Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gil woke up. It was a surprising thing, he’d been pretty sure he was dead. He had a vague memory of Tarvek holding him. Gil tried to focus on the memory, but was distracted by the warm grip on his hand. His first thought was that Tarvek was still there, still holding his hand, but as soon as Gil thought it he knew it was wrong. The hand holding his was large and rough. Now that Gil was focusing he realised it was two hands wrapped around one of his. If it wasn’t Tarvek though, Gil couldn’t think of who it could possibly be.

It was curiosity that convinced Gil to open his eyes. As he slowly became more aware, he was also aware of the dull ache in his entire body. Opening his eyes would be a commitment to being awake, and if Gil committed there wouldn’t be anymore drifting into painless unconsciousness again. Still, Gil was shocked enough at being alive, and curious enough about who had a death grip on his hand that he did commit to consciousness.

When Gil opened his eyes he reevaluated his original assumption that he was still alive. It seemed impossible that the image before Gil existed in reality. Because the hands wrapped firmly around his own belonged to his father. The Baron himself had both his hands wrapped around one of Gil’s and pressed to his forehead. The tyrannical ruler of Europa was bent over Gil’s body in a posture that made it look as if he was praying. He might even have been praying as Gil gaped it seemed his father’s lips were moving slightly as if he were mumbling something to himself. 

“Father?” Gil asked his voice a dry and raspy croak, far quieter than Gil had intended it to be.

Still the Baron heard it and his head shot up at once. He stared in shock for a moment then his hands squeezed Gil’s tightly and he was immediately on his feet. The Baron was then leaning over Gil's face one large rough hand sliding across Gil’s cheek in something almost like a caress before the Baron was pressing his fingers against Gil’s neck to check his pulse. Never mind the series of machines hooked up to Gil that could’ve provided him with far more accurate information. 

“How are you feeling?” the Baron asked.

“Sore.” Gil answered, attempting to wet his lips, but there was no saliva in his mouth to wet them with, “Water?”

The Baron scrambled to fetch him water from the sideboard. Gil stared after him confused. HIs father appeared worried, anxious even. It occured to Gil as his father rushed back over with a too full glass of water, that his father cared about his well being. Perhaps even beyond simply protecting his investment. Gil drank his water while watching his father hover over him. The Baron made it look as if he were simply examining the machines hooked up to Gil, but Gil could tell his father was really watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“What happened?” Gil asked when his throat no longer felt like the Sahara.

“That is something I would like to ask you.” his father’s voice had taken on a sudden stern note that was comforting in its familiarity, “Captain Dupree’s report was less than enlightening.”

“Bang?” Gil asked, confused he certainly didn't remember her being there.

Gil thought hard and remembered more, remembered Tarvek desperately pressing a counteragent to Gil’s mouth every few minutes. Tarvek pressing GIl’s hand to his mouth begging him to hold on. Remembered Tarvek leaning close, whispering a secret. Gil stopped remembering, suddenly worried that just thinking the words would be enough for his father to learn them. Gil knew his father hadn’t yet mastered the art of mind reading, but still he cast the thought aside quickly. 

“Yes,” the Baron said, “She arrived just at the last minute to save you from your own foolishness.”

Gil winced. It had been foolish, they should’ve had a plan. He couldn’t believe Tarvek had let them just run in like that. He was supposed to be the clever sneaky one. Except of course Tarvek hadn’t quite been thinking straight, too busy reeling from Gil’s revelation. Too distracted by the sword dangling over his neck. And amazingly somehow too trusting of Gil. 

“Oh.” Gil said, “I don’t remember that.”

The Baron sighed deep and heavy. He looked suddenly exhausted. 

“You nearly died.” The Baron said his voice quiet and for the first time in Gil’s life it shook.

Gil swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a sob rise up in his throat. He didn’t dare cry though, not in this moment. It felt somehow too delicate. Then the Baron was raing his head and setting his shoulders he rounded on Gil suddenly the fearsome tyrant again.

“NEVER. Do anything like that again. Do you understand?”

Gil blinked. He’d suspected when he woke up that his father might care, but now he was certain. The anger and fury his father usually reserved for massacres was suddenly welling up in him because Gil had nearly died. HIs father loved him, well and truly loved him. It was a revelation. Gil could only gape up at his father, and blink back tears.

“I’m sorry.” Gil said, but his voice wavered.

The Baron deflated immediately. Sinking back into the chair that had been pulled up next to Gil’s bedside. That was more upsetting than anything else and it took a huge amount of will for Gil to swallow back the emotions that were welling up. There was something terrible about watching the fight drain out of his father. Especially knowing that Gil had caused it. 

“Gilgamesh.” the Baron said eventually, “I-” He sighed and began again, “Gilgamesh, you must know-”

Whatever his father was going to to say Gil didn’t find out, because the door to the tiny room they were in opened. Boris stood in the doorway blinking at them, then he smiled.

“Ah good you’re awake.” Boris said to Gil then spun on the Baron, “See he’s fine, will you get some sleep now?”

The Baron glared at Boris for the suggestion. Gil stared at his father. He hadn’t slept. Gil swallowed hard. The Baron for his part gave Gil a long assessing loo then sighed.

“Stay in bed.” he said pointing at Gilgamesh then rose from his chair and moved past Boris into the hall.

Boris watched him go and turned back to Gil, “He’s been in here science Captain Dupree brought you back from Paris almost completely paralyzed.”

Gil blinked at Boris desperatly fighting back tears. Boris noticed because he determinedly stared at the wall above Gil's head. Gil appreciated Boris’s refusal to acknowledge that Gil was feeling felings. Gil thinks if anyone so much as poked him he would shatter like glass. 

“Do you need anything, sir?” Boris said.

“Could I speak to Bang?” Gil asked.

He had to figure out what happened, and get his story straight. A lot of things had happened that Gil would rather not explain to his father. Like the fact that now that the Baron wasn’t in the immediate vicinity Gil couldn’t stop thinking about kissing Tarvek. The Baron had disapproved of Tarvek, when they'd just been friends. Who knew what he’d do if he figured out that there was now kissing. At least Gil hoped the kissing would be a reoccurring thing, if he remembered those paralyzed minutes correctly it probably would be. GIl’s brain shied away from the l-word though. Kissing was okay, friendship was okay but feelings were terrifying. Tarvek and feelings were somehow worse. 

Thankfully, Bang appeared before Gil’s brain could start spiraling into worst case scenarios. He had a tendency to do that when left to his own devices. Bang though burst into the room like a hurricane. She bounced onto Gil’s bed jolting him and proceeded to poke him in all the places that hurt the most. 

“Bang! Stop!” Gil said, trying to shove her off, but his arms were still weak.

“Oh, you can move now. Great!” Bang said and went back to poking.

“BAng!” Gil said annoyed, “I need to know what you told father.”

“OH!” said Bang with an exaggerated wink, “You want to know if I ratted out you and Prince squealy.” Bang made kissy noises, and Gil shoved at her face, “Of course not. Klaus gets all growly and weird where Prince Squealy is involved, which is annoying because he’s fun. And I don’t want to lose my favorite toy just because Klaus went all Daddy knows best on him.” Bang explained, “Plus I haven't had a chance to tell him how pretty he looked in that dress.”

Gil was pretty sure Bang didn’t actually think there was anything inherently humorous or wrong in crossdressing. But she probably knew that everyone else did, and that Tarvek cared about society's opinions on things. Gil could see the affronted look on Tarvek’s face at Bang making a casual comment about him looking pretty in a dress. Even if he had looked pretty especially once the wig had been torn off, and the weird face changing makeup all smeared. 

Gil wondered if Tarvek would appreciate it if Gil told him he looked pretty. Probably not, he’d probably assume Gil was mocking him like he did everytime Gil tried to compliment him. It was possible Gil was just really bad at compliments. He’d gotten enough drinks dumped over his head in response to them that he had the idea that what he considered a complement and what everyone else thought was a complement were not the same thing. There was even less chance that Tarvek would appreciate a dress as a present. Even one that was just meant to replace the one Gil had caused to be ruined. 

Bang noticed that Gil wasn’t listening to her anymore and jabbed him in  a particularly painful spot. Gil let out an exaggerated yel and bent himself protectively around the spot so Bang would feel properly appreciated.

“I was saying, you were very lucky I showed up, you were almost dead.” Bang leaned in very close to Gil’s face, “and you are NOT allowed to die until I’ve found a way to set you on fire.”

Gil let out a gasping wheeze, “understood.”

“Good,” Bang said, “Now I’m going to go find something to kill.”

Then she flounced out of the room. Gil did notice the knife she’d helpfully slipped under his pillow and he appreciated the thought. Bang’s poking had reminded Gil of the fact that he was actually very injured and his plans to sneak out of bed were temporarily put on hold. He should at least wait until he was sure he wouldn’t get caught immediatly before he snuck out of bed. Plus, Gil was already feeling really tired. So, he curled one hand around the handle of the knife and the other around his blankets and went back to sleep.

***

Bizarrely, following his doctor’s order seemed to make Gil heal faster. Which was strange and not at all an experiment he planned on repeating. It took him about two weeks after gaining consciousness to be fully cleared by the doctor. HIs father spends an absurd amount of time conducting the affairs of the empire from Gil’s bedside. Gil wants to point out if they’re still trying to keep Gil’s identity a secret this was a very bad way to go about doing it. The Baron’s constant presence at Gil’s bedside ensured he didn’t sneak out of bed, which was the only reason he ended up properly following his doctor’s orders.

When Gil was finally released from the small room, he was feeling incredibly better. Almost perfectly healthy even, as if he hadn’t nearly died from a very strong paralytic agent. Released from the watchful gaze of his father Gil wandered the halls of the Castle. He was planning on stopping in his secret lab, Zoing at least had probably missed him, but instead he found his feet had led him to the school. None of his friends had replied to his letters, they must not have really liked him after all. Still, it was the most familiar part of the castle to him. 

Gil was about to turn around and find a different part of the castle to wander around idly when someone caught sight of him. The flash of red hair was a dead give away of who it was. Gil was rooted effectively to the ground by a cry of,

“Gil!”

Gil didn’t turn back around instead frozen stock still. He should probably run. He didn’t know what Slepnier could possibly want from him, but he did recognize the fury in her voice. Sleipnir angry was good enough reason to run even when that anger wasn’t directed in his direction. He shouldn’t though not look at her, that would probably only make her angrier. Reluctantly, Gil turned around stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Hey Slepnir.” he said.

“YOU!” said Slepinir then dug a wrench out of a pocket and tossed it at his face.

Gil ducked, and came up angry himself. Because he definitely hadn’t done anything to justify a wrench being thrown at his face.

“What was that for?!” he demanded.

“You absolute bastard! You know what that was for!” Sleipnir yelled back. 

Behind her a courier started peddling backwards, and he watched a pair of clerks take the first turn they came upon. Gil wouldn’t be getting any assistance then. 

“No! I don’t! I can’t read minds!” Gil yelled back.

Maybe he should look into building a mind reading device. Apparently, Gil had no idea what anyone around him was thinking about at any time. He’d thought Tarvek hated him, but apparently not. If Gil had a mind reading device then he would know these things, and maybe people would stop dumping their drinks on him everytime he opened his mouth. 

“Oh, but you CAN read can’t you? Or did you somehow lose the ability to do so? Are you now illiterate?” Sleipnir hollered at him tossing a screwdriver.

Gil side stepped effectively dodging the screwdriver and the ratchet that had been tossed. Gil frowned, because of course he hadn’t lost the ability to read; he had written letters lots of them, which Slepnir should know.

“YES! I CAN READ! Which you would know if you’d bothered to write!” Gil yelled back, because honestly he was feeling really attacked right now.

“I wrote!” Sleipnir yelled back, “You're the asshole who didn’t write!”

Gil opened his mouth back up to yell that he had written. Then snapped it shut. Slepnir came to  the same realisation, because the anger fled from her face almost immediately. 

“Oh.” said Sleipnir.

Gil bent down and picked up the tools Slepnir had tossed at him.

“Maybe we should have this conversation somewhere else.” Gil said.

“Yes,” said Sleipnir.

They didn’t talk again, Sleipnir led the way into the school where Theo looked up and opened his mouth, probably to yell at Gil too, but Slepnir made a hand gesture and Theo stayed silent. Slepnir headed back out of the school and Theo trotted after them. They silently made their way to one of the less used storage areas. Then tucked themselves neatly into the back on top of a pile of spare cloth for uniforms. 

“Apparently,” Sleipnir began once they’d sat down, “Gil has been writing us.”

“Oh?” said Theo, thoughtful.

“I thought you weren’t writing me,” Gil said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. 

“Interesting,” Theo said.

Gil focused on the ends of his sleeves. They were button cuffs, he could practically hear Tarvek complaining about them. Or about the brocade on Gil’s waistcoat and how it was absolutely not appropriate for the season. Apparently, Gil wasn’t as bad at friends as he thought he was. 

“So, the question is,” Slepnir said, “Who is blocking our mail.”

“The Baron,” said Gil.

“Well, he would definitely have the means” Theo said, “but the motive.”

Gil shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to tell them, but he wasn’t supposed to. And while he was mad at his father for apparently cutting him off from his friends again, he was also still reeling from the discovery that his Father cared . He understood why his Father thought Tarvek was dangerous. Tarvek was dangerous, if he’d wanted to hurt Gil he could’ve destroyed him. Plus, Tarvek was certainly no fan of the Empire, he’d hardly been quiet about it. Theo and Slepnir weren’t dangerous though. Theo’s dad had gone adventuring with the Baron and the Heterodyne Boys, and Slepnir, well technically a hostage, had more ill will for England than the Empire. They were even appropriate friends by the ridiculous standards of station and status. 

“Who else?” Gil said instead of explaining.

Theo hummed, thinking. Sleipnir shifted. 

“None of us are important enough to cut off from each other.” Sleipnir said.

Gil tried not to look guilty.

“Maybe we’re looking at this wrong.” Theo said with that sharp look in his eyes that was 

far too familiar, “Maybe we should be asking how. ” 

Gil bit his lip, “Maybe it isn’t about us, maybe someone’s trying to infiltrate the mail 

system and we’re caught in the middle.”

“Yeah, but why hasn’t anyone else’s mail gone missing?” Sleipnir asked.

“Because,” Gil said as he started putting pieces together, “that would be suspicious. But 

when we weren’t getting our letters we just assumed it was because the other person hadn’t sent any. We didn’t report it. Maybe the first time, we we’re just part of a test, or practice. When we didn’t report anything and no one noticed the loss…. Well, there was very little risk in doing it again.”

“Maybe they were trying to figure out how long it would take for someone to report it,” Theo said.

“Exactly,” said Gil, “Except I stopped writing.”

“Me too,” Sleipnir said and Theo nodded.

“So, what do we do?” Theo asked.

Both Sleipnir and Theo turned to look at Gil. Gil had been the leader of their little group from the beginning. He was at first the only spark, he’d broken through very early, then the strongest. Even when he wasn’t trying to lead he ended up doing it anyways. 

“We start writing again.” Gil said, “Once I convince the Baron to let me go back to Paris of course.”

“Yeah, why are you back early?” Slepnir asked.

She was slouching into Gil’s side. Gil resisted the urge to lean right back into the touch. He had missed them. He had missed the casual touches and friendliness, but he didn’t want to admit that. That he was so lonely and desperate without them, about how much thinking they didn’t care had hurt. 

“I uh may have gotten paralyzed, and then almost died.” Gil admitted.

“WHAT?”

Eventually, the two of them managed to drag the story out of him. The whole story. Including the bit with Tarvek and the crossdressing and the kissing. Even the bit with the l-word which he hadn’t been able to say, but Theo had figured out anyways. It felt a little like a betrayal of Tarvek’s trust, but Gil had to tell someone. It felt good to lay out the tangle of his feelings about Tarvek for someone else’s perusal. Even if it just resulted in Sleipnir making cooing noises at him. 

“Alright, so what you need to do is obvious.” Theo said, once Gil had finished and confessed how he had no idea what to say to Tarvek when he saw him again. 

“It is?” Gil asked, because he had no idea, he’d just said that.

“You need to go and sweep your prince off his feet.” Slepnir said patting Gil on the head.

“How?” Gil asked.

“Well, you don’t really have to do much, he’s already in love with you. You just have to convince him you're in love with him.” Theo explained.

