Summary:your children asked you to read the book you recently published, and you and your wife decided to have a trip down to memory lane to remember how you met.
A/N:this story is long, but is worth reading. If you like goth, enemy to lovers, teasing, jealousy, funny and all of that, please read and enjoy this.
And yes. I'm alive
A/N:this story is for my witchy wife for all the blessings she has brought into my life . I wouldn't be able to continue without you by my side. Thank you for reminding me how much I love to write. I love you so much @neverfindmegone Happy birthday 💕🎊
You were sitting on the couch of your home, your favorite spot, the one next to the window. The soft sunrise rays, sneaking through the curtains, were caressing your face. Your body was covered by the warmest blanket of your house. Your glasses fogged by the warm cup of coffee that was warming up your hands. The book you were reading rested on your lap, leaning towards you on your bent knees.
The soft sound of the wind and singing birds outside filled the silence around your home.
Usually you always woke up earlier than everyone to read alone in the silence for a few minutes, but this time was difrent, the book that was on your lap was a story you knew from memory, that you lived, but this time was there, trapped between those pages, that you wrote.
After much consideration, you decided one day that your life was crazy enough to put in a book, a fantasy one, because no one would have believed you if you said it what happened was true, so you did. And it had much more success that you were waiting for it.
Before you could continue with your reading, you heard laugher and tiny but fast running steps coming to you
-"Mama!"-Your little boy came running to your spot, barely giving you time to put the book and the mug on the coffee table before he jumped on your lap, opening your blanket and hiding in your chest-"Good morning mama" - he said with a sleepy voice and crazy hair slipping between your blanket
-"Good morning my baby"-You squeeze him in your chest-"What are you doing up this early? You don't have school today" - you asked
-"Good morning love, they woke up because I forgot to take off the alarm for the weekend. I'm sorry"-your wife said with the same crazy hair as your son, holding your sleepy baby daughter in her arms
-"Good morning my beautiful ladies" - you replied, smiling and kissing your wife as she sat by your side
-"Story time mama?" - your little boy asked peaking trough the blanket to give you the best puppie eyes that he could master
-"I thought story time was at night, not early in the morning..."-you replied smiling at him an trying to press down his crazy hair but having cero success
-"Please mama! Is the weekend and you were already reading, you even have your glasses... Pleaseeee"-he insisted and you nodded, unable to say no to those shiny eyes. Your wife smiled and carefully put your sleepy daughter in the bassinet that was in the living room. Getting up to make breakfast
-"Which story do you want baby?"-he pointed at your book without doubt
-"The Witch and the Mighty soldier!"-he said exited and rested his face against your chest again, closing his eyes but paying close attention to your voice. You laughed softly because he always picked that one. You started without grabbing the book, because you already knew the whole story by memory.
As soon as you started your tell, a fog blocked your mind from the present, transporting you to that time
The environment around you changed, you were no longer in the warmth of your home, now you could feel the humidity emanating from the mossy forest floor. You could hear the sound of the river passing near the small town and the distant conversation of the vendors.
After a few more steps, you turned your face attracted by a very familiar force. You noticed an old house between the trees, a black house with lilac flowers around it. A house that was well known in the small town and had signs around it that said "beware of the witch". Around the house you could find some remains of bones, forming an almost perfect circle surrounding that place, like if you were near a fae trap.
Many years ago, in a small, isolated village, there lived a magical being, a witch, more powerful than all the other witches who had ever walked that land. Not only was she more powerful, but she was also bolder and smarter than the others. She liked to deceive and steal from the poor villagers of the village and liked to deceive other witches with false promises to take away their powers. This witch knew no limits, no mortal limits or limits beyond mortal, for many years she controlled and terrorized families, armies and anyone who crossed her land. Anyone who crossed her path or tried to stop what she wanted, suffered the same terrible fate, to perish.
Every year that the witch went by without finding a person strong enough to stop her, her power, her riches and her arrogance grew stronger.
She was a lonely being, but she had earned it. No one wanted to be around her because she wouldn't allow it.
The families of the village offered her food and wealth in exchange for the witch not attacking them. But after years and years of sacrifices, the villages had nothing more to offer. Their crops were not enough to feed the people and the witch, and since they gave all the riches to her, they no longer had the means to buy more supplies to grow new crops.
Almost exhausted, with very little hope, they decided to send villagers to neighboring towns seeking help from their strong armies. By explaining that whoever could kill the witch would keep all the profits and riches, many brave and some greedy soldiers decided to go and fight her. But their mortal weapons were no match against the witch's strong and powerful spells, and soon they perish too.
What the townspeople did not know was that that lonely witch, full of power, had an empty heart and soul, she sought with riches and magic to fill that void, but every night she went to sleep more and more sad and cold.
After several failed attempts, no one continued to try to defeat the powerful witch, and the attacks of the armies ceased.
Seeing that no one was facing her anymore and bored in her solitude, the witch began to visit isolated villages, almost certain that no one would recognize her. She traveled for days, almost a week, visiting different places with bars and beautiful women, each time moving further and further away from her home and the small town where she lived.
The parties and drinks helped the witch to forget her loneliness for a while, but when night stretched too long and laughter faded into silence, the emptiness always returned.
Until one day, just like all the others, the witch entered a bar, looking for distraction and alcohol.
Warm light spilled from iron chandeliers, painting the room gold. The air smelled of spiced wine and cedar smoke. Music drifted lazily from a violinist in the corner, and the low hum of conversation wrapped around her like a familiar spell.
No one looked at her twice. Just another beautiful stranger in a dark cloak. The witch made her way to the bar, ordered the strongest wine they had, and let her gaze wander over the crowd. Merchants with flushed cheeks. Laughing couples. A gambler losing badly at cards.
And then she saw you.
You were sitting alone at a table near the back, half-shadowed by candlelight. Your gloved hand circled the rim of your glass. Your hair spilled over one shoulder like ink, and even if your face was calm, your sharp eyes were fixed on the witch with unnerving certainty. No admiration or fear, but recognition.
The witch felt it instantly, a prickling at the back of her neck. Interesting. Most people looked at her with hunger, fear, or desire. You looked at her as though as if you were solving a puzzle. You raised your glass slightly.An invitation.
The witch should have left.
Instead, curiosity curled through her chest, warm and dangerous. She took her wine and crossed the room.
-“Do I know you?”- she asked, stopping at the table.Your lips curved into something too knowing to be called a smile.
-“No"- you said smoothly-“But I’ve been hoping to meet you"-The witch arched a brow
-“And why is that?”-she asked and you leaned back in your chair, studying her openly now.
-“Because"- you said, your voice low enough to disappear beneath the violin’s song-“I had begun to think no one could possibly be as beautiful as the stories claimed"-The witch laughed, surprised by it, bold. Most flirtation wilted before reaching her, this one had teeth.
She set down her glass and sat across from you.
-“Careful”-she murmured.-“Flattery from a stranger is usually a sign of poor intentions"-Your gaze darkened, though your smile remained.
-“Then it’s fortunate"-you said-“That I never claimed mine were good"- you were screaming internally "holy hell it worked", trying act normal while laying bait with flirtation.
For the first time in centuries, the witch felt something sharper than boredom. Interest.
And across the table, hidden beneath your black leather gloves, your fingers brushed the silver chain coiled at your wrist. At last.
Even if you were living the story again just like the first time while you were telling it, the bubble of storytelling broke and you came back to the present a little confused to see your wife's magic go away
-"What happened?"-you asked turning to look how your wife was lifting your baby daughter from the bassinet
-"They are both asleep" - she whispered pointing at your baby boy asleep in your chest curling and smiling-"it's still early, let's take them to bed" - she suggested and you nodded, getting yourself up from the couch with your boy in your arms and going to their rooms to carefully leave each of them in their beds.
