Work Text:
He should have seen this coming.
Well, perhaps not as it was a bit old fashioned to burn a magic user at the stake. Stephen had been wrapping up a job in Massachusetts that needed a sorcerer to handle. That part had gone smoothly. It was what had happened afterwards that had gone to hell.
Ever since New York City in 2012, people were a bit antsy about aliens and magic. Despite there not being magic used really at all other than the mind stone, the fact that Norse gods were actually real that had a wave of religious nuts of all sorts to start things back up again with a fervor.
Naturally, with Stephen’s luck, this culmination of things led to Stephen stumbling upon a community that seemed to like how Salem used to do things because apparently witch trials were still around. That is how he ended up in a small hut with shackles that completely cut off his magic, and his sling ring confiscated. He had ordered the cloak to go get help before he was captured so he was on his own.
He was also blindfolded and gagged because why the fuck not add onto the pile of shitty things happening to him lately. He was only a few months off of Dormammu and Stephen was finally getting a hold on his nightmares.
From what he could tell, it was nighttime which was slightly concerning as it was around noon when they got hold of him and he has no memory of the in between.
It’s when he starts smelling smoke that he grows concerned.
It’s a few minutes more before he hears chanting and the stomping of a large crowd getting closer and closer to him.
Stephen takes a breath and holds it, waiting for the inevitable.
A second later and the door is pulled violently open as he hears the crack of the wooden door hitting the outside wall. Stephen tries not to flinch as he is roughly grabbed and dragged outside. Finally his blindfold is taken off to reveal an actual mob with torches and pitchforks.
What the fuck.
They drag him down the Main Street of the small town with people standing on the sidelines booing him and spitting at him. He glances up near rooftops to try and spot the cloak or anyone he recognizes but he finds no one.
Finally they reach a small clearing in the town center. A pyre has been erected with a large pole sticking up out of it. Oh god.
Stephen was about to be burnt at the stake. In 2017. Unable to do anything.
The crowd begins to cheer as he is roughly dragged to the pole and is securely fastened to it. They don’t remove his gag to give him any last words. Any screaming of pain would still be accepted however.
As the older men of the city begin to use their torches to light the pyre to seal his fate, Stephen decides to go out with dignity. He has died countless times before at the entity that rules the dark. He will not give these people the satisfaction of his terror. It begins to get harder as he gets light headed from smoke inhalation. His vision is beginning to double and he groans in pain at the heat licking at his skin. The flames have begun to devour him yet but they are getting close.
And that’s when she appears.
“My my. I haven’t been to one of these parties in centuries! What a fun shindig! You must have lost my invite in the mail!”
The crowd grows silent and Stephen weakly lifts his head to see a woman floating not far off from him with frizzy brown hair and a teal and purple dress.
“I would forget the insult if you hadn’t had the guest of honor here all tied up in obligations. I’m afraid I’m going to have to clear his schedule.”
He hears screaming from the townsfolk but he can’t find it in him to care. Stephen is doing everything he can to stay awake because he isn’t sure if he’ll wake up again. He jolts, however, when the chains binding him suddenly disappear and there are gentle hands on his face. The sorcerer blinks wearily at the blurry face in front of him. The woman gives him a sad smile.
“Don’t worry deary. I’m here to help you be right as rain. These humans can’t stop us. Just go to sleep and Auntie Agatha will take care of everything.”
That sounds nice, he thinks hazily. Stephen gives her a weak smile before he falls into oblivion.
When Wong appears in the Town of Wentam, it is in the wake of chaos.
There are multiple demolished buildings, some to flames and some looking like an earthquake hit. There are numerous bodies strewn about which leads Wong to believe that Stephen was not involved in this. It’s when he reaches the city center that he feels he is going to be sick.
A charred pole and a very large pile of ashes and debris seem to be the focal point. The smell of charred flesh seems to overtake everything else in the area. There are even more dead bodies around but Wong isn’t focused on that. He begins to sift through the pile and instantly is thankful he didn’t bring the cloak with on this retrieval mission.
