Title: Introduced to Necessity

Author: ThirstySatyr

Rating: T, for some language, and some rather violent thoughts

Standard Disclaimer: Not mine. Studio Foglio's.

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Timeline Note: This story takes place approximately 10-ish days after the Sturmhalten incident, approximately nine-ish days since Agatha entered Castle Heterodyne, and approximately four or five days from the beginning of book 11. Let me strongly emphasize the use of the word 'approximately'; the timeline of Girl Genius is crazy vague at the best of times, and down right non-existent at the worst…

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Summary: Approximately five-ish days after the start of book 11. Klaus is startled by a message in the sky which makes him rethink some of his assumptions... and the interpretation of some legends.

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The fog that had swallowed Mechanicsburg all night was finally burning off. Klaus watched from one of the small, mobile battle airships, trying to force himself feel comfortable in his wheelchair. It had been almost two weeks since he'd had a flying house fall on him; frankly he was irritated he needed the damn chair. He could have done without the cursed appliance, he knew; but Sun had informed him, in no uncertain terms, that going without the wheelchair would stretch his recovery time into weeks instead of just a few more days. Klaus admired Sun, respected him, and had even come to rely on him. But if it had been Barry working on him, Klaus would have been on his feet two days after the damned chicken house debacle. Then again, if Barry were here, then Bill would be here. And then Bill's daughter wouldn't be in the fog shrouded city, her head full of Lucrezia, and her hands full of his son. Which was precisely where she was.

That was, of course, if the ostentatiously huge battle clank that had crawled up to the gates of Mechanicsburg the day before hadn't marched its way through the city over night. Klaus had been hard pressed not to act when the thing had been spotted. The vehicle had been ponderous, its body stretching out for hundreds of meters, plodding with teeth-grindingly slow steps. It had taken all of his control not to start hurling bombs at the absurd thing. His son was in the city it was advancing on, after all. When more clanks were spotted in the distance, obviously unaffiliated but coming none the less, his hand had itched to pull a trigger.

The herald-less contraptions had lumbered for an hour, slowly progressing on the city. When it reached the Black plains, about two hours before sunset, Klaus had been on the verge of throwing decorum to the wind and ordering an assault. That had been when the fog came.

Rolling in like it had a mind, the fog filled up the walled town, then spilled out into the surrounding lands. Within twenty minutes, all visibility was lost. Klaus had been forced to order his ships into higher altitudes for fear that they would drift and collide. He had run away, leaving his son behind. It had been one of the most difficult things he'd ever done.

The only consolation he'd taken was that anyone else would have been just as blind in that strange, smothering fog.

Morning had finally arrived, though, and the blasted fog was finally burning off. In wisps and ghosts, the dense clouds thinned revealing the huge – ridiculously huge, really – battle clank still parked on the plains outside the Black Gate. The behemoth looked as if it had become mired in the broken remains of the Jovian attack clanks. He took some small joy in the fact that it hadn't clomped straight through the city while he'd been busy hiding.

He growled to himself as he cut off that thought. He hadn't run away, damnit. It would have been irresponsible and reckless to stay where there had been no visibility and no possible way of winning a potential fight. He had made a career, a whole bloody world, out of making hard decisions. Leaving Mechanicsburg airspace was only the most recent in a long line of such.

Trying to clear his head for more such hard decisions, Klaus wheeled himself closer to the observation window, staring down at the city being slowly revealed below.

It was about two minutes into his study that Boris joined him, just as the fog was becoming nothing more than a thin veil.

"I have the reports from the agents sent to watch the streets in the night," the man began politely, everything about him radiating efficiency.

"Anything interesting?" Klaus asked, not bothering to look away from the city.

"No particularly. The Wulfenbach troops we had managed to leave behind were no where to be seen; but that was to be expected. The citizenry seemed uneasy, but not panicked. Very little activity on the roads themselves," Boris paused a moment, audible flipping through papers. "There were two guards who had something – well, not interesting, but odd happen."