Once you made sure they were still asleep and the baby monitors were working, you closed the door to turn around and find your wife smiling at you
-"What is that for?" - you asked raising an eyebrow
-"Let's go to the room? I wanna hear how the story goes" - she said exited and you rolled your eyes smiling walking to the room
-"You know how the story goes, you were there..."-you replied getting into bed with her. As soon as you lay down, she grabbed your waist hugging you close and hiding her face in your neck
-"Please... I like how you tell stories and you like how I transport us there with my magic fingers" - she said moving special two specific fingers on her hand and you laughed giving her a kiss on her forehead
-"You are nasty" - you said
-"You love me like that" - she replied and transported you right where you left your story. Again at that bar.
The witch tilted her head, studying you with amused suspicion.
She was curios, it was something unusual about you. Not fear. Not worship. Not even the trembling hunger she was used to inspiring. You looked at her as though if were already known, every sharp line of her face committed to memory long before tonight.
It should have unsettled her. Instead, it thrilled her.
-“What is your name?”- the witch asked.
You lifted your glass, her eyes never leaving yours.
-“Elaine”-the lie fell from your lips, smooth as silk.
The witch smiled faintly. She knew a lie when she heard one, but chose not to challenge it-“And yours?”-you asked having a zip of your drink
-“Would you believe me if I said I’d forgotten?”-
You laughed softly, the sound warm enough to melt frost.
-“No"-you replied
-“Good”-she smiled
The violin in the corner swelled into something slower, sweeter. Around you, the tavern blurred into soft noise and amber light. For a while, you two talked.
The witch found herself telling stories she had not spoken aloud in decades. Not truths exactly, but fragments of them dressed in prettier clothes. Tales of distant cities, strange storms at sea, kingdoms that no longer existed.
You listened as though each word mattered.
When you spoke, you offered little of yourself, only enough to keep the conversation alive. Clever remarks. Dry humor. The occasional look that lingered just long enough to suggest possibility.
The witch had known countless beautiful women. Most tried too hard. You did not try at all. That was what made you dangerous.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. The candles burned lower. And then, when the witch reached for her wine, your hand brushed hers. A simple touch. Barely there. But cold lightning raced up the witch’s arm. You froze, just for a breath, as though startled by your own boldness.
Then you smiled, smaller now. Almost shy. A performance so flawless even the witch nearly believed it.
-“Forgive me"- your murmured. The witch’s lips curved.
-“For what?”-she asked. Your hands remained touching on the table. Your pulse fluttered beneath her fingers. Real. Not acted. Interesting.
-“For wanting to know... ”- You said quietly-"...If you’re as impossible to touch as you seem"-The witch laughed, low and genuine. There it was. Desire. At last. She turned her hand, lacing your fingers together.
-“You could find out"- she said and your breath caught. That part, at least, was not pretending.
The witch rose first, setting coins on the table. She looked down at you through half-lidded eyes and offered her hand
-“Come with me"- She asked, no, she demanded, and for the first time that evening, uncertainty flickered across your face.The witch noticed, misread it as nerves. And smiled wider. Slowly, you took her hand.
The room seemed to hush around you as you crossed toward the stairs leading to the tavern’s rented rooms above. You palm was warm, your grip steady, but beneath your glove your wrist ached where the silver chain rested hidden against your skin. Months of hunting. Years of stories. A lifetime spent chasing monsters. And now the most feared witch in the kingdom, the highest reward was leading you willingly into darkness. The trap was set.
She pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped inside. The wood groaned softly before the latch clicked shut behind yoy, cutting off the music below as if the world itself had fallen silent. Your entire body went taut. Every nerve stood awake beneath your skin. Though the witch did not touch you, you could feel her there, close enough for warmth to gather at you back. The brush of her breath against the nape of your neck sent a shiver down your spine. Now. It had to be now.
You would never have another chance like this.
A weaker part of you, the foolish mortal part you thought duty had long ago strangled, wanted to turn around and forget every order you had ever been given, wanted to find out if the stories whispered in taverns were true, if the witch’s touch really could make a woman forget her own name. But desire was a luxury you could not afford, and the reward waiting for the woman who delivered the witch alive was worth far more than one reckless night.
Slowly, carefully, you turned to face her.
The witch was smiling. Not the cruel smile of the legends, nor the amused smirk she had worn downstairs. This one was softer. Trusting. And for the first time in three years of hunting her, you hesitated.
The witch noticed, of course she did.
Her smile curved, slow and knowing, as she stepped closer. Candlelight caught in the dark spill of her hair, painting bronze across the sharp line of her cheekbones. She moved with impossible grace, like something woven from smoke and moonlight rather than flesh.
-“You look frightened”-she murmured. You forced yourself not to retreat.
-“I’m not.”-The witch tilted her head, studying you with infuriating patience.
-“No"- she said after a moment, her voice dropping lower-“You’re nervous.”-She was close enough now that you could smell wine on her breath, sweet and spiced. Beneath it was something colder, stranger, like winter air before the first snowfall. Beautiful, deadly, and entirely within reach. The thought steadied you.
-“I’ve simply never been alone with someone so infamous before"-you said. The witch laughed softly.
-“Infamous..."-The word seemed to amuse her-“Is that what they call me in these parts?”-she ask and you said nothing.
The witch reached for you, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from your face with unbearable gentleness. The touch burned hotter than silver ever could.
-“And what do they say?”-the witch asked.
Your throat tightened. "That you are cruel.
That villages starve so you may feast.
That men have crossed mountains to kill you and returned as ash on the wind.
That your kiss leaves women ruined for every mouth that follows" you though, but instead you said, almost breathlessly,-“That no one survives long enough to know you"-your voice was soft, barely a whisper. For a heartbeat, something shifted in the witch’s expression.A flicker, gone too quickly to name. Then she smiled again, though there was sadness tucked into its edges now.
-“What a lonely story they’ve written for me"-The words struck deeper than you expected.
This was the monster you had imagined a thousand times in a thousand forms. A creature of greed and cruelty and black-hearted hunger.
But standing here, close enough to touch, she looked less like a monster and more like a woman who had forgotten what kindness felt like.
Dangerous, you reminded yourself.
Dangerous because she can make you pity her.
The witch’s fingers drifted lower, tracing the line of your jaw.
-“You’re thinking too loudly"-she said and you caught her wrist. The witch’s eyes widened slightly. Neither moved.
Silver waited, hidden in the lining of your sleeve. One sharp twist and the enchanted chain would lock around that elegant wrist, severing the creature’s magic before she could speak a single spell.
This was the moment. The years of tracking. The ruined towns. The promises made to kings and desperate mothers and starving children. Everything had led here.
-“Do it"- the witch whispered. You froze. The witch smiled faintly-“You’ve looked at me all night as though you’re waiting for permission"-Her free hand came to rest lightly against your chest, right above the frantic hammering of your heart - “Well?"-Her voice was velvet over steel-“What is it you want from me?”-she raised an eyebrow with her question.
You should have moved, should have snapped the silver into place and ended this.
Instead, before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward and kissed her. The witch stilled in surprise, then she kissed back. Slowly at first, curious as if testing whether this was real. Then deeper, one hand sliding into your hair, the other curling at your waist. Heat crashed through her and you. For one impossible, reckless moment, you forgot every oath you had ever sworn. Forgot the reward. Forgot the chains. Forgot the kingdom waiting for its monster. There was only this.The witch’s mouth, warm and yielding against you, making you wonder if her kisses had any kind of spell or why they felt so magical.
