Work Text:
Agatha was used to smoke invading her lungs.
For centuries she had depended upon delicate cigarettes between her fingers, the burnt taste never quite leaving her mouth after a day of stress. At first it started as a way to deal with her mother, the match lighting with every bruise and insult thrown at her. She’d sneak out of their cottage through the attic window and carelessly throw herself down, dirt clinging under her fingernails from the fall. She didn't care whether or not the impact hurt her, as it never stung more than her mother’s disdainful frown. In all her years of living, she couldn’t recall a single time she saw an ounce of love within that woman’s eyes. Postpartum depression was only meant to last a few months; something that was easily treatable after diagnosis. Babies were gifts brought from storks, were they not?
According to her mother they were nothing but rats in a barrel, desperately clawing their way into the world.
Agatha was a rat in a world of mice.
She didn’t mind that comparison however. Mice were easy to kill, so gullible to the point they’d walk onto their own grave for just a sliver of cheese. Rats on the other hand, required something stronger. They were fast, smart, and deceptive.
Perhaps that’s why her mother had ordered for her to be burned upon the stake. To return nature its unwanted gift.
Agatha didn’t like to think about it for too long, as she found it easier to be bitterly humorous about her mother. The smoke was beginning to string itself around her, like a snake around its prey. Swallowing the last bit of saliva down her throat, Agatha lifted her head up to avoid letting tears fall from her watery eyes.
“You’re crying.”
The voice was familiar.
Too familiar.
“I’m not crying. God, what kind of witch do you take me for?” Agatha scoffed, keeping her head stubbornly held high.
The owner of the voice emerged from behind the stake, dressed in an ivy shaded cloak. Her dress seemed almost domestic, a stark contrast to what Agatha thought she’d see on her last day. Lady Death looked just the same as the day she had first met her. Her dark hair spilled from her hood in loose waves, though her eyes remained fixated on Agatha.
“A coward.” she answered, a hint of irritation laced behind the simple response.
“Ouch, babe. Insult me some more, why don’t you.”
Rio made her way towards the front of the stake, her presence close as she reached up to caress Agatha’s cheek, despite the witch’s coughing fit from the smoke. Agatha stiffened at the gesture, pulling away briefly.
“Why didn’t you kill them? You and I both know you were capable.” Rio asked, her hand still lingering in the air.
Agatha remained silent for a moment, biting down on her lip as she blinked back tears.
“Why let this be your fate?” Rio continued, her eyes scanning every inch of the other woman’s expression.
“I thought I saw him.”
Rio fell silent as Agatha’s words hung in the air like boulders.
Swallowing down a sob, the witch attempted to keep her head held high as tears streamed down her ashy cheeks. “He was… just standing there in the woods… just past the creek. But, he wasn’t happy when he saw me. He was just… disappointed.”
The flames danced off of Rio as she wrapped her arms around Agatha, her embrace cold yet comforting against the heat.
This time, Agatha didn’t pull away.
“I-I couldn’t disappoint him, Rio.”
“You could never disappoint Nicky, my love.”
“I already did in life.”
Rio’s expression hardened as she reached her hands up, gently turning Agatha’s face towards her. The sight of a broken Agatha was rare, but nevertheless it was still something that made even Death’s heart sink. Caressing her cheek with her thumb, Rio pressed her forehead against Agatha’s.
“Our boy adored you more than anything in this entire world, sweetheart. Don’t you think for a moment that you let him down.” Rio stated, her voice firm as she spoke.
Taking a small shallow breath, Agatha gazed into Rio’s eyes in silence. The smoke was beginning to burn in her chest, like a match had been ignited. She didn’t mind the pain however, not when her heart hurt more. A hint of desperation laced itself behind her eyes as she forced a halfhearted smile.
“Will you stay with me?”
The question made Rio’s heart swell.
“Till the end of time, mi amor.”
Weakly leaning forward, Agatha pressed her lips against Rio’s, the sensation more gentle than their last few encounters. Flames flickered around them as they kissed, leaving the taste of ash and cherry to linger upon Rio’s lips. Feeling Agatha’s movements grow slower, Rio sighed softly as she pulled away. Carefully cradling Agatha’s head against her chest, she watched as the witch grew limp, the smoke now invading too much of her mind to allow consciousness. Fighting back tears of her own, Rio gently kissed the top of Agatha’s messy curls.
“Te veo.”