#general khrizhan

[bigasswritingmagnet]

The First of Many Goodbyes

Fandom: Girl Genius Pairing: Oggie/Oggie's wife (please name her, Foglios, I beg you) Summary: One of Ognian's greatest losses is fast approaching, and Khrizhan must make him understand that the death that Jӓgers are surrounded by is found at home as much as the battlefield.

A far distant sequel to Meet-Cute-ish.

AO3 Link

It was a nice little house in a nice part of town, with a slate roof and stone walls, brightly painted yellow shutters, a rose trellis, window boxes of small white flowers. And yet a pall hung over the house, an invisible but palpable sense of foreboding and grief, like an incredibly localized stormcloud.

Khrizhan knocked on the door, gently. After a moment or two, it opened. A young woman with a mass of soft ginger curls looked up at him in surprise.

“Good mornink,” he said, politely. “Hy is here to speak to Ognian.”

Her eyes narrowed; her expression grim and wary. Stiffly, she nodded and stepped aside.

The dark cloud was even heavier inside than out, turning the comfortable home into a something like a living tomb. Khrizhan was led into a sitting room and somewhat stonily bade to rest himself in a loveseat that was only just large enough to contain his bulk.

“Grandpoppa,” the girl called, and disappeared through a doorway.

As Khrizhan waited, he took in his surroundings. The furnishings were eclectic but comfortable. The walls were crowded with pictures and trophies, and shelves covered in little knickknacks. Above the fireplace was a painting, a family portrait of parents, children, and grandchildren. Ognian had bragged about it for months, and Khrizhan had to admit it was masterfully done. The artist had managed to capture the sly smile and playful disposition that turned Radka's ugliness into its own kind of beauty.

Ognian shuffled in, and Khrizhan felt his heart sink in sympathy. He had never seen the other man so miserable before. No hint of his perpetual smile; his boundless energy had been bound tight in the exhaustion that sagged his shoulders. Khrizhan did not take it personally when Ognian stared blankly at him without saluting.

“Sit, Ognian,” Khrizhan said, kindly.

Ognian did so, slowly sinking down onto an armchair directly across the low table between them.

“How is she?” Khrizhan asked. He didn’t really want to ask, didn’t need to ask, if it came to that, but it was necessary. The very question seemed to cause Ognian to shrink in on himself.  

“Doctor says any…any day now.” His eyes flicked back to the doorway he’d come in through, and Khrizhan knew the man wanted him out of the house so he could return to his wife’s side. Dimo had said no one had seen Ognian in three days.

“Hy tought as much. Ve—”  

Ognian’s son appeared, bearing a tray with a teapot, one teacup, and one larger mug that would be easier for Khrizhan to hold. The arrival seemed to startle Ognian out of his fog and into the present.

“Oh,” he said, dismayed. “Hy should have asked—”

Khrizhan waved it away.

“Hyu has effery reason to be distracted.”

Vasil set the tray down on the table between them, and Khrizhan took a moment to compare the two men. They had always looked astonishingly similar, and there had been a period of time where they had often been mistaken for each other. But Vasil had aged, while his father had not, and now Khrizhan wondered if Ognian ever looked at his son and saw the man he might have been, if he had taken a different path.

Vasil left, pausing to squeeze his father’s shoulder; Ognian put a distracted hand over his, squeezing back. Khrizhan waited until the man was out of the room.

“De Heterodyne has announce he vishes to ride out—”

Ognian snapped around to face Khrizhan, his entire body going rigid, the color visibly draining from his face. Khrizhan raised a hand, forestalling a reaction.

“—und Hy is here to tell hyu to stay home.”

Ognian sagged again, his eyes closing briefly.

“Until furder notice, hyu is relieved of all duties. Stay vit hyu lady und hyu family. De Heterodyne...understands."

It took Ognian several heavy swallows before he could whisper out “Tank hyu.”

Wordlessly, Khrizhan served the tea. Ognian was staring out of the room again, chewing on his thumbnail, lost in thought. Absentmindedly, he took the cup Khrizhan gave him and sipped it. He choked and nearly gagged at the taste. Khrizhan, his own mug halfway to his lips, paused.

Ognian gestured for Khrizhan to hand over his cup and began to liberally doctor both cups with sugar and cream.

“Hy love my son very much,” Ognian said in a low voice, “but he ken’t make tea vorth a damn.”

Khrizhan took his mug again and warily took a very tiny sip. Even with all the additions, he could taste that Ognian’s son had somehow managed to burn the tea leaves. 

“Vell,” Khrizhan said, tactfully setting the mug aside, “dot leads me to de odder reason Hy came to see hyu.”

Ognian looked wary, his hands tight on the cup.

“Hyu is a young Jӓger,” Khrizhan said. “Young enuff dot hyu could still be alive, if hyu had not taken de Jӓgerdraught.” He nodded towards the door Ognian could not keep his eyes from. “She is de forst vun dot hyu should not have outlived. She vill not be de last. Novhere near de last. De pipple around hyu vill age und die und hyu vill keep goink.” He met Ognian’s eyes and spoke without cruelty or mercy. “Hyu vill live to see hyu son die.”

Ognian put the cup down with a clatter and buried his face in his hands. He was shaking all over. Khrizhan wished he could, somehow, make it not be so. He had had this conversation with hundreds of Jӓgers, watched them face down the looming future and the endless centuries of loss it promised, and every time wished he could change it.

“It is de price ve pay for de gifts de Jӓgerdraught gives us, und it is a steep vun. It is easy for us to…lose touch. Ognian.”

Ognian raised his face, silent tears running down his cheeks.

“It is very temptink to give up. To stay avay from everyvun, to lose hyuself in blood und var. Hy haff seen it before, und it leads to madness, alvays. Find someting dot grounds hyu, someting dot keeps hyu connected to de vorld und its pipple. Someting dot vill help hyu keep being hyuself.”

He glanced meaningfully at the picture over the fireplace, and Ognian’s eyes followed his gaze. The man wiped the tears from his face, looking thoughtful.

“Hy tink Hy can do dot,” he said, softly.

Khrizhan nodded and rose.

“Good. Hy vill take no more of hyu time. Hy know it is precious to hyu.”

Ognian walked him to the door, where Khrizhan put a hand on his shoulder.

“Take de time hyu need. Ven hyu is ready to come back, hyu let me know.” Khrizhan hesitated, and then said, softly, “Hy iz…very sorry, Ognian.”  

“I’m not even dead yet.”

Both Jӓgers jumped. In the room adjacent, Khrizhan saw a large bed had been set up. Lying half-lost amidst the pillows was Radka. She was hardly recognizable as the vivacious woman Khrizhan had known—only a few strands of red in her gray hair, the arms laid out on the blankets knobbly and thin, pale and parchment-skinned—but the look in her eyes was as sharp as ever.

“Hyu is supposed to be asleep,” Ognian scolded.

The woman snorted.

“All I do is sleep. Who is it? Khrizhan? Get in here.”

“Radka,” Ognian said, exasperated despite himself.

