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The young witch stood victorious looking down on the corpse of the woman she once called her mother. Life and power drained, nothing left but a hollow, shriveled up husk of rotted flesh and bone.
Agatha glared at the former coven leader. She spent her entire life trying to please the elder witch, to be seen as the good daughter that no one believed she could ever become. But they never gave her a chance. They were scared of her, intimidated by her.
And now they all lay dead.
Snatching the broach off her mother’s cloak, she gripped it tightly in her hand and flew off into the night.
One would think without a parent or coven to return to, Agatha would be wandering aimlessly. But unbeknownst to all of Salem, she had another place to call home. A real home.
Deep in the woods, surrounded by dead trees and other forms of plant life, sat an old wooden cottage, safely hidden from unwanted guests by the protection of a camouflage spell. Only she and one other witch knew how to find this place.
Landing gracefully on her feet, the young witch headed inside, closing the door behind her with a wave of her hand. She still held onto the broach, a family heirloom passed down from parent to child, and Agatha often pondered on if her mother had even planned to grant her that treasure someday.
No. Definitely not. Her mother hated her. Agatha had known this from the moment she could produce magic.
She was a prodigy, that much was clear. Agatha was a quick and insightful learner and always wanting to learn more, almost obsessed with the idea of acquiring knowledge. And it hurt whenever she was told she wasn’t ready or old enough to attain more. Evanora never tried to hide her contempt when her daughter attempted to explain how she was more than prepared to learn more powerful and advanced techniques, and punished her whenever she caught the young witchling trying to learn behind her back. It wouldn’t have been all bad if her mother had been strict with the rest of her coven, Agatha thought, but it seemed as it was only reserved for her and her alone.
Agatha blinked away the wetness that burned her eyes. She would not shed tears, not for them. The ones she was supposed to call family, the ones who were supposed to look out for her and love her, the ones who tried to restrict her power and not help her control it. They did not deserve her tears.
She was hurt, she was angry, she was so fucking tired.
Rio could sense Agatha’s energy anywhere in the realm, but it gave the woman a sense of comfort knowing it was coming from a familiar place: Home. Their home.
In the earlier times of their blooming relationship, Rio and Agatha both stumbled upon the abandoned cabin on one of their many tumultuous adventures. Rio often refereed to it as their secret hideout; a place where Agatha could escape from the judgmental eyes of her mother and practice magic to her hearts content, a place where she didn’t have to hide who she was and she and Rio could act how they wanted without fear of either of them - well, mostly Agatha - being maimed for it.
She wasn’t sure what state her lover would be in when she found her. Agatha was never close with her coven and it seemed the feeling was mutual thanks to her controlling mother. Rio never liked Evanora. Always looking down on her daughter, treating her like she was a monster because of her intense power. The only thing that saddened Rio of Evanora’s passing was that she wasn’t the one to kill the elder witch herself. However she wasn’t as gentle with her soul as she guided it towards the next stage in its journey - Rio made sure of that.
The green witch entered the cottage, removing her cloak and hanging it on a hook near the door.
“Agatha?” She called out.
No response.
Rio made a beeline towards the bedroom. She found Agatha standing near the window, lost in thought. Slowly, Rio approached her. When she was within arms length, she brushed against Agatha’s long, dark hair with the back of her hand. Rio heard her take a shudder of a breath before turning to face her.
Rio could tell that Agatha wanted to say something. And it was in rare, distressing moments like these when the charismatic witch fell silent without a quip or a sarcastic remark falling from her lips.
Agatha swallowed before whispering. “You saw them? My coven.” It was a statement more than a question.
Rio nodded. “Shriveled up like dead leaves.”
The soul reaper watched as her lover tried to look unfazed, like it was just another Sunday night to her. She walked past Rio, holding her head high. “I’m sure the crows will have a grand ol’ time picking at their flesh tonight.”
The purple clad girl walked over to their bed and sat on the edge, sighing heavily, her messy brown locks hid her face as she hung her head in exhaustion. Rio was by her side in an instant. She rested her chin sympathetically on Agatha’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around her in a soothing embrace.
“Mother tried to execute me.” Agatha mumbled.
Rio’s response was quiet. But the seething hatred and rage was not hidden in her voice. “What..?”
“They dragged me out to the woods. Claimed I had stolen knowledge from them and was practicing dark magic. I tried to tell them they were wrong, but they wouldn’t listen. Not even Mother.”
Agatha paused and looked up at Rio. Her brown eyes were filled with the protectiveness and devotion that made her heart jump. Rio’s voice was still low and filled with venom. “Did they hurt you, my lady?”
