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bigasswritingmagnet · 2 months

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Stop. Talking.

Fandom: Girl Genius Pairing: Gil/Tarvek/Agatha Summary: Tarvek and Gil are perfectly happy sharing Agatha. They're getting along really well these days. Except...for some reason, all of a sudden, Gil just can't seem to stop insulting Tarvek. He's not even trying to do it! It's just like when he was trying to propose to Agatha-

Uh oh.

AO3 link

‘The consorts are fighting again.’

Agatha didn’t look up from the clockwork spread out on the workbench in front of her.

“They do that,” she said, distractedly.

‘In my experience, such restlessness is usually caused by particular needs going unfullfi-’

Without looking up, Agatha picked up a small death ray from a nearby stool and pointed it at a particularly pretty mosaic on the wall.

“What is my rule?” she asked, using her free to hand to rearrange the cogs.

‘My presence and opinion are unwelcome in the bedroom,’ the castle said, quickly.

“Correct,” Agatha said, and set the death ray back down. “Don’t worry about it. Bantering is how they communicate.”

‘It seems a little one-sided for bantering…’ the castle said, uncertainly.

Gil’s plaintive calls fell on deaf ears as Tarvek stormed down the hallway.

“It was a compliment,” Gil insisted, hurrying after him.

“It was not,” Tarvek snapped, white-faced. “My family practically invented the art of devious, backhanded fake compliments so believe me, Holtzfӓller, when I say that that was an insult.”

Gil winced. Tarvek only made that particular nominal slip-up when he was really, really mad.

“Well, it was supposed to be a compliment!”

Travek entered his study and slammed the door shut so abruptly Gil nearly walked right into it. Gil opened the door and immediately ducked as a letter opener sliced by, directly where his ear would have been.

Gil stared in shock at the letter opener—apparently having been sharpened more than Gil felt was necessary for merely cutting paper—vibrating half-buried in the wood of the far wall.

“Were you trying to—”

Stars burst in his eyes as something heavy slammed into the back of his head.

“Ow!”

Rubbing the back of his head, Gil turned around and had just enough time to dodge volume 2 of the Encyclopedia Horrifica (which covered chanting, ominous through corn)

“Get! Out!”

“I’m trying to apologize!” Gil protested.

“No, you’re not!” Tarvek shot back. “You’re explaining to me why I shouldn’t be angry! That is not the same thing!”

“I—! Okay, fine! I’m sorry that you thought my compliment came across like an insult!”

He managed to avoid volume 3 (cosh through dzyzxs) but not volume 4, 5, or 6 (all of the letter E), which knocked him straight off his feet. Before Gil could rise, Tarvek slammed the door shut again. This time, Gil heard him lock it.

Agatha’s tongue stuck out in concentration as she picked up the fragile blown-glass bulb with the tips of her gloved fingers. Slowly, she lifted it up and set it in the gap between two pipes, holding it in place with one hand. With the other, she turned a dial, fraction by fraction, slowly increasing the pressure on the seal that would lock the whisper-thin—but extremely necessary—bulb into place.

Gil burst into the room with a crash of the door.

“You have to talk to Tarvek!”

Agatha didn’t even flinch.

“What did you do now?” she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the task at hand.

“Wh-! Why do you think I did anything?” he demanded, indignantly.

“Because when he starts it, you have no problem finishing it. You only ever come to me when it’s your fault.”

“Wh-! You-! That-!” Gil sputtered.

“There!” Agatha said, as the pressure gauge clicked green. She locked the mechanism in place and stepped back, tugging off her gloves and looking at Gil.

“So. What did you do?”

“I gave him a compliment!” Gil said. “And he got mad at me!”

Agatha gave him an I do not believe you look.

“We were talking about that big conference with the neighboring city states, and he made a couple of suggestions that were, y’know, Tarvek level sneaky.”

“Mm-hmm…”

“And I said…I don’t remember exactly what I said, but he asked me what I meant and I said we all know you’re a devious underhanded weasel, but this is the best double-crossing you’ve done since Sturmhalten’. And he—” Gil paused at the look on Agatha’s face. “What? It was a compliment! He managed to outplay the Other! That’s impressive!”

