ρєянαρѕ  if  I  worked  harder

                 ɏøᵾ  would  still  be « here »



never swap headcanons with me unless you either want tooth-rotting fluff or soul-shattering angst

Reblog if your character tends to hide his or her true feelings


                                                I don’t hate myself
                                 But I don’t particularly like myself either
                  It’s like this deep-rooted dislike for the person I grew up to be
                    A certain r e p u l s i o n towards the

                                                             ugliness that haunts


Rosilyn had now been in Camelot three days.  She realized that while it was quite different than her current time, that wasn’t always a bad thing.  Rosilyn had been treated so very well here. King Arthur was a perfect host. He seemed to have taken care of everything.  Rosilyn had more fitting clothes for these days.  She was quite glad, because people had stared at her leather jacket and jeans.  Rosilyn did tend to miss the modern luxuries that everyone in the future took for granted. Running water for one!  Rosilyn knew she could ask the servant to get her bucket of fresh water, but she normally chose to go to the well to get it on her own.

Rosilyn found exploring the grounds was quite an adventure, but today she was feeling a bit lonely. This wasn’t new to Rosilyn, who was always alone in her own time.  Rosilyn went to the window and let out a sigh. She looked at the beautiful view, but somehow she couldn’t appreciate it.  Her eyes took notice of a knight leading a horse into the stables.   Rosilyn thought maybe some time petting the horses may be just what she needs.  Rosilyn had never had a pet.  When Rosilyn’s father had left her mother when she was 5 years old, her mother could hardly keep food on the table for the two of them. The idea of a pet was always out.   After, her mother died, Rosilyn once again considered getting a pet, but she couldn’t deal with the pain of knowing one day it would die too. She decided maybe it was better to be alone. Rosilyn did take great happiness in spending time with animals though.  She realized just because she couldn’t have them, didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy them. She quickly headed through the castle and out the doors toward the stables.     

In the few days of Rosilyn being in Camelot, the interest in this young woman with the strange attire had grown significantly. From the servants to the council and even many a commoner had spoken of her, wondering why she was here, her connection to the King who had ridden in that day with her on his steed, and how long she was to stay. She was a beautiful woman, some would say, and with her beauty the rumors circulated of her being a possible interest for Arthur. The change to more appropriate wear only seemed to better show off just how lovely she looked, and the Lady Rosilyn, perhaps without her knowledge, was a popular woman within Camelot.

Arthur had been occupied since bringing her back, the blond busy with matters of the court, of explaining Rosilyn’s predicament to the best of his knowledge, as well as to get this necklace examined for signs of enchantment or sorcery. He had done all he could for the time being in ensuring her comfort and welcome here, but had scarce time to properly speak with her aside from the occasional nod and greeting. She remained in his thoughts despite it all, interestingly enough being there when he himself was making his way to the stables with intents of an afternoon ride along the countryside. The king was more casually dressed, though kept his sword sheathed to its scabbard and attached to his side. 

He noticed her as she exited the doors, Rosilyn walking just past the blond as he suddenly called out to her—not within thought, but more impulse. “Lady Rosilyn,” his tone was gentle, warm, but also sudden—perhaps a little rougher than intended. “Are you headed to the stables? Fancying a ride on the horses?” He approached her as he said that, offering a smile to hopefully balance out the initial roughness of his voice, should it have been noticed. 









"To have doubt is to already admit defeat," Arthur replied, keeping his gaze level with Daenerys’ own. "It is not to say for certain that what you are seeking can be found, however I can see that you’ve the determination to travel until it is found. So I have faith that the possibility exists.” There was a pause, the blond taking a stick to throw into the flames to keep it going. “It.. matters not right of control, but of the power you wield. Will it be used to seize control, or gain respect? Many are drawn to that. Perhaps, what it is you seek will feel that, and may seek you as well.”

Despite the vagueness of what it was Daenerys sought, the king felt comfort in her, found no reason to be suspicious of her. She was regal, powerful in her own right, and in a way—open like a book. Not completely, no, but as she spoke, her emotions were no secret. The distress, worry, determination—it was why Arthur reached out. There was fear, but with the fear was a strength that made the king wish to help as best he could, regardless of what she was looking for. She was not from these lands, which forced him to open his mind beyond Camelot’s beliefs. Magic could be involved, for example, other religions, beliefs—the possibilities were endless. Arthur had grown over the years to be more open minded, though cautious. One could never be too cautious, after all.

"I am honored that you think so," he said after a time, with a small smile. "I hope that you will find comfort in telling me more of what you search for, my lady, for it might be of great help." A pause, then another rise of curiosity followed. "Where you come from, it must be very warm. You look really chilled right now."


kingclotpole liked this post for a starter


          “I’ve always wondered what it is like to rule over a kingdom of people who depend on you to feed, protect, and defend them. And now, curious enough, I find myself in the company of a man who is fit to do just so. So tell me, Arthur Pendragon, what is it like being King?”


"It can be many things, Mordaine," Arthur began in a low voice, his eyes seeking the druid’s own—though unsure of what he was trying to locate within them. Curiosity, perhaps? Ulterior motives? Was it mockery? The weight of being king could be so overwhelming—often was. The other man’s eyes betrayed nothing to the king however. 

It gave Arthur a sense of relief, yet there was apprehension as well.

"You can feel so powerful, to have an entire kingdom depend on you. But with power comes those responsibilities: they must be able to live, eat, be protected. You wish for them to look up to you, and not out of fear. The last you wish is for those to fear you. When it becomes difficult though—when at war, or when a village is attacked by enemies.." Arthur had many a memory of such things occurring; of a village being overtaken, families slaughtered, their homes and crops completely destroyed…

"It makes you feel powerless, when you aren’t able to help everyone. Makes you less than a man. The crown wears heavy, often. You are not God, nor a representation of Him. Beneath it all, I am as human as you, as my people—regardless of rank. I am uncertain if other kings feel as I feel, however. But it is how I stand.”

As he finished, he looked to Mordaine, wondering what the man thought of his words. He also had to wonder about… “Why do you want to know of this?”



                    The high priestess had lost all hope in finding her happiness. Everything that she knew had already found their soulmates yet she was there seeing nothing but black and white. It ironically matched her constant mood. She felt no happy emotion— She was lonely and she honestly did not know what to do.


                                “Oh gosh I’m so sorry I—”

                   Her eyes fluttered around to look upon the male that she had bumped into, but the first thing she realised was that what she was seeing was somewhat different. She was seeing things that she had never seen before. Then she clicked on exactly what it was.


Then that means…

                                                   ”Well… I guess your the one…”

A soft smile crossed her features as her emerald eyes locked with his beautiful sapphire ones. She couldn’t really complain, he was absolutely gorgeous— As if he had been carved by the Gods.