Agatha is just barely three.

She's been raised her entire life by Geisterdamen.

There is a stranger in front of her.

The stranger in front of her is not Geisterdamen. She can't imagine anyone more different from them than the stranger in front of her. For starters he's male. He's wide where they're thin, tan where they're pale (just like Agatha!), bark-brown hair where theirs is moon-white (even darker than Agatha's own. She didn't know hair came that dark), lumbering where they're agile, loud where they're quiet. All she's ever been around is Geisterdamen. Agatha stares at him in unchecked fascination. He stares back at her just as intently.

He's trembling a little. And crying. Agatha cocks her head to the side. She's never seen any of the Geisterdamen cry before, and they usually yell at her when she does. It never makes her feel any better. Sometimes Lady Vrin used to scoop her up into her arms. That used to help a little. The stranger's awfully big. Agatha doesn't think she can scoop him up. Maybe a hug would work okay.

"Would a hug make you feel better?" she asks

The stranger lurches a step back and starts talking in a strange language Agatha doesn't understand. He sounds upset. He's trembling even worse and crying a lot now. Agatha decides to try a hug anyway.

She walks forward and wraps her arms around him. All she can reach is around one knee. The stranger goes perfectly still for a second then scoops her up and returns the hug. That must mean it worked! He hugs very hard but that's okay, some people hug harder than others. He's also still crying a little but that's okay too, Agatha thinks.

He pulls back and strokes Agatha's hair. It feels nice. He's still speaking his funny made-up language, trying to talk to Agatha in it.

He starts walking, still holding Agatha, still talking to her. Agatha doesn't think much of it. She's never been around strangers before; she doesn't know she's supposed to be scared when a stranger starts walking away with you. She doesn't see any Geisterdamen. She doesn't think much of that either.

They pass a dead Ghost Spider on the way out. They should stop and give it a proper mourning. She tugs on the stranger's arm and tells him so. He doesn't stop. Agatha supposes one of the others will do it later. They keep walking. Agatha falls asleep in the stranger's arms.

She will not remember any of this when she gets older.

She will have always been raised by her Uncle Barry up until he leaves her behind.


Agatha is not quite four.

Uncle Barry nudges her to closer to the two strangers in front of her.

"Agatha, these are my old friends. This is Pu- Adam and Lilith Clay. Adam, Lilith, this is Agatha." Lilith is trembling a little. It reminds Agatha of… something. She's not sure what. Maybe that little white dog she saw last week?

"Master Bill's?" she asks. Her voice is trembling too.

"Yes," Uncle Barry's voice says above her. They start talking in hushed tones and Agatha tunes them out, choosing instead to stare at Adam.

"Why are you so tall?" she asks him. She makes sure her voice is extra loud so it can reach all the way up to him. Uncle Barry and Lilith stop talking and stare at her. Then they both start laughing. Adam looks like he's laughing too, but no sound comes out. She'll have to study why.

"She sounds just like the master," Judy says between laughs. Her voice is still trembly and it makes her sound like she might stop laughing and start crying any second. Agatha frowns up at them.

"It's a perfectly valid question given the average height of everyone else. He's the clear outlier." For some reason that sets them all of again.

"Wouldn't you be the outlier?" Lilith asks, "Given how short you are?"

Agatha frowns even harder. "I don't count. I'm not done growing yet, so my proper height can't be added yet."

"You're right of course. I'm sorry." Her voice doesn't sound trembly at all now. Lilith crouches down closer to Agatha's level and sticks her hand out to shake. "It's very nice to meet you Agatha."

Agatha glances up at her uncle to make sure it's okay before grasping her hand. "It's nice to meet you too."


Agatha is five.

Her head hurts.

Uncle Barry is really sad all the time lately. Agatha doesn't know why. He seems sadder when he's looking at Agatha. She'll have to ask Lilith about it. She adds it to the list of things to talk to them about when they're all done yelling.

Adam and Lilith had arrived this morning. It had been ages since they left, almost two whole weeks. Agatha had been so excited to see them she'd almost forgotten her headache. She'd run straight up to them, which had proven to be a mistake. The floor had swum around her and Adam had to catch her to keep her from falling. "What's wrong sweetheart?" Lilith had asked.

"My head hurts," she'd admitted

Lilith had looked up at Uncle Barry. He hadn't joined Adam and Lilith in running over to her or crouching down next to her. "The Geester Damin?"

Geester Damin? Gistertehmen? Agatha should know this; she'd just heard Lilith say the word. But her head had been throbbing and everything had been blurry and it had been so hard to focus. Adam had been there, cradling her in his arms and rubbing gentle circles on her back with one giant hand. It had felt nice and it was the first time in days her head hadn't hurt, so she'd just let herself… drift.