“It is my prerogative as a sickly old woman to make as much of a nuiscance of myself as I can!”

“Fine,” Ognian said. “But if hyu’s avake it means hyu can take hyu medicine.”

“Oh really,” Radka called as her husband disappeared down the hallway. “Red fire, Ognian, I’m already dying, what good will it do me?”

Khrizhan chuckled as he approached the bed.

“Good to see hyu hasn’t changed any.”

Radka’s lips quirked as she lay back against the pillows.

“Nonsense. I’m incredibly ornery. I’m on my second doctor, and I’m pretty sure I drove the first one to drink.”

“Ya,” Khrizhan said, nodding. “Not changed at all.”

Radka smiled, but it was rueful and faded quickly. She reached out and grabbed his wrist. He was shocked at how weak her grip was. It was as if the mere act of curling her fingers took all the strength she had.

“Will he be alright?” she asked, softly. “They’re all being insufferably brave around me.” Radka let her hand drop away. “As pleasing as it would be to my ego, I would rather he not spend the rest of his existence wearing black and walking the walls, weeping."

“No,” Khrizhan said, reassuringly. He went for absolute honesty, knowing she would accept nothing else. “He vill suffer, yez, but he vill come beck. He haz hiz family, und as long as he haz dem, he vill not lose himself.”

Radka smiled.

“Good.” Then her smile went a little wider and she started to snicker. Khrizhan raised an eyebrow. “He’s got a vested interest in ensuring the continuation of the family line,” Radka pointed out, eyes shining. “He’s going to be worse than the castle.”

Khrizhan burst out laughing. She was absolutely right. Herding angry mammoths was an easier task than redirecting Ognian when he’d set his mind to something.

“My sympathies to hyu descendants,” he said with a broad grin.

“Vut’s so funny?” Ognian asked, appearing in the door with a small cup in his hand.

“I’m mocking you behind your back,” Radka said.

“Ho, nize break from hyu mockink me to my face,” he said, unperturbed.

Ognian sat down on the bed beside her and handed Radka the cup—though Khrizhan noted he kept his fingers pressed to the bottom, subtly supporting it as she drank. When she had finished, Radka made a face and mock glared at him.

“Fusspot,” she said, stroking his wrist.

“Old hag,” he replied, with aching fondness.

“Hy must go now,” Khrizhan said. “Ve prepare for tomorrow. Tink on vut Hy said, Ognian.”

“Thank you for visiting,” Radka said, warmly. “It was nice to see you.”

The 'one last time' was not said, but felt all the same.

Khrizhan bowed, his eyes stinging slightly, and left them there.

[big-ass-magnet]

Stosh snapped to attention. "Dis iz Mizz Agatha Clay, who smells verra nize, but tinks der Baron iz kippink uz like dose poncy useless Lackya." He thought for a moment. "Sir," he added. The general stared at Agatha through narrowed eyes. "She sees dot, does she?" He stared for another moment and then closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "Thank you, Stosh, I vill talk to her. Beck to hyu post."

-Agatha H and the Airship City, chapter 6

She sees that. Not, she thinks that.

Hundreds and hundreds of years of being Europa's boogeymen, being the hand picked army of the Heterodynes, and now they're just another one of the Baron's rescues. Still dangerous, still feared, but here because they have to be, not because they want to be.

I put both the book quote and the comic panel, because of the difference in Stosh's line:

"thinks the Baron is keeping us like [the] Lakya"

vs

"thinks we are like [the] Lakya"

Very similar, but the latter implies offense at the comparison with the Lakya themselves; while the former is focused on the comparison with the Lakya's situation.

On some level, I think the Jӓgers are aware that their situations are very similar, which is why Agatha's statement bothers Stosh so much. I don't think the Jӓgers and the Lakya would get along in any situation, for the same reason they don't get along with Boris, but I think they wouldn't loathe each other to the same degree.

[I wonder if the Lakya hate the Jӓgers because the Jӓgers started it, or if they see themselves in the Jӓgers, too. They were more powerful than you ever were, and yet this is what they are now and what they will be, forever. What does that mean for you? The Baron does say they are starting to get restless.]

But I think it's more subconcious for the average Jӓger (Jӓgers are more clever than they act, but not...super duper introspective, on the whole).

The generals on the other hand...

She sees that, does she?

The generals are very aware of their situation.

They never expected the Heterodynes to return! They never thought they would have to deal with this! They never thought they would have to look the Heterodyne in the face and have them know that the Jӓgers weren't strong enough.

From Khrizhan's perspective, the boss is (possibly) back and she has very quickly picked up on the situation, on how low you had to sink in the name of survival. Not to mention, she's a total unknown. Came out of nowhere. Is she like her father? Is she like the old Heterodynes?

Do you think the generals ever wondered, ever worried, that if Bill and Barry came back and saw Klaus had taken the Jӓger problem off their hands--Maybe the boys would have been just fine with that?

If this new Heterodyne doesn't know them, if this is her impression of them...is she going to want them? If she's like the old Heterodynes, would she want an army that isn't strong enough to defend itself, let alone her? If she's like her father, would she want an army of men who have done the things they've done?

He knows what she sees. What's she going to think?

[camthewizard]

A surefire way to impress the Jager generals is by beating someone up.

[allthisandtea]

Here’s a couple more things!  Sorry for the fuzzy photos--the pieces are too big to scan.

[johnconstantinesdick]

If you’re still taking GG prompts, can I ask for the Castle, the Seneschal and the Jagergenerals all arguing about who’s going to raise their recently orphaned baby Heterodyne, please?

Read on AO3

The nurse hadn’t relinquished her hold of the baby even once in the week since the tragedy had occurred. A trio of jägers had found her staggering out of the Castle in the wake of the explosion, cradling young Klaus Barry in her arms. The sharp claws tipping her hands had snarled themselves in his blanket but had not broken skin.

He’d been screaming. She’d been silent. The jägers had lead her to Mamma Gkika’s, where she’d claimed a corner to clutch her charge close and stare out over the bar with a wary protectiveness.

She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone but Klaus Barry all week, and even then she only spoke to him in soothing murmurs, never raising her voice enough to be understood by even the sharp hearing of the jägers that gathered in the bar.

The survivors rally, heads are counted, and the Generals are called to meeting, and Otilia watches all the while.

The reinstated seneschal says, when they’ve all gathered with an uncharacteristic sort of mourning silence, “My grandson is around the Heterodyne’s age. My daughter-in-law and I are willing to raise him.”

“NO-O-O.” Castle Heterodyne says. It’s voice is glitching, skipping, an audible illustration of the damage it sustained in the attack. “I NE-E-ED MY HETERODYNE.”

“He’ll be in the city.” Carson argues. “You can’t expect to raise him by yourself, especially not in the condition you’re in.”

“HE WILL-WILL-WILL BE SAFE.” The Castle argues.

“Like he vas last veek?” Mamma Gkika asks, crossing her arms. “He barely made it out alive.”

“De jägers can take care uf him. He vill be safe vit us.” General Khrizhan proposes.

