Chapter Text
It’s like stepping in time.
The first difference she feels is physical. Stepping out of the cold of her home… Home? No, that hasn’t been her home in centuries, it’s her workplace, her office, and it is cold.
Home is where she’s standing in front of right now. No. Not even. It’s only the home of her memories. The happy ones. The happiest.
Regardless. She’s greeted with a warmth that should’ve been expected, that is so familiar, so inviting, it makes her forget for a second all the pain and the cold.
Cold. By design, she shouldn’t be able to feel it, neither warmth nor cold, but so many things about her have changed, so many things she thought she knew got a completely different meaning a long time ago. Like home.
It all looks exactly the same. It’s no surprise, really, for she is the one that made sure the signs of time would not leave marks in this piece of heaven. Her personal heaven. And there is a Heaven, after a fashion, she has personally carried many there, she has seen it, but her own is here. Well, not exactly, not anymore, but this shrine of remembrances is all she has left.
She stands there, at a fair distance because coming here already took far too much strength, and she isn’t sure she has any more left to go closer, and takes it all in.
It stands strong and proud in all its beautiful glory. The walls made of wood still as strong as the first day, the clean windows open to let the light in. The hammock on the porch, where she used to lie down on lazy afternoons to enjoy the peacefulness of the woods, from where she used to watch her while she sat reading some book about magic.
The vines climbing up the porch posts look alive, just like they did the day she put them there. The flowers adorning the path to the front steps just as vibrant. The birds still sing as sweetly as before, the wind like a gentle caress. Trees fall around the cottage, their cottage, like a wall of protection, as if Nature herself is shielding her happiness from the harshness of the world. And it would, wouldn’t it, Nature would protect them because she commands Nature.
She commands so many things, and yet, in the end, none of it mattered. It was all useless.
What am I doing here?
It’s been centuries since she last stood in front of their home. For all this time, she kept it exactly like it was, but out of her sight, and she intended to keep it that way until the universe ceased to exist. Then, that day happened. That day.
Time never really had much meaning for her, it all rolling into one long existence, a never-ending of carrying souls to their final destination. She never slept, never took a break, the balance of the world being her one sole purpose. Until… Until. So, time, in its long, endless sprinkle of continuous events, never had much significance. Yet, those twenty-four hours proved to be the longest in History. At least, in her history. In the span of one full Earth rotation, Rio Vidal finally found her heart again, and then buried it.
No more joy, no more excitement, no more anticipation. The thrill of seeing each other again, the desire, the need, the comfort, all of it gone. Forever. She is left with nothing but a deep, heart-wrenching pain that doesn’t seem to want to let go. The world that used to be so colorful, even in those centuries they were apart, now is monochrome. Dull. Everything around her is dull. She isn’t able to feel anything other than an excruciating sorrow. As if her heart, the one that was born for one person, from one person only, and later split in two, is now constantly trying to rebuild itself only to be splintered again. A loop of agony and sadness that she doesn’t know what to do with.
After a week of not knowing what to do, how to act, how to process her feelings, her feet dragged her here. Maybe in the hope that she will feel something else, that the memories of happier times will lessen the hurt, she doesn’t know. All she knows is, right now, standing in front of the altar of her dreams, Rio feels like she’s about to be crushed by the weight of her pain.
The memory hits her like lightning, she closes her eyes trying to fight against it, but it’s futile. Her heart wants to feel, wants to remember how it felt to be whole, and she’s unable to stop it.
“Really?”
“What?” They stand side by side, Agatha wearing her long, dark skirt, and a white shirt, looking as unimpressed as only she’s capable of. Rio, in her dark pants, shirt and jacket, looks extremely proud of her achievement. “It’s our place, like we talked about.” Her toothy smile, and shining eyes are adorable, but not enough to diminish Agatha’s annoyance.
The cottage looks on the verge of falling apart. Agatha is sure if the wind blows a bit stronger, it will fall to the ground. The windows are literal holes in the wood, the roof is hanging by a splinter, and the walls are so drafty it’s like they can sing. “We discussed having a roof over our heads, not one that will most likely fall on them.”
Rio rolls her eyes, leave it to Agatha Harkness to always see the negative side of things. Of course, Agatha would call it being realistic, and she may have a point, but that’s neither here nor there. “Oh, come on, Agatha. Can’t you see the potential?”
