Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh, I can’t wait to see the look on that stuck up, redheaded weasel’s face!”

I stopped, keeping myself from walking further on hearing that voice. Zola Sirenée was a bane on the entire department’s personnel, but because she was also damned good at her work, there was no good reason to fire her, personality conflicts aside. She’d been ranting about one of the assistant managers for a while now, calling him a ‘snobbish, prissy four-eyes’ or, alternately, “that redheaded weasel” with a variety of unflattering epithets and adjectives attached to the description. The grapevine was ripe with juicy rumours as to why he’d earned her ire, ranging from he’d read her the riot act, to his having dumped her. I had a vague idea who he was by sight, seen mostly from a distance since he was in investments and auditing - I think? - and I was in the back-end general paperwork and data-entry pool.

Technically, so was Zola, but since she was our senior she handled paperwork that went to the managers and so on. Or ordered us around. I didn’t much care for the French blonde’s superior attitude, but it also was no skin off my nose to play meek and compliant and keep her out of my hair. I’d applied for this job instead of taking a gap year to ‘travel and find myself’ like so many of my peers did, before settling on what I wanted to do with my future. My parents hadn’t objected, since I was making good use of my time.

I peeked around the corner to see Zola ‘accidentally’ nudge a folder of documents into her wastebasket as she left her desk to go on her ‘late’ break that she liked to take to look like she was working harder than everyone there. The pool was empty, and it was just my luck to have gotten back early just because I wanted to get some of the more tedious photocopying tasks out of the way.

I waited long enough to be sure she wasn’t going to come back before I went and fished the folder out of the wastebasket. A skim of the first pages told me it was a report of some kind about an investment opportunity that had potential to be of long-term interest located south of Vienna. It looked pretty important.

Lucky for this guy, I had a pile of photocopied forms that I needed to deliver to his department.

One of the bonuses of keeping your head down and quietly doing your work is that eventually, a number of people forget that you’re there and say all sorts of things as if you didn’t exist. The office nickname for this particular assistant manager was Prince Punctual, because he was well, punctual on everything , apparently, if not early. Which meant that if he was on his lunch break, he’d be on his way back to his part of the building. It’d be easy to bump into him and give him back the folder he was supposed to have submitted.

I didn’t expect I would literally go bump into him! More accurately, I crashed into the unyielding wall of a surprised man, felt a hand catching me by the shoulder and my armful of papers spilled all over the floor.

“Ack! I’m so sorry-”

“My apologies, I wasn’t looking where I was going-” 

I blinked as I felt a thrill ripple through my spine at the sound of his voice. I had never heard a voice that really felt like it was caressing you from just listening to it before. I glanced at him and found myself thinking, wow, he’s really cute.  

The most striking feature was his rich reddish auburn hair, tied back at the nape into a neat tail, with long bangs shaped into a forelock sort of curving over his forehead, brushed slightly to one side. Large light brown eyes were framed by gold-toned wire-rimmed glasses, and he was pale, in the milky way some redheads tend to be. He was so handsome he was almost pretty, and I could see why he’d earned the moniker of ‘Prince’ in the office - there must have been plenty of girls that dreamed of him at night! He was a full head taller than myself, and I got the impression of broad shoulders under his suit jacket.

Then he was kneeling on the floor and picking up the papers I’d dropped, tucking his smartphone into his jacket’s front pocket. “I’m very sorry, I was checking my messages and I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine… and I wasn’t being careful either,” I muttered, embarrassed by my own thoughts as I dropped to my knees and picked up some of the papers, then surreptitiously dropped the folder near his shoe. “Uhm, I think that’s yours.” Good an opportunity as any, I guess.

He blinked and picked up the folder, flipping it open. “Yes… yes it is. Thank you...” he glanced at my name tag “...Fräulein Clay.”

I shivered at the way he said my name and looked into my eyes. “No problem. Thanks for helping me pick up my stuff.” I smiled, took back the photocopies I’d dropped, and hurried away, before I could make an idiot of myself. I pretended not to hear him when he called out in surprise and slipped into the elevator before he could catch up, my heart racing. 

Well, that’s my good deed done for today. I hugged the papers to my chest and bit my lower lip. I didn’t expect him to be so cute… and that voice…! 

Too bad I made a horrible first impression. Well, if I was lucky, he wouldn’t have gotten a good look at me and wouldn’t be able to pick me out of a crowd.

I made my way to the elevator, looking forward to taking a long soak as a reward for a day of hard, honest work. Zola seemed to get extra bitchy as the afternoon went by, and I made a point of clocking out exactly at six pm to avoid getting saddled with unwanted overtime. I allowed myself a slight smile as I idly listened to the chatter around me - want to get some Japanese tonight? I hear that the new sushi place is good; thank goodness today’s done I can’t wait to get home for some beer and NetView; oh no I’m going to miss my bus! -  and exited the elevator, just one more anonymous random office worker in the city’s central business district.

And there, standing in the crowd, his eyes fixed on his cellphone, was Prince Punctual, thumb tapping away. I noticed as his eyes flicked toward the elevator, and felt the moment his gaze met mine. 

So much for not being recognised.

I walked out, and was not surprised when he tucked his phone into his front pocket and fell into step beside me as if it was the most natural thing to do. We exited the bank’s front doors together. I flicked my eyes at him, and couldn’t help but notice that he made the office-issued three-piece suit look like it was tailored to fit him. His expression was cool, serious and alert. Something told me those hazel-brown eyes of his don’t miss much. There was something in the way he held himself, and how smooth his stride was that made him stand out. I noticed that a number of passing women - and a few men - gave him the once-over, which he seemed to ignore, or didn’t notice at all.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” He glanced briefly at me and looked away again, his tone casual, hands in his pockets.

So. Not just really cute, he’s really sharp too. I saw no point in denying it. “Yes.”

“Zola’s doing, I gather?” This time he turned to look at me, eyes piercing, analysing, as if he could glean my secrets with an idle glance.

I held my tongue, unsure if I should say anything further. He nodded anyway, as if I’d answered.

“May I buy you a coffee as a thank you, Fräulein Clay?”

I felt a pleasant tingle go through me. “It’s not necessary, Herr…” I faltered. I don’t know his name! I can’t see his nametag from this angle! I’m rolling critical failure after failure on making good impressions here. Can the earth swallow me now, please?

“Sturmvoraus. Please, call me Tarvek. And I insist. It’s the least I can do.” He smiled shyly. It changed his whole appearance, and made him look even younger than I thought he was. “Please.”

Oh, that’s not fair. I want to see him smile some more. “Well, alright, if you insist.” 

This time, his - Tarvek’s - smile warmed his eyes, and I felt sparkly inside. “There’s a nice coffee shop nearby. Their blend from Machina is amazingly good, if you haven’t tried it.”

I’d only recently started drinking coffee to help wake me up in the mornings, and I preferred carrying my own instant-made stuff, since that way I could have a nice big thermos I could sip at while on the bus, while reading. “I haven’t had any before.”

“Oh? You are in for a treat!”

Five minutes later, we were sitting in a booth, my hands wrapped around the large paper cup as if I were holding a treasure. I knew I looked absolutely ridiculous with the blissful smile on my face, but I didn’t care. “Sweet lighting, you weren’t joking. This stuff. Is. Amazing.” I was purring, it was so damn good. This must be what they mean when they say something is better than sex. Not that I’d know, but yuuuuuuuummmmmmm...

Tarvek was shyly grinning at my expression, but whatever cheeky comments he may have been thinking he silenced with a sip from his own cup. He pushed the plate with the spiced carrot and walnut bars he’d recommended to me, snagging one for himself.

We chatted - small talk, mostly, about our respective jobs. I told him I was temping for a year because I hadn’t quite decided what course of study I was going to take - whether I’d go to university, or take up a trade. Tarvek approved of my decision, saying that working was a good use of my time, which made me oddly very happy. 

Tarvek’s job was a strange, internal-office only one, where he audited and assessed ongoing investment concerns that the Wulfenbach National Bank had, advised them based on the risks or gains on new ones, or whether to continue old ones, and provided opinions regarding the same to clients with the bank who looked to invest in the same things. “I do not manage people, just paperwork and ideas. I suppose I’m really more of an investment analyst and auditor.” The folder I’d rescued from the trash heap was supposed to have been forwarded on to the head of the bank’s department. “It was very time-sensitive, so I would have gotten into quite a bit of trouble. I really needed to thank you.”

I had to focus on also listening to what Tarvek was saying, instead of getting drunk on the auditory honey-wine that was his voice. He had a very slight accent, which made it difficult to identify while giving him a touch of the exotic.

He insisted on walking me to my bus stop as well. “A gentleman sees a lady safely to where she is going,” he said when I protested.

“Are you telling me you’re an old-fashioned gentleman, Herr Sturmvoraus?”

“Tarvek, please.” The soft smile turned slightly melancholy. “My name gets very little use these days, and it would please me greatly if you used it. And yes, I suppose I am.”

Even his phrasing is old-fashioned. “...Tarvek, then. But only if you call me Agatha.”

“Agatha,” he repeated, and I bit my lip. I liked it a lot, hearing him say my name, with that voice of his. I looked away and noticed the bus pulling up. “That’s my bus. I’ve got to go.” I hesitated. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Thank you once more for helping me out of a bad situation.” Tarvek smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I had the impression that if he wore a hat, he would’ve tipped it at me in farewell.

I hurried to the stop and climbed aboard at the last second. The bus was crowded and I couldn’t see out the windows. Somehow, I knew Tarvek was standing there, watching until the bus pulled away.

===============

This is a story that originally was a full fledged dream. It played out in my head, and I woke up, needing to write it. I finished it only recently.

Agatha Clay for Vanamonde's

Chapter Text

I looked forward to lunch on Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays as my two friends in Security, Zeetha and Violetta, had a shift that allowed them to have lunch at the same time as I do on those days. Violetta blinked when I took them to Vanamonde’s, the café Tarvek introduced me to.

Zeetha was only too pleased with a new place to eat at and the chance to catch up. “Soooo! I heard the Queen of the Diss was extra bitch-faced yesterday and today! Any idea why?”

“I might’ve had something to do with that…” After Violetta checked to see if anyone could overhear, I quickly told them about what I’d caught Zola doing. As I talked, I noticed both Zeetha and Violetta’s expressions change, going from outraged to uneasy. “Problem is, it looked like an accident,” I grumbled. “I didn’t want Tarvek to get into trouble because of Spiteful Sirenée. Why is she gunning for Tarvek anyway? That report looked really important and he might’ve gotten into serious trouble. Sure, he’s pretty hot, and I see why the girls at the office call him a Prince, but he doesn’t seem like her type, y’know? Too serious. Not like the boss’ son, Gilgamesh.” He’d been the focus of her attention long before I’d started working at the bank.

Zeetha leaned close. “I know why she’s mad at him. Sturmvoraus turned her down hard when Zola tried to come on to him a few weeks ago. Said he wouldn’t be used as a weapon against his best friend. I don’t know where she gets the idea my twin would go for her; he won’t date employees ever. Just too risky, y’know?”

Violetta looked grim. “Look… can we get out of here? Go to the park. I need to talk to you, if you can keep a secret.”

Zeetha and I followed her to a nice spot in one of the grassy areas. “So what’s got you all nervous suddenly?” I asked.

Zeetha sighed, and gestured for Violetta to begin. “Zeetha knows, because she’s Gil’s sister… but you don’t, since you only came to work for Wulfenbach National Bank recently, and it’s a secret. Tarvek is a Prince, and should have been ruling the mountain nation of Balan. He’s a distant cousin of mine, but we were together when… when we escaped. I’m supposed to be his bodyguard, you see.”

I felt my jaw dropping and stopped it from going any further. “They said that the royal family was killed, all of them - that the royal children were blown up in a car bomb when they were escaping.”

“That’s a cover story that Archduke Wulfenbach put out. There was a bomb hidden in the road, and an ambush. Anevka - Tarvek’s older sister - was the one worst hurt. Tarvek and I were able to drag her and Veilchen - that was Anevka’s bodyguard - out of the car before the RPGs took out the car and our escort. We only had handguns. Tarvek… he fought like someone possessed while Veilchen and I did our best to get Anevka bandaged up. Veilchen got shot while helping Tarvek fetch weapons from the dead. We were trapped in that border mountain pass for three days before Wulfenbach forces found us and rescued us. The whole time, Tarvek didn’t sleep, he didn’t dare . He tore up his shirt to make bandages for Anevka and me, and it was so very cold at night, but he gave me his jacket.” 

Violetta’s eyes got bright with the tears that she refused to let fall. “They brought us to the Archduke, and Tarvek begged for political asylum and help for his sister - begged! I never thought he would, that he would die before he would beg anyone for help, he was so proud. But those three days and nights changed him - he knelt and begged. The Archduke granted his request, but Anevka’s been in a coma since and we don’t know why. Tarvek was put to work as part of his cover, at his best friend’s father’s bank, as a lowly clerk, and a few weeks afterward they gave me a job as a security guard there. I’ve had to pretend to not know him since then, but… I’ve kept tabs on him. Almost all of his salary goes to his sister’s life support and protection at the hospital - and he lives in a tiny shoebox studio apartment, because that’s all he would accept from Gil. He works insane amounts of overtime and worked his way up to the position he has now.”

Zeetha looked sadly at her hands. “Gil said he tried to wrangle for a better job because they both went to the same genius school in Paris, but Dad told him no, that too much pity is no kindness. That Tarvek, having lost everything, needed the chance to rebuild his life with own two hands, or he wouldn’t ever feel like he’d ever be whole again.” Zeetha clenched her fist. “We Wulfenbachs were lucky that our people refused to join the revolutionary fever that swept Europa six years ago, though those usurping influences tried . Uncle Anthonus was just too popular, and we Wulfenbachs are too closely knit with our people.” She took out her phone and showed me a picture. “This was on our sixteenth birthday - just two months before the Balan Uprising. That’s Anevka.”

Sixteen year old Gilgamesh and Tarvek, his hair cut short, had their arms around Zeetha, and there was a beautiful woman with the same red hair as Tarvek hugging Zeetha from behind, her large blue eyes bright with glee as she pressed her cheek against Zeetha’s. All of them had their champagne glasses raised in a toast, grinning, and there was a carefree light in Tarvek’s eyes that definitely made him look his age. They all looked exactly like young, rich nobility - dressed in elegant designer clothes and Zeetha and Anevka glittered with jewelry. I noticed a winged sword on a stylised sun-shaped brooch pinned to Tarvek’s necktie - the sigil of the royal House of Sturmvoraus. A thin, plain circlet of gold was partly hidden under the bangs that curled stylishly on his forehead.

Holy crap. He really is a Prince! I stared at the picture, and found my eyes switching back and forth between studying Tarvek and studying Anevka. She looked like she could cause mischief and play pranks - and then I noticed the two fingers she had held up behind Tarvek’s head along with the champagne.

Zeetha looked at me. “I’ll send you the picture, and a few others.”

Violetta grabbed my hands and squeezed desperately, her eyes wide. “You said Tarvek was smiling when you and he were having coffee?” When I nodded she burst into tears. “He… he hasn’t smiled since the day his father, Prince Aaron Wilhelm, ordered him to take his sister to safety and flee Balan,” she sobbed. “I thought he’d never smile again!” She scrubbed at her face with her sleeve. “Thank you for being kind to him! Tarvek… I thought he was gone, too broken to really live! But if he can smile now… maybe he’ll be okay again!”

I was distracted for the rest of the day by what I’d learned, trying to reconcile the man I’d met with the history Violetta had given me. Setting the fact he was hidden royalty aside, finding out Tarvek was a refugee displaced by war was no surprise. Plenty flooded the borders of the peaceful, steadily governed Grand Duchy of Wulfenbach over the last twenty years of war and revolution that ripped through Europa, and Balan had been one of the last to fall. My own history was much the same but I had been too young to remember it. My parents had been forthcoming about my being a war orphan, and had promised to tell me the whole story when I was old enough and if I wished to know. I had been lucky, I’d grown up safe; many had not. I remembered my sixteenth birthday and how I’d gotten the present I wanted and we’d gone camping. 

I managed to avoid Zola again and thought about what I was going to do. I’d already wanted to see him again, but that wasn’t the same as deciding to do so.

Then I stepped out of the elevator and walked out to see Tarvek standing in the crowd, waiting for me. Saw the way his eyes brightened when he spotted me, the small, hesitant smile that curved his lips.

I knew now how precious that smile was, and at that moment all I could think of was how much more I wanted to see Tarvek smile, and that I wanted to protect it, and him. 

So I made my choice and smiled back, greeted him as he turned and began walking next to me, just close enough that I could feel the warmth of his hand next to mine. It made my skin tingle, and as he spoke, I felt my heart beat faster.

“May I buy you a coffee, Agatha?”

=============

Tarvek Sturmvoraus for Vanamonde's <--- if pic fails to load, click here

Chapter Text

The problem about being a ginger is when a ginger blushes, they really blush.

Tarvek had been staring at my mouth, and I had been enjoying the cake half of the coffee and cake set. Tarvek had gotten the coffee and ham and cheese croissant set, and hadn’t had a single bite. Today’s cake was a devil’s food so dark it looked almost black.

Tarvek blinked, looked up into my eyes, and promptly turned a bright red, from collar to hairline. “Sorry!” he blurted, and took a big bite of his sandwich.

I wondered what had gotten into him, then remembered that he liked chocolate. There had only been one slice left. I waited until he’d finished his mouthful, then held up a bite of the cake to his lips. “Ah,” I said.

Tarvek blinked twice before he realised what I was doing and took the offered mouthful. Then he closed his eyes and made a sound that had me decide I’d feed him the rest of my cake as long as he kept making that sound.

When he finished it, he murmured, “They put some of the coffee in the cake and the ganache.”

I pulled the menu out from its holder and perused the cake list. “It’s called ‘I Have A Deadline And Hard-lining Caffeine Is Illegal.’ They had fun with these cake names.”

Tarvek leaned closer to read. “Their coffee-walnut-hazelnut cake is called ‘Squirrel!’” 

I giggled. “The carrot cake is ‘Good For Your Eyes’... and that carrot and nut bar cake you had me try the first time is called ‘In Case You Wear Glasses Already.’ Huh, that explains why the barista grinned when you got it.”

“I promise you I had no idea it was called that! I usually just ask for a coffee and whatever they have on special for the day.” Tarvek held his hand over his heart.

“I believe you,” I patted his hand. He’d made the same order for himself every time we’d come to the coffee shop -Vanamonde’s- over the months, to the point that whenever the baristas saw us walk in, they started making his order without Tarvek even asking any more, leaving him to choose between the savory or sweet special of the day. I fed him another mouthful of cake, and enjoyed his muffled utterances of delight. “The Tiramisu is called ‘This Calls For Cake, Coffee and Booze!’ There are definitely days like that!”

Tarvek began wheezing with laughter and pointed at the gelatin dessert, “Enough Coffee and Sugar to Make You Bounce!”

Even the savory dishes were creatively named. Tarvek’s sandwich was called ‘Overacting’ - “Because it is filled with Ham and Cheesy Goodness.”

I’d come to look forward to our daily coffee routine. I even had his number, which Tarvek gave to me one day, saying he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it the next day and that he would text me if he couldn’t. I found myself staring at it late at night, wondering if I had the guts to text him after I’d gotten home.

I hadn’t worked up the courage. I knew Tarvek worked until late into the night from Zeetha, who had complained at how she had already had to chase him out of the office on more than one occasion. “Threatening to tell my Dad he was working himself to death worked. Tarvek leaves an exact sixty minutes earlier than midnight.”

Besides, as much as I enjoyed Tarvek’s company and he seemed to enjoy mine, I had no idea what ‘this’ was. We had coffee and a bite to eat, and he walked me to my bus stop, and we chatted about everything and anything under the sun during all of it.

I guess we were coffee-mates, maybe?

“Ah, it’s starting to rain,” Tarvek said.

“Oh crud, I didn’t bring an umbrella!”

To which Tarvek reached into his coat pocket and pulled out one of those super tiny foldables that unfurled into a full sized umbrella. “I come prepared.”

I fed him the last bite of cake as I gulped down my coffee. “My hero.”

Tarvek offered me his arm and walked on the street-side, as always. It was bucketing down so much we couldn’t talk and it had gotten cold. To my dismay, my bus had already left, and we were the only ones at the stop. I checked the Trails travel app, and saw the next bus would be late. Before I could say anything, Tarvek gently nudged me toward the bench and we sat down. When I shivered, he pulled out a scarf from his pocket and wrapped it around my neck. It smelled of his aftershave and the sandalwood soap he used… and of Tarvek himself.

I felt warm all over, and my belly seemed filled with butterflies made of sunshine. When he says he comes prepared, Tarvek isn’t joking.

“I guess autumn is here early,” he remarked, as the rain let up a bit a few minutes later. “I had a feeling it would do so.”

I leaned close and took his hand in mine. Tarvek hesitated a moment before knitting his fingers together with mine.

I just couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. “Tarvek?”

“Yes, Agatha?”

I bit my lip, then plunged ahead. “I know who you are… your Highness.”

Startled, Tarvek pulled away, but I held tight to his hand. “How did you-”

I met his eyes. They were shocked, and wary. “My best friends at work are Zeetha Wulfenbach and Violetta Mondarev. They told me.” I gripped his hand tighter. “I wanted to wait a few weeks before I let you know I knew, to prove I can keep your secret… and that your past status doesn’t matter to me. I didn’t tell anyone, not even my parents.” I looked uncomfortable. “Before I knew it, months had passed.”

Tarvek said nothing for several minutes, his eyes raking over me, and I could almost hear his brain working. He held himself stiffly, as if ready to bolt.

“I was a war orphan too,” I said, scared now, afraid I had ruined our… whatever it was. “Okay, I was very small and I don’t even remember my real parents, but…”

I sighed, hurting and guilty… and let go of Tarvek’s hand. “I just… I didn’t know how to bring up that I knew, too. I’m sorry.” I reached up to unwrap the scarf and give it back, tears burning my eyes.

Tarvek held out his hand, and when I did nothing but stare at it, he gently took my hand, and placed it back in his. Then he wrapped the scarf even more warmly about my neck and face.

“So you now know everything about me,” Tarvek sighed. Then he shrugged. “How is Violetta? I glimpse her at work, but I dare not approach.”

“She’s been good… and she worries about you. A lot.”

“The same could be said of myself, about her,” Tarvek replied. “I am glad that she is well. She is like a sister to me, and I want nothing more than for her to have a good life, after everything.”

I flicked my eyes up at him. Tarvek’s face was a polite mask, the face he wore at the office. It hurt me in ways I couldn’t find words to describe.

“Your bus is here,” he said. Tarvek unfurled the umbrella and walked me to the bus.

I got on the first step, and turned back, my eyes level with his. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

The wariness in his gaze melted away into surprise… and relief. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stepped back.