“You want a group of jägers to raise the Heterodyne?” Carson demands, voice rising. “That’s almost worse than the Castle--”

“EX-EXCUSE ME?” The Castle says, affronted.

“He’s our Heterodyne!” Another jäger argues, slamming a hand down on the table.

Klaus Barry whimpers, and in one motion Otilia rises to her feet and hisses, “Quiet.”

Surprisingly, they fall into silence at her word. Otilia clutches Klaus Barry closer to her chest, and he murmurs intelligibly before falling back into his doze.

“Klaus Barry is mine to protect.” Otilia says, the words still strange and unpracticed in the way they come from the vibrating vocal cords in her throat rather than the synthesized voice of her original vessel.

So many things are strange, now. The meat of her new body, the rattling of air in her lungs, the pumping of blood in her veins, the too-impulsive, too-fragmented emotions that spark in her brain matter.

The way her heart squeezes every time she looks at her sleeping charge.

She’s clumsy, still, in how she moves, but she makes sure to be careful with him. She cannot hurt him. She is--was, now?--the Muse of Protection, and her duty now is to the sleeping Heterodyne Heir that she cannot help but love, in the same way that she and her sisters could not help but love Andronicus Valois. She would kill a thousand men to keep this child safe, and she wouldn’t regret a single one.

“I will care for him.” She says, after a too long beat of silence. “I was made to care for him. You won’t take him from me.”

After another long beat of silence, Carson says, carefully, “Well. That’s settled, then.”

Otilia nods shortly, and retakes her seat. She is a muse. It’s second nature to observe when she cannot advise, and her charge will need to get used to these people and their meetings before he is in a position to lead them. She needs to be ready to help and guide him when he reaches that age.

[gg-prompted-fics]

Spark-Exchange

Title: Bearishness

From: gg-prompted-fics

For: @sociopathbrony

Rating: T

Warnings: Jenka is a little depressed?

Summary: Jenka gets ready for winter. 

(set about 6 years after Klaus Wulfenbach makes a deal with the Jägers)

Leaning back against the broad, furry expanse of Füst, Jenka sighed. For a moment, she entertained herself by running through various supply lists, trying to figure out what she might need to stockpile and cache for the next winter, but she let that thought go swiftly. 

There were easier ways to survive in the wilds, and a Jäger could always hunt. But, the part of her that had been once been a woodsman’s daughter would still count her meager supplies and find them wanting, no matter how many centuries removed she was from those hungry, lean winters, before she’d made a stand against a Heterodyne’s raiding party, and caught the interest, and later mentorship, of General Khrizhan.

Still, Füst was slowing, and she would need a find a place soon for the bear to hole up for the winter. 

Letting out a disgusted grunt at the thought, she wriggled against Füst, cuddling deeper into his fur. Füst grunted and leaned against her slightly, as he presented an ear to be rubbed. Jenka scratched at it absently. 

“Hy’ll miss hyu, hyu big lump,” she whispered. 

“Hey, deed hyu hear dot? She said she missed us!” 

Jenka blinked, and was up in a flash, even as she found and identified the intruders. Maxim, Ognian, and Dimo.

Of course, it was those three who would randomly find her in the wilds, when she knew there wasn’t a single settlement for a good thirty or more miles around. She was waiting for them to randomly discover the Other someday at this rate. The three had the habit of popping up at odd times together. 

They were supposed to be on the western side of the mountains, now that she thought about. She wasn’t sure how far the news had spread about the incident that summer with Maxim, and she had wanted them as far from the news as possible. 

“Are hyu lot sayink hyu know vot lumps hyu are?” she growled. 

“Well, ve seem to take a lot uf dem to our heads,” Dimo muttered. 

Jenka rolled her eyes slightly, even as she filed the remark away. That had been said too seriously to just have been the normal joking, and Jägers were careful about that. A complaint like that meant he thought that they might be able to do better. It hadn’t actually been anything she could call him on, but it was further evidence the Jäger could be leader material. Someday. When he stopped making so many boneheaded moves. And maybe stopped letting himself get dragged into so many issues. Mischief was all well and good in town, but they had a mission, as hopeless as it seemed. 

“We don’t make dem,” Oggie protested, clearly seeing what could happen if Dimo kept making such pointed remarks. “We jusht happen to be dere.”

“Causink trouble,” Jenka agreed, and let the humor slip into her voice. The trio always seemed to get out of trouble by themselves, and while their luck would end someday, for now, Jenka was inclined to let them have it. 

There was little enough joy in this task. They’d likely spend the rest of their lives searching.

Jenka shivered, the prospect stretching bleak before her, even as she told herself it was hardly the first time, and least she wasn’t stuck in the charade of playing Lady Jenka, mysterious beauty, for an unknown period of time, without proper backup. Lady Jenka was great for sneaky games, especially when the Heterodyne came at the end to help set everything on fire, but Jenka didn’t want to be her all the time. 

Of course, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be Jenka, commander of the wild Jäger all the time either, for all that she had volunteered herself out of all the Generals for the task. 

Even now, she remembered all the outs the other Generals had given her. They’d known how it would be. Jägers were not meant to be on their own, with no equals. But none of the other Generals could have been spared from their tasks, and others were alone too. 

Still, at this rate, she’d promote Dimo just to have someone she could talk to, leader to leader. If he stopped being such an idiot anyway. 

“Yas,” Maxim said, after Dimo had kicked him. “Ve jusht happened to be dere. Jusht like ve happen to be here!”

“Uh-huh,” Jenka said, still waiting for the punchline. 

“Ve thought hyu’d need us,” Oggie said far too earnest. 

Jenka swallowed and looked away, feeling exposed. They shouldn’t have seen that. They shouldn’t know. The Generals were supposed to be the best of them, the ones who did all the worrying, the ones who led the Hunts, the ones who worried for the Pack. 

“It’s shtrange times,” Dimo offered slowly, “Livink vitout a Heterodyne.”

Jenka eyed him and wondered if he knew what she was planning for him one day. 

“Yes,” she said simply. 

“Und it’s almosht vinter,” Dimo said. “Sopposed to be a hard vun.”

“It might be cold!” Maxim added, with a theatrical shudder. 

“Hyu need us,” Oggie said simply, looking far too sincere. 

Maxim was looking at her, and suddenly she was far too aware that he was far more astute than he usually acted. 

“Do hyu need a fight?” he asked abruptly, looking all too knowing.

“No.”

“To fu-“

“No,” Jenka said, more sharply. She’d never been much interested in sex. 

“That leaves feel. Or someting more unusual, bot Hy’d bet feel.” 

Carefully, intent clear, he reached for her. 

Jenka let him, and seeing her non-reaction, the other two joined the embrace.

Maxim wasn’t wrong. 

Füst was a good bear, but he wasn’t exactly Jägerkin. And she needed her siblings.

Later, she would never be able to say how long they stood there, or how they had managed to settle her down into her bedroll, nor how long she lay breathing in Oggie’s arms as Dimo and Maxim curled tightly into her sides. 

