Writerly Ramblings

More Girl Genius fic! This one was inspired primarily by Adversary over on Ao3, but I’m honestly not sure I can write such a convincing evil!Agatha. Mine seems to be a little closer to chaotic neutral. I have no idea if I’m going to write any more on this, but I do have a rough plan for a lot more.

There was a new Heterodyne. The frightened whispers spread out from the villages surrounding Mechanicsburg, filtering throughout Europa and reaching even the Master of Paris and Her Undying Majesty. Sure, the last one hadn’t been too hard to appease. He and his brother mostly went around on their own, beating up rival Sparks here and there. They were almost, some of the more optimistic people supposed, kind of like heroes. Of course, everyone else knew that you got black sheep in every family and just because one generation had turned out relatively harmless, didn’t mean the next was going to follow the trend.

And now the Doom Bell had rung again, and the Lady Agatha Heterodyne had been announced. That was Europa’s cue. Some people were far enough away from Mechanicsburg, or secure enough in their fortresses, that they could afford to send a paltry gift by mail and have done with it, but most of the smaller towns were not so lucky, and the ruling bodies were familiar enough with Heterodynes that they didn’t wait for the summons to present tribute. They heard that the Doom Bell had rung for the new Heterodyne, and they packed up whatever lavish gifts they could spare and journeyed to Mechanicsburg.

No one was ever quite sure what to expect when it came to a new Heterodyne, but a Jäger escort to the monstrous Castle wasn’t a surprise. Neither was the throne room full of armour and death traps, or finding the new Lady lounging on a throne made of skulls that had far too many horns and teeth  to be human. They were a little intimidated to see that she was wearing a lab coat over sturdy trousers and leather corset, fiery blonde hair held out of her face by high-tech goggles. She was going to be one of the practical ones then. They were always harder to appease with jewels and finery.

All the emissaries were crowded inside by the Jägers, and Tarvek did his best to avoid being jostled too much. He was resigned to his fate but that didn’t mean he had to put up with this indignity. There was a slight lull as the crowd settled, but no one stepped forwards, everyone hoping someone else would be the first to risk the Lady’s wrath.

“Well?!” Lady Heterodyne snapped, and everyone in the crowd flinched back at the ring of Sparky harmonics in her voice. “I thought we were here for tributes. Get on with it.” She demanded, and several emissaries scrambled forward in unison and crashed into each other, some of them nearly dropping their precious cargo. “Vanamonde!” Lady Heterodyne yelled in exasperation, eyes raised to the heavens as though praying for patience.

Her Seneschal, who had been hovering in the shadows behind her throne, stepped forwards, clearing his throat. “If you would all please form a line.” He instructed. “That’s right, down the center of the hall.”

Tarvek found himself closer to the throne than he’d expected, but for once, instead of jostling to get closer to the front of the queue, most people were fighting to be as far back as they could. Vanamonde waved the first tributary forwards, and the trembling man presented the Lady Heterodyne with a large chest full to the brim with gold. She did not look impressed, but neither did she have the Castle squash the man. Not obsessed with wealth, then, Tarvek noted.

“Minion, take it to the vault. Make sure to leave it in the antechamber for the treasurer to count.” Lady Heterodyne ordered, and two of the townsfolk lining the walls hurried forwards to cart the chest away as the emissary babbled pleas on behalf of his town. “Murgton doesn’t have a Spark-ruler, does it?” The Lady interrupted, and when the man fearfully shook his head, she waved him away, and he made his escape in clear relief.

The next tributary offered rare and exotic fabrics, which only seemed to interest the Heterodyne fractionally more than the gold. She complimented the weaves that were obviously Spark-work, at least, and then summoned a minion to take them down to the tailors’ guild. Tarvek couldn’t help but watch them go, idly sketching up a few potential uses for those lovely two-tone fabrics. The Lady Heterodyne would look quite amazing in that bronze-toned green.

Another couple of tributes trickled by with more gold and some art pieces, neither of which garnered much interest, but she did toss a few threats at the emissary from Duke D’Omas and ordered him a Jäger ‘escort’ back to his master. The squad of Jägers that left with the man were grinning in a decidedly unpleasant manner. Not, Tarvek thought to himself, that Jägers had any other way of grinning, but even by their standards, their grins were on the malicious end of the scale.

