How Agatha Met Rio
Spoiler Warnings for Agatha All Along, I guess
Summary: This is how I imagine Agatha and Rio meeting.
Warning: death (if you find more, let me know)
1693
The mumbling of her coven drives Agatha's fear higher up, making her desperate. She tugs at the magic keeping her bound to the post, right in the middle of her coven and in front of her mother.
Agatha begs them for forgiveness or help, anything really. Anything than being the victim of their spell. They used to belong together and help each other, but right now, no one makes a move. All they do is keep mumbling, the glowing in their palms growing more intense.
Agatha turns to the woman right in front of her. Her mother. If anyone should have pity on her, it should be her own mother. But she doesn't look sympathetic at all, more like she wants to get this over with as soon as possible.
Agatha winds against the pole, trying to get loose while pleading with her mother, tears in her eyes. She has done nothing wrong to deserve this. She simply bent the rules a little, but that doesn't make her deserving of this.
As her mother starts the chant, Agatha feels a deep cut in her soul, the feeling of betrayal seeping into her heart, leaving burning marks. How could her very own mother do this?
Agatha just watches her mother, horrified, knowing no amount of pleading can help her now.
The moment her coven blasts her with their powers an excruciating pain erupts inside of her and she screams out. She has never experienced anything like this. It's hot and cold at the same time. Burning and freezing and the worst she has ever felt.
Despite her screaming and crying, it doesn't stop, no one takes pity on her, not even now. They all want her gone and while suffering against their powers, Agatha realizes just that. She isn't a part of this coven anymore, hasn't been for a while now. They don't care about her, so why should she care about them?
The heat is crawling up her throat, as if it wanted to burn her alive, numbing her screaming until it fades out and her eyes land on her mother.
Suddenly, the pain vanishes and is replaced by a different feeling, a new one. One of power, of revitalizing. She takes a deep breath, not hurting anymore. It's like the opposite, the longer she's blasted with magic, the better she feels.
Her own powers grow, as if they are absorbing everyone else's powers. The witches around her make choking noises, their skin goes grey and they fall to their knees. Agatha watches, not sure what to do but also not wanting to stop this. They wanted to kill her, why should she show them mercy in return?
She ends the power blasts and her coven falls to the ground dead. Her mother glares at her with more hate than a mother should be able to feel towards her child. But Agatha isn't scared by it anymore. Hurt yes, but not scared.
Even when her mother yells at her and blasts her power right into her chest, Agatha doesn't scream. It doesn't even hurt anymore, it's more like a tingling in her chest, slowly spreading through her entire body.
She absorbs her mother's powers until she falls dead to the ground.
A sudden silence lays itself over the scene, like a thick blanket. Agatha looks around at the dead woman around her. Eight. She just killed eight people.
Although, she didn't actively do it, they did it to themselves. It's not her fault, she was able to absorb their power. It serves them right for trying to kill her.
She runs a hand through her hair and slowly steps down from the platform with the pole. Looks like she's going to get a second chance at this after all. But where to go from here? Without her coven. Without her mother. There is no one to guide her, no one to care about her. She's all on her own.
Slowly, she walks up to her mother, looking down on her. The woman who was supposed to protect her ended up being the one hating her the most.
Agatha crouches down and plugs the brooch her mother always wore from her coat. It will be hers now, just like her mother's powers are now hers. It all belongs to her. She just has to figure out where to go from here.
She returns back to the wooden steps and sits down, pinning the brooch to her own coat. The last thing she expected to happen today, was to be alive without her coven. She could never imagine what it would be like without a coven. She's never been coven-less. Born into one and raised.
There are the children of these witches, but they will just hate her for what she did. For what she had to do. It wasn't her choice. It just happened. Even if it could have been her choice, she wouldn't have done it differently. If they wanted to blast her with their powers, she would take it and not care anymore.
Besides, it feels empowering and she can feel her powers getting stronger as her body adjusts to the new forces it holds now.
The silence is interrupted by the sound of twigs breaking and Agatha turns her head to a green light coming from between the trees. Green isn't her color, nor her coven's color, so this must be someone new. Someone unknown.
Maybe, she thinks, she can play the poor woman, who just found her coven dead. It will surely cause some sympathy and she won't be facing another situation like this.
