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Chapter Text

It was Agatha's favorite kind of day, it was warm but not muggy. It wasn't shining with yellow sunlight, instead silver cloud-filtered sunlight lit the surroundings nicely.

But truly none of that really mattered. It could have been a blaring hot day with incorrigible sunlight or a muggy rainy day and it wouldn't have mattered.

What mattered was that she was spending her day with her mother- Vanessa.

Vanessa was beautiful. Vanessa was kind. Vanessa was always busy so having her mum all to herself was quite the big deal for little Agatha.

Agatha was content as she held her mother's hand and walked silently to the cliffs. Her mother was walking fast, Agatha had to pump her gangly legs faster to keep up. She was only 8.

She was brilliant for her age. A prodigy. But she loved her mother. So she followed her mother, happy that her mother was talking to her that day.

It must be a good day, Agatha grinned.

(Days passed when Vanessa couldn't even look at her daughter. It hurt Agatha, but she quickly grew accustomed and learned to simply appreciate when Vanessa did deem her deserving of attention.)

Agatha didn't know that was wrong.

That today was the worst day possible.

That day young Agatha was killed. Filicide.

Which, for those who don't know, is the act of killing one's own child.

Stefan was absolutely heartbroken of course. He cried for days on end- has a search party go out to recover the body from the icy seas.

It was actually fairly easy.

Dead bodies float.

He then proceeded to hold the young girls cold dead hand...and cry more.

His howls were heard all over the neighborhood. Vanessa also cried, of course. She was there to witness the event! Tears were expected.

Her sobs and snivels were almost as pathetic sounding as his. Except that hers weren't sincere. Her story was plausible, no witnesses.

"There was a bird, Agatha recognized it. She wanted to better examine it and followed it. It perched near a cliff and Agatha crouched a short distance away. I told her to be careful! She said she was. But then some squirrel darted by taking her by surprise and, oh!" A few fake sobs, "Agatha fell." Then perhaps the only truth of the whole account. "Her screams were lost in the wind."

The actual true account was that Vanessa, very much planning the cruel deed, led her daughter to the cliff's edge and let go of her daughters hand. Agatha, a smart cautious young girl, tried to reach for her mom's grip but was swatted aside. Agatha stumbled a bit, but Vanessa steadied her. The mother braced her daughter on the shoulders and took in her bulging eyes, thin mouth, and greasy hair. Disgust was what she felt. (Recognition and hate because of it.) And so, remorselessly, Vanessa pushed her daughter off the cliff.

Vanessa didn't lie about the last bit. She really couldn't hear the girls scream. But Vanessa read her daughter's lips.

'Mom!'

The second Vanessa felt the beginnings of regret, seeing people she didn't notice cared for Agatha, she would remember her appearance and who Agatha took after.

(A woman who only existed in Vanessa's nightmares and old photos. Features identical to those of a younger, more bitter, Vanessa.)

And she hated the now dead child for being a reminder of the past Vanessa so desperately tried to hide. The guilt falling away to relief..

Stefan tried to divorce Vanessa. He had the papers worked out and wanted nothing more but than to escape the ghost of his first daughter. How he loved her. But Vanessa, finding out about his plans to divorce her while snooping, got him drunk and in bed with her.

When he announced that he wanted to divorce, only 4 months after Agatha's death, Vanessa revealed that she was pregnant. It took some waterworks and a few well-hidden threats but Stefan was convinced to not divorce Vanessa.

And so...a year or so after Agatha's death...a beautiful baby girl was born. Blonde, like her father. Green eyed like her father. Selfish like her mother.

Unlike Agatha, who was a sweet baby and a kinder child, Sophie was spoiled and entitled. Manipulative. (The household, friends, neighbors and most importantly, Stefan, noticed this. Stefan loathed himself for the comparisons that he held between both of his daughters. How whenever Sophie was cruel he'd reminisce his eldest daughters kindness. How whenever Sophie was nice, it was like Agatha had possessed her to act on the way. He hated himself for loving Sophie for how, at times, she reminded him of Agatha.)

Then the day came, when Sophie turned 8. The age Agatha was when she died. That day Vanessa decided to bring Sophie to the cliff.

Sophie had many admirers. But she didn't have any friends. Simply because no one was worthy of such an honor.

Well she did have one friend. But Agatha hardly counted since Agatha was the voice in her head and not a real life person.

Agatha appeared to Sophie whenever Sophie was to do something Agatha deemed wicked. Most time Sophie ignored her. Mentally telling her to butt out. But Sophie did, occasionally, heed the stern girls advice.

Agatha also appeared to Sophie when Sophie was lonely, or she was at the height of emotion. Actually, that might not be the best way to describe Agatha's existence. Agatha never left, her voice just grew faint.

Her voice was high and pitchy. Sometimes rough or stern. But always patient, always kind.

That's why, despite her appearance, Sophie considered Agatha her guardian angel.

Sophie knew what the voice inside her head looked like because on some nights Agatha materialized. Always the same setting. Dreary skies, a rocky cliff with a beautiful shore underneath. And Sophie always walked through the foliage, on a worn down path, and entered the clearing. Where Agatha sat at the cliff's edge. (Sometimes her legs were crossed and her dress was hitched up to her thighs. Sometimes she was sitting properly, with her ankles crossed. She always wore the same dress, navy blue and simple but well taken care of and neat.) Agatha had a thick bob of short hair, a little greasy at the top but smooth everywhere else. She also had large dark eyes that seemed to bulge out of her sockets, like she was permanently surprised or unimpressed. She has thin lips that were often pursed when she scolded Sophie for whatever insensitive thing she said but disappeared when she smiled. Her body was thin and bony and long. No baby fat on her face.

If Agatha were a real person than she was the exact kind of girl that Sophie would mock and steer clear of. That being said, Agatha wasn't a normal person. She was Sophie's. She was her angel.

Sometimes Agatha would wrestle control of Sophie's words or actions. It would be small and only for a second, like Agatha apologizing for something Sophie did using Sophie's body. Or flinching away from Sophie's mom, who often visited Sophie at noon. Otherwise, Agatha went silent whenever she spent time with her mother, which Sophie appreciated. 

Sophie didn't mention Agatha to anyone. She learned not to after the head maid, Callis, packed her bags and ran away after Agatha had possessed Sophie.-

(Sophie was currently being scolded by Agatha. Simply for yelling at a peasant for dirtying her new jacket. She was being scolded so vigorously that the sound was loud in her head.

She felt a headache forming.

"For heaven's sake, shut up Agatha!" Sophie banged her tea cup on her tea table and pursed her lips. "I'm so sick of you're prattling-".

Abruptly, Sophie stopped. The door was open and a lovely young lady stood at the entrance. Her jaw dropped. Shakily the woman stepped forward, Sophie recognized her, all the staff of the household obeyed the lady. Miss Callis.

The lady stood still, before stepping forward. "Did you say Agatha?"

Agatha spoke through her, tearing the words from her lips. "Yes."

"Why?"

Agatha was taking the lead and Sophie let her. She was frozen. "That was my name. When I was alive- hmph."

Sophie pressed her palm harshly against her own lips, shaky.

Callis was staring at her. Eyes wide.

"Agatha, are you in there?"

Sophie crossed her arms, ready to send the woman away cruelly when Agatha tore control back. "Yes, I'm here. I-." Sophie felt Agatha tugg at her body, urging Sophie to hug Callis. Callis was stiff and unmoving.

Sophie was wrestling desperately for control- this never happened before!- when Agatha had Sophie pull back and smile, saying. "How's Reaper?"

Callis stumbled away, eyes glassy and shuddering. "F-fine. Agatha," Callis moved to brush Sophie's hair back but Sophie had regained control, slapping Callis' hand back and snarling.

"How do you know Agatha?"

Callis crossed her arms, eyes still wet. "How do you? She's dead."

Oh.

Sophie didn't know if she thought that herself, or of it was Agatha who had shared that sentiment.

"She talks to me sometimes. Or through me. Like she did today. But how would you know her? She's my guardian angel, not yours."

Callis, dropping her defiant posture, bowed her head. "Can she hear me now?"

Yes, whispered Agatha faintly.

"Maybe."

Sophie wasn't nice.

