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Summary
“You have a right to know your own soulmark, Arthur.” Merlin's facial features suddenly lit up. “The King forbade you from looking at it, yes? But what if I looked, and I told you what it was? Now you can truthfully tell your father that you never looked.”
“That's a ridiculous idea, first of all, and..how do I know you won’t tell anyone?"
Merlin blinked, and then he blinked again, as if blinking might somehow reveal to him that he had heard Arthur wrong.
“You really think I would tell someone? Arthur, your trust means far more to me than any gossip or attention I might be able to garner by spreading it around.”
“Why? Because I’m a prince and you don’t want—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence, you moron. Your trust means the world to me because you’re my friend. You’ve always been my friend before you’ve been my Prince, which is probably quite terrible, actually, but you know that.”Everyone is born with a soulmark somewhere on their skin, an image that best represents the fundamentals of who their soulmate is. Normally it's an image of an object, but Arthur's, well...his is special.