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“No way!” she screamed, glaring venomously at the ghost of her former lover’s mother, earning more than a few perplexed glances from the ragtag team of covenless witches that Agatha had somehow managed to acquire overnight.
Rio rolled her shoulders back, cracking her neck in a seemingly nonchalant manner, attempting to maintain the facade that she aimed to display towards the world. Death didn’t do emotions. Rationality. The unpredictability of her behaviour was the way that she kept the world at arm’s length.
She observed the way the other members watched her, Jen, in particular - remained suspicious of her behaviour, and Rio was merely waiting for the comment that she knew was about to come.
“You were suggesting we slit her throat only a minute ago,” a voice piped up, and Rio held her tongue before she said something that revealed too many truths for a room full of strangers.
Being with Agatha, in her misguided attempt to rekindle their former flame, had led to a fair few public revelations that were certainly not in line with what she would usually do. She was guarded for a reason. For their protection, and hers. It was in her nature to take, regardless of the consequences. History looked her in the eye shamefully for the pain that her craving for closeness had caused.
Wearily, she glanced up at Agatha, whose eyes were glassy, despite the nervous smile upon her face, and found the weight of those words sitting heavily upon her chest. She wouldn’t meet her eye. Not now, not in this moment. Agatha was like Rio, in that way. Survivors. Time honed skills that they bore to compartmentalise, to protect the ones that they loved. Even if it came at the cost of themselves.
Rio was as old as time itself. She’d traversed every corner of the galaxy, lived a thousand lives, and taken what was hers indiscriminately. She had the power over life, control over the way it ended, but never once, besides her, had she felt a magnitude that pulled her so strongly in another’s direction. She held the world in her hands, and revelled in the freedom she had to play with it. But she was alone, despite whatever company she held, because - you see, love isn’t born from fear. It isn’t contractual. Clean cut. It’s alive, vibrant, and replicating. Constantly mutating. Growing with the hearts it’s entrapped in.
Rio knew that Agatha loved her, as Agatha knew that Rio loved her as well. It was something that went deeper than words, than the scars upon their skin and the ever present conflict that they cultivated to keep their feelings at bay. It was easy, it was comfortable - and, Rio decided, as she stood there simmering, had served its purpose for now.
She had met many souls over the centuries, but none were quite as sobering to see as Evanora Harkness. As a rule, death did not discriminate. As time passed, this rule had weathered its way through her sanity. Made her do things she didn’t want to do. Destroyed things that she craved to keep. But still she had obeyed, blindly believing that she hadn’t a choice in the matter, despite having the ultimate power over these souls. At that moment, she found herself wondering why.
In an uncharacteristic display, Rio let her mask fall, as she looked up at the woman that she loved longingly. Dressed in the most appalling attire, with her wild hair tied up, clothed like a teen from a past lifetime, Agatha remained the picture of confidence and charisma, and Rio hoped that this would remain the case.
“Agatha,” she said slowly, secretly willing the woman not to meet her eye. “I’m sorry.”
Agatha looked down as Rio herself looked away, taking in a breath as she closed her eyes. She looked calm, content with her fate, whatever it may be, and it was at that moment that the clutch of terror clawed its way up the former salemite’s throat.
“I love you,” Rio said, as the room was plunged into darkness.
…
Some time later, Rio awoke to the sound of bickering. The ground beneath her was surprisingly soft compared to the wooden floor that she’d collapsed on, and strangely enough, the scent of sizzling stew filled her nostrils. There was a weight upon her chest that was unfamiliar at this point, and she wondered momentarily if she was dreaming, or had created some sort of delusion in her possible afterlife.
Cracking her eyes open, she saw the smoke of a nearby fire twisting up into a twinkling night sky. Her hands felt the coarse yet cushioned texture of leaves beneath her, realising, with a mild gasp, that she was still on the road.
Certainly, she hadn’t been aware of the consequences of breaking the oath that she held as the keeper of death, but her expectations had been far more fatal than simply passing out and appearing back on the dreaded road filled with leaves. A snort sounded next to her, and she struggled to whip her head to the side to see the culprit. Becoming acutely aware of the fact that the weight upon her chest was not merely something crushing her, but the firm grip of a certain dark haired witch who was holding onto her like life itself.
“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” she heard a youthful voice snicker from beside her. “We only just got her down for a nap, and she’s cranky as hell. She’s been in a bit of a state all day.”
“Can’t imagine why,” she quipped, but it lacked its usual bite. A warmth blossoming in her chest, as she looked down.
She couldn’t describe how terrifying yet exhilarating it was to be in the other witch’s arms again.
Teen merely shook his head.
“You don’t really mean that,” he said softly. “Trust me, I know. You care about her, just like she does you.”
Rio scoffed.
“Yeah ok, mini scarlet witch, just a note on general witch etiquette,” she snarked. “Reading people’s minds is rude as fuck when you don’t have their permission.”
Teen gasped dramatically, as Rio felt the weight on top of her vibrating with laughter. Agatha’s hands dug into her sides, as she pulled herself closer to Rio's chest. Rio glanced down wearily, as Agatha’s eyes met hers with a smirk.
“Never knew you to be one for witch etiquette, darling.”
Rio flushed, as Agatha cackled at her behaviour - poking rio’s face, as if to add fuel to the fire, knowing that no matter what she did, Rio wouldn’t make her stop.
“He doesn’t need to read your mind to know that, sweetheart,” she teased affectionately. “It’s written all over your face when I’m near.”
Rio’s face burned.
“ ‘Sides,” Agatha murmured sleepily, snuggling closer. “That’s not a very nice way to treat someone who just saved your life, baby, he saved you a lot of grief from me on the other side.”
“Agatha,” Rio said slowly. “Did I die?”
Agatha huffed.
“Obviously not, silly, I don’t think you can do that, but I’m still mad at you that you did it when you thought you could.”
“Do you want to-“
“Shhh,” Agatha whispered, lazily swatting the other woman’s face. “I’m tired.”
“Aga-“
“Rio, I’m tired, please just be compliant and let me use you as a pillow.”
Teen giggled beside them, causing Agatha’s head to shoot up, almost knocking Rio’s jaw in the process. She fixed a glare at the young boy, who simply glared right back.
“You don’t scare me anymore, Agatha,” he said smugly. “I know your weakness.”
Agatha only smirked, pushing back her hair.
“Oh yeah, baby Maximoff? You think so? Well I guess you better be careful what you wish for because she’s right underneath me and I’m so very needy right now-“
Teen paled drastically, and leapt up with a squeak.
“Ew!” He shrieked, scurrying away to the others by the fire. “Gross! Gross! Gross!”
Agatha chuckled, as she met Rio’s eyes, staring down at her lovingly. Her eyes, shimmering, in a way that they hadn’t in many moons.
“Now that we’re alone,” she purred, caressing the other woman’s cheek tantalisingly, before turning uncharacteristically serious as she looked down at the woman below. “I believe I owe you a response.”
Rio held her breath, as Agatha leant closer. Their lips only a fraction apart.
“Rio Vidal,” Agatha stated breathily. “You stupid, stupid witch, I would’ve hoped by now, that you had the brains to work out, that I love you too.”