The small breath she gave when you pulled her closer, the terrible, breathtaking realization that she did not want this to be a lie, and that was exactly why you ended it.
You tore yourself away, breathing hard. Before the witch could speak, silver flashed between you. The iron chain snapped shut around both wrists with a sound like breaking glass. The witch gasped.
Magic exploded through the room in a violent pulse, rattling the windows, snuffing every candle into darkness.
And when the light returned a heartbeat later, the witch was on her knees. Her wide, disbelieving eyes lifted to meet yours. No fury. Not yet. Only hurt.
Your chest caved under the weight of it.
-“I’m sorry”-you whispered.
The witch stared at you for a long, terrible moment. Then she laughed. Sharp and empty as shattered crystal.
-“Oh”-she said softly. And now her smile was the cruel one from the stories. - “So that’s what this was"-The witch’s eyes darkened, no longer with passion but with betrayal. For the first time in centuries, she had allowed herself to be vulnerable, and had been repaid exactly as she had always feared-"The moment they remove my chains, you will be the first one to die"-the witch said, no as a threat, but as a curse, with her last bit of magic she cursed you and you smiled letting a dry laugh out
-"Then I will tell them to keep them on until the fire turns you into ashes" - your voice was dry but your face didn't matched the venom in your voice, you stood frozen for a moment, unable to move.
Then her body gave out. The silver chains had already stripped her of her power, and the poison you had paid the bartender to slip into her wine finally took hold. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Morning came cold and colorless. The witch woke to iron light spilling through the curtains and a sharp burning at her wrists. Silver.
For one stunned heartbeat, she did not understand. Then memory returned in fragments. Wine. Laughter. Her hands buried in dark hair. A kiss that had tasted like surrender.
And across the room, seated silently in a chair, clad now in full armor with a sword and pistol resting across her lap, was Elaine. No. Not Elaine.
You lifted your eyes to meet hers, and all softness was gone. The witch’s voice came low and dangerous.
-“Who are you?”- she asked and your jaw tightened.
-“Captain (Y/N)”-The name struck like thunder.
The hunter who had spent three years tracking her.
The witch stared, then laughed once, sharp and disbelieving-“Well...”-Her eyes glittered-“You certainly earned your reward"-Pain flickered across your face, brief enough that most would have missed it.
-“I did what I had to”- You replied and the witch smiled, cruel again, though hurt coiled beneath it like a wounded serpent.
-“Did you?”-her words and the way she looked at you was venomous. You said nothing, and somehow, the silence hurt more than the chains.
Her gaze followed as you rose from the chair, fastening your sword and pistol to their holsters. The armor made you seem taller somehow, broader, colder. Hollow. Just as she felt.
-“Get up"-Your voice was dry and commanding, deeper than it had been the night before.
Nothing like "Elaine’s".
You seized the iron restraints at her wrists and hauled her to her feet, draping dark cloth over the silver so they would not draw attention. Without another word, you opened the door and descended the stairs, sure she would follow. And though every part of her wanted to remain where she was, to let humiliation root her to the floor, she followed. Because for the first time in centuries, the witch wanted answers more than revenge.
The road stretched on for days, and if you had hoped silence would make the journey easier, the witch quickly proved otherwise. Chained at the wrists and seated before you on the horseback, the witch seemed to take cruel delight in every shift of movement that forced your bodies closer, every jolt in the road that pressed your hands tighter around her waist. For hours she said nothing, until the quiet had settled into something almost bearable. Then, tilting her head just enough for her dark hair to brush your throat, she murmured
-“You held me much more tenderly the other night”-your grip tightened at once, and the witch smiled to herself, unseen.
Later, when you stopped to make camp, the witch stumbled theatrically over a tree root and fell neatly into the your arms. For one suspended breath neither of you moved. Your hand was firm at her waist, her face only inches away, close enough for the witch to feel the sharp hitch of your breath
-“Careful"-the witch said softly, her lips curving-“Anyone might think you’re worried for me".Rolling your eyes you shoved her upright so abruptly she nearly laughed
-“Walk”-you replied
-“There she is”-the witch purred, dusting herself off- “I was beginning to miss the woman who tied me up"- That earned her a dark look, though the flush climbing your throat betrayed you. The witch said nothing more, but her smile lingered long after.
That night, as you sat across the fire in brittle silence, she watched your rigid posture, the way exhaustion bent your shoulders when you thought no one was looking. Then, very quietly, the witch lifted her bound hands and let a whisper of magic slip through the silver’s bite, just enough to turn the wind from your side outside the camp. When you looked up sharply, the witch only arched a brow and smirked
-“Don’t flatter yourself, darling. If you freeze to death, I’d have to walk to my own execution"-
You said nothing to that, though your jaw tightened as you adjusted another log into the flames. Orange light leapt across the hard lines of your face, catching for an instant in eyes that looked far too tired for a woman your age. The witch watched you in silence, her smile fading into something unreadable. There was no triumph in your expression, no satisfaction at finally having captured the kingdom’s most feared creature. Only exhaustion, heavy and constant, as though this victory had cost far more than it was worth. Interesting.
-“You wear disappointment beautifully” - the witch said at last. Your gaze lifted sharply.
-“What?”-you asked and the witch tilted her head, as if thoughtfully admiring you
-“I had expected more celebration. Perhaps a song. A smile, at the very least. You’ve spent three years chasing me across half the kingdom, and now here I sit, conveniently chained by your fire. You might try looking pleased"-A flicker of irritation crossed your face.
-“I’m not here to celebrate"-your voice was hollow
-“No?”-The witch leaned forward, the silver at her wrists glinting in the firelight-"And here I thought ruining my evening was your life’s ambition"
You rose abruptly and crossed to where the horses were tethered, pretending to check their straps. The witch smiled faintly. There it was again. Retreat. She was learning your.
The discovery sent a curious warmth through her chest, one she refused to examine too closely.
When you returned, you stopped just beyond the firelight and held out a piece of bread and dried fruit. The witch looked at it, then at you.
-“How touching. Are you feeding me, Captain?”-she fluttered her eyelashes at you flirty
-“Take it”-you voice was clipped, but there was strain beneath it.
The witch accepted the food slowly, letting her fingers brush your bare skin.The reaction was immediate. A sharp inhale. The slightest stiffening of your shoulders. The witch’s lips curved.
-“Still sensitive, I see"- Your jerked your hand back as if burned.
-“Eat"-you said
-“As you command"- She bit into the fruit with deliberate slowness, her dark eyes never leaving your face. A flush climbed your throat at once. Delicious. For a moment, neither spoke.
Then the witch swallowed and said lightly
-"Tell me something, Captain" - Silence- “When you kissed me…”-you went utterly still. The witch’s smile sharpened - “Was that part of your training?”- The fire cracked between you two. Your face revealed nothing now, every trace of warmth shuttered behind cold discipline.
But when you spoke, your voice was lower
-"No" - The answer landed harder than the witch expected. For the first time since waking in chains, her breath caught. It had been real, then. At least for a moment. A dangerous kind of hope stirred before she crushed it flat beneath practiced cruelty.
-“How unfortunate for you"- she said smoothly-“I’ve had better, many way better kisses and funnier nights"-she said and that struck painfully.
As a knight, love , kisses and fun nights didn't had much time in your life. The last time you kissed someone was your girlfriend and that was years ago before she passed away in battle, so the way she downplayed your first kiss in years, hurt more than it should have.
The pain flashed across your face before you could hide it, quick and raw as a knife slipping between armor plates.The witch felt it in herself at once, sharp and ugly. Regret. The realization unsettled her more than the chains ever could.
Without another word, you turned and disappeared into the darkness beyond the fire.