“Sure I can. I can very easily see all the broken bones we will get if we spend a single night in there.” She turns to Rio with her most serious expression. “I’m not staying here, Rio.”
Rio sighs, her shoulders slumping, almost defeated. Almost. “You said you wanted a home. A home with me.”
“Yes. But not that deathtrap. I love you, honey, but I have no intention of dying soon.” They’ve been around each other long enough to be able to joke like that without fearing consequences, although the thought of Agatha dying is something that still stirs an unpleasant feeling within Rio.
“A home away from everyone. Just us, the woods, and a river.” She’s not ready to quit just yet. Ever since Agatha let her wish slip past her lips, late one night, while their bodies basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Rio hasn’t stopped looking. From the first moment she met Agatha, she swore to herself to always grant the woman’s wishes, to give as much as she possibly can. Agatha Harkness deserves to have all her dreams come true, and Rio Vidal is the servant sent by the universe to fulfil them. “You said you wanted us to be able to be ourselves without worry.”
Agatha scratches her forehead, licks her lips, signs of her uneasiness. “Rio…”
“We can make this our own place, Agatha.” Stepping closer, knowing she’s starting to win the woman over, Rio presses on. “Between the two of us, we can fix it to our own liking. Make it truly ours.” When she’s close enough, she grabs both of Agatha’s hands. “Please, my love. We can be so happy here, I know it.” She can see it, actually. She has thought about it every waking moment since Agatha released the possibility into the universe, and every waking moment, for Rio, is literally every moment. Death doesn’t sleep, well, she didn’t until recently.
In her mind, Rio has the whole of eternity mapped out. It was already there, long before Agatha said anything about living together, but after her love gave her dreams permission to become a reality, Rio didn’t stop until she found the perfect spot. She knows, with every fiber of her being, that this is the perfect spot.
Agatha knows it too, if she allows herself to feel it. Admittedly, after speaking her mind, clouded by orgasmic bliss and love, she wanted to take the words back. It was there long before that night, the feeling of wanting to share every possible moment with Rio, even if the woman had to leave for long periods of time in favor of keeping the sacred balance, or whatever. It’s actually because of it that Agatha wanted to spend more time together. Instead of just walking from village to village, staying in shady, smelly ins, waiting, hoping for the other woman, for Death, to find some free time between her duties to come and shower Agatha with love and attention.
For a long time, far too long, Agatha kept that feeling well locked deep inside. Even though she’s very at ease with Rio, she trusts her like she doesn’t trust anyone else, showing so much of her inner desires, her deep-rooted dreams, doesn’t come that naturally. Unfortunately for the part of her where her trust issues reside, Rio is very talented with her fingers, and even more so with her tongue, and also it had been a long time since the last time. Once it was out, Agatha couldn’t take it back. That’s a lie. She could, but she just didn’t want to. For once, she wanted to believe that being honest, that speaking her wants and needs, in a non-sexual context, would not backfire on her. She put her trust in Rio, even more so than before, and it led her here.
Granted, here isn’t exactly the sweet, cozy place in the woods she pictured. But big brown eyes are looking at her like she single-handedly holds both the sun and moon, as if the fate of the universe lies on her answer, and Agatha can’t resist it. Agatha Harkness doesn’t bend. Not for anyone, not for life. They have tried, time and again, her mother, her coven, life itself has tried to break her multiple times, but Agatha does not bend. For nothing. Except, on occasion, for Death herself. Not that she will ever admit it.
She huffs, flicks her hair before answering. “Fine.” Rio squeals, honest to goodness jumps on her feet like a child, and not for the first time Agatha is curious how this can be the oldest and one of the most powerful beings in the universe. If only people could see her now, holding her clenched fists in front of her mouth to contain the joy, they wouldn’t fear Death so much. They would find her the cutest freaking thing. “But I’m not sleeping under that roof until it’s safe.”
“Sure, sure.” Her smile is so bright, Agatha wonders if the stars are envious. “We can fix the roof first.”
“We can’t fix the roof before securing the foundation.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to end up doing this all alone, aren’t I?”
