Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I do own this story.
Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long. I didn't intend to wait nearly two months before updating and hopefully this will be updated more frequently in the future. There should only be about two or three more installments to this, not an excessively long fic, but it's more just to get a feel for a relationship between Godric and Rowena, because I'm planning a longer founderfic and I can't decide whether to make it GodricRowena or SalazarRowena, so I wrote this to get an idea of what GodricRowena might be like. I expect a short SalazarRowena to pop up here from me soon.
The Lion and the Eagle
A Tale of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw
by Fiyero Oberon
Second
Rowena sits in the highest tower of Lady Lesauvage's castle, her delicate fingers weaving through her black hair quickly and silently, braiding it. For once she cannot keep her eyes trained on the heavy book in her lap and even her long, ebony wand lies forgotten on a table. The rain pours heavily outside as it always does in this part of France.
Godric is to return today.
Rowena has not seen the Lady's son in nearly two years. He had kissed her right before leaving and she had no communication with him since. The only evidence that he was even still alive was the occasional lion-shaped Patronus that would visit her monthly. She would always send her Patronus to him in return, wherever he may be. Godric's father kept him under strict watch and forbade him for revealing his exact location to Rowena, but hints he had given when he was last here led her to believe they were somewhere in Africa.
Her blue eyes are fixed on the muddy road outside and though she makes no physical motion, mentally she is running a race. She can't wait to see Godric's scruffy face again, his crooked smile, his tawny curls, his emerald eyes. She can't wait to feel his strong, calloused hands on her own smooth, white ones, to feel his warm lips on hers. At least, she hopes he will kiss her again.
Rising, Rowena grabs her wand and, with a swish-and-flick, the book goes sailing back to the shelf. She has become an expert witch since her father abandoned her at Alexandrine Lesauvage's ball. She has especially excelled in Charms and Arithmancy and, according to her studies in Astrology, these traits go hand-in-hand with Godric's own escalations in Transfiguration and Occlumency.
Rowena finds it interesting that Godric's last name is Gryffon d'or, meaning golden griffin in French. The griffin is a beautiful creature, known for its bravery, loyalty, cunning, and wisdom. But what fascinates her most is that the griffin is a cross between an eagle and a lion – the Ravenclaw coat of arms carries the image of an eagle and, in turn, the Gryffon d'or coat of arms holds a depiction of a lion.
Clattering noises from outside draw Rowena to the window and there is a small entourage of horses, in the middle of which a strong, white horse holds a seventeen-year-old man with red and gold curls.
Rowena is not yet advanced in her Animagi studies enough to soar out the window, but her heart leaps so high at the sight of Godric that she thinks she could anyway. She doesn't even remember running down the tower steps and through the castle, out the doors to throw her arms around Godric's neck and lavish his face and neck in a hundred kisses and more.
And Godric just cups her chin and pulls her upward into one long kiss.
Lady Lesauvage comes out of the castle and delicately embraces her son and kisses his cheek. The relationship between Godric and his mother has always been a cold one and Rowena never pursued a conversation based around the topic.
Rowena ushers Godric inside where they kiss again and again, happily ignoring the giggles and whispers from Lesauvage's servant girls. "I missed you," Rowena says when they pull apart at last.
"I love you," he says.
A motherly servant comes over and clucks over Godric's dirty state and his tattered clothes. "Might as well be nekkid, them clothes is so tattered!" she says, then whisks Godric away, already undressing him.
Rowena waits impatiently for dinner, pacing her room and selecting a gown of a deep blue velvet to wear. She tries to lose herself in another book, but finds it pointless and ends up sitting in a plush chair in the library, wringing her hands out, waiting to see her beloved again.
It seems years before a page finally enters and announces dinner. Rowena stands, straightening her skirts, and walks as calmly as she can to the dining hall. The walk is longer now than it has ever been before and she listens to her silk slippers sliding on the stone floor, to the swish of her silk and velvet skirts brushing against each other.
