A very tangled battle - Tales of The Family Mairi
Little Lia sat on a stool in front of him, her little tan legs dangling, while Dain stood behind her with the expression of a man ready for battle.
A brush hung uselessly from his fingers.
Her curly blond hair which she has far too much of it and he usually adores (Just like her mother's) slipped through his hands. Every section he tried to weave into the fishtail braid somehow ended up tangled or entirely uneven.
"This braid is cursed," he muttered under his breath.
"Can’t I just do a normal braid?" Dain tried to plead his case again. He can do that. Little Violet groomed that into him when they were children after all.
Lia sighed dramatically. "Mama can do it in five minutes."
Dain was grateful he could at least tame and care for her curls like Sloane. Cut a man some slacks.
After another painful thirty seconds of him struggling in silence, she tilted her head just enough to look up at him.
"You are a General, Dad," she looks unimpressed. "You plan and fight battles but you can’t do one braid?" Lia said with an innocent yet merciless honesty only children possessed.
Then a laugh escaped him, quiet at first, almost disbelieving. Oh he is reminded nearly everyday that his lion cup has his wife's mouth. He bowed his head forward, shoulders shaking slightly as he laughed. Carefully, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against the top of her hair.
"Yes," he admitted, still laughing.
"But a good General knows when he will lose the battle."
Lia looks pityful at him and accepting that she won’t get her fishtail braid. How merciful of her.
"And I," Dain sighed, lifting the strands of her hair like evidence of a lost fight, "am losing."
"Really badly." Lia hums.
"Catastrophically." He agrees.
Lia starts to giggle and Dain is smiling at his daughter through the mirror.
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