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vidalswife · 3 months ago

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The Raven & The Witch

Word Count: 2,104

pairing: agatha harkness/rio vidal, salem timeline.

Summary: A young witch is a witch alone, the journey to power is a long one, and many fear what they do not understand. Agatha Harkness is a witch many fear. Only at eighteen did she make her mark, and in-grave her reputation on those of the world. She was outcast, isolated, and ostracized. A young witch with no friends, no family, meets a girl in the woods as she attempts to discover the secret of a raven, which has been tailing her for months.

author's note: as the days have been passing, ive been wondering on agatha and rio's past. when rio said, "how long has it been agatha" followed by, "since you got your hands on the darkhold and hid behind all that dark magic?" it started to make me think about their past. so im writing rio and agatha in salem, depicting a young (not underage) love, and how it lead to their current hatred of one another. im estimating the length of this fanfiction to be up to eight chapters. there will be smut within the fanfiction however there is none in this first chapter. minors, DNI. i hope you guys enjoy it! <3

When a young witch turns eighteen, she is allowed into the Witch’s Ward. The Ward is not a simple place, it is a maze inside of an enchanted library, and it leads to the ancient books of magic that fuel a witch and her knowledge. In a single pre-established coven there must only be one witch permitted per the year, and as the case with most covens are, they usually have more than one witch whom on her eighteenth birthday is ready to ascend. The maze inside of this ancient institution is most known for its merciless challenges and low survival rate. Sometimes three, maybe four witch-kin will enter, and none will return. Other times, many will enter, and only the one will return. Once a witch survives The Ward, she no longer will face challenges within it, and it will be open with all of its knowledge to any that can survive. Witches of all kinds dream of beating The Ward, but few have actually done so.

There is a tale of a young witch, bright for her age, and powerful among her coven. She was the sole victor of the maze.. at least for a moment. You see, soon after she emerged victorious from the race into Coventry, another witch surfaced. The established coven had never heard of this happening before, so they did the best they could to determine a new admission. They deemed the witch with the least injuries the strongest, and decided that she would be their new sister, but what was to be left of the other witch? She had survived as well, but they could not push back her entry for another year, there were more witches who would grow and age. The answer came to the coven just as quickly as they had decided their winner. On one formidable and dark night, the young witch who had suffered most, filled with vengeance and hatred, did not let her adversary achieve victory over her, taking the matters of ascension into her own, corrupt hands.

By the morning, the witch who was deemed the weakest emerged as part of her coven, with the other young girl gone, and never seen again. For many years the sisters searched for her, or a sign that she had been alive, but there was no sign. The weaker witch became one of great renown, a symbol of darkness, of all that a witch should try not to be. Witches around the world thought her a witch killer, a murderer, and a maniac. They ostracized her, abandoned her, and ran in fear from her. The coven’s leadership couldn’t bear to outcast or kill the witch, as she was the daughter of their most honored, and were not entirely sure what had happened that night. So, they instead ignored her. It was a lonely road for a witch all alone, until of course, she wasn’t alone.

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Agatha woke with the sun, its immense warmth flowing through the unshaded window of her chamber. Her body squirmed and began to stretch, as her eyes fluttered open. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and she wore only her undergarments. Her room was quite empty, except for some books and a small wardrobe.

She looked around in disappointment at her stockhouse, a subtle sigh escaping her lips. She was no stranger to loneliness, for the last year she had been the outcast of her coven, and witches alike. They all thought her a monster, but they didn’t know. They’d never want to know the truth, and she’d never tell them. If she were to be believed a witch killer, she would be deemed so.

But of course, it was hard on a young girl to face isolation, so inside, she burned, and faded. More and more with each day the young brunette found herself tempted to fall away from witchkind.

She would follow the same routines, waking with the early morning light, looking around her depressing chambers, dressing, dining, being avoided, attending the ward for a lesson, dining, undressing, and then falling to slumber with the rise of the moon. She never dared try anything new, not until she saw the raven atop the chimney of her mother’s station. It was a small, dark creature, but the longer she stared, the longer something seemed different. The laughter of young children skewed her mind away from the animal, as she watched them play with the witches her age. She scoffed, turning in the opposite direction, and retreating to her chambers. She didn’t notice that the raven watched her as she paced away.