All she knew was skin and touch and breathes, as they lay together beneath the stars. 

She hadn’t been held by her siblings like this since Mechanicsburg, when the Generals had realized what must be done. 

It was morning before she could string together a sentence properly.  

Maxim was brushing out her hair, and arguing with Oggie about how he’d braid it. 

“Hyu’ll knot my hair if hyu really do try to a fifteen shtrund braid.”

“Hy can do it,” Oggie protested. 

“No, he can’t,” Maxim muttered. 

“Vun basic braid,” Jenka insisted. 

Maxim hummed agreement and started plaiting her hair. 

“Hyu beck vit us?” Oggie asked. 

“Yah.”

“Dot vas pritty bad,” Dimo said, looking up from the breakfast porridge he was seasoning liberally with paprika. 

Jenka nodded and was grateful that they waited for her to decide.  

“Vinter,” she finally said. “Hy tink ve should spend de vinters together, de four uf us.” 

Maxim’s hands flattered in their rhythm, and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder. Dimo looked satisfied, and Oggie delighted. 

Relaxing further, Jenka began to outline just what this would mean for their searches and the logistics of meeting up each fall. It was simple details, the work of half an hour to decide, even as at the back of her mind, the part of her that had once been a woodsman’s daughter planned. Food and drink and all the little luxuries would be worth stockpiling for the winter if there would be four of them. 

And she bet cuddling would be even better if it wasn’t on the ground. 

Thinking of the future, Jenka leaned into the touch of her brothers, and finally felt like they could find a Heterodyne, if they only looked hard enough. 

[journeysintowebcomics]

Girl Genius Liveblog #163

UPDATE 163: Generals Can Fight

Last time Tarvek had managed to run away from Othar by leaving Violetta to suffer as his sidekick. He is escorted somewhere else by a Jager. Let’s see how this goes.

It takes a surprisingly short time for Tarvek to be escorted. I’m used for characters moving from one place to another taking like 586 pages, it’s a bit of a shock it’s done in just three squares. Since he wants to talk about military stuff, it’s only appropriate he talks with the right people.

It’s the generals...plus Krosp, who is hanging out here for some reason. Going from emperor to general is kind of a downgrade, cat! Although...yeah, maybe he’ll be useful. He’s reasonable intelligent, he knows how people think, and I think he’s a good tactician given how he had plans for the cats he was supposed to commander, so maybe he’ll be a good fit here.

Also wow, that red guy’s clothing looks hazardous to be near of.

The rule is that you can’t sit at the generals’ table without a hat, so that’s why Krosp has his. The mood here is relatively lighthearted, even though Tarvek can immediately say they’re worried, and counts them. There are seven generals alive right now, and there are four here. Hmmm...Gkika is currently meeting Agatha, that makes five and leaves two that may dissent. That’s rather concerning, because Jagers are all about loyalty, aren’t they? I mean, Vole got kicked out of the Jagermonsters army for turning against the Heterodyne Boys and tried to kill them. A dissension must be really serious business.

Okay, looks like there aren’t dissensions. One of the generals should have arrived already, which is kind of worrying. I’ll hope for the best and think he’s just a bit tardy in arriving here, no betrayal. Another is not just any old general.

Is that so? I think it’s of no surprise that Higgs is the very first name that came to mind. Honestly, at this point I’d be very surprised if Higgs isn’t even a Jager. I’m even counting what Gkika said before as foreshadowing – her changing skin color and mentioning how some Jagers get horns, fangs and stuff, and others don’t.

Of course the generals know about the Other in Agatha’s head, why wouldn’t they? Tarvek is pleased to inform he’ll be capable of removing this invading presence from Agatha’s head, because smooching Agatha while her mother is there, watching like a creep, is weird. Hah! I find kind of funny he has given consideration to this he nonchalantly responds ‘well I’m not going to kiss her before—“ and stops when he realizes he just said he’s planning to kiss Agatha. Just like everyone except Gil and Agatha, the generals are amused to hear Gil has some competition. It’s as if the entire world is watching to see what man Agatha decides to get together with!

Right, it’s time for military talk. Tarvek tries to bring up that the Baron has been wasped, but since the universe seems to be conspiring to hide that fact for a while, he’s interrupted by a commotion outside. It’s a dirigible being shot down, and that would be nothing surprising in these war-filled times above Mechanisburg if it wasn’t because both the attacker and the victim belong to Wulfenbach’s troops. Perhaps that blimp contains Jagers, and this is retaliation for them leaving the troops to join Agatha?

There’s a forced landing in a place I hope is already empty, and isn’t too far away. Tarvek immediately gets ready to bolt out of the room and go help people get to safety because it seems he knows who exactly was there. Spies, perhaps? If so then it’s no surprise the troops shot them. The generals aren’t in a hurry to go, and not because Tarvek is from an opposing faction, technically.

I guess that is a no. When’s the last time these guys fought? Because this seems like quite the flaw, generals who aren’t good at fighting.

Around a dozen and half soldiers that look like they just got here from visiting a graduation items store descend from the attacking airship, most likely not expecting to be attacked. Despite what they said about not knowing how to fight, they’re being clever enough by defeating some before they even touch the ground. My bad, I underestimated the generals for a moment.

...I really did! So much for making clueless faces when Tarvek mentioned fighting! Speaking of Tarvek, where is he? I suppose while the generals are fighting so well, he’s busy going to the airship to rescue people. Seizing the chance to do that as soon as possible seems like a wise move to me, after all. I have to wonder who on that ship is so important he’s so frenzied about having to rescue them, though.

Since this group is being absolutely obliterated, they decide to retreat and fry everything from the air, which isn’t something the generals are pleased to hear about. This big guy here – Gargantua is his name, apparently – puts his crimes against fashion to good use and skewers troops with several spikes.

During all these attacks, general Khrizhan –I had to go check Volume 2 pages to find the name -- who has been criticizing their moves and wondering if they’re fair. Is it really the moment to worry about fairness?

Ah. Hm. Alright! Give me a second, I have to get a certain frame from earlier. Just a little bit of tinkering and...

Yeah, that’s it. This is my current sentiment towards these developments.

Everyone who is nearby applauds the generals’ superb fighting, and all Tarvek can do is stare, shocked. He really didn’t expect all this skill, did he? There are other matters to be concerned about, such as to why nobody has left the airship that crashed. That’s not a good sign...maybe they really are all dead? The airship had dangerous people for the empire. Well that’s...bad?

...hm. Supposing this airship was shot down under Wulfenbach’s orders, in which case I’m a bit surprised Lucrezia didn’t try to use dangerous people for her advantage. Or maybe she tried and failed. Who knows. It’s a bit concerning, just what kind of people is in there?

Whoever it is doesn’t impress the Jager. No warriors, then? That’ll be for next time, I’m stopping for now.