A woman steps into the clearing. She wears a dark coat, which flows behind her as she steps barefoot over the forest grounds. There's a torch in her hand, the flame as green as her clothes. Her hair flows down to her shoulders and there's something ethereal about her, but also something dangerous.
Agatha stands up, eying the woman closely. She is beautiful, she can't deny that and there's a lure to her, she doesn't understand.
The woman looks around at the dead women, before she looks up at Agatha. The silence stretches and Agatha shifts her weight, not sure what to make of this. Who is this woman and why is she not bothered by the dead bodies around them?
"Are you Agatha Harkness?" She asks, eyes fixed on Agatha. It makes Agatha shiver, but she doesn't show it and just pushes her chin forward. This stranger shouldn't know her name.
"I'll tell you, if you share your name with me." A name for a name.
The woman studies her, calm and yet dangerous.
"I have many names. Some call me Rio, others Lady Death and some just Death."
Agatha nods, trying to process. She certainly never envisioned Lady Death like this. Of course, she has heard myths and stories. But they all portray her as that skeleton monster, who comes and kills people. This woman doesn't look like she does though. She almost looks peaceful, even if that is surely a misconception.
"What name do you prefer?" Death shakes her head and points her torch at Agatha.
"That wasn't the deal."
Very well, Agatha knows to honor a deal, if the other end of the bargain is held up too.
"Yes, I am Agatha Harkness. What do you want from me, Rio?" Rio raises an eyebrow, seeming surprised at the choice of name.
Agatha sees no use in calling someone by their profession. She wouldn't like being called a witch either. It would reduce her to a craft she is learning and perfecting. And this woman is certainly more than her craft.
"I was sent to collect your soul," Rio states, voice as clear as the night. Agatha shrugs.
"I am not dead."
"I can see that. Why are you not dead?"
It's almost a silly question and makes her laugh, but she just shrugs and adjusts her coat. She is clearly still alive, so no soul to collect there.
"Why are you not dead?" Rio slowly steps closer to Agatha, who doesn't budge. She knows powerplays and won't fall for that anymore. She has suffered long enough under her mother to know what ways are deemed the most effective.
Rio stops right in front of her, almost too close.
"If you want souls, there are plenty here," Agatha says, motioning around herself. "Eight instead of one. Seems like a good deal to me. You can take them with you and do whatever you please."
Rio lets out a very soft chuckle, her features darkening for a second and Agatha swears, she can see Rio's boney jaw.
"It is a good deal and I will take it. I don't kill, I just take what's already dead. But I am curious, how did you survive this?" She eyes Agatha closely, her torch shining a green light on both of them. Agatha stands up a little straighter but can't get taller than Rio. Very well. She will not be intimidated either way.
"I took what wasn't theirs," she replies. The new power doesn't feel foreign anymore. It has become a part of her and makes her feel strong, almost joyful.
"You took," Rio echoes and glances around them before returning her gaze on Agatha. "You are a very interesting woman, Agatha."
Agatha inclines her head in a wordless reply. The words go deeper than she expected though. The first genuinely nice things said to her in years. It feels good to be appreciated, even if it's something as mundane as 'interesting'.
"Likewise," she replies. Something about Rio is different. Maybe it's the fact she is actually understanding. Or the fact, she has seen what Agatha did but doesn't seem scared or judgy because of it. As if she understood what it's like to be an outcast.
Maybe they can be outcasts together? It's a very silent voice inside Agatha's head, suggesting the option. It seems naïve to believe she could spend her time with Lady Death, but it might be worth the risk? They're both lonely, perhaps lost. Wouldn't some company be nice?
Rio reaches a hand up, fingers just barely skimming Agatha's jawline, but she still feels a tingle there. It nearly makes her lean forward, seeking the contact, but she doesn't.
Rio gives her a smile and turns around, starting her job on guiding the dead souls to the end of their path.
Agatha watches in silence, still feeling the almost-touch against her cheek. Even if Rio doesn't agree to be her companion, she knows what she has to do, to summon her again. If she just waits long enough, Rio will appear eventually, after she killed someone.
The thought excites her more than she likes to admit. But there is nothing wrong with a dance with Death. Is there? What's the worst that could happen?
