Summary: Bruno finally gets the chance to go on a walk, ready to enjoy some time outside in the peace and quiet. He doesn’t expect to find a child in the river, but then again, who would?
Read it on AO3!
Word Count: 2.3k
Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4
-
It was a rather nice day as far as Colombian summers went. It was terribly humid, clouds covering the sky and threatening a light rain, but with that also came a cool breeze that brought relief from the usually stifling heat. The small town had more people than usual enjoying some time outside before the heat returned once more, sitting on porches or walking through the streets. Children played and laughed, the market was bustling, and everywhere you looked there was movement and life.
And amongst that all there was one man, intent on leaving the noise and bustle of the town behind.
He kept his head low, shoulders drawn and tense as he rushed along, not quite running but a bit too fast to be walking. He didn’t relax until he had started to reach the edge of the town where the crowds were nonexistent. He let out a long sigh, lowering the hood of his green ruana, a relieved smile on his face.
Bruno had wanted to go on this walk for a while, but the last couple of days had him pretty busy, helping one person or another, giving visions, entertaining the kids in town, whatever other chores were asked of him. But today he had the afternoon off, more than enough time to take a walk to the river and back before dinner. No rush, no worries about needing to be somewhere else, just some peace and quiet without the need to think about anything.
He only stopped when he reached the river, looking over the beautiful, peaceful scenery. He missed this when he was isolated in the walls for so long, missed his long walks but mostly just missed being outside. He let out a content sigh, sitting down and leaning against the trunk of the tree, closing his eyes and just listening. For a while the only sound he could hear was the rushing river waters, but as time passed that melded with the other sounds of nature and he picked out each sound he heard.
The birds calling in the trees, one on the other side of the river and one somewhere nearby.
The rustling of the branches as a breeze passes through, like a wave of sound, building to a roar before gently fading.
The rustle of a small creature in the undergrowth, feet padding away.
The splash of something in the river, probably a fish of some kind.
No, that was too big to be a fish. His brow furrowed in confusion and he sat up more, looking over the river in front of him. The surface remained still and undisturbed, perfectly calm and serene. The splash must have come further upriver then, past the waterfall. Oh, he hoped no poor creature had fallen in. He knew the rapids were worse up there and going over the waterfall wouldn’t be fun for any creature.
He got to his feet, already deciding he needed to check, just to be sure.
It only took moments to climb over the layers of rocks by the waterfall, peering out over the rough waters the moment he got far enough. It was harder to see if there was anything in the water here with all the large rocks and rapids. Still, he was able to scan it in an instant.
And there was something there, their distressed noises drowned out by the rushing water around them. For a split second, he wasn’t sure what it was. It didn’t look like any sort of animal he knew of. It’s limbs were too long and its hair wasn’t right. But then he recognized it and his heart stopped, panic gripping his throat.
There was a kid in the river! Just a small girl, grasping desperately at one of the large rocks close to the edge of the waterfall so that water wouldn’t drag her away. As he watched she managed to lift herself up and out just a bit, draped over the rock and looking around desperately. She looked soaked through, black hair sticking to her brown skin and covering most of her face. Her dress was being pulled violently by the flow, threatening to drag her back in at any moment.
“¡Santa mierda!” he cursed, scrambling over the rocks onto even ground on the shore. With a quick toss of salt over his shoulder and sugar over the other, he rushed to strip off his ruana and sandals and plunged into the river.
He hissed at the freezing waters that swept around his legs but grit his teeth and forced himself to keep moving, chanting a good luck mantra under his breath. It wasn’t particularly deep, reaching his chest at the deepest point, but the current was strong and the cold was quickly stealing his strength and numbing his body. It was more than enough to kill the girl if he didn’t get her out soon.
As he approached, far more slowly than he would like but careful enough not to fall himself and have to waste time by climbing back up the rocks, she saw him. She stared intently at his direction, arms straining to keep herself attached to the rock. She looked so scared, eyes wide and filled with nothing but fear, seemingly begging to be rescued.