Next time: next update 

[sameenbyhat]

Thank you so much for your reply! I loved EVERYTHING about it. Guess this means a LOT of Jagers are women here, huh. I'm dying over Andy and Euphrosynicus's "sworn friendship ceremony". I bet anything that Mechanicsburg already had gay marriage by that time. The Castle being called the Mother of Mechanicsburg! And not being very good at it! Bob's knitting maze! Lucrezius having to make his own womb. I'd love to see more of this, but it's ok if you're done ;).

Thank YOU for asking, Nonymous!

So many Jagers are women. Those who are not are 100% aware that being beaten by a woman is no more shameful than being beaten by a man. Generals Zog, Khrizhan, and Gkika are women. (MB others, but those are the ones of the Jagers in canon.)

Mechanicsburg has had gay marriage since the first time someone asked the Ht’rok-din to marry her to her swordmate.

Mama Gkika is the real Mother of Mechanicsburg. (But she’s a couple years younger than the Castle, so shhh.)

I didn’t even mention the embroidery cannons :)

Lucrezius would not be the first male Heterodyne consort to have carried the child in his own body, it’s just that usually the Heterodyne is, um, aware of it...

I want to see more of this, too. :D

[jaegermonster]

chapter 3 (pgs 82-137)

[iztarshi]

Jäger Flirting Thoughts

For no real reason, honestly.

Oggie may be the best at flirting, he’s certainly the one most interested in actually getting sex and not bad at getting people to consider it. He seems to have an actual thing with the Pink Jägergirl, considering he’s apologising for missing her show again, and Old Man Death’s waitress didn’t seem averse to going somewhere private.

Dimo’s flirting with a Jägergirl seemed more just friendly. He wasn’t actually propositioning her, although I’m sure he’d be down for it. He also flirts with Countess Marie, but can’t possibly expect that to go anywhere.

Maxim is the only one not to flirt with a Jägergirl, because he’s totally distracted by finding clothes for Gil. Fashion! He seems interested in Zuixippe mostly because she smacked him over the head with a jar of olives (which is a fairly typical Jäger thing, honestly, Oggie may be the most successful because he doesn’t require it). And he hits on Agatha, but I don’t think he meant that, he seems pretty happy to drop it when she orders him around properly.

If you count extra-canonical stuff, though, Maxim has also flirted, insincerely but extremely enthusiastically, with Gil and Tarvek.

Maxim says he’s “neffer luffed” which... I’m not sure how seriously to take that, but it strikes me as sort of plausible at least? Especially if you count Cinderella, because that makes the most sustained flirting we’ve seen him do with people already claimed by his Heterodyne. He’s having a great time, but flirting for its own sake.

Flirting with Von Pinn was apparently a pastime for most Jägers on CW. I feel like Oggie wouldn’t have? Months of dodging claws doesn’t seem like his idea of a good time. At least, not the kind of good time he’s looking for when flirting.

Only Jäger/Jäger relationship we’ve had hinted at is Gkika/Khrizhan. She is into tusks and apparently he left his clothes at her place. It does make me wonder if it’s like... a General thing? A lot of Jäger cultural things don’t apply as much to the really early ones. The younger Jägers are much more familial and seem to consider Gkika as “Mamma” and Jenka as a sister. Although I may be taking that a touch more literally than they do.

[timekeeperart]

The 2nd audio book mentions Klaus getting drunk with the Jäger generals after they think the Heterodyne is dead, and I had to draw it. Plus feels.

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Introducing Gkika

Fandom:Girl Genius Summary:

The soldier who swaggered into camp had short hair and trousers, and that was the extent of any pretext of disguising herself as a man. - Gkika joins the raiders, her way.

AO3 Link

The soldier who swaggered into camp had short hair and trousers, and that was the extent of any pretext of disguising herself as a man.

Oh, she had bound her breasts—but only barely, hiding no more than a particularly tight corset would, and the shirt she wore hung open enough that you could see the curves.

Her passing garnered many raised eyebrows, but she did not seem to notice, instead making a beeline for the generals’ tents where Zog and Alexi—his general’s badge still shiny and new—were seated at a table, going over the map of their last battle. She stepped up to the table, put her hands on her hips in such a way as to emphasize a very curvaceous waist, and said in a voice that was low and husky and undeniably feminine—

"General Zog, General Khrizhan, Hy vould like to ride vit de Jӓgers.”

Alexi looked to Zog, and tried to do so as one general yielding to another’s expertise, rather than one who’d only been general for a few months and still wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing when they weren’t fighting.

Zog did not stir in his chair, but gazed levelly at the woman from across the table. Her grin didn’t falter; her cheerful enthusiasm remained undampened in the face of a look that could make even the toughest of Jӓgers squirm.

“Iz dot so.”

“Yessir!” She saluted, sharply.

“Und do hyu haff any experience fightink?”

“Lots!” she said. “Mine Poppa trained me, und Hy helps guards de vagons when ve take de deliveries out of de valley.”

It wasn’t an unlikely story. There were artisans in Mechanicsburg who did business with outsiders, and someone had to take things from point M to point B. And it followed that those artisans would need someone to guard those shipments from bandits, soldiers, and the occasional wacky mixup with the Jӓgers.

Work as a caravan guard was pretty solid experience for a raider, if somewhat ironic.

“Hands,” Zog said, brusquely. When the woman looked puzzled, Zog scowled. “Show dem to me, come on!”

Obligingly, the woman held out her hands. There were thick calluses on her palms and fingers in the right places for wielding a weapon, and several thin scars that spoke of knife fights won the hard way. The woman was at least telling the truth about knowing how to fight.

Zog settled back in his chair again.

“Hmph. Und hyu dun tink hyu got anyting better to do vit hyu life?”

“Nope!”

Alexi managed to turn the laugh into a clearing of his throat. Zog’s eyes narrowed.

“Vut iz hyu name, girl.”

The woman looked shocked by the question.

“General!” she cried, with comically wide eyes. In a voice so dramatically offended it could not possibly be serious, she said  “Efferyvun knows vimmin don't fight! Hy iz a boy!"

Every head in earshot snapped around to look at her.

“A boy,” Zog repeated, flatly.

Alexi leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair, and leaned his chin on his hand, positioned just so as to subtly cover his mouth.

“Of cawz. Look at mine hair.” She reached up a hand and flicked her short-cropped hair.

Alexi shut his eyes and clamped down hard on the laugh in his throat.  

“Fine. Vut is hyu name, boy.” Zog said the word with almost acidic sarcasm.

“Hy iz called Gkika.”

A few snickers and a smattering of laughter from the watchers as Zog visibly struggled to contain his temper. Alexi actually managed to get himself under control enough to sit up, although his mouth trembled as he fought to keep a straight face.

“Dot,” he growled, “is a not a boy’s name.”

Gkika shook her head, sadly.

“Hy know. Mine mama vanted a girl.”  

That did it. Alexi burst out laughing. He buried his face in his hands, but couldn’t stop himself. Distantly he heard Zog snap at Gkika to get a tent and get out of his sight.

“Hyu is a disgrace,” Zog grumbled at Alexi. “Und so is she.”

