𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 | Game of Thrones

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

      Surely a few pricks weren't enough to make people shun such a beautiful dressmaker. She'd only seen about ten of the dresses on display, but already they were some of the best she'd ever seen. They were completely unique, and it made her eager to put in her order. 

      "Wow." Daenerys walked forward, looking up at past the platform where Malaeya had not. Hanging just in front of a tall door, was a rack of huge, intricate dress, mostly in black and red, but a few in blue, orange, and emerald. None of them seemed modern. "They're beautiful."

      "They're replicas." All four of the ladies turned their heads to a woman who'd seemingly come out of thin air. She was visibly old, as she had crow's feet at her odd eyes and a few prominent blue veins on her neck, but she also seemed strangely young. Her hair was entirely pale white, like Dany's, and her heterochromatic eyes of sea and grass sparked with wisdom. 

      They sparkled with mischievous and happiness as she glanced from Malaeya to Daenerys. "Your Grace," she held onto a black cane with a red handle. "What an honor to have you here. I would curtsy, but I'm afraid that my knees are not as polite as I."

      Daenerys modestly chuckled. "No need. I am here as a customer." Her violet eyes found their way to the dresses again. "You may or may not know, but there is to be a coronation for me in three day's time, and I have yet to find a dress that I love, or a dressmaker for that matter. Neither have these ladies. We completely understand if we cannot have them custom made in such short time."

      "You like these," she stated rather than asked. Eyla walked slowly over to the vintage dresses that she'd called replicas. "Fitting for the Mother of Dragons."

      Said mother quirked her head. "How so?"

      "My family has been in the dressmaking business for generations." The elder's hands swept through fabric. "Centuries past, and this building still stands. My Great-Great-Great-Great grandmother was gifted it by one of her many rich suitors, and she passed it down to her child, and so and so on."

      "Every queen from Naerys to your own mother had their dresses made right here, and every one of them were replicated for display. Now, I usually don't allow them to be bought, but for you, I would gift one, to pay my condolences." She looked at Malaeya, striking eyes still knowing. "You as well, Your Grace."

      Malaeya could not shake the feeling that there was something odd about her. Something familiar. Whether it be the way that she spoke, or the way that she smirked as if she knew the way the world would end, Malaeya didn't know. 

      "You'd think a place like this would have a line out of the door," Malaeya walked slowly, looking around. "With its historical significance."

      Lady Eyla harrumphed. "Once upon a time, it did." Her eyes suddenly seemed far away. "There was a time where even nobles had to make appointments to be seen here. Only the royal family could just walk in and have their needs catered to."

      "What happened?" Arianne asked, interested.

      "The Usurpers killed the Dragons and took up residence in their homes. Robert outlawed all imagery of the dragons and demanded that all loyalists of the courts swear fealty or die." Eyla fiddled with a needle. "As wealthy as I was and am, I was luckily not a part of the court. I was their acquaintance and their favorite dressmaker, but I was not noble. So, I did not have to forsake my loyalties.

      "But everyone else did, and no one would dare to buy from me, in fear of Robert's wrath. It was not shaky hands that lost my business, but my loyalty to your family, My Lady." Eyla looked like she might cry. "So, year after year I sat here, making dresses that no one bought, watching a pretender sit the Iron Throne, thinking of the past times when all was right and peaceful in the realm, and praying for the return of the rightful monarch."