This time, I watched out of the window until I couldn’t see Tarvek anymore. He stood there, watching the bus as it left.

That night, I sent him a text: It’s not fair that I know more about you than vice versa. AMA.

I waited. It felt like forever. The clock was lying to me, because there’s no way only a minute passed before the little ‘...’ showed that a reply was being made.

What hobbies do you enjoy, if you don’t mind my asking?

I thought about it, then snapped a picture of my wall and it’s pictures of past camping trips, including the one for my sixteenth birthday. I sent it.

Fascinating. This was followed up by a photo of a room full of shelves and books and a single electric keyboard next to a personal computer, and a violin case on the wall. I am quite boring in comparison.

Bite your tongue. I play piano too, you know. I squinted at the picture. His apartment was tiny.

Indeed? Perhaps we can play together sometime.

Sure! Is that Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations I see there?

It is indeed. If I may be so tedious as to quote him: When you wake up in the morning, tell yourself: The people I deal with today will be meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous, and surly. They are like this because they can't tell good from evil. But I have seen the beauty of good, and the ugliness of evil, and have recognized that the wrongdoer has a nature related to my own—not of the same blood or birth, but the same mind, and possessing a share of the divine.

I laughed. Thanks. I will remember this as I deal with Zola again tomorrow.

In that, I fear more than mere stoicism is required. I am not a miracle worker, I am afraid. Good night, Agatha.

Good night, Tarvek. Sleep well.

==========

Gilgamesh Wulfenbach for Vanamonde's<--- In case the pic below goes poof.

Chapter Text

I needed the saying and wrote it out on a sticky note, to remind me not to blow my cool. Zola was extra… everything today, and she’d designated me her target. She’d probably noticed that I hadn’t been on her victim rotation for a while now and had made a point of dropping extra work on me. I escaped to my lunch break that day with a sense of desperation, glad that one of the bank’s rules was that everyone had to have lunch.

I barrelled into the elevator and tripped on the edge of the thing, falling facefirst into someone’s chest. The owner of the chest caught me by the shoulders.

“Careful,” Tarvek’s familiar voice vibrated against my nose. “Are you alright… Fräulein Clay?”

I pushed away, embarrassed, and muttered an apology. But when I looked up, Tarvek wasn’t looking at me, but looking flatly at something behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Zola standing halfway down the corridor, glaring as the elevator doors closed.

“Zola still after you, Tarv?”

I stumbled away from Tarvek, and found myself looking up - and up - at Zeetha’s twin brother. Gilgamesh Wulfenbach worked as his father’s second and was learning the ropes of running the bank. Like his father, he was as tall as a tree, taller than Tarvek, with broad shoulders that made him loom very imposingly. He tried to offset this by looking as pleasant and as cheerful as possible, and affecting a carefree lifestyle outside of work. The gossip rags featured his adventures and strings of glamorous girlfriends and sadly for the hopefuls including Zola, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach did not date employees.

“I’ve been managing to avoid her,” Tarvek replied. “I’m being very careful, Gil. She’s a bunny-boiler if I’ve ever seen one.”

“I keep telling you, if you just accepted the position of being my PA, she wouldn’t be able to touch you.”

“And I keep pointing out that such a promotion would be seen as unusual since I work in investment analysis and audit.” Tarvek huffed, the argument clearly an ongoing one. “I can avoid her trapping me in a sexual harassment claim as long as I am in the bank and in public. This is partly my fault; I was so offended by her approach that I had no restraint on my tongue.” He grimaced. “I stand by my statements though.”

“You don’t always unsheathe the Sword of Sturmvoraus Sarcasm, but when you do…” Gil chuckled. “Well, there you have it,” he suddenly included me in the conversation. “The real reason behind the rumours.”

Both Tarvek and I stared at him: Tarvek with his eyebrow raised, while I was startled speechless by the sudden inclusion. What was I even supposed to say?! You don’t gossip with the boss, and even though I was friends with Zeetha, I hadn’t met her brother before now.

Fortunately the elevator door opened and I didn’t have to answer. Tarvek swept out, dragging Gilgamesh along by the crook of the arm. “You’re making her uncomfortable, you great, clumsy oaf. She’s obviously not one of your bawdy barmaids, but a properly raised young woman.”

“Your idea of proper is a century behind, my friend,” Gil said, frowning. “Besides, I didn’t say anything wrong.”

I followed along, the distance between us growing larger as their long-legged strides took them closer to and then out the exit. Remembering that Zola was not far behind, I hurried out the exit and tugged out my phone.

Zee, I’ve gotta talk to you and Vivi. Can you order for me? I’ll pay you back.

Sure. See ya at Something’s Fishy. The usual lake tuna? And it’s my treat, because it sounds like you’ve got some juicy deets.

No, I’ll get their pork katsu donburi, if that’s alright. I’m gonna need the extra calories today.

I found my friends at our usual spot at the Euro-fusion Japanese place we’d gotten fond of lately, on the wisteria-flower decorated rooftop. “Thanks,” I said as Zeetha pushed my covered bowl toward me. I pushed the money across. Zeetha clucked her tongue and pushed the money back.

“So, what’s up?” Violetta asked, slurping up some of her udon.

I told them both everything.

“Seriously?!” Violetta gasped. “She wants to try to slap Tarvek with a claim of harassment?!”

“She’s a piece of work alright,” Zeetha hissed. “But that won’t work. She has to be able to back up her claims with solid evidence. The laws are clear about that.” She frowned. “That doesn’t stop her from trying to ruin Tarvek’s reputation and he hasn’t got much of one because he’s been keeping a low, workaholic profile.”

“I’m worried for Tarvek,” I murmured. “I have a feeling that if she doesn’t get what she wants, she’ll make a scandal of some kind, and it’ll affect more than just Tarvek. It doesn’t make sense though… how does she think this will get her either man’s attention?”

Zeetha looked at me, unease written on her face. “For some women, it has nothing to do with love, or even just mutual pleasure. For some it’s all about the conquest. You hear about that, how some women are especially attracted to married men or those with partners, and they seduce the man away for the sake of ‘proving’ they’re more attractive than the other women, then dump the guy. There are guys like that too. I don’t think Zola wanted my brother for all the usual reasons a woman wants him; she might’ve thought she could push him to break his ‘no dating employees’ rule. Who knows why she went for Tarvek, but his rejection hurt her pride.”

“Tarvek’s my cousin and I grew up with him practically being my brother, but I can objectively say he’s the ‘cute, charming, and cripplingly clueless’ sort. He used to have just as many girls flirting with him back in the day as Gil, but he never was anything but polite back. With Zola… Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and all that?” Violetta sighed. “Princess Psycho needs neutralising. Isn’t there something we can do?”

Zeetha rubbed her chin. “I got the security cam footage of her knocking the paperwork into the bin and Agatha rescuing it, but it’s not enough. If we could find evidence of her stalking Tarvek…” she suddenly stopped, pale.

I felt a chill. “Do you think she knows that Tarvek and I have coffee together after work?” It was too insane to think about. “We… we don’t do anything but chat over coffee! We’re just friends!” I felt my cheeks burn. “The most we’ve done is hold hands!”

“It’s not whether or not you’re in a romantic relationship, it’s because Tarvek’s never paid even that much attention to any woman. I don’t count for some reason, and I know Psycho Pinky has seen me and Tarvek talking. Holding hands? As far as Zola’s concerned, you’ve had sex.” I flushed, half in embarrassment and half in outrage. “You should be watching your back the same time you’re watching his.”

======

My art pc's video card is dying on top of everything. T_T Merry Christmas to meeeee...

Chapter Text

I texted Tarvek, letting him know I was going to be working late, then let my parents know. I got a reply from Tarvek before I even finished typing one to my mother.

What a coincidence. I was about to say much the same thing. If we come out of the office at the same time, perhaps we could have dinner together instead? If it isn’t too late, that is.

I allowed him his white lie. We’ll see how things go.

Near the end of the day, I got another text. I’m going to get coffee, as I require it greatly. May I be so impertinent as to assume you could use some, as well as a blood sugar boost?

Reading his texts made me feel like I was reading a fantasy novel sometimes. My hero. I’m dying for some of that black magic potion. Sta + 10! I grinned to myself at my private joke, and the fact that I’d recently loaned Tarvek a favourite isekai series of mine in exchange for one of his science fiction ones.

Is it still black magic if the effects are positive? Extra espresso shot? I’m having one, for I feel like I am barely retaining my civility.

Yes please. I’d quote something from Meditations but I have a head full of spreadsheets.

I could almost hear Tarvek chuckle. I don’t feel particularly intelligent myself, so you are not alone on this.

“Fräulein Clay, I don’t see you working!”

“I need to tell my mother I’ll be home late, Mademoiselle Sirenée,” I fibbed. Avoid Zola at all costs, I tapped and sent the message, then tucked my phone away.

Across the room, the other co-worker who was stuck doing overtime, Theo DuMedd, pulled a face at Zola’s retreating back. He was recently married and absolutely besotted with his wife, and thus immune to Zola’s ‘charms.’ But he hadn’t gotten saddled with as much work as I did today. Usually he was a source of good mood and smiles, but he had been scowling all afternoon. We both kept our heads down until Zola swanned out thirty minutes later, heels clacking on the floor. We heard the elevator go ping and heard her get in soon after.

Theo flipped the bird in her direction. “She overheard me on the phone with Sleipnir and dropped extra work on me that should’ve gone to Zulie so I’d miss taking Sleipnir out to the movie she has been waiting to see since last year.”

“That’s awful of her,” I frowned. That was even pettier than usual. To my surprise, Tarvek slipped around the corner, silent as a ghost, carrying paper bags and a carrying frame for the cups of coffee.

“Your friend in security bribed me with coffee and a doughnut to deliver you coffee and food,” Tarvek lied, affecting a bland tone. “I am easily bribed by good coffee.”

“Zeetha did? She’s an angel,” I played along, taking the bag. “Oooh, she got me the Wake-Up Choc-Arabica Chip Cookies! Want one, Theo?”

Theo came over. “Thanks, Agatha. Hi, I’m Theo DuMedd. You’re not from the general department…” he glanced at Tarvek’s name tag “Herr Sturmvoraus.”

“No, but I am friends with Zeetha and her brother, and Zeetha happened to see me.” Tarvek shook Theo’s hand. “So here I am.”

“How’d you avoid running into Zola? She just left.” I frowned.

“I took the stairs.” Tarvek shrugged. “It’s good exercise, and miserable for anyone wearing stilettos like she does. Are you the only two left?”

“Yeah. May Zola get a large, embarrassing pimple on the tip of her snooty nose,” Theo growled.

I giggled into my coffee.

“Anything I can help with? Nothing that requires a login, mind.” Tarvek sounded weird, trying to sound casual, I thought. “I don’t want to put my keyboard through my screen so anything is a welcome distraction right now.”

Theo shook his head. “Not for me, but Agatha got piled on.”

“I am the master of multitasking,” Tarvek declared, mimicking Gil’s tone.

Five minutes later he had all seven of the office’s copy machines hard at work, and stood a decorous two feet away from me while reading over my shoulder. “That’s work that you should very definitely not be doing,” Tarvek said firmly. He leaned over and pointed a long finger at an alpha-numerical code on the top left. “See that? That’s supposed to go to the accounting pool.”

“I hadn’t realised…”

“You both are supposed to only do data entry and other such general office work,” Tarvek said. “You’re not an accountant; nor are you trained to do anything but data entry.” He peered at my spreadsheet. “I’m surprised you got this much done.”

“I’m good at maths… and I help with my father’s business sometimes. I’ve picked it up.” I felt cold. This wasn’t work I was supposed to be doing?  

Theo had gotten up and started looking over my shoulder. “Herr Sturmvoraus is right. You’re being given work you should not be handling at all. You’ve been doing it correctly as far as I can tell, but it could be trouble if you weren’t.” Theo looked at Tarvek. “Sir, Agatha’s only been with us for months, but all her work has been top-notch. She’s handled any task thrown at her without complaints and-”

Tarvek held up his hand to stop Theo’s desperate rush of defence on my behalf. “I can see that. Calm yourself. She is not in trouble. However, someone will be.” He reached for his front pocket and tugged out his cellphone, muttering to himself under his breath in Russian. He tapped a few times on his phone and lifted it to his ear. “Gil? I think you are required in the office. Bring Boris with you. I may have found the source of the anomalies you’ve been mentioning. Yes. General. I shall elucidate once you have both arrived.”

Tarvek didn’t smile, but he looked deeply satisfied anyway. “And I am afraid, Herr DuMedd, you may need to stay back for longer, as I believe you can help Agatha and indeed, myself. Excuse me, I need to make a phone call.” Tarvek put down his coffee cup and walked out of the office.

Theo turned to look at me. “Your boyfriend’s nice.”

“He’s not - We’re just friends.” I flushed.

“Really? I’ve seen you leaving the office with him every day for what, since March? No, I haven’t said anything to anyone - okay, my wife. I figured you were being discreet, even if there’s no office policy on dating. Could have fooled me, though.” He quirked a smile. “Pity, you two make a lovely couple. Anyway, it’s both lucky and scary that your friend has friends in high places.”

“Yeah. Lucky.”

Things got pretty intense after that. Gilgamesh and another man, the aforementioned Boris, appeared. The four men clustered around my workstation, talking in intent, low voices. I stayed out of the way, sipping a coffee - one from the breakroom, sadly - and only spoke when Boris started asking me questions.

It was almost nine when Gilgamesh straightened, and looked at me. “Tarvek, feed Fräulein Clay and take her home.” He handed Tarvek a credit card pulled out of his own wallet. “Herr DuMedd, you may go too. In fact, I don’t want to see the three of you in the office tomorrow - you’ve earned a day off.” He smiled, and it really did wonders for his face. “It’s a pity you’re only here with us for a few more months, Fräulein Clay. We could use more talented employees like yourself. We’ll talk again.”

Theo grinned as we left. “Sweet! I can take the missus out on a proper date tomorrow!” He smiled at Tarvek and me. “Good night, and it was a pleasure working with you, Herr Sturmvoraus.”

“The same, Herr DuMedd. Drive safely.”

As we rode the elevator up to Tarvek’s office, Tarvek’s phone began pinging with a flurry of messages. He fished it out of his pocket and sighed. “Gil is ordering me to take you out tomorrow as well. I do believe he is trying to play matchmaker.” He growled. “Again.”

I blushed as Tarvek tipped his phone to show me some of the messages as he wearily covered his eyes.

She’s cute and obviously brilliant! Take her out tomorrow or you and I are going to have a fight, you hear me?!

Don’t be a dumbass, she’s clearly into you!

Seriously if you miss this opportunity Zeetha and I will kick your ass from one end of the duchy and back again!

Dad’s been worried about you so you better give me good news that I can take back!

“I’d apologise for his being an oaf, but…” Tarvek looked exhausted. “Gil’s been trying to set me up with a girlfriend ever since we were children. I’ve given up trying to tell him I am perfectly capable of finding someone, since he ignores all my protests anyway.”

“Bit of a forceful personality, huh?”

“He means well, but he gets this hangdog expression and…” Tarvek looked annoyed. “I feel like a heel.”

“I wouldn’t mind spending the day with you,” I muttered, shy, before I could think twice about it. “I haven’t got anything to do tomorrow now.”

“If you’d do me the honour and the pleasure of your company, I would be delighted.” Tarvek smiled, then looked shy. “But I must admit, I have never been on a ‘date’ before, myself.”

“Never?!” I blurted.

“I have been too busy for romance.” Tarvek said as we made our way to his neat cubicle. I looked around, and noticed it was almost completely devoid of personal touches, save for a small plastic cat that was perched on the top of his monitor. He saw me looking at it. “Gil stuck that there. He got one of those chocolate eggs on a whim and that was the toy inside.” Tarvek pulled on his trench coat and laptop bag.

“He’s a really good friend, huh?”

“The best,” Tarvek admitted. “But please, never tell him I said that. It wouldn’t do to encourage him into further excesses.”

We went to the nearest grand hotel, which was the only place still serving full meals that wasn’t fast food - Gilgamesh yelled at Tarvek for even thinking it. Tarvek’s eyeroll to the heavens as he showed me the appalled and indignant text had me in whoops for a while. “Shall we take him completely at his word and have a feast on his coin?”

As we sat waiting for our orders, Tarvek allowed himself a small, fond smile. “I think, in some way, this is Gil’s way of trying to give me a taste of the life I used to live, through the food I used to enjoy.” His eyes twinkled. “While I appreciate not having to cook for myself when I am tired, I learned how. After enduring a few weeks of false starts, I got better. Perhaps he worries that I wouldn’t have learned or that I would be forced to survive on takeout. I am no master chef, but I do passably well, I think. And it really takes an incompetent to foul up anything in a crockpot.”

“Yeah, my parents said everyone should learn to cook at least the basics. Actually, learn the basics in everything.”

“It has given me a greater appreciation for the simpler things,” Tarvek said quietly.

“Do you miss being… well, nobility?” I asked. I tried not to ask him about such things, unless he opened up on the subject first. I had a feeling that his past hurt him still.

He considered the question, as if he hadn’t thought about it before. “There are some things about it that I appreciate better now… and yes, I suppose, there are some things I miss, and some things I wish had never happened.” Tarvek smiled, a soft, melancholy smile. “But there is life beyond that, and I am not who I was. It is in the adversity I have faced that I have discovered my strength, so I cannot regret everything I have experienced. It gains me nothing to be bitter, Agatha, so do not look at me with such sad eyes.” He reached across the table and squeezed my fingers reassuringly. “Where there is life, there is hope.”

Tarvek used a taxi to take me back home, introduced himself and politely explained to my parents why I was back so very late coming home. Both of them raised their eyebrows, but apparently the explanation was enough because all they did was thank him and said it was good of his Highness to insist that we were fed. After he left, my mother’s only remark was that it was rare to see a young man that polite these days.

Later that night, Tarvek texted me. I can see why the isekai genre is an enjoyable read. The protagonist figuring out how to deal with their circumstances that are outside their sphere of knowledge is quite relatable.

I texted back: That wasn’t why I recommended it to you, hahaha! Competence porn is cathartic at times.

After a few minutes, he replied: I had to look up ‘competence porn’ and was briefly worried what my search would turn up. I have learned something new today. I will see you tomorrow.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Chapter Text

I rushed out the door at my usual time, even though I had the day off. Habit had me waking up at my normal six, and I used it to get ready. I wanted to dress up a little nicer, since all I usually wore was the bank uniform, which, while nice, were still work clothes. I tended to be a jeans and t-shirt sort of gal, so I decided to go with the knit turtleneck sweater I wore for the job interview with one of my denim skirts, and comfortable, knee high boots and stockings. I had some make-up, but just enough to make me look professional at work, and settled for adding a bit of peach-tinted lip gloss over my usual touch of lipstick.

The wind blew my hair into my face and tangled in my glasses, so while I was sitting in the bus, I made two braids at my temples and used them to hold back the rest of my hair with a clip. Practical and cute, or at least I thought so. Then I frowned; I wasn’t used to fussing about my appearance so much. The last time I did, it was for a job interview.

I was nervous. The dates I’d been on while I was in school were casual group outings, and never went further than that. In a way, this wasn’t just the first time Tarvek was going on a date, but also the first time I was going on a date date. I kind of wished I had time to ask Zeetha for advice, but at the same time I had an idea that wouldn’t exactly be a good plan. She and her brother were a lot more worldly than I was and… I didn’t know what this was still. I had one bad scare already and I didn’t want to make Tarvek uncomfortable when I didn’t know what we had. 

All I knew was, I wanted to see him smile and relax today. That was enough of a goal, right? He’d saved me from serious trouble last night, and even though I really wanted to hug him for it, I wasn’t sure if he’d be comfortable with that. Besides, holding hands, simple as it seemed, felt special.

Tarvek was easy for me to spot in the crowd by now; the way he stood straighter than the other people around him helped set him apart from other folks, as much as that head of gorgeous auburn hair. He wore a three-piece suit in a dark brown hue, which was all that told me it was a different one from the office uniform. For a change, he wasn’t looking at his phone, but gazing at the leaves dancing in the breeze. Tarvek plucked a particularly vibrant gold one out of the air as I watched, and seemed to ponder it, his expression thoughtful and unsmiling. I had come to realise that Violetta had been right and he never smiled - and that the polite customer service expression he sometimes put on didn’t count.

So when Tarvek noticed me and smiled, I knew once again it was an expression I had to protect, knew it with every cell of my being.

“Morning!” I said as I strode up to him. “Were you waiting long?”

“Not at all,” Tarvek replied. “I got distracted by the sight of the autumn leaves…” He trailed off, gazing at me. After my heart began to race, he murmured, “You are so beautiful.”

He started, as if he realised that he’d spoken out loud, and his cheekbones turned pink. Tarvek looked away, but said nothing.

I forced myself to calm down, or we’d be standing here awkwardly until the end of time. “So… what’s the plan?”

Tarvek visibly pulled himself together and looked at me. “I thought perhaps we could do something you wanted to do.”

“...I thought it might be nice to do something you enjoyed.” I resisted the urge to facepalm. “What do you normally do on your days off?”

Tarvek blinked. “Why do you wish to do the things I might do?”

“Well, I like to go camping, and that takes a lot more time and preparation,” I said, which wasn’t exactly a lie, but I wanted to have this be a fun day for him. Or at least, a restful one. “I figure, you don’t leave the city much, so anything you do for fun is local.”

Tarvek rolled the leaf by its stem between his fingers. “So you’d like to do what I would do normally on the weekend?”

“Yep!” I grinned, glad he took the bait.

“I assume that doesn’t include tedious chores, such as doing laundry, ironing and other such errands.” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Nope. So what do you do besides that?”

“I… I visit my sister in the hospital. Afterward, I go to the nearby church, light a candle and pray for her recovery.” Tarvek looked sideways. “I try to visit her at least every weekend. I swore I would do everything to help her recover, and that includes praying for her health.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised by either Tarvek’s devotion to his sister, or his piety. Most royalty were religious, or at least gave a show of being such, though religious fervour had faltered in some areas thanks to the revolutions. The thought of his lonely visits made my eyesight blurry. “Would you like to go visit Anevka today?”

Tarvek looked surprised. “You wouldn’t mind stopping by?”

“I think we should.”

I insisted we stop by a flower shop so I could get flowers. The florist, an older gregarious gentleman, smiled and chatted as he wrapped the bouquet. When he found out that we were visiting Tarvek’s sister in the hospital, he handed a startled Tarvek a teddy bear, waving away his attempts to pay. “Keep her company while big brother’s busy, yes?” 

Tarvek seemed taken aback by the man’s kindness, and stammered a thank you, his eyes wide. We walked toward the Great Hospital in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. “I couldn’t correct him. Anevka’s older than I am.”

“He was being nice.”

“But he doesn’t know me. I am a stranger…” Tarvek faltered as he realised something. “...Why did you help me, months ago, Agatha?”