“He was also outplaying me!"

Gil scoffed.

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t talking about that.”

“You didn’t specify!”

“Why should I? We forgave him for that, he knows that!”

Agatha shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“He’s sensitive about it.”

Gil snorted.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Agatha pointed back at the door.

“Go apologize.”

“But I didn’t do anything—!”

“You know what he’s like! He expects double meanings and power plays everywhere, all the time! You gave a compliment; he heard you trying to dig in the knife by reminding him of what he considers one of the worst things he’s ever done.”

Gil opened his mouth, outraged. Gil considered what Agatha had said. Gil closed his mouth.

“What is with you lately?” Agatha demanded. “It’s like every time I turn around you’ve said something stupid enough to make him go storming off—Gil?"

Gil had gone pale.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

“What? Gil, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Gil did not answer. He was staring into space, gazing at some unseen horror. Agatha took him by the shoulders and shook him.

“Gil!”

“It’s pathological,” he said, hoarsely. “It has to be. I thought it was just you, but no, this is, this is just what I’m like—”

“What are you talking about?” Agatha exclaimed. He lowered his head slowly to look at her, his eyes haunted and hollow.

“I’m in love with Tarvek.”

Agatha stared at him for a moment...then she put her hand to her mouth and let out a soft gasp. “Oh, it is pathological.”

“This is all my father’s fault,” he snarled, fists clenching. “All that work he put into protecting me and making me physically stronger and faster and he didn’t do anything that could save me from my own big fat mouth!” He collapsed forward, head on the workbench, arms flung over his head.

Agatha put her hands on his shoulders, patting reassuringly.

“I’m doomed,” Gil wailed.

“No, no, you’re not. Come on, Gil, you weren’t thinking about it before, but now that you know—”

“No!” Gil said, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “Don't you understand? Tarvek and I hated each other for years! It took dying to get us to have a civil conversation, and now—!”

He clutched at his face, his imagination dancing nightmare scenarios before his eyes.

“I’m going to ruin everything,” he moaned. “I’m going to destroy everything we’ve built. You’re going to have to choose between us. When we have dinner he’s going to ask you to ask me to pass the salt because he won’t even want to talk to me enough to–Ack!”

Agatha spritzed him with the squirt bottle again.

“Stop that!” she said.

“You stop that!” he said, blinking water out of his eyes. “What is that?”

“It’s von Zinzer’s. He uses it when I start talking about dismantling the town for parts. Now listen to me.” She set the bottle down firmly and put her hands on her hips. “You are not going to ruin everything. You managed it with me, you can manage it with him.”

“Are you joking? We had to be trapped in the castle and almost permanently die about ten different times before you could trust me! And then we had all the–" Gil waved his hands around in a gesture that quite succinctly managed to sum up the overlay, his father freezing the town, two years of Agatha being missing in time, the collapsing empire, Martellus, Paris, England, god queens, inter-dimensional disasters, exorcism engines, and Martellus again. "–everything before we could be together!"

"You and Tarvek were mad at each other for years, and it took you two days in the castle to get over it."

"By dying!"

'If you think it might help, I could always kill you again,' the castle suggested.

Without looking away from Gil, Agatha picked up the death ray and shot out a light.

"Gil, relax. You're overthinking this. Give Tarvek time to cool off, then go to him, and tell him you love him. No big explanation, just 'I love you'. You can do that, can't you?"

"Yes," Gil said. "I can do that."

He straightened up.

"I can do that," he said, confidently. Then he sagged "No I can't."

"Gil."

"I'll just start babbling! You know me! I'll open my mouth to say it and explanations will come out! Can't you tell him for me? He likes you."

"He likes you, too!"

"But he doesn't love me!"

Silence.

Gil swallowed hard, his eyes going overbright.

"I can't tell him," he whispered. "Not when he doesn't...and he doesn't."

Agatha sighed, softly.

"Gil..." She picked up her gloves and began whacking him with them. "Are you joking? After everything you two have been through together? Of course he loves you! That's why he doesn't stab you when you're an idiot!"

Gil caught the gloves and pulled them out of her hand.

"You don't know that!" he insisted.

