A/N: What can I say? I've actually had this written for a while but I suffered a bit of a crisis of plot. Where I originally meant to take this story just won't work and I had to figure out if this chapter still worked for the new direction I'm taking. It does! The story is back on track and outlined through the end. I won't guarantee weekly updates, my RL is just a bit too chaotic for that but I do hope to update more regularly than the posting of this chapter would indicate.

I want to sincerely thank everyone who's reviewed or sent me encouraging messages about this fic, they are more appreciated than I can tell you. One particular anonymous reviewer actually provided invaluable direction for me and I only wish I could thank this person directly! Thanks to everyone who subscribed to or placed this on their favorites list. Every alert I get makes me do a little happy dance!

Hold on Loosely

Chapter 6- Self Defense

It didn't help that Uther had thrown Arthur in the dungeon. If anything, as far as Merlin was concerned, it made things worse. It ensured that the entire Kingdom heard the whole sordid tale. It certainly didn't change anything that had happened. However, it did guarantee that Merlin would be unable to hide his misery and shame in private, away from the well-meant pity that was being heaped on him from all comers. In the last few days there had been a steady parade of servants (as well as a few of Arthur's knights and no few of the castle guards) who'd "stopped by" to wish Merlin well. While it was nice on one hand that so many of the castle's denizens had been concerned for him, it was also awkward as hell. It brought home to him that his degradation was now a spectacularly public affair. That it seemed everyone who spoke with him had sympathized with his side of things made little difference to his sense of humiliation.

He'd been appalled when Morgana had assured him that Arthur had been locked up for his "crimes". The older girl was still convinced that Arthur had raped Merlin in addition to nearly beating him to death.

"Morgana, I can't say I'm happy with him right now but he didn't mean to crack my skull. That was an accident."

"And the rest of it?" she'd arched on dark eyebrow at him in disbelief. "Him nearly ripping your arm off and tipping you into the hall for someone else to take care of, was that an accident?"

She still couldn't bear to mention Arthur's violation of Merlin and she seriously doubted he'd want to openly discuss it either. However, she would not let Merlin's soft heart allow him to make excuses for the Prince.

Deep blue eyes cast down, Merlin swallowed hard before replying.

"No. I...no, that, that was not an accident."

"He nearly killed you, Merlin. After bashing your head in by "accident" he sure as hell didn't get you any help. If Gaius had gotten to you sooner, you might not have gotten so sick. You can't imagine what it's been like for him and Gwen, sitting here by your bed, day and night just trying to keep you alive."

She didn't mention her own deep terror at the thought of losing him. She was less emotionally stunted than her foster-brother but she still had difficulty not pretending that she was always alright. She also hadn't spent as much time as the other two nursing Merlin. Morgana had wanted to but she knew Uther would never have stood for it. Both Gaius and Gwen would have gotten in trouble for allowing it had she tried. So she'd spent her untracked afternoons with him and that had had to suffice for the ease of her heart.

Merlin had heaved a small, helpless sigh at the thought of his guardian and his best friend worrying themselves half-to-death over him. It wasn't his fault but he still felt guilty for the weeks of stress and sleeplessness they'd all endured on his behalf.

"If for nothing else he deserves this time of imprisonment for hurting you so badly and for putting them through this ordeal. Not one of you deserved anything like! You've always been far too good to him. He doesn't deserve you."

Unable to argue that point, he'd just let it go. It wasn't worth arguing with Morgana. She was still outraged that he intended to go right back to work for Arthur as soon as he was healed up enough. She'd lectured him for nigh on half an hour when he'd told her that. She'd been in the midst of explaining her plan to obtain him post-convalescent employment when he'd interrupted her and said that he already had two jobs to return to and he didn't need another.

"You can't be serious!" she'd exclaimed. "After what he did to you, I'm surprised you can stand to live in the same keep he does, let alone work for him day in and day out!"

He'd tightened his jaw at the reminder of Arthur's cruelty.

"He's not going to be repeating his actions so I don't see why I shouldn't."

"How do you know that? What happens the next time he gets drunk and possessive?"

"I hardly think he's possessive of me, Morgana. Look, I really don't want to talk about Arthur right now, please?"