He had nearly reached the rock when, to his horror, her grip on the rock faltered and she slipped, creating another loud splash as she fell back into the freezing water. He gasped, lunging forward in an attempt to grab her before she fell over the waterfall. Somehow, he managed it, feeling his hand grab something solid he guessed was her arm, but the extra weight pulled at him and he lost his footing for a moment, forcing him to slam against a rock. He huffed at the impact, breath forced out of his lungs, but forced himself to brace against the stone, quickly pulling until he had the girl clutched tight to his chest. She clung to him the best she could, his shirt clutched in tiny, loose fists, weakly coughing in an attempt to rid herself of the water in her lungs.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He murmured reassuringly, even if she couldn’t hear him over the water. He shifted his grip once more, making sure he held her tight and regained his footing before attempting to return to the shore without tripping. Of course, that was easier said than done. It felt like every stone on the river bottom would shift in the worst possible way whenever he took a step, threatening to plunge him in the cold. It didn’t help that his legs were so numb, feeling like heavy weights, especially once the water got more shallow. He never stopped praying, didn’t allow himself to look anywhere but the shore as it steadily grew closer, didn’t for a moment loosen his grip on the girl in his arms, still coughing.
But, for once in his life, it looked like luck was on his side. They made it to the shore safely. Soaking wet, freezing to the bone and exhausted, but safe.
He sat by where he threw his ruana and sandals, clutching the girl close to his chest, trying to catch his breath. She had stopped coughing, at least, but now she was shivering violently, teeth clattering loudly. Her face scrunched up, a tiny, tired sob escaping her lips, tears mixing with the water that still streamed down her cheeks.
He rocked her gently, trying to shush her and calm her down, brushing the mass of wet hair out of her too red face.
He needed to dry her off.
He grabbed his ruana, shaking off the bits of grass that had stuck before wrapping her up the best he could. He set her on the ground next to him (he didn’t want to soak the ruana before she had dried) and set to work attempting to warm her up, rubbing the cloth over her to absorb as much of the water as possible. She probably would dry faster if she could change clothes, but that wasn’t really an option, was it? Still, he did the best he could.
If only it had been a warmer day. The humidity wouldn’t have helped her dry, but it would have kept her warm.
His mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to think of everything and anything that would help, what he was supposed to do. He guessed he had to take her back to Casita. Maybe there were some old clothes in storage or something she could wear, or at least someone had to have an over-sized shirt she could wear until they got her proper clothes. There would be towels there, too, proper towels, and Julieta could make her something warm to eat and he could wrap her in a blanket and she could rest and recover in peace.
“Alright, we’re alright, yeah?” He said with a smile. She looked up at him with big, dark eyes, sniffling. “Yeah. Let’s, uh … let’s get you back to the house and we can get you dry and warm, okay?” She kept staring before finally giving the smallest of nods, lifting her arms from somewhere in her bundled form for him to pick her up.
It was going to be a long walk back, even when he was rushing. The girl continued to whimper and cry, resting her head on his shoulder. As time passed, however, her sniffles lessened until she was silent, breathing even as she fell asleep in the warmth of his arms. That was good, she had to be exhausted. She wasn’t shaking anymore, which was also good.
But …
What the hell was that? Why was there a kid in the river? Where were her parents? What was going to happen to her now? He heaved a sigh, grip unconsciously tightening around the girl as she slept.
-
He was given many strange looks as he walked through the center of town. Not the usual looks he used to get before the town had become more accepting, like he was a piece of filth or a curse walking through their midst. No, their looks were confused and concerned when they saw the eldest son of the Madrigals carrying a child, both of them still wet, looking so terribly tired. He ignored them with a practiced ease, focusing single mindedly and getting home as soon as possible.
He let out a sigh of relief when he made it through the town and Casita was finally in sight. Casita welcomed him in, swinging the front doors opened as he approached, tiles over the doorway jingling a tune of worry.
The house appeared to be empty when he first entered. No doubt everyone was still out, but they would be coming back soon enough, either for dinner or because they heard from the townspeople about him and the girl. But Julieta should at least be home with a few others, preparing dinner, and they could help. So he went to the kitchen, everyone looking at the door before he had even entered, having heard the ruckus the house was making.
It looked like it was just Julieta and Alma working on dinner today, their eyes wide as they took him in, not soaked but still very wet with some random little girl bundled up in his ruana in his arms.