He first finds two sets of cuffs, one for the wrists and the other for the ankles. They have runes to suppress magic on those they are anchored to and much to Wong’s horror, there are lingering traces of Stephen’s magic. He gently sets them aside to keep looking for anything else. It’s not long before he begins to find the bones. Wong picks them up gently and treats each one with respect.
It is the skull as well as a small piece of Stephen’s robes that weren’t consumed by the flames that cause the librarian to finally crack.
There are tears streaking down his face as he summons fabric to wrap the remains of his fallen friend for burial at Kamar Taj.
He lingers at the sacrificial pyre for a moment, paying his respects before turning back to the ruined town.
Wong has no idea what ended the lives of this small town but he honestly can’t find it in him to care. He wouldn’t be surprised if some magical creature sensed what was going on and took vengeance for a fallen brethren.
What Wong will do is go home, mourn, and figure out what to explain to the cloak.
He feels cool and that is the most relieving thing in the world at this point.
Everything is sore and feels tender and raw but as he takes stock of his body, he is mainly surprised that he is still alive.
It takes a moment to wrench open his eyes only to shut them rapidly again at the harsh light.
“Oh sorry dearie. I wasn’t expecting you to be awake already.”
Stephen slowly blinks open his eyes again to see the same woman from before. Dark brunette hair that seems both chaotic and tamed at the same time. She looks to be in her early forties but after time spent with the Ancient One, he doesn’t trust that assessment. Her dress is actually a set of teal and purple robes that just screams magic user.
“Who are you?” He rasps and the woman laughs before giving him a smile.
“The name’s Agatha Harkness.” She pauses for a moment, as if expecting something, but continues on with a smile when nothing happens. “I apologize for the locals. They’re not really fond of magic and never have been. That’s a bit of a trend with this neck of the woods. It’s how a number of covens in the area originally started dying off before they could start hiding out better.”
Stephen blinks and processes the information overload for a moment. It takes another moment to find a response.
“You’re…a witch?”
Agatha brightens up and pats him gently on the cheek.
“You get a gold star for today, mister! Yes, I am a witch. One of the oldest around at this point.”
“I didn’t think-“ he pauses for a moment to cough, “that those stories about witches and covens were true. I thought it was just sorcerers.”
“Oh sweetie,” Agatha coos, “what are they teaching you baby sorcerers at your secret monk school?” She helps him sit up and he realizes finally that he is in a four poster bed in a nicely decorated bedroom. It doesn’t look lived in so it must be a guest room.
“Witches have always been around. While sorcerers are more of the cops of the magical world on Earth, witches tend to be more…free spirited. The artists or more creative types. More in tune with Earth and nature and the energy there and within ourselves rather than the universe.”
She gives him another smile as she summons a tray with tea, oatmeal, and fresh fruit.
“We can always go over the details later because I know they won’t teach you about us and you look like one of those knowledge devourer types. For now though, breakfast and healing.”
Stephen took the cup of tea with shaky hands gratefully. Agatha frowned for a moment before making a gesture and her dark purple magic enveloped his hands for a moment before they steadied. He set the cup down slowly and stared at his hands in wonder.
“What did you do?”
“Easy healing spell. Did they not teach you it was possible?
Stephen can’t stop staring at his hands.
“I had to choose. Saving the world or saving myself.”
Agatha scoffed before picking up the teacup and pressing it gently into his hands again.
“Sorcerers are always so ‘noble’ and self-sacrificing.” She frowned before another teacup appeared in her own hands and she poured herself some from the teapot on the tray. “Witches do what we have to to survive. We depend on ourselves and our magic to get by. Clearly I need to see if I can teach you some things.”
Stephen just sat there, still dumbfounded. It was almost too good to be true. And yet…
“I have to get back to report what happened.”
“You take your time. I wasn’t sure if that was the entire town there or not so I faked your death to them and informed your order that you are healing. You’re in the clear and they’ll contact you when they need you again.” The witch said with a shrug. This was an entirely new branch of magic he had never heard about and Stephen knew he was hooked. Even just to learn about the differences between the two types of magic had to be fascinating. Plus Wong might want to know these things…
“I would be honored if you taught me about witchcraft.” Stephen said with a nod.
Agatha’s only response was a growing smile on her face.