She'd relented for a while but of course it had come back up again when she'd made an offhand comment about Arthur being "released in another five days". That's when she'd told him of the King's punishment for the Prince's actions during and after the feast. It was the first he'd heard of what Arthur had done to that boy who'd tried to molest him after Gwen and Morgana had retired that night. He wasn't overly concerned with the creepy man's treatment at Arthur's hands but he had been surprised by it. Bewildered actually. Despite what had happened between them, it just didn't sound like Arthur to Merlin.

"You don't think he could have been enchanted somehow, do you?" He'd been musing aloud more than truly convinced of his theory. After all, when would someone have had the opportunity to curse Arthur without Merlin noticing something out of the ordinary?

Morgana snorted. "Hardly. He was behaving like he always did as a child. He's always been a spoiled bully."

Privately Merlin agreed but they'd both dropped the subject as Gwen entered carrying an enormous tray, piled high with enough food to feed six or seven let alone the four of them that would be dining at Gaius's tiny table that evening. They were celebrating Merlin's first sanctioned trip out of bed since waking. Gwen was unaware of what had happened with the weird boy at the Feast and she was distressed enough as it was over what Arthur had done to Merlin. Both he and Morgana had no wish to burden her further.

Gaius joined them shortly after that and Morgana had let the whole subject of Arthur drop for the rest of the night. However, her shrewd eyes didn't miss a single moment of Merlin's ill-concealed pain and misery. She couldn't help but hate Arthur all the more by the time she and Gwen departed for the night.

Since waking from his coma, Merlin had been unable to sleep well. He spent most of his time awake and hurting. What little sleep he did get usually ended prematurely by means of screaming nightmares that Gaius dared not dose Merlin for. Not so soon after recovering from such a long period of deep unconsciousness. The elderly physician was terrified that a sleeping draught might put Merlin right back into that state. And so he would wake at least once each night to his ward's night terrors. The sound of Merlin's screams broke the old man's heart again and again.

However, that night, once Morgana and Gwen had left and Gaius had guided him back to his bed, Merlin lay awake, unable to sleep at all. Arthur plagued his every thought. The memory of concerned azure eyes softly lit by moonlight would alternate with the crazed sky blue glare of the following morning. He could hear Arthur gasping his name in pleasure then suddenly he was snarling it, his name a curse on the Prince's tongue, the same voice, so gentle and loving in the dark was dripping with contempt in the day. You're such a fucking girl, Merlin! Gentle hands stroked him to pleasures before unknown then turned violent, hurting him, searing hot agony exploding everywhere.

He shuddered deeply. His body hurt so badly but really, it was nothing compared to the emotional torment. He still loved the lout and the pain in his heart after Arthur's betrayal couldn't be borne. He couldn't go back to serving him, seeing him every day as if nothing had happened. Though he knew it hadn't happened as far as the Prince was concerned, he could never banish it from his mind as easily as the prat had done. His sensibilities were far more battered than his aching body, the soul-pain a deeper agony, the damage farther-reaching. His heart couldn't stop bleeding, his clotting factor was gone; he'd become an emotional hemophiliac. There was no way he could endure what he knew he must suffer in order to fulfill his destiny.

Mind ticking over his options, he tried to find an answer to his dilemma. He thought of leaving but knew he'd never be able to get more than a few leagues down the road before the tug of fate would inexorably pull him back. Even if his own love didn't tie him to Arthur, his duty to the Prince, to the people of Camelot, to the future of magic in the land bound him so tightly there was no escape.

So he'd have to stay, there was no fighting that. There must be a way to shield his heart from further damage. He knew he'd never survive the ravaging of his trust like that even once more. However, Arthur would slash at it again sometime, he knew that deep in his bones. The arse had proven just how little he valued Merlin that awful night. There was no way he'd not hurt Merlin again, his selfish nature made it inevitable. So the sorcerer had to figure out a way of making himself impervious to the abuse his beloved was bound to heap on his head in days to come.

No doubt he'd want to punish Merlin for the secret getting out, for having to endure imprisonment at his own father's hands because of his useless manservant. He might not physically harm him but he'd be vicious with his words, he was good at that. He'd lash out again and again until there was nothing left of Merlin but a quivering, bleeding mass of shattered pieces. His soul would splinter, there was no way he could endure that now. What defenses he'd had before were gone, torn down, rendered useless by the Prince's brutal rape of his heart.