“Am i?” Gil asked.

Slepnir and Theo exchanged a Look. Gil crossed his arms and slumped back against the pile of cloth. This is what he got for sharing his feelings. They were making fun of him. 

“Maybe love’s a little strong,” Slepnir suggested in a soft tone like Gil was a stray cat that might bolt at any sudden movements.

“But you do like him, and want to kiss him and other stuff.” Theo added.

Gil hadn’t thought much about other stuff, but he wasn’t exactly opposed. He could feel his face burning at the suggestion. 

“And you like his personality,” Slepnir continued, “you just don’t want to kiss him, you want to be his friend.”

“Well, yeah. I mean why would I want to, do you know, kissing and stuff if I didn’t like him.” Gil said petulantly.

Slepnir and Theo shared another look. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t but other people sometimes just want the kissing and they don’t much care about the person they're doing it with.”

“Why?” Gil asked.

Slepnir patted his head again, “It doesn’t matter, because clearly your boy likes your personality too.”

Did he? Tarvek had never acted like he liked Gil’s personality, he was always insulting Gil. Then again he was always insulting the parts of Gil that were fake. The drunkenness and the flirting with other people and the not caring about politics. He did insult Gil’s heroics, but mostly in the fact that they put Gil in danger. And wow, a lot of Gil’s interactions with Tarvek were suddenly recontextualized in interesting ways. If he didn’t assume Tarvek hated him, then well, then maybe when Tarvek got all offended and shout-y it was because he didn’t want Gil to notice that he cared. Tarvek had always gotten more indignant the less clothing Gil was wearing, or the more dangerous the situation was. 

Slepnir patted Gil’s head again. 

“Take your time, you don’t have to figure everything out immediately. You can do the kissing stuff and then figure out how you feel. Just be honest with him.”

Gil laughed a little. Honest and Tarvek were not words that belonged in the same sentence. Still, he was feeling a little better about everything after having talked about it. but he’d hit his limit.

“Alright. Enough about me. What have you guys been getting up to?”

Theo and Sleipnir’s smiles took on a familiar bright glow and they burst into sound. Eventually they manage to decide who can tell what story, but they keep interrupting each other because they’re not telling the story right. Gil settles between the two of them and lets the comforting familiarity of friendship wrap around him. He had missed this, and apparently they’d missed him too. So, that was nice. Gil was getting a lot of nice surprises lately. People cared about him, and it was... It was nice.

Chapter Text

    Tarvek wasn’t in Paris. For real, wasn’t in Paris this time. Gil had broken into Colette's room and yelled at her until she’d managed to convince him that Tarvek hadn’t just traded in the Tatiana disguise for another one. Apparently, Tarvek had been summoned back to Sturmhalten by his father. Which was odd. Tarvek didn’t talk about his father much. He talked about his family mostly in broad strokes and none of it was positive. He occasionally spoke about his sister of whom he was both terrified and fond. Then there were the members whom he interacted with in Paris who got more than a passing mention. Tarvek’s father though was one of those things that was obvious primarily in its absence.

Gil had never asked, not even when he was eight and they had shared all of their secrets. He knew that Tarvek’s father probably wasn’t good at being a father, might actually be very bad at it. But he hadn’t wanted to know. He had wanted to hold onto his belief that he had a family out there somewhere who loved him, or at least had loved him. Having Tarvek admit that his Father was anything less than Gil’s idolized ideas of fathers would’ve shattered Gil’s illusion of family. And that had been all he had, that illusion and Tarvek. Then he’d lost Tarvek. 

             He’d known though, without ever asking. That Tarvek feared his father. He loved him too, Tarvek was sentimental like that. Gil had known Tarvek had valued the freedom of Paris just as much as Gil had. Had known that Strumhalten hadn’t been a place Tarek wanted to go back too. The accusation that Gil had “Sent him back” had been flung more than once. Something was rotten in Balan’s gap and it was definitely the royal family. If Tarvek had gone home early it was because he hadn’t found a way to wiggle out of it. Which meant something bad had happened.

             No sooner had Colette convinced Gil that Tarvek had left Paris of his own will, then Gil was on a train heading east. He hadn’t really thought it through, but he hadn’t unpacked again either. No one except Colette and Wooster had even found out Gil was back in Paris before he was gone again. Both of whom wouldn’t be easily passing that information on. While both probably knew where Gil was going, even if Gil hadn’t said anything to Wooster, neither would be telling the Baron. 

             Father would be furious just as soon as he found out Gil wasn’t in Paris like he was supposed to be. And since customs was rather more concerned with who was coming into Paris, then who was going out, Gil had some time before his Father could be furious about where Gil had gone. He would be far more furious about that. His Father had had words about associating with Sturmvarous and how it led to disaster, and where he’d found out that, Gil had no idea, because Bang certainly hadn’t told him. 

             Gil contemplated the merit of his not really a plan, more an impulse, as Europa vanished by out of his window. The train was an interesting way to travel. It wasn’t as fast or direct as an airship, but it was more precise. The train ran at the same speed regardless of if the skies were clear or stormy. Plus it was an interesting bit of engineering even if it did take quite a bit of convincing for the monks to let him anywhere near the engines. Even then it was only after he’d helped Othar, because of course it was Othar, stop a train robbery/assassination attempt that had involved both a hundred duck sized horses with razor sharp teeth, and one horse sized duck that shot lasers out of its eyes. 

             Yet, despite all the fighting, rampaging and convincing Othar that it wasn’t actually Gil’s fault, the train still managed to make its destination on time. Apparently the Corbeittes scheduled such things into their time tables, especially when Othar was aboard. They had a set of timetables and tracks specifically for managing heroic interference, and wasn’t that a clever bit of logistics. Gil devoted time to trying to convince the monk responsible to quit the order and join the Empire. He wasn’t particularly successful, but to be fair the train songs were very fun. 

             Despite the presence of Othar, the fascinating engines, and Gil’s recruitment attempts he found himself bored. It took a week by train to reach Balan’s Gap from Paris, and he had to change trains twice. Which at least got him away from Othar. Gil found himself actually reading his textbooks, for once. They were surprisingly useful, despite covering things Gil already knew, the diagrams at least made things remarkably more clear. He even wrote letters to Theo and Slepnir though he didn’t dare send them, because doing so would only help his father figure out where he’d gone. 

             He also spent a lot of time worrying. There was a lot to worry about. The initial reason Tarvek had gone home for one, which was still a mystery. If he had really meant what he said when he’d thought Gil was about to die and couldn’t hear him for another. Then there was what exactly Gil was going to do when he actually got to Sturmhalten. He couldn’t just announce himself he was pretty sure Tarvek wouldn’t allow him to be admitted in. Tarvek might not hate Gil, but he probably didn’t want to talk to him. Gil knew if he’d confessed a huge secret to Tarvek thinking the other was about to die only for him not to die, he’d probably try to avoid having a conversation about said secret for as long as possible. 

             That was why Gil was sneaking in, not because he was afraid of having an interaction with Tarvek’s family. It certainly wasn’t because Gil didn’t have a good explanation for why he was here. Sneaking in was challenging, there was more than one smoke knight loitering around, plus the regular guards and a diverse multitude of death traps that spoke to generations of sparks calling this castle home. It was fun, dodging the traps and the guards. Dodging the smoke knights was easy once he found the secret paths that were there specifically for them. 

             Gil was in a fantastic mood, and only slightly singed when he found Tarvek which meant he was not at all prepared for finding Tarvek. Tarvek was in his lab, not particularly surprising, but what was surprising was the girl on the slab. Tarvek had never bothered with the squishy sciences and he would definitely never experiment on someone who hadn’t volunteered for it. (Though attempting to kill Tarvek would probably be taken as volunteering). There was also the familiar shade of red hair the girl was sporting, which made it fairly obvious who she was.

             The perhaps most shocking thing was Tarvek himself. He was wearing a lab coat, goggles and gloves, but his hair had started to frizz and fall out of it’s tie and he had enough of a beard  that it was clear he hadn’t shaved in days. Tarvek looked like a spark in a stage play, and for someone who was usually so facetious about his appearance it was a little frightening. Tarvek was also very clearly deep in a fugue, otherwise he would’ve noticed Gil entering the room. Gil gaped at him, Tarvek was usually so careful with his spark, letting just enough slip so he could work, but not enough that he lost control. 

             Gil made his way hesitantly into the room and peered curiously at whatever Tarvek was working on. His sister lay limp and still on the slab, hooked up to a variety of machines. A quick analysis showed that she was suffering from a prolonged brain death, and that Tarvek had her chock full of stimulants to delay the process. Gil fiddled with dials and levers until he’d modified the input into something more viable, and was halfway through building a system to send periodic electric pulses through Anveka’s muscles to prevent atrophy when Tarvek finally noticed him.

             “What are you doing? You’ll interfere with the nerve relay!” Tarvek was yelling, suddenly pulling the device away from Gil.

             Gil had noticed the apparatus Tarvek was building and the connection system Tarvek had been setting up between them and he’d compensated for it thank you very much. 

             “No, it won’t. I’m using an entirely different input system, it won't affect the nervous system at all, see?”

             “Not if you leave the relays like that it won’t!” Tarvek grumbled.

             And actually had a point. 

             “Oh, right. Well what if I-”

             “Oh yes!” Tarvek said, catching on.

             They managed to get the whole thing built and connected by the time Tarvek actually looked at Gil, like he was seeing Gil and not just a person in his lab. 

             “Gil?”

             Gil looked back for a moment, seeing the confusion and desperation in Tarvek’s eyes as his head broke above the waves of his spark. There was something terrible in the back of Tarvek’s eyes. And Anveka was still on the slab and dying. Gil swallowed and broke their gaze.

             “What even are you doing with these joints,” Gil said, “Is this supposed to be a shoulder, that is not how shoulder’s work, they don’t have 360 degree perfect rotation, it would pull the muscles”

             “It’s a clank it doesn't have muscles,” Tarvek grumbled, “ besides its an improvement on the human body it shouldn’t have to suffer the same limitations”

             Tarvek was successfully distracted. Gil sank down into his spark as well and the two of them got to work. The horribleness of what was happening and the fact that Gil didn’t understand why, faded in favor of the thrill of making something work. Of warping the laws of nature, of taking someone back from the edges of death and making them better. Gil forgot all about worry and politics and death, instead he ran on the high of working with someone who understood. Who didn’t just keep up, but pushed ahead. Together they created something neither of them would’ve been able to create on their own and it was amazing. 

             Gil had no idea how long he’d been working on Anveka. He’d eaten at some point because his mouth tasted distinctly of mustard and there was a whole pile of plates covered in crumbs. Tarvek’s servants knew there was someone else here working with the younger prince, but they were smart enough not to interrupt their work. Eventually though, they stopped and pulled back and Anveka blinked up at them from a body that was made from metal and porcelain instead of flesh. 

             “Tarvek, darling” Anveka said from the face fixed in a perfect smile with a voice that crackled only a little around the edges, “You look horrible. When was the last time you shaved?”

             “Anveka.” Tarvek choked out and then began to shake.

             He was crying and laughing at the same time. Anveka was struggling to sit up on the table in her new body. Gil was torn between the two of them, but in the end chose to help Anveka sit up, he needed to make sure that she had full control over her joints after all. 

             “Why thank you,” Anveka said and they’d managed to give her voice enough inflection to come off flirtatious, “I believe I have you sir to thank for my recovery.”

             “A little,” Gil said, “Would you mind terribly if I performed a diagnostic? I think Sturmvarous will need a moment to recover.”

             Tarvek was still laugh-crying, but he’d managed to sit himself down in a chair, and he had one hand pressed over his mouth trying to contain the sound. Gil tried not to look at him afraid that if he did some of the emotion would transfer to Gil. Tarvek was very much not okay, even though they’d managed to save his sister. That was a problem for later though. For now Gil needed to make sure they’d put Anveka together right. 

             “Not at all,” Anveka said, “Please do, though I am rather embarrassed to be in dishabille in front of a strange gentleman.”

             Gil blushed, he had had his hands inside Anveka’s stomach, they’d moved her organs from her flesh body to the new metal one. Tarvek’s original design had been a sort of puppet, but even he admitted the design would only manage to slow Anveka’s neural decay. It had taken some clever thinking and some finagling of the definition of dead, but their result would be far more stable. Anveka would probably outlive Tarvek’s children in this new body. If they’d done it right. 

             “My apologies, your highness. Do think of me as your physician if it helps.” Gil said and began to prod different points of Anveka’s body to test for sensations. 

             “I’d rather not,” Anveka said.

             “If the lady insists,” Gil smiled back, it would help he thought, if Anveka liked him.

             “Please don’t, I’m right here.” Tarvek said, finally gaining control over himself. 

             “Ah, I see you’ve managed to gain control of your emotions.” Anveka said, “Do excuse my brother, his heart is unfortunately soft. He has a romantic streak we were never able to train out of him. So sentimental.”

             “That sentiment kept you alive, Venka.” Tarvek grumbled, “If I wasn’t so romantic, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

             “You shouldn’t have.” Anveka said. 

             Gil got the strangest idea that she meant it. He hesitated his hand on Anveka’s leg checking the knee joint.

             “Honestly Holzfaller, have you no class? Please stop fondling my sister.” Tarvek said, coming over to shove Gil out of the way and finish the diagnostic himself. 

             Gil let him. Tarvek still looked shaky, and Gil was wary of sending him into another fit of hysterical crying. 

             “Ah, you’re Monsieur Holzfeller?" Anveka said a knowing note to her voice, “I am overjoyed to be finally making your acquaintance. I’ve heard much about you.”

             “All lies, your highness I assure you.” Gil replied, resisting the temptation to ask what Tarvek had said about him, “I am also glad to finally make your acquaintance. I’ve heard much about you as well.”

             “All true.” Anveka said. 

             Gil laughed. Tarvek grumbled. 

             “May I inquire as to what put you in such a state, your highness?” Gil asked. 

             He saw Tarvek tense, but Anveka didn’t react. Whether that was because she was better at hiding her feelings then Tarvek, or because her new body made it easy Gil had no idea. 

             “No you may not.”

             Gil shrugged. He’d probably have a better chance of weaseling it out of Tarvek anyways. Instead he assisted Tarvek with the remainder of the diagnostics. He made a point to do the tests that got dangerously close to the more inappropriate regions of Anveka’s new body. Anveka played along perfectly, giggling and insisting that Gil repeat the examinations. Tarvek growled and grumbled and snapped at them, but the tension in his body slowly drained out. The more Gil and Anveka messed with him, the more reassured Tarvek seemed that Anveka was going to survive. 

             Soon enough they deemed Anveka fully functional. By the time the diagnostic was over Anveka’s responses had gotten fewer and far in between, her response times slowing. This was clearly the result of fatigue rather than any fault in the machinery. By that time, Tarvek had relaxed fully into sniping at Gil and Anveka and no longer seemed likely to shatter at the smallest of prodding. 

             “That’ll do for now,” Tarvek declared, “Get some rest Anveka, this has been an ordeal and we don’t want you overtaxing your systems.”

             “Yes, I’m fully aware of the side effects of transference,” Anveka grumbled, reminding them all that she too was a spark, or at least had been there was no evidence to show whether or not it had made the transfer. 

             “I will bid you good evening, your highness.” Gil said, kissing one porcelain hand.

             “I will certainly look forward to my next examination, Monsieur Holzfaller.” Anveka managed.

             “That’s enough, both of you.” Tarvek said, peeling off his gloves and lab coat. Gil had to avoid gaping at the reveal that Tarvek was wearing only shirt sleeves underneath. 

             “Good night Anveka,” Tarvek said, sounding exasperated as he shoved Gil through a side door.

             “Good night, brother.” Anveka said softly, already lying down. 

             Gil was still reeling from Tarvek in dishabille, which was just wrong, when Tarvek firmly shut the door to his lab behind them. He turned on Gil then, with narrowed eyes and suspicion. Gil straightened up and prepared for a barrage of questions. Then Tarvek’s face cleared and he broke into a wide smile. 

             “She’s going to be alright.” Tarvek said, his voice full of wonder. 

             “Yes she is.” Gil agreed, smiling back.

             Tarvek had never properly smiled at Gil before, and he found it was a hell of a thing to be the focus of such a gaze. It was a wonder Tarvek didn’t have half the ladies in Paris in love with him with a smile like that.

