The urge to write down this story was so strong that I actually picked up a pen and paper and started scribbling away during a staff meeting. It was the first time in many, many years I actually write a story from start to finish on paper and it felt great to know that I could still do it. Of course, I do not, for the life of me, remember what they talked about during the meeting.

So, here's my little story. I think it is supposed to be a funny one…pray forgive if it is not; I am very bad at humor. I love Prince Arthur and when I saw the actor (love him to bits too!!) portraying said prince with a beard, this little story began clicking in my head. Clicking persisted until it was written down. I apologize before hand if it is not funny; but I had a laugh writing it.

Reviews make my day and if I am doing something wrong, I would like to know too.

I do not own Merlin. Still fervently hoping to own the Crowned Prince of Camelot.

By the time the first full moon of the great dragon's attack, everyone in Camelot has already known of the affections between the Crowned Prince and the maidservant, Guinevere. The people of Camelot are a lot more perceptive than they are credited for; the look, the glances, the secret smiles between Arthur and Guinevere did not escape them.

And then of course, there was the incident a few days after the dragon's attack. Arthur had been working in the village, helping to dig a new well. When he emerged out of the well hole, mud all over him, Guinevere had rushed to him with a pail of water and tenderly cleaned his face. Arthur repaid Guinevere's kind attention by kissing her. Full on the lips. In the middle of the crowded village square. His actions drew applause and cheers. The subjects of Camelot needed something to uplift their spirits and the charming romance between the Crowned Prince and the maidservant becoming public knowledge had done just that.

So, Arthur and Guinevere found themselves no longer needing to hide their feelings to each other, and this gave them a boost to work extra hard alongside the people of Camelot, who in turn wish the couple nothing but the very best. Even Uther found himself in a position where he was unable to deny his son the woman he loved; this having to do with the fact that Arthur had saved Camelot from a certain doom and could now what he wished, protocols and laws be damned. Thus, the rebuilding of a kingdom and the courtship of Arthur and Guinevere went hand in hand.

One day, after a particularly long morning of thatching the roof of a villager's home, Arthur decided to give himself a break and stretch out for a bit. It was late summer; the sun was just nice and warm. Soon, the exertions of the day caught up with the prince and Arthur felt his eyes becoming heavy.

No sooner had he closed his eyes, when he heard the familiar rustling of cloth and saw Guinevere's head peek above the sloping edge of the roof as she climbed up the ladder to him.

"Just what I need!" Arthur exclaimed happily, as he got up to a sitting position. He held out a hand for Guinevere to help her on to the roof. "Food and my lovely future wife!"

Guinevere took his hand into hers and gingerly stepped unto the roof. She was carrying a basket and a water-skin.

"Really, Arthur," Guinevere spoke as she found a safe place to sit. "Food is your first priority? And then me?" She sounded serious, but the laughter was unmistakable in her eyes.

"Of course," Arthur replied, stretching back on the thatch. "Food for all the energy to woo my beloved!"

"If you put it that way," Guinevere said, bending down to plant a kiss on Arthur's forehead.

"I knew you would understand my logic," Arthur remarked, eyes closed. He sighed blissfully; no longer tired, he was just content now. With Guinevere by his side, the lovely sun, it was just heaven lying on the rooftop of a newly-thatched house.

A few moments passed and Arthur realized that Guinevere was looking at him. Of course, Arthur knew this was true, even when his eyes were closed. He was so attuned to Guinevere that he could always tell when she was looking at him. And he could never get enough of it. If she was not looking at him, Arthur would be looking at her. They were compasses to each other; a personal bearing to ascertain as to where they were at all times.

But this time though, Arthur observed through narrowly-cracked eyelids, Guinevere was regarding him with a rather vexed expression.

"What is it, Guinevere?" Arthur opened his eyes, catching Guinevere in surprise.

"Nothing," Guinevere said quickly, turning around to look into the food basket.

Arthur turned to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, looking at Guinevere. There usually was 'nothing' with Guinevere. Arthur waited for five seconds.

"Actually," Guinevere said, turning to Arthur again. "There is something."

Of course. Arthur kept the smug smile to himself. Guinevere loved him and everything, but she would be very annoyed, to say the least, if she knew Arthur thought she was predictable. She certainly was not predictable, but Arthur liked to think that he knew her well enough to be aware of her of her whims and fancies.

"What is it?" Arthur was interested to know.

Guinevere looked torn, as she chewed her lower lips, probably pondering on what she should tell him. It must be something really serious, Arthur thought, as he waited for her to speak.

"The thing is…" Guinevere began rather hesitantly. "Arthur, you know I love you to bits…"

"I love you too," Arthur said, reaching for Guinevere's hand. He took it and kissed it, giving it a squeeze.

Guinevere looked at Arthur rather dreamily and then abruptly shook her head, as if trying to focus her attention on the matter at hand. "Don't distract me," she told him, sternly.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Arthur said, eyeing the graceful curve of her neck and her earlobes rather hungrily.

