Daughter of a Witch

Flowerbed

The sky over Westview cracked with emerald lightning. The smell of burning earth and ozone filled the air, the remains of spells still humming through the battlefield. Agatha Harkness stood at the center of it all, her dark cloak whipping in the wind, her face pale but burning with grim resolve.

Sixteen-year-old Y/n Vidal-Harkness stood just behind the crumbling greenhouse, her hands clutching at the edges of her sleeves, knuckles white. Her heart hammered in her chest. She had seen her mama like this before, hungry for victory, determined to win. But something was different this time. There was no greed in Agatha's eyes. Only heartbreak.

Y/n thought she knew the ending. She thought Billy Maximoff, the witchling with Wanda's eyes-would be sacrificed. That was the bargain. Mama had promised her as much with a whisper days ago: "I'll make sure you and I walk out of this. You'll see."

But as Agatha looked back, meeting her daughter's gaze across the battlefield, her lips trembled into a smile that looked like goodbye.

"Mama?" Y/n whispered, shaking her head. "No. No, don't you dare.."

Billy was confused, already bracing himself, his magic flickering nervously in his palms. Rio, Death cloaked in human form, stood with her hand extended, waiting for the boy she had been promised.

And then Agatha did the unthinkable.

She turned her back on Billy.

Straight toward Rio.

Her steps were heavy, deliberate. Rio's brow furrowed, the certainty in her stance faltering.

"Agatha?" she asked, her voice cutting through the chaos. "What are you..."

But before she could finish, Agatha surged forward, fisting Rio's collar and crushing her lips against hers.

The kiss was desperate, bruising, filled with years of love and hate and grief. Violet magic sparked between their mouths, tendrils wrapping around Rio's form. Rio gasped, stunned, trying to pull back, but it was too late, Agatha was siphoning her, pulling the essence of Death itself into her.

"NO!" Rio cried, grabbing Agatha's shoulders, trying to wrench her off-but Agatha held fast.

Y/n's scream tore the air: "MAMA!"

The siphoning reached its peak. Agatha's body glowed violently, then dimmed, and she floated upward, hair wild around her face. For a single, eternal moment, she looked peaceful, eyes flicking to her daughter. Then her body collapsed in on itself, brittle bones shattering into dust, her form dissolving into a bed of blooming flowers.

Silence.

The fight was over.

But Y/n's world had ended.

"No, no, no, no....." she whispered, stumbling forward, dropping to her knees in the dirt. She clawed at the flowers, yanking stems out by the roots, desperate to find flesh, bone, anything left of her mother. "Please! Don't leave me, Mama! Please!"

Her chest ached so hard it felt like her ribs were splintering. Tears blurred her vision until the flowers melted into a smear of color. She screamed, raw and broken, pounding her fists into the earth.

And then her grief twisted.

Her head snapped toward Billy.

"This is your fault!" she roared, hands crackling with violet energy. "She did this because of you!"

Billy froze, wide-eyed, his own palms glowing faintly blue. "I...I didn't ask her to..."

"SHUT UP!" Y/n screamed, hurling a bolt of raw power at him.

Billy barely managed to throw up a shield, stumbling backward as the force slammed against him. The shield cracked, spiderweb fractures spreading across the shimmering barrier.

Y/n advanced, her magic pulsing brighter with every sob. "She was supposed to give you to her! That's what she promised me! She wasn't supposed to die! You should have died!"

Another blast ripped from her hands, more violent than the first. Billy grunted, straining as he reinforced his shield, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Y/n, please...stop!"

But she didn't stop. She screamed again, a guttural sound of pure rage, flinging a barrage of bolts, each one hitting harder, faster, shaking the ground beneath them. Billy dropped to his knees, the shield trembling.

And then a figure stepped between them.

"ENOUGH!"

Rio's voice thundered like a church bell, like the end of all things. With a wave of her hand, the battlefield stilled. Y/n's magic fizzled out mid-air, absorbed into nothingness.

Y/n's chest heaved, her arms trembling. "Get out of my way," she snarled at Rio, her voice broken. "I hate you. I hate you more than anyone."

Rio's face was unreadable, but her eyes shone with something rare, grief. She reached for her daughter's wrist, steady but gentle.

"You can hate me," Rio said softly. "Hate me until the stars go dark. But I will not let you throw your life away because of mine."

Y/n wrenched her arm free, sobbing. "She's gone because of you! You took Nicky. And now you took her, too. You take everything!"

Rio flinched, her jaw tightening. For once, Death had no defense.

Billy, still on the ground, struggled to rise. His eyes flicked between them, guilt written across his face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, barely audible. "I didn't want this either."

Y/n's magic flared again, instinctive, but Rio raised her hand, holding her daughter back with a soft but unbreakable barrier.

Rio's gaze shifted to Billy, her voice low and sharp. "Go."

Billy hesitated. "But..."

"Now." Her tone brooked no argument. It was not the request of a witch. It was the command of Death itself.

Billy swallowed hard, then turned, disappearing into the shadows of Westview.

The quiet that followed was unbearable. Only Y/n's ragged sobs filled the air.

Her knees buckled, and she crumpled into the flowerbed, clutching fistfuls of petals, pressing her face into the dirt. "Mama..."

And then, arms. Not Agatha's. Not warm, not familiar. But steady. Death's arms.

Rio knelt beside her, pulling Y/n against her chest. The girl struggled at first, pounding weakly against her shoulder, but eventually the fight bled out of her, leaving only shaking breaths.

"I hate you," Y/n whispered, broken.

Rio's throat tightened. She pressed her lips to her daughter's hair, a single tear streaking her cheek.

"I know," she murmured. "And I'll never stop deserving it. But I won't let you carry this pain alone."

The battlefield lay still. Flowers swayed where Agatha had fallen, their fragrance heavy in the night air.

A daughter wept. A mother held her. And Death, for once, felt unbearably human.