"I absolutely do! You, me, and Violetta might be the only people in the world who really know Tarvek, and I hear the way he talks about you when you're not there–" She grabbed the gloves back and punctuated her statement with three solid whacks. "So I am telling you! With confidence! That he loves you!"

She pointed at the door.

"Now go think about what you're doing to say to him. Plan it out. Give him time to cool off. And then go tell him how you feel, or so help me Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, I will tell the Jӓgers you want their help."

Gil waited two days. Not because it took Tarvek two days to stop being mad at Gil, but because Gil was sure his nerves would eat him alive if he waited any longer. Tarvek had stopped leaving the room when Gil walked in, and Gil would just have to hope that that would be enough.

Tarvek was in the library, flipping idly through a book on poisons and occasionally making corrections in red ink. He didn't look up when Gil cleared his throat.

"I'm busy."

"I need to talk to you."

"Write me a note."

"Would you please just—" Gil sighed. "Just hear me out?"

Tarvek, every motion extremely pointed and deliberate, set the pen aside, slid the bookmark between the pages, shut the book, and gave Gil his full attention.

Gil's palms began to sweat.

“And let me actually finish, before you start yelling at me.” Gil said, and winced internally. No, that was much too rude, now Tarvek was narrowing his eyes and bristling. Quick, quick, the speech! You practiced the speech! What was the speech?

“The reason I've been so rude lately is because you—” No, no, no, no, you are NOT starting a love confession with it's your fault I'm insulting you. “I know I’ve been acting like an idiot lately—”

He paused, expecting Tarvek to make a comment, but Tarvek just raised his eyebrows.

“The thing is,” Gil said. “The thing is, I…” He took a deep breath. “I’m—”

“You’re in love with me,” Tarvek finished for him.

Gil’s jaw dropped.

“You knew?”

Tarvek snorted.

“Of course I knew. I knew months ago. It was so obvious.”

“It wasn’t obvious to me!” Gil blustered.

“Really? You didn’t notice that you’ve been acting exactly like you used to act around Agatha?”

“Eventually!” Gil sputtered. “So all of this being mad and throwing things at me, you were just winding me up?”

“No,” Tarvek said, plainly. “You were genuinely insulting and I didn’t see any reason to let you off the hook just because I knew why it was happening.”

Gil stared at him, and Tarvek’s mouth curled up into a smirk, the cat construct that ate the mutant canary.

"And I was winding you up."

Gil stared, speechlessly. Tarvek tossed his book onto the cushion beside him and stood.

"Actually, I was kind of hoping you'd take longer to put it together—it’s fun watching you flail around.”

“I take it back,” Gil said, flatly. “I hate you. I hate you forever and ever and ever.”

Tarvek put his hand on the back of Gil’s head, and kissed him.

It was a very, very good kiss. Gil was relieved to find he enjoyed it exactly as much as he enjoyed kissing Agatha, which had been a concern, but then Tarvek put his arm around Gil and pressed in close and opened his mouth against Gil’s and that was about it for any sort of higher brain function for Gil for the remainder of the kiss.

“Um,” Gil said, finally. “You’re. Very good at that.”

“I am,” Tarvek said, sweetly.

“I still hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

#gilgamesh wulfenbach #tarvek sturmvoraus #agatha heterodyne #gil/tarvek/agatha #girl genius #gil/tarvek #gil/agatha #tarvek/agatha

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bigasswritingmagnet · 3 months

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Helpful, in a Heterodyne Sort of Way (ch3/3)

Summary: Klaus arrives in Mechanicsburg to retrieve his son, who he believes has been kidnapped by the Heterodyne. (And Gil has. Just not by the Heterodyne Klaus thinks.) Saturnus (doting grandfather and old school Heterodyne to the core) is determined not to let Klaus ruin his granddaughter's date.

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In deference to the fact that Mechanicsburg was an independent city state and not part of the Empire, Klaus kept Castle Wulfenbach at the traditional two leagues.

Because his son had been kidnapped by the Heterodyne, he landed one of the smaller dirigibles directly outside the front gate and walked right in.