“I just couldn’t let Zola get away with it,” I said, remembering the gleeful spite in Zola’s voice. “It wasn’t right, and you could’ve gotten into a lot of trouble.”

“I could have, yes, but if you hadn’t… perhaps Zola wouldn’t have tried to get you into trouble yesterday.”

“I doubt that,” I said, knowing I was right. “She tries to make trouble because she enjoys having the power to do so, Tarvek. That’s why she approached you to begin with, right?”

“I could tell her interest in me had nothing to do with actually pursuing a relationship with myself, not that I would have accepted even if she had.” Tarvek shrugged. “It struck me as suspicious that Zola spent a year trying to get Gil’s attention, and then to suddenly switch to propositioning me very abruptly. It was obvious she wanted to use me.” His gaze grew cold and angry. “I will not be used, especially against my friend, to whom I owe so much. I have very little left to me in this world that I hold dear, and I will fight to protect that with everything I have.”

I looked at his face sadly. “Your world has really been a bleak, cold one for years, hasn’t it? You asked me why I helped you. My turn: why did you come after me?”

Tarvek looked at the teddy bear he held in his arm and was quiet for a few minutes. “I realised you had gone out of your way to give the folder to me. It was obvious - I wasn’t carrying anything like documents at the time. I was… intrigued. Outside of Gil and his family, nobody has shown me kindness without expectation, and there you were, helping a total stranger. Even their kindness is… tinged with pity. Further, Gil misses the youth I was… even with all the expectations and military training we’ve been expected to undergo, Gil hasn’t seen battle. He doesn’t understand what those three days and nights were like. I can never be the way I was. I killed and all I felt was the recoil of the firearms I wielded, the desperation to survive, the fear that I would fail to protect Anevka and Violetta… I was terrified of what would happen to them, if they were captured by the enemy.” 

He touched the leaf he had tucked into the buttonhole of his coat. “A part of me never left that battlefield, Agatha. Everything I have done since is still a part of it, or because of it. It’s almost tangible, like an aura… It drives people away, because they can sense the predator in their midst. People never came close because I made them uneasy, afraid. I didn’t care; it helped keep my cover. I was just a quiet, introverted and creepy weirdo working late nights because he had no life.”

I had never interacted with Tarvek before that day, so I had never felt that unease. I couldn’t remember ever feeling afraid of him or intimidated. I wondered if I would’ve been, if the circumstances of our meeting had been different.

“Then you came along, and… you weren’t afraid of me. It surprised me. It felt so very important that I at least spoke to you and thanked you properly. Looking back, that was the most impulsive I can remember being in a very long time.”

I took his hand. “So, in summary: You don’t know why you wanted to be friends besides my being nice to you.”

Tarvek nodded. “If I may be embarrassingly poetic: You running into me that day was like sunshine introducing colours into a world that had become nothing but shades of gray.” He knit his fingers with mine. “Around you, I feel... normal. Strange, considering how extraordinary you are.”

“You’re the wonderful heroic Prince, who saved his sister and cousin and kept them safe and saved me yesterday,” I whispered. “Don’t sell yourself so short.”

“You saved me first.”

Anevka’s room was in one of those sections of the hospital that didn’t see many visitors. The nurses there knew him on sight, but the doctor who he quietly conferred with in the small consultation room knew who he was. I tried not to listen as Dr. Sun gave Tarvek a rundown that basically amounted to ‘nothing’s changed.’

Tarvek then introduced me to the two bodyguards sitting in the outer room of Anevka’s quarters, which was essentially a tiny one-bedroom apartment. The woman, Jenka, waved off his asking if they needed anything more. The other, Dimo, was talking to a nurse.

“Dey vill be finished teking care uf her Highness soon,” he reported in one of the heaviest Machino accents I had ever heard in my life. Many of the people of Machina had become mercenaries for hire after the fall of their ruling House nearly twenty years ago.

Finally, we were allowed in. The Princess had been bathed and her various tubes, monitors and clothes changed. The young woman that lay in the bed in a persistent vegetative state was a pale echo of the vibrant, impishly grinning lady I had seen in Zeetha’s photos, but it was clear she was Tarvek’s sister. Being a hospice room, it was almost devoid of personal touches in furniture, but a crystal music box sat on the bedside table, next to an old photo of Tarvek and Anevka standing with their father at some other celebration. The walls had been papered in a soft pattern of abstract pastels, and a painting of mountain landscape decorated one wall. As I arranged the flowers into a vase, I realised it depicted Sturmhalten Castle and the surrounding city of Balan’s Gap, so named for the impassable ravine that rent the land.

The place where Tarvek had been born to rule. I peered closer, and read the artist’s signature: T. Sturmvoraus.

“Dag, Anevka,” Tarvek said as he tucked her arm around the teddy bear. He continued talking, but in his native Balanian dialect, which had its roots in Romanian, German and French. I could catch bits of his words, so I knew he was telling her he had brought a friend with him to visit. He took a hairbrush from the side table, and began brushing out Anevka’s hair, talking softly all the while as if she were speaking back to him. Tarvek then braided her hair, and then tucked the leaf he had been wearing as a corsage into the hair tie at the end of the braid, murmuring fondly before pressing a kiss to Anevka’s brow.

Gently he tucked the handmade quilt around her midsection, then straightened to look at me. “I normally play some music for her, so you might want to take a seat.” He offered the chair he’d been sitting in.

There was an electric keyboard, a full key set one, in one corner of the room. Tarvek sat down on the small foldable bench he pulled out from behind it, and quietly began to play . Quiet song after quiet song, he played. It was clear to me that Tarvek hoped to draw Anevka’s consciousness back to the surface with his music, his love and his care . For an hour he played, segueing from one song to the next with barely a pause, eyes half-lidded with concentration. Lonely songs, wistful songs, uplifting, and heartfelt, Tarvek played, and as he did, I would turn my head now and again to hide my feelings, and cursed the self-absorbed revolutionary group that had robbed the world of such a brilliant and sensitive soul.

Chapter Text

After Tarvek went to pray for Anevka at the old Church, we had lunch at a restaurant that took advantage of the hospital grounds’ gardens and trees to provide a beautiful and soothing atmosphere. 

“Sun Daiyu was in the same school Gil and I went to, so she always knew who I was. Her grandfather is the legendary Dr. Sun; they re-established the Mechanicsburg Hospital that had been destroyed decades ago here in peaceful and prosperous Wulfenbach. He is one of the few Uncle Klaus fears.” A mischievous smirk curved Tarvek’s lips. “Possibly because even at his age, Sifu can kick Klaus’ kiester so hard, he feels it the week before.”

I blinked at Tarvek’s title for Dr. Sun.

“He taught Gil and I martial arts. ‘A good doctor knows how a body gets broken,’ he used to say. ‘This and that are separate disciplines, but if you master them both, you can accomplish anything.’ I try to keep in practice.”

I grinned. “Mother teaches martial arts. I’d love to spar with you sometime. Don’t look at me like that. I’m no fragile hothouse flower.” I mimed bunching up a bicep. “I’m a weed and am tougher than I look.”

“Er… that’s not why I… I haven’t sparred with anyone except Gil and Zeetha in recent years, and they don’t hold back. At all. Gil broke my old glasses - by having me land on them. And I wasn’t wearing them at the time. He got me these.” Tarvek tapped his glasses, and took a long sip of his lemon lime and bitters.

I started giggling around a mouthful of steak. “The more you talk about your friendship with Gilgamesh, the more I am starting to expect that one day, you’ll tell me about how a building was on fire, and it was ‘mostly not his fault,’ Tarvek.”

Tarvek bit his lip, and looked sideways, his expression telling me he was fighting to not spray his drink all over the table. With difficulty, he swallowed, then kept wearing the weird expression.

“Tarvek. I was joking.” I felt a weird quiver go through me when he looked at me sideways and pursed his lips. “You’re joking. No way. Don’t tell me he actually did that!”

One slow nod of the head.

I gaped. Morbid curiosity took over. “How?!”

Tarvek licked his lips. “It was also partly Anevka’s fault. A lab accident, they told me. I never found out more than that.”

A discussion about books lead us to the Van Rijn Library, where we spent half the afternoon sitting on the floor, poring over books as our softly conducted meandering conversations took us over a wide range of topics. Tarvek loved the library, and said this was the only other place besides his apartment and the bank that he spent plenty of time in. “I can read and read and read and forget that I never actually formally graduated or got a degree.” He paused. “Degrees. I was on track for a multidisciplinary education before… everything happened.”

“What were you planning to study?”

“If I had a particular preference? I had wanted to go into medicine.” Tarvek shrugged. “Since I was in line for my father’s throne I couldn’t go into full practice. I might have been able to serve as a medic in our military, or as a surgeon, if I’d decided to focus on that.” He sighed and started putting books away.

I took him to my favourite bookstore, where we talked ourselves into buying some. Afterward, Tarvek looked at his bag of purchases and declared, “Gil can’t say we didn’t go shopping.”

I could tell he felt guilty. “Would he really complain that you refused to spend his money?”

“Yes. Especially to ‘show a lovely lady a good time,’ and all that.” He did an excellent mimic of Gil’s voice. His phone pinged just then, and he sighed, turning the message to me.

You better take her out shopping. Girls like shopping. If you don’t, I’m putting a massive pay raise into your salary.

I stared. “How, in what form or way, does he think that constitutes a threat?”

“Because I wouldn’t have earned it,” Tarvek grumbled. “Fine then! Let us shop.” He typed back Already doing that, you absolute pest, showed it to me and hit send.

I pondered this. “What’s your favourite store?”

Several hours later, we were sitting on the floor of Tarvek’s little apartment, leafing through piles of secondhand books.

“I didn’t know that place even existed, oh my gosh, I never had so much fun treasure hunting!” I gleefully waved a hardbound first edition of a book from one of my favourite authors.

“Treasure hunting? Oh, you mean hunting for books that you’ve been looking for?” Tarvek asked, setting his selections to one side. “I’m going to need another shelf,” he frowned and looked around.

Tarvek had made great use of ingenuity and minor DIY to ensure that every bit of space he could spare was a shelf for books. Even his small couch had shelving built into the arms and back and bottom. It would have been more accurate to say that he had constructed a bookshelf you could sit in. In fact, we were sitting under his single-person bed, in a nook of more bookshelves he’d made underneath the loft-bed frame. The ladder that led up to it were mere footholds in a narrow shelf. About the only place that didn’t have shelves for books was in the tiny kitchen, and the corner where his computer and musical instruments were.

“Have you tried reading ebooks?” I asked. “I’m not especially fond of them since I like the feel of holding a book, but sometimes I read online. It’s one of the only ways to get some of the fan-translated novels from Asia, and your English has to be pretty good, since most of the people doing the translating translate it into English.”

“I am conversant,” Tarvek said.

“Oooh, do you have Wired links to your computer?” I grinned.

“Yes, of course. I never use it for much except for work and well, streaming music. There are some simply breathtaking pieces to listen to…”

“I have got to introduce you to my favourite translation site,” I exclaimed. “But first, I’ll show you how to make a mug cake, like I promised I would.”

Ten minutes later, we were sitting in front of Tarvek’s computer with our molten fudge mud cakes as I introduced him to the joy of web novels that could be read for free online.

“Surely the translators must get paid somehow,” he said, eyes wide.

“Oh, sure. Via advertisement revenue and TipJar,” I pointed at the little coffee mug symbol with a coin on it. “I support them with a donation every month or if I am introduced to a new story I like and is obviously well translated. Er…” I watched as he scrolled down to the comments section after the chapter. “Readers who have an account can leave comments and often discuss stuff after the chapter.”

Tarvek leaned forward, his brow furrowing. “Agatha, I am afraid to ask, but what in the world does ‘horny jail’ mean?”

Ooooh no. “SearchString dot com is your friend,” I said. “It’s easier than asking me.”

He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously. “...One of dubious nature.” Tarvek sighed. “Oh very well.”

A man has to learn some things on his own, after all.

We walked to the bus terminal later that evening, the autumn breeze wafting leaves from the trees. To my surprise, Tarvek stopped by a street vendor selling trinkets and toys, purchased something, and walked up to where I was waiting at the stop, smiling.

“This caught my eye,” he said. Tarvek opened his palm, to show me a small red maple leaf, perfectly preserved in a circle of clear resin, the pendant hanging from a cleverly knotted leather thong. “I thought it would look nice on you and go nicely with your sweater,” he said, his smile soft.

“I love it. It’ll make a nice souvenir of the day.” I let Tarvek loop it over my head and adjust the thong until the pendant sat against my collarbone to his satisfaction. “Thank you, Tarvek.”

“You’re welcome. I am glad it pleases you.” For a moment gazed at me in such a way that made me feel like I’d drunk warm honeyed tea and made my lips tingle. I leaned forward-

Tarvek looked up. “Your bus is here.”

I blinked as he stooped to pick up my bag of books. Couldn’t the bus have been just a little bit late?! “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked, our usual parting ritual by now.

Tarvek smiled, his eyes warm. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Agatha.”

I tried not to think too much about it on the bus ride home, through dinner with my parents and as I took a shower. I threw myself onto my bed and sighed, wishing I had a bit more experience in the subject of romance. Surely there are books that talk about this sort of thing?!

The message tone I’d assigned to Tarvek went off. I flopped over to grab my phone and read: 

I must convey my delighted gratitude in your introduction to these sites. I am learning ever so much.

That… sounded ominous. That’s… good? I think?

Tarvek responded with: Not for Gil it won’t be. At the end was a little devil-face emoji, which I also had to explain to him earlier. It hadn’t surprised me that he hadn’t known about kaomoji. Apparently he had figured out how to access those on his phone.

Oh dear. You’ve been reading the comment sections, haven’t you? To my dismay, all I got in reply was a smiley face: • ͜   • 

What have I done?! I hit send.

I felt a quiver of trepidation run up my spine at Tarvek’s next reply.  Introduced me to endless entertainment. ¬‿¬

I didn’t know whether to laugh or go into hysterics at the thought of old-fashioned gentlemanly Tarvek learning net-speak, kaomoji and otaku jargon. Then my phone chimed again.

On a more serious note, apparently Zola was also absent from work today. Gil is suspicious and wishes that I escort you to the office tomorrow. I will pick you up, because I agree with him. Gilgamesh expressly told me it is fine if we are a little late to work.

Oh wonderful. I tried focusing on the positive note that I would be seeing Tarvek in the morning instead of after the workday had ended, bid him good night and buried my face into my pillow. There was no way in hell Prince Punctual would be anything but on time .

Chapter Text

I took care to make extra preparations since I had time to do them that morning, which prompted both my parents to look at me strangely when I came down for breakfast.

“Is there something that we should know about, Agatha?” Mom asked as she put my breakfast at my usual seat.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I assured her as I shrugged my office jacket on and patted my necktie down. Both of us looked up at a commotion at the front door, and a moment later, Dad came in, his large arm slung around a wide-eyed and somewhat rumpled Tarvek’s shoulders.

“Look who I found outside when I went to get the morning paper!”

I removed my glasses so I could properly facepalm. “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaad~!”

“Erm… Good morning, Herr Clay, Frau Clay…” Tarvek tried to pull himself together, but found himself sitting at the breakfast table, blinking down at a plate of bacon, eggs, hashbrowns and fried mushrooms. He seemed startled, as if he wasn’t sure how he ended up there, or how he’d somehow removed both his trenchcoat and bag, both of which now hung on the back of his chair. “...How did-”

Mom put a glass of orange juice in front of him. “A healthy breakfast is necessary for young folks like you, yes?”

“...Yes. Thank you for your hospitality, Frau Clay.”

“Call me Lilith, dear.” She looked at Dad. “Did you bring in the paper, or just the boy, Adam?”

“Oh, so silly of me. Back in a moment. Go ahead and start eating, kids.”

“So,” Mom began as Tarvek began to apply himself to what was likely his second breakfast, “What exactly are you sure you can handle?”

Tarvek choked, earning himself a well-placed swat between the shoulderblades as Dad returned, paper in hand.

“What’s going on, you two?” Dad was giving Tarvek the same strange stare he and Mom had given me when I’d come down. 

Uh.

Oh.

Tarvek looked across the table from me. I looked back. We sighed.

“You start,” I said.

Tarvek began to talk, starting by telling my parents who he really was, and giving his past as to why he was often in Gil’s company, and why Zola had targeted him. I stepped in when my part came up, and between us described how we’d become friends over mutual interests, and our suspicions that Zola might have discovered our friendship. Tarvek told them about how he’d had a bad feeling all day after I’d run into him in the elevator, and came up with an excuse to visit my department. 

“Agatha was being set up for a fall,” he said, and there was a hardness in his eyes I’d seen only once before. “I immediately alerted Gil and he’s had a team of auditors working since then to see if work had been assigned to Agatha that she wasn’t supposed to take on. However,” Tarvek held up his hand. “Agatha’s brilliance in mathematics and her experience in accounting thanks to your business had resulted in there being no errors that I could immediately see.”

“That’s pretty much it. Gilgamesh kicked us out of the office for yesterday so we hung out together.” I drained my juice, which reminded Tarvek of his glass. He began drinking.

My parents looked at each other. “Well,” Dad humphed. “That was not what we were expecting.”

I frowned. “What were you expecting?”

“Either he’d gotten you pregnant or he would be asking to marry you, or both,” my mother replied with a shrug.

Tarvek almost drowned in his orange juice.

“I am so, so very sorry for all that,” I told Tarvek, for what seemed like the thousandth time. He was still blowing his nose as we sat in the taxi. “Dad didn’t threaten you too much during your ‘man to man talk,’ did he?”

“No, actually… he didn’t threaten me at all.” Tarvek coughed once more, disposed of the tissue, and settled his glasses back into place. “Actually, the conversation we had was not what I expected at all, but I think it went well.”

I was dying of curiosity but there are some things that one doesn’t ask. Instead, I asked a different question. “What’s going to happen today?”

“I am thin on the details of what Gil’s audit has found, but he did warn me that we would all be facing his father today.”

“Was that supposed to be reassuring?” I yelped. “It’s not!”

“We’re not in trouble, that much I do know.” Tarvek took my hand and squeezed it. “Besides, if Adam doesn’t intimidate you, Klaus shouldn’t.” He gave me an unsure but game smile. “Your father was quite reasonable considering that it seems that he and your mother thought that…” he flushed and looked away. “That you and I were… far more intimate than we have been.”

I wanted to crawl into a hole and pull in the earth over my head. “Well, if you were thinking of getting my mind off of meeting his Grand Ducal Highness, Prince Klaus Wulfenbach, then you’ve succeeded. I’m trying to decide if I should die of embarrassment or die of nervousness and ultimately am doing neither.”

Tarvek leaned over and whispered into my ear a phrase he’d only learned the day before. I burst into a fit of giggles, which set him off as well. Considering how the day itself started, I think laughter was the better option to having a breakdown of nerves.

In fairness to Tarvek, his lack of terror over seeing Prince Klaus Wulfenbach was likely due to his practically having had him for an Uncle, thanks to being close friends with Gilgamesh. I’m sure that I didn’t find my Dad as terrifying because I knew what a marshmallow he was inside.

Gilgamesh may have loomed, but to me, the youngest brother of the ruler of the Duchy of Wulfenbach towered. He glowered down his patrician nose at all in the room, under a silvery stormcloud of hair. I rolled critical failure on my vs intimidation rolls, I guess.

Then I suddenly thought Huh. So that’s where Gil gets his hair, and for no good reason I could analyse or make sense of, my terror disappeared.

Klaus tapped a folder he had open in front of him. “Tarvek, I’ve read the report, but I would still like you and Fräulein Clay to tell me what happened.”

It helped that Mom and Dad had already demanded the same thing of us, so Tarvek and I repeated the whole conversation from earlier, almost completely word for word.

Klaus nodded. “This is consistent with what Gilgamesh has reported, and what was discovered in the audit. There we found signs of tampering, not just with the work allocations, but small ‘errors’ in the personnelle records, especially dealing with salary.” Klaus’ eyes slid to Tarvek. “Especially yours.”

Tarvek frowned, puzzled.

Gil turned to him. “Long story short, Zola noticed while she was messing with other people’s payslips that you were earning far, far more than someone else in your position, given the ridiculous amounts of overtime you do - and that doesn’t even take into account the adjustments that we’ve made because of the dual nature of your work. She’s been skimming your pay. You probably haven’t noticed because the amount she skimmed isn’t enough to give you problems in anything you pay for regularly and because you’re such a skinflint everything is still within your means. You would have noticed the instant you had problems paying for even so much as a bar of chocolate, but your frugality ensured that she’s been getting away with it…” he flipped over the page he was reading “Since sometime early last year.”

I turned pale, then saw red. I had no idea how much Tarvek earned, but he was paying for the bodyguards and as much of Anevka’s care as he could. If Zola’s stealing from him meant that he’d been working much, much harder than he had needed to…

Tarvek was still frowning, but thoughtfully now. “It still makes very little sense to me that she would attempt to have a relationship with me. I have done my best to keep my head down and attract as little attention as possible…”

At this Klaus actually chuckled. “You are so self-effacing that you don’t realise that what you ended up with instead is becoming something of an attractive mystery to the rest of the bank staff. I don’t think you look at the mirror for more than shaving, Tarvek, but believe me, you’ve grown into a striking young man. You’d have attracted attention, believe me, even as simply as you’ve presented yourself.” Klaus leaned back into his seat and steepled his fingers. “You’d have had to have severe facial scarring or grown hideously overweight to avoid that kind of attention.”

The frown only deepened as Tarvek touched his face.

“Don’t even think about it, Tarv,” Gil growled.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Tarvek scowled at Gil. “I was just thinking about how I could have hidden my features even more.” He reached up and tugged at his long forelock of hair. “I grew my hair out for that purpose.”

Klaus coughed. “We’re getting a little afield, lads. Regardless of how you caught Fräulein Sirenée’s eye, you did. Perhaps she thought you a much easier pheasant to pluck than Gil. Nevertheless, your association with Fräulein Clay here spurred her into reckless behaviour, because she tried to also make it look like Fräulein Clay was responsible for the misdirection of your salary. We checked - the last three months of funds that are normally skimmed from your salary and several others’ ended up in Fräulein Clay’s account. How Fräulein Sirenée managed this is all in the report if you want to read the technical details, but suffice to say that the IT division is in an uproar.”

“What!?” I yelped. 

Tarvek’s eyes flashed with sudden anger, and I understood what he’d meant about other people sensing a bloodthirsty predator in their midst. Gone was the urbane, shy gentleman I’d known all these months, replaced instantly by a hunter who’d scented his prey. “She will be punished, I presume?” 

I felt a chill down my spine - or was it a thrill? - at the soft, deadly tone in his murmured words.

“At the very least, she faces a minimum of fifteen years of jail time for her thefts,” Klaus said, suddenly stern. “I have turned over all the evidence we have gathered, plus your reports and the reports from other employees that have been harassed by her, to the police. As this involved targeting a member of the royal family, it will be given the highest priority… as well as discretion.”

