The word 'fear' is foreign to Judal, the concept of such a feeling all but untranslatable. He does not fear anything, nor does he feel much in the way of anything, for that matter. The sight of the runty prince Hakuryuu crying when picked on; the thrum of power that courses through him when he dismisses a servant; the way all within the Kou palace must incline their head to the young Oracle when he passes, lest they stand on trial for their insubordination... These, these happenings bring about a change in emotion in Judal, bring a wicked kind of satisfaction to swell in his chest.
He will never forget the day he finally experiences fear.
You are not permitted to wander at your leisure anymore, Magi, he is told as he is held by the wrists by the very guards that are employed to protect him, your right to freedom is no longer your own.
'Control and contain'. That is the phrase that is whispered amongst the masses of Al-Thamen that form a circle around him as Judal struggles, his eyes wide as he is stripped of his ceremonial robes so like Kougyoku's. They may well be the only possession he holds even vaguely dear, the only things he may label as liked. He watches them flutter in the hold of a faceless subordinate, initially unaware of what is happening to him as he allows himself a moment to grieve the loss his one familiar item.
It is not only fear that he learns of, but mental solitude as well. Tight, pure gold bands are sealed seamlessly around his throat and forearms, squeezing him painfully hard, so hard that he chokes but cannot lessen the binding as his arms are held fast by his sides. He does not care that his young body is bare, does not feel the shame that is to be expected of him as fear, nothing short of pure terror blankets his mind like a thick fog. Never has he been handled like anything less than the purest of platinum, has not once felt anything akin to the pain of such a thick, heavy obstruction around his neck. Judal tries to draw breath but cannot fill his lungs sufficiently, and the young Magi panics.
His neck is held up stiffly by the gold bands, forcing his face to be exposed as thick tears roll down his cheeks. It is with a shuddering sob that Judal is forced to see himself for what he has allowed himself to become - little more than a kept pet. The gold binding him presses at his skin too hard, too cruelly, demanding that it's presence be known, that it's owner understands that he is owned, that he is marked and enslaved under Al-Thamen with little more than the grand title of Magi.
He is not free. He is not his own person.
And so, Judal loses himself.
This was inspired by a fanart picture from Pixiv that has recently appeared on Tumblr again, where Judal is depicted with bruising around his neck from his gold bands. To me, it signifies that he is little more than a slave to Al-Thamen, that Judal's pain is very much real but craftily hidden away from sight.