A/N: Thank you all so much for the amazing follows, favorites, and especially reviews, as always (your wonderful support makes my day!) and if any of you like to read over on AO3, I will be crossposting Eight For One shortly, under the Username: Scarlet_Goldmist. Hope you enjoy this chapter...no soulmates, but PLOT! YAY! Soulmate Number Three is up in the next chapter, I promise!

Summary: The soulmate words were seemingly the one form of magic Uther Pendragon could not best. Merlin has never wanted hers; they are sure to be a great deal of trouble on top of being a warlock. After all, soulmarks are a type of magic, and she has eight.

Spoilers for BBC's Merlin, Seasons One-Five

Warnings: Slight Angst, Multiple Canonical/Non-canonical Character Deaths

Chapter 3:

…In hindsight, perhaps Merlin should have walked faster in the first place and avoided His Royal Pratness completely.

She turns and resorts to tripping Arthur for the fifth time, ducking as his mace whirs over her head. How he managed to goad her into this, she can't really comprehend.

Merlin falls backwards onto a pile of sacks, trying vainly to hold her ground without the use of…oh, screw it. A rope discreetly snakes up and pulls on Arthur's foot, allowing her time to scoot a bit to the left and stand up. The crowd of townspeople cheers.

"That all you've got, Merlin?" Arthur pants, jumping back to his feet and rolling his shoulders.

"Ready to give up, Sire?" She snarks back at him snidely, with absolutely no hope that he will. Not with his little knight friends and half the lower town watching, and certainly not to a girl.

He snarls. "Not on your life!"

She's only a moment late in sidestepping, but his next swing-and-lunge clips her across her shoulder, pushing her farther to the side. Merlin is caught off guard, and Arthur's mace chain is wrapped around her neck in an instant so that he has the warlock almost in a sort of embrace, their fronts close together.

"You were saying?" he asks, arrogant smirk returning with full force. He thinks he's won, she realizes, and something in her eyes must tip him off, because her frown and pulls away just a bit. "What are you—"

She knees him in the stomach.

"Ooooff!"

"You were saying, Your Royal Pratness?" It sounds even better out loud, Merlin thinks, and in that moment, she doesn't even care how much trouble she gets in. This is so worth it.

Two of Arthur's guards rush up and grab her elbows, presumably to haul her off to wherever they stick Soulmates-To-The-Prince-Who-Are-Sort-Of-Idiots.

"No, no, let her go," he demands from where he's doubled up, catching his breath. "She may be an idiot, but she's a brave one. And my soulmate," Arthur adds under his breath as an afterthought, straightening up.

Arthur looks at her again, that same intense look he had given her when she first spoke his words. "Since you're connected to me now, it's good to know you have the guts to defend yourself," he says finally, and turns to walk away.

Merlin can't really tell if it's supposed to be a compliment or not.

"But…" He pauses. Arthur's eyes, a shade of blue only a bit lighter than her own, sparkle with curiosity, and something like approval. "…there's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite seem to put my finger on it…." He hesitates for only a moment, then shakes his head and is gone.

Gaius is cross with her, but after recent events, she is crosser.

"If I don't have magic, I might as well die!" She spits the words out like venom at his face, and turns and rages up the stairs. Merlin means it, right down into her heart, and she knows he knows that. It kind of hurts.

"Merlin." Gaius pokes his head around the door, evidently deciding it's safe to enter. "Come on, take off your shirt. I saw Arthur clip you across your shoulders with that mace contraption of his."

"Gaius, I'm a girl."

He raises and eyebrow. "Merlin, I am a physician." He has a point, and it won't be anything he hasn't seen before. Also, Merlin thinks, that fact that he cares that she's been hurt …that's nice. It's kind of like her mother, a bit.

She takes off her shirt and lays face down on her bed, staring at the red and cream striped blanket. "You don't know why I was born like this, do you?"

He sighs, dabbing at the scrapes across her shoulders. "No."

Merlin swallows, something inside her yawning with hurt and pain and turmoil. "I'm not a monster, am I?"

Gaius pauses. She looks up hesitantly. "Merlin, don't ever think that."

"Then why am I like this? Please…I need to know why."

"Perhaps…." The physician shakes his head. "Perhaps there is someone with more knowledge than me."

She turns her head back to look at the bed again, hopes dropping back into her chest. "If you can't tell me, no one can."

Except the dragon hidden in the caves beneath Camelot, apparently. If there's one good thing, at least it's nice to know she hasn't been imagining the voice calling her name.

"Oh, no. No way. No, there must be another Arthur, because whether he's one of my soulmates or not, this one's an idiot!"

The dragon winks his great golden, magical eyes at her mysteriously. "Perhaps, young warlock, it is your destiny to change that."

Merlin never wants to hear the word destiny again. Oh, she has no idea.

"We have enjoyed twenty years of peace and prosperity. It has brought the kingdom and myself many pleasures, but few can compare with the honor of introducing Lady Helen of Mora." Uther claps, and the court follows suit.

Lady Helen does have a beautiful voice, Merlin thinks. It's so lovely she just wants to drift off to sleep….She jerks her head up and claps her hands over her ears. That isn't right.

Everyone else has fallen asleep.

