Gil is only a few days old.
He is so, so very loved.
The bed he's on is soft. Next to him his sister is curled up asleep. Her hand is caught in his. Above him his parents are smiling down at them. His father brushes his fingers through Gil's hair and then Zeetha's. His mother leans down and presses a kiss to each of their brows.
The world is gold. Light streams through the gauzy curtains. Everything is gentle and warm.
The bed he's on is soft. He's sleepy and Zeetha's even breaths next to him are soothing. He curls closer to her and falls asleep. Above him their parents keep watch.
He will not remember this. Not the bed, not the light, not his sister's gentle breaths, not his parents keeping watch. All he will have when he gets older is a feeling he can't explain and a certainty he can't shake that he is so, so very loved.
Gil is a little over a month old.
He wants his sister.
She is not here.
He wants his mother.
She is not here either.
He clings tighter to his father, waiting for him to turn around.
He doesn't, instead pushing further into the jungle.
Eventually they reach a huge, glowing mirror in the air. Colors swirl the center, turning their reflections blue and red and green and gold. For one single moment, Gil forgets how upset he is, reaching for it. It's so pretty. Then his father steps through it. It's a lot less pretty and a lot more scary from the inside.
They step out the other side and the mirror disappears entirely. The air smells like smoke and the jungle is gone. Gil doesn't know where they are any more.
His father hugs him tighter and starts walking away from where the mirror had been.
He wants to go home.
Gil is six.
He has no family and no friends.
He's been brought to live at the new school on Castle Wulfenbach. He doesn't belong there. Everyone else has family, everyone else is important. He's a no one and nobody knows why he's there and everyone knows it. They don't let him forget it either.
He wonders how long it will be until there's no more room and he's kicked out of the school. He wonders if they'll shunt him to some other part of Castle Wulfenbach like he was before the school was finished or if they'll throw him off the airship entirely.
Gil is seven.
He has no family and one friend.
Tarvek is great. He's smart and funny and really sneaky-clever. And best of all he'll actually talk to Gil. Not order him around, not insult him, but have an actual conversation. And okay, maybe he can be really bossy, but he'll stop and listen whenever Gil has an idea. And even if most of the time he says they're stupid, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he'll say they're brilliant and then he'll stop and stare at Gil like he's missed something. And sometimes, sometimes he'll see a way to make Gil's idea better. That's when they really get going.
Across the room Tarvek chats with some of the other kids, effortlessly charming them in a way Gil never manages. He catches sight of Gil and gives him a small, easily hidden smile. He makes the signal they'd come up with to ask if he was okay, masked as a careless wave and waits until Gil signals 'fine' back before turning away. Gil grins to himself and goes back to his plans to sneak mimmoths into the Lackya quarters.
When they're caught a week later in the midst of the chaos Tarvek's smile is huge. Gil's is even bigger.
Gil is seven.
He's standing in the record vaults on Castle Wulfenbach, trying hard not to think about anything. The records, the very thing he'd risked every punishment he could imagine to find, stare back up at him mockingly. His family is all dead. His father had been a rural spark and he'd accidentally killed everyone else, including himself, when he broke through. Gil was lucky he'd been inconsequential enough to be overlooked; it had saved his life. Gil had had a family. That's something.
But it doesn't make him any less alone. If anything, it steals away the last of his hope that he might not be.
Tarvek is standing across from him, watching him, all of his pity carefully masked. He doesn't say he's sorry. He would never do that. He knows Gil would never want him to do that. He reaches out and grabs Gil's shoulder. Gil wrenches himself back out of his grip. Tarvek doesn't follow. He doesn't keep his arm out. Tarvek only ever extends his hands with a purpose, never an invitation. The gap between them is only a few steps wider and looks impossibly far. The record keeps sitting there, reminding Gil how alone he is. Gil stumbles forward, closer to Tarvek than before. This time when Tarvek reaches out again Gil doesn't shake him off. He still has Tarvek. That's something too.
Gil has a family now. It's what he'd wanted. It's why they're in the vaults. Gil knows who is family is now. Somehow it only makes him feel worse.
Gil is seven.
The Baron looms over him.
Gil tries fidget and looks as innocent as possible. They aren't in the office he interrogates students in, which is big and empty and makes Gil feel like an insect on an experiment table. This is the Baron's private office, smaller and cluttered and somehow a thousand times worse. Gil's gaze keeps being drawn to a dagger on the shelf behind the Baron's shoulder. He doesn't know what he could have done to get himself in this much trouble. Maybe they're finally going to kick him off Castle Wulfenbach. Tarvek would stand up for him. He'd try to keep Gil. Right?
