Margaery listened as the girls spoke. But to be honest, she wasn't certain if they spoke of their own free will, or if they had been told to do so. So she wasn't certain she believed them. But the youngest...the way she was so timid and sweet, Margaery tilted a brow.

There was perhaps a pang of jealousy in her eyes, but she knew not why. She smiled though and treated her kindly all the same.

As Hannibal called to her, Margaery left her small room, tugging at the sleeves of the gown. She never wore sleeves. This was a strange sensation for her. She looked up though, and smiled, a picture of loveliness with the gown adjusted to suit her figure and tastes and her hair cascading in brunette waves down her back, just barely showing the flash of soft skin exposed by the new cut of the gown.

"Well? Does it suit me better now?"