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   “I love you guys!” she told her Dad and kind-of-adoptive-Dad and undeclared-Mom and Grampy.

   “Aye-” Scrooge’s huge smile got watery. “Me darling wee Webbigail, you're the most precious thing in the world.”

   “We're lucky to have you, Webby,” Aunt Della said wholeheartedly, expression open and honest. “Go go, before your sugar crashes!”

   “Happy birthday, dear,” her Grampy cast, not for the first time that day, but ‘ birth day’ held a whole other meaning to it now. He winked, “Just be yourself.”

   “Yeah! Get out there, Nova!” Donald nudged her.

   She got giddy whenever he used her cool nickname, like Dolly did when he called her Turbo.

   She liked “Nova” because Donald had gotten the nickname from the “supernova” phase of a star’s life cycle. The name came from the Latin word for “new”— “novus” —that somehow developed into “nouvelle” in French, then “nuova” in Italian, “nueva” in Spanish and finally, “nova” in Portuguese. Grampy had taught her a supernova was the brightest a star could get, a trillion times brighter than the sun, capable of lighting up an entire galaxy all by itself.

   What she’d failed to recall was that the name was misleading. A supernova wasn't a super new star, it was a super dying star. All that powerful, obfuscating light would implode or dissipate into less than atoms.

   Webby imploded and dissipated into less than atoms when she was fourteen

   The imploding part was metaphorical.

   You see, Hollie had gotten her first molt on the triplets’ twelfth birthday, ten months after the fall of the FOWL. Since she'd been growing more and more jittery Selene-knows-why, everyone figured stress made her molt come early, but Lolley’s started too a couple of days after, and, much to Dolly's horror, that was it. Dolly's molt didn't arrive until theirs was done. The exact same morning as Webby walked up to the breakfast table leaving a trail of feathers behind her, she’d found quills growing from her forehead. Scrooge told them it was because “this sort of thing synchronizes with who ye're always synchronized with”.

   A duckling's first molt is the slowest, they're replacing all of the yellow baby fluff with white adult feathers – every other molt a duck has throughout their life is just a one-week renewal of plumage for summer or winter – the first molt lasts One. Whole. Year. When you molt, you get random bald spots (this is called the ugly duckling phase for a reason), you're itchy all over, full of spiky blood feathers that take a good chunk of your energy to grow and hurt to touch. All of that combined with the sleep deprivation it caused, was what built your stereotypical snappy, hangry teenager who refuses to leave their room.

   The thing is, Hollie became a ticking time bomb during her first months, an overstimulated bundle of nerves that'd snap at everyone (except Boyd--- and surprisingly, Vinicio ) for every little thing. Lolley’s laziness developed into something more catatonic, she'd spend most of her time sleeping or pretending to, she got caught “playing hooky” enough times to cause a scene, and she wouldn't talk to anybody. Less than Hollie, who'd at least growl or something. Donald swooning over them and Aunt Della taking pictures every day probably didn't help.

   On their turn, Dolly was severely disappointed—

   “This is NOT as fun as I thought it would be,” she'd whined, sulking in bed.

   Nobody reached out to soothe her because you don't touch a duck in molt, but Webby was tempted. She just scooted closer to her instead.

   “Sorry, what about our behavior made you think it'd be fun?!” Lolley sat up, disturbed. Hers and Hollie’s new plumage was ridiculously smooth and whiter than white, almost shiny. Definitely somewhat shiny. “The crying ourselves to sleep or the crying ourselves awake?!”

   “Not your behavior, everyone else’s! Being in the spotlight for a whole year?! Getting away with anything and having our parents wrapped around your fingers?!”

   “Oh man, you are delusional.”

   “You still have to deal with the consequences of whatever you do,” Hollie mumbled, absently fidgeting with her hair. “Hormones can only excuse so much.

   It hadn't regrown well from her molt because she couldn't stop herself from pulling at it like she'd always do, not even when there were no feathers to pull, only half-developed quills. Now every feather in her scalp had grown at its own irregular rate, some snapped in half during development, others plucked right off; and if her hair wasn't rumpled before, it definitely was now. Hollie still attempted to tame it with several hair clips, having moved her ribbon to a bow around her collar, but they couldn't work miracles. It wasn’t ugly, but it was definitely far from what Hollie herself would consider acceptable. She was very touchy about it, so no one had brought it up yet.

   “But anything you do will become a story older-you laughs about with your family!” Webby said, trying to lighten them up. “Aunt Della and Dad Donald talk about their worst life-threatening choices like it was funny!”

   “I don't think you'll be laughing if you get grounded.”

   Webby pouted.

   “...I’ll be the judge of that.” Dolly rolled out of bed with newfound determination. “You guys totally missed out on the TRUE moody teenager privilege!”

   —but, well, on the polar opposite of her sisters' molt moods, Dolly might've gotten a little maniacal, reckless worse than she had been when Donald returned from the Moon. She got a lot closer to Gosalyn that year because he was the only person who egged her on….aside from Webby, who couldn't say no to her best friend. With Luke fervently encouraging her “rebellious teen era”, it was safe to say Webby might've gotten a bit carried away, too. The four of them made quite the team out there.

   All in all, her first molt went fine—

   “First the literal vampire fever, then Narnia, now this?!” Grampy lectured her, Dolly, Luke and Gosalyn after they were caught sneaking an alien robot in through the back doors. “You’re lucky I'm the one who noticed what you’ve been up to, you can only imagine how Scrooge or Della would react to finding out you went to space without warning anybody! Did you even think about that?!”

   Webby’s stomach dropped and she saw Dolly wince from the corner of her eyes.

   Grampy sent Luke and Gosalyn a look. “What would your parents think of this?!”

   Luke flinched, sweating, and Gosalyn turned his head away, hands tightening in fists at his sides.

   “I’m fetching Launchpad to drop you off,” he said, then to Dolly and Webby, “and you will dismiss this robot. You don't want me to catch it in the mansion again.”

   “What?!” She wrangled her space suit helmet off. “No! We're helping CIP defeat the Dark Horde before it's too late! He came all the way from the future to save our entire galaxy from eternal darkness!”

   “I’m sure ‘CIP’ can find plenty of other candidates on Earth, grown adults for a change.”

   “But we're the Star Force Rebel Academy!”

   “You're thirteen. I never gave you permission to be out adventuring on your own, much less into space, Webby.” He took the helmet from her hands, plucked Dolly's from her head and motioned for Luke and Gosalyn to hand them over too. They complied and he frowned at Dolly. “I expected you of all people to know better.”

   Her sister, who already had tears in her eyes, refused to meet Grampy’s and kept her beak low. She would've usually tried to stand up for her actions until she ran out of arguments, but not that day, it seemed. Webby would do it for her.

   “I don't need your permission, you're not even my real grandpa!” She snatched the helmet back. “Donald is not my dad and Aunt Della is not my mom, and Dad isn't my dad either, he's me! None of you can keep Scrooge McDuck from adventure!”

   Grampy was visibly taken aback, but his severe frown returned placid.

   “Very well. Dolly however, is part of this family and will not go to space again without permission,” he told her, and she gasped as her heart constricted. “Ms. Mallard will never allow Gosalyn to go again either once she hears of this–”

   Gos jumped. “Whoa, hey! She doesn't need to know anything, man, I swear I won't do it again!”

   “–and Mrs. Lilac and Heather may not allow Luke to come here at all for a significant enough amount of time.”

   “Bold of you to assume they give a damn about what I do,” Luke mumbled, “as long as I'm having fun they'd never get in the way. Unlike some people.”

   “Oh, pardon me. Allow me to correct myself: they will keep you away from this house as per my request.”

   Webby staggered back. “You can't do that!!”

   “I don't need your permission to. You can go on that adventure if you don't care about your family, but since I care about you, I will do everything within my power to keep you safe. We don't need another Spear of Selene accident.”

   She scowled at her grandfather, holding her breath because if she let it out there it'd come out weak, and she needed to seem strong.

   Luke shared a desperate glance with her, eyes holding a warning, but she didn't allow her posture to waver.

   “So? What will it be?” Grampy asked her, and they were an unstoppable force against an immovable obstacle.

   “If I may,” CIP started, drawing everybody's attention. “I think I ought to see myself out.”

   “No!” Webby yelped. “What about the fate of the universe?!”

   “I’m sure there are other creative and daring people out there, Webbigail, Earth is a wonderful planet like that,” he told her gently, and she let that weak, shaky breath out. “We will never forget what you did as members of the Star Force Rebel Academy, children! Farewell!”

   “No no no! Wait!!”

   She stumbled after him as he hovered away, her helmet slipping from her grip and clattering on the floor. Breathing heavily from utter anger, she glared murder at her reflection on the helmet's visor so she wouldn't have to do it to Grampy. Not because she didn't want him to see how angry she was, but because she had angry tears blooming that would probably only make her look like a stupid fussy child. She kicked it strongly enough that it'd leave a mark both on the wall where it hit and on her foot, growling, then she stormed through the door CIP left open, planning not to come back until she was sure her grandfather's duties would keep him from answering the front door.

   Gos turned to Grampy. “....Are you still going to tell Mom that–”

   “Yes. You are all grounded.”

   “Aw, come on! Thanks a lot, Webby!”

   Dolly and Luke elbowed Gosalyn.

   —except for the amount of times she got herself and the others grounded.

   The issue came at the end of her molt:

   She looked like the spitting image of Scrooge McDuck.

   A snapped blood feather ruined her favorite pink button-up early on, so she'd been wearing a looser black T-shirt since, topped with a jacket. She wore black eyeliner to match. And when a particularly inconvenient bald spot made her realize she'd grown out of her skirt, Aster got her a new one with tons of pocket space, the same color as her bow, so she clipped her bow to the hem because it kept slipping off her hair with her baby feathers.

   Not that Dad would wear that, but now that her adult feathers were taking over, she'd gotten her dad's chest hair fluff and her whiskers had grown just as big as his.

   This was a literal childhood dream come true, it just got.. too real.

   The chest fluff wasn't like women’s plumpy bosom feathers, it wasn't womanly at all. It wasn't in the right spot, it was… well, chest hair. And now that her hair was growing back, she discovered it was impossible to style it with the whiskers there. She looked disheveled and the whiskers only came off as sideburns. Like. Facial hair.

   If that wasn't enough karma for betraying her family back when she was twelve, her voice had been growing more raspy until. Until.

    “Uh, I asked you which one would make me look less like a lesbian,” Dolly repeated herself, swiping through the pictures she'd taken at the optometrist. “Dolly to Webby? Hello?”

   Webby, sweating, just pointed at whichever option was currently on the screen.

   “Butterfly frames. Yeah, you're right, cat eye would be overkill.”

   She nodded desperately.

   “You’re the one who decided to get She-Ra’s hairstyle,” Hollie pointed out, swiping at Dolly's phone. “I still think the square ones look best on you.”

   “And she should trust the opinion of the nerd, why?” Lolley mocked playfully, draped over the couch with her legs crossed over Hollie and Dolly's laps.

   Hollie pushed her off the couch. “Because nerds are the glasses people!”

   “Oh, really? Then where are your glasses?”

   “Yeah, nerds always choose square frames anyways,” Dolly said, smirking. “Nice try, Hollie, but your evil plan to make me smarter is not going to work!”

   She faltered in frustration. “Wh- That’s not–”

   “Ha! Caught red-handed.” Dolly, laughing, elbowed Webby. “She's just jealous she's not the one getting glasses.”

   “I'm not jealous of having poor eyesight, Dolly!”

   But then, with the distinct lack of Webby's input, all three of them slowly turned to look at her.

   “...Webby, we're squabbling.”

   “You're not gonna break us off?” Hollie tried. “Or say that you think square glasses are cool to make me feel better?”

   “She would never say that!”

   “You underestimate how much of a nerd Webby can be,” Lolley piped up from the carpet, making no move to climb back onto the couch. “Did you forget how Vinicio and her became friends?”

   They waited for her to say something, but she couldn't, grinding her beak shut and twiddling her thumbs anxiously. Lolley finally sat back up, ditching the amusement from her tone,

   “Alright, this is getting weird.”

   “What’s going on?” Hollie bent over to look at her, hands wrung together.

   Webby opened her mouth to lie, but she clamped it back shut with her hands, opting for just shaking her head and getting up to leave. Dolly caught her by the arm.

   “Wait! What's wrong?!”

   “Maybe she has a sore throat..?” Hollie offered, getting less confident with each word. Lolley was onto her,

    “She's hiding something.”

   Panicking, she did a basic shoulder throw to get rid of Dolly and ran away. She heard her sisters scrambling to follow her, and with their current training they might've been able to catch up to 11-year-old Webby, but Webby's grown too. She'd make the next right turn into a random room and open a vent so they’d think she–

    “Oomph!”

   She crashed into her dad.

   “Webbigail?!” He caught her before she could fall back. “What’s the rush, lass?!”

   “Uncle Scrooge got her!” Dolly announced, quickly approaching.

   “Ye’re playing tig?!”

   “NO! DON'T LET HER GO!” her best friend told him before he could let go of Webby, “GOT YOU!” She tackled her down when she got close enough and they started wrestling on the ground. “Spit it out!!”

   “Spit what out?!” Dad worried as the others arrived and helped immobilize her. “I keep having to tell Ember and Toby to spit out choking hazards! Not you too!”

   “We’re the Four-Fold, we trust each other with everything! What happened to your ‘sisters don't keep secrets’ thing, Webs?!”

   She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling, but it was no use. Dolly had her arms pinned down and Lolley was sitting over her ankles, Hollie kept her hands to herself, anxiously tugging her hair to cover her face, but still hovered near. Overwhelmed and outnumbered like at the Library of Alexandria, she bit back a sob and gave in,

   “I– I- I can't-”

   “Can't what?” Noticing how upset she was, Dolly immediately let go. When Webby didn't make a move to run away again, Lolley let go too and her father crouched to listen. “What?”

   “I can't sp– eak,” she said, except her voice cracked and wobbled between notes too high and too low. Hiding her face with her arms, she breathed in to calm her voice down and clarified, “It’s my voice! When I w- woke up today it was deep –”

   It broke off in a particularly Scrooge-sounding timbre and she cringed, flustered.

   Her sisters were stunned speechless and her dad's breath hitched. After a moment, he heaved himself back up and offered her a hand,

   “It’s time. Come with me.”

   “Wh- What?” She looked at him, startled out of her misery.

   “With your molt coming to an end and this sudden growth spurt, I knew what was coming next. I've been looking into ways to stop this.”

   Webby took his hand and he helped her up. The triplets stood too, following them into the garage, where he told Launchpad to start the Cloudslayer. Lolley was already clinging to Webby's arm like a koala, a still disconcerted frown on her beak, and she knew she wasn't going to let go any time soon.

   “The Jusenkyo springs would hold you back more than help you,” he ranted as he texted someone on his phone. “Asking that genie or the Papyrus for it, if we still had it, would be too risky. They'd find a way to twist your demand, bah, that magic can't be trusted. Witches would love to tear any part of your body away, but none of them promise the process will be harmless. There is only one person who can help us.

   Hera.”

   They gasped. Hollie's hands flew from her hair,

   “You mean the goddess Hera?!”

   “The one and only,” Scrooge praised her. “Zeus’s wife, Queen of Olympus! The Greek goddess of family, childbirth, marriage–” he nodded at Webby, “–and womanhood.”

   Her eyes sparkled.

   “But she doesn't sound very trustworthy either.” Hollie pulled out her Woodchuck guidebook, flipping pages until she found one about Hera. Showing it to them, she cited, “Hera is most known for her various cruel punishments to anyone who offended her values. How do we know she'll help Webby and not just kill all of us?”

