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Description
Morning has broken and the lady was elegantly dressed, her hair tied up strictly, her taint as wonderful and youthfully as always. She walked to her son´s room gracefully, carrying a long box along, It was neatly packed in dark blue paper and enwrapped with a strong lace of black silk. She knocked at the door quietly, well aware the boy is still asleep, well, if he didn´t spend the night reading again. Eleven years and yet so grown already, barely being a child by himself. She entered the room finding the curtains still closed, no lamplight on and a sleeping child. She sat on the edge of the bed almost unnoticeable watching him rest peacefully: Through the day he always kept his serious surface, never devoted to having fun on his own, always determined to be a good son, do everything perfectly just as his “parents” would want him to. They could not use a son that was having fun, running around and living tat easy as Millie does. Emilie, his dear sister, oh yes, he was well aware she were different and everyone loved her, wanted her just the way she was. Why would anyone want him? He was too old already, not cute or sweet anymore, he indeed had nothing left of a cute child. He lay there, serious as always and she sat right besides him: Yes, she loved them both more than he could probably see. To her these two children meant the beginning o a new life, old life. She sat closer and stroked over his hair softly, steadily, trying to calm his morning sleep. He was always so tense when he was around them. She put the box down on the floor and lay next to him, careful not to wake him. She hugged him tightly and squeezed her son as if he just returned home from a long stay at school or over at a friend’s. She kissed his hair lovingly and hummed a melody so incredibly warm it would melt down the ice on the poles. She held him close and smiled at him, stroking his hair lovingly. Out of a sudden he opened his eyes, wondering about the warmth. He found himself in a tight embrace. His eyes slowly travelled up as they met the face of the elder lady. His mother´s eyes were closed and a soft smile graced the noble face of hers. She was so beautiful and he looked up to her literally as well as in learning from her. He liked her far more than he would tell. He moved his eyes down slowly again, nuzzled to her shyly, wanting to feel safe, just for this once.
“Mama! You are so cool!” the little girl admired the lady, sitting in her chair crafting, sewing embroidery on a small pillow for her daughter. She has been doing this since she was a young girl herself, so this was not much of an effort to her. She smiled at the girl softly strict: “Thank you, Millie.” The little tornado was always around her, trying to become a lady. She would lie if she would not admit that she was doing pretty well and learning really quickly for her age. Her joyful character, honest and cute, so innocent still, oh how much did she like that sweet little girl of hers. Patiently she slowed down her crafting so the little one was able to observe her in more detail. She was very attentive and that´s something she liked a lot. The ginger stood in front of her mother, following every step she took with the needle, wondering about what it will look like in the end. Francés herself had troubles to not find this extremely adorable since she can remember herself standing in front of her mother like this, watching. “Would you like to learn it?” she asked the girl, who wore a shining smile all over her face just that moment. “Well,” she put her work aside and took the girl onto her lap: “if you do want to, I could show you and one day you will be able to create the finest patterns.” The girl was wondering that her mother was able to do such fragile things, after all she was a fighter, gifted with swords and on horses. Slowly, patiently, joyfully; the girl had lots of interest into learning by trying herself while the lady could finally do something she never got herself: she could teach her daughter something fragile, something wonderful and most of all, something that would not harm anyone. She knew she would have to be as strict with her as she was with Elizabeth but she was so young, so tiny yet. She never wanted her children to experience the same harsh way of growing up, the same tight leash around their hands, tying their will. She wanted to do it differently and her eldest two are evidence enough to see that she did choose the right way to bring them up. She knew it would require all of her strength again, all of her power and self-asteem to raise these two lovelies properly, to make them become nobles of the best kind, well aware about their past, their present and their future.

Description
Morning has broken and the lady was elegantly dressed, her hair tied up strictly, her taint as wonderful and youthfully as always. She walked to her son´s room gracefully, carrying a long box along, It was neatly packed in dark blue paper and enwrapped with a strong lace of black silk. She knocked at the door quietly, well aware the boy is still asleep, well, if he didn´t spend the night reading again. Eleven years and yet so grown already, barely being a child by himself. She entered the room finding the curtains still closed, no lamplight on and a sleeping child. She sat on the edge of the bed almost unnoticeable watching him rest peacefully: Through the day he always kept his serious surface, never devoted to having fun on his own, always determined to be a good son, do everything perfectly just as his “parents” would want him to. They could not use a son that was having fun, running around and living tat easy as Millie does. Emilie, his dear sister, oh yes, he was well aware she were different and everyone loved her, wanted her just the way she was. Why would anyone want him? He was too old already, not cute or sweet anymore, he indeed had nothing left of a cute child. He lay there, serious as always and she sat right besides him: Yes, she loved them both more than he could probably see. To her these two children meant the beginning o a new life, old life. She sat closer and stroked over his hair softly, steadily, trying to calm his morning sleep. He was always so tense when he was around them. She put the box down on the floor and lay next to him, careful not to wake him. She hugged him tightly and squeezed her son as if he just returned home from a long stay at school or over at a friend’s. She kissed his hair lovingly and hummed a melody so incredibly warm it would melt down the ice on the poles. She held him close and smiled at him, stroking his hair lovingly. Out of a sudden he opened his eyes, wondering about the warmth. He found himself in a tight embrace. His eyes slowly travelled up as they met the face of the elder lady. His mother´s eyes were closed and a soft smile graced the noble face of hers. She was so beautiful and he looked up to her literally as well as in learning from her. He liked her far more than he would tell. He moved his eyes down slowly again, nuzzled to her shyly, wanting to feel safe, just for this once.
“Mama! You are so cool!” the little girl admired the lady, sitting in her chair crafting, sewing embroidery on a small pillow for her daughter. She has been doing this since she was a young girl herself, so this was not much of an effort to her. She smiled at the girl softly strict: “Thank you, Millie.” The little tornado was always around her, trying to become a lady. She would lie if she would not admit that she was doing pretty well and learning really quickly for her age. Her joyful character, honest and cute, so innocent still, oh how much did she like that sweet little girl of hers. Patiently she slowed down her crafting so the little one was able to observe her in more detail. She was very attentive and that´s something she liked a lot. The ginger stood in front of her mother, following every step she took with the needle, wondering about what it will look like in the end. Francés herself had troubles to not find this extremely adorable since she can remember herself standing in front of her mother like this, watching. “Would you like to learn it?” she asked the girl, who wore a shining smile all over her face just that moment. “Well,” she put her work aside and took the girl onto her lap: “if you do want to, I could show you and one day you will be able to create the finest patterns.” The girl was wondering that her mother was able to do such fragile things, after all she was a fighter, gifted with swords and on horses. Slowly, patiently, joyfully; the girl had lots of interest into learning by trying herself while the lady could finally do something she never got herself: she could teach her daughter something fragile, something wonderful and most of all, something that would not harm anyone. She knew she would have to be as strict with her as she was with Elizabeth but she was so young, so tiny yet. She never wanted her children to experience the same harsh way of growing up, the same tight leash around their hands, tying their will. She wanted to do it differently and her eldest two are evidence enough to see that she did choose the right way to bring them up. She knew it would require all of her strength again, all of her power and self-asteem to raise these two lovelies properly, to make them become nobles of the best kind, well aware about their past, their present and their future.