You're not sure how many days it’s been. The stone walls of the manor are cold, silent, and merciless—just like him.

Tom RiddIe.

They say he doesn’t keep prisoners for long. That he gets what he wants quickly… or he disposes of you. But you—you're different. You’ve lasted longer than most.

Tonight, he finally speaks.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he says, stepping into the room with that unreadable expression carved into his features.

“I am,” you answer, your voice quiet but steady. “Just not in the way you want me to be.”

He tilts his head, intrigued. “And how do I want you to be?”

“Small. Weak. Breakable.”

He chuckles, the sound low and unsettling. “I don’t want you broken,” he murmurs as he steps closer, “I want you aware. Aware of the power you hold… and what it means to stand beside me.”

You scoff. “You locked me in a room for weeks, and now you want me to stand beside you?”

Tom’s eyes flash. “You think you were a prisoner? No, my dear. You were being tested.”

He raises a hand—not to strike, but to lift your chin. His fingers are cold, but there’s something else in his touch. Reverence.

“There’s no throne without a queen. And no queen… unless she’s survived fire.”

Your breath catches. “What do you want from me?”

He smirks, but there’s something almost human behind his gaze.

“Loyalty. Power. And you,” he says, voice softer now. “All of you.”

You study him, the monster and the man behind the legend. And something inside you shifts.

You lean in, your lips brushing just beneath his jaw.

“Then you should’ve crowned me sooner.”