Guinevere Ambrosius is the daughter of the legendary Mage, Merlin. After the death of King Uther, she and her twin brother are forced to separate from their father and go into hiding within the city of Londinium.
Years after taking up the aliases o...
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Guinevere POV:
I sat at my work table, hemming the skirt of one of the dresses for one of the women at the brothel and listened to Geralt's obnoxious whistling.
"Ger, I swear on everything that is good and holy that I will have Grey Wind rip your vocal chords out, if you don't stop that fucking whistling." I warned my brother as I gave him a menacing glare.
"But you love my music, dear sister!" My twin joked with a wide grin.
"That high pitched screeching is not music!" I scoffed, giving him a pointed look. "It's a new and especially cruel form of torture that the king designed for prisoners of war."
Our bickering was brought to a halt as the door of the shop opened and a familiar face walked in.
"Good morning, Arthur." I greeted the man that I'd come to call one of my best friends. "Are you here to pick up Mary and Phoebe's dresses?"
"That I am, Gwen." The blonde man stated with a charming grin. "Good morning to you, Gwen. George."
"Morning, mate." Geralt greeted as he entered the back room to grab his shoe making supplies.
"Well, It's going to be a few more minutes, Art." I explained to the man that was currently sitting on the edge of my work table and watching me stitch up the dress. "If you want you can come back later and get them in about twenty minutes."
"I think I'd rather stay here and keep you company, beautiful." Arthur told me with a grin and a wink.
I simply rolled my eyes and chuckled at the man's antics. "You're cheeky today."
"Only for you, Love." The blue eyed man laughed, sliding off of my work table and giving me a tight hug from behind.
"Don't you have work to do, Arthur?" I laughed, whacking his shoulder scoldingly.
Arthur looked down amusedly at the spot where I'd hit him, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "The bloody hell was that, Gwen? A love tap?"
"Oh, fuck off, you prick!" I chuckled, rolling my eyes as I continued to finish the last few stitchings of the dress.
"My, my, a lady cursing? What would people think?" He gasped in mock horror, even going as far as to place a dramatic hand over his heart. He ruffled my dark locks teasingly, before sitting back on the edge of my table.
"That it's a Tuesday morning starting off like it always does with Gwen cursing like a Viking." Geralt joked, making me throw a spool of ribbon at his head.
"Pardon me, but I'd like to think that I'm nothing like those perverted little bastards!" I chuckled as I tied the last bit of thread so that the skirt would stay secure. "Alright, here we are! Two good–as–new, freshly mended dresses!"