The witch stared after you, the bitter taste of victory lingering on her tongue. And for reasons she could not name, it felt very much like loss.
By the sixth night, the witch noticed. You always waited until you thought sleep had claimed her. Then, with quiet hands and careful precision, you would kneel beside the bedroll and lengthen the silver restraint by another inch or two, just enough for comfort. Never enough for escape. Always enough for mercy.
The first time, the witch had assumed practicality, a prisoner too exhausted to sleep was troublesome by morning. The second time had felt deliberate.
By the sixth, there could be no mistaking it. You cared.
The thought settled somewhere sharp and warm beneath the witch’s ribs, where she refused to examine it too closely. She said nothing.
Instead, she pretended to sleep as those careful fingers brushed her wrist, pretending not to notice how gently the you worked to avoid waking her.
That morning, neither spoke of it.
By midday you reached the nearest village.
It was small and busy, the market square alive with voices and horses and the smell of fresh bread drifting from nearby ovens. You needed supplies, and though you kept the witch’s silver chain hidden beneath dark cloth, your grip on the restraints remained firm as you entered the tavern.
The witch endured the stares with practiced indifference. Then she saw her. The barmaid was young and pretty, with bright eyes and an easy smile that sharpened the instant it landed on you.
-“Well”- she said, leaning against the counter as she filled your order-“You’re a handsome thing under all that armor"-You barely glanced up
-“Just the supplies"-The girl laughed softly
-“All business? Shame"-Her hand lingered unnecessarily over your arm as she passed over the satchel, fingers brushing your glove.
The witch went still. Something ugly and immediate twisted low in her chest. Ridiculous. Possessiveness was for mortals with too much time and too little pride. And yet there it was, hot as poison.
You shifted back slightly, polite but distant.
The barmaid smiled wider.
-“If you’re staying the night, I finish my shift at moonrise"-she offered with sweetness on her voice. The witch laughed. The sound cut through the room like glass. You both turned toward her.
She smiled sweetly.
-“Oh, forgive me. I was only wondering whether your standards are always this poor, Captain, or if travel has made you desperate"-your expression hardened at once. The barmaid frowned.
-“I beg your pardon?”-you asked
The witch tilted her head, all velvet cruelty.
-“My mistake. I thought we were all sharing our poor decisions openly"-you seized her arm hard enough to silence whatever retort followed.
-“Outside"-You said upset, the witch allowed herself to be dragged from the tavern, still smiling. Only once you reached the alley behind the stables you released her.
-“What was that?”-you yelled. The witch lifted a brow.
-“Jealousy, apparently. It’s a revolting experience. I cannot recommend it”- you froze. For a moment, neither moved.
-“You were jealous?”-you asked quietly. The witch laughed once, sharp and mocking.
-“Don’t flatter yourself"-she tried to disminish the comment, but her pulse had quickened, and judging by the way the you eyes darkened, you had noticed.
The air shifted between you. Something electric.
Dangerous. You stepped closer. The witch held her ground.
-“You don’t get to mock me for things you feel yourself"-you said, your voice low.
The witch’s smile sharpened.
-“And what exactly do you imagine I feel?"-she asked and you reached for her wrists. Not roughly this time. Slowly. Your fingers traced the silver restraints, then slid higher, brushing bare skin. The witch’s breath caught.
-“There" - you murmured. Your infuriatingly steady gaze lifted to hers-“You always go quiet when you’re lying"-Your replied, the witch’s heart stumbled.
She recovered quickly, leaning close enough for ypur mouths to nearly touch.
-“Careful, Captain"-she whispered-"You’re beginning to sound as though you know me" - she mocked and your hand tightened at her wrists.
For one suspended breath, neither moved.
Then the witch kissed you. Hard. All the days of bitterness and hunger and furious wanting crashed into it at once.
You answered instantly, shoving her gently against the stable wall, one hand cradling her jaw as if afraid she might break. The kiss burned. Not soft like the first. Not false.
This one tasted of anger and relief and all the things neither had dared say aloud.
When you finally broke apart, both breathing hard, you rested your forehead against hers.
-“This changes nothing”- you said hoarsely.
The witch smiled, though her pulse thundered.
-“No"- she murmured. But you both knew she was lying. And this time, neither of you pretended otherwise.
You wrecked.
The walk back through the village was silent.
The witch kept her face composed, every inch the elegant predator, but inside her pulse still raced from the alley, from the taste of your mouth still lingering like heat on her.
Beside her, you seemed infuriatingly calm. Too calm.
You reached the small general store near the edge of town again just as the owner was preparing to close. You stepped inside, purchased what you needed, then lingered at the counter while the old man bundled your supplies.
-“Well”-you said lightly, as if continuing some harmless thought- “it seems we’ll be delayed"-The witch glanced over. You were fastening your gloves with deliberate care, not looking at her-“The inn still has rooms available"-you continued walking to the room- “And the barmaid finishes her shift at moonrise"- The words struck like flint. The witch stopped walking.
You turned, and though your expression remained perfectly composed, there was something dangerous flickering in your eyes, teasing.The realization hit all at once. The witch narrowed her gaze.
-“You’re crueler than I gave you credit for"-she said and you shrugged, impossibly casual.
-“She seemed eager enough. It would be rude to disappoint her”-The witch gave a soft laugh, though there was no amusement in it.
-“By all means, Captain. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to discover your most seductive quality is prolonged silence"-A corner of your mouth twitched.
-“Jealous again?”-you lifted your eyebrow and the witch’s breath caught. Damn you.
She turned sharply and resumed walking toward the inn, chin high enough to suggest indifference she did not feel. Behind her, she could hear the your measured steps following.
The room you were given was small, lit only by a single oil lamp that painted gold across the narrow bed and rough wooden walls.
You closed the door behind both of you. Neither spoke. The silence stretched.
You removed your gloves one finger at a time and said, almost idly
-"You know, if you dislike the arrangement, you could always ask me to stay" - you offered and the witch laughed. Sharp. Disbelieving.
-“You are insufferable"-she rolled her eyes
-“And yet here we are”-you began loosening the silver restraints, lengthening them as you always did before nightfall. Your hands were practiced now, careful where the metal had rubbed the witch’s skin raw. The tenderness of it undid something small and dangerous in her chest.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then, before pride could stop her, the words slipped free
-“Stay"-she whispered and you froze. The witch’s face remained composed, cool as ever, though her pulse thundered in her throat. Slowly, you looked up. The teasing had vanished from your expression
-“What?”-you asked. The witch swallowed hard enough to hate herself for it.
-“Don’t make me repeat it.”-For one terrible second, she thought you might smile, might mock her, might make light of this humiliation.
Instead, you reached up, your fingers brushing a dark strand of hair behind the witch’s ear with unbearable gentleness. And quietly, so softly it was almost reverent, you said:
-“Alright"-The witch forgot how to breathe. Your hand lingered against her cheek. Neither of you moved closer. Neither pulled away.
The space between you burned hotter than any fire.
