Summary: Blond icon Arthur has an identity crisis. Arthur-centric silliness.
Orange Magic (Part 2: Pink) by frostgossamer
Arthur was lying on his bed, trust up like a chicken. Outside in the corridor not two, but four guards had been posted. The king was furious about his son's outrageous behaviour. Anyone else would have been in the dungeons now sentenced to death for attempted regicide.
Merlin and Guinevere stood with arms folded, regarding their charge. Arthur squirmed in his restraints.
"It's just the hair", Guinevere commented, stepping forward to remove the gag from the prince's mouth. "Before that he was no trouble at all."
"No trouble?", Arthur moaned. "You make me sound like some badly trained mongrel."
"Well, if you're going to behave like one", Merlin commented.
"Urgh!", Arthur retorted. "You can untie me now. I've totally calmed down."
Guinevere and Merlin looked at each other but didn't move.
"Now!", Arthur yelled.
They untied him. Arthur got up and commenced to pace up and down the room.
"I don't know how they do it. I really don't", he exclaimed in exasperation.
"Who? Do what?", Merlin asked, confused.
"Live with this blasted redheaded temperament. They must all be saints. It's something my normally cool blond disposition has no talent to cope with. My nerves are in shreds. Merlin, you have to ask Gaius to find some potion or other that will restore me to my original pigmentation before I explode."
"Gaius is attending to your father", Merlin informed him. "You left his dignity a little battered."
Arthur hissed. Guinevere sighed. "Perhaps we could do something about your hair, Arthur? Perhaps we could bleach it?"
Arthur looked doubtful. "Well, it's worth a try, I suppose", he agreed.
Merlin was despatched to Gaius' workroom to fetch some lime.
Guinevere sat down on a chair. Arthur pulled one up and flopped down beside her. She smiled sweetly.
"It's going to be all right, I'm sure, Arthur", she assured him. "I know King Uther will forgive you, eventually. He is your father."
"I hope he will", he replied. "But can you forgive me, Guinevere."
"For what, Arthur?", she asked, shyly meeting his eyes.
"For loving you all this time, and never showing you exactly what I feel for you", he explained.
"I know that you love me, Arthur", she murmured. "You've told me that before."
"But I haven't told you how much I want you, how much my heart yearns for you", he went on, grabbing her hand. "I must have you."
Guinevere jumped up and ran around to the other side of the table, keeping it was between her and the prince.
"Arthur, you're babbling", she cried.
"My loins burn with longing, my sweet", he went on. "I have a hunger that only you can satisfy."
Guinevere turned to run to the door but Arthur caught her before she could reach it.
"Arthur, don't", she squeaked.
"Darling", he cried, in a voice dangerous with passion. "Be mine tonight and I'll make you my wife, and damn my father."
At that moment Merlin opened the door, and Guinevere took the opportunity to escape Arthur's grasp and run away, sobbing prettily.
Merlin looked surprised. Arthur leered at him and raised an eyebrow.
"Well, at a pinch, you'll do", he sniggered. "Drop your drawers, Merlin. I need some loving."
Merlin squawked and followed Guinevere out of the door.
Arthur was left to chew the carpet alone.
('o')
Gaius was in King Uther's room treating the king's split lip and bruises. Morgana was providing daughterly comfort to his shattered dignity, secretly preening herself that she had set this whole thing in motion.
"What I don't understand", Uther complained. "Is what is damn well wrong with my son. Ever since his hair grew ruddy he's been behaving like a termagant. And now..."
"I'm sure it's just a phase", Gaius assured him, dabbing an arnica preparation on his face. "He'll get over it, by and by."
"A phase?", Uther exclaimed. "It has to be more than that. The boy is possessed."
"Oh dear, Sire. I'm sure it's not that bad", Gaius protested.
"Well, I am", Uther growled. "And I have no choice but to deal with him vigorously."
He got up and paced for a while.
"I believe the only way to rid my son of this evil is to beat it out of him", he declared, finally. "It always worked when he was a boy. I shall have him put in the stocks where I will administer his cure before the people of Camelot."
Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Is that wise, Sire? As the future king of Camelot..."
Uther shot him a glare. "As the reigning king of Camelot, I must be seen to deal with this, this defiance with decisiveness. Arthur can worry about his image when he has his own bum on the throne."
"I'm sure that's a very good idea, Sire", Morgana chimed in, all smirky.
"With all due respect", Gaius ventured, pulling himself up to his full height. "I think the problem is with the prince's hair, not his backside. Perhaps it would be better to address that issue first."
"You may be right, Gaius", Uther responded, composing himself a little. "I'll have my barber shave his head. If he submits to that, it will demonstrate his contrition to the citizenry. Then we shall see if it is sufficient to quench his fire."
With that King Uther swept from the room.
('o')
Until a moment ago Arthur had been lying in the middle of his bedroom floor flailing his arms and kicking his legs like a frustrated five-year-old. He had just tired of this when Uther entered his son's bedchamber, followed by a burly guard and a servant carrying a bowl containing a sharp razor and a towel.
"That it has come to this pains me, Arthur", Uther sighed, sitting down. "The sickness that has reddened your hair and face has robbed you of your wits. I no longer know you. It's as if you were no longer my own son, and indeed you no longer look like you could be."
"Father", Arthur interjected, sitting up. Uther held up a hand.
"I decided on drastic measures are necessary", he declared. "But, luckily for you, Gaius talked me out of them, and so all I'm going to do is ask you to give up your crowning glory." He indicated the servant, "I have brought my barber."
Arthur shrugged. He had to agree this was a very reasonable request, and his father was really being very good about it, considering.
"Very well", he conceded.
In two minutes Arthur's head looked like a pink canon ball. Uther was satisfied, for now, and Arthur made a mental note to have Merlin find him a suitable hat.
('o')
Gaius had advised Arthur that it would take a month to regrow half an inch of his hair, and that in the meantime he should avoid going out in the sun without a hat. But creeping around Camelot Castle day after day had been making him stir crazy.
Guinevere bumped into Merlin in the courtyard, as she made her way to Morgana's chambers.
"Hello, Merlin", she chirped. "How are you today?"
"Oh, so-so", Merlin replied. "It's been quiet all day."
"Oh, really?", she asked. "Isn't Arthur giving you plenty to do?"
"He's gone out for a ride", Merlin explained. "He's been away hours and he forgot to wear his hat."
"Silly boy!", Guinevere exclaimed. "He'll regret that. It's been so sunny."
Guinevere skipped off on her way, whilst Merlin returned to Gaius' study, for a breather and a herbal cuppa.
Soon afterwards, Prince Arthur appeared at their door looking hot and bothered, his face crimson right up to the top of his head.
"Blasted sunburn", he muttered, flopping onto a bench. "Do you have something for this dreadful itching, Gaius?"
Expecting this eventuality, Merlin and Gaius had already prepared an ointment of barley milk with egg white and honey. Merlin sat down beside Arthur and began applying it liberally to his head, face and neck.
"You know", he remarked, after a minute. "Your hair is starting to grow back already. And it seems to be blond."
Arthur began to smile. "And about time too", he complained.
"And, now that I look at your face, where the skin is peeling, there don't seem to be any freckles underneath."
"Thank the heavens", Arthur declared. "Finally I'm returning to my former golden-haired majesty."
Merlin grimaced, rubbing a little harder just to make him wince.
"I think, Merlin", Arthur continued. "That this whole business has just been a lesson, to teach you all to more appreciate my quintessential blond sangfroid."
Merlin rolled his eyes. Arthur was certainly getting back his normal prattishness.
"You know, Arthur", Merlin smirked. "I've missed your quintessential blond sangfroid."
"Really?", Arthur asked, getting up to leave. "So you're not calling me a prat under your breath?"
"Obviously", Merlin admitted. "But, honestly, the blond hero look really works for you."
Arthur paused in the doorway. "That 'drop your drawers' thing was a joke, by the way", he said. "Don't get your hopes up."
The End
A/N: Also freckles are great. I have some. They're from my dad. I love them.