Chapter Text
On one day, at a particular point in time, several children got pulled away from their normal lives, left to wake in a strange and unfamiliar place alone. None of them had anything much in common, aside from a capability of using magic and a single big and terrible thing that awaited them in the far future. They were princes and prodigies, bullied merchildren and mistreated servant boys.
In the future, all would be far more distant, cautious, taught by bitter experience how badly things could turn out. The one thing that linked them together was an experience so awful none were expected to live through it.
Right now however, these were just kids who had no idea what was happening to them…
…or the things they’d soon be shown.
When Riddle Rosehearts woke up, he was alone in a completely unfamiliar room.
At first, Riddle hadn’t realised anything was wrong. His sleepy mind only registered a soft warm pillow and an achingly comfortable bed. Wanting to stay for a little while longer, Riddle kept his eyes closed, conscious that the moment he got up the day his mother had planned for him would begin.
Eventually, he reluctantly peeled his eyes open and sat up, yawning-
-only to stiffen with shock when he took a look around the room.
He was in a strange bed that was definitely not his own, the walls and furniture were wrong, and there were no windows to speak of.
Riddle was sure he’d gone to sleep in his own room and his own bed. He couldn’t not be sure, considering that he hadn’t fallen sleep anywhere else in his entire life – his mother would never let him have a proper holiday or even just a sleepover. She considered those to be distractions and wastes of time. Riddle never dared disobey her, not to mention he knew when and where he fell asleep yesterday.
So why was he here now?
What was going on?
Too confused to be terrified, Riddle slipped off the bed. His bare feet landed on a soft carpet.
He looked around again, hoping to find something – anything – that would explain what happened to him. Instead, he saw the same unfamiliar room, with a too big bed, two bedside tables on either side and a chair closer to the door where his clothes were neatly laid out. Just the way Riddle had left them last night to wear in the morning.
Alarmed, Riddle reached out a tentative hand to touch them.
(He didn’t know what he expected really. It wasn’t like they’d come to life and attack him.)
(A part of him just wanted to see if they were real, convinced to a point that he must be in some sort of weird dream.)
Just then, a loud banging noise disrupted the silence. Riddle jumped, heart in his throat. He looked around wide eyed, searching for the source of the noise even though he already knew that the room he was in held nothing apart from the barest amount of furniture.
That noise had been loud. Deliberate.
Riddle wasn’t alone here.
While before, Riddle was too confused and disoriented to be frightened, now he found his heart beating faster and faster. He couldn’t stay in the room a moment longer.
Mind made up, he reached for his clothes again.
After hurriedly dressing, Riddle tried the door. To his surprise and relief, it opened easily enough with a quick tug, leading him out into a long corridor. Warily, he stepped out and began to walk.
‘Hello?’ he called hesitantly. ‘Is anybody here?’
Whoever it was that owned this place had to be very wealthy, Riddle decided after about five minutes of aimless walking. Significantly more than his mother was. Everything around him was big, richly furnished and decorated, and frustratingly, confusingly, lacked both windows or exits. He didn’t know what other house could be built like this otherwise, if not for people who had the money to spare, for whatever reason.
There were plenty of doors along every wall, but none of them opened no matter how hard Riddle pulled at the doorknob. Stuck following the corridor to the end, the boy desperately tried to push down the fear he felt.
(Never before had Riddle been so alone.)
(Every moment of every hour of every day in his life as far as he could remember had been dominated by what his mother wanted him to do. She made the plans, the rules, and Riddle himself was expected to abide by them without complaint.)
(Usually he found it stifling and miserable.)
(Now though, left truly by himself for the first time, he found himself completely lost.)
(What was he supposed to do?)
Just as the corridor began to feel endless, Riddle spotted another open door. Excited, he rushed towards it to check what was inside.
A moment later, he found himself flat on the ground, breath knocked out of his lungs, and a heavy, warm weight holding him down. Riddle yelped in pain as his head slammed against the floor.
The impact was thankfully cushioned by a piece of particularly soft carpet. After a few seconds of pain and dizziness, Riddle managed to drag his attention to the face of his attacker.
Said attacker turned out to be a boy his own age. His dark hair was much longer than Riddle’s and his equally dark eyes dangerously narrowed. The boy was pinning him down easily, whole body tensed and alert. Riddle squirmed and struggled desperately, attempting to get free, but the efforts were futile. His assailant’s grip felt as solid as steel. The expression on his face wasn’t frightened either – cautious, wary, but far from frightened.
Then, the boy frowned, taking in the person he’d knocked to the ground. Something about Riddle had caught his attention.
‘Who are you?’ he asked. ‘Do you know where we are?’
‘NO!’ Riddle shouted. ‘No, of course I don’t! I just woke up here and I don’t know how and- and now you-!’
‘…oh.’
The boy sprang off him nimbly and Riddle immediately jumped up, moving away from him.
‘Sorry about that. I just woke up here with no idea how or why, same as you, so I got… defensive.’
Casting a wary look at the other, Riddle moved away.
‘You’re not going to attack me again are you?’
‘No.’
‘Well then, good!’ Riddle muttered, folding his arms and huffing in a pointed manner.
For an impossibly long moment, both boys stared at each other, feeling awkward.
(Riddle was pretty sure he’d learned a rule for this situation.)
(“What should one do when faced with an unknown?”)
(“Introduce yourself.”)
Riddle took a deep breath to calm down. Reminding himself that they wouldn’t get anywhere by just standing there, he pushed down his nerves and forced himself to speak.
‘My name is Riddle. What’s yours?’
A moment of hesitation.
‘Jamil.’ The boy replied. ‘I’m Jamil.’