The next few days were the same as always, wake, dress, dine, shun, lesson, dine, undress, and slumber, except the raven seemed to follow her. At first she was unsure if it was the same winged animal as before, but its brown, humanlike eyes were impossible to mistake. It followed her into the next week, and it began to arise anger in the witch. What bird dares mock her? What creature dares to follow and disturb her?

The raven became a symbol of frustration for Agatha, a reminder that she was alone and peculiar.

It followed her for months, brown eyes staring into her soul at every chance.

On the eve of her birthday, she decided that she had enough of the raven and it’s foolishness. She would get rid of it for good, and finally be at peace, without those beautiful brown eyes watching her at every turn. She waited inside her chambers, eyes glued to the raven which stood motionless across from her abode. It for once, did not have her in its eyesight, and she reveled in the fact that she would finally outsmart the desperate creature. The bird rose from its spot, flying off into the treeline. Agatha thought it odd the raven did not watch her on this night as it did many nights before, but she was too overcome with pride to think it anything but a coincidence.

The next morning, she woke with the sun, a warm smile entrancing her lips. Today she would conquer the raven, and then, maybe things could be different for her. She reached for the woven bag that lay atop her wardrobe, placing her spellbook within it. She wanted to be prepared for her battle with the bird. Knowing that the forest was typically warmer in the spring months, she dressed in a thinner fabriced skirt that surpassed her ankles and a white long-sleeved button down blouse. She did not wear shoes, as it was un-witchlike to walk in a forest unless barefoot. Her dressing may be looked down upon, seeing as she was expected to a lesson later that afternoon and may not have time to redress, but she must be comfortable when she faces her opponent. As the bell sounded to commence dining, she set off towards the treeline, her woven bag thrown over her shoulder, and her hair free to the wind.

As she met the entrance of the forest, she looked up to the height of the trees, wondering if she would find the raven in its nest. Agatha turned her head, making sure her coven could not see her. When she deemed it clear, she stepped into the everlasting ecosystem of trees, bushes, and plants.

Her plan was clear, she would track the raven, kill it, and then return to her lesson. The brunette looked around before slipping her bag from her shoulder. She pulled from it her spellbook, opening it to the page illuminated by a string between parchment. On the page was an incantation that was supposed to help her find the bird. Agatha read it over multiple times, memorizing the pronunciation and chant of the spell.

‘Venator factus est venatus, anhelitus invenias quo capis, et te ad raptorem capias’

With a deep breath, she looked ahead to the ensemble of green and then closed her eyes as she began to recite the incantation, “Venator factus est venatus, anhelitus invenias quo capis, et te ad raptorem capias.” She inhaled, repeating, “Venator factus est venatus, anhelitus invenias quo capis, et te ad raptorem capias.”

A warmth spread in her body, and she opened her eyes, in which a flash of purple was clear. She knew the spell had worked. Almost immediately, a path was found. It had no markers, yet Agatha knew exactly where to go. She wrapped around trees and boulders, stepped over a fallen greenery, and walked up a short incline in the terrain. She focused only on the raven, her mind filled with nothing but the image of its obnoxious brown eyes.

The spell led her to a creek. It was dark, and looked green from the reflection of the treetops, but not only that, there was another person. She was floating in the water with her eyes closed. Agatha noticed her hair floating atop the water’s surface, almost depicting a root-like symbol. Her eyes trailed down to her face, she looked angelic and not only that, she looked asleep.

That wasn’t the only thing she noticed about the other. Her body was uncovered, and she was naked. Lily pads covered her breasts, and the water was far too dark to see much else. This sent a rising heat to the brunette’s cheeks, and she was sure they were red. The witch contemplated leaving and acting as if she didn’t see a thing in the woods, but it was too late. Almost as soon as she began to think such a thing, the woman in the water spoke.

“Enjoying the view?”

Agatha’s cheeks were as hot as the sun, she couldn’t move anything in the moment. Her brow furrowed as she noticed how the woman’s eyes remained closed, begging the question of how she knew of her presence.

