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"It's a sword," Merlin said, sipping from his cup.
The fire was already low, the night dark. Conversation flowed as easily as the wine and had naturally turned to the topic of soulmates a while ago.
Arthur frowned. "I don't think I've ever seen it."
Merlin smiled. "I'm not in the habit of undressing at random moments."
"You'd think in all these years I've known you, there was nothing else to learn."
Merlin shrugged. "I'm deeper than you think."
Arthur snorted. "Please, you're as deep as a puddle."
"I'm deeper than you anyways."
"Sure." He smirked. "What do you think about that then?"
"Hm?"
"Your mark, Merlin."
"Oh. Well, I suppose it's a knight, maybe. Or anyone else who's good with a weapon."
"You have a suspicion?"
Merlin blushed and looked away. "Not really."
"But?"
Merlin sloshed the wine around in his cup. "I thought it was Gwen at first, you know, because she's a smith. I figured she was my platonic soulmate, because I wasn't attracted to her at all."
Arthur couldn't relate. He'd been head over heels for her for a long time before his heart finally accepted that it was no use.
"And then I sort of thought it was Lancelot … who of course then turned out to be Gwen's." He paused. "It isn't Gwaine either." He blushed a deep pink. "Though that took us quite some time to figure out."
"Oh really ," Arthur mocked, in spite of the queasy feeling settling in his stomach. "That's the first I'm hearing about this." Although Arthur had guessed. Gwaine practically worshipped the ground Merlin walked on.
Merlin wisely decided to stay silent.
"What's it look like, that sword of yours? Maybe I know its owner."
Merlin frowned. "I haven't properly looked at it in ages."
Arthur raised his eyebrows.
"It's on my back," Merlin clarified. "I can just barely see it when I twist the right way in the mirror."
"And Gwaine had no thoughts on the matter?"
The pink returned. "Uh, I think he was, uh, preoccupied at the time."
"I'm sure he was." It came out a bit darker than intended. Merlin brought out a protective streak in Arthur that he had yet to overcome.
He stood. "Let's see it then."
"What?"
"Take your shirt off. I'll look at it for you."
"You - that's not fair! You didn't even tell me yours!"
Arthur bit his lip. He wasn't supposed to. The marks of royalty had always been kept secret for fear of ruining political matches or making oneself vulnerable to deceit. Merlin, although he knew the location of Arthur's mark - his right bicep - had never seen it. Arthur, per his father's instructions, had kept it firmly bandaged to this day.
"It's a bird," he said, way more casually then he felt it should be, "now go on."
"You're such a bully," Merlin complained, but nonetheless rose from his chair and turned away from Arthur, lifting his shirt.
Along his spine were the intricate outlines of a sword.
Arthur's breath hitched.
"Merlin … nobody ever told you what it looks like?"
"I mean, it's a sword. What else is there to say?"
Arthur felt the urge to touch the mark, to make sure it was real.
"What's it look like then?" Merlin's voice was shaking.
Arthur, in lieu of answering, picked up the belt that he had discarded on the floor hours ago and unsheathed his own sword. He laid it into Merlin's hands who took it carefully.
"This is the sword that you told me was destined to be wielded by me. And only me."
Arthur caught his gaze. They were inching closer to each other as if by an invisible force. Merlin looked away first, his eyes falling back on the sword.
" Take me up ," he whispered, as if to himself. He turned it to the other side. " Cast me away ."
"You know the language of the Old Religion?"
"Most of Gaius' books were written in it."
"Is that so?" Arthur said, a teasing note in his voice.
The sorcerer shrugged but a smile was tugging at his lips too.
Arthur took back the sword and let it clatter to the ground. He laid his hands on Merlin's hips - Merlin's eyes flickered to his mouth - and stepped behind him.
Merlin immediately pulled off his shirt in a motion far too elegant for a man of his clumsiness.
Arthur spanned one hand over Merlin's ribs - he wasn't as skinny as he'd once been, he noticed, pleasantly surprised - and took in the mark again. The runes were clearly defined on Merlin's skin.
" Take me up ," Arthur repeated, tracing it with his fingers.
Merlin shuddered, then slowly turned in Arthur's arms.
Time seemed to stop, just for a moment, and then Merlin finally swayed forward, meeting Arthur's lips with his own.
His mouth was hot and dry, and they both tasted faintly of wine. Merlin threw his arms around Arthur's neck, stepping impossibly closer. Arthur was fairly sure he made an undignified little noise somewhere in the back of his throat, before he wound his arms around the entirety of Merlin's back as if it was somehow possible to pull him even further into himself.
"I think," Merlin panted when they had to break apart for air, his eyes still half-closed, "I have a right to -"
"Yeah," Arthur agreed, instantly getting rid of his own shirt.
With the practiced ease of a physician, Merlin unwrapped his arm.
Then he let his forehead fall on Arthur's shoulder, huffing an incredulous laugh.
"What?"
"A bird , he says."
"It is a bird! It's a falcon!"
Merlin looked back up at him, smirking. "It's a merlin ."
Arthur went a bit red in the face. "Oh."
" Oh ." Merlin shook his head, pulling Arthur into another kiss. "I hate you," he said against his lips.
"You don't."
"No, I don't," he sighed.