"Do tell," Klaus replied, not nearly as interested as he might have been normally. If the guard didn't find it interesting, he was willing to let it go for now. So much could have gone wrong in the night; he felt lucky the city wasn't on fire. Or in a hole. Or on fire while in a hole.

"Well," Boris continued, his tone making it clear he knew how little the Baron was actually paying attention. "Two of the guards, on separate occasion and in different parts of the city, were asked if they had ear plugs."

Klaus looked up at that, startled out of his study of the slowly exposed streets.

"Asked, as in, the people wished to procure them? Of asked, as in, did the agents need any?" Klaus rotated his shoulders, turning to actually look at his assistant.

"Neither was sure," Boris said with a small shrug. "When they responded in the negative, the people in question ended the conversation amicably, and wondered off. At a sedate pace. On easily followed routes. Neither guard thought much off it, after that."

Odd indeed. Was it some kind of Mechanicsburg inside joke; did they all ask for ear plugs when the fog rolled in? Or was the question just as strange as the fog, hinting at something sinister and dangerous? As much as Klaus cared for those who once lived in this town, he was slowly starting to hate it.

Klaus was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by a near blinding light. Outside the window, flickering across the thin remnants of fog, bright colors suddenly burst to life. His adrenaline instantly kicked into gear, the words to order retreat and battle stations ready to jump out of him. Then the colors steadied, and the words died in his mouth.

It was the girl. It was Lucrezia. Her image was being projected by some great light generator, the last bits of fog acting as a screen. Her face was rendered with near perfect detail as she blinked large green eyes at the sky. She was standing on a stone balcony, no doubt somewhere on the Castle Heterodyne. She was dressed in what looked like mechanic's clothing, but she managed to look regal despite the obvious wear.

He'd seen this kind of projection before, at Sturmhalten; he wondered viciously if she was about to accuse him of being the Other again. He almost laughed as he realized his new position to truly appreciate the irony.

At least she was wearing presentable clothes this time, Klaus thought, trying not to let the prospect of mental slavery leave him entirely morose.

Looking around as best he could from his vantage point, he could see the image duplicated over and over above the city. It looked as if each one of the airships that had arrived over the past few days, representatives from some of the Fifty Houses, were given their own projection.

"Good morning," the image suddenly boomed, the girl's voice reverberating like an explosion through the sky.

Covering his ears, Klaus took a moment to appreciate the value of a good inside joke.

There was a short pause, and then the girl spoke again.

"My apologies," the girl's voice echoed, loud but no longer deafening. "As you can imagine, I didn't have time to test the settings before this. You are guests in my lands, and a host should never be rude. Please forgive my oversight."

No longer fearing for his hearing, Klaus wheeled himself as close to the glass as he could, and studied the image below him. He looked at her, and for a moment saw everything he expected to see. An ex-lover, Lucrezia, the Other. But something about what he saw was... odd. He truly detested that word, but in this instance it seemed to suit. He knew the girl was somehow a return of Lucrezia, but there was something about her. There was something in the way she stood, something in her wide eyes that left Klaus grasping. She looked directly ahead when she spoke, staring straight into whatever device she was using to capture her image. It gave the strange impression that he was able to meet her gaze, and what he saw there seemed almost… earnest.

"My name is Agatha Heterodyne. I am the niece of Barry Heterodyne, and daughter to Bill Heterodyne and..." the girl paused, blinking slow and purposefully. "…Lucrezia Mongfish."

Klaus was not a particularly dedicated student of facial expressions. He found that actions spoke volumes more than minute physical nuances. But he had learned over the years that small things in body language could be indicators of larger truths. Seeing that pause and that blink - he knew they meant something larger.

"Boris," he called over his shoulder.

"Yes, herr Baron?" his assistant answered, at his side almost immediately.

"I trust you are taking this all down?" Klaus asked, knowing the answer long before Boris scoffed. This was important, though; he was watching the girl, and he wanted to make sure her message was recorded with out interpolation.

