He hated this.

Tarvek left yet another meeting with the Baron and tried not to feel like he was fleeing back to the school. It was the Baron's school; he wasn't any safer there anyway.

He hated this, he hated this, he'd known it was too good to be true but he'd let himself half believe anyway. It was easy to believe anything around Barry Heterodyne, even that the Baron really meant to acknowledge him as the Storm King. Even that the Baron really cared what he thought.

Actually the Lord Heterodyne hadn't even been around for that last one, so he didn't really qualify as an excuse.

Tarvek made it through the doors, nodded politely to Otilia while trying not to look upset, and found himself stalking into Gil's room, which didn't make any sense at all.

Gil was flopped on the bed with a book. He'd left the door open; he didn't have to worry about people snatching them anymore. That was a good thing. It was. Gil never should have had to worry about that kind of thing in the first place, no matter who he was or wasn't; it was a good thing that he didn't now even if it was an example of why Gil didn't need Tarvek anymore. Tarvek was probably horrible for even thinking it.

Gil sat up, concerned. "What's the matter?"

"I'm not horrible," Tarvek blurted. He wasn't. He wasn't like the Baron had suggested about the Knights of Jove (like people used to whisper about the Baron); he didn't want people to have problems just so they'd need him around. Regardless of what Gil thought, he was pretty sure that was worse than needing to be rescued.

"Uh, no?" Gil said in understandable confusion. "Did somebody -" He stopped, apparently remembering Tarvek's schedule. "If my father told you that you're horrible at something, I don't think he really meant it," he said. "At least not hopelessly. I heard him call Barry Heterodyne a lackwit once."

Tarvek let out a laugh, sort of. It came out a rattly cracked sound and he stopped and swallowed hard when he heard himself because he suspected he was drifting into the madness place and tempting as it was he didn't want to be there. He had to think clearly and the Spark was good for technical problems but not so much for being sensible. "He didn't say anything like that."

"Oh. Well, good-"

Things had just got consistently worse ever since that first conversation where the Baron had asked him to name the conspirators. At that moment Tarvek wouldn't have believed it could get worse from there, but it actually hadn't been too bad overall. The Baron had told the truth about not killing them all. But since then... they could talk a little about Gil, or about Science, but politics?

The Baron kept calling him in for regular meetings about politics. And they kept getting worse. The Baron was always scowling. Always disapproving. Always goading. "He didn't have to."

Gil looked exasperated. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do if you make up bad things for him to think about you that he didn't say."

"People don't say half what they think," Tarvek pointed out. "He probably does think I'm horrible."

"He doesn't!" Gil said in frustration. "The whole point of making you Storm King was they thought you could be a good one!"

But it wasn't. The whole point of making him Storm King was the political coup. More to the point, avoiding the conspiracy's political coup. Tarvek found he still believed Barry Heterodyne meant what he'd said, but the Baron...

Right now, Tarvek was a political asset. But ten years from now...?

"What makes you think he really wants me to be Storm King?" The words spilt out. "I'm useful. For now." It was the same as with his father and the Order, only he'd had a better idea how to deal with them. They'd meant to use him but he'd been learning to handle them. His father didn't scowl harder if you just agreed with him. (But he'd even got that wrong, in the end, he hadn't thought his father meant to kill Agatha...) "Not if it meant he'd actually have to listen to me."

Gil huffed. "I told you, he wouldn't say that if he didn't mean it!"

Tarvek paced across the room. "I know he's your father, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm his pawn." He felt frantic, he'd just exchanged one puppeteer for another less predictable one. He shouldn't be saying this to Gil, Gil was the worst person to say this to.

Gil looked up at him from where he was sitting on the bed, frowning, head lowered in what looked like challenge. "He doesn't need a pawn."

"He doesn't need an heir." Tarvek span on his heel to face Gil, who stiffened and then stood up from the bed, mouth pressed into a determined line.

"Fine," he said. Tarvek thought he was about to storm out of the room, caught his breath and cursed himself for making Gil angry with him again. Instead Gil threw himself to his knees in one graceless movement and bowed his head. "I, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, swear fealty to Tarvek Sturmvoraus, the Storm King." He looked up, eyes fierce. "I will always be yours."