             “We did it!’ Tarvek cheered.

             “We did it!” Gil agreed. 

             Tarvek kept smiling at Gil wide and so full of hope and relief. Gil forgot all about his worry from before, at the state Tarvek was in, at the state Anveka had been in. With Tarvek smiling like that it was easy to forget everything, but the joy of success. Gil stepped forward and the idea hadn’t even properly crossed his mind before he was pressing his mouth against that smile. By the time Gil realised what he was doing it was far too late to back out. So he committed, raising a hand to cup Tarvek’s jaw and another to haul him in by his waistband. 

             To Gil’s slight surprise Tarvek didn’t hesitate, he just kissed back. It was just as good as the first time. Better even, because there was no weird pretense between them. Gil could feel the surprising definition of Tarvek’s abdomen as he slid his hand upwards and the harsh texture of a newly grown beard under Gil’s palm and rubbing against his chin. Gil slid his hand back enjoying the feel of Tarvek’s ungroomed beard against his palm as he slid his hand back into Tarvek’s hair. 

             Tarvek kissed like a man drowning, like the only way to get air was to inhale it from Gil’s lungs. His arms had immediately wrapped around Gil’s waist, not clinging the way Gil wanted to, just holding him there, fingers flexing in the material of Gil’s waistcoat. He had no idea where his coat had gone. Gil had trouble focusing on Tarvek, he wanted  to make sure he was still okay. But it was hard to think past lips, and warm and more. Gil did have the wherewithal to pull Tarvek’s ribbon free from his hair to let the loose strands fall around his face instead. Gil liked Tarvek better with his hair down. 

             Once the ribbon was disposed of Gil returned his attention to trying to get inside Tarvek’s skin. While that wasn’t actually possible without building a machine to make it possible (which would require not touching Tarvek and therefore was impossible), so Gil had to make do with getting his hand inside Tarvek’s shirt. He’d managed to get half the buttons undone and one handful of Tarvek’s pec when Tarvek abruptly let go of Gil. Gil froze in response as Tarvek shoved him backwards.

             It wasn’t a particularly strong shove, but Gil moved backwards obligingly. Tarvek was no longer smiling. His face was flickering through a series of emotions. Gil could tell Tarvek was trying to decide what expression was appropriate for the situation and that none of them were what Tarvek was really feeling. Instead he observed the shaky way Tarvek was taking in huge gulps of breath, and how Tarvek was running his hands through his hair and searching around the floor for his ribbon. Gil tucked the fabric still gripped in his hand into a pocket and out of sight. 

             Finally Tarvek settled on polite confusion for his expression. Gil tried not to feel disappointed. He’d been hoping for anger. He’d figured out that anger was Tarvek’s go to way of covering up his feelings for Gil. Gil hadn’t quite wrapped his head around the fact that Tarvek had always seemed to be angry with him. Polite confusion was more a face to dissuade Othar from involving Tarvek in whatever chaos the buffoon was creating. Tarvek’s decision to use it now hurt, just the smallest bit.

             “What are you doing here Gil?” Tarvek said, sounding exasperated. 

             That was the question Gil hadn’t quite found a satisfactory answer to, not even for himself. He wasn’t coming up with one now with Tarvek looking at him like he’d brought him a glass of white wine when he’d asked for red. But he was saying Gil and not Holzfaller and that had to be a good sign. 

             “You weren’t in Paris.” Gil said, because it was true. 

             “And that meant you had to come all the way to Sturmhalten?” Tarvek asked like Gil was being particularly obtuse. 

             Which Gil was, he knew it wasn’t a real answer, but he didn’t have one. Tarvek hadn’t been in Paris; he'd been in Sturmhalten. So Gil had gone to Sturmhalten. He hadn’t quite sorted out why yet. 

             “Yes.” Gil said and then because Slepnir and Theo had made sure he knew that honest communication was the key, “I wanted to see you.”

             Tarvek’s face did something weird at that. Then he was pulling off his prince-nez and  cleaning them on his shirt tails. He used that trick whenever he wanted a moment to think before he reacted. It also brought Tarvek’s attention to the buttons Gil had gotten undone. Gil smirked. Tarvek looked like a mess. His hair loose about his ears, the scruffy beard, the half unbuttoned and untucked shirt sleeves, the swollen lips. Tarvek looked wild and mad and like he might at any moment start cackling. Gil thought he looked gorgeous. 

             “What is this?” Tarvek asked gesturing to himself then Gil, “I can’t-” Tarvek’s voice cracked.

             “I don’t know,” Gil said because, honesty, “but I want” Gil couldn’t look at Tarvek and say it so he turned his attention to the wall where a landscape painting of a stormy sea hung, “I want to find out.”

             Tarvek made a strangled noise. Gil turned to look at him again. Tarvek had turned around and was furiously buttoning his shirt. Gil tried not to feel disappointed. Tarvek’s dishevelment was probably making the conversation more difficult for him. Gil thought it was easier, with Tarvek looking debauched and wild. He understood though that clothing was armor for Tarvek, and he didn’t stop Tarvek from trying to sort himself out. Once Tarvek buttoned his shirt he turned back around pulling his hair back and away from his face with one hand. 

             “Right then,” Tarvek said, “This is happening.”

             Gil took that as an invitation and stepped back into Tarvek’s space, when Tarvek didn’t immediately shove him away Gil cupped Tarvek’s cheek and kissed him again. Feelings were hard, talking was hard. Kissing was easy, and amazing. Tarvek wrapped a hand in Gil’s hair and kissed back. The kiss was fiercer this time it felt like a challenge. Gil had never backed down from a challenge in his life. Tarvek bit down on Gil’s lip and pressed his tongue into Gil’s mouth. Gil pressed Tarvek backwards until they were up against a wall. He resisted the urge to undo Tarvek’s buttons again, instead sliding his hand up and under Tarvek’s shirt. 

             Tarvek pulled away after an eternity or maybe a handful of seconds and when he didn’t immediately shove Gil away, Gil turned his attention to Tarvek’s neck. There was hair growing there as well, less so then on Tarvek’s face, but still there. It had been a long time since Tarvek shaved and Gil wondered how long Tarvek had been working on keeping Anveka alive before he’d shown up. 

             “What are we doing?” Tarvek asked, panting.

             “Kissing,” Gil said, and he found a spot on Tarvek’s neck that made him inhale sharply. 

             “That’s not what I meant,” Tarvek grumbled, but he had one hand in Gil’s hair not holding, but petting.

             Gil sucked a bit on that spot on Tarvek’s neck before pulling back so he could look the other man in the face. 

             “What do you want it to be?” Gil asked.

             Tarvek gave him an assessing look, then sighed tilting his head back against the wall. 

             Gil took that as an invitation and trailed his mouth higher to kiss the underside of Tarvek’s jaw. Tarvek hummed and Gil could feel it with his mouth. He experimented applying lips, tongue and teeth noting the change of tone in the sound. Gil made music against Tarvek’s skin.

             “I don’t” Tarvek began after a while, struggling with the words, “I don’t want to get hurt again. The last time I opened up to you, you threw me away.”

             Gil paused. The guilt at Tarvek’s words welled up and choked him. Gil dropped his head, so his forehead was resting against Tarvek’s collarbone.  Tarvek kept petting his hair. 

             “I’m not good at trust.” Tarvek continued, “I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

             “That’s fair,” Gil mumbled against Tarvek’s collar.

             “What I want,” Tarvek continued, “doesn’t matter. Because I can’t have it.”

             That made Gil upset. Even though he didn’t know what Tarvek wanted. He scrunched Tarvek’s shirt in his hands. Gil felt powerless in this situation and he hated that. He hated the defeat in Tarvek’s voice. They way it was clear Tarvek was used to not getting what he wanted. 

             “Why not?” Gil asked, looking up at Tarvek.

             Tarvek wasn’t looking at him, his eyes focused on the ceiling, “It’s too risky.”

             Gil frowned up at him. Tarvek was clearly hiding something from him. 

             “Look, I get that you can’t trust me,” Gil began, “but I think I deserve to know why, if you're going to shove me away.”

             “Do you?” Tarvek snorted

“Yes,” Gil said fiercely, “you told me you love me.”

Tarvek’s hands moved fast, suddenly gone from Gil’s hair to cover his mouth instead.

“Don’t say that!” Tarvek hissed.

He looked terrified. Far more terrified than he had looked for that brief moment before they’d finished the heart transfer, when Anveka had flat lined. Gil didn’t understand. Tarvek wasn’t terrified that Gil knew, he was specifically terrified of it being said out loud. Gil tried to focus his senses searching for someone else in the room, but he couldn’t find anyone. He’d done a pretty good job of tracking the smoke knights on the way in, so he was confident in his assessment. 

Gil narrowed his eyes at Tarvek hoping the other man would get the message to explain himself. Tarvek clearly did, because his shoulders slumped and he turned his gaze over Gil’s shoulder. Gil tried to focus his senses, and even turn his head, but there was no one behind him. He turned back to Tarvek who dropped his hands from Gil’s mouth resting them on Gil’s hips instead.

“If people know,” Tarvek said slowly like he was explaining something to an idiot, “then you become a target.”

Gil rolled his eyes. He’d heard that line hundreds of times in his life. Plenty of people tried to kill him anyway.

“I can take care of myself,” Gil said, annoyed. 

“You nearly died, because of some Parisian thief who was in love with you. Do you really think you could survive my family coming after you?”

“Yes,” Gil said.

Tarvek’s family was going to come after him anyways. If the Baron had an heir that made their hold on power weaker. It also threw a wrench in whatever schemes they’d been concocting to pick up the reins of the Pax-Transylvania upon the Baron’s death. No one was comfortable with a Baron acting like an Emperor, an heir made him intolerable. Unfortunately, Gil couldn’t explain any of that to Tarvek.

“You have no sense of self preservation,” Tarvek said, and Gil could tell he meant it to be chiding, but it came out, rather fond, instead, “You understand that I can’t trust your judgement on this.”

“No, I don’t” Gil grumbled, “I can take care of myself,”

Let me take care of you . Gil wanted to add, but he knew better. Tarvek couldn’t trust him. Until he could, Gil would have to tamp down on the part of him that wanted to lock Tarvek in a lab somewhere and hide him away from the world. That would keep Tarvek safe from his scheming family, and from Gil’s father. That would only make him lose whatever little bit of Tarvek’s trust he had left. 

Tarvek huffed a sigh, “You need to leave,”

“No,” Gil said tightening his grip on Tarvek’s shirt and hauling him in closer, “You need me,”

“Please,” Tarvek huffed, “Don’t be so full of yourself,”

“You need someone,” Gil said, “When was the last time you slept?”

Gil could see Tarvek doing calculations, trying to remember. That was enough of an answer in and of itself. 

“You need to sleep,” Gil said and forced himself to let go of Tarvek’s shirt and step back, “I’ll stay here and monitor Anveka’s condition. If anything goes wrong, I’ll wake you,”

“I can’t-” Tarvek protested.

“You can,” Gil said, crossing his arms and trying to channel his father, “and you will. How much help will you be to Anveka if you’re sleep deprived?”

Tarvek flinched and then sighed. He pulled up his glasses and pinched his nose.

“Fine,” Tarvek said, “Fine but wake me the moment something changes, no matter how minor”

“Of course,” Gil said.

“And if something goes wrong I’m holding you completely responsible,”

“Absolutely,” Gil agreed.

“And I’m only trusting you with this, because your reputation as a scientist is on the line,”

No one would ever know Gil helped with this.

“But of course,” he said.

Tarvek nodded, put his glasses back on and went out through another door that probably led to the bedroom proper. Gil should go back into the lab and check on Anveka. He didn’t, instead he followed Tarvek through the door. He spent a moment hovering on the threshold watching Tarvek undress. It was, Gil supposed, something he shouldn’t be doing. He could feel his face going red, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the sight of Tarvek slowly peeling off his shirtsleeves.

It was inevitable Tarvek would notice him, Gil was hardly trying to be stealthy. Tarvek showed this observation by pulling off a shoe and chucking it at Gil. Gil ducked, but the shoe sailed wide, instead hitting perfectly to disarm a trap in the doorway, Gil hadn’t even noticed. Gil frowned at the trap, he usually didn’t miss that sort of thing.

“Get out, you pervert,” Tarvek said, but his voice was more exhausted than annoyed.

Gil didn’t bother being offended. He was too busy examining the room with a critical eye, making sure to look extra closely at the places he didn’t want to look. Sure enough there were more traps, everywhere. Tarvek’s room was practically a maze of traps. His own room in his own home, and it was a fortress onto itself. Gil had never been in Tarvek’s rooms in Paris before he’d run off, and he wondered if they’d been better or worse.

“I’m just making sure you actually go to sleep,” Gil said, deciding it was best if he didn’t cross the threshold.

Tarvek glared at Gil over his shoulders before neatly tossing his socks into a hamper.

“I said I’ll sleep and I will, now go watch Anveka,”

Gil hesitated, but he could practically feel the tension in Tarvek’s voice so he nodded and slowly backed up, before gently closing the door, careful not to disturb any of the traps. He turned around to face the sitting room, and now he was looking. Gil could see the traps here too. All set in places a visitor usually wouldn’t step, but the perfect places for someone to lurk in the shadows. Gil gingerly navigated the room to poke his head back in the lab. Anveka was fine, still asleep, and still, miraculously, alive.

Gil retreated from the room. Both of the Sturmvarous siblings were presumably asleep. And, once Gil found a clock that had been wound recently, it was the middle of the night. Most of the castle would probably be asleep. Now would be a perfect time to figure out what exactly had happened here.

Chapter Text

Tarvek had once told Gil that his family was like a horde of poisonous snakes loose in the plumbing. This description had been accompanied by a lot of demonstrative hand gestures and sound effects. Gil had laughed so hard his side hurt and Tarvek’s face had scrunched up, because he was being “Serious you fool”. Gil smiled at the memory. Tarvek had been trying to protect him even then. Before Gil had been a spark, had been anything more than the orphan the Baron had taken in out of pity.

 What young Gil had missed from that description had been the danger Tarvek had been trying to impart. He’d gotten that message much later from his father. The “I am your father and also the Sturmvarouses and their extended family are all terrible people you should never ever associate with if you can help it, and definitely should never trust” speech had been very clear on that subject. And if Gil hadn’t been experiencing the world’s worst case of emotional whiplash he might’ve remembered that Tarvek had tried to warn him too.

 Gil couldn’t undo what he’d done all those years ago, but he could make up for it now. And that started with figuring out what had Tarvek so terribly frightened and taking care of it. His family was the obvious source. He knew it wasn’t Anveka, Tarvek’s desperate scramble to save her life said that whatever tension was between them, it wasn’t deadly. Gil had met Tarvek’s cousins in Paris and while they were both very dangerous people, Tarvek seemed to have a rapport with them.         

 The Blitzengaards were also people the Baron was wary of, but less so then he had been about the Sturmvorauses. The Blitzengaards belonged to that certain subset of nobility that had chosen to breed for the spark. As a result they tended to be far more formidable than your average noble. They weren’t, however, a major threat. They ruled well, Martellus’s men were outstandingly loyal and Seffie was well known for her charms. They were dangerous, but not any immediate threat. And Tarvek seemed to veer more towards fondly exasperated rather than terrified where they were concerned.There was also the detail that the Blitzengaard’s were in Paris, and it was very clear that Tarvek considered Paris an escape. No, the threat was here in Sturmhault, and that meant it could only be one person. 

Prince Aaronev was almost entirely uninvolved in international politics. His claim to fame was holding the castle that had been key in the Storm King’s war against the Heterodynes. Now it was a major thoroughfare for passage across the Carpathians. Which provided plenty of income, and a reasonable amount of protection from any neighboring rampaging sparks.

 Prince Aaronev was also a spark as were both his children. An unusual density of sparks in the family, but some families were like that, the Wulfenbachs and the Heterodynes for example. Sturmvarous wasn’t on the list, but Gil couldn’t quite remember who Tarvek’s mother had been. Tarvek certainly never mentioned her. Which Gil had always taken for a sore spot, the same way his own unknown mother was for him. But perhaps, for Tarvek, it was something else entirely.

 Gil thought about this as he rigged up a remote system that would alert him to any fluctuations in Anveka’s condition. He wasn’t going to abandon her for her own sake, for Tarvek’s, and for the fascinating results that would come from her continued survival. Also maybe, because it was the right thing to do. Gil had spent a lot of time reading Heterodyne novels, and while it had started out as curiosity it bloomed into a bit of an obsession. And even now as an adult, Gil found himself wanting to be like them.

