Chapter Text
~~~~~~Salem, Massachusetts 1638~~~~~
The leaves were beginning to fall from the trees, painting the town and surrounding foliage with hues of red, orange and yellow. The air had begun to cool, adding a refreshing crispness to it after such a dreadfully hot summer. As the children rushed through the village square, three girls were patiently pacing their way through the erupted chaos.
Winifred, Mary and Sarah Sanderson, known to the other children as the "weird forest children" due to their mother insisting on training them at home in their quaint cottage in the woods. Though the blonde one, Sarah, still insisted on attempting to make friends whenever she could (particularly with the boys, as Mother always told them their role in life was to find a husband and please him with their homemaking skills), as a trio they rarely ever said a word to anyone.
"Sarah," Winifred, the red-haired eldest, hissed with a pointed jab into her sister's rib, "retract thine eyes from that schoolboy. We were here to gather things for dinner, not court these...cretins."
"Cretins," Sarah giggled at the sound of that word. The ten year old did as her sister ordered but continued to repeat the word in a singsong tone under her breath as they made their way past the wooden fence and into the field that lead to the treeline. Once they were halfway there, Sarah's smile grew and she began to dance around the field as she continued to sing the word louder. "Cretins, cretins...," Dancing was her favorite thing to do, aside from singing and trying to court her future husband.
Eleven year-old Mary, the largest in size of the sisters and middle child, stopped to admire her little sister's spirt and quickly joined her. Soon, the two of them were holding hands as they jumped and danced around in circles, singing Sarah's latest made-up song together.
Winifred stopped in her tracks, inhaling the fall air deeply as she tried to remind herself that her sisters' antics were not her fault, but unfortunately Mother wouldn't see it that way. She turned around and marched over to her siblings, "Sistahs!" She screeched with a snap of her fingers. When the two of them stopped and looked at her, the thirteen year-old continued, "We must make haste! It will be dark soon and Mother will not be amused if dinner is late because the two of thee chose to waste time frolicking through the fields!"
The two bowed their heads and apologized to their sister with a "Yes, Winnie" and "Sorry, Winnie". The trio then resumed their trip into the woods before they finally reached their destination. A cottage with a large water wheel on the side that slowly turned, and a chimney that blew out a steady stream of smoke.
When they entered, Winifred called out, "Mother? We're home!" Mary smiled shyly as she took the basket and rushed towards the kitchen area so she could begin chopping up the vegetables to add to the stew that was cooking over the fire.
The quiet soon stopped as their mother entered from the back and fixed the sisters with a glare, "Where hast thou been, girls?! Thy father is due home at any moment and all we have to offer him is broth and a roast! I sent thee for a few simple vegetables!"
"Sorry, Mother," Mary uttered softly as she scurried into the den and brought the freshly chopped vegetables and herbs to the fire then dropped them into the pot.
"Sorry, Mother," Winifred mirrored her sister, trying to hide the venom in her voice. They were children, for crying out loud. Why should they have to worry about cooking or cleaning for a man when they weren't yet fully grown women themselves? "Sarah had another one of her fits trying to practice her courting skills. You know how she enjoys frolicking in the fields."
"'Tis still no excuse, Winifred," their mother scolded. "A housewife's number one priority is always her husband. Thou must forget thine own vices for there shalt never be time for them again once thine own hand hast been taken in marriage!"
Later that night, Mary was already sound asleep while Winifred fought to get Sarah to settle down and fall asleep herself, "Honestly, Sister Sarah! Dost thou have any idea what Mother will do lest thee silences thyself and closes thine eyes? She will have our guts for garters! 'Twas bad enough we faced her wrath after thy dancing in the fields; we were lucky we weren't switched!"
Sarah shook her head back and forth in protest, "No! Not without Daddy's lullaby!"
Winifred growled, "I already sang thee thy lullaby, sister...," she said in a supposed-to-be soothing tone that was laced with much venom.
"I want Daddy," Sarah insisted.
"I've heard thy protests, sweetheart," their father greeted warmly as he approached his youngest daughter's bedside. He greeted Winifred with a smile and gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "'Tis alright, my dear Winifred. Thy mother is asleep and I came before she could be woken by thy sister's protests."
"Thank thee, Father," Winifred said with relief as she bowed her head. She shot her sister one final glare before she left her bedside and crawled into her own bed.
Sarah happily cuddled up to her father as he situated himself next to her and told her she should listen to her sister more. Once both were comfortable, their father began to sing softly to his youngest daughter,
"Come little children
I'll take thee away
Into a land of enchantment...
Rest now, dear children
For soon we'll away
Into the calm and the quiet..."
~~~~~1641~~~~~
"Thou doth have nerve to take such a tone with thine own mother, Winifred Sanderson!" Mother scolded her daughter after she'd once again protested her mother's obsession with marrying her daughters off. "Thou art sixteen, almost past thy prime to contend with any of the other girls to find a more prospective suitor!"
"Bollocks!" Winifred spat, "I hath seen wives well into their twentieth decade still delivering newborns unto the village, adding to our numbers! And I've told thee, Mother, that I don't desire children! I desire knowledge!"
