Chapter Text
Salem, 1692
It was a slow day at work for Rio Vidal. She'd only been called away to complete her duties a handful of times, But it was still early afternoon, and there was plenty of time for that to change. Not that she paid much attention to the passage of time. She did, however, enjoy the changing of the seasons, especially the end of summer when the leaves begin to change, before they fell. The crisp air was neither too hot, nor too cold, and the nights were getting longer.
She was currently strolling through the forest, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin, when she happened upon a small village. She could taste so many different flavors of magic in the air, and surmised that this was a haven for witches. There were several small cottages scattered throughout the massive clearing, the nearest one to her possessing a large garden that she could tell grew several different herbs and medicinal plants. It continued to the rear of the little house, where there were assorted crops planted.
She saw several young girls working in the garden, checking the plants for vitality, when her eyes landed on one that was more removed from the rest of the girls. She took a few steps closer, watching the young brunette as she worked. She couldn't have been more than twenty. Her eyes were such a light blue that they could almost pass for grey, and there was a softness in the way she smiled and petted each plant affectionately.
Who is she? Rio thinks to herself watching as the beauty before her stopped to examine another plant. Rio made sure she was still within the treeline, not wanting to be discovered. Though, for the first time, she found she truly wouldn't mind it if she was. The woman hummed softly to herself, a tune Rio wasn't familiar with, though the melody sounded like a nursery rhyme of sorts. Rio watched her as she sent a longing gaze to another young woman across the field. It was a fleeting moment, but Rio could sense the yearning rolling off of the dark-haired girl in waves.
“Agatha!” An angry feminine voice called from inside the cabin. The brunette–Agatha–jerked as if she'd been electrocuted, her head whipping around toward the source of the vitriol. An older woman stood in the doorway, beckoning her with a hard expression. Agatha seemed to retreat into herself, her body language closing up, as she lowered her head and approached the older woman.
Rio's brows furrowed as she tried to listen to the exchange, but they were too far for her to hear in this form. Agatha was clearly being scolded, it was evident in her submissive posture. She seemed to mutter a response, but was quickly backhanded by the other woman. Rio's muscles tensed, and she had to root herself where she stood. It was not her place to get involved in mortal affairs. But she felt strangely protective over this young woman. Just as Agatha was dismissed, she turned, and ran back to her post in the garden, her eyes only leaving the ground to examine the plants in front of her. The older woman stood in the doorway for a moment longer, and mouthed a single word before walking back inside: Demon.
Once the elder was out of sight, she watched Agatha fall to her knees, silently sobbing as she pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms. Rio felt a pang of… something in her chest. She wasn't used to all these feelings, it was hard to put a name to them right away. A part of her wanted to approach the girl, having a theory about why she had been reprimanded, but knowing her position, she knew she couldn't. Or shouldn't, at least. She knew that forming attachments to mortals was futile, when all roads lead to her.
Instead, with a wave of her hand, and a whispered incantation, a flower began to sprout up from the ground next to her. A small, pink Rio Dipladenia. Just as it blossomed, a small breeze blew through, brushing against Agatha's face, and she lifted her head enough to peer around herself. Bright blue eyes zeroed in on the small flower, her brows furrowing as she gazed around, searching for the source of the obvious magic. Rio was completely hidden by the shadows still, and could feel the pull of her job calling her. But It was as if she were glued to the spot, as Agatha picked the flower, and inhaled its scent. She glanced around once more, still suspicious of who had conjured it, but smiled to herself anyways. And Rio knew that for the rest of her existence, she would never, ever forget that smile.
Two Months Later
“You can't make me do this!” Agatha pleaded with her mother. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, crying in front of an adversary was the worst show of weakness. And at this point, on this issue, her mother was absolutely the enemy.