"Miss Ravenclaw," Lady Lesauvage says as Rowena steps into the dining hall. She flushes a brilliant pink as she realizes that – of course – the long table is filled with guests to celebrate the young lord's return. She should not have kept them waiting.
Godric stands for her, though no one else does, and gestures to the empty seat beside him. Quietly, Rowena glides around the table to the tall chair and takes her seat. All eyes are on her and she tries her best to make them go away by staring at the silver plate in front of her.
Heads bow in a silent saying of grace and Godric's hands finds Rowena's beneath the table. Her skin heats at his touch and something exhilarating runs through her veins, awakening her senses.
Rowena opens her eyes and the feast on the extensive table reveals itself – a roasted peacock with the feathers unplucked is the grand centerpiece, surrounded by bowls of variously assorted vegetables and meats and cheeses and breads and fruits dipped in chocolate and tiny cakes and large pies. Godric kisses Rowena and begins loading his plate with pickled eggs and a slice of cranberry pie and peacock drowned in gravy. "I'm so hungry," he mutters.
"I missed you," she says, repeating her earlier words.
He looks her in the eye – green locked with blue – and calls her a name she has not heard for years: "One." And suddenly she feels like she is melting in that expanse of emerald, liquidated in a world of swirling green flecked with white and gold and brown. "You're every bit as beautiful now as when I left," he whispers, "more, even."
"As are you," she says. Godric leans in to kiss her again.
"Aye, see the lad and his mistress!" the Duke of Dockingburg shouts. Rowena expects Godric to pull away, embarrassed, but the kiss goes on, deepening. "I'm sure they'll have themselves a right bit of fun this eve!"
"Georg!" Lady Lesauvage snaps. "I will not have you poking into my son's affairs, especially at a welcoming feast."
"I speak only the truth," the Duke says, grinning. He makes eye contact with Rowena and winks; she looks away quickly. "That's a right pretty lass you've got their, boy," the Duke says to Godric. "Make sure you hold on to her. I wouldn't mind a night in bed with her myself –"
"Georg!" Lady Lesauvage gasps. The table has gone entire silent. Rowena is red-hot and Godric is on his feet, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
"Sir," Godric says quietly, through clenched teeth, "with all due respect, I will have to ask you to remove yourself from the premises of my mother and her husband's land."
The Duke lets out a hardy laugh. He is disgustingly drunk and he sways back and forth in his chair as he laughs. "Don't be ridiculous," he slurs, "you can't order me around, boy, I am your superior."
"Leave, Georg," Lord Lesauvage says firmly.
Not another word is spoken until the Duke has left. Even then, conversations resume at a lower volume and Rowena can feel the constant icy feeling of eyes on her as she eats her food as quietly as she can.
After the dinner Lady Lesauvage confronts Rowena. "Miss Ravenclaw," the tall woman said, "I have no idea what your intentions are with my son. I want you to know, however, that I approve of any courtship you may pursue. However, your father…" And here Lady Lesauvage's eyes narrow, and a bitter edge attends her words. "Your father has sent word of a marriage arrangement.
"Who is he marrying?" Rowena asks politely – she no longer has any affections toward her father and does not especially care to know, but knows it would be rude to brush it off.
"The marriage is not for your father, I'm afraid," Lady Lesauvage continues. "But for you. Your father has arranged your marriage to Sir Jonathon Evergreen."
The news does not appear to hurt Godric as much as it hurts Rowena. He bites his lip when she tells him, nods jerkily. Rowena sees that his eyes have glazed over, though, and he won't look her in the eye. "Ric, please," she begs, "say something." But Godric seems to be lost in his thoughts.
He stands and shucks off his vest and shirt, walks over to the water basin and splashes his face, neck, and torso with the icy cold water. Rowena shivers at the sight of Godric's bronze skin; she hates Jonathon Evergreen already.