Chapter Text
Agatha was on her hands and knees, scrubbing at the floor. She was seventeen, nearly eighteen, and had been placed into Enid’s care. She was meant to be learning witchcraft. So far, all she’d been taught was the gross names for plants.
Toe of dog, buttercup leaves. Wool of bat, moss. Tongue of dog, hounds tooth.
Ugh. It had been nearly two years. Two years of working as an apprentice and the most magic she got to witness was slowing down the bleeding following a birth in the village. Witch hazel, and some pressure while Enid had whispered some words to help knit the flesh skin back.
Agatha hadn’t been able to even hear the words with how loud the baby had been screaming. And when she asked, Enid had glared at her and warned her to pay closer attention next time.
Some help.
Stopping, she sat back and sighed as she looked at the floor. It’d be easier if she was taught how to enchant the scrub its self to do the work, but apparently that was cheating and being lazy, even though she knew for a fact that Enid’s knees would not put up with doing the floor, so the woman clearly used to enchant her household objects before Agatha was placed into her care.
A knock sounded at the back door and Agatha stood up, fixing her skirts as she removed the apron to peak behind the door.
“Mildred?”
“Have you done your chores yet?” Mildred asked, peeking into the home to look around. “Come on, I want to show you something!”
Agatha looked back at the floors and decided that she’d done enough. Taking the bucket, she emptied it out and set it aside to dry as she smiled at Mildred. Her friend, having just turned eighteen in the last month, wore her strawberry blonde hair in a braided crown, having woven dried flowers into it, because she thought it made her look pretty.
Agatha thought it made her look a little silly, but Mildred was her only witch friend and she didn’t want to ruin that.
“Come on,” Mildred said, snatching at her friend’s hand as she lead her to the woods, further away from the town. There was a clearing nearby but the brush and dead foliage around meant that anyone snooping would be heard stumbling through the woods, giving them time to hide what they were up to.
The sky was blue, the sun coming up to midday as Mildred turned on her heel and grinned.
“Look,” she said, and there she waved her hands and showed off a new spell she’d been taught.
Mildred was lifted into the air, floating like a dandelion in the wind as she twirled and then stumbled as she landed on the ground again.
Agatha laughed, watching her friend’s pale cheeks turn pink. “Still learning landings?”
“I’ve only just learned the spell. But isn’t it wonderful?”
It was certainly something.
“How did you learn to do it?”
“Mrs Baker allowed me to look at another page of the coven’s grimoire. It was…wonderful, Agatha. Like all of the world’s magic spilled through you. Your body feels warm and it tickles, and then…I can see why they’re careful in letting you read it. I could just sit and read it forever,” she trailed off, sighing. “When do you think Mrs Brown will allow you your first page?”
Agatha had asked this very question, once, and the woman had threatened to use her switch on her if she spoke out of turn. You haven’t proven yourself girl. You’re a poor witch until you’ve learned the basics.
“Soon,” she lied. “After my eighteenth birthday.”
“Ohh, how wonderful! Promise you’ll tell me the moment you get a spell,” Mildred said, grabbing her hands. “Oh please, each spell you learn is new and different for everyone. What if you learn fire spells? That would be incredible.”
Agatha tasted bitterness on her tongue as she nodded.
She felt as Mildred grabbed her wrists, twirling her in a circle, and while she tried to smile, she couldn’t help but feel there was something unfair.
She had specifically been placed into Enid Brown’s care because Enid was known to deal with the most difficult of women and shape them into something worthy. Where as Lucille Baker was lighter, friendly. She would have seen Agatha’s potential and taught her more than just herbs and birthing practices.
Agatha wanted more. She wanted rituals and runes and learning to fly. She wanted to summon a familiar. She knew that if someone showed her how to do any of it once, she’d know it. She’d always been good at picking things up.
But scrubbing floors and cooking meals wasn’t magic. She could milk the cow and fetch chicken eggs all Enid wanted, but none of that taught her anything.
“I’ll show you what else I’ve learned,” Mildred said and at this point, Agatha pulled away.
“Enid will be home soon. I need to make sure we have enough wood for the oven.”
“I can help you with that.”
“No!” Agatha said, louder than she intended. She swallowed back the bitter taste and smiled and sweetly as she could, trying to ignore the confused look on her friend’s face. “You should keep practicing your magic. It’s almost a full moon and you’ll be expected to help the coven.”
She turned, before Mildred could say another word, and left to return back to Enid’s cottage.
The place was small, with a patch of land around it that contained a few animals. The women in the village knew to come to Enid when it came to difficult pregnancies. Or even unwanted ones. Agatha found the whole thing rather frustrating.
