Aurora Princess Quotes

Can't help who you fall in love with, princess.

The God of Imagination lived in fairytales. And the best fairytales made you fall in love. It was while flicking through "Sleeping Beauty" that I met my first love, Ivar. He was a six-year-old bello ragazzo with blond hair and eyebrows. He had bomb-blue eyes and his two front teeth were missing. The road to Happily Ever After, however, was paved with political barbed wire. Three things stood in my way. 1. The object of my affection didn't know he was the object of my affection. 2. The object of my affection preferred Action Man to Princess Aurora. 3. The object of my affection was a boy and I wasn't allowed to love a boy.

I had to stop running. I had to turn and face my life head on. It wasn’t enough being like everybody else; I had to be the best, and I was going to show everyone what I was truly made of. I was done with being a terrified princess, constantly waiting to be saved. I was going to be a queen, and, like Vivienne said, I had better start behaving like one. - (Aurora Firedrake)

And then... she heard voices. Her aunt's voice... 'Your daughter?' Maleficent asked, her voice rising in dramatic surprise. 'Really? What kind of loving mother hands her daughter off to the fairies for sixteen years?'... Maleficent swung around, arching her arms and fingers like an animal, lowering her yellow eyes to their level.

I am not. A silly. Little. Princess. I am Aurora Rose, rightful queen of this kingdom and your judge and executioner, you silly little fairy.

You can't buy happines but u can buy books and thats kind of a same thing

The path remained steady for a time before dwindling down to dusty silt. The sky opened above as trees fell away on either side. To their right, the land dipped down into a tiny, almost impossibly beautiful valley. A stream ran through its lowest point, its bank lined in pink lupine. Before that, tall, dark green grass sparkled with white flashes in the sunlight. Late season dandelions and breathy, tiny white flowers on slender stems were avoided by bees, while purple thistles and asters thronged with them. "I could do with a little bit of a break," she said, looking longingly at the soft, moss-covered braes above the tinkling water. The prince made a big show of cautiously surveying the scene. Aurora Rose hid a smile. Nothing seemed harmful. "All right," he finally said. "My face could definitely do with a wash. Feels all dusty." They stepped down into the quiet valley that smelled like all of summer crushed into a single flower.

She thought about their adventures together. How he had never given up on her. How he had forced her on. How he had constantly, annoyingly remained cheerful and upbeat in any situation. How he had killed demons and always talked about his stupid horse and ate porridge that he hated. No, she hadn't fallen in love with him on sight the second time around. It had taken a few days.

Aurora looked into the mirror and smiled. She was pretty. She was a royal princess. There was about to be a ball. These were things she could, once in a while, allow herself to be happy about.

Grace- the fairies' gift, according to his story- seemed to pertain to her running as well as dancing. She might not have been as fast as he, but she was nimble and fleet and didn't need to look at her feet to avoid stumbling.

There was a princess, Aurora, named for the dawn. Her hair was as golden as the crown that would one day rest upon her head. Her eyes were as wide and soft as those of a doe. From the time of her birth, no one could look upon her and not love her.

He sank upon the old yellow sofa, the sofa of his lifetime and of so many years before, and buried his head on the shabby, tattered arm. A succession of sobs broke from his lips -- sobs in which the accumulated emotion of months and the strange, acute conflict of feelings that had possessed him for the three weeks just past found relief and a kind of solution. Lady Aurora sat down beside him, and laid her finger-tips gently on his hand. So, for a minute, while his tears flowed and she said nothing, he felt her timid, consoling touch. At the end of the minute he raised his head; it came back to him that she had said "we" just before, and he asked her whom she meant.

Sometimes concentrating on one lovely thing about each memory helped her remain upright. Like the foxes... she had 'hunted' with 'foxes'! Beautiful red-coated beasts who sometimes tangled under her feet like cats and let her scratch their throats. That had really happened. Focusing on their beauty kept her walking- shakily- and kept her stomach from reeling.

She no longer wore the meringue-like light blue ridiculous thing. It was instead a strange mix of her outfit when she had lived in the forest and what she had escaped the Thorn Castle in. An old brownish skirt and black corset top- but with a golden shirt that flowed under the corset and over her hips like a tunic. The skirts were all ripped and in tatters. And her shoes were once again gone. She shrugged. "It's 'my' dream, isn't it?

That’s Princess Margaretha of Sweden,” Nysus says quietly. The gold faucet on the sink across from her catches my attention, and a pang of ingrained longing hits hard. It’s both smaller and more dramatic in reality. The gold gleams in our helmet lights, the name Aurora carved in dark swirling letters on both sides. It sets off a strange sense of dislocation in my brain. Like it can’t be real. Or I’m not. But maybe that’s just because of the dead princess floating in the corner.