"I have much to say to the world at large," said the girl who he knew was Lucrezia, and yet... "My appearance has been less than subtle, and my very existence less than expected."

Klaus felt himself sit up straight, startled despite himself by what he was hearing. So many meanings in those last few words. She was unexpected, yes. But less than expected? Somehow short of expectation? Was this humility? Self depreciation? The sentiment alone would have burned to ash in Lucrezia's mouth. And yet, here she was.

The girl's companions seemed to share his thoughts on her double meaning, and he cursed himself for not seeing them until now. They were out of focus, apparently just out of range of the capturing device, but looked like two men, standing at attention behind her. Perhaps a guard? Neither looked like he bore a weapon, but that hardly mattered when a Heterodyne was concerned.

The one on her left seemed to want to step forward, but waving him back, the girl continued, "But I am here now, and we must all come to terms with that."

His assumptions of the girl shook further; she considered herself among those who would have to make peace with her existence. That was… an interesting bit of insight.

"Many of you are here for very personal reasons," her expression hardened as her words became more direct. "I can't really hold that against you. But I want you to know now – what ever your intentions may have been – it is no longer necessary. I will not be a tool, I will not be a catalyst, and I will hold my own.

"I've been told that in saying this I am being almost offensively blunt, so you will have to forgive my…" waving a hand dismissively, the girl seemed to smile at her own expense. "…lack of delicacy."

The smile faded quickly, though.

"But there will be no misunderstanding this; I am no one's pawn."

The girl breathed deeply, sweeping her red-blonde hair from her eyes in a gesture Klaus couldn't help but think was child-like. It was a gesture of habit, and seemed at odds with the fierce intensity in the girl's words.

"Some of you will find this hard to believe. Some of you feel that I am not who or what I seem. Again…" the girl blinked slowly, her eyes full of concession. "I can't blame you for that. All I can do is try to assure you, and hope you will believe. I understand, though, that only time will prove my truth."

Next to him, Boris scoffed derisively. Yes, time might prove her innocence; it might also be all she needed to better destroy them all.

Klaus caught movement behind the girl and his eyes focused sharply. The two men behind her were shifting slightly, as if waiting for some cue. When they fell back into stillness, Klaus tucked their activity into the back of his thoughts, and returned to studying the girl.

"My future in Europa is unsure. I am entering into your world – a world of royalty, protocol, and conduct – things I was not raised to understand. But make no mistake -" she paused, something new and dangerous chasing the naiveté from her face. "I have a steep learning curve. I am the Heterodyne... and I am a Spark."

Klaus nearly rolled his eyes. Oh, yes; state the obvious, just in case everyone hadn't noticed the giant talking image in the sky.

He supposed she had a point, though; there was no reason to leave things ambiguous. Ambiguity might lead to accidents, or ill conceived attempts to "rescue" the girl. And she did seem to be making an effort at diplomacy. Yes, she was admitting faults, but she was trying to make sure no one saw them as weaknesses. It was a delicate balance to which she endeavored. Klaus would have wished the girl luck – if she hadn't been a vehicle for the Other.

"But I am not here to turn that Spark on you," she spoke gently, softening the potential threat of her previous words. "I do not want to swallow Europe. And I am not here to end the hard won peace of the past twenty years. I am here only to take my place in it..." she paused again, her eyes closing for a moment. When she opened them again, there was something disconcertingly earnest there. Something quiet, something that looked, almost, defeated...

"I am here to accept my fate."

Klaus's blood turned cold at those words.

Lucrezia was an actress without compare; she could have convinced someone that the moon was just a short stroll away, or that toxic dust should be drunk like wine. But even she could not have filled her eyes with such resignation, such innocent acceptance. Lucrezia would have come out and told the world that she would show them all; or stood proudly, alluringly, as she announced her readiness to claim her fate, snatching it from the hands of Destiny if she had to. Lucrezia would never have accepted her fate; she would have forged her own or let herself burn in the trying.