   “That’s where your aunt and father come in,” Dad said, Donald and Aunt Della rushing in right on cue. “There is one thing Hera wants most in this world, and it's to make Zeus suffer.” He turned to his nephew and niece. “Donald, you and I will fly to Ithaquack. You'll sneak Selene and Storkules away, do what you have to do, and I will stay behind to distract Zeus.”

   “Wait, you're not coming with us?” Hollie asked.

   “Hera would never listen to a man. Della, that's why you're taking the kids to Olympus.”

   “Me?!” Aunt Della startled.

   “Yes. If Hera gives you trouble, give her this.” Scrooge handed her a paper scroll. “She'll do anything in return.”

   “But-”

   “Donald, you can fly a helicopter, right?”

   “Can’t see why not!”

   “Good. Let's go.”

   “Why are we going to the Olympus?!” Della shouted after his uncle and brother.

   “Is that the Empire State Building?!” Lolley squinted through the window of the limo as they approached. Launchpad had crashed the plane into a nearby airport. “I thought we were going to Greece, not New Yolk.”

   “This is where Mr. McDuck said we were going!” Launchpad said. “I mean, he told me to wait outside, but you guys get to see the 600th floor!”

   “That can't be right.” Hollie frowned. “The tallest building in the world only has 163 floors. Maybe you remembered the number wrong.”

   “Nope, it's the 600th!” She showed them a paper with ‘600’ written and underlined on it. “I made him repeat himself five times before he eventually wrote it down.”

   “I…”

   “But we don't even have tickets!” Aunt Della stressed, trying to phone Scrooge for the tenth time. “How are we supposed to get in?!”

   “I don't know. But you'll figure it out!”

   They parked and left to find the entrance. Once they were past the revolving doors, the teens whooed at the sight. The ceiling was impressively high up, there were golden murals on every wall and every surface was reflective. Lolley finally let go of Webby to begin taking selfies, then stopped, staring at her phone.

   “Ugh, everybody’s gonna think these were photoshopped. Why didn't Uncle Scrooge tell us we were flying to the Empire State Building?! I'd have dressed nicer.”

   At the front desk, while the triplets looked around, Aunt Della talked to the guard,

   “Um, can we get tickets for the six-hundredth floor, please?”

   “Sorry, ma'am, if this building went that high we'd pierce the Moon and those lunatics would invade us again.”

   She hunched her shoulders, quacking something unintelligible before her second attempt, “We need to see Hera.”

   The man’s expression fell into a skeptical deadpan, but he acknowledged her, “Do you have an appointment?”

   “Er… No?”

   “Then no can do, ma'am.”

   Aunt Della cursed, tapping her fingers restlessly on the counter as she thought of an out. She pepped up again and leaned in to whisper something Webby couldn't make out from where she was awkwardly looming behind her like a baby duckling to their momma.

   “So? Do you have any idea of how many demigods we get around here?” the man told her after inspecting the triplets. “Without an appointment, they’re as good as mortals.”

    Did she just try to pass them off as demigods?!

   She cursed again, bumping her fists on the table. Then, she pulled the scroll out of her pocket and opened it, her last resort. Webby tried to get a good look at what it showed, deathly curious, but her aunt snapped the scroll back shut and announced,

   “I think she'll make an exception. We found her husband’s hideout.”

    Ohhh.

   The guard's eyebrow shot up. “How?”

   “It's not you I have to discuss this with.”

   Standing off his chair, he bolted for the elevator and Aunt Della smiled triumphantly.

   “Come, girls!”

   They waited a long time in the elevator. Long enough for Dolly to learn the song that was playing softly and start remixing it vocally, hip-hopping to her own rhythm. Lolley was on her phone, head resting up on Webby's shoulder with an arm wrapped around one of hers. Hollie was staring.

   “Are you okay?” Hollie whispered. “It's kind of uncanny to see you so quiet.”

   Webby shrugged, rubbing her arm self-consciously.

   “...I don't know what I'd do if this happened to me. I think I'd be too embarrassed to speak too. I'd be mortified.”

   They looked at each other.

   “Sorry, that- That probably didn’t make you feel better… If Hera doesn't help us, are you never going to speak again?” Hollie asked, snapping one of her hair clips open and shut repetitively.

   She paused, because she hadn't thought about that, then whispered, “I’d have to use one of Gyro's voice boxes.”

   “Oh. Huh. Then why don't you just do that?”

   “It wouldn't fix everything.”

   Hollie frowned in confusion.

   The doors chimed open suddenly and they were met with a stone bridge into the clouds, where they could see, distantly, the snowy peak of a mountain littered with palaces through the mist. Under the bridge was a view certainly worth more than the tickets they could've gotten for any of the other accessible floors, the entirety of Mousehattan 7 miles above ground. Dolly screamed in excitement and Aunt Della in fear, backing into the elevator. Lolley just collapsed, almost dragging Webby down with her. But the guard picked the two of them up under his arms and went ahead, dropping them off on safe ground across the bridge, the others right behind him.

   “I have to get back to my post,” he told them before leaving, “you’ll need to climb the Mount Olympus to get to the Pantheon.”

   At the very top of the mountain stood the biggest palace, surrounded with thriving gardens and busy bazaar markets. Up about a hundred steps, they crossed a gorgeous courtyard into the most beautiful place they'd ever set foot in. It was huge, full of columns, and an elevated throne loomed over the room. A very large golden and white speckled cow woman sat there in Greek attire.

   Lolley took a selfie. “Hmm, yeah, no, people are definitely gonna think that's AI.”

   “Della Duck,” the cow said, tone either amused or snooty, and it soared like thunder through the palace. “Xandra still gushes about you. Who are your… companions?”

   “Wait, what? You know her?” Lolley asked a visibly nervous Aunt Della. “Do you know every Greek god there is?!”

   Hollie looked at Webby, who was basically vibrating. “Who's Xandra?”

   “The goddess of adventure!!” she squealed- or, tried to. It came out deep then squeaky and weird, and she quieted back down in shame.

   Webby wanted to say how the goddess of adventure herself probably knew Aunt Della by the name from the multiple grandiose adventures she went on with Scrooge and Donald. Xandra must love the McDucks. She was bursting to boast about it, admiration and pride inflating her chest, but she held back. Aunt Della winced in sympathy and answered the goddess,

   “These are my children–”

   “Your children?”

   “–and we need your help.”

   Hera stood and walked down to meet them. Up close, she was ever bigger and a thousand times more beautiful. And intimidating. Lolley hid behind her sisters and Aunt Della put a protective hand on Webby's shoulder, stepping forward into Hera's presence with her. It smelled of spring and sunlight, but it was dense and hard to breathe in.

   “Scrooge?”

   Webby jolted when she realized she was addressing her. “Uh- I'm Webby! Y- Your Highness! Webbigail Vanderquack-McDuck, Scrooge’s daughter!”

   Her voice came out exactly like her father's and she cringed.

    “‘Daughter’?” She scrutinized her, and it wasn't because it was hard to believe Scrooge would've settled down to have a baby. “You sound just like him too.”

   Dolly opened her mouth, by her expression it was safe to assume nothing less than rude was going to come out of it, but her aunt shut her up with a hand around her beak.

   “That's the problem,” Della came to the rescue, “we need you to turn her body into a girl's.”

   Hera’s ox eyes widened. “What cretin turned her body into a man’s?!”

   “No- Uh- She was born like that.”

   “Ah. So he is a man?”

   “No!” Aunt Della snapped. “She's a young lady who needs the help of the freaking goddess of womanhood to GET THERE! Are you going to help us or not?!”

   “You mean like what I did with Tiresias? I turned him into a woman as a punishment.”

   Della scowled. “What does she need to do wrong so you can punish her with it?!”

   Hera gasped, offended, “The audacity–” and before things could get worse, Webby swiped the scroll Scrooge gave Aunt Della and jumped between her and the goddess, handing it out,

   “My dad is with your husband right now and we can get you to him!” But when she reached for the scroll, Webby retracted. “ If you help me. Please–” her voice cracked, “P- Please your Highness, I- I can't go on like this.”

   The goddess raised an eyebrow at her. “Why? Why would a young man like you want to relinquish the benefits of manhood? To a life where you have to be on the lookout for men everywhere you go? You'd rather be the prey in a world of bloodthirsty hunters?”

   Feeling a little sick, she faltered, “I don't like what manhood represents. I don't like how they're expected to act or, or how they're entitled to act. I love my dad and my Grampy and Dad Donald, I think they're great men! B- but this– I won't stand for this, and I don’t want to live a lifetime of people telling me I'm ‘doing it wrong’ just because I feel like it's wrong to ‘do’ it.” Under Hera's intense judging gaze, she felt weak on her knees, but she still stood straighter and steeled her face to summarize it all,

   “Being a guy is gross.”

   “HA!” Hera cackled in delight, smiling at the heavens like they were laughing with her, “HA HAHAHAHAHAHA!!” and said, putting a hand on her back to separate her from Della, “Can't argue with that!”

   She glanced behind her at the triplets and Aunt Della as the goddess guided her towards the throne. They looked uncertain.

   “I've heard a lot of great things about you McDucks. But this is the greatest thing I've heard yet!"

   “So you'll help me?”

   “I’ll give you a trial.” Hera pulled her ginormous throne, turning it around to reveal a rose-tinted mirror with fern growing from the frame. “If you can face what womanhood truly means, down to its core, and don't cower, you will return with the body of the young lady you want to be.”

   Webby examined her reflection in the mirror. It was just her current self, nothing spiced up, and she didn't like it. She reached for it somberly and startled when her hand dipped into the mirror surface, creating ripples that unfocused her reflection. It wasn't a mirror, it was a vertical pond, she realized as she pulled her hand back to see water drip to the floor.

   “Does that mean I'll just get my period?”

   “Amenorrhea and menopause do not take the womanhood out of a woman.”

   “Okay,” she said awkwardly. “...What happens if I fail?”

   “You die.”

    “WHAT?!” her family yelled from behind her, Aunt Della getting riled up.

   “Just kidding, ladies! Jeez. When have I ever done something so rash?”

   “On every single myth you take part in,” Hollie said, frowning warily.

   “Well- They’re called myths for a reason,” she reprimanded her. Then, turning to Webby, she said more seriously, “If you experience the true nature of womanhood and reject it, you'll wish your punishment was just ‘death’, Webbigail McDuck.”

   The arched ceiling that let either natural light or magical clear skies in, closed up, getting dark as the void of the universe. Wind caught up fast and strong, pushing Webby towards the pond. She almost fell forward.

   Through the violent winds, she was only barely able to hear her sisters and Aunt Della protest. Glancing back at them, she realized the same wind that was prompting her ahead was keeping them away from the throne. Hera stood impassively between the two winds, looking fixedly at her, and Webby immediately looked away. The mirror surface was thrashing in waves, she couldn't see how deep it was so she took a deep breath in for precaution. And let herself get dragged by the wind into the waters. They were calm, warm and bright under the surface, rose kaleidoscoped around her as she swam. Endlessly, aimlessly.

   Grampy had trained her to do free-diving under almost 3280 feet underwater with no equipment for about 3 minutes, but she felt like it'd been at least 5 already. And though the water temperature wasn't anything beyond pleasantly warm, it was starting to make her feel feverish, like her blood was boiling under her skin. She was slowing down and the distinct lack of buoyancy from her lungs was off-putting. Like there was no gravity in there. Nothing tugged at her semicircular canals or at the pressure building inside of her lungs that'd hint the direction of the surface, and she didn't sink either. So as she gradually lost energy to swim, she found herself floating in place.

   Her name followed her into unconsciousness, screamed from the mouths of her family, who knows how far behind her.

   .

   .

   .

   Webby gasped awake, instantly hunching over and retching pink water on the floor, coughing and catching her breath. Her skin was still scalding hot, so she kicked the blankets off her with the desperation of a cat scrambling out of a bathtub.

   She was in her room. Had she failed and get sent into a coma as punishment? Or was this the trial? …Her bedroom was the trial??

   “Test, test,” she spoke carefully, then louder, “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog!”

   Her voice was back to normal!!

   Did she do it?! She passed the trial?! Was the true nature of womanhood getting drowned in pink water after swimming for what felt like forever? Huh, insightful. She somersaulted out of bed and ran to greet her sisters, finding only Hollie in their bedroom.

   “Hollie! I did it!”

   “That's- good? Did what?”

   That's when Webby realized she was wearing a hat. A red baseball cap. The last time she'd ever seen her wear a cap, the Duchess of Destruction had ruined her hair.

   “Oh no!! What happened?!”

   “What happened to what?” Hollie stood from her desk, closing her journal and tucking her pencil on the side of her hair. Webby could see now that it was not only perfectly unharmed, but also. Perfect. “You're not making any sense.”

   Her hair hadn't been this neat in ages. Usually her hair feathers were mangled from her stimming, snapped in various directions while new, smaller feathers peeked through. Now it was tied up in a little ponytail over the clasp of her cap, looking soft and well preened.

   “What happened to your hair? It's.. You fixed it?”

   “I–”

   “Can I touch it?”

   “Um. Sure?” She removed her cap and hair tie, shaking her hair loose. “You're acting weird.”

   Webby ran her hands through it. It was even softer than Lolley's but less oily, and it was really short, just the height she'd need to wear her ribbon on her hair again. As she noticed this, she realized Hollie wasn't wearing her ribbon on her collar either. In fact, she was wearing a red sweater and brown shorts . Shorts. Hollie only wore shorts at her scout meetings.

   “Ohhh, you're dressed up for a Senior Woodchuck meeting!”

   “What? No I'm not. I wear this everyday,” Hollie said. Webby laughed lightly, assuming she was being sarcastic, but she insisted, “What are you talking about?! Webby, you're freaking me out!”

   “Well, get ready to be DOUBLE FREAKED OUT,” someone said, skidding in. “In a good way! ‘Cause I got my glasses! So? Do I or do I not look like your highschool daydream?”

   It was Dolly. It was definitely Dolly, in a different outfit and with her new glasses, with a definitely deeper guy voice, but it was Dolly and something was wrong. Webby's stomach tied up in knots as she looked at her best friend and saw a stranger forming.

   “Gee, does it look that bad?! Hey, you're the ones who said square frames were the best!”

   But she hadn't. She hadn't said that. She’d been completely silent during that conversation.

   “I tried to warn you.” Lolley sidled in, but once she got a good look at Dolly, her eyebrows raised. “No no, you look good! Holy shit, the nerds were right, Dewey, square is your shape!”

   “Okay yeah, that's what I thought, but Webby’s still looking at me like I grew tentacles on my face.”

   Lolley snorted and turned to Webby. “What's the big idea?”

   She was different too, not by much, but still different. Her voice was also deeper, for one, her hair was a lot shorter and her hoodie was short-sleeved.

   “Did- Wh- Did you call her Doo-wee?”

   “Her?”

   “Did you forget my name?!” Dewey gasped. “After all these years! I thought we had something!”

   “Webby called me ‘Hollie’ earlier,” Hollie (or not??) said pensively. “I thought she was greeting me in Spanish for some reason, but…”

   “Did you forget all of our names?!!”

   Lolley felt her forehead, which was probably still burning up from the mirror pond. “Yup, she's coming down with something.”

   Webby breathed, mouth agape as she tried to make sense of the situation.

   “I- Your name isn't Hollie? Hollister? Hollister Duck?”

   “Oh,” she said awkwardly, cringing, and maybe also very confused, “no, you- I thought you knew- Webby, I'm Hilda now.”

    “Hilda?! Why?!!”

   “Yeah, that was my reaction too,” Dewey joked, earning a glare from Hilda.