“I see.” With effort, Tarvek closed his eyes and made himself calm down. “That’s good to know.”

“We’ve also forwarded her picture to EuroPol to see if she’s been active in similar crimes elsewhere in Europa,” Gilgamesh added. “You should’ve seen the network and server sysadmins lose it last night. They would have torn Zola apart for breaking into their precious servers; they’re howling for her blood and have been feverishly studying what she did. There is no way she hasn’t done this before, and elsewhere.” Suddenly Gil turned to me. “This is why I don’t date employees. Oh yeah… did the two of you have a good time?”

Tarvek suddenly looked wary. I, on the other hand, was dealing with the whiplash of switching between this being a formal meeting and suddenly dealing with ‘family.’

Klaus covered his eyes. “Gilgamesh…”

“What? You know Tarvek doesn’t go out for fun anymore! You’re the one who keeps telling me that relaxation time is as important as exercise for health!” Gilgamesh protested in indignant tones.

“Let me at least finish the meeting before you and Tarvek engage in your usual game of snap and snarl,” Klaus snapped.

Well, I could see where that game came from, as Gilgamesh actually made a growling noise emerge from his throat.

Before we were kicked out of his office, Klaus told both Tarvek and myself that until everything had been sorted out, we, along with the ten or so employees that had become victim to Zola’s schemes, were on paid leave, as our work logins and the associated records needed to be ‘cleansed, with extreme prejudice,’ as Gil quoted one of the sysadmins saying. Then he also took Tarvek’s work laptop.

Tarvek and I stood outside the bank. “On leave until at least next week!” Tarvek exclaimed. “What am I supposed to do until then?!”

Anyone else would have been ecstatic to find they’d been essentially given a paid vacation, but Tarvek didn’t do much outside of work. “First things first… let’s go back to my place. We should let my parents know what’s happened. Then, I am going to find some nice, cathartic way to de-stress and work out my mad, because I want to hunt that snooty bitch down and pound her for what she did to you.” I clenched my fists.

“Did to me?! I am livid that she tried to have you take the blame!” Tarvek snarled. I’d never seen Tarvek angry before, so it was a sight to behold.

“I have a punching bag at home in the garage,” I said. “Back to your place, pick up exercise clothes, then back to my house?”

“That is a fine idea.” Tarvek growled. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

After that day where Tarvek and I beat the hell out of the poor punching bag and told my parents what happened, Tarvek decided that he would make use of the time to do other work - assemble another bookshelf and rearrange some things in his apartment. “I’m always ever so busy, and if not, I will find ways to keep myself occupied.” To his surprise, my parents said Tarvek could visit whenever he wished, and invited him over for dinner that Sunday. 

We took them at their word and Tarvek came over a few of those days off to spar in the small dojo in the basement. We were keen to try, especially after seeing each other take out our frustrations on the garage punching bag. Tarvek was fast. I think I gave him a good challenge though with what he said were 'excellent reflexes,’ and it was certainly fun to test my skills against his. I also found out that Gilgamesh had broken Tarvek's glasses by throwing him out of the sparring ring and onto the bench where Tarvek's gym bag had sat. Mom found us the second day and not only identified Tarvek's fighting style as Chinese martial arts, but also noted that whoever taught him was clearly a master.

Then she proceeded to throw us both around at the same time without breaking much of a sweat. We both lay on the tatami for a while after that, talking out what we did wrong, because trying to work out the moves just wasn't feasible at the time.

I decided to take a good look at my choices and options for study, and took a trip down to the great Library to examine the potential for employment. I sighed and buried my head in my arms when my preferred fields still gave me the same answers as before. I grumpily left to find lunch.

Given that he lived in the area, I shouldn’t have been surprised to run into Tarvek, whose idea of ‘relaxed dressing’ was apparently wearing mostly the same outfit as work, sans waistcoat, tie, and having his hair unbound.

“I thought of trying to change my appearance slightly, given what Uncle Klaus said.” Tarvek tugged on his forelock. He looked dubious about the effect his changes had. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

“If you wore clothes and had a look that’s a completely different style to your usual one at work, then that might work. Have you thought about maybe not shaving on your days off?” I started looking at him with a critical eye, instead of being distracted by his looks.

“Mmm, I… look like an evil mad scientist, and that’s not helpful when I’m only trying to get groceries done.” Tarvek looked embarrassed. “And it takes a few weeks for my facial hair to start looking like a proper beard instead of a mere five o’ clock shadow.”

“That won’t work then. And you have a way of standing that most people don’t actually do.”

“Is there something wrong with the way I stand?”

“No… just most people have poor posture.” I chewed on my lip thoughtfully. “I wonder if gothing you up would work.”

“I… am unsure an architectural aesthetic is what I’m looking for.”

Tarvek looked so innocent, I couldn’t resist. I’m sure it’s understandable that I gave into temptation, right?

I first got in touch with a high school classmate who I knew had gone into her family’s business, which was theatre. Good thing it was nearly winter, because it meant they were ‘home.’

“Agatha!” I rocked back as Olga threw herself enthusiastically at me. “How’s my favourite game master? Hey, are we gonna set up a serious game sometime this winter?”

“Heh, lets see if we can set something up,” I laughed. “Anyway, I need some image advice.”

“Ooh, changing your look?”

“Ha, you wish. No, I need some help for him.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder to Tarvek, who stood a decorous distance away. 

“Greetings.”

Olga blinked. “Him? But your boyfriend looks fine.” She grinned at me. “Very fine in fact.”

I’d given up telling people that we weren’t an item. “He wants to try the goth look out, see how it looks first,” I said. “I thought maybe you could help out.”

Her eyes gleamed speculatively. “Oooh, you mean I can dress him up!? Is it my birthday? Christmas?”

I could see Tarvek begin to look nervous. “Down girl. Nothing too extreme, something just to change his look some days.”

Olga pouted. “Oh, so he probably won’t want real piercings then.”

Tarvek stared at her, appalled. 

“I look like a vampire,” Tarvek muttered. “People don’t really go out looking like this, do they?!” He looked at the black velvet frock coat and blood red waistcoat in disbelief.

“Only if they go out clubbing, really, but it looks good on you!” Olga grinned. “Like a vampire prince!”

I stepped out from my dressing cubicle, and grinned at Tarvek’s expression. “I think if we put Tarvek in more leather it’d work better.”

“You’re really rocking that catsuit though, girl.” Olga wolf-whistled. With a sly grin, she elbowed Tarvek. “You’d have a lot of fun unzipping her from that outfit with your teeth , wouldn’t you?”

“There is no safe answer to that question,” Tarvek said, flushing. 

I threw the toy noise-making blaster I had in my hand at Olga. “I just wanted to try one on!”

Olga grinned. “Keep it on!”

Half an hour later both of us were looking at Tarvek. “Yeah, he looks better this way,” I said. “It’s a completely different look to his previous one.”

Tarvek tipped his head to one side, and then the other, considering. Olga had found a black wig with a stripe of purple that hung in shaggy spikes, and a black tunic that zipped up one side of Tarvek’s chest, and decorated with brass eyelets, zippers and pockets. I’d found a dark brown leather duster with metal accents, and a pair of black denims that Olga and I had entirely too much fun dressing up with a pair of studded belts and chains. We decided the boots he was wearing would do. A set of magnet-held fake piercings on one ear finished the look.

“It’s… certainly different. I barely recognise myself.”

“That kind of was the idea,” I said, grinning. “Find you a new look that gives you a whole different feel when you’re not at work. Trying out a costume gives you a chance to try on a whole new style without having to spend the money when you might not like the look.”

“I never would have thought to try this out, myself.” Tarvek smiled. “Thank you.” His phone pinged and he looked at the time. “As fun as this may have been for you lovely ladies, I’m afraid I must go. I still have some errands to run.”

Olga chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “How about you borrow the outfit, walk in it, see how you go?” She pulled out a fringed scarf and arranged it around Tarvek’s shoulders. “You’ll really be able to give the image change a proper trial run.”

Tarvek blinked. “Really? I may borrow the clothes?”

“Yeah, we’ve got nothing coming up that needs those clothes. Just give them back to Agatha when you’re done, and she can bring them back.” Suddenly she grinned. “There is a price though.”

“I daresay we do look rather like we’re from the cover of some novel,” Tarvek remarked later, looking at the photos that Olga had forwarded to my phone.

“She had too much fun posing us,” I sighed. Tarvek wasn’t the only one who had to try to get his blushing under control for some of the poses. “I shouldn’t have put on the spy catsuit.”

Tarvek tipped his head, the wig’s bangs obscuring one side of his face as he did. “Why did you then?”

“I wanted to see if I could squeeze into one, and to see if they were as difficult to get into as I’d heard.” I rubbed my neck in embarrassment. “But since that one was made of shiny, stretchy cloth and not actual leather or ah, one of those latex-look bodysuits… it’s kind of cheating.”

“Ah,” Tarvek replied, the word his all-purpose way of saying ‘I don’t understand, but I’m afraid to ask and find out.’ “That said, I did think you looked good in it.” He grinned. “Perhaps you could do some sideline work posing for book covers or such,” he teased, pretending to hold up a fancy sci-fi blaster rifle.

“I could say the same for you. Heck, I bet you could actually model for a living,” I poked him in the arm.

“I’m trying to stay under the radar, not shine a spotlight - several! - on me while walking down a catwalk, remember?” He shrugged. “I did that a few times for charity events when I was much younger. It may seem glamorous to some, but because they made me not wear my glasses, I was more afraid of falling off the catwalk. I got praised afterward for the ‘haughty model’s demeanour’ and people said I was a natural, so I never let on that I was terrified of stepping wrong and was actually trying to keep an eye out for the edge of the catwalk. Everything was a blur.”

“So… no stage fright?” I teased, wondering if there were pictures somewhere I could search up.

Tarvek huffed a laugh. “No. Now that you mention it, I don’t recall having that fright.” He took a bite of his fried chicken and chewed thoughtfully. “That said, I think this outfit might work for a basic idea of what I should try and change. I rather like the wig idea though; it might be one of the simplest ways to disguise myself.”

“Well, you know what we should try as a litmus test?” I grinned. “See if you can order from Vanamonde’s without being recognised.”

Tarvek came out of the café, grinning. “I come bearing delicious treats and sorcerous potions that help wakefulness!” he declared triumphantly, and I giggled at his melodramatic tone.

“I gather that means they didn’t recognise you?” I took the bag he handed me and noticed for the first time the logo on the takeout bag: Vanamonde’s: Not Another Coffee Shop! They really did have fun with their naming theme.

“Indeed they did not!” Tarvek sat down on the bench beside me, where I had waited with his bag of clothes and the books I’d borrowed. “This was a splendid idea, Agatha. I bet even Gilgamesh wouldn’t recognise me.”

“Once you really get into the style, he really won’t,” I laughed. “I kind of want to see his face when you pull that off.”

Tarvek chuckled. “Who knows? Once the whole mess with our salaries is sorted out, I’ll have a bit of disposable income. Perhaps you can help me pick out a few outfits and find a good wig or two for the purpose.”

“Ugh.” I curled around my coffee and sipped. “It still sickens me to think of that.”

Tarvek shook his head. “I was getting by, Agatha, and I never fell behind on my dues, because I had gotten used to living lean. The other people that fell victim to Zola’s scheme had quite a few things in their lives delayed, including one mother not being able to send their son to school in Vienna. The boy had to give up the scholarship.” He sat back. “In the light of that kind of setback, my picking the day’s sale specials in the grocery or surviving on spruced-up instant noodles is no big deal.” He paused. “Don’t let Gil know though, he’ll be furious.”

I looked at the coffee in my hand, suddenly appalled. “You’ve been treating me for months and-”

“That was last year, Agatha. I was living especially lean because we tried an experimental treatment on Anevka. This, and my books are my luxuries.” Tarvek tapped the top of his coffee cup. “I started budgeting for a small treat after my second year living alone because everything seemed endlessly awful. Vanamonde’s was doing a voucher handout to promote some of their new coffee options, and I got given one. Buy a slice of cake or a muffin, get a free espresso, if I am not mistaken. I was hungry - I’d gone and lost my lunch on the bus and was kicking myself for losing not just the food, but the container and utensils, and I was feeling particularly low.”

Tarvek sipped his coffee. “It’s pathetic, really. I went home with my cup of coffee and the chocolate muffin, and had it. I almost cried, it tasted so good. But what really hurt was having everything that had happened finally sink in. My father was dead, murdered by the people who didn’t understand what the costs had been in trying to get Balan through the plagues that swept through the nation and had destroyed the harvests. I still hurt for him, to be so callously betrayed by the people we’d cared for for centuries. Father did everything right, but still lost everything. The young man that I’d grown up with as an older brother was dead; my sister was in a coma; I’d had to turn my back on my other only cherished kin to keep her safe, and I was scrambling to keep my sister safe and get her what she needed. It all hit me then, everything… just came crashing down on me. Because of the taste of chocolate, after so long. Such a simple thing. 

“Yet it reminded me that I had to take care of myself, or I would fall ill, or worse, be driven to despair. Once that happens, death is not far away. I saw it too many times when I was young. So, I started setting aside money for things like a coffee and a treat every day, money to go buy a book or two at least once a month, and funds for emergencies, like losing my lunchbox, or needing new shoes. I found out the hard way that it’s better to invest in good shoes than buy cheap ones. It keeps me sane.” Tarvek drained his coffee, then held up the empty cardboard cup, as if it were a precious pearl.

“People… people think when you’re royalty, everything is honey and manna. That wasn’t the case for us. Both Anevka and I worked hard to get the scholarships to the Institute of the Extraordinary, so we could get an education and better serve our people. Not every country is like Wulfenbach. The jewelry and the dress that Anevka wore to Zeetha’s birthday party had been my mother’s. The suit I wore had been Father’s when he was my age, when Balan had been more prosperous, the vineyards and the mines productive. I think Father worked especially hard to make sure we stayed in Paris so we would be a bit protected from how bad it got. It’s why he encouraged us to get away from Balan and visit with Gil and Zeetha as much as possible. He couldn’t hide it from me though, because I kept up with the news. Really, that was rather silly of him, but I allowed him his illusions.”

Tarvek sighed. “I suppose that growing up relatively harshly helped prepare me for the life I live now. If I were as pampered and as fortunate as Gil, I mightn’t have made it. It’s a shame I couldn’t finish school, but that’s just life. I’m getting by, even without the degrees I might have earned. But, I could have done so much more, been more useful.”

Then he looked straight at me. “That’s why, when you make your choice of what to study, you should be sure to stick to it, after you’ve made your decision. Either of your choices suit you well, and you’ll be truly brilliant in those fields. I don’t have to emphasise how seriously you should take it; you wouldn’t have taken the year off to work and consider your choices if that wasn’t the case. This…” he waved in the general direction of the Wulfenbach National Bank, “...this isn’t where you belong. You wouldn’t be happy.”

Yet even as he said those words of encouragement, Tarvek looked a little melancholy. I remembered that I was the first friend he’d made in the years since he’d begun to work, and frowned at him. “We’ll still be able to see each other you know, and hang out.”

“Perhaps, if life allows it - I remember how busy things got once my courses got into full swing. I’ll be glad to see you, even if it’s just visiting on the weekends to return books I’ve borrowed.” He smiled and brushed back some of the hair that had clung to his cheek. “We’ll still talk through this.” Tarvek tapped his phone, which was in his front pocket.

Did he really think I’d just drop our friendship simply because I got too busy? I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind-

“Fräulein Clay, what are you doing here?”

I flinched back at the harsh voice and looked up, and up and up. Gilgamesh Wulfenbach loomed over both of us. To my surprise, his eyes were cold and his scowl made him greatly resemble his father. “Uh… having coffee?”

“And who is this?” He turned his icy glare on Tarvek, who blinked up at him. After a moment, Gilgamesh took a closer look. “...Tarvek?”

Tarvek turned to me. “Well, you got to see his face a lot sooner than either of us expected,” he drawled, deadpan.

Gilgamesh’s jaw dropped. “What the hell are you wearing?!”

Chapter Text

“...So, given that Prince Gilgamesh thought I was ‘cheating’ by having coffee with ‘another man’ I think that the disguise is a spanking success!” I said crankily that Sunday.

Mom patted Tarvek on the shoulder sympathetically, while her eyes danced with amusement at my expense. “It’s good to have a friend that is so protective of your heart.”

Tarvek made a noncommittal humming noise around his mouthful of pork roast. He was dressed slightly more casually by wearing a turtleneck sweater under one of the older and discontinued uniform suit jackets, which he’d kept - explaining his previous outfits. He had arrived with wine, an autumn bouquet, and a box of chocolates, as properly old-fashioned and gentlemanly as ever. Then Dad hauled him out to the smoker, which had been going since the night before, to have Tarvek help with unloading the racks of ribs, the pork loin and beef roast, and bring it to the table. Dad seemed to find it funny to rumple Tarvek up.

Seeing the mountain of food, I suppose it shouldn’t have been a surprise when Tarvek wondered if there would be other guests. He has a great poker face. I bet we could make a mint if he played poker.

“Even if I were having coffee with someone else, that’s just having a drink with a friend,” I huffed, still irked.

“Yes,” Tarvek finally got out. “...What did I say!? Why are you glaring at me?”

I had no idea, but for some reason his agreement irked me as much as Gilgamesh’s assumptions had. “Sorry. I misunderstood.”

“Ah. That’s alright.”

My parents shooed us off ‘to go play’ and refused to let Tarvek help with the dishes. I didn’t feel like moving for at least half an hour, so I decided watching some mindless entertainment for a bit was a good way to pass the time.

I looked over my shoulder to find Tarvek hovering just outside the doorway to my room. “What’re you doing? Get in here.”

He inched forward, but didn’t step in. “Um, but Agatha…” Tarvek found himself nudged in by my Mom, who was holding a tray that held a plate of freshly baked limbă de pisică cookies, and mugs of chamomile tea, which she handed to him.

“She didn’t have to close the door,” I muttered. “We’re not going to be watching anything that loud.” I finished queuing up an isekai I’d mentioned to Tarvek before, about a young Leonardo DaVinci ending up in a world where mecha and cyberbodies were a thing, and his building fully sentient clockwork clank girls. I took the tray and set it on my desk, waved Tarvek to take the comfort of my bed and perched on my chair. Halfway through the episode, Tarvek picked up one of the still-warm cookies, and nibbled. He wouldn’t have been able to resist, not with his sweet tooth.

“I’ve always wondered how they’d get full-motion articulation on something as complex as a hand, and still manage to have it handle so delicately, and have it be wearable.” Tarvek held up one of his own hands and frowned thoughtfully.

“Oh believe me, they’ve made amazing strides in robot automation and control, but- Argh, do you see why I’ve been having such a hard time deciding what to do?” I stopped the credits before the next episode came on, and pulled up some of the concepts I’d been playing with on my computer. “Okay, granted, this was for one of the RPG settings we were playing with last year, but I’ve been wondering if it could be done, you know?”

Tarvek whistled long and low, and I felt a pleasant warmth spread through me as his eyes lit up with admiration at the cyber-arm concept I’d drafted. “Oh, I’d also been pondering such things; if I had been able to go into medicine like I’d wanted, I was especially interested in prosthetics design… This is amazing.”

“You think so?” I got tingly with excitement. “This was just for a game…”

“I had something similar in my head but I never put it to paper-”

“You know you can’t start a sentence like that and hope to get away with not showing me, right, Tarvek?”

He burst out laughing. “Do you have pencil and paper?”

We forgot about the rest of the show. I showed him the free, open-source software that I used to make my drafts and three-dimensional models, and as I watched his face I could almost see the ideas piling up and all the delightful possibilities being realised in his brain. I demonstrated the software, but admitted it had a bit of a learning curve. Tarvek had a steady hand and as we talked he drew out his ideas. We were whispering to each other in glee over a finger articulation idea when Mom knocked on the door, then poked her head in.

“Tarvek? Are you staying over?”

He turned as red as a tomato. I wondered why; sleepovers were no big deal, right? Then he caught a glimpse of the clock and the flush drained out of his face. “Oh good heavens, I’ve completely lost track of time, my deepest apologies! I’ve been keeping you from sleep-”

“Relax, kiddo. It’s still early for us. It’s just that it sounded like you two were having so much fun it doesn’t seem nice to make you stop.” Mom gestured at my room, with its blizzard of sketch-covered papers, chuckling. I found myself sharing a sheepish grin with Tarvek; we hadn’t meant to take ‘go play’ so literally.

“For now, I believe it best that I recall that I am, in fact, an adult of twenty-two years of age, and comport myself as such,” Tarvek said self-deprecatingly as he picked up the drawings and stacked them neatly together. “Today has been absolutely delightful and I am grateful beyond words that you invited me, Lilith.”

I walked Tarvek to the bus stop, glad to stretch my legs, and enjoying the crisp, night-sharp autumn air. He lifted the bag of plastic containers filled with leftovers and a jar of limbă de pisică.  

“I won’t have to cook for a few nights,” Tarvek remarked, smiling. He hadn’t stopped smiling since he had made his farewells, and it made me feel like I was filled with charged glitter to see. “Your parents are very kind, Agatha.”

“Well, they seem to like you a lot,” I said. “I do apologise that they keep thinking we’re dating…”

“I don’t mind,” Tarvek murmured. “It seems to be a bit of a joke between your parents, but I don’t feel like they are being cruel about it. It’s… almost like they are trying to put me at ease.”

“Mhm,” I suddenly felt strangely discomfited, as if he should not have been so carelessly accepting of being the butt of a joke.

“I was going to ask if you’d read the latest chapter of I’m The Villain’s Daughter?! , because I’d read it last night and thought it’d be better to talk to you instead of messaging you like a rude madman at past midnight…”

“Ohhh, there’s a new chapter out? I’ve gotta catch up.”

“I shan’t spoil you then,” Tarvek replied. “I will say, I expect you to message me when you’ve finished reading because I desperately want to talk with you about it, and it was a very fun chapter. Don’t drink while reading it though.”

“I was reading Fairy Dragon Bottle - I let five chapters pass so I could binge it.”

“That one is quite a lighthearted fun slice-of-life. I never would’ve thought I’d find a four-panel gag strip net manga about a fantasy tavern’s kitchen staff so absorbing to read!”

We chatted enthusiastically about it until we got to the bus stop. Tarvek smiled at me. “Thank you for walking me here, Agatha.”

I raised my eyebrow. “I’m waiting until you’re on the bus, Tarvek. My turn to see you off.”

“Ah.” He fidgeted. “Thank you.”

After a moment, I summoned up my courage. “I also want to give you this.”

I put it in his hand, then watched Tarvek so I could see his reaction. “I made that for you. Because I didn’t get a chance to set you straight.”