Eventually she'd tuned back in; Lilith hadn't looked panicked any more. Instead, she'd looked angry. When Agatha had looked up Adam had looked angry too. Adam had set her down on the floor and stomped over to loom over Uncle Barry. Agatha never forgets how tall Adam is, but she thinks Uncle Barry might sometimes. Uncle Barry certainly remembered it right then.

"Agatha, sweetheart," Lilith had said, still glaring at Uncle Barry even though her voice is as nice and friendly as it always is with Agatha, "I promise we'll catch up in a little bit, but first we need to have talk with your uncle. Stay out here; it won't take long, okay?"

"Okay." Lilith had turned and given her a funny-looking smile then she'd grabbed Uncle Barry by the collar and hauled him into the other room, Adam following and shutting the door behind him. That's when the yelling started.

Agatha gets up to take a nap.

Maybe her head will hurt a little less when she wakes up.


Agatha is eight.

Uncle Barry is packing to leave. That in and of itself isn't that surprising. They move all the time. They've only been in this town, for example, for less than two months. Uncle Barry's only packing for himself though. That's not all that unusual either. It would hardly be the first time he'd left her with Lilith and Adam.

He was gone a really long time last time, months and months and months, and Adam and Lilith had started getting worried. Agatha hadn't though. She knows her uncle always comes back.

So she watches him pack and fetches socks and socket wrenches when he asks. Her headache is only a dull throb today and she can easily ignore it to scamper around gathering supplies. Adam and Lilith aren't moving from their spot at the table and someone has to help Uncle Barry pack. He'll forget clean shirts in favor of scrap metal otherwise.

When Uncle Barry's all packed he drops his bag on the table and looks around the room. Eventually he turns to Adam and Lilith. "You'll look after her, won't you?"

"You don't even have to ask," Lilith says. Beside her Adam gives a solemn nod.

"You can't let him find her." Agatha doesn't know who Uncle Barry's talking about. She wants to ask but she knows he won't answer her. Not when he looks like that – serious and worried and far away.

Lilith's lips thin, and her shoulders get straighter. "We won't."

Then Uncle Barry kneels down and gently grasps Agatha by her shoulders. "Promise me you'll never take your locket off."

"I promise." It's a promise she's made many times over the years. To Uncle Barry, to Lilith, even to Adam.

"Promise me you'll be good for Lilith and Adam."

"I promise."

Uncle Barry gives her a sad smile then leans forward and kisses her forehead. "Right," he says, standing up and grabbing his bag. "I should only be gone a few months at the most. Stay safe." He heads for the door. Agatha follows, stopping in the doorway as Uncle Barry picks his way down the path. Lilith and Adam come up behind her, each of them putting a hand on her shoulders. Together the three of them watch Uncle Barry as he walks out of sight.


Agatha is nine.

She's not moving and Adam and Lilith can't make her.

"Agatha–"

"No!" Agatha yells. "I'm not leaving! Uncle Barry won't be able to find us if we move!"

"Sweetheart, your Uncle Barry's smart, he'll know we why we had to move. He'll find us when he's able to, but in the mean time–"

"No he won't!" A burst of pain stabs through Agatha's brain, the same way it always does when she gets worked up. Everything goes white and she has to clutch at the table leg to keep from collapsing. Lilith rushes over to her, but Agatha weakly pushes her away. She's still mad at her. "We always do stupid things when we move like double back or rent two houses or use made-up names," she says mulishly, "and I know it's so nobody can ever find us. Except Uncle Barry's not here. If we leave now he'll be left behind."

"Your Uncle Barry's one of the smartest people I've ever met, him and your father." Lilith reaches down and strokes her hair. Agatha's still mad at her but doesn't push her away this time. "He'll find us Agatha, you'll see." Lilith's face twists up at the last part, like she's trying to smile but the muscles won't work right.

"You don't think he will."

"Of course I do."

"No, you don't. Stop lying! You don't think he'll be able to find us either!"

"I – I don't know if he will or not. But we can't stay here."

"Then we don't do all of the doubling back and hiding. Or at least not all of it. So Uncle Barry can find us."

"We can't do that either."

"Then I'm not going."

Lilith's expression hardens. "Well unfortunately it's not up to you. Adam and I are your guardians and we say we're moving so we are." She stands up and pulls Agatha towards her room. "Now go pack."

"If Uncle Barry can't find us again it will be all your fault!" With that she slams the bedroom door as hard as she can, making the whole house shake. She slides down the door into a ball.

Her head hurts.


Agatha is eleven.

Lilith and Adam keep having serious sounding discussions about her when they think she can't hear. They've also started giving each other sad, worried looks when they think she can't see. She knows they're about her because Lilith and Adam are always really careful not to have them where Agatha can hear, and because of the snippets she could make out she'd heard her own name. Also Uncle Barry's name and, a few times, mentions of her locket.