It wasn't a traditional oath, Gil had just…just made it up. Tarvek took a half a step back even as he reached out, hand hovering between them. "Gil…" he said helplessly. "Did you think about this?"

"I don't need to think about it," said Gil. "Do you?"

"No! I said I wanted you." Tarvek closed his hand on Gil's shoulder, gripping it more tightly than any ceremony would have called for. "I accept your fealty."

A few heartbeats later Tarvek let go and Gil stood up, stretched and grinned. "Everything's okay now, then," he said, flopping back into place on the bed.

Klaus was a little disconcerted when Otilia showed up to make an appointment with him for Gil. He really couldn't drop everything for it - she'd caught him walking out of his office for a diplomatic meeting - and was half apologetic about that until she reminded him that Gil was in music lessons (with the entire class) for the next hour anyway.

He was more disconcerted when Gil opened with, "I know you're busy but it's about Tarvek, so you should listen."

Klaus stared at him. He'd been busy lately, yes, and frequently with Tarvek - much to his own continued frustration, because nothing had broken the conviction he'd voiced to Barry that Tarvek had opinions and was apparently planning to implement them without saying anything first. But - had he really left his son thinking he wouldn't hold still for anything else? "Should we start with the fact that I appear to have been neglecting you?"

Gil blinked and flung himself forward for a hug, with the abandon of someone who didn't doubt he'd be caught. "I missed you," he said, and then pulled back before Klaus was really ready. He let him go anyway. "But focus, please." Something in the cadence was Otilia's, there. Or... maybe Klaus's, though he couldn't remember saying it to Gil lately. Maybe once, during Skiff lessons. "I said it's important."

"I'm listening," he said.

Gil chewed his lip and went to haul one of the other chairs around the end of the desk, since he was still short enough the desk could get in the way of conversation. It scraped against the floor and Klaus winced and picked it up to help. Gil clambered into it. "He's kind of freaking out with the coronation coming up," he said. "About being a pawn."

"We'd have an easier time taking his opinions into account if he ever shared them," said Klaus. Possibly he should not be confiding his frustration with Gil's friend in Gil. But, on the other hand, Gil seemed to know what was going on with Tarvek better than Klaus did.

"He doesn't think you really want them!" Gil raked both hands back through his hair. "I told him you don't need a pawn, he said you don't need an heir. I'm not exactly sure what he thinks you're trying to do."

"I suppose he still regards you as my heir. Which you are, for the lands I have by inheritance, but that's different. Why he thinks I'd bother with this as a charade..." Potentially using Tarvek as a puppet would be worth doing, although it wasn't the kind of game Klaus preferred. Be his regent until he came of age, and the power behind the throne after that. But making it about Klaus not needing an heir meant he was worried about Gil and surely he didn't think Gil was intended to take over as the power behind the throne? "Does he think you know about whatever he thinks I'm planning?"

"I swore fealty to him," Gil said, rather astonishingly. He sounded both proud of himself and a little grumpy. "Anyway, he knows I wouldn't hurt him."

Technically Klaus was going to be swearing fealty at the coronation along with everyone else who was now part of Tarvek's kingdom and Gil was not yet in a position to swear anything but himself. So why would Gil swearing be what made a difference and why on Earth had he thought of that, anyway? "And that helped?"

"Yes," said Gil. "Well, kind of. He calmed down some, but he's still worried about you."

Klaus rubbed his forehead. All right, Gil's fealty couldn't really make a difference now - unless it was simply a matter of Tarvek wanting assurance that Gil was on his side - but what difference would it make in the future? If Klaus had been planning on Gil taking over as the power behind the throne, then having a direct assurance of Gil's loyalty could help, but Tarvek worrying about being manipulated by Gil was completely wrong. So, what else could he fear Klaus doing? If he didn't expect power to really be handed over to him, but Gil mattered...did he fear Klaus changing his mind once he was an adult and giving Europa to Gil after all? It still wasn't impossible, but it wouldn't be something Klaus planned on, and certainly wouldn't involve treating him as a puppet in the meantime. If he failed it wouldn't be because he hadn't been given a chance. But if he was so sure he wasn't being given a chance...what did he think he was if Klaus planned to hand Europa to Gil? A decoy? Oh, that made a rather sickening kind of sense. Especially when Klaus had used discovering him as a chance to bring Gil out into the open. "I think I see," he said.

