Who is Matilda?

I found out eighty-three steps later when the stairs ended in a large, colorful place of equal parts beauty and chaos. It was another grandiose room with long work tables, huge mirrors, giant rolls of colorful fabrics, and odd accessories scattered everywhere. Some people were huddled around tables working while others scurried between stations, but one woman shuffled towards us immediately with her arms outstretched.

The first thing I noticed about the woman was how much she seemed to match the room. Her frizzy dark curls bounced behind her untamed while her clothing seemed more appropriate for Fashion Week. She wore a shimmering cape with a pale blouse and pastel skirt painted with Japanese cherry blossoms along with golden metal arm wraps that circled her upper arms and were decorated with matching flower buds.

It was stylish, I assume, but in an incredibly artistic way. It was the kind of attire that was only worn on a runway, and here she was wearing an explosion of fabrics that somehow worked.

"Darling!" She cooed, coming at me with outstretched arms. At the last moment, she veered, hugging Rosamund instead.

Rosamund. 

Giant, 6'4", silent, slightly scary, extremely intimidating, superhuman, Rosamund.

I blinked repeatedly, trying to process the giantess's vibrant smile as she took up the petite woman in a bear hug. It was a comical sight.

"How have you been, old friend?" The woman asked with an oddly British accent, pulling from the embrace.

Rosamund smiled down, jovial in a way that I hadn't seen before. When she smiled, Rosamund was a beautiful woman. "Relatively well. Yorick is working in the BLIG. We want to have more savings before the child comes,” she said, subconsciously drawing her hand to her stomach. For the first time, I noticed a slight bulge there indicating she was carrying a child. Am I that oblivious?

"You have what? Five moons left?"

Rosamund nodded. "I took an assignment down in the Lower Realm to speed things up, but I've missed Yorick terribly. I hate the impairments of pregnancy."

Hold up. I thought to myself. I recalled Annora saying that Roanoke experienced time at a different rate than earth. If it was the same as Auntie's stories then every moon cycle felt like a year. Oh, dear. If that were the case, pregnancy would feel like nine and a half years here.

Rosamund, and the rest of the mothers in Roanoke, gained a huge deal of respect from me in that moment. And my mother. All things aside, I felt guilty to have inflicted nine and a half years of suffering on that woman.

"This is why I could never do it." The other woman said. "I like children just fine, but that is a form of torture I never want to experience."

Amen. There is no way I would put up with nine and a half years of torture.

"Anyway," she sighed, expelling the topic and recognizing my presence, "you must be my next assignment. The name's Matilda Tydway. I know its a drab name, but I assure you that I more than make up for it." She exclaimed with a hand sweeping her body.

Definitely an eccentric.

"Have seem to have misplaced my schedule for the day, so what's your name, dear?"

"Gwyndolyn Dare, ma'am," I replied, trying to be respectful. A Southern upbringing ingrains certain things into you.

She physically balked at my name. More specifically, my last name. Her eyes went wide and the color in her face seemed to concentrate itself in her cheeks.

"Oh," she murmured. "I—I didn't know. This is what I get for being air-brained, I suppose. I am so terribly sorry, ma'am... Please forgive my disrespect."

I shook my head quickly, trying to explain. "No, no, no. I didn't mean— I'm sorry. Don't—"

I took a short breath, gathering the words I needed and stringing them like ducks in a row. "You don't need to say sorry. I'm not disrespected or insulted or anything like that. I would rather we ignore that little tidbit that is my last name altogether," I said with a terribly awkward smile-ish-thing.

I shouldn't have even mentioned my last name. It was a force of habit, and it had completely ruined the breezy atmosphere that they'd created.

Matilda looked up, nearly a head shorter than me, scrutinizing my existence. Rosamund looked down, well more than a head taller, nodding infinitesimally. Finally, Matilda broke into a grin. The eccentric had resurfaced.

"Well, darling, that sounds fine to me. I much prefer this sort of interaction to a stiffly 'Dare' one. They always make me feel so like Picasso's Blue Period. Come along."

She turned and walked away without a second glance, forcing me to walk-jog to catch up to her brisk speed.

"Stand here."

I stepped onto a small platform no larger than a moving box that was positioned in front of a semicircle of mirrors.

"What are you doing?" I asked warily as Matilda circled me like a hawk, scribbling things down onto her bejeweled notepad.

"Tonia! I need a full number work up!" She barked and a younger woman with a multi-colored pixie cut bustled in with a cart of different items. More orders were called for me to "stand still", "lift that arm", and "move this way" as Tonia proceeded to measure every pertinent aspect of my body. The width of my waist, my legs, the circumference and length of my fingers, even dimensions of my head were taken and recorded.

Then Matilda used a remote from Tonia's cart and changed the light above my head, taking note of how I looked under different lights, muttering color do's and don'ts to another assistant.