Maybe Uncle Barry's finally coming back.

Maybe they found him and they need to go rescue him except they can't take her because it's dangerous and she's too young. Maybe they're afraid her locket would get broken if she went with them. Wherever he is it must be dangerous. It has to be, to have kept him away for so long. It has to be. Uncle Barry wouldn't leave her behind otherwise. He wouldn't.

Agatha fiddles with the little clank on the workbench. The last one blew up, but she's got a good feeling this time. She's been building a whole lot of things lately. It's like she can't stop. Her fingers itch and her brain skitters around itself in circles and pieces slot themselves together without conscious thought. Maybe she's breaking through? Uncle Barry's a spark, so it would make sense for her to be one too. And eleven's really, really young to break through but Lilith always says Uncle Barry and her father were the smartest people she'd ever met and Lilith's met a lot of smart people. So maybe Agatha would break through early then? It would explain the ever-present need to create, to improve, to invent. And it would explain why her clanks keep exploding; she hasn't broken all the way through yet.

The door to the garage opens and Adam walks in, wiping his oily-stained hands on a rag. "Adam! Look!" Agatha brandishes the half-made clank. "It's almost finished! And I'm sure it won't blow up this time." Adam grimaces, no doubt at the memory of the last one, but comes over and lets her explain.

She's only about half way through when Lilith pops her head in. "Adam, could you give me a hand for a minute?" Her eyes land on the clank and she shares a worried look with Adam over Agatha's head. "You're still wearing your locket, right sweetheart?"

Agatha resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Of course I am."

"Good. That's… good." Lilith hovers in the doorway for a few seconds, sharing another look with Adam. He walks over to her. They both glance back at her before retreating to the kitchen.

Agatha ignores the looks. They just claim she's imagining things whenever she asks. She turns back to her little clank. She wants to have something to show Uncle Barry when he comes home.


Agatha is seventeen.

She is a failure.

She's clumsy and useless and scattered and she can't think straight without getting headaches. She can't do anything right. The only reason Doctor Beetle even took her on as a lab assistant was as a favor to her parents.

Nothing she ever makes is right and everything she tries to build blows up. She's not a spark and it's clear by now she's never going to be one.

Maybe that's why Uncle Barry won't come back.


Agatha is eighteen.

Her father is Bill Heterodyne.

Her father is Bill Heterodyne and her parents are dead.

Her parents, who raised her and loved her and cared for her. Her parents who are Punch and Judy, the Heterodyne Boy's construct companions, who loyally followed them on every quest, who never stopped serving Bill and Barry Heterodyne.

Who are her father and her Uncle Barry.

Because her father is Bill Heterodyne.

And Punch and Judy served the Heterodynes.

And now they're dead.

Agatha's parents are dead.

Agatha sits curled in the tiny airship with Krosp and tries to wrap her head around the previous day. She's not doing a very good job of it.

A few days ago she was no one. A failure and an orphan whose uncle had left her and who couldn't build anything right without it blowing up. Then she'd started building things that worked, up on Castle Wulfenbach. And Gil Wulfenbach had called her a spark, and she hadn't been a failure any more. Gil had been interested in her and she'd flirted with him (had that been flirting? She thinks it was flirting) and he'd flirted back. He'd been impressed by her. By her clanks. And then her parents had shown up and she wasn't an orphan any more either. Except maybe she still is since both Bill and Lucrezia are probably dead. And Lilith and Adam are dead. She's even more of an orphan than before.

But she has a family name. She has a cousin, Theo, who's sweet and smart and has promised to meet back up with her later. But he isn't here now, and Agatha is alone again.

She is a Heterodyne. She has no idea what that means.


Agatha is eighteen.

Her mother was the Other – is the Other.

Her mother is in her head.

She's certain there's a freak-out worthy of the one she had over her father waiting in the wings but it's just going to have to take a backseat for now because she's got more important things to deal with first.

Mainly that her mother is in her head and wants to take over her body completely and use it to restart her invasion.

And that. Is. Not. Happening.

If she can just keep Heterodyning, keep thinking, she should be able to hold her back, not forever but she doesn't need to. She just has to hold out until her message is finished, until the Baron can get here. After that, well, at least everyone else will be safe.

She leans further back against Tarvek, not because she trusts him but because she can't afford to split enough focus from repelling her mother to stay upright on her own and he's here and offered and a perfectly serviceable backrest, so…

She can do this. Her mother won't win.

She can't.


Agatha is eighteen.

So the circus is going to England with Wooster and she's going to Mechanicsburg. They'll be safe and together and Agatha won't have destroyed everything. She has her mother in her head and the Other is back but she is going to fix it. And she can't do that from England.

It's strange, being the one who's doing the leaving. She wonders if this is how Uncle Barry felt.