Alexi took in a deep breath and sat back in his chair. Gkika was just about to enter the quartermaster’s tent. She caught his eye, winked, and disappeared inside.

She was going to be trouble. 

Good trouble or bad trouble—or Jӓger trouble—remained to be seen, but Alexi was looking forward to finding out.

[bigasswritingmagnet]

But I Don't WANT to be a General

Fandom: Girl Genius Rating: G Summary: The town is unfrozen, and the rest of the generals are back. Dimo would like this to mean HE does not have to be a general any more.

It does not.

[Inspired by adiduk's very excellent fic, The General. They were not involved in the writing of this fic, which is not intended as a sequel.]

AO3 link!

Dimo had been summoned to the Jӓgerbüro.

People were always surprised to hear the generals did not meet in the Jӓgerhall, as if it wasn’t incredibly obvious what it would be like trying to have a serious discussion and sign paperwork while the Jӓger pack was drinking and carousing a floor below you.

The temptation to join in would be unbearable.  

Instead, the generals did their business in the Jӓgerbüro: a small, heavily-reinforced building directly at the foot of the road up to the castle. While the Jӓgers were gone, it had been turned into a souvenir shop. Currently, it was in the process of being very rapidly un-turned into a souvenir shop. The expeditiousness of the project was assisted by General Goomblast, who had hurled all the shelves of knickknacks out of the windows the second he set foot inside.

With the desperate, delusional hope of a man heading to the gallows telling himself there will be a last-minute pardon, Dimo considered the generals perhaps wanted a debrief of the last two years before releasing him back into the relatively worry-free status of a low-level officer.  

Oh, to let the words “supply lines” go back to being something that happened to someone else.

The shattered windows had been boarded up, which made the front room seem gloomy and oppressive. The büro’s former tenants were packing up their merchandice with speed, if not efficiency.  They barely spared Dimo a glance before pointing towards the large, black, metal door that led to the meeting room proper.

Dimo took a breath and knocked on the door, waited for the call of Vut hyu vant?, braced himself, and went inside.

Dimo had actually been in here a handful of times, back when he was new in the ranks and ran messages for the generals. It was more or less as he remembered it—decorations and furniture selected for the ability to survive both the ravages of time and being thrown at a wall, the heavy curtains to muffle sound, the safety lanterns that would put themselves out if they were knocked over during a discussion.

The generals were arranged around the long, dark table, watching him intently.

Dimo was somewhat surprised to see that Higgs had joined them. His position being what it was, it was rare for him to risk attracting attention by appearing in the company of the other generals. But here he was, tipping his chair back on two legs and puffing on his pipe, leaving only three chairs empty instead of the usual—

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait—

Three empty chairs, one for Øsk, out of respect; one for Zadipok, still missing; and one for--

Higgs raised an eyebrow at him.

Oh no.

Oh no.

���But Hy vasn’t even trying to be de general!” he burst out, practically wailing. “Hy vus just making sure tings happened!”  

“Ho yus,” Goomblast said, gravely. “Dots how it gets hyu. Vun minute, hyu is just doing vut needs to be done, and den suddenly, boom, hyu has a chair und everyvun is saluting hyu.”

Gkika shook her head.

“Terrible ting, de forst time dey salutes hyu.”

Khrizhan rose and put a friendly hand on Dimo’s shoulder. Gently but firmly, he began to steer Dimo towards one of the chairs. Dimo tried to dig his heels in, but Khrizhan was twice his size in nearly every direction, and so he simply slid along the floor towards the chair and its aura of inescapable responsibility.

“But—!”

Khrizhan picked Dimo up by the shoulders, lifted him up, and sat him down on the chair next to Koppelslav.

“But—!”

“Dots vut being a general is,” Zog said, not unkindly. “Hyu see vut has to be done, and hyu feel hyu has to do it.”  

“Hy didn’t heff to do it,” Dimo insisted, fighting the urge to whine. “Hy vus just de vun who got dere forst! Could heff been anybody!” 

“So why didn’t you wait for one them to do it?” Higgs asked.

Dimo opened his mouth to answer, and then abruptly closed it again. Why hadn’t he waited? There were plenty of other officers who’d made it out of Mechanicsburg—hell, Maxim had made it out. But Dimo hadn’t left it to one of them, because…because…

Because it hadn’t even occurred to him not to do it. It needed to be done. He could do it. So he had.

Dimo's shoulders slumped and he glared at Higgs. Instead of bursting into flames, the man's mouth quirked up at the corner ever so slightly. Koppelslav slapped Dimo on the back so genially it nearly knocked him right back out of the chair.

“Velcome aboard, brudder,” he said, grinning. “Dun vurry, hyu vill get over it in a few decades.”

Dimo groaned.

“Hokay,” Zog said, growing more serious. “Now ve gotta actually do tings. Forst thing forst, ve need to get an inventory of de veapons und supplies—”

Dimo rifled through his stack of papers and handed a few to him.

“Oh,” Zog said. “Den Hy guess ve gotta get a list of who ken still fight—”

Dimo passed him another sheaf of papers.

“List of de repairs ve still gotta make?” Gkika suggested. The papers made a thwap sound as Dimo tossed them onto the center of the table. Everyone stared at it.

“Vut supplies ve got in de caves and who’s moving it to de town,” Dimo said, and threw down the next report.

Thwap.

 “List of de dead.”

Thwap.

“List of all de guys who surrendered,”

Thwap.

“Vut shtuff ve took off of dem,”

Thwap.

“And vere ve keepink dem and vy hyu all looking at me like dat?” Dimo demanded, his voice rising dangerously close to hysterics. “Dis is vut ve vas talking about! Generals do de tings dat need to be done and Hy did dem! Dis isn’t even evryting Hy got, dis is just vut Hy could put togedder before de meeting!”

They stared at him. Even Higgs was surprised, his pipe drooping in shock.

Gkika burst out laughing.

“Vot?” Dimo demanded, anger starting to rise. “Vot’s so funny?”

“Hyu poor ting,” she cried, wiping at her eyes. “No vunder hyu dun vanna be a general!”

Koppelslav snatched the still very thick stack of papers from Dimo’s hand and began to flip through them, eyes going wider and wider.

“Look at dis, he efen got de damn budget balanced; ve haffen’t managed dot since Øsk died—expense reports? Hyu got dem to do expense reports? For two years?” He stared at Dimo in disbelief. “Red fire, boy, how hyu still got hyu brains between hyu ears?” 

“Wh—Hy—It…vus vot needed to be done?” Dimo said, hesitantly. He was not entirely sure what everyone was so worked up about. He looked to Higgs on his left, desperate for some kind of hint.

Higgs had relaxed back in his chair again. He took the pipe out of his mouth and said, quite calmly:

“You’ve been doing the work of seven generals for two and a half years.”

The table had gone quiet again. Dimo looked at the stack of reports. He looked at Higgs.

“So…Hy von’t haff to do all of dot by myself?”

Koppelslav threw his hands in the air, waving the reports wildly.

“Ve don’t even do all of dis!” he shouted.