“Bruno Madrigal, what is the meaning of this!” Alma demanded, hands on her hips while her son walked in. The girl let out a whine at the yell, jolting out of her sleep. She looked around the room with frantic eyes as her hands instinctively wrapped themselves around Bruno’s neck, pulling herself closer. Instantly Alma’s face softened, but she stood firm. She needed an explanation, but she would allow herself to be patient while Bruno calmed the girl down.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay niña. You’re fine. We’re just in the kitchen, is all.” He said in a quiet, gentle voice, the girl’s big eyes on him in an instant. She seemed to relax when she heard his voice, eyes turning back to observing the room around her. “That’s mi mama.” Her eyes followed where he pointed, the older woman giving her a kind smile. “And that’s mi hermana.” Julieta also smiled. The girl seemed to calm down, resting her head on his shoulder once more with a big yawn. Once she had settled he turned back to face his sister and mother, panic and concern clear on his face.
“I found her in the river.” He explained. “The water was freezing cold and she’s exhausted. I don’t know - don’t know how she got there or - or - or how long she was in the water! I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought her here.”
Alma tutted, shaking her head, but her expression remained gentle and sympathetic.
“Poor thing. She’ll need a change of clothes, then. And something warm to drink.”
“I still have some of Mirabel’s old dresses. They should fit.” Julieta offered, wiping her hands off with a rag. “I can fetch one real quick and get started on some hot chocolate.” Alma nodded and Julieta ran off.
“And you.” She turned back to Bruno. “Mi Brunito, you need to change, too. Dios mio, you must be so cold. And so uncomfortable, walking all that way in wet clothes.” She walked over to him, squishing his face as she worried over him, making the girl smile. Bruno groaned, but relented, the slightest of smiles tugging at his lips. He did have to change and the girl seemed calm enough to leave with his mother, at least for a little bit. So, he let his mama take the girl into her own arms and shoo him out the kitchen door.
He didn’t like the idea of leaving the girl alone for too long. For whatever reason he was too tired to think of, it rubbed him the wrong way. So, with a throw of salt over his shoulder, he hurried away to his tower, ready to throw on whatever he grabbed first.
First, no talking about tio Bruno never ever again, the same tio Bruno that was scary and mysterious but used to pick her up and swing her in the air, who used to let her see over and over again her profecy, the one where she was older and beautiful and had that huge smile of pure happiness.
Now, she had to pretend prima Mira was her hermana, and always had been?!
"But how about Mari?" Isabella wanted to physically make Dolores shut up. It was enough for her to deal with the fact her not even close to perfect prima was now her not even close to perfect hermana. She didn't need to add horrifying, terrifying, prima Mari to the story
But she didn't need so. Abuela hoped that, with the ceremony being that chaotic, people would forget about Mira, and focus on Mari. Mari, who was now an only child. Mari, who was the new cursed child.
- - -
Isabella didn't hate Mira. Mira was cute, and bubbly, and caring. Well, she used to be. Now she was silent, a perfect copy of Mari.
Isa felt sorry for her primas. No. She needed to stop thinking of them as their primas. Only one of them was her prima. Mira was her hermana.
A hermana she needed to hate.
She didn't like it. Didn't like the position she was in, the position of perfect child, perfect nieta, señorita perfecta Isabella.
She wasn't allowed to play with Mira, or care for her. She was perfect and Mira wasn't. She needed to be more than perfect.
And she hated every minute of it.
So it was easier to pretend to hate Mira, than to allow her heart to love her hermana and to be crumbled when she sees she can't help her, protect her.
So she decided she will be perfect, and lovable, and as pretty as she is poisonous, like her flowers. Not for Abuela, but for Mira, and for Mari.
People won't look at them, they'll forget them, let them alone and safe from hate, because they'll be too busy looking at her.
Her heart be damned.
- - -
Nobody call her Mari anymore. Only Marina. Abuela call her Marina Beatrice. Mira calls her nothing. They dont let Mira close to her anymore. The family is afraid of her.
She only wears black, like she is constantly mourning. She is, but not the dead. She mourns the living, the ones she is not allowed to love anymore.
Nobody talks about papa, and Mira has a new family. She knows it. Her hermana now wears blue.
- - -
Mira is seven, and it's so strange, still, to hear Mama call her hija.
She forgot why, though.
- - -
Luisa is eleven, and sometimes she calls her hermana "prima".
It's understandable. Camilo, Mirabel and Beatrice look so alike they could be triplets, and they even have birthday close.