The door is kicked in before she can worry too much about it. Zeetha walks in, arms laden down with clothes, tools, weapons, an assortment of random junk and oddly enough half a chocolate cake. "Okay! This is as good a time as ever to start work on a new part of your training." She dumps the entire lot onto Agatha's bed. "Tell me what we're bringing and why. Afterwards I'll correct you."

Agatha blinks, missing the last sentence, her brain still caught on the previous one. "We?"

"I'm coming with you," Zeetha says, like it's obvious.

"If it's because I'm a Heterodyne, then you don't have to–"

"It's not because you're a Heterodyne," Zeetha cuts her off. "It's because you're my zumil. We are family. Where you go, I go. Now, tell me what we're going to pack."

"Prioritize the concealable weapons and any unique raw materials," Krosp advises from where he's suddenly materialized in the way only cats can at the head of the bed. "Add a few basic or more specialized tools if you have room but you'll be able to get those once you arrive. Same with clothes. Be sure to put my jacket in though. At least when we first get there it will be better for me to masquerade as an ordinary cat."

Agatha swallows past the lump that's suddenly formed in her throat. She's not used to this. People staying. She isn't quite sure what to do with it. "Right," she manages, "anything else?"

"The j?gers are raiding the galley, so there's no reason to have the cake here at all."

Zeetha rolls her eyes. "Of course there is. The cake we eat now."


Agatha is eighteen.

She is the Heterodyne.

Around her the Doom Bell echoes, driving into skulls and seeding all-encompassing despair. People fall to their feet, laid low from the ringing. Those who don't continue forward to pay homage.

A part of her mind – the small, stupid part that ruled her for so many years under the locket – screams that this is too much. And as much as Agatha hates it, she almost has to agree. This isn't the same as Dimo and Maxim and Oggie following her, when she was still hiding. This isn't even the same as the Castle acknowledging her, where she had a preset plan and a clear goal. In there her title had seemed less… massive. She knew what she needed to do and her title was just another tool, a handy way to keep the Castle from squishing people she didn't want squished. But out here she has no fixed plan, just a town that needs her.

She is the Heterodyne.

The Doom Bell lets out one final peal. The sound sinks into her bones. It grounds her in a way nothing else has before. This is her town. The Doom Bell rings for her.

Vanamonde, reclaiming his bearings, bows low, the elders of the town – her town – bowing as well.

"Welcome home, Lady Heterodyne."

Well, she certainly can't do worse than her ancestors. And either way, it's her show now. Maybe that's what being a Heterodyne is. Whatever you're planning to do is what the Heterodyne is supposed to do solely because that's what you're doing.

She can work with that.


Agatha is eighteen and has lost two and a half years.

Two and a half years.

There's so much she's missed she can't even wrap her head fully around it yet. Her town has been frozen, her people have been driven underground, Tarvek has been hurt – but not dead, she refuses to believe that, and Gil–

She wasn't there.

She wasn't anywhere.

Agatha watches Maxinia play with some roughly made colored blocks. She's a lot cuter when she's not angry. Or punching you. Agatha missed her birth. She missed Lilith finding out she was pregnant, she missed helping her get ready for the baby, she missed greeting Maxinia into the world.

Agatha's a stranger to her.

Maxinia looks up from her blocks. She holds one up. "Ruda!" she proclaims happily. The block is in fact a red one.

"That's right, it is a red one," Agatha says, mindful of the baby talk this time. "Do you want to collect all the red ones?" Maxinia gives a small happy gurgle that Agatha takes as assent.

"You're good with her." Agatha nearly leaps out of her skin, still not used to the sound of Adam's voice. That's another thing she missed, Adam's first words.

"At least she hasn't punched me again."

"Maxinia doesn't like anyone at first. But she's warmed up to you quickly." He gives her a gentle smile. "She must recognize her sister."

Agatha's heart lurches painfully in her chest. "How can she? I wasn't here."

"You're here now."

"For tonight." And only tonight. Tomorrow she heads out to fix her town. Tomorrow she leaves.

Adam understands. He's always understood. He wraps her up in a hug. Even now, after so long away from the shop, he still smells the same as he always did – grease and metal and warmth. "You aren't abandoning anyone. And you aren't going to be gone forever. This isn't your last chance to play blocks with your little sister." Agatha smiles. It's a little watery, and maybe accompanied with a few sniffles, but neither of them are going to say anything.

"You're right." She reaches down for one of the red blocks. "But it might be my last chance for a while, so I'd better make the most of it."

She's lost two and a half years.

But she hasn't lost everything.


Agatha is eighteen.

She is not eight years old any more.

She is not eight years old and watching Uncle Barry walk away from her. For one thing she didn't get to see Krosp before he left. "I've got some stuff to do. Tell Agatha I'll see here again when it's done." No timeline, no explanation, not even a real goodbye.