The room had gone impossibly quiet, the kind of silence that seemed to hold its breath with you. The witch stood close enough for you to feel the warmth of her skin, close enough that one careless movement would close the space between you forever. For a long moment neither moved. Your hand hovered near her face, trembling with restraint, as though even the smallest touch might shatter whatever fragile thing had grown between you on the road. The witch noticed, of course she did, and her usual sharp smile softened into something almost unbearably tender
-"You’re staring again"- she whispered, her voice low enough to feel like a touch itself. You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering
-“I’m deciding whether this is a mistake"-you replied. The witch moved closer, until your breath mingled, until you could smell rain and smoke and the faint sweetness of wine still lingering on her lips
-"And?”-she murmured. The answer never came, because the witch kissed her first, slow and deliberate, as if giving you every chance to pull away. But you only made a broken sound against her mouth and kissed her back with all the hunger you had spent days trying to bury. It should have felt reckless, stolen, wrong, and perhaps it did, but beneath the urgency there was something softer, something that made the witch’s chest ache with its unfamiliarity. You touched her like she was precious, like every brush of skin was a question you were afraid to ask aloud, and your her fingers ghosted over the silver marks at the witch’s wrists, you froze. For one terrible second the spell broke, reality crashing back between you. The witch’s breath caught. Then, quietly, almost pleadingly, she whispered
-“Don’t stop"-Something in your face shattered at those words. You kissed her again, gentler this time, reverent enough to make the witch’s throat tighten, and as you pressed your forehead to hers, eyes closed as if you could not bear to look at what you were doing, the witch understood with sudden, devastating clarity that this was not desire alone. This was longing. This was grief. This was love arriving at the worst possible moment, asking to be let in anyway.
For a moment, putting distance between you, you rose from the bed. Your legs trembled beneath you, almost threatening to give out entirely.
The witch let out a slow, quiet sigh. Her dark eyes still burned with desire, but something sadder lingered there too, some old familiar hurt settling behind the heat. For a heartbeat, she thought this was how it would end. That same retreat she had come to expect whenever things became too real, too dangerous, too honest to bear.
She thought you would turn away from her. Withdraw into your armor and your duty and whatever walls had kept your heart hidden all this time. But instead, beneath her watchful gaze, your trembling hands rose to the clasps at your shoulders.
The first piece of armor hit the floor with a heavy metallic thud. Then another. And another. Slowly, uncertainly, as though each movement cost you something, you stripped away every layer that had made you Captain, every polished plate and buckle and barrier that had stood between you and the world. Under the dim amber light, your skin looked impossibly vulnerable, marked faintly where leather straps had pressed too tightly, your breath uneven as your hands shook at your sides.
The witch stared. For once, she had no clever remark ready. No teasing smile. Only silence, thick and trembling with understanding.
This was not seduction. This was surrender. When at last your hands stilled, you looked at her with a kind of naked terror she had never seen on any battlefield.
-“If I stay..."- you said softly, your voice rough enough to crack-"there may be no going back for me"- your words struck her harder than any blade ever had.
The witch’s expression softened, something fragile and aching passing across her face. Slowly, she pushed herself upright and crossed the small distance between you. Her fingers lifted, feather-light as they brushed your cheek.
-“You should go, then"-she whispered. The lie of it sat between you. She wanted you to stay. Gods, she wanted it with a hunger that frightened her. But centuries had taught her what hope cost. And if she let herself believe this was real, if she let herself need this… It would destroy her.
Your breath hitched. Then, with a quiet desperation that made her heart lurch, you caught her wrist and pressed your lips to her palm. The touch was reverent enough to make her knees weaken.
-“I don’t want to go"- you confessed. The witch closed her eyes. For one terrible, beautiful moment, she let herself feel it. Then she opened them again and cupped your face in both hands, still bounded by the chain but with more room to move, her thumbs brushing the warmth rising in your cheeks.
-“Then stay”-she whispered. You kissed her before she could say anything more.
Not with the desperate hunger of before, nor the sharp edge of anger that had marked your first stolen kisses. This was slower. Deeper. A kiss shaped like choosing.
And as your hands found her waist and drew her close, as her fingers slipped into your hair and held you there like something precious she had already begun mourning, the whole world beyond that room seemed to fall away.
For that night, there was no captain. No prisoner. No kingdom waiting to tear you apart. There was only this. And the fragile, impossible love neither of you had meant to find.
Without breaking the kiss, you guided her backward with your hands at her hips, gentle but unyielding, until the backs of her knees met the edge of the bed and she sank onto the mattress with a soft gasp. The sound went straight through you. Opening your legs you sat at her lap
Your breath caught against her mouth, and for a heartbeat you nearly pulled away, startled by how easily she undid you.
But then her fingers found your hips, not to stop you, only to hold there lightly, as if reassuring herself that this was real, and something inside you gave way completely.
When her tongue brushed against your lips in quiet invitation, your breath hitched into a helpless little sound that made her smile against your mouth. You opened for her. And in doing so, gave her more than permission. You gave her trust. The realization seemed to strike her all at once. You felt it in the way she stilled for half a breath, as though suddenly afraid to move too quickly and break whatever fragile thing had passed between you.
Then she kissed you again. Slower this time. Not with hunger sharpened into conquest, but with unbearable care, as though she were learning every trembling answer your body gave her and committing each one to memory.
You let yourself melt beneath her. For years your life had been discipline. Steel buckles fastened too tight, commands barked without question, every choice shaped by duty until there had been no room left for softness.
And now here she was, undoing all of it with nothing but patience and the brush of her lips.
Your hands found her waist, then higher, tracing the warm curve of her back as if you needed proof that she was here, that this was truly happening. The witch shivered beneath your touch. The reaction startled you enough to draw back. For one suspended moment neither of you moved.
The world beyond the thin walls of that room seemed impossibly far away.
No kingdoms. No chains. No dawn waiting to tear this apart. Just the two of you, suspended in the fragile mercy of now.
Then her hand rose to cradle your face, her thumb brushing slowly across your cheek.
There was something heartbreakingly soft in the way she looked at you.
-“You should hate me”-she whispered. Your throat tightened.
-“Maybe I do"-A faint, sad smile touched her mouth. You kissed it away before she could believe it, making her smile.
-“Can you take off my chains? I wanna work my magic"-she teased, trying to lighten the mood. You laughed, your hands drifting to her wrists as if to grant her wish. For a moment, her expression softened with expectation. Then, instead of freeing her, you pushed her gently back onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath her as you pinned the restraint to the bedframe, the sharp metallic click echoing through the room. Her eyes widened in shock
-“Let’s see what your pretty mouth can do…”- you said with a slow smile, savoring the stunned look on her face. You leaned closer, close enough for her to feel the warmth of your breath against her skin, and tilted her chin upward with two fingers. The moonlight spilled across her face like silver paint, catching the curve of her mouth as it twitched into a defiant little grin-“Still think you’re the one in control?”-you murmured.
Her laugh came low and velvet smooth, though you caught the hitch beneath it
-"You talk too much" - she replied fighting against the chains
-“Do I?”-You traced the edge of her wrist where the restraint held firm, then let your touch drift away entirely. The absence of it was louder than contact could ever be.
She shifted against the sheets, dark hair spilling around her like ink across paper, and for the first time since this little game began, her confidence flickered. Just enough to make your pulse quicken. You leaned down until your lips hovered beside her ear.
-“Then make me shut up"-you whispered, biting softly at her ear.
Her eyes darkened, ignited by the challenge. Her magic slipped through the restraints and made your skin burn, not with pain, but with heat.
The intensity made you desperate. You stripped away the little clothing you had left, letting it fall in a careless heap on the floor.
This time, the witch was the one left spellbound, watching, admiring, savoring every inch of your body. Her gaze was that of a hungry animal stalking its prey, sharp and unrelenting, until it fell upon the battle scars scattered across your skin.
Suddenly, you felt far more naked than bare before her. It felt as though she were staring straight into your soul. So you looked away, unable to meet her eyes.
-“Stunning"-she said, the honesty in her voice catching you off guard. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, a blush blooming across your skin as you finally looked back at her. She was smiling.
Not the sharp, teasing smile she wore like armor, nor the wicked smirk that usually danced on her lips when she had the upper hand. This one was softer. Real.
