Chapter Text
Lena grabbed Webby's hand, stepped into the darkness, and became one with the shadows.
Webby's abilities with magic are lukewarm at best. Potions were easy- anyone could dunk some animal guts in a pot and brew it into a life hack- but actual, physical magic was something that could take years to master. And, even then, some were just far more adept at it than others. (It was two or three years back that Webby, due to pure luck, managed to run into Morgana Macawber at a spook-off after fighting a rabid werewolf; they'd kept distant contact ever since, usually bemoaning bad brushes with the supernatural in various cryptic codes, and having this grown woman sometimes zap her loved ones into pudding and moose every once in awhile gave Webby hope for the future.)
Lena, being a shadow golem, had no such problems, leading Webby through various magical realms over the years. Shadows are the clouds of the ground, big and empty between the lines of reality, and while it was conceptually interesting to be in a room of pitch blackness, sitting in an old armchair, and watching Lena shake the jar of marbles as she studied her facial features in an boudoir, but after climbing Yggdrasil this was basically like plopping in a smelly mud puddle and proclaiming it spring water. "Did you ever get that marble back?"
"Nah, dude. That was lowkey his birthday present." Lena shook her jar-full of said marbles. "I think I'll survive without it."
Webby stared at the jar with awe. "This is really happening. You're really gonna grow up."
Lena swallowed and managed a finger-gun. "You bet I am."
"What's wrong?"
"Absolutely nothing. I'm peachy."
She slipped off the chair. The ground- if it can even be called that- is squishy and warm underfoot, dipping uncomfortably as she walks. Lena didn't shy away from her like she might have when they were younger, letting Webby cup her cheeks. "Lena, you never use 'peachy' unironically."
Lena sucked in a deep breath and grabbed her wrists. She didn't try to move her away. "Webby, what if I do this and grow up and look like her?"
Webby blinked at her owlishly. "You're already pretty tall, Lena. I dunno what to tell-"
"Not the height thing, Webby! What if I get her crooked beak and her voice and her cold heart and everything in-between. What if this jar is all that's keeping me... me?"
"That won't happen," she promised. "It can't."
"How can you say that? There's never been a shadow golem like me."
"That's the whole point! There's never been someone like you before. You can't be Magica if you're already somebody else." Webby took a calculated risk and craned upwards to bump their beak-tips together in a display of affection. "Quit worrying about that kind of stuff. I'll smack any Magica outta you."
Lena huffed out a laugh, eyes slipping shut. "Okay, that's waaay more reassuring than it should be."
"Let's take it one day at a time. Sound good?"
"Yeah," Lena said, taking a deep breath. "One at a time."
She turned and smashed the vase.
There is fire and explosions, as promised, but it's less 'cool fire coming out of the mouth of a dragon' and more 'wow okay the entire place is on fire ow ow ow', followed by Lena hurling for a solid five minutes before passing out.
They manage to stumble back to the mansion by mid-afternoon the next day, clothes disheveled and smelling like an ash tray each. Webby's wrists and hands are burnt. Lena's everything is a bit crispy, but thankfully a quick preening shows it's just her top feathers. Running her fingers through them reveals a new kind of softness, the kind her synthetic ones didn't have.
They're real.
Lena's finally, really real.
And they're gonna grow up together.
"LEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," Webby bawls, collapsing on top of her. "YOU'RE SO PRETTY AND COOL AND I LOVE YOU AND I CAN'T WAIT TO GROW UP TO BE OLD BIRDS WHO KILL SPIES ON COMMISSION TOGETHER."
"You need a shower," griped Lena, smirking just a little.
They clean themselves off to the best of their abilities, flop into Webby's bed, and sleep for a solid ten hours. Lena vanishes into the shadows, returning with ten pounds of chocolate and soda, and Webby's too hungry to complain about getting their proper nutrients. One day of sweets won't destroy fifteen years of training.
They sleep some more, then get up fully. It's late at night as they make their way downstairs, curling up under a blanket on the couch. They settle on some cheesy Chip Damage movies and wait for sunrise.
(Duckworth will find them, snoozing pressed against each other once again. "You smell like brimstone," he will comment, and Lena will throw him two middle fingers and say, "Jealous?" and he will send them a dry look and reply, "I'm positively green.")
"That was a fun adventure!" Dewey yells as the family stumbles into the mansion, laden with gold and exhaustion. "I fought the devil!"
"That's nothin'," Scrooge grumbles, but he's smiling sideburn to sideburn. "I fight him every year! S'how I keep my youthful look about me."
Huey and Louie follow, the former's feathers bent and crooked from botched falls. Louie rolled his eyes as Huey proclaimed, "I found out the exact time and date of my death! It was very enlightening."
"It was boring," the youngest triplet rebuffed. "I mean, heart attack? At ninety-five? In this family?"
Scrooge rubbed his chin. "It is a bit young for the McDuck genes. I'll hafta speak to Hades about that."
Webby eagerly slammed her hands on the armrest of the couch, bouncing on the cushion. "I got a girlfriend! And I grew as a person!"
"Damnit, Webby." Louie threw his hands up. "Why does your adventure get to kick our adventure's ass like that?"
Lena came out of the hallway carrying two glasses of juice. She studied them a moment, but said nothing, handing Webby her glass before turning to Scrooge. "I threw out the marbles."
"Threw them out?"
She shrugged. "You were bitching about them drawing in monsters. I threw them out."
The old duck squinted at her suspiciously. "When did yew put black streaks in yer hair?"
"Around the time you learned to mind your own business, old man."
Huey gleefully broke Lena's personal bubble as he leaned in, mere centimeters from her face. "You kind of look like-"
Lena chucked her juice at him.
"Lena!" Scrooge snapped. Lena lifted her chin and stubbornly stared him down. Scrooge stared right back, taking the moment to take in her eyes and hair. Huey was right. Something about Lena seemed to be thinner and leaner, as if she had tried to shapeshift into Magica and given up halfway through. But her stocky shoulders were on full display, and amongst the deepest, blackest of the feathers ran a bright blue shaft.
Finally, he said: "Ye look fine, lass."
"Literally didn't ask." Still, her features began to soften as she relaxed. "But thanks."