"Yuga."
Hilda's commanding voice reached his ears and he instantly perked, ready to perform any immediate task Her Grace wanted him to do.
"Yes, Your Grace?" Yuga inquired softly, rubbing the rounded shaft of his paintbrush eagerly.
It was late at night. Hilda's face was illuminated sharply by the candlelight sitting on her desk. Hilda raised her head from the paper before her and set down her feathered pen, silky dark hair shining in the sparse light.
With tired eyes, Hilda requested, "Could you please make me a warm cup of tea?"
Yuga dared not protest, not even in thought, and he bowed deeply, earning him her smile, "Why, of course, Your Grace. I shall not be long."
And so he went, heading to the castle kitchen to prepare the drink. At once, Yuga returned back to Hilda's side, a small teacup presented to her.
She took it with tender fingers, bringing it close to her lips as he brow furrowed in thought. Without another word, Hilda returned to her work, and Yuga returned to his place by the window, looking out into the night.
–
Hilda stood outside on her balcony, watching the sun set on the shattered horizon of her kingdom. Yuga stood beside her, as his place usually was. Hilda sighed sorrowfully, her breath carried away with the breeze which brought a chill.
Hilda drew her cape around her arms, folding her gloved limbs over her stomach and she shivered. The sun was quickly fading, just like the light of hope for the survival of her kingdom.
Yuga could tell her thoughts. After all these years of staying by her side, he could read her like an open book. With a swift move, no second thoughts, Yuga removed his cape and slung it over the shoulders of the princess. Yes, the air was cold, but no, Yuga didn't mind.
Hilda tilted her head back, looking to her adviser as he looked back at her with a rare, soft smile.
"Thank you." She said, wrapping the lavender cloak tighter around her shoulders.
–
Whenever Hilda was stressed, she wanted comfort. This was understandable. The pressures of ruling a kingdom was not easy, especially when the kingdom was doomed anyway.
Well, Yuga knew when stress took over Hilda's well-being. Everyone could. Her desk would be in disarray, the library would be filled with empty bookcases because the books were on the floor, and Hilda herself, she looked exhausted.
And every time, she would come to her adviser, her long hair pointing out at different sides, and she would hand him a brush. She'd sit at the edge of her bed, Yuga sitting nearby, and she would allow him to run the bristles through her messy locks.
He'd do this until she'd fall asleep in his arms. None would speak a word. And still, Yuga brushed and brushed in time with the rain pattering on the stone ceiling.
–
It wasn't often Hilda would ask Yuga to read to her. Right before she slept, though Hilda rarely ever seemed to sleep, Yuga would sometimes find himself seated at her bedside, a childhood book in his hand.
Hilda always told him he had the best voice in all of Lorule. Out of all she has heard. Yuga would never argue her opinions, but he reasoned to her that this was because she was so accustomed to hearing his voice. 'Maybe, but that doesn't change my mind.'
Hilda was snug in her bed, drowned by the comforters that came up to her chin. Yuga held a book by it's worn leather spine, turning the weathered pages with care as he spoke in that soft voice she loved to listen to. Her eyes wide with child-like wonder, peeking from under the covers, fondly reminded Yuga that she was still but a child, and he was her caretaker.
Hilda dozed off never too long after the first ten pages of a book, so Yuga never really exhausted himself by reading aloud. After her attention was lost from him, Yuga would take great care in leaving quietly, for fear of waking the princess.
Book tucked under his hand, Yuga would head to his own chambers until come morning. When the sun was peeking out from behind the horizon just like Hilda the night before.