"The question now becomes; how will you accept me?" the girl spoke, her words giving away some of the daunting power her speech thus far had so carefully built up. Her words offered the people she addressed a choice, planting the idea that they might have some sway over her. Which made no sense. What was she playing at?

"There are stories of my family," the girl continued. "Stories of horrors and of heroes. I can only hope to live up to the legacy of my father. But there is another legacy I am bounden to." She paused then, her lashes coming down in a long, purposeful blink. Klaus was beginning to suspect that pause and that blink were the girl's tell. They came every time she hesitated, almost like a sign of unease, as if she truly didn't want to say what was coming next. Which was absurd; what words could ever make Lucrezia uncomfortable to say them?

"A legacy that Europa has waited two hundred years to see fulfilled," the girl spoke, the lines of her face drawing tight.

"No," Klaus breathed, pressing a hand to the glass. She wouldn't. She daren't...

"I am the daughter of the House of Heterodyne – long awaited bride of the Storm King."

He was stunned for a moment.

Then livid.

Of course, Klaus thought, his vision bleeding red in his rage. Strinbeck. Sturmvoraus. Porga. Oublenmach. Ivekovic. Komnenos. And that damned, defunct, incompetent Jovian order. The lot of them were nothing but conniving, obtuse, deceitful, byzantine, avaricious children!

It wasn't until Klaus head his own breath panting that he realized he'd just said all of that out loud. The sound of Boris's pen scratching furiously let him know that the man was likely recording his outburst along with Lucrezia's announcement. And yet, he didn't care; a dark part of him was glad. Let his thoughts of them go down in history. Let his feelings be public knowledge. If they craved a war so very badly, he would give it to them. With the full force of his power, he would take them down, and carve his words into their headstones.

He had worked too hard for too many years to forge a lasting peace. The endless fighting, mindless killings, the careless despoiling of the land – he'd stopped it. He was not going to watch this reincarnation of Lucrezia drag everything he had built back into hell.

"As the intended to the Storm," the girl continued, the resignation in her eyes no longer fooling him. Somewhere in the past twenty years Lucrezia must have learned the appearance of innocence. The concept was utterly alien to the woman, so how she'd been able to recognize it, Klaus didn't know. And he didn't care – it was false, no matter how genuinely uneasy the girl looked.

The girl raised both of her hands, turning her palms to the sky. It was a theatrical gesture, and the Baron despised her all the more for how ill fitting she made it look. Lucrezia knew how to put on a show; she shouldn't be stumbling over this trivial display. He nearly snarled out loud for her to just get on with it!

"I do not stand alone."

Klaus sneered at that. Of course you don't, he thought acidly. The Knights of Jove were going to burn…

The girl sighed deeply, and moved her right hand. Again the gesture was theatrical, a choreographed move. And again, she looked uncomfortable with it, her posture almost wooden as she turned her hand palm down and slightly to the side.

Oh, poor pitiful you, Klaus thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"To my hands, I call the Thunder…"

The man – No, Klaus cut off the thought with a glare. The boy, the fool, the idiot who had stood behind her to the right, stepped forward, placing his arm under her outstretched hand. When the capturing device brought him into focus, Klaus felt his fingers claw at the glass. Tarvek Stumvoraus, the Prince of Sturmholten, son of Lucrezia's ever faithful slave. The Prince looked every inch his royalty, dripping with all the self-confident arrogance one might expect from Aaronev's child. Smiling darkly, Klaus wondered if the boy realized that he was now nothing more than a pet for a mind more oblique then he could ever dream.

Klaus snarled to himself as she began to move her other hand, imagining the righteous retribution he was going to rain down on their heads. He was going to burn their cities to the ground. He was going to melt the buildings until they flowed like water, and salt the earth in his wake. He was going to eradicate their family lines, and route these vipers from their den.