   “Because it sounds more like Huey.”

   Dewey interjected, “It sounds more like a viking.”

   “Why would you want it to sound like ‘Huey’??!”

   “Because big changes scare me and I want to keep being called Huey. We've been through this.”

   “NO WE HAVEN'T!” she panicked. “That doesn't explain anything! How long was I asleep for?!”

   “I don't know, eight hours?” Lolley asked her sisters.

   “Actually, she slept in today,” Dewey noted. “She was supposed to come with us to the optometrist to get my glasses, but she was still asleep by ten.”

   “Which is… extremely uncharacteristic of her,” Huey narrowed her eyes.

   Webby took a step back, bringing up her defenses when they all prepared to attack, eyeing her suspiciously.

   “Who are you and what did you do to my best friend?!” Dewey growled, shoving an accusatory finger on her face. “Are you another clone? Did they not even bother to have you learn our names?!”

   “She asked to touch my hair! I think she took a sample of my DNA! No matter what you do, don't let her leave the mansion with it!”

   “I'm not going to leave!” she pleaded with them. “I'm Webby! Please, someone just tell me what's going on!!”

   “Aha!” Aunt Della burst in, kicking the door down, and pointed at them. Her voice was unsettlingly clear, “No fighting!” Then she puffed up her chest in pride, looking off into the distance. “Nailed it.”

   Wait, no. That was not Aunt Della. It looked exactly like her but Aunt Della never wore her hair down, much less Donald's aviator hat and. Donald's outfit entirely. And his metal leg.

    “Donald??”

   “What?” Aunt Donald looked behind her from both sides, checking if someone else was there, then checked her clothes and felt for her face. Sighing dramatically in relief, she said, “You can't scare a woman like that, I thought I grew Donald's worry lines there for a second! It’d be enough for anyone to get us mixed up.”

   Webby's hands were shaking.

   “Then- A- Aunt Della?”

   The woman's expression spasmed. “Why–”

   “Don't listen to her, Mom,” Huey held a hand between Webby and her. “This isn't Webby, it's an impostor!”

   Her heart broke a little. “I'm not!!”

   “She must be a long-lost project of FOWL or something,” Dewey told their… mother, apparently?! And then squinted at her. “Is your name March or July?”

   “What-”

   “I got it!” Mom Donald ran at her, going for a roundhouse kick, and when Webby ducked, she just switched feet and swiped on under hers.

   Webby got back up fast, sidekicking Mom Donald's beak in and elbowing her neck while she was stunned, sending her down. She spun around to face her sisters, only to catch a faceful of a pillow thrown at her, then a blanket.

   “Go go go!” Hollie- Huey directed her sisters to spin around her. They were trying to wrap her up in the blanket.

   She groaned in frustration and spun faster in the same direction they were going, rendering their efforts useless. Instead, she took advantage of their closeness to jump out from between them – her end of the blanket in hand – and cover their heads with it. Before they could shake it off, she pulled the blanket, making them all headbutt each other and fall apart like dominoes.

   Familiar unintelligible quacking exploding behind her was the only warning she got before getting absolutely manhandled by who was definitely a buzzcut version of the actual Aunt Della if the sailor uniform was anything to go by – Webby struggled, but it was hard to keep up with Della's classic temper attack, she's never been the target of one before – in a heartbeat, her face was flush against the floor, her arms secured behind her back. Aunt Della had her completely immobilized.

   “Uncle Donald!” her sisters cheered.

   “Who are you working for?!”

   “Nobody!” she grinded out. “I'm Webby! It's me!”

   “If you really are Webby, then why did you attack us?!” Lolley argued.

   “You attacked first!!”

   Aunt Della and Donald seemed to have switched personalities along with the outfits. If Aunt Della was now Uncle Donald, then Mom Donald was… Mom Della? Almost as if they'd switched genders. Dolly and Lolley looked and sounded like guys now, too. So maybe everyone was just switched.

   Except for Hollie for some reason?

   Then her eyes widened- If everyone was switched, did that mean her Dad was a–

   “What in dismal downs is going on in here?!”

   Scrooge stood at the doorway in all of his gleam and glory, exactly the same as she remembered him. She felt like she could cry. She might. Her eyes welled up as she cried out,

    “Dad!!”

   “She’s an impostor!” Huey told him quickly, “We don’t know who she is, but we think she might be here to steal our DNA!”

   “I'm not– gah!” she broke off as Uncle Donald pressed her head harder against the floor. “I am Webby, just- not your Webby?? I think I know what's happening. I can explain everything!”

   Her father studied her for a moment, then told his nephew,

   “Let the lass go, Donald, let's hear what she has to say.”

   “What?! But–”

   “Magic, aliens, gods and demons are real and ye can't believe a girl saying she's from another universe?”

   Uncle Donald sighed and helped her up.

   “Start talking,” Della said, crossing her arms.

   Her family dissecting her with narrowed eyes wasn't a very comforting sight, but her father nodded comprehensively at her and she relaxed just a bit.

   “I went to Mount Olympus with Aunt Della and my sisters–” she looked at them respectively, “–Hollie, Dolly and Lolley, to meet the goddess of women, Hera. She gave me a test: I’ll experience the true nature of womanhood, and if I can face it, I get to take it home. I think whatever this is … is the trial.”

   “Wait, go back, you went to Mount Olympus?!” Dewey whooed. “How come we never went to Mount Olympus?! What do our girl versions have that we don't?”

   “Um,” Lolley started, then stopped himself, frowning. “Eh. Too easy.”

   “You're from a universe where everyone's sexes are swapped?” Huey mused. “And- Wait no, let me get this straight… You're.. You said you'll get to ‘take womanhood home’?”

   “Yeahhh,” she laughed embarrassedly, mumbling, “my voice was starting to sound like Dad's.”

   Huey’s expression did a something. The way she looked at her, utterly fascinated and open, made her look like she had actual sparks in her eyes. Wait. Did she have actual sparks in her eyes–

   “You’re- You're trans, like me?”

   She recalled Vinicio referring to her as that once.

   “Uh, maybe? What does ‘trans’ mean?”

   Huey laughed incredulously. “It's people who change the biological sex they were born with! Transgender!”

   “You were born a boy?!” she screeched, disconcerted. She'd never met anyone like her before. “No, wait, of course you were. With the swap and all, haha.” Then she beamed, “Did you wear skirts when you were little too?! And like girl stuff?!”

   “Oh, no, I was terrified of doing anything namely girly.”

   “What?? Then how did you become a girl?!”

   Huey shrugged, cheeks pink.

   “Wait, but why did you call me Donald?” Aunt- Uh, Uncle- um- Della asked, “And then ‘Aunt’ Della?”

   “You're my Donald, the triplets' father, and he's my Aunt Della!”

   “I guess we being born female or male wouldn't change the names our parents picked for us,” Uncle Donald deadpanned.

   Lolley perked up. “But it changes our names! Webby, what is my girl name?!”

   “Um, Hollie is Hollister, Dolly is Dorothea and you're Lowreley.”

   His eyebrows fell. “Why are you pronouncing it like that? Do you mean Loreley?”

   “Nope. It’s Lowreley with an L-O-W.”

    “SERIOUSLY, UNCLE DONALD?!!”

   “We’re Louie for Lewellyn,” Huey explained, ignoring Louie's hiss to shut up, “Dewey for Dewford and Huey for- W- Well, it used to be Hubert.”

   “What about Ember and Toby, September and October? My little brothers?”

   “Your little- Oh! May and June?”

   “OOH!” She gasped. “How about Luke and Vinicio?”

   “You mean Lena and Violet?”

   “Gosalyn?”

   “She’s still Gosalyn.”

   “Oh, what about BOYD?! Is he Girl-D?”

   “Strangely enough he continues to be Boyd.”

   “Huh. Aunt Della's boyfriend Aster?”

   “Uncle Donald's girlfriend Daisy!”

   “And Dad Donald's moon boyfriend Aphelion?”

   “Uh, ‘Mom’ Della’s moon girlfriend Penumbra.”

   Della's eyes widened. “You knew we’re dating?!”

   Everyone shot her a look.

   “Aw phooey.”

   Webby grinned. “What about Dad's situationship, Gold–”

    “O-KAY , that's enough talk,” Scrooge interrupted, adjusting his collar and clearing his throat. “Webby, come with me.”

   They left, and once they were far enough away, her father checked for eavesdroppers. Finding nobody, he then slapped his forehead, whisper-shouting,

   “What particular sort of imbecile sent you to Hera?! Do you not know what she's capable of?! Have I not taught you kids to do your research before each adventure?! Even going to Circe would have been safer than to Hera!”

   Webby gaped.

   “..It was you, you sent us to Hera.”

   “Poppycock! I would never! I hate that cow!”

   “But you told us to trade Zeus's location for it, and it worked!”

   “‘Worked’? ‘Worked’?! Yer still on trial, lass!” He started pacing. “Oh, Webby, my darling Webbigail. Oh no. What if you can't do it, what if you fail?! Did she tell you what she'd do to you?!”

   He was worried about her. That would be a bad time to tell him the punishment of failure would be worse than death.

   “It doesn't matter because I won't fail!”

   Dad stopped pacing to look at her, then he approached and held her shoulders. “Webby. What did she tell you?”

   “Uh- Wh- What can be so hard about womanhood?! It can't be that bad! I know the rules! Scream ‘FIRE’ instead of ‘HELP’, never let a man take you to a second location, go to a mother or a goth lady for help if I'm–”

   “Do not underestimate this challenge, lass, womanhood was so hard I asked Poseidon to get rid of mine.”

   “You WHAT!?”

   She hadn’t even thought of that. In a world where she was born a girl, Scrooge had to have been born a girl too, she was his clone after all… Poseidon though?

   “He did it to Kaineus for free!” he explained himself. “Er, mostly for free. What did Hera tell you?”

   “..That if I reject womanhood, she'll make me wish the punishment was just death.”

   Her father made a sound of shock and slid down a wall to plop dumbstruck on the ground. 

   “B- But I can do it!”

   “I don't doubt that you can do anything, lassie, you’ve got the best of McDuck stubbornness. But- I-” he broke off in grumbles, helpless.

   Webby wilted.

   “...Why did you ask Poseidon to give you a man's body?”

   “Because being a woman was counterproductive to my ambitions, of course, as a multimillionaire. But even as a young boy, I realized the world out there was safer if I didn't dress like a girl. It's just more practical to be a man.”

   That wasn't as sentimental as she expected, but it was something.

   “That way you feel about being a woman is how I feel about being a man!” Webby said, and her father looked up, hooked. “I’ll do whatever it takes, whatever this trial throws at me, I'll face it. I made my vows.” She did the military salute. “Because whatever it is, it's better than having people see a man when they look at me…..no offense.”

   “None taken,” he said slowly, standing up. “Aye.” He ruffled her already-pretty-ruffled hair. “Let's catch you that womanhood, shall we?”

   She beamed. “Where are we going?!”

   “We are going to defeat Hera!”

   That sent her reeling back.

   “What?! But we’re mortals! It's physically impossible for mortals to kill gods, even with a god-killing weapon!”

   “You think your ol’ Scrooge McDuck doesn't have a couple of cards up his sleeve?”

   “You're a god?!”

   “No, better!” He winked. “Tell everyone to get ready! We leave at noon!”

   They didn't stand a chance against Hera. No way. Too bad Webby's easy to blindly trust her parents.

   “Guys!” she yelled, bursting into the room. “We're going to face Womanhood! Grab your weapons and notify the family, because I'm not entirely sure we'll come back alive!”

Chapter Text

   “We are going to defeat Hera! Tell everyone to get ready! We leave at noon!”

   They didn't stand a chance against Hera. No way. Too bad Webby's easy to blindly trust kind adults.

   “Guys!” she yelled, bursting into the room. “We're going to face Womanhood! Grab your weapons and notify the family, because I'm not entirely sure we'll come back alive!”

   “May I come in?” an unfamiliar voice called, knocking twice on her bedroom door.

   By the politeness, it could only be one person. Grampy's female version. Webby climbed down from where she'd been gathering her pocket-size weapons, because no matter how she answered from the loft it'd sound too enthusiastic – she'd have to shout “Sure!” or “You may!” but she didn't want to sound like she wanted Granny to come in, just like she was merely, mercifully giving permission. She opened the door herself and stepped aside for Grampy, but didn't close the door behind her.

   They stared unsurely at each other.

   The adventures she'd had with Dolly, Luke and Gos wouldn't have not happened just because Webby was born a girl in this universe, so she could guess this Webby’s relationship with her grandmother was also strained. Her tail feathers wouldn't change the way Beakley failed her. Well, she hoped this swap wouldn't change that. She didn't know what she'd do if it did, or what that would even mean.

   Grampy didn't say anything for a while, her expression wasn't helpful either, and Webby was starting to get agitated. She frowned in anticipation and made sure her posture looked guarded just in case.

   She wasn't too different from her original Grampy save for her muscles and chest… she was actually buffier than he was, somehow.

   The older woman sighed.

   “You’re from a different universe, then? Where you're–”

   “Yeah,” she replied curtly, trying to see where this was going.

   Grampy closed her beak, resigned, paused, then spoke again,

   “Webby dear, have you considered this ‘trial’ may be less of a challenge and more of a.. ‘try-out’?”

   She blinked. “Isn’t it both? I'm trying out a female body while on a challenge to face womanhood.”

   “The true nature of womanhood,” she corrected meaningfully. “What if this isn't some fight you win and take the prize home?”

   Oh. Of course.  

   “That's what you came to tell me?! That I should stay home?!” Webby glared. “Because it's too dangerous to fight a goddess?! I'm too young for this?! We fought an Egyptian god when we were ten! We've fought a TITAN!!”

   “No, Webby, listen,” she crouched to meet her granddaughter’s height and reached out for one of her hands. Webby crossed her arms to hide them spitefully and Grampy let it go. “We're all going with you, you're safe out there with us to back you up, that is not what I said. I'm trying to tell you this may be more profound. An inner fight.”

   “Why would Hera want me to fight myself?! There isn't a part of me that doesn't want to get a girl's body.”

   “But have you stopped to think about how you feel in a girl's body?”

   “I feel fine! I feel great!”

   Grampy's female version pursed her lips.

   “I have been a woman for many years now. I have once been a girl your age however, I think it's unfair for Hera to expect you to understand what most women understand in their thirties, but I can only try to push you in the right direction while I still can…”

   She stared down at the hand Webby hadn't taken.

   “You know what the true nature of womanhood is?” Webby concluded, eyes wide in realization.

   “Yes, if my interpretation is unbiased, you should be looking for self-acceptance.”

   Her shoulders sagged. “But I already said I feel great! I–” She frowned, gasping. “Are you- Are you telling me to accept my boy body?”

   “No, goodness no! Not like that–”

   “Then like what?!” She swayed a couple of steps away from her grandmother, perturbed. “There's nothing for me to accept in my body, just- hideous- stupid things that get in the way–”

   “Webbigail–”

   “Why would you even say that to me?!” she yelled resentfully, glad that she'd left the door open so she could easily rush outside and cut the conversation short.

   “Webby-!”

   “I don't think that's what Hera meant by ‘facing womanhood’,” Huey said.

   “Then it's her fault for not specifying,” Webby quipped, tired of hearing otherwise. “That was the first lesson we learned from Dad!”

   “How can you be so sure she didn't mean you'd just get your—you know?”

   “I asked and she said getting your period isn't what makes you a woman.”

   “Oh. That's. Oddly comforting coming from the goddess of womanhood.”

