Zane had a lot of things to say about the Byron Duchy.
But generally, it all boiled down to: he fucking HATED it here. It didn't change back then, and it hasn't changed now.
He's not sure whether it was the result of his half-blood origins or his mother's humble origins on Earth, but he isn't at all pleased with how stuffy and suffocating the Byron mansion could be.
Yes, to others, it is considered a luxury estate. Zane isn't refuting that.
He just doesn't have pleasant memories of this place. Even more so the people living in it. Just thinking about them boils the blood in his body. Zane's not so sure he has the self-restraint to hold it in.
If he wants to at all, either.
Nonetheless, he has a façade to maintain. It wouldn't do to alert anyone to his quickly brewing plans, after all. It might make things more complicated.
And Zane fucking hated complexity.
He ignores the whispers that he hears being exchanged within the manor, between servants, who he has no doubt are pointing and laughing at him.
There are the occasional looks of pity, but that only serves to aggravate Zane more. He's not a damn charity case. 'Get over yourselves and get back to work.'
Of course, he isn't able to say this out loud. Doing so would "harm" the reputation of Byron as a noble house.
Ha.
As if he fucking cared anymore.
Aidan was following along dutifully, as a capable servant should, but made no move to quiet the gossip. In this one move, Zane can confirm that Aidan, his supposed most trusted aide, is not even on his side.
As they walk, Zane resists the urge to clench his fists. Resists the urge to throw a tantrum, no matter how gratifying it would be.
He would not give these sniveling assholes the momentary pleasure of knowing that their master hasn't changed at all. Would not dare to show them weakness and vulnerability ever again. These fuckers didn't deserve it. They did not deserve to know the real him.
After all, he was Zane Greyhound, proudly adopted son of Emma Greyhound, a popular dancing idol who rose to fame with quirky methods, revered around the globe, and finally feeling confident in his own skin.
He was done fucking around.
He wanted out of here.
And whatever Zane wanted, he got.
Zane chuckles quietly to himself, shoving a hand into his pocket and brushing a hand through his hair again. The look in his eyes was that of a predator.
Guess he hasn't changed a bit.
He was still the arrogant half-blood brat of Byron, the angry little upstart of his house.
Zane's priorities just...shifted a little, that's all.
And if that changes things...if that fucks up the timeline beyond recognition, well, Zane had nothing to do with it.
(The servants began scattering away with one look at the young master's expression. That was a dangerous look. It wasn't normal, especially in master Zephyr's face.
Something was horribly, horribly wrong and the servants did NOT want to be caught in the crossfire.)
Soon enough, both Zane and Aidan arrived at a part of the mansion that held the Duke's office. The double doors were intimidating, dark wood carved with complex designs topped off with golden furnishings added tastefully on each section of the doors. Zane remembers being absolutely frightened of these doors, a reminder of doom every time he deigned to open them.
As a human who has lived on Earth, however, Zane has seen worse. Like a crowd of rabid, feral fans perhaps.
Aidan strides forwards and knocks on the door. "My Lord? The young master Zephyr has arrived."
"Enter." The voice from the other side booms out, and Zane represses a flinch. He deftly ignores the slight clicking of Aidan's tongue, the servant seemingly amused. The servant then swings the door open and admits Zane inside, where he finds the Duke standing with his back towards the entrance, staring out the huge, pretentious-looking window.
'Seriously, how cliché,' Zane rolls his eyes internally. His eyes then float over to the Duchess, who hides her expression with a fan.
"You're late," Duke Kallis grunts, turning to look at his bastard son after a long period of silence. "You bring shame to the Byron name."
'Holy fucking shit,' Zane thinks, enraged. 'I only just got here and he's already fucking criticizing me. Good morning to you too, my esteemed father, what sort of bullshit did you smell today?'
Naturally, of course, Zane keeps his mouth shut, preferring to get this over with. His sharp eyes soften when he caught sight of the madame clutching her fan tighter, as if in disappointment. Despite being his stepmother, Duchess Isabelle was never unfair to him. Perhaps a bit stern, but what lady of the house wasn't when one of its members was being unruly?
Out of everyone in the Byron Duchy, Zane hates Duchess Isabelle the least. At least she treated him like a person, instead of a failed investment or asset.