The girl sighed deeply, and blinked her incongruously earnest eyes.

"And the Lightening."

The girl lowered her left hand with those words, and the second man stepped forward. The man raised his arm beneath her hand and raised his amber-brown eyes to the capturing device.

Klaus nearly swallowed his tongue.

"Gilgamesh!" the Baron shouted, slamming both of his hands against the glass, thoughts of blood and fire gone as if a switch had been thrown. "What the bloody…you IDIOT BOY!"

Klaus was so consumed by his panic that he nearly missed the girl's next words. She had his son, not just captured, but with her, next to her. His son!

"The heirs of Andronicus Valois," she announced, using her voice and her body language to draw her audience's attention from her to the men at her side.

She turned to her right, and spoke, "Tarvek Sturmvoraus,"

The Prince turned a tight, self satisfied smile to the capturing device after a well timed dramatic pause. Then, with practiced grace, the boy lifted the Heterodyne girl's hand, and brought it to his lips. Klaus forced himself to let go the fear for his son; there was nothing he could do about that right this second. What he could do was watch. And he did, studying the display carefully, and was surprised yet again when the Prince's action seemed to draw a small blush to the girl's cheeks.

A blush? Truly? That made no sense.

After throwing the Prince a delicate glare from the corner of her eye, the girl turned to her left.

"And Gilgamesh Wulfenbach."

Staring dumbstruck, Klaus watched as his son mirrored the Prince's movements. Gilgamesh brought the girl's hand to his lips slowly. But instead of completing the aristocratic gesture briskly, as the Prince had, he lingered. Pressing his lips deeply into the curve of her knuckles, he rolled his eyes up to watch the girl's face. In the sharp detail of the projection, his expression was nearly lascivious.

To Klaus's ever growing shock, and not just a bit of horror, the girl blushed even deeper. After a moment a muscle twitched in her jaw, and she graced his son with the same glare she'd given the Prince. When Gilgamesh lowered the girl's hand, he did so with a pleased smile and an arrogantly arch brow.

Klaus growled at the sight. Her Thunder and her Lightening – how quaint, really – where nothing but a pair of idiot children. Klaus nearly spat in scorn, lumping both his son and the Prince in same contemptuous thought. This announcement was not the place to be vying for the girl's affections. Especially not so damned visibly!

The girl seemed to have the same thought, and brought her own expression under control. Taking a half step back, the girl continued what Klaus knew to be practiced choreography. When she sunk into a deep curtsey, the boys each raised the arms her hands rested on. And though the movement was incongruent with the tattered garb all three wore, the gesture made it clear that this moment was about her officially presenting them.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the girl began in a clear, ringing tone. "My..."

Pause, blink.

"... Kings."

Klaus focused sharply as her words stumbled, and all of the discrepancies came crashing to the forefront of his mind. Lucrezia didn't share her spotlight. She didn't stumbled, didn't hesitate. This girl… despite knowing, despite having spoken to the bitch… this girl could not be Lucrezia. It didn't make any sense. This girl was nervous, untried, bashful for gods' sake. The very idea was absurd. The monster that had bedded and drugged him, that had destroyed Europe, that had watched gleefully while he'd choked on a slaver wasp couldn't have put on a genuine blush if it were a dress being fitted for her.

As angry as he was, he was also too practical a man to stubbornly hold assumptions that were quickly being proven wrong - or at least being shaken. He couldn't ignore the facts; he'd seen this girl three times in the past three months, and each time she had been a different creature. He was quickly understanding that to assume anything about her would be destructively foolish, and would drive him to make stupid mistakes.

His anxious mind came up short at the thought. After a breath, he let his mind restart; he let go the anxiety, and welcomed back the cold, calculating feel he was more familiar with – there was a reason he wasn't known for making stupid mistakes.