"Oh, good." Gil sounded faintly uncertain about this, possibly because Klaus hadn't actually explained anything. Gil folded up one leg and rested his chin on his knee. "I don't think he expected his relatives to want him making decisions," he said. "I guess that makes sense, with all the wasps and things. Anyway, he doesn't think I know what I'm talking about with you so I figured I'd better talk to you." A very eight-year-old huff. "He'd probably worry about this, too."

"About being talked about?" Klaus asked.

"To you, yeah." Gil's other foot swung under the chair. "D'you think you can fix it?"

"I hope so," said Klaus, wondering how when Tarvek didn't believe anything he said, and then paused to consider. Gil was worried about this and, despite not knowing what was going on, had been able to guess at enough of Tarvek's thought processes to find a way to calm him down. "Maybe you can help. I suspect he's thinking of himself as a decoy, a way to draw attention away from you so that you can reach adulthood without worrying about assassins. You might know more than I do about what would convince him otherwise."

Gil looked rather shocked by this - Klaus was sure it was ridiculous to feel relieved that his son was shocked by the idea that he'd use Tarvek as a human shield - and then disgusted. "He would think that. Actually he thinks people might come after me to get to him, too. "

That was worrying, and Klaus had a moment of wondering whether revealing Gil had been premature before realising it would make no difference at all if people were going after him because he was Tarvek's friend. That one was out of Klaus's control. "A disturbing thought," said Klaus. "But I don't think we can do anything about what he thinks other people might do." Especially when he might be right.

"He's teaching me everything he knows about not getting assassinated," Gil assured him.

"That's helpful," said Klaus. "And I assure you we have guards in place to try to prevent either of you being assassinated."

"I figured." Gil looked thoughtful. "I don't know how to calm him down about you though. I know you've been asking him what he thinks because he thinks you're trying to trick him into telling you."

"I don't think asking counts as a trick," said Klaus.

"Tarvek's very confusing sometimes."

"I have to agree with that."

"Umm." Gil rocked back in the chair, looking at the ceiling as if it might have an idea. "Do you think Agatha's uncle could help?"

"That might be a good idea." Tarvek seemed to trust him more than he did Klaus, anyway. And Barry was better at complicated people than Klaus was. "I'll talk to him."

Gil nodded. And then added, a little wistfully, "Do you think you'll have more time after the coronation's over?"

"Yes," said Klaus firmly. "I'm sorry it's been taking so much. Even before the coronation, I'll try to make more time for you."

"That sounds nice." Gil slid off the chair. "I guess I should go. You're still busy and I'm supposed to teach Zoing to conduct for Tweedle's bears later."

There was a moment while Klaus boggled at that mental image, both bizarre and adorable. "I will talk to you later," he said when he'd recovered, more promise than dismissal.

One consequence of proclaiming Tarvek the Storm King was that people sent him a lot of gifts. These ran the gamut from useful to bizarre, symbolic to practical, and included everything from brightly coloured blocks evidently chosen by someone who thought Tarvek was three rather than eight, to gold and parcels of land. (Pietrosu Peak was going to be a headache to put back, but the power supply for the shrinker field was amazing.) Klaus and Barry, of course, were screening them all to make sure they weren't disguised assassination attempts.

So far the rate was approximately three percent. It was a stupid approach, but that rarely stopped a really enthusiastic Spark and it stopped irritated royalty only slightly more often.

It was a slightly smarter approach to booby-trap someone else's gift that had been sent in good faith. Barry spotted the subtle signs of rewrapping almost in time to yank Klaus out of the way of a spray of needles, but one still scored the taller man's cheekbone. Barry muttered under his breath and pulled him down to clamp a suction sampler over it. "That was probably poisoned."

"That may be all right." Klaus grimaced and detached the sampler, then fingered the cut. "I'm working on developing a tolerance to a variety of poisons."

Barry looked at him skeptically and went to get the remaining needles out of the wall. "That's nice, Mithridates, but let's see about analysis and an antidote."