“No, we’ll do it together. It will be a product of our love. And then…” Rio steps closer, far closer, their bodies connecting on various points. The cute smile is replaced by a smirk, a smirk Agatha is very familiar with. Her eyes shine with a different light now, a mischief that is so typical to Rio. Fingers trail up Agatha’s arm, over a shoulder, all the way up her neck to her jaw. She curls her hand around it, its shape tingling special places inside Rio. A thumb brushes the brunette’s bottom lip, while Rio bites on her own. Intense brown eyes travel over perfect features, passing by those eyes that speak so much in a language that only Rio understands, and land once again on those delicious lips. “Then I will love you in every single surface available, in every possible way, until the end of time. And after all of that, I will still want more.”
Agatha swallows audibly. She has long accepted the way her entire being responds to the other woman, the dynamic between them having been established a long time ago, a dynamic that Agatha relishes on. Her eyes dart from the brown eyes she has come to associate with safety, to the lips that are the only ones capable of igniting a specific kind of flame in her. She watches Rio lean in, slowly, tantalizingly, stopping just when their mouths are a hair apart. “I know this isn’t the home of your dreams, not yet anyway, but for me, this is the altar where I will worship you until the end of days.”
Agatha crashes their mouths together in a bruising kiss that is all tongues and teeth and deep hunger. She has never been good with words, not of this kind, not with this intention, that has always been Rio’s department, but she has always been great with gestures.
Despite the wrecked look of the cottage, Agatha is still touched by Rio’s surprise. Where other people would’ve mocked her as soon as the words left her lips, Rio took it to heart and made it her mission to bring it to life. Where Agatha expects to be ridiculed and ostracized, Rio always loves and cares for her. Rio Vidal brought a warmth into Agatha’s life that the woman never dared to hope for.
Agatha Harkness doesn’t trust people, but she trusts Rio, with a lot more than she cares to admit. “You’re talking too much.” She says when they break for air, just enough to keep their lungs going, their lips reconnecting immediately. It’s her turn to make Rio feel, to make sure Rio knows how much Agatha appreciates the effort, the care, and all the unconditional love.
“Then shut me up.” Rio says, smirking.
Agatha growls, moving forward, claiming the other woman’s mouth with a fierceness so very much like her. Hands find their way to Rio’s chest, fingers pull at buttons for a second before ripping the shirt off the woman’s body. Rio can’t contain the smirk, her body thrumming at the sight of her lover’s ferocity, her skin coming alive with every touch. Agatha is relentless in her assault on the other woman’s lips, so much so she disregards air for as long as possible. “And I’m still not sleeping under that roof until it’s fixed.” She pants, lowering Rio to the ground with a gentleness that contradicts their bruised lips.
Rio chuckles, letting herself be laid down, watching as Agatha positions herself on top of her. She welcomes whatever the other woman has in store for her, for Rio knows that what Agatha doesn’t say with words, she says with her touch, and Rio is sure her newly-acquired heart couldn’t be in better hands.
Tear streaks stain her cheeks, her brows furrow in an attempt to fight it, to keep the tears at bay, a battle she has been losing since that day. How many times can one bury one’s heart? Coming here is proving to not have been a good idea, the pain only intensifying. Her chest feels tight, air is hard to pull in, does she even need air? Why does everything feel so heavy?
The scenery in front of her becomes blurry, her eyes so full of sorrow, she can’t see anything anymore. Her hand clench at her chest, and her knees buckle under her, under the weight of her grief, making her fall to the ground. Her tears finally flow unhindered, quiet whimpers that turn into cries, that turn into sobs that wreck her body.
There, in front of the cottage that was once her home, the place where, centuries before, her heart lived happiest, now it is heartbreak that brings Death to her knees. And it is there, surrounded by the echo of her dreams, that Rio Vidal cries her loss.
*
Rio feels her presence before she sees her.
She’s been sitting there, arms around her legs, face wet resting on her knees, eyes bloodshot, for… She’s not sure how long. Time became, once again, something she doesn’t bother herself with. Nothing has happened, nothing has changed, the scenery around her remains the same, the hurt inside her chest still piercing, yet the interruption sets anger ablaze that, at first, spills out in the form of annoyance. “I thought I said this was off limits.”
