Chapter Text
In the beginning, there was nothing.
Suddenly, and for no particular reason at all- there was heat, and light, and many other things.
Then, in her siblings’ wake: Death. And Death- wait no, this is way too far back.
Let’s start again.
A long time ago in New England, there was a little girl who was born with a gift, and a curse. The trouble is, she’s never been very good at… being good.
In fact- no, no, hold on, this is still too far in the past.
Once more.
Four years ago, the Scarlet Witch left Westview.
Three years ago, she pulled Mount Wundagore down onto her. For most people, one hundred tons of stone would be the end of the story, but unfortunately for Wanda, she’s never been most people.
Six months ago, Billy Maximoff and Agatha Harkness walked the Witches’ Road.
Five months ago, Tommy Maximoff woke up to a bitchy ghost and an emo teenager leaning over what passed for his bed.
Four months ago, Billy and Tommy Maximoff pulled their soul mother out of the rubble.
About ten minutes later, Agatha Harkness and Wanda Maximoff had a duel with Death herself. The cackling was said to be heard clearly all the way in neighboring Romania.
When the smoke cleared- Death was trapped in the former temple to her brother, while the Maximoffs with her fucking ex-mistress had once again slipped her clutches.
Death was not amused. (Death was slightly amused; but her weakness for one woman in all of creation remains the only flaw in her carapace).
Three and a half months ago, Agatha Harkness took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Her hair at least wasn’t a total loss- one white streak was a small price to pay for having a body now made entirely of chaos magic.
(The first thing she did was cuddle her rabbit. The second thing she did was take Wanda to bed.)
Three months ago, the Scarlet Witch, Wiccan, and Agatha Harkness subdued Chthon and stole his heart. No one enjoyed that field trip, as what teenager enjoys being forced to travel while their parents are being gross.
Two and a half months ago, Death finally gnawed through her chains.
Two and a quarter months ago, the Scarlet Witch and her lover started to reconstitute the Darkhold, to hide themselves and their offspring from Death.
Death had some objections. She made them, strenuously.
Next door, John Collins pondered that property values in this neighborhood were never going to recover if those witches didn't stop trying to kill each other in the sky every few months.
In the end, they blasted each other to a stalemate. The Witches Green and Scarlet would never yield to one another, while Agatha couldn’t complete the Darkhold without Wanda’s magic- which was currently occupied holding off all the might of Lady Death.
Handing the incomplete Book of the Damned to her apprentice slash son, Agatha cracked her neck, fluffed her hair, and flew up to negotiate with her lover and her ex... something.
Two and a quarter months ago, the Scarlet Witch, Agatha Harkness, and Lady Death made a deal.
The Darkhold was split into unusable thirds, and sealed to each of their beings. If they wanted to unlock it for any reason, it would be together, or not at all.
Lady Death would stop chasing them. Abominations they might be, but they’re the axis on which fate is turning, and the reality of this universe is anchored (Lady Death is also unclear at this point if some of them can actually die).
The Scarlet Witch would stop raising the dead. And stop creating new souls made entirely of chaos magic.
Finally, Agatha Harkness also got Lady Death to agree to one more little thing- after a long, whispered murmuring in her ear.
Two months ago, Lilia Calderu, Alice Wu Gulliver, and Sharon Davis opened their eyes on the floor of Agatha’s bewitched basement.
Billy Maximoff smiled.