The next emissary had a cart full of what looked to Tarvek like ornaments and toys. He was honestly expecting some indignation or complete disinterest from the Lady Heterodyne, but instead she actually flung herself at the cart with a delighted “Ooh!” Which would teach Tarvek to try and predict a Heterodyne, really. “This is ingenious! These mechanisms are so delicate! Oh! I really like this egg-beater. This is going in my personal kitchen. Minion! Take these up to the Frivolities Lab!” She ordered.

“Yes, Mistress,” came the predictable reply, and a handful of minions hurried forwards to help manoeuvre the cart deeper into the castle.

Lady Heterodyne turned back to the tentatively hopeful emissary, beaming like the insane spark she was. “Where are you from again?” She asked.

“Woggleburg, My Lady.” The woman stammered in reply.

“Excellent. Have a death ray!” Lady Heterodyne enthused, handing the woman a gun nearly as big as her torso. Apparently this Heterodyne expressed gratitude by arming people with death rays. Which was not nearly as reassuring as it sounded, since her grandfather had opened the gates for invaders, and one of her great-great-something uncles had often improved local towns defences specifically so that he could test himself against them.

“Oh! Thank you, My Lady.” The emissary gasped, which was the correct response. As was the hasty exit before she could do anything to turn the Lady’s mood sour.

And finally, it was Tarvek’s turn. The Lady Heterodyne’s eyes lit on him a he and his father’s lackey stepped up, and then they darkened with a scowl. “Where’s your tribute?” She asked, the harmonics rippling like a dire omen through the air.

The lackey cleared his throat. “May I present Prince Tarvek Sturmvoraus of Sturmhalten.” He said in that pompous overly-official tone favoured by aristocrats everywhere.

The Lady Heterodyne’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Do not think that just because Sturmhalten has survived thus far, that you can get away with insulting me like this!” She snarled, looming very effectively for a woman technically shorter than he was. “Where. Is. Your. Tribute?!”

The lackey had gone from full of himself to utterly terrified in seconds, and Tarvek really wished he could recommend his father fire the incompetent imbecile. “I am the tribute, My Lady.” He informed her with weary resignation. “I am at your service.” He added on a bow, because even if he’d been strong-armed into this – and he was going to kill his family even if it took him the rest of his life – that was no reason not to be polite.

When he straightened, he found the Lady Heterodyne looked rather perplexed. “You’re the tribute?” She repeated.

“That’s right, My Lady.” Tarvek confirmed.

“You, a Prince of Sturmhalten?” She checked.

“Yes, My Lady.”

Something dark, but not altogether threatening flickered across her face. “A tribute, I presume, from Prince Aaronev?” She asked.

“Correct, My Lady.”

“Your father?”

“Yes, My Lady.”

Tarvek was a little started when he suddenly found the Lady standing very, very close to him. So close, in fact, that he could feel her breath on his face, and there was scant inches between their bodies. “And what would Aaronev do, do you think, if I sent you home with an army of Jägers?” She wondered, voice low and ominous.

Tarvek swallowed, thinking that confronting a Heterodyne’s rage might just be preferable to facing his father’s wrath if it turned out the Heterodyne girl wouldn’t take him. “I imagine he’d be quite disappointed, My Lady.” He answered carefully.

“Hmph.” Lady Heterodyne responded, stepping back. Now, Tarvek noticed, she did look very threatening. In fact, she looked murderous. Oh dear. “Castle-” She began, and Tarvek couldn’t help but wince a little. He thought he might have seen a spark of amusement in her eyes at that, but he couldn’t be sure. “-prepare the Scarlet Suite for our new guest and have the little worm beside him ejected from my town this instant! Oh, and tell Mamma Gkika to send her best boys to the farms around Sturmhalten. We might not be able to take the city itself, but I want to make Aaronev sweat a little.”

“With pleasure, Mistress.” The booming voice of the Castle replied, filled with wicked delight. The floor shifted, and the slab the lackey was standing on suddenly launched him into the air. He flew the length of the room and landed in the doorway, rolling for several more feet before stopping in a dazed heap. One of the suits of armour around the walls moved on it’s own and proceeded to kick the man out of the courtyard.

Tarvek was, at that moment, very confused, but he knew better than to say anything aloud. What he could tell was that, despite her apparent anger, the Lady Heterodyne had accepted him. He bowed again. “How may I please you, Mistress?” He asked.

Lady Heterodyne gave him a shrewd sort of look at that question, and then started humming, which sent an ominous chill down Tarvek’s spine. He really, really hoped she’d decided to keep him as a minion, not as spare parts.”Everyone out. I’ll take the rest of the tributes tomorrow.” She decided suddenly, and the emissaries were on their way out even before the Jägers could start corralling them.

