Dusk Till Dawn {tom riddle}

part one: details

"Promise me you boys will be on your best behavior while you're away?"

A woman who, despite her greying hair, looked not a day over thirty, rested her frail hands on the boy's shoulders and looked at him through the mirror. The youngest brother had managed to finish nearly two hours before the carriage arrived, leaving him to do nothing but scrutinize every last detail of his appearance. As time rolled on, he only grew more concerned for his plain suit and the flyaways in his hair.

"This tie is off-" He loosened the fabric and tossed it aside, shaking off his maid's hands and rummaging through his closet for the fourth time that morning.

"Mattheo, don't you think you're being a bit too critical of yourself?" Miss Dolores brushed her apron and then planted her hands on her hips.

"Criticism doesn't exist with my brother, I'm afraid." The eldest son entered the room, his attire clean of any lint or wrinkles and wrapped around his body fittingly. He adjusted his cuff links, stole a quick glance of himself in the mirror, then turned back to Dolores. "For him there is only perfection and imperfection."

"A trait your father seemed to pass down to both of you, it seems." The maid smiled sweetly. Then, she stepped back to admire the two boys she had raised for many years, finally processing the men they had grown into. "Look at you boys. Spitting images of your mother."

The twins eyes each other bitterly and turned back to the mirror. They went on with the rest of their adjustments silently, hoping that Dolores would take the hint and leave them be. But of course, they knew their maid was too daft to understand most royal social cues, so she rambled on.

"Your mother would be so proud of you two, taking the initiative for your country and stepping in during a time of need. I'm sure if she was still here with us today-"

"You are dismissed." The eldest snapped, his hands tightly grasp around the two ends of his tie. He glared at the woman through her reflection, and for once the loud-mouth maid shut herself up and scurried out the room without another word.

"A bit harsh, Tom." Mattheo ran his hands through his freshly gelled hair.

"That woman needs to stay in her place-" Tom cleared his throat and slipped his hands back into his pocket, lowering his eyes to meet Mattheo's. "-Beneath us and at the bottom."

As the rest of the boys' servants gathered their luggage into the carriage, Mattheo and Tom descended down the grand staircase in the manner they always did; menacing gazes fixed forward, brooding attitudes, and slow motion in-synch walking. Even to an outsider these boys screamed eloquence and sophistication; their splendor seemed to come naturally.

Perhaps that was another perk of being royalty. Of course, besides the millions of gold coins readily available along with the manors, maids, and horses rode for 'sport'. It was the lavish lifestyle every child dreamed of, and the Riddles always made sure to flaunt it any chance they got.