This is her sanctuary, her altar, the grave of her happy memories, and it’s for her and only her. It’s not meant to be shared with anyone, especially not with those that don’t understand, that can’t understand what she’s going through.
The footsteps make no sound, yet she can feel them, feel the presence approaching. “You did.” That voice is so nonchalant, so clear and powerful in all its effortlessness, Rio has to fight to not roll her eyes. Usually, she finds it amusing, but right now it’s only tickling a very particularly irritable spot in her. “But I had to.”
The annoyance that spilled out before is now replaced by anger that pours through gritted teeth. “You better have a fucking good reason.” She came here for… Something. Grief in peace, sob out her broken heart in the quiet, and she does not want an audience.
“I do.” The intruder stops right next to her. “Death decided to wallow in her grief, in her secret little corner of sadness, and the world is going to shits because of it.”
Rio sharply turns to look at the unwanted visitor. She remains seated on the ground, her cheeks puffed and stained, her eyes red, but the anger burning there is unmistakable. “What, are you incapable of doing your job now?”
A perfectly shaped dark brow raises just enough to drive the point across. “My job is to guard the souls of my people.” The intent behind the delivery is clear, and the visitor lets it sit in the silence between them. Not that it's needed, Rio knows exactly how their tasks differ. But her uninvited guest isn’t exactly someone who appreciates being admonished, especially when it’s undeserved. Rio looks away, eyes closed and an exhausted sigh slipping from her lips.
The guest lowly huffs. It’s not easy to see someone you’ve shared so many centuries with, so broken. Sitting down next to Rio, the voice is far softer when it makes itself heard again. Not by much, but enough for Rio. “I can fill in for you on occasion, but we both know I don’t have your… Touch, let's call it.” There’s an uptick to the corners of Rio’s lips, a familiarity in that spoken truth. The visitant smirks, before sobering up. “It’s been a week, Rio.”
When brown eyes turn to lock with blue, there’s utter shock in them. Death, in a very rare situation, is deeply surprised.
A week?
“Hela, I…” How has it been a whole week? How did she miss that? Death, always so inextricably linked with the universe, so attuned to the millions of heartbeats in the world, somehow, managed to disconnect for a full week without even realizing.
“You didn’t notice, did you?” Rio looks away again, silently. Hela shakes her head. “The world can’t afford you sitting here, feeling sorry for your bad decisions.”
When she turns, this time, it’s Death that looks at Hela. A dark brow raises unimpressed, blue eyes so cold and sharp, as sharp as her angular features, stare back. The face is Death, but the voice is still Rio’s, even if laced with scorn. “I am entitled to mourn my loss.”
“You’re not, actually. You have one purpose, and one purpose only. And it does not include playing make-believe with mortals.”
Flecks of green encircle Rio’s hand, her anger dripping from her body through her magic. Hela chuckles, unbothered. They have known each other for thousands of years, sharing the burden of keeping the sacred balance. Rio is, for all intents and purposes, Hela’s superior. But truthfully they’ve been more equals than anything, going through the centuries side by side, watching as the human civilization comes up with more ways to destroy themselves while they reap the souls. On occasion, to spice things up, Hela interferes here and there, and Rio chastises her for it. But Hela always justifies it saying ‘Death will always come’ , which later turned into a joke that the dark-haired Asgardian uses far too often, and Rio laughs way too hard at.
Hela Odinsdottir, the firstborn of Odin, is a striking figure in herself. She is mighty, in far more ways than physical, her will alone is a living being in itself. She is ferocious, intense, and very much a no nonsense type of person. Rio caught on very quickly that Hela is the type of friend that just doesn’t mince words, and she never really minded it… Until Rio became Rio.
Rio Vidal was born on the same day her heart was. The very same moment. While Rio is a skin that Death grew very accustomed to, and everyone around her did so too, it is something she can peel off. Her heart, on the other hand, is proving too difficult to discard of.
But it’s because Hela is so straightforward in her approach to anything and everything, and they’ve known each other for so long, know each other better than anyone else, that Rio isn’t really surprised by her words. It infuriates her, yes, but doesn’t shock her.
Hela rolls her eyes. “Must we really do this, darling?” She eyes the magic that Rio twirls in her fingers, a sign of her friend’s displeasure. “I warned you about getting too close to mortals. They are as irritating as they are fragile.”