The magicked dress danced over to the princess. Despite her misgivings, she stood up to receive it- it would have been rude not to. The dress easily smoothed itself over her. Dark green velvet skirts, full and soft, twirled around down to her ankles. Golden buttons fastened themselves up the placket on the bodice and over the elegant, tight sleeves. From her elbows, wisps of dark green mist flowed to the ground for tippets. A collar around her neck drifted out into a cape of the same material. "Truly, you are the most beautiful princess in the world," a fairy breathed. Aurora Rose looked at herself in the mirror of dewdrops. She was indeed the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Long neck, golden hair, wide violet eyes, narrow waist, lips perfectly pink and rosy. She turned, just a little bit, to see how her figure looked from a different angle. The green velvet flowed softly and majestically, making delicious little noises when its folds rippled. As talented as the castle seamstresses were, the princess had never worn anything as elegant or perfect as this.

My true gifts," she said. "Returned to me." "Truly useless gifts," Maleficent said. "What good are grace and song and beauty- especially to a dead girl?" "Not those gifts. Those were bestowed upon me by 'others.' These are my true, natural gifts. Intelligence. Bravery. Compassion. "Those three you 'killed' weren't actual fairies at all- they were parts of me. My true self. Hidden from me by you. Dampened. Darkened. Just like everything else in this wretched realm. Just as I myself was hidden away from the world, first in the woods, and then in a dream.

Are you ready?" her mother asked. A small part of Aurora screamed in revolt; she wanted to ask for permission to leave, to disappear into the wildlands and find another life. But the queen had lost enough in this life. Her husband succumbed to a disease that her magic couldn't touch. And her son had captured a storm's heart at the expense of his own. And the only one she had left, her daughter ... her daughter looked the part of the perfect Stormling princess -- so impressive, so ethereal, that no one would ever dare to think the truth. That she had no storm magic at all.

The princess found herself being gently prodded and pushed and combed and magicked, and her hair felt weird. When she was spun around to face the mirror again, she was in a yellow dress, waves of sunshine spilling down from her bodice to her toes. Her shoulders were bare, which was a little strange, but they were pale and perfect and delicate. 'Swanlike,' she could hear the minstrel saying. Her hair was loosely braided over one shoulder, a yellow ribbon tying it off. The fairies gasped. "You are 'sooooo' beautiful!" Even 'more' beautiful!" "Can it be possible?" "Look at 'this'," a fairy commanded. With a serious look and a wave of her wand, she transformed the princess again. This time her hair was piled high on her head in an elegant chignon, a simple ribbon holding it back. A light blue dress puffed out around her softly, like a cloud. The finest gloves she had ever worn covered her bare arms up to her shoulders. Funny little tinkling shoes felt chilly on her feet. She put her hands on the skirt and twisted this way and that; what a dress to dance in! She would look like a fairy herself. Or a bride.

I want porridge!" she said, exasperated. "That's all. I wanted a bunny before and 'it' appeared, and now I want porridge. The way my aunts used to make it on cold mornings. Warm and buttery, with rich toasted acorns in it." "Acorns? Really? That sounds... um... I mean, it's an interesting gastronomic choice." She rolled her eyes. "We lived in the middle of a 'forest,' Royal Prince. It was what we had. And a real treat in the middle of winter." Then she proceeded to ignore him. She closed her eyes and cupped her hands. She prayed and wished and imagined and begged. Phillip stayed politely silent- though he did look around, sigh a little, and do all sorts of other things to obviously fret over the passage of time. She tried to call up the feel of the wooden bowl in her hands: it warmed almost like flesh where the wood was thin and the heat of her fingers and the hot porridge mingled. She summoned the smell, a mix of dairy and things of the earth and the tall green grass and the woods. Sometimes there was even a dollop of honey on top. She thought so hard she felt like she had to go to the privy. Her concentration faltered for a moment when she distractedly wondered if that ever happened to Maleficent when she was performing an incantation. But after a few seconds she was back in her dream of porridge. Time passed... "GOOD LORD!" The smell in her head was giving to a real scent in her nose now, with even that faint, almost 'un'tasty burnt smell the acorns sometimes gave off. She smiled and opened her eyes. In her hands was a cracked wooden bowl full of porridge, just like she remembered.

She remembered being in a meadow at the edge of the forest in the fall, feeling chilly but unable to stop watching the birds play in the growing ferocity of the air. The strong fliers, the jays and the woodpeckers and the crows, cavorted like eagles.