And somehow, that made your chest tighten more than any spell ever could.
Her eyes drifted over your scars again, not with pity, not with curiosity, but with reverence, as though each mark was a verse in a story she wanted to memorize. Slowly, she lifted her chin, her smile never fading.
-“They’re beautiful"- she whispered. Then her lips curved into a teasing smile-“Come to bed and end this torture, or I’ll break the frame to free myself and drag you here instead"-The soft plea in her voice sent warmth rushing through you.
Without another word, you obeyed.
You climbed onto the bed and settled over her, straddling her hips. The moment your body met hers, that familiar heat flared between you again, stealing the breath from your lungs.
Leaning down, you captured her lips with yours.
The kiss was hungry and desperate, all restraint dissolving the instant your mouths met. A quiet sound escaped you as her warmth surrounded you once more, dizzying and impossible to resist.
She laughed proudly again your lips, sending a vibration trough your body
-"I can feel your wetness on my hips... I like to see that I have this effect on you"-she was about to tease further but her desire didn't let her-"Please sit on my face" - she begged out of air-"Let me taste you, I've been dreaming about this since the first time we kissed" - her chest rose with every breath she took and the chains sounded against the bed frame every time she desperately moved trying to get you closer.
You kissed her one more time, painfully slow, riding your wetness on her hips and she moaned in your mouth, biting and sucking your lips desperately, until you heard a crack wood sound, followed by the feeling of her hands on your ass and then your hips, grabbing possessively your skin, digging her nails on the soft flesh.
The chain that bounded her hands was still on, digging softly against the skin of your back too, creating a cold contrast with the heat of the situation, but the bed frame where the chain was held was broken.
She grabbed your hair with one hand pulling your head back gently making you break the kiss
-"Ride my face now, next time I won't ask nicely" - her voice was deep, hungry. Her lips went straight to your neck, to your pulse point, bitting gently and then soothing the bite with her tongue,making you whimper and press your core against her body. You nodded unable to find the words.
Carefully you open your legs on top of her face, resting your knees as a support on each side of her head trying not to let your weight crush her face. You core was contracting against nothing, you could feel it, and by the moan Agatha let out when she saw your pussy, she could see it too.
You lowered your face gently, grabbing the bed frame to steady yourself, even nervous and full of anticipation you were trying to be gentle to her face. But the witch didn't wanted to wait anymore, her mouth was salivating and the non existent patience went out the window. Her hands grabbed possessively your thighs, one arm curling around each leg, pulling you down completely on top of her face.
The sudden contact against her face made you let out a squeal at the same time Agatha moaned against your pussy, like if she was tasting the most tasty forbidden fruit
-"Agatha!"-you screamed in surprise and she bit the side of your thigh making you shiver and lift your hips a little
-"First time I hear my name come out of your lips and I'm already obsessed... Keep making those pretty noises, I want everyone, specially the whore of the bar, to hear who is making you see stars tonight" - she made you sit again on her face, her tongue was lay out flat, being able to lick your whole pussy in one swipe. Her nose was pressing down on your clit and the sharp puffs of air that she let out made your pussy tickle.
Since it had been a while since you had last been sexualy with someone, your body, especially your private parts, were very sensitive to any stimulus. Without mentioning that you've never sat in someone's face like you were doing right now, you wouldn't deny that it felt amazing, but the sensation was also too much at the same time
-"Agatha, Agatha, Agatha" - her name was coming as a prayer from your lips, you wanted to ask her to slow down a little bit, but your mind, fogged by the sensation, was not able to form any other thought than her name -"Please..."-you begged, barely above a whisper, with tears on the corner of your eyes.
The witch, rather than slowing, took it as permission to keep going. You were unraveling on top of her, every wall you had ever built crumbling piece by piece. Your fears, your caution, even the promises you had once made to yourself dissolved into the haze consuming your mind, until there was nothing left but sensation. Nothing but her. And she loved it.
She loved knowing she was the one undoing you, the only reason your careful control was slipping through your fingers.
Her nails dug deeper on your skin, grabbing your thighs with desperation, breaking the skin a little, making a mixture of pain and pleasure travel all over your body.
Your hips moved back and forward, riding her face, feeling how her tongue explored every inch of your lips, your clit and eventing she could find. You could feel the way she was gasping for air, and you tried to lift your hips to let her breathe a little, but the witch complained with a tiny whimper lifting her head to not let you pull away, and then she pulled you back down on top of her.
Your hips kept moving more frantically this time, your ears where ringing and your vision was getting blurry. Your hands were pressing the headboard making your fingertips hurt but unable to let it go. You could feel your own heartbeat on your head, like if something was pounding the door asking to let them out.
Agatha's movements were becoming more sloppy and desperate, you could even feel her teeth every time she sucked your pussy trying to get as much of you as she could.
Your whimpers and moans were becoming shorter but more frequently, shutting down the creaking sound of the wooden bed, your boobs where bouncing because of the frantic movement of your hips and your legs were trying to close together. The witch was moving her mouth in ways that you thought it wasn't humanly possible and your body was about to give up.
Agatha was consumed by you, you were using all her senses, your thighs were pressing the side of her face, forbidding her to hear anything more than the rumble of her own heart and the way your wet pretty pussy collided against her face. Her mouth and nose were inside your sex, all she could taste and smell it was you, the salty of your juices and the tangy but sweet taste of your body. She couldn't breathe very well but not even for a moment she thought of stopping or pulling you away from her. Her eyes were intoxicated trying not to miss a single reaction of your body. Her hands were digging your skin, feeling your warmth and shivers. Her forehead was damping with your and her own sweat mixing.
Agatha noticed the way that your body was moving, the way you were almost screaming and moaning, and the way your pussy was clenching every time her tongue dipped a little on your entrance and she knew you were about to break.
Her tongue dipped completely inside your entrance at the same time that her mouth closed around it, sucking your pussy. Your body froze for a second before your back arched and you started shivering and having spasms on top of her, having the most strong orgasm in your life and screaming her name in a way that made your throat hurt.
Agatha kept her movement steady making your orgasm last while she looked at you. There was something darkly intoxicating in the way her eyes watched you come apart, drinking in every trembling breath, every shiver that ran through your body as though committing each reaction to memory. Not out of cruelty. Not even out of triumph.But with the quiet satisfaction of someone witnessing a miracle they had never expected to touch.
When you felt yourself on the verge of collapse, your body still trembling from the force of it, you gathered what little strength remained and pulled yourself away. With a shaky breath, you slumped on top of her instead, letting the full weight of your body rest against hers. You buried your face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in, the scent of sweat and lingering heat wrapping around you like a spell more intimate than any magic she could conjure.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Agatha’s arms slipped around you carefully, as though afraid you might break if she held too tightly. With a soft flick of her fingers, the covers drifted over your bodies, cocooning you both in warmth.
Then she smiled. It was small and quiet, but impossibly radiant, she was licking her lips savoring your taste still on her. Not even her magic, wild and ever-shifting as it was, could have erased it.
There was something almost disbelieving in that smile, as if she still could not quite accept that you were here, tangled with her like this, real and breathing and hers to hold, if only for tonight. Her lips brushed your temple with so much tenderness that made you shiver again.
-"I will return the favor, just need a moment" - you said weakly with your eyes closed and she laughed under you
-"It's Okey... You can barely move... Besides, it wasn't a favor, it was my pleasure" - she said looking at you- "You are delicious" - you blushed under her gaze.
-"I feel like I'm high" - you whispered -"You are very good"-you kissed her chest and she smiled enjoying the confortable silence and the sound of your breathing.
