The name of your soulmate appears on your body only after that person falls in love with you

Soulmates were overrated, at least that's what Scrooge told himself day after day and year after year. He'd trained himself by now to avoid looking at the obvious tattoos others sported, names of their beloved proudly shown to the world. Most had the mark somewhere, hidden or visible, though not all were in a relationship with their soulmate. Sometimes a pair would walk by and one had a name and the other didn't, and you could always feel the air crackle with tense energy as they passed. To have a name on your body meant someone loved you, that you belonged with them, that you had found your partner for life.

He absently tugged on the sleeves of his jacket. He was one of the few as old as he was to never have been marked, never have seen his name on another person's body. It hurt, deep and raw and oozing, the kind of pain one had to teach themselves to ignore lest it consume them. He'd thought once, a long time ago, that he'd wake up and see the name 'Goldie' in beautiful elegant scrawl somewhere across his skin, the letters dying the feathers black to match the pattern. Day after day he'd checked the mirror, even after he'd sent her away from the claim, but nothing ever appeared.

When next he'd seen her he noticed she didn't have his name either, rather that of an unknown man proudly curving around her wrist in blocky strong scrawl, and his heart had dropped. Even though he'd never found her name he'd held onto the hope that what she'd shared with him had been genuine, but it seemed that hadn't been the case. A lusty adventure but nothing more.

The day he met Magica De Spell everything changed.

Magica De Spell was an extremely powerful sorceress, that couldn't be denied, and yet she was still ostracized, gossiped about, looked at with pity. Her feathers were a shimmering white, beautiful and soft and unblemished, and that was the problem. She had no name marking her body, no one to show the world as her other half. For someone as old as she was, who had seen so much and met so many in her life, it was a disgrace.

Her parents had gotten their marks early, bearing the tattoos proudly until their death. Even her grandmother had a name looping lazily around her forearm, though it had faded over the years as the man's love died away and he found happiness away from her side. She was the only one in her family besides her niece who didn't have a tattoo, and it made her bitter. But then, she'd also never seen her own name displayed on anyone else either. It concerned her, the thought she'd never find her partner, and only drove her deeper into her studies as work as a means of distraction. She thought she'd become a master of ignorance until that fateful day in 1961, and then everything changed.

Scrooge McDuck made her whole world tremble on its foundations.

The first thing the two ducks noticed about each other was not their appearance, but lack of a tattoo. So long had they thought they were alone in the world, the only one without a mark, that they had never expected to meet another like themselves. Magica recovered first, calmly explaining her reasoning for her appearance, and Scrooge shook off his own shock, always eager to make a profit.

As he watched her go with the dime he'd sold for ten times it's worth he couldn't help but sigh, the sound mixed with relief and longing. At least now he knew he wasn't alone in the world, but it also made him realize just how lonely he was, how he wanted to share his life with another. Magica felt nothing short of gleeful as she exited the bin with the last coin she needed to fulfill her magical mission, the niggling feeling of hope going ignored as she deliberately chose not to think about the handsome duck she'd just left behind.

Of course, that wasn't the end of their acquaintance. Scrooge, having been so distracted first by her lack of mark and then her beauty, had accidentally sold her his number one dime and sought to rectify the situation by following her to the airport. Once Magica learned of the importance of the coin she refused to part with it, and so began their very first (but far from their last) fight for the dime.

…..

The years rolled by as they were wont to do, and gradually they became used to each other, their fights, and their attraction. Slowly they became obsessed with the other, learning about and spying on each other, until they could practically write books. Eventually, and neither could say exactly when, their fights became less heated, Magica flirting when it suited her, and Scrooge occasionally showing off for the beautiful brunette duckess. They began teaming up when it suited them, always careful to protect the other before breaking apart and reverting to their old ways, but it became harder and harder to do so.

And then one day, in early spring of 1973, Magica saw it. There, just above her hip bone, was an elegant but unmistakable 'S' etched into her feathers in black ink. Confusion had overwhelmed her at first. She'd never heard of a name appearing gradually, only when it's owner had fallen in love with the one whose skin it was on. But then happiness began to force its way in, and she couldn't help but hope a certain trillionaire was the owner of the 's', no matter how preposterous she knew it was.

Scrooge had yet to see any marks on his own body, though he found himself once again in the habit of checking, especially after a run-in with a certain witch. An odd sense of disappointment clouded him each time his feathers turned up pristine as they'd always been. Not that he wanted her name tattooed on him for all eternity but...he did care for her, he knew that for certain. At some point over the decade past he had stopped seeing her as merely a rival and as a sort of friend, though he knew she certainly didn't feel the same. So why did it hurt so much that there was no mark?

Under the collar of his coat, unbeknownst to him on the back of his neck, so light it could barely be seen in direct light, an elegant looping 'M' had appeared.

Summer of '76 brought Magica realizations that she wasn't sure she was entirely comfortable with. By now the letters looping across her pelvis had increased from a simple 's' to 'Scro' and there was no doubt whose name was gradually appearing. It made her nervous, so incredibly nervous that the man she adored in kind also seemed to be falling in love with her. What worried her was that she had yet to see her own name anywhere on his body.

She'd checked discreetly every time they'd seen each other under any circumstances, and there were no letters, not even a hint of any. It made her second guess herself. Did she actually love him, or was she merely attracted to him? Though no one could fault her for the second should it be true. For an old man he'd kept in shape, rock hard muscles visible in his arms and across his chest, and sometimes she was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of sculpted abs.

