Brigit's Flame, October, week #4
Title: To the Victor Belong the Spoils
Author: keppiehed
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word Count: 745
Prompt: “Omission”
A/N: Written for week #4 at brigits_flame. I chose to work with lies of omission for this prompt. And this story has a Halloween theme to wrap up the month!
A knock sounded and Bagatha pulled open the wooden door to reveal the grizzled face of her oldest friend and rival, Warmintrude the Waspish. “Warmie! It's so good of you to come!”
Warmintrude pushed past the other witch with a grunt and peered around the foyer. “Never mind all that. Where can I sit? My bunions are killing me.”
Bagatha clucked her tongue in sympathy and led Warmintrude into the kitchen. “Your broom still in the shop, dearie?”
“You know very well it is, Baggie. You were at council a sennight ago and witnessed for yourself the incident in question!” Warmintrude leveraged herself into a sitting position with a groan on both her part and the unfortunate chair's.
“Indeed, indeed,” Bagatha said, shaking her jowls. “Most shameful, what with the fire. The younger witches don't have a good understanding of charms, I think, but all's well that ends well, as I always say. The only casualty was your broom, thank goodness. Brew, Warmie?”
“Brew? We're here to talk business,” Warmintrude said. “Plenty of time for brew after.”
“It's my special recipe; you know how much you enjoy my potion-making,” Bagatha said. She ladled two mugs of the steaming stuff and sat across from Warmintrude.
Warmintrude sniffed. “Maybe just a nip. Is that snips and snails I detect? Puppy dogs tails?”
“Of course! Don't I know that the stuff little boys are made of is your very favorite? Lord, Warmie, what sort of friend would I be if I couldn't make your favorite brew for you once in awhile?” Bagatha smiled, showing the last of her two yellowed teeth.
“I've my own good brew, but it never turns out quite as tasty as yours.” Warmintrude said as she took a sip. “Ah, that's the stuff. Now, to the matter at hand. The long and fruitless reign of Gaumless Gezendorth is finally at an end. By the rood, that witch was a dullard-”
“May she rest in peace,” Bagatha interrupted.
Warmintrude scowled. “May she rest in peace. Now is the time to look forward. As senior members of the coven, one of us has a right to take her place as leader. Don't say the thought hasn't crossed your mind, my friend.”
Bagatha shrugged but didn't answer.
“We must have a Witch's Duel! The likes of which hasn't been seen in many a long year. I'm sorry, Baggie, but I believe you're underprepared to go against such a formidable foe as myself. I've had my mind set to this eventuality for a long time. It isn't your fault that you aren't the cunning strategist I am!” Warmintrude cackled with glee and took another sip of her brew. “If you don't concede my right to be coven maven, I'm afraid I'll have to throw down the gauntlet and we both know how that's going to turn out!”
Bagatha blinked but still said nothing.
Warmintrude coughed. “It will be embarrassing, really ...” She put a hand to her neck. “And we have a history. I'd really hate to destroy you ...” Her words stuck in her throat, cutting off her speech. Warmintrude sputtered a little, her eyes watering. “Is it hot in here?”
“No, dear. It's the skin of salamander you're feeling. Did I forget to mention that little addition to the potion?” Bagatha grinned.
Warmintrude's eyes rounded in horror. She began to shake, then her body shrunk in on itself.
“Of course, it could be the bat's wing or the eye of lizard. Come to think of it, any number of ingredients are likely to be troublesome for you from here on in. Oh, my.” Bagatha stood to watch the transformation of her rival. The witch turned purple-that was an unexpected side effect!-and then settled into the more conventional shade of green. The entire process took less than five minutes before a fat and warty toad blinked where Warmintrude had once sat.
Bagatha rounded the table and leaned over Warmintrude. “A Witch's Duel is just so uncivilized, don't you agree? Better this way, dearie.”
The toad opened its mouth as if to croak, but seemed to think better of it. It hopped off the table, favoring its hind legs as if it had tiny amphibian bunions. Bagatha the Benevolent (which had a nice ring to it, if she did say so herself), opened the door and ushered the toad into the night. She had other things to think about now.