"Not arguing. I did say 'may'." Klaus started over to the chemical bench, but then the sound of footsteps stopped. Barry turned around, saw him looking faintly grey, and was back across the room holding his arm before he said, "Or maybe not."

"Okay," Barry said, taking the sampler. "Fast analysis."

It was a fast analysis - they'd set up the workspace for that - and Barry risked an accelerated synthesis because the alternative was worse. Fortunately the bomb calorimeter held, and Klaus accepted the injection and stopped looking so pale several heartbeats later. "I'll have to step up the desensitization, clearly," he said.

"Right," said Barry. "Sometimes I wonder if you'd actually be safer taking the Jägerdraught." Which was probably a bad idea, because he wouldn't put it past Klaus to take him seriously. "And that's not an offer."

"Interesting as it would be, I think my methods overall have better odds. Especially if I keep you or Sun nearby in case of mistakes." Klaus stretched and approached the package with renewed caution. "I should start the boys on it as well," he said abruptly. "I'm told Tarvek's worried enough to be teaching Gil avoidance techniques."

"He did say he was planning on it," Barry began, unwinding the ribbon carefully since it appeared to be a textile explosive.

Klaus extracted two more needle-throwers. Barry passed him the armoured container, and he carefully placed them inside. "And evidently he thinks I mean to kill him when he grows up."

Barry located and removed the detonator. "He what?" A pause. This suggested a distinct problem with Klaus's plans. "And you expect to reassure him by administering small doses of poison?"

"Perhaps not to begin with," Klaus conceded, as they removed the rest of the wrappings to reveal a large wooden crate. "From what Gil's told me I suspect he thinks he's a decoy to allow Gil to grow up unharmed. Gil evidently solved part of the problem by swearing fealty to him - I'm not sure why."

Barry thought about that for a minute. It felt right, but it wasn't as if Gil's devotion could necessarily counter anything Klaus might have in mind, so the sense of rightness needed more analysis than that. And it had to account for Tarvek being a child, of course - a precocious child in the habit of thinking of politics and scheming, but still a child. "Something he didn't have to ask for," he said aloud, testing, then, "No. I think... he doesn't say it outright, but I think Tarvek's always waiting for something else to be more important to everybody than he is."

"So Gil decided to make it clear where his loyalties were going to lie," said Klaus, levering a nail out with a bit too much force.

Barry thought about Gil's misery over realising he'd helped Tarvek spy on his father. "Yes," he said deliberately, "because Gil has enough faith in you to know it's not actually a question of taking sides."

Klaus removed the next few nails rather less violently before answering. "The trick is to convince Tarvek of that."

"I think he's starting to be more comfortable with me," said Barry, "but that doesn't necessarily translate to assuming I know what I'm talking about. Although I will confidently vouch for both your nobler motives and your loathing of politics." He could understand hating the kind of politics that came with poisoned needles and mislabelled packages. Curiously, the identification on this one seemed to have been planted as well, and there was no trace of a pre-existing one. The crate seemed safe enough - none of the nails had attacked them - but also curiously anonymous. Barry pried the lid up. Ah. That was why. There was a body in the box.

Not a human one, not even organic. A Muse - Zene, Music; the tangle of tarnished brass was on second glance her conglomeration of instruments, nearly intact - but damaged enough the sender had apparently been too embarrassed to put his name to the gift.

"Oh," said Klaus, sounding both wondering and disapproving. He reached out and gently ran a hand over an arm joint. "I think I'm going to need a closer look at Otilia than I've asked for yet."

"For this, I think she'll agree to it." How much damage had been done to the mechanical brain? Even assuming they could repair it - and Barry did assume that, they hardly ever ran into something Klaus couldn't eventually reverse-engineer, which both fascinated Castle Heterodyne and sometimes made it acutely nervous - would the personality Otilia remembered be intact? It might. For all he knew she was still conscious in there.

Klaus nodded. "I'll ask her. I think I should try to fix this as soon as possible." He sounded sympathetic but also fascinated. For all working on the Muses made him nervous when so many had done more damage in trying, he was still a Spark with a fascinating problem in front of him.

Barry leaned on the edge of the crate, a smile tugging at his mouth. Possibly he should have mentioned this to Klaus when Agatha first told him, but he'd sort of assumed Gil had and it had seemed unkind to bring it back up when Klaus probably wouldn't think it fitting to ask. "You should also ask Tarvek to let you see Van Rijn's notebook."