“Yah, ve gon haff to teach hyu how to delegate,” Goomblast said.

Dimo stared at them. Then, with a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a sob of relief, he slumped forward onto the table and threw his arms over his head.

“Vut did hyu tink ve vas going to be doink all day?” Gkika asked. She’d stopped laughing, but she sounded like she’d start up again any moment.

“Hy don’t know!” Dimo shouted, waving his hands without lifting his suddenly very heavy head. “Hy didn’t know vut I vas supposed to be doink! Dere vusn’t anyvun for me to ask!”

Silence.

A faint rustle of clothing and creaking of chairs.

Dimo cautiously raised his head and saw the other generals had all turned to glare at Higgs. The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I was undercover,” he said, defensively.

To Dimo’s shock, Khrizhan slapped Higgs on the back of the head. Higgs only just managed to catch his hat before it fell off, and scowled at Khrizhan, who scowled back.

“Hyu could haff at least told him how to do it!”  

“Ya,” Goomblast said, gesturing with some of the papers. “All dot going tru de reports for de important shtoff, dots officer vurk. Hyu tell dem vut hyu need to know, and dots vut dey give hyu.”

Dimo turned in his seat, one arm on the table and the other hand on his hip, and glared at Higgs.

“I was undercover!” Higgs insisted again, although this time guilt was beginning to leak in around the edges.

“Hokay,” Gkika said. “New plan. How about hyu just vatch us do de generaling ting for a vile, and ve give hyu a break from de paperverk?”

“He vill vatch us?” Koppelslav exclaimed. “Ve should be vatching him! He got dem to fill out expense reports!”

“Vot is vit hyu and de expense reports?” Zog demanded.

Koppelslav slammed his fist down on the table.  

“Øsk hyused to stand offer dem vit a brandink iron und he couldn’t get dem to fill doze in on time! How in de hell did hyu do it?”

Dimo rubbed his face. He was starting to feel light-headed.

“Um…Effry time dey vuz late I vent and said tank hyu for understanding dot de money is tight and Hy appreciated dem being villing to pay for tings demselves.”

Gkika grinned.

“Ho, dots mean,” she said, with great approval.

Khrizhan had not allowed himself to be distracted by the turn in conversation. His eyes were still fixed on Higgs.

“Hyu could heff at least—” Khrizhan began.

“I didn’t. Have. Time.”

“Vut time hyu need? Hyu write a letter, hallo Dimo, by der vay, hyu dun need to be trackink de petty cash durink a crisis.”

“Hy don’t?” Dimo said, weakly.

Khrizhan gestured angrily, silently, and emphatically at Dimo.

“Ve supposed to be verking togedder,” Goomblast said. “Hyu supposed to help de new guy!”

Revenge unfolded in front of Dimo’s eyes like a beautiful, beautiful flower.

“Hyu know who gots a lot off opinions about teaching people tings properly,” he said sternly, “is dat Miss Zeetha of hyors.”

Five heads snapped around, fixing on their fellow general—sharks smelling blood in the water.

“Hyor Miss Zeetha?” Khrizhan said, oozing evil delight.

Higgs had gone very still. His eyes were very wide. His face was very slowly turning very, very red.  

“Oh-ho-ho!” Goomblast crowed. If his smile got any wider, the corners of his mouth would meet at the back of his head.

“Shuddup,” Higgs said, now blushing so hard Dimo could practically feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Dot’s de green haired gorl who fights vit Mizz Agatha,” Gkika said, her eyes shining. “Ooh, und he vus so vorried ven she got hurt in de kestle!” She lowered her voice, conspiratorially, her eyes not leaving Higg’s face. “He dun take her to de hospital, hyu know; he brought her shtraight to me.”

“She was dying,” Higgs said, slouching in his chair, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“Is dot de vun vit de two svords?” Zog asked. “Verr nice, soch a pretty young ting—”

“Shuddup,” Higgs said as he sank even further in his chair. He shot Dimo a murderous look. Dimo grinned, tipping his chair back on two legs and settling in to watch the show. 

Maybe being a general wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Relatively Speaking, This Will Probably Be Fine (Ch 9)

Fandom: Girl Genius Rating: T Summary: Everyone knows Agatha Sannikova can't be a Heterodyne, even if she did arrive mysteriously one night to live with Lady Teodora and Lord Saturnus. She's got those headaches, and she's not too bright - she's not even a Spark! She does get along quite well with Lord Saturnus, which is a bit odd, but she's had a very good affect on his health. Lady Teodora doesn't like the kind of, er, "life lessons" he's tried to teach her, but Agatha hasn't set anyone on fire or unleashed any terrifying monstrosities on the town.

...what do you mean, tempting fate?

<Last Chapter | Chapter One | Next Chapter > AO3 Link

[Warning in this chapter for bad parenting, and refusing to accept responsibility for the burnt bridges that follow.]

“I have chosen mercy!” Saturnus bellowed, his voice echoing across the remains of the town he had half levelled. “Flee now, and you shall be spared!”

Without hesitation, the survivors ran, racing out the gate and down the road into the old forest.  Zog raised his hand halfway.

“Vait for it…” Zog said. “Vait for it…”

The last of the villagers made it past the treeline, and Zog brought his hand down sharply.

“Now!”

The Jӓgers burst from their hiding places, falling on the now-trapped villagers with blade and claw and teeth. Howls and screams mixed together into a song that filled the night air. Saturnus and the generals burst out laughing.

“Did hyu see deir faces?” Koppelslov asked, leaning against Khrizhan to stay upright. Saturnus was doubled over with laughter, hands on his knees.

“Chosen mercy,” Zog howled, tears in his eyes. “Und dey believed hyu!”  

“That’s awful!”

Saturnus blinked, surprised. Agatha, seated in her usual spot at the foot of the bed, was horrified.

“What do you mean?”

“You said this was a funny story! That’s not funny at all!” she cried. Saturnus frowned, slightly put out by her reaction.  

“Well, alright, I’ll admit it does lose a little without the visuals, but I’d hardly say awful.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Alright, alright, give me a second. Oh! This was a few years after I became the Heterodyne. I’d crushed a whole city, captured their prince and brought him back here. Now, see, the city got its wealth from a nearby goldmine, so they called their ruler the Gilded King.

“So in the castle, there’s a machine that replaces blood with molten copper, right? I replaced the copper with gold. Then I go to the prince and I tell him that I’m sorry that I ruined his chances of being crowned the Gilded King, but—” Saturnus bit back a laugh at his own joke. “I tell him, but don’t worry, I can get you at least halfway there!”

He slapped his knee and cackled, but his laughter faded when he saw Agatha only glared at him.

“Oh, come on, that’s funny! Gilded means covered in gold, and I was going to—”

“Murder and torture aren’t funny,” Agatha said, sternly.

“I beg to differ,” Saturnus said. “I once got a dozen people screaming out the tune of Clair de lune; made Uncle Ominox laugh so hard he nearly passed out.”

“And it’s wrong to hurt people for fun.”