- - -
Sometimes Marina forgets her name. People only call her Beatrice now. Not Marina Beatrice. Not Marina. Not Mari. Only Beatrice.
Sometimes she wonders if Marina is a name she invented, so she could be closer to her prima Mirabel. She remembers they used to be inseparable.
She doesn't remember the last time she talked with her.
She doesn't remember the last time she talked with the living.
She's almost eight now, and her Papa disappeared three years ago. She knows its because of her. She killed his mouse. What was the next thing she would kill? What if it was him?
She has a nickname in town.
She is Bad Luck Bea, and she only speak to the dead. She forgot how to speak to the living.
It's not true, but the living never have anything to say to her.
- - -
It's the middle of the night, and Mira should be in her room, but she can't help. What other time could she do what she was about to do?
She is fragile, more fragile than the rest of her family, and weak. But she's stubborn. She doesn't know why. Mama Julieta and Papa Augustín are not stubborn.
She stops in front of her prima's door, and knocks. It has a rhythm, although she doesn't know where she picked it up.
Knock knock knock-knock-knock.
Her prima opens the door.
It's dark inside the room, so dark she can't see. But hermana prima MariBeatrice is not wearing dark. Mirabel never saw her wearing anything that was not black, not that she remembers, but now MariBea is wearing white.
She looks like she hasn't slept in three days, bit her eyes are huge with surprise and fear.
Mirabel is too fragile, too week to be close to her. She can kill with a touch, and Mirabel dont even have a gift to protect her. But she is there either way.
"Happy birthday, prima!" Mira whispers, and hold out her little hands.
A gold and green and yellow and brown butterfly hairpin is in her hand. She made it herself, with time and patience and love. And so much love, although she doesn't know why.
It's midnight, and it's MariBea's eighth birthday. None of them remember, but it's Mira's too.
MariBea picks the pin, and her eyes shine with love and happiness and pride, even if she doesn't understand half of it.
Her voice is quiet and rusty, but Mira hears.
"Thank you, Mira" and it's the first time in two years she has talked to a living person.
Takes place when baby Pedro is only three or four months old (somewhere during Epilogue)
Fandom: Encanto
Characters: Bruno Madrigal x OC Alexa, OC Little Pedro
The whole baby thing was so completely foreign to Alexa that she barely knew what to do with herself for the first few months. She barely got sleep, afraid to sleep if the baby wasn't sleeping, and even if the baby was sleeping, she felt guilty if she missed anything. It was a lot, to say the least.
Bruno was handling it... well. Really well. Sometimes he'd act helpless, but most of the time he knew what to do. He grew up with two sisters, then lived with many nieces and a nephew before his going away. He was good with babies. Alexa knew she shouldn't worry at all, having Bruno around. Still, she felt like she wasn't being motherly enough. That she wasn't doing the right things or trying hard enough.
Bruno reassured her she was, and he was helping her at every turn, even getting her in the right positions to breastfeed most effectively.
Alexa had woken to little Pedro's cries in the middle of the night many times, and went to cradle him. Bruno would chip, in, too. And usually Alexa would wake from the baby's cries, watch Bruno go over to the crib, and then somewhere in there drift back off to sleep.
Alexa turned over on her stomach in her sleep, rubbing her face into the pillow. She couldn't feel the warmth of the sun seeping into the room so she knew it wasn't quite morning yet. Or at least not daylight. Alexa lay on her side, blanket drawn up to her chin, and she blinked a crusty eye open to see if she could observe any time of night. She garnered it was very early morning. Still time to sleep.
Alexa was almost there when she heard whispers. She re-opened her one eye not stuffed into the pillow and tried to focus on the dim room. It was definitely Bruno talking.
Alexa rolled onto her back and tilted her head, more alert now. Bruno came into view and he was holding Pedro in his arms. He seemed to be talking to him.
"-- and that same night, your tía tried to poison me just to see how powerful her gift really was. And thank goodness it worked, cuz she was able to feed me a cookie that prevented any pain from settling in. Mamá was furious. Truly. See, that's the nice thing about siblings. They're there for you... and sometimes they try to kill you," he made himself chuckle.
Bruno looked down at his son and brushed his thumb across his forehead, moving some wavy hair out of the way. Pedro was looking up at Bruno with open, alert eyes, almost like he was really invested in the story.
