fandom: Midnight Cinderella
feat. Byron Wagner
182 masterlist // grand masterlist // ko-fi
King Byron Wagner, Rightful Ruler of Stein, Emperor of Night Skies, and Grand Overseer of the Five Kingdoms, had always been one for decisiveness. There was no room for dilly-dallying when it came to ruling a kingdom, no room for stalling when one had as much responsibility as he did.
Byron had learned that in his studies as a child, witnessed it as a young man when his neighbors were unwittingly annexed by a commoner-turned-princess, who – with the help of one of Byrons’ former tutors – became queen in her own right, and his fiercest rival.
A ruler should act swiftly, promptly, but with care and level-headedness; one eye on the future, two dozen on the present with all its delicate intricacies and webs filled with plots and machinations.
And yet at the moment Byron Wagner gathered the scattered documents on his table into one pile at a glacial pace, placing them on the right side of his desk as if any misalignment would mean his country’s ruin.
When he finished, he uncapped a pen, wrote a note, took care of looping all the correct letters, crossing his T’s and dotting the I’s. Only when the ink had dried did he raise his eyes to meet his two most loyal knights who had – miraculously – stayed silent all the while.
Nico Meier and Albert Burckhardt were both sitting straight, eyes downcast.
A feat, really, especially for Nico, who seemed to be quivering with the effort. It was rare for the two to be in the same room together and not be bickering and at each other’s throats. And if their urgency earlier was any indication – bursting into Byron’s study while almost physically manhandling the other to stay behind – their visit could only mean one thing.
Something had happened and the consequences were beyond their control.
Byron wondered if it was really all right for him to delay the inevitable as much as he already did. Then again, this was the first time he felt that there was a need for him not to address a problem the moment it presented itself.
Perhaps it was the fresh bruises on Albert’s knuckles, or the mud caking Nico’s bright pink hair. Or that Albert’s glasses were cracked. Or that Nico was nursing a nasty looking bruise to his chin.
Or maybe, it was the fact that all three of them sat in such tense silence that Byron felt a unique sense of foreboding, as if he was watching a dam fill to bursting. And he was smack in the front of it.
Byron set down his pen. At the sound, both Albert and Nico looked up as if it was a signal. Byron almost faltered under their gazes but reminded himself that he was no stranger to playing arbitrator, reminded himself that if they managed to hold it in for as long as they did, then maybe there was a way to resolve it after all.
“So.” Byron began – and time seemed to slow because he could see both Albert and Nico deeply inhale – and Byron for a split-second, wanted nothing else than just spar with the Queen of Wysteria with real swords than face Albert and Nico while they looked at each other with daggers in their eyes.
“What happened?” Byron finally said.
As if rehearsed, Albert and Nico stood up at the same time, pointing a finger at each other.
“It’s his fault!” the two of them shouted simultaneously, and then turned to each other, jaws set. “It was your fault!”
“The brat made me do it!” Albert quickly added.
“Bunnylord did not listen to me!” Nico countered. “I told him specifically to hold on no matter what!”
And then as if on cue, both Albert and Nico began telling their version of what had happened at the same time.
Kings should be swift, decisive, prompt – yes. But when it involved squabbling blood-brothers as close as the two of them, Byron was unsure if any of years of learning and experience would really be of any help. At the very least, Byron took it as a good sign that while they were recounting to him their unfiltered version of events, they were still calling each other by their preferred insults.
Byron raised a hand. “Yes, but what exactly happened?”
Albert and Nico both stammered to a stop, mumbled something about an escape and tried to run but it was too late. For all that they swore they were dissimilar, the two of them were acting very much like twins with the way their actions started and ended in unison.
Nico nudged Albert with his elbow. “You tell him.”
“What?” Albert hissed. “It was your bright idea!”
“You were the one who let go!” Nico said. “I’ve never had this problem when I did it on my own!”
Byron waited patiently for them to continue, even as his sense of foreboding grew with each moment of hesitation.
Albert took a deep breath and sighed his longest one to date. “It’s the Queen’s horse.”
“Horses.” Nico corrected.
“You mean the Queen of Wysteria arrived early?” Byron asked and the two knights nodded. “Well, what about her horses?”
Albert and Nico shared a look, walked up to Byron’s desk as if they could be overheard.
“Her prized stallions.” Albert said.
“The tall black ones with the really shiny fur?” Nico twiddled his thumbs.
Byron could remember them. They were part of his gift to her when she had been given an honorary title as part of the nightwatch with Archduke Harneit’s permission. “You mean her favorite horses?”
“Yes.” Albert and Nico whispered.
Byron pressed his lips together, hoped with every fiber of his being that neither of his two most loyal knights would say what it was that he was thinking. But life had always liked to give unique challenges to Steiners, and there was no denying now why Albert and Nico looked as if they had brawled in the mud.
“They might have maybe…” Nico faltered. “I can’t say it. I’m afraid she’ll hear me.”
“We’re in a secure area.” Albert patted him on the shoulder but he had glanced behind him, and he leaned further towards Byron and said as slowly and as quietly and as seriously as possible. “We lost all of them in the forest.”