Agatha shakes her head and tries to focus on the scenery rushing past her. She's not eight years old any more. She's not a helpless, stupid child left waiting. If Krosp takes too long she'll simply go find him herself. She can do that now.

Besides, she meant what she'd told Wooster. Krosp is very smart and, more importantly, he's a cat. Whatever trouble he's stirring up, she's confident he'll come out of it unscathed, even if no one else does.

The glow of Paris's lights fill up the window. Closing her eyes against it, she files Krosp into the same category as Gil and Tarvek. Not here, not with her, but not missing either. She gathers herself up to embark and lets herself focus on the task at hand. All her boys will be fine until she can go collect them back up. In this at least, she has faith.


Agatha is eighteen.

"You rescued Dr. Vapnoople?"

Krosp, standing in front of her surrounded by his bear army, refuses to look anything resembling sheepish or defensive, or anything that might indicate he's anything but completely in the right. Of course he doesn't, he's a cat.

"I couldn't leave him in the heart of the Wulfenbach Empire. It wasn't safe."

"I'm sure Gil wouldn't–"

"Gil might not, but that still doesn't make the empire safe," Krosp says. He looks up at her, eyes slightly softer, but shoulders even more rigid. "Besides, we both know that the young baron isn't Gil all the time right now."

Agatha sighs. She's still not quite ready to admit to herself just how lost Gil is. "We're working on it."

"I'm sure you are. But for the moment it means the Wulfenbach Empire isn't one we can trust. The caves where the rest of your people are hiding out should be safe enough."

"Of course. I'm sure Adam and Lilith will watch over him."

Krosp merely nods as if this is the only expected action. Again, cat. "I plan on sending the bears with him, so if you could, send some sort of letter or message with them so your people won't attack them."

"You aren't going with them?" The look Krosp gives her says volumes about his opinions of human intelligence relative to cats.

"I want my poppa safe. And this way he will be. You however are still my subject and need my guidance."

"I've been doing alright," Agatha says, crossing her arms.

"You nearly burned down half of Paris."

"It worked out!" Krosp merely raises a fluffy eyebrow before visibly turning away from the subject.

"You wouldn't happen to have any fish on you?" he says, slipping back into his old spot like he hadn't been gone at all. Agatha's not sure why it's that question that makes her scoop him up and hug him, but it is.

"I'm sure we can find some."


Agatha is nineteen.

Tarvek dismounts the (possibly stolen) dirigible and walks up to her, dragging Gil behind him. As surreptitiously as possible, Agatha checks her pocket deathray. The last time she'd been close to Gil… hadn't ended well. "I," Tarvek begins, slightly imperiously, although there's bags under his eyes that ruin the effect, "have fixed him." He then hurls Gil by the arm straight at her. Both their reflexes are battle-trained enough that they don't so much as stumble when they collide with each other. Agatha, taking on faith that fixed means what she thinks it means, throws her arms around Gil.

She can feel the tenseness of his muscles beneath her fingers, ready to use the last of his will to throw himself away from her should the situation become murderous. Seconds tick by. Gil trembles then finally melts against her. "Agatha." Agatha laughs. It's high and trembly and threatens to become a sob any moment but that's okay. She has Gil back.

"You did it," she says turning to Tarvek. She grabs his collar, peppering his face with grateful kisses. "You did it, you did it you did it."

Tarvek smiles and kisses her. "Of course My Lady." He pulls back far enough to shove at Gil's head. "Besides we couldn't just leave it up to him. If we'd done that he'd have accidently exploded his own head."

"Hey!" Gil exclaims. Tarvek keeps going like he didn't hear him.

"Hopefully we can keep him out of more trouble now." The comment prompts a real laugh from Agatha. The idea that any of them could manage to stay out of trouble probably verges on reality bending, and not in the spark in a fugue kind of way. But they're finally together again. Right now that's all that matters.


Agatha is nineteen.

Skifander is beautiful.

She can see why Zeetha missed it so much. Not that she thinks Zeetha missed it only because it's beautiful; it's her home. Ever since they'd first fallen through that portal and Zeetha recognized the jungle they'd landed in it's like she's been alive in a way Agatha's never seen before. Zeetha has dragged them to every temple, training pit and childhood hideaway in the city, babbling excitedly the whole time. Not that Agatha minds; it's fascinating getting a glimpse of a Zeetha she's never seen before through her home.

It's not like that for her and Mechanicsburg. She loves her town so much it hurts, but she wasn't raised there. There are no special nooks yet, not old favorite crannies. It didn't shape her except with its absence.

