itsthewinedude

"Ow, mama!" The young girl shouted, wincing at her mother's attempt at braiding her golden locks. "I'm sorry, dear. I'm almost done here." The older woman muttered, adding a bow at the end before smoothing her delicate fingers over the young girl’s golden braids. "There. Now you look presentable. Keep away from the forge when your father's working, love." The girl stood and slouched at her mother's warning. "But papa promised he would let me help." "Ylva," the woman warned as she stood and pressed her hands over her growing belly. "Your father is working on an important commission for the duke. He doesn't need a child distracting him