Afterward, in the quiet that followed, you lay tangled together beneath the thin inn blankets, both still catching your breath. The moonlight spilled pale across the bed, tracing silver over flushed skin and tangled sheets.
-“Why did it have to be true?”-you whispered, more to yourself than to her.
The witch, resting atop you now with her head against your chest, lifted her face to look at you. Her dark hair spilled across your skin like ink, and she smiled faintly at the sight of your flushed cheeks and thoroughly ruined hair.
-“What is true?”-she asked softly, her fingers tracing invisible patterns against your stomach. You let out a slow breath.
-“That your mouth could work wonders. Magic, even.”-Her smile widened. You groaned and buried your face in the curve of her neck, breathing in the salt-warm scent of her skin-“I think that may have been the best orgasm of my life"-you muttered. A low laugh vibrated beneath your lips.The witch shifted, rolling you gently onto your back so she could look down at you properly-“I feel like I’m under a spell"-you admitted, your voice heavy with sleep and something far more dangerous.
-“I’m glad I live up to the tales"-she teased. You gave her thigh a light slap.
-“Always insufferable"-Her smile softened. But then she noticed the way your expression drifted, your brow furrowing with thought. She always noticed.
-“What is it?”-she asked. You hesitated before answering.
-“This is one of the only times you’ve behaved as the stories claim"- She stilled. You lifted your head enough to meet her eyes-“We’ve traveled together for more than two weeks. You’ve been infuriating, sarcastic, impossible to endure…”-That drew the ghost of a smirk from her-“But never cruel. Never vicious.”-The smirk vanished-“You’ve had opportunities to hurt me"-you continued quietly-"I know your power still works, at least a little. You could have escaped. You could have killed me"-You swallowed-“You never even tried."
For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she looked away. When she spoke, her voice was softer than you had ever heard it.
-“There is one tale no one knows"-Your body tensed beneath her. She drew in a slow breath-“Long ago, I fell in love with another witch. The first green witch"-Her lips curved faintly, though there was no joy in it-“She was Death herself"-The room seemed to still around her words-“We had a son. He was never meant to live. He was destined to be stillborn"-Your breath caught-“When he was coming, I ran from her. Foolishly believing I could hide him even from Death"-A humorless smile touched her mouth-“She found us anyway"-Her fingers trembled where they rested against your skin-“I begged her not to take him. And she loved me enough to give me time"-Her voice cracked. Barely-“But he was always sick. Always fading. And I became desperate enough to believe power could save him"-Your chest tightened-“I lured witches to me with stories. Death would take their bodies, and I took their magic. Again and again and again…”-Her eyes closed-“And still it was never enough.”-The silence that followed was unbearable-“The first night I failed to kill one…” - she whispered -“…Death came for him"-Your throat tightened painfully-“I lost my son. And I hated myself for ever loving the thing that would take him from me"-Her voice was empty now. The kind of emptiness carved only by centuries of grief-“The armies came later. The hunters. The thieves. I killed them because they came to kill me, or to steal what little remained"-Slowly, she looked back at you. There were no tears in her eyes. That somehow made it worse-“It was never pleasure"-You could feel your whole body rigid beneath her. The stories. The years of hunting. Everything you had believed. Rotting away. The witch studied your face carefully, as if memorizing it.Then, very quietly, she asked:
-“May I ask something of you?”- You nodded, though your throat was too tight for words. Her fingers curled faintly against your skin-“I know I deserve no kindness from you"-The softness of her voice made your chest ache-“But when we reach the capital…"-She hesitated. And for the first time since you had met her, she sounded afraid-“Don’t let them take me alive, kill me" - Your breath stopped-“Please"-The word barely existed-“They will not kill me cleanly. They will strip me apart for what I carry"-Her lips trembled around the next words-“My life has been an endless punishment already"-Then she looked into your eyes with a terrible, fragile hope-"Please… let it end with mercy" - her voice was a plea and her eyes looked so sad at yours, you nodded, not able to give a verbal response.
She let out a breath smiling softly and hugged you tightly closing her eyes and kissing your forehead one more time.
And there, with her weight still warm against your body and her heartbeat trembling beneath your hands, something inside you began to break.
The next morning, you woke long before the sun dared touch the horizon. The world beyond the cabin windows was still swallowed by darkness, the sea a black endless hush beneath the ship. Even the wind seemed to have quieted, as though the world itself held its breath.
Carefully, you slipped from the bed. Agatha stirred faintly behind you, a soft sound escaping her lips, but she did not wake. For a moment, you froze. Then, slowly, you began to dress.
Each movement was deliberate, almost ritualistic. The fastening of your shirt. The pull of leather over skin. The familiar weight of your coat settling over your shoulders like armor. You did it all in silence. You did not look at her. Because you knew if you did, you would not be able to leave. Your heart and your mind had been at war all night. Your mind was cruelly practical, reminding you of what waited in the capital.
The soldiers. The judgment. The promise you had made.
Don’t let them take me alive.
The words had haunted every breath since she’d spoken them.
You knew what you had to do.
And yet your heart, traitorous and desperate, whispered of impossible things.
Run. Turn the ship around. Take her somewhere no kingdom could ever find you. Let the world choke on its own hatred while the two of you vanished into some quiet corner of it, where mornings could begin with her tangled in your arms and end with her laughter filling the dark.
It was a foolish dream. A beautiful one. And it was killing you.
Behind you, the bedsheets shifted. You closed your eyes.
-“Leaving without a goodbye?”-she joked stretching. Her voice was thick with sleep, soft enough to shatter what little resolve you had left.
Slowly, you turned.
Agatha sat half-upright in the bed, the blankets pooled around her waist. Her dark hair spilled wild across her shoulders, her face still warm with sleep and impossibly unguarded in the dim light. For one terrible second, she looked like peace. And that hurt more than anything.
You tried to summon your usual sharpness, the steady authority your crew trusted, but your voice betrayed you when it came.
-“You should eat"-your voice was dry and you pointed at the bread and tea on the table. A faint smile touched her lips.
-“You’re avoiding my eyes"-she said and your throat tightened. Agatha’s expression softened as she studied you. Then understanding settled over her features, quiet and devastating-“The capital"-she whispered, today you will be reaching the capital. You said nothing. She lowered her gaze, and when she spoke again, her voice was almost unbearably gentle-“You’re already mourning me"-The truth of it struck like a blade. You stayed looking at the floor. The bed creaked, Agatha's body stood in front of you, covering you with her shadow. Two of her fingers landed on your chin raising your gaze so that you could look into her eyes, a bright smile was present on her face
-"Don't be sad... I don't regret what happened yesterday" - her hand rested on your cheek- "Thank you for reminding me what happiness feel like"-your heart broke completely and all you could do was staring at her eyes.
Outside, the first light of dawn began to bleed across the horizon and the clouds gathering on the sky. And somewhere in the distance, the capital waited.
Like an executioner sharpening its blade.
The capital had always looked cruel from a distance.
Its pale towers rose through the storm like the bones of something long dead, sharp and unforgiving against the blackened sky. Rain poured over stone walls and iron gates, washing the streets in silver as thunder rolled above like the warning of some ancient god.
You had spent years dreaming of returning here in triumph. Instead, you arrived in chains of your own making.
The soldiers closed in around you two the moment the gates opened. Steel rang against steel. Boots thundered against slick cobblestones. Torches hissed beneath the rain, their flames bowing in the wind.
Agatha stood at your side, her wrists still locked in the enchanted cuffs, her dark hair plastered to her face by the storm. Exhaustion carved shadows beneath her eyes, but there was something regal even in her ruin, something untouchable.
The commander stepped forward, his face hard as carved granite
-“At last"- he said. His gaze settled on Agatha with naked hunger. Not desire. Worse. Ownership.
