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Ever since she was a little girl, Madalena had strained to see her Soul Mark. She’d twist and turn, contort in any way possible, but even with a mirror it was no use. All she could see, if she strained hard enough, were the first two letters ‘Ga-‘ emblazoned on her shoulders.
No one would tell her whose name was inked into her skin, no matter how hard she begged, bribed, or – when she was older – seduced. It was taboo, in some places a crime, to read someone else’s Soul Mark aloud and Madalena had yet to find someone unconcerned enough with that to help her.
Most people had their Soul Mark on their arm or wrist, or at least somewhere visible to their own eyes. Perhaps she was cursed to never know. And it was that realisation that made Madalena stop caring. Soul Marks were for those idiots who believed in true love and happy endings and Madalena was destined for much more than that. She’d make it big, have so much wealth and fortune that she’d never have to look at another farm animal again – let alone kill one herself. Plenty of people got on with their lives without ever even meeting the person fate had written into the essence of their being. Love was for fools.
And then, well then she met Galavant, someone whose name began with those two fateful letters. He was one of the greatest heroes in all the Seven Realms, a renowned Knight – someone who could help start her journey to greatness. So Madalena had smiled, checked her cleavage was adequately on show, and all but strutted into the hero’s life.
He fell in love with her quickly, and if she fancied herself in love with him - well all the better. Galavant’s Soul Mark was across his collar bone, but he seemingly didn’t care that the letters spelt ‘Isabella’ instead of her name.
“I love you, Mads.” He’d say when they’d lie in bed together late at night. “I don’t care what some higher power thinks.”
But even Galavant refused to speak the name that ran between her shoulder blades. Though the look in his eyes the first time he’d seen it, mixed with the letters inked against his own skin, told Madalena everything she need to know. It was not Galavant’s name written into her Soul.
By the time King Richard kidnapped her and locked her in a tower to prepare for the wedding, Madalena had forgotten all about the mysteries of her Soul Mark.
Galavant, of course, came dashing to her rescue. He burst into the hall and threw his blade aside, pausing slightly at Gareth’s name, before snapping back into his speech. By the time he made it down the aisle and was bowing in front of her, Madalena realised being Gal’s girl wasn’t enough.
“Actually…”
And she proceeded to metaphorically rip Galavant’s heart from his chest. It’s not like it mattered; she wasn’t his Soul Marked. And this way, she could have even greater power. Madalena had to hold back a smile as Gareth knocked Galavant unconscious and the wedding ceremony continued.
She was going to be Queen.
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Ever since he was a little boy, people had told Gareth time and time again to forget the letters written against his hip bone. He was to grow, train, and take his place in the King’s Guard. He had no time for love or affairs such as fate. It helped that they’d never bothered to teach him how to read, the word on his skin just dark marks he’d never worry to learn.
He grew up along-side Richard, the youngest member of the family he was to training to protect. The boy was obsessed with Soul Marks. Constantly talking about his own and constantly begging Gareth to tell him whose name darkened his skin. Gareth would just roll his eyes and tell the Prince it didn’t matter.
“Of course it matters.” Richard would say. “Love always matters.”
But those words didn’t stop the boy from shying away from Roberta Steingas in fear.
As Gareth got older, his fights got tougher, and so did his heart. He was loyal to Richard, the boy turned King, but he never cared about much else other than a good tankard of beer or a dirty brawl in the tavern. He had a few flings with women here and there, but nothing substantial or worth anything more than a few weeks of fun.
Roberta Steingas disappeared from the King’s mind eventually, and the weak willed boy became a vicious and ruthless man – if not still a bit too feminine in Gareth’s eyes. He fought wars for his King, heralded over executions for his King, and thwarted the numerous assassinations sent Richard’s way. But the name inked over his hip never left his mind – the shapes of the letters burned into his brain not just his flesh.
Richard eventually got bored of being alone. He wanted a wife to rule by his side and to warm his bed. And the King knew exactly who he wanted to be crowned his Queen. Gareth didn’t need to know the details; his majesty wanted him to kidnap some girl, he’d kidnap the girl.
She was pretty enough, skinny and dark haired with a smile that he just knew spelled trouble for them all. The girl may have been born a peasant, but with the way she held herself, Gareth thought blue blood might as well run in her veins. She protested with a shriek when he grabbed her and deposited her in Richard’s carriage and he just knew this woman was going to be more effort than she was worth.
Her beau tried to stop the royal wedding with a fancy speech about love and choice, and Gareth was almost disappointed when he didn’t get to fight the prat. But it needn’t have mattered, as Madalena – he’d eventually bothered to listen to the King when he spoke of his bride to be – rejected her rescuer and vowed marriage to Richard instead. Gareth was almost impressed.
She was going to be Queen.
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