Black laurel wreath tattoo with a tied bow on the palm of a hand, with a colour tattoo of hearts visible on the wrist.

Laurel wreath on palm

Traditional · Hand · Mixed · Photo

A black outlined laurel wreath, tied with a bow at the base, sits across the centre of the palm. The leaves use bold, solid outlines with grey shading inside each leaf, and the wreath is open at the top. A coloured traditional-style tattoo with red hearts and yellow detail is partly visible on the wrist below.

Traditional Hand Laurel Wreath Leaves Bow Heart

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The wreath-makers of Vell had one rule older than the crown: never close the ring. My mistress told me so the first winter I swept her workshop, her fingers raw from the cold bay. An open laurel, she said, leaves room for whoever comes next. I thought it a pretty superstition until the spring the Duke's steward rode up the Tallow Road with a black ribbon and a list of demands.

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He wanted the wreath sealed for the midsummer races, every leaf joined, the ends tied with a bow so the Duke's name could be stitched beneath it. I had a bucket of fresh cuttings soaking in rainwater and a pot of soot ink. I bound the stems at the base and tied the bow the way she had taught me, two loops and a knot that would hold through a downpour. Each leaf I outlined in bold black and shaded the inside grey, so it would look like it had weight and a pulse of its own.

When the steward reached for the top of the ring to close it, I stepped between him and the frame. He called me a stubborn girl. My mistress, who had never once raised her voice in my hearing, put a hand on my shoulder and told him the wreath was finished as it was. He rode off with his ribbon and his temper, and we did not expect to see him again.

On midsummer morning the race was won by Hanne, the miller's daughter, who had never owned a saddle that fit. She rode straight under the open ring at the finish, her head passing through the gap with inches to spare, and the crowd roared as though the wreath had been made for her alone. Nobody in Vell ever asked why the top was open after that. We all knew.