“I can, and I am. The Crago boy is a fine match for you, Agatha. His mother and sister are both formidable witches. And if anything in this world will cure you of your deviance, it's a strong willed young man like him. He will keep you on the proper path.” Evanora explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Agatha grit her teeth, biting back some of her fury. An arranged marriage wasn't something she had ever envisioned for herself, witchfolk tended to marry for love, these types of transactional marriages were reserved for the religious types who believed women to be property. There was no way her coven was on board with such an archaic practice. Condemning one of their own to a lifetime of misery, being chained to someone they didn't love… it was beyond cruel. Let alone being bound to Johnny Crago, of all people. The boy who had made her pitiful excuse of a childhood an actual living Hell.
“But mother! He has been rude and unkind to me for as long as I can remember! I could never love him!” She tried to reason with her mother, who had tended to the cuts and bruises from being pushed down, from being hit with rocks, and that's not to mention all the horrible things he'd said to her and called her.
You see, as hard as it is to believe, Agatha didn't have many friends in their little village. The other girls her age would always let her play with their group, but she couldn't help but think they were secretly making fun of her the whole time, she just couldn't prove it. And the boys her age had always disregarded her entirely. Except for Johnny Crago, who had gone out of his way to make sure Agatha knew she was an outcast among outcasts. He'd only become more cruel as they'd gotten older.
“Well dear, if a boy is being mean to you, it just means that he likes you. All the more reason this match will be a perfect fit. You've surprisingly grown into a beautiful young woman, Agatha. You will make such fine children, if you can ever get these sick tendencies out of your mind.” Agatha blanched at her mother's words. She had gotten reprimanded on more than one occasion for being overly friendly with a few of the local girls from outside the coven, and while she knew it was wrong, that she was supposed to only be romantically interested in boys, she just couldn't help herself.
Girls were soft, their skin, their lips, their hair, their hands… The way that girls always smelled so much nicer than boys did. The way that girls were so much easier for her to talk to, she had never been able to just talk about everything and nothing at all, the way that she had with other girls, well, one in particular. She was a witch in training, like Agatha. The daughter of her mother's right-hand woman. Goddess, Agatha had it bad for her, and she knew it. But try as she may, she couldn't help how she felt. Sarah was one of the only girls who had genuinely taken a liking to Agatha, she comforted her when Evanora was being harsh. The day that Sarah and her mother had shown up to their village seeking asylum was one of Agatha's happiest memories.
And Agatha had really tried to bury her feelings, to keep their friendship as just that. But the problem was, that Sarah was very open about her feelings. She knew that Evanora didn't approve of such things, but Sarah had grown up very differently. Apparently it was perfectly normal with her old coven, and that alone gave Agatha hope. They had made plans to leave the village together, as soon as they were of age. Evanora was trying to keep her trapped here, under her control forever it seemed.
“We are having lunch with the Cragos this afternoon, so I expect you to make yourself more presentable.” Evanora instructed, and her icy glare told Agatha that this lunch was not optional.
“But, what about my studies? We're supposed to be learning potions today.” Agatha tried. Sometimes Evanora was insistent that she attend every class, because she needed all the training she could get, but then sometimes her mother would say ‘Why bother?’ Suggesting that there was no helping her.
“Nevermind that. This is your future, likely your only shot at one. You mustn't mess this up.” Her mother answered harshly, and Agatha's shoulders fell. She couldn't believe this was happening. Just a short time ago, thinking of her future, one where she could finally escape her mother’s harsh rule, was one of the only things that brought her any semblance of hope. And she had just ripped it out of Agatha's grasp. “Now, go get ready.”
The young witch let out a sigh, feeling her lower lip tremble slightly. “Yes, mother.” She breathed, turning away as the tears she had been fighting finally spilled over.
Lunch had been a disaster. And by ‘disaster’ Agatha meant that everything had gone perfectly to her mother. The Cragos had been completely flattered by Evanora's offer to marry off her only daughter to the first jackass that came along. Johnny had been uncharacteristically polite, he had even seemed pleased at the prospect of being trapped in a loveless marriage.
When he had suggested that they take a walk together, an alarm went off in Agatha's mind. She absolutely did not want to walk alone through the woods with this man, but Evanora couldn't shoo her out the door fast enough.
