Beware, Thy King
Sixteen years had passed since the death of Queen Merope Gaunt Riddle and the apparent 'death' of their son, leaving the king desperate. His longing for a new heir and a wife to bear him sons to secure his Majesty and power remained unfulfilled despite his efforts. As years rolled by, the prince, kept alive but confined, remained locked in a tower, treated more like an animal than royalty. Guards and the king himself mostly subjected the child to cruel abuse—whiplashes, brutal beatings, and relentless verbal torment—keeping him isolated and suffering in silence.
While the king was desperate to have a new wife and heir and failed. The numerous wives he married were beautiful but less successful in granting him a child while they were like a pack of ravaging wolves they all hungered for not his beauty or heart but the wealth power of his crown and throne. Not succeeding in granting him what he wished for, he ended them all with just a touch of poison that led to rest in their food or drink leaving their bodies to be devoured by the prince who was growing and mind slowly beginning to unravel.
For sixteen long years, he endured a relentless struggle to break free from the imprisoning confines of his tower. It all began on the day he first yearned to glimpse the outside world, only to face repeated failures. Throughout this time, the lessons learned were not of kindness or hope, but rather an unyielding cruelty inflicted upon him by his father, his family, and even the inhabitants of the castle who showed him nothing but torment and suffering. These experiences during sixteen years cut deep into his body, mind, and soul, leaving lasting scars that seemed impossible to heal and his mind began to shatter as glass. Unaware of his true identity as the prince, he existed only as a prisoner in the tower, isolated and trapped, yearning for freedom amidst a world that seemed determined to deny him even the knowledge of who he truly was.
Within the vast expanse of Riddle Castle, there exists a solitary tower veiled in a shroud of tangled thorns and razor-sharp vines. These dense barriers shield an enigmatic and lethal presence concealed within—a creature, not man or even human who is hungering for the fear it instills, lurking unseen and untouched by the outside world. Its existence adds an ominous and secretive allure to the castle, casting shadows of mystery and peril across its grounds. Trying to be free.
Inside the lofty tower, darkness draped the room, where stone walls bore deep, elongated scratches left by ominous claw marks. The door, from top to bottom, displayed numerous scratches and sunken spots, evidence of violent and repeated assaults. On the floor and protruding from the door were small fragments of wood, alongside dried specks of blood, telling silent tales of past struggles and unspoken horrors. The straw bed lay in ruin, its loose hay scattered across the floor at his feet. He wore a tattered loincloth, his body adorned with filth and deep, healed scars that bore witness to the traumatic and relentless abuse inflicted by his father, relatives, and others within the castle walls.
The nameless prince with his entire body trembling and both his clawed hands bruised, dried in blood, now dripping fresh drips of red locked his eyes intensely at the only exit of his prison then he slowly growled while ignoring his shaken body and blurry vision and the instinct mind wishing for him to stop attacking the invisible chains of his prison and rest but he remained standing and panting through loud rapid pants that ended with a menacing growl.
He hardly collapses to his knees, red eyes hidden behind his long hair of the color of a raven's wings, he helplessly and slowly crawls to the door with eyes slowly beginning to fill as he makes slow, soft, and eerie cackles then pressed the side of his face to the door as he creepily snickering rested his claw bruised and bloody hands on the destroyed door that is still standing to block him from escaping as the tower itself had locked him for sixteen years.
The nameless prince panting through shedding tears, imagines what is life like on the other side of the door, outside of the tower as he collapses to the cold hardened floor, facing the dark ceiling as he continues laughing ignoring the pain and helplessness.
He will escape.
He has suffered long enough.
He tried to gain his father's love, and kindness, for freedom but no human, not even his father has given it to him or shown him.
He has struggled long enough.
He had been afraid long enough, but now he will have revenge.
He will not cower.
He will find revenge and freedom.
He will find vengeance.
And his father will see it all.
King Tom Riddle Sr. entered the dimly lit room, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor as he lifted a heavy tarp covering. Before him, illuminated in an ethereal glow, rested a golden mirror of magnificent craftsmanship, positioned prominently at the room's center. Gargoyles, their grotesque faces contorted in eternal vigilance, flanked the mirror, their stony forms serving as guardians of this mysterious artifact.
Cloaked in crimson, his regal cape billowing behind him, the king approached the mirror with measured steps. His crown glinted in the ambient light as he stood before the mirror, his reflection merging with its radiant surface. With an air of reverence, he raised his hands wide, as if invoking unseen powers or communing with the divine through the enchanted mirror's depths. The room seemed to hold its breath, shadows dancing in reverence to the king's silent communion with the mystical artifact that held secrets and promises yet unknown.
"Slave within the magic mirror thee, come before from the farthest space and time", he bellowed enchantingly.
His words echoed through the haunting room with a power akin to the mighty howls of wind raging outside. As he spoke, each syllable reverberated off the ancient walls, carrying an otherworldly intensity that seemed to stir unseen forces.
In a sudden flash, like a thunderbolt tearing with a surge of energy crackled within the golden haunted mirror. Flames of fire sparked to life inside its depths, dancing with an eerie brilliance that cast flickering shadows across the room. The mirror's surface shimmered with an arcane glow, reflecting not just the king's figure but also the turbulent essence of his words. The air thickened with anticipation, charged with the energy of the supernatural phenomena unfolding before the king's eyes.
"Let thee see thy face from within!" He commanded.
The flames died in seconds then the king's reflection was gone as the flames in an instant and shown before the owner of the mirror as a ghostly face with black dead eyes, the face of a skull with the sharp fangs of a viper.
"What is thou to be known, My Lord King?" The mirror said in a deep ghostly voice as if a spirit was now trapped in the mirror forever.
The king said hauntingly eyes dilated with his cape enveloping his body as he bowed to the haunted mirror. "Magic mirror on the wall before me, the eyes that see all through time and space, who is the fairest one of all to be my bride and grant me an heir to my power?" He sneered to see his new bride give him what he wanted and if not to kill.
The mirror replied. "Thy power of thy crown will cause many maidens to bow before thee, Majesty, seeking to place their hands in thine"
The mirror in a deeper and eerie voice. "But beware, for a child born under the full moon, his beastly nature grows with vengeance under his gaze of fear, and so on... blood will seep through all the land"
The king let his long cloak fall from his shoulder with his arms down and eyes glaring at the mirror hearing its haunted words. "He will unleash the beast from within, will lead his kin, and slay all who draw breath, striking down you and your bloodline. He will break free and bring death upon you all, Your Worship Majesty"
The king remained silent and gazing into the mirror.
"There, thee will gaze deep into his eyes of blood, souls, and fire of death. Thee will see thy face, soul, and death reflecting at thee, and then thee thyself will know the true meaning of fear." The mirror said with the skeleton eyes staring at the calm king but eyes showing fear. "He will strike thee down, saving thee for last and thee will be at death's door"
The king slowly turned his gaze towards the distant tower of the castle, surrounded by thorns that stretched out like guardians, as if they encircled it for a solemn purpose, warding off intrusions with determined resolve. "Impossible!" He boomed. "The damn little monstrosity is afraid of me! Every time I with my men enter the room he would cower in fear of me and I show him the price of daring having the foolish instinct to stand up to me!" Tom Riddle Sr makes an evil smirk at the memory of him abusing the lycan-formed boy.
The mirror spoke. "Wish what thee wish to believe, my King. But be warned, in the tower, your death will find you"
Then with the flames that faded so did the ghostly skull disappear as well and the mirror was now silent. The king glared at his reflection and back at the tower.