The best thing about important ceremonies were the celebrations afterwards. The coronation for a new king, of course, meant that there was a grand feast, the finest in years. The throne room was simply jam-packed with Arthur's friends and nobles who had travelled far to witness the crowning. Arthur found himself feeling more fulfilled than he had in a long time. Though Merlin was still just a servant, he was right next to Arthur even if he couldn't formally participate in the feast. That was more than enough for both of them after everything. So Arthur asked very little of Merlin, allowing him to roam about the room and chatter with Guinevere and the knights.

As the night grew darker, Arthur sipped his wine and felt himself growing more and more content with the pleasant buzz at the back of his skull. He laughed and joked with his knights, letting himself go almost entirely.

"I think it's time to turn in, sire," an amused voice said from above him.

Arthur tipped his head back, coming face-to-face with Merlin, whose cheeks were notably flushed from the wine, or maybe the heat.

"Is it?" Arthur asked, his words dragging a bit.

Merlin smirked. "Come on. Up you go."

"Stop coddling me. I am the king, you know."

Merlin just snorted as they hobbled out of the throne room. "You've been king for mere hours. Besides, royalty or not, you're still a prat."

With more effort than Arthur cared to admit, he swung his arm up and swatted Merlin on the back of his head.

"Hey!"

Arthur laughed, enjoying the childish mirth fluttering in his chest. Some time must've passed as Arthur lingered in his lull, because suddenly Merlin was pulling him through the door and shoving him into his chambers. Without a word, Merlin efficiently tugged Arthur out of his official robes and prepared him for bed. Arthur allowed himself to be manhandled because Merlin would get his way, no matter what the king said or did. Usually Arthur would challenge him, but tonight was different.

Once Merlin was satisfied with his work, he pushed Arthur into a chair by the fireplace.

"Here, drink some water or you'll regret it in the morning," Merlin ordered, handing Arthur a silver goblet.

Arthur just hummed in response, sipping bits of the water until his buzz faded somewhat. He watched with fascination as Merlin turned to the cold fireplace.

"Forbearnan," Merlin whispered, his eyes blazing gold.

The fire raged to life, bathing the room in orange. Arthur's breath escaped him in a rush as he watched Merlin's eyes fade back to blue. Gods. Maybe it was the alcohol flowing in his blood, but there was no denying it. Merlin was special.

"I'm so lucky I didn't lose you," Arthur said under his breath.

The room must've been quieter than Arthur realized with the buzzing in his ears, because Merlin turned to look at him. "What?"

Arthur sighed. "Merlin, I know I don't ever say it, but… you're important. To me."

Merlin's eyebrows flew a mile high. "You're drunk."

"Maybe a little bit, but that's not why I…" Arthur trailed off, standing abruptly from where he'd been sitting.

Maybe he was more drunk than he thought, because Arthur couldn't hold himself back. He was standing in Merlin's space, taking in Merlin's features like he was seeing him for the first time. Merlin's piercing blue eyes, his sharp, flushed cheekbones and lips, his confused expression that furrowed his brow and scrunched up his nose ever so slightly.

"Show me more magic."

Merlin blinked, surprise evident on his face. But then, then he was grinning widely. He took Arthur's hands and clasped them together. Arthur couldn't help but stare at Merlin as he whispered something and his eyes flashed gold again. He watched until every last thread of gold faded away.

"Open your hands," Merlin said, laughter on his lips.

Arthur did, ducking his head. A striking, bright blue butterfly fluttered out of his palm, flying lazily upwards. Arthur gazed after it, mesmerized, until Merlin waved his hand and the butterfly dissolved into a shower of blue sparks. Arthur blew out a bewildered breath. And to think that Arthur had once believed that all magic was inherently evil. The very idea seemed absolutely preposterous now. In fact, Merlin's magic was the exact opposite: pure, gentle, familiar, beautiful.