Klaus moved through the streets of Mechanicsburg like the one-man army he was. Tourists and citizens and even Jӓgers scattered before him, but Klaus didn’t notice. He was drowning in his own thoughts, struggling to keep his expression under control, to display anger but not…

He had not felt fear like this since the day Gil was born, when the midwife stood before him and Zantabraxus, two small bundles in her arms, and asked them which one to keep.

He had not felt so angry at another person since the day he came home to a shattered castle and learned that the world had been torn to pieces in his absence.

He had not felt so angry at himself since the day he woke up in Skifander, sprawled out before a long-dead queen’s gate.

To be made a fool again.

The youngest ever Lady of Mechanicsburg had looked up at him and told him, with such sincerity, that she wanted peace. She didn’t want to be an adventurer, but she didn’t want to run around terrorizing people either. And she’d seemed so sincere, and Klaus had thought that Teodora could do as good a job with a girl as with two boys, and Saturnus had looked so resigned—annoyed, but not resentful—that Klaus had believed her.

He'd believed her.

Klaus reached the foot of the great hill and began to climb towards the looming bulk of Castle Heterodyne.

When Teodora died, the world had tensed. A teenaged Heterodyne on the throne, with no voice of sanity to balance out the counsel of Saturnus Heterodyne? Surely, that would be it. Now the peace would end, now would come the fire and the terror and the war.

It had not come. Lady Heterodyne had shut the city down for a week of mourning and declared all seven St Teodora’s Days (none of the Popes had bothered to coordinate with each other) official holidays of Mechanicsburg. And that was it. And everyone had thought—well, that’s that then!—and relaxed.

Oh, Klaus kept an eye on her, watching for warning signs. But he had been braced—the world had been braced—for a Heterodyne. For armies of monsters, for death and destruction. For a return to the days of old.

Not even he had been braced for a Mongfish.

And she took his son. His son! It was too precise to be a coincidence. Even if Gil wasn’t the only young man spirited away to Mechanicsburg, for Gil to be chosen despite all the dangers it held, despite the retribution she had to know Klaus would bring down on her…

It was all too easy to imagine Lady Heterodyne smiling Lucrezia’s smile and saying ‘you know what would be funny?’

Saturnus was waiting for Klaus at the top of the hill with a giant, shameless grin, lounging back in his chair as if he had simply stepped out to enjoy the sunshine.

“Klaus!” he cried, cheerfully. “Welcome, welcome! So kind of you to drop by.”

Klaus strode forward until he stood directly in front of Saturnus, drowning the man in his shadow.

“Where is my son.”

“You’re looking well! Fantastic coat, by the way. You should really give Agatha some tips. She can do stunning, but bombastic intimidation is a mite out of her reach—”

“Saturnus.”

“Hmm?”

“Where. Is. My. Son.”

All manner of Sparks and noble families had quailed beneath that glare, had immediately rolled over and surrendered just to get Klaus to stop looking at them like that.

But Saturnus was a Heterodyne, and the ability to be intimidated had been bred out of them long ago—if they’d ever had it to begin with. His grin simply widened.

“Having dinner with Agatha.”

Klaus’ eyebrows shot up, and Saturnus tutted, shaking his head.

“No need for that look, Klaus, get your mind out of the gutter. All propriety has been observed. This is a civilized introductory dinner between two youths of genteel breeding.”

For a brief moment, Klaus forgot his anger and fear in the face of sheer amazement that Saturnus could refer to the Heterodyne family as genteel with a straight face.

“He’s fine,” Saturnus said, still with infuriating good humor. “He seemed quite taken with Agatha, to be honest—”

Bile rose in Klaus’ throat. No. Gil was intelligent, he was sensible—sometimes, about some things, surely about this—he would never fall for a woman after she had imprisoned him against his will.

But the words history repeats itself pounded in his skull like the Doom Bell, and Klaus found himself striding past Saturnus without another word.

Saturnus didn’t try to stop him, and neither did the castle, which should have been his first warning. He threw open the doors, strode into the main hall of the castle—did not stride into the main hall.

He was in a small, comfortable sitting room, with a crackling fire and a few soft armchairs, walls lined with shelves crammed full of books that were probably all banned in multiple countries. Overhead he heard a distinctly mechanical sniggering.