It had been a simple matter to recreate the knotwork that allowed the thong to be adjusted. It had taken me more effort to make and polish the stainless steel rings. I’d looped the leather cord around the ring. I tugged the necklace Tarvek had given me out, to show my ring, sitting snugly around the top of the pendant. 

“They’re promise rings, Tarvek. I… I wanted you to know that we’ll always be friends, no matter what happens. You seemed like you expect me to forget you or something stupid once I leave the bank…”

“You… made this? For me?” Tarvek wore an expression I didn’t know how to quite interpret, but a smile slowly curved his lips. “May I wear it on my finger?”

“Uhm, sure, if you like.” I flushed. “I wasn’t sure if it’d fit any of your fingers, I think I made it too small…”

Tarvek tried it on his left pinkie. “It fits perfectly.” He looked delighted.

I knew mine fit on my little finger, so I put it on too.

He held out his hand, the little finger extended. “I promise I’ll always be your friend.”

l hooked my pinkie with his. “So too I do swear, or may a thousand crows peck my eyes out.”

“I’d rather that your eyes stay as they are, so this is a promise that will never be broken!” Tarvek laughed. He smiled brilliantly down at our fingers, then, to my surprise, he stepped forward and hugged me. “Thank you, Agatha.”

And as I stood there, surrounded by Tarvek’s warmth and the gentle musky smell of him, I knew I’d made a huge mistake, that I didn’t want to be his friend, that I-

Tarvek’s phone began to ring. He stepped back, frowning and hastily pulled it out. “Gil?”

“I needed to warn you, and you need to warn Agatha, but Zola broke out of jail.”

Note: limbă de pisică is Romanian for Cat’s Tongue cookies. In the Philippines we call them lengua de gato, and I thought they would make the perfect light dessert after a huge, heavy meal.

Chapter Text

To say I slept badly was an understatement so huge, you could have used it to smash to the earth’s core. I’d dragged Tarvek back home, told Dad the news, and Dad gave him a lift home. Dad came back with the news that as soon as they’d arrived at Tarvek’s apartment building, a soldier had come up to them, and formally informed him that he was to take Tarvek to the Archduke’s palace.

“If he’s told to stay there overnight he’ll be fine, Agatha. His Grace has a responsibility to Tarvek, and he will see to it.”

I also spent the night both worrying for Tarvek, replaying the events of the evening and internally screaming at myself for being blind and stupid. My dreams were filled with what ifs and wanting.

I woke, sandy-eyed and cranky. There were several messages from Tarvek.

I had a revelation while visiting the Archduke today: I am no longer comfortable in such grand and opulent surroundings.

It’s strange to see Gil in his Prince of the Duchy regalia. He looks uncomfortable. Zeetha even moreso.

He put me in similar regalia to meet His Grace. I haven’t worn my family’s sigil in years; I didn’t know he’d kept it safe on my behalf. I don’t recognise myself in the mirror, but Gil thought you’d like to see. Zeetha took the picture.

My heart skipped a few beats, even as I recognised the stiff, slightly melancholy expression in Tarvek’s eyes in his gifted finery, his lips curved in an attempt at a smile. He looked nobly handsome, with the gold sash across his chest and the white velvet half-cloak draped over his shoulders. The golden family house sigil pin gleamed at his throat, stark against the dark plum suit cut in a vaguely military style. His gloves, I noticed, were black with blood red accents. I wondered if that meant anything, or if that was part of his family colours. The thin circlet of gold that had once been hidden behind his bangs now sat visibly upon Tarvek’s head.

I’ll have to come over today to have a talk with you and your parents. Will this afternoon be suitable?

I told Tarvek that anytime after five in the afternoon was fine, then sighed as a sad reality sank in on me: No matter how much Tarvek might try to live a quiet, humble life, he was still a Prince, even in exile, and had ties to the royal family of Wulfenbach, because of the asylum they had granted him and his kin, and Klaus Wulfenbach adopting Tarvek. I wondered what was so important that they had Tarvek put on his Prince skin once more.

I told Mom and Dad about my thoughts and showed them the picture. They both looked at each other, something unsaid clearly passing between them. I wished sometimes I knew what those looks meant, but after chats with other friends, apparently it was a Thing that developed between married couples, because their parents did similar looks and just as annoyingly, they wouldn’t tell you anything if they felt you shouldn’t know.

“It might be a formal apology, that’s all,” Dad said as he helped himself to more piroshki. “The Wulfenbachs have a duty to keep Tarvek safe, and because Zola escaped, they technically failed in that duty.”

“I hope that’s all it is,” I muttered. I’d had bad dreams of Tarvek and Violetta being hidden away in some fancy ducal dacha for their own protection, essentially kept prisoner. I spent the day borrowing Dad’s second forge, putting nervous energy to good use, pounding away to some very loud music.

I had finished putting the last touches on a couple of commissions I had taken, my mood improved enough that I was celebrating by dancing around with the (much turned down) sassy-sounding K-pop song I was listening to when I heard knocking on the workshop door. I turned, and was startled to see Tarvek and Prince Gilgamesh standing there, the latter looking around in undisguised and keen curiosity.

Great. Wonderful. I have to welcome royalty into my home when I stink of sweat and metal and look like an absolute literal hot mess. Especially in front of- Oh God, they saw me dancing, didn’t they? Why couldn’t fate have let me keep a bit of my pride and dignity? I shut off the music stream.

“Sorry,” Tarvek said, looking abashed, catching my expression of dismay. “We tried the front door and nobody answered.”

“And you heard me working in the workshop,” I sighed. “Mom must’ve nipped out for something. Sorry about that, Tarvek, your Highness.” They had both changed to more conventional business suits, to my disappointment.

“Gil,” Gilgamesh corrected absently. “You make these?” He sounded intrigued.

“No, those are things my Dad made. He’s the licensed gunsmith.” I looked at the replica blunderbuss Gilgamesh was reverently gazing at. “You can look at it if you like. It’s not finished and Dad never makes those firing-capable unless it’s about to be turned over to the buyer.”

“I want one now,” the Prince said, eyes shining with delight. “It’s gorgeous. Maybe I’ll commission one. No, make that ‘I will.’ Does he know anyone who does blade work? I might order a present for Zeetha.”

“Dad does some too.” I finished turning off the power to the various machines I’d been using, the lathe I’d been bent over last. “May I offer you some tea or coffee?” I shucked my leather apron and gloves. “I also hope you gentlemen won’t mind if I have a quick rinse.”

Tarvek had been examining what I’d been working on, hands politely folded behind his back. “Tea would be greatly welcome. I’ll keep Gil here busy.”

“Coffee for me, and sorry for imposing.”

That may have been the most thorough ten minute shower I’d ever taken in my life. When I came down again Dad was talking to our guests, flipping through a catalogue of previous special commissions.

I held up my cellphone. “Mom messaged to say she had to swing by the studio, so we can go ahead and have the chat and she’ll get the deets from Dad. Also, she wants to know if your Highness is staying for dinner.” I looked at Gilgamesh, then Tarvek. “Tarvek is, she says.”

“I am?” Tarvek blinked. “I suppose I am.”

“Umm, maybe?” Gilgamesh waggled his hand, uncertain. “I might need to run off if called, so apologies in advance.”

“I’ll pass that on while I feed the cat,” I said. I plucked Krosp off the piano bench.

“That’s a cat?” Tarvek exclaimed. “I thought it was one of those furry, fluffy cushions that seem to be popular these days.”

I laughed. “Yeah, he’s lazy... Meet Krosp.” I held up my huge, white Moldovan Puff. “I wouldn’t pet him though, he’s a grumpy thing until he decides he likes you.”

“Good thing you didn’t sit on him,” Gilgamesh nudged Tarvek. “You’d have serious problems being able to sire children-”

Tarvek jabbed him in the ribs. Hard. It was a bit hard for me to tell however if the resultant wheezing was because he had trouble breathing or because Gil was laughing too hard.

Well, it’s easier for my parents to be blasé about having royalty over for dinner when they don’t behave much like royalty, I guess. I fed Krosp, texted my Mom, and brought out another serving of tea and coffee and the muffins that Tarvek had almost forgotten to share out before settling into the couch across from our guests.

Tarvek gestured to Gilgamesh. “This is really your meeting, not mine.”

Gilgamesh sighed heavily, then straightened in his seat. “First, on behalf of the Wulfenbach National Bank, I must offer my deepest and sincerest apologies. You should not have been subjected to that kind of bullying, or harassment at all. It seems however that Zola was able to keep track of any complaints made about her and was able to delete or alter the records.” He grimaced. “This was made possible by our switching over to purely digital methods for such things for easier record retrieval and filing with law enforcement if necessary, about two and a half years ago. It was a flaw we overlooked and failed to notice. There had been gossip about her, of course, but without the proofs we require by law, it seemed like jealous office gossip against someone who, by all appearances, was a hardworking and diligent member of our staff - a carefully maintained and mostly falsified lie, going by the praise that was attributed to her.”

I gripped my mug of tea, remembering what Zeetha had said, and turned pale. “Did she manage to falsify reports against Tarvek?”

“She tried.” Tarvek looked grim. “Unbeknownst to her however, I have a GPS tracking device on my person, in the event I was ever recognised, kidnapped and killed. It’s a highly accurate device - to within three meters. A necessary precaution, if my body were ever to be found.”

I found I couldn’t stop shivering, my imagination easily conjuring up a thousand nightmare scenarios at once. I set down my mug so I wouldn’t splash myself and wrapped my arms around my legs, because I couldn’t hug Tarvek and reassure myself that way, and forced myself to listen.

“The GPS records and timestamps showed that the assaults I supposedly performed were false; and the one time that the location did match, was the time she approached me.” Tarvek knit his fingers together and looked coldly at the coffee table. “More accurately, when I found her sprawled on my desk half-naked.” His lip curled with disgust and contempt. “That approach might have worked for her before, but I have no desire to play around and potentially sire a child out of wedlock. I was, frankly, repelled and lost my temper. I never even fully entered the room, and left to find Gil.”

“Tarvek complained to me soon enough that I was able to have the video records pulled and isolated. He also insisted on physically writing out a statement of events that was stamped, signed and witnessed by our former head of HR. Unfortunately, she retired a month later and died of a heart attack while she was grocery shopping. Given that all the other events were certifiably false however, and we have the video evidence as well as Tarvek’s written statement that was properly dated and filed, that one time was discarded as evidence against Tarvek.” Gilgamesh rubbed his face. “Tarvek was moved from his office to the cubicle he is in now, which prevented Zola from being able to approach him without someone else seeing. And since the particular cubicle has a hidden camera pointed at it, even when Tarvek stayed late for overtime he was safe from her - and she didn’t know where in the building he worked from that point either.”

“Zola could not also approach me in public.” Tarvek’s expression turned wry. “Apparently I’ve had a very discreet bodyguard following me around all this time, and every time she seemed to try she would notice that there was someone ‘checking me out’ as Gil phrased it, and would back away. She couldn’t stage a confrontation that would work wholly in her favour if there were potential witnesses who could contradict her. Zola couldn’t follow me to more than my apartment building; she couldn’t get in without the guards noticing or get past all the cameras. Eventually she would do it only now and again. But… Zola following me around meant that she eventually found out about your association and friendship with me.” 

“Which is when everything went off the rails,” Dad surmised.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Gilgamesh shook his head. “We found footage of her seeing you and Tarvek leaving the bank and she followed you out at enough of a distance that she wouldn’t have been spotted by either of you, but Tarv’s easy to pick out in a crowd.”

“I also found out long ago that bleaching and dyeing my hair doesn’t produce very natural looking hues, unless I use brown or black, so I didn’t try that. I’d stick out even more. It’s also expensive to maintain,” Tarvek sighed as he tugged at his forelock. “And wigs were also pricey and I didn’t know the first thing about them.”

“The rest, you know.” Gilgamesh rubbed his head. “But I do have some good news.”

“You mean, more than Princess Psycho failing completely to try and frame Tarvek for assault or worse?” I burst out. “I’m all ears.”

“Well, Zola’s no longer in the country. She broke out and hightailed it straight to the northern border. We’ve had her declared a fugitive and if she is foolish enough to try to return, she will be intercepted by our neighbouring countries - except Balan, I’m afraid. Because of Tarvek being involved, we avoided telling them about Zola; and those poseurs in the palace would love to get their hands on a hacker of Zola’s calibre.” Gilgamesh sipped his tea. “Europol matched her image to records of criminal activity attributed to her from Oslo to Istanbul, but not so massive in the stakes to be considered more than a fraudster and thief. Our analysts think she may have actually originally come to Wulfenbach to settle down, but couldn’t resist returning to her old tricks. Maybe even decided a good old-fashioned gold-digging scheme would do to set her up for life.” Gilgamesh poked his thumb at himself. “But I don’t date employees- and that’s one of the reasons why.”

“So what happens now?” Dad asked.

“Well, I managed to convince my uncle that it should be fine to let Agatha keep working, rather than pay her the rest of her projected remaining salary and find her employment elsewhere,” Gilgamesh said. “But it does mean a change of work, just within the building. And if you wanted to keep the job, even part time, you could.”

“That sounds generous.” I glanced at Tarvek, who looked resigned to the inevitable. “...Let me guess. I’m Tarvek’s assistant now, aren’t I?”

“And he’s now my PA!” Gilgamesh grinned. “Don’t worry, you’ll both work. I’ve seen your work and it’s top notch. You’re brilliant.”

“Thank you,” I looked at my Dad, but he was busy looking at the two men across from me with amusement on his face.

Tarvek turned to look at me. “You only have a few months of work left, so count yourself lucky that you only have to endure this oaf for that long.” A long finger pointed at Gilgamesh’s face.

Gilgamesh prodded him back, then looked at Dad. “We’ve also managed to sort out the problem with her salary, so Agatha should have the money she’s supposed to have - plus some calculated extra for the work she did as an accountant.”

I frowned, uncomfortable at that. “I’m not certified as an accountant though.”

“We had someone who is certified check over your work. She was surprised to find out that you weren’t even a bachelor degree holder. Don’t worry - in the formal records, it’s her work that’s recorded. But you also did the work, so you are paid.”

Dad looked at me. “Think of it as extra money that goes toward whichever course you take. Every bit helps.”

He had a point. And how was I supposed to argue against the boss about his wanting to pay me? It’s usually the other way around. The message tone I’d set for Mom went off and I looked at it. “Mom wants me to get started on the spiced potatoes.”

“Ah, let me help.” Tarvek stood up, removed his jacket, and followed me to the kitchen. As I pulled out potatoes to wash and peel, I caught a glimpse of Gilgamesh staring at Tarvek thoughtfully, before turning to Dad and asking if he could look at the picture catalogue again. 

Dinner was interesting - Gilgamesh talked about his twin’s fascination with bladed weapons and how he had been looking for someone skilled enough to make replicas. He wanted to gift her with a replica Heterodyne Jäger dagger. “She’d get upset if I obtained a real one. It's the visible sign of their Troth after all.” In return, Dad told some Jäger stories ‘from back in the old days.’ I enjoyed listening to them; my parents didn't like talking too much about their time as members of their homeland’s armed forces and I chalked it up to bad memories.

Gilgamesh liked my homemade blueberry perogies so much he begged for the recipe, whereupon Tarvek said that Gilgamesh was a disaster in the kitchen and unless it was something that could be heated in a microwave or an oven, he’d set his kitchen on fire. “He put my electric kettle on the stove!”

“It was made of metal! I said I was sorry, and I replaced everything I broke!”

“That included the stove, by the way. I consider it a duty to keep the land safe by warning you to never, ever, ever, ever let Gil in the kitchen.” Tarvek looked sideways at Gil. “Ever.”

I no longer wondered that he’d set a building on fire.

Chapter Text

Note: Listen to the music I link.

The next week was occupied by learning how to keep up with the pace of my new job. I no longer felt guilty about the salary increase. Gilgamesh hadn't lied, Tarvek and I worked.

Working with Tarvek up close though meant I finally got to see his self-described aura of being terrifying in action. His default expression was a chilling stare that came out of a mask-like face, his eyes assessing everyone as if categorising them as ‘threat to eliminate’ and ‘not a threat.’ He was polite and soft spoken, but unchangingly so, his rich and expressive voice almost a monotone. The contrast of the way he behaved around Gil, Zeetha, my parents and myself was stark. I could see why he preferred to work in a job where he wasn't as required to interact with many people, and most communication was digital. But even so, I didn't find him scary; just more distant than professionalism required.

My main task was to be the buffer between Tarvek and the rest of the staff - essentially be his secretary. This way, I wasn't required to do more than what I was trained to do. We established a work rhythm by the end of the third day that made it easier on everyone.

I made it to the bank a little earlier than normal that Friday. The elevator doors opened and as I stepped in I realised that Tarvek and Prince Gilgamesh were in the car. I opened my mouth to greet them-

-Just as Tarvek lifted the hard folder he held in one hand and bonked Gilgamesh on the head with it. “To horny jail I thee yeet! Begone, foul degen!” he proclaimed flatly. 

The doors slid shut behind me.

Tarvek turned, and without changing expression or tone, added, “He deserves it.”

Gilgamesh stared, his expression absolutely baffled. “I don't get it. What does that even mean?!”

Tarvek bonked him again with the folder, and said nothing.

I found myself unable to stop laughing for the next half hour. Tarvek helped me stagger to my desk, while resolutely refusing to explain anything.

Gilgamesh must've looked up what Tarvek had said, because while the two of us were on our after-work coffee, Tarvek's cellphone began to go nuts, Gilgamesh’s message tone pinging again and again. Tarvek took his cellphone out of his pocket, switched it to vibrate, and dropped it back into his inner trenchcoat pocket, where it continued to buzz like an angry wasp.

“I really wanna know what made you send him to horny jail.”

“Nope.” Tarvek sipped his coffee, his one-word denial as impassable as a cliff.

“Even if I bribe you with my cake?” I held out a forkful of I Have A Deadline.

“I am incorruptible, for I stand stoic against such temptation.” His head held loftily proud, Tarvek drained his coffee. Then he cracked open an eyelid to peek at me.

I giggled around my forkful of cake. I couldn't help myself. Moments like these filled me with sunshine - warm and golden. I turned my face away so I could let the snickering fizzle out, and as I did, I pressed my fist against my chest, and felt the pendant under my blouse.

I felt all my appetite drain away, replaced by butterflies. Peeking at Tarvek, he was watching me with concern, afraid I would choke on cake and laughter. There were worse ways to go, but he needn't have worried.

I offered him another bite, which he took. As always, Tarvek's eyes closed with pleasure as he pressed his lips around the tines of the fork, making sure not a bit of frosting or cake crumb escaped. As he made that happy sound that turned my knees to jelly, I found myself wondering if Tarvek's lips felt as soft and silky as they looked.

I wanted to find out.

Today.

When we were finished we left Vanamonde’s, as always. Around us people went on their Friday night cheer - groups of workers eager to get home, or to the restaurants or bars they planned to celebrate the end of the work week at. A group of women in business suits were laughing and taking pictures of each other with their smartphones - celebrating a promotion, perhaps. At some point during the week, the Christmas decorations had gone up, and reminded me that the holidays were drawing near. I wondered if Tarvek spent the holidays alone - or if Gilgamesh made him stay with his family. I had already gotten something for Tarvek; the nice thing about bookworms, they’re easy to shop for. We chatted about the latest chapter of Almighty Janitor! What Happens When An All Purpose Handyman Is Reincarnated Into A Magical World?! as we meandered toward my bus stop.

“-at any rate it's refreshing that the blue collar worker isekai-ed is also genre-savvy,” I was saying.

“Indeed. The internal commentary he makes is a constant source of amusement,” Tarvek agreed. “I certainly wouldn't be keeping my comments merely internal were I in his position.”

“What would you be doing?”

“I? Possibly losing my temper at Zidion, for 'releasing the lightning’ I had so carefully accumulated.” He shook his head. “The electro-spirits do not want to be free!”

“For a helper daemon, he sure isn't,” I laughed.

“I’d be requesting a refund of karmic coin if it were possible,” Tarvek laughed. “Bad gatcha pull there.”

“You really do read the comments.”

“It's nice to see I’m not the only one frustrated.”

Yep , I thought to myself as I looked up at Tarvek’s smiling profile. I will kiss him. Even if it's just a quick peck on the lips, in case -

The man who stepped in front of Tarvek had come out of nowhere, and had a gun point blank against the bridge of Tarvek's glasses before I realised what he was doing. 

Time seemed to slow.

I was too slow, too far away, NO-

BAM!

Moving so fast that I didn’t see it happening, Tarvek shoved the gun back at it’s owner’s face, exploiting the weakness of his elbow, just as the would-be-assassin pulled the trigger. Instead of killing Tarvek, he blew his own brains out. Tarvek caught the body, and grasped its wrist so that the gun fell limply out of the dead man’s hand. As he did, I caught a glimpse of another person raising a weapon out of the corner of my eye.

Operating entirely on reflex - and for a split second, glad that I’d continued to take extra preparations - I was drawing and turning to face the newest assassin. Rage cleared my vision as I lined my sights up perfectly. I flipped the safety off with my thumb and pulled the trigger three times, ensuring the kill with two shots to the chest and one to the head. “Tarvek! I’ve got your back!” I declared.

I could feel Tarvek as he stood up, as people around us realised what was happening and fled. “We’ve more incoming,” he observed. “Engaging.” He raised his stolen firearm and fired.

There was no immediately viable cover, so the only thing we could do was to try to get the enemy before they could get us. Every shot had to count. I had ten left before I had to reload.

Good thing my parents trained me well. My gun was already up, and it was a matter of lining my sights up with my targets and taking the shot. Then there was only the recoil, the crack of the bullets, and moving with Tarvek to make sure we weren’t stationary targets ourselves. I heard the change in the sound of the shots being taken behind me as Tarvek pulled out his own gun, discarding the one he’d taken from the dead man.

I was counting down with each shot I took, when I suddenly heard a screech from the road. I barely had time to look up to see the van accelerating towards us before Tarvek bodily threw us both out of the way, landing on his back and cushioning me from the pavement with his own body. The van smashed into the building next to us. I forced myself to stay still as Tarvek took two shots, so I wouldn’t spoil his aim before rolling off of him and into a crouch against one of the wheels of the van. He rolled to his feet just as the side door of the van slid open, and a woman with something held in her hands leaned out, preparing to leap from the van. I nailed her with a headshot - at that distance I couldn’t miss. 

Tarvek’s eyes widened and he rushed toward me, dragging me around the back of the van. “Open your mouth!” he cried, as he tried to get as much distance between the van and us as possible.

The shockwave of the explosion shattered all the windows around us and knocked us both off our feet again. 