Protection, that's what he needed. There was only one thing that could shelter him from that which made him whole, magic. It was his only recourse. But how to employ it? How to make it defend him without harming Arthur? He began to let his mind wander, he allowed his magic to flow freely within him. He closed his eyes as he felt them heat with the power swirling, unformed, inside his body. He meshed his mind with the magic. He opened himself to possibilities; he directed his thoughts toward finding the form he needed, the spell to bind the power into a flexible barrier. One that was porous in places, the perforations that would allow him to still protect and serve his Prince must be easily accessed. However, the shield needed to be impervious in other areas, those that surrounded his heart, his soul, his fragile emotions. The defenses must be keyed into Arthur alone. It would not do to close himself off from his other loved ones, Hunith, Gaius, Gwen, Morgana and Lancelot. Neither he nor they deserved that. He also didn't want to close his heart to the possibility of new friends, companions and acquaintances. He had no desire to make himself an emotional void. He just needed to shut out Arthur.

It took him three days to find the form of the spell. Seventy two hours to track down the triggers that only Arthur could trip and understand how to separate them from the rest, the smaller trip wires that connected him to the other people in his life. Three suns rose and set before he isolated the vital memories that needed to be sealed away or edited. Many of his recollections had to be altered as they included other people and other information he must retain. He took his time. This had to be perfect. One mistake and he could erase parts of his anamnesis that he could not afford to lose or he could fail to occlude a tiny incident that could rip the rabbit hole open and push him back inside. His survival, his destiny and the future of Albion depended on getting this right. So he took his time.

So lost in his own mind was he, that Gaius thought he'd fallen into coma once again. He ceased speaking, eating, drinking or even responding in any way to any stimuli outside the deep recesses of his very core. The old man despaired when he found Merlin laying still, so still in his bed. His color remained good, his breathing was deep and unlabored and his heart still beat steady and strong but once again his consciousness was gone. He clearly didn't sleep for the boy never lay so still in slumber. He was also extremely prone to muttering, snuffling and soft lip-smacking whilst resting in the arms of Morpheus. No such signs were displayed by the young warlock's body lying unmoving beneath the worn woolen bedding. The screaming stopped, of course, but that was hardly a comfort to the elderly physician.

Gaius spent as much time as he could with his ward. Dribbling water gently into his mouth and checking and rechecking for signs of fever or infection. All of Merlin's visible wounds continued to heal well, nothing festered on the outside. Gaius began to worry once again about the internal damage done to the boy by the Prince. He had of course observed the signs that the boy had been used sexually but there hadn't been any severe trauma to the area. At least none that the old physician had been able to detect. He'd done an internal exam of course and again, there hadn't seemed to be any truly worrying damage.

Perhaps he'd missed something. He'd believed Arthur hadn't raped Merlin, or at least, he hadn't perceived himself to have done so. Was it possible that those tender words he'd overheard had been a performance for his sake? Had the Prince tortured Merlin in ways too terrible to contemplate? Had he caused damage deeper inside the boy than the physician was able to investigate? If so, why was it manifesting now? He must have let Merlin out of bed too soon. Something unhealed must have torn loose again.

In his extremely long career as a healer, Gaius had seen too many of the inhuman atrocities that one man could visit upon another. He'd never believed Arthur to be that kind of man but he also knew that it was impossible to ever truly know the depths of darkness that a man could hide away in his soul. He'd thought Merlin was healing well, he'd been lucid and clear-minded even if there was some amnesia following the Prince's assault upon him. However, now he'd slipped back into a coma and Gaius could find no reason for it. So he worried and wondered and imagined all manner of horrors that could have befallen his beloved ward at the hands of a man he'd trusted.

His relief and delight knew no bounds when Merlin unexpectedly appeared in the doorway to his room three days later. The shaky-legged boy gave him a small smile.

"How long was I out for this time?"

Arthur looked up as the door to his cell creaked open. His father stood in the narrow aperture. Had 4 weeks passed? It had felt like 4 years but in all honesty, Arthur had lost track of how many days had come and gone. Sometimes he'd been aware of sunlight changing angle and intensity but most of the time, he lay in the straw on the floor of his cell and thought of Merlin. Was he even alive? Had he woken from his coma? Would he hate Arthur forever? Would he leave him?