   “Isn't she like, the goddess of childbirth too?” Louie began, and nobody liked where he was going, “What if she meant–”

   “She's fourteen!!” Huey yelled as Dewey choked.

   “So what? Isn't Hera from Ancient Greece? Girls got married off way younger than that back then to have children.”

   “I’m not ready to have children!!” Webby squeaked.

   Huey massaged her brow. “Can we please stop talking about adolescent pregnancy.”

   “Hey, what does girl me look like? I bet I'm so hot.” Dewey, sprawled on Louie's bunk, pointed at Huey and Webby, who were at their desk reading up on deity weapons. “You guys don't live up to your full potential! If I was a girl I'd be wearing those sparkly, flashy Brazilian carnaval makeup to school EVERY DAY! Bedazzle my entire face! OH, and I'd wear ONLY prom dresses, and my hair would be like Zendaya’s! I don't know why you guys dress so boring!”

   Webby burst into giggles, the corner of her eyes crinkling, giddy. That didn't sound like Dolly at all.

   “I’ll tell her that!”

   “Being a girl is not a free pass to break school dress code, Dewey,” Huey deadpanned.

   “And who says you can't bedazzle your entire face as a guy?” Louie prodded, smirking, “What are you scared of, gender cop?”

   Dewey rolled his eyes. “I can't wear makeup ‘cause it'd kill my popular jock swag!”

   Huey raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Popular jocks do not have swag.”

   “You're not even popular,” Louie said.

   “Not yet! Anyways,” Dewey turned to her, “seriously, what is girl me like? Is she cool?”

   “Oh, she's just like you! Well, Dolly's a little more snappy and Lolley is a LOT clingier, but you're all pretty much the same. If your voices weren’t different I might not have noticed you were guys!” She gasped. “AGH! Sorry, is that- Is that rude to say?! Sorry!!”

   “No no, we get it, you're speaking personality-wise,” Huey waved her off. Webby meant it both ways, but she left it at that. “Physically, I guess I must be the most alike.”

   Webby frowned instantaneously, thinking to herself.

   Huey was the only one who was strikingly different from her other version, it wasn't just the hat or the sweater and casual shorts, which Hollie would never be caught wearing. It wasn't just her perfectly tended hair either. Maybe though, it was a little bit of how cozy her clothes seemed instead of just neat to look at. Hollie dressed like she'd dress a pretty porcelain doll to leave in her bookshelf, Huey dressed like she wanted to feel safe and warm everywhere she goes. She looked safe and warm, as a person, where Hollie could be a bit hard to reach. It wasn't anything too extravagant, no, the differences were subtle, but Webby knew her so well they stuck out like a flamingo to her.

   Widening her eyes, she looked up to study Huey's semblance again. Her posture was straight as always, but her shoulders weren’t hiked up to align perpendicularly against the strictly vertical line from her ears to her hips. Huey was relaxed . The last time she'd seen Hollie this relaxed she might've been asleep.

   “Actually, you and Hollie are the least alike. Personality and physically-wise.”

   The triplets were as shocked as she was, herself.

   “What? How? You mean my hair? You asked me if I had ‘fixed’ it...”

   Webby grimaced. “Hers is- Uh, she pulls on it a lot. Especially since her molt. Do you just.. not??”

   “Oh,” Huey's face flushed with realization, “I only started to grow it out a couple of months ago, so I suppose I haven't caught the habit yet.”

   “Yet?” Louie noted.

   “What!! You've only been Hilda for a couple of months?!! I've been a girl for years!!”

   “Oh YEAH, she wasted all of her time working on this big flawless plan to come out as a girl for who-knows-how-long, she had a script and a diagram and all,” Dewey told her, amused. “But we accidentally found out early and had to play along.”

   Louie said, “It was a whole thing.”

   “Why did you wait so long??”

   “Like I said, I was scared of, um, crossing that line,” Huey began, looking away. Webby listened with bated breath as she proceeded to explain exactly how Webby herself felt when she was still a boy, “I was already doing a bad job of being a normal child, I didn't want anybody to think I wasn't a normal boy either. Then my molt started, which–”

   “Hollie’s molt mood was really bad,” she interrupted.

   “Mine too.”

   “But you-! You look… happier!”

   Huey watched her quizzically, then hummed. “I think Hollie needs to notice what I noticed.”

   “But she's already a girl! Are you saying she needs to become a GUY?!”

   “No! That's not what I– I'm saying- I-” She bit her cheek. “I put too much pressure on myself to seem and act normal, so when my molt came, I got burned out… Well, I was also going through every kind of sensorial nightmares I didn't even know I had.”

   Louie whistled. “She made it everyone's problem.”

   “It was the same for Hollie! She couldn't even go to school, so I got more than familiar with the Duchess of Destruction around the mansion…” She shivered.

   “Oh man, that's so much better than ‘Duchess of Making a Mess’,” Dewey commented. “You gotta step up your game!”

   Huey rolled her eyes and continued, “After my molt ended, I decided not to risk something like that happening again. I need to be ready for my next molt. So I…” she motioned to herself and her outfit with a wry smile, “..got comfortable.”

   Webby's eyebrows jumped and she threw her arms open. “Whuh, why didn't this happen to my Huey?!”

   “Obviously it has something to do with the swap, but if her molt was as bad as mine, I- ..I don't know.” She scratched her neck. “It should have happened. But if you think about it, a gender swap changes a lot of things you may not be accounting for regarding our upbringing, so this difference could be due to literally anything.”

   Face scrunched up, frowning at the floor, Webby tried to piece together the fate of her sister to no avail. Why did Huey get the good ending? What was her tipping point, finding out “comfortable” included “being a girl”? But Hollie's already a girl, so she can't go through this epiphany. Was there just, something different between Huey and Hollie's idea of being a girl? Did Hollie have to become the kind of girl Huey was??

   “Wait wait, so what do you look like?” Dewey asked, sitting up. “‘Cause you have our Webby's body right now, right?”

   Startled out of her spiral, she blinked at him. Then looked down at her clothes, which seemed to be the same she wore back at her universe. Oh! Her hair! If she was a girl now, her whiskers wouldn't be that big, so she wouldn't have given up on her bob after the molt balding! Or maybe she grew it out, maybe it was in an updo!

   Running to the triplets' mirror, she... She screamed,

   “WHAT! They’re still here!! How- Why?!!” Patting her whiskers, she whined, eyes sliding down to her chest. The chest hair puff was still there, and she slammed her eyes shut, throwing her head back. “Why are they still here?! Does the trial wear off the longer I take to beat it?!”

   “What are you talking about?” Louie asked, getting up to go check her reflection. “You mean the whiskers? We figured that's just a Scrooge thing.”

   “Your Webby has them too?!”

   “Yeah.. I thought you were excited about that? Y’know, ‘cause it makes you look more like Uncle Scrooge?”

   “I...”

   She hadn't told anyone about that yet because she'd made her formerly tiny whiskers such a big deal before her molt – they had been that big of a deal to her, really, they made her look like her biggest idol after all – but she didn't realize it'd ruin the image she'd worked so hard to build of herself. She was… ugly, now. Because she looked like a boy. It hurt to admit, so she didn't say it, or think it, or anything of that nature. The eyeliner she and Luke figured out how to draw together plus the black T-shirt he gave her made her pass as a punk teenager. You know, they don't care about their looks because they don't care about anybody's opinions on them. But Webby did care about people's opinions. She did care about the way she stopped being treated like an adorable, curious little girl by strangers, to start getting side-eyes like she'd steal or break something.

   If only she could be more like–

   “Sorry, the texts were not clear. Are we going to kill a woman?”

   “Do we get to choose who?!”

   – Ember and Toby?!

   “No, not ‘woman’,” Dewey said, gesturing out the word to give it weight, “‘womanhood’.”

   “What?! We're going to kill womanhood?!” girl Ember asked, skeptical.

   Girl Toby gasped. “What's that gonna do to us?!”

   “Nothing, there's plenty of other gods of womanhood out there.” Huey reassured them, counting on her fingers, “Hathor, Yemanjá, Freyja... Not that womanhood would be gone or less without them, women were already there when they were born.”

   “Then which one are we going after?”

   “And why,” girl Toby added.

   “Hera,” Louie mumbled. “The one that's highly unpredictable and hates everyone apparently.”

   Huey sighed. “I still don't see how we're going to do this. Only godkind can best godkind.”

   “Hey, Uncle Scrooge said he has a secret weapon!” Dewey reminded her.

   “Weapons aren't going to help us!”

   “Well, I don't know about you, but I wouldn't feel particularly safe facing Hera without a secret weapon!”

   “Ugh! To even scratch a pagan god, you need a godly weapon wielded by another god. Louie has Toth-Ra's khopesh, but since he isn't a–”

   Webby, who'd been stunned dumbstruck, standing there with her jaw on the ground, finally screeched to an audible frequency, “YOU'RE GIRLS!!” And not just that, “Oh, you're BEAUTIFUL!!! YOU'RE LIKE IF AN ANGEL AND A FAIRY HAD TWO GORGEOUS BABIES TOGETHER!!”

   Her little brothers were also the epitome of handsome, they ruled at school because they'd always be dressed in Aster's latest designs. Aster called them his “walking advertisement” and it worked well for both sides. Dolly couldn't hide how jealous she was of them… Webby couldn't either. Because although Aster did mostly male designs, Toby did a spectacular job of showing off his female ones and nobody looked at him weird because nobody noticed he wasn't a girl (they referred to Toby as a “she” on those days). And he was so pretty on these days, just like this swapped version of him.

   Girls were just naturally prettier.

   What did Huey say they were called? June and Juliet? They were amazing. So much that Webby almost missed girl Ember's whiskers.

   She gasped. “You have the whiskers too!”

   “Uh, yeah? We literally grew them at the same time,” girl Ember said, tone close to those popular blonde girls in high school movies.

   “But you're still so pretty!”

   She smirked. “Naturally.”

   Yeah. Naturally. Webby cringed, cheeks flushed in shame. Yeah…

   Wait, no! Webby was in a female body right now and she looked exactly the way she did in her original body, every detail down to the tiny scar she had under her eye. She'd expected her jawline to be softer, or for her bust to pop out, but no, not even that. Girl Ember was the same, she had the whiskers, no doubt the chest hair, harsh eyebrows and jawline just like Scrooge's, and still flat-chested. The only difference was that girl Ember was a fashion model, highschool idol, and Webby remained a social outcast. Not just because she didn't go to school, it was an amalgamation of things she couldn't do right. 

   Somehow, she just wasn't as pretty.. as her own clones.

   “How do you make them look good on you?”

   Girl Ember raised an eyebrow, but Toby lit up, with the wide frenzied grin she does,

   “You finally asked!!” She approached to squeeze Webby's hands to her chest. “Join us!! Daisy is the BEST, she could make you a star like us! You're going to LOVE school, all the other students do anything you ask them to!!”

   “That's not everyone's experience, by the way,” Louie noted.

   Webby pulled away unsurely, and Ember smiled again,

   “We were always meant to be a trio.” She walked over to them so Toby had someone else to excitedly cling to and whispered in Toby's ear, “Tell our pink heather we're replacing her.” Then she told Webby, “I'm sure Daisy could help you style that skirt better. We'll probably get rid of - that.”

   She bristled as Ember motioned to her black shirt, stepping back with a protective hand clutched to the shirt Luke had given her, feeling her entire face burn.

   “No. It's–” It's mine, she didn't say. But the words came to her like they did the day Webby met her little brothers. She swallowed them down even though they wouldn't have had that conversation in this universe. “This shirt is important.”

   The fabric wasn't of the best quality, just the lightest excuse of cotton, and it was stretched out from years of use, but all of that made it perfect for her molt. Even now that her molt was over, it was still marvellously comfortable. It used to smell like Luke and the Sabrewings’ fabric softener, it still did if Webby sniffed it really hard, plus Grampy didn't like it and Webby was currently at odds with him.

   It was hers and she wasn't going to change out of it, the same went for her matching black eyeliner and ankle wraps.

   “Fine, Daisy can get you a better jacket.”

   “No!” She hugged it around her own shoulders. “It’s like the one Dad had at this age, but with the color of my old vest! The jeans also match with Dolly.”

   “Who?”

   “Dewey. I like my clothes.”

   “Webby, if you don't accept help, how are we supposed to help you?” Toby asked, frustrated.

   “I just wanted to know how you make your whiskers look good!” she snapped.

   “You could've just said that.” Ember rolled her eyes. “Comb them, for one, use hair cream – they're just hair. June pulls them into her pigtails most of the time. You can always shave, too.”

   “But…”

   Wow. What was she expecting? She thought she was the only one struggling with this because Ember and Toby were boys, but in a world where they were girls, she had no reason to freak out.

   “...Huh. I.. I thought the whiskers and the chest puff were ungirly.”

   “Most of everything is ‘ungirly’,” Huey told her. “The ideal feminine bodies have been physically unachievable or just downright ridiculous all throughout the history of Earth.”

   It was weird to hear Huey of all people say that. Hollie would never.

   “Yeah, Gosalyn says the sooner you give up the better,” Dewey said.

   Louie raised an eyebrow. “Did she say that about the societal pressure put upon women or about your ‘popular jock’ dream?”

   “She believes in me! Unlike certain people!”

   “Anyways, listen.” Louie put a hand on Webby's shoulder. “If there's anything we learned from the Barbie movie, is that being a woman is hard enough as it is. Trying to cater to what society expects of you, or to the eyes of man or whatever, is straight up stupid. You're awesome because you're Webby. You're beautiful, and if the whiskers are part of you, they're beautiful too. Just own it up.”

   The room was silent, Webby's breath was caught in her throat and her eyes glimmered with springing tears, her lower lip wobbling.

   “Wow, Louie,” Huey said. “That was surprisingly heartfelt.”

   Louie shoved his hands back into his pockets, blushing at the center of attention. “What? Nobody was saying it, so I said it, move on!”

   “I've never heard truer words!” Dewey praised with a hand over his heart, wiping a single tear from his eye. He sniffled and started clapping. “Bravo!”

   “Yeah,” Webby croaked, sniffling too. A fond smile formed on her beak, but it got caught on the corners. Not that she didn't appreciate what Louie said! She did! She really did! “That was so sweet! I think that's exactly what Lolley would've said…”

   It just. It was not true.

   If Webby didn't cater to what society thought would make her a girl, then she might as well be a boy, because nobody would believe otherwise.

   “Yes, whatever, we love you just the way you are, yada-yada, can we move the attention away from me now or–”

   “Sooo, are we going to deconstruct gender basis or did you guys mean it less metaphorically?” someone asked, walking in.

   Luke. Mostly the same Luke she knew.

    “LUKE!!!” she tackled him, —her,— hugging her tight around the waist and nuzzling into her chest. Which. Probably wasn't as appropriate now that Luke was a girl.

   But she was hugging her back before she could consider pulling away, smile evident in her voice,

   “Hey, Pink.”

   Webby hummed contently, melting into the familiar embrace with her flustered face hidden between a pair of beautifully convenient boobs. Luke’s presence always shooed her doubts away, she was yet to work out whether or not magic was involved in the way he made her feel. It was like he always, always saw her from inside. That was why she'd felt perfectly comfortable hanging out with him throughout every stage of her ugly duckling phase, embarrassing or not, because he just saw right through it.

   Grampy says she's like that, too. She assumes the best of everyone, sees their potential to be great, and she wished everyone was like that.

   People will assume you're a boy if you have sideburns though, even if you're wearing a skirt. And assuming you're a boy means assuming a lot of things Webby couldn't appreciate.

   “May I ask why we're going to ‘kill womanhood’?” a monotone voice followed.

