Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess

Heterodyne.

A tear surprised her by rolling down her face. It was only the first of many. She would have to leave the circus now. They wouldn’t trust her, and... and she had gotten Lars killed.

Now the tears flowed freely and she sobbed quietly as she remembered the feel of his arms around her, the way he had smiled when she had delivered a line perfectly, the taste of his lips.

Gone. Gone forever.

Eventually she snuffled one last time and knew that she had to get up. She swung her legs onto the deck, and felt it vibrating beneath her toes. Master Payne really was driving the ship hard. That made sense.

She swayed to her feet. Shaky, but not incapacitated. Good. She looked about, found her glasses and slipped them on. Then she searched, but saw no other clothing. She blew a lock of hair out of her face in annoyance. She found a small tin washbasin, and poured in a splash of water from the almost empty canteen. She scooped the water over her face, and tried to imagine that she was washing away her old life.

She dried her face and slid her glasses back on. As she did so, she caught sight of herself in the small polished metal mirror bolted to the wall above the basin. A gleam of gold at her throat made her pause.

She blinked in surprise. It looked like—it was! It was her old locket! The one that Moloch’s brother had stolen from her back in Beetleburg months ago!

But it couldn’t be.

Well there was a simple way to settle it. The locket contained pictures of her parents. Her hand stopped halfway to her throat.

Her parents. These would be portraits of Bill Heterodyne and Lucrezia Mongfish. She had lovingly studied them for hours lying in her bed at night, or when she had been bullied at school. Wishing that the people in the locket would return from some magical, far-away place and tell her that she was a princess or some other squirmingly embarrassing fantasy.

Well, as far as fantasy parents go, she had hit the jackpot, and now she was terrified of what that meant. She had a sudden irrational thought: If the locket around her neck wasn’t hers—If there was someone else’s portrait inside, or even no portrait at all—then she could forget that she was a Heterodyne. It would no longer be real. It would be someone else’s problem.

She stared at the locket in the mirror. But where had it come from? Of course it was hers. She recognized it in a hundred subtle ways and knew—knew that it was hers, and that it, and everything it contained and everything it represented—was hers and would always be hers. Even if she were too weak or scared to take it, it would still be there, around her neck and inside her head. Forever.

This realization flashed through Agatha’s head in an instant. She looked at the girl in the mirror. The girl who had dreamed that that she could run away with the circus and avoid her destiny. The girl smiled back at her regretfully. It would have been nice.

Then she set her jaw, and reached for the locket.

“DON’T TOUCH IT!” Zeetha’s hand grabbed hold of Agatha’s wrist scant millimeters from the clasp.

Agatha blinked. “What’s wrong with it?”

Zeetha took a deep breath. “Something happened to you in Sturmhalten. You... changed.”

Agatha nodded slowly. “Yes... The Royal family had this machine. I know you won’t believe this, but because of it, I was possessed. My mind was taken over.”

She waited for Zeetha to scoff. Instead the warrior girl looked like she was thinking. “What was it you were possessed by?”

This question was so unexpected that Agatha blurted out the truth. “My mother. Lucrezia Mongfish. They said she was The Other.”

Zeetha looked troubled. “The Other? Then the Baron...This will cause problems.”

“You believe me?”

Zeetha looked up from her introspection and saw Agatha’s distress. She came over and to Agatha’s surprise, embraced her tightly. Agatha found herself relaxing within Zeetha’s embrace.

“We are Kolee-dok-zumil,” Zeetha murmured into Agatha’s ear. “We are a thing together.” She drew back slightly and looked Agatha in the eye. “And in retrospect, I can see that the person we found in Sturmhalten was not you.”

Her hand came up and touched the locket at Agatha’s throat. “But when whoever was there put that locket on—you—Agatha—came back. I saw that.”

The hand caught Agatha’s chin and tilted her head so the two were looking into each other’s eyes. “So you keep that locket on. You keep it on until you are strong enough to handle whatever is in that head of yours.”

Agatha looked distressed. Zeetha frowned. “Is there a problem with that?”

Agatha glanced at the locket in the mirror. “My uncle made me this locket many years ago. It was supposed to protect me.” She thought for a minute. “And I guess it did. It kept me from violently breaking through like most Sparks do, but it did it by keeping me... stupid.”

She brought her hand up, as if she wanted to claw it away from her neck, but her hand hovered, centimeters away from it. Her face showed the conflict she felt. “It used to make me feel safe. Now whenever I think about it, it makes me furious.”

She sat down hard onto the bed. “It’s a symbol of how awful my life was. The headaches. The inventions that never worked. The people who treated me like an idiot. All of that was because of this locket.” She pounded her fists upon her thighs. “This damned, stupid-making locket!”

She then slumped slightly and looked at Zeetha beseechingly. “But it did keep me safe. I didn’t go mad. And now you say it made the thing in my head go away.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I really don’t know how to feel about this,” she confessed.

Zeetha nodded seriously and sat down next to Agatha. She slung an arm around Agatha’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. The two sat together in silence for a moment.

Finally Zeetha said, “You’ve been wearing it for a while now. You don’t sound stupid. How do you feel?”

Agatha considered this. The answer surprised her. “I feel good. I think this thing—” she flicked the locket with a fingernail—“Has been off for too long.” She paused again, “I... I can tell that my thinking has... slowed down a bit. I have to concentrate more when I’m thinking hard, but it’s nothing like it was before. I think my mind has become too strong for it.”

Zeetha nodded slowly. “So—it’s something that you have overcome. Something that reminds you that you’re stronger. But it’s also something that is making you work harder to become even better? That’s good!”

Agatha looked at her askance. “Really?”

Zeetha bounced to her feet. “Of course! Any warrior would cherish such a powerful symbol!” She touched the locket at Agatha’s throat. “You were meant to have this.”

Agatha sighed deeply and stood up. “I sure hope so, because it looks like I can’t take it off.” She stretched. “That’s something else I have to accept.”

Zeetha nodded and declared in a ringing voice. “Think of it as a symbol of everything you’ve overcome, and everything you will overcome.”

Agatha looked at her with a pained expression. “That seems a bit... precious.”

Zeetha frowned. “When you’re stuck with something onerous, make it into a positive symbol.” She lightly smacked Agatha upside her head. “Unless you want to make yourself miserable.”

Agatha smiled, and took a deep breath. “So where are we going?”

Zeetha smiled. “Are you kidding? Payne’s been making a bee-line for Mechanicsburg as soon as we got the engines up to speed. The last thing they want to do is delay you.”

Agatha nodded. She opened the door. “Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, and strode out.

Zeetha closed her eyes and counted to herself. At “ten,” the door was jerked open and Agatha scuttled back in, slamming it behind her.

“Pants.”

Zeetha said nothing, but silently handed over the bundle she’d brought with her. Agatha dressed quickly.