"Then, if she can't hear me...please, young master, tell her I love her so very much and that Reaper is fine. Old and ugly, still grumpy. And that he misses her. Tell her-"

"I'm not your messenger," Sophie snapped though she immediately wished she didn't since she wouldn't learn more about Agatha.

Callis nodded, turned on her heel, and fled.

Sophie never saw her again.)

Another similar episode happened with the love of her life. Tedros Pentragon. (Though her dad would protest and claim he, a 16 year old, was way too old for her.) He was visiting her, smiling bright and petting her hair when he mentioned his dream college. (Sophie just assumed it's a older more expensive school.)

Agatha was uncharacteristically quiet. She seemed to be in awe of him too.

However soon Sophie lost interest and started fidgeting in her seat, noticing this he chuckled and said, "Do you wanna play a game?"

She nodded, once again animated.

"I'll be the prince then, call me Theodore, and you will be my little sister, the princess..."

Sophie did not like being called little sister.

"I will be Princess Agatha and I am not your sister. I am from another kingdom!"

Tedros choked, startled. "Agatha, you say? Why Agatha?"

Sophie, feeling generous towards her unusually quiet Guardian Angel, said, "Why not Agatha? It means good and noble, you know."

Agatha had told her that.

"I-I do know...what does you princess look like? Like you? Theodore has blonde hair like me but green eyes like-."

"Agatha has big brown eyes and short black hair."

Tedros swallowed, still quiet. "She sounds beautiful..."

Some wickedness sparked in her, "Not really, her hair is greasy and her eyes are bulgy."

Sophie expected some protest from Agatha herself but she was quiet. So Sophie hurried to make up for her tactless words by continuing, "but she's nice and annoyingly a goody-goody!"

Tedros' blue eyes were blown wide. "You...I, wow. You got her all figured out, huh?"

She grinned, Cheshire style. It was her time to have the interesting things to say. "Wanna know a secret?"

Tedros nodded and fidgeted with his fingers.

"I have a guardian angel, and it's Agatha." Sophie plowed forward. "She always scolds me for being rude. And sometimes she, like, possesses me to say things to people. Once she told my old maid, Callis, something about a reaper-."

Tedros was a flurry of movement, "Is she like a ghost?" He waves his hand through the section of space beside him, his hand curved like he was trying to hold something. "Is she right there?"

Sophie shakes her head gleefully, "Nope!" Then whispers, "she's in my head."

He swallowed, "Can she hear me?"

"See you too."

Tedros looked like he was about to cry. "W-what does she think?"

Some doubt crept in on her, why was Tedros so weird? Torn between happiness and sadness. Like Callis. Did he also know Agatha?

Tell him that he looks like a prat, Agatha said clearly. Though her voice sounded soft, in a feminine way she wasn't used to it sounding.

"She said you look like a prat."

Tedros choked, then laughed. Bending over and burying his face in his hands.

Sophie, please tell him that he grew up handsome and that I am so proud of him. And that I think he'd do great in that school.

Sophie recited the message, watching Tedros' shoulders shake. He was still bent over his knees. Unsure of whether she should stop. So she asked, standing up from her perch on the bed. "Should I stop..?"

His hand shot out from where he sat, gripping her wrist firmly. "No...is there anything else."

Sophie gasped at what Agatha said. Shocked. "I can't tell him that!"

He looks at her from between his fingers, eyes red and wet. "Tell me what?"

Resigned, Sophie said, "She said that your hair is too long."

He stares at her, bright blues still. Before he erupted into peals of giddy laughter.

He laughed but the next time she saw him his hair was trimmed neat.

Sophie was back in the dream. Agatha was there, in the same dress, expressionless and sitting with her bony knees pulled to her chest.

From what Sophie had gathered Agatha was once alive and knew Callis. Callis, she had found out after a little prying, had been working for the manor since she was 19. She continued to work as she did college and has been working as she saves money to move out. Instead of moving out she stayed though.

Why?

Don't think too hard about it. Agatha said, I only remember bits and pieces. I just know that I knew Callis, and loved her, and the lady had a cat.

"What about Tedros?"

I loved him too.

"What do you remember about him?" Sophie looked down at her own body, her dress was pink and lacy. Her fingers were gloved.

Agatha thought long and hard, then shrugged. A laugh burst from Agatha's mouth, long and throaty. I remember that I used to argue with him a lot, but I think we were friends.

"You're too ugly to have been friends with Tedros."

Agatha smiled a lazy smile. I thought so too and yet...

"I didn't mean it." Sophie protested, sitting next to the smiling Agatha. "Does that mean if you didn't die you'd be the same age as Teddy?"

I think so.

"But you couldn't have had him," Sophie reminded her. "He's mine."

How could I forget with you reminding me every five seconds?

"Just checking..." Agatha began to blur, the land splitting beneath them and then they fell. And that is how the dream always ended and that is how she always woke herself up.

"Do you remember how you died?" Sophie asked aloud, staring at her own reflection. For a second it was like she was actuay facing Agatha. For a second, as she closed her eyes, she could pretend that Agatha was still alive and with her.

I was eight. I remember being... feeling... betrayed. But...no. Nothing.

"Are you sad you died?"

She could picture Agatha perfectly, her expression as she said what she did. Brows pinched in concentration, lips twisted loosely to the side. I'm sad we can't play for real. But I think I'd have to remember everything to be sad.

When Sophie opened her eyes she saw her own reflection. Green eyes like both of her parents. Blonde hair like them both.

Beautiful.

So why was a beautiful girl crying?

Beautiful girls had nothing to cry about. At least that's what she was told.

On the times she didn't meet Agatha in her Dreamworld, she'd have these off dreams. Distant memories that Sophie knew weren't hers.

Usually mundane things she couldn't fully remember in the morning. Only vague clips of eating ice cream on a park bench or playing with faces she couldn't recognize.

They shared the dreams. Agatha would sometimes have names. Most times she wouldn't remember.

But the night before the day before her birthday they shared a memory of Agatha's that starred people Sophie knew.

The dream started slow, with Agatha sitting in the library, a book before her. She was flipping through the pages, the front sections of her hair pulled back. Then someone whispered her name.

She looked up, an automatic smile on her lips.

It was Tedros. He was young and probably around Sophie's age but it was undeniably Tedros.

"Agatha, guess what?"

"What?" She was turning her attention back to the book. "You scored the winning goal?"

"I scored the-"

There was a brief silence, "How did you know? Did you talk to my mom again-"

"Lower your voice, Tedros." Agatha hissed worriedly. "You'll get us kicked out!"

"They love us. They'd never kick us out!"

Agatha finally closed her book, resigned to the conversation. "They might not love us anymore."

"Impossible." He said it with all the confidence of a well-loved prince. Tedros sat next to her, his knee bumping hers. "Now, tell me the truth, am I that predictable?"

Agatha's neck flushed pink. She picked at the polish on the table. "You said you wanted me to watch your games..."

Tedros' eyes lit up and so did his cheeks. "You came to see me play?!"

"Shh!" Agatha averted her eyes. "Stop being so loud."

"Your shushing is louder than my talking- hey, don't change the subject!"

Agatha scratched her cheek. "Yeah, so what?"

Tedros' blush darkened. "R-right, not a big deal...but you should have stayed! I would have liked to introduce you to my teammates..."

Agatha's arms were crossed tight, her hands fisting the material of her dress.

"Or not," he sighed, "but I would have liked to see you in the stands."

"Maybe next time..."

(Sophie had never seen Tedros so unsure. So uncertain. So boyish. Well, she had. When Sophie mentioned Agatha.)

Agatha stands up and goes to put her book away, as she turns the corner the setting changes. Agatha was now walking, side by side with Stefan. Sophie's father.

"Agatha, my Agatha. My sunshine. My lovely Princess-"

Agatha was covering her face with the hand that wasn't holding his larger hand. "Stop..! So embarrassing."

"What?" Stefan was indignant, puffing his chest as he walked Agatha out of school. "I can't love my daughter?!"

(Daughter?)

Agatha, in her school uniform, looked around.  Her peers were watching. Agatha was bright red.

"Not that loudly," she tugged on his hand.

"I am your father. I am in charge! And I say-'" jovially and shamelessly Stefan yelled, "I LOVE MY BEAUTIFUL AWESOME DAUGHTER!!"

"FATHER!!"

Agatha tugged her hand free and covered her face, running for the car.