"I hath bequeathed thee knowledge, girl!" Mother spat back, "I hath taught thee to cook, to clean, to mend, to take an empty house and turn it into a home for thee and thy husband!"
"Thou hath bequeathed us knowledge to be slaves! Thou expects thine own daughters to be nothing more but pets for men old enough to be our father!"
Mother swiftly slapped Winifred across the face, "Thou art the most ungrateful child I hath ever met!" She lowered her tone to a gravelly growl, "And do not speak ill of thy father, may he rest in peace."
Winifred rubbed her cheek, fighting to hold back her tears, "I would never speak ill of him. At least he never saw us as cattle to trade off."
"I would fare better with cattle than the likes of you, Winifred. 'Tis no wonder thou hast failed to set an example for thy sisters and find a suitor with those buckteeth. Perhaps the men expect thine only good use to be building a dam with the other beavers in the case of a flood!"
Winifred gasped, "Perhaps I may be a beaver, Mother, but I shalt never be damned as much as thee!"
Mother screeched as she shoved Winifred towards the door, "Thou art a witch, Winifred Sanderson! Get out! Get out of my house and leave us for good! From this moment on, I am not thy mother!"
"I'm not a witch!"
"Yes, thou art!" Mother insisted as she rushed her daughter to the door. "I cannot bear the shame of such a creature in my house! As my final act as thy mother, I shalt keep my mouth shut about thy nature, lest thou be tried and burned at the stake! Perhaps then thou will find more appreciation for me!"
"No!" Winifred screamed as she was pushed out the door. She held up her hands as her mother began to slam it shut behind her when suddenly green lightning shot from her fingers into her mother, sending her flying across the room. Winifred froze, staring at her fingers in fear, her breath shaky before she steeled her gaze and glared at her mother. She slowly stepped back into the house and shut the door behind herself.
As their mother tried to get back to her feet, Winifred continued stalking her way up to her. When she'd felt she'd gotten close enough, she flexed her hand and shot another spark of lightning into their mother, causing her to fall again. Winifred smiled darkly, "Mother, thou hast never looked more matronly than now, on thy knees before thine own child. 'Tis how a mother should be to her own child after raising her to be traded as merchandise. Perhaps thine accusations are true and I am a witch? Maybe thou should take advantage of thine position and beg for my forgiveness."
"Very well done," a deep male voice rumbled as he gave Winifred a slow applause. The man was dressed in a fine dark suit, a fashion Winifred had never seen before, but his skin was...red.
"Who art thee, stranger?" Winifred asked cautiously.
The man smiled warmly, "I am but a humble appreciator for thine art, Winifred. Thy craft seems to come quite naturally to thee."
"Craft?"
"Yes, my dear. Witchcraft," the man explained. "Thou art at a precipice, Winifred, and at such times a choice must be made. Thou just turned sixteen today, yes? A witch's power rises on her sixteenth birthday, but thou mustn't fear such power, Winifred."
"What choice do I have, stranger?"
The man smirked as he cocked his brow, "Thou may turn thy back against it, refuse the power, and by the stroke of midnight as thy sixteenth birthday passes, so shall thy window into thine own true power."
Winifred cocked her own brow as she returned her glare to her mother, "And if I choose to accept it?"
"Then I shall bequeath thee with real knowledge. Thou wilt be able to bend the world to thy will...in exchange for thy soul in the afterlife."
Winifred quickly returned her gaze to the man, "Trade servitude in this life for eternal servitude in the next?"
The man shrugged as he smirked knowingly, "Thou wilt surely find ways to extend thy life, if thou so chooses. But I think what I have in mind for thy soul differs greatly from what thou art thinking."
"And what is that?"
The man chuckled, "Thou will have to accept my offer to one day find out."
Winifred shook her head, "I cannot abandon my sisters. They are too dense to survive on their own in this world, let alone any other."
The man's smirk grew into a dark smile, his eyes glistening almost as if they were beginning to glow. He raised his hands and began to flourish them, as if performing a dance of their own, then smoke began to swirl around in a ball as if following his hand's movements, before it expanded. When it finally dissipated, in its place was a book, adorned with metal snakes and appeared to be bound in...actual human skin? In the middle of the clasp that kept it shut appeared to be an...eyelid. Winifred was taken aback by this, but she kept her expressions schooled.
"What is a witch without a coven?" The man questioned. "If you accept my offer, I am willing to extend it to thy sisters. In exchange for all three of thy souls, I shall bestow upon thee this very gift. It will be thy faithful servant, as I expect the three of thee to be to me."
"I-I'm not sure..." Winifred said anxiously. Could she really trade hers and her sisters' souls into servitude after arguing her entire life with her mother for expecting the same of them?
"W-witch..." her mother gasped as she began to stand. her eyes grew upon seeing Satan and she pointed at her daughter. "Witch!" she yelled louder.
The Devil arched his brow, "I'd think more quickly if I were thee; lest thou wants the entire town picketing at thy front door."
Winifred gasped before she turned to her mother and zapped her again. This time, the lightning didn't stop and Winifred managed to raise her above the ground. Her mother began to cry out until the air left her lungs and she fell to the ground, her corpse completely charred black. As her unsuspecting sisters came through the door, Winifred took a look at them before turning her attention back to the Devil,
"We accept."