   She knew who it was before she looked, but she looked anyways because it was her best friend, Vinicio. Violet, right? Violet and Lena.

   “Violet!!” She hugged her, and the sabrewing patted her back. When she pulled away, she marveled at Vinicio's girl version. “Whoa! I love your eyeshadow! It's like the ocean!”

   “Thank you. It's the same you've seen me wearing since the day we met.”

   “Oh, did we forget to mention this isn't our Webby?” Huey noted, shooting Louie a look.

   “What?” Lena, June and girl Ember asked. Violet just raised her eyebrows.

   Louie threw his hands. “Nobody told me to add details on the group chat!”

   “She's from a universe where everyone's genders are swapped!” Dewey explained. Huey immediately corrected him,

    “Sexes.”

   “Yeah, that. Get this, Louie's girl name is LOWreley!”

    “SHUT UPPP!” Louie hissed, pulling at Dewey's ponytail.

   “...Where is she,” Lena asked them, tone sober.

   They turned to face her and she was glaring at Webby.

   “What?”

    “Where. is. my. Webby?” she asked again sternly. Then her glare lifted to sheer concern as she grabbed Webby's head and pinched her eyelids wide open, looking into her pupils. “Is she with you?”

   “I don't–”

   “Is she okay?! Webby, can you hear me?! Don't- Don't worry, we're gonna get you back!! You're gonna be okay, you're safe! We- We just have to–”

   “Ow-” She wrung Lena's hands away from her face so she could hold on to them and tell her, “Lena, stop! It's just me! I don’t know where your Webby is.”

   “You can't hear her?!”

   She shook her head comprehensively. “I can't. I just woke up here, so she must still be asleep. Hera will probably wake her up once the trial is over.”

   “Hera?”

   “The goddess of marriage, fertility and womanhood,” Violet captioned. “She has our Webby?”

   “Oh. That's why we're going to kill her?” June asked.

   Lena wrung her hands away from Webby's and put some distance between them. Webby tried to pretend she didn't mind.

   “We have to stop jumping into take-out missions no questions asked,” May realized, putting a hand on June's shoulder. “This isn't the FOWL anymore, we're not Eggheads.”

   Louie frowned. “What- How often have you been going on take-out missions?”

   “We're not going to kill her. Even if we were, that would be impossible,” Huey said, crossing her arms. Her brothers groaned as she repeated, “Only godkind can best godkind.”

   “Don’t you guys know gods who could help you?” Violet asked.

   “What, Hera's husband, her husband's girlfriend and the bastard child he had with another girlfriend? I don't think so.”

   “Zeus is hiding from her,” Webby remembered. “He’ll never help us, and he'll never let Selene and Storkules help either!”

   “Then how are we going to fight Hera?!” May snapped.

   That's when Della showed up, squeezing herself in through the crack of the door even though she could've just opened it wider. She looked nervous, deathly nervous, as she made eye contact with each of them at a time.

   “Kids.”

   “Uh. Mom.”

   “I think it's time I told you something.”

   The Four-Fold exchanged wary glances. Della elaborated,

   “I never thought this would come up, but…” She breathed in. “It's about how I got you guys.”

   Webby, realizing what this conversation was going to be about, screamed like a tornado siren, holding her head so it wouldn't explode in anticipation.

    “AAAAGH, IT'S HAPPENING! I NEED TO REOPEN THIS CASE FILE!”

   “Mom.” Dewey breached, arms held up as if he might lose balance and fall. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?!”

   “She isn't!” Huey yelped, pressing her hands against her ears. “We're going on a suicide mission and my sister is from another universe, this is not a good time to talk about our origins!”

   “Nope.” Louie shook his head vehemently. “Nuh-uh. It can't be.”

   Dewey stepped forward.

   “You're gonna tell us about our dad?!”

Chapter Text

   “AAAAGH, IT'S HAPPENING! I NEED TO REOPEN THIS CASE FILE!”

   “Mom.” Dewey breached, arms held up as if he might lose balance and fall. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?!”

   “She isn't!” Huey yelped, pressing her hands against her ears. “We're going on a suicide mission and my sister is from another universe, this is not a good time to talk about our origins!”

   “Nope.” Louie shook his head vehemently. “Nuh-uh. It can't be.”

   Dewey stepped forward.

   “You're gonna tell us about our dad?!”

   They were they were hurried and shipped into the Cloudslayer before Della gathered herself, standing before her children, and said, after two deep breaths and several pep-talks,

   “You're part swan.”

   “What!” Louie hissed, disgruntled. “Swan?!” He grabbed Huey by the shoulders. “Do we know a swan guy?!”

   “OH NO . ” Dewey pleaded with the heavens, falling on his knees, “NO NO NONONO NO!! ALISTAIR THE MOVIE DIRECTOR GUY? He’s the WORST!”

   “Uhh, no, never heard of him,” Della told them.

   “Phew!”

   Huey gave it a try, “Um, Swanstantine the Great?”

   “He lived dozens of centuries ago, sweetie.”

   “I can’t think of anybody as relevant!”

   “I.. have a couple of swan followers on Instaduck?” Louie offered.

    “OH MY GOD. I KNOW WHO IT IS! PAPA SWAN’S PIZZA!” Dewey screamed, shaking Louie. “That’s why he’s called Papa! Mom, hear me out, with the right lawyer you could get us a LIFETIME of free pizza!!”

   “What?! No!” Della waved him off in disgust. “He's too old for me.”

   “Then who?”

   Their mother swallowed audibly. “You don't know him–”

   Louie groaned. Huey sighed.

   “Aw come on!”

   “–but you do know her.”

   Silence struck the plane. Uncle Donald was squirming on his seat across them and Scrooge was pretending to be deeply invested in a conversation about parachutes with Launchpad. The female version of her Grampy was there too, but Webby preferred to ignore her. Their friends watched intently. Penumbra, who had tagged along for some reason, asked them what an ‘Earth swan’ was.

   Louie was the first to speak, “You dated our teacher Mrs. Odette?!”

   Dewey stuck his tongue out in disgust and Huey hummed in resignation.

   “I don't know who that is,” Della said.

   “Oh! Gloria Swansong, the famous actress?!” Dewey offered excitedly. “She’s on every L’Oréal ad!”

   “Ehhh..”

   “The only swan I know is a Junior Woodchuck,” Huey said. “She wasn’t even laid when the Spear of Selene happened.”

   They jumped out of their seats.

    “SELENE?!!! ” Webby and the triplets all shouted at the same time, just as the plane landed. Or, crashed.

   They all lurched forwards, except Violet, who'd had the decency of buckling her seatbelt on, and the cargo ramp fell to reveal Ithaquack. Selene and Storkules emerged from the cloud of sand that lifted on impact, Storkules rushing to greet Uncle Donald spectacularly, and Selene stayed to tell them, an eyebrow raised in amusement,

   “She named her dream rocketship after me!”

   “Shut up,” Della laughed. “I wasn't the one who created a magical sphere whose sole function was to show 3D holograms of my girlfriend!”

   The Four-Fold just watched the interaction unfold, gaping at them.

   “You dated the goddess Selene?!” Dewey recapped. “How- What- When?!”

   “Oh, it was when Donald left for the Navy. I got bored and Selene was my best friend, so, y’know, this and that~!”

   Webby squealed. “This is awesome!”

   “Ugh!” Louie disagreed, face contorted in horror. “I want to unlearn that!”

   “And you broke up with babies on the way?!” Huey asked them, panicking. “Why?!”

   “When we found out I was pregnant–”

   “Um, how did you get pregnant?” Violet perked up. But she was ignored.

   “–we had already agreed our relationship would be a secret because, well, Zeus would kill at least one of us if he found out. Della would be taking care of the baby in Duckburg and visit just often enough.”

   “Wait wait wait! So we're not even from Mom’s belly?!” Dewey asked, frowning.

   “You are!” Selene reassured them with a smile. “When I found out I was pregnant with three eggs instead of just one, I passed—how do you say it—‘the bun’ over to Della's ‘oven’ through inexplicable godly powers!”

   “And then we broke up,” Della finished with a shrug.

   Dewey's expression cracked like glass. “YOU'RE A DEADBEAT?!!”

   “I’m not a super big fan of children,” Selene explained herself serenely.

   “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

   “Guys,” Webby started, eyes unfocused on Selene and Della's general direction, voice wobbly, “I think you're missing the point.”

   “WE KNEW THE SHAMELESS DEADBEAT WHO FUCKED OUR MOM ALL ALONG AND SHE NEVER SAID ANYTHING! Actually, she aborted us! I WAS ABORTED!”

   “Also we're the first babies to be born from two biological women,” Huey stressed. “I need to get a DNA test. This could revolutionize science!”

   “I’m slowly realizing Selene could've brought our mom back from the moon this whole time,” Louie said, eyebrows knitted together. “But since they broke up, she didn't even bother to check?!”

   Selene blinked. “I actually had no idea she was–”

   “No! None of that!” Webby walked up to Selene and Della, still stunned, then slowly turned to look at the triplets and tell them, “You guys… are demigods!!”

   They gasped, eyes wide, and stayed stock still for a moment in sheer shock.

   Huey blinked repeatedly, processing,

   “ We are the secret weapon.”

   Selene confirmed, “Your name was going to Pandeia. The demigod of all brightness, of the full moon and sunbeams shining down on Earth!”

   “Do electrical light bulbs count or–”

   “STOP TALKING!” Dewey screamed, waving a hand in Huey's face. With sparkles in his eyes, his beak broke into a massive grin. “What are our super powers?!!”

   “Um,” Selene faltered, rubbing her chin in thought. “You can probably shine in the dark?”

   “What?! That's all?! But that's so lame!”

   “Being a demigod at all is enough! You can actually beat Hera and not just die trying!” Webby reminded him of their priorities. Then she stopped. “Wait, wasn't I supposed to beat her? How can I beat her if I'm not a demigod?”

   “That’s easy!” Scrooge announced, smirking at her and Dewey as he approached, “You'll need someone ye're completely synchronized with so you can both handle the blade at the same time!”

   Webby and Dewey looked at each other and did their special double high-five handshake, cheering. He staggered, 

   “Sorry, did you say blade?!”

   “The Sword of Selene,” the swan said behind them.

   When they turned, they saw she was displaying the sword they'd found that very first time they went to Ithaquack. They gasped.

   “Wasn't it cursed?!” Webby hesitated. Dewey's hands were already hovering over the sword.

   “It can only be wielded at night,” she told them, and winked at Dewey. “It shines in the dark!”

   “Lame, but also SUPER COOL ‘CAUSE IT'S A SWORD!” Dewey took the sword. “CAN I KEEP IT?!”

   “No, I use it as a nightlight sometimes, so I'd like it returned after you’re done.”

   He had a couple of his own swords at home, much more appealing in appearance while this one was stubby and unembellished, even the material wasn't the most charming. But he felt the handle like you'd caress the hand of a loved one, and looked up to meet her eyes. He smiled, reaching for her hand, and they held the sword together. Webby’s heart strummed with the beloved feeling of belongingness. It used to come to her so rarely and so tentatively, now it was ever present in the back of her mind, pulsing in moments like these.

   Then Dewey violently shook the sword like a glowstick, and it did burst with light, bright like the searchlight of a lighthouse up close. They all yelped, flinching away from it until it quickly dimmed back to stone.

   “...That’s actually like, really bright,” Dewey mumbled.

   “What about me?” Huey asked. “Dewey and Webby have the Sword, Louie has his khopesh, I don't have anything.”

   “You, my friend, have the unparalleled strength of the Staff of Storkules!” Storkules crowed, Uncle Donald wrapped in one arm, the staff presented in the other.

   “Woah!” They gazed at it.

   It didn't look anything majestic either, it was just a piece of wood, twice as tall as Huey before Storkules sized her down and snapped the staff in half so it'd at the very least be carriable. Huey chose the better half and wielded it with respect anyways, committed even though she definitely hasn't had a single class of bōjutsu.

   “I don't remember you ever having a staff in your myths.”

   “That should be because I just sculpted it out of a tree!” Storkules explained, pointing at a tree with the middle part missing. “Donald has told me the legendary tales of your own mastery of the bow and arrow, which I have too, but ah, you see, ‘bow’ doesn't start with an ‘S’.”

   “....Right..”

   “Alright, let's go,” Scrooge called to them. The Four-Fold, the Sabrewing sisters and the fashion twins formed a half moon behind him, following him out towards the temple. “There are two things that Hera hates most: adultery, and her adulterous husband. So here's the plan!”

   There was a traditional monochromatic wedding set up, with flower arrangements, about two dozen chairs mostly occupied by random Greek civilians, and several peacocks pecking the sand. Fire torches lit up the beach as the sun set, and Zeus was waiting impatiently in the back, arms crossed, wearing a suit. As they hid from his sight, Selene magicked herself a white gown.

   “We’re staging a wedding ceremony for Zeus and Selene!”

   “But Selene and I are gonna hang out on the other side of the island, so she'll stand him up at the altar,” Della whispered excitedly, and hooped an arm around unpleased Penumbra's waist. “Except I'm dating Penny, so when Zeus comes looking for Selene, someone signals Penny to come look for me from the other side and I’ll elope with her – so I'm cheating on Selene, who's cheating on Zeus, who's cheating on Hera!”

   “I’ve specifically gotten married couples and their affairs invited to this wedding! If this doesn't call to Hera, I don't know what will!”

   “Cool. Why are we whispering?” Louie piped in.

   Della pointed a thumb at the nearest peacock.

   “Hera can communicate with peacocks.” Webby realized, “So you'll do all the acting whenever a peacock is close by!”

   “There's also a cow leashed to the altar for good measure,” Scrooge boasted.

   “Can we act too?!” Dewey asked, grinning. “I can do an excellent heartbreak scene!”

   His grin fell as if sucked by a soul-eating ghoul and he tripped on his own feet reaching forward, but regained his balance at the last second. When he looked up again, a hand clutching at his chest, there were tears streaming down his face as he, ever so slightly shaking his head in disbelief, gaped at Scrooge like he'd yanked the ground from under his feet and left him to fall eternally in the abyss of rejection and– And he wiped the tears off his cheeks, grinning again.

   “That was,” Scrooge said, concerned, “actually really convincing.”

   The grown-ups were all stunned. Webby, for one, had already had the full Dolly acting experience and knew what Dewey was capable of.

   “But you kids don't have any romantic drama,” Webby's dad continued, “so I'm afraid you'll have to stick to the role of a shocked guest in the audience.”

   Dewey drooped. “Aw, what?! This was my chance to shine!”

   “Unless… Webby, you're better at acting than your lying and secret-keeping skills suggest! What do you think?”

   She and Dewey gasped at each other, thrilled in anticipation.

   “I'm gonna be a tough biker woman who you fell in love with at first glance when I rode past and stole your phone, you ran after me and I gradually warmed up to you every time we met,” she ranted, “but this whole time, I was never in love with you, I was just leading you on so you could take me to your expensive apartment and–”

   “Whoa, hold on!” Lena interrupted, pulling Webby to her side by her arm. “Don’t you know anything about fake-dating fics?! They always end up actually falling in love! Do you seriously wanna do this with your own brother -thing-situation?!”

   “But the catch is that she isn't in love with me, she's in love with my money,” Dewey told her.

   “But–”

   “No, wait, she’s right! We forgot it's supposed to be about adultery! Webby, you need to be cheating on me!”

   Webby gasped. “OOOH I know: this whole time I was actually in love with my mysterious and super cool GANG LEADER Lena!”

   When she wrapped her arms tight around Lena's waist, squealing, the older teenage twitched,

   “Did you not hear what I just said?!”