Aurora Rose looked back and forth among the three women, gladly distracted from the sad events by the puzzle before her. The fairies in real life had their own personalities, of course, despite their superficial similarities as ageless, chatty, loving aunt figures. Flora tended to try to lead and make decisions for them. Merryweather seemed to understand the basic workings of the world better, although she rarely acted on this knowledge and instead chose to comment snarkily on it. Sometimes she got sneaky and went behind Flora's back. Fauna was the one who hugged the princess the most and often acted as an intermediary between the other two. The green one, "Fauna," seemed more concerned with how Aurora Rose was feeling- how 'everyone' was feeling. She was the one who had been waiting outside the cottage for the prince and princess. Like she was the one who 'cared.' And the blue one- "Merryweather"- seemed 'incredibly' quick-minded and brilliant. And even snarkier. "Flora" was brave and powerful and ready to plunge into any physical combat. And not for nothing, she was built like a gladiator. They were 'all' acting like extreme versions of their real selves.

Try these," she suggested. She held out a pair of simple long gauntlets that were almost as fine as gloves, chain underneath and plate on top. Aurora Rose carefully took off the ones she wore and slipped the others on. They fit perfectly. "This is a bit more your style," the blue one said, approaching her with a breastplate that was almost as big as she was. It was curved femininely to fit Aurora Rose's body, but not ridiculously so. A staid design of roses and thorns was inlaid along the sides. It was sturdy, and 'heavy.' The princess had to readjust the way she stood to support it while everyone helped buckle it on the back. "And for the top..." the red one said, looking around. "Let 'her' choose," the green one suggested gently. Aurora Rose walked down the aisle slowly, getting used to the weight of the armor. She passed each of the women and then Phillip- dashing in his shining cuirass and silver-white greaves, like a soldier from ancient Rome. Her eyes swept over everything, everywhere, pausing nowhere. Golden helms, intricate onyx headpieces, spiked and dangerous-looking crowns, plated metal turbans. Finally, she saw what she wanted. She strode forward and lifted a helmet- one she 'knew' would fit- off the top shelf. A point came down the middle of the forehead to protect her nose- and was also vaguely reminiscent of Maleficent's headpiece. But instead of horns, silver wings swept back over the ears. With slow, sure movements she put it on. It 'did' fit. Perfectly. She turned around to show the others. Phillip sucked in his breath. "You look 'magnificent,' Rose. Like- like an ancient goddess of war." "Like victory," the green one said softly.

She didn't know 'this meadow', exactly. But she was familiar with the concept. The types of plants. The 'raven,' which she knew was too big to be a 'crow'. The trees: the way the trees circled meant there was probably a bog or a stream in the middle, where the land dipped. She 'knew' that. She knew that beyond these leafy trees would be gnarled, thicker trees with dark green leaves. And beyond them, pines. And under their heavy boughs, there lay a friendly darkness so complete it put the vines over the castle bailey to shame.

At the base of the closest tree was a clump of wild mint. She broke off a stalk and chewed it, beginning to walk again. The world was beautiful. There was an ancient oak tree heralding a shift in the forest. At its roots underground would be the mushrooms the wild pigs liked.

Aurora Rose looked back up at the nightjar. She raised up a graceful hand. There was no reason the carnivorous and mostly shy bird should leave its perch and alight on her finger. But it did. 'How did she know it was carnivorous?' It burbled happily and did everything but rub its strange, whiskered beak on her hand like a cat. She stroked the back of its head.

The day she was going to tell her aunts about the boy she had met. She had come home, having forgotten it was her birthday. Time was both important and irrelevant in the woods; stars marked seasonal changes, the moon waxed and waned, the solstices were strictly observed... but normal days and weeks and months weren't.

Scar: We’re going to watch Frozen. Are you coming back to our room? My lips parted and utter excitement ran through me. I shoved my Atlas back into my pocket and started running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He’d finally dropped his walls, he was allowing me to peek into his heart and see the Disney princess living in there. Was it Belle? Aurora? Ariel? Of course it was Ariel. He’d been waiting to get his legs for years and live above the sea. We needed to have another movie night. Maybe he’d wear Mickey Mouse ears if I bought them for him. We could get matching ones for the pride. Different colours for each of us.

I'm a warrior. Not some prissy princess waiting for someone to rescue her. ~ Aurora Salem

A majority of the country—reliable polling said it was so—refused to believe she was actually gone. They hung their hopes on the fact that only one of the Aurora’s two Zodiac dinghies had been found. Surely, they argued, she was adrift on the open seas or had washed ashore on a deserted island. One disreputable Web site went so far as to report that she had been spotted on Montserrat. Another said she was living quietly by the sea in Dorset. Conspiracy theorists of every stripe concocted lurid tales of a plot to kill the princess that was conceived by the Queen’s Privy Council and carried out by Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service, better known as MI6. Pressure mounted on its chief, Graham Seymour, to issue a full-throated denial of the allegations, but he steadfastly refused.