Rio’s eyes go down. It’s true, since the beginning, Hela warned her that her curiosity towards Humanity would not bring anything good, yet Rio didn’t listen. For countless generations, she ferried souls to the afterlife, after witnessing their lives, always curious how all of it would feel. How feelings would feel. Little did she know that all it would take for her to learn about the world of emotions was to fall in love with the most infuriating, brazen, complicated, antagonistic, and just utterly beautiful woman in the whole world. She couldn’t heed Hela’s warning, she used to brush it off, never thinking she would ever get into a compromising situation, but from the first moment she locked eyes with Agatha Harkness, Rio couldn’t stay away.
Her eyes well up once more. She fights it, fights the sobs that bubble up inside, her lip trembles, and she hates all of it. She hates that Hela is here to witness it, Death shouldn’t look this weak . Hela kind of hates it too, not being a fan of overtly emotional situations, but she hates even more that her friend is in so much pain. If anybody asks, she will deny it with all her strength, feelings does not pair well with the Goddess of Death, but she does care for this being that is as old as the universe. Which, in turn, sort of makes her hate one Agatha Harkness, only she’s not about to voice that, not now anyway.
Instead, she puts an arm around Rio’s shoulders and pulls the smaller woman towards her. Rio lets herself be pulled, buries her face in the crook of her friend’s neck, and lets herself cry. “I buried my heart, Hela.” The whimpers are muffled by Hela’s clothes, it can still be heard, and it still shatters something inside the Goddess.
The Asgardian cradles Death, rocks her gently, and lets her cry all she has to cry. It’s only when the sobs turn to quiet sniffles that Hela speaks again. “You know that’s a lie.”
Rio sighs as she pulls away, wipes her nose with the back of her hand, and tries her best menacing face, which falls short when her cheeks are tear stained. “I swear, if you say I don’t have a heart one more time…”
“Easy, lovebird.” Rio rolls her eyes while the Asgardian smirks. “I was simply going to say that half of your heart is still around.”
Her face lights up immediately. It’s true, she lost Agatha, she lost the reason she has a heart, but not the entirety of it. Rio looks at the cottage, flashes of a specific time going through her mind, widening her smile, an unspeakable joy filling her chest.
“I swear to the Goddess, Rio, if you don’t stop…” Agatha is laying on the very cheap sofa they got recently. They’ve been going through them quite fast because sometimes it takes too long to get to the bedroom. Rio promised to love Agatha in every way possible, in every surface available, till the end of time, and Rio is a woman of her word. It just so happens that the closest surface they usually fall into is the sofa, and they never really know how to control themselves.
Especially lately, after the unanticipated turn of events that their lives took, controlling themselves became even harder. One might say, it was that lack of control that led them here, but neither woman really wants to dwell too long on it.
Rio ignores Agatha’s threat, not that she ever really took them to heart anyway, setting the steaming cup of tea on the adjacent table, within reach of the love of her life. She turns to adjust the blanket over Agatha, making sure it covers the woman perfectly, most importantly, making sure it covers Agatha’s growing bump. The witch rolls her eyes exasperated. “Do you want a foot rub?” Rio asks, paying no attention to Agatha’s ever-growing annoyance.
She’s been like this ever since they found out about the pregnancy. Agatha had been feeling off for quite some time, not really sure what was going on. For a moment, she even contemplated the possibility of being sick, which hadn’t happened in a long time, but even her magic was off. It was something more, they just couldn’t pinpoint what. Then, Rio heard a heartbeat, and their lives changed. Well, Agatha’s didn’t change that much aside from the extra joy and excitement over having her own family, but Rio became someone else.
Rio was very protective. She took over the job of keeping Agatha happy and safe very seriously, but after they found out Agatha is carrying their child, Rio took the task further. She started spending more time with the witch, which Agatha loved, especially because it meant her sexual needs, that increased with the hormones, would be met any time. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. Rio didn’t let her carry anything heavier than a cup, she didn’t let Agatha stand for too long, she was hovering and controlling and while at the beginning was sweet, it very quickly became frustrating.
