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1693
Evanora’s body hit the ground with a loud thud and then the forest was quiet. All that could be heard was the wind blowing through the packed trees and the fire still crackling on the torches. Agatha was still buzzing with magic. She felt full. Full of magic, full of power, full of freedom. It was maddening, addicting.
Agatha stepped down from the pillar where she had almost been executed by her own coven. She walked up to her mother who had been drained of any life and color that had been there before. Her exterior now matched her hideous inside, Agatha thought.
She crouched down and really took a look at her mother. Evanora’s face was scrunched up and dried out, like a raisin, but even less appealing than those already are. Agatha’s eyes wandered to the broach holding Evanora’s cloak together. A blue broach surrounded by a golden frame while depicting three women. Her fingers traced it, but the overwhelming buzz of her added power was the only thing Agatha could feel. The powers were flowing through her entire body, from her head to her toes, all the way out to her fingertips. For some reason the broach felt special, and her mother wouldn’t need it anymore, so Agatha shamelessly took it for herself. She stood up, fastened the broach to her dress, and dusted off her knees.
Agatha was about to fly away and leave all of this behind when suddenly the blowing wind and crackling fire wasn’t the only thing that could be heard in the forest. The sound of a branch snapping took Agatha out of her power trance. She immediately turned around, magic surging to her hands.
There, next to the pillar, stood a young woman. She was gorgeous to put it lightly. Time never stopped, at least not for Agatha Harkness, but this moment was something she wished could stop time.
The woman in front of her was wearing a green hood and coat over a beautiful dress. The corset of her dress was covered in rhinestones and her lower arm had white lace parts that contrasted nicely with the other earthly tones that covered the woman’s body. At her hip sat a dagger, protected by a holster. But what made Agatha lose all her focus was the way the woman was looking at her. Under the hood, black hair peeked through and framed her face. She was looking at Agatha with a slightly parted mouth and just a hint of pink flushed her cheeks.
Agatha just stood there. She wasn’t bothered by the fact that eight bodies were surrounding her, bodies she had put there herself. She wasn’t bothered because neither was the woman in front of her. No, the woman almost looked impressed.
1693, Christmas
Agatha cackled as she felt that familiar hum of magic entering her body. The screaming and choking of the witches around her sounded like music to her ears. People were so easy to trick these days, especially with the snow coating the ground and the cold biting every inch of skin it could find. All Agatha had to do was act helpless. And acting was something Agatha could do really well.
She had rolled herself around the snow a couple of times, catching it on her clothing and hair, before she put on a fake injury and limped over to a camp of witches, begging for help. Then all that she needed to do was provoke them and BAM! Mission accomplished, more power acquired. The feeling of it entering her and mixing with her own powerful magic never got old. It always felt just as addicting as it did all those months ago.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that a beautiful woman always showed up at the scene of the crime. Agatha now knows her as Lady Death, or as she insists on being called: Rio. She was there every time Agatha scored new witches to kill, so of course, Agatha killed and killed and killed. She would kill all of the world if it meant she would see Rio.
And as promised, when the witches collapsed around Agatha, Rio showed up. Agatha exhaled and tipped her head back as the power settled in her blood.
“Hello, Agatha.”
Agatha opened her eyes and tilted her head. “Well, hello to you too, stranger.” She smirked and walked over to her.
Agatha couldn’t help but notice the way the other woman was holding her hands behind her back. Rio smiled at her before pulling a flower out from behind her. “Surprise, m’lady. Merry Christmas.” An azalea revealed itself in Rio’s hand.
“It’s Christmas already? Agatha hadn’t even registered that so many days of winter had already passed. Sure, the snow was everywhere at this point, covering the land in a blanket of soft ice, and Agatha had seen her fair share of celebrating people, but in her defense, the celebrations had started the moment the first snow hit the ground. “I didn’t have time to get you a gift.”
“I don’t need another gift from you, Agatha.”
“Another?”
“Well, you already left me these bodies, no?”
The smile on Rio’s face was so gentle and genuine that Agatha was thrown off her rhythm for a moment. She stood there, like a deer in headlights, her eyes wandering from the beautiful face in front of her to the flower still resting in Rio’s hand, gently rocking with the wind.
When Rio saw the way Agatha stood frozen, she walked over and brushed some snow out of Agatha’s hair. “You went all out this time, didn’t you?” She let out a short breathy laugh. “Aren’t you cold?”
Agatha didn’t answer, just looked at Rio’s face that was only a few inches away from her.
“Cat got your tongue, my love?”
Agatha scoffed at that and took a step back. She brushed the rest of the snow off herself. Agatha Harkness didn’t need any help. “Pfft. No! I just got lost in thought, that’s all.”
Rio smirked, it didn’t matter what Agatha told her, they both knew what was going on. It was impossible not to because of the tension floating in the air all around them.