"Well?" Duke Kallis stares at Zephyr, impatiently tapping his fingers. "I'm waiting."
Oh? Zane's lips curl into a sharp smirk.
"My apologies, father," Zane makes a show of bowing, hand over his heart, conveying 'sincerity'. "I was unaware that making myself look presentable in the ten-minute window I was given is still too much. I shall endeavor to present myself in nightwear, the next time I am summoned right as I wake." Honestly, Zane knows he shouldn't have said it, the moment the words leave his lips.
But can you blame him, when the outrage on his esteemed father's face is quite the sight to behold?
Ah, Zane wishes he had a camera. His father's expression would be prime meme material right about now.
"You impudent -!"
"My Lord," the duchess intervenes, cutting him off. She sends Zane a disapproving stare, folding her fan and crossing her arms. "Zephyr, that was quite uncalled for. Please apologize to your father."
Zane shrugs. "I will apologize if Father starts over with his greetings. Good morning, by the way," his reply amusingly has made the duchess close her eyes in exasperation and turn back to the duke with a withering glare, to which the man makes a thunderous expression before clearing his throat, once again making his face devoid of any expression.
"Good morning. Do you know why I have called you here?" The duke narrows his eyes, expecting his foolish son to answer a negative.
To his surprise, Zane answers clearly. "This is about the foreign delegation, is it not?"
To cover up his surprise, Duke Kallis quickly accuses his son, intending to lecture him. "Yes. I don't know why you're sounding so casual about it, my son, when you know you've gravely insulted them."
"I'm aware," Zane answers blandly. He resists the urge to polish his nails. "What do you want me to do about it?"
'This insolent little-!'
"Have you gone mad?" Duke Kallis whispers quietly, a rumble in his chest that threatened to spill out in a roar. "What do I want you to do about it? I want you to apologize to them, you fool!" He ends in a shout, slamming a fist down the table, shaking the objects on it. Duchess Isabelle watches passively, fingers twitching, unsure.
"How?" Zane asks simply, stunning the duke and the duchess.
"What?"
"HOW," Zane stresses the word. "In case you haven't noticed, father, I am completely out of my depth here. I've never once encountered a situation like this.
Should I stroll up to their resting place, father, and demand they let me in? Should I receive an audience from them, without asking for permission?"
Zane smiles mockingly at his father, who is frozen, jaw hung agape as Zane soldiers on his little rant. The duchess has a hand placed delicately on her open mouth. At least one of them has not abandoned propriety.
"Shall I get on my knees, Duke Byron, and beg them for forgiveness, like a little dog returning to its master? If I recall, this would no doubt reduce the reputation of the duchy, no? Still, you want me to do it? Would you like me to shred my dignity as a son of house Byron, and beg them to spare me?"
Zane tilts his head and delivers the final nail in the coffin.
"Do you want me to cry mercy, Kallis?"
At the sound of his own name, the Duke releases a guttural roar, throwing his items at Zane in a wide arc, enraged at the rudeness and provocation of his son, just as Zane had planned.
Duchess Isabelle screams, but Zane makes no move to dodge.
Honestly, he was intending on getting hit, preferably by the duke's glass inkpot and his very sharp dip pen.
What surprises him, however, is the sight of a servant's uniform filling his senses, pushing him back and deflecting the worst of the attack.
Aidan, who was watching silently from the shadows, rose up to the occasion and protected his master, just as a capable servant should.
Surprising, like he said. Zane thought Aidan found him disdainful.
"You ungrateful brat," growls Kallis, anger coursing through his body in tidal waves. "You are a stain to our family. If you are that eager to plunge the name of our house in the sewers, then perhaps that is where you belong."
'Bingo.'
Isabelle gasps, snapping her head towards her husband. "My lord!"
"Leave my sight," Kallis says, slumping into his chair, already exhausted. "Do not even think about returning if you have not learned the reason why we are of the Byron Duchy."
Zane feels his lips curl into a smile, sharp and flinty, satisfaction and glee pouring out of him in waves. "With pleasure, father."
Zane leaves, feeling more accomplished than he had ever been in his two lifetimes.