Hilda, who was in fact a child, would do many things nobody guessed she did. Despite her mature exterior. Her favorite thing by far was to dress up and make-believe, to throw those little tea parties with stuffed animals. Only, Hilda did not have stuffed animals, but she did have Yuga. She would always have her trusted adviser by her side.
Hilda had many outfits to choose from. Yuga loved how Hilda was so excited when she pulled out her trunk full of feathered boas and puffy tutus. He loved her excitement when he let her dress him up for these 'tea parties,' make-up and all. During these times, Hilda wasn't the Princess of Lorule and Yuga was not her adviser, but instead they were 'Lady Pretty Purple' and 'Sire Puffy Pants.'
'Sire, kindly pass me the tea, please.'
'With sugar, M'lady?'
' Yes, please.'
And Yuga wouldn't complain. As long as Hilda was happy, being herself for what little time she could.
–
Little Princess Hilda was curious about millions of things. As her caretaker, it was Yuga's unquestioned duty to look after her. Everyday, she would come to him and ask him a bunch of random, albeit creative questions.
Yuga! Yuga! Teach me how to count to one-hundred! Yuga! Teach me how to act in the theater play! Yuga! Teach me how to write fancy like you!
Today, it was 'Yuga! Teach me how to paint!'
Yuga was sitting at his easel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paint specks in his hair and on his arms, and a paintbrush in hand. He looked to the princess who looked back at him with enthusiasm. Yuga smiled.
"Of course, Your Grace," he said, scooting out of his seat to allow a place for the small princess.
Yuga pulled the painted canvas out of the way and placed a new one in front of Hilda. Hilda giggled happily, bouncing in Yuga's rickety stool as she could not contain her excitement.
And Yuga couldn't stop beaming.
He requested her to pull off her gloves and handed her the palette and a brush. She looked at the paint in awe, dabbing it with the tip of her finger.
Kneeling beside her, Yuga informed her that the only thing she needed to know was that there were no rules. He grabbed her small, nervous hand and guided it to the palette. Gently, Hilda clutched the paintbrush and poked the tip at the glob of purple.
And soon, the sky of white was covered in an array of colors, and the room once as devoid as the white canvas was filled with sounds of laughter and fun.
–
"Yuga!"
Down the hall was a cheering little princess, her hair bouncing as she ran up to him even in her light pink slipper shoes. Yuga turned around just in time, for just as she was about to collide with his legs, he stooped down and lifted her off her feet. Hilda giggled happily, and Yuga couldn't keep a serious face and laughed a little, too.
"What is it, Your Grace?" he asked, setting her back onto her own feet.
"It's my birthday!" she squealed, hopping excitedly.
Yuga gave her an amused look with the raise of his brow, "Is that so?"
But this, of course, he already knew. He was, in fact, planning the whole day since a week ago. Everything was perfect as far as he was concerned. He wouldn't have anything less. Hilda wanted a chocolate cake, she'll be getting one. If she wanted pink balloons, that's what she'll be getting, too.
"Then, we must celebrate at once, Your Grace." Yuga proclaimed, and that made Hilda squeal in glee.
With a swift motion, he splattered the walls with paint, and suddenly, a wrapped box appeared on the once grey brick. Hilda stood and observed with curiosity as Yuga waved his magical paintbrush again, and out came the gift, bow and all!
Kneeling, Yuga presented this to Hilda, who took it with greedy fingers. Yuga stood back up, watching her with a sense of happiness. He was glad that she was happy, her cheeks rosy with the high of excitement.
When Hilda pulled out a beautiful porcelain doll out of the box she didn't waste a second in thanking Yuga profusely, hugging him with whatever might an eight year old could.
Yuga simply pat her hair, feeling happy at the sight of Hilda's beamish smile.
–
It was a week after Hilda's sixteenth birthday. The day she requested him to paint her official portrait, according to the tradition of royal family. She didn't ask for any more or any less. Her dress bounced when she went to sit down on the throne, and she kept her posture stiff and expression stoic as she gripped her staff with ridged fingers.
She was positioned regally in front of Yuga, who was a half-meter away from her seated at his easel. He picked up a brush gingerly, staring to the motionless princess with a warm smile. The princess sat there with unfocused eyes staring straight ahead—no doubt her thoughts were cluttered with memories of her parents. The certain wetness in her eyes gave it away, but only Yuga could tell. Then again, he could tell everything through her pretty eyes, even despite her emotionless exterior.
He painted her carefully, bringing her to life on the canvas as if he had took her soul and put it there. It wasn't doubted that Yuga had superior artistic abilities.
For a while, no one spoke, and all listened carefully to the scratch of the brush on the rough canvas. Often, Yuga would pause to look at his subject, maybe just to look at her, comfort her in someway, but all he ever received from her was a stiff, flat expression. Poor thing.
After the portrait was finished, Hilda looked at it with a flicker of curiosity. She held it with both hands, even though the edge of the painting was still wet and stained her gloves. She smiled, for once in a long moment, and handed it back to her adviser.
"It is exceptional." she said, "Thank you."
She reached over, about to give him a hug, but she paused midway, and clasped her hands together in front of her. She eyed her subjects nervously, and they looked back at her with indifferent expressions.
"Thank you." she repeated, but whether it was to her subjects or Yuga was unclear. To Yuga, she said, "Please set the painting in the royal hall as soon as it is ready."
And then she left him, presumably to seek out the comfort of being alone in her personal chambers. Yuga didn't have to question anything.