Finally, perhaps thirty or forty minutes later, Matilda stepped back and flashed a bright, satisfied grin. "Thank you for your patience, darling. What was your question?"

"Umm... What is going on exactly?" I asked, still feeling slightly exposed after being treated like a department store mannequin.

She chuckled. "You mean to say that no one informed you that you were getting a wardrobe fitting?"

"But, I already have clothes," I exclaimed, gesturing down at my chocolate dress. Why did I have to endure this torture?

"Oh, darling," Matilda sighed, shaking her head at my folly. "That simplistic gown is hardly fit for the Dare's heir apparent. Haven't you seen the attire members of the high court wear?"

I had noticed the jewel-encrusted dresses and gaudy baubles. "They just seem a bit too... regal for me," I hedged, trying to voice my opinion without using the insulting words I was actually thinking such as obnoxious, dramatic, wasteful, and pompous.

Thankfully, Matilda understood what I was choosing not to say and smiled cheerfully. "I can work with that. Regality does seem overdone these days. Do you have any particular preferences to create your style trademark. After all, every Dare becomes a fashion icon. Or, at least, all the Dares I dress do."

I swallowed the anxiety building in my throat. Years of wearing blue jeans and T-shirt's had not prepared me for this moment. "I-I like the color blue, if that helps."

She chuckled. "Treasonous thing you are. No, I'm afraid that it doesn't help much. What do you wear to feel beautiful?"

I felt like I was being tested. I glanced back at Rosamund, but she was out of earshot reclining in a comfy-looking armchair. So much for her protecting me from danger. "Um, a smile?"

Matilda laughed again with even more ferocity. "Oh, silly darling. Do you have nothing that is a staple to your wardrobe?"

I struggled to find any consistencies in my fashion. My clothing choices were dictated by convenience—free shirts, durable jeans, the occasional boutique dress that Auntie had bought for me, and a frizzy mess of sweaty hair after Athletics.

"I- I always wear my anklet," I finally stammered. I shook my foot to show off the silver jewelry around my left ankle. It had one little charm—a glove with a brown jewel set in it—dangling from the otherwise simple chain.

Matilda peered down at the anklet, her eyes narrowed as she analyzed it. "Mhm," she murmured. "It's very... what is that charm supposed to be?"

"A softball glove. It's the one sport I've been playing since I was young." I wondered if they had softball or baseball here. It would be a real shame if they didn't.

She looked up, flashing a knowing smile. "So you are a sports girl, eh?"

"I mean, sorta. I play softball, but—" but I'm a nerd. I almost declared. I stopped myself. I didn't want her to know that, and I wasn't a nerd like Elise. I wasn’t that smart. I was just a normal girl that was good at math. And that was too long to put on a t-shirt and definitely too long to say.

Besides, she wouldn't even know what that meant. Probably. So I just smiled. That's what everyone seemed to be expecting. They wanted me to be smiley and silent.

Matilda seemed satisfied with my answer, and she scribbled a note to herself. While she was scribbling her musing, she continued her questions. "Now how do you feel about skirts? Long, short, fitted..?"

I flashed another plastic smile. They exist for other people to wear and me to leave in the back of my closet with the tags still on. "I prefer pants."

She didn't laugh this time. Instead, she let loose a long hmmmm. It worried me greatly. "With your body type we could..." her voice trailed off as she began to pace once more.

And that's basically how things went. For the next four hours.

I was perched on a pedestal like a piece of taxidermy, then I sat on a stool while more peculiar individuals circled me like vultures, muttering things about my complexion and what eyeshadow went best with my 'coloring', then came arguably the most stressful part of the day—hair. A very blonde, fine-haired woman sat me down in front of a mirror and told me how she was planning on getting rid of my "frizzy top".

That was the only time I closed my eyes and waited anxiously for the experience to end. 

After all of that nonsense, I returned to Matilda's pedestal and was given garment after garment to try on. By the end, my stomach hated me, and I was completely numb with boredom.

A jolt shot through my brain when Matilda said "Well, I think we are about done here, darling." I jerked back to full height sighing in sweet relief. "The rest of your wardrobe will be finished and delivered to you by the week's end."

I nodded even as I glanced towards the staircase. "Thank you so much, Matilda."

"Of course, darling. It was all the reward I needed to see you transform from an unfortunate caterpillar into a lovely monarch." She insisted, laughing at her own pun.

I turned my gaze from the staircase back to her. "I— Thank you Matilda. Really."

She looked up at me, her dark eyes examining my face contemplatively for a moment's pause. "You are welcome, darling. It's always a pleasure to see what the future has in store." She shook her head, dispelling her thoughts. "Now, I have heard your stomach growling for the last hour. Best get you some food."