The girl rose up, resuming her stance between her two "kings". When Prince Sturmvoraus leaned in close to her, Klaus's eyes darted to the boy's mouth instantly, putting his internal arguing aside. It was vital to gain as much from this little display as he could; at this point, it felt like any insight was infinitely more than he currently had. He watched the Prince's lips curve as the boy put his mouth nearly against her ear. Though his mouth barely moved, even in the enlarged image, whatever he said brought a small crease to the girl's brow.

Dissent in the ranks?

"Boris," Klaus breathed, some how unwilling to fully break the moment of quiet. "What did he say?"

There was a second of silence as both the girl and his assistant took a deep breath.

"Baron, I..."

"Now is not the time for artifice. I am very much aware of your skill with reading lips. At the moment I don't care that you've perfected this skill on me," Klaus snapped the words, never taking his eye off the projection. His glare deepened as, while he watched, a smirk tugged at the corner of his son's mouth. A smirk? A bloody smirk!

"What – did – he – say!?"

"Ah..." Boris gasped, then seemed to recall his decorum. "Ah. He said 'Kings? I could have sworn we'd agreed on a different word'... um, herr Baron."

"Note that," Klaus said coldly, not quite ready to think about what that might mean.

Boris mumbled something that was likely an affirmative, but Klaus was watching the girl again. By that point she seemed to have composed herself, smoothing away the frown and turning her maddeningly sincere eyes back to the sky.

"The blood of the Storm King has waited two hundred years to find me; in us, that legacy is fulfilled.

"The three of us stand together." As she spoke their hands turned underneath hers, so that her palms no longer rested on the backs of their wrists like some aristocrat's daughter being escorted through a garden. Now their fingers intertwined, her right hand firmly in the Prince's grip, and her left held just as securely by his son. It was a display of shared strength; a very purposeful showing that, though the two men seemed to attend her at the moment, it was the power that came from all three that would answer those imprudent enough to move against them.

"Attempting to test the strength of our union..." the girl spoke coldly, confirming Klaus's interpretation. "Would be very ill advised."

All three of the people in the projection turned grim, pitiless eyes to the sky. Klaus had never seen that particular look on his son's face, and seeing it echoed so assuredly in the three of them sent an instinctive flash of fear up his spine.

"I may not yet understand the movements of the world politic," the girl continued, the bleak determination never fading from her expression. "But I do not come into your world helpless."

The two men beside her turned minutely, their bodies facing slightly away from her. In that small movement they became less the royal escort, and more the guards he had originally taken them for. They were her Kings, as she had said, but they were also her warriors; Klaus wondered if she fully understood that. From the way her shoulders tensed at their movements, he had his doubts that she did.

The charisma of the Spark was stronger in her than he had ever imagined – stronger, he suspected, than even she knew.

"I will stand as your equal and not as your lesser," the girl spoke with a lift of her chin, pulling her hands slowly free from the Prince and his son. "If you come to me in peace, I will give it to you in kind."

A small, tentative smile pulled at the girl's face with her words. But the grim darkness of before remained, leaving her eyes depthless.

"But if you come to me with war…" the Heterodyne girl spoke, the gentleness of her voice twisting in on itself, and cutting through the air like a razor. She paused, her telling blink hiding her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, the girl stepped forward away from her "kings", and raised her hands into the air. The move was dramatic, with her arms stretched fully upward. It drew Klaus's eyes up, as it was meant to, to the next part of the show.

For a long second nothing happened. Then, in the space above her head a strange tightening seemed to pull at the air, as if that bit of space were turning inside-out. It looked like a sky full of heat-mirage, impossibly condensed to a single point. The girl shifted her arms until she cradled the warping air between her hands, her fingers petting gently at the edges. And as her fingers moved the thing shifted and grew. Pulsing and twisting, the knot of air expanded, thumping like a heart beat as it swallowed the tips of her fingers. Then it began to glow, getting brighter and brighter until Klaus had to squint or look away.

Klaus made himself look back at the girl, and he could see that the madness of the Spark had crawled into her eyes. She was smiling, but there was nothing of joy in it. Her face was cold and fierce.

