As much as I like Merlin's bowl style it could really do with a radical change.
There was something that said 'wet dog' about him as he climbed out of the lake, sporting a colour red that would've made a tomato jealous, with his raven black hair plastered unflatteringly against his head, outlining the boniness of his skull. His face was a picture, his features contorted into a look of revulsion that may have had something to do with the pondweed that had somehow found its way into his mouth. He spat the offending green stuff out onto the ground and then kicked off his sodden boots. Picking up one of the two he upturned it and water gushed out. He grimaced.
Arthur couldn't really believe he'd been so stupid in the first place. When the prince had thrown his scabbard into the middle of the lake and told Merlin to 'go fetch' he hadn't actually meant it. It was a joke (he needed a new scabbard anyway). The ever loyal servant had listened however and dived straight into the icy water to retrieve the item. He was like a faithful dog – for some reason, that the prince couldn't fathom, he kept viewing Merlin as a canine – who'd do anything for his master so he wouldn't get kicked.
Still, he had his scabbard back – his manservant had dropped it unceremoniously at his feet – and he had a very damp companion who looked rather put out. As Arthur watched the younger man take a seat on a nearby rock he couldn't help but notice his hair once more. It really had no style; it was just a messy mop that really did nothing for the boy. Arthur was suddenly struck by a way he could apologise to his manservant for making him dive in the lake.
"Hey, Merlin," the prince began, "Thanks for getting my scabbard; I'm sorry you went in, it must have been freezing. Anyway, as way of a repayment, I've decided to give you a haircut."
Merlin, who had previously been staring at the floor feeling more than a little peeved, looked up – his head moved so fast that his neck snapped. The expression in his eyes was disbelieving.
"A haircut?"
"Yes," Arthur nodded, an enthusiastic grin plastered on his face.
"But my hair is fine."
"That's what you think. Have you ever looked in a mirror, Merlin? No wonder the girls never go for you!" The warlock looked offended. "I would say your current haircut seems as though someone has just place a bowl upside-down on your head and cut around that. They've given you a bowl-cut."
"I don't want you to cut my hair though, Arthur, I can get a barber to do that," the boy was now protesting feebly. He knew that there was really not much point arguing with the future king – he was bound to lose.
"Look, it will barely take a moment, just a few snips here and there and you'll have a style as good as mine." As he said this, the prince unsheathed a knife that had been nestling on his belt, and advanced on Merlin.
"I'm really not sure this is a good idea. I mean, have you ever actually cut someone's hair before?!"
"Well – truthfully – no, but it can't be too hard. Now hold still." And so Merlin had his hair cut by Arthur for the first time ever (and hopefully the last).
Gwen was hanging out the Lady Morgana's clothes on a line in the castle gardens. It was strange, looking at Camelot and its King you would never presume that Uther would ever bother having space for a garden but he did. Sure, it was well hidden, none of the normal village folk knew it existed but the courtiers and servants did. It was the perfect place to escape to or – in Gwen's case – do the laundry.
The gardens were made up of a long rectangular block of grass that sloped gradually away from the castle; some dozen flower beds that surrounded this area filled with tulips, pansies, chrysanthemums and roses. There was also a small orchard with apple trees, pear trees and plum trees. The plants were always groaning with engorged fruit in the summer and early autumn. At the bottom of the gardens was a stream that flowed all the way from the faraway hills to a lake farther down in the valley. It was by this stream that two figures appeared, walking up the gently tilting lawn.
As the pair grew closer, the handmaiden realised who they were: Prince Arthur and Merlin. However, Merlin did not look how he usually did – and that was an understatement. The young man was padding barefoot and he had no top on, his chest was exposed and, contrary to popular belief, it seemed that the warlock was not as skinny as he looked. But, although the nakedness caused the handmaiden's heart to flutter and her cheeks to flush, these things were not what really caught her eye.
His hair had altered completely. It was still the same beautiful ebony but the childish, inelegant style had changed. Someone looked like they'd taken a knife and just done away with half of his black locks. Now the line of his fringe was jagged and uneven, not dissimilar to the rest of his hair which stuck up in random tufts over the crown of his head. It was much shorter than it had been before and gave the physician's apprentice a rather mature military look. Despite being used to Merlin's old floppy locks, Gwen couldn't say she hated the change. She was still going to rib him for it though.
"What on earth happened to you?" She asked when they came within earshot.
"Merlin decided to go swimming in the lake," Arthur smirked. Gwen raised an eyebrow.
"And the hair?"
"Arthur decided to become a barber for the day and I was his first unfortunate project."
"It's so short!"
"Yes, well, being as inexperienced as our skilled prince is, he didn't realise that if you cut hair when it's wet then it's much shorter when it dries. Therefore I now look like a convict or a man recovering from having his head shaven after having lice." Merlin's voice was slightly bitter but still tinged with humour. He obviously wasn't too angry.
"How was I supposed to know that?" Arthur shrugged as if these things happened all the time. "Anyway, it'll grow back and then I can have another go."
"In your dreams," Merlin yelped, incredulously, hands rising instinctively to protect his head.
"In the meantime," the prince continued, not swayed, "You'll see what I mean about the girls. They'll all want a piece of the new Merlin. Hey, look, here comes one now."
Arthur had put an arm round his manservant and pointed at the proud, majestic figure of the Lady Morgana who was making her way towards them. She floated rather than walked across the grassy turf, her blue dress creating a sea of material beneath her - rippling like waves on an ocean.
"Oi, Morgana, what do you think of Merlin's haircut?" Arthur yelled at her.
Morgana stopped short, her mouth falling open in shock.
"Merlin! Did someone let a sheep shearer lose on your head?!" She asked, deadly serious.
"Thanks, Arthur, thanks a lot."