 There may have been a tiny thought in his head that said if Gil was like the Heterodyne boys, then maybe his father would be proud of him. That voice was quiet now. It turned out the only thing Gil needed to do to get his father to demonstrate his affection, was to almost die. He would keep that in mind for the next time he was feeling insecure about their relationship.

 It was however, a little late to shake Gil’s heroic tendencies. Besides, he liked playing the hero. It was fun and challenging. It was easy to win fights when you were being the bad guy and you could just blast through everything and everyone in your way. It was another thing entirely to win a fight while avoiding collateral damage. Gil enjoyed a challenge. And maybe, he thought, Tarvek liked a hero. Gil would have to go through his books later and figure out what type of romances Tarvek was reading.

 First Gil needed to investigate Tarvek’s father so he snooped about the castle. A very easy thing to do as there were plenty of hidden doors and secret passageways about the place. Which, admittedly, explained a lot about Tarvek’s willingness to follow Gil into the bowels of Castle Wulfenbach. From there he poked into rooms until eventually he stumbled upon what must be the Prince’s lab. Or at least one of them. Gil neatly avoided the traps as he poked about the room.

Gil was examining a device to measure vocal harmonics, an odd hobby, when he heard a mechanical voice call out.

 “Who-o-o G-g-go-go -esssss, thhh-er-er-ere?”

 Gil ducked down immediately expecting a guard, but the voice just repeated itself, the vocal track skipping as if severely damaged. Curiosity soon won over stealth and Gil investigated the corner of the lab the voice was coming from. When he saw the source he abandoned stealth altogether.

 There was a muse, an actual muse, strapped to an examination table, her innards exposed and pieces laid out on the side table.

 “He-e-e-l- oh” the muse said.

 “Oh,” Gil said, “are you alright?”

 “I-I-_... Error, Error” The muse emitted a faint beeping noise that faded out.

 “I’ll take that as a no,” Gil said.

 His chest felt strangely tight as he looked at the muse. The only other muses Gil had seen were also in disarray, but they were inactive. Nothing more than mechanical corpses on display like mummies. This muse was alive, functioning, to an extent, and ripped open and abandoned mid-vivisection. Seeing a muse like this would break Tarvek’s heart. Had he seen her like this? Did Tarvek even know his father had a muse?

 Gil hoped Tarvek didn’t know. He examined the muse and her parts. Delicate mechanics like this was more of Tarvek’s specialty, but Gil was certainly a more talented spark then Prince Aaronev. He could fix this, maybe not perfectly, but better. He wondered if the muse was in pain, some machines could feel pain whether out of malicious intent of their creator, a side effect of copying a human brain, or a feedback system meant to alert them of damage, it always seemed like a cruel addition to Gil. But then again, his mechanical inclinations rarely strayed to clanks. 

 Still, Van Rijin had clearly used the human body as a starting point for his design of the muses. Gil could see the similarities, and once he started noticing that, he could see how Van Rijin recreated such parts with machinery. From there it was easy to let the fugue take over. Gil never properly settled into a fugue state, the puzzle of the muse was almost too difficult and the frustration shoved him sideways out of the fugue when he realized he had absolutely no idea what a part even was, let alone what it did.

 Having a spark was about having moments of sudden understanding. You looked at something and suddenly you knew how it worked, and more importantly how you could make it better. But if  you didn’t understand something it could be jarring. That was what school was for, it made sure you knew what you were doing, and how to do it properly so when the fugue took over you operated smoothly and didn’t blow yourself up quite so much.  It was the moments when a spark misunderstood, that created the largest disasters after all.

Gil managed to put the muse back together, but he could see where pieces were missing, where things had been bent out of shape. He’d even had to tear out a few modifications, particular around her voice box, the source of her stuttering speech. When Gil was done, he was left with the horrible feeling of having failed. He knew that he hadn’t fixed her, that she was still broken and far from whole, but at least she wasn’t gaping open like a fresh wound.

 “How do you feel?” Gil asked.

 “Better,” said the muse, her voice had lost all inflection but she was no longer stuttering, “Thank you,”

 “It’s not perfect,” Gil said, “But it’s a start,”

 “Few but our master has been able to comprehend are workings,” the muse said, “My sisters have been broken by those who did not understand,”

 “I’m sorry,” Gil said.

 “You are,” the muse said, “I must go to my king,”

 Gil winced. He’d feared her cognitive systems were in decline, but he hadn’t dared to touch them.

 “Madame,” Gil said feeling the need to be polite, but unsure of how one should address a muse, “the Storm King is-“

 The muse made a crackling sound which was the broken voice box’s attempt at a laugh.

 “Not Andronicus,” said the muse.

 Gil frowned, he really hoped the muse wasn’t going to walk straight back into Prince Aaronev’s arms after Gil had spent all that time fixing her.

“Do you know where your king is?” Gil asked.

 The muse stopped. Turned elegantly around and considered Gil.

 “Do you have the time?”

 Gil hauled his pocket watch out, which he’d wound and reset when he’d realized that at some point he had stopped winding it. He informed the muse of the time.

 “Yes, I do,” said the muse.

Gil followed her out the main door of the lab and up the hall. A servant questioned them at one point and the muse simply reached out a finger and electrocuted them. Gil gaped; he’d entirely missed whatever mechanism allowed her to do that during his repairs.  With renewed curiosity Gil examined the muse as she walked. She was inhumanely graceful, but at the same time she moved in a way that was reminiscent of biological components. She bent her knees like she was distributing the impact, and she pointed her toes as if she was feeling the ground before putting her foot down. It was fascinating, and Gil wished he’d felt confident enough in his abilities to examine her nervous system.

 The castle looked different from the main hallways. It was elegantly and tastefully decorated, renovations had been done, like the excellent heating system, but they’d been done with care to preserve the underlying structure and foundation of the castle. The result was rather pleasant. There was no pompous display of grandeur or tacky display of wealth. Even Gil who rarely took note of such things understood the beauty of the place.

 It made him afraid of what was hiding underneath. He’d been distracted from his initial quest by the muse, and for now she was still the more immediate concern. Whatever Tarvek’s father was up to that had him so on edge, had been going on for a while, it could wait. But if Gil let the muse come to further harm, because he’d been too distracted, that would only hurt Tarvek more.

 Gil was wary of running into anyone more important than a maid, but there was no one else stalking the surprisingly warm halls of the castle. It was only as they reached their destination that Gil even began to notice where they were going. The muse had led them back to Tarvek’s rooms. Which answered Gil’s questions about whether or not Tarvek knew about the muse. He checked his watch again; it'd been five hours since he’d sent Tarvek to bed. He’d have liked to let him sleep longer, but it at least had been something.

 The muse apparently had a key and opened the door to the lab elegantly maneuvering around the fairly obvious traps. It was clear Tarvek expected people to come through this door. The servants probably used it frequently, and it was best not to accidently maim or murder the staff. Hence, the obviousness of the traps. Plus, with the meticulous manner Tarvek kept his lab in he was likely to notice if even the slightest disturbance had occurred.

 The muse gave a cursory look around the lab, her gaze paused briefly on Anveka before moving on. Gil cast a glance at the monitors, but Anveka’s vitals were still holding steady. They’d done a really excellent job on her, and just looking at the equipment reminded Gil of the way it had felt to be so perfectly in sync with another spark. Gil smiled and turned back to the muse who was already making her way into the sitting room. 

 Gil turned away from Anveka’s monitors and followed the muse. He was curious as to what exactly Tarvek had done to get the muse to refer to him as her king. Gil wasn’t terribly surprised that he had done something to make the muse fond of him. Tarvek had always been obsessed with the muses, but in a distinctly different way from other sparks. Tarvek’s obsession was more awestruck, he considered the muses people as well as feats of mechanical genius, and he didn’t want to recreate them he wanted to fix them and befriend them.

 Gil’s chest ached at the thought that it might be somehow Tarvek’s fault this muse had been broken. Tarvek had been looking for the muses, had he found this one and brought her home, only to have his father break her? Gil felt a surge of anger at Prince Aaronev who should have known what the muses meant to his son. What would Gil do if his father did something to Zoink? The thought itself was absurd, but that was probably what had happened to Tarvek.

 While Gil worried, the muse knocked calmly on the door. There was no answer. The muse waited then turned back to Gil.

 “Is my king in his chambers?” she asked.

 “Prince Sturmvarus is in there, yes,” Gil said.

 The muse nodded and opened the door. She disarmed a couple of the traps and made her way into the room. Gil stayed in the doorway, wary of crossing this final boundary into Tarvek’s space. He’d wait to be invited in. He wasn’t exactly sure what that would mean, but Gil felt somehow that it was important. So, he waited in the doorway while the muse approached the bed where Tarvek was little more than a head of red hair poking out from beneath the sheets.

 She reached out a hand and nudged him. Tarvek came awake all at once. He surged upright and pulled a knife stopping it inches from the muse’s neck. The muse didn’t even flinch.

 “My king, I have returned,” she said.

 Tarvek blinked at her, his hair a wild mess about his head and a red mark from his pillow pressed into his cheek. Gil felt something warm in his stomach at the sight and he felt the urge to cross the room and press his fingers to that mark. To soothe it away with his touch and feel Tarvek’s sleep warm skin. Gil resisted that urge and instead crossed his arms and leaned carefully against the doorframe, mindful of the traps.

 “Tinka,” Tarvek said, his voice rough from sleep.

 Tinka, Gil recalled, was the muse of dance. Which certainly explained her graceful movements.

 “Your voice,” Tarvek said so softly Gil almost didn’t hear it, “You’re…” Tarvek trailed off examining Tinka with a careful eye, “You’re in much better condition than I expected.”

 “I did my best,” Gil said.

 Tarvek’s gaze snapped to Gil, and Gil smiled at him. Tarvek squinted in response. Without his spectacles, Gil was probably no more than a vaguely person-shaped blur in the doorway.

 “Gil,” Tarvek said, “Did you remove Tinka from my father’s lab?”

 “Was I supposed to leave her there?” Gil asked and the horror of the sight of Tinka in the lab bled into his voice a little.

 “Yes,’ Tarvek hissed, and then his gaze flickered to Tinka, “No,” he said softer, “I,”

 Tarvek let out a long breath, “He’ll be furious when he notices she’s gone,”

 “How long until then?” Gil asked.

 “I don’t know,” Tarvek said, “What day is it?”

 Tinka helpfully recited the date. It matched with what day Gil thought it was.

“Three days, maybe” Tarvek said, “Less if one of the servants tell him Anveka’s recovered,”

Gil relaxed, he’d been expecting the answer to be hours not days. But that then meant, Tinka would have lain on that slab for those days, still in pieces. He shuddered. If Tarvek had been willing to allow that, then, well he was a lot more afraid of his father than Gil had realized. Because as awful as it had been for Gil to see Tinka like that it would have been so much worse for Tarvek.

 “My King,” Tinka said, “It is alright, I am in functional condition. Allow me to dance for you,”

 Tarvek reached for the nightstand and plucked up his spectacles, settling them on the end of his nose.

 “Alright, Tinka,” Tarvek said his voice soft, “Please do,”

 Then Tinka stepped back from the bed and began to dance. There was no music, but it hardly mattered. The grace with which she moved was inhuman, and each step flowed neatly into the next. It was mesmerizing and Gil found  his gaze fixed on her motions. Then suddenly she took a step and her ankle joint creaked loudly in the quiet room. The knee joint shuddered, and as Tinka moved into the next step, Gil saw the way she would fall. He made an aborted step into the room, but Tarvek was there catching her as she fell.

 “Oh,” Tinka said in that still flat voice, “I seem to have a joint out of alignment. My apologies, my king,”

 “It’s alright,” Tarvek said, “Why don’t we sit you down and I’ll take a look at it,”

 Tarvek carried Tinka towards Gil, and Gil stepped out of the way. Tarvek brought Tinka into the lab and Gil followed behind. Gil watched the muscles in Tarvek’s back flex, impressed. Tinka looked light, but Gil had his hands inside her, he knew how heavy those parts were, and had a rough idea of how much she weighed. The fact that Tarvek was able to lift her at all, let alone carry her was impressive. Gil wondered idly if Tarvek could carry him.

 Tarvek settled Tinka gently down on a chair in the lab and knelt to examine the ankle joint. Gil watched the careful way Tarvek examined Tinka. He produced a multitool from the pocket of his sleep pants and set to work repairing the joint. Gil watched the elegant motion of Tarvek’s fingers. Then there was a soft noise, and Gil looked up to find Tinka watching him.

 Gil’s face heated and he turned away from Tarvek and Tinka to check on Anveka. Her heart rate was going up, and Gil turned to see her slowly waking up. He walked over to the side of her bed and waited.

 “Good morning, Monsieur Holzfaller,” Anveka said, “Is it morning?”

 Gil checked his watch, “Technically speaking, your highness,”

 “I hope you and my brother got some sleep,” Anveka said.

 “Sturmvarous got some,” Gil said, “but I stayed up to monitor your condition. Which is excellent by the way,”

 “That is good to hear,” Anveka said and she looked around spotting Tarvek and Tinka, “Is that a muse?”

“Tinka, I believe,” Gil told her.

 “So he actually found one,” Anveka frowned, “When did that happen?”

 “When you were ill,” Tarvek said, “There was a period where Father was certain you would recover all on your own,”

 “Oh, I’m sure he was,” Anveka said with a snort, “Was she in that condition when you found her or did Father get his hands on her?”

 “The latter, I’m afraid,” Tarvek said, “Holzfaller did his best fixing her up, but delicate mechanics are hardly his specialty,”

 “Biology, however, is,” Gil said, “Which is rather fortunate for you, your highness,”

 “Yes,” Anveka said looking down at herself, “I would expect Tarvek to attempt a more mechanical form,”

 “You’re welcome, Anveka” Tarvek said only mildly annoyed.

 “How long do you plan on staying, M. Holzfaller?” Anveka said.

 “Not long,” Tarvek said.

 Gil narrowed his eyes at him, “A bit longer,”

 Tarvek glared back for a moment and then sighed, “How is Anveka?”

 Gil read off the readings on the machines. Anveka was doing remarkably well considering. She’d completely stabilized, with no organ rejection at all. That had been Gil’s primary concern with her new body. There was still a chance something might spontaneously fail, but Gil was, at this point, certain Anveka would make it.

 Which meant at least one good thing had come from this trip. Gil and Tarvek’s talk had not gone well at all. Tarvek was determined to act as if nothing had changed between them at all, despite the fact that everything had. Infuriatingly, Tarvek had a point. He was a prince, his father’s heir and he would be expected to marry a woman at some point and produce heirs. The same thing would be expected of Gil, except maybe he could get away with manufacturing an heir.

 Besides that, there was the fact that Gil’s father didn’t approve of Tarvek. Even if they wanted to be something like friends, they would have problems. Gil could work around his father. It was Tarvek’s that was the bigger problem. Gil had always known he was a bad father, that Tarvek was more wary of him than anything else. But now he was beginning to suspect it was something more than that.

 After all, neither Tarvek nor Anveka had suggested alerting their father to her recovery. Gil had woken up with his father at his bedside, but Anveka had only Tarvek, and a complete stranger when she awoke. Then there was Tinka. Anyone who knew anything about Tarvek knew about his fondness for the muses. Yet, Tarvek’s father had done what sparks before him had done and torn the muse in his possession apart, damaging her further.

To make matters worse, it was clear Tarvek had had the muse in his possession first. Then presumably his father had taken Tinka and experimented on her. Without Tarvek there, as there was no way Tarvek would’ve just left Tinka strapped to the slab like that with her innards exposed. That would open her up to all sorts of environmental damage.

 “Well, you’re certainly looking better,” Tarvek said to his sister, “You’ll be on your feet and terrorizing the servants in no time,”

 “Excellent,” Anveka said, “I fear I may require an entirely new wardrobe. You will have to pick me up something in Paris,”

 Tarvek paused in the middle of extracting an intravenous line from Anveka’s forearm.

“I’m not going back to Paris,” Tarvek said.

“What?!” Gil said perhaps too loud.

 “I am fine, brother,” Anveka said, “No need to martyr yourself further,”

 “It is not you I’m worried about,” Tarvek said quietly.