Tarvek Sturmvoraus has been caught inside the records vault."
"What? But we already–" Gil cuts himself off but it's too late. The Baron stares down at him. "It was all my idea. It's my fault Herr Baron, not Tarvek's. I was the one who wanted to sneak in. We were trying to find out about my family. Tarvek was just being a friend."
"You were looking up your records? Did you find them?" The Baron demands sharply.
"Yes," Gil says, nodding.
"And Prince Tarvek was with you?"
"Yes."
"What exactly did you find?"
"Um, not a lot. Technical sketches of my father's sausage making machine that killed him and my mother. A chemical breakdown of the sausages. Interviews with the townsfolk. Medical notes about me. There wasn't much there to find." The Baron keeps staring – glaring really – before closing his eyes and letting out a long breath through his nose. When he opens them again he looks, well, slightly less angry at least.
"And yet Sturmvoraus was caught going back."
"I– I don't–" He doesn't know why Tarvek went back. Maybe he wanted to look at his own records. Or maybe he'd seen something while they were in there. Or maybe he wanted to take advantage of knowing how to get into the vaults to look up other students. Tarvek keeps a lot of secrets.
"Your defense lines up with your actions. While still a serious violation of rules, it is – understandable – I suppose, to want to know about your family. However, that defense does not hold for Prince Tarvek. It's clear he was the true perpetrator of wrongdoing here. Since you were clearly coerced, I am willing to grant leniency for your part in exchange for any information against Prince–"
"NO!" Gil yells, panicked. He's halfway out of his chair before he realizes it. He forces himself to sit back down before he continues, fighting to keep his voice calm. "I was the one who came up with the idea to break into the vaults."
The Baron stares at him again. The silence hangs uncomfortable and heavy before he finally breaks it. "It's possible that he went back to the vaults alone to try to find out more about you. It's also possible that was his plan the entire time."
"He wouldn't."
"Then why didn't he tell you he was still investigating?"
"He– He –" Gil falters. He has no answer for that. Tarvek would have told him if they hadn't found everything. Right?
"You have to tell me the truth. For your own protection."
Gil straightens in his seat. "It was all my idea," he repeats. The Baron stares at him like he can see the lie. Gil drops his gaze to the table. A minute ago it wouldn't have felt like one. But now all he can think is that while he'd been the one to first mention it, it had been Tarvek who'd brought it back up a week later. Tarvek who'd come up with an actual plan to break in.
"Gilgamesh –" the Baron finally says with something of a sigh. Gil doesn't know if he's ever heard the Baron call him by his first name. Tarvek's the only one who does that. "The official records state that you are the son of a minor rural spark who killed himself and the rest of his family breaking through. That is a lie."
"What?"
"It is a lie I put in place to protect you until you were older. But it has become clear that now I have to tell you the truth so that you can understand why you have to protect yourself. The truth is that you are my son."
Gil can't breathe. He can barely think. The records are a lie. He has a family.
"Now," the Baron – his father – says, leaning forward on the desk, "Tell me the truth about the vaults."
Gil is nineteen.
He's been poisoned, technically speaking, but only a little bit, so he doesn't see why everyone has to act so freaked out about it. It wasn't even an assassination attempt; it was just a rouge spark's work with biological contaminants going horribly wrong. And anyway he's fine. Or at least he will be. Just as soon as he can feel his toes.
Okay so maybe he's still a little loopy but his point is he's fine, certainly nothing to warrant armistice levels of panic. Because that's the only way to explain Tarvek Sturmvoraus and Bangladesh Dupree in the same room with no weaponry in sight. Granted, both are more than capable of creating weapons out of nothing – Bang especially – but they're also not fighting each other. In fact they seem to be working together. Gil is mildly disturbed.
"I'm fine."
"You are not fine," Sturmvoraus snaps back, "you got yourself poisoned."
"Only a little. And not on purpose."
"Because that makes it so much better."
"Actually, yes."
"You are an idiot. How could you think that makes it better?"
"We don't have to go hunting for assassins for one thing."
"Booooo!" Bang calls from where she's sitting in the corner, watching their argument like it's a dinner show. Somehow, Gil's not going to ask how, she's even found popcorn. "Hunting them down is half the fun!"
