The Salem Witch and the Sorceress of New Orleans

You Are Chained

AUTHORS NOTE:

This is a super long story just so you're all aware. If you're into that then hi there! I have not written fanfiction in many years (too many to admit aloud), but I've been watching the new Agatha All Along series and given my deep love of the MCU, writing, and hot lesbian witches, I felt drawn to write something. This story is purely for my own love of the show and the MCU, but I'm sharing in hopes that someone else might enjoy it too. One note I will say is I have note written Rio as Death, this truly is a play on the Green Witch character, very wild and Earthly. I've taken a lot of creative liberty, so if some aspects of the characters or their powers aren't true to the MCU, please ignore it - this is simply an idea from the depths of my brain! So without further ado, here's my story: The Salem Witch and The Sorceress of New Orleans.

Here's a link to the Spotify playlist I am making as I write this story, if you want to listen to the music I've associated with each chapter:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5J8DmoUb0IzUfcV3axZl97?si=9a0bd38527454d25

This story is also available on AO3 under the same title, my user is cyberlatte.

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SONG: Dream Girl Evil by Florence + The Machine

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The flickering lantern light danced across the wooden walls of the small house as Agatha Harkness surveyed the town from her window. Salem was a cauldron of fear and suspicion, its citizens seething with accusations of witchcraft. Most of them were simple folk, terrified of the unknown, quick to turn against their friends, foes, and neighbours for the sake of self-preservation. The streets were lined with whispers of treachery, and the night was thick with the weight of dread. It was perfect for someone like Agatha.

She had arrived quietly, centuries old, with a practised patience that only comes from living through the rise and fall of civilisations. By now, Agatha had long since transcended the petty concerns of humanity. The trials—the burnings, the hangings, the fear—none of it mattered much to her. Salem would be just another chapter in the long book of her life, a place to pass through on her path to greater things. Greater power. The mortals were merely pawns in a game they could never even begin to understand.

Agatha let the curtains fall and turned back towards the hearth. Her face, though youthful in appearance, bore the quiet knowing of one who had seen generations crumble. Her hair, dark and wild, framed eyes that glittered with ancient knowledge. A shadow moved by the fire—a familiar. Black fur, sharp eyes. "Mistress," the creature hissed, curling around her feet.

"Patience," Agatha murmured, her voice low and measured. "The game will play out soon enough."

She felt the pull of magic in the air—raw, uncontrolled, like a storm that had broken free from its moorings. The trials had awakened something, a hunger for justice among the mortals, but there was also a hunger for power among the real witches. Salem had, unfortunately, become a breeding ground for the young and inexperienced. They were getting caught up in the hysteria, and many were too foolish to conceal their powers properly. Agatha felt sympathy for them. After all, they were weak. Weakness deserved punishment.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. She straightened her cloak and moved gracefully towards the entrance, her fingers tracing runes of protection on the wood before she opened it. There, standing in the cold, was Martha Corey, one of the more prominent figures in town.

"Agatha," Martha whispered, glancing nervously over her shoulder as though the very night were listening. "May I come in?"

Agatha stepped aside, her face betraying none of the contempt she felt. Martha was one of the accused, a woman desperate to escape the gallows. Pathetic, really. She had no control over the power she possessed. It leaked from her like a poorly patched cauldron, and now the town had noticed. Agatha had already made up her mind that Martha's fate was sealed, but for now, there was still use to be had.