The air was almost stagnant with only an infinitesimal breeze that wandered through the valley of Loire, France on an early morning in May of 1667. It was the 23rd of the month and the spring poppies grew in droves, almost as if they knew the season was almost over and this was their last chance to enrich the land with their beauty. The townspeople were awakened by the local farmer's cockerel calling out in an attempt to alert them of the sun's rising. It was to be a beautiful day and one that Evanora Harkness would remember forever, though not for the same sentiment.
She was awakened, not by the roisterous rooster, but by the first pain of childbirth. Her husband, Silas Harkness, woke to the beginning of her screams. He rushed to receive the village doctor, who conveniently lived only a few cottages to the left of the Harkness household.
It was a long, difficult birth, but Evanora pushed through, excited to meet her newborn. Almost nineteen hours of labor passed as the beautiful day turned into a gloomy evening. The night sky lit up as a storm rolled in overhead. The sounds of Evanora's screams were drowned out by the crashes of thunder as her husband held her hand on her last push. Agatha Harkness was born at midnight and her parents couldn't be happier.
Their joy, however, only lasted until the morning, when King Louis XIV announced the War of Devolution. Mourning her husband's draft into the war against Spain to fight for territories in Italy, Evanora begged him not to go.
"Our daughter was just born, darling." The newfound mother said to her husband as she still laid in bed, only hours after labor.
"Yes, I know, dear. And I will miss you both. But the King has issued an order. I cannot challenge my station. I must go." He kissed his wife on the forehead before caressing his daughter's cheek with his thumb, his thumb almost larger than the infant's cheek itself.
"How am I going care for her all by myself?" The woman almost cried.
"Thou will do just fine, my love. Ask my sister for help if thou needs it." Silas suggested as he placed his military coat on over his undershirt.
"Thy sister hates me. She has never forgiven me for convincing thou to leave thy coven and join mine." Evanora reminded him as another crash of thunder rang out on the somber morning.
"She will forgive thee when she lays her eyes upon Agatha's bewitching face." The man smiled and leaned over to kiss his wife once more before he left.
Evanora cried alone in her bedroom for almost an hour before she attempted to get out of bed. Carefully, and in pain, the woman made her way into the kitchen with Agatha in her arms. She sat in a chair at the table before closing her eyes, using what power she had left in her exhausted body to summon her sister-in-law to their home.
Halfway across town, Joanna Harkness was tending to her laundry when she suddenly dropped what she had in hand and headed toward her brother's cottage in a trance.
"Evanora..." she spoke once out of the trance and inside the other witch's kitchen, "...I have asked thee not to use thy power on me."
"Silas would want me to inform thee of the birth of his child...thy niece." She showed her the newborn in her arms. "He said thou might help." Her eyes began to water. "He hath gone to battle."
For the first time since they'd known each other, Joanna felt for Evanora, knowing how heartbroken she was herself to hear of her brother being sent off to war, she could not imagine how Evanora must feel. The lighter haired woman knelt down in front of Evanora's chair to show her some compassion for once and then they cried together.
For months, Joanna helped her sister-in-law with Agatha. It was not easy, but they managed until one day, when Agatha fell ill and even the doctor could not help. The infant was on the brink of death.
"There is a witch in my coven who can help." Joanna told an inconsolable Evanora. "She can heal."
"My coven will never forgive me if I associate with thy coven." The pained mother spoke with such sorrow as she watched over her sick baby.
"Silas will never forgive us if we do not try." Joanna tried to convince her.
"Silas is not here!" Evanora cried out, missing her husband and hating the act of having to wait to hear one day if he had died in battle.
Joanna placed a comforting hand on her sister-in-law's back. "Thou will not recover if ye lose them both." She spoke in a gentle tone.
The mother sobbed for a while longer before she agreed and Joanna left to receive the healer of her coven, a tedious old lady named Prudence. She was short with graying hair and a walking stick, but when Evanora saw her, something in her felt peace. The old witch looked as though she could be successful in healing her daughter. She decided to put faith in her and stepped back from Agatha's crib.
Prudence was a century's old witch who had healed hundreds, if not thousands, in her lifetime. She found sick infants to be the easiest of troubles for her. As she brewed up a potion to pour over Agatha's forehead, she spoke of this to Evanora, reassuring her that her daughter would live.
As the potion was finished, the old witch began to quietly chant a spell, pouring the glowing liquid over Agatha's head before handing the small bowl of it to Joanna. Closing her eyes, Prudence laid her hands above the crib, hovering over the four month old as she continued her chant. A light orange hue began to ooze out of the old witch's hands while she attempted to heal the sick child.
"Is-Is it working?" Evanora quietly whispered as she saw the orange hue begin to warp into a shade of purple. Soon the orange was completely gone and all they could see was purple. It was dark with a brighter interior, almost like a purple flame.
Agatha's cries soon came to a halt as Prudence's body began to violently shake and she fell to the floor, her body gray and small, the skin gone from her face. The other two witches stood in shock as they looked on in horror.
After a moment of silence and fear, Joanna rushed to Prudence's side, kneeling beside the old woman to observe her lifeless corpse. "She is dead."
Evanora almost didn't hear her as she froze in her place, looking upon a dark, robed figure in the corner of her cottage. "Joanna." She quietly whispered in an attempt to get her sister-in-law's attention.
The younger witch looked up to see what the other was staring at and she quickly backed away from Prudence's body, remaining on the floor in a new terror. The dark figure stepped out of the corner to get a closer look at the carcass. Evanora quickly helped Joanna to her feet and they held onto each other for dear life. They could not make out a face on the figure as its hood hung low. The Being knelt beside the body, almost paying no attention to the other two witches though they could tell it knew of their presence, but knew that it was not interested in the living as it touched a finger to Prudence's face and they both vanished.
After a moment of still standing there in shock, Evanora snapped out of her daze and rushed to Agatha, lifting her up and her terror was quickly replaced with joy. "Her fever is gone!" She said as she held her baby close to her chest. "She's healed! Prudence did it!"
Joanna soon snapped out of her own daze as well and went to them to embrace her niece.
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Evil Origins
FanfictionAgatha's backstory. How did her mother come to hate her? How did she meet Rio? How did she ultimately become the Agatha we know?