“I want you to stop fussing.” The brunette says, irritation in her words. “The way you’re acting, somebody would think I’m carrying a bomb.” She rolls her eyes. It all falls quickly when she sees Rio’s face turn sour. Agatha sighs. When she speaks, her voice is far softer. “Come here.” Arms open, she waits for Rio to fall into them.
The Green Witch drops herself into the arms that are her home, a sigh of content escaping her lips, careful with the bump, not wanting to hurt their baby. Agatha runs her fingers through dark locks, the other hand rubbing soothing circles on Rio’s back. The brunette knows why the other woman grows more and more concerned with each passing day, they’ve had the conversation, the one both dreaded since the beginning, and they both agreed on how to address the situation.
It was accidental and unforeseen, to say the least. After a few months living in their renovated cottage, a routine had settled and they were truly happy. Agatha would still do her thing, and Rio still had souls to carry over, but inside these four walls they had a life of their own, with their own rules, where they were unreservedly happy. One morning, laying naked on the sofa, Rio sprawled on top of Agatha drawing random patterns on the woman’s stomach, the brunette spoke words she had sworn she would never voice. Then again, Rio has this ability to always bring the honesty out of the brunette.
“I want a family.”
It shocked Rio to the core, the witch freezing all her movements. Children intrigued Rio, they pulled something within her that she couldn’t name. It was always strange whenever she had to ferry a tiny soul to the afterlife, it left an aftertaste that she wasn’t able to name. In the years she’s been with Agatha, she never thought of family, even when her brain would betray her and picture a tiny Agatha running around. She couldn’t let herself think like that. Her duties came with very hard rules, rules that she couldn’t break.
Then Agatha said those words.
Rio’s promise was ironclad. To make all of Agatha Harkness’ dreams come true. Her entire existent was dedicated to that, but here was something she wasn’t sure she could deliver. Death cannot kill, it’s not her place to end life, her job is solely to ferry souls to their final resting place. Just as equally, Death cannot create life.
Death, the end of ends, cannot spring new life.
Not killing is a rule with some loopholes waiting to be explored. Rio has on occasion whispered a word, unlocking a chain of events that results in her having quite an increase in soul numbers, giving life does not fall in the same category. She is strictly forbidden from ever creating life. It never bothered her, she never had any interest in spawning new life into the world. She never had any interest in falling in love either, yet here she is, being held by the woman that has made her feel more than she ever thought possible.
That day, with those words hovering over them, they had one of the hardest conversations ever where Rio explained all the why's, and Agatha reacted in the only expected way: bitterly. It took days for the brunette to start talking to her again, and weeks before Agatha accepted that Rio couldn’t give her what she wanted. But the thought never left Rio’s mind.
For months after that, the thought would invade her mind at the most random moments. She would be coming home, seeing Agatha reading a book on the porch, waiting for her, and picture what it would be like to be welcomed with tiny arms around her neck. She would be making dinner with Agatha, something she taught herself to make and enjoy just so she could share it with the other woman, and imagine a tiny Agatha sitting at the table with them. They would be in bed, Rio watching Agatha sleep, and thinking of a small, perfect mix of them both, right there in the middle of them, safe and happy.
It stirred something within her, something she couldn’t shake. It wasn’t her intention, certainly not without talking with Agatha first, but it happened. Her deep-rooted will to make Agatha happy above all things spoke louder, and manifested that night, the night of Beltane. Something shifted that night, Rio felt it, but she was so focused on Agatha that she paid it no mind.
Until she heard a heartbeat.
It was faint, barely there, but she heard it. Agatha was over the moon, she showed off a happiness that Rio had never seen before. While that made the Green Witch happy, the reality filled her with a cold that she couldn’t describe. Agatha didn’t want to hear it, none of it, basking in the joys of pregnancy, so Rio kept quiet.
It was only a few weeks ago that they finally sat down to have the hard talk. Rio explained that the universe would not allow this transgression, that the balance had to be kept and creating a soul was a hard no. A price would have to be paid. Agatha still would not have it, nothing was going to happen to her baby, nothing would ever break them apart. Their family would withstand anything.
While the thought was sweet, and very much Agatha, Rio knew it wasn’t a reality. Still, they agreed to take it one day at a time, to not overthink it, and to make the most of it. Only, it nagged at her, day in day out, every time Agatha would wince, every time she would so much as sneeze, Rio wondered if it was a sign of her punishment, the price she would have to pay. Her worry manifested in being overbearing, and so Agatha, while holding her shaking wife, understood.