"I what?" said Klaus, looking up sharply. "When did - from one of the Muses?"

Barry grinned. "Evidently Moxana's been guarding them. I'd guess they mean to present them formally at the coronation, but Tarvek and Agatha got an early look and have been poring over them."

"I suppose he'd lend them for this. He couldn't possibly want her to stay broken until he's old enough to do it." Klaus didn't sound entirely sure of that.

"I shouldn't think so," said Barry. "As for old enough - he's not making bad progress with the new one, last I heard. Maybe we should ask him to help."

"Not a bad idea," said Klaus. "His progress with the new one is remarkable, although the notes do explain some of that. And it would give us something to talk about that wouldn't alarm him. I can't blame him for being skittish, but at least I might get opinions on mechanics out of him."

"Aaronev was always harder to argue with than you were," Barry mused. "You might not change your mind but sometimes he didn't even seem to comprehend that he was being disagreed with."

"Sparks," said Klaus. "A lot of them are harder to argue with than brick walls."

"That," said Barry, "is only because Castle Heterodyne is mostly stone."

The Lord Heterodyne had told Tarvek he was having a lot of fun going around and convincing people there was really a new Storm King, considering how widely it was considered a plot device too implausible for Heterodyne plays. Tarvek was pretty sure the conspiracy had meant to work on that, but having Barry Heterodyne personally tell people it was true probably beat out opera revivals.

At any rate people believed it enough to have started sending him presents, which was really fun. He invited Agatha and Gil to go through them with him, and insisted they put on full protective gear just in case anybody had sent things because they didn't like the idea, although so far nothing had happened.

There were a lot of strange things, of course. A miniature giraffe was ambling around the school trying not to trip on Andy and eating enormous amounts of salad. There was a set of colourful blocks that Tarvek supposed must be meant to encourage him to have an heir as soon as he was old enough. There were inventions that probably didn't work and inventions that he rather hoped didn't work, which for lack of any better ideas Tarvek carefully stacked on one side of the package room and figured Baron Wulfenbach could work out storage.

Other items were chosen for their significance, symbolic value or being characteristic of the town that sent them. (Some of those were probably advertisements, in a way.) Some were valuable and only valuable. And some of them... some of them were beautiful.

Because in addition to the basically ceremonial and symbolic presents and the practical ones, the presents that suggested an overflow of enthusiasm and the "we've got to send him something" ones, there were any number of hopeful artists and artisans who aspired to royal patronage and sent (directly or through their own lord) their best creations. Extraordinary pieces of furniture, Spark-work inventions that were both practical and beautiful, paintings and mosaics, sculptures, sheet music, recordings, instruments.

Tarvek had taken off his gloves to run his hands over an extraordinary silk that couldn't decide whether to be amber or violet and Gil and Agatha were testing a marimba, still in full lab armour, when the Lord Heterodyne came in with the Baron and said, "We had a few questions and - ah - you know, we did go over these for traps already."

"Oh. Thank you," said Tarvek. His eyes flicked to the Baron's face, where there was a cut along one cheekbone. "I guess you found one."

"We found a few," said the Lord Heterodyne, going over to the marimba. "But they should be all right now. When you get to the shrunken mountain, though, be careful - we're going to have to put that back."

"You also received a pair of cheetahs," said the Baron, "but we didn't repack those."

"What did you do with them?" Tarvek asked. Not that he wanted any cheetahs, but he'd like to know.

"They're in a room next to the Jägers' exercise track lapping up beef broth, since their first action was to try to eat us and their second was to collapse. I'd like to get them on the ground as soon as they recover from being shipped." The Baron frowned. "Although I suppose they may not be suited to the winters here."

"That sounds good. Maybe I should request people not send animals in crates if it's a long trip," said Tarvek.

"If it had occurred to me that they'd try it I would have already," the Baron said sourly. "It's not a pleasant way to travel. But that's not actually what we came to-" He stopped and tapped a large crate. "Perhaps you should open this one next."