Guinevere caught the look on Arthur's face, but she decided to ignore him, for the moment. "As I was saying, I love you very much and there is nothing about you that I would change," she continued. Arthur's amusement turned to mild curiosity.

"Because I think you are perfect and everything."

So there was something. Mild curiosity turned to slight apprehension. Arthur squeezed Guinevere's hand just a little more.

"Guinevere…"

"I really hate that beard, Arthur!"

The words stumbled out of Guinevere's mouth in a rush that it took Arthur a moment to fully understand what she had said. And when he did…

"I do not know what you were thinking! Perhaps you thought it was a mature look or something, but I truly hate it!" Guinevere was openly distressed now. "I am sorry, Arthur. But I had to tell you this!"

Arthur's apprehension finally dissipated, to be replaced with relief and amusement once again. He got up and sat next to Guinevere, trying to look solemn. Guinevere had probably deemed that his facial hair was a serious issue between them and Arthur decided to comply with her.

"What is about my beard that bothers you, Guinevere?" In an effort to keep a straight face, the question came out mechanically, as if he was reciting from memory.

Guinevere touched the side of Arthur's face, looking very concerned. "I do not like it. It is not that much of a visual treat for me."

Arthur arched an eyebrow, questioning her.

"I love looking at you…your face…unhindered. The beard…the beard…it blocks my view of your lips…your mouth! I hate it!"

This would explain why Guinevere had been glaring at Arthur for seemingly no reason, when she thought he was not looking. It had been going on for almost a week now.

"Well, Guinevere," Arthur spoke, praying to the heavens that his self-control does not abandon him now. He was on the verge of a laughing fit, but doubted Guinevere would appreciate his hysterical response to her worries. "I did not know you felt so strongly against…against my beard!"

Guinevere looked at him, eyes narrowed into a death glare. "Are you teasing me?" she asked her voice icy.

"No, I believe you are!"

And that was all Arthur could say before the laughter took control. He collapsed unto the thatch, his laughter ringing clear through the village.

It took a long moment before Arthur had any self-control again. All the while, Guinevere was still glaring at him. When Arthur finally saw the look on Guinevere's face, laughter dissipated entirely and he became serious again.

Well, as serious as one can be when dealing with the issue of his facial hair.

That thought almost set off another fit of laughter, but this time, an arched eyebrow from Guinevere put an end to it. Arthur disguised the last remnants of his laughter as coughs and turned to look at her.

"So you hate it!" He stated the obvious.

"Very much."

"You won't give it any chance?"

"It has no aesthetic value, Arthur."

"Oh."

"It has to go."

"What?"

"Or we can just stop kissing all together!"

Arthur was stunned into silence but one look at Guinevere's face and he knew that the threat was an empty one; for Guinevere too looked as if she was shocked she had actually said what she had said. But, since Arthur enjoys his banter with Guinevere, he played along.

"THAT is cruel and unacceptable, Guinevere."

"The beard has to go."

Arthur clenched the front of his shirt, just above his heart, in mock hurt. "Are you asking me to choose? Between my beard and kissing you?"

"Life is full of tough choices, my prince."

Arthur straightened up, a determined look on his face. "Well, you leave me with no choice, Guinevere."

"I hope you can live with your decision, Arthur," Guinevere remarked, the small smile on her lips indicating that she already knows the prince's choice.

Arthur closed in on her and whispered, "I have to take into consideration both of our well-being regarding the matter."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's a tough choice you have presented me with, but I choose kissing you over my beard," he said solemnly and did exactly as he spoke. He kissed her with an abandon of a man who had been denied for far too long.

When they finally drew apart, Guinevere placed a hand on the side of his face, her thumb gently stroking his bearded cheek.

"I am very serious, Arthur," she told him. "It has to go."

"I thought it makes me look rather dashing," Arthur remarked, touching Guinevere's hand on his face and bringing it to his lips.

"More scruffy than dashing," Guinevere corrected him.

Arthur pondered over what Guinevere had told him. Then, he turned to her again, mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Fine, Guinevere. The beard will go."

"Excellent!" Guinevere could not help cheering. The beard has been a cause of much distress for her; she truly missed the sight of Arthur's lovely lips.

"On the condition…" Arthur was done yet.

"There's a condition?'

"On the condition, Guinevere, that you shave it for me!" Arthur's blue eyes were smoldering; challenging her to accept his stipulation.

"I will have to think about it," Guinevere replied and a less than heartbeat later, added, "Sure, why not?"

The agreement was sealed with a kiss that held much promise for the festivities ahead.

Later that evening, after another round of vigorous roof-thatching, the Crowned Prince of Camelot was seen entering the humble dwellings of Guinevere. Very early the next morning, traders putting up their wares at the market square saw the prince leaving for the castle, clean-shaven and with a most satisfied smile on his face.

In the weeks to come, the royal barber lost the patronage of the Crowned Prince.

Guinevere discovered that shaving someone can be quite a pleasurable experience for both intended parties.

The Crowned Prince of Camelot was never seen with a beard ever again.

~~THE END~~