IMPOSSIBBLE BY ITSELF SAY'S IM POSSIBBLE

Briar Rose, the golden-haired one called herself. She continually drew Maleficent's attention, making her helplessly flinch, like at the first light of dawn. Which was appropriate. Given her true name. A name she did not know. Aurora.

I can reuse the yarn and turn it into something that can be actually worn without hurting Tante's feelings. She dismissed any hope of me ever finding it after, and I quote, a vile sorceress must have snatched your birthday present." From her hiding place, Maleficent's heart beat hard suddenly, a single throbbing jolt.

But tonight's event, at least, was more Briar's style. Even if she would not be one of the bards playing, she knew this atmosphere, how to command a room, as her vassals said; how to perform. Something about this ball was so much more in line with who she was, despite every event demanding performance. Here, Briar could imagine the crowd was an audience; here, she could pretend she was in control.

It may seem like I'm at the mercy of these larger forces, but I am not. I am choosing to do these things. You misunderstand what I have been saying--- I will not let any of these things destroy me. I am done being the victim. I am the hero now, Merryweather.

She was here, fighting to be empress. Facing the ghosts of her past. Yes, she still had moments of doubt and indecision. Yes, she still wrestled with her instincts versus the choices advised. But she was making choices, learning from those choices, and growing. She was taking pieces from each mistake and each horror and all of the people in her inner circle, and she was evolving. She wasn't the old Briar Rose anymore. She hadn't been for a long, long while. Yet neither was she this new Queen Aurora. Perhaps all these labels only hindered her. Perhaps it was far easier than they had all made it out to be. Perhaps she was simply Briar, and what that means could change daily.

It truly was an active choice not to get sucked into Aurora's energy--- she emitted a fascinating fervor, helplessly mesmerizing. This was a girl who had found her place, who loved and shared that love and looked out at her future with intoxicating wonder.

Peasant to princess to queen to empress. To spring from the first to the second was an act of God. To leap all four in a single year--- it was impossible. And yet here she was, living her impossible life, Briar Rose the peasant bard, Aurora the princess, some new furious woman the queen. What version of her would rise up once she became empress? How many different versions of one person could she hold within her body until she broke from the strain?

So it stunned Briar silent when Köning handed her a list that had been decided on by all the vassals, debated over in a prior meeting and compiled so they agreed on her best qualities. Self-assured Thoughtful Passionate Envisions a peaceful future for the empire And the one that set her mind spinning, dazed: Fearless She looked up at the vassals. "Truly?" Köning, already shuffling through a stack of parchment for his next set of notes, half looked at her. "Which one, Your Majesty?" All of them. They saw her this way? They barely knew her. They had only seen her in passing these few weeks, had only interacted with her on the periphery. So were these attributes truly hers, or were they things her vassals hoped she could emulate? Fauna, who hovered just behind Briar's chair, placed a hand on her shoulder. "You have displayed all these traits in your time here, Rose," she whispered softly. "They honor you by recognizing what you are." She used the name that Briar's aunts had called her by. That only Briar's aunts had called her by. Briar Rose had been her full name, but Frieda had thought Briar sounded more interesting, thorny and sharp, and so Briar had acquiesced to being Briar because she had been about six and had wanted so desperately to be interesting. But she realized, hearing Fauna say Rose now, that the split of who she was had happened even earlier than she had realized. As a child, she had been Briar to some and Rose to her aunts and Briar Rose to even more--- Had there ever been a time in her life when she had simply existed? Briar sat down the paper with her best qualities, eyes blurring as she read it over, and over. Were these the traits of Briar? Or of Aurora? Which would best win empress?

She would be crowned empress this morning. She smiled, watching her reflection in the mirror, seeing a glimmer of the peasant bard in the crook of her grin, but the composure of a princess, too, and the stature of a queen, for however short a time she had been each. There was no looming shadow behind her, no waiting other self who might swoop out and consume her. Going forward, she knew she would be a balance of these pieces, somehow, some way. She could be many things all at once.

Because the future that lay before her would indeed be one of unity and peace, starting here, with those she loved. Anything they built on this foundation could only be good and true and right. It could only be the stuff of dreams.

She was so tired. Exhausted, inside and out, from her head to her soul. But she had spent too much time sleeping as it was; it was time for her to wake up, to reclaim her life, whatever that would look like now.