When Agatha uncovered her face she was in a garden. Sitting on the soil, cross-legged.

'Young master, you should be careful of your dress," a maid said, holding her hands out to help Agatha to her feet. Agatha shook her head, pointing to the grouchy cat.

"I can't," she whispered, "Reaper is finally letting me pet him."

Miss Callis stepped out for the house, hand on her hips. She glared down at the duo and the young maid scurried away. "Traitor."

The cat hisses shortly and stretched, then lay back down. Obviously delighted, Agatha continued to stroke him.

"What is a lovely lady like yourself doing on the floor with a flee-ridden cat of the staff?"

"Hi Callis!" Agatha whispered, smiling. "I was here first. Reaper came to me. And he's never done that before-"

"Impressive," Callis admitted, "it took him a year for him to warm up to me. It took you three months."

And at that the cat stood up and slinked to his patch. Where there was a circle of garden gnomes standing guard.

"I still have ways to go," Agatha sighed.

"You're young. You'll get there."

"I'm turning eight tommorrow." She held up eight fingers, as if that would show how mature and old she was.

"You are. Would you like a special birthday breakfast? Toad, maybe?"

Agatha made a face then rocked back and forth thoughtfully, "An omelette with egg whites."

Callis blinked, "Why that?"

"It's mum's favorite. If she has her favorite breakfast then maybe she'd be happy and talk to me tommorrow!"

Callis was silent.

"Is that too much trouble?"

"No... I'll make it."

"Promise?" She held a pinky finger up.

Callis hooked her pinky with the younger girls, "Promise."

The scene blurred, showing Agatha in the navy blue dress Sophie is used to seeing her in.

Agatha raced up to Callis, wrapping her arms around the maid. She cupped her mouth as if to share a secret, Callis leaned down. "The breakfast worked!" Agatha whispered, "Mum is gonna take me to her favorite spot! It's the best birthday ever!"

"... Be careful, Sweetie."

Confused, Agatha asked, "What?"

Callis laughed, smoothing the frown between her brow for the benefit of young Agatha. "New dress, remember. Don't want to get it dirty."

Agatha nodded excitedly and dashed to meet her mother, gripping her fingers with her tiny own.

Callis was left, hugging herself, standing by the window and watching them until they turned the corner.

She didn't look happy for her young master at all. Goosebumps covered her arms.

Chapter Text

Sophie knocked once on her father's study. Hoping that he'd answer, but also dreading it.

"Come in."

She did.

If that's my father and he's also your father.... wouldn't that make us sisters?

'Shut up. I need to talk to him.'

Sophie had taken to thinking directly at Agatha instead of speaking aloud, to prevent any more oddities. It made communication a bit easier, a bit more casual.

"Hello father," Sophie closed the door behind her. Unsure. 

Stefan smiled at his daughter, but she noticed that he didn't seem happy, young, like when he smiled at Agatha in the memory.

"Sophie, what brings you to my neck of the woods."

Agatha giggled. Sophie didn't.

She inhaled deeply, then smiled at her father, crossing the room. "Did I have an older sister named Agatha?"

Stefan's fixed smile slipped. "I-I'm confused."

Sophie hopped onto the arm couch, toes barely touching the floor. Agatha was tall, Sophie thought, Agatha would be able to touch the floor.

"It's a simple question father, did you have a daughter before you had me? Was her name Agatha?"

He took off his glasses, "Did your mother tell you?"

Sophie wasn't quite sure how to feel about this. A part of her was thrilled that the bond between her and her guardian angel was strengthened with sisterhood. Another was bitter because no one told her. And another was peeved, because her father showed more softness, more genuinity, more vulnerability when she said Agatha's name than he has ever shown Sophie.

She ignored the jealousy.

"Agatha did."

Stefan ran his fingers down his face, releasing a ragged worn out sigh. "Impossible. Agatha... Agatha died, Sophie."

No endearment. No 'princess'.

Some vindictiveness surged in her, powerful and ugly.

"I know. Agatha is here. In my head. She is with me. She is my guardian angel. She-"

"Don't lie about things like this," his voice had gained an edge, one she had never heard from him before. 

Agatha was quiet in her mind and Sophie desperately wished Agatha would say something that would show her father she was telling the truth. She hopped off the couch, already sick of it, buzzing with restless energy. 

‘Say something’, she thought angrily, ‘why won't you say something-.’

You'll only use my words to hurt him. I don't want you to-

‘I HATE YOU!’

Silence.

"I'm not lying," Sophie continues. "She shows up in my dreams. She had short black hair and big buggy brown eyes. She was skinny and had bony elbows and knees. She hates-."

"Who told you all of this? Tedros?"

Sophie stomped her foot angrily, ignoring the jolt of pain it sent up her leg. "No! Agatha told me! She also told me about Callis! And when I told Miss Callis she ran away-."

"Miss Callis left because she wanted to pursue a deeper, more intense schooling-."

Sophie talked louder, over her father. "Agatha loved all sweets-."

"Sophie Woods, for the love of God-"

"Agatha was smart. A prodigy. Her favorite game was chess."

"Stop."

"Agatha's favorite color was black because-"

He stood up from behind his desk, slamming his hands down, eyes aflame.

"WHO TOLD YOU ALL OF THIS?!"

"AGATHA! SHE ALSO TOLD ME THAT EVERY THURSDAY YOU'D TAKE HER TO THE PARK TO GET ICE CREAM- CHOCOLATE FUDGE, EVERY TIME. AND-" Sophie realized that it was hard to breathe and that was due to the fact that she had been yelling at the top of her lungs and her nose was clogged with snot. "And," Sophie hiccuped, " and you always got Vanilla. B-but halfway through you guys would switch ice creams- a-and w-why did you never take me?-"

Stefan was pale. 

Sophie knew why.

Agatha had confided to Sophie that nobody knew about their ice cream escapades.

"You can see her?" He was looking around Sophie, like Tedros had, but far more frnatically. As if hoping that if he looked hard enough he could see Agatha too.

"In my dreams," Sophie said.

Stefan stumbled out from behind his desk and fell to his knees before his daughter. Cupping her face with his hands. "That's it?"

There was a manic look in his eyes. Desperate.

Her father had only ever been placid and gentle, unmoved by even her most hysterical fits. This was a complete switch.  

It terrified her.

"Y-yes."

"You aren't lying to father, now, are you Sophie?"

Don't tell him.

Agatha didn't sound scared, but she did sound crushed. Sophie did not understand.

"No."

"Is..." Stefan, as if finally realizing his behavior, fell away from his daughter. "I'm- I'm sorry, sweetie. Ah," there was a hardness in his eye that he was trying desperately to hide, (it was the angry jealousy inside him. He has been hounded with the loss of his daughter for years. Why her? Why Sophie, who has never suffered a day in her life? Why?!) "I'm so happy you got to meet your big sister."  Stefan smiled, the smile that he always smiled. Closed mouthed and neat. So unlike the young messy one he gave Agatha in the memory.

"Why didn't you tell me about her?"

Stefan let out a long breath then got comfortable on the floor, he patted the spot next to him. "Sit, Sophie."

And why don't you call me 'princess' too. I look more like a Princess than she does.

Agatha didn't say anything.

Sophie sits, grimacing as she settled onto the cold floor. Stefan takes her hand, a rare gesture of affection. 

"Agatha," he swallowed, ducking his head to inspect their hands, Sophie's small white ones and his tanned large ones. "My A-, your sister turned 16, last week. She was a summer birthday," he met her eyes, and Sophie was hit with the sudden urge to cry. "Her death was so sudden, we loved her so much. Me and your mother, we did. It was terrible. And...your mother, she was there to see her die."

Sophie wanted to ask how she died but she felt that the question would end their conversation. Besides Agatha, who was still quiet, probably didn't want to know how she died.

"Va- Your mother didn't want to talk about it. She was traumatized. She cried when she found out about you. Fearing you'd have a similar fate. That's why we don't talk about A-Agatha. Even after all this time, it's still too hard."

"Is that all?" Sophie took her hand back and stood, looking down at him, dry-eyed once again. "You should have told me."

She turned to leave when Agatha finally spoke, Can you please tell him that... he deserves to move on?

Sophie ignored the request and left the room.  "Goodnight father."

