential through family lines, so they’d forced him to attend the school under the name ‘Maco’, his family name. He really hated the sound of Virgil Maco, to be honest. He had half a mind to storm in there and reveal himself to whoever kept track of the records.
“Sir, I’m just doing my job. You’re sure? Storme with an ‘e’ at the end?” asked a gruff voice that sounded like it was barely paying attention. Virgil frowned, edging closer to the door and peaking inside. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from gasping when he saw a member of the royal guard, back turned to Virgil. Another man, the one who worked for the school, was currently digging around in a box of scrolls. Virgil ducked out of sight before he could look up.
“See this? This is all the students at this school with a last name starting with an ‘S’... as you can see, no one even close to ‘Storme’ attends this school. I don't know where the Prince's last soulmate is, but it isn't our school.” the records man said, and Virgil was sure he could faintly hear the sound of someone smacking a piece of paper. “Now, is that all ?” he continued, in a too-sweet tone.
A sigh. “No, thank you for your cooperation.” the guard said, followed by the sounds of his footsteps approaching the door. He paused in the doorframe, one hand on the handle as he glanced back inside. “Have a good day , sir.” he added, before stepping out and closing the door. The guard briefly scanned the empty hall, more out of habit than anything else, before rubbing the bridge of his nose and heading for the exit.
Virgil didn’t let his breath out until the guard had disappeared down the hall and his footsteps had faded away. Slowly, he pulled himself away from his hiding spot- a cart, with papers on it, probably intended to go in the records office. He was shaking as he stood up, but he ignored it, abandoning his previous path and heading towards his room. He didn’t even realize he was holding his wrists the whole way back- not until he was in his room, and he slowly pulled his arms apart. With a snap, the leather bracers loosened on his wrists, and Virgil attempted to remove them. His hands were shaking too much.
He fell to his knees, the bracers sliding off his wrists and onto the floor. He’d never- not once had he allowed himself to consider they were anything other than- than some joke . Ha. Hah ha. Hahahah Ha . Maybe they really were- but from the universe itself, and not a classmate. Virgil swallowed, and it seemed so much harder than it should have, like he’d swallowed a spoonful of honey that got stuck in his throat.
This was a really cruel joke. He could see it now- he’d be whisked away to the castle where the Prince awaited, there’d be a whole celebration just for him. He’d never worry about anything ever again- servants at his beck and call, all the comfort he could ever want. They’d say it was luck. They’d brush aside any work he’d put into harnessing his magic- if he would be allowed to continue his study at all. Magic could be a dangerous, wild thing- why risk the soulmate of a Prince on some dusty old spells? Or… or worse , they’d just hand him a position like Royal Wizard without him earning it, and that’s all his title would ever amount too. No one would ever take him seriously, he’d be… he’d be an trinket on the arm of his Prince, no more his own person than the circlet he wore.
A shaky breath forced its way into his lungs. No. Just… no. He’d waited his whole life to meet his soulmates… surely they could wait a little while longer. Just… just until he’d finished school. Until he’d made a name for himself on his own. He picked the bracers back up off the floor, sliding them onto his wrists far, far too calmly for the panic churning away in his gut. A snap and it was done- the names hidden from the rest of the world, even if they felt like they were burning a hole in his skin.
“ I’m sorry .” he whispered to himself. For himself and for… his soulmates.