Your stomach turned. Around you, dozens of rifles rose. There would be no escape.
-"Deliver your prisoner Captain, you fulfilled your duty, a feast is waiting on your name and all the beautiful women and riches that you heart can desire are ready for you"-you could hear your own heart hammering in your chest and your ears, your hands tightened against the wet chain and you lifted your eyes to look at the which. Slowly, Agatha turned her head toward you. For a moment, neither spoke.
Then understanding passed between you, quiet and devastating. Agatha’s expression emptied. Not anger. Not panic. Only the hollow stillness of betrayal.
Her lips parted, and when she spoke, her voice was so soft you nearly missed it beneath the rain.
-“So this is how it ends..."-The words struck harder than any blade. Your throat tightened. Agatha looked away first, her face going cold, as though she could not bear the sight of you. And you felt something inside you splinter.
The commander’s voice cracked through the silence-"Now commander"
Your hands trembled. Every promise you had ever made pressed against your ribs like broken glass.
Don’t let them take me alive. Agatha had asked for mercy. And you had given your word.
You stepped forward. Agatha flinched at your touch. That small movement nearly destroyed you.
-“Please”- Agatha whispered, her voice breaking for the first time-“Don’t make me watch you become like them, end me now"-she begged, you bent close enough that only Agatha could hear.
Rain streamed down yoht6 face like tears you refused to shed, and then you whispered
-“I made you a promise"-Agatha’s breath caught. The world seemed to stop. Then came the click. The cuffs sprang open. For one impossible heartbeat, nothing happened. Agatha’s eyes widened in realization, remembering her curse "The moment they remove my chains, you will be the first one to die" -"Captain, no…”-the cuffs fell to the ground, the heavy metal hit the ground, and a second latter the sound of a gunshot shattered the sky.
Heat exploded through your chest. For an instant, you felt only surprise. Your hands were to your chest, red tinted your fingertips, the warm blood staining your clothes. You lifted your eyes to see the witch, quickly turning pale and then your knees gave way. You fell forward into Agatha’s arms. The witch caught you with a strangled sound, her hands flying to the blood already blooming hot and dark across your uniform.
Agatha stared down at you, horror swallowing every feature. The curse had triggered the moment the cuffs released. The bullet had only made certain there would be no miracle.
-"(Y/N)...”-she gasped. Your trembled into the faintest smile. You lifted a shaking hand and touched Agatha’s cheek, your fingers already cold.
-"Don't be sad... Thank you for reminding me what happiness feel like" - you repeated what she said to you that morning and your hand fell, all the light left your eyes.
For a moment, the world held still. No thunder. No rain. No breath.
Then Agatha screamed. It was not the scream of a woman. It was grief given sound. Raw and ancient and terrible enough to split the heavens. The first soldier burst into ash before he could lower his rifle. The second crumpled as his shadow tore itself free and devoured him whole. Then the slaughter began. Darkness erupted from Agatha in waves, swallowing the square in screaming black. Stone cracked. Steel melted. Men vanished mid-breath, their bodies unraveling into nothing beneath the force of her rage.
The commander tried to run. Agatha raised one trembling hand. His body froze. Slowly, impossibly, he turned to face her. Her eyes blazed violet with ruin itself.
-“You took..."-she said, her voice deathly calm- “the only mercy this world ever offered me"-Her eyes were dark purple, almost black. He opened his mouth to beg. Agatha closed her fist. And he came apart like dust in the wind.
Silence followed. The rain returned. Soft now. Almost gentle.
Agatha dropped to her knees in the wreckage, gathering you into her arms. Blood soaked through her dress. She did not care. Her fingers shook as she brushed damp hair from your still face.
You looked peaceful. As though you were only sleeping. Agatha bowed her head and pressed her lips to your brow. The kiss lingered.
When she finally pulled away, her tears fell freely, vanishing into your skin. Her voice cracked on the word.
-“Stay...”-But the storm gave no answer.
For several long minutes, Agatha did not move.
The small stones bit into her knees through the soaked fabric of her dress, but she barely felt them. The rain fell endlessly around her, cold against her skin, while your body lay limp and heavy in her arms. She you her tighter with every passing second, as though enough desperation might force life back into you.
Then she heard it. Soft footsteps against the gravel. Barely there. But unmistakable. Agatha’s breath caught.
No.
Not her.
Not now.
-“Agatha…”- The voice was achingly familiar. An old love. The one person she had once trusted beyond reason. The one she had grown to hate more deeply than anyone in all her endless life.
Slowly, Agatha lifted her tear-streaked face. Death stood before her. Beautiful and terrible as ever, cloaked in darkness that seemed to drink the rain before it could touch her. Agatha’s arms tightened around your body.
-“Not her”-she whispered, her voice breaking.
-“Not again"-The words dissolved into a sob.
She bowed her head, clutching you closer, as though she could shield you even now-“I beg you…”-Pain flickered across Death’s face.
-“Nobody has received more mercy from the wheels of time than you, Agatha"-she said softly-“We cannot keep doing this"-Agatha shook her head violently.
-“I’ll give you anything"-Her voice cracked, frantic and raw-“The bodies you want, the souls, the blood, whatever price you ask. I will bring it to you, I swear it"-Her tears fell freely now, vanishing into your rain-soaked hair-“Just bring her back. Please"-she begged
Death’s expression twisted with sorrow.
-“I need to take her"-The words struck like a blade. Agatha went still. And then, with terrible certainty, she looked up.
-“Take my life instead"-Death’s eyes widened. There was no hesitation in Agatha’s voice. No fear. No bargaining left. Only truth-“Let her live,” she whispered- “Take me instead"-The rain hissed against the broken stones.
Death stared at her in stunned silence. Agatha had always been selfish. She had clawed and lied and killed to preserve her own endless existence. She had feared death with every ounce of her cursed soul. And yet here she knelt, offering immortality itself without a second thought. For you.
Something shifted in Death’s expression. Not pity. Understanding. Slowly, she knelt before her old love and reached trembling fingers toward Agatha’s cheek, brushing away a tear.
-“When next I come for you"- Death said quietly-“I wonder if you will regret this"-Agatha looked down at your still face and smiled through her grief.
-“Never"-For the first time in centuries, Death smiled back. Then she rose turning away.
And as she vanished into the storm, Agatha felt it. The terrible, ancient weight of immortality slipping from her body like chains falling away.
She still had some power left, but her heartbeat stumbled into fragile humanity.
And beneath her trembling hands, another heartbeat answered. Agatha froze. Heat returned to your body in a sudden rush. A sharp breath tore into your lungs. Your fingers twitched.
Your her eyes fluttered open, dazed and heavy, finding Agatha’s face through half-lidded confusion. For one breathless moment, neither moved.
-“Captain..."-Agatha choked.Your lips parted as though to speak, but exhaustion claimed you before words could come. Your eyes slipped closed again, and you fell into a deep, living sleep. Agatha laughed. A broken, disbelieving sound, half sob and half prayer.
She gathered you against her chest and pressed trembling kisses into your damp hair, tears falling freely at last.
She was mortal now. For the first time in longer than memory, her life had an end waiting somewhere ahead. And she had never felt more alive.
Because when that ending finally came, it would find her exactly where she wished to be:
At your side.
When you finished telling the story of your life, the magic fade away, and Agatha was in the middle of your legs, resting her head on your stomach looking at you with love and adoring eyes
-"What if we add some more chapters at our story, my Captain?"-she offered and you smiled, knowing that you still had a few more minutes before your children woke up.
-"I would love to, my witch" - she got up crawling closer to your lips to kiss you, with the same passion and love since the first time.
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