Disclaimer: All characters and settings herein belong to Phil and Kaja Foglio, creators of that wholly remarkable story, "Girl Genius." The following events take place sometime in the nebulous future of the official "Girl Genius" comic as published up to 09/11/2009.
His attention caught by Tarvek's unusual silence, Gil looked up from the ancient chest of clothes (more properly, chest of ancient clothes) he was raiding. The other young man had paused half-dressed, and was staring despairingly into a cracked, dust-covered and tarnished gilt mirror. Gil frowned, then returned to his attempt to find pants with a maximum of pockets and a minimum of moth-holes.
"I'm doomed, you know," Tarvek said heavily.
"It's not that bad," Gil responded, tossing Tarvek the best of the pants and rummaging about for a jacket or vest to go with them. "Of course she likes me better but maybe you'll hit it off with Zola." She thought she was going to be marrying you anyway; that would tie all you loose ends up quite nicely, actually…
"Doomed," Tarvek repeated morosely.
"Oh stop moaning and get dressed, will you?" Gil snapped testily. Mechanically, Tarvek pulled on his pants, still staring at the mirror.
"Do you know what she said to me?" he asked, pulling a comb through his ragged hair.
"Where the heck did you get tha—on second thought, I don't want to know."
"No," Tarvek moaned, still distracted. "She called me 'Wilhelm'."
Gil was confused. "Who? Agatha?"
"Not Agatha. Her."
"Her." Gil frowned. "The Other?"
"The Other," Tarvek confirmed. "Lucrezia. Gone for nearly twenty years, she takes one look at me and thinks I'm my father."
"But you have more—"
"Doomed, I said."
Gil snorted and threw a jacket at Tarvek. "I knew you'd slept through Monsieur Bernadotte's class. Male Pattern Baldness is passed through the mother. So," he said, pulling his own shirt back on and slinging his vest over his shoulder, "while you most certainly are doomed, it is not to look like your father."
The smile that light Tarvek's face was brief, as his dead-then-reanimated brains finally ticked into gear once more. "Don't be preposterous," he growled icily. "Agatha cannot possibly prefer you."
"Oh?" Gil folded his arms smugly. "Well, Mr. Sturmvoraus, there are two vital elements missing from your calculations." There came a loud knocking at the door. "One: She kissed me. Twice. On the mouth." Tarvek glared and drew breath but Gil pushed on. "Two: I'm not the one who declared her my future bride, with no consideration of her opinion on the matter, while she stood there watching."
"What? I never--!"
"Did."
"Did not!"
"Did so. Right before I saved your life, remember?"
Tarvek spluttered. "Well I'm not the one to vowed to "woo, win and wed her" – "most vigorously," I add – before the entire town!"
Gil turned brick red. "That wasn't me!"
Just then the door crashed in and Agatha stood there, re-charged death-ray in hand. "If you're quite done," she said icily, "I have a castle to subdue and repair, a town to hold and about half the population of Europa trying to help me or kill me and in either case, getting in my way. If you do exactly as I say, I may allow you to help. If you don't drop the petty bickering right now, I will let the castle lock you in the harem quarters and then I'll melt down the key! GOT IT?!"
"Yes, Lady Heterodyne," they chorused, chastened and fuming.
"Good." With one more glare, Agatha turned on her heel and strode off, leaving them to follow. The boys got stuck in the door trying to beat each other after her first, though Gil quickly stuck an elbow in Tarvek's gut and extracted himself neatly.
When they finally caught up with her, she was hip-deep and humming inside one of the castle's damaged panels. "Oh, good," she addressed them distractedly. "Gil, get in here and tell me what you see. Tarvek, can you find us a right-handed, ball-peen, monkey socket wrench?"
Gil smirked triumphantly at Tarvek, who glared and hissed "That doesn't prove anything."
"She thinks I'm the Spark and you're the minion. Face it, "Your Majesty," I've already won."