But then if she didn't love him why did she sometimes catch herself worrying about him? Why did she feel her heart stop every time he performed some stupid stunt for a piece of treasure he didn't really need? She was so confused, but fairly sure her feelings were genuine. Of course, no one else knew of her dilemma, not even the man who was causing it. And he definitely didn't know about her blossoming tattoo, low as it was on her body.

But then, she didn't know about his either, and the slowly darkening 'Magi' flowing across the nape of his neck.

….

It took Scrooge exactly fifteen years after meeting Magica to realize he was falling in love with her. He couldn't help it. She was beautiful, unlike any woman he'd ever seen, with sharp wits, cunning, and intelligence to match. She was perfect, and the more he thought on it the more he realized he wanted to share his life with her. The only problem was his name hadn't appeared anywhere on her body.

He'd checked, as best he could, whenever he saw her. But he was still a gentleman, and of course would never dare to look up her skirt or down her dress, even when the situation presented itself. He supposed he could always ask her, but his face reddened at the thought. Besides, it wasn't as if her name was on him either. Nowadays that thought brought wave upon wave of sadness, but he kept silent, determined not to embarrass himself. Surely if they were meant to be there would be a tattoo by now.

Magica would never forget this day for several reasons. One was blindingly staring her in the eye from the duck in front of her, and the other was pulsing in time with her heart across her pelvis, both black as night and shouting a claim to the world.

….

March 25, 1978, a day that started as any other. Magica made to steal the dime, a chase ensued, as did the frequent flirting back and forth, but ended so very differently than normal. Scrooge had gotten her trapped in a dead end alley, easily pinning her hands above her head and forcing his dime out of her palm. She'd cursed him of course, though smirked the entire time as if it had been nothing more than a game. 'Sneaky witch,' he couldn't help but think fondly, returning the look.

They remained there, sharing their breaths, beaks nearly touching, for far too long, but neither minded. That is, until Magica winced slightly, and he jumped back, blushing and apologizing, and turned to go. He was so frustrated with himself. Why couldn't he just confess his feelings to her? Why couldn't he seem to respect her properly? He loved her so….

The last thought came unexpectedly. It was the first time he'd ever openly admitted to himself that he indeed loved her, and it shocked him with how certain his inner monologue was. But as he thought on it, he found it to be true. He was irrevocably, deeply, impossibly in love with Magica, and he realized he liked it.

Magica's eyes grew wide around the same time he realized the depth of his feelings, the markings on her pelvis completing themselves and tingling as they did so. She knew without looking that her tattoo was complete, the name 'Scrooge' neatly typed across her skin in his oh so familiar signature. Her fingers fell to splay across the area hidden by cloth, eyes locking onto the back of his head.

He seemed to feel her stare, as he partially turned his head to look back at her, eyebrow raised in a silent question, but she didn't answer. Her attention was focused on the back of his neck, where his jacket collar had awkwardly shifted with his movement. She couldn't be sure without getting closer, but it looked like a line of black was running across the back of his neck.

Wordlessly she stepped closer, not blinking, and reached out without truly thinking about it to tug the collar aside.

"Magica, what are ya doin'?" Scrooge protested, unable to turn with the grip she had on his collar. He felt her hand began to shake as she stared at him, but she didn't speak. "Magica?"

She couldn't tear her eyes away. There it was, her name, written in her looping cursive across the nape of his neck. Surely he didn't know it was there? But if he did, why was he hiding it? Was he ashamed of the fact that she loved him?

Her own new tattoo continued to tingle, pulsing it seemed in time with her heartbeat.

"Did you know this was here?" she whispered.

"What?"

"Did you know this was here?!" she repeated with a scream, conjuring a mirror and angling it so he could see.

"I donnae know what…." He trailed off as he saw the black ink scribbled across his skin, mouth growing dry. "Bless me bagpipes."

She took his reaction to mean that no, he really hadn't known about it. She didn't know how to feel about that. She'd known about her own tattoo, placed as it was, and had watched it darken and grow with a deep seeded fondness and excitement. To know now that he hadn't even seen his…

She glanced back at him as movement caught her eye, and realized he had angrily wiped at his face. Was he...crying? Why?

"It cannae be real. How did ye...why did ye do that?" he asked, turning to glare at her.

"I didn't. I can't. You know soul marks only appear under very specific circumstances. They can't be faked."

'Trust me, I've tried,' she added bitterly in her mind. Magic couldn't create what wasn't meant to be, she'd learned the hard way when she'd tried to fake a mark some years back. Scrooge squinted at her, analyzing her words. Something told him she wasn't lying, and he'd always known when to trust her before.

"So...it's real?"

He'd asked the question more softly than he'd intended, insecurity and wonder making it almost a whisper.

"Yes," she responded.

"Do….do ye have one?" he asked, eyes darting away as a blush rose on his cheeks.

The mark told him she loved him, but until she proved his name was on her he wasn't taking any chances. Magica smiled softly, more tender than he'd ever seen her in all the years he'd known her.

"I do, right here," she answered, fingers lightly tracing the place her tattoo had appeared. "It seems a certain rich drake laid his claim to me the same as I claimed him."

She'd never seen Scrooge smile as wide or as brightly as he did right then.