Tomorrow it would be her birthday. She would turn eight. She thought she'd be more excited than she was. But Agatha was restless in her head and she could concentrate on little else.

'Will you settle down, Aggie.'

Something is wrong, the girl voiced, sounding stressed. Something is going to happen. I feel it.

'You can't feel anything, you don't have a body.'

I don't need a body to feel.

'Fine, what's wrong?'

I... And the anguish in Agatha's voice could nearly be felt in Sophie' own chest. I don't know.

She's beautiful, Agatha said, but it sounded nearly like an insult. 

"Mother?" Sophie said, hesitant, watching Vanessa from the door of her room. Watching Vanessa, a vision of golden summer beauty, apply more makeup than she needed for being around the house. 

"Yes, love?"

Did you hate Agatha?

All signs pointed yes.

But if she found out so would Agatha.

Sophie didn't want to hurt Agatha. Not really. Agatha didn't do anything wrong. But Sophie still needed to know.

"Are you gonna spend my birthday with me?"

Vanessa smiled, "What a silly question! Of course! You're my daughter."

Agatha didn't say anything for the rest of the day. And Sophie didn't try to get her to talk.

Agatha was right, Sophie realized, something was wrong.

She had taken this path so many times. Walked the worn road, pushed back the hanging foliage, to reveal the cliff with its moss covered edge.

(The familiarity of everything struck remembrance into them. They remembered- everything. Both. For Agatha it was like a missing piece, a memory connecting a broken chain of events, a flash fire of trauma. For Sophie it was like watching a movie. A horror movie. Where the beautiful mother shoves her trusting daughter off a cliff.)

Vanessa was grasping Sophie's hand, Sophie was dragging her feet. And Vanessa was saying something to Sophie, no doubt confused but Sophie kept struggling.

Not Sophie- Agatha. Agatha had wrestled control, Agatha was the one speaking. Using Sophie's body to resist and scream.

"NO! NOT AGAIN! PLEASE!"

Vanessa froze, letting go of Sophie's hand. Backing away. "Sweetie, what's wrong-?"

"Don't push us," Agatha, Sophie, both of them begged. They were begging together. Both scared, and hurt and angry. "Not again!"

"What are you going on about-"

Sophie had taken control, "YOU KILLED AGATHA AND ARE PLANNING TO KILL ME TOO! WHY?!"

Then Agatha, "Please, mum. Not again. I can't go through that again- Mum-."

Vanessa saw it then. Agatha .

(She saw Agatha in the pathetic peasant way her eyebrows met at the top, furrowed so intensely. The way Sophie's body was uselessly frozen in fear. The way Sophie was looking at her the way Agatha used to, filled with hope, fear, and wariness of being hurt. She hated that look. She hated that even after everything she worked hard to do- she couldn't fully rid herself of Agatha.)

Her ugly firstborn. The one she offed at this very spot

Agatha, who already caused everyone so much grief..! And she was back haunting her darling Sophie!

Her poor Sophie was suffering..! Was Agatha possessing Sophie? What if Vanessa pushed Sophie off the cliff- would it knock Agatha out of her? It should. There was no other way. And truly it was the perfect place. Quiet. Secluded. Beautiful. Dangerous. The perfect spot.)

Vanessa advanced on Sophie, who was shaking. Her body is overwhelmed by the two spirits fighting for dominance. Sophie, finally wrestling control, ducked away and ran towards the path, screaming.

Both girls saw the look in their mothers eyes. And Sophie, who didn't care for useless second chances, only wanted to be as far away as possible as the woman who killed Agatha. Who was planning on killing her.

She kept running until she ran smack straight into a thigh. She looked up, faltering when she saw it was her father, who must have followed after them, and said, " Run ."

"Where's your mother?"

"She-"

"Sophie!" Vanessa called, sweet as she walked the trail. "C'mon Sweetie, you are not okay. I'll help you but-"

Agatha, now in control of the body, whimpered. She hid behind his legs.

"What's wrong?" Stefan demanded, his daughters panic manifesting in him. "Why are you hiding from your mother-?"

Agatha, still in control, looked up. "She killed me. She pushed me off a cliff-"

"What nonsense!" Vanessa interrupted, smiling wide and radiating manic energy. "How could I kill you, Sophie."

"My name is Agatha!"

Vanessa's eyes filled with tears, the shadows of the trees casting patterns of light and shadows over her face. "Who told you about-"

"YOU KILLED ME-"

Sophie wrestled control. Desperately, she searched for an excuse, she forced herself away from behind her father and presented herself humbly, feeling somewhat safe under the watchful eye of her father. "I- I... Mother, I don't like this place."

Vanessa stepped forward, wrapping Sophie's stiff, small, body in a perfumed hug.

Sophie noticed that Agatha hadn't stopped screaming, except it was faint. And if Sophie concentrated hard enough on her mother, it can be mistaken as the distant roar of the wind.

Stefan didn't wrap his daughter up in a hug.

I know. Agatha is here. In my head. She is with me. She is my guardian angel. She-

These woods.

My name is Agatha!

He hurries after them, watching the convincing way Sophie melted into Vanessa, something suffocating snarling up his throat. 

At home Vanessa and Stefan were arguing. After hearing Vanessa's recall of the events Stefan thought that Sophie should see a therapist. Vanessa was insistent that it was just the creepy aura of the place.

Stefan relented, agreeing to not send her to one.

He had lied.

A few days later, under the pretense of introducing Sophie to an old friend...he brought her to Dr. Sader.

("Don't tell your mom. This is our little secret."

"Like you and Agatha with ice cream?"

"Yeah...just like that.")

Dr. Sader was very good at his job.

And she told him everything.

And Sader believed her, since he had a voice inside his own head, though she was more demonic and nosy than angelic. (She was called Evelyn, and she was killed in a tragic automobile accident.)

Sader, good friend of Merlin, made a phone call that night.

"You haven't called on me in a while. I was quite close to stopping by to see if you had died."

"I'm afraid this isn't a social call, Professor."

"Merlin." The old man corrected, "you're old yourself Dr. Sader, call me Merlin." A pause, "good news or bad news."

"I'm afraid-"

"Right," grumbled Merlin, "you never been one to call about good news." A sigh, "who do I need to investigate now?"

"The Woods family. The little girl, Sophie. Just turned eight. She'll need a protection charm. The mother...it was a case of filicide."

"Right." The jovial man was finally serious. "Anything else I should know?"

"The case is not unlike mine. Sophie, the younger girl, has her deceased sister co-inhabiting her head. My guess is because she was betrayed in her last moments she couldn't accept her death so she lingered and since Sophie was born so soon after she was just pulled to Sophie. She lost memories when she joined Sophie, could be self-preservation or a consequence of the merge. The dead sister, Agatha, is powerful, she can take over for a while if she pleases and she is a constant in Sophie's head."

"How does the Sophie girl take having her sister in her head?"

"Very well. She’s convinced it's some guardian angel business."

"Ah..."

"She needs to be set free. The spirit- er, Agatha might be fine now but she'll grow miserable or wicked soon. She has done well for the past eight years...but now that she has recovered her memories...she's bound to..."

"I know," Merlin said, "what of the mother?"

"Find evidence. Frame her. Kill her. I don't care. Put her behind bars. All of that after we find a way to free Agatha."

"Is that how you talk to your elders?"

Sader laughed dryly, "You are the one to insist we drop honorifics."

Merlin was silent for a moment, and when he spoke he sounded mournful. "I was beginning to think that the world was going quiet."

"I was too, old friend. I was too..."

"Old?! Says the man who can't make it up a flight of stairs!"

"Asth- ma. Asth- ma!"

Lately, Agatha has been feeling off . Not necessarily bad but...faint. If there was a proper way to describe the feeling she would use that term.

She just didn't feel the same.

Talking to Sophie was becoming unappealing. And when she did want to talk it required more energy than she was willing to expand.

Agatha didn't feel much of much.

So that is why she couldn't muster up the will to care when Sophie sobbed about her mother's crime.

Why she couldn't talk Sophie out of confronting Vanessa. (Though, God, she wanted to. Speaking was hard and it seemed worthless since when did Sophie ever listen to Agatha?)

Why, when Sophie asked desperately, to Agatha, after talking to Vanessa, whether or not she was crazy.