Arthur turned to face Merlin, his head spinning. It was more than the alcohol, he was sure now. Arthur grabbed Merlin's left wrist, pulling him forward as Merlin squeaked in surprise. Their lips met for a short moment, but to Arthur it may as well have been a lifetime. It felt just like Merlin's magic; warm and gentle in a way that made Arthur's heart stutter. But then, Merlin broke away and stumbled back, his eyes going wide.

Arthur nearly folded in on himself as he felt his heart wrench in his chest. He cursed his rashness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. It's alright, believe me. I just—I'm not at a point where I can—after everything…" Merlin gestured helplessly as he trailed off, his blue eyes glistening.

Arthur nodded, though he felt his brow crinkle. "Do you want to talk about it? I've been wanting to ask, but…"

Merlin looked unsure, but he must've seen something in Arthur's expression that encouraged him to open up. "There's not much to tell that you don't already know. They—the slave traders got bored often. I was just a shiny new toy for them to play with."

Arthur laid a tentative hand on Merlin's shoulder. He released a short huff of relief when the warlock didn't flinch away. "I'm sorry, Merlin. No one deserves to be used like that, least of all you."

Merlin met his gaze then and Arthur's breath caught in his throat. His entire face was beaming with pride and affection directed at Arthur, as if he had done something spectacular to deserve it. Merlin's deep blue eyes were nearly glowing in the moonlight, making him look utterly ethereal, yet somehow broken all the same. It took everything in Arthur not to sweep him up in another kiss in an attempt to wipe away his pain. The pain that Arthur had brought upon him.

"You're not at fault for what happened to me, you know."

Arthur blinked. Though he shouldn't really have been surprised at this point, since Merlin had always had a talent for reading his mind. "I was the one who sent you away when it's my responsibility to protect you," Arthur said, his eyes falling to the floor by Merlin's feet.

"You were trying to protect me, you great prat. But I shouldn't have let you. I was shaken up after you found out about… you know, me, and that made me selfish. Going home was easier. And if I hadn't, your father would probably still be alive."

Arthur shut his eyes, fighting back sudden nausea. "His death was far from being your fault." Arthur cocked his head to the side when a sudden thought occurred to him, "Why would you have wanted to protect him, anyways?"

Merlin's eyes widened, filling with that look again that Arthur doubted he had ever deserved. "Because he was your father. Besides, it wouldn't have been the first time."

"Merlin, he would've killed you if he knew—"

"I know that. But he was still your father and you loved him."

Arthur blinked, his mouth going dry. I think I might somehow love you more, he thought suddenly. It surprised him, like a punch in the stomach. "Thank you for protecting him for my sake," he said instead. "That couldn't have been easy. Nothing about any of this could have."

"It wasn't all bad," Merlin said with a slight shrug. "They picked favorites, you see. When I came along, they left the others alone."

Arthur's breath left him again for an entirely different reason. "Merlin…"

"I just need time," Merlin said with a shaky sigh, "to be alright again."

"Of course," Arthur assured, sounding more certain about this than anything else in his life.

Merlin deflated then, his shoulders actually relaxing entirely. He smiled, softly, looking decades younger. Arthur opened up his arms, inviting Merlin to approach if he so desired. The warlock's smile went a little lopsided, like a smirk, before he practically collapsed into Arthur's embrace.

The king could feel Merlin trembling, though it was beginning to lessen in his arms. Arthur wanted to hold him close until the shivers were completely gone, until Merlin could feel entirely safe and warm. And if Arthur pressed a gentle kiss into his dark hair, Merlin said nothing about it. He just sighed, somewhat wistfully, before pulling away.

"Get some rest, Arthur," he said quietly.

Arthur fought to swallow, pushing away the swell of emotions welling up within him. "You too," he managed.

He watched Merlin go, suddenly hating how the door creaked when it fell shut.

…...

So… my hand slipped and this became a Merthur fic. I hope you guys liked this chapter anyways! Sorry if Merthur isn't what you were expecting (I'm changing the tags), the dialogue just went that route like it had a mind of its own.