Gil tries to lever himself up on his elbows to argue with him properly. Tarvek notices immediately and rushes over and pushes him back down. "Holzfaller, for the love of sanity, lie down and shut up." Gil doesn't want Tarvek to call him Holzfaller. Gil wants to hear him call him by his real name, not that childhood lie his father had created. Actually, Gil wants to hear him call him by his first name. Gil wants to know if Tarvek will still turn the 'i' into two syllables when he's annoyed. Gil… is apparently still slightly more delirious than he thought. He lies down and shuts up.
"Sweet lightning you actually listened to me. You must be worse than we thought."
"Get wound Sturmvoraus," Gil grumbles. "Why are you even here?"
"I was happened to be nearby when you collapsed the lab. And then when you decided to imitate it. You might be willing to leave a man dying on the street but I'm not." It is quite possibly the worst barb Sturmvoraus has ever thrown at him, clearly not even intended to hit a target. It's also a horribly transparent excuse. Gil casts a questioning glance at Bang, who shrugs.
"I dunno why either," she says, finishing her popcorn. "But he's good at the sciency, medical part so I'm not complaining."
Tarvek sniffs so haughtily Gil's surprised he doesn't hurt himself. In retribution Gil tries to sit up again.
The rest of the night is spent holed up in whatever medical lab it is that Tarvek had managed to steal. Once Gil's a bit more clear-headed the night is actually almost fun. He snipes back and forth with Tarvek with increasingly less heat, until it's almost – not quite, but almost – like when they were kids. Bang teases both of them from her spot and limits herself to only mildly traumatizing Tarvek. It's nice.
He's catches himself feeling grateful his father isn't present. He tells himself it's because his father being here would mean being shipped back to Castle Wulfenbach or a full contingent of guards at all times or some such nonsense. It has nothing to do with the way it's never as comfortable with his father as it is now.
The next day finds him back in his own apartment. Dupree leaves to go report the incident back to the Baron. Sturmvoraus pointedly avoids him and pretends the night never happened the next time Gil finally sees him. Gil doesn't bother telling either of them about the side affect of the tightness in his chest when he's alone. It'll go away eventually. It always does.
Gil is twenty-two.
He's apparently back to having no friends.
He turns back to his half-finished letters, now more inkblot than paper. Why does he even bother to keep writing these? If they haven't written back by now they never will. He could trick himself into thinking they'd write back eventually when he first arrived, he could even ignore it and pretend as weeks turned to months and eventually years. But he's returning to the castle next week. More ink falls on the page and Gil crumples it up and throws it in the trashcan with more force than is really necessary.
It's good practice for the future. He's going to be the Baron some day; he certainly won't have time for friends then. Best to get into the habit now.
He has Bangladesh. She's at least loyal if nothing else, and amused by him, which guarentees she'll stick around more than anything else.
He has Tarvek. True, he's left to return to Sturmhalten but at this point Gil's accepted that like it or not the fop will end up back in his life again at some point.
A deranged psycho under the employ of his father and a spineless weasel.
Yeah, that's really something there.
Gil is twenty-two.
The woman he could have loved for the rest of his life is dead.
It's stupid. He'd only just met her. There's no real way to know if what he felt was real, if it would have lasted. But Gil can't help but feel that it would have. Agatha, that bright, firey, audacious young woman who would yell at the Baron's son and run into a horde of slaver wasps had been everything he could have ever dreamed of. Everything he never even knew to dream of.
And just like that, it's all gone.
She's dead.
"Master Gil?" Wooster sticks his head into the doorframe, pulling Gil from his thoughts. "Is now a good time?"
"As good as ever I suppose." Wooster takes that as a sign that it's clear and steps fully into the room, shutting the door behind him. "Is everything done?"
"Yes. There was no problem smuggling them up there and I set up everything you asked for. But there's not a lot to work with."
Gil waves him off. "That's fine. I can manage."
Wooster apparently feels the need to press because he stays rooted where he is. After a moment he finally says "Are you sure you still want to? I know Punch and Judy were once legends but –"
Gil cuts him off. "They were her parents."
The woman he could have loved is dead. The very least he can do is honor what she would have wanted.
Gil is twenty-two.
Agatha is alive.
She is alive and it's a miracle and she must have tricked them and she's alive and brilliant and she is alive and well and not dead and Gil still has a chance, he can help her, he can do something – anything – to keep her alive and safe.
Agatha is alive and the world is turning as it should again.