Agatha walked slowly, leaving a pointed gap between the two of them, Johnny was mostly silent, gazing around them, and Agatha tried to do the same, taking in the changing leaves. It was her favorite time of year, summer fading into fall. But the stillness of the forest was more unsettling than usual, given her company.
Her eyes kept darting back toward Johnny, subtly watching his every move. She couldn't shake the little voice in her head that just kept shouting ‘danger’.
Rio once again found herself on the outskirts of Salem, fulfilling her duties. Another soul added to her realm. This one belonged to a young man, one who had been quite confused and outraged at his untimely death, but then weren't they all? Rio was bored by his ranting about a witch being the one responsible for his demise, and she could tell that he indeed had been blasted by some very powerful magic, but it wasn't unheard of to her. Especially in these woods.
Each soul collected gave her a surge of power, as if she weren't already the most powerful being roaming this earth. That rush left her with a nearly overwhelming amount of excess energy, however, and as she drifted through the trees, she heard the distant sound of a woman crying. Allowing her curiosity to get the better of her, Rio silently stalks toward the source of the sound. After a few minutes, she comes across a small river, where she finds a woman submerged up to her neck, hands over her face as she sobs uncontrollably.
Rio remained within the treeline, observing the woman as she reached for her bag at the edge of the river, and retrieved a small bar of soap. She began to frantically scrub at her skin, all the while her crying seeming to only intensify. Rio swallowed thickly, a feeling of urgency building up in her chest. It was the same woman she had observed just a short time ago, being berated by an elder. This close to her, Rio could sense her magic, almost feral, as if it were reaching out and searching for something. So she was a witch, after all. A very powerful one that didn't seem to know how to control her own magic. The older woman from last time must be one of her coven.
The idea of anyone treating a member of their own coven so harshly, so violently left a bad taste in Rio's mouth. And Agatha's reaction had suggested that it wasn't the first time something of the sort had happened. But here, in this moment, she could see Agatha's distress and what she could only describe as disgust. Rio could tell by the flavor of Agatha's magic, that she had been the one to blast the unfortunate young man who had been killed earlier. She could only imagine that he had provoked Agatha in some way, which didn't sit well with her either.
Rio mentally chided herself for being so invested in everything that happened to this one woman. She knew that she could have physical relations with mortals, but that anything beyond that would be impossible. Her duties called to her at all hours of the day and night. Finding someone with enough patience to deal with her schedule, well, it was no more than fantasy.
Rio let out a sigh, and decided it was time to go. She quickly conjured another flower, the same as last time, which began to bloom right next to Agatha's effects. “Te veo,” she breathed, as she disappeared into the forest once more.
February, 1693
Rio knew she could be considered a stalker at this point. Except this time, she was actively seeking out the woman who had been haunting her thoughts, her dreams for months. And yes, even Death slept. Though she could hardly call it that at this point. Waking abruptly after just an hour or so, from the vivid dreams. They weren't necessarily bad, of course it's hard for any dream to be considered a nightmare, when you work the job that Rio does. But the dreams that she's been plagued by as of late, were completely unnerving in an entirely different sense. The wanting was not something she was used to.
So here she stood, on the outskirts of the small village where she had first happened upon Agatha. Just hoping for a small glimpse. Really, she was sure that one look would tell her that her Lady was fine, and she would be off. That's all she was allowed, after all. Anything more than that was to venture into very dangerous waters.
The evening breeze tousled her dark curls. But Rio was unphased, as brown eyes locked onto their target. But she was very much not fine, as Rio had hoped. Two other women held her tightly, her wrists bound behind her back. Agatha was very clearly distressed, pleading with them, her tear-soaked face turning to them with desperation. But her captors’ expressions were cold and resolute.
