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Agatha was on the ground, sweaty and dirty from the fight. An exiled witch had learned of her own coven’s poor fate at the hands of Agatha, and took four months to stew and gather information, to arm herself and hone her strengths against the darkhold-wielding witch killer Agatha Harkness.
The white-haired crone was eager for revenge, nothing left to lose, and clearly unafraid to die. Agatha grunted as she stood, spitting a mouthful of blood away. Your concern only grew. Never had Agatha faced an opponent this strong, not since taking on her entire traitorous coven. The toll of this fight was apparent.
Your mind was made up. She’d ordered you to stay behind her when the enemy first presented themselves, but you had to do something.
Silver strands of lightning coiled around your hands as you summoned your own magic.
“Kit, no!” Agatha shouted back at you.
“Let me help, please!” you begged, silver power primed and ready to hurl. “You’re hurt!”
Agatha looked down at her leg and her eyebrows rose in surprise, noticing the injury for the first time. She had been sliced by one of the daggers the hellbent witch flung.
“I don’t want you near this, she’s too strong!” Agatha hissed.
She didn’t give you an opportunity to argue further. She launched a tidal wave of violet at the attacker, but a sphere of onyx shielded against Agatha’s offensive move. In return, the crone-witch blasted a succession of jet black fireballs directly at Agatha. She blocked, but her defense cracked and fizzled out after the fifth strike. On the sixth, she was knocked backwards through the air.
There was a sharp snap as she smacked the back of a tree. You rushed to her, sliding on your knees beside her. “Agatha! Wake up!”
The older witch tossed a black ball of lightning in her hand, almost playfully. A cruel grin formed as she started to walk towards you both, still vulnerable on the ground. Twigs snapped rapidly beneath her brisk steps. “Aggie, come on. Get up, she’s coming!”
Agatha finally roused. You helped her stand, and she staggered to meet the approaching opponent.
Hydrants of black and purple fire tore from their hands, crashing against one another in the middle like waves against a cliff. The balance was steady at first, but soon black consumed purple, mingling with it and consuming it, until very little of Agatha’s power remained. She groaned with the effort to uphold the force, but the weight of the magic on the other side was crushing.
Her knees buckled and she cried out as they struck the hard ground.
A silver glow caught her eye and she turned a fraction towards you. “Don’t you dare!” she hollered, before returning her full attention to reinforcing the barrier, sending a fresh, albeit weak, pulse of her magic into the jetstream of magic. There was wind whipping around, conjured up by the clashing forces of mystical power.
“You’re fading Agatha. Let me help.” you shouted, summoning more of your silvery starlight magic.
“Please, don’t! I won’t be able to stop!” Agatha pleaded, tears streaming down her face as she looked over to you. There was blood dripping from her mouth. “I can’t lose you.”
“Trust me.” you whispered.
“KIT!”
You aimed for her back, striking her in the center of space between her shoulder blades. Tendrils of silver penetrated beneath her skin, chest arching forward as your power filled her.
She was breathless as it continued to pour into her from you, eyes wide, tears flowing nonstop. Her head fell back and she screamed - partly because it felt so good to be juiced up, mostly because of the heartbreaking cost.
You didn’t regret it, even as the darkness closed in from the edges of your vision. You were Agatha’s familiar, this is what you were made for - protecting your witch, making sure she lived, at all costs.
Your breaths came slower. Color seeped from your vision before it faded entirely. You started to fall, the last wisps of silver magic departing from your fingers as consciousness evaded you.
Agatha was restored to her full strength, healed and mighty once again, thanks to the boost she received from your magic. She quickly overpowered the foe, all the fresh emotion boiling in Agatha flew through her in braided threads of purple lightning. The vengeful crone was blasted over and over until nothing remained of her but dust.
Agatha wiped her finger under her nose, sniffling before she crawled to you through the smoky aftermath of the skirmish.
She gathered you in her lap, a sad pout weighing on her lips before she broke down over the lifelessness of your face. “Oh, Kit…” she buried her head against your hair, ragged breaths puffing against your dark black strands. Her knuckles turned white as she squeezed you, nails digging in against the heartache.
“Not so tight.” you murmured.
“What!?” Agatha gasped, looking down. She hurriedly pushed hair from your face to be able to lock into your eyes.
“I thought I lost you, oh stars in heaven!” she hugged you tight, fingers curling against your shirt before she allowed for some space, “Are you okay?” she asked, relieved but so confused.
You sat up, but she refused to let you go completely. “I’m alright, it’s okay.”
“How?” she sniffled, hands glued to you.
“You’re a spirit witch, don’t you get it?” you smirked at her.
She shook her head no, bringing your palm to her lips to place a few kisses on it.
“What is a familiar but a spirit tethered to an animal’s body?” you paused, searching her eyes before adding with a gentle nudge, “Spirit witch, we were made for each other.”
Agatha exhaled, “The bond.”
You nodded, grinning at her, “The bond. It’s a deep one.”
She drew you forward by the back of your neck, pressing her forehead on yours, adding, “and it’ll never be broken, no matter where we go, no matter what happens.”
“Nobody will ever break us apart.” you agreed, closing your eyes to savor the moment.
“Still,” she said, pulling away before swooping right back in, pressing rapid fire kisses all over your face and neck. “Don’t, you, ever, do, that, again.” Each word was stitched together with a kiss.
You giggled at her behavior, “I don’t think witches are supposed to fall this madly in love with their familiars. We’ve broken every one of your mother’s rules.”
She stood, pulling you up by the hand, wiping away the last of her tears. “Oh sweet pea, that’s cute,” she eyed you wickedly, “Rebel witches like me don’t follow rules.” she poked you on the nose, “We break them.”