The young witch shook her head. “I tired to warn them,” she said. “That I can’t control it, I begged for their help and they attacked me.” Her nose scrunched up in anger, a trait that Rio found adorable whenever she was the one irritating her beloved.
“Goddamnit!” Agatha swore as she felt a tear race down her cheek, roughly wiping at her eyes with her palm.
Rio gently kissed the side of her face. “Your tears aren’t for them,” She reminded Agatha. “What’s truly upsetting you?”
“Am I unworthy of love?”
A pause. Rio almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“Is that a trick question?” The green witch snorted. Her expression softened when she noticed Agatha wasn’t smiling. Just looking at her like a broken child who’s lost everything.
Well, she kind of did lose everything.
Rio knelt down in front of Agatha, holding her hands. She refused to break eye contact for she needed the blue eyed witch to fully understand how honest and sincere her words would be.
“Agatha Harkness. You are the most beautiful, unforgettable force of nature I have ever encountered. Before I met you, every day was boring and predictable, but every second I’m with you, I’m thrown into the unknown and I cherish every moment of it. I love you , Agatha.”
“But I’m evil.” She whispered.
“No!” Rio declared. “You’re a survivor. You are a witch.”
They wouldn’t believe that. No one would accept the fact that Agatha Harkness was just an innocent who had no other choice. That wasn’t who they told her she was. “What kind of witch kills her own coven and mother?”
“What kind of mother attempts to kill her own child?!” Rio shot back.
Agatha falls silent again, having no rebuttal against that statement. Rio was right. What kind of mother shuns her daughter for simply having talent, accusing her of being wrong because she did not think or follow tradition. What kind of mother glares at her pleading, crying child as she summons the ritual for execution?
“They gave you no choice, Agatha,” Rio whispered to her. “You defended yourself, there is no shame in that, Darling. That’s just nature.”
For the first time that night, Agatha smiled. Genuine and sweet, Rio wanted to melt at the sight. Instead, she moved her hands from Agatha’s grip to cup her face, leaning for a slow, passionate kiss to prove to the witch how much she adored her.
Agatha sighed heavenly, wrapping her arms around Rio and bringing her closer. The other witch followed her rhythm, their own personal ritual, lying on top of Agatha.
“What do you want to do now?” Rio whispered in Agatha’s ear before biting her lip slyly, the heat from her breath making the brunette’s heart jump with anticipation.
Agatha let out a soft laugh, despite all the hell and turmoil she had endured hours prior. “Believe me, I wish I had the energy, Hon, but I just want to sleep.”
Rio smiled and nodded in understanding. With a wave of her hand, all the candlelight in the bedroom went out. She crawled beside Agatha and opened her arms as an invite, in which Agatha wasted no time to lay her head on Rio’s chest.
Most of the time after fooling around, Rio was the one resting on Agatha, purring contently like a cat as Agatha played with her hair. A characteristic she would always tease Rio about.
‘Who would’ve figured that Death would be such a cuddler?’ Agatha had cooed mockingly like she was speaking to a small animal.
‘Oh, shut up!’ Rio grumbled back before flashing a devilish grin. ‘Making you beg and scream my name multiple times takes a lot out of me, okay?’
Rio had not fully understood the concept of love or being loved until crossing paths with Agatha Harkness. Death was someone that most beings never spoke of, her very name was treated like the plague that devastated most of the world centuries ago. Death was always feared, treated as some evil, malicious being that tore families apart, brought sadness and disparity to those around it. When in reality, Rio was kind, gentle and soothing to the ones she took with her. Guiding them to their next plane of existence, wherever it may be. Yet, rarely that side of Death was never talked about, the good side.
Agatha was never afraid of Rio when they first met. If anything, she was excited, curious even. Wanting to know more about her, what she could do. It made Rio feel awkward as she was not used to someone who willfully wanted to be around her, someone who didn’t cower or tremble at her power. And soon, Rio discovered why Agatha was so sympathetic towards her. Because she understood. She finally found someone who understood what it was like being treated unfairly for the crime of simply being who you were.
As they lay together in moonlit room, holding one another closely, Rio smiled and nuzzled her lover.
“Think of it, Agatha,” she murmured. “You’re free. Free to roam the world at your will. All the knowledge that’s now open to you. No one will stand in your way.”
“And will you be with me?” Agatha wished, her eyes heavy with sleep.
“Sweetheart, you couldn’t be rid of me if you tried.”