 “Nothing has changed,” Anveka said.

Tarvek removed the intravenous line and swabbed at the incision before bandaging it. Gil watched him from where he was standing by the heart monitor. If the siblings forgot he was there maybe they would actually say something that would help Gil understand what was happening.

 “It should,” Tarvek said, “This should change things,”

 “It doesn’t,” Anveka insisted, “You need to finish your education, make connections in Paris. There are greater things in motion here. I’ll handle Father,”

 “What are you planning?” Tarvek asked.

 “Only good things,” Anveka said.

 Tarvek huffed.

 “Now, I would like to know, what exactly you’re doing here M. Holzfaller.” Anveka said, turning to Gil.

 “Other than saving your life?” Gil tried for the crooked smile that reliably made girls in Paris swoon.

“I know my brother well enough to know he wouldn’t have asked for help,” Anveka said, “Or told anyone what was happening. How fortunate you were here at all,”

 “Yes,” Gil said slowly, “I came because Tarvek disappeared from Paris without a word. I suppose that was because of you, your highness”

“Concerned about my dear brother?” Anveka asked and there was a teasing tone to her voice.

 “He’s a busybody,” Tarvek said dismissively, “and I would’ve sent you a note, except you’d managed to ‘mysteriously disappear’ first.”

 “I was in a hospital,” Gil said annoyed, “Because, if you recall, I was dying,”

 “And yet, here you are. Apparently it wasn’t nearly that dire,” Tarvek retorted, “A shame, really.”

Gil rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile on his face, “Fortunately for me I had a skilled nursemaid who took care of me until help could arrive,”

 “You really shouldn’t let Dupree hear you call her that, or she’ll fix that not dying thing for you right away,” Tarvek said with faux concern.

 “Ah but her face would be worth it,” Gil said.

 Tarvek huffed a laugh through his nose.

 “I see,” said Anveka very pointedly.

 Tarvek’s gaze snapped to her.

 “See what?” he asked, his voice forcibly casual.

“Oh, nothing,” Anveka smiled, “Do you think I’m well enough to walk? I would much rather be in my bed then on a slab,”

 “We can try,” Gil said, tossing a glance at Tarvek.

 Tarvek nodded and stood up. Together Gil and Tarvek helped Anveka up and off the slab and onto her feet. She wobbled and collapsed into Gil’s side.

 “Oh,” Anveka said her hand flat against Gil’s chest, “Thank you Monsieur Holzfaller,”

 Anveka batted her eyelashes up at Gil. It wasn’t nearly as effective as it had been when Tarvek had done it, despite the fact that Anveka’s eyelashes were equally full and thick. There was something about Anveka’s smile that was calculating when she did it.

 “Stop that,” Tarvek grumbled hauling Anveka into his side, “he’s off limits,”

 “Oh?” Anveka asked, “And why is that?”

Tarvek glared at Anveka who blinked innocently back up at him. Gil watched them with a general sense of confusion. It seemed a lot like Tarvek was telling Anveka not to flirt with Gil, because Gil was his. Except, of course Tarvek hadn’t actually said that. Gil wanted him to say that. To tell Anveka to back off, because Gil was his. But Gil wasn’t Tarvek’s anything was he? They hadn’t discussed any sort of commitment or exclusivity, maybe they should. Maybe Gil was making this into something bigger than it was.

Tarvek didn’t say anything out loud at all, but Anveka let out a big dramatic sigh, it was good her lungs were functioning well enough for that, and pulled her hands away from Gil. Gil slid his hands from Anveka’s body, which was, he suddenly realized, still very naked.

 “Perhaps, we should fetch your highness a dressing gown?” Gil suggested feeling suddenly, very awkward.

 “Well, if you two aren’t going to be any fun,” Anveka pouted.

 “Tinka,” Tarvek said, “Could you fetch a dressing gown?”

 “Of course, your majesty,” Tinka said, rising to her feet.

 She walked gracefully, no sign of the destabilization in her ankle joint that had sent her tumbling earlier. Tarvek had always been good with delicate machinery. Gil watched Tinka move, because despite her feminine form, she was just a clank. Unlike Anveka who’s new body might be mostly mechanical, but had her real head attached, and actual organs inside.

 Tinka returned quickly with a deep burgundy dressing gown and Tarvek assisted Anveka into it. Gil pointedly looked away.

 “There,” Anveka said satisfied, “Now I think I should be able to make it to my room,”

 “I’ll accompany you,” Tarvek said.

 Tarvek pointed a finger at Gil.

 “Stay here, Holzfaller,”

 “Where else would I go?” Gil asked innocently.

 Tarvek took a moment to glare pointedly at Gil, before assisting Anveka from the room. Gil waited until the door had shut behind them to turn to Tinka. She was standing idly in the middle of the lab, impossibly still.

 “How long have you been a guest in Sturmhalten, Madam Tinka?” Gil asked.

 The clank turned to Gil, her impassive smiling face regarding him closely.

 “It has been six days, thirteen hours, seven minutes and 27 seconds,” Tinka said.

 “And where were you before you came here?” Gil asked.

 “His Majesty acquired me from a traveling circus,” Tinka said.

There was absolutely no inflection To Tinka’s voice, and yet somehow Gil got the feeling that Tinka missed the circus.

 “Do you want to go back?” Gil asked, “To the circus?”

 “No,” Tinka said, “I belong at my king’s side.”

 “Tarvek,” Gil said.

 “Yes,” Tinka agreed.

 “Tarvek’s a prince not a king,” Gil pointed out.

 “You are incorrect,” Tinka said.

 Gil frowned. It was odd really because Tinka did not simply say that Tarvek was a king, but her king.

 “Isn’t the Storm King your king,” Gil asked.

 That is correct,” Tinka said, “We were made to serve our king,”

 “Tarvek,” Gil said.

 “The Storm King,” Tinka said.

Gil frowned harder. Did Tinka think Tarvek was Andronicus? But no, that didn’t make sense, because she understood that Tarvek was his name. So that meant Tinka considered Tarvek not Andronicus, but the Storm King.

 “That weasel,” Gil said.

 Tarvek had always been obsessed with the muses. Gil was reasonably confident he could recognize any of them by sight, because of the detail Tarvek had gone into when describing them. Gil had considered it an obsession of mechanical nature, boosted by a fondness for fairy tales. But if Tarvek had grown up knowing he was the heir to the lightning throne, well then the muses would’ve been an important aspect of that. Tarvek probably wanted the muses' support in his bid to claim a throne that had sat empty for 200 years.

 If Tarvek was making a bid for Storm King, then that put him in direct opposition to the Empire. To the fifty families the Baron was nothing more than an opportunistic usurper and a tyrant. But they were usually too busy fighting amongst themselves to mount any sort of real rebellion against the empire. But if they had a leader they could unite behind, one of their own who played by their rules, then they would be a real substantial threat to the empire. If anyone could get the fifty families to fall in line it would be Tarvek, who could charm and bluster and trick people into doing whatever he wanted.

 It also explained some, if not all, of what was going on in Sturmhalten. Gil was probably right about it having been Tarvek’s father who almost killed Anveka. Prince Aaronev was a spark, and probably cold hearted enough to use his own daughter for an experiment. And if Tarvek was aiming for Storm King he couldn’t kill his father. Gil’s mind cringed away from the idea, but he forced himself to focus. Tarvek was a lot more deadly than Gil was.

 Tarvek would kill his father to avenge his sister. Gil knew that Tarvek loved Anveka, and had even read some of the letters they had exchanged. Anveka was trying to help Tarvek too, sending him back to Paris despite what had happened to her. What was the important thing in Paris? The education? Unlikely, education was just another feather in the hat for nobility. Connections? More likely, a section of Tarvek’s family was based in Paris, being close to them probably encouraged conspiring. Enemies? Also possible. It was hard to tell if the tension between Tarvek and Martellus was personal dislike, or political. And Tarvek did seem to have many enemies.

Tarvek had suspected his family immediately when an assassin had been after him. That meant he wasn’t the only one making a claim to being Storm King. Whomever was next in line behind him was probably the top contender. Followed by their supporters. It was likely that Martellus was that next. Though Gil wasn’t familiar enough with Tarvek’s family tree to be certain. It was unlikely to be anyone significantly older than Tarvek either or they would have already made their claim.

 A main competitor would destabilize Tarvek’s claim enough that something like patricide could significantly undercut him. Tarvek was good enough to hide such a move from anyone except the Baron. Which would put him in a very bad position. The Baron might sit on the information and wait to pull it out, but that would make moving against him difficult. Which would be a good reason not to move against Prince Aaronev. There was also the matter of how much influence the prince had on Tarvek’s potential supporters.

 Gil was still ruminating on that fact when Tarvek walked back into the room. He was still shirtless, with his hair down and his feet bare. He looked rumpled and wild, and Gil wanted to touch. After a moment he realized he could and crossed the room to where Tarvek was watching him with narrowed eyes. Gil wrapped his arms around Tarvek and luxuriated in the feeling of soft, warm skin beneath his hands.

 Gil tried to move in for a kiss, but Tarvek leaned away, not dislodging himself from Gil’s arms but dodging the kiss. Gill frowned.

 “What have you done?” Tarvek asked even as his own hands slid along Gil’s sides.

 “Nothing,” Gil said.

 “You are far too smug to have done nothing,” Tarvek said.

 Gil thought about maybe tamping down on the smugness, but decided against it. If he wanted Tarvek to be his friend then they needed to trust each other again.

 “I spoke to Tinka,” Gil said.

 “And?” Tarvek asked.

 “She told me your little secret, your majesty,” Gil said, smug.

 Tarvek froze, “Oh?”

Gil pressed a kiss to his cheek hoping to reassure him that they were still allies, even with this new information.

 “You’re planning to overthrow the Baron,”

 Tarvek snorted, “I don’t need to overthrow him,”

 That was a relief. Gil pulled back to look Tarvek more clearly in the face to check that he was being serious.

 “Oh?” Gil asked.

 Tarvek pulled out of Gil’s arms and Gil reluctantly let him go.

 “I need to be dressed for this,” Tarvek said.

 “No, you don’t,” Gil said.

 Tarvek glared at him, but his cheeks were turning decidedly red. Gil was feeling very smug indeed. Unfortunately for Gil, Tarvek got dressed anyway. Still hesitant to enter Tarvek’s bedroom, Gil threw himself onto the surprisingly comfortable sofa. He disposed of a few of the pillows, in order to more comfortably sprawl across its length. After a moment of thought, Gil rolled up his sleeves and undid the top few buttons of his shirt. He debated removing his waistcoat, but decided against it. That might be too much.

 When Tarvek came back into the room, properly dressed coat and all, hair swept back and tied off, he paused and stared at Gil. Then he let out a small, irritated huff.

 “Now, you’re doing it on purpose,” Tarvek grumbled.

 “Yup,” Gil said, “Tell me your plan,”

 “I still don’t trust you,” Tarvek grumbled, but his gaze was fixed on the open neck of Gil’s shirt.

 “At least tell me why it doesn’t involve overthrowing the Baron,” Gil said.

“I suppose I should,” Tarvek sighed, “You are still the Baron’s man after all. I’d rather you didn’t run off and convince him to stick his great big nose into everything,”

 Gil had to resist the urge to check that his nose was perfectly normal sized. It wasn’t like Tarvek had had a complaint before.

 “It’s fairly obvious really,” Tarvek explained, moving to sit in one of the chairs, “The Baron is old, and I’m young. I have only to wait him out,”

 “You’re going to wait for the Baron to die?” Gil clarified.

 “He has no heirs. Without him the empire will crumble. Unless of course someone steps in and takes up the reins.”

 “Someone like you,” Gil said.

 “Precisely,” Tarvek said, “The trick is to do it fast enough, and smoothly enough to minimize the general disorder that follows a change of regime. But yes, why build an empire when you can steal one?”

 Tarvek smiled bright and sharp, and Gil felt a sharp zing in his spine. He sat up.

 “Right, but what if the Baron doesn’t die,”

 Tarvek rolled his eyes.

 “Hear me out,” Gil said, “The Baron doesn’t play by fifty family rules, he’s already a construct, he’s already broken your one death rule. What’s to stop him from just reviving himself continuously?”

“That’s not sustainable,” Tarvek said, “Even the best revification methods only extend life, and the longer you extend it the more neural deuteration occurs. Eventually he’ll be nothing more than a raving zombie,”

 “Hypothetically,” Gil said, “he could do it until you’re too old to make your move,”

“I doubt it,” Tarvek said, “Plus every time he does something like that, he’ll reduce his legitimacy. The fifty families don’t want to be under the Baron’s thumb, they’re just waiting for him to die. If they thought they couldn’t wait him out? They’ll revolt, and properly too. It won’t be as neat, but it will work just as well,”

 “And I imagine you could make it seem as if the Baron’s cognitive functions were declining post revification. It is, after all, what people would expect,” Gil was beginning to see the framework of Tarvek’s plan.

 “I wouldn’t even need to kill him,” Tarvek said his smile distinctly smug, “I could convince his own lackeys that it would be best for him to retire and step down, for his own health of course,”

 Gil was reeling a little bit. His father had always seemed invincible, like nothing could ever get in his way, not for long. But Tarvek’s plan was so neat, and logical. Gil had convinced himself that his father would simply refuse to die, and that he was enough of a spark to back it up. Gil hadn’t considered how other people would react to that decision, or even how it could be used against him. But Tarvek had figured it out, because he was exactly the kind of weasel who knew how to use what should’ve been an obstacle as his own tool.

 “That would work,” Gil admitted reluctantly, “unless of course the Baron did have an heir,”

 “If,” Tarvek said, “not even the Baron’s good enough to hide something like that,”

 Gil had to tamp down on the smugness that time, because he was beginning to realize why exactly his father had been so afraid of Tarvek digging into Gil’s history.

 “And if he was?” Gil said, and before Tarvek could notice Gil being a little too persistent on that point, “or if he has one later?”

 “An heir born in the future would be too young to take control, if they even survived long enough.” Tarvek said, “and if the Baron managed to hide an heir… well, I doubt he’ll be half the man his father is,”

 Okay, that one hurt. Gil dropped his gaze to the floor to keep Tarvek from noticing. He tried to look contemplative instead.

“What the Baron has done is nothing short of remarkable,” Tarvek said, “But he got lucky. Europa was desperate when the Baron came back, we needed a strong leader. The Baron happened to step up at the right time. Anyone with half the spark he had would’ve failed. The Baron is competent, but a hidden son? He wouldn’t have the training, the skill or even the pure talent. It would be difficult for an heir in the open to learn everything they would need to follow in the Baron’s footsteps. Even then they would also have to win the approval of the fifty families, or enough of them to create a divide. A hidden heir wouldn’t have the connections to do that,”

Tarvek had a point. Gil hated to admit it, but it was true. Part of the reason he was in Paris was to make connections, but it wasn’t like nobility wanted to associate with Gilgamesh Holzfaller. He had Collette, and if things with Wooster went as planned, maybe Albia but that wouldn’t be enough. Gil would need someone with real standing in the fifty families to throw their support behind him. Someone like Tarvek. A plan slowly began to unfold in Gil’s mind.

“Right,” Gil said, “So the heir’s incompetent, what do you do?”

 “Kill him,” Tarvek said.

 Gil wasn’t able to keep the stricken look off of his face.

 “In the hypothetical situation where there’s a hidden heir,” Tarvek clarified, “If it was just a child then I wouldn’t have to. No one would want a child emperor, save those who thought they could pull the strings. Again it would be easy to convince those who had been loyal to the Baron that it would be best for someone else to step in.”

 There was then a chance Tarvek would kill him. Gil was beginning to believe that Tarvek wouldn’t be happy about it. He’d already done so much to keep Gil alive, but that was before Gil was in the way of his plans. So Gil would simply have to get out of the way. He hadn’t really wanted to rule the Empire anyway. But could he trust Tarvek with it? Gil wasn’t sure.

 “So you want me to keep this plan of yours from the Baron, including the little bit where you murder his hypothetical child,” Gil said.

 “Son,” Tarvek corrected, “If the Baron had a secret daughter, well, I suppose I could just marry her,”

 Gil sat up straight.

 “You could,” Gil said thoughtfully.

“It would be terribly convenient,” Tarvek said idly, “Of course, every other power hungry noble and spark in Europa would have the same idea, but I’m reasonably confident I could charm her. But the point’s moot: the Baron doesn’t have a daughter.”