Gil is twenty-two.
His father is offering him a deal.
It is a deal with the devil if he ever heard one.
He shouldn't take it. He shouldn't even think about it. He'll break out eventually. But eventually is not fast enough. Who knows how long it will take to break out, how much help he'll be able to give once he's free, how much destruction his father will reap in the meantime.
Or.
He can take the deal his father's offering him.
He can buy Tarvek some time.
He can buy Agatha some time.
And he already knows he'll do anything and everything he can to help her.
Gil is twenty-four.
Agatha is back.
Now the world can start turning like it should.
Gil is twenty-four.
His father thinks he should kill Tarvek. That comes as no surprise really, Gil's pretty sure his father's wanted to kill Tarvek on and off since Gil first befriended him back when they were seven. Heck, maybe even before then.
Gil takes another look at the map of Mechanicsburg. They've been focusing on the Cathedral. His people are certain that's where Tarvek last was before the time bomb. And while he wouldn't put it past the weasel to somehow have made it all the way across town just to annoy him, the Cathedral was also the last place in Mechanicsburg Agatha had been seen. That alone makes it a likely candidate for where Tarvek is.
His father wants him to kill Tarvek. He's annoyingly persistent about it. A little buzzing voice (except not, except so much bigger and louder than that because it's his father and he's never done anything small or quiet) in the back of his head that will not shut up.
The tunnel's holding well. He's sure Agatha would have some fantastic suggestions on how to improve it but she's still out of reach and on the run, so he'll have to make due. The appropriate traps and rumors have been set and circulated to catch any traitors. Those he can manage just fine on his own thank you very much. They reach the Cathedral and locate Tarvek's inside with no problems. Tarvek himself though, he poses a problem. The idiot had gotten himself stabbed. In the chest. And Tarvek says Gil can't go anywhere without finding trouble.
His father's demanding he kill Tarvek. It makes no sense. Agatha, he can understand. His father's dead wrong, but at least Gil knows how he got there. But part of whatever his father stuck in his head is to protect the empire against Lucrezia. Freeing Tarvek is the best shot they have for gaining an upper hand on her.
The knife, as it so happens to turn out, is poisoned. Honestly if this keeps up, Gil's going to kill him himself. The git can't just expect Gil to save him every time he gets poisoned. And of course it's a compound that no one's ever seen before. Because Tarvek can never do things simply, can he. This is going to push back his retrieval, which honestly is the last thing Gil needs to deal with.
His father's trying to get him to kill Tarvek. His fingers skitter against the page, twitching without his approval. Gil curls his hand into a fist to stop it. He hates the spiraling feeling of his control being ripped away. He hates it, but he also doesn't have time for it. His father can try all he wants, Gil does not have time to lose, so he won't.
Gil very deliberately opens his hand. He lets his finger trace the line of data, keeping track of his place as he triple checks the formula for his antidote. Tomorrow they free Tarvek.
Gil is twenty-four.
He's dimly aware of Krosp and Higgs still in the corner of the room but he's not really registering anything past their existence. He's not really registering anything other than the small, intricately carved dagger Zeetha had found behind his father's desk.
The one Zeetha had just said her mother had given to her father, Chump.
Zeetha's fingers have curled around the hilt tight enough to turn her knuckles white. "Chump left when I was just a baby. I didn't think he'd have kept anything from Skifander." She sounds – he's not actually sure. Hurt? Angry? But not surprised.
"You knew," Gil says, voice suddenly flat. Zeetha – his sister. Blue fire, he has a sister – looks over at him.
"I… suspected."
"You knew Klaus was your father. You knew I was your brother! And you never said anything!" When Zeetha doesn't reply he demands, "Why not?"
"I didn't want to be certain and then be wrong."
"And just like that Gil can feel all his anger instantly deflate. "I– I can understand that."
Zeetha's hand uncurls and then recurls around the dagger. "Did he really not tell you anything about us? About home?"
"Nothing."
"Even after he met me in Sturmhalten?"
"He recognized you in Sturmhalten?"
"I think he did. At the very least he knew I was Skifanderian."
"The closest he ever came to telling me anything was a warning you'd try to kill me," Gil says, feeling well-worn irritation creeping up on him. "When I asked him what he did he said he 'kept me alive.'"