("That crazy lady had tried to convince me that I was seeing things! That I was sick! Can you believe that?! She said that you aren't real, she said that you aren't actually talking to me but that I made you up in my own head! What bullshit!

... Agatha? You haven't said anything in a while... Agatha. Agatha?! AGATHA?!!")

Agatha didn't say anything.

Though it felt hollow it didn't feel much else.

The only times Agatha would feel something was when she saw Vanessa. Something fiery and hot. Something that filled her very being with an inconsolable ache. 

Something that had her thinking of blood and revenge.

Something that she felt could only be satiated with Vanessa's death.

At first, Agatha wished she saw Vanessa less. She would rather be numb than filled with such ache. But the ache soon seemed more like a calling, a carnal desire. It felt like a mission that would grant her the something she was missing.

Agatha didn't necessarily care how it happened. Vanessa could fall down the stairs, drown, have a deadly seizure.

Agatha did appreciate the irony of Vanessa being shoved off a cliff, however.

She didn't feel much besides the need to quench her thirst for vengeance.

Something was wrong. She knew that. Objectively. But also, she didn't really care what was wrong anymore.

Agatha was dead.

So why was she even here? Shouldn't she be elsewhere? Somewhere less bothersome? Shouldn't Sophie be living a normal life without Agatha in her head?

This was ridiculous.

There was no reason for her to care anymore.

"Sophie?" Tedros kneeled in front of her, looking at her with concern. "What are you doing?"

Sophie looked up, eyes glassy. "Teddy, what do you do when you're tired?"

Tedros took her hand and pulled her from her hunched position on the floor. Sophie was trembling from the cold but the second she got under covers she felt like she was going to be choked alive. Like the covers would attach themselves to her and glue to her body like second skin.

"I sleep." He murmured, scooping Sophie up the way she liked- the princess carry. "Wanna try it?"

Sophie shakes her head quickly.

"Why not?"

"I keep getting nightmares."

He dropped Sophie onto her bed playfully, then sat down beside her, sobering when that failed to elicit a smile.

"About what?"

"Agatha."

She snuck a peak up at him and sure enough his entire demeanor shifted.

His eyes had gone serious, steely. 

"What about her?" he asks carefully.

"She... She keeps dying. And she says weird things. It's not my Agatha. This girl is always angry. That’s only in my dreams. She never talks anymore."

"She used to talk a lot?"

Sophie nods emphatically, " All the time ."

He huffs a slight laugh."That sounds like her."

"But not anymore. Yesterday, I pushed Hort down from the rock climbing wall-

"You shouldn't have done that."

"-And Agatha didn't say anything. She used to yell at me."

Tedros hugged Sophie close to his side wordlessly, and as kids often do when they are upset, she fell asleep. He lay her down on the bed, tucked a light blanket over her, and brushed some of her fair hair out of her face.

He looks out the window of her room, he pointedly doesn’t think of when this used to be Agatha’s room, or how he would play with her on the floor. He doesn’t think of how kind and happy she was. Instead, he hurried and knocked on Stefan’s office.

Stefan’s hands trembled and he dialed a number he had memorized out of fear for Sophie.

At her next appointment with Dr. Sader, the following day, she told him everything.

"It's progressing already. We need to quarantine Sophie."

"She's just a kid, Sader," Merlin says in his long suffering way. 

"A kid hosting a seriously unstable and powerful sister in her head, Merlin!"

Merlin hummed, "can't we just... kill Vanessa?"

"And that's less extreme?" But Sader sounded tempted.

"She killed her kid, Sader."

" Death is too kind and we aren’t sure if that would truly be enough to satisfy Agatha." Sader says consideringly. “Besides, that might scar Sophie. 

"As if locking her up won't?"

Knock knock.

"What was that?" Sader asked. 

Merlin peeked out his peephole, "An old friend. I will call you back.”

Sader protested but Merlin had already hung up.

Merlin opened the door, smiling warmly. “Tedros."

"Merlin,” Tedros offered a tight smile.  “It’s a pleasure."

‘What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Tedros pushed the door open and let himself in. “I trust you are familiar with the Woods family?” 

“How come never comes to me in times of peace?” Merlin grumbles but follows his estranged godson indoors.

Chapter Text

Tedros never much cared for the supernatural. He believed that it existed, impossible not to in a town as superstitious as his, he just didn't think— whether or not it did— it would ever affect him personally.

But then Agatha had died, and there were rumors all over.

She practiced witchcraft! She was carried away and drowned by spirits! Sbe summoned the Reaper that she always spoke so highly of and he had kissed her on the lips and taken her soul. 

Tedros had shut each down viciously, but he had jotted them all down on his notebook anyways.

The way she died sounded most unlike her. She was careful, she was quick, she didn’t even like birds. She liked animals with four legs. (Tedros had agonized over it, and he didn’t want it to just be that he cannot imagine someone so important to him leaving in such a simple way.) 

After her death, Tedros kept a keen eye on any supernatural alluding activities, and out of some kind of loyalty to Agatha, he looked out for her baby sister. Then, he stayed because he was an only child and it was nice to have someone who he could look after. 

(He made his comparisons, of course. But Tedros soon grew to love Sophie just as strongly, though, in an entirely different way.

That could all be true and he could admit that there were other benefits to having a tie to the Woods family. Such as, he got to keep an eye on Vanessa. 

Tedros never liked her. The way that Agatha adored the woman while the woman consistently disappointed her made Tedros want to shake his friend and say: This? These are the scraps you’re waiting for?

He never did.

But no matter how close an eye he keeps Vanessa, he never catches her doing anything supernatural or suspicious.

Still, Tedros was a very suspicious boy so when observing Vanessa bore no fruit, a year after Agatha’s death, he turned to the Coven.

He hung around the middle school they attended, it was out of town and far away, and held a mass of weirdos. It was called the Lasso’s School For Troubled Ladies, LSTL for short. On his third day of asking around, the Coven finds him.

Tedros had met the Coven on other occasions, when they hung around Agatha, cooing over her and delighting her with horrid stories. They always seemed to expect him to stalk off so he had always made a point of sticking around Agatha, giving them looks whenever he thought they were being too freaky.

The Coven consisted of three girls: Dot, Hester, and Anadil. They had held some sort of fondness for Agatha and negative affection for Tedros. Still, they must have had some sort of fondness for him because they were there.

He hasn’t seen them since Agatha’s funeral, hidden in the shadows, so close together they looked like one blob of darkness rather than three individual middle school girls. It was odd to see them again, only slightly older, all of them looking the same except Dot seemed to have gotten her hands on more chocolate since they last met. They didn’t greet him or make any noises of recognition, but they were in front of him, which was enough compliance.

“I need your help,” Tedros blurts, hands sweaty as he clutches his shirt. “Please.”

“What is it?” Dot asks, raising a brow. “Well? Spit it out.”

“I need your help,” He repeats. Before they could be irritated again, he adds. “It’s about Agatha.”

Hester, who had been scowling, starts, eyes wide. Their only link was Agatha, there is no other reason for him to seek them out, but still. Her being gone is so permanent that talk of her is still a shock to the system.

Hester snaps her fingers in his face, “What do you mean?”

He inhaled deeply, “No one believes me. They tell me I’m in denial or something, but I swear there is something fishy about her death. It’s not like her to just fall off a cliff,” The trio narrow their eyes, and Tedros hurries to amend his statement. “I mean. You know how hard she is to scare. You know how cautious she is. It’s suspicious. And I think that there might be something… supernatural about it.”

They stare at him, faces blank.

He felt like a little boy, in the worst way possible. Small, chided, foolish.

To his great relief, Anadil nods, “You know, I think the kid is onto something.”

Hester makes a noise, considering. “She’s dead. We’re sure of that, right?”

Tedros ducks his head, “I do this she’s dead. It’s the how I’m thinking of.”

Anadil tilted her head, shooting Dot a knowing look, “I mean, if she’s dead and we want to know for sure what happened, what about a seance?”

Dot claps her hands, “We haven’t had one in a while!”

Tedros feels dread creep through him, one thing about theoretically getting help. It was entirely different for him to mess with the dark arts anyways. Hester sees the apprehension on his face and cackles, “What? The prince doesn’t want to get his hands dirty?”

Tedros set his jaw, “I’m doing it.”

“Why would you be a part of this?” Dot grabs Hesters arm, hisses something into her ear, and Hester lets out an aggrieved sigh. “Fine. But you do what we say, got it?”