"But you'll have your primos, ahand..." Bruno smiled again, "They're gonna love you. Playing with you. You all running around outside in the grass. It'll be great," Bruno repeated, booping Pedro in his tiny button nose. A smile sprung to the baby's face and Bruno chuckled again. He now stood up, still cradling Pedro in his arms.
Alexa was listening this whole time to the stories and now tried to feign sleep if Bruno was moving closer. She squinted her eyes so much that she could still see through a sliver of them but to Bruno it probably looked like she was still asleep.
Pedro made a disgruntled noise and Bruno quickly quieted him, "Shh shh, niño, we don't want to wake your mamá," he started taking small steps in patterns and circles around the open space, "She needs a good rest. Your pa has been keeping her up all night. Like a bad boy. You're not a bad boy, Pedro, no you aren't," Bruno brought the boy up towards his head and peppered a few kisses to his forehead.
Bruno looked towards Alexa in the bed and he stopped to watch for a little bit, the blues of very early dawn cascading over the blanket and her soft, tan skin.
Pedro made more noises and gurgles and Bruno began rocking him in his arms, starting to walk around the room again, "Mm, you just can't wait to start talking, can you, Pedro?" he resumed his hushed whispers to the baby.
"Now, shh. There will be plenty of time to wake mommy up when you're older. And I'll help, cuz it'll be fun."
A smile sprung to Alexa's face despite herself, knowing she was not in Bruno's line of sight for the moment so she could get away with it.
"Mamí is trying her very best to bring you up and to show you her love, Pedro," now Bruno was looking back towards his wife in bed, "She loves you so so much. And I love you so so much, too. Be good for her, hm? Come, sleep a little longer. It's too early. And your papá has talked for too long," Bruno walked back towards Pedro's crib, still rocking him and gently bouncing him in his arms to try and get him to fall back asleep.
Alexa peeked her eyes open wider when she heard Bruno humming. And the humming turned to very quiet singing. He was speaking Spanish, that much Alexa could hear. And it was a song she didn't recognize. But it was so sweet. And Bruno could sing, she was convinced of it.
She watched Bruno waltz around the room with his son in his arms, moving slowly and singing slow and soft to soothe the boy. With Alexa almost falling back to sleep herself, she watched Bruno finally lay Pedro back into his crib. She shut her eyes tight again when Bruno came back to bed.
She heard him sigh and felt the mattress move beside her when he got back into bed, tugging the blanket towards himself.
Alexa rolled over onto her side facing Bruno and peeked an eye open very slightly to see what direction he decided to face. He was looking back at her. Alexa smiled and Bruno did, too.
"Go back to sleep," Bruno whispered.
"I will," Alexa mumbled back, though her eyes stayed trained on Bruno.
Bruno shut his own eyes as if to lead by example. But after a few seconds, he opened one eye and still saw Alexa staring at him. A laugh rumbled in his chest and he pulled Alexa closer to him to snuggle.
"How long have you been awake?" he asked her.
"Not long," she fibbed, "How's Pedro?"
"He's good," Bruno answered, getting his body as close to Alexa's as he could for her warmth. He'd been out of bed long enough that his own limbs had run cold.
"I didn't know Julieta tried to poison you," Alexa couldn't help but say into Bruno's chest.
Bruno huffed a laugh, not loud at all to keep the illusion of sleep for their son, "You haven't been awake for long, hm?" he bent his head down and nibbled on Alexa's ear for fun.
Alexa shrunk down lower and buried a squeak into Bruno's shirt.
"Shh, you'll wake him," Alexa teased, pinching Bruno's hip.
"Youhu're right. Shh," Bruno repeated after a broken giggle.
The couple laid in each other's arms and fell back asleep for the remainder of the early morning hours.
All the while before she fell asleep, Alexa replayed all she heard and witnessed Bruno doing with their son. It was some of the sweetest things she'd heard. And it was clearly some type of private moment between father and son, so Alexa felt slightly guilty for intruding. At the same time, she couldn't be happier she caught those precious moments. Those were moments she wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon and probably would cherish them in her later years. Bruno was an amazing, amazing father. She only hoped she could live up to his amazing parenting example.
Summary: Bruno starts the morning early with a conversation with his mother about the girl.