We both went sprawling across the pavement, Tarvek somehow managing to curl around me in such a way that I was pressed up against his chest while his long legs tangled with mine. I lay there in his arms, stunned, breathless and in pain, my ears ringing even worse than from the van crashing into the building. I could feel more than hear Tarvek's panting breaths, the way he crushed me in his arms had me feel the way his heart thundered in his chest. I noticed, just within the periphery of my vision, that he held his gun - ooh, a CZ-P10, nice - and his trigger finger was extended and resting against the guard. A quick check and I noted my finger was not on the trigger of my firearm either - hurray for training! I blinked up at the sky and noticed debris raining down - pieces of the van, bits of the building it had smashed and blown up into.

A part of me never left that battlefield, Agatha. I finally understood why, in full, the way I didn’t before. As long as he lived, Tarvek was a risk to the revolutionary government that had overthrown the principality, especially as it had quickly devolved into an iron-fisted tyranny of martial law. They had been content, thinking him dead all these years, but now the so-called 'People's Council’ had found him.

They wanted him dead. Now I knew how far they would go to make sure it happened.

Fuck. That.

Gingerly, we both sat up, unsure how long we’d been lying there. Not long, probably. I looked around, but saw no more attackers, cars had backed up at least a block on each side of what had become our personal little warzone; and people were fleeing their buildings and offices. Tarvek grasped my arm, and tugged me to my feet. His voice was muffled by the ringing in my ears, but I could guess what he wanted anyway.

I followed, eyes darting everywhere, and ducked with Tarvek into a little café tucked into the ground floor of one of the office buildings. The people inside had fled in the wake of the explosion - too many people still remembered the wars, and they all knew that they shouldn’t be around once the familiar sound of gunfire started up.

Tarvek pulled out his phone, seemed mildly surprised that it was still intact, and hit a number on speed dial. He watched it to see that it was answered, and when it did, he raised it to his mouth. I couldn’t make out what he said, but it wasn’t a long phone call. He then followed it up with texting Gilgamesh, ignoring the long string of texts from before. He held the phone up to me as he put it on silent and then wearily dropped the phone back into his pocket. I did the same with mine.

He did not reholster his weapon, and tapped it instead, holding up his fingers to indicate he had seven shots left. I held up my hand, fingers spread. Tarvek nodded, and we took up sheltered positions that allowed us to observe the street even though we couldn’t hear very well just yet. I could see the familiar coloured lights of the first responders.

Tarvek nudged me and nodded toward the café’s TV. Already the events were on the news, at least the bare bones of it. There was a news helicopter’s overview of the burning van, and the bodies we’d left behind, and the police cars zooming down the road toward us, at which point the feed cut to the news anchor.

The police cars we’d seen on the screen pulled up in front of the café. Tarvek waited tensely until he saw a scruffy looking older man in a trenchcoat step out of one of the cars and stroll over to us. Tarvek safetied and holstered his CZ, and I did the same with my HK P30SK. I hoped that they wouldn’t have to confiscate it. I loved my graduation present, after all.

Chapter Text

Tarvek and I were escorted to the city’s main police station, which was only a few blocks away. We didn’t have to surrender our guns immediately, which surprised me. The older man that had met us outside the café was Senior Detective Moloch von Zinzer, and apparently he knew Tarvek in some way. I guessed that we were being given preferential treatment. Our hearing returned within some minutes of our arrival at the station and our being ensconced into one of those interview rooms with the big one-way windows. 

Tarvek surrendered his weapon before he sat down, and after a moment of hesitation, so did I. The reluctance must have been visible on my face because Detective von Zinzer smiled as he put the weapons in a box. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your weapons back. You’ve both got a conceal-carry license, so…”

The beginnings of a smile started to curve my lips. One look at Tarvek however, and whatever relief I’d felt drain away. He looked grim, but at the same time seemed weary, his hands folded on top of the table.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to go home, your Highness,” von Zinzer said. “With what’s happened, we can’t rule out the possibility that they found out where you live as well, and… well. The bomb squad is already en route.”

Tarvek nodded. “I hope your men stay safe,” he said in that near monotone. 

“Well, they know better than to go in through the front door, so fingers crossed,” von Zinzer said. “They’re good. Anyway, the Duke’s got orders for us to make sure you’re safe and-” he turned as there was a knock and a younger policewoman poked her head in. “Yes, Trygvassen?”

Her eyes flicked at me and Tarvek nervously. “I’ve some news, sir.”

“Please excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Von Zinzer stepped out. 

Tarvek blew out a breath. “I wonder if I’ll have to stay at the palace again.” He looked at me. “Thank you. For watching my back.” The ice in his eyes thawed and his small smile appeared. “All those sharp-shooting trophies and wargame tournament awards on your wall were definitely well deserved.”

“You’re a fantastic shot yourself,” I said, meeting his eyes and taking his hand, savouring the praise and the warmth of his fingers. “You get in a lot of practice, it looks like.”

“It was the one thing I did take shameless advantage of in terms of the privileges that Uncle Klaus’ family extended to me - access to their military’s shooting range whenever I wished. Ammunition is expensive-” Tarvek broke off as von Zinzer came back in, looking pale.

“I’m afraid I have bad news, and worse news…” von Zinzer took a deep breath. “Bad news first. The news has video of you two; some expats caught the whole thing from the moment you were attacked. You’ve been positively ID-ed. Both of you.”

We both stiffened. Then I remembered the women who were taking pictures of each other and my heart sank even more. They must have been taking videos to upload - maybe even live-streaming. “My parents-” I gasped.

“-have been alerted. They… seemed to take it in stride.” von Zinzer frowned at this. “In fact, they told me to tell you both to ‘get home as soon as you can.’ Which we can do, since with the video capturing everything that happened, we won’t need to question you two about the events that just happened.” His eyes shadowed then he looked straight at Tarvek. “I’m afraid we also just got the news that your sister, Princess Anevka just passed away. My deepest condolences, Prince Tarvek.”

I felt as if someone had punched me in the chest, but I turned and saw the icy mask that Tarvek wore shatter. His eyes widened and he stood up so abruptly he knocked the chair over. “Anevka,” he breathed, grey with shock. “I have to - I must-”

“I’m sorry, your Highness. We’re treating her death as suspicious for now - we can’t let you see her.” von Zinzer said firmly. “We have to make sure.”

Tarvek stared, as if he didn’t understand. Then he asked in a plaintive, numbed voice, “I can’t see my sister yet?”

“No, your Highness.” von Zinzer’s voice was full of compassion. “I’m sorry.”

“I… I see.” Tarvek stared at the table, clearly in shock. I must have looked much the same.

“Ms. Clay,” von Zinzer turned to me. “I think it’s best if his Highness is not alone right now. I’ll have you both escorted home, and a security perimeter established around your neighbourhood.”

I nodded, numb. Everything felt cold, and I shivered. But Tarvek needed me. I took his hand; his fingers were like ice.

“Tarvek? Let’s go home. You can stay with us, for as long as you need.”

Tarvek turned to me and blinked slowly, but his eyes didn't quite focus. “I… yes. Thank you.” For another moment, he stared sightlessly at nothing, then began to move automatically. He reached for his gun and holstered it, then shrugged into his jacket, trenchcoat and pulled on his bag, as if he were leaving work. “I must…” he trailed off, as if losing his train of thought. “I’m afraid I don’t have spare clothing.” I was certain that hadn't been whatever he had originally meant to say.

Von Zinzer eyed him sadly, then pulled out a notepad with a pen slotted into the binding rings. “Here. Give me your size. I’ll have someone get you necessities.”

Tarvek stared at the notepad for a moment too long before he took it and wrote down the requested information on a blank page. “Ah… money.” He reached for his wallet, but von Zinzer waved it away.

“Don’t sweat the small stuff right now, kiddo. Let’s get you out of here.”

Tarvek was quiet the entire ride home, hand in mine as if he wasn't really there. Detective von Zinzer himself drove us. I texted my Mom that we were heading home, and idly put the sound back on. I didn't bother answering the tons of messages - I had more important things to focus on.

I thought about the shoot-out in the street, about how, faster than the blink of an eye, the evening had changed from normal to a scene from some movie. I remembered that Tarvek had described how he had felt nothing but the recoil of his gun and the desperation to survive and protect his loved ones. I had felt nothing but the desire to protect the man I had fallen in love with. I didn't regret it one bit. I would do it again.

I may have realised the depth of my feelings only when I had, for a terrible, horrible moment, thought I was going to lose Tarvek - not to some other woman, or rejection; that would have been bearable, compared to losing him to Death. For now, Death lost once again. 

I love him. I would protect Tarvek, and his smile, the smile he showed only to me. Looking back, I had fallen in love with that smile and the man the day we met… and I hoped I would see it again someday. For now it was enough to understand and know what I felt.

Tarvek needed a friend right now; not a lover, not romance.

I knit my fingers with his, even if it took him several moments to do the same. When he did, Tarvek held tightly to my hand, as if he couldn’t bear to let go. That was his only reaction.

My parents must have been watching the road for us, because they were standing at the front gate when we pulled up. Dad let Mom and me herd Tarvek into the house, while he and von Zinzer followed, talking quietly.

Once we got inside, Tarvek very automatically removed his coat and set aside his work bag, then looked around, as if realising he wasn’t in his apartment. He turned to Mom and looked vaguely apologetic. “I’m afraid I must impose on your hospitality for a while, Lilith…” he trailed off once again, as if his thoughts were lost in a fog.

“It’s alright. Stay with us for as long as you need to.” Mom wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and we both guided him to the couch. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

The TV was on, and of course, it was showing the news - the duchy was in an uproar at the sudden violence, coming out of nowhere the way it did. The clip taken by the expat was shown, with the gory bits pixelated. It showed how the first assassin had simply stepped forward while drawing his gun and pointed it at Tarvek, and Tarvek reacting immediately to reverse the pistol into his would-be-murderer’s face instead. The woman who’d taken the video focused on us, turning only when the van had tried to run us over, and still caught when Tarvek dragged me away from the van. Seeing what had happened, I was more than a little shocked to see how fast everything had happened, how quickly we’d responded to the threat, and how swiftly it had escalated to the explosion - at which point the video ended.

“I… I had no idea it was so quick,” I murmured.

Tarvek had focused on the video. “I almost died there,” he said, his expression somber. “We almost died there. If I hadn’t seen the deadman’s switch in that woman’s hand…”

I felt as if someone had turned me into ice. “She was a suicide bomber?!”

Dad leaned over and squeezed Tarvek’s shoulder. “You’re alive. You are both alive. You defended each other better than a lot of pros.”

Von Zinzer’s jaw had dropped at the sight of the video. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast,” he finally blurted. “Even a fraction of a second slower, and-” he caught himself and shook his head. He looked up when the doorbell rang, and went to answer it. Officer Trygvassen was standing there, holding some shopping bags with the logo of a nearby department store. Another detective stood there, a woman, and they spoke briefly in low voices. Von Zinzer took the bags, and handed them to Tarvek. The two policewomen left and shut the door behind them.

“Here, this should keep ya until we can clear your apartment. Which will, unfortunately, not be anytime soon.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Investigator Snaug just passed on the report from the bomb squad. Your apartment door was not only rigged to blow, but was rigged with so much explosives that if you turned your key, the explosion would've brought down the whole building.”

Tarvek looked as horrified as I felt on hearing that. “But… that’s insane! There are families in that apartment block! Children!” He jumped to his feet. “I shouldn’t be here, putting all of you in danger-”

Dad reached out and very firmly pushed him back down onto the couch. “Son, you’re not the first high-value target Lilith and I have had to keep alive. Relax.”

“But-”

“You can, of course, go, if you want.” Mom crouched in front of Tarvek, as if he were a little boy. “But right now, what you should be thinking of is not how to keep other people safe, but what you need. And right now, you won’t be able to think about that properly. Not this time.” She took his hands and rubbed her thumbs over the back of his palms. “Stay here tonight at least. If you want to go in the morning, I’m sure Prince Gilgamesh will come and get you.”

“I gotta agree with Frau Clay, kid.” von Zinzer said. “Stay the night. Don’t think about anything right now, and rest.”

Tarvek blinked, and then his eyes widened. “Wait. I know I had a bodyguard assigned to me, a discreet one. What happened to him?”

“We’re still trying to find the man,” von Zinzer said. “I’ll personally let you know as soon as I find out. Stay here. We’re on the case.” He nodded to my parents and left.

I jumped as my cellphone suddenly rang. I yanked it out of my pocket - Zeetha. But when I answered it, it was Gilgamesh’s voice that roared out of the speaker. “WHY HAVEN’T THE TWO OF YOU BEEN ANSWERING YOUR PHONES?!” I put the phone on loudspeaker mode to save my eardrums. They were still twingy from the explosions.

That seemed to irk Tarvek back to normalcy. “We put them on silent, idiot. You know, in case we were still being hunted? Standard safety procedure in case of terrorist attack, robbery or shooting incident? Or did you not read your own safety manuals for bank staff?”

I heard Zeetha’s voice in the background: “I told you so!”

Suddenly, an unfamiliar woman’s voice came on the phone. “Tarvek? Where are you? Are you safe?”

“Yes… yes I am, Auntie Zantha,” Tarvek replied. “I’m at…” he hesitated. When Dad nodded, he continued to speak. “I’m at Agatha’s.”

Zeetha crowed. “I knew it! You two were badass-”

“ZEETHA!” Both Prince Klaus and Princess Zantha snapped. Tarvek buried his face in his hands.

There was the sound of what seemed like the phone being fought over, then Gilgamesh’s voice came back on. “Is it okay if we come over? We… we need to know you’re both okay. Please?” His voice cracked.

Again Tarvek looked at my Dad, who nodded. “...Apparently it is alright.”

This time it was Klaus who spoke. “Please convey my thanks to Herr and Frau Clay. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” The call ended.

“Dear Lord,” Tarvek breathed. “My apologies in advance,” he looked tired.

“Think nothing of it. Now,” Mom stood up, and looked at the two of us. “I’m sure you both want to have a shower. Tarvek, you know where the one next to the dojo is; yes? You used it the last time you and Agatha sparred. I want to look at your scrapes afterward - you’ll discover them in the shower. Adam will be by with a towel for you.”

Tarvek nodded. He’d learned by now to not argue with my parents. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Mom had whipped up some beef, walnut and mushroom pasta while Tarvek and I washed up. I sat on the couch, with my Dad dabbing disinfectant on my scrapes - skidding across pavement leaves some skin on the sidewalk, clothes or no, and my stockings were virtually no protection anyway. I was wearing an oversized button down shirt; trying to pull on track pants hurt.

Tarvek padded in on bare feet in a shirt with some rock band logo and track pants, his hair loose and still slightly damp. He seemed a bit more normal after the phone call with the youngest branch of the Wulfenbach family. He sighed, fiddling with a pocketwatch. “My uniform is an absolute loss, I’m afraid. I bled all over the shirt and waistcoat, and the jacket is torn.” When Tarvek saw my expression of alarm, he hastily added, “Just some scrapes, Agatha. I didn’t get shot, I promise!” He held up his arm, and showed me the road rash. I winced at the scrapes, even as I found myself admiring the wiry muscles under his pale skin.

My Dad chuckled. “That would’ve been very visible, lad. You’re worse hurt than Agatha.” He frowned at Tarvek as he gingerly sat down on the couch, noting the blood seeping through the side of Tarvek's shirt. “I’m going to have to practically bathe you in this stuff.” He held up the green bottle.

Dad finished putting a light covering of gauze over the huge scrape that ran down one thigh. I pulled on the track pants, glad to be warm. Then I had to help Dad patch Tarvek up; his back and right arm was a mass of bruises and scrapes, and while I set the table they worked on his right thigh.

“Considering the firefight you two were in, escaping with nothing but bruises and lost skin is getting away lightly,” my Mom said as she put out platefuls of pasta.

We ate in silence for a while, focusing on the food. I was surprised to be as hungry as I was. Tarvek cleared half his plate, drank most of his glass of cola, then rather abruptly set his fork down. He didn’t seem to notice that my parents became instantly alert.

“I’m pretty sure that Anevka died of natural causes. Higgs and the other Jägers wouldn’t have allowed anything to happen to her…” Tarvek said softly, but firmly. “They’re… they’re very good.”

He began to weep - quietly at first, tears running down his cheeks. Then Tarvek whispered his sister’s name, and made an awful, high-pitched sound. He hunched over, wrapped his arms around himself and began to cry, wailing in his native dialect. I couldn’t stand by. I got up and hugged him tight. As soon as I did, Tarvek threw his arms around me and screamed.

I buried my face in his shoulder and cried. With Tarvek… for Tarvek. For Anevka, even though I’d only met her once, she’d been Tarvek’s beloved sister and the centre of his world for the years since the fall of their country.

I don’t know how my parents did it, but we were sitting on the couch, clinging to each other and crying when Gilgamesh, Zeetha, their parents and Violetta arrived. Violetta made it across the room first and flung herself at Tarvek, hugging us both. She was too distraught to speak in Romanian, reverting to Balanian in her grief. Then Gilgamesh and Zeetha were hugging us too, cocooning us, and more importantly, Tarvek, in their embrace.

Suddenly, Tarvek raised his head and looked at his best friend, his face a mask of wrenching loss and sorrow. “I’m sorry, Gil, I’m sorry! I tried to save her, I tried everything! I’m sorry!”

The words seemed to hit Gilgamesh like a blow, and he turned pale, even through the redness of his face from his own weeping. Then his face crumpled and he folded over Tarvek again, hugging him tight and squeezing Violetta and myself along with Tarvek, because neither of us had let go either. “It wasn’t your fault, Tarv… it’s not your fault! You did everything you could, do you hear me?! Everything!”

“If I was sure that fold-out bed would hold them, I’d suggest just lumping them all in there and letting them sleep it out like a pile of puppies,” I heard my Mom saying to Prince Klaus. “It’d do them good.”

Whatever Gilgamesh’s father said, it was too soft for me to hear. Tarvek’s head was pillowed on my thigh, and he held my hand tightly as I curled over him, leaning against the back of the couch. Gilgamesh himself was half-burying Tarvek in a tight, protective embrace. Zeetha was curled against my back and Violetta was gently stroking the top of Tarvek’s head. Tarvek himself had dozed off, exhausted by the storm of his grief, hiccuping in his sleep.

Finally, Princess Zantha came over and murmured into the twins’ ears. Gilgamesh reluctantly uncurled himself and straightened, frowning when his legs didn’t quite respond. Zeetha pushed herself upright and slowly let go, but not before petting the top of my head. Violetta picked herself up, then hugged me. “Take care of him, please.”

I nodded, head muzzy from exhaustion and pain. I leaned back against the couch again, and briefly closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, it was dark, and Tarvek and I each had a blanket tucked around us, and I could just make out that our glasses were both sitting on the coffee tabletop. I couldn’t make out the cuckoo clock’s face in the dark, but it had to be only some time after midnight. My leg twitched involuntarily, and Tarvek woke with a gasp of alarm. I squeezed his hand.

“...Agatha?”

“Yeah.” I still felt muzzy-headed, and I wanted to stretch out. “C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.” After the pins and needles went away, I tugged Tarvek to his feet and led him to the library, where the fold-out couch bed was set up for him. I turned on one of the lamps, and we both grimaced at the sudden brightness.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I told him. “I’ll go fetch our eyewear and… do you want a drink? Water? Hot chocolate? Tea? Juice? Anything you need?”

Tarvek sat down and rubbed at his eyes. “Water please… and a box of tissues, perhaps.” He sniffled and shivered.

I addressed a few of my own needs before returning with a glass of water, our spectacles and the tissues, and sat next to Tarvek as he blew his nose, then drank the water. I prodded him until he slipped under the quilt and lay down. I turned the lamp back off.

“Anything else you need, Tarvek? Anything at all.” I reached out and laced my fingers with his, gently tapping the side of my promise ring with the one on his pinkie.

Tarvek shook his head. “I… It’s too impertinent and selfish a request.”

“I think for tonight, you can be as impertinent and as selfish as you want to be.” A wave of nerves washed over me, then settled as I realised how my words could be interpreted - and that I’d be happy to give Tarvek that, if that was what he asked for.

After a long silence, Tarvek’s gaze locked with mine. “...I don’t want to be alone tonight. I do not think I could bear it. Could you please hold my hand, while I sleep?” He dropped his gaze. “It sounds even more childish, when voiced aloud.”

“Is that all?” I huffed, then stretched out on the thick quilt, wrapping the blanket that had been tucked around me snug and tight. I took Tarvek's hand again. I should've known that asking me to sleep next to him was ‘too impertinent’ in his book.

“Thank you, Agatha…” Tarvek whispered. He blinked sleepily, then dozed off again. After a moment, so did I. 

We were still holding hands when I woke up the next morning.

Chapter Text

The house was a flurry of activity the next day. Violetta kept me updated on the situation on the Wired, while an exhausted-looking Senior Detective von Zinzer arrived, with the contents of Tarvek’s closet, and his violin, and more bad news. The damage to Tarvek’s front door was such that it could not be shut, and the door frame and door needed replacing.

Tarvek nodded glumly. “That’s expected at this point, I think.”

Von Zinzer blinked. “That went by a bit fast.”

Tarvek gave him a sad, weary smile. “I believe this is where I lose everything again.”

Von Zinzer looked at him, eyebrow raised. I guess he didn’t recognise Tarvek’s attempt to be genre-savvy. “Anyway, we got your clothes, your violin, and the stuff from your bathroom.” He looked apologetic. “We had to toss the place - carefully - in case there were more traps. These bastards were determined to make sure you were deader than dead.”

“We should not have survived the ambush years ago,” Tarvek said softly. “Our escort was slaughtered and we soft royal children meant to be easy pickings. Instead, somehow, we survived those three days in the mountains, and a sixteen year old boy with barely any military training held them off. I wonder if the people who failed fled or did something to hide it? Either way, the usurper council is unlikely to underestimate me after that, and with that video all over the place now, any further attempts on my life will probably escalate.”

“Yeah. Sorry kiddo.”  Von Zinzer sighed. “Anyway, we’re having your stuff boxed up, but we don't know where to bring it.”

“I don't know either-”

“Just bring it here for now,” Mom interrupted, as she herded both Tarvek and von Zinzer to the table. “We can keep your things stored.” She then put plates of sweet-cheese and berries pierogis in front of them, and coffee. 

The detective perked up, thanked my Mom and tucked in. “We also found your bodyguard. Unfortunately he was likely killed right before the attack on you.”

Tarvek closed his eyes. “I see. Thank you.”

“We're still investigating of course, because we haven't yet ruled out the possibility he was the leak.”

Tarvek's phone rang, which he immediately answered. “Sifu, my esteemed greetings.” He stood up and excused himself. The conversation from Tarvek's side was mostly made of  phrases of acknowledgement, then he sighed. “I live. That’s something.”

Prince Gilgamesh came by a little while afterward. He looked wan, his eyes hollowed out in his face. He looked like he’d barely slept, if at all. One look at him and I started up the coffee machine. One of Dad’s paint-stripper strength brews from his military days might help, I thought.

Tarvek was sitting at the dining table, cleaning his CZ with my kit. He was doing so with great concentration and meticulous movements, so focused on his task that he didn’t notice Gilgamesh until he was tapped on the shoulder. Then Tarvek jumped.