She had a coven to run, after all.
Author: keppiehed
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word Count: 745
Prompt: “Omission”
A/N: Written for week #4 at brigits_flame. I chose to work with lies of omission for this prompt. And this story has a Halloween theme to wrap up the month!
A knock sounded and Bagatha pulled open the wooden door to reveal the grizzled face of her oldest friend and rival, Warmintrude the Waspish. “Warmie! It's so good of you to come!”
Warmintrude pushed past the other witch with a grunt and peered around the foyer. “Never mind all that. Where can I sit? My bunions are killing me.”
Bagatha clucked her tongue in sympathy and led Warmintrude into the kitchen. “Your broom still in the shop, dearie?”
“You know very well it is, Baggie. You were at council a sennight ago and witnessed for yourself the incident in question!” Warmintrude leveraged herself into a sitting position with a groan on both her part and the unfortunate chair's.
“Indeed, indeed,” Bagatha said, shaking her jowls. “Most shameful, what with the fire. The younger witches don't have a good understanding of charms, I think, but all's well that ends well, as I always say. The only casualty was your broom, thank goodness. Brew, Warmie?”
“Brew? We're here to talk business,” Warmintrude said. “Plenty of time for brew after.”
“It's my special recipe; you know how much you enjoy my potion-making,” Bagatha said. She ladled two mugs of the steaming stuff and sat across from Warmintrude.
Warmintrude sniffed. “Maybe just a nip. Is that snips and snails I detect? Puppy dogs tails?”
“Of course! Don't I know that the stuff little boys are made of is your very favorite? Lord, Warmie, what sort of friend would I be if I couldn't make your favorite brew for you once in awhile?” Bagatha smiled, showing the last of her two yellowed teeth.
“I've my own good brew, but it never turns out quite as tasty as yours.” Warmintrude said as she took a sip. “Ah, that's the stuff. Now, to the matter at hand. The long and fruitless reign of Gaumless Gezendorth is finally at an end. By the rood, that witch was a dullard-”
“May she rest in peace,” Bagatha interrupted.
Warmintrude scowled. “May she rest in peace. Now is the time to look forward. As senior members of the coven, one of us has a right to take her place as leader. Don't say the thought hasn't crossed your mind, my friend.”
Bagatha shrugged but didn't answer.
“We must have a Witch's Duel! The likes of which hasn't been seen in many a long year. I'm sorry, Baggie, but I believe you're underprepared to go against such a formidable foe as myself. I've had my mind set to this eventuality for a long time. It isn't your fault that you aren't the cunning strategist I am!” Warmintrude cackled with glee and took another sip of her brew. “If you don't concede my right to be coven maven, I'm afraid I'll have to throw down the gauntlet and we both know how that's going to turn out!”
Bagatha blinked but still said nothing.
Warmintrude coughed. “It will be embarrassing, really ...” She put a hand to her neck. “And we have a history. I'd really hate to destroy you ...” Her words stuck in her throat, cutting off her speech. Warmintrude sputtered a little, her eyes watering. “Is it hot in here?”
“No, dear. It's the skin of salamander you're feeling. Did I forget to mention that little addition to the potion?” Bagatha grinned.
Warmintrude's eyes rounded in horror. She began to shake, then her body shrunk in on itself.
“Of course, it could be the bat's wing or the eye of lizard. Come to think of it, any number of ingredients are likely to be troublesome for you from here on in. Oh, my.” Bagatha stood to watch the transformation of her rival. The witch turned purple-that was an unexpected side effect!-and then settled into the more conventional shade of green. The entire process took less than five minutes before a fat and warty toad blinked where Warmintrude had once sat.
Bagatha rounded the table and leaned over Warmintrude. “A Witch's Duel is just so uncivilized, don't you agree? Better this way, dearie.”
The toad opened its mouth as if to croak, but seemed to think better of it. It hopped off the table, favoring its hind legs as if it had tiny amphibian bunions. Bagatha the Benevolent (which had a nice ring to it, if she did say so herself), opened the door and ushered the toad into the night. She had other things to think about now.
She had a coven to run, after all.