And resigned.

"If you come to me in war… then I will give you war."

The strange, twisting point of light flew from between her hands, flashing from the projected image almost instantly. Klaus forced his eyes to focus beyond the image to the actual city below him, and he saw the light streak across the sky, flying from the middle of the town directly to the plains outside the Black Gate.

The light struck the enormous war-clank still standing outside the city. There was a blinding flash and a roaring crash, then the smell of ozone filling the air. Almost immediately, secondary and tertiary explosion began, cascading through the massive vehicle, throwing shrapnel and spilling fire into the carcasses of the previous attack. The resulting smoke boiled up, roiling against the sky like black clouds. It would have been unquestioningly impressive, if Klaus has cared. He only gave the show – because there was no doubt that it was a show – a cursory glace, instead watching the Heterodyne girl's eyes.

She had just called some sort f energy weapon to her hands, and sent it unerringly to destroy her enemies. Just as she had said, she commanded the power of the Storm King; a flash and a roar, the lightening and the thunder. There should have been a deserved looked of triumph on her face. But Klaus felt sick as he studied her eyes, and found only horror. She hid it well; if he hadn't known what to look for, he might have missed it.

Klaus had done many necessary things in the past twenty years. Many repugnant, gruesome, necessary things. As a result of each and every one of those acts, he understood horror and regret; he understood all too well what it did to the body, and how, though you might school all the obvious signs, you couldn't keep your pulse from speeding. And you couldn't keep your pupils from exploding – not from the light of what you saw, but against the darkness that was inside.

Klaus understood all of this, and in understanding knew that the girl found no happiness in the destruction she wrought. There was only remorse.

Eventually the horror seemed to become too much for the girl. Though her face stayed calm, she couldn't stop herself from turning away from the exploding destruction.

"Don't look away, you stupid girl!" Klaus heard himself shout, though he knew no one outside the room could hear. "Don't let them see you weak!"

It was only when Boris reached out a hand to him, not quite touching his arm, that he realized what he'd said. He nearly collapsed back into his wheelchair at his own words. His words, his reaction – the last of his doubts died abruptly.

This girl was not Lucrizeia.

At the edges of the projected image, Klaus saw his son move, as if he had heard his father's unintended warning. Standing steadfast at her side, Gilgamesh reached out and laid a hand against the girl's cheek, mumbling something nonsensical. Klaus watched the boys lips move, and was gratified to see the boy wasn't foolish enough to ask if she was okay. It looked for all the world like he had merely made a noise to draw her attention, asking some question meant only for the ears of his lady. A moment later, Prince Sturmvoraus gasped the situation as well, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. Though Klaus understood the gesture to be an act of comfort, it looked as if the Prince were trying to take part in the hushed conversation – nothing more. It was smoothly done; both young men clearly understood that this was war, no matter how one-sided it seemed at the moment. It was the girl's war for legitimacy, a battle to claim her place in the world – and they would be her guides and her strength while she did it.

Only a few second passed before the girl pulled herself back together; she gave Gilgamesh a cold smile, and touched the Prince's hand almost dismissively, and then turned utterly neutral eyes back to the device capturing her image.

"This is my home," she started again, raising her voice so that she could be heard over the continued cacophony of the burning clank. "My Castle, my city, my lands. Mechanicsburg belongs to me. Any who chooses not to respect that, will be dealt with."

She stepped even farther from both of her young men when she named her city, drawing a clear line with her body language. The message in that move was unmistakable; the power of the Storm King may be shared, but the power of the Heterodyne was her's alone. As was the promise of bloody retribution.

Klaus was less than pleased with his own reactions to her. He was impressed, and didn't want to be. She was obviously untried and unsure, but she was handling it surprisingly well. A clear stake was being claimed on Europa by calling down the name of the Storm King. But, by naming Gilgamesh her "lightening", she was carefully not putting herself at odds with the House of Wulfenbach – if anything, mixing in Klaus's son the way she had, she was granting Klaus himself a retroactive legitimacy. He supposed he should be grateful, and tried not to snarl at the thought. With her little show, the peace he'd built was given the Heterodyne seal of approval, and the Fifty Houses would be fool to go against her.