Zeetha is silent for a long moment. "Our father," she finally says, "is an idiot." Gil raises an eyebrow at her to indicate she should continue. "Twins aren't considered a good thing in Skifander. Kind of the opposite really. Our father probably took you because he was afraid you'd be killed. But mother never would have let that happen. And she definitely never would have sent anyone to kill you, let alone me. With the hope of finding you maybe, bringing you home, but never to hurt you."
"Yeah, well," Gil says, doing his best to stomp any bitterness out of his smile, "paranoia's always been father's go-to mindset." All of a sudden Zeetha throws her arms around him. "What–"
"I just realized I hadn't done this yet," she says against his shoulder. "I found my brother, who I already like, and I hadn't hugged him yet."
Zeetha hasn't put down the knife yet. The flat of the blade digs into Gil's back. He lifts his hands and returns his sister's hug.
Gil is twenty-five.
He wakes up with a throbbing headache and Dupree sitting at his bed.
"Welcome back." Gil looks up at the pirate's unusually solemn face. The sight sets off a whole slew of warning bells but that might just be the headache talking.
"Bang? What happened?"
"The Baron," she says simply. Apparently they're officially past the point of pretending about it. "What do you remember?" The warning bells intensify. He never knows what his father does when he takes full control. From what he knows, it's mostly the same for Agatha whenever Lucrezia comes to visit. Bang has to know this. For her ask–
"Not a lot. What happened?"
"Uh-uh. What you remember first." For about half a second Gil considers ignoring her and demanding answers again. Instead he forces himself to take a deep breath and think back.
"I was on the ground when he took over. I must have been knocked out if you were able to get me all the way back up here. Um… Agatha. Agatha was there. She was working on… She was working on a new idea to free Mechanicsburg. And she wanted my opinion on it. Her Jaggers weren't there. You and Zeetha and Violetta were a ways away dealing with… something. I sent Higgs away to help you. Or maybe he did. Umm…" He rubs at his eyelids, trying to focus. His sleeve is wet. He opens his eyes. His sleeve is wet and red.
"What. Happened?" he demands, his voice cracking with fear.
"Agatha's fine," Bang immediately promises.
"This is Agatha's blood." It's not a question but he still desperately hopes for a denial he knows isn't coming.
"She's fine," Bang says again. "You barely even nicked her before she realized what was wrong and knocked you unconscious. Your girl's got an arm on her."
Bang's doing her best to act flippant but there's still Agatha's blood on Gil's sleeve. Gil closes his eyes and makes a decision.
It takes him three hours to convince Bang he's back to normal enough to get her to leave him alone. Then he has to gather all the supplies he needs and smuggle them into an unused medical dirigible. A few more hours traveling and then even more time searching are wasted before he finds Tarvek. Gil all but drags him onto the airship, ignoring the sputtering protests as he tosses him aboard and starts the ship back up. Only once they were fully in the air does he bother to turn around to face him.
Tarvek stands next to the exam table brandishing a heavy wrench, more for atheistic than as an actual weapon since he didn't even try to stop their take off. "What in the hell are you doing Wulfenbach?"
Gil takes a deep breath. He taps two fingers against his forehead pointedly. "The Baron managed to actually hurt Agatha." That's all he needs to say to have Tarvek's complete undivided attention. "We need to fix this."
Tarvek sets the wrench down. "Okay."
Gil is twenty-five.
Because he somehow just has the best luck in the whole world, he's managed to get separated from everyone else when they went through the multicolored mirror. He has no idea where any of them are. He doesn't even know where he is anymore. Some kind of jungle.
He picks his way as carefully as he can through the foliage and tries not to think about how he's broadcasting his position to anything interested for miles. Zeetha would be so disappointed in him. At the very least he's gotten better at concealing himself.
"Stop where you are if you value your life," a voice behind him said. In Skifanderian.
Slowly – he does in fact have some sense of self-preservation, despite what some others might say – he turns around. There's a woman half crouched behind him, pointing a very sharp sword at him. The hand that doesn't have the swords holds a throwing knife that Gil's not going to kid himself about her ability to use. Still slowly he lowers his deathray to the ground then raises his hands. He's not going to get himself killed in his mother's homeland by being an idiot.
The woman rises, though she still keeps the sword and knife at the ready, and steps into the small, somewhat more open space between them. She's older. Now that he can get a proper look at her he can see the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She's probably about the same age as his father, though she holds her years better than he does. Her temples are shot through with grey but most of her hair is the same shade of green as Zeetha's.