Tarvek swallowed back the sudden surge of fear-fuelled adrenaline that flooded him as the doors to the throne room slammed shut behind the last of the minions and Vanamonde. The Seneschal had sent him a pitying look as he had passed, which wasn’t very reassuring at all. “My Lady?” Tarvek questioned softly, carefully.

“I don’t like people who mess with other’s free will.” Lady Agatha announced, low and fierce. She stepped closer again, not as close as before, but closer than was socially acceptable.

Tarvek was very confused. “My Lady, I’ve never-”

“Not you.” Lady Agatha interrupted, a touch more snarl in her voice than there had been before. “It’s one thing for people to offer me gold and jewels. They’re boring, but if I got offended every time I found someone boring, there wouldn’t be very many people left.” She announced. Tarvek held his breath and wondered where she was going with this. “But to offer me a person, his own son, like you’re nothing more than a possession, a toy or pet to be traded for favour…” Rage flared in the Lady Heterodyne’s eyes and the Spark rang in her voice like an otherworldly force come to bear on these puny mortals.

“Oh.” Tarvek breathed out in understanding, feeling strangely flattered that this incandescent – and rather stunning – rage was on his behalf. It was more care than he’d been shown in a long time. Since Anevka broke through, really, if he was going to be honest. “Thank you, My Lady.” He added, softly, when Lady Agatha’s eyes focused more clearly on his at his tiny exhalation.

The madness in her eyes faltered for a moment, then flared brighter and stronger than ever. “Right now, I am this close to throwing caution to the wind and invading Sturmhalten anyway, so that I can string your father up and make him beg for death before I feed him to Franz feet first, and then reduce his castle to rubble, raze his city to the ground, and dance in the ashes to celebrate my victory.” She snarled, and Tarvek wondered if it would be possible to talk her out of it. He didn’t want his people to pay for his father’s stupid mistake. But then Lady Agatha closed her eyes and took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. “But he’s your father, and I know that that means something, even if he doesn’t deserve it, so I want you to think very carefully about my next question.” She ordered solemnly. Tarvek nodded, waiting nervously and hardly daring to hope. “How much do you love him?”

Tarvek was honestly taken aback by that, but then realised that he really shouldn’t be. The weight of the question pressed on him as he obeyed her orders and thought long and hard about his answer. “I don’t really know, My Lady.” He confessed finally. “I don’t know if I would even feel sad if he died, or if I’d be angry, or relieved… But I do know that I love my people.”

Lady Agatha studied him for a moment, then clicked her tongue in irritation. “Drat.”

Tarvek blinked, then realised she was pouting. It was unfairly cute on a woman who had only seconds prior been threatening to burn his home to the ground. He had to fight very hard not to laugh, and couldn’t entirely hide his smile. “If it makes a difference, My Lady, I truly do appreciate the offer.”

Lady Agatha did seem somewhat mollified by that, and she smiled back at him, a little shyly, which was another bizarre but oddly endearing look on the most terrifying Spark in Europa. “Right, well, let me show you to your new rooms.” She declared, grabbing his hand and hooking it over her elbow as though he were a damsel she were escorting to a ball. He tried not to blush too heavily or stumble as she started guiding him out of the throne room. “I hope you like them, they’re some of the best in the castle beside my own. Of course, you’ll pretty much have the run of the castle, as my personal guest, but those rooms will be yours. There’s a private lab and plenty of storage space- Oh, sorry, are you even a Spark?” She asked, as if suddenly realising a non-spark wouldn’t find that such a selling point on their rooms.

“I am, My Lady.” Tarvek confirmed, still fighting a blush.

Lady Agatha positively beamed at him. “Wonderful!” She enthused brightly. “Castle? Are the rooms ready?”

“They are, My Lady, but are you sure you wouldn’t prefer I air out the seraglio instead?” The castle inquired. “It’s surely the best place to keep him and any more, ahem, gifts of this manner.”

“If I get any more gifts like this I am going to melt their castle to slag!” Agatha vowed, temper flaring. “You can air out the seraglio all you like, Tarvek won’t be staying there. Unless he wants to, of course, but I can’t imagine why anyone would.” She added irritably.

Tarvek had to fight down a blush as vibrant as his hair. He, personally, could think of a few reasons why someone would want to stay in this particular Heterodyne’s seraglio.