Impa stands brazenly before the Princess's vanity. Her reflection shows a girl, pale and wide-eyed with bony collarbones protruding beneath the black lace which hides her slender shoulders. The dress is a little loose around the waist but otherwise a perfect fit.
Tilda secures the back and hands her a beeswax ochre paint. Impa carefully applies it to her lips and watches them blossom into plump black cherries. It is the first time she has ever worn make-up – such indulgences were not only unheard of in Kakariko Village – they were forbidden: Modesty is a virtue which vanity depletes. Yet in this mirror, Impa feels herself transform from a malnourished child into a striking young woman.
"You look stunning, Impa." Tilda affirms. "Now take my arm and we shall take to the Dining Hall together."
The Princess extends her arm. Impa looks from the ring of pearls around her wrist to the made-up face that gently smiles. By what divine ruling had she been granted such a humble and graceful mistress?
Their heels clack along the corridors as they make their way purposely through the Castle. Along the way, they draw glances of astonishment and confusion from passing servants. Impa dips her head low to avoid their disapproving scowls.
They arrive at the towering doors to the Dining Hall. Impa's heart pounds against her chest as her palms start to sweat.
"There's no need for nerves, Impa." Tilda assures her. "You are here by Royal Decree."
Tilda takes her Attendant's hand and pulls her forward.
The grandiose doors are thrust open to reveal a chequer-tiled floor that reaches all the way to the back of an enormous hall. Chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, lighting the way along an oblong banquet table, heaving with silver platters and gallery dishes. The guests rise from their seats upon their entrance and bow at the approach of the new Princess. Tilda waves courteously to her noble companions as she dances across the tiles to her assigned seat: at the head of the table beside a handsome young bearded man in a scarlet robe and a golden crown.
He rises from his seat to welcome of his wife-to-be with a smile. Tall, fair, and faithful, it is no wonder why the maidens of Hyrule fall at his feet. Yet of all the hopefuls wishing to wed the majestic monarch, only one had succeeded in securing his affections.
Tilda embraces her fiancé with her lips. Impa diverts her gaze to the only one available seat, opposite a young curly-haired man in a dapper waistcoat.
The King relaxes his embrace and addresses the gathering with open arms. "Thank you one and all for joining us on this momentous occasion!" he cheers. "The Wintertime Ball is a commemoration of the annual winter solstice, and a tradition enjoyed by our ancestors for eons. Tonight, we shall uphold their joyous conventions of feasting, dancing and merrymaking with the pleasure of each other's company. While most of you are regular attendees of this delightful dinner, tonight we welcome a first-timer to the Wintertime Ball."
He turns to his fiancée beaming with pride. "My beautiful bride-to-be, Tilda."
The room erupts into applause. Tilda bows her head gracefully with a smile.
"Yes, as a recent addition to the Royal Court, it is therefore our responsibility to ensure that this year's Wintertime Ball exceeds all expectations. So without further ado, let us feast!"