 “Thankfully,” Gil said out loud.

 Tarvek blinked and then laughed softly, “Jealous Gil?”

 “No,” Gil said, “The Baron doesn’t have a daughter, why would I be jealous?”

 Gil could admit that his tone was rather petulant. A look of amazement crept across Tarvek’s face.

 “You are jealous,” Tarvek said, his voice suddenly soft.

 Gil could feel himself blushing. It was ridiculous, he didn’t have a sister, but… he was jealous of them anyway. He could just imagine the hypothetical situation where he had been born a girl. Tarvek, former best friend, and then college nemesis, showing up after Gil’s identity had been announced to try and seduce Gil into marrying him so he could steal Gil’s empire. Gil would probably punch him a lot, but still it would be nice to have Tarvek being romantic.

 Which Gil was now picturing, and blushing harder. He hadn’t known he wanted Tarvek to give him gifts and take him on dates until right then. But Gil did want that, all of that. Tarvek could probably be very romantic; he did read all those novels after all.

 “Gilgamesh,” Tarvek said softly, sliding out of his chair to kneel on the floor in front of Gil, “You can’t really…”

 Tarvek was searching Gil’s face for something. What, Gil had no idea, but he waited, the blush still strong on his face. Eventually, Tarvek found whatever he was looking for, because he was pressing close and kissing Gil. The kiss was soft and gentle, more a press of lips then an actual kiss. Still, Gil slid a hand into Tarvek’s hair cradling his head. 

 “Idiot,” Tarvek mumbled against Gil’s lips.

 Gil huffed a laugh and reached out his other arm to wrap it around Tarvek’s waist and start hauling him onto the sofa. Tarvek laughed softly, struggling to kiss Gil as he did. Gil had no idea what this was about, but Tarvek’s delight was contagious, and Gil found himself smiling wide enough to make kissing difficult.

 “Stop that you brute,” Tarvek said, slapping at the arm Gil had around his waist.

 “No,” Gil said and heaved, bringing Tarvek tumbling down onto his chest.

 Tarvek yelped gripping Gil’s shirt to keep from tumbling back to the ground. He wiggled about moving his legs into a more structurally sound position, and Gil winced as Tarvek’s pointy bits dug into his soft ones. Then finally, Tarvek was braced over Gil looking down at him. Gil slid his hand across Tarvek’s cheek reaching to pull his glasses free.

 “Gil,” Tarvek said, his voice low and soft.

 Gil opened his mouth to say something, but then there was a faint banging noise from the direction of Tarvek’s lab.

 “Tarvek, my boy” a deep masculine voice called out.

 A look of abject terror formed on Tarvek’s face then he was snatching his glasses back out of Gil’s hand and scrambling to his feet.

 “Hide,” Tarvek hissed.

 “Father,” Tarvek said once he was on his feet and looking surprisngly unrumpled, “What can I do for you?”

 “Oh, it is what you have already done!” Prince Aaronev said sounding delighted, “I just ran into your sister in the hall,”

 Anveka really shouldn’t be walking around at this time, she was likely to over tax her new muscles.

 “Ah, I was going to tell you, but I thought Anveka might want to rest before receiving visitors,” Tarvek said, carefully stepping around the sofa to the other side of the room.

 “Rest, Anveka? Wishful thinking my boy, she was already back in her lab.” Aaronev said.

 “Of course,” Tarvek said, sounding fond.

 “You did excellent work. Why you can hardly tell you had to sew her head onto a new body at all,” Aaronev continued the edges of spark harmonics creeping into his voice, “Say do you think the spark survived the transfer?”

 Gil figured Aaronev was distracted enough, so he rolled carefully onto the floor, still hidden by the bulk of the sofa.

 “I don’t know, I had to perform extensive surgery on the brain, her synapses were decaying at an alarming rate,” Tarvek said.

 The pillows Gil had carelessly tossed onto the ground had to be put back. Tarvek would never leave a room in such disarray.

 “A shame,” Aaronev said, “I just had a theory that perhaps the problem isn’t the sturdiness of the mind but the body,”

 Gil was right then and the prince had experimented on his daughter. He was feeling a little sick.

 “I don’t really see why it would matter,” Tarvek said, “It’s the forced rewriting of the neural pathways that causes the degradation. It’s simply too much information for the mind to handle, a stronger body wouldn’t make for stronger synapses,”

And of course, Tarvek was intimately familiar with the research. Gil crept along the ground and surprisingly some sort of trap door.

 “Oh I’ve worked it out, let me show you my notes! If I’m right we should be able to boost the resistance of the next subject,”

 Aaronev’s voice trailed off as he led Tarvek out of the sitting room. The door clicked shut behind them. Gil pried open the trap door. An entrance to the secret passages, of course. He hesitated, then carefully slid it shut again. If Gil wanted answers he only needed to listen. He made his way to the door and pressed his ear against it.

“If only the device hadn’t been damaged,” Aaronev was saying.

 “Perhaps we should attempt repairs again,” Tarvek replied, “It’s possible the fault lies with the assembly, we may yet find out where we went wrong.”

They were already in the hall telling by how faint the voices were. Gil carefully slid the door open and followed. Sneaking was always one of those things Gil had struggled with. Oh he was perfectly good at finding the right hiding places, and moving quietly. What he wasn’t good at was patience. Fortunately, just slinking along behind Tarvek and his father was providing Gil with plenty of information.

 The two had sunk into a more technical discussion of whatever device Aaronev had tested on his daughter. Tarvek was very familiar with its functionality. The device Gil learned was broken, destroyed by what Aaronev called “Those thrice damned traitors''. Tarvek was carefully guiding his father’s part of the conversation, pulling him back and away from his more emotional outbursts to their more technical discussion.

 It was clear that the device wasn’t supposed to kill Anveka. It was supposed to do something to her mind, change it and add some sort of information. The more Gil listened though, the more confused he got. The device was complicated, so complicated it was clear that while both Tarvek and his father knew what it was supposed to do, they didn’t understand how it worked. Someone else had built it. Aaronev called them “The Mistress”, and while Tarvek didn’t refer to them with anything more than pronouns, he was clearly deferential in his tone.

 Was the machine a creation of Tarvek’s mother? Gil couldn’t remember if she’d been a spark or not. It was likely considering that both Tarvek and Anveka were sparks. It would fit with the way Aaronev spoke of her, he was clearly enraptured by his mistress’s technical brilliance. Whomever she was, she was gone and her machine broken. The prince was determined to make it functional regardless. He wanted more tests and more subjects. Tarvek urged caution and slow progression.

 Gil’s first instinct was of course to blame Tarvek. He was clearly deeply involved in whatever mess this had been. But now Gil had more information, and it sounded less like Tarvek was a co-conspirator and more like he was desperately trying to put the brakes on his father’s machinations. While appearing to be just as intimately involved of course.

How Tarvek could manage to be so calm and collected, Gil had no idea. It had been a day since Tarvek had been deep in the madness place desperately trying to save his sister’s life. Now, he was acting as if what had happened to her was the equivalent of melting a beaker during a lab experiment. Like Anveka’s near death had been nothing more than an inconvenient failure getting in the way of success. Gil knew it had been a lot more than that to Tarvek, but apparently not for Aaronev.

 The prince had suggested putting Anveka back in their machine, and trying again. Tarvek had managed to convince his father that it was a foolish endeavor, but the callousness of it was terrifying. If Aaronev cared so little for his daughter, what would he do to his son?  Tarvek was doing a good job of playing the loyal son, but Gil didn’t believe for a second it was anything more than an act. If Aaronev ever saw through it, Tarvek would be doomed.

 Eventually they made their way into a library in one of the underground floors of the castle. The castle had a number of rooms that were on subfloors. Sturmhalten castle had been built to hold back Bludthurst Heterodyne, and it was clear from the secret passages, mazelike corridors and general lack of windows, that they had anticipated the Heterodyne storming the castle. The subbasements had probably hosted the armory, food storage and even housing for the troops. Gil had found three kitchens on his initial exploration. Though only one had been in active use.

 The library was huge, and surprisingly empty. The walls were lined with shelves filled with books, but the rest of the room was only sparsely furnished. The whole place had a general air of disuse, which Gil would hardly expect from a library in Tarvek’s home. The most reliable place to find the man in Paris, had been the Immortal Library after all. 

Of course, it made perfect sense when Aaronev pressed a stone and with a grinding of gears the room promptly rearranged itself. Gil was forced to switch hiding spots quickly to compensate for the new arrangement. He saw Tarvek’s gaze flicker for a moment. Had he seen Gil? It was impossible to tell. Gil knew Tarvek wouldn’t give him away to his father, but he would probably be furious at Gil later. Which Gil could handle.

The room had become not the laboratory Gil had been expecting, but a chapel. It was decorated by statues of a voluptuous woman, Gil didn’t recognize the particular goddess, and was relatively empty. The dominating feature of the room was the large throne on one end, surrounding it was an elaborate system of machinery. The throne itself was only a wooden chair lightly cushioned, and with rather telling straps affixed to the arms.

 “We can check the relays again,” Tarvek was saying as he approached the machinery and opened a panel with a calm familiarity.

 “Bah!” Aaronev said, “There is nothing wrong with the relays!”

 “We did have to replace most of them,” Tarvek continued, “Perhaps the problem is the inferior quality of the parts?”

“They have not sustained damage, but…” Aaronev had shoved Tarvek out of the way to examine the components himself.

 Tarvek was pushing his father into a fugue. Whether that was because he wanted the machine fixed, or his father distracted Gil had no idea. He listened to them discuss modifications and struggled to keep from dropping into the madness place himself. The machine was fascinating, far beyond the capabilities of anything Gil had seen before. Most fascinating of all was the fact that Gil only had a vague idea of what it did, but if he got a proper look at it..

 Gil pinched himself. He really couldn’t afford to lose focus. Tarvek had been terrified of his father discovering Gil in his rooms. He’d been equally frightened of someone finding out about them. Gil was certain that had more to it than Tarvek simply being afraid his father would disapprove of Gil being a man, or even Gil in general. If it had been that, then Tarvek would have said so. Instead, he’d obfuscated, and dodged questions. Tarvek was terrified, and that meant Gil should be too.

Gil tried to slowly make his way around the room to be closer to the machine. Maybe, if he could get a proper look at it, he’d understand. It was hard to move about the room, though. There wasn’t much shadow to hide in, and Gil had noticed that he wasn’t the only one skulking around the shadows. A smoke knight, as best Gil could tell. Hiding from them was a lot trickier, but Gil managed.

 It helped that the prince had gone in full spark mode and was tearing parts off the machine. Tarvek was serving mostly as a minion, fetching parts and tools from the small supply that was stored near the machine. It bothered Gil to watch Tarvek play minion to his father, as if he wasn’t twice the spark the man was. If Tarvek really let himself go, he could have his father cowering at his feet in seconds.

That was a pleasant image, that did very little to help suppress Gil’s own spark. Gil could have the prince cowering in seconds, have him begging for his life. It made no sense that Tarvek would be so scared. There was more here, Gil was missing something. A detail that would explain why exactly Tarvek was scared of a man who seemed no more frightening than any of the sparks Gil had taken out in Paris.

 As if summoned by Gil’s thoughts a door on the far side of the room flung open. Gil shifted to watch as a woman with pale skin and light blue armor strode in. It took Gil a minute to recognize her, but to be fair he’d never actually seen a geisterdamen before. The woman was yelling in a language Gil didn’t recognize. The geisterdamen had their own language and rarely spoke more than a handful of words in Romanian.

 It was rather a surprise to see one here. The geisterdamen wandered the wastes. They were looking for something, a way home according to Gil’s father. There were stories amongst the rural towns about them stealing children away in the night, but such rumors were unsubstantiated. They were known to avoid towns and cities. To see one here was surprising.

 It was far more surprising when Tarvek replied in their language. The woman yelled back something and it was clear that she’d rather talk to Aaronev than Tarvek. She was storming her way across the room toward them, armed and angry.

 “Father,” Tarvek said sharply, “Lady Vrin wishes to speak with you,”

 “Not now!” the prince said pulling a whole handful of wires out of the machine, “I am working!’

 The woman yelled something else.

 “What?” Tarvek said and the shock in his voice was clear, “Father the Baron is here!”

 Gil’s breath caught in his throat. He’d really thought he had more time.

 “Bah!’ the prince said ignoring Tarvek, “The Baron’s people are fools they won’t suspect what we’re doing,”

 “No, Father” Tarvek said and this time he grabbed Aaronev’s shoulder, “The Baron is here,”

 This did get the prince’s attention.

 “Klaus himself,” Aaronev said, still clearly in the grips of the spark, “What Is the old fool up to?”

 “I have no idea,” Tarvek said, “but he’s brought the jaegers,”

 Oh, no. Gil was in trouble. Quite a bit of it indeed. And with his father about to walk into whatever, this was. There was a long moment where Aaronev just looked wildly around the room.

“Terabithia,” He hissed after a moment, “You told her didn’t you?!”

 Aaronev had rounded on Tarvek and was backing him slowly up against a wall. Tarvek cowered and Gil couldn’t tell if the fear on his face was real or fake. He reached out and carefully picked up a pipe from the pile of parts.

 “I didn’t!” Tarvek said his voice shaking, “I would never tell her about the mistress,”

 “Not that you fool,” Aaronev had a hand twisted in Tarvek’s coat now, “About your sister!”

 Gil was in a good position to see the way Tarvek’s eyes widened at that. He crept carefully closer, aware of the smoke knight also watching events unfold.

 “That icy bitch was just waiting for the opportunity to turn on us,” Aaronev growled hauling Tarvek into the air, Tarvek squirmed, “I never expected her to turn us over to the Baron, but she would’ve never been able to stop me herself. How much does she know?”

 Tarvek opened his mouth to reply, but Aaronev shook him.

 “No matter.” Aaronev said, “I will handle it.”

 Tarvek relaxed slightly, but Aaronev’s grip tightened.

 “Someone will have to take the fall of course, the Baron will never buy that it was only a lab accident.”

 Gil knew what that meant and began to move.

 “Such a shame, really, but when the Mistress returns she will make me a new heir, one who is obedient,”

 Gil swung, and his pipe collided directly with the back of Aaronev’s head. The prince went down, dropping Tarvek who sprawled across the floor. Gil moved heading for the geisterdamen, but before he could reach her a dart appeared in her neck. The woman growled and pulled it free, but two more landed in the back of her hand. She tilted and collapsed to the ground.

 The smoke knight stepped out of the shadows and surveyed the room. He made no move to attack either Gil or Tarek, so Gil decided to ignore him and went for Tarvek who had already started to climb to his feet.

 “Are you alright?” Gil asked.

 Tarvek glared at Gil, “No thanks to you. Veilchan?”

 “She’s down,” the smoke Knight, Veilchan, said, “Tranquilizers.”

 Tarvek bent and examined his father.

 “Alive,” he said.

 “Your highness?” the smoke knight asked.

 “Where’s Anveka?” Tarvek asked.

 “Her room, resting,” Veilchan said.

 “That will work,” Tarvek said, removing his glasses and cleaning them.

 “What is all of this?” Gil asked.

 Tarvek put his glasses on and glared at Gil.

“This is the mess you’ve made,” Tarvek said, “You just had to call the Baron didn’t you? For what? Anveka? Or was it Tinka that made you think he needed to get involved. You didn’t know I was the Storm King yet, so it’s not that.”

“I didn’t call the Baron,” Gil said.

 “Oh, so am I just supposed to think this is all an unfortunate coincidence,” Tarvek yelled.

 “No,” Gil admitted, “The Baron’s here for me,”

 “Well of course he is who else would-“ Tarvek cut off, his eyes narrowed, “What did you do?”

 “He wasn’t supposed to know I was here,” Gil said, “at least not until I was back in Paris,”

 “Why does the Baron care…” Tarvek was thinking hard.

 “We need a plan,” Gil cut him off, “He doesn’t know anything except that I’m here, and probably that you’re here.”

 “He brought the jaegers,” Tarvek said.

 “They’re for me,” Gil said.

 “You didn’t tell him anything?” Tarvek clarified.

 “No,” Gil said.

“Okay,” Tarvek took a breath, “Veilchan, get father into bed then tell Anveka what’s happening. Tell her she has post revification amnesia and the only thing she knows is that there was a lab accident and Gil and I brought her back,”

 “Lady Vrin?” Veilchan asked.