“Sorry,” Gilgamesh said, dropping down to a chair. “I’ve been tasked to find out if-”

“His Grace may acknowledge my existence publicly, if he wishes.” Tarvek interrupted. “If he is able to give me some lead time to disappear before I am banished as a risk to his people, I would be grateful.”

“That’s not happening,” Gilgamesh contradicted firmly. “Uncle’s furious, but not at you.” 

I turned away to bite my lip and to get my feelings under control, heart hammering in my ears. Tarvek had thought he would be banished?! Where would he even go?!

Gil continued to bristle with outrage. “And you dense fool, you’re family, remember? You’re not going anywhere! Father adopted you, in case you forgot!”

“I did not forget.” Tarvek eyed him cooly, then went back to cleaning his gun barrel. “Personal feelings aside, political risk is a different matter. My presence here in the duchy is too great a risk to your people-”

“We’re going to war, Tarvek. Uncle Anthonus is making the announcement today. Not because of you, but because that ‘People’s Council’ decided to perform an act of terrorism in our damn capital city.”

Tarvek stared at him, his eyes wide. Then he swallowed. “Then… I will submit a request to your Uncle Richter to be allowed to fight with your soldiers. It is the least I can do.” He put down the barrel. “Twenty-five ordinary people died yesterday, Gil, when that suicide bomber exploded. People who should not have died.”

“You are not going to run off to get yourself killed out of some idiotic-”

“I SAID NOTHING ABOUT WANTING TO DIE!” Tarvek roared back as he slammed the gun barrel onto the table under his palm. “I haven’t spent the last seven years learning how to survive just to throw my life away! I clawed together a life for myself, and that’s gone now - but I will rebuild - even if it’s from the ground up again!”

Gilgamesh sat back, mollified. “Alright! I’m sorry for assuming.” He took a deep breath, and Tarvek looked away. “I just don’t want to lose my best friend and brother too.”

“I’m sorry for shouting. You’re just worried for my state of mind, after…” Tarvek took a deep breath. “I’m not suicidal, nor am I seeking death. That is not something you have to worry about. But those people died because of me.”

“They did not die because you sought refuge with us,” Gilgamesh said with stony, heated certainty. “They died because there were people out there who were determined to kill no matter who else got caught in the fight.”

I gripped the countertop, pale. I hadn’t thought about it, but Tarvek clearly had. He was right - with his cover completely blown, he couldn’t work at the bank like a normal civilian any more - nor could I. The arrangements that Gilgamesh had made to accommodate him and myself were now void. In a single day, Tarvek had lost everything he’d built up to make a life for himself. He didn’t even have his tiny little apartment to go back to. I remembered sitting there with him, happily gloating over our book finds, and teaching him how to make mug cakes. 

My eyes filled with tears. It wasn't fair!

“There’s more news,” Gilgamesh continued, his voice heavy. “You know you’re not the only Balanan refugee we’ve taken in. We… we’ve been keeping an eye on them, in case some weren’t genuine refugees, and spies instead. There haven’t been spies. Most we can say of your people is that they’ve integrated and resettled, are productive and peaceful… but now that they know you're alive… there's wondering if you’ll reclaim your throne.”

Tarvek’s face hurt to see. “They… they blamed us for the plagues, Gil. Even though we had nothing to do with them or the famines - my mother died because of the first plagues, because she felt it her duty to tend her subjects and as a doctor! We were blamed even though we tried our best to ameliorate the damage. What makes you think I would believe that my people even want to be ruled by me, when they've damn well proven with my family's lives that wasn't the case! My father and sister are dead because of them!”

I took a deep breath to calm myself, and reminded myself to be a good host, to focus on something else than getting upset. I poured the coffee, and added some pierogi to a plate, before bringing it over to Gilgamesh, with cream and sugar. “It’s strong,” I warned, before sitting next to Tarvek.

Gilgamesh sipped the coffee without adding anything, blinked, then took a bigger gulp. I shuddered. I couldn’t help it. “I’m not saying you should retake the throne, unless you want to. But not everyone would have surely wanted your family overthrown and murdered - looking at the state of Balan now, it seems that it was mostly done by opportunistic assholes who thought they could do a better job than you could have - and well, we’re seeing how that’s turning out now, aren’t we?” He took another long sip. “If their rule was so secure, and if they were really wanted by the people, versus them taking advantage of what had been unfairly rooted public discontent, they wouldn’t have tried so goddamned hard to kill you yesterday, Tarvek. I think you’re a far, far better option for the people of Balan now.”

“I will not take up the crown, unless I know for certain they truly want the return of Sturmvoraus rule. I refuse to become the final scapegoat sacrifice upon the altar of public opinion.” Tarvek growled quietly. “I rather like my head where it is.”

“Okay, okay… Change of topic.” Gilgamesh held up his hands. The events had left Tarvek feeling raw. “Uncle Anthonus told me to pass on that we will handle Anevka's funeral.” His voice wavered, and he had to take a moment to compose himself. “She should have the funeral befitting a Princess. He also offered to have her interred in the family cemetery.”

Tarvek was quiet for several moments, before he took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes. “Thank you. I think she’d be happier here. I just wish…” He trailed off, and he looked at Gilgamesh with deep regret. “I’m sorry.”

Gilgamesh looked away. “It's… not really a secret, and I never intended to keep it as one, but… Anevka…” He looked at his mug, but his gaze was fixed far into the past. Finally he took out his phone, pulled up a photo, and slid the phone across the table. “We… we were in love. Realised it maybe a month or so before our birthday.”

The selfie of Gilgamesh and Anevka standing together, cheeks pressed together and grinning happily blurred as tears filled my eyes again. It was somewhere in Paris, that much I was able to tell.

Tears ran down Tarvek's cheeks, his fingertips hovering over the image of his sister’s face. “I… guessed. I saw her looking at you during the birthday party. She glowed with happiness, and her eyes lit up when she'd see you. I’m glad she knew love at least.” He gently pushed the phone back. “You would have made her happy. Or you’d have strangled each other. Both, maybe. I am certain you’d never have gotten bored.”

“I tried to move on. I couldn't. I don't know if I ever will.”

Tarvek scrubbed at his face with his sleeve and put his glasses back on. “As her brother, I’m certain Anevka would have called you an idiot if you don't move on. You won’t, not right away, but you should, in time.” He offered Gilgamesh a warm, bittersweet smile and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “But if she had lived… I would have been happy and proud to give her away at your wedding.”

Chapter Text

The declaration of war by the Archduke of Wulfenbach was met with protestations from the People's Council of Balan, who tried to claim being in the right as the Wulfenbachs had been sheltering 'enemies of the state’ all these years. The cold, furious reply was “You tried to murder children. You have killed my people. Prepare yourselves.”

Tarvek penned his request to be allowed to fight by hand, using a fountain pen that was one of the handful of possessions he had left from his past - the others being his Stradivarius that Gilgamesh had gone to great lengths to purchase on the black market, I learned, and the heirloom pocket watch that his father had pressed into his hand right before they had fled. The sigil he wore during his audience with the Archduke was the same one he'd worn during their escape, and was the one I saw the least. Tarvek passed the letter to Gilgamesh and then turned to deal with the more immediate things that was required of him in the whirlwind of days that followed.

Tarvek denied most requests for interviews, but appeared in front of the press to give a statement about how he had quietly lived as a normal civilian all the years, working as an ordinary person to pay for his sister's medical bills, posing no threat to anyone, for ‘how could I single-handedly be a threat to a government?’ He answered very few questions and ignored all questions about me, save to say, once he was pestered once too much, that we were colleagues and I was one of his precious friends, and to state in that icy, barely restrained rage-filled tone, “leave her in peace, or you will face the consequences.” His predator’s gaze raked over the gathered reporters.

Tarvek walked off stage in the silence that followed.

Naturally, a screenshot of his making that statement of being no threat was juxtaposed with one of us back to back shooting assassins very quickly became a meme. ‘With my violently protective girlfriend, on the other hand…’ was a frequent caption. 

Another meme was someone doing some rather nice anime and manga style illustrations of us, and making a character sheet with it. Mine had more detail, because of the tournaments I’d won, while some of the ones made of Tarvek noted the information was out of date. There were some very beautifully drawn action scenes as well - considerably more dramatic in portrayal than it seemed to us. It was rather flattering. Tarvek found it at least an amusing distraction - though of course it was Zeetha who somehow found the Prince and Bodyguard doujinshi in the week that followed, and its variations ranging from sweetly romantic to outright (but oddly still romantic) hentai, whereupon the latter just became outright surreal. “At least the romantic ones still have me at least behave like a proper gentleman,” Tarvek sighed, resigned to the inevitable now that we’d fired up the imaginations of artists out there.

(I secretly tucked the downloads away, because maybe they’d be of help for giving me ideas when I confessed in the future. I had to believe there would be a chance.) 

I endured the embarrassment because it provided a harmless distraction for Tarvek; which was exactly what Zeetha intended. But even Tarvek couldn't hide his feelings from my Dad, because one afternoon he hauled Tarvek out to the forge, heated up a bar of steel, put it on the anvil, and handed Tarvek a sledgehammer. His screams of grief and rage were punctuated by the clanging strikes of hammer against metal, with pauses for my dad to reheat the bar. It helped release a lot of the feelings that had no other safe outlet that Tarvek had begun to bury. This way they had no chance to fester and twist within his heart.

My parents moved Tarvek into the guest room across from mine while he was gone for the press statement, surprising him on his return with the statement that it was his room now. It was far more comfortable than the foldout, and sorting his clothes and setting up a few personal effects gave Tarvek a much needed distraction. It also gave him the privacy to weep in private, and a place he could retreat to if things became too overwhelming. 

Out of habit and comfort Tarvek dressed in the retired office clothes he wore even at home, but only to the waistcoat. He helped with household chores, but since the house was habitually kept neat, there wasn't much of that to keep him busy. Twice a day, Gilgamesh would stop by, to update us and to bring letters of condolences. At Tarvek's suggestion a mourner’s shrine with Anevka's picture was put up in the small Roman Catholic church that was in the biggest Balanan community. It was guarded by a soldier, assigned there by the Archduke himself. The mourners and their tributes gathered there. Violetta secreted herself amongst the mourners, and told us about it.

One quiet morning, during one of the lulls in the chaos, I asked Tarvek to tell me about his home and his family. We sat side by side on the couch, leaning against each other, and he told me about anything he could remember. He sang songs he recalled his mother singing to them, in a clear operatic tenor, and how his father had sent them to live in Paris with his parents after his wife had died. “I barely knew my father, really. We’d visit him for Christmas and for a couple of weeks in the summer. I used to think he couldn't handle raising us with all of the things he needed to focus on, but now, I think he must have really treasured Anevka and I, and Father spent those years very lonely.”

A surprise was the discovery that my parents knew the bodyguards that Tarvek had hired… and that, having lost their protectorate, transferred their detail to Tarvek himself. Higgs was one of those people who seemed to stop aging at one point as if God hit a pause button, and was as relaxed as if he’d seen it all before. “We're mostly keeping the paps away, and working with His Grace’s people.”

That explained why we hadn't been bothered at all. On the other hand it seemed that only foreign agencies were really trying - when the extent of all that had happened and had been lost was understood locally, the general sentiment was commiserating and sympathetic. Even the neighbours became protective, stonewalling attempts to try to get any scraps of information from them. That was rather nice.

I was worried for Tarvek, however. He seemed to be bearing it all with stoicism, but it was different from how he had endured before. He seemed more tired, more worn down. It was understandable, given how many shocks to the system he’d endured in two days. Tarvek would often doze off while sitting upright, either at the table, or at the couch, and I found myself worriedly watching him breathe out of an eerie sense of terror that he would just slip away. I took to holding his hand, twining my fingers with his, as if I could keep Tarvek anchored to life by touch alone.

One afternoon, I found Tarvek leaning against his headboard, asleep, Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations open on his lap. I removed his glasses and gently eased him down more comfortably onto the bed. I picked up the book and was about to put the bookmark in, when I stopped to read the passages Tarvek had been reading. The book was one of those older editions that had a passage per page, making it easier to find specific ones, and was well-worn and frequently read.

If thou workest at that which is before thee, following right reason seriously, vigorously, calmly, without allowing anything else to distract thee, but keeping thy divine part pure, as if thou shouldst be bound to give it back immediately; if thou holdest to this, expecting nothing, fearing nothing, but satisfied with thy present activity according to nature, and with heroic truth in every word and sound which thou utterest, thou wilt live happy. And there is no man who is able to prevent this.

As physicians have always their instruments and knives ready for cases which suddenly require their skill, so do thou have principles ready for the understanding of things divine and human, and for doing everything, even the smallest, with a recollection of the bond which unites the divine and human to one another. For neither wilt thou do anything well which pertains to man without at the same time having a reference to things divine; nor the contrary.

Had it only been weeks ago that Tarvek quoted one of the earlier passages to me? It seemed almost like a lifetime ago. I placed the book on the bedside table, with his glasses. Tarvek was a stoic man, and from some of the conversations I’d heard between my parents over the years, the most stoic of men either endured, weathering all that life’s storms sent their way, or something cracked them deep inside, a break that would never heal, and eventually take them.

I hoped with everything in me that this terrible time was a storm that Tarvek would weather, and not break from.

The call from Dr. Sun came a week and a half from the day everything went to hell. Tarvek could finally go to the hospital… and bid his sister goodbye.

Chapter Text

Dr. Sun looked as old as the mountains, with his long, flowing white beard and heavily wrinkled face, but his eyes were sharp and bright, raking over Tarvek when we arrived in his office. We stood, arrayed in front of his desk. Tarvek took the old doctor’s scrutiny in stride, earning him an approving nod. “Good.”

Tarvek kept his gaze steady. “This is but another hammer blow, Sifu.”

“Already it has shaped you. How many more must you endure, young Sturmvoraus?” Dr. Sun sighed, then adopted a more professional mien and gestured finally for us to seat ourselves. “Would you and young Wulfenbach wish to hear what my findings were first, or would you like to see her?”

Tarvek looked at Gilgamesh, who shook his head. “I would like to learn what you have discovered from her autopsy, please.”

Dr. Sun pushed the folder with the full report forward. “You will be glad to have it confirmed that there was no foul play involved, as you yourself suspected. Your sister’s cause of death is one of the ones we might expect from long term coma patients despite the precautions we’d already taken with blood thinners and compression wear on her limbs: an ischemic stroke. Alas, because she was not responsive, it was not caught in time.” 

Tarvek quietly read through the report and nodded, his expression filled with sorrow. “There was nothing anyone could have done.” He closed the folder. “At least… she didn’t suffer.”

Dr. Sun nodded. “I am truly sorry, Tarvek. You’ve tried your best and every procedure we attempted…” He sighed deeply. “Let’s go.”

The Princess lay on the cold mortuary table, draped in a nightgown to hide the terrible autopsy stitches, a sheet draped over her body from the waist down. Balan traditions dictated that when an unmarried woman died, she was to be dressed in a wedding gown and cremated in it. Tarvek had designed one and given the drawings to Gilgamesh to have it made. I’d seen the sheets; it was a work of art, one any woman would have been thrilled to be married in.

She should have been married in it, I thought sadly, as I watched Tarvek gently brush out her long hair and braid it one final time. Tears streamed down his face as he began softly singing a lullaby. When he was finished, he bent and kissed her brow. “Sleep well, Anevka. Say hello to Mother and Father for me.”

Then he drew the white sheet over her with infinite tenderness.

Gilgamesh had been unable to make himself take a step further into the mourning room, and was curled up on the bench next to the wall, sobbing into his arms. He hadn’t been able to bear the thought of seeing Anevka dead. Tarvek sat down next to him and pulled him close, and they both wept on each other’s shoulders. I turned away. This was not something I should interrupt or interfere in, I felt.

I stepped outside, and found Violetta standing there, takeout cups of some hot drink in their holders. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

She shook her head. “I said goodbye years ago.” Violetta held out a cup. “Hot chocolate.”

“Thanks.” I sipped it gratefully, the sweetness of it bringing a bit of brightness to my grief-dulled senses. “I wish there was something more I could do for your cousin.”

Violetta raised her eyebrows. “Your family’s taken him in and from all I can discern, are as capable as any of the Archduke’s guards at least. Yes, as a matter of fact I did a perimeter check and your parents both have their heads on a swivel. Christ. No wonder you took out trained assassins. You’re not some secret special forces member are you? No, scratch that, forget I even asked.”

I shook my head anyway. “I just really, really like guns. I’ve been hunting and shooting for as long as I can remember.” I quirked a smile, relieved to have a thread to change the topic for a bit. I pulled out my phone, thumbed in my pin and brought up my sweet sixteen present.

Violetta stared for a minute before she found her voice again. “Is that an Accuracy International L115A3 Long Range rifle?”

I nodded. “This is what I bagged with it.” I swiped to the picture of myself, standing next to a giant Heterodyne mountain boar. Slumped over and dead, it was still taller than I was at the shoulder. “You can’t safely hunt these up close, and they’re a right menace to the really deep mountain villages. They’ve eaten people, and usually that’s when we get called in for a bounty hunt.”

“That’s pretty amazing.” Violetta sipped her chocolate in silence for a while, then drained it. “Hey… Are you okay? After that firefight. I didn’t know how to ask before, but… are you okay?”

I understood what she was leaving unsaid. I had examined myself since and still had the same conclusion as before. “I had someone I was willing to kill to protect. And… I’m alright with that.” My eyes hardened. “They should’ve left Tarvek alone.”

Violetta nodded. “Thank you, Agatha. For watching my cousin’s back.”

The first sign I had that something was up was noticing that Mr. Higgs was showing up more often to ‘talk about old times’ with my parents. I had heard them chat before, but the conversations never suddenly cut out when they noticed I was close. I took to staying in my room or in the workshop to keep busy and to finish up the last jewelry commissions I’d taken. Since there were only a handful left and I had plenty of time to finish the pieces, I finished them in record time and sent them off to the buyers.

Tarvek was often at the palace in the days after we’d visited the hospital, part of the intelligence briefings that was part and parcel of the preparations for war. Zeetha had finally been allowed to take up her proper military rank and taken over the Queen’s Brigade as the Archduke had no daughters; her job at the bank as part of security was something she did because Wulfenbach was usually at peace. Gilgamesh too was preparing to lead his own unit; it was likely that Tarvek would be assigned to that unit as a special consideration - they hadn’t decided yet.

I finally got around to fielding a bunch of calls and messages from friends and former coworkers. Most of them were expressions of worry and concern, some were of shock, and a few praised how I’d kept my cool.

One message was from someone I never thought I’d have heard from again - Lars, Olga’s older cousin.

Saw you on the news. The only stupid thing I could think of at the time was that the two of you looked good together. I guess I was too much in shock. I’m happy that you found someone who fits, Agatha.

We hadn’t fit together, past the initial attraction. None of our dreams or plans or interests really aligned; so we parted ways after the relationship got rocky. It had been part of what broke up our gaming group for a while, but things had eased once Lars had gone on the theatre circuit. That said, I was later glad I hadn’t ever gotten further than kissing.

Thanks. I mean that.

As I hit send, I heard a knock on my doorframe. I looked up to see my parents, looking unusually somber. Behind my father’s bulk, I glimpsed Mr. Higgs’ sunny-blond hair.

“Agatha?” my mom began, but I smiled.

“I guess it’s time to let me know what you’ve been chatting about the past week?” 

Dad looked at me warmly. “You always were a very clever girl,” he looked at Mom. “I told you that she’d noticed.” He took my computer chair, Mom sat next to me, looking worried. Mr. Higgs leaned against the doorframe - and for the first time since I’d met him, I felt a little worried. He was in a very good position to either intercept someone coming up the stairs, or intercept someone trying to get out of the room.

I eyed my parents warily. “What’s this all about?”

They looked at each other, took a deep breath and began to talk.

They talked for hours. By the time they were done, I was in shock.

I asked to be left alone so I could process. I wasn’t sure how long I lay there on my bed, just staring up at the poster of a deep-space scene I’d tacked up there years ago, but when I once again heard a quiet knock at my door, it was fully dark.

“Agatha?” Tarvek’s voice floated gently to my ears. “Am I disturbing you?”

I sat up and tapped my lamp, filling the room with a soft yellow light. Tarvek stood, as always, just outside the door frame. He was still dressed in his formal Prince uniform, of which he had received several from Gilgamesh; dark blue-grey, with a pale gold sash that went from one shoulder to the other, the end of which trailed down one side of his back. He wore his circlet, to my surprise. Always before, he’d left it in Gilgamesh’ care.

I felt my heart skip a beat, as it always did when I saw Tarvek - but he looked especially handsome in his formal attire. “Come in.” He would never enter my room without my invitation, saying that it was improper for him to do so.

Tarvek stepped in, a melancholy smile on his face. “I asked Gil to stop by Vanamonde’s before dropping me off. I wanted to say goodbye.” He held up a large takeout bag. “They asked how you were and wouldn’t let me leave until they put together one last takeout for us.” For a moment he looked as if he was going to continue, but did not say anything further.

My heart clenched when I realised the import of his phrasing. “When?” We’d been told that Tarvek might not be allowed on the battlefield, given that he wasn’t enlisted in the Wulfenbach military, but he was going to support them with on-site intelligence and analysis. I hated that I’d felt some relief in knowing he wasn’t going to be on the front lines, even as I realised that didn’t necessarily mean he was less likely to get killed.

“A week from the funeral.” Tarvek sat down on the bed next to me, tugging out my rolling side table. He began to unpack the gifts. I blinked. Slices of If You Already Wear ‘Em, cups of This Calls For Cake Coffee and Booze, and I Have A Deadline, several croissant sandwiches, and their largest sizes of coffee.

Tarvek suddenly chuckled. “I finally found out what the coffee blend you like so much is called, by the way.”

My mouth started watering at the thought of that coffee. “What?”

“Afterglow.” Even in the dim light, I could tell his cheeks had gone pink.

I knew my cheeks were just as pink, remembering how I’d just blissed out the first time I’d tasted it. “...It’s well named.” I flicked a glance at him, just a wee bit grumpy and embarrassed.

Tarvek busied himself in getting out the utensils and paper napkins, hiding his face. When he looked up again, there was no trace of the twinkle I’d glimpsed in his eyes. “Could we watch the rest of Young Genius Sorcerer-Sensei while we eat?”

I knew a request for a distraction by now. “Sure.” I went to queue up the next five episodes. Yeah. Let’s pretend that you’re not going to leave me behind, where I can’t watch your back. I shoved my bitterness aside; it wasn’t Tarvek’s fault that I hadn’t gotten picked in the draft lotteries. And if they weren’t going to let Tarvek take arms despite his training and skill, they sure weren’t going to let me fight just because I wanted to. With everything that was going on, and the little amount of time there was left, I wasn’t going to be a brat and sulk about it.