Behind him came the distinctive tapping sound of Saturnus’ chair, and the ominous groan and boom of the main doors closing—faintly, as if in the distance.

Klaus whirled around, and Saturnus smiled at him from in front of a perfectly ordinary sized door, not nearly large enough to be the main doors. Klaus shoved the man aside and wrenched the door open. It let him out onto a long hallway, one side of which had large windows overlooking an inner courtyard.

“Gilgamesh!” Klaus roared, but of course he got no answer.

It was a nightmare. The nightmare, throwing open door after door, down hallways and stairwells that never seemed to end, streets that went nowhere or doubled back on themselves; hearing Gilgamesh wailing in the distance but unable to tell which direction it was coming from; his wife calling after him she is the heir, this is how it must be; green-haired guards without faces grabbing him with hands like stone; and Klaus half-fell through another door and was once again in the small sitting room where Saturnus was waiting for him.

Smiling.

“Come on, do you really think you’d be able to track him down in this castle all by yourse—”

Klaus lunged. Before even the castle could move, he was across the room with his hand closing around Saturnus’ throat, hauling him up out of his chair, his dead legs dangling uselessly.

“You will release my son,” Klaus ground out through his bared teeth, rage and fear feeding each other into greater and greater heights. “You will release him to me now, or I will finish what the Other started and burn your family and this town until there is nothing left but ashes.”

Dust trickled down onto Klaus’ shoulders. He raised his eyes and saw the stone block hovering overhead. Waiting. Klaus lowered his gaze and met Saturnus’ eyes, which were no longer looking quite so amused.

“I will take you with me,” Klaus said, his grip tightening.

“Right,” Saturnus said, voice slightly strangled because Klaus was strangling him slightly. “How about you put me down, and the castle doesn’t crush you, and we start this conversation over like civilized gentlemen.”

“You have never been civilized in your life.”

“Neither have you. But we are both good at pretending, when we need to.”

Klaus’ heartbeat began to return to normal, and the fog of mindless terror to diminish enough that he could think clearly. Sort of clearly, anyway. At least enough so he could realize that killing Saturnus, while immensely satisfying in the moment, would not help Gil.

Gently, Klaus lowered Saturnus back down onto his chair, which shuffled itself into position so Saturnus did not need to readjust himself.

Saturnus backed the chair away a little, rubbing his throat, and gave Klaus a wry smile.

“To answer your question, as I said, Gilgamesh is having dinner with Agatha. He is safe and sound, physically and—as far as I can tell—psychologically. And for the record, he’s here of his own free will. Now, anyway.”

“Do not lie to me!” Klaus snarled, temper flaring again, ignoring the threatening grind of stone-on-stone overhead. “He was seen with a woman matching the description of Lady Jenka of Mechanicsburg. Lady Jenka, who was then abruptly and urgently recalled to Mechanicsburg, leaving with a large wooden crate—”

“No,” Saturnus said, sarcastically, clearly unable to stop himself. “A woman traveling with large pieces of luggage, is there no end to Mechanicsburg’s depravities.”

“It had airholes in it!”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m not saying I didn’t kidnap him, I own up to that—and for the record I did it gently, not so much as a bonk on the head. Jenka used a very mild soporific; he just took a nap and woke up here. I’m saying that Agatha was all set to let him go, and he said he’d like to stay for dinner.”

Klaus snorted derisively.

“Do you seriously expect me to believe Lady Heterodyne went through all the trouble of having him kidnapped and brought here, only to let him go? Short of some plan to lure him in with reverse psychology, I refuse to believe—”

“I kidnapped him,” Saturnus interrupted, disgruntled. “Who said anything about Agatha–” Saturnus stopped, eyes going wide, pieces falling together. “Red fire, no wonder you’re in a state.”

“I am ‘in a state’ because you kidnapped my son.”

This time, Saturnus’ smile was bitter and humorless.

“But would you be in as much of a state if you didn’t so intimately know Lucrezia Mongfish for what she was?”

Klaus did not answer. His first instinct was to say yes, but…well. The thought of Gilgamesh hanging over a vat of acid while a Heterodyne cackled maniacally by the knife switch did invoke less terror than the thought of him alone in a room with Lucrezia.