And that was the most important part of this display; her. By directing the destruction of the war-clank with her own hands, she'd supplanted the last image she'd throw across the sky – no more the damsel in distress, the girl had made herself into something the rest of the world might need to be rescued from. By stepping away from her men as she threatened swift reprisal, she made sure it was the Heterodyne name that would be remembered from this little show – not Wulfenbach, and not Sturmvoraus.

She was untried in politics, but the girl was learning quickly.

And though she had very carefully put distance between herself and her "kings", she held her hands out for them now. With what must have been practiced steps, they came to her sides together, each offering an arm as if to escort her away to some macabre ball.

"I am the daughter of the House of Heterodyne, and these are the Heirs of the Storm King. My kings. My consorts," she spoke clearly, her demeanor still fiercely dispassionate – if anything could be described by such a contradiction of terms. "And we will stand in the face of any who come against us."

Watching her eyes carefully, Klaus could just see the edges of her neutrality shaking. The girl was holding up well under the weight of her first performance, but it was clear to him that her little show was coming to an end.

"I look forward to opportunity to speak with the rulers of Europe. My neighbors and my fellows; I bid you all good day," she delivered the words carefully, her tone nothing but polite. The sounds still coming from the burning clank provided an effective contrast.

Klaus expected that to be it, for the image to suddenly die. But there was one last surprise the girl had to share with the world.

Slowly she turned her head, as if looking to someone behind her. For all that he squinted, though, Klaus could see no one else on the balcony. Where there should have been a line of guards reinforcing her strength, there was just empty stone and sealed doors.

"Castle?" the girl finally spoke, her voice subdued in the aftermath of her performance.

What he heard next made Klaus's heart stop for a moment, despite his hard fought calm.

"Yes, my Lady?" came the booming reply, not through the projection as the girl's had, but rolling through the very air. The voice came from the stones of the Castle, from the streets, from the walls surrounding the city. Mechanicsburg itself answered to the call of its mistress.

"I'm done talking," the girl said, her voice and face blank.

"Of course…" the Castle answered with the utmost deference.

The girl didn't seem to notice. She just stood there, her fingers slowing tightening on the hands supporting her. The girl had clearly reached the end of her reserve; she might have been learning the twisted paths of politics, but she'd yet to learn what it was to stop caring. Klaus suspected tears were imminent, but before they could fall, the image died and the world was left staring at empty air.

Klaus sat quietly for nearly a minute in the silence, mulling over everything he had just seen. There was a lot of information to be gleaned, so long as he analyzed it properly. The girl was unsure, but determined. She had the backing of his son, which was rather bothersome, as well as whatever strengths came with the Prince of Sturmholten. The competitive display he'd seen his son and the Prince indulge in meant the balance between her "Kings" was still being struck, which exposed a chink in her fairy tale armor. That she'd allowed any weakness to show was foolish and negligent on her part.

She may be the Heterodyne, but she is still just a child, Klaus thought derisively.

Klaus let his attention turn to the still burning clank, its carcass now surrounded by smoldering debris.

Perhaps, not entirely a child.

"Boris," he broke the thick silence, "Have my guard and transport detail prepared. The Lady Heterodyne will be sending a message to me soon. I want to be ready to move immediately."

"Herr Baron?" the man replied nervously. Klaus wasn't surprised by the sound. As a ruler, he tolerated very few things; betrayal of confidence was not one of them.

"When the messenger returns to his Mistress," the Baron elaborated, leaving the question of Boris's loyalty for later. Right now the fate of Europa, and quite possibly the world, was waiting to be decided in the town below.

"I will be returning to Castle Heterodyne with him."