For you Kitty O. You wanted a Gwaine's sister/George fic, so here it is! Sadly, there is no tag for George. So... Gwaine's the only one tagged. Seriously, George deserves a tag!

Woah, we just wrote a straight-up romance fic. Not only that... It's so fluffy! I'm going to die! It's so fluffy!

Oh yeah, before anyone forgets we don't own Merlin.

Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan waylaid Merlin in the hall.

"Are you getting food for our esteemed guests?" Elyan asked.

"No," Merlin replied.

"You could pretend to be," Gwaine suggested. "Then you could bring it to us."

Merlin grinned and shook his head.

"Come on, Merlin," Percival encouraged, "we're hungry."

"I'll see what I can do," Merlin acquiesced.

"Ah, Merlin, you're a good friend," Gwaine complimented.

"When it's time for the banquet," Merlin added.

"Merlin, come on—" Gwaine suddenly stopped short. All the color drained from his face.

Merlin could hear the clatter of approaching footsteps behind him. He turned around to see a sour-faced woman that strangely reminded him of Gwaine. She marched straight to Gwaine, hostility burning in her eyes.

"So," she sneered, "I see you've actually managed to be sober for once."

"A problem I intend to fix," Gwaine said blandly.

"Of course. The tavern was the only place you could stand for more than five minutes," she replied coldly. Before Gwaine could retort, she trotted off.

Once she was out of earshot Elyan commented, "My, that girl doesn't like you. What did you do? Jilt her?"

Gwaine blanched. "Nothing. No. I don't know her."

"It's alright if you once liked her," Merlin pressed, trying to sound innocent.

"Yeah," Percival added, "we're your friends."

"So we need to know every detail of your life," Elyan teased. "Tell us, was she a good kisser?"

Gwaine drew away in horror at the idea of kissing his own sister. "That's disgusting. Stop talking about her like that."

"Come on, she doesn't look that bad," Percival pointed out. "Once you get past the terrible frown."

Little did they know, someone had been obliged to listen to them. Someone who had noticed the woman and found her "terrible frown" adorable.

George might love being a servant. But it was polishing that he truly loved, not cleaning up vomit. Sir Gwaine, being a drunkard, produced more than his fair share of vomit. George shuddered, thinking about the defiled window sills, walls, and floors he had to clean up thanks to Sir barfing Gwaine. So, when that woman barged up to the knight and gave him a good telling off, George decided she must be the most wonderful person in the world. Then, when he caught a glimpse of her, George decided that she was also the most beautiful girl in the world.

George spent the next hour trying to come up with excuses to speak with the beautiful lady. That task was arduous being that he hadn't even been bestowed the honor of serving her in any way. Finally, in sheer desperation, he settled on something.

"Lady—" George sputtered. Why was this so difficult?

"Claren," she supplied, giving George a concerned look. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to tell you that you did a wonderful thing."

Lady Claren looked confused.

George continued, "Telling Sir Gwaine off like that. He-really-does-make-the-most-awful-messes."

Suddenly, George felt stupid. Lady Claren didn't even look pleased. She looked... shocked. George bowed and then fled. Not too quickly though.

George came to an important conclusion. He was an idiot. How else could he have humiliated himself like that? He needed to work. Now to locate a duty that wasn't already completed. Maybe he would steal someone else's duty.

It was few hours later, and George was still felt butterflies in his stomach every time he heard footsteps. Now he was forcing himself to ignore a new wave of steps. He tried to focus on polishing. He kept reminding himself—hoping—that nobody was coming after him for his impertinence.

Then George realized that these footsteps were getting closer and closer until they stopped directly in front of him. George looked up from the gauntlet he had been working on. Standing before him, in the armory with him, was Lady Claren. His throat went dry. How could someone so beautiful be so terrifying? He opened his mouth and closed it several times, only making a few low and indistinct noises.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Claren said kindly. "It's actually very embarrassing. I've forgotten your name."

He had never told her his name. "George," he replied numbly.

She bit her lip. "George, I am—" She chuckled nervously. "I was wondering if you would give me a tour of the castle. I just keep getting lost."

What did you think? Did you like it? Was it fluffy enough? Did you start choking on the fluff? Please review and let us know.