“She’s not her mother, Klaus. She may look like her, but it’s no deeper than that. She’s a Heterodyne through and through. Not my brand of Heterodyne, more’s the pity, but she is still a Heterodyne. We don’t do subtle.”

“You don’t consider a quiet kidnapping to be subtle?”

“And how long did it take those shadow men of yours to figure out who took him and where? Probably before Jenka even left the dock.”

“Hardly,” Klaus said. “They wouldn’t have let her leave, if they had.”

But the man was making a fair point. Lucrezia didn’t kidnap her men—she simply wove a web and let them walk in of their own free will. She’d even let them think it was their idea.

“I swear to you, Agatha was about ready to bite my head off when I told her.” He rubbed his chin. “Might not have been quite as mad at me if I hadn’t waited to tell her til after he was tied to the chair and dinner was ready to serve. She really was going to let him leave, and he very much insisted on staying.”

“That would be an extremely foolish thing for him to do.”

Saturnus snorted, amused.

“Right, because love never made any man act a fool.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s never even met her before.”

“No,” Saturnus agreed. “But I’ll tell you now—the way he looked at Agatha when he first saw her? That’s how I looked at Teodora, and love made me enough of a fool that I didn’t realize she’d ruined my sons until it was too late. Huh! And now, between her and Agatha, I’m practically domesticated. Didn’t even consider invading Paris to get at him!”

“I would say it far more likely because you knew the Lady Heterodyne wouldn’t like it.”

“Yes. I would not burn down the world for her, Klaus.”

He said it with such determination, such seriousness, that at first Klaus couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a joke.

Then he remembered who he was talking to.

“That’s…very touching,” Klaus said, and mostly meant it. Then, abruptly realizing he’d been sidetracked, drew himself up. Very firmly, he said “Willing or not, I will take my son home.”

“No,” Saturnus said, just as firmly. “Or rather, not yet. He’s the first one she’s really liked that I’m sure can keep up with her. I’ll admit, I’ve gotten a little desperate—you wouldn’t believe the kind of young men who have come swanning in, looking for her favor.”

Klaus noted that Saturnus had not said "and out".

A sudden change came over Saturnus. He sat up straighter in his chair. He met Klaus’ gaze with eyes that burned with a fire that rivaled the depths of hell. When he spoke, his voice was solid steel, and for a moment Klaus could see Lord Saturnus as had been of old, the terror of Europa.

“But I truly believe he could make her happy, and if ensuring her happiness means bringing the wrath of the most dangerous man in Europa down on my head, so be it.”

Klaus considered this. On the one hand, he only had Saturnus’ word for any of this. On the other, it was hard to imagine Saturnus would be hiding the fact that his graddaughter was returning to family form, instead of gloating from the rooftops.

And, Klaus was forced to admit, it would be out of character. If she was responsible, it would be the first act of old-school Heterodyning from Lady Agatha—

Klaus remembered Duke Leffert’s attempted invasion the previous spring, and the mountain on the far side of the Heterodyne Valley that now had a big hole in the middle, and corrected himself. This would be the first unprovoked act committed by Lady Agatha in the nearly ten years she had ruled Mechanicsburg.

“Very well,” Klaus said, stiffly. “But I am not leaving without him.”

“You can have him back as soon as they finish dessert,” Saturnus promised, grinning again. “Now come on, let me pour you a drink. You could use one.”

‘Per my lady’s standing instructions, I am reminding you of the doctor’s orders,’ the castle said.

“Duly ignored,” Saturnus said cheerfully, moving his chair towards a laden drinks cart.

"You know, Wulfenbach, I didn't think much of you in the old days. But I'm glad to see you've gotten all that heroing out of your system and settled down to build a good old fashioned evil empire. And you’re doing a marvelous job! "

Klaus was very glad Saturnus' back was turned to him.

“Yes, it does my heart good to see someone keeping the old ways.”

Klaus managed to get his expression under control just in time as Saturnus turned around. Saturnus held out a crystal cut glass half filled with a dark purple liquid. Klaus did not hesitate to take the glass from Saturnus, or to drink from it, which pleased the old man greatly.

"Ha! Not an ounce of fear in you, eh?"

