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I see myself as a princess but I’m a princess at heart


Why is it that my parents think of me being a princess at heart is equivalent to being a spoiled brat?!


I don’t think being a princess at heart is the same as being a little brat. Because princesses are kind and courageous.


Princess is not equal to being a spoiled brat. My boyfriend doesn’t called me princess but I don’t expect him to do so. It’s his choice.

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I had a dream that I ran woke up early in the morning and slipped out of my parents cottage to run through the cobbled streets to the forest in the early morning rain to meet my beloved under our tree, where they kissed me so tenderly I thought I may cry.

And then I woke up in my bedroom and almost threw a hissy fit because it’s wasn’t real.

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It is a stormy night. The trees groan into the howling wind, their branches creaking and rivers roar to the thunder, meeting its challenge. The Mad King makes his way up the frigid stone stair way to the tower, his tired eyes standing out against his black mane of hair and unkempt beard. He pauses outside of the old wooden door, listening but he hears nothing. With a push, the door creaks open, revealing an open tower, exposed to the elements. There, hanging above the rain slicked cobble stones is a large bird cage, swinging slightly in the gushing wind. Huddled inside is a dark figure.

The king knows it well, staring as it shifts to look at him. The dark curls that are now slicked against wet skin, pale green robes now clinging to cold skin, water logged. The equally pale green eyes that stand out against brown skin and that seem to glow in the darkness, locking him into place.

She had been a gift from the lands he conquered in the north. She was an exotic stunning creature, unlike any woman he had ever seen. She was silent most of the time and when she did speak it was in a language he could not understand but he did not need to understand her to enjoy her purpose. She was his song bird. She was the child of a human man and a siren, her voice bewitched enough to be beautiful but not enough to control him. She was his alone to possess…his alone to admire…his alone to fear.

//excerpt from a story I can’t quite finish

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Day 24 of 365: Grand Princess Amethyst has practiced her painting skills today as a way to pass by what seemed like an incredibly dull day.

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Imagine running in a castle at midnight in this dress

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