Archive of Our Own ^beta

The soft sound of footsteps on freshly fallen snow was the only sound that permitted the night air in the forest. In the distance, warm yellow light radiated from nearby houses as children laughed and people sang and well wishing was exchanged.

It was a stark contrast to the dark, stillness among the trees. A warm lantern was the only viberance that lit the path as Agatha walked the path that led to her son’s grave.

The cold seeped into her entire body down to her bones, but she didn't feel any pain. Nothing compared to the one taking refuge in her heart.

The cheerful sounds began to fade and all that surrounded her was the howling winds as they rustled the branches among the trees. 

The journey was only 10 minutes. She knew it well, but it never felt like a short walk. A left turn at the dead oak tree fallen years ago due to rot, 40 paces along the creek bed that barely trickled in spring, another left near a den that always seemed to house a family of rabbits, and finally a right near an old worn slate cross that was tilted at an angle from years of weathering.

She stilled as she came upon a small mound of rocks she'd piled with care the morning she buried her heart. A gentle blanket of snow had accumulated over it, but there was a single flower atop the mound that never seemed to wilt.

A bitter taste filled her mouth as bile rose in her throat and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Her lips curled in a snarl. 

Rio.

No matter how many times she ripped the flower off, crushed it in her hands, piled more rocks on top, the damn thing always grew back. Always. 

Agatha pulled her thin cloak closer around her as she set her satchel and lantern down. She kneeled before the grave, reaching out with a slight hesitance. She hadn't been back in some time, but she could never stay away at this time of year. It was a time intended to spend and celebrate with one’s family, but Agatha had no one. Not anymore. This was as close as she could get.

Her hands grazed over the cold stone, feeling the smooth surface. Her chest tightened and she lifted her free hand to rub at it. It offered no relief.

Agatha took a long, slow inhale, the cold air felt like ice in her lungs.

“Hi Nicky.” Agatha’s voice was so soft, so gentle, so broken.

The echoed silence was like a heavy weight on her shoulders.

No more smiles, no more comforting hugs, no more whimsical curiosities, no more joy .

“We can kill more witches tomorrow!”

Agatha's hands tensed and dug into the fabric of her dress, causing pain to sting in her thighs underneath.

“You were born evil.”

Maybe her mother was right. Nothing good was associated with the name Agatha Harkness. The only good thing she'd ever put into this world was Nicky, and now even that only brought pain. Maybe this was her punishment, the burden she got to carry forever. She never deserved the hate her mother forced upon her, but now? Well, now was different. Now she chose to take, to kill, to destroy. Maybe her burden was to mourn and be alone for the rest of her days, desperate to fill the void in her heart with brief reprieves of adrenaline rushes given to her when she stole power. It was never enough. It would never be enough. Nicky would always be gone.

The wind whipped at Agatha’s hair as a burning sting filled her face from the sharp chill. Her fingers and toes had long since grown numb and her ears and nose felt like they might fall off. Still, Agatha couldn’t bring herself to move.

The moon sat high in the sky, barely illuminating anything through the tense treeline. An owl hooted in the distance. The only other source of light was her lantern filling a small parameter with glowing light, now growing dimmer as it began to flicker out, the oil diminishing quickly.

Agatha thought back to her last day with Nicky.

The tavern was supposed to be an easy score. There had been rumors of witches gathering there often to exchange resources and knowledge. They’d hear the ballad of the Witches’ Road, follow Agatha back, perform the ceremony, and Nicky would be spared more time. It was supposed to be easy. It was always easy.

But she had seen Nicky’s face. Every time she killed a coven, more and more of Nicky’s innocence seemed to get sucked out with it. Nicky looked miserable every time, even if he always would spare her a warm smile and hug after. He assured her that it was ok, but she knew. She knew it was just a kindness he offered to her, to ease her own guilt.

While part of her was able to tell herself it was to buy him more time, another part of her knew it was only a half truth. Agatha wanted the power. She always took more than necessary. She couldn’t get enough. It was selfish, but it was just killing two birds with one stone. It couldn’t hurt to take more. At least, that’s what she thought. Had she neglected her son’s conscience for her own selfish means, tainting him too?

When she woke the next morning and found his cold body curled into her own, her entire world had shattered. She begged for more time, crying to whatever being would hear her, but her cries had fallen on deaf ears. She had no one else to blame but herself. She should have killed them. They were right there. It would have been so easy. It would have guaranteed another day at least, but Nicky had refused. The only time he ever really had. Agatha knew if she did push, she would lose him anyway. Her hands were tied and it cost her everything.

After burying him, killing witches and taking power became her life’s purpose. She wouldn’t get close again. She wouldn’t be hurt again. How naive she was.

Grief festered in her like a wound that would never heal, a scar that ran just too deep within her soul. Agatha constantly saw glimpses of memories with Nicky, and was reminded of him with every body that fell by her hand.

Pulling herself out of her reflective musings, Agatha stared once more at the grave. Even after all this time, not a single rock had fallen out of place. As pristine as the day she had built it. The rocks and that fucking flower. With a flick of her hand, the flower exploded with her magic, only to then become enveloped in a green glow and resurrect itself a moment later.

The flower's lack of conformity proceeded to only annoy her further. She ripped it out by the root with her hand, but another readily took its place. She clawed it again, and again, and again, but it never yielded.

Agatha let out a piercing scream, but the emptiness of the woods swallowed it like she swallowed her own shame every time she thought of how Nicky would be so disappointed in her for continuing to kill witches.

Agatha closed her eyes and her body sagged down. She could feel wet tears icing over her skin. When had she started crying? Agatha took a breath, but each one felt harder.

