You sit on the floor in front of the fireplace, playing with your toys. Your mother, is knitting a quilt while your father is out, possibly finishing up his kingly duties. Your mother is humming the lyrics of a comforting song.

Lightning strikes and thunder booms. You jump and scurry under your mother’s quilt and into her arms, effectively wrapping yourself in her warmth. “Shh, darling,” she coos between hums.

Your mother caresses your face and brushes a strand of hair from your face.