The stranger chuckled, and Agatha debated casting a spell on her. Something about the woman felt familiar, she couldn't place what, but she could feel that this was not their first encounter. Agatha began to speak, sighing as the words came out, “I was just looking for a raven— and you happened to be in my way.”

She took note of how the stranger’s lips curled in a smirk, and how her brow furrowed, “Looking for a raven? How come?”

Agatha realized she probably sounded crazy, and she felt a need to explain. “I’ve been tracking this bird– it won't stop following me, and my spell led me to you” in almost an instant, the witch’s hand flew atop her mouth. She realized her mistake and looked at the woman in the water with ferocious, squinted eyes. She didn’t know what to say, but she hoped the stranger would deem her insane and drop the interaction.

To the brunette’s surprise, she didn’t.

Instead, she watched as the woman opened her eyes and stood in the creek. The lily pads fell from her nipples and she stood in front of the witch completely naked, water dripping down her neck, breasts, and stomach. Yet, this wasn’t what Agatha was most concerned with, instead, it was her eyes. They were brown and beautiful, like the raven’s. In fact, Agatha was sure her eyes were the same as the raven’s.

The brunette’s eyes remained locked onto the brown eyed girl. They did not falter not once, not even as the stranger began to rise from the water and inch closer to Agatha.

They were only a breath apart, the woman’s eyes still captured by the other pair. Agatha spoke, aware of their closeness, “You’re—” but she was cut off.

The stranger’s lips were on hers, and she cupped her hand on the witch’s cheek. Those beautiful brown eyes disappeared behind her eyelids, and so Agatha’s eyes shut too. She hesitated at first, but as the time grew, she became filled with hunger and desire.

Their lips clashed together and the woman’s other hand was now wrapped around Agatha’s waist. The witch’s hands wrapped around her neck, one ending up buried in her wet hair.

They only parted when their lungs couldn’t deny the need for air anymore, and when they did, their eye contact resumed as if it never faded. Agatha only stared at the woman in shock, but then, she smirked.

“I knew you’d come, Agatha” she said, which resulted in a head tilt from the witch.

“Who are you?” she asked, biting her lip as her eyes trailed from the stranger’s eyes to her perfect figure.

“I’m Rio Vidal.”

Agatha smirked, crossing her arms.

“You’re a green witch, aren’t you?”

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d-z20 · 1 month ago

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The Ballad of Agatha Harkness Chapter 13.5 (18+, NSFW)

Summary: Death comes for everyone. Except this time, Agatha cums for Death

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, knife play

Words: 1.8k

A/N: As always, this chapter doesn't develop the plot and can be skipped if you don't want to read smut. I Was supposed to post this last night oops, but soft Agathario incoming next chapter it's what they deserve

AO3 link | Master List

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She Who Comes For Death

The firelight danced across the room, its warm glow flickering over Rio and Agatha as the air between them crackled with unspoken promises. Neither moved at first, caught in the gravity of their shared confession. Then, as if pulled by an invisible force, Agatha tugged Rio closer, her hands slipping from Rio’s face to thread through her hair. Their lips collided again, but this time, the kiss wasn’t messy or desperate. It was charged—an eruption of every emotion they’d been too afraid to voice.

Rio’s cloak slipped from her shoulders, forgotten as Agatha pressed her back against the edge of the table. They moved with an urgency that made the world beyond the walls of the cottage blur into nothingness. Hands roamed freely, grasping, pulling, exploring with a renewed intensity. Agatha’s fingers curled into Rio’s shirt, pulling her closer as their bodies pressed together, heat radiating between them.

"You are not about towalk away after confessing something like that?" Agatha murmured against Rio’s lips, her tone low and teasing, though her voice trembled slightly. She nipped at Rio’s bottom lip, her smirk a challenge.

Rio’s dark eyes gleamed, the firelight reflecting in them like twin embers. “Who said I was walking away?” she countered, her voice rough and breathless. “You think you can handle me now that you know the truth?”