"I've made myself immune to most poisons,” said Klaus, looking down at the drink in puzzlement. “Especially the rare ones. " He sipped the drink again, and mentally weighed how much he wanted to know what the flavor was against how much he did not want to know what was made of.

"See! You know what you're doing! I'm not at all surprised by your choice of son.”

Klaus looked up, dragging his attention from the drink, which was reflecting the light in a very strange way.

“My choice?” he repeated.

"Heh. Perhaps I've said too much. No good giving you a reason to assassinate me, eh?"

Klaus did not particularly like the sound of that.

“Let’s just say, I’d be careful of those Sturmvarous people. That boy knows some things about Gil you might not want to get out.”

Klaus made a mental note to burn Sturmhalten to the ground as soon as he and Gil left.

Saturnus chuckled.

“Look at that face! Would you believe Agatha thinks you’re still good? I think it’s just because you used to run with her father and her uncle. People change, I tell her! If she’d seen you just now, oh, I’d like to see her try and call you good after that little display.” He wagged a playful finger at Klaus. “Don’t think I missed that subtle little dig about my grandson, either! A man after my own heart.”

Never before had such warm approval caused Klaus so much shame.

“It was over the line,” Klaus admitted.

“Oh it was!” Saturnus said, with evident enjoyment. “And I’ll bet you’re teaching Gilgamesh all you know, eh? Nature and nurture! He’ll make a fine overlord.”

Klaus kept his face neutral, even when Saturnus winked at him. Only when Saturnus took a drink did Klaus allow himself to grimace.

‘Lord Saturnus, the lady is–’

Klaus was suddenly aware of pounding footsteps and shouting. The door burst open, Klaus tensed, and the Lady Heterodyne came tumbling in. Right on her heels was–

“Gilgamesh!”

The wave of relief could have brought Klaus to his knees. Gil was unharmed, though his clothes were slightly rumpled. His eyes were shining and slightly manic, but no more than was usual for Gil under the influence of the Spark.

“Father!” he said, startled, but not displeased. “What are you doing he–?”

“Grandfather!” Lady Heterodyne interrupted. She grabbed the arm of Saturnus’ chair. “The blue orb things in the grey hallway, are they lamps or lightning generators?”

“Lamps-”

Agatha whirled around and jabbed a finger at Gil.

“Ha!”

“--that generate lightning.”

“Ah-HA!” Gil exclaimed.

“Still primarily a lamp!” She swung back around to Saturnus. “I need them. Castle! I want the electrical laboratory prepped! I need you to reroute the extra power to the salamanders, and if you can’t, find a place to dump it that won’t kill all the fish–”

“Father!” Gil said. “Did you bring the castle? Can you bring me my lightning generator–”

“—lamp!—and tell Van to have the river blocked off for the next few days just in case—”

“Oh! And can you bring my weather enhancer, my weather dehancer, and my electromagnetic–”

“There's no time!” Agatha cried. “The storm will be here in half an hour!”

“You know what, nevermind, I'll just build new ones. Let's go!”

Gil and Agatha took off, leaving the door hanging open.

Klaus stared at the open door, listening to their excited shouting fade as they ran down the hall. He shut his eyes, knowing, knowing without even needing to look, that Saturnus was smirking triumphantly. In the distance, Gil laughed.

He sounded…very happy.

“So! Solstice at your place this year?” Saturnus asked, somehow managing to gloat a question.

Klaus downed the rest of his drink in one swallow.

“You know,” Gil said, in the dirigible on the way to Castle Wulfenbach, “it’s the funniest thing—Saturnus thinks I’m adopted.”

Klaus’ brow furrowed.

“He told you this?”

“It’s why he kidnapped me in the first place. Apparently, he overheard Tarvek Sturmvoraus saying my real father is Petrus Teuful. I don’t even know where Tarvek got that idea in the first place.”

Klaus, keeping his face perfectly neutral, mentally crossed destroy Sturmhalten off his To Do list.

“I can’t imagine,” he said.

#girl genius #klaus wulfenbach #saturnus heterodyne #gil/agatha #gilgamesh wulfenbach #agatha heterodyne #doting grandfather saturnus au

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