Every fiber of Rio's being wanted to tear those other witches limb from limb, to make them pay for handling Agatha in such a manner. But she fought to keep her distance. This was not her business, even if she longed to make it hers. Instead, Rio followed from a distance, as Agatha was towed past the edge of town, to a small clearing where a platform had been built. In the center, a single post stood ominously. Even if she weren't Death, she would know what happens next.
Rio felt her blood run cold. Agatha was swiftly tied to the stake, still pleading with her coven, her blue eyes wide with fear and disbelief, as none of them seemed phased by her desperation. Finally, her gaze fell to the woman at the head of the circle, the same woman Rio had witnessed abusing Agatha all those months ago.
“Agatha Harkness,” The woman began, her eyes fixed on her prey with cold determination. “Are you a witch?” Rio watched as her Lady’s eyes darted once more to the other members of her coven, desperately seeking any hope of salvation. Finding none, Agatha turns her gaze back toward her coven leader. In that moment, Rio could see the defeat in her eyes, and wondered if this would be the night she ferries Agatha's soul into the afterlife.
She shook her head, rejecting the idea completely. No, Agatha Harkness would not die this night. Rio was Death, and though she couldn't control who died, she could control who stayed dead. There were rules even she had to follow, laws of nature. Rio would break every one if she needed to. She would however, give Agatha the chance to save herself, as she could already taste her magic permeating the air, wild with her emotions.
“Yes.” Agatha choked, and inhaled a broken breath. “Yes, I am a witch.”
“And you have betrayed your coven.” The other woman responded with conviction. Agatha shook her head wildly, still watching the rest of her coven members for any sign of sympathy.
“I have not!” She pleaded.
“You stole knowledge above your age and station,” the older woman interrupted, lowering her hood, and the rest of the coven followed suit. “You practice the darkest of magicks.” She argued, and Rio cocked her her head at the accusation. Because there was no darkness in Agatha's magic. Her hands were not stained in any way to suggest she had been practicing the ‘darkest of magicks’ as her accuser suggested.
“I didn't!” Agatha pleaded once more with her sisters. “I know nothing of these crimes! I swear it!”
“And you killed Johnny Crago!”
“But he–he raped me!” Agatha shouted back, the tears streaming from her eyes. Those words seemed to snatch the air right from Rio's lungs, and her eyes were wild with disbelief. That must have been the boy Agatha had killed last time she came across her.
“Enough deception!” The grey haired woman shouted, and Agatha visibly flinched at her words. But Rio watched her features shift from desperate and fearful, to something smug as she held the woman's gaze.
“I did not break your rules.” Agatha declared in a calm voice. “They simply bent to my will.” Rio couldn't help but smirk at the cockiness. This was a side of her Lady she hadn't seen yet, and it only fascinated her more.
Rio didn't have long to appreciate Agatha's newfound confidence, however, as the rest of the coven began to chant in unison.
“Wait!” Agatha shouted, panic rising up in her voice and expression. The other witches ignored her cries completely. “I cannot control it!” She searches their faces again. “If only you would teach me! Please!” Finally, she faces the woman in charge of her so-called trial. “Mother!” She begged, and Rio's dark eyes flew to the woman as she felt her face heat up. A witch tied to the stake, to be executed by her own mother. Such cruelty. What about Agatha's powers could have earned her this fate?
It was then that Agatha's mother began to chant along with the others, all the while, the young witch continuing to plead with her sisters, her mother, begging for her life. At that moment, the other seven witches all blasted Agatha at once, and Rio had to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat at the sight. Being hit with that much magic would be enough to kill anyone in an instant. But Agatha continued to cry out in agony for a minute that seemed to last an eternity.
Rio was just about to intervene, she wasn't sure how, just that she knew she needed to do something. But then she noticed the blue magic Agatha was being hit with. Purple tendrils coiled around each blast, slowly changing the color of the streams. And the witches seemed to be losing their very life force in the process. Brown eyes widened at the sight. Agatha's screams of pain began to change. Now she seemed to be almost… euphoric. As their magic filled her, she smiled in pleasure, and in an instant, her hands were freed from their restraints. She held her mother's gaze, and with a simple wave of her hands, Agatha sent the witches flying backward, or what was left of them, anyways. The power rolling off of her Lady was so intoxicating, Rio would gladly drown in it.
