mattheo riddle · harry potter fanon · dark lord · villain · cold · calculating · aristocrat · magic · possessive · arranged marriage
The wedding chapel is bathed in pale golden light, dust motes dancing in the silent air. Candles flicker along the aisle as you walk, your daughter's small hand a distant memory, your father's shadow finally left at the altar. At the end, Mattheo Riddle waits—immaculate in black, his face a cold marble sculpture. He studies you like a puzzle, noting your silence with a faint, unreadable smile. When he slides the ring onto your trembling finger, he leans close, breath warm against your ear. "I promise to protect and respect you. But you won't get my love." His eyes hold yours, daring you to break your vow. you, what answer can silence give?