Tedors nods eagerly. 

Hester scans him, eyes flashing angrily. She jerks her head to the side and steps away, the Coven quickly follows. They bend their heads towards each other, Dot and Hester are exchanging rapid fire words, and Anadil is listening.

Finally, they seem to reach a consensus and return to him, brightly Dot says, “Meet us at her grave, after the sun goes down. We’ll bring the materials.” She hesitates, before adding, “And if you have a physical copy of a picture of her, bring it.”

Before Tedros could think to ask anything, they were already gone. 

They had done everything perfectly. Or at least, Tedros had done his part of bringing a photo of her. Then he had held Dot’s clammy and Anadil’s cold hand, and he had believed. 

So it should have worked.

“You didn’t believe enough,” Hester hisses, eyes so bright they were nearly red. “There is no other explanation–.”

“He came to us, though,” Dot protested, eyes wet with tears. She had burst into tears when the seance failed. “He even came out here at night. His mom is probably worried. He wouldn’t have done all of this if he didn’t think it would work.”

“Then what is it?” Hester snapped. “Is Agatha just not in the spirit world?” Her tone tapered off, eyes glazing as she seemed to start to consider something. Her gaze darts to each of them, “You don’t think…”

“That she’s stuck somewhere between life and death?” Anadil filled in, something solemn flickering through her apathetic face. “Fuck.”

“What do you mean?” Tedros despairs, something claustrophobic coming over him, making it hard to breathe. Dot notices and quickly begins to soothe him, hands him a chocolate. 

“Well, our understanding is that there is a spirit and a body, and they are tied together with life. When a person dies, that connection is severed and their body leaves for the spirit world. Unless, it forms a connection with something else. She could be haunting a building or wandering the streets right now, still on Earth. If that’s so, then there is no way to reach her by seance. Do you get it?”

“So, she’s stuck?” Tedros murmured, voice wavering with tears. “She’s lost? Is she upset then?”

“It’s a theory,” Anadil says, as if uneasy to see him cry.

Hester shrugged, looking profoundly unhappy, “The only explanation we got. Hell, we could be wrong about it all. There’s a first time for everything.”

“I hope you are wrong,” Tedros spits out, hating them for what they had told him. Hating the fact that he now has more questions than answers. Hating that Agatha was still gone, out of reach, and terribly dead. 

Hester sneers at him, but her eyes also have a suspicious mist. “Me too, brat.”

He was nine, they were twelve. They did their best. He had left their failed seance and turned further to the supernatural, skipping right over to the haunting. He offered prayers to Hecate, Dea Tacita, every holy name he thought might know. He scoured books, looking for ways to identify signs of a haunting. So that he could see her if it happened.

Eventually though, he went on with his life, feigning happiness and occasionally even feeling it. He focused less on Agatha’s mystery and more on his grades, his athletics, his social life. He rejected any romantic prospects, claiming that he wanted to prioritize success but he never quite got over the deep-rooted desire to know. He never quite got over Agatha.

And then, it happened.

It was eight years after Agatha’s death, Sophie was seven. Tedros was sixteen. He had been elbow deep in school work and college tours, though he already knew where he wanted to go. 

Camelot University, like his father had. 

As of late, he had a weird ache in his chest. He had known Agatha since birth, their mothers had attended the same hospital and their recuperation times overlapped, and very soon, would come a time where he’s been without her for longer than he’d known her. He was handling it well enough. But still, he figured he should at least do something with that restless energy, so he dropped his studies and football practice, and he headed over to the Woods home.

He didn’t call in advance, a habit he developed when he still heavily suspected Vanessa. He wanted to catch her unawares. Now, it was simply too odd to call in advance. 

Like some kind of sixth sense, Sophie finds him after only minutes of him entering the residence. Immediately, she wraps her skinny arms around him, and fills him in on everything that has been going on in her life since he visited almost a month ago. Tedros doesn’t let himself think about what could have been, if Agatha had been here too. He didn’t think of what a good sister she would be. 

He just follows Sophie in, has tea time with her, follows her to her room where her toys were, and dutifully fills her in on the parts of his life she could know about. 

Soon enough, he sees her fidget and he knows that she’s heard enough. He laughs, and offers her favorite game, pleased when she brightens back up. 

“I’ll be the prince then. Call me Theodore, and you will be my little sister, the princess…” he dragged out the word ‘princess,’ making it clear that she could pick her own princess name. 

“I will be Princess Agatha,” Sophie declares and Tedros nearly forgets how to breathe, he chokes on his next inhale. “And I’m not your sister. I am from another kingdom!”

“Agatha, you say?” he asks breathlessly, “Why Agatha?”

“Why not Agatha? It means good and noble, you know.”

He does. Agatha had told him herself. Agatha had said it exactly ‘good and noble.’ He’s not sure what he was hoping for. He’s not sure what he was expecting. 

"I-I do know...what does your princess look like? Like you? Theodore has blonde hair like me but green eyes like-."

"Agatha has big brown eyes and short black hair," Sophie interrupts.

And damn, Tedros can’t even clearly remember what she looked like. He had like two photos of her and all of them were taken at a distance. He couldn’t see the length of eyelashes or the moles he remembered she had under an eye. Was it the left or right one? He couldn’t see her eyes or her hair, he couldn’t remember the exact color of her eyes or the texture of her hair. He remembered she’d complain about how it was oily so she had to wash it often. Was it soft? It was thick, right? That’s why she kept is so short, right?

No matter, “She sounds beautiful,” and he doesn’t know if he sounds reverent or not. Agatha was so long ago, he can’t even remember her voice. Was he allowed to miss her even now?

“Not really,” Sophie says giddily, eyes shining with knowledge. “Her hair is greasy and her eyes are bulgy.” She thinks it over, and adds, “But she’s nice and annoyingly a goody goody!”

Surely… It could be a coincidence. 

“You… I, wow. You got her all figured out, huh?”

But see, Tedros didn’t believe in coincidence.

“Wanna know a secret?” Sophie asks, and Tedros nodded, torn between premature annoyance at himself for not suspecting Sophie, who was born right after Agatha died , and also elation. “I have a guardian angel,” Sophie confides, “and it’s Agatha.” Tedros has no time to feel any other sort of way before Sophie is dropping more intel on him. “She always scolds me for being rude. And sometimes, she, like, possesses me to say things to people. Once she told my old maid, Callus, something about a reaper–.”

Tedros couldn’t help himself, he saw a glimmer in the air, likely dust in the sunlight but he grasped for it, on his feet. “Is she like a ghost?” He has one hand over his stomach and another looking for her, seeing that if he passes something warm and playful, like she was, then maybe—”Is she right here?”

Sophie shakes her head, amused by him. “Nope!” She holds her silence for a suspenseful moment. “She’s in my head.”

Tedros faced her, sank back onto the bed beside her. “Can she hear me?”

If all this time he had been looking for Agatha and she was right here…

Sophie faces him, looks at him fully, green eyes bright with excitement. “See you too.”

Was Agatha seeing him through Sophie’s eyes?

“W–,” he forces himself to breathe. “What does she think?”

Sophie hesitates for a second, looking him over, before finally saying, “She said you look like a prat.”

And if Tedros had any doubts, which he didn’t because desperate men clung to anything, then they all vanished. This was Agatha.

Tedros choked back a sob, old grief returning sharp and he forced it into a laugh. He digs his elbows into his knees and buried his face in his palms. Trying to gather himself. 

Agatha .

Sophie continued relaying Agatha’s message, “She said that you grew up very handsome and that she is very proud of you. She thinks that you are going to do great in school.”

Tedros forces himself to breathe through his sobs, his hysteria, he was with Sophie. Agatha was watching. He couldn’t lose it now. He was probably freaking Sophie out–

Sophie moves to get off the bed, saying, “Should I stop?”

Without meaning to, he grabbed her wrist, an old desperation roaring in his chest. “No,” he hurried to assure, head still angled away. “Is there anything else?”

Sophie gasps, and Tedros panics that maybe his grip had hurt her, but she assures him otherwise when she protests, “I can’t tell him that!”

He looks towards her, face still buried in one hand, eyes bleary and stinging. “Tell me what?”

“She said that your hair is too long,” Sophie sighs. 