Agatha’s response was to push Rio back, reclaiming control as her hands found purchase at the edges of her tunic, tugging it upward. Rio caught her wrists mid-motion, spinning them around so that Agatha’s back hit the wall instead. Her lips trailed down Agatha’s neck, peppering kisses along her pulse point with a deliberate slowness that made Agatha shiver despite herself.

“You’re infuriating,” Agatha gasped, even as her fingers tangled in Rio’s hair to pull her closer. “Always have to be in charge, don’t you?”

Rio’s lips curved into a wicked grin against her skin. “If you want to be in control… you can be,” she murmured, her voice a challenge, before biting down gently on the curve of her collarbone.

The tug-of-war between them escalated. Agatha wasn’t one to back down, her nails raking across Rio’s shoulders as she found her footing and pushed forward, reversing their positions once again. The table creaked beneath their weight as they leaned into each other, laughter bubbling up between stolen kisses, the sound raw and intoxicating. They moved as though testing the boundaries of who would yield first, each one refusing to give the other the satisfaction of surrender.

The room was filled with the sound of gasps and whispered names, their movements synchronizing as the frantic energy shifted into something deeper, more profound. There was a reverence to the way they touched now, each caress deliberate, each kiss carrying the weight of all the things they had been too afraid to say. Rio’s hands roamed down Agatha’s back, finding the sensitive spots that made her gasp and arch against her, while Agatha’s lips claimed a path across Rio’s jawline, her teeth scraping lightly against the shell of her ear.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Agatha demanded, her voice rough with need, as her hands gripped Rio’s hips.

Rio let out a shaky laugh, her breath catching as Agatha’s nails dragged lightly across her skin. “I’m yours, my love. I’ve been yours,” she admitted, her voice cracking with raw honesty. “Longer than you’ll ever know.”

The tension broke like a dam, and they melted into each other, their playful battle for dominance giving way to something more tender and vulnerable. They moved as though the world outside didn’t exist, as though this moment was all that mattered. The firelight danced over their entwined bodies, highlighting the curve of Rio’s shoulder, their shadows merging into one on the walls.

Rio’s breath was heavy as she pulled back slightly, her dark eyes meeting Agatha’s with a predatory glint. Before Agatha could react, Rio’s hands gripped her thighs firmly, lifting her with an effortless strength that sent a thrill racing through her. Agatha found herself laid back on the sturdy wooden table, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the warmth between them. Her legs instinctively wrapped around Rio’s hips, pulling her closer, but Rio held her ground, teasingly staying just out of reach.

A wicked smile curved Rio’s lips as she reached to her belt and withdrew her knife, its polished edge gleaming in the firelight. Agatha’s breath hitched as Rio ran the flat of the blade along the seam of her clothes, her touch both dangerous and exhilarating. “Don’t flinch now,” Rio murmured, her tone low and teasing, the blade pausing just above Agatha’s heaving chest. “I’d hate to ruin something so precious.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rio chuckled darkly, her confidence unshaken. “Wouldn’t I?” she taunted, the tip of the blade tracing a careful line down the fabric, parting it with practiced ease. With a quick flick of her wrist, the cloth fell away, baring Agatha’s skin to the cool air and the intense scrutiny of Rio’s gaze.

Agatha shivered, but not from the chill. Her body burned under Rio’s eyes, and when Rio leaned down, her lips brushed against the newly exposed skin, a tantalizing mix of soft kisses and sharp bites that made Agatha gasp and writhe beneath her. Rio worked her way down slowly, savoring every inch of skin, her hands roaming over Agatha’s body with equal parts reverence and possession.

Rio’s lips curled into a devilish grin as Agatha squirmed beneath her, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The firelight gleamed off the blade in Rio’s hand as she dragged its flat edge down Agatha’s torso, the cool metal drawing a sharp gasp from her.

“Sensitive, are we?” Rio teased, her voice dripping with amusement as the blade skimmed over the curve of Agatha’s hip. She paused, letting the tip linger just above Agatha’s waistband, her other hand splayed possessively on Agatha’s thigh.

“Keep playing with fire, Rio,” Agatha shot back, her tone steady but her body betraying her, arching into the tantalizing sensation. “You’re going to get burned.”

