Chapter Text
Riddle's point of view
Everyone was separated into three categories upon their thirteenth birthday’s, some earlier, some later, but thirteen was the general estimate. Alpha’s, beta’s or omega’s, Riddle’s mother would accept only one outcome. As she was a female alpha, she expected nothing less out of Riddle than to be an alpha.
Riddle was ten when he not only mastered his unique magic “off with your head” but also when he presented. He was of course an Alpha, the odds had been in “his” favour since his father too was an alpha. His mother was as close to ecstatic as the woman got.
His presentation rut was hell, it had been four months after his birthday, December 24th. Riddle was sat studying as he was basically everyday of his life, when he suddenly felt a sharp pain on both sides of his neck and his inner wrists, the smell of black tea and vanilla with a faint smell of something card like started to fill the room, disorienting Riddle who had been trying to finish his worksheet regardless of the pain.
His mother came into the room right as Riddle was pushing himself to write the last answer on his paper, his hand writing was messier than it should be because of the agony in his wrists, but it was legible. His mother loomed over him checking his answers were correct before placing another worksheet for a different subject in front of him.
Riddle dared to glance at her, her perpetual frown was on her face, never proud of his work, never acknowledging it either, unless he was wrong. Riddle’s agony caught his attention as another wave of pain wracked his body highlighting the new pains in his teeth and body. He whimpered quietly in pain catching his mothers attention.
“Why are you whining? You have things to do.” Her tone was cold and dismissive as always as if she didn’t notice the new scent in the room. She probably didn’t, too busy making sure Riddle stayed in line.
Another quiet pained whimper escaped Riddle who spoke up “mother, I think I may be presenting.”
That got her attention and she turned to stare down at him seemingly only just realising the scent of presentation rut. The woman held her alpha within an ironclad fist, not allowing herself to be affected by others scents, priding herself on being one of the few medical mages capable of treating alpha’s, beta’s and omega’s in all states of being. Of course she hadn’t noticed his scent changing, shifting his body to align with that of an alpha.
“So you are. What places does it hurt?” she wasn’t asking out of concern rather, expectation, Riddle knew what he was presenting as, that she wouldn’t be angry with this outcome.
“My neck, my wrists, my teeth, specifically my canine’s and my lower half.” Riddle looked at her, seeing her nod.
“An alpha. Good. Then when the pain stops we shall begin your training. I will not have a son who goes savage at any scent that is not his own.” What she meant was she expected him to be able to control his alpha just as perfectly as his unique magic, so Riddle nodded a quiet “yes mother” escaping him.
His mother pointed at the work sheet “finish it. I expect perfection regardless of your presentation, understood?” Riddle nodded again, another “yes mother” escaping as he turned back to his work and she left.
By Riddle’s eleventh birthday he could control and command his inner alpha just as, if not better than his mother, he could probably command her if he tried but he wouldn’t, that was after all against the rules.