A few hours later the two were sitting on a bench at the edge of the village. They could see kids running around, playing in the snow as well as lights on in the houses where families were opening gifts and singing songs.
Agatha was now wearing Rio’s cloak with the hood draped over her. Despite what she was repeatedly telling Rio, she was getting cold from the snow. Rio had begged to let her lend the coat to Agatha, but Agatha had insisted that she was fine. That was until Agatha was actually incapable of walking without shivering and her fingers were almost impossible to move.
“Won’t you be cold?” Agatha said with clattering teeth as Rio gently wrapped the cloak around her. Agatha didn’t know if the tingling in her fingers were because of the magic anymore or because of the cold.
“I’m literally Death, I’ll be fine, my love.”
Rio had led her to the bench and helped her sit down before continuously rubbing her hands over Agatha’s arms, legs, back, and hands to keep the circulation going and helping Agatha get warm again.
“You keep calling me that? Why?”
“Because you’re special.” Rio just said. “Special and lovely.”
“But that doesn’t make me yours? So why-“
Rio interrupts Agatha by standing up and clearing her throat. “So! What do you usually do during Christmas? Except for giving gifts, we already did that.” Rio forced out an awkward laugh and rocked on her feet.
Agatha furrowed her brows as Rio did all of this. Why would she be so weird all of a sudden? Did Agatha say something wrong?
“Well, you eat good food, listen to music, decorate, I don’t know. Being with family and friends is also something a lot of people do at Christmas.” Agatha stops for a beat, thinking back to her childhood. “My mother and I used to bake.”
Then Agatha cleared her throat, just like Rio did just moments before. “What do you usually do during Christmas?”
Rio shrugged. “I haven’t celebrated Christmas before.”
“What? But you’re literally as old as the universe? How have you never celebrated Christmas before?”
Another shrug from Rio. She dragged her foot in the snow, drawing flowers where she stood. “Never had anyone to celebrate it with.”
“Then I’ll guess we’ll have to make your first Christmas a good one.” Agatha stood up and took her hand. “Where to first?”
Rio and Agatha walked through the village together, hand in hand, Agatha still wearing the green cloak over her dress. Like this, Agatha felt safe, warm, free.
“What about starting with food?” Rio asked cheerfully. Death had a childlike wonder in her, that much was clear.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
Agatha was interrupted by a snowball hitting her right in the face. She winced at the cold ice hitting her cheek, the sting took her back to Christmas, when she was 10 years old. She had dropped an egg while baking and Evanora had yelled at her as if the egg had cost a fortune. She had slapped her, right across the cheek. It felt like it had stung for hours. Since that day, Christmas wasn’t something Agatha exactly looked forward to.
“Agatha? Hey, are you okay? Agatha!”
Rio snapped her out of her flashback by shaking her. Agatha had started to cry and had frozen in place as the snowball hit her, but when Rio shook her it was like waking from a bad dream.
“Agatha, are you okay?” Rio asked once more.
Agatha just exhaled shakily. “Yeah, just give me a moment.”
They sat down in the snow, leaning against a wall. Agatha stared into nothingness, using her breathing exercises to calm down. In, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four. Agatha fiddled with the azalea she had gotten just hours before.
At the same time, Rio was also staring, but she was staring daggers into the kids who were still throwing snowballs at each other.
“Rio, it’s okay, they’re just kids. They didn’t mean to hit me.” Agatha’s voice was small, as if she hadn’t spoken in years, but at least it was there.
“I don’t know what happened or why you reacted like you did, but can you at least tell me that you’ll be okay?”
Agatha nodded. “I’m better now, yes. This happens sometimes. I just wasn’t prepared to get hit in the face, you know?” She let out a small laugh, much less genuine than Rio wanted to hear. “Right then… Food was it?” Agatha stood up and brushed snow off her ass. She reached her hand out for Death.
Their Christmas walk continued until they got to the market in the village. An old man was selling a few easy meals, so of course Agatha treated Rio to one. They shared a plate of ham and potatoes as they sat under the christmas tree in the center of town. A few houses away they could hear caroling, people singing Christmas songs and spreading joy during this merry day.
Suddenly Agatha felt a weight on her shoulder. Rio’s head now gently rested there.
“Is this how Christmas always is?” Rio whispered into the air as she felt more comfortable than she ever had before.
“No. No it’s not…” Agatha slowly let her guard down. She rested her head on top of Rio’s while her hand slowly moved on top of Rio’s. “But it could be? Minus the snowballs., of course.”
“Yeah?” The hope in Death's voice made Agatha shiver. How did she get into this situation? How is this actually happening?
“Yeah. After all, you told me I’m yours.”
Their fingers interlocked as the church bells rang for midnight. Christmas was over, but Agatha and Rio had just begun.