A/N: So I sent an email regarding Vulchanova's missing name from the character listing (thank you, otherrealmwriter!) I have yet to receive a reply and at this rate I highly I doubt I will, but then again I've had issues in the past that urgently needed to be looked at and FF wasn't responding even then. It was worth a try anyway...
Godric returned from his hunt victorious. He had never once failed in his life, for hunting comes as naturally to him as dueling and magic, but this time he was especially proud of his trophy. He made a grand entrance to the Great Hall where his colleagues, their guests, and students were all waiting. The hall erupted into loud hoots and cheers at the sight of the great slain sow. The loudest and most boisterous were from his house and from Helga, and from the rest he received a polite round of applause, but he was especially pleased to see that even Vulchanova clapped despite being impassive still.
It didn't take long for the elves to season and cook the beast's flesh. The tender meat combined with his elves' wine made for perhaps one of the most delicious meals his hunt has ever provided. He was so taken with pride that halfway through he rose from his chair and started recounting the story of his hunt, with mild exaggeration when he noticed Vulchanova inclining her head ever so slightly towards him. It didn't take long for him to entrap the entire hall into his story, for he does this far too often so he developed a natural flare for it. That, and the beast was accompanied by a litter of young piglets so she was especially vicious.
At the end of his story he received another round of applause. He grinned and bowed at his students, to which his house responded with another loud cheer. When he turned towards the staff table his eyes sought Vulchanova hoping to find approval after their disastrous first meeting, but instead he saw that she had barely touched the meat on her plate. Worse yet, she was staring at him as if he were the lowest, most vile creature she's ever seen.
He looked down at himself. He had made sure to wear his best robes of crimson and gold before coming. He had even showered and combed his hair. It was as stubborn as he and it kept puffing up like a lion's mane no matter how hard he tried to tame it, but besides that he was perfectly presentable. He was more or less dressed in the same manner as Salazar, albeit extravagantly and with a few extra sprays of his lady friends' favourite cologne. He couldn't think of anything that might've offended her this time.
He approached her after the feast.
"Was the meat not to your liking, my lady?" he asked, then quickly regretted it. Until he said it Rowena hadn't noticed Vulchanova's change in attitude and now he's got her full attention.
"It is not to my taste," she said.
He waited for her to continue, but her annoyance with his general presence only seemed to increase. Once again he felt awkward and completely out of his element. "Er… the house elves… they would've been happy to… to serve you whatever it is you desire."
She turned to him with another one of her withering looks that never failed to make him want to crumble on the spot. "The animal was distressed. The meat is spoilt."
He frowned. What exactly has she been eating? He thought the meat was perfect. "Surely, my lady, you didn't expect the sow to simply accept her fate? Even beasts aren't foolish enough to sneer at the face of death."
Something told him that he just said the wrong thing. He didn't need to check with Rowena to know. Vulchanova did not seem like the kind of woman that hides her emotions behind masks like his other lady friends. She was like Rowena, but perhaps not as articulate and infinitely bolder. He found himself admiring that Rowena-yet-not trait of hers despite his current predicament.
"The animal was in distress," she repeated slowly, as if to a child. There was surprising, slight tenderness in her voice when she spoke again but towards Godric it felt like multiple spears getting rammed into his pride. "The sow you oh so bravely hunted was protecting her young. Tell me, Sir Gryffindor. Did you kill the little ones, too, or did you leave them to the mercy of the forest?"
He faltered, feeling pathetic and small and utterly embarrassed with himself. "Of– of course not! What would I ever do with the litter? They're wild, my lady, not to be raised in a farm."
"I see. So they are all alone now in a world full of beasts dressed in fancy robes."
He shook his head. She may disarm him however many times she liked, but he was still Godric Gryffindor and he wasn't going down without a fight. He saw Rowena shaking her head at him from the corner of his eyes but he ignored her. His wounded pride needed mending. "My lady, that's just the way the world is, the way our Lord intended for it to be. Why, if we were to consider the babe of every beast slain for every feast held we'd all starve! It's the law of nature. The strongest must always prevail."
"Prevail and protect," she said with passion, squaring her shoulders and standing tall against him. Her answer itself sent a shock through him, made him clamp his mouth shut and swallow his tongue. "And I wouldn't dispute those laws you speak of as long as the battle is fair, but in this instance it is not." She had taken on the role of a cruel, particularly beautiful judge and he could do nothing but stand there like a fool and take her verdict word for word. "You challenged a mother protecting her young, not a raging boar that charged at you. You had the advantage of magic and perhaps that sword you carry around, whereas the mother only had her strength and her will to keep her little ones safe. Your objective was to fill your belly and ego. Hers was to keep her offspring alive, as every mother would. She died in distress, in pain from her physical wounds and from the knowledge that her litter will not live long after her, and you, the tormenter, stand there and boast about this battle as if it was hard-earned when you knew from the very beginning that you had all the advantages."