While cradling her love in her arms, feeling silk locks between her fingers, Agatha knows exactly why Rio is constantly worried. She plants a kiss on top of Rio’s head before speaking. “You need to relax, my love.” Rio nuzzles deeper into her chest. Agatha smiles. “You’re stressing me, and the baby.”
Rio pulls away quickly, eyes alarmed. “Are you okay? Is he okay?”
One perfect eyebrow arches, her lips stretching. “He?”
Rio looks away sheepishly. “Sorry.” It wasn’t her intention to reveal the gender of the baby, even if she had known for some time now.
Agatha pulls her back to her chest, laughing with a joy that is free and unencumbered. “We’re both okay, more than okay.” Worry still swirls in brown eyes, Agatha kisses it away passionately.
Rio sighs when they break away, keeping her eyes closed a second longer just to savor the kiss. When her eyes open, it’s beautiful blue that greet her, and the most brilliant smile she has ever seen. Rio falls in love all over again. “I don’t want to hurt you. Any of you.”
Soft hands cradle her face so gently, it makes Rio want to weep. She doesn’t deserve this, any of this, whatever happens to them, it’s her fault for being careless, for daring to love when she shouldn’t. But Agatha looks at her with such love, such desire, holds her face with such care, that Rio can’t look away, can’t regret anything. Agatha knows the battle raging inside her love, she fears it too, but they agreed not to think about it, and she will be damned if they waste time enjoying this by worrying over something that might not even happen.
“Close your eyes for me, baby.” Rio furrows her brows skeptically, but does as told. “Can you hear him? What does it sound like?”
Her senses shift entirely to the being inside Agatha, to the product of their love. When soft sounds fill her ears, her smile is so big and bright, Agatha mirrors it. “He’s sleeping.” She whispers.
“Yes.” Agatha nods, tears in her eyes. “He is. But he wasn’t. The little rascal spent the entire day doing cartwheels in my belly, kicking my bladder at every second.” Rio chuckles, her hands instinctively going to Agatha’s protruding stomach. “He only calmed down when you arrived. He only calms down when you’re around. The sound of your voice already brings him comfort. He knows he is loved, and safe with you.” Tears gather in those brown orbs Agatha loves so much, her thumb wipes a rogue one that rolls down a beautiful cheek. “You could never hurt us, my love. You bring us comfort, you make us safe. You love us, and we love you very much, too.”
Rio throws herself at Agatha, hiding her face under the woman’s chin. Agatha laughs, her arms keeping the other woman as close as possible. “I hope you don’t mind sharing.” She mumbles against the brunette’s skin. “My heart now belongs to two people.”
“I’m okay with that.” Her happiness spills from her eyes, she doesn’t care. “Both halves will always be here, waiting to welcome you home.”
Rio is here, at that same place, but there is no one waiting for her. One half hates her so much, she refuses to even cross into the beyond, and the other half… The other half is probably waiting for some answers. Nevertheless, Hela is right. Half of Rio’s heart is still close to her, and it’s not fair to stay here, drowning in her own pain alone, when he’s waiting for her.
“You need to come back, Rio. You’ve been gone for far too long, there are too many souls lost and confused in the world.”
There is also that. Her duties never stop, the end always comes, and she has to be there. Except, she is not sure if she can do it any longer. Three centuries living a life of a human, experiencing human emotions, changed her to her very core. Hela is right, she has a special touch when it comes to help souls transition. It’s something she perfected over millennia, but now a part of her is missing, ripped away brutally, and she isn’t sure what the void left behind will do to her.
“What if I can’t do it anymore?” She whispers, almost in fear.
Hela gives her an unimpressed look. “Death does not get to retire, Rio. That witch of yours might be powerful, but she’s not that powerful.”
“Watch it.” The warning in her voice makes Hela roll her eyes.
They sit in silence for a minute before the Asgardian speaks again. “It’s not like you can’t see her anymore.”
Rio throws her head back, eyes closed, her chest rises with a deep inhale that she releases slowly. “She doesn’t want to see me. Ever again.”
“When has that ever stopped you?”