I was going to try to enjoy the time I had left with Tarvek, and swore that I would confess before he left, but only after the funeral. I promised myself I’d tell him everything. I hated keeping secrets from him, ever since I’d not told him that I’d known who he really was. I knew though that before I could say anything, I had to process it all myself first.

Halfway through the third episode, Tarvek hummed contemplatively. “I rather like how they address the consequences of the existence of magic realistically. Magic would be quite a world-changing thing.”

“Yeah. I think it’d be fun to fly though.” I gestured toward the window. “Like right now. The night sky is gorgeous! I’d love to ‘fall’ up into it, as far as I could go. With a telescope. I bet you could get super views of Saturn up there.”

“I was about to say I have an absolute horror of flying, but you make it sound incredibly appealing.” Tarvek smiled.

I blinked. “How did you get to Paris?”

“I still flew. I am ashamed to admit that I did not exactly do so sober. Slightly tipsy, on the other hand…”

It had not escaped me that he didn’t drink himself to oblivion that first horrible night. That Tarvek turned to Dutch courage in order to fly…

“However… these days, I don’t know if I’d still have that fear. I’ve faced what should have been certain death. But… I know I have a different fear now.” He quietly knit his fingers with mine. “I couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”

I wanted to kiss him. Instead I squeezed his hand with mine. I took a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll come back. I can’t imagine a world without you in it either.”

He leaned against me. “I promise.” I leaned my head against his shoulder.

We stayed that way until we ran out of the queued episodes and food. I offered to make the trash run, so he could change clothes.

I turned back as Tarvek opened the door to his room. “Tarvek?”

“Hm?” He hesitated.

“You look really good in that outfit,” I said shyly. “...yeah. It suits you.”

He blinked, smiling in surprise and pleasure. “Thank you.”

“Sleep well,” I said and I hurried away. I needed to chat with Dad. I had an idea.

Chapter Text

The day of the funeral was gently overcast. Because the entire royal family and Wulfenbach’s nobility were present at the funeral, nobody who wasn’t supposed to be there was allowed in. Tarvek and Violetta and Gil played a farewell piece instead of making a farewell speech - none of them had been able to find the words, so instead they gave voice to their sorrowful farewell in music. Tears streamed down their faces as they played. Despite their weeping, they did not miss a single note as they bid farewell to a sister, a cousin, and one who had been loved.

Tarvek gripped my hand as Anevka was consigned to the flames. “Stay with me, please,” he whispered.

In reply I twined my fingers with his and held his hand as tightly as I could. Nothing could have made me leave his side. I stayed with him as we waited the hours it would take to turn Anevka’s corpus to ash. To our surprise, the Archduke and his family stayed as well - a visible sign of their support of their ward. A national day of mourning had been declared, for even though it had been informal, the Wulfenbachs had all but become the guardians of the Sturmvoraus scions, and Anevka would have married into the family.

Violetta came with a bit of funeral foods, and hovered at our side until we’d finished eating, keeping herself busy by checking the rapier that Tarvek wore on his hip; the whole Wulfenbach royal family were armed, the visible sign that they were at war. Tarvek, as head of his own House, was thus also armed. Violetta had resumed her role as Tarvek’s shadow guard, his Smoke Knight. She would accompany him, no matter where he went. Her weapons were not visible, and I wondered idly where she had them stashed in her suit.

When the fires were finished Tarvek needed to witness the last parts of the process. When it was done, the crematory workers used a new brush to ensure all of Anevka’s ashes were in the robin’s egg blue ceramic urn, before sealing it shut and presenting it to Tarvek. Quietly, he drew out Anevka’s sigil pendant and wrapped it around the top of the urn.

Taking my hand in his own, we went to the hall where the Archduke and his family waited. To my surprise my parents were talking with him. Gil stood to one side, cradling a portrait of Anevka in his arms, leaning against his twin. All conversation fell silent as we entered.

“It is done,” Tarvek declared softly.

Archduke Anthonus stepped up to him, reached out and squeezed both of Tarvek’s shoulders with his large hands. “Let’s go back to the palace then. We have prepared a place for her final sleep.” He turned to Gilgamesh and nodded. At that sign, Zeetha took Anevka’s portrait.

Gil came forward and drew out a Wulfenbach sigil necklace. Tarvek held out the urn so that his friend could wrap the chain around the top of the urn and the Wulfenbach tower with the wolf’s head device hung next to the winged Sturmvoraus sun and sword. Gil caressed the top of the urn, as he had once run a fond hand over Anevka’s head.

“Gil… My sister would have been very upset with you, if you never find it in you to open your heart once again.” Tarvek’s soft hazel eyes met Gil’s tawny gold ones. “Your heart… should not be buried with her.”

“I know.” Gilgamesh took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. “I need some time.”

“You young men have a week. No more.” Archduke Anthonus ran a melancholy hand over their shoulders. “Time flees on crow’s wings, Morrigan’s song War’s herald brings.”

Tarvek straightened his shoulders. “Then let us not tarry.”

When we got outside, however, the crowd of Balanian refugees had crowded to the front steps of the church crematorium, politely keeping a distance from the Royal Guard - but blocking the way out nonetheless. As soon as they saw Tarvek, they began to call his name. The ones at the frontmost of the crowd fell to their knees in supplication.

“Our Prince, Prince Tarvek, please! Take our lands back!” 

“Be our ruler! Prince Tarvek!” 

“Your Royal Highness, bring us home!” 

“We never wanted your family overthrown! Please don’t abandon us!”

“Let us all go back to Balan, Prince Tarvek…!”

I planted my feet, reeling at the force of emotion that hit us along with the wall of sound, and gripped Tarvek’s hand hard. People of all ages were there, from young parents with their children, to the elderly. Many of the women were wearing traditional Balan mourning veils, weeping for their Princess.

I felt Tarvek’s fingers clench around mine, and I looked at him, watching his eyes as he took in the sight of the people that had fled Balan as he had, either as the fighting began to look hopeless, or in the aftermath. I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed slightly when he swallowed hard, and his jaw firmed as he struggled with the weight of hereditary duty and obligations, versus the memories of the past.

The slender gold circlet on his head seemed to weigh very heavily upon him, as the voices of his people grew louder and louder. Tarvek did not look behind him, where the Archduke and his family stood.

This was a decision only he alone could make. No matter what he chose, I would accept it. I squeezed his hand one last time, then stepped back until I stood near Violetta, where she stood at attention, her eyes raking the crowd before us.

Finally, Tarvek stepped forward, and simply raised one arm up for silence.  When nothing but the wind rustling through the trees could be heard, he raised his voice.

“My father ruled us sternly, but fairly, getting us through the tumultuous times of the era intact. For this he was dragged to St. Sophia’s Square and beheaded by violent revolutionaries who felt he hadn’t done enough to protect Balan. He made my sister and I flee, and as we fled we were attacked, my sister was caught in the explosion and ever since has been in a coma. I thought then, “here is the will of my people.” I have lived a quiet existence focused only on survival. I’ve not tried to retake the throne, believing the people had spoken.

‘And then, three weeks ago, I thwarted an attempt on my life. My humble, tiny home, rigged with so many explosives, if it had gone off, the whole building would have collapsed and the families it housed would have died. What for?! I did as you all wished, a wish written with my father’s and sister’s blood and pain!” Tarvek’s voice rang with his anguish and rage.

“Now, you of Balan speak pleas, words for me to take the throne - because the oh so fine revolution has only resulted in greater poverty for all, a nation ruled by fear and ever-changing rules, an inequality of law, and instability the only constant? Was this why I was suddenly deemed a threat, enough that assassins sought to end me?

“A nation is not made by who rules it, but by the will of the people and their actions. Choosing me to take the reins of power will not magically restore Balan to its past harsh beauty overnight! It will take a lifetime of hard work to repair what took only weeks to destroy! A lifetime not just from me, but from all of Balan! I will not sugar coat what my return will mean - I must rule harshly, I must rule strictly, in order to reestablish the discipline we will all need to rebuild. I cannot be the kindly Prince I once hoped to be! 

“If you desire my leadership, I shall do so with an unyielding iron fist, so that I may hold what remains of our land and people together! This is what has become necessary!

“But I shall abide by the will of the people. If Balan wishes for me to rule and lead the country out of the hell it has become, then pave the way for my return, even if it is but to the doorstep of our valleys. If by these actions my people speak, then I will take up my father’s bloodstained crown, wear the sigil of House Sturmvoraus upon my breast, and fight for our people’s future with you once again! Until I see the will of the people, I! Will! Not! Move!”

Tarvek took a deep sad breath. ‘You have a week to decide, while I mourn my sister Anevka. Until then, grant me peace.”

He stared at the crowd as they bowed, then, by some unspoken signal, parted until there was a wide avenue for Tarvek, and the Archduke’s family to reach their heavily guarded vehicles. The Royal Guard formed up along this pathway, as security and protocol dictated.

Tarvek turned to me, holding out his hand. I quietly knit my fingers with his, and together we led the way to Anevka’s final resting place.

Chapter Text

I stood in my room, turning the ring on my pinky over and over again, trying to find the words for what I needed to tell Tarvek, for everything I wanted to say, while my mother had tugged him away for a spot of tea. Yet as I remembered the speech he gave, the way the people he had addressed had responded, my thoughts faltered and scattered like the last leaves of autumn. I closed my eyes and let the memory of Tarvek’s voice and his words rush through me once again. If he asked me to, I would follow him - no matter where he went.

I knew he would never ask, even though Tarvek had reached for me. I saw it in his eyes.

I was running out of time.

Then I heard his familiar knock on my door frame and I knew I had run out of time. I turned.

Tarvek stood there, still in his princely finery. When I had first seen him in it, he had been uncomfortable, unused to the feel of clothing that spoke of a role that he had turned his back on years ago. Now it seemed that the Tarvek I had met and known had been stripped away, and in his place stood Prince Sturmvoraus.

Then I blinked, and Tarvek was there in front of me, familiar and elegant as always… and I realised he was no different really. Just that there was a part of him that he showed only to me. I smiled gently at him in welcome and Tarvek stepped inside.

“This just arrived. It was slipped into the letter slot.” He held out an envelope to me, and I squinted at the reddish brown ink used. “It’s blood.”

I recoiled a little, then steeled myself and took the letter. The contents, also written in blood, read:

“Our rightful ruler asks us to pave the way for his return. We shall do so, with a pathway of skulls and bones and a red carpet woven of blood and tears, if this is the price Balan must pay for its folly.”

I felt my heart clench as Tarvek took the letter back, a somber expression on his face. “There are shootings in the streets already,” he murmured as he tucked the letter into his pocket.

“What will you do?” I asked, even though I knew what he would answer. I needed to hear it from him.

“What I said I would do. I will take up the crown, I will go to war. I will rule. But... I wanted to do one selfish thing in my life, before I did. I’ve been in my room trying to come up with the right words to say, and tell you first.” Tarvek closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and met my gaze. As he did I realized he had taken down all his walls, all his emotional defenses and masks.

He was dazzling to behold. My heart began to beat faster as I recognised the emotions in his expression.

“I love you, Agatha. I have, all these past months, since you delivered those documents to me. Those few minutes we would spend every day drinking coffee together were the happiest I can remember being. You were the one bright ray of sunshine and happiness in my life, and I will treasure it forever. I just wanted you to know that.”

His eyes were so filled with the same longing and desire I felt, I thought Tarvek would reach out, lean over and kiss me. Instead, he held still, so very still it seemed that time had frozen and would not move for the rest of eternity.

Then Tarvek lowered his gaze, clenched his fists at his side, and began to turn away. “Thank you for being so wonderful. Good-”

I felt something inside me snap.

“You don’t get to tell me you love me and then just walk away like that, Tarvek Sturmvoraus!”

I grabbed the idiot by the front of his jacket, took the two steps that were between us and hauled him down, even as I leaned up to meet him halfway. His lips were as soft and as silky as I thought they would be, and the electric thrill that I felt pass between us made him stiffen, then shudder with need. I wrapped an arm around his waist, letting myself sink into the feeling of holding Tarvek against me. With a sound that made me melt against him, Tarvek wrapped his arms around me, held me the way I had wanted him to hold me for a long time now, and kissed me back at last with a passion that surpassed the dreams and fevered imaginations I’d been having. By far.

The sound of our glasses clinking together brought us back to reality an eternity later. I drew away to gaze into his sparkling eyes, and whispered, smiling: 

“I love you too. And you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“And if you’re going to be Prince, you’re going to need a Princess, yes?” 

I almost bit my tongue from the jolt of surprise, and glared at my father from where he and Mom stood grinning from the doorway. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tarvek’s cheeks doing a good job of trying to rival his hair. “DAD!!! Can’t you knock?!”

“What for? The door was open.” He sketched an elaborate bow and gestured grandiosely to me with a wicked grin. “May I introduce Her Serene Highness, Agatha Heterodyne, last and lost heiress of House Heterodyne?”

Tarvek looked like someone just smashed him in the chest with a sledgehammer. “But... but... House Heterodyne was deposed in a violent invasion ignited by neighbouring nations... How...”

“Barry Heterodyne asked us to hide his niece, much in the same way you sheltered with the Wulfenbachs here. But unlike you, we’ve been preparing for her to return. Machina has been quietly overthrowing the invaders for years. The coffee shop you both enjoy so much is run by Vanamonde von Mekkhan, the hereditary seneschal of the Heterodynes and also the centre of the resistance movement. Since you’re neighbours, why not make it a twofer and overthrow those usurpers in one go?” Lilith said, grinning. “And why not complete the fairy tale and get married beforehand?”

Tarvek staggered, stunned, and sat down on my bed before he fell. “The Jägers... they were the name of the Heterodyne’s crack troops. I didn’t think the mercenary group I hired would be the same...”

“Your sister has been guarded by one of the Generals, Higgs himself, and four of the best fighters we have.” I sat down next to him, holding his hand the way I had months ago, when I’d finally told him I knew who he really was. “And no, I didn’t know, not until three days ago.” I gave him my best unsure but game smile. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you that didn’t make me sound like a total delusional moron. Sorry.”

Tarvek stared at me, as if realizing that the past few hours he spent working himself up to say goodbye to the best thing to happen to him were pointless. As he should have realized from the start, the doof.

“Let’s go take back what’s ours, Tarvek.” I grinned at him. “I’ve got your back and I’ve got a whole army to watch your back with this time.”

“No,” he said firmly. “Not yet.”

I blinked. So did my parents. Where was the resolve that had firmed his gaze earlier… and dulled it?

Tarvek reached into his other pocket, and drew out a small carved wooden box. I vaguely heard Dad make his happy rumble deep in his throat, and Mom’s gleeful laugh of delight. 

“The other reason why I was so late coming back yesterday was because I asked Gil to take me to get you a ring. For once he had the presence of mind not to offer to buy it for me.” He opened the box. Inside was a beautiful titanium and platinum ring, the setting wrapped around the blood-red ruby heart and the brilliant triangular champagne diamonds. A titanium chain was threaded through it, whispering against the metal of the ring as Tarvek drew it out of the box. “I thought the chain would be practical, for when you were working. I had thought to give this to you to remember me by… but now...”

Tarvek removed the chain and set it aside. Lifting my hand he threaded the ring onto my left ring finger. When his eyes met mine, they shone with the kind of dreams I knew he had never allowed himself to have before.

Seeing myself reflected in his large hazel-brown eyes, I knew my gaze was filled with the same ambitious light and joy. 

Tarvek didn’t even have to ask.

I would guard his back and stand at his side, for the rest of our lives, as we rebuilt our joined nations together.

Chapter Text

“Avenger, do you copy?” I asked, peering into the throne room of Sturmhalten Castle through my scope. The tower we’d captured together in the dead of night several hours ago made for a great sniper’s perch. It made me itch that I couldn’t go straight into the forefront, but my skills were best utilised where I was now.

“Copy, Gunslinger Girl,” Tarvek’s voice came softly into my ear. I’d spotted him earlier, making his way over walls and onto the eaves over the throne room like a spider. 

“Princess Psycho’s in my crosshairs.” I grinned viciously. “I can make it fast or I can make it slow.”

“I’ll let you choose, love.”

“Hold off until everyone is in position,” Gil’s voice ordered over the comms. “Showtime in T-minus 5 minutes.”

“Copy that, Sky-eyes,” I said.

“My team is in position,” Zeetha said softly.

“Same here,” Violetta’s voice also whispered through the radio a moment later.

“Roger that, Twinblades, Shadowcat. Jäger teams are also in position. The palace is surrounded. Let Operation Siege begin.” Gil paused. “Fire at will, Gunslinger.”

I grinned viciously as I thumbed off my safety. “With the greatest of pleasure.”

I calculated the wind speed, angle and drop of my bullet, adjusting my aim. I rested my finger on the trigger. On my next exhale, I pulled it.

What should have been a perfect headshot was spoilt only because Zola moved at the last second. From the angle I was at, the round tore through her gut and spine. I cursed.

“Avenger, it wasn’t a clean shot. She moved. Finish her off.”

“Avenger going in now,” was his calm reply.

“Going weapons hot now.” I heard Higgs’ laconic voice transformed by bloodlust.

“Switch to team channels now.”

I watched Tarvek as he dropped down from the roof and swung into the window that Zola had been standing in front of. From the far side of the castle, an explosion went off - the Jägers. I focused on Tarvek - he was a blur of motion in the room, taking out any guards that had been in the room or any of the so-called Revolutionary Council unfortunate enough to be Zola’s companion right that instant. I picked off anyone trying to shoot or stab my husband in the back.

The people of Balan had kept their word. They had staged a revolution of their own against the usurpers and paved a pathway of bodies to the capitol, which had been abandoned by as many people as could escape. The few that remained had been taken hostage, which was why this had become a covert mission as opposed to a full frontal assault on the city.

Tarvek had advised against it. Balan’s gap had historically been a highly defensible city, much like the Valley of the Heterodynes that was my ancestral demesne. But with the Prince of the mountains and his people helping us, the cliffs themselves seemed to part for our approach, and now only an assault upon Sturmhalten remained.

I didn’t have to fight my way into my homeland. The people there had prepared everything. The invaders’ heads had been arranged into a gruesome display to welcome me home at the main gate of Castle Heterodyne. The people of Machina remembered their history of yore and reached back to their roots as marauding raiders to declare their loyalty to House Heterodyne once again.

As if there had ever been any doubt of it!

“Room clear. Performing the execution.”

I directed all my attention to the sight I could see with the help of my scope. I would bear witness to this as well as Gilgamesh and the others up in the flying Fortress Wulfenbach would from the camera attached to Tarvek’s helmet. I watched as Zola somehow managed to roll onto her side; the effort took all her strength and all she could do was watch her death stalking her.

Tarvek adjusted his glasses as he approached the writhing blonde, his sword dripping as he walked. “Hello, Zola.” His voice was calm, almost conversational, in my ear.

“You…” Zola coughed. “ You should… be dead.”

“You know, when I had a few moments to think about it, the only source of info about my whereabouts could have only come from one source: you.” Tarvek stared coldly down at her as she tried to claw herself away from him. “Because of you, and your petty schemes, a lot of people have suffered and died. I am here to seek vengeance on their behalf. As such, your death will not be that swift.” Suddenly I could see Tarvek’s teeth flash brightly in a grin. “But because of you, not only do I reclaim my birthright, but I will ascend the throne of Sturmhalten, not as a Prince, but as a King, with Agatha as my Queen. Our nations will be joined into one and we will repair the damage you and your friends have done to once prosperous lands.”

Tarvek pressed the tip of the blade over her heart. “It is almost a shame you won’t be around to see it.”

Zola’s voice dripped with hatred. “Fuck you.”

“You can dream of that unattainable pleasure in Hell.” Tarvek grasped the crosspiece and leaned his weight on the blade.

The sword was very sharp. Even so, Zola screamed in the end as he twisted the sword in her heart.

“That was for targeting Agatha,” Tarvek whispered, satisfied.

When he was sure she was dead, Tarvek straightened. “It is done. Time to go back to work.”

“Copy that, Avenger.” Gilgamesh’s brisk, business-steady tone sounded no different from how he did at the office, and I wanted to laugh. “Guardian Angels One and Two report that the hostages have been freed from the dungeons and are making their escape, and the explosives the usurpers had planted are all disarmed. Dynamite the dungeons. How clichê can you get?”

Tarvek and I laughed at Gil’s grumbling. “I am not complaining! I am perfectly pleased with predictable prey,” Tarvek alliterated. 

 The laughter lightened everyone’s mood, but my heart soared for Tarvek - his joking was a good sign that some of his long-ignored festering wounds from the past had been lanced and would begin to heal. “Welcome home, your Majesty,” I said softly, knowing that my voice would seem as close as though I were standing in the room with him.

“Thank you, your Majesty. It is a bit of a fixer-upper, but I do hope to show you around once we get it all cleaned up.” His words were light, but his voice was husky with a different and more intimate invitation. I felt the thrill trace through my nerves and felt my cheeks warming.

“Tarvek, quit flirting and get your ass out here,” Violetta said with cheerful annoyance. “There’s a squad of holdouts who aren’t expecting you to stab them in the back.”

“I thought you’d like to have them. Don’t you and Zeetha have a counting contest?”

“Kills made by Tarvek don’t count towards your total, Vivi.” Zeetha’s taunting laugh rang gleefully through the earbud.

“Bicker later you two,” Klaus Wulfenbach’s exasperated voice came through. “I swear, it’s like running a kindergarten sometimes.”

Tarvek laughed, and headed out of the conference room. If there was something he’d learned living as an ordinary citizen, it was that you had to go clean up your own messes with your own two hands.

Since there was plenty to clean up, I got ready to go and help him, a bit more up close and personally, like a good wife should. I picked up my rifle, which Tarvek had rather whimsically christened ‘Deathray’, an eager grin cracking my face at the memory.

I heard a diffident cough from behind me.

I turned to Vanamonde, the owner of the café chain and as my family’s seneschal, had been the leader of the underground resistance in Machina. He had insisted on staying at my side for the assault on Sturmhalten.

“My Queen, I believe the doctor insisted that you not carry that thing for long periods of time. Allow me to do so instead.” He held out his hands, his posture and the way his blue eyes went steely telling me that despite his wording, ‘no’ was not an answer he would accept.

I sighed. “Fine, you take Deathray back to the Circus,” I said, referring to the nickname that Zeetha called our mobile base of operations. “Da Boyz and Jenka will accompany me.”

“Uf cawse,” Jenka grinned her almost sharklike grin. “Ve veren’t goingk to let hyu leaf us behind und haf all de fun!”

“Yeah, yeah…” I laughed, then shifted my tone to mimic the Machino accent as best as I could. “Ve hunt!”

“VE HUNT!”

---Fin---

I hope everyone’s enjoyed this thing my brain literally handed to me as a whole dream-movie several months ago. I'll probably work on illustrations slowly and add it to the story as I finish them.