#williamoflancaster

romantic headcanon

Romance? What is romance? Mihrimah knows nothing off it! Though she likes to pretend, she likes to pretend that she knows every little thing about romance and what it can do to an unprepared soul. She likes to admire it in paintings, writings and in the eyes of her parents. Romance? One day, it’ll come for her and she’ll be ready - it won’t snare her between it’s teeth but rather, Mihrimah will catch it. She will devour romance whole, in one gulp - it sounds unladylike, but the Sultana couldn’t care. All that matters to her, is catching the prey. 

They were such lovely dresses.... Of course, Rosalind had her own set of lovely gowns according to her status, but naturally, nothing would be more glamorous than the Queen’s. Vibrant hues of purple and scarlet traced with elegant patterns along the soft silk and finished with delicate lace at the collar -- with was enough top make any woman jealous, so naturally, being a woman who’s biggest sin was that of envy, Rosalind eyed then with lust.  As if it wasn’t enough, the Queen was always adorned with jewels to accompany her gowns. The sparkle of every gem when caught by the sun only made them more beautiful, enhancing the Queen’s loveliness and with it, Rosalind’s envy. It was only natural that the result of being so well decorated was to fantasize in secret, using these stolen moments to emphasize fantasy. Picking up the dress she fancied the most, Rosalind carried it to the large mirror in the corner. Without it’s petticoat and other accouterments it was rather easy to carry. The mirror being situated far from the door, Rosalind couldn’t notice anyone enter as she stood and admired her reflection, holding the dress against her body and envisioning herself adorned by a crown and jewels.

If only it weren’t so boring. He had been on the same page for quite a while, struggling to keep up, and wanting badly to relieve himself of this assignment, but trying to see it through. That was when the thought hit him. He had, by some miracle, a pouch tucked away with an intoxicating beverage that was gifted to him in his pocket. While it wasn’t ideal, maybe just a small sip would relax him enough to focus...

Letting go of the book with one hand, Vasily reached for the hidden pouch to take a sip, slyly unscrewing the top and drinking deeper than he promised himself he would before securing it and putting it away. It was only afterwards that he noticed eyes on him, the man watching him making Vasily feel a bit embarrassed to be caught. 

“Can a man not thirst as he reads?”

𝐙𝐄𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐁  𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒  𝐓𝐎  𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒  that  are  extremely  vivid  and  ─  most  of  the  time  ─  rather  memorable  almost  every  single  night .  the  subject  matter  in  each  and  every  one  of  them  can  vary  from  the  bizarre  yet  related  to  any  kinds  of  daytime  happenings  to  the  downright  surreal  and  completely  fantastical .

Dearest Diary,

I had the strangest dream last night. The more I wake up, the more it seems to fade from my memory, so I wanted to write it all down. I have never been one to assume that dreams mean something, but in case such superstitions are true, I hope that this has a meaning deeper than it’s surface.

I awoke in the woods bathed in moonlight, the Moon full and shockingly close. Beneath me was cold grass and a pile of leaves, damp as though it had rained. The leaves were oddly organized, as if someone had fashioned it into a bed and lay me atop and left me there. I rose rather quickly and looked around to find my way when I heard a howling sound. It was terrifying, and I fled instantly. It was chasing me, I know it. It snarled a horrid snarl that made me shiver and run faster, the dampness of my gown from laying in the wet leaves weighing me down and making it harder to run. I tried, but my legs began to burn from the effort. Just then I saw a house, candles in the window, burning so bright. I ran towards it and when I reached the doors I pushed them open and rushed into the room, slamming them behind me to keep the beast out and when I turned, there was a party. I saw a large ballroom filled with people who all paused to stare at me. I felt ashamed as I had just came in uninvited, and as I moved to grab my dress, I noticed that I was...bare.

It was as though in my haste the branches and thicket had torn it to nothing without my knowing, leaving my body there for eyes to partake of. No one said anything, not even a snicker or an attempt to offer me a covering.  I broke into tears and sank to the ground, hiding my naked body and when I looked up, everyone in the room had turned into a shadow with red eyes. They stared and I knew that this was the beast that had followed me from the woulds. It wasn’t chasing me, but leading me to it’s kin.

childhood headcanon

He can still remember it when he closes his eyes. The peace of the York hills will forever be the picture of Heaven itself to Richard Fitzroy, who had spent the majority of his childhood in the halls of his maternal house. The Neville family had taken him in as if he were one of them, as if he was no different to the very Prince of Wales himself. When he closes his eyes now, Richard can feel the grass weaving between his fingers - he can feel the wind, the soft nuzzle of his Uncle’s dogs and finally the joyous laughter of children who’d play with Richard around the large elder trees.