Which, hadn't Zeetha mentioned that her particular shade is fairly rare? Her eyes are the same color as Zeetha's too. And now that Gil's looking he can see that she's dressed in something resembling what Zeetha described as traditional royal garb. There's even the scar on her arm Zeetha told him about from an assassination attempt.
His hands fall to his sides. "Mother?"
The woman's eyes widen and her face goes pale. "Meten," she whispers. Gil… does not know what that word means. He strides forward only to be met with the point of a sword. He ignores it.
"Mother it's me. It's Gilgamesh." The sword at his throat wavers. He can understand that; he doesn't feel terribly steady himself. "Father took me to Europa," he says, slipping out of Skifarderian but he can't be bothered to care right now. He's still learning and it's not like there's been a lot of time for language lessons between everything else. "He thought it would be safer."
The sword is lowed completely. "Gilgamesh," his mother says, staring at him. "You're actually here."
"Um," Gil rubs the back of his head, suddenly not all that eager to meet his mother's eyes. "Not, actually on purpose. There was this big multicolored mirror that I think is actually some sort of teleportation device and we might have accidently activated it." He scans the forest, straining for any sign of movement. "Zeetha and the others are probably around here somewhere."
"Zeetha," his mother breathes, "Your sister's here too." Gil remembers how long Zeetha had said she'd been lost. He tried to picture what his father would do if he came back from being missing for so long. She must feel like both of them are ghosts.
"Yes," he says trying to put as much reassurance into the word as he can. "She and our friends fell through too. I got separated during the trip, but I think they ended up together."
His mother nods once sharply. "If your sister's with them then they'll head to the capital. We should go meet them there."
Gil nods back, trying his best to make it as composed as possible. This wasn't a place he'd ever thought he'd get to see. His mother wasn't a woman he ever thought he'd get to meet.
For a long moment neither of them move, frozen staring at each other. Then his mother reaches up and cups his cheek.
"Let us go home."
Gil is twenty-five.
He stands next to his mother, watching the spark-fueled commotion as Agatha and Tarvek send minions scuttling every which way around the portal
They lapse back into silence for a few minutes. Below them minions scamper from one end of the courtyard to the other. "And you're sure you're alright with Zeetha coming back with us? You just got her back."
"I just got you back too," she says pointedly, before taking pity on him and continuing. "As much as I'd love for her to stay, she has duties in Europa. She's needed there. Besides, it's not forever. I know you'll come back to me eventually. Provided I don't come over to Europa and visit you first."
"I'm surprised you never came after us before." It's perhaps a tactless comment, too many ways it could be read wrong, but he's never been good with tact. It's a trait he'd always thought he'd gotten from his father.
"All but the one your father used to leave were generated in Europa and your father made sure there was nothing left of his machine other than rubble." He's since learned there's just as good a chance his bluntness comes from his mother. "I trust you won't be doing that when you leave."
"No!"
"Son, I get the feeling you're more upset about your leaving than I am."
"I just– I feel like–" Gil scrubs his hand across his face. "I don't want to just leave like Father did."
Comprehension floods across his mother's face. She doesn't say anything for a moment and when she speaks again it's quiet. "When your father took you I didn't know what had happened only that you were gone and there were so many things–." She cuts herself off, mouth a thin line. "When your father left he snuck away in the night like a thief. Now, what part of this," she waves toward the courtyard, "seems sneaky to you?" He has to admit she has a point. A crowd has gathered to watch the progress. "You are very much not your father."
Gil fights back the hysterical urge to laugh. "I can think of several people who would disagree with you."
"You would never do everything your father has done." The desire to laugh flees. Everything they haven't told his mother burns in the back of his throat.
"Father's done a lot of things he never would have done when you knew him. I've done things I never would have done a few years ago." He waits. For his mother to protest. For her to agree. Instead she nods toward the square again.
"You chose well," she says, echoing what she'd said when they first arrived. "Do you really think they'd let you go too far?"
Gil lets his gaze drift back down. "I– No. I don't think any of them would."
"Then you don't have to worry. I doubt they're going to let you go anywhere without a fight."
The laugh that wells up is much more real this time. "That I know is true." He bumps his shoulder against his mother's, letting it rest there. "I'll still miss you though."
"And I'll miss you. More than you can possibly imagine."
He should probably go down there and help them. But he thinks they'll understand if he waits just a little bit longer.
Gil is twenty-six.
"You want to let him roam free," Tarvek all but growls at him.
"No. But locking him in Castle Heterodyne's dungeons won't help anything."