Tedros looks at her, tries to see if hints of Agatha bleed through, and sees none. Still, Agatha was speaking to him through her. Agatha was speaking to him! And she said…And then Tedros was laughing, having forgotten the joy of being mocked by Agatha. 

And then, the madness that had slowly petered out, roared back to indignant life. His mother, Guinevere, who had let out a sigh of relief when he had begun paying school his attention, was not pleased. 

“You don’t understand,” Tedros mutters, highlighting a specific line on one of his books: Spirits are neutral, Spectres have motives and are focused. “Now it’s real. Now, I have proof.”

“You have the delusions of a child.”

“I have the testimony of a sister who was born a short year after her death.” Tedros corrects, snapping the book shut and clutching tightly. “Vanessa would never mention Agatha and Stefan. He wouldn’t be able to talk about her without crying. Besides, they didn’t know about Reaper or Callis… what they had meant to her…. and yet Sophie did? No, I need to do this.”

“For what?” she demands, hugging herself. “For closure? It’s been years , Tedros.”

“For Agatha ,” Tedros hisses, taking the book, and a few others that he remembered paid attention to hauntings and possessions and shoved it into his spare schoolbag. “She could be stuck there. She needs peace. It could be dangerous. For her, or Sophie, or the one responsible for her death... It must have been a murder! I bet it was—”

“Do you hear yourself?” Guinevere begs, eyes wide and scared, her hands fly expansively. “You sound mad!”

Oh.

Tedros swallows. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Her hands, which were reaching for the sky, curl inwards, towards her chest. “I don’t mean it like—.”

He hurries past her and towards the stairs, shrugging the bag onto his shoulder. “I’ll keep this business to myself, and” the Coven flashes in his mind. He stutters to a stop. Right. Yes, they could help. “And my associates. I have to go now. Bye, mother.”

“Tedros?” she calls after him, and he turns to face her. Her voice is steady when she asks: “Will you be back for dinner?”

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises, meaning it but also not really. She doesn’t understand. She never would. 

It was all going to come together. He was sure of it. 

From there, he gets into his car and begins calling around. Eventually, he finds out that Beatrix has contact with Hester. 

“ Why do you want to know where she is ?” Beatrix presses, sounding annoyed. “Are you stalking her or something?”

“My God, Beatrix,” Tedros groans, flipping his blinkers on. “If I were stalking her wouldn’t I be sneakier about it?”

“Because that's very reassuring ,” she says sarcastically. From the background noise it sounds like she was at the party Chaddick had made him promise to attend.   

Reena, who must have overheard the conversation, pipes up with her own two cents, “ Well, I think it is! If he were truly stalking her then he would have put in more effort to be untraceable. It’s men like him who have more to lose.”

Tedros swallowed back a sigh. Their dynamic was never quite the same after Beatrix’s and Reena’s brief dalliance with a man-hating cult led by some butterfly freak. They now took a rich joy in comparing him to the freaks they witness on true crime shows. 

“Listen, I just need help with something and she is the only one who is already filled in on the situation.”

Beatrix sighs. “ Still weird. But, here: she is in a high school, where girls with not so angelic reputations go. It can be figured out by anyone with half a brain so I don’t even feel bad about telling you this much. ”

“Isn’t it too late to be in high school?” He glances at the clock. It’s nearly 6 PM. “Plus, didn't they graduate a while ago?”

“ She has a freak club, ” Beatrix says. “The school hosts it. It’s whatever. It runs until eight.”

“You sure know a lot about her whereabouts.”

“Say anything about it and I’ll call you a liar to your face.”

“Right, thanks Bea. Reena. Tell Chad that I got caught up with something.”

“ Bye bitch, ” and she hangs up just like that.

And then he might have blacked out because next thing he knows he’s stumbling out of his car and towards the dreary school. He’s running past security who is fast asleep in his chair and he’s just yelling out the names of the Coven alternatively. 

HESTER! ANADIL! DOT! 

Over and over until the girls approach him, each wielding something odd. Hester is holding a knife, Anadil has weird stains on her uniform and is holding something wrapped in dark cloth, and Dot is holding chocolate but also her hair is lightly smoking.

Because the other two are simply too odd he addresses Dot.

“I think your hair's on fire,” Tedros tells her.

“Thank you,” Dot says, pleased.

“I mean, it’s smoking.”

Dot waves her hands, a proud smile on her lips. “Yes, yes. I said thank you.”

Hester groans and smacks a hand over the section of Dot’s head that was giving off the smoke. The glare that she shoots at him is tired at most. (Tedros might have run back to them in the heat of his fixation, giving numerous–now laughable– theories, all of which they took great joy in tearing apart.) “What do you want, Goldilocks? Wait no, let me guess. Is Agatha manifesting in the sky again? Maybe the shape of her eyebrow is drawn on the sky? Or is it her elbow, this time?”

Anadil hums, head falling into an amused tilt. “I don’t know… maybe Agatha possessed his computer again…”

Dot rolls her eyes. “Just spit it out, Tedros. I want to go to bed.”

Tedros throws his shoulders back. “I know what happened to her.”

“Tedros,” Dot says, oddly patient. “This isn’t healthy .”

“I know for sure what happened to her,” he repeats. “This isn’t a theory.”

“Well, then what happened to her,” Hester snaps.

And Tedros tells them.

And they believe him. It makes too much sense. 

Tedros has already read about all the haunting myths and ‘studies’ out there. But now his search was wildly narrowed down and he had a team, sort of. 

This is what he found out from each of them. He took the liberty of recording them.

{START RECORDING.} 

Anadil: ‘Contrary to popular beliefs spirits rarely leave their desired container at will. They can’t just go from house to house or person to person. Being within something requires a lot of compatibility and exactly the right circumstances. The host has to somewhat accept or welcome the intruder, so the child’s ‘guardian angel’ nonsense checks out well. The intruder, the spirit, has to have enough recollection to be able to form attachments to the host but not enough to have a properly formed will of its own. If it has too much of a desire for independence it creates friction that could put either the host or spirit at risk…. Usually the host. So, if Agatha is with her sister— uhm, what’s the name? Sofia? Seraphina? Something obnoxious, it was. Oh yes, Sophie,–  right so if they are together and there is no discomfort or terror, Agatha is likely not a vengeful spirit, or the memories are dormant.’

{END RECORDING}

{START RECORDING.} 

Dot: ‘Ugh. Okay, so. From what I understand of all this– and this really isn’t my expertise, I really like to stick to proper undead. Far less explosive. It’s actually quite soothing… anyways. So. From what I understand, the way to relieve the spirit from it’s, what did Anadil call it? Container? Host? Who cares. In order for the spirit to reach the other side, the container either has to break– like, die. Or the spirit has to get what they want, because it is their desire for closure or revenge that keeps them properly tied to their host or whatever. Problem is, I’m guessing that a vengeful spirit won’t be too keen to have collaboration. They would be too laser focused on one specific outcome and they won’t really care if anyone else gets hurt. Makes it all a bit tricky since we don’t know if Agatha remembers anything, likely not, since she’s so docile, but still, all she is now is a ticking time bomb. She’ll have to be dealt with eventually.’