There was nothing to break up his time, nothing to mark it's passing but the changing shadows from the single window far above his head. No one visited. The guards continued to ignore him. The kitchen girl still dropped and ran. After the first few days he had stopped paying any attention to her comings and goings. He didn't often bother to eat the meals she brought. Only when his hunger became painful did he bother to appease it. He lost weight and strength but was unaware of it as he didn't bother to move much. Once, maybe twice a day he'd visit the bucket in the corner to empty his bladder. His bowels functioned far more sluggishly as he barely fueled them. He was not aware that he touched only one out of three meals each day and never could he finish a single one of them. He would keep the cup close though, taking an occasional sip to wet his tongue when it stuck to the roof of his mouth.

And still he thought of Merlin. He allowed himself the luxury of happy revery. He lost himself in the memory of his bright, beautiful smile, the way he lit up any room he entered, the way small children were drawn to him, the way mothers always wanted to feed him, the way sunlight gleamed on his pale, perfect skin, the sound of his laughter, the curve of his over-large ears, the deep shimmering cobalt of his eyes and the strength in his slender, long-fingered hands. He shivered when he remembered how good those hands always felt on his own body, whether it was the dozens of times they'd dried the Prince after a bath or the one night of wonder when they'd stroked his bare skin in passion. He let himself recall those few precious hours he'd held Merlin in his arms before he'd torn down his own world and laid violent hands on his beloved.

Then the pain would come again, the self-loathing as he remembered Merlin's cries of agony as he'd dragged him to his chamber door, the way he'd screamed his agreement when Arthur had threatened him, the way he'd tremored in the Prince's punishing grip, the sight of him laying broken and still in his tiny bed tucked at the back of Gaius's infirmary. Inevitably his mind would then turn to all the times he'd ignored his servant when he should have heeded him, long after Merlin had proven he'd willingly lay his life down for his Prince. He remembered how he'd enjoyed piling punishing workloads on the boy's narrow shoulders and heaping derision on his sable wreathed head for any small failing. He'd taken any excuse to humiliate the boy, making him get down on hands and knees so Arthur could use him as a step to mount his horse while in full armour. He would writhe on the floor in remorseful shame as his own failings poured through his mind.

The cycle was endless. It played over and over in the Prince's captive mind with nothing to distract him from the litany of his own sins. The loop was infinite. Joy followed misery then flowed into pleasure which spiked into pain. There was no surcease from the torments he visited upon himself. Sleep was fleeting, dreams always became nightmares he woke from drenched in sweat and shaking in horror. Time crawled, it's pain-bloated belly dragging on the unyielding ground of his own conscience.

Now the King stood before him and he forced himself to remember how to move. His muscles slowly recalled how to bunch and slide and he managed to drag his back up the wall behind him until he was more-or-less sitting up. Blurry eyes sought out the figure swathed in deepest purple regally disposed in the doorway before him.

"Father?"

"Yes, son. Your sentence is up. It's time to come back."

A war broke out in Arthur's mind. Did he dare ask Uther? Did his father even know if Merlin lived? It wasn't like the man concerned himself with such matters but he had said before sending him down here that if Merlin died, he'd be imprisoned for more than the month initially assigned him. He had no idea how long he'd been here. He'd had no word from his father on whether or not his sentence had been extended. Had it been a month or had it been longer? He cared little for his detention, he was just terrified to ask if Merlin lived or not.

He forced himself to his feet, using the wall behind him for support once more.

"How...how long have I been down here?"

Uther looked surprised at the question, both eyebrows rising.

"You don't know? Really Arthur, I thought you had better discipline than to completely lose track of time! It's been a month, as I told you it would be."

Arthur allowed himself to slump against the wall for a moment.

"So, he lives?"

"The boy? I assume so or I gather Gaius would have informed me otherwise. Now come on."

The Prince followed his father on trembling legs. The King had made no effort to find out whether Merlin lived or died. Unlike Uther, Arthur did not assume that Gaius would have informed him if his ward had died. Considering the King's treatment of servants in general and Merlin in particular, Gaius could be forgiven for assuming that the elder Pendragon wouldn't care one way or another if his ward perished. He'd have been right in the assumption. Promising himself that he would find out on his own how Merlin fared, Arthur tamely followed his father's lead for the moment.