Young Lady Rowena,
My name is Salazar Slytherin, and I request that we may continue knowledgeable correspondence so as not to become so bored with our horridly average lives. My father has recently informed me of a young lady who is of an approximate same age as myself, which is to say, 10 years of age. As well this girl is as close to an intellectual equal as I may ever find on this earth.
By this, I mean that I wish to become your friend, and maybe to meet at some point.
I am currently staying with my father at Slytherin Hold, but will soon return to the court of our King Henry VII, where I am to continue accompanying his Royal Majesty Crown Prince Arthur. Maybe you, as well, could come to court. I shall ask this of my lords at court. The court is in desperate need of some new, pretty faces. Am I correct in the assumption that you are beautiful, and if not, at least pretty?
So that you may have an idea of my own appearance, I will include a telling of my many features. possessed of my father's wavy, black hair and my mother's green eyes. I prefer to imagine myself as tall, and I know for a fact that I am of the palest skin to ever set eyes upon. My fingers are long and I am very thin, for I prefer to stay within the dungeons of Slytherin Hold and only, when at court, to step outside when required. I much more enjoy to read all I can in the beautifully massive Royal Libraries.
Please send to me a description of your own self, so that I may know in my mind your countenance.
I regret not writing any more than I already have, but my father calls me to supper. His Royal Majesty Crown Prince Arthur has come to summer at Slytherin Hold, and I mustn't keep him waiting for any longer than I must.
I beg of you to write to me so that I may be rescued from the clutches of my ultimately fatal boredom.
Yours,
Salazar Slytherin
Young Lady Rowena Ravenclaw of the Ravenclaw holdings in Northwestern Britain was writing a letter. She had responded to no letters but this one for over three years, because that was when boys three times her age had started sending her love letters. They were much too explicit for seven year old eyes, but Rowena's nursemaid and surrogate mother, Helga Hufflepuff, had been forbidden by her youngest and most beloved pseudo-daughter of reading her mail.
The letter read as such. Yes, it was very advanced for the ten-year-old girl whose sisters wouldn't even dream of becoming as learned as their baby sister, but Rowena had always loved learning.
Young Lord Salazar,
I thank you so for taking me from my inevitable doom by lack of proper company. My father and siblings are incapable of holding wise conversation, and the only topic they wish to speak about is the one which I do not. I hate religion with a passion. The only other in the house who attempts decent conversation, besides my idiot oldest sister Catherine, is Helga, my nursemaid who doubles as my mother. Helga tries, but she doesn't agree with the topics I wish to speak about. While she supports my education, she still believes that a woman's place is warming between the sheets of a nobleman. I vehemently disagree.
Have you, perchance, read Secrets of the Darkest Arte? I know, as my father has said, that any who was told to converse with me must be possessed by the same demon as I am, thus I am led to assume that you, too, are possessed of the gift called magic. My father calls it a curse, but I think not. My mother, or, as close as I'll ever get to one since my mother died, says it is a blessing, that God has chosen me to do miracles, but that I should still attempt to find a wealthy husband (I am but ten years old, does she expect me to marry one of the boys who attempt to grope me at every Christmas ball?). She has given me her copies of books on the subject. I might, once we meet, gift a copy of one spellbook to you.
By this, I mean that I am accepting your invitation of friendship.
I live in a modest home for one of such a status that my father has to offer, and I think it is so I will not try to spend all his money on a magical schooling. I am simply enchanted by the notion of coming to court, and I am, according to the voices of my father's friends (all of whom wish for me to marry their sons who are either twice or half my age), very beautiful.
I am ten years of age, and have long, curly black hair. I have the same blue eyes that every born Ravenclaw has. I am, possibly, even paler than you, but as I have never seen you, i can neither confirm nor deny it. I am, for a fact tall, as my older sister by three years matches my own height. She is average height for her age. I am very thin and have fingers for piano and poetry, rather than all the reading I do. My face is narrow and pointed, most often in a scowl. I do this often to my sister, whose poor attempts at conversation are beyond pitiful.
Do you have any siblings to speak of? Not only do I have two sisters, but no less than four brothers as well. It is often said that a seventh child is more likely to have magical powers, and I am the youngest of seven children.
Please write back to me soon,
Yours,
Rowena Ravenclaw
Helga looked in amazement as Rowena spread blue wax over the folded parchment of the now-finished letter, telling the manservant by the door to have it sent to Young Lord Salazar Slytherin at Slytherin Hold.
Helga smiled brightly. Her favorite little girl was finally getting to know a boy.
This will be a story where I work out my frustrations of the day and such, or just need to get out some feels.
History lesson:
King Henry VIII f England wasn't originally the heir to the throne of England. His older brother Arthur, however, was.
I like to imagine the Founders as occurring in the Tudor Era, right around the time when Henry VIII accused his second wife, Anne Boleyn, of being a witch.
I will, as with all my other stories, update sporadically.
Peace, Love, and Bacon,
Pwnie3