I pointed to my left toe show, where I’d written (in red ink, with the calligraphy pen that no longer cursed me), ‘For Becca, with love from Princess Aurora.

I pointed to my left toe shoe, where I'd written (in red ink, with the calligraphy pen that no longer cursed me), 'For Becca, with love from Princess Aurora.

Misha is getting married to an Italian mafia princess. After the wedding, Misha will no longer be mine. Aurora D’Angelo will become his wife and my sister-in-law. She’ll be the most important person in his life.

All her life, she'd tried to find ways to sneak out of the castle. Ironically, only last year, she'd discovered the best way to sneak out was to actually pay attention to her lessons. Her magic lessons, that was. "Rays of sunshine," she whispered, "align!" As soon as she spoke the words, a powerful ray of light shone upon Aurora, concealing her from the guards' views. It wouldn't last long, so she hastily clambered over the castle wall.

A Wedding like a Funeral Our wedding was like a funeral, joyless, Our Father having died a year ago. We wanted to postpone it, but Our Mother insisted that it should take place, although with little ceremony. It was brief. Our Mother stood in a corner of the room, dressed in black. It was painful to her, another loss she felt bitterly. I could not console her. We left with a mixture of regret and relief. Alice concludes, with a long pause. Princess Alice [1843-1878]

A Life of Disappointment When we reached our destination [after our wedding] I was dismayed by what I saw, so different from my home, so backward and dismal. I would escape from it as much as I could. Mama needed me still and insisted I visit her often. In the first years of my marriage, I spent more time with her than in my new home, and was glad of it. I felt I did not fit in with the small talk and mentality of the people who surrounded me. - Alice is a natural talker and her thoughts flow freely through my pen. - It did not take long for me to understand the reality of my situation and become disenchanted, but I loved Louis and made the most of it. I busied myself with unpopular activities, with work deemed unsuitable for a Princess and future Duchess, but I was a rebel by nature, and persevered with Louis' support. He was very good and eager to please me, though he did not understand me. As my rift with my Mother deepened, I got more involved in public work at home and I even met an intellectual Soulmate, someone I could discuss things I could not do with my husband. This gave me fresh energy to invest in my work, but it all came to an end. More changes were on the way. The death of Louis' Father threw more responsibilities on Our shoulders. Little did I know - she adds with a sighs - that my time, too, was running out. - I feel her distress and ask softly: What is that pains you so much, why not let it go? I wish my life had been different, but I do not regret having children, they were a joy to me. I wish I had been a man, more in command of my life. Why do I linger? What is this pain I steel feel? - she asks looking at me - I do not know, perhaps the incompleteness of that Life, unfulfilled, of what it could have been and was not. - Alice whispers, her voice dying down. [30.8.17] Princess Alice of Hesse [Married 1 July 1862]

Mason has more land than Aeris,” Deya informed them, and Cayla’s cheeks flushed on the spot. “Does he?” the princess asked breathlessly as I snuck another finger inside of her. “Twice as much,” Deya assured her. “We could build a palace on this much land.” “We could have our own dungeon to torture our enemies with this much land,” Aurora added, and all four women looked at me expectantly. “I mean … I don’t fucking care,” I chuckled. “Anything you want. Sure.

High stakes make good stories, Princess Aurora of New Jersey.

And what exactly are you implying, Baron Flynt?” Baron Ralish scoffed. I glanced at Cayla as I realized I was potentially about to overstep my bounds, but the princess smirked, and my other women grinned like they were definitely hoping I’d continue. So, I did. “I’m implying only one man in this nation could bring that railway into creation,” I told the man bluntly, “and the same man is more than willing to see the railway that runs near your lands no longer does so. If your greed threatens the agreement reached between Illaria and Orebane--an agreement achieved only due to mine and the mages’ direct efforts--then I see no reason to abide by the bullshit of a guy who sits back and lets others do the work for him. Frankly, I’d like to see you lay all that track, you spineless piece of--” “Baron Flynt,” Ralish growled, “our Royal Highness would never permit such blatant discrimination--” “Oh, fuck you,” I finally snorted, and a few nobles gasped in shock while others tried their best to stifle their amusement, but I could still hear Aurora burst out laughing above it all. “You’re discriminating against the dwarves and everyone below your station right now, and don’t think I’m not aware that selling your oats at a quarter the price in Serin is what put you in this position to begin with. I may be new around here, but I’m not an idiot, and if all you have to offer is your fucking oats, then there’s gotta be ten other barons here who could knock you right out of the market easily.” “Thirteen,” Lord Allen called out, and the men beside him chuckled.