She sat there, lost in thought, lost in her memories and her pain. After a while, the cold didn’t really bother her anymore. A light dusting of snow coated her clothes and her hair, the lantern long diminished. How long had she been here this time?

She opened her eyes slowly as a hand rested gently against her shoulder.

“You can’t stay here, Agatha.”

That voice. Her voice. Agatha’s jaw clenched.

“I told you that I never wanted to see you again.” Agatha’s voice was weary, but held just as much spite as the first time she’d said it.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be sitting here like this.” Rio’s voice was soft, and gentle. “What are you trying to do?”

“I’m visiting my son. ” Agatha snapped, her gaze finally meeting Rio’s. The other woman didn't hold any animosity as she stared at her, only empathy. It only served to fuel her ire. “Get rid of this stupid flower! I know it was you.”

Rio sighed. “I have just as much of a right to mourn my son as you do.”

“It was your fault. If you hadn’t–”

“You think I wanted to?” Rio’s voice cut her off swiftly. “You think that I wanted to watch my son die, collect his soul, watch it destroy you, destroy us , and be left knowing what it feels to mourn? I was never supposed to mourn, Agatha.”

The stillness of the air permeated around them once more. Agatha still had yet to move from the ground. Rio untied her emerald cloak and draped it around Agatha’s body before taking a seat next to her.

“You’ve ruined me, you know that?” Rio said after a moment. “I’m supposed to be impartial. The natural order of all things.” She let out a small dry laugh. “You’ve made me come to know what it means to be human and you spurn me for it.”

Agatha finally looked up at Rio. Tears had fallen from her eyes as they both stared at the grave that served as the resting place of their child. Her hand tentatively slid into Rio’s warmer one.

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

Another pocket of silence was exchanged. Agatha shivered as she finally registered how cold she actually has become, but Rio’s warmth and the cloak were helping.

“I don’t think I can do this. I don’t want to go on anymore, Rio.” Her voice was strained, like she was struggling to get the words out. Rio tightened her hold on Agatha’s hand.

“You can. You will.” Rio tentatively turned Agatha’s face towards her with her spare hand. While hesitant, she inevitably cupped her cheek in the familiar way she used to before they parted. Her thumb ghosted over Agatha’s slightly reddened pale skin. Agatha let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes at the sensation. 

“It’s not your time, my love. Please don’t make me do this. Nicky wouldn't want that for you.” Her voice was so gentle, like Agatha would break if it wasn’t. Then again, Rio had always been like that. It was like she would always conform to what Agatha needed right that second and could see right through all the defenses Agatha would put up.

Maybe she could just forget, just for a second, all of the pain and complicated history. Maybe she could allow herself this kindness. Just this once.

It came almost as a surprise to herself when her lips met Rio’s. She clutched at Rio’s dress, holding her still so the other woman wouldn’t pull away.Rio’s hand tangled into her hair as she kissed her back with equally loving fervor. It was slow and unrushed, something that had been rarer in their past intimacies. They both knew this was a temporary comfort; this changed nothing about the dynamics of their relationship. Still, they found solace and reprieve in the only other person that knew what it meant to have lost Nicky.

Agatha’s tongue swept gently over Rio’s bottom lip and Rio responded in kind. Rio deepens the kiss and pulls her closer with an arm around her waist. The kiss goes on for a few more moments before they finally part. Their eyes are still closed as they rest their foreheads against one another. Warm puffs of air mingle between them in the chill.

No words needed to be spoken. Agatha maintained her grip on Rio’s dress, almost afraid to let go and break the spell they were under.

Rio’s fingers scratched lightly at the base of Agatha’s neck, playing absentmindedly with the small hairs there.

How nice it would be to just forget, to just go back to how things were. Agatha opened her eyes to find Rio already staring back at her. Rio placed one more gentle kiss against her lips before pulling away and helping Agatha to her feet.

The green witch tied her cloak tighter around Agatha. “It’s time to go, my love.”

Agatha studied Rio as they stood in close proximity. The piercing thought of how much Nicky looked like Rio is what finally brings Agatha to turn her chin up at Rio and take a step back. Agatha readjusts the cloak and grabs her satchel from the snow covered ground.

Rio knew the moment had passed. Agatha’s walls had gone back up just as quickly as they had been torn down. As Agatha started to turn away, Rio’s voice brought her attention back towards her.

“I love you, Agatha.”

Agatha’s body tensed up. Every cell in her body grinded to a halt and froze.

“ I hate you .” Agatha snarled back at her. Gone was the soft and loving bubble they had moments prior, replaced now with scorn and malice.

Rio’s face remained neutral, but it was obvious in her expression how much the words pained her. Agatha wanted Rio to yell, wanted her to get mad, but Rio never did. She was always just so patient and that pissed her off all the more. Agatha turned to leave and began the trek back out of the forest.

“Te veo.” The words were carried on the wind, an almost ethereal sound, causing her to glance back one last time.

Gone is Rio, always one to pop in and out at her own will like the enigmatic being she was, but there on the grave, Agatha was able to see two additional flowers had joined the one already on the grave.

Annoyance bloomed in her chest, but alongside it was a feeling of remorse and longing for the life she almost had with the woman she loved and their son. Perhaps she was being too hard on Rio, but those were feelings she would unpack another day. Another time.

Agatha tugged Rio’s cloak tighter around her, thinking back to the embrace she had found herself in before. It smelled so distinctly of the other witch and kept her mind occupied as she trudged the way back towards the village she was passing through.

She wasn’t sure when she’d next return, but it was a comfort to know that she wasn’t the only one visiting Nicky.

“I’ll see you too, my love.”