She looks at Hela, the pain in her eyes clear as a sunny day. “I made a promise.” She is a woman of her word, and above all, she will always respect Agatha’s wishes. She might have pursued the woman through the centuries, but only because Agatha never truly told her to stop. Agatha ran, and even used the worst of magic to hide, but she never told Rio to leave her alone for good, not until that day on that stupid ass, fake road. Granted, Rio never really gave the other woman the opportunity to say the words, because she knew if Agatha said it, she would abide by it, she would keep her word, forever.
“And when has that ever stopped you?”
It’s a valid point, and Rio really wouldn’t care about pedestrian things as promises, if it wasn’t Agatha Harkness. For Agatha, everything was different. For Agatha, she broke rules that should’ve never been broken, she granted wishes, and slowed time… There has to be a limit. Rio shakes her head. “I can’t, Hela. She made her choice, and I will respect it.”
For the first time in ever, Hela sees her friend completely tired. Death is spent. It’s a scary thing to see, if fear was something the Goddess of Death could feel. She stands up, brushes the dirt off her pants. “Well, it's her loss anyway.” An arm extend, a hand open waiting to be grasped. “Come on, enough with this blubber. You have souls to reap. Plus, you need to attend to your son, because there are only so many bedtime stories I can handle.”
Rio chuckles. She grabs for the hand offered to her, using it to rise to her full height. Hela is right, it’s time to move on. It’s not that simple, it never will be, she’s sure the pain will always be there. Especially knowing Agatha is out there, somewhere, actively choosing to stay away from her, yet again. That wound will never heal.
Death can’t retire, though. There is work to be done, and Rio has her son waiting for her. Her heartbreak will be dealt with in time, meanwhile, there are things to be done. “Aw, but I know how much he loves when Auntie Hela makes the voices.” The mocking tone is excessive and targeted, and it doesn’t miss.
Hela snarls, disgust in her face, even if her voice lacks it. “Call me that again, and I will strike.”
“I thought you didn’t care for stupid mortals and their customs.” It’s Rio’s turn to smirk. For the first time since that day, something feels easy to her. Teasing her old friend fixes something inside her, even if it’s very small.
“Yeah, well, some of their ideas are worth something.” Rio chuckles again. “Come on, Boss, we have work to do.”
Hela struts in front of her, walking towards the opening that Rio used to come here. Rio takes two steps before looking back. She takes one long look at the cottage, at those impeccably kept walls, at the colorful garden, the hammock, the wall of trees surrounding it. She listens to the birds, and the wind, and the memories that still echo in this place, and forever will.
Her happiness is buried here. Half of her heart is waiting for her, while the other half is hiding somewhere, but her best memories will always be here. She keeps this place hidden from the world, untouched by time, and she always will. Yet part of her hopes Agatha will find her way here, part of her hopes that, maybe, by seeing this again and being reminded of what they had, the other woman will change her mind. She doesn’t hold on to it, though, holding out hope for Agatha is what broke her in the first place. But she still hopes, however minimal it might be.
Hela waits for her by the exit, not saying a word. She knows Rio needs her time to gather herself, to make peace. Despite the Asgardian’s dislike for emotions, she understands them more than she lets on. Rio’s grief doesn’t end here, on the contrary, this is only the beginning, and it won’t be easy, but Hela will be there. Every step of the way.
Rio looks at the small path on the grass that leads to the steps to the front door. She smiles. As she does, purple flowers of all kinds pop slowly on each side of the path, dandelions sprinkled between them, at the end orchids spring, and vines come out of it enrolling themselves on the side of the stairs. They curl and rise up until they touch the edge of the roof, travelling along it to each side, and merging with the existing vines that were planted there before. It all the things that symbolize her love, the beauty, and the sadness combined. She nods to herself.
And so, the memorial of Death’s dreams is complete.
She wipes away one last tear, before turning and following her friend back to her place. Not her home, no, but the place where half of her heart currently resides. It’s bittersweet to leave this corner again, but she knows it won’t be long before she comes back. Coming here proved to be better than she expected, her pain is still there, but it’s less, somehow. Turns out, sometimes, going to the place you think will hurt more, actually makes it better. Rio doesn’t know what awaits her, the road will sure be long, but no matter what happens next, she will always have her cottage of dreams.