Tarvek was fiddling with the ring looped around Gil's neck. Gil didn't bother opening his eyes, instead focusing on the gentle tug of the chain it was strung through. Tug, tug, tug. Notice me, notice me, notice me it seemed to say. Snuggled against his other side Agatha dozed, barely moving. She was a lot less insecure about having Gil's complete attention without having to pull any metaphorical pigtails.

Tug, tug, tug.

Notice me, notice me, notice me.

Gil doubted Tarvek was doing it on purpose. He probably didn't even realize Gil could feel it. He might even get embarrassed his Smoke Knight training failed him that much. Tarvek had issues admitting he needed anything human or emotional. Anything that could be taken as weakness. Not like Agatha. She could admit to needing something without a problem, equally comfortable asking for support as she was offering it. Gil's problem wasn't admitting he needed things, more reminding himself he actually had them now.

Notice me, notice me, notice –

Gil cracked an eye open, raising an eyebrow at Tarvek. Gil's ring was hooked on the edge of one of Tarvek's fingers. For barely half a second Tarvek's expression freezes. Then he deliberately turned the ring over in his hand, catching the dim light. You'd have to know Tarvek intimately and have been paying full attention to him and been less than half a meter away from his face to catch the hesitation at all. Honestly, if Tarvek wanted to avoid embarrassing himself with his own emotions he should consider not allowing two of the only people to meet the first two criteria close enough to manage the third.

"Why do you suddenly have a ring with Agatha and my sigils on it?"

Gil shrugged with his free arm the other tracing pattern along Agatha's spine. The ring had been an impulse. He'd gotten used to the weight of Agatha's ring in those months he'd first foolishly thought her dead. It had been a promise to her – though of what he's still not quite sure. Or maybe it was a symbol that she wasn't truly gone. (Fitting then than the didn't have it during those years when both Agatha and Tarvek were.) And then after he'd fished it out of the basement lab of the Castle when he offered it to Agatha again she'd accepted it. She might not wear it but she still wanted it. And it felt like whatever promise it had been had come full circle.

But...

The weight of it had been something of a comfort. So he'd made himself a ring. A new symbol a new weight, a new promise. And it only made sense to engrave it with the marks of the people the promise was meant for.

He had no idea how to articulate any of that outside the tangled mess of half-thoughts in his head. So instead after a long moment of struggling he gave up and settled for an almost questioning, "I felt like it."

Tarvek's loud, overly theatrical sigh is all but a speech on its own. Agatha's lips twitch into a smile where they're pressed against the crook of Gil's neck. Tarvek propped his chin on the meat of Gil's shoulder. The sharp point dug into his skin, a tangible reminder that Gil wasn't alone and dreaming. "You do realize that it is an objectively horrible idea to have this, let alone wear it, right? Half of Agatha's detractors already claim she's plotting to take over our empires – yours especially. Not to mention your councilors are going to lose their minds as soon as one of them catch sight of it."

"It's not that bad." It wasn't like he was actually wearing it. And with all the formal wear he'd been stuffed into lately his collars hid the chain from view. He'd like to think that his days of ending up in important political discussions stark naked were behind him.

"It's practically an announcement of the subjugation of the Wuifenbach Empire. Or at the very least its Baron which is functionally the same thing."

Gil rolled his eyes. Tarvek made it sound like he'd replaced the main balloon of Castle Wulfenbach with one shaped like a trilobite or some such nonsense. Although… No. Agatha would be furious and Tarvek would be jealous and no one would be happy. "You're overreacting."

"How you survived global politics this long is a mystery to me. Truly, it is." Gil shifted uncomfortably. This could very well be Tarvek's way of dancing around the fact that he didn't approve of the ring. Gil could get rid of it. He didn't have to melt it back down; he could lock it away somewhere where it would never be seen again. "As a symbol it's completely unbalanced. You'd have to make two more corresponding rings before you could even begin to argue it's not disadvantageous towards your rule."

"Two more rings?"

"It only seems fair," Agatha mumbled, one green eye peeking out through the messy sweep of her hair.

Gil could do that. Truthfully he almost had but it had been presumptuous enough making the first ring without telling them. But if Agatha and Tarvek wanted corresponding rings… Unbidden two pictures sprung into Gil's head. Agatha with Tarvek and his sigils on her finger, declaring her choice to the world; Tarvek with Agatha and his sigils wrapped around his skin, theirs, only theirs, all –

Oh.

So maybe Tarvek's preoccupation with Gil's ring wasn't just trying to get Gil's attention.

A delicate hand snaked up his chest. Agatha lifted the ring out of Tarvek's fingers, turning it over in her own.

Tug, tug, tug.

Follow me, follow me, follow me.

"Of course then my councilors will be the ones losing their minds. Their Lady Heterodyne openly wearing the sigils of not one but two other houses? Houses with empires right on my borders no less? I'd need something, some kind of event or ceremony. It wouldn't have to be big or showy or anything, just something I could point to when they tried to argue."

"What kind of ceremony?" Tarvek asked, toying with part of the chain where it hung off Agatha's fingers.

"Mmm… A wedding would do nicely.

Tarvek's hand stilled. "A wedding?"

"Just a small one. Big enough for three. That is," she gave the ring a sharp tug, "if Gil's going to make us rings."

Marry me, marry me, marry me.

"I'll get started on them first thing in the morning."