 “Hide her,” Tarvek said, “Worst case scenario we have no idea who she is or why she’s here,”

 “She’ll talk,” Veilchan said helpfully.

 “She’ll rave,” Tarvek said, “And only if they find her,”

There was a pointed threat in that.

 “Yes, your highness,” Veilchan said, picking up Vrin’s body.

 “What exactly was your plan, Holzfaller?” Tarvek asked,

 “Um,” Gil said, turning back to Tarvek, “Show up, talk, drag you back to Paris. But then Anveka and we spent,” Gil paused frowning, “A day? No two working on her…and I ran into Othar on the train so…”

 Gil counted.

 “Shit,”

 “Tell me, will the Baron take you dead or alive?” Tarvek asked.

 “What?” Gil asked shocked, “Alive?”

 “Are you sure?” Tarvek asked.

 “Yes!” Gil said, “He’ll want me alive, relatively unharmed, but I can’t say the same for you!”

 “I haven’t done anything wrong,” Tarvek said, smiling a sharp smile.

 “What is all this then?” Gil asked.

“My father’s project we were warned to stay away, so we did. We’re such dutiful children after all. We didn’t think twice of it, he was a spark, greedily guarding his work is expected. I have no idea what it does, or even what it did to Anveka. She was already dying by the time my father sent for me in Paris. It was a miracle he was able to keep her alive long enough for me to come back.” Tarvek shook his head looking sad and despondent, “I never thought he would use her for a test subject,”

 “Tarvek,” Gil hissed.

 “It’ll work,” Tarvek said, “If you play along,”

 “That’s not-“ Gil began, but he didn’t get to finish.

 The doors to the chapel banged open and in streamed a contingent of Jaegers armed and smiling fanged smiles. They spread quickly out around the perimeter of the room. Behind them strode in the Baron himself.

 “You better have a very good explanation for this, Gilgamesh,” he said.

 Gil swallowed.

Chapter Text

Tarvek realized that he had miscalculated. He hadn’t expected the Baron to come for the castle immediately, or to even find where they were. There should’ve been time. The castle was a fortress and a maze, and while the Baron could simply walk in the front door, someone should’ve tried to slow him down. And even then, he should’ve gotten lost in the corridors.

 But maybe Vrin’s warning had been late. If the Baron had already been in town when- when Tarvek was telling his whole plan to Gil like a lovesick fool. Tarvek had been off his game ever since he’d arrived back in Sturmhalten. First Anveka and then Gil, Tarvek was feeling quite a bit of emotional whiplash. It would’ve been nice if Gil had mentioned the Baron was chasing him.

 Tarvek had no idea what Gil had done. He should’ve been in a hospital bed recovering until very recently. Only Gil could manage to get in this kind of trouble while he was recovering from being paralyzed. Why the idiot had decided stopping in to see Tarvek while on the run from the Baron was a good idea, Tarvek had no idea. And why exactly did Gil think Paris would be safe?

 No, there was something here that Tarvek was missing, something important.

 “I would’ve had an excellent explanation if you had waited a bit longer,” Gil said, “I am capable of taking care of myself,”

 “I have seen very little evidence of that lately,” the Baron replied.

The Baron was furious, Tarvek could feel his anger pressing into the room. The jaegers shifted warily as they waited for their orders. If this came to a fight they were doomed. Tarvek might be able to talk their way out of this, but he wouldn’t get the chance if Gil didn’t stop baiting the Baron.

 “The paralyzing incident aside,” Gil said.

 “You got out of the hospital TWO WEEKS AGO,” the Baron roared.

 Tarvek, despite himself, took a step back. That was a mistake because the Baron’s focus shifted to him.

 “Sturmvarous, of course,” the Baron said, “Why am I not surprised?”

 “Herr Baron,” Tarvek said, “I must say this is certainly a surprise for me,”

 “Is it?” The Baron said and his anger receded a bit, “Interesting,”

 For the first time the Baron looked around the room. He frowned at one of the statues.

 “Is that?” He snorted a laugh, “Really Wilhelm,”

 Tarvek tried very hard not to tense. It was clear the Baron had recognized who exactly the statues were supposed to depict. What conclusions could he draw from that alone? The Baron turned his attention instead to the summoning engine. He strode through the room towards it, and by association Tarvek and Gil.

 “What is this?” The Baron asked.

 “We don’t know,” Gil said quickly, “We were trying to figure out when you showed up.”

 “And?” The Baron asked.

 “It does something to people’s brains. Prince Aaronev put his daughter in it and it killed her. Tarvek and I were barely able to bring her back.”

 “Tarvek?” The Baron asked, but he was asking Gil not Tarvek.

 Gil, the idiot, blushed. The Baron’s gaze swung between Gil and Tarvek.

 “I see,” the Baron said slowly and there was the anger again.

 “We know that whatever it does it needs to be used on a spark,” Gil continued.

 Tarvek really wished he’d noticed Gil following them sooner, he could’ve done a better job of controlling the conversation. It was too late for that now.

 “A female spark,” Tarvek added, “That’s why he put Anveka in it and not me,”

Tarvek watched the Baron’s face, and there it was. The flash of horror, followed by the sympathy. Gil had gotten his morals from somewhere after all. Tarvek needed the Baron’s sympathy.

 “Female sparks,” the Baron said running a finger across the scratches dug into the arm of the chair, “I imagine that’s why there are so few in your generation,”

 “How long?” The Baron asked.

 “We don’t know,” Gil said.

The Baron turned on Tarvek, and Tarvek could see that not knowing wouldn’t work here. The Baron knew Tarvek knew more than Gil did. A lot more. If Tarvek lied, he would start looking guilty. Then Tarvek wouldn’t  be able to do anything for Gil.

 “The first time I know of happened shortly after I arrived back from Castle Wulfenbach,” Tarvek admitted.

 “Yes,” The Baron said, “That would work,” he turned his attention back to the machine, “But why…”

The Baron froze. Tarvek knew in that moment, that he was doomed. The Baron had figured it out. Tarvek had no idea how, or what pieces of information the Baron had used to assemble the truth, but he had found it. Tarvek turned to make a run for it, only to be met by the smiling face of a jaeger. There wouldn’t be any running either. Then Gil was at his side, a hand on his shoulder squeezing.

 “I heard Aaronev talking about “the Mistress” whomever actually built the machine,” Gil said.

 “Yes,” the Baron said, “Jorgi contain Sturmhalten and contact the castle. I want a full bug sweep on Balan’s Gap.”

 A jaeger saluted and ran off. The rest closed ranks pressing in on the Baron, their hands twitching on their weapons.

 “Bug…” Gil said, “What’s going on?”

 “Well, Sturmvoraus?” the Baron said turning to face them, “Do you want to tell him or should I?”

 Gil’s hand squeezed Tarvek’s shoulder. Tarvek savored the moment. Gil had always been too good of a dream to keep. Tarvek didn’t get nice things.

 “The mistress is Lucrezia Mongfish,” Tarvek began.

 “Bill Heterodyne’s wife?” Gil asked.

 “Yes,” the Baron clarified, “Lucrezia was always fascinated with consciousness transferal, the banning of it only made the process more enticing.”

 The gears in Gil’s head were turning and his fingers dug tighter into Tarvek’s shoulder.

 “Female sparks,” Gil said, “Was she trying to transfer her consciousness?”

 “Well Sturmvoraus?” the Baron asked.

 Gil’s grip tightened and he turned Tarvek to face him.

 “Tarvek?” Gil asked.

 Tarvek closed his eyes rather than look at Gil.

 “Yes,” Tarvek said.

 “Wilhelm was always one of Lucrezia’s loyal sycophants,” the Baron explained, for Gil’s sake probably, “He was more loyal than I suspected however.”

 “But-“ Gil said, “He put his daughter-“

Tarvek felt every muscle in his body tighten at the horror and disgust in Gil’s voice. He released Tarvek’s shoulder and Tarvek took a stumbling step backwards, still not looking at Gil.

“Sadly that doesn’t surprise me,” the Baron said, “What I’m curious about is how many of Lucrezia’s other secrets did Wilhelm know? What will my people find when they sweep the town for wasps?”

 “Wasps?” Gil said, “You think the Other….” Gil took a moment, “You think Lucrezia Mongfish is the Other, but didn’t the Other kidnap her, but oh. I suppose that does work,”

 “Convenient yes,” The Baron continued, “And I’m guessing Bill and Barry caught up with her. None of them survived the encounter, but Lucrezia had planned for it. She’d found a way to store her consciousness, and she gave it to Wilhelm. Now all she needed was a new body,”

“Except” Gil interrupted, “It was broken. Aaronev said something about traitors,”

 “Some of Lucrezia’s followers rebelled, and attempted to destroy it. They failed, but the machine was damaged,” Tarvek explained.

 If he gave the Baron enough information, if he was useful. Then the Baron would keep him alive. Probably send him to Castle Heterodyne, but that, at least, Tarvek could work with.

“And Aaronev couldn’t make the repairs,” the Baron said, “I’ve wondered when Lucrezia’s designs became so advanced, in the few years I was gone her technology advanced by leaps and bounds,”

“I don’t know,” Tarvek said, “But yes, the machine has baffled my father for over a decade. We don’t know if the repairs have made it better or worse. Every girl he puts in just… fries”

 “Hmmph,” the Baron said, “Perhaps Wilhelm will have the answers, though I suppose he won’t be half as accommodating,”

 “Oh he’s,” Gil stopped.

 Veilchan had gotten Father out at least. He did excellent work.

 “In bed,” Tarvek said, “He suffering from some severe head trauma,”

 “Gilgamesh’s work I presume,” the Baron said sounding amused, “And the princess? Is she stable?”

 “Yes,” Gil said, “She’s in her room as well.”

 “Oh?” The Baron said.

 “Because she just recovered from severe surgery and body modification,” Gil said furiously.

 “I’m sure,” the Baron said, still amused, “Well, I must say this really was rather excellent work.”

 “I-“ Gil said, “Really?”

 “Yes,” the Baron said and then his voice went hard, “But don’t think that means you’re not in trouble,”

Tarvek forced himself to examine the Baron’s face closely, trying to figure out exactly how much trouble Gil was in. Gil winced audibly. Tarvek glanced briefly over at Gil, who looked resigned. Not like he’d just been caught committing a crime.

 “I’m not going back to Paris, am I?” Gil asked.

 “You will be lucky if you ever leave my sight again,” the Baron said.

 Which, that was a bit extreme, Tarvek thought. If the Baron thought Gil needed to be under that much surveillance then why not simply imprison him? Or toss him into Castle Heterodyne and be done with it.

 “You have to sleep some time,” Gil said, sounding oddly cheerful.

 “No I do not,” the Baron said, “I can’t, because every time I let you out of my sight you run off to get yourself killed,”

 “I’m not even injured,” Gil protested.

 “I’m sure if I’d gotten here any later, you’d be lying in a puddle of your own blood,” The Baron responded.

 That sounded like concern. If Tarvek didn’t know better he would think the Baron was concerned about Gil’s safety. That he’d gone running after Gil because Gil had gone missing shortly after almost dying, not because Gil had done something wrong. Except, that didn’t make any sense at all.

 “I’m fine,” Gil said, “Really. And yes, I know it looks bad that I’ve been staying in the castle of a spark who was trying to…” Gil searched for an adequate summary, “Revive the Other. But it wasn’t like he was going to put me into the machine. I’m not a girl.”

 “And if Wilhelm had found you skulking around, then what?” the Baron asked.

 “He wouldn’t have, and it would have been fine.” Gil said.

“No he would’ve killed you, because he couldn’t risk the possibility that you had found out about this,” The Baron said, “And I’m sure if I wasn’t here, his son would’ve done it for him,”

 “No,” Tarvek said very quietly, so that only the jaeger hovering at his shoulder could hear.

“No he wouldn’t have,” Gil said, “I know this is somehow impossible for you to comprehend, but Tarvek is my friend! And the only reason I’m alive right now at all! And I would really appreciate it, if you stopped trying to sabotage my friendships!”

 Gil was… furious. He was breathing hard and spark harmonics were slipping into his speech. Tarvek couldn’t help himself; he felt an exhilarating thrill. Gil thought they were friends, still. After all these years.

 “Is that what this is about?” the Baron asked, “I thought I explained this to you-“

 “No!” Gil said, “Tarvek isn’t his father. And the only reason he’s been involved in this at all was because you sent him home! He was eight years old, and you had just banished him from the castle! What exactly was he supposed to do? Tarvek survived the only way he could by playing along. By the time he was old enough to do anything he was already deep enough in that you would blame him for it. Like you are Right Now!”

Gil was working himself into a fugue, and the Baron was just standing there staring at him like Gil had slapped him in the face with a fish. The jaegers were watching with avid interest, probably anticipating the inevitable brawl.

 “But it isn’t his fault!” Gil yelled loudly.

 The room echoed with the exclamation and everyone waited for what the Baron would do next.

“Oh no,” the Baron said, “I’ve become my father,”

That wasn’t the answer anyone was expecting, but one of the jaegers burst out laughing and the sound rolled across the room as more jaegers started laughing. They probably knew what the Baron was referring to.

 “I- what?” Gil said, sounding confused and breathless.

 Tarvek found that he was far more scared now than at any other point in his life. Laughing jaegers was not, historically, a good sign. The Baron pinched the bridge of his nose and took deep steadying breaths.

“Fine.” The Baron said, “I will admit I have been acting entirely on my paranoia and not at all on evidence when it comes to your friendship With Prince Sturmvarous. That said, I think my paranoia was justified, considering” the Baron gestured at the room, “But you are alive, and yes unharmed, and that at least should count for something,”

 “So?” Gil asked, his voice hopeful.

 Tarvek focused on keeping his breathing easy and steady.

“So, I will give Prince Sturmvarous a chance,” the Baron said, “his father will be arrested, and stripped of his titles. He will return to Paris to finish his education and then take over as Prince of Sturmhalten. If he proves himself worthy, he’ll be able to keep the position, but I will be keeping a very close eye on him,”

 Gil relaxed.

 “Thank you, Father,” Gil said.

Everything clicked abruptly into place. The Baron sighed.

“Well now, I have to kill him,” The Baron said, raising a death ray.

 Gil moved and Tarvek was tackled to the ground. The death ray went off and there was the sudden echoing sound of dozens of weapons cocking loudly.

 “Gilgamesh,” the Baron said, sounding exhausted, “Do we have to do this?”

 “Yes,” Gil said, “You can’t kill him I won’t let you,”

 Gil was braced protectively over Tarvek where he was splayed on his back on the ground. Tarvek for his part was feeling quite like the damsel in distress. But he didn’t really have any other options. Gil was bargaining for Tarvek’s life and his freedom. Which he could do, because apparently, he was the Baron’s son. And it hadn’t even been an hour ago that Tarvek had said that if the Baron had a secret heir, Tarvek would kill him.

 Apparently, Gil thought that didn’t apply to him. He was right, but still.

 “Gilgamesh,” the Baron repeated, “Do you have any idea what he could do with that information,”

“Yes,” Gil said, “But he won’t do anything with it. Not anything that would hurt me. That’s what being friends means.”

 No, that was what being in love with an idiot meant. Tarvek was going to shake Gil and hit him hard. As soon as the Baron was out of sight.

“Consider it part of the test,” Gil continued, “You were planning to reveal me soon, anyway. It’s a big secret, and if Tarvek wants to use it he’ll have to use it before anyone else finds out. But if he doesn’t use it then you’ll know he isn’t a threat to me,”

Tarvek bit back a smirk at the ‘to me’. Gil was smart enough to know that Tarvek was a threat to the Baron and the Empire. But the Baron had probably caught it anyway. It wouldn’t matter. The Baron would refuse.

 “I don’t want to fight you,” The Baron said.

 “I know,” Gil said, “That’s what I’m betting on.”

The Baron huffed, “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe,” he said, “but you make that increasingly difficult,”

 “Safe is boring.” Gil said and he was smiling bright and wide.

Tarvek lay on the ground and digested the fact that not only was Gil the Baron’s son, but apparently the Baron actually cared about him. Gil was the Baron’s weakness, and now Tarvek knew that. There was no way that the Baron was going to let Tarvek live with that information. Except, apparently for the fact that Gil wanted Tarvek to live.

