For the QLFC S5 R13 - last round! More notes at the bottom.
Rowena is clever—everyone says so. During her education, the older maids had doted on her the way her own mother did, showering praise on her when she got a piece of trivia right, or when she outwitted her philosophy tutor with his inane questions. She learnt faster and better than all the other girls, or boys, for that matter, her age.
Rowena is clever, so she knows that none of that even matters. What use is it that she can can read Latin, that she can draw a map of Albany with her eyes closed, that she can counsel a King, that she can think? Once she marries, she'll just be a trophy on the arm of some wretched man, after all. She'll only be required to attend dances and see to household matters and spend the rest of her days in idleness.
Her parents had afforded her time, knowing of her love of learning, but she's past marriageable age already. The only thing that matters now is her dowry, her looks, and her childbearing abilities, in that order.
The first matter is of no issue. She is of a prestigious, noble family and she has a sizable dowry. With her long, black hair, regal facial features, and severe gray eyes, her appearance isn't an issue either. She's already begun getting suitors calling in with marriage offers.
Rowena wants to stay at home, in her vast library, and read and practice magic for the rest of her life, but she knows she's already running on borrowed time.
…
When she wakes up the next morning, the household is already in a flurry of activity. Her maid is rushing madly around the room, throwing her closet doors open and ruffling through her gowns with a kind of frenzied panic.
Rowens sits up against her pillows, and begins to eat the breakfast placed on her bedside table, puzzled.
Finally, she queries, "Jolie?"
Her maid's head snaps up, finally noticing her state of consciousness. "Yes, milady?" Her eyes are shining.
"What's going on?" Rowena asks, raising an eyebrow.
Jolie looks excited beyond measure—she's bouncing on her toes, even. "The prince!" she bursts out, as if she can't keep the information to herself a second longer. "The prince has come to call on you!"
Rowena's blood runs cold. Jolie continues chattering, unaware of her inner turmoil, while she clutches Rowena's gown to her chest.
"Oh, but just think about it!" she sighs dreamily. "You could be a member of the court! You'd be a mistress, of course, but you'd be dancing and dining everyday, how wonderful!"
Rowena says nothing, seeing the rapt expression on her face and realizing that Jolie probably had wanted nothing more in her life.
Rowena didn't want that though, and she so dearly wished they could switch places. Rowena wants—is meant for—something more.
She knows what she needs to do.
With a grimly resigned air, she finishes her breakfast and then stands still as Jolie dresses her in a silky gown. The belt, brooch, and slippers go on next.
Rowena briefly prays for luck before following Jolie down the hallway to the room where her parents and the prince currently reside. She stands just outside the door as her presence is announced, then strides in with her back straight.
Her parents turn to greet her, as does the prince. She has a moment of brief relief. It's the third prince, not the first or even the second. He's much lower in the ranks. The likelihood of her becoming a mistress has just dropped significantly.
He takes one sweeping looks at her from her head to her toes, and there's something calculating in his gaze that she dislikes immediately.
Rowena dips into a curtesy, and when she raises her head they make direct eye contact.
"Will you walk with me?" he asks, and she nods because to do so otherwise would be rude.
They head out of the room, and Rowena pretends she doesn't see the looks her parents are giving each other. She knows what they're thinking. This could be the prime opportunity to move up in rank, to gain a position and become a princess. She wouldn't be a queen, no, but she'd still be a princess.
With her thoughts still in turmoil, the two of them head towards the gardens, where they will be afforded more privacy. Once they're far enough in, the third prince abruptly stops walking. Rowena ends up half a step ahead of him, then hastily backtracks.
"There's no need for that," he says. "I have a proposition for you."
She eyes him warily. Nothing good ever comes from that statement.
"I am the third prince, as I'm sure you're well aware," he starts, examine the roses with his back towards her. "My brothers will become King, while I must necessarily be a prince forever.
"But I am not so content with my lot. I plan to be King and I need a clever and discreet wife to aid me. I have heard many things about you, Rowena," he says, turning to face her. "You could be my queen."
Rowena remains stonily silent. She opens her mouth, but before she can say a word, he raises a hand to silence her.
"This is my gift to you," he says, before reaching into his satchel. Rowena glanced down at his hand, refusing to react at the sight of the diadem, it's large jewels sparkling in the light of the morning. She almost wants to scoff at it. On the diadem is an ornate eagle, completely at odds from the raven that is in her family emblem.
If she takes it, it would be the same as accepting his proposition. If she doesn't, she could be free—at the price of bringing shame to her family.
"This transaction will remain a secret between the two of us," he says, as if sensing her hesitation. "I will not seek retribution."
Rowena isn't sure if she can trust this man, but her choice remains the same either way. Her arms remain stubbornly at her side and she shakes her head at him.
"No," she says instead. She'll weather the storm, whether he keeps his promise or not. "I'm not interested."
The prince retracts his arm, slowly. "Very well," he says. "You are dismissed then."
Rowena curtsies again, before retreating from his presence. She knows he has left the grounds when she is asked to join her parents in the receiving room.
Their faces are brimming with suppressed curiosity, and when the inquire about the events that transpired, she can't bring herself to lie to them.
"I rejected his offer," she says quietly.
There's a moment of silence. Scanning their faces, she sees that they've come to a decision as well. She's dismissed, and Rowena retreats back to her chambers.
