Daenerys Targaryen Blue Dress Mga Nobela at Kwento

She pointed to Gail, Agnes, and Tess in turn. All four dresses were different, but they were all a deep, royal blue. I had insisted they all choose their own style, which they certainly had. Agnes was draped in a silky caftan with feather trim. Gail had chosen a sleek, body-hugging gown that highlighted her killer curves. Tess wore an A-line fit-and-flare gown perfect for a fairy princess. Dalia’s dress was much like Tess’s, only with a sweet Peter Pan color and white sash around the waist. “Fifi has to have a blue dress, too,” the little girl piped up.

The wardrobe doors slam open and my hands shake while digging through old clothes buried at the very back. And there it is. Imperial blue. I stop breathing for a second. The gown is darker than Ashbourne colors, sharper in design, fitted through the waist with silver embroidery stitched along the sleeves and collar—formal, noble, powerful. It’s the look of a villainess. Mine. I strip out of my cream nightgown quickly and pull the dress over my skin. The fabric feels unfamiliar after years of simpler pack clothing—heavier, stronger. I fasten the buttons with trembling fingers before grabbing the silver crest of House Vale, the metal ice cold against my throat.

I walked away while he was confused. “Nirvana, what girlfriend are you talking about?” This time, he managed to hold my arm before I could bolt out. “How would I know? Maybe your number eight, or is it twelve?” I shot him a death glare. “I don’t date. I don’t have a girlfriend. What does she look like?” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know. Daenerys Targaryen?” “Huh.” A slight curve appeared on his lips, his eyes dancing with humor. “Tall, gray eyes, silver blonde hair, looks like a princess?”

she spoke curtly. Arya stared at her long natural lashes and heart shaped lips, feeling immediately insecure. But when her eyes landed on the dress the lady was handing her, her jaws fell. “That’s the dressing room. You can try it in there.” The sales assistant pointed to a door adjacent them and briskly walked off. Following her directions, Arya marched towards the dressing room and made a little spin when she got in. The dress in her hand was the prettiest thing she had ever seen. Purple and pink with flared sleeves. She hugged it tightly feeling premium excitement, which was rare for her.

I understand what it means to be treated like Royalty, but it's been a long time since I lived that life. With reluctance, I let the robe slip off my shoulders and fall to the floor. The dress lay open, and Agnes was already on the floor, ready for me to step into it. After she pulled the dress up, I turned around for her to zip it up. As I turned, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror on the wardrobe door. The smoky blue shade of the dress was stunning, the signature color of house Sindarin, the color of the Perellean Sea. The dress fit perfectly, draping off my shoulder and cinching at my waist. The pleated skirts flowed gracefully down to my ankles.