Tarvek threw him a questioning look and went over to the crate. Considering the conversation that had followed on from he was rather worried, but he didn't hear anything moving inside, and from the Baron's response he probably wouldn't have repacked an animal. The lid hadn't been nailed down again, although it had been fitted back onto the top, so when Tarvek pulled it moved easily. Beneath lay... "Zene," he breathed. Her casing was loose, clockwork showing, like a block puzzle someone hadn't been able to do well enough to get back in the box. Half of it was missing from one leg. Gears spilled sideways from behind her faceplate. Her expression was serene, unreadable, and there was no light behind her eyes. A mangled set of instruments lay on her chest. She was beautiful and one of the saddest things Tarvek had ever seen.

"Barry tells me you have some of Van Rijn's notes," said the Baron.

Tarvek looked up sharply. He didn't want to share them, Moxana had given them to him, but he could already see he wasn't going to be able to fix Zene. Not yet. "Do you think you can fix her, if I let you see them?" he asked, and then wondered what had given him the idea that he had the power to let the Baron do anything. He hadn't even hidden them.

"I hope so. I was also planning to consult Otilia." Which was an interesting way to describe asking somebody for a look at their insides. The Baron's hand rested on the edge of the crate... or didn't rest, he wasn't gripping it hard enough to break anything but his fingers were whitened with the pressure.

Gil and Agatha abandoned the marimba at this point to come join them in staring into the box. Agatha's eyes filled with tears. Gil, looking deeply serious, tapped a cymbal with one fingernail, producing a soft pure chime that briefly filled the air with glory.

"And at the rate you've been going with your own projects, we thought you might have some insights," said the Lord Heterodyne on the tail end of that sound, so naturally that it took Tarvek a second to remember this was a surprising thing for an adult Spark to say to eight- and five-year-old children.

"Of course we'll help," said Agatha. A small ding behind her possibly marked another volunteer (the little clanks had been getting everywhere lately, and Tarvek briefly wondered what they thought of the Muses).

"Yes, of course," Tarvek echoed. There was no question that he'd help, although he wondered if he could do enough yet. He'd always wanted to find the Muses and fix them but he'd imagined it happening when he was an adult and old enough to know what he was doing. Like breaking through, like becoming king, everything was happening ten years too soon and even when it should have been a dream come true it felt like things were happening to him not because of him. But he was glad Zene wouldn't have to wait for him.

The Lord Heterodyne grinned fondly at Agatha; the Baron's expression eased minutely into a glimmer of amusement. Gil reached down, frowning, to twist two ends of a snapped wire together. At which Tarvek grabbed his wrist and the Baron said, "I think we should-"

"It looks just like one of the pictures, though," said Agatha. Tarvek had to admit it was familiar, it was just that there was the whole mess and he wouldn't have wanted to do anything suddenly, without analysing it all-

"It's only one of the lights," said Gil. He reached with his other hand to ting the cymbal again, and this time violet light flickered behind the eyes.

"Is she conscious?" the Baron asked, sounding appalled.

"They usually...I mean, Otilia's do that when she's emotional," said Tarvek. "I don't know...it could be the connection's permanent the way Gil's done it and there's not any control..." Or otherwise she certainly had reason to be feeling distressed.

The Lord Heterodyne leaned over the crate into what should be Zene's field of view. "We'll do our best to repair you," he said warmly. "Your Storm King's here, although as it's been a couple hundred years this is a different one. His name is Tarvek. You've also got a couple of Heterodynes around, but I promise we actually like him this time and aren't trying to destroy anything, and Klaus Wulfenbach is his regent and is extraordinarily good at analysing other people's inventions. Two of your sisters are living here and can come visit you if you like."

The light shivered a few seconds more and then dimmed to a faint but steady lavender, and the metal eyelids blinked once.

"Hello," said Tarvek. "I'm the Storm King now." He felt almost silly saying it to her, even though he hadn't telling the other Muses. It just seemed less relevant than whether there was anyone here who could fix her. He put a hand on hers, afraid to grip it in case he jarred anything else loose.

There was a grinding noise but no movement, and her eyes flashed distress again and then, slowly but distinctly, rolled. And then settled on him with a warmer light.

"Anybody else get the idea she'd like to start with being able to communicate better?" the Lord Heterodyne said wryly.