A/N: I'm back! I've got the ball rolling on this one, so hopefully chapters won't be too far in between each other. Healthy dosage of reviews do help with motivation, though! You know... just so you know. Speaking of reviews, I'd like to thank scifigirl, Nightwatcher'sunknowngirl, Pendragon.P a s s i o n., Mel1991 and Halcyon Impulsion for the reviews. They're almost as tasty as coffee!

Warnings: I tend to like to beat around the characters I'm writing about. If you're not into this, you might want to move on! Rated T for violence.

Enjoy!!

Arthur raised his hand to knock on the door to his father's chambers, but despite himself, he froze. He bit back a wave of fear, disgusted by the thought of it. Despite all that had transpired, he was still the king's son, still rightful prince to Camelot. He had a duty to perform, and right now, that duty was his father.

He had waited nervously until he knew that his father was alone in his room, and that the festering scum of a creature was nowhere in sight. Still, Arthur found himself hesitating.

Finally he swallowed, pushing his thoughts and the sting of his half-swollen eye to the back of his mind, and rapped on the heavy wooden door.

"What is it?" Uther's voice bellowed from the other side, seemingly annoyed by the intrusion.

Arthur took a deep breath and pushed open the door. His father stood by the king's bed, where he had just begun to undress for the night's sleep.

"Sire." Arthur greeted respectfully, bowing his head.

"It's you." The distaste in the king's voice was not subtle, and Arthur winced at the bite in the words. Uther turned from his son and placed his crown in the pillow-bottomed chest that it rested in every night. "What do you want?"

After only a moment's hesitation, Arthur held his head higher and walked closer to his father. "Father, I am here to talk to you about your… wife."

With a snarl, Uther turned his son, his eyes flashing with an other-worldly rage. "You have no right to talk to me about the Queen Katrina."

Frustrated, Arthur raked a hand through his hair. "Have you gone mad?" He exclaimed, emotions getting the best of him. "She's a troll! A god-forsaken troll! Why can't you see that?!"

Uther took a menacing step towards his son, but the young man did not back down. "I have had enough with this troll business!" The king roared, his powerful voice hard on his son's ears. "I am not blind, and you will not speak to me this way!"

"You're enchanted, Father! You must be!" Arthur shouted back, desperation leaking into his already strained voice. "Please, why can't you see it? Why can't you see her?"

"I will not have you talk to me in this manner, Arthur Pendragon!" Uther bellowed.

"And I will do anything to make you see! You're making a fool out of yourself, Dad! She's got magic! You hate magic!"

"I am warning you, Arthur, say another word about my wife and you will rue the day you were born."

Arthur swallowed, and tried to quell the shaking in his limbs, his voice. "Father, I refuse to stand by while she ruins your life. She. Is. A. Troll."

The hit came out of nowhere, the forceful slap taking Arthur by surprise as Uther's backhand split his lower lip. The prince gasped, his face snapping back to look at his father in surprise. He took a stumbling step backwards as his father came at him again. Before Arthur had time to even contemplate what was happening, Uther's fist drove into his stomach, bringing Arthur to his knees.

"I've had enough of your insolence!" Uther shouted, grabbing a fistful of Arthur's blonde hair. Dizzy, Arthur looked up at his father through blurriness, the hurt and betrayal in his eyes unmistakable, but aptly ignored. "I will have no more disrespect out of you!"

With all of the power that could be conjured from the king, he kicked his son squarely in the chest, sending Arthur flying backwards, sliding to a quick stop on the stone floor. The prince lay there on his back, shaking and gasping in the shock of what had just happened.

"Get out, Arthur, before you push me some more." Uther growled, the pendant that rested on his chest glowing its bright crimson.

Arthur tried to get his limbs to move, but they refused to listen. He gripped the rug that was under his hand, willing himself to get up off the floor.

"I said NOW!"

His father's frightening yell was all that the prince needed to get his body working again. Without another word, or even a look at the king, Arthur pushed himself up off of the floor and stumbled out of the chambers.

Unable to close the door behind him, the prince practically fell into the hallway, his heart thudding painfully against his sore ribs. He ignored the guards that were just down the passage, and with his head ducked low, he made his way as quickly as he could to his own room.

It wasn't until he was behind the safety of his chamber doors that he collapsed on the floor. Holding his arms against his aching chest and stomach, he gasped for breath, his lungs shakily heaving from the pain and the panic that was rushing through him.

It had to be a dream. It had to be.

His father hadn't struck him since Arthur was a child. The young prince had stolen a jewel that he had fancied, and swore that he hadn't taken it. Uther had discovered that his son had been lying, and just like today, he had backhanded Arthur across the face.

Immediately ridden with guilt, his father apologized to him.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, I should not have hurt you."

Six-year-old Arthur stood shaking and sniffling, holding a hand to his swelling face. Tears streamed down his pink cheeks as he looked at his father in fear.