Rio chuckled low, a sound that was as dangerous as it was seductive. “Oh, darling,” she murmured, leaning down to press her lips against the hollow of Agatha’s throat, her teeth grazing the tender skin. “I think we both know I’m the one holding the blade.”

Agatha’s retort caught in her throat as Rio’s lips and teeth worked their way down her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Her free hand roamed upward, rough fingers brushing against the barest edge of her ribs, teasing but never quite giving her what she wanted. The blade traced a slow, deliberate path along her side, its coolness a stark contrast to the fire igniting wherever Rio touched.

“Do you trust me?” Rio whispered against her skin, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the question.

Agatha’s eyes met hers, challenging yet filled with something deeper. “You’re insufferable,” she quipped, though her voice wavered slightly. “But yes.”

That was all Rio needed. Her grin widened, and she let the knife slide just under the waistband of what little fabric remained. With a practiced flick, the blade did its work, leaving Agatha exposed and utterly at Rio’s mercy. The firelight caught on the edge of the blade as Rio held it up, tilting it so Agatha could see her own reflection in its polished surface.

“Beautiful,” Rio said softly, though whether she meant the blade or the woman beneath her was anyone’s guess.

Agatha shivered under Rio’s intense gaze, but she wasn’t about to let her captor win so easily. “Are you going to keep staring, or do you plan to actually do something?”

“Oh, I plan to do plenty,” Rio replied, her tone a mix of promise and mischief. She dragged the blade over the woman beneath her, digging the tip in just enough to draw a drop of blood. Her lips followed, healing the wounds, leaving no inch of skin neglected. She kissed and bit her way down, savoring the way Agatha’s body writhed and arched beneath her, each gasp and moan a victory.

Rio looked up through hooded eyes to gaze at Agatha, whose body trembled with arousal, rressing a soft kiss to the brunette’s pelvis. The sudden change caused a moan to sound from the back of Agatha’s throat who threw her head back as she tangled her hands in Rio’s hair. “You better start doing it then, darling.”

With a low chuckle, Rio brought her lips to Agatha’s heat quickly swiping her tongue through the slick folds. It was Rio’s turn to moan now. She started with soft licks, teasing Agatha more and more until she was dripping on the table, but soon enough Rio lost her composure and pushed her face further into Agatha.

Just as Rio started to focus on her clit, Agtha felt the cold blade of the knife against her neck.

“My love, you need to look at me while I fuck you,” Rio growled, her face pulled back ever so slightly.

Agatha obliged and held her gaze. She was rewarded when Rio suddenly thrusted three fingers inside of her and she moaned as the pain mixed with pleasure, but still she held her gaze.

Rio was relentless with her ministrations; pumping her fingers in and out, curling them into Agatha’s walls, her mouth never leaving Agatha’s pussy. Rio didn’t notice herself pressing the knife harder into Agatha’s throat as she lost herself in the heta of the moment.

When Agatha finally broke, her back arching off the table, her hands clutching at Rio’s shoulders, the sound she made was raw and unrestrained. Rio held her through it, her lips and hands coaxing every last ounce of pleasure from her until Agatha lay trembling, her body spent but her spirit still sparking with defiance.

Panting, Agatha managed to smirk up at her. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?”

Rio grinned, her own breath coming in shallow bursts. She reached for the knife again, letting it rest lightly against Agatha’s collarbone, a silent reminder of her control. “Won?” she echoed, leaning down to press her forehead against Agatha’s. “Darling, this isn’t a battle—it’s a conquest.”

Agatha chuckled, her laughter breathless and tinged with exhaustion. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” Rio countered, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips before letting the knife clatter to the side. She pulled Agatha off the table and onto the floor, the firelight flickering softly around them.

For a moment, neither spoke. They simply lay there, their breathing slowly evening out, their hearts still pounding in sync. Finally, Rio broke the silence, her voice softer now, almost tender. “You make surrender feel like victory.”

Agatha smiled, her fingers tracing six letters along Rio’s back. “And you make domination feel like trust.”

M-Y-L-O-V-E

They stayed like that, entwined in each other’s arms, the fire casting long shadows on the walls as the night stretched on, leaving the world outside to wait.

Next Chapter >

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