   “When you stole my phone, you stole my heart,” Dewey said with dramatic sorrow, ignoring Lena, “so you could impress your GANG GIRLFRIEND with both a resellable 800 dollar item, and fiery LOVE!”

   The two of them high-fived up and down. Webby's shadow best friend stuttered something she couldn't catch, flustered.

   “So the kids do have some romantic drama,” she heard Dad whisper to Della.

   “We're ready!” Dewey shouted to everyone, arms raised.

   “What about you girls?” Scrooge asked Huey and Violet. “Do you want to–”

   “Not really,” Huey said simply, shrugging, at the same time as Violet said, “I’m good.”

   May, June and Louie opted out of the acting too, preferring to steer chaos in the crowd of dishonest partners. Wedding piano music began and Dad hurried them off somewhere they could change into more authentic wedding wear, he gave the girls a chest of dresses and handed suits to both of the boys.

   “Wow! My first wedding dress!” June cooed, pulling one of them out of the chest.

   “They're not wedding dresses, they're fancy dresses for a wedding,” Lena said, “the one worn by the bride’s the only one that's called a wedding dress.” She pulled another one out of the chest, as did May, and they all quickly realized the dresses were all identical and, for lack of a better word, cheap. “Gee, are those factory-produced or something? Did you just dump the whole rack in your cart?”

   “What I wear on a regular Monday is prettier than these,” May added.

   “First of all, I got those beautiful dresses from a respectable small business downtown! That old lady sewed them each by hand, there's no two alike!” Scrooge told her, offended, then smiled politely. “Secondly, they're all loaned, so your parents will pay the poor seamstress for any harm that comes to them.”

   “You got us these dresses to fight an actual goddess,” Huey protested. “We're lucky if any of them come out unharmed!”

   “You better be!”

   “Yeah, nope, I'm not wearing one.” Lena dropped hers back into the crate.

   Webby reached for it, but her father blocked her hands with his cane, whispering, “Ah-ah! Not you! You get something special.”

   As the others tried to decide which dress was more scratchy, Scrooge led his daughter away from hearing shot and carefully placed a neatly folded dress on her hands. She held it, feeling the smooth high-grade fabric under her fingers, and gasped when she unfolded it to reveal the prettiest and definitely most expensive piece of clothing she'd ever owned. It wasn't something you'd wear to a modern wedding, it had ruffles and pink bows and a godet skirt that would get her accused of stealing attention from the bride. Fortunately, Webby had never seen Selene care much about anything. Better yet, wearing a gaudy dress to a wedding fit her rebellious, obtrusive character for their part of the bit. Bursting out in barely comprehensible sounds of joy and gratitude, she pounced between his arms to hug him thank you so tight he complained about his “old man ribs”.

   “But–” She pulled away. “I'm going to ruin it in the fight!”

   “Psh, I've never seen anybody fight more gracefully than you, lass, don't let Huey get into yer head!”

   He nudged her playfully and she giggled, flattered, then frowned.

   “But, why?” she asked him. “It's not a real wedding, and it’s not even for me.”

   “It may not be a real wedding, but it is still for you. All of this is for you.” He gestured to the peacocks, the flowers and all of her friends gathered together. “I’ve been where you are before, and I didn't have my family with me. You? You have the most amazing family of all, who will do anything for you!”

   “But I'm not your Webby!”

   “Ah, I'm killing two birds with one stone! A dress that my two daughters can wear at the same time is a more economic buy than all of those other cheap, frumpish dresses combined.”

   “That makes sense. Though if the plan doesn't work–”

   “Are you trying to find me a reason to get that dress returned?!”

   “No! I just- Ah-” Webby fumbled with her words, looking down at the dress feeling like she'd explode upon its beauty. “I love it so much!”

   Scrooge made a Scottish “yikes” sound. “Is this the first thing I've ever given you outside of Christmas?”

   “No! You gave me marbles when I was seven.” Which he'd then regifted to the triplets when they arrived. It's fine! They sort of found their way back to her.

   “Those were yours?”

   “Yeah…” She hugged the dress, and before her father could start an unnecessarily awkward apology, she twirled away. “Ee!! I'm gonna go try it out!”

   Quickly picking a spot behind rock formations to avoid upsetting her easy-to-envy fashion model sisters, she changed clothes in the privacy of the beach to the distant piano music that started dispersing from the celebratory area. The frock wasn't something Aster—or Daisy—would’ve designed, it wasn't really the type of clothes May and June flipped through in their closet, but wow, it might've as well been lifted straight out from one of her childhood daydreams. One that she didn't outgrow.

   She tied one of the dress’s pink ribbon bow around her waist, the other would hold her high collar up her neck. That's when she realized she had outgrown this dream too.

   Her chest hair fluff was bulging out.

   “No…”

   When she patted it down, it just sprung back up to ruin her figure. It looked really weird. Like one singular boob perking from her sternum, highlighted right between the tails of her collar bow. She felt sick. Nauseous, but in her heart instead of in her stomach, and her lungs felt constrained. What did May and June do about theirs? Shave? ..All the time??

   Webby whimpered, pulling her neck bow undone so her collar would fall loose. Even then, the neckline didn't go deep enough for her chest fluff to puff out like it did with her regular T-shirt. The situation was unsalvageable. She'd ruined her new dress already and Hera hadn't even arrived yet. Sticking her hands into her collar, she figured she'd just pluck her chest feathers all out. She had to stop at the third feather though, because she noticed droplets of blood began filling out the irritated pores and ruining her dress with blood was even worse than ruining it with chest fluff.

   “Agh!!” she roared, pressing a tissue hard against her chest to stop the bleeding. “Stupid- Stupid man hair–” Or. Well. It wasn't really male body hair anymore, just hers. Which did not make her feel better. “Stupidly manlike woman hair?”

    “Ο γαμπρός σας περιμένει,” a voice churred from behind her, in Greek, ‘the groom is waiting for you’.

   Webby swept around so fast into a defensive stance that she showered the stranger in sand. It was a peacock lady, ironically, most likely one of the guests.

    “Λυπάμαι πολύ!!” she apologized immediately. Then, backtracking, she dropped her defense. “Wait, what? Ohh! No no, I'm not the bride! Um- Δεν είμαι η–”

   The lady held a hand up to cut her off, patting the sand out of her own dress. “I speak English.” She looked Webby up and down intensely. “What is a mere guest doing with such an extravagant gown, then? You might steal attention from the actual bride.”

   “Oh…” Looking down at her dress, she wilted. “Um, my dad just gave it to me. But. I was gonna take it off anyways.”

   “Is that so? Hmm…” The lady raised an eyebrow, now more genuinely curious than suspicious. Like something Webby said had sparked her interest. “Well then, please, I didn’t mean to intrude! Don't take it off, it suits you beautifully!”

   “I–” She blinked, confused at the woman's full change of heart. “It doesn't. It only suits me when I'm not in it.”

   “Heresy! Justify your words!”

   Blushing, Webby decided being honest with a stranger she'd only ever see once in her life couldn't hurt.

   “I.. I have chest hair.” She demonstrated the issue, tying her collar bow back up so the fabric would budge again under it. Her arms felt oddly weak and shaky. “I guess it's genetic? The McDuck women are… unpolished. They're amazing, don't get me wrong, they're all legendary heroes!! I just– I–”

   Breathless and at loss for words, she gestured vaguely to herself until she got back on track,

   “They’re why my voice is so weird, and my chest hair’s so puffy, and my whiskers are so big, and my eyebrows are so harsh, and my tail’s all tousled and I've got broad shoulders and narrow hips and basically no waist and no–”

   A sob tore out of her, breaking her off. There were a lot of characteristics here and there that she wasn't even aware she felt insecure about until they were rolling out of her tongue like a snowball. When she found out she was related to her dad by blood, she thought she'd be proud of every single aspect of the McDuck family passed down to her, obscure as it may be, she used to count her similarities with every member of her family with hopes of finding more.

   But now, she was ashamed of those traits – and she was ashamed of that. She should also be ashamed of crying in front of a stranger, but she had lost spatial awareness halfway into her monologue there.

   The goal of this quest was to achieve a body that didn't look masculine. What was the point of going from a guy that looks like a girl to a girl that looks like a guy?!

   “I thought I had found some magical solution to everything that's been growing wrong in my body!” she yelled, pressing the heels of her hands against her ears solely so it'd hurt a bit, eyes squeezed shut. “But I don't know what I'm doing here anymore!! This isn't the body I wanted!! I didn't watch that ‘Barbie movie’, but I know who Barbie is and she is beautiful!! It's easy for her to tell me not to worry about what I look like, because she doesn't have to!!”

   “We do not insult the Barbie movie, young lady. Barbie's message was never and has never been about conventional beauty, it's about womanhood,” the woman told her, pulling something out of her pocket. “Allow me.”

   “What?” she sniffled, squinting through her tears to see the knife in her hand. The feathers on her neck bristled instinctively, but at the sight of her expression, Webby determined she was trustworthy. And it wasn't just her susceptiveness to blindly trust grown-ups speaking. “What are you going to do?”

   “I'm going to help you.”

   That was enough for Webby to allow a stranger to approach her with a knife. Webby never really learned how to shave, with it being a moment statistically shared between father and son, so it was.. nice to have help. It. Wasn't weird, right?

   “Is that weird?”

   “No.”

   “Okay!”

   “Hold still.”

   She kept her arms out of the way as the lady checked how far the collar of the dress opened

   and slice it further down.

   Webby yelped, grabbing the woman's wrist to twist it in a split second impulse only to realize, in dawning horror, that she wouldn't budge. Adults three times this lady's size weren't as strong as Webby, so the way she was able to just flick her hand off her wrist was disturbing. There were a dozen more ways to get someone to drop their weapon – poke their eyes, punch their throat, tear their eardrums with a smack on each side of their head, et cetera – but that peacock was supposed to be trustworthy! So she went directly for the lady's knife. 

   To her confusion, she just let Webby have it and continued to mess with her collar.

   “What- What are you doing?!!”

   “See for yourself.” She stepped back and pulled a hand mirror out of her purse.

   Webby blinked, looking at her doing. The collar that'd previously wrap with the bowtie around her neck was now notched, its wings draped over her clavicles to free her chest fluff, out for everyone to see.

   “What- Why–” She slumped. Then, with just a flicker of anger, she slashed the air threateningly between the two of them, the woman's knife clutched tight in her fist, and demanded, “Why did you do that?! You said you'd help me!”

   “What did you think I was going to do? Shave your chest hair? That would have been weird.”

   “Ugh, I knew it!”

   “Sure, you can shave it and your ‘whiskers’ twice a week for the rest of your life. Not sure what you'll do about your shoulders and whatelse,” she mocked her. “ Or, you could come to terms with these changes. After all, you were never going to remain a cute little five-year old forever.”

   “If you're telling me to ‘own it up’ because I'm ‘beautiful’ and therefore every part of me is beautiful, you can give up now. I'm not beautiful anymore, so every part of me is ugly, and I don't want to own that up.”

   Webby turned the mirror away from her, downcast. The woman slapped her hand for that. Before she could even complain, the mirror was thrust into her hands, making her drop the knife.

   She gazed into her reflection for the third meaningful time that day, and felt even worse. Frowning, she recalled,

   “...What was that you said about Barbie and womanhood..?”

   The peacock nodded. “Haven't you heard that Barbie has every job in the world and somehow still manages her personal life?”

   “That sounds like my Aunt Della. She said womanhood is about doing more than the best you can do, both at work and at home. She's the best mom I've ever known.”

   “Then your aunt is a fabulous woman. How curvy is she?”

   Webby’s eyebrows jumped at the question.

   “Not at all.”

   “But surely she must be.. ‘polished’.”

   Webby grimaced, shrugging. “She has eye bags and worry wrinkles, her voice is a LOT raspier than mine and she stress-molts a lot.”

   The woman raised an eyebrow at her, smirking. “Oh really? You'd think every great woman had to look like Barbie. Funny thing.”

   “But she is beautiful! She has a boyfriend.”

   “Look at that. Suddenly all the single women on Earth are ugly.”

   Blushing, she shrunk into herself. “Stop! That's not what I meant!” She grunted. “We don't care what she looks like because we love her. That's different though! She doesn't care either! I do!”

   “You think she doesn't care.”

   “Well- Maybe she does a little bit, but- But…”

   Aunt Della must, come to think of it, worry about her looks. On quiet weekdays where she’s unemployed, especially after Dad Donald had taken over the triplets’ morning routine, Webby got to witness her walk into the kitchen for a cup of coffee late morning, hair unbrushed, face unwashed, still in her pajamas. If that was a pure, raw Della, then the usual Della was naturally touched up. The Della that went on dates with Aster was even more touched up. Someone who really doesn't care about their looks wouldn't go through the effort.

   Webby went through the effort too, even though she was homeschooled and didn't leave the house most of the days. She'd caught the habit of arriving late for breakfast since her molt started, just trying to remediate how disheveled she had gotten.

   Launchpad did basic hygiene at best, the Della from this switched universe wasn't flashy either, not appearence-wise, nor was this female version of her Grampy, but both of them kept tidy and…/or presentable. Dolly only started putting in real effort after her molt, lots of effort, Lolley never put any in, and Hollie went through the greatest effort of all; but they were all equally lovely. Everyone said so. Lena and Violet were astounding with their mysterious aura, May and June dazzling in a more conventional meaning of beauty.

   So Webby could honestly say she didn't know a single ugly woman besides herself, whether they went through a big or a minimal effort to look good.

   And that hurt a little.

   It was also a little weird. It confused her, now that she was in her female body more than ever, because at this point it was starting to seem like XX chromosomes just made you wonderful, and they weren't doing any of that to her.

   Webby shook her head, sobbing. “I don't understand what this means! I don't know why I'm still different from them!”

   “Different how?”

   “I’m ugly!” she snapped, frustrated at the woman's need to ask at this point. “I'm- Look at me! I look like a boy in a dress!”

   “You look like a woman to me. But you sound like a little girl.”

   “What?”

   No she didn't. Her voice didn't have a deep timbre to it anymore, but it was still matured.

   “Yes, an insecure little girl, so naïve, so eager to please everybody's eyes… So desperate for that depreciable validation.”

   Getting an inkling she was being insulted, Webby got defensive. “Stop mocking me! I'm fourteen!”

   “Then you should have realized by now that nobody cares if you look like a boy in a dress or a pretty ballerina, girl. You said it yourself, all the people that love you won't care what you look like. So why do you care? You're not Barbie, but neither are any of the best women you know, are they? It's your body, you're stuck with it!

   Might as well get comfortable.”

   The Earth stopped turning. Webby's ears rang. “Get comfortable”. Like Hilda did? Is that what this meant this whole time?

   It hit her now: the difference between Hollie and Huey was the difference between Webby and May or June.

   After all, they received the same molt treatment. Aunt Della combed all three of them to sleep at some point, with an ice brush that helped with the sores, and took them to swim in the beach to help with the itching. Grampy preened her for the first month before he got her grounded for the first time, now she'd made it Scrooge's duty like it was Aster’s for Ember and Toby. Her grandfather was still the one who cooked extra for the growing teenagers. Dad Donald wasn't a lot of help, but he was the one who'd filled hers and Dolly's beds with the softest pillows in Duckburg to help with the spikes, while Ember and Tony got special PJ's from Aster's brother.

   Her molt didn't ruin her any more than it ruined her little brothers. May and June weren't prettier, they were just.. comfortable. They were confident like Huey was, and Webby wasn't. Well, they also wore makeup and curled their hair and wore facemasks to sleep, but their bodies were the same as hers; and if they looked amazing with their whiskers and harsh eyebrows and broad shoulders… then why was Webby so set on getting rid of hers?