"Arthur, you are my son, but I am also your king." Uther had said, his voice taking a soft and almost comforting tone. "I promise to never hit you again if you always try your best to please me, and to please the kingdom." The king held out his arms to his boy. "Do you promise?"

Arthur nodded. "I promise, father."

And he had. He had honestly tried his best his whole life, to please his father, to do well for Camelot.

But it had never been good enough before. It was definitely not good enough now. Perhaps it wasn't the enchantment, forcing his father to speak in strange and hurtful ways. Perhaps it was Uther's true feelings shining through.

At those razor-sharp thoughts, Arthur unknowingly gripped himself tighter.

He didn't know how long it was that he sat on the floor with his back to the door. He struggled to get his confused emotions and shaking limbs under control. Every breath seemed to hurt, streaming fire not only through his chest and abdomen, but through his heart.

Finally, after a long while, his breathing had slowed. Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away wetness that he hadn't realized was there. Slowly and carefully he pushed himself up off of the floor, and made his way to the bedside.

Trying to keep his mind blank, he began the tedious task of undressing his sore body. The sun had long since set; the perpetual nightmare of a day was finally at an end. Tomorrow could only get better.

Hopefully.

Arthur had just finished pulling off the last of his shirts when he caught his reflection in the full-length mirror against his wall. The sight of his battered body caused him to freeze, his shirt still gripped in his hand. Slowly, he walked towards the looking glass.

The bruise that covered his left eye had bloomed into a deep shade of purple; it would be nearly impossible to hide now. The right side of his bottom lip was split and swollen, and a dark dribble of blood made a mark down the side of his cheek.

Angry red welts mottled his chest and stomach, only guidelines of the damage that had been inflicted. From his intensive training experiences, Arthur knew that there would be major ugly bruising on that part of his body as well. He only hoped that his ribs were not cracked—he was in no mind to talk over what had just happened to anyone, even the court's trusted physician. No, he would rather suffer a long and painful healing process.

Perhaps he would even welcome it.

A sudden knock on the door brought him out of his dark thoughts with a start, his muddled mind unable to comprehend immediately what the sound was. Before he could react, his bedroom door was pushed open.

Merlin nearly bounced into the room, his hopes high after talking with the dragon. He was about to go tell Gaius of his findings, but decided to stop in and tell his friend the good news first.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked out loud, his eyes tracing the room for the prince. He froze when he saw Arthur, though, his spirits falling faster than they had risen.

The prince looked like a rabbit cornered by a ravenous predator. His knuckles were white against the dark colour of the shirt he squeezed in his hands, and the completely unshielded look in his eyes took Merlin's breath away. He was certain that only one person could be responsible for the fresh wounds on his friend's body, and it most likely accounted for the raw emotion emanating from those blue orbs.

"Oh Arthur…" Merlin took a couple of steps towards the prince, his heart aching in sympathy.

"Don't." Brought out of his shock by Merlin's words, Arthur immediately turned and headed towards his dresser, pulling out a rarely-worn night shirt.

"Arthur, I'm so sorry-"

"I said don't!" Arthur shouted, his face colouring more from shame than anger. He hastily threw the shirt over his head, unintentionally grunting when he inevitably jostled his injuries.

Merlin swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. What he had seen of Arthur's injuries was enough to know that the prince should be tended to by Gaius. But pushing Arthur too far would create the opposite of the desired effect; the contusions and lacerations barely even touching what Uther had probably done to his son's mindset.

"Please," Merlin started slow and soft, as if talking to a small child, "Let me go get Gaius—"

"No!" Arthur exclaimed, his panic taking both of them by surprise. He immediately looked away again, unable to look Merlin in the eye.

"But you're hurt…"

"I'm fine." Arthur's voice was quiet, if not somewhat determined. Another pause came over them, Merlin staring at the prince and Arthur looking anywhere but back at him.

Realizing that he wasn't going to be able to change Arthur's mind, Merlin switched the subject. Brightening, he closed the distance between the two. "I've found a way to break the enchantment!"

Arthur's response was surprisingly unenthusiastic, dejected. "Oh?" His tone set Merlin's worry up another notch.

Not to be deterred, Merlin nodded. "There's a potion that Gaius must administer. It requires the root of a special plant out in the forest, but the enchantment will be broken.

"I will leave at once to find the root. Gaius has all of the other ingredients."

After a small silence, Arthur nodded. "Will you need any help?"

"No, I should be fine. I don't think the root is too hard to find. I hope to be back as early as tomorrow night."

"Alright then… take your leave as long as it takes."

Merlin smiled, happy at the thought of doing something to help. He turned on his heels and headed back towards the door.

"Oh and Merlin?"

The warlock paused and looked over his shoulder at the prince on the bed.

Arthur stole a glance up at his manservant under thick blond bangs. "Thanks."

Merlin just smiled and nodded his understanding, and then he was gone.