Guided by the candlelight, the pair of servants pass silently through the darkened corridors of the Castle. They ascend the stairs to the ground floor and cross the Gallery to a door. Beyond the door is a staircase that spirals up into one of the lesser-known turrets. Higher and higher they ascend; the air turns frigid, chilling Impa to the bone beneath her thin dressing gown. Finally, they arrive at a single door. The Chamberlain's knocks echo off the bare bricks of the tower.
"Come in." a delicate voice beckons them.
The Chamberlain gently turns the doorknob and enters slowly. Impa mimics his caution as they arrive in a bedroom with a high ceiling bearing a candelabra. The warmth of a hearth brings relief from the winter chill. The silhouette of a cloaked figure stands before the flames. Upon their entrance, it turns to greet them. The stranger sheds the cloak, unveiling a face of astounding beauty illuminated in the firelight: long dark hair tied in a fishtail that sits on her shoulder; striking blue eyes that glisten like a midwinter's moon.
"Your Highness, I would like to introduce you to your personal attendant." the Chamberlain gestures to Impa. "Her duty is to dote upon you day and night and tend to your every need."
The lady casts her eyes over the young girl with the braid and smiles. "A pleasure to meet you, Madame. May I hear your name?"
Impa instinctively curtsies before her new mistress. "Impa, Your Highness."
"A lovely name." she says admirably. "My name is Tilda."
"Soon to be Her Royal Highness Queen Tilda the First." the Chamberlain declares. "I shall leave the two of you to get acquainted. Impa, your belongings are to be transferred to your new bed chamber situated just above this room. From now, you begin your role as Royal Attendant to Princess Tilda. She is now your superior and you are to adhere to her command."
"Understood, Mr Chamberlain." she answers courteously.
The Chamberlain closes the door of the bedroom. The two women stand before each other in awkward stillness.
"Was your journey comfortable?" Impa inquires.
"Indeed it was." Tilda replies. "I arrived here by horse-drawn carriage just now with all my belongings secured in the back. Although I must admit, I could not evade the rain, which is why I sought to dry my clothes by the hearth."
A brief silence settles between them.
"You seem terribly young to be working here." Tilda notes. "Though, some might say I'm a little young to be marrying."
"How did you meet His Majesty?" Impa asks abruptly.
"It was no accident." the Princess chuckles. "Our parents arranged for us to attend the same school when we were young – before the war that indirectly killed his father. I attended the funeral last year, predominantly to console distraught dear Daltus. He was in pieces, bless him. Long story short, he proposed to me only last night and that's how I found myself here, tucked away in this tower. After all, it would be improper for a royal couple to share a bed out of wedlock."
"Dread the thought." Impa responds with an edge of sarcasm. It's a test of the water; a risky play. Fortunately, the Princess responds with a smile.
"Let's hope it will be worth the wait. Now I shall dismiss you from your duties to let you sleep. No doubt that Chamberlain dragged you from your dormitory just to meet me."
"It was a pleasure all the same." the Sheikah smiles.