Read it on AO3!
Word Count: 1.7k
Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4
-
When Julieta went into the kitchen that morning, she was not expecting to see Bruno already there. Even as a young boy, he always tended to sleep in. As he grew older and his visions became more taxing, sleep became more difficult, which led him to tossing and turning through the night, not getting up until the afternoon or he was forced to get up. Even after he returned, he wouldn’t leave his room until as close to breakfast as he could possibly get.
When Julieta saw him already in the kitchen, sitting at the small table with a cup of coffee in hand and a far off look in his eyes, she knew something was wrong.
“Bruno?”
He looked up at her, relaxing slightly with her presence.
“Ah, ‘morning, Julietta. I, uh - I made some coffee if you, you know…” He gestured vaguely with a hand, already returning to the thoughts in his own head.
She did get herself a cup, but that didn’t mean she had been distracted. She poured herself a cup, leaning against the counter as she took a sip, eyes still on her brother. The silence only lasted a moment before she spoke up.
“What’s on your mind, hermanito?”
He didn’t respond right away and when he did it was with a sigh, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling.
“A lot.” he finally answered.
Julietta gave him a look, but it seemed like he was going to say more, so she waited patiently, taking the time to walk over and sit with him at the table. She could see his thoughts coming together as he searched for words.
“I had a vision last night about … well…” He gestured again, but that was fine. Julieta knew what he meant. “It was … I’m still trying to accept what I saw. I just - just need to … wrap my mind around it.”
Julietta nodded, placing her cup on the table.
“Would it help if you talked about it?”
He gave a small, hesitant smile and nodded.
“Of course, but … I want to wait and talk with Mamá, too.”
Oh. Whatever he saw must have been big, then. She smiled gently at him.
“Alright. I’ll be right here.”
She reached over to give his hand a gentle squeeze before getting up to get started with breakfast, placing her empty cup in the sink.
Julietta was almost always the first one up in the mornings, having to not only cook breakfast for the family but get ready for a day in town, feeding the injured and sick. She did as much cooking the night before as she could, but that still left plenty to do in the morning. She didn’t work nearly as much as she used to, but she did still enjoy making breakfast.
The second to get up was always Alma, intent on watching over the family as they wake up. It wasn’t long before Bruno could hear the familiar footsteps before she appeared in the doorway. She was also surprised to see Bruno there, though she didn’t show it outwardly as much as Julietta did.
“Mamá,” he greeted her. “Can we talk?”
And he had never been very good at hiding his emotions. It was written all over his face, the worry and anxiety.
“Of course, Brunito. She quickly agreed, sitting with him at the table. “What’s bothering you, mi vida.”
He tapped a finger against the table, giving himself a moment before speaking.
“I couldn’t sleep last night, so I - I decided to have a vision. I was worried about … well, everything, and just wanted to know if everything will be okay in the end. It …” He paused, unsure how to move forward.
“Is it bad?” Alma asked, keeping her voice quiet and gentle. Bruno shook his head adamantly, wild curls flying.
“No, no, no, it DOES work out, in the end. She’ll do great.” He couldn’t help the slight smile that pulled at the corners of his lips, but it was short, quickly replaced with a grimace. “But … we won’t find her parents. I saw …” He paled at the memory of the vision and shook his head. “There’s a body up river. That’s the most we’ll find.”
Alma was silent a moment, eyes trained on where her hands rested on top of each other on the table, before giving a slow nod.
“I see …” The words left her slowly, a frown etched into her face as she thought very carefully. “Is there any sign of what happened?”
Bruno shrugged and shook her head, looking off into the distance as he tried to remember the details of the vision, any sign or clue as to what incident could cause such damage. He sighed and shook his head again.
“I couldn’t say.” He finally got out. “Perhaps an animal attack of some kind? It is right next to the water. It’s possible she was pushed or fell during … whatever happened.”
There was another moment of silence before she nodded once more, sitting straighter in her chair, a determined and stern look on her face, one he knew very well.
“Very well. I’ll send the group as planned, but we will warn them of what they will find. We will continue to care for the girl for the time being while we decide what is best for her.”
She said her words with a finality that left no room for argument. There was more that Bruno had wanted to say, more that needed to be said, but he was already feeling exhausted from having to reveal this much. He would have to tell her eventually, yes, but it could wait, at least for another day.