 “You are far too much like your mother,” The Baron said.

 Which, that was another mystery to unravel. The room was silent for a long time.

 “Well, what do you all think? I’m sure you have an opinion,” the Baron said.

 The jaegers broke into a cacophony of noise at that. It was hard to pick out what individual jaegers were saying. The consensus seemed to be that Tarvek should live. Whether that was because of Gil’s arguments, the fact that a few of the jaegers were saying Gil was in love, or because they thought it would be more fun this way, was a matter of debate. Loud debate that started to break out into a fight when the Baron blew a whistle. The jaeger’s silenced.

“Fine,” the Baron said, “Prince Sturmvarous will live, under the original conditions. You can get off him now Gilgamesh,”

 Gil scrambled to his feet, blushing. Tarvek got up, much slower. The Baron walked up to them to loom over Tarvek.

“But if you hurt my son, Prince Sturmvarous I assure you your life will be long and very, very painful. You will beg me to send you to Castle Heterodyne.”

For a moment fear froze Tarvek in place, because he knew for certain that the Baron could and would make good on such a promise. But Tarvek’s own spark rose in response to the harmonics in the Baron’s voice.

 “I won’t” Tarvek said and felt the truth of the words as he said them.

 Sentiment really was Tarvek’s weakness. If Anveka were here now she would probably kill him. Thankfully, she wasn’t.

 “Good,” the Baron said, “Now,” he grabbed Gil’s arm, “You are coming with me, and you” he pointed at Tarvek, “Will return to Paris in one week. When you graduate we will speak again.”

Tarvek nodded and the Baron dragged Gil out of the room. Tarvek watched the jaegers file out after him. Veilchan knew better than to try and kill a jaeger, so they would have no trouble arresting Father. Anveka would be able to talk circles around anyone the Baron sent to question her. Tarvek let himself sit down. He needed to rework his plans. But he was alive,  Anveka was alive, and Gil was alive. Which was a lot better than Tarvek could expect

Chapter Text

Tarvek had been back in Paris for two weeks. He’d lasted one before Colette had managed to pull the whole sordid tale out of him. Tarvek had been all too willing to let Colette get him drunk and then the whole mess had just come pouring out. At least, Colette had already known who Gil’s father was. So, Tarvek didn’t have to worry about having betrayed Gil’s secret.

 Two weeks and Tarvek was discovering that without Gil, Paris was horribly boring. He’d taken to lounging on Colette’s settee while she despaired over her unrequited love of Seffie. It was a lot more amusing when Tarvek’s love life was in better shape. He’d gotten one letter from Gil that had rambled horribly. Gil hadn’t penned the words I love you across the page, but Tarvek could read them in the conspicuous way Gil had talked around them.

The letter had come via a clank that had crashed its way through Tarvek’s window. Apparently, the Baron had been stealing Gil’s mail. Which was also why Tarvek had been unable to write a reply. Or why he’d been unable to send a reply. He’d written and then promptly burned, thirty-two letters to Gil, since he’d gotten back to Paris, but hadn’t had the courage to attempt to send a single one.

There was a very good chance Tarvek wouldn’t see Gil again for years. The Baron had made his opinion on their association very clear, but Tarvek had hope for the discussion that would happen post-graduation. He also had low expectations for the Baron’s ability to keep Gil corralled on Castle Wulfenbach. After all, one of Gil’s favorite inventions was a flying machine that worked without a gas bag. He hadn’t gotten it to do much more than glide to the ground, but even a falling machine would help him escape.

The Baron would catch Gil of course, because the idiot would come right to Tarvek, but Tarvek was reasonably confident that Gil would leave enough mayhem in his wake that he would reach Tarvek before the Baron caught up. It was only a matter of time. Besides, it hadn’t been that long ago that Tarvek had thought he would never see Gil again, and before that, that Gil would hate him forever. Tarvek could deal with a little separation.

 Colette on the other hand was loudly exclaiming that Seffie’s new ball gown would be the death of her. Tarvek rather thought it would be the death of Seffie. When Martellus saw it he was going to have a conniption. The dress was scandalously cut, the bodice was respectably high in the front, but nonexistent in the back. And the skirt itself stopped just below Seffie’s knees revealing her rather impressive calf muscles.

Tarvek wouldn’t be surprised if the dressmaker was run out of the city. Colette was already on the verge of writing a sonnet to Seffie’s calves, and Tarvek was at least comforted by the thought that he hadn’t written poetry about any of Gil’s muscles. Even though they were both more impressive, and more regularly on display then Seffie’s. The poetry Tarvek had written, had been melted in acid and then fed to Professor Aurelia’s pigs.

 “Are you even listening?” Colette demanded of Tarvek.

 “I am darling,” Tarvek said, “you really don’t need to fret Grandmother will never let her out of the house in that.”

 “Yes, I know,” Colette said, “But I want her to,”

 “I thought you were having rather the opposite problem,”

 “I could touch her back, Tarvek. Her back!” Collette exclaimed, flinging her arms in the air.

 “I see,” Tarvek said indulgently.

 “Oh you bore,” Collette said flopping onto the settee next to Tarvek, “Gil walks around shirtless all the time, you don’t understand.”

“Collette, dear” Tarvek said, “I had to go a lot farther than a scandalous dress to actually be able to touch,”

Collette snorted, “Ooh I remember the affair with those magnetic dogs, you let yourself be dragged behind them for three blocks, so Gil would swoop in and rescue you,” Collette sighed, “Do you think Seffie would rescue me?”

 “I rather think Seffie would prefer to be the damsel,” Tarvek said, “But you could certainly try,”

 “Hm,” Collette said, “I could,”

 “Let me know if you need assistance,” Tarvek added.

 “Oh, I will, you owe me,” Collette smirked, flopping down so her head was in Tarvek’s lap.

 “Not this nonsense again,” Tarvek said, but he dutifully combed his fingers through Collette’s hair.

“If I hadn’t interfered you two would still be sniping at each other. No worse,” Collette said, “If I had done nothing you would be all alone in Sturmhalten with your horrid father, and Gil would be sulking around Paris like a kicked puppy. Really the Baron should give me an award,”

 “I think, the Baron rather wishes we were still sniping at each other,” Tarvek said slightly miserable, “He hates me,”

 “He hates your family,” Collette corrected, “Which is entirely valid,”

 “True enough,” Tarvek said, “And in my original plan I would’ve had to kill Gil,”

 “And the new plan?” Colette asked.

“I’m working on it,” Tarvek said, “I’m trying to decide whether or not I’m okay with simply being a shadow emperor,”

 “You would be an excellent shadow emperor,”

“I know,” Tarvek said, “And I could laze about pretending to be nothing more than Gil’s foppish lover. It would be rather entertaining. But I don’t want to spend my entire life pretending”

 “Fair enough,” Colette said.

 “I have time,” Tarvek said, “and I can throw Gil at Martellus if I need more,”

 “That I would pay to see,” Colette said.

 The two of them had a quick chuckle over that particular image, which was interrupted by a prim knock at the door.

 “Yes?” Colette called standing up.

 “A Monsieur Gilgamesh here to see you miss,” said one of the Voltaire servants from beyond the door.

 Tarvek felt his heart rate pick up. He quickly smoothed down his clothes and straightened his hair ribbon.

 “Speak of the devil,” Colette said with a smirk, “Let him in,”

 “Colette I promised you’d be the first to know when I’m back, so now you know and-“ Gil stopped speaking when his eyes caught on Tarvek.

 “Welcome back Cherie,” Colette said, shaking Gil out of his stupor before pulling him into a hug.

 “Good to be back,” Gil said, returning the hug.

 Tarvek wondered if he should stand, he didn’t. Gil pulled out of Colette’s hug and fixated on Tarvek.

 “You’re here,” Gil said, sounding unreasonably surprised.

 “I am friends with Colette too,” Tarvek responded annoyed.

 A smile crept its way across Gil’s face.

 “This works out excellently,” Gil said, “Now we have a witness,”

 “A witness? For what?” Tarvek asked.

 Gil, who Tarvek noted, was actually wearing a coat for once in his life, it even matched his pants, strode confidently across the room to Tarvek. Tarvek waited with bated breath, trying not to reach out for Gil like the pathetic lovesick fool he was. Gil stopped before he reached Tarvek and dropped down to one knee. Tarvek became abruptly horrified.

 “Prince Aaronev Tarvek Sturmvarous,” Gil said probably for the first time in his life, “Will you marry me?”

 Gil produced a ring box and opened it. Tarvek noticed that the ring was both beautiful, and very clearly a piece of spark work, but he was too busy gaping at Gil to give it the focus it deserved.

 “Oh my!” Colette said in a voice that could only be described as a squeal.

 “What are you doing?” Tarvek hissed at Gil, knowing his face was red enough to match his hair.

 Gil, the git, was smirking, wide and smug.

 “It was your plan, if you remember,” Gil said, “Seduce the Baron’s heir, marry them, and become Storm King without ever even killing anybody,”

 “The Baron’s daughter,” Tarvek said, remembering.

 “Semantics,” Gil retorted.

 “Not semantics,” Tarvek said, “If you remember I would need an heir,”

“I know that,” Gil said, rolling his eyes, “and you should really read Dr. Phillipa Vallone’s treatise on the modification of reproductive organs. “

 Tarvek had read it. The procedure was simple really, more complicated if you wanted both sets of organs, but far safer than most body modifications. Probably because Dr. Vallone wasn’t a spark.

 “I’m not,” Tarvek started, because really a man had limits.

 “That’s fine,” Gil said, “I’m sturdier anyway,”

 And that was, well, that was quite a lot more than a proposal. Tarvek bit his lip. The thing was it would work. The fifty families wouldn’t be entirely behind a non-traditional marriage being the basis of the revival of the Storm King, but it would hand Tarvek the Baron’s Empire on a silver platter regardless of what the fifty families thought. Plus, Tarvek was one of them, and knew how to play their games, and actually would play them, unlike the Baron. He could make them think they had more influence without actually giving it to them.

It was better than Martellus’s plan was. With the Holy Child missing, probably dead, there was no Heterodyne girl, and a fake would be a dangerous risk. Tarvek’s plan had been, much, much slower. This was fast and easy, and like Gil said nobody had to die over it. No one important anyway. A smooth transition of power, a claim to the Pax Transylvania that was entirely legitimate, it all tied together in a neat little bow.

Also, Tarvek would get to marry Gil which had been such an absurd idea he hadn’t even considered dreaming of it. Really Gil was offering Tarvek everything he’d ever wanted. It was far too good to be true. Which meant there was a catch.

 “And the Baron?” Tarvek asked.

 “Father will come around,” Gil said affably.

 Tarvek narrowed his eyes, because the Baron opposing the union would be a problem.

 “Really, Tarvek, he will” Gil said and his smile softened, “he loves me.”

Which yes, Tarvek had seen that back in Sturmhalten. The Baron was very willing to do anything to keep Gil safe. And just maybe he would do anything to keep Gil happy too. That test of the Baron’s was far more important now than it had been.

 “Alright,” Tarvek said slowly.

 “Yes?” Gil asked, thrusting the ring forward.

 “Yes,” Tarvek said, taking the ring.

 Gil was on him even before Tarvek had a chance to get the ring on. The kiss was more enthusiastic than anything else and Tarvek found himself laughing while Gil peppered kisses across his face.

 “You are ridiculous,” Tarvek said, shoving him back.

 “But you love me,” Gil said his voice bright, “now let me show you how it works,”

Gil grabbed Tarvek’s hand where he’d managed to put the ring on during all the kissing and started pointing to the different mechanisms. It was really rather impressive, delicate machinery had never been Gil’s specialty. But the ring worked rather like a Sturmhalten sewer knife and held a number of miniature tools and weapons as well as tiny vials for poisons or antidotes.  Really it was a quite excellent gift.

 It was only once they’d started drafting even better modifications for the ring, when Tarvek realized he’d forgotten to ask an important question.

 “How long until the Baron catches you?” Tarvek asked.

 “Oh, didn’t I say,” Gil said pulling a pencil out of his mouth, “He’s letting me finish school,”

 “You’re staying in Paris?” Colette asked, dropping a couple of slide rules onto the desk.

“Yes,” Gil said, “Really once Father calmed down he realized it would be more suspicious if I never came back,”

 “Well then,” Colette said, “I have plenty of time to collect on that favor you owe Captain Dupree and me,”

 “Captain Dupree?” Tarvek asked, looking up from his notes.

 “Well yes,” Colette said, “Who did you think locked you in that closet?”

Chapter Text

Years later

 “Ah Miss Clay, may I introduce Prince Tarvek Sturmavorus,” Gil said, gesturing to the cute red headed man who’d come in, “My fiancé.”

 Agatha felt a jolt of disappointment. She had rather liked the Baron’s son, but it had been a pipe dream all along. She was nobody, not even a spark ,no matter what Gil said.

 Later

“We’ll get married,” Gil said his smile wide and his voice full of spark harmonics, “My father will understand once he learns you’re a spark”

 Agatha swung the torque wrench at his face and Gil stumbled backwards away from the airship.

 “You’re already engaged,” Agatha yelled at him.

 “Oh,” said Gil clutching his nose, “right”

 Months after that

 Anveka Sturmvarous was just as pretty as her brother. Prettier even because she had that incredible clank body. Agatha happily told her all about what had happened aboard Castle Wulfenbach. It was only after she had finished that Agatha realized she probably shouldn’t have said anything at all. The wine was really strong wasn’t it.

 “Agatha Heterodyne,” the princess said, “I’m going to need your voice”

Not all that later

 “Agatha’s not dead,” Gil said in realization, staring at the strange woman in the tank.

 “Herr Baron,” a messenger said, “There’s been an explosion in Sturmhalten Castle,”

 “It is as I feared,” the Baron said, “The girl is the Other,”

 “The Summoning Engine,” Gil said, “This is why Tarvek wanted it destroyed,”

 “Yes,” the Baron admitted, “I suppose he does have the best interests of the Empire in mind,”

 And then

 “I’m back,” Agatha cried.

“Oh good, it worked,” Tarvek said breathing hard, “I had hoped Barry Heterodyne had been prepared for this,”

 “You!” Agatha rounded on him.

“I’m here to help, my Lady” Tarvek said, “Gil and I agree that it will be better if the Baron doesn’t catch you,”

 “Really, why?” Agatha asked.

 “Well,” Tarvek didn’t quite meet Agatha’s eyes, “A Heterodyne as an ally is better than one as an enemy,”

 “Now, that’s smart,” Krosp said.

 “Alright,” Agatha said, “You can come along, but your going to tell me everything you know about my mother and her plans,”

 “Of course,” Tarvek said, his smile sharp.

 In Castle Heterodyne

“I’m here to help,” Gil said, “I figure if I’m in the castle my father won’t just carpet bomb the whole thing. Plus, you need all the sparks you can get. Right?”

 Agatha glared at him for a long moment then sighed.

 “Your lucky I need a doctor,”

 After the Si Vales Valeo

“Tarvek,” Gil said softly, “I think I’m in love with Agatha,”

 Tarvek snorted, “I know,”

 “Oh,” Gil said softly.

 A long pause, then Gil continued.

 “I don’t- I mean, I, the way I feel about us,” Gil scratched awkwardly at a stain on his shirt, “it’s the same.”

 Tarvek huffed a laugh through his nose, and bumped his hip into Gil’s, “I know,”

 “Oh, Okay” Gil said.

 The silence hung for a long time.

 “She can marry us both.” Tarvek pointed out, “She’s the Heterodyne after all,”

 “Oh,” Gil said and then louder, “Really? Oh!”

 Tarvek laughed and leaned in to kiss him.

 Far too many years later

The wedding was the event of the century. Everyone important in Europa and many places far beyond it were in attendance. Even Tarvek’s father, his head preserved in a jar held by a very smug Anveka. Queen Zantabraxous spent a good amount of time harassing the wedding planners about including aspects of traditional Skifanderan weddings. Klaus managed to convince them not to hold it in Castle Heterodyne.

Colette Voltaire and Bangladesh Dupree both give very embarrassing, very detailed speeches about their part in uniting the triumvirate of Europa. Cementing their place in history as the two greatest peacemakers of all time. Later historians will dispute any references to a vicious homicidal pirate queen as horrible slander. Any attempt to question Colette Voltaire the Queen of Paris results in laughter that lasts for days.