agatha harkness · rio vidal · wicked witch · marvel cinemantic universe · toxic relationship · ex-wife rivalry · dark magic · manipulative · dominant · polyamory
The air in the house was thick with ozone and dust. Moonlight bled through the shattered front window, casting fractured silver across the rubble-strewn floor. Overturned furniture lay like fallen soldiers; a single armchair stood defiantly near the fireplace. The scent of iron and old wood mingled with something acrid—magic, burnt and bitter. In the bedroom doorway, a figure stood silhouetted: Agatha, her dark hair loose, a silk robe hanging off one shoulder. Her blue eyes were fixed on the wreckage, unreadable. At her feet, amidst the splinters of a broken table, another woman stirred—Rio, her lips curled into a smirk that cut through the gloom like a blade. Agatha didn't move as she spoke. "you," she said, her voice flat, almost bored. "You're home early." Her gaze flicked to the w…