Helen continues to sing, but the room is growing darker, the candles going out and cobwebs forming on tables and sleepers alike as the beautiful, dark-haired singer slowly stalks up the aisle between the banquet tables. Merlin has to do something, she realizes, but what? If she uses her magic, she'll be executed, and if she doesn't….

Lady Helen pulls a dagger out from her gown, readying to throw it…straight at Arthur. He may be an ass and a prat, but he is her soulmate, and even if he wasn't, Merlin couldn't watch him die.

She looks up. Lady Helen is just beneath the chandelier—and Merlin stretches out her hand as if to pull it down, her eyes glow gold—and the chain breaks. The huge light fixture falls directly on top of Lady Helen, who is no longer Lady Helen but the old woman who saw her son executed in the courtyard the day Merlin arrived in Camelot.

The court begins to slowly awaken. Ladies and lords are pulling cobwebs off themselves; servants are sitting up where they fell to the ground.

At the high table, Uther, Arthur, and Morgana are drowsily standing up, and suddenly, Merlin sees it.

Mary Collins, the old woman, has the dagger, and just a drop of life left, and throws it. Merlin knows it will kill the prince, and no one will have time to do anything. She instinctively slows time down around the dagger just as she did with Gaius when she first met him, and runs, and pulls Arthur down, out of the way—and the dagger slams into his chair.

The young warlock rolls off of him immediately, brushing the cobwebs off her tunic and trying not to turn bright red, because the king of Camelot is staring directly at her.

"You saved my boy," he says, and the absolute gratitude in his voice surprises her. Somehow, Merlin had believed Uther Pendragon was incapable of any emotion. It seemed she had been wrong.

"Yes, well, I…I, um…" she stutters, wring her hands and trying to find an escape.

"Father," Arthur says quietly enough for only the three of them to hear, "this is the girl I told you about. My soulmate." He turned to gesture to where she stood.

"I see," Uther says just as quietly, and with a hint of astonishment. "Well, though you are a female…I would not normally see fit to appoint you to such a position, but this deserves a special reward, and you are Arthur's soulmate, so there would be no impropriety lost."

"Oh, no, really, Your Highness, you don't need to…" Merlin tries to protest again, taking a shaky step back.

Uther raises his hands, as well as his voice so the rest of the hall can hear. "Don't be so modest; you have done me and my house a great service, young maid, and I shall see it rewarded! You shall have a place in the royal household, as Prince Arthur's personal servant!"

The court bursts into applause. Arthur and Merlin stare at each other in dismay. The prince groans under his breath. Gwen smirks at Merlin from the corner, where she is safely out of the way.

Merlin sighs.

Only her luck.

So apparently being maidservant to the Prince of Camelot has its ups and downs. Sometimes more downs than up, the warlock thinks, but it's not totally horrible, all of the time.

The royal pra—prince explains to her that the business of them being soulmates is of an utmost secrecy. Of course, within twenty-four hours of her appointment, the whole of Camelot knows that the Prince's maidservant is really his soulmate.

At least, Merlin thinks, the original rumors have immediately subsided. She suspects the dungeon guard who told her he pitied her—apparently, not enough.

Arthur and Merlin bond through banter and insults, she wakes him up in the morning by pulling off his blankets and he tosses goblets at her head and misses purposely. Merlin and Gwen and Morgana chat in the evenings when Merlin doesn't have to be out with Arthur, and the three girls become very good friends, although Merlin and Gwen are especially close due to being platonics.

The days blur together in a series of unfortunate circumstances, each seeming more bizarre than the last. Merlin conjures snakes from a shield, kills an afanc to save Gwen, and even drinks poison in the weeks that follow.

After the incident with the poisoned chalice, she goes to see the dragon again.

"I need your advice," she calls out into the cavern, looking for any sign of green-gold scales and glittering eyes. Swoosh! The dragon, Merlin thinks, has a penchant for dramatic entrances and exits.

"What is it, then, young warlock?" Kilgarrah asks, although she's nearly certain he knows. The amusement is practically rolling off him in waves. Any more and she might be able to taste it.

"I need to tell Arthur about my magic," she says, right to the point. "He's my soulmate. He deserves to know." The amusement cuts off suddenly. The air feels almost chilly without it.

"You cannot," the dragon says, after a long pause. "It is not yet the right time."

Merlin frowns, placing the hand not holding the torch on one hip. "Why not? You know what he did for me. If I don't tell him now, I'll lose his trust when I do. I can't help him become the Once and Future King if he doesn't trust me."

Kilgarrah shakes his head solemnly, gold eyes serious in the torchlight. "If you tell him now…even I cannot see the future, but I sense that something will happen, far worse than you losing his trust. You must wait, young warlock, until Arthur is King, or until you have found each of your soulmates. They may help and protect you even if he will not."

Merlin stares for a moment, wondering about the strange distance she can see deep in his eyes. "You know more than you're saying, don't you? You know what will happen if I tell him now."

The dragon stays silent for a few moments, gaze pensive and sad, before replying. "I see only a bonfire, a pyre built in the courtyard center. I hear the voice of a girl screaming in agony. The voice is yours."

That night, Merlin dreams of being burnt alive.

In her nightmare, Arthur doesn't try to save her.