Little Princess - Tumblr Posts
Lucifer and his little princess 🥰
Lucifer and his little princess 🥰
Duckie and his little duckling
sweet memories....📸✨️😭
Dear charlie~🌈✨️
Every Arya & Lyanna parallel: → unwanted betrothals
LYANNA
"Robert will never keep to one bed," Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm's End. "I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale." Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. "Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature."
— A Game of Thrones, Eddard IX
ARYA
[Elmar] liked to boast how he was the son of the Lord of the Crossing, not a nephew or a bastard or a grandson but a trueborn son, and on account of that he was going to marry a princess. Arya didn't care about his precious princess, and didn't like him giving her commands. [...] Elmar gave her a scornful look. "No one cares about a serving girl's brothers." It was hard not to hit him when he said that. "I hope your princess dies," she said, and ran off before he could grab her.
— A Clash of Kings, Arya X
One day after another, there is no difference, they are all the same and all insignificant. The passing sweeps through these days like wind across the desert. Like my soul, which is also a desert, but there is not even wind in me, only dried grains of sand, discarded pebbles, like forever forgotten desires. Weekends are the worst, and holidays. I look at the spiders on the walls, they're not alone, but even they leave me to myself. The passing no longer hurts. The closer the last hour, the easier and easier it is. The lost words are getting closer. It's as if I get to know again the Language of the Birds, which is the heavenly language, the language of the angels, and which is also mine. But now I just look at the world around me: Is this really all we have left of Creation? Is that all? Just a cool room and the spiders on the wall.
Now I would just post a picture of a grey square here, which means nothing. A grey square, like the one the TV displays when it is turned off. That's all that's left of me, a grey square. I could post a white one too, because it potentially contains everything: the angels, the poems, Eternity, beauty, the beginning, innocence, mirrors, poplars, shadows, the sea, the big and deep beds, or those old and beautiful clothes seen in Velázquez's paintings. I see myself in those paintings. But the grey square is empty, it contains nothing, and in that, I see myself as well. Like when something covers the Sun, and thereby its opposite is revealed.
In the picture: Velázquez: Infanta Margarita