Gil has thrown himself into the place as much as he can. He seems determined to make it a part of himself before they have to leave again. His actions remind her Mechanicsburg more than Zeetha's. The feeling of rightness, of intrinsic belonging, even though you've never been there before. The difference is he actually gets a chance to explore his town. She can't begrudge Gil the chance, but it makes her chest ache a little, to watch him explore his home while knowing hers is still trapped.

Everyone else is enjoying themselves as well. Tarvek's slipped effortlessly into the place, acting with authority he shouldn't technically have in a way only someone trained to rule from birth can. Violetta's pestering every guard she can get her hands on about assassination protocols. Krosp is accepting offerings of food, as is his due.

Agatha, Agatha's waiting for destruction.

Skifander is beautiful.

Agatha doesn't want to see it ruined.

Zantabraxis walks into the room. According to Zeetha's descriptions she's dressed casually. She's dressed for peace. "You have a very heavy face today," she says. "I would have thought you'd be down there with the others, not skulking about the royal chambers." Her voice has the same sing-songy quality Zeetha's gets when she's more teasing than angry.

Agatha bows her head anyway. "I'm sorry, I was just lost in my thoughts. I didn't mean to intrude."

"You don't have to be so formal," Zantabraxis chides. "And you could never intrude. You are my daughter's zumil. Family."

It's a peaceful moment. It's also ruined. An explosion tears through the edge of the city, big enough to shake the ground beneath them. Screams and more explosions quickly follow. Agatha whips around to see smoke pluming into the sky. Chaos has caught back up with her again. She grabs her deathray and turns back around, apology already on her lips, and sees Zantabraxis holding a sword and a dagger. The dagger in her hand is not one Agatha's seen before and appears to be electrified.

"Well, it seems brought entertainment with you," she says, grinning wild and sharp. "Shall we go greet them?" Agatha smiles back and hefts her deathray.

She hadn't realized. Skifander might be beautiful, but it's also as fierce and irrepressible as Zeetha is. It will not break because of her.


Agatha is twenty.

Her town is free again.

Finally free.

Parties and parades are breaking out on every street corner. Her people don't really know what happened to them, but that's never stopped Mechanicsburgers from celebrating their Heterodyne's accomplishments. Besides they never got to celebrate finding a new Heterodyne and they're now several years overdue.

Agatha takes as much time as she will allow herself to stop and join them. She makes a point to linger at every new group she comes across as she makes her way up to the Castle. She knows she won't be able to stay. Her town is a stronghold, a base of operations, but if she wants to stop the Other she'll have to leave it eventually. Probably sooner than she'd like. Actually, definitely sooner than she'd like. She'd only just gotten her town back.

One of the townspeople offers her a jug of cider. One of the j?gers comes up and replaces it with something stronger. At a look from her Violetta swaps it out with something much, much weaker. Hopefully that's what she swapped it out for anyway.

She'll have to leave her town eventually but for now she enjoys being home. She's got some time. And she never did get to explore her town. She hoists her glass and lets herself get swept into the crowd.


Agatha is twenty.

She's almost entirely certain that the only thing that's keeping Klaus Wulfenbach from physically trying to kill her where she stands are the dozen and a half j?gers between herself and him. Even still she keeps her pocket deathray out and in her hand. Charging a small army of heavily armed and extremely belligerent genetically engineered super soldiers wouldn't be the most reckless thing he's ever done. It probably wouldn't be the most reckless thing he's done this month.

For now though he seems willing to limit himself to scowling at her. "What are you doing here?"

"Zeetha told me where to find you."

Klaus's scowl deepens. "That doesn't answer the question. Why are you here?

Agatha doesn't answer. She rummages through the shelf behind her to avoid looking at him. A small metal box covered in delicate wiring and gold in a truly fascinating conducting pattern catches her eye. "What's this?"

Klaus strides across the room and snatches it out of her hand. "Don't touch that," he growls. There's a half a dozen j?gers between the two of them in the blink of an eye.

"What is it?"

"It was Bill Heterodyne's."

"My father's," she says, because she's really tired of Klaus constantly bringing up Lucrezia while simultaneously ignoring her connection to the parent she's actually proud to be related to.

Klaus's hand tightens dangerously on the box. "What. Do. You. Want?"

"I'm here to ask you back."

Klaus blinks. "What?"

Agatha does her best not to fidget. She's already come all the way here, no point getting cold feet now. "We want your help fighting the Other. You studied her technology for years. You're probably still the foremost authority on her." She sighs and rubs at her eyes with her free hand. "Look, I probably shouldn't let you know this but even here, as far out of the way as we can get you you've managed to do a lot of damage while trying to get your empire back. We can't afford to fight you and the Other. And I know in the end you don't want her to win any more than we do. So we can keep circling around stalemating each other or we can help each other."

"No."

Agatha mentally stumbles, thrown. "What do you mean no?" she demands. "Do you want to see Europa burn?"

