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Before she knows what is happening, Evanora has her pressed up against a wall, a hand on her throat and anger burning in her eyes.
'I saw you with that girl. Corrupting her.' She spat, the words hissing through her teeth.
Agatha smirked, ignoring the throbbing in her head. 'Is this how you think of your daughter? Pleasing other women—'
The hand tightens around her neck.
'Go on,' she says, bringing her hand up to meet the one at her throat, urging it to push harder. 'Kiss me. Kill me. Do something.' Agatha breathes out, watching Evanora grimace at the provocation, head falling in disappointment at her daughter's words.
'Is this how desperate you've become? Begging your mother to fulfil these craven fantasies. If I raised your skirts, would I find you wet and aching?' She lifts her eyes, hand renewing it's clutch on Agatha's throat.
Agatha's smile quavers as the pressure does not relent. Tears begin to fall, and Agatha wished they were because of a lack of air.
Another hand reaches to cup between her legs. A beleaguered sigh leaves Evanora's mouth as Agatha's hips jump to her hand, tired eyes taking in this cravenly behaviour.
'You have ever been a problem, child.' Stepping closer, her full body now pressing against Agatha's. 'Is this the only way I will get through to you? To use your own evil against you.'
'Mother.' Agatha gasps, trying to plead with what little breath she has left, tears burn her cheeks and her mind begins to fog, each breath more difficult than the last.
Evanora leans down to kiss away her tears, something she's not done since she was a babe scared of the trees outside their window. The hand between her legs rubbing the same soothing patterns made on her back all those nights ago.
Suddenly, Agatha is released.
Coughing and spluttering she collapses into her mother's shoulder, clinging to her to prevent her fall—relishing the closeness of a false hug.
'Oh, my girl, hush now.' Her arms come around Agatha, almost cradling her. And when a hand comes up to stroke her hair, Agatha isn't sure whether she flinches to or from it. (Towards. Always towards).
'Don't you see? I am making you stronger. You must not give in.' The care in Evanora's voice could almost trick her into thinking it was real, that deep down she could hold some love for Agatha.
'No, Mother, this is not—' Agatha chokes around the burning in her throat.
Evanora dismisses her, lifting the side of her dress until she can feel the skin of her thigh, 'you can't lie to me about this, Agatha. Your body betrays it's own evidence dripping down your thighs.'
Two fingers enter Agatha with no warning, her body clenching around them as she struggles weakly in Evanora's grasp. Her thumb comes up to rub harsh circles on Agatha's clit, tearing a moan from Agatha's mouth.
'Tell me. Tell me how good it feels.' Agatha refuses to give in to her game, she uses what little strength she has left to lean back, willing her face to not to betray her. A third finger is forced inside, tutting as Agatha shivers around the intrusion.
At Agatha's lack of reply, Evanora grips her cheeks, forcing her to still and look at her. 'This is what you want, Agatha.'
'You only hurt yourself when you lie, Agatha. I took pity on you as a baby, I had hope that my daughter could overcome her fate—and yet, you have only enouraged the darkness in your soul.'
'Stop. Please.' Agatha croaked, 'I have done nothing wrong.'
'It pains me how freely you lie to me.' The teary doe eyes looking up at her serve only to prove Evanora right in her conviction—the obsene noises coming from between her thighs the only other confirmation she needs. How quickly she would fall apart by her own mother's hand.
'I can be good.'
Evanora sighed, ghosting her lips along Agatha's as she fell apart.
'Always the disappointment.'