"It will keep him out of our way where he can't attack us!"
"I can handle it."
"Really? Because I remember you saying that last time and–"
"Enough!" Agatha shouts. "It's my dungeon so it's my decision." She takes a long, deep breath. "Locking up the technical head of a friendly empire is not how I want to start off my rule. But," she says, turning towards Gil, "I don't think giving him free reign of your empire is a good idea either."
"We need him. When it comes to the Other, he's the most knowledgeable person in Europa short of Lucrezia herself. We need that. If I can get him to listen to me, or even just focus on the larger threat first–"
Tarvek interrupts him, yanking his shoulder. "The last time I left you alone with him–"
"I won't be alone!"
"You said that last time too!"
"He hurt you." Agatha's quiet words cut through both their shouting. She steps closer and puts a hand on Gil's cheek. "He hurt you."
Gil covers her hand with his own. "I'll be fine." No one believes him, but no one says anything either.
Gil is twenty-six.
He'd gotten really good at ignoring his father when the Baron was still in his head. The problem is that now that his father is actually free and around again other people can hear him. They still blindly listen to him no matter what. Even Gil at his most trusting never went that far. (And no, Tarvek is not allowed to weigh in on that assessment. Ever.)
He's still carrying the note Agatha and Tarvek gave him before he left Mechanicsburg. It's a list of names, all people in the employ of the Wulfenbach Empire. There are no other comments or annotations, but Gil knows what he's been given. It's a list of people more faithful to his view of the empire than his father's. It's a reminder he's not alone up here, that he does have allies. He's pulled all of them up to Castle Wulfenbach. At the very least it gives him some babysitters.
The soldier that runs up to him is not on his list. He is however wearing the familiar uniquely torn expression that most of the loyal crew adopted whenever they were dealing with contradicting orders from him and his father. "Herr Bar– uh, Herr Wulfenbach. Your father– uh, I mean, the Baron, um, the old Baron–" Gil waves his hand to cut off the confused attempt at titles.
"What is it?"
"Your father gave orders to move the Nineteenth Fleet." Gil puts down the intelligence he's been looking over. He can be at dispatch in three minutes.
"And did you?" Two if he doesn't bother with the stairs.
"No sir. The commander didn't want to move them without your approval since you'd been so clear that no one other than you personally was to be allowed to move that fleet." He must not think that's enough because after a second of deliberation he adds, "So Prince Tarvek couldn't try to move them away from where you wanted them." Right, because Tarvek, who's miles away and putting his faith and quite possibly his life in the Nineteenth Fleet's support is the risk here, not his father, who's sabotaged almost every move Gil's made.
"Make sure the commander knows that the fleet is to stay exactly where it is and he did the right thing. Out of curiosity, where did my father try to send them?
"He ordered them towards Mechanicsburg, with–" the soldier falters. For the first time in the conversation he loses the torn look, instead looking vaguely ill. "With less than friendly intentions towards the Lady Heterodyne."
"Where is my father now?" Gil growls
"In his office sir."
"New orders. Find Gritha and Susa and tell them to meet me at my father's office immediately. When that's done, I want you to check every single troop movement. I want a list of any changes my father made, what their original placement was, where my father sent them and with what orders and whether those orders have been carried out yet. Any that haven't, put a stop on until I can personally review it. Now go." The soldier snaps off a sharp salute then dashes off as fast as he can.
When he reaches his father's office he's almost unsurprised to find it empty of anyone save his father. Probably for the best. No witnesses if he gives in and attempts patricide.
"You moved the Nineteenth Fleet."
"I did. I take it you moved them back."
"You sent them to murder Agatha."
"I doubt they would have been successful. But it doesn't preclude trying."
Gil bites the inside of his mouth hard enough to taste blood to keep from shouting again. "We are not attacking her. That is not an option."
His father's scowl is downright murderous. "She doesn't see you as anything more than a pawn. You're the one who keeps claiming I needed to catch up on what I missed before taking any official action within the empire. I caught up quickly. And now I'm correcting mistakes I found while doing so."
Gritha and Susa arrive before one of them – probably Gil – can get violent. "Herr Baron," Gritha says, "We were told you sent for us?"
There's a list of names in his pocket, people loyal to him. A reminder he has options.