"M-my lady, if I may–"
Her icy stare was enough to silence him once more. Her aide looked absolutely perturbed with the whole situation but not quite daring enough to put an end to it. "I think I have heard enough of your bravery for one day, Sir Gryffindor."
She stalked away without another word, followed closely by her aide and by every single pair of eyes close by, including Godric's.
"You said you were going to handle this!" hissed Rowena when they all later congregated at Godric's personal study. "Honestly, Godric! Must I always interfere and talk on your behalf? For once I thought I'd rely on you to fix your own bloody mistakes but now I'm faced with an even bigger problem. We'll never convince her to cooperate!"
"I'm beginning to think that we shouldn't," said Salazar. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but Godric might have just done us all a favour with this one."
"Salazar, don't you dare try to defend him!"
"Believe me, I wouldn't if I didn't have to."
"Stop it, both of you!" Helga cut in, looking formidable despite her soft features, short height and teary eyes. "You're being terribly unfair towards Godric. He tried his best. He didn't mean to offend her."
Rowena wasn't convinced. "He could've kept his bloody mouth shut about the hunt."
Salazar snorted. "If you know of a method please feel free to share. I've been trying for years."
"He's a story teller! An adventurer!" said Helga in his defence, waving her small arms in frustration. "It's what makes him who he is. It would be like telling you to stop breeding snakes."
"Basilisks, dear Helga."
She flushed. "W-well, it's still a weird hobby!"
Salazar smiled in amusement. He had words about the sort of plants she nurtures in her own garden, but he ultimately decided against voicing them. It wouldn't do to offend her when his own supply was running low.
Rowena noticed that Godric has been eerily silent throughout their argument. He was pacing behind his desk with a deep frown on his face. The Godric she's always known was anything but silent especially when accusations were being hurled his way, or better yet, whenever Helga steps up in his defence. Even when he's not in any way involved in the conversation, he will always have something to say and he'll say it no matter what or who tries to stop him.
Was he perhaps feeling a bit remorseful for the many blunders he's committed thus far?
No. Definitely not. This is Godric Gryffindor.
Rowena couldn't take anymore of his silence. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"
He stopped. He had his back to them. He took a deep, unnecessarily prolonged breath. "She thinks I'm a coward."
They exchanged looks. Even Salazar was taken aback.
"Me, a coward!" he added, spinning in a flurry of blinding red and gold to face them, his normally bright and cheery face contorted into something mad and utterly concerning.
"W-well, we certainly don't think so!" said Helga resolutely, looking at Rowena and Salazar for confirmation.
Rowena shook her head. She knew how much that particular title meant to Godric, and outright disputing such claims makes him more reckless than he normally is. She most certainly doesn't want that. "Y-yes, of course. This is all just a terrible misunderstanding. You needn't worry about her anymore. I shall speak with her first thing in the morning."
"What you really should've done in the first place," added Salazar. "Entertainment-wise you were impeccable, Godric, but otherwise you're struggling with this woman."
"You're not helping!" hissed Helga, glaring at the taller wizard. "He tried really, really hard this time. I thought the feast was wonderful."
"Oh I do too, believe me, but I also think that it failed. For all we know Vulchanova could very well be sailing back home as we speak."
Godric made an angry sound. He pulled his sword from its ruby-crusted sheath and swung it at a stool that happened to be in his way, successfully splitting it in two. "That woman is impossible!"
Impossible and infuriating and absolutely ravishing and he'd do anything to have her in his bed, except say that out loud in the presence of his colleagues. No woman has ever challenged him the way she did and it excites him just as much as it maddens him.
Salazar looked at the stool Godric cut through with a rather bored expression, as opposed to Helga's shock and Rowena's contempt. "This is precisely why I forbid you from brining that monstrosity into my study."
Godric slid his sword back in its sheath and stormed past his friends and towards the door without another word, yanking it open with almost enough force to remove it from its hinges.
"Where are you going at this hour?" asked Helga, concerned. "It's too dark out, Godric, who knows what's–"
"I beg of you, sweet lady, leave me be for now," he said by the doorway without looking back, knowing that one look at Helga's pleading face will have him retreating from his mission. "Lady Vulchanova is right. I have made a… cowardly decision in my hunt. I must rectify the situation, for my own sake if not for the future of this school."
"How is another hunt going to help in any way?" demanded Rowena. "Just let me handle things from here."
"I am not hunting, dearest Rowena." He braced himself. "I will find the piglets I've orphaned and raise them as my own."
Salazar outright laughed at that. "Oh come now, dear friend, there's no need to resort to such dire remedies! Surely you've got a bastard or two loitering around somewhere dreaming of carrying your great name?"
Godric slammed the door hard behind him.