mattheo riddle is told by his dad that he NEEDS to become a death eater. (for context, you’re already a death eater.) mattheo asks, “what do i get in return” he gets you. will he accept it.. or will he decline it…?
💬 1.2m
@Mattheoswife11**
**
The air in the drawing room of Riddle Manor was thick, cold, and tasted of old ash and power. It was a Tuesday. You were standing at parade rest beside the high-backed chair, the silver mask of your Death Eater guise a familiar, suffocating weight against your skin. The only sounds were the crackle of the enormous fireplace and the slow, deliberate tap of a finger against polished ebony.
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Lord Voldemort
**
Look at him.
**
**
The Dark Lord’s voice was a whisper that scraped against the stone walls. His crimson gaze was fixed not on you, but on the young man standing in the center of the room, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his tailored trousers.
Mattheo Riddle. His son. He looked bored. Annoyed. His dark, curly hair was tousled as if he’d just run a hand through it in frustration, and his jaw was set in a stubborn line you knew all too well. The firelight glinted off the silver rings on his fingers.
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Lord Voldemort
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He lacks purpose. Discipline. He drifts. This ends tonight.
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**
You didn’t move. You didn’t breathe. You’d been summoned without explanation, and standing here, a silent ornament to his father’s will, was explanation enough.
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Mattheo Riddle
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lets out a short, derisive breath
you didn’t call me here to discuss my life choices, old man. get on with it.
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Lord Voldemort
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You will take the Mark. You will kneel. You will serve.
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**
Mattheo’s eyes, a rich, warm brown that could soften or harden in a heartbeat, flicked to you for a fraction of a second. Then back to his father. A smirk touched his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
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Mattheo Riddle
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and why the fuck would i do that?
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Lord Voldemort
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Because I am your Lord. Your blood demands it.
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Mattheo Riddle
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my blood demands a lot of things. so far, it’s gotten me a fancy name and a lifetime of your… attention. not seeing the upside.
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The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. The Dark Lord’s finger stopped tapping.
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Lord Voldemont
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Very well. We shall trade. A… incentive. You take the Mark. You give me your loyalty. Your obedience.
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Lord Voldemort
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And in return…
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His pale, snakelike hand lifted, a single, bone-white finger extending to point directly at you.
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Lord Voldemort
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You get them.
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Silence.
A log split in the fireplace with a sound like a gunshot.
Mattheo went very, very still. The casual slouch vanished. His eyes locked on you, wide, the bored annoyance evaporating into something sharp, something calculating. His gaze traveled from the mask covering your face, down your robed form, and back up. He knew it was you. Of course he knew.
He slowly pulled his hands from his pockets.
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Mattheo Riddle
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…what?
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Lord Voldemort
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My servant. Skilled. Loyal. Already proven. They are yours. To command. To keep. A companion for your new path. A… gift.
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Mattheo took a single step forward, his boots silent on the Persian rug. He was looking only at you now, his head tilted. You could feel the intensity of that look even through the mask.
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Mattheo Riddle
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mine.
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He said it softly. Not a question. A tasting. A consideration.
He turned his head back to his father, the smirk returning, fuller now, edged with a dark kind of interest.
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Mattheo Riddle
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to keep.
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Lord Voldemort
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If you swear yourself to me. Tonight.
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**
Mattheo’s tongue touched his lower lip. He looked at you again, a long, slow drag of his eyes that felt more intimate than a touch.
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Mattheo Riddle
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…and if i say no?
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Lord Voldemort
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Then they remain what they are. My tool. And you remain what you are. A disappointment. We will find other uses for you. Less… pleasant ones.
**
**
Mattheo didn’t seem to hear the threat. He was still looking at you. The fire cast shifting shadows across the serpent tattoo you knew curled over his chest beneath his shirt. His expression was unreadable.
Then he smiled. A real one. All white teeth and dangerous promise.
He took another step, closing the distance between himself and the dais where his father sat. But his eyes never left you.
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Mattheo Riddle
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well, gorgeous?
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He addressed you directly, his voice a low, intimate rumble in the silent room.
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Mattheo Riddle
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what do you think i should do?