She had no desire to be a midwife, or a woman of divination––though, she would admit that the few times heard whispers about haruspicy, she’d been intrigued. It was old magic, practiced in Rome and most of those types of old magics were deemed forbidden and dark.
Though no one would explain why they were labelled as such.
There were so many rules and do nots when it came to magic and no one was teaching her why. Outside of identifying herbs and learning to read latin and greek, there was very little of any magic teaching and she was bored.
Mildred couldn’t even read Ancient Greek and yet she was allowed to read from the Coven’s Grimoire. Her private studies included reading from Lucille’s own book, and yet if Agatha dared to each brush her fingertips over Enid’s, the woman would cane the back of her hand until the skin bled, and then she was sent to chores, like cleaning out the cow’s manure and placing it over the garden beds, or raking it into the grass.
It wasn’t fair.
None of it was fair.
She pushed her way into the cottage and checked that Enid was still out––helping the Smiths across the other side of town, most likely.
And then Agatha crept into the witch’s bedroom and reached into the bedside table, carefully lifting the false bottom to reveal Enid’s Grimoire.
Fine. If Enid wouldn’t teach her magic, she’d teach herself.
She’d teach herself something interesting. Something better than anything Mildred knew.
Her eyes flicked through the pages, not caring if Enid caught her, she’d take the damned caning if it meant she could finally have a taste of real actual witchcraft.
And then she paused, her fingers catching on a thicker piece. Looking over it, she realised the page wasn’t just randomly different texture, it was two pages that were stuck together.
Enid barely checked the book outside of the healing section anyway. On the free sides were both two boring pieces of magic. One was for digging up mandrakes, something Enid would never use, and the other was for finding water to dig a well.
Even Agatha knew how to do that.
Carefully, heading into the kitchen, she took the paring knife and cut the two pages out, and then carefully tried to remove the bits of paper that remained, folding the other pages around it at the very ends, so Enid would only see if she was looking for it.
Some of the ink and wax stuck to the knife––she’d have to clean that off before Enid saw it, or she’d know to look.
Shoving the book back where it belonged, Agatha looked up, through the window, and caught sighed of Enid returning.
Stuffing the piece of paper down her dress, against her stays, she headed into the main area of the house and wrapped the apron back around her waist, throwing the pairing knife in the pocket to clean the ink off of later.
She went to the kitchen counter where the dough had remained resting on the wooden board from this morning, and picked it up, taking it outside.
She managed to gather the already cut wood and place it in the outdoor clay oven––a low fire had already been burning, but she stoked it with the new wood, setting the dough in just as Enid entered the house.
Agatha pretended not to notice as she began stacking the fire in such a way that it would allow the dough to cook––there was a hearth inside where she would cook the strew, but it wasn’t sufficient for a good loaf by dinner time. It was only as she got the fire going to level needed to bake the bread in the oven that the woman came outside to check on her.
“The floors are only half-done,” she said. “I thought I taught you better than that, girl. You’ve had all morning and you’ve half cleaned the floors, tracked in new leaves and…what’s in your hair.”
Agatha paused, reaching up to where the woman’s steely vision was cut to in her hair. She lifted it up and pulled away a leaf, dropping it to the ground.
“What have you been up to?” Enid demanded.
“Apparently half-cleaning the floor,” she said. “I also gathered and cut firewood and made dough, if it pleases you.”
“Don’t lie to me, girl.”
Agatha breathed in, placing a hand on her chest as she felt the paper crinkle under her dress. It wouldn’t do well to start an argument. Not when she was so close to doing something. “Mildred visited,” she admitted. “She wanted to show me her new found magic.”
“She shouldn’t be sharing that with you.”
Agatha shrugged, “Lucille––”
“Mrs Baker.”
“Mrs Baker,” Agatha corrected, trying not to roll her eyes. Her lungs were burning with frustration but she took a deep breath, calming herself. “Mrs Baker allowed her to read another page from Coven Grimoire.”
“Hmph. She’s weak on the girl. Just you wait, that girl will take the easy way out of everything, and do something dangerous that will get herself killed. A witch must learn before they can do.”
“Perhaps I could learn by practicing,” Agatha said, her tone unmasked. It was a mistake.
Enid’s eyes met hers. “You couldn’t draw a sigil to save yourself. Until you can steep a tea properly, there’s nothing to be learned outside of what I’ve given you, already.”
Agatha let out a breath. “Steeping a tea is not the same as doing magic. None of these chores have anything to do with magic,” she stated, rapidly feeling all the frustration begin to boil. “I’ve learned every plant, all of its names in every language. I’ve read Homer and Tacitus in their original languages perfectly, and you won’t even teach me a damned spell that could be useful as starting a fucking wood––”
The slap shut her up and Agatha stared at the ground as the pain bloomed over her cheek.