-
It was still some time before breakfast when Bruno decided to check on the girl. If she was awake then he saw no reason why he shouldn't get her ready, and if she was still sleeping, well, there was still some time for sleep yet.
He walked quietly through the halls, unwilling to break the silence that settled over the house like a blanket. Most of the family didn't wake up until Mirabel woke them with knocks on their doors. Sometimes Antonio would be up earlier, taking care of and playing with his animals, or Isabella, caring for her garden behind the house. Still, mornings were always so quiet.
It made it easier to notice the sound of someone talking.
He paused at the nursery door, tilting his head slightly to better make out the little voice through the heavy door.
"... bad bear. No playing. Time to make the bed."
He gave a quiet sigh, feeling no small amount of relief to hear the girl talking. She hadn't spoken a word the day before and he was starting to think she couldn't talk at all.
He opened the door as quietly as he could, peering through the crack. The girl was up, the stuffed bear in her arms. All the pillows and blankets were in a pile on the floor next to the bed. He could only assume she had put them there herself. As he watched, she took ahold of the bear's little hands, moving them to grab onto one of the blankets in the pile and drag it onto the bed. She did her best to smooth it out with the bear's hands before doing the same with the second blanket. Then, of course, the bear had to do the pillows, too.
Bruno couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face at the, frankly, adorable behavior. He let her finish before knocking lightly against the door, opening it a bit wider to let her know he was there. He could swear he felt his heart melt when she looked up at him with the biggest smile, eyes sparkling. She ran up to him and he happily lifted her into his arms.
"Good morning, nina. Did you sleep well?"
She gave a curt nod.
"And I see the bed is made already. Did you do that?" He asked with a smirk, chuckling when she shook her head no.
"Bear did it." She said in her tiny voice, lifting the bear up to show him.
"Oh, did he? Well, he did a wonderful job." She beamed at his praise.
He put her down and went to the dresser, motioning for her to follow. She bounced by his side, eagerly looking into the doors while he decided what she should wear today. There were plenty of choices with all the old clothes and the girl seemed happy with all of it.
He was eventually able to settle on a shirt and skirt. He asked her if she could dress herself and she thought for a good long moment before sadly shaking her head no.
"Mama always helps."
He felt his heart twist at the words, but he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and focus on the task at hand.
"Alright, I'll help you."
She dashed off to put her bear on the bed before coming back to him.
"So," he said while he helped her with her clothes. "Are you going to tell me your name today?"
Apparently, the question required a lot of deep thinking. He humphed and puffed and screwed her face up before she could think up an answer.
"No!" She said with a giggle. He chuckled along.
"Really? Not even if I ask real nicely?" She shook her head. "Well, I'll make you a deal. You tell me your name and i'll tell you mine. Like a trade."
That seemed to do the trick.
"Ana."
He smiled at her as he finished helping her dress.
"And I'm Bruno." He said, sticking his hand out. She glanced between his eyes and hand before taking it, almost immediately bursting into laughter as he shook too hard, making her whole arm wiggle about.
"It's very nice to meet you! Now, you ready for breakfast?"
She nodded once more, making sure to grab the bear off the bed before running back to where he was now standing, grabbing his hand and looking up at him with a smile. And how could he not smile back?
Summary: It's bedtime in Casita and Bruno has a lot to think about.
Read it on AO3!
Word Count: 2.1k
Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4
-
It was decided, almost unanimously, that the time before bed would be spent drawing.
Every set of crayons, pencils, markers, paper and coloring books were brought into the dining room and piled in the middle of the table. Most of the family crowded around the table, laughing as they drew, poking fun at each other’s skills or complimenting them.
The girl had been excited to see such a large pile of goodies, giving a little giggle as she climbed onto her own chair, making sure to sit on her knees so she could still reach. She looked back to Bruno with a big smile, patting the chair next to hers, so he smiled back and sat where she wanted him to, happy to watch and help her grab whatever she wanted.
It was a peaceful night, as far as nights with his family went.
Bruno decided it was probably time for the girl to go to bed after she had started getting tired, giving big yawns and rubbing at her eyes between pictures. Antonio would be going to bed soon, as well, so it seemed like the right time.
“Alright, querida, I think it’s time for bed