Later, Jolie knocks on the door.
"Come in," Rowena calls absentmindedly.
Jolie enters, then hands her a package. "This is for you," she says in a hushed whisper.
Rowena doesn't even need to open it to know what it is. Inside, is a note.
Keep it. It's yours.
She knows that it's not out of the kindness of his heart that he leaves the diadem, but out of spite. To remind her of everything that she could've been.
…
Rowena waits two fortnights before she makes her move. It would be all too suspicious if she was "kidnapped" just after the third prince's visit. No, she wouldn't want to throw her country into more turmoil that she expects might come soon, judging by his words.
She leaves in the dead of night, when even all the servants are asleep. The only things she takes with her are her wand and a small sack of bread and cheese.
After a moment's hesitation, she takes the diadem with her as well. Outside, she meets with Salazar, a dear friend and fellow wizard from another noble family. He is the only one she trusts with her departure.
"Are you sure about this?" he asks her, his eyes glimmering at her from within the darkness.
"Yes, Salazar, we've been through this already," Rowena hisses. She sighs, then straightens her skirts. "My parents are kind, but they do not understand me. I've realized that we have completely different goals… and I refuse to wait here like a sitting duck while they marry me off!"
He laughs a little. "I've never seen you so worked up. Very well then. You'll have to hide in this cart, which will take you to the outskirts of the valley. I've arranged your stay with a contact there, but you will need to put up charms and spells either way. Have you learnt the muggle repellent spell yet?"
Rowena scoffs. "You forget that I am ahead of you in my magical studies, Salazar."
She hesitates, then steps forward to embrace him. "Thank you," she whispers.
He squeezes her tightly once, and then she's off.
…
She's greeted by an elderly witch at the town, and is delighted to find the entire town in filled to the brim with witches and wizards and their brethren. They still put up a front of normalcy, of course; their town is out of the way, but it wasn't uncommon for muggle merchants and travellers to stop by for a day or two to rest up or get food.
And all the while, her hometown is rumbling with the signs of turmoil. Rowena hears of it only in passing, from the stories and mutterings of the merchants on their way out, but she doesn't really how bad it's gotten. It's only when Salazar arrives out of the blue, a grim expression on his face, that she knows.
Another man follows behind him with unruly brown hair; someone she's never seen before. But Salazar wouldn't risk both their safeties with an untrustworthy man, so she lets him in too and gestures to the low table in her kitchen.
She goes to get them drinks—she had long since moved out from the residence of the generous witch that housed her when she arrived—and demands more information.
Salazar sloughs out his heavy travelling cloak and takes a seat. "The crown prince was assassinated, about a moon's time from when you left. There's currently a fight for succession of the crown."
Rowena also settles into a chair and clasps her hand together, troubled. "I see."
She grieves for her hometown and her parents for a moment, and the three of them remain in silence for a little while. She prays they make it out of the mess alright.
Abruptly, the unnamed man speaks up and breaks the atmosphere. "So what am I supposed to do now?"
Rowena and Salazar turn to stare at him.
"That's right, and who exactly is this man you've brought to my doorstep?" Rowena asks, eyebrow raised, her curiosity piqued.
"Godric Gryffindor!" the man says, puffing out his chest ostensibly. "Nice to meet'cha."
"He's a peasant I found on my way here," Salazar explains. "I saw him doing magic—quite advanced magic too—and snatched him when I could."
"You kidnapped him?" Rowena yells. Rowena turns to Godric. "Tell me he didn't kidnap you."
Godric shrugs. "I guess he did? But I don't mind."
Rowena throws her hands into the air. "No matter, I suppose. For the time being, feel free to stay with me. Try and find some work if you can in the morning."
She's met with murmured agreements, and Rowena finds them some spare bedding and blows out the candles to settle in for the night.
...
They end up teaching magic.
It being a magical town, there was no shortage of youths with more free time than they know what to do with once they're done with their day's chores, and their parents are happy to have them not running around and causing trouble.
The sharper one favour Rowena's tutelage, which she is more than fine with. Salazar hand picks his students for their ambition and cleverness and refuses anyone else. Godric takes the fearless and reckless ones with that mischievous glimmer in their eyes.
When Helga arrives, almost four moons later, she scolds them for their selections and takes everyone else, calls them the strong of heart.
Together, they will embark on what will be the greatest project they've ever done. They'll build a school, brick by brick, mortar by mortar, and creature by creature, until it becomes a legacy that lives on far beyond them.
But for now, Rowena brushes off the diadem she had brought with her so long ago on whim and thumbs over the large, jewelled eagle. Her town is in the midst of turmoil still, and although the weight of it will stay with her for the rest of her life, she can't quite bring herself to regret it. Rowena places the diadem carefully on her head, and reclaims it for herself.
And so she becomes queen of the small kingdom she built around herself.
Rowena was born before 993 in the Early Middle Ages (5th to 10th century, started in 476 AD)
The daughters of nobles were typically sent to other noble households for their education, where they would learn primarily manners, etiquette, and household management. Archery and dancing would also be taught to them, and even French if you were a higher ranking woman. They acted as servants to the older ladies of the household. Another option for education was to be sent to a nunnery.
Legal age of marriage was 12 for young women, and marriages were typically arranged.
She died in the 11th Century