   Hollie, fidgety and always on edge, was beautiful. But she worried so much about staying beautiful that she ruined her hair, which only fed a vicious cycle of low self-esteem. And she'd been slowly falling down the same rabbit hole as Hollie without realizing.

   Louie was right. Webby was beautiful to their eyes already, it was time to own it up and get comfortable.

   Besides, if womanhood was about doing your very best at work and loving your family and friends at home, she'd say she's doing well! May and June may be fashion models, but Webby was an adventurer. Wasn't looking rough around the edges part of that?

   Webby’s heart fluttered anew. 

   Something else happened inside her too, something less natural. It was a tug that pulsed alongside her heartbeat, and she saw Aunt Della and the triplets forming behind her eyelids when she blinked. They were only barely recognized, the image wobbling like reflections on the disturbed water surface of a pond, so she couldn't tell what they were doing or thinking, but she could guess what this vision meant,

   “The trial! It's over!”

   She'd seen the true nature of womanhood, a terrifying, wounding and overwhelming truth, and she'd faced it. She won! Though for a moment there she'd been alarmingly close to losing.

   “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!”

   “Oh!” the woman yelped as Webby tackled her in a hug. She pat her shoulders. “Do you see it now?”

   She was going to nod, but something distracted her;

   The woman's perfume. It smelled distinctively of spring and sunlight – not an ordinary scent to buy in a glass bottle.

   Jolting away as if shocked, Webby squeaked, “HERA?!”

   The peacock, one of Hera's few known physical forms, raised an eyebrow and asked, mildly amused,

   “Do I know you?”

   Hera didn't remember her?

   So this Hera was part of this new universe too. This made their plan way easier, especially since they'd bonded, because she'd be able to approach Hera as a trusted friend now and stab her in the back.

   Webby grimaced. They didn't need to do that anymore, they probably never did. She felt kind of bad now for being up to it in the first place.

   “Come on, quick, quick!” she heard Mom Della's voice approaching, accompanied Selene's wry laughter.

   “Oh no!” The plan was already in motion, which meant Dewey was waiting for her entrance at the guest area, and soon all hell would break loose. Nobody but her knew Hera had been here from the beginning! “I'm Webby! You don't know me, but you have to trust me!”

   She grabbed on to Hera's wrist and ran in the opposite direction of Della's voice, towards the wedding set. Luckily gods weren't easily surprised or put-off by anything mortals did, so she carelessly let herself be pulled along by the teenager.

   Grampy's female version, playing the priest, was pressuring Zeus into going to fetch his bride. As soon as he left, Dewey and Webby's number would start to keep the guests on their seats. Her eyes searched the crowd and found him at the front row in a blue tie black suit sending Lena nervous glances over his shoulder. Lena was lounging by the food table, returning every other gaze boredly. She kept her regular sweater, but it didn't stop Webby from picturing her in a suit like Dewey's. It was almost impossible to tear her eyes away from her beautiful muse to find Louie. He was chattering away with a couple of guests while petting a peacock in his lap, and if their expressions said anything, he was sharing some scandalous “hot tea” either about Selene or Webby’s characters. May and June were doing the same with other select groups, and Huey was subtly murmuring into a walkie-talkie.

   Dad was sitting on the last row, using his cane as an armrest. He was wearing a suit too, she could tell it wasn't a new one though.

   “Stay here,” she whispered, bundling Hera into a crack in the rocks. “I'll be right back!”

   She crouched and crawled over to the millionaire to duck from Dewey and Lena's radars.

   “Dad!”

   He startled. “There you are, lass! About time!” Helping her up into a vacant chair next to him, he gaped at her dress with a soft gasp. “Webbigail…”

   “Oh-” Webby looked down guiltily at the adjustments Hera had done to her collar. She was glad she'd done it now, but she hadn't thought about what her father would feel about this. “My chest fluff was getting in the way, so I–”

   “Ye’re beautiful! Oh, look at you!” He let out a delighted laugh, winking. “I especially love the McDuck touch there!”

   “Really?” Flattered, a grin pushed its way onto her beak.

   “O' course! Matilda would be so proud of you!”

   “Matilda?”

   “Aye, my sister. I forgot she must be a gadgie on your side of the coin.”

   “You mean Uncle Magnus? The one that lives with your parents at the Castle McDuck?”

   “Must be him.”

   He pulled his wallet out of his breast pocket and rummaged through it for a picture like the triplets would've done with a phone, which he could definitely afford ages ago. The picture showed a woman posing with Webby's Grandad and Granny. There was a bit of Magnus recognizable in her expression, but otherwise she was much prettier. She had broad shoulders and harsh eyebrows too, just like Webby, May and June, and if she had whiskers, they were combed into her hair like June’s. What really caught her eye was her hairstyle though.

   “Hey!” Webby grabbed the tiny picture to bury her face in it, trying to catch smaller details. “She looks just like me!!”

   “Ye’re the one who looks just like her! All this time I thought you'd done your hair inspired by hers. Looks like it’s just in your blood.”

   It was a funny coincidence. Webby smiled warmly at the picture before she wilted a little, looking away. 

   “I actually didn't.. do this hair at all. I think your Webby didn't either, though maybe not for the same reasons as me.”

   “What do ye mean? You girls just let it grow wild from your molt, just like that?”

   “I- I didn't know what else to do,” she explained, and hesitated, drawing into herself, before eventually recovering the courage to tell her father about the ugly feelings she had been fermenting since her molt crept up on her, feelings she hadn't told any of her family about. “When I got my whiskers, I mean.”

   Suddenly self-conscious, she retreated, turning away from her father's attentive eyes to watch Zeus finally cave in to female Grampy's demands, storming off to find Selene.

   “Ah,” Scrooge said, equal bits sheepish and caring, “you don’t like them?”

   “I do now! But when I saw they were growing, I um, I panicked? Because they looked really bad with my bob. They looked bad when I tried to grow my hair out and they looked bad when I tried up-dos...”

   “That’s what the ugly duckling phase is for! Trial and error!”

   “Because you're so ugly you can try out different hairstyles without anybody noticing?”

   “Precisely! Er, well, I personally think you've never managed to look anything short of lovely.”

   He sneaked an arm to the backrest of her chair in a non-committal invitation for a hug. Webby dug in, nestling into his arms as he pulled her to his lap, groaning with the effort. She giggled, proud of how much she'd grown the past few years, and he held on to her tenderly, fingers brushing through her hair feathers.

   “I don't want to shave them, or my chest fluff,” she told him. “I'm gonna keep them this way.”

   “Do whatever suits you better, lassie, it's your hair, not mine,” he joked, then shifted. “...Technically it is, but ye know what I mean.”

   Webby snorted fondly and held him tighter.

   Breathing in and out slowly, she allowed her eyelids to fall shut only to meet her Aunt Della's very open eyes staring back at her from the dark.

   “Eek!” She jumped. “Oh-” Throwing another glance at the altar to find it empty, she pushed herself off her father's embrace. “No!! Dad, we have to call off the plan!”

   “What?! What're ye on about?!”

   “The trial is over! I did it!”

   “Just now?!!”

   “No – that's what I came here to tell you in the first place! But I got distracted by my own emotions!”

   “What- How did you do it?!”

   “Through self-acceptance!”

   “But who would have thought of that?!”

   She shook her head dismissively. “We have to stop the play! We never had to kill Hera for the–”

    “‘Kill Hera’?!” they heard from right behind them. Webby flinched, recognizing the voice as Hera's. “A ‘plan’, a ‘play’, is that what this wedding is?! Some bait, to trick me and stab me in the back?!”

   “No! I mean, yes, it was bait, but–AGH!”

   She got cut off as Hera transformed into her godly cow form in a violent gush of sparkly wind that sent all of the guests flying. Have you ever stuck your head out the car window while it went really fast ahead and discovered you couldn't breathe against the wind? Imagine that, but way, way worse. Wind actually slapping you, actually blocking your airways so you're choking against the pressure. It held her eyelids down, and her arms couldn't fight the force enough to even cover her face, so she was forced to wait it out.

    “Webby!!” she heard through the wind.

   Her body was swept to the side, so suddenly it might've cracked her back. She was zooming through the air for a second, like she was weightless, before she collided with something soft and safe that wrapped around her tight, protectively, with all four limbs. That something was also panting, she felt their ribcage inflate and shrink fast against her. But then they were scrambling to get up.

   “C'mon c'mon c'mon,” Lena's trembling voice complemented the image of the person behind her eyelids.

   She blinked them open just in time to see her intertwine their fingers so she could guide her off somewhere safer. Webby was quick to push herself into her feet and run whichever way Lena was going. There was no need to check, not with Lena, not with Luke. It was hard to look away from her anyways.

   “What happened?!” Webby asked her best friend, coming off her daze as they ran up the mountain towards the temple.

   “You were about to be trampled, that's what! I swear if you get my Webby hurt while in her body I'm gonna possess you and do much worse. I'm not fucking joking.”

   “I feel like that would be counterproductive,” she mumbled, suddenly upset, and let go of Lena's hand, feeling she should be able to run on her own now.

   “Come back here!” they heard Hera yell after them.

   Both of them stumbled a bit as the goddess punched the base of the mount to create a crack on the ground. It opened just between the two girls, but they recovered quick and continued to run.

   Lena puffed. “What'd you even say to that lady?!”

   “I was trying to ask Dad to cancel the plan, but she overheard it and thought I was betraying her!”

   They closed the doors of the temple, but they could still hear the goddess stomping her way over.

   “Why were you trying to cancel the plan?!”

   Webby did Grampy's military tactical breathing exercise to clear her head.

   “I passed the trial,” she told Lena, whose expression became conflicted. “Through self-reflection. If I didn't immediately get sent back, then something else has to be done first.”

   “Like what? Actually killing her?”

   “Seems unlikely at this point, but I think we're gonna have to do that anyways!” she screamed as the doors of the temples were slammed open and an overwhelming presence filled the room.

   Lena sneezed. “Ugh, does she produce pollen?!”

   “Awwwn, you sneeze like a puppy!”

   “Try saying that in front of Vi.”

   “Enough chatter,” Hera complained, her comment drizzled in disdain. “I'm going to turn you into pollen! Yes, you look just like a dandelion. And you, some mold.”

   Lena squeaked, offended.

   “Ye're gonna have to go through me first!” Scrooge showed up behind Hera.

   “And us!” Dewey followed, Hilda and Louie at his sides. 

   The rest of her family had climbed there too, Violet, May and June, Della and Donald, Penumbra, Grampy, Selene and Storkules, plus some curious guests and even the peacocks.

   “No, I won't,” Hera said cockily, glancing at them, “in case you haven't noticed, none of you are standing between me and the filthy traitor.” She turned back to Webby and outstretched an arm. “I will have my revenge!”

   “Oh yeah?” Lena spat, standing in front of Webby. She levitated and transformed into her blue ‘ass kicking’ outfit with the magic of friendship, charging up her fists with blue light. “You forgot me!”

   Webby raised her eyebrows, blushing.

   “A witch? Cowardly.”

   “Aw man, all this time I've been avoiding saying ‘coward’ in front of cows,” Dewey commented. “Turns out they use the word too?!”

   As soon as Hera spun around to either attack Dewey or just deadpan at him, Lena beamed her. It didn't do much except for affront the goddess, who immediately turned back around to attack them. That was when the others ran at her. Turns out having your enemies both behind and in front of you is not an advantage, even for a powerful deity. Louie used his khopesh to slice through her dress, and since he was barely as tall as her knee, all it did was expose her calves. Which Huey began… poking, with the Staff of Storkules, until she stopped and contemplated,

   “I just realized I have no idea how to use a staff.”

   With everyone else keeping Hera busy from every side, Dewey was able to spectacularly drift his way over to Webby, sword in hands. Lena stepped aside.

   “Let’s Do-wey and Webby this!” He sing-sang, smirking, “Teamwork makes the dream work!”

   Webby was familiar with their little chant, but not with the pun.

   “AH! A name pun!!” she squealed, amused. “Dolly just says ‘dolly in’ and ‘dolly out'!”

    “No way. A camera shooting pun?! Ugh, that's so much cooler!!”

   Lena, also familiar with their in-sync bit, just rolled her eyes and nudged her best friend,

   “Why doesn't Webby have a name pun?”

   Dewey shrugged. “We were working on one…”

   “Oh oh! Yes!” Webby babbled. “Say the thing!”

   “Let's Do-wey this?”

   “I'm Weady!”

   Her brother whooped, fist-bumping her, and Lena actually snorted.

   “Okay, that was good. Now on to find one for me and Gos.”

   “That's easy! You're someone to  Lenon! It's harder to come up with one for Luke.”

   She raised her eyebrows. “‘You can Lena‘n me’. That's the cheesiest battle cry ever. I'm keeping it.”

   “Stop making up good name puns, that's my thing!” Dewey hissed. “I'll do Gosalyn’s, nobody else say anything! Let's go!”

   He held out the sword and Webby's hand wrapped around his on the handle.

   “Hey, that’s a good one,” Lena teased him, using her magic to fly them to Hera's back, keeping them on her blind spot as she moved until they had grabbed on to her giant belt. “‘Let’s Gos’.”

   “Shut up shush-a-hush shush!” Dewey yelled down at her, covering his ears. “That is NOT good! Plus, mine already starts with–wHOA!”

   Webby yanked him out of the way when Hera reached behind her to grab them. She’d jumped to between her shoulder blades, hanging on by to the cloth of her Greek dress by one hand with Dewey hanging on to the other. He managed to swing over to her side with a small “Thanks!”, but the relief was short-lived as Hera continued to reach out. They couldn't hold still for a moment long enough to do anything.

    “ ENOUGH! ”

   They were once again blown back by a gust of wind. Webby was able to turn her face away this time, safely ricocheting off a column and landing with expert grace. Dewey was separated from her though. Lena managed to catch him with her magic before he could splat on the ground, but the Sword of Selene was sent way over to the back of the temple, clattering against a wall.

   “No!” Webby set off for the sword, but Hera caught her. “Put me down!!”

   With her free hand, she also grabbed Scrooge so she could glower at both of them at the same time. Then her gaze fell to Selene and Storkules.

   “Was this all a petty little attempt to get me out of the way so you could live happily ever after with my husband? On this puny, nothing island?!” Hera mocked them. Looking at Huey, Dewey and Louie, her nose wrinkled in distaste, recalling how they were able to harm her like no mortal could. “You! You’re just another clutch of his bastard children, aren't you?!”

   Della, unaware that this Hera was not Webby's Hera, stepped up. “Are you serious?! My babies have nothing to do with you or your excuse of a husband! We're not here about your family!”

   “Yeah! We're here about ours!” Uncle Donald added, “Just let Webby have her right body!”

   “Her ‘right body’?!” The cow looked down at Webby, then at her father, then at her again.

   She wasn't sure how she realized what they were talking about, but she did. Webby saw it in the way her face contorted in repugnance.

   “You McDucks are a shame to womanhood! I should have known,” she told them, squeezing them between her fingers. Lifting Scrooge a little higher, she said, “What you asked of Poseidon was disgusting.”

   The two of them winced, but not just because of the fact they were being held rather uncomfortably. Her dad’s expression had an anxiety to it though, like he was afraid she'd elaborate for all the family to hear. Webby wondered if she was the only one who knew his story with Poseidon.

   Hera turned to her. “And you. You'll be better off learning how to be a man. Look what this obsession of yours has come to! You're miserable! I did what I did to Tiresias because I knew no man could handle the burden of womanhood. You are no different.”

