Third person, Ophelia's POV.
The castle, same time.
The corridors of the royal castle were quiet at this hour, but the silence was far from peaceful. Soft footsteps moved quickly along the marble floors as maids hurried through the halls carrying towels, oils, and folded gowns.
The faint sound of water echoed from behind a pair of carved wooden doors, mixing with the hushed movements of servants passing by.
Inside the chamber, steam filled the air, curling lazily toward the high ceiling. Through the mist, a voice could be heard.
"Careful with that towel. If you drop it again I will assume you are attempting to test my patience."
The voice was calm, controlled, but far from sweet. Yet none of the maids looked offended. Instead, several of them smiled faintly as they continued their work, responding without the slightest hint of discomfort.
"Yes, my lady."
"Of course, Lady Ophelia."
"As you wish."