"No!" Klaus yells back, the first emotion other than barely restrained distain he's shown the entire meeting. "But I will if it means protecting my son."

"Well so would I!" Agatha yells back. It's gratifying in a distant sort of way to watch Klaus take a step back at her words. Mostly though she's too angry to really feel anything else. "But this won't protect him! Nothing you've done has protected him! If anything it's done the opposite!"

"Mistress?" one of the j?gers asks hesitantly.

"I'm fine," she says. She takes several deep breaths, trying to get herself back under control. Her gaze falls back onto the box.

Klaus had been her father's best friend once. It's so easy to forget that.

In another life she would have called him uncle. He would have shown her, if not the same protectiveness he felt towards Gil, at least something similar.

Klaus has apparently regained some of his composure. He's started glaring at her again. She has no doubt he'd kill her right now if he could. There's nothing else she can say. When she reaches the doorframe she turns back to Klaus anyway. "I will burn the world down to keep my family safe. But given the choice, I'd rather it didn't."


Agatha is twenty-one.

The Other has been defeated. Her mother is gone.

When Tarvek had declared the last traces of her purged this morning it had almost seemed like a dream, wavy and not quite real. There'd been a breathless, endless moment when she'd taken her necklace off, waiting to be dragged under, waiting for Lucrezia. But then nothing had happened. No fight, no struggle, no desperate, futile attempts to hold on, nothing. Just her.

Just her and no Lucrezia.

She'd thrown her arms around Tarvek and positively tackled him with a kiss. Celebration immediately erupted. Agatha had felt lighter than she had in years. She'd laughed and sung and kissed Tarvek and Gil and danced with a whole line of j?gers. The last of Lucrezia Mongfish had been destroyed. She was finally well and truly gone.

Now she stares up at the ceiling, suddenly thrust into consciousness and unable to return to sleep. The night air is quiet and calm. Around her arms hold her without trapping her. Everything is soft and muted in the way only nighttime can be. Everything that is, except her.

Giving sleep up as a bad job she carefully extricates herself from the bed. A walk will help.

The manor they're staying in – one of Tarvek's family member's, now his – is silent almost to the point of feeling dead. It doesn't have the reassuring presence of Castle Heterodyne or even the ever-present hum of Castle Wulfenbach's engines. Here, in the dark hallways away from the gentle, even breaths, it becomes a tomb not a home. Tarvek only inherited it because his cousin died – threw his lot in with Lucrezia and paid the price. When Agatha spots a warm glow under one of the doors she practically sprints to it.

On the other side is Lilith, siting on a couch with a pile of mending. "Agatha?" she asks, putting down the little sweater she's fixing. "I thought you were in bed."

"I was," Agatha says. "Couldn't sleep." Lilith pats the empty space next to her and Agatha wastes no time going over to her. The two of them sit in silence for a few minutes, Lilith sewing and Agatha fiddling under the pretense of sorting.

"Alright," Lilith says, putting down the now fixed sweater, "What's wrong?"

For a moment Agatha doesn't answer, instead looking across the room at the bed where Maxinia's asleep. She's gotten so big. Finally she musters up the courage to ask "Lilith, am – am I a bad person for being glad she's gone?"

Lilith doesn't need any clarification about whom she's talking about. She wraps her arms around Agatha, pulling her to her side and rubbing her arm like she used to do when Agatha was little and had a nightmare. "No. Not at all."

"But–" Agatha flounders; trying to put into words what she's feeling. "She was my mother. And she's gone, forever. Because of us. We destroyed her. And I can't feel anything other than happy. And free. And she was my mother, but all I want to do is celebrate her death. Shouldn't I feel something?"

"That woman," Lilith begins, sounding very firm, "was not your mother. She was a monster and a murderer and she would have killed you without a single regret. So no, you are not a bad person for wanting her gone, or for being glad she is."

Agatha nestles further into her side, soaking in her presence. "Thanks."

The locket in her hand catches the light. She'd picked it up without thinking about it when she'd left the bedroom. It feels strangely cool, even now when body heat should have warmed it, as if it one last wisp of Lucrezia is haunting it. Lilith gives a sad sigh and gently plucks it from her grasp. She opens the main compartment where amazingly the two portraits have somehow survived everything.

"We really did do a horrible job teaching you about your parents didn't we?"

"No! Of course you didn't Lilith! You and Adam–" Lilith gives her a look and Agatha falls silent, well-meaning untruths drying up.

"A man who's still more myth and story to you than anything else and a monster. Not much of a keepsake is it?"

Agatha takes it back, opening the other compartment to expose the delicate gears and clockwork. "Zeetha, she once told me that it reminds me that I'm strong. That any warrior would cherish a symbol like that. And it does remind me of that, for the most part, but also, it was something of a security net. A reminder that Lucrezia couldn't get out. I'm not sure what it is now that she's gone, but I do know it's still important to me. After all this time, I don't think it ever won't be."