   Webby bared her teeth, throat closing up to the feeling of tears prickling at her eyes. Her father on the other hand thrashed and growled out threats,

   “I'll show ye what a man can do!!”

   “Oh, you've done enough.”

   Scrooge groaned in pain when she squeezed him harder, so much they heard a couple of bones popping, and Webby screamed for her father. 

   Hera disposed of him, flicking him off her hand, but she saw Grampy's female version run to catch him.

   “You said I wasn't different!!” Webby cried out, trying to wiggle herself free to no avail. “You said womanhood’s never been about what my body looks like!!”

   “As long as you're a woman.”

   “So a woman's private parts mean more to you than all the things you've told me made a woman?! All of those things come second to having an uterus?!”

   “Of course! Because that's the bare minimum a woman must have to differentiate her from a man!”

   “Perv,” Louie whispered to Huey.

   “How about the one in every five-thousand women who are born without an uterus? The Rokiturkey syndrome,” Violet piped, prodding. “And the few women born with AIS, who have no reproductive organs at all?”

   “Biology is unpredictable. Science can explain most of the things we see, but the only thing it can really assure you with 100% certainty is that there will always be an exception somewhere,” Huey said. “And that , that is scary, but it's.. It's just the way things are.”

   Violet smiled. “Senior Woodchuck Guidebook rule number one: always expect the unexpected.”

   “What the nerds mean is that Webby's as much of a woman as you,” Lena said. Dewey wasn't with her anymore, and Webby searched the room beneath her, but couldn't find him. “Even more, ‘cause like, you may have the dress and the body, but Webby's got better. She's tough and kind, and she protects people. She's an actual fucking joy and you're just a legendary bitch.”

   “Aw,” Webby giggled, bashful, while her grandmother reprimanded Lena for the language.

   “Her dress is prettier than yours!” June yelled.

   “I'm a big fan of her physique too,” May complimented herself. Her twin nodded.

   “How can you look at her and say she's not a girl?!”

   “If your answer doesn't involve femboys – which I know it won't – then don't even bother,” Louie half-joked, feigning disappointment with a hand up.

   Frustrated, Hera aimed a kick at Louie. Huey used her staff to get him out of the way, but Hera just lunged at her instead. Della joined the fight to protect her, and soon everyone was back to motion while Webby got waved around, still stuck in the goddess’ fist.

   Until Dewey shouted,

   “Toss it!”

   Both Hera's and Webby's heads snapped up to see he'd climbed up to her horns. As for whom he'd addressed, Grampy's female version, who seemed to have reattained the Sword of Selene, tossed it over to him. It flew scarily fast through the air thanks to her spy abilities, but it didn't land in Dewey's hands. It landed on Hera's hand, more specifically the one holding Webby. The sword didn't just nick her, it pierced her like a splinter, which goes to show throwing it directly lat Dewey wouldn't have been the brightest idea.

   “Ouch!!” Hera instinctively shook out her hand. “What, are you a god too?!”

   “I’m just what decades of training can amount to,” Beakley bragged.

   Webby, now free, withdrew the sword with mild difficulty before she fell. She didn't hit the ground though, blue magic raised her next to Dewey between the cow's horns. She sent Lena an appreciative smile.

   “You little–”

   “Close your eyes, I'm gonna try something and it's gonna be super embarrassing if it doesn't work,” Dewey said to her ear. Webby frowned, but complied.

   He gasped a big breath in and held it, eyes squeezed shut, concentrating on something. And he shined, for just a second, even through her eyelids. Glowed brighter than the sun.

   “–agh!!” Hera shrieked, covering her eyes and swaying.

   “It worked?! It worked!!” her brother cheered. She couldn't see him, sight burned green even though she'd closed her eyes during the flash, but as a team, they’ve grown out of needing to see each other a long time ago. “I'm a walking flash grenade!! I take back what I said about my demigod powers, they're awesome!!”

   Webby grinned.

   They once again wielded the sword together and swung off her hair to finally stab her in the back. With her size, the sword only went exactly deep enough to be lethal. The entire temple fell into a spell of silence.

   Slowly, Hera, with her back arched and mouth gaping open, collapsed to her knees, then face planted on the floor.

   They breathed.

   Her sight was coming back in bits, like a corrupted file, soon she found herself staring down at the sword and the blood oozing at an unnaturally sluggish pace from it. Jerking her head up, she caught Dewey's bright —and maybe a bit hysterical— grin.

   He wheezed out, “I think this is going to mentally scar me forever!”

   Releasing a breathless laugh, she looked around, at her family, and they burst into cheers. She was surprised to find that most of the guests had stuck around to watch the fight unroll, cheering along though they couldn't possibly imagine the subcontext of the spectacle. It was a fair guess that they only concluded the giantess was Hera from the rumors Louie, May and June were tasked to spread. In which case, some of them must have only stuck around to watch the fight because she, Dewey and Lena were involved.

   Thanks to.. the rumors….

   Her eyes sparkled with mischief upon her brother.

   Webby unsheathed the sword from the fallen goddess and used the force it took to wrest it away as an impulse to shove her brother, hard, before their siblings could approach them for a celebratory hug. He fell with an “oof!” right off Hera’s back to the ground. If the hand clutching at his ribs where the hilt of the sword had hit him was anything to go by, she'd been a little too rough, but he'd forget all about it as soon as he realized what was happening.

   “Webby, what the heck, man?!” Louie hovered. Dewey was alone on the right side of Hera, with their family and marriage guests gathered in a half-moon across her left. Webby was standing tall between everyone and Dewey, unsurpassable.

   “What's going on?” Huey asked her.

   As response, she used the sword to slice at Dewey's suit, to the sound of various startled yelps, including his as he flinched. Blood splashed on the floor, then stacks of money bills and a car key spilled out of his slashed pockets, and she gathered the props greedily.

   Dewey's look of horror and betrayal became of surprise when she reached into his other pocket for his phone and waved it at his face.

   “Your car, your house, your money.. The Sword of Selene!” She said, villainous, showing the crowd their sword. “Mine! All mine!”

   She could see the exact moment the family all relaxed behind her, especially Lena who'd bristled like a crow at Webby's staged change of character. Dewey wiped some blood off his face after realizing it was Hera’s, not his, and he nodded at her before getting into character.

   “Webby, what…” Dewey sputtered, sitting up. He made a show of struggling for words. “Why are you doing this?”

   “You fool! The only love at first sight that happened when we first met was between me and your 800$ cellphone!”

   “Cut the ‘cell’ out,” he whispered.

   “Between me and your 800$ phone!”

   He threw her a subtle thumbs up before scrambling to his feet so he could beg,

   “But everything we've been through together! You did it all for my unexplainably heavy wallet?!”

   “No!” She opened her arms, reeling to the edge of Hera's back. “I did it for her!”

   Thankfully, Lena caught the cue and levitated from behind her, creating a super badass version of the titanic scene. The guests whooped and screamed “I knew it”s in Greek. Webby couldn't hold character anymore and burst into giggles, Lena and Dewey following suit to her contagious laughter.

   Webby leaned back into Lena's chest in the spur of the moment, only to jerk away the second she remembered she'd gotten into girl Luke's bad side somehow. But she was pulled back in before she could get far, for a tight hug,, she had to bend her neck in a weird angle to see the emotion in Lena’s face and smiled when she found a look of sheer relief, a touch apologetic.

   “We did it,” she said, leaning fully into the hug, getting butterflies in her stomach when she heard Lena sigh and relax onto her. “I’m going home.”

   “Yeah,” Lena breathed, “I’m getting my Webby back.”

   She didn’t pull away from the hug until Webby did though.

   “Now what?” Violet asked from the ground. “Are you going to switch, or do we wait until you fall asleep so our Webby wakes up back in her body?”

   “I- I don’t know,” she told her family. Squeezing her eyes closed, she stared at the blurry image of her real family waiting for her to wake up for a moment, then reopened them to frown at her hands. “I’m missing something…”

   Suddenly, the humongous body beneath her feet caved in and vanished into a flurry of golden pollen. She and Lena, the only ones standing on top of Hera’s back, fell on their butts.

   “What?!” Lena squeaked. “What just happened?!”

   “She’ll probably get reborn somewhere.”

   “Nooo! My wife! My beautiful and frankly scary wife! I should have protected you!” Zeus howled from the doorway, storming in and pathetically trying to catch the pollen into his fists. Once unsuccessful, he fully recovered and dusted himself off. “What a shame. Welp, back to the ceremony, everybody! Nothing to see here!”

   “How come he only arrived now?” Huey asked herself.

   They started regrouping at the beach to finish the fake wedding. There was no longer any point in doing so, but they were able to recover some of the food and they could use a celebration after that intense fight. The grown-ups were clinking drinks and the teenagers owned the buffet, the music was pleasant and the full moon up in the sky was gorgeous. Webby sat on the tidbits table, staring at it while listening to the waves lap at the shore and her friends talk around her. Whenever she blinked, she saw Aunt Della again, and she was starting to miss her.

   “How’s that working out?” Lena asked jokingly, approaching with a lazy pace.

   “Huh?”

   Snort. “You look like you’re trying to moon-blink yourself.”

   “Oh.” She looked down, blushing. On the cup of soda in her hand, the reflection of the moon taunted her, and she quickly looked away. “I’m not sleepy.”

   “That makes one of us.”

   She giggled as Lena yawned and sat beside her on the table.

   “Am I that different from your Webby?” she asked to stir conversation.

   “Well, yeah. I mean, no, not really, but my Webby's... mine,” Lena said slowly, looking off to the ocean. “Not in a weird way. It's just- It's different. You're not really my friend, yunno?”

   “What?! Of course I am!! I'm your best friend, Lena!”

   “No, you're not though. Your best friend's a guy who wasn't even raised by my aunt. Me and Lake - Luke, whatever - we're not the same.”

   Webby bit her lower lip, frowning. “Oh... Is that why you don't like me?”

   “I never said that!” Lena argued, snapping her head towards Webby. “You're like, perfect, but I'm not a guy. ”

   Blinking in confusion, Webby raised an eyebrow at Lena, but when she opened her mouth to ask why that mattered, Lena lowered her head and spit, “Forget it.”

   Webby mouthed an “okay” and sipped on her drink, pulling her legs up so she could hug her knees. After a while, she spoke again,

   “...I think I’m gonna miss you. A- All of you. But I really miss my family right now. I want to go home.”

   “Aren’t we just gonna wait it out though? Chill, Pink. You’ll probably be back by morning, right as rain.”

   “I know, but I still think there’s something else! It’s- Aw, I can’t figure it out!”

   “What are you talking about? The guys said you just woke up here, right? So you’ll just wake up there, pronto.”

   “I did wake up here, but I didn’t fall asleep before, I swam inside Hera’s mirror until I.. drowned, I think?”

   “Okay, yeah, you lost me there.”

   “She told me to walk inside her mirror, and it was a pond, except vertical, and–” Webby shot up, dropping her soda. “Her mirror!”

   She set off to the place where she tried on her new dress.

   “What, what are we doing? What?” Lena stuttered, running after her.

   “She gave it to me!”

   When she arrived, she searched around the sand for the hand mirror Hera had forced into her hands earlier. It was dark away from the torches, but eventually she caught the light of the moon on a reflective surface on the ground and picked it up. The frame of the mirror was identical to the one Webby had seen in her universe, save for the smaller scale and the lack of fern growing from the sides.

   “This it it,” she whispered in awe.

   “Wait, so you’re going home now?” Lena frowned.

   “Without saying goodbye?!” Dewey shouted from a distance, panting. Behind him, his siblings and the rest of their family ran to meet them.

   Webby’s eyes widened, taking them in. They surrounded her with wistful smiles and she might just cry. Instead, she tackled the triplets in a hug, pulling Violet and the twins in while the adults closed the group hug.

   “Thank you, guys!!” she told them all. “Thank you so much! I love you!” She pulled back to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. “I’m gonna tell everyone at home about this place.”

   “Aye, you do that and we’ll tell Webby all about you,” Scrooge laughed.

   Louie leaned away and snapped a selfie of them all together. “I vote we don’t tell her and instead make her believe she completely forgot the day she absolutely slayed against an actual goddess.”

   “So we’re not gonna talk about where she got that dress?” May pointed out. Webby pursed her lips and looked away, giggling.

   “I wish I could meet Hollie myself, but, you know,” Huey said, smiling. “You’re gonna have to tell her what I told you.”

   Webby nodded.

   “Ooh, and tell girl Dewey to wear sparkly dresses to school for me!” Dewey grinned.

   “Uh-”

   “I made a list of things that I, hypothetically, wouldn’t have learned if I were born a boy or had two mothers instead of two fathers,” Violet said, pushing a journal into Webby’s hands. “I don’t know if physical objects get across the plane, but just on the off-chance they do, make sure to give this to my male version.”

   “Wait, we can just do that?” June scrambled to find something in her pockets that could function as a souvenir. She handed Webby her teal bow. “Here!”

   “Oh, Toby will love this!”

   “Can you give gal me this?” Launchpad dropped a handful of seashells into Webby’s hands.

   “Okay, okay, stop crowding her,” Uncle Donald shushed them. Della agreed,

   “Yeah, I want to see how the mirror works!”

   They stepped away from Webby, who took a deep breath and looked into the mirror. It showed her the best version of herself, and her dress did look pretty cool with the cut down the middle. She beamed, reaching out and touching the mirror. Red red blood seeped from her fingers onto the hard, cold surface, startling her. But when she noticed her fingers weren’t hurt, she reached into her reflection again, and this time the surface gave in like water, now pinkish and warm from the blood. She could fit her whole arm in there.

   “Whoa,” Dewey gaped.

   Webby took one last look at them, lingering on everyone a little bit, then staring at her grandmother.

   Bentina’s gaze softened. Webby’s did too.

   With everyone watching closely, she managed to cram another arm in there and then her head, holding her breath, and as soon as the frame of the mirror slid past her shoulders, her whole body was plunged into the pond again. She fumbled a little, getting used to the switch of gravity, and began swimming forward. There was a light now, distant ahead, which she knew was home.

   Then her arm separated from itself – it doubled.

   “Blurb!!” she screeched underwater, air bubbles spilling out of her beaks before she snapped it closed again.

   She felt a pull, a push, something trying to get free from her. The double of her arm struggled against her, and soon there was a double of her other arm and she squeezed her eyes shut when something pulled apart from her face. When she opened them again, she was staring into her own wide eyes. They both swam a safe distance away from each other, Webby taking a second to desperately gather her souvenirs back into her arms, and she noticed that while the other Webby had her new dress on, she herself had her usual clothes back on.

   She blinked.

   “Mm-mm-mmh!” Webby pointed in the opposite direction of the light, hoping to direct AFAB Webby back to her own universe.

   The other Webby raised an eyebrow and looked at the light, questioning Webby’s intentions.

   Oh wait. There was an easier way to communicate here.

   ‘No time to explain, my home is that way and yours is back through there,’ she signed in ASL.

   ‘Who are you?’

   ‘Our family will tell you everything, I promise!’

   The other Webby stayed still for a while, deciding on whether to trust her or not, but ultimately gave her a nod and swam into the dark side of the pond. Webby continued on to the light, smiling to herself.

   .

   .

   .

   Webby was overheating and had no idea where she was. She fell forward, arms caught her and lowered her onto her knees just in time for her to retch out all the pink water in her lungs, coughing for what seemed to be an eternity before she could breathe again. Distantly, she registered being wet, and now that she was out of the water, she was freezing. She curled up into herself, shaking, and struggled weakly against someone who was trying to wrest her soaked jacket away, but once that was off her, she was wrapped up in a much warmer coat and held by a set of way too many arms that soothed her instantly.

   .

   .

   .