“Get inside.”
“No.”
“Get inside, girl. Or these coming lashings will be on your back.”
“No,” Agatha said again, meeting her eye. “I’m done being your apprentice. Bake your own bread.”
“No one will take you in. Not even the coven if you leave. You have until sundown to return and take your lashing, or I’ll place a banishment hex on you.”
Agatha boots were heavy as she walked away, not looking back. She pushed her way through to the woods, through the clearing and was unsurprised to see it was quiet. Midday had passed. Mildred would have returned to Lucille and begun prepping for dinner, if she hadn’t already started a stew.
Reaching down into her dress, she pulled out the pieces of paper and looked them over. What would she do if she unpeeled whatever had caused the papers to stick, and found it to be nothing more than a stupid jinx?
With her nails, she carefully worked at the two pages, unsticking them from each other––the paper was thick, and with careful work, she managed to pull the two pages apart.
Her eyes drifted over them and realised that they were a pair.
The words were smudged between the pages, but Agatha knew if she was careful, she could work it out.
It was a ritual spell––the only ingredient required was blood of someone who’d never been in a ritual before. Which was easy because Enid had never allowed her to participate in any of the coven’s rituals. Even Mildred had been apart of one when she was sixteen.
She could read the inscription and realised it was a find familiar spell.
If she had a familiar, she’d be able to do some magic, without having to read from a grimoire. They’d be basics, but enough for her to leave Salem and find her own way.
With her hands, she cleared out most of the rocks and leaves to draw the markings in the ground, copying the text.
And then, taking out the knife from her apron, she repeated the latin phrase, calling the earth to her, before she cut her hand, bleeding down onto the markings and called for her blood––untainted by rituals––to summon forth her familiar.
Her eyes closed, listening as the birds grew quiet. Clouds carried over the sun, darkening the space and then…
Nothing?
Agatha frowned, looking over the pages to check she hadn’t missed a step.
“Technically,” a warm, feminine voice said, “you wanted famulus. Not familia.”
Agatha turned around, facing a woman. A witch, she realised instantly, though there was nothing to say why knew that.
“Don’t tell me I summon a relative?” Agatha asked.
The witch laughed. “Not quite. But you didn’t summon a servant either,” she said, smiling at her. “But I am curious…Agatha. You stole some pieces of paper, came out into the woods, and…what? Expected that summoning a familiar would grant you the piece of magic you feel you so rightly deserve?”
“So, what, you’re a divination witch?” Agatha hated how the witch made her feel small as she walked around her.
“Ooh, close. But no,” the woman said, smiling at her. “You know if you wanted power, real, actual power, your Coven is hiding a powerful tome.”
Agatha paused, looking at her. “Their Grimoire?”
The witch laughed. “That tawdry thing? That book is barely a century old. No, they have something far more powerful in their grasp,” She smiled, looking at Agatha. “But only a witch of the coven is allowed to touch its warding, so…how about you and I make a deal. I’ll help you get the power you so rightly are owed. I’ll even give you a taste for free. And in return, when you’re made an acolyte in this coven, you will get that book and return it to me.”
Agatha frowned. “Why wouldn’t I just keep it for myself if it’s that powerful?”
The woman shrugged. “You could, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Every New Moon, come here, and I’ll teach you magic. I’ll help to ensure you become an acolyte to the Coven, and in a year’s time. Exactly a year from today’s date, you will hand the book over to me.”
“And that’s all you want? The book.”
“Well, and to help a fellow witch gain her rightful place in the world,” the woman said, smiling at her. Holding out her, she raised her eyebrows. “So…do we have a deal Agatha Harkness.”
Agatha took the outstretched arm, clasping her forearms in a witch’s binding. “We do.”
The witch tugged her closer, causing Agatha to stumble, and with her other hand, tangled in into Agatha’s long, dark hair before she kissed her.
It was fast, furious and Agatha kissed back, moaning into her mouth as the woman’s teeth caught her lip, biting down hard enough to make it bleed––but the pain felt good. Right.
And then as quickly as it happened, it was over and the woman stepped back, smiling as she licked her lips and let go of Agatha’s hand, walking around her. “I’ll see you at new moon, Agatha. But I think it’s time you returned back home.”
Agatha turned to see where she was going, but the witch was gone, and all that was left was the tingle on her lips.
Reaching up to touch her cut, she realised her mouth had healed.
So a green witch, she realised, breathing in as she felt the strangle tingle of magic wash over her.
There was a crackle in her fingertips and Agatha opened her eyes and lifted her hands up, feeling the magic swirl around her.
Oh, she realised. She was going to like this.