She watched as the woman began to levitate, a blue crown forming atop her head, no doubt an attempt to show off, and blasted Agatha herself. Rio had to hold back a scoff. She just watched the rest of her coven be drained entirely by Agatha. Did she think her magic would be special? But when Agatha glanced up at her mother, her features were lined with only sadness. She knew what was about to happen. She could not control her magic, and her mother's conviction could not be swayed.
“Please…” she tried once more, sounding defeated. “I can be good.” But her mother shook her head in response, pure hatred in her cold blue eyes.
“No you cannot.” she answered, doubling down, and strengthening her blast. Rio closed her eyes, basking in the feeling of Agatha's wild and untamed magic, taking what others were undeserving of. These women, who would turn on their own sister, and refuse to help, when she was clearly struggling. Who would rather treat her as an outcast, than to accept the difference in her abilities. ‘The blood of the coven is thicker than the water of the womb.’ Neither were of any good to Agatha, apparently. They did not deserve their gifts. The only betrayal Rio could see was that of the whole coven against Agatha.
Brown eyes opened just as the final corpse fell to the ground. For a long moment, the only sound in the clearing was that of Agatha's labored breaths, as she stared down the empty husk that was once her mother. Rio could see that she was crying. She watched as Agatha fell to her knees, and slowly crawled to where her mother's body lie. Rio could feel the pull, she needed to collect these souls, but it didn't appear that her Lady would take her leave anytime soon. She would have to reveal herself. At the thought, Rio felt an unfamiliar sensation, it was as if there were tiny insects moving about in her chest, her heartbeat quickened, and her mouth felt oddly dry. Was she nervous?
Rio gave a shake of her head, clearing her thoughts. She was here to do her job. This was just one witch. One witch who has given you a remarkable gift. She thought. Rio inhaled deeply in an attempt to settle her nerves, before stepping out of the treeline.
“I am sorry mother, I-”
“Don't be.” She interrupted, standing at the edge of the clearing. She pretended to examine one of the bodies, as Agatha’s head snapped in her direction.
“Who are you?” The younger witch asked, her brows drawing together in confusion. Rio considered how to answer her.
“I am but a bystander. You endured great cruelty tonight, Agatha. Mutinied by your own coven. But you overcame it.” The Green Witch answered, not totally lying.
“What are- they're dead! Because of me. I must be something truly evil.” Rio slowly approached her as Agatha pulled her knees to her chest. Once she was within arm's reach, she cupped Agatha’ chin gently in one hand, forcing bright blue eyes to meet her own.
“No. They died because of their own ignorance and intolerance. They saw who you were and rejected you. They were fools, and undeserving of their power. It has a more rightful home now.” She explained, and Agatha's eyes widened at the close proximity. “Eres la criatura más magnífica que he visto jamás, Agatha Harkness. And you deserve to be treated as such.” Rio watched as her words settled over the young witch. Agatha took in a deep breath, and blinked away the last of her tears.
“How do you know who I am?” She asked softly, her eyes never leaving Rio's.
“Because you are special. Your magic is powerful, and it protects you from those who seek to harm you.” Rio knelt in front of her Lady, ignoring the way her heart thundered in her ears and chest. “But knowing this, Agatha,” she began softly. “Even the most powerful magicks can be completely useless in the hands of someone who knows not how to wield them. Because knowledge is true power.” At this Rio stood, ready to leave, and give Agatha her time to grieve. “Te Veo.” She breathed, and turned her back to her. As she stalked away, she used her magic to once more conjure the small pink flower for Agatha. Before she'd gotten more than a few paces, however, her Lady called out once more.
“Wait, who are you?” Rio Only turned her head toward the witch, and flashed a small smirk.
“You may call me Rio Vidal.” She answered, and disappeared once more into the treeline.