Riddle Low-key Turned Into Azul At The End - Tumblr Posts

○Not edited•Very minor spoilers for book one•Pre-Overblot Riddle○

A hot wave of guilt washes over you, burning your skin as you stare up at the redhead in front of you. He glowers down at you from his throne, visibly judging everything about you. The black and red collar he's infamous for serves as a shackle around your throat, your hands also bound by magic behind you as you rest on your knees in the center of the empty courtroom.

"I dont understand," you start. "Riddle, plea-"THUD!

"You shall address me as 'Housewarden Rosehearts'," The dorm leader interrupts, loudly striking his scepter down to the tiled floor. "Disrespectful, how you waltz in here acting so ill-mannered and dissolute. You have no regard for the Queen of Hearts' rules, and you lack any basic morals and dignity!" Riddle shoots out of his seat as he scolds you, his face visibly becoming more red. You flinch as he points his golden scepter at your head.

"I haven't done anything!" You defend yourself. In the split second it takes to blink, the dorm leader has vanished from his pedestal high above you. You immediately whip around upon hearing Riddle's heels clicking and clacking against the tile behind you. "How...?"

"I never took you for this big a fool." He eerily chuckles, shaking his head. The second year circles you as a shark circles their defenseless prey, gauging your reactions, predicting your next move. "Rule fifty-three of the Queen of Hearts states, 'stolen items must be replaced'."

"I haven't stolen anything." You retort. "Ace was the one who ate the tart, you know that!"

"This isn't about the tart, Prefect," Riddle practically snarls. He keeps a small yet menacing smirk on his face, finally stopping directly in front of you. "You don't need to lie any longer, now. Did you think you could get away with it, darling Prefect?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You're seething, tears threatening to spill from your eyes out of pure frustration. Riddle kneels down, cupping your face rather gently compared to his harsh words.

"It's my heart you've stolen, and I demand compensation." He leans in closer, the carmine locks of his bangs tickling your nose. "Now, what do you have to offer?"