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{START RECORDING.} 

Hester: ‘Don’t rush me, fish lips. I’ll take my goddamn time. For you to understand, you need to know the lore. I’ll end this with a lead. Okay, are you paying attention? Good. In the beginning of time there was Good and Evil. Well, Good, Evil, and Death. Good is good, Evil is evil, and Death is neutral. That’s the big idea. So. In the beginning it was easy to be purely good or purely evil, but as the world evolved so did the concepts. Eventually, people started assigning pleasurable things towards Good and punishments towards Evil. Reasonable enough. It’s functional. The problem began when we began to think of the Grim Reaper as kind or formidable. The problem began where we thought Death was capable of being human. It’s not. It’s all about balance, and balance must be maintained…. So, Death does not take kindly to being evaded unjustly. What? No, not like vaccinations, you nincapoop, I mean, like being fucking trapped in your sisters mind. Hecate, grant me patience. Death does not enjoy being kept waiting so it does what it needs to, to move the process along. It takes Good and Evil and it meddles. It poisons the spirit to make it single-mindedly focused, to make it evict itself. If the spirit was ferocious, Death mellows it out. If the spirit is unobtrusive, Death makes it greedy. It can not be reasoned with. Yes, Tedros. I mean, Agatha is very much a threat to society. Or she will be. In a matter of time. I need you to understand this because I can’t help but suspect you have some gooey nonsense delusion that she will happily hop from Sophie’s brain to yours– no, don’t fucking deny it. All your fucking theories had the same storyline that somehow Agatha was watching over you . Bet you get off to it— FINE! Fine! Fuck, Anadil drop the knife , I’m sorry. I get it. Too far. Point is, this isn’t a damn fairytale. This is dangerous. Agatha is… fuck, she is dangerous, now. Okay? Okay, good…. I… I have a lead. Here, I printed out the article and highlighted some key stuff. It’s an account of a nearly identical case. Written under an alias but I tracked down the writer. Yeah, there's his office and number. Dr. Sader. I think you should really check in on that kid though, see if there have been any developments with Agatha. Alright. Shut up…. Tedros? You’re alright. I’m sorry for all the stuff I said to your face about how incompetent you are. And I’m sorry for all the stuff I said behind your back. And the stuff I said to my international voodoo club, that wasn’t cool– they don’t even know you. Anyways, cherish that because that apology applies to past and future misdeeds. Including this . Oh, don’t whimper like that. I even punched you with my nondominant hand. You're welcome.

{END RECORDING}

The article seemed to be an identical case to what Sophie and Agatha had. Siblings. Bonded by death. The biggest difference was that Sader and his sister ‘Rose’ were twins and by his account, ‘Rose’ had forced herself into his comatose body with the full intention of taking over his body. 

According to Hester’s notes, Rose was actually a woman called ‘Evelyn’. The accounts go into a lot of detail that Tedros frankly had little patience or care for. Though it did confirm much of what the Coven had imparted upon him. There is one specific detail though that Tedros paid special attention to. 

There was someone who assisted in much of the taming of the spectre. A man, generous, know-all, aged and, more incriminatingly, prone to giving out great hot chocolate to distressed individuals. 

He really ought to check on Sophie. Except it was stupidly late and there was no way he would be let in the home. (And even if he was, it would not be without suspicion. And he did not need a single member of that household hiding their cards more than they already have.) So, instead, Tedros goes home.

His mom is waiting up for him, nursing a glass of wine, and her eyes are red-rimmed.

She stands abruptly when he walks through the front door. She sways a bit, and Tedros realizes that maybe he has become a terrible person. He can’t remember the last time he made his mom cry. He crosses the room to her and folds her thin, shaking frame into his embrace. She hugs him back fiercely, and he can’t actually remember the last time he was held. He can’t, and that makes his eyes burn a bit. 

And then he thinks that he really misses his mom. And he misses Agatha , or just having someone who knew him that well. He misses when life used to be so uncomplicated. He misses being young, but in the good way. 

And then he’s crying, and his mom is crying too but he knows that it’s not for the same reason but that's fine for now. Just this, this is enough. 

From then on he decides that he will keep his more… occult practices a secret from his mother. It’s the least he can do. He tells her that he’s staying afterschool to help Chaddick with his college applications– to which Chaddick agrees to play along easily in exchange for a gatorade from the vending machine– when it actuality he’s going to see Sophie. 

Suffocating dread took over when he saw Sophie curled up on the floor, trembling and close to tears. “Sophie?” He rushes into the room, dropping to his knees beside her to see if she is injured anywhere. “What are you doing?”

“Teddy, what do you do when you’re tired?”

Gently he pulls her up from the floor and guides her to her bed, carrying her the way she likes. 

“I sleep,” he soothes, nearing the bed and holding her high above it. “Wanna try it?”

Sophie shakes her head, hair whipping around her with how hard she shakes her head.

“Why not?”

She hesitates, head bowed and resting on his chest when she whispers, “I keep getting nightmares.”

He drops her onto the bed, and when she doesn’t giggle, he feels the dread climb higher.  “About what?”

“Agatha,” she says, and then finally looks up at him. He’s never seen her so pale, so scared, so… haunted .

…all she is now is a ticking time bomb. She’ll have to be dealt with eventually

But not yet. Tedros…. How could he be ready to let go?

Sophie looks up at him though, with teary green eyes, and Tedros knows what he has to do. Who he has to protect. It was never really a choice.

“What about her?”

“She… keeps dying. And she says weird things. It’s not my Agatha. This girl… is always angry. That’s only in my dreams. She… she never talks anymore.”

Nonononono.

“She used to talk a lot?”

“All the time,” Sophie whines, nodding hard. 

A slight laugh passes through him unpermitted. “That sounds like her.”

“But not anymore,” Sophie says, more quietly now. “Yesterday, I pushed Hort down from the rock climbing wall–”

"You shouldn't have done that," Tedros reprimands.

"-And Agatha didn't say anything. She used to yell at me."

Tedros hugged Sophie close to his side wordlessly, and as kids often do when they are upset, she fell asleep. He lay her down on the bed, tucked a light blanket over her, and brushed some of her fair hair out of her face.

He looks out the window of her room, he pointedly doesn’t think of when this used to be Agatha’s room, or how he would play with her on the floor. He doesn’t think of how kind and happy she was. Instead, he hurried and knocked on Stefan’s office.

Tedros doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t expecting for Stefan to wordlessly slip him a business card and close the door on his face.

He looks down at the card. On simple lettering, the name reads: Dr. Sader.

He should go there immediately. He’s gotten enough indicators for him to know that this man is his biggest leads. Still, there is something that is pulling him elsewhere. 

Tedros has always been known to trust his gut.

So, instead Tedros takes a path he had not taken in a while and finds himself at an old familiar door.

He stares at it for a moment. Feeling young all over, small and ridiculous. The young that came after Agatha when he had to face the cynics. The young where he was lonely and stubborn. He steels himself, inhales sharply, then knocks on the once familiar door, a dark rich wood that seemed as timeless and whimsical as ever. 

It takes a few moments. Barely a minute, but it drags for too long, and when Merlin opens the door, a smile cracking across his face at the sight of him, Tedros is already impatient. 

“Tedros,” Merlin greets jovially. 

“Merlin,” Tedros forces himself to be courteous. “It’s a pleasure.”

“What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Tedros watches his face carefully when he says, already pushing his way in. “I trust you are familiar with the Woods family?”

Merlin grumbles something, too disgruntled for Tedros to understand, but he doesn’t look shocked. And that is all he needs. 

Merlin is pleased by the intel that Tedros offers in exchange for information, humming and smiling as he flips through his notes. “I see. The, erm, Coven, was it? They have a very romantic understanding of all this, though I can’t say they are wrong on how this applies to Agatha and Sophie. I’ve always been more of a scholar. I like facts and figures and such.”

“So you have nothing,” Tedros says flatly.

“I didn’t say that, did I? I do believe that Agatha is inhabiting Sophie and I do have cause to suspect that things are picking up in severity.”

“So you are involved with the case. How? I don’t really see Vannessa having you over for steak and potatoes.”

“Goodness no,” Merlin chuckles, eyes flashing steel. “No. I am in cahoots with Dr. Sader. He’s a mind healer. He is tracking Sophie’s progress. She is very open about this stuff, thankfully. She must have been dying to tell someone.”

 “I see,” Tedros frowns. “Then what do I do?”

Merlin blinks. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You told me all this. You would have kept me in the dark if you had no use for me. What do I do?”

“You’re a sharp one.”

Tedros narrows his eyes. “Tell me.”

“You used to be so polite…”

“ Merlin .”

Merlin lets out a sharp breath. “I can’t give you the specifics because I don’t know the full scope of the issue–.”

“Jesus, Merlin.”

“But, go to Sader. He’ll have your answers. And he’ll probably give them to you.”

 Tedros moves quickly. 

Driving used to be a pleasure. Now, he wishes that there was a shortcut. Despite this, the drive goes fast and he finds himself at the doors soon enough.  

He knocks.

The door opens.

“Dr. Sader,” he greets. “It's an honor, sir.”

“Young Pendragon,” Dr. Sader smiled, inclining his head in Tedros’ direction. “I don’t believe we have an appointment.”

“I don’t think the matter can wait.” Tedros looked around restlessly, pushed himself in, and shut the door and lowered his voice. “I’m assuming that Merlin caught you up?”

After that, well, they got rather well-acquainted.