#but Ariel IS! she is headstrong and brave and reckless

[hinasho]

Something that really gets me is the simple fact that Ariel has locs.

It’s very recently that mainstream media portrays Black actresses with natural styles. And even then, those styles are usually the same ones: loose curls, box braids, maybe twists.

It is extremely rare for not only a female character to have locs, but for them to also be characterized as soft, delicate, and dainty. More often than not, female characters with locs are depicted as “rough” or “laidback”. If not high in masculinity, then simply uncaring of their appearance.

So for Ariel to have locs AND be framed as cute, as pretty, as sweet, just really hit for me. Because locs typically aren’t given to those kinds of characters. I saw a post on here that referred to Ariel’s hair as “pretty princess hair” and had to take a moment.

[aribraganca]

of love and burning pain: a study of the dark years, circa. 2017

once upon a time, ariel dreamt in fairytales and wanted nothing more than to marry for love. her family had made her strong and soft all at once, with no pressure of a crown upon her head she did not need to smelt iron from her blood -- she was allowed to dream in the soft hues of her heart. she was a foolish girl, who wanted for nothing and was loved in abundance, perfectly content with her lot and timelessly effervescent, all sunshine smiles and bright eyes. when she fell in love with art and all its emotions, she felt everything into her bones, far too intensely -- ariel laughed and sobbed with her heart etched painfully with each fleeting thing. it had made her flighty and headstrong, all too willing to fall upon her whims and deny herself the structure that might bring her protection.

ariel taught herself to fall in love quicker than she should. falling in time with the rise and fall of symphonies, she would burn at the thought of one man and would gladly die for another, she gave herself away far too easily and revelled at the thought of being loved and held. wanting and needing for someone who might burn for her. it was a silly thing, a childish frivolity that might make the difference between girls and women; for ariel was just a girl playacting with her parents’ money and influence. she longed to be infatuated and flittered her heart about as if it was nothing more than a dalliance, the sort of thing that might bring little girls happiness. she had let her heart ache more than she should, feeling with such intensity that it made her felt as if she is truly living her life.

( she could not tell her family that she was out to visit a particularly attractive man’s book launch when she was snatched away from them, never will she admit to the utter stupidity of denying security and going off to flutter her lashes at a man who might love her one night and forget her the next. )

so when she was taken in madrid, it was the shock that stopped her tears, not the emotions that she successfully kept at bay. ariel found herself in a bed that was not her own, fingers that sought for the pen and paper her jailers had provided, and it was not colourful descriptions of her days upon postcards to be sent to her siblings that she wrote. the young princess was kept in complete solitude, a mere few minutes of the day allocated to masked men who had pushed trays of cold food towards her, just enough to keep her alive. she did not cry, even when the days turned into night and she curled upon herself, the words of voltaire and helvétius echoing in her mind as a reminder of easier times. the spoilt little princess knew nothing of harrowing pain and loss, only of the phantom kind that might appear from reading passionate writers -- this was a rude awakening, one that no one should ever experience. ariel felt herself fall deeper and deeper to losing hope, a far cry from her usual optimistic temperament, until she was taken from her bed once more, transported and hidden in the dead of night. she almost sighed at the familiarity of it all. the next thing she saw was the familiar face of her father’s head of security, ( god, she had thought that she was dreaming ), then the dam broke as she cried as if she’s never cried before. 

it was a blur of familiar faces transporting her like prized cargo, none of which dared to touch the shadow of their bright sunshine -- and she spoke only in sobs, heart-wrenching ones that she had not allowed herself to show. ariel need only to feel the arms of her mother the queen before she fell into her embrace, with renewed sobs and tears falling down her cheeks, she felt as if there was no use for love when one had lost the will to live. 

soon thereafter, she was deposited into the arms of each awaiting family member, perhaps it was the only time in her adult life that she saw biel cry. it was in her mother’s arms did she vow never to love anyone more than she loved her family, for she could not fathom being away from them in such a way ever again-- not once did she think of her fleeting loves and the boys who once burned for her. her duty had presented itself to her in such an opportune time. where once she had ignored the harpings on of politics, ariel found herself unable to refuse, the death toll mounted even after her safe return home. biel’s marriage had been pushed onto him against his will, so had her uncle leo’s, so many who had left their claim of marrying for love in the wayside. 

the young princess thought of her upcoming marriage to bastiaan as an impending doom, forever condemning her to a man who would never once love and yearn for her the way she used to demand, not even for a fleeting moment. it was a punishment that she so gladly accepted after her years of accepting her whims as law, and vowing all governing bodies who might deny her swift demise. a far too small punishment for the war she had started. ariel knew that she had loved so much in the past and wonder if she was even allowed to love any more, the very least she could do was to swear fealty to the family who had brought her back, who had waged war in her name. biel had found love in his match, even if took a little time, and barbie had the good sense and intelligence to fall in love with a suitable prince. perhaps luck had ran out for braganças, it would stop just shy of her own marriage. it was her punishment for having the blood of thousands in her hands. who cares if she would never love again? what were her feelings in comparison to the brave soldiers who had fought for a princess that had been careless enough to have herself taken? 

now she believes not of love, but of duty. even as her sunny disposition came back in droves, there was little that she could do to restore her recklessness. no longer was she able to reach for a man’s hand that wanted to hold her own, an echo of love, one that might be too much for her to bear. to love and burn would just be a memory of the past, perhaps brought to life through the many books she has in her collection. maybe then, laying upon her bed with a book in one hand and a cigarette in the other, ariel might dream of such a feeling that might set her heart alight. 

dream as much as she may, for she would not know any other alternative.