"Then perhaps it's time we get new pictures for it."

Agatha smiles and nods. "Maybe my real family. Maybe you and Adam and Maxinia." Her brow furrows. Zeetha should probably be there too. Violetta too. And Gil and Tarvek of course. And Krosp would be insufferable if he was left out. And Theo's her actual blood cousin, so he deserves space too. She might have too much family to fit in her locket. Ooh! What if she–

"Or perhaps pictures of your two young men?" Lilith interrupts her thought process, cutting her off before she could start cannibalizing the locket. "Don't think I didn't notice that you, Gilgamesh and Tarvek all retired to the same room. Or that you're wearing Tarvek's shirt. And Gil's pants." Agatha immediately turns bright red.

"Lilith!" Lilith just laughs and hugs her closer.


Agatha is twenty-one.

The world is not at peace, but it is stable.

Gil and Tarvek are safe. Her town is safe. Her family is safe. The empire is safe, or at least as safe as it ever gets according to her boys.

The empire is under their control. Tarvek, recently crowned as the Storm King, Gil, well established as the Baron, and of course herself as the Heterodyne. The Lightning Throne. Castle Wulfenbach. Mechanicsburg. Three very powerful symbols, possibly the most powerful in the world. Where those forces should be at odds with each other, would be under anyone else, they instead worked side by side. Boundaries were allowed to blur. Armies and resources intermingled. Authority was freely acknowledged even in the heart of another's territory. One empire, temporarily masquerading as three.

The world is not at peace, but it will be one day.

Agatha leans against the parapet, staring out over her town. Behind her the door opens and Gil and Tarvek come outside. She pushes herself up and turns her hands so they're facing upwards. It's all the invitation they need. They flank her sides, interlacing their hands with hers in almost perfect sync. Together the three of them look out at the horizon. Agatha can't think of anywhere she'd rather be than right here between them.

She takes a step back, pulling at both of them until they're side by side facing her. She squeezes their hands and without any further ceremony says, "We should get married."

Gil looks stunned. He's got a little, slowly growing half-smile on his face, but other than that is completely frozen. It's like his brain isn't processing what she'd said other than it was good.

Tarvek looks like someone just handed him every dream he'd ever had. It reminds her of how he'd looked when he'd first ascended the Lightning Throne. Although, she likes to think his smile wasn't quite as big as it is now. He brings her hand to his lips, bowing over it and pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her knuckles. "It would be my honor, My Lady," he murmurs against her skin.

Gil's brain has apparently finally finished translating. He captures her lips in a kiss that leaves Agatha slightly breathless. "As if you even have to ask. Of course. Always."

As he moves back his gaze locks with Tarvek. They stare at each other for a second and Agatha holds her breath. Her boys can still be stupidly stubborn sometimes. She doesn't want to ruin their engagement by having to break up an argument. But instead Gil smiles and reaches his free hand towards Tarvek's own. Tarvek meets him somewhere in the middle, where it's hard to tell who reaches further and it doesn't really matter either way.

The world is not at peace yet, but it is theirs.


Agatha is twenty-three.

She's not sure if she's going to be sick or start laughing or burst into tears. Instead she's doing none of those things. She is in fact sitting quite calmly – to the outside observer at least - with a book on her lap she's not reading but is at least open.

The door opens with a bang. It's only when Agatha jolts at the sound that she realizes how deeply she'd spaced out. Maxinia comes stomping in in a strop only a six year old can properly master. She throws herself onto the couch across from Agatha, folding her arms and pouting at the table. "Your husbands are both stupid," she declares.

"Oh? What did they do?" Gil and Tarvek have something of an informal competition between them over who's Maxinia's favorite brother-in-law. It mainly involves a lot of smuggled candy generalized bribery.

"Gil won't let me test his new flying machine. And Tarvek won't help me steal it."

Given that Gil's newest flying machine is still somewhere between 'highly dangerous' and 'likely to spontaneously combust midflight' it's probably for the best. "Tell you what," Agatha says, because she's long since learned if she doesn't offer something else now, Maxinia will just ask her for whatever it is she'd been denied, then pout even harder if she says no. "How about tomorrow we take one of the glass dirigibles out and have a floating picnic, just the two of us?" Fortunately Maxinia seems to like the idea because she immediately brightens. Agatha returns to staring past her opened book.

"Are you alright?" Maxinia says all of a sudden.

"Huh? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You had a really weird smile on when I came in. It's just came back again." Agatha blinks. She touches her face and finds that yes, she is in fact smiling. "And now it's even wider. Stop it."

"Maxinia," she asks, "How do you feel about becoming an aunt?"