Saturnus rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Oh, red fire, you sound like William.”

“I don’t understand!” Agatha exclaimed. “You talk so much about Heterodynes protecting their people and loving them but then you talk about people like they’re just, just…bugs you can crush! Even the ones you’re supposed to protect!”

“Because they are,” Saturnus said, as if it was obvious—which, to him, it was.

“They aren’t!”

Saturnus sighed and scratched his head.

“Oh, how do I explain this one…The people in Mechanicsburg are mine. And I protect what is mine, but what’s mine is mine, to do with as I please. People outside Mechanicsburg aren’t mine, so I don’t have to care about them.”

“But they’re still people!”

“But not people I care about.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“What do you mean shouldn’t matter? What else matters?”

Agatha opened and closed her mouth several times.

“People!” she managed at last. “People matter!”

“Oh, this lecture. Teodora’s gotten to you, alright. Let me stop you before you get started and say what I always say: right and wrong are a matter of perspective and morality is entirely subjective.”

“Hurting people just because it’s fun for you is a universal wrong,” Agatha said, sternly. “You only think it’s okay because its you doing the hurting.”

“If they didn’t want me to crush them, they should have been too big to crush.”

“Do you wish you could do things like that again? Going out and raiding with the Jӓgers and torturing people?”

“Of course!” Saturnus exclaimed. “Black fire, a whole generation grew up only knowing Bill and Barry. If I had my old strength and a functioning castle, I’d be out there teaching them what a Heterodyne really is, and I’d be having the time of my life doing it.”

Agatha frowned, deeply.

“But I wouldn’t like you anymore.”

Saturnus’ eyes narrowed.

“That trick didn’t work when Bill tried it, and it’s not going to work with you.”

And hadn’t he been so sure of himself, too, so certain that he could change Saturnus with a simple Father, we love you, but we don’t think we can keep loving you if you keep hurting people. What was he even supposed to say to that? Sure, I’ll rewrite my entire personality and moral code to placate an eight-year-old?

He sighed.

“You are very special to me, Agatha,” he said, gently. “I care for you like my own flesh and blood. But I am what I am, and you’ll have to take it or leave it. You can’t change me.”

“You could change yourself,” Agatha said, accusingly. “If you wanted to. You just don’t.”

“That’s right,” Saturnus said. “I don’t, and why should I? If you want to go and be a hero and be good and kind and righteous, like your f—like the boys, that’s up to you. I’ll love you either way, just like I loved them, even when they drove me half mad. But I find great fun in destroying things in new and interesting ways, I like meddling in God’s domain, I like exerting my power over people weaker than I am, and I don’t see why I should let other people’s feelings get in the way of doing what makes me happy.”

Agatha stared at him for a long moment, her hands going tight in her skirt.

“You sound like a bully,” she whispered. “You sound like the kids at school who push me around. And I don’t—” Her chin wobbled. “I don’t want to think about you being like them.”

‘Can’t love me if I keep hurting people’, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.

It’s true! I hate when you do those things! I hate the stuff you do but I love you and I don’t want to hate you! Please, Poppa.

This is your mother’s fault, putting all that rot about good and bad in your head. You don’t want to hate me? How about you start acting like a proper Heterodyne, so I don’t have to hate you!

He hadn’t even said that he actually hated Bill. It was Bill’s own ultimatum thrown back at him, Saturnus had only wanted him to see how ridiculous he sounded. But of course, that’s not how Bill took it. He’d run off in tears, and Saturnus had never been very good at apologizing and…

Well. That was the moment he lost them. Bill and Barry couldn’t love a man who did the things Saturnus did, and so they didn’t. They became their mother’s sons, through and through, and Saturnus himself the mold they needed to break, the symbol of all that was wrong with Mechanicsburg. Sometimes Saturnus wondered if they even remembered the days when they’d sat on his lap and let him guide their clumsy fingers to set wires and turn screws as he built his great war machines.

All because those two weren’t willing to make room in their precious morality for their own father.  

Damn Teodora. Why couldn’t she have just left well enough alone?

A tear rolled down Agatha’s cheek. He reached out and brushed it away.

“How about I just don’t tell you those kinds of stories anymore?”

“But you still feel—”

“Agatha…” Saturnus chided, gently. “Look at me. I can barely crush an actual bug. What does it matter if I would go do those things, or even that I want to do those things, if it’d take nothing short of demonic intervention to make it so I could?”

“We’d just be pretending the moral conundrum doesn’t exist so we don’t have to deal with it!” Agatha cried. “It’s cognitive dissonance at it’s finest!”

“And?”

“It’s bad!”

“Is it any different from how you treat the rest of the town? Lots of the old men around here used to ride with the Jӓgers. Some of the monsters and the constructs too—and not all the ones who came here seeking sanctuary were persecuted innocents.

“Everybody’s got little moral bumps and foibles they pretend aren’t there,” Saturnus said. “You’ll get used to it when you’re a grown up. At least with this one, nobody is getting hurt now.”

Agatha mulled this over, chewing on her lower lip.

“So…I decide not to care that you used to commit war crimes for fun and you’ll be the eccentric but ultimately harmless old man with a dark sense of humor?”

“Harmless?” Saturnus protested. “Give me some credit. ‘Keeps any violent and horrible acts he may commit to an individual level’.”

“The acts you can’t do.”

“I don’t need functioning legs to throw a knife switch.”

Agatha gnawed her lip for a moment before pointing at him.  

“And no torture.”   

Saturnus put his hand over his heart.

“Any and all deaths are to be quick, if not clean.”

At last, Agatha nodded.

“I think I can live with that.” She hesitated. “Do you have funny stories that don’t involve you hurting people?”

“Ooh…” Saturnus scratched his chin. “Well…How about stories where I get hurt in funny ways? I could tell you some of my Solstice Night Running of the Heterodyne stories.”

“The what what what?”

“Heh. We shut the castle down for a night, get the Jӓgers too drunk to see straight, and the people of Mechanicsburg have until dawn to try to tear the Heterodyne to pieces with their bare hands.”

As Saturnus told her the story of the time he spent two hours clinging to a tree branch in his underwear in dead winter, some small part of him thought of Bill again. Why couldn’t he have compromised like this? If only he hadn’t been so close-minded, so inflexible, so stubborn. If only he could admit that he’d said something foolish and hurtful, if he’d just tried.

Bill, that is. Obviously.

[camthewizard]

Oh dear. I had forgotten that Klaus had known about that. He knows that at some point in the future she will be alive. This means one of two things to him, either he was lied to and Agatha is not dead (what actually happened) OR maybe, just maybe he can revive “Agatha”. 

If he actually pulls it off, boy, he’s gonna be MAD

[camthewizard]

Normally I’d be somewhat worried that Khrizhan would raise an alarm about Agatha sneaking around the ship, but the face palm reassures me. Agatha reached an understanding with this guy when she crashed into his office. Also, the chapter title kind of gives away that nothing particularly exciting is happening (unless tea does that for you) and Minsk brought Agatha here to attend a “party” anyway.