"Yes I did." He folds his arms behind his back and, as officially as he can, says, "There's been another attempt on my father's life. I got here just in time to stop it." Gritha and Susa nod. Neither mentions that he sent for them before he got to his father's office. Neither mentions that there's no sign of any such attack. "There've been far too many attempts. At least for the time being we've decided it would be safer for my father if he was harder to get to. I want you to take an airship and take him somewhere away from the center of the empire. I expect a full protective detail to be set up." He pulls the list from his pocket. "This is a list of people I know I can trust. I don't want anyone not on this list to know about this." Gritha and Susa have been with him too long to not know that isn't his handwriting. They've spent too long around Agatha and Tarvek not to recognize whose handwriting it is. Gritha calmly folds the note in half and nods.
"Of course, Herr Baron."
"Contact me as soon as you're settled and secure. I want regular updates and at least one member of your team on Castle Wulfenbach to relay messages."
"Of course Herr Baron."
"No one outside of myself and your detail is to know where he is."
"What about Princess Zeetha?" Gil pauses. Behind him he can feel his father stiffen at his daughter's name. Another topic he refuses to be rational on.
"Don't contact her, but if she asks let her know. I won't stop my sister from reconnecting with our father. Now go. Use whatever resources you need but I want you to leave as soon as you can, by nightfall if possible."
Susa tugs the paper out of her sister's hand. I know where Woger is. We can get everything ready. Until then maybe Gritha should stay here with your father in case there's another attempt." All at once it hits Gil exactly what he's doing, that this is his last chance to stop it.
"I think," he says, "that would be best."
Gil is twenty-seven.
He'd never realized just how much work getting married was. He knows better now. Granted, most people probably had an easier time of it. They didn't have to worry about accidently triggering a war.
They should have just piled into a dirigible and found a little church somewhere years ago. Not only would they not have to deal with all this insanity now, they wouldn't have had to dealt with everyone thinking they could turn the three of them against each other.
Gil leafs through the mountain of paper in front of him. They still need to decide if they are going to tour through the empire before the unification or after. After would make more sense tactically but it held the distinct disadvantage of spending the days immediately following their wedding in the company of people who largely want to kill them essentially daring them into making assassination attempts. Maybe they could have everyone come to Mechanicsburg one at a time in a show of fealty. It would keep the Jägers entertained at the very least.
But then they wouldn't be spending enough time in the former head of the Wulfenbach Empire and the Storm Kingdom. The last thing they need is a staged rebellion trying to 'liberate' the empires the Lady Heterodyne has subjugated.
He's saved from going insane by the timely arrival of his sister. "Oh good," she says once he's recovered from the flying tackle that has become her traditional greeting, "you're already dealing with wedding things. Then I'm not interrupting anything."
"Hello to you too Zeetha. What's up?"
"The Jägers want to add a pledge of their own to the wedding ceremony. Apparently it's been a while since there's been a spouse they like enough to want to."
"Coordinate a mass pledge from the Jägers without everything dissolving into a riot. Right. I think I'll stick Vanamonde in charge of that."
"Nope! Not a mass pledge. It's a personal one. Made by every single Jäger. One at a time." Gil stares at his sister's manical grin. Maybe he could still get away with kidnapping his fiancées.
Gil is twenty-nine.
He's not moving for anything in the world.
Well, unless Agatha wants anything. Other than that though, no reason short of an extinction level event could get him to leave his spot on the bed.
He wraps his arm more securely around Agatha's middle, ever so careful not to squeeze in any way too tightly. In that moment the entire world is the sound of Agatha's gentle breaths and the feeling of the warm skin of her stomach beneath his fingers.
That's when the door opens, bringing in with it the rest of the world. Specifically, Tarvek, dressed in all the requisite frippery of a day of dealing with self-important nobility.
He raises an eyebrow when he catches sight of them. "What are you still doing in bed Wulfenbach? There's an empire to run you know."
"Agatha's here."
"Agatha's allowed. You meanwhile need to help me run our empire instead of lazing in bed like a drunken libertine."
Agatha giggles and burrows deeper into the pillows. "What do you think that makes me?" she asks, barely audible. Gil presses a kiss to her shoulder with a hum.
Gil waits until Tarvek gives up and marches over to the bed. When he's close enough Gil grabs his wrist and tugs him onto the bed replacing his hand on Agatha's stomach and bringing Tarvek's along with him. Tarvek squawks undignifiedly but immediately falls silent as soon as he feels the same thing Gil does.
"Is that…?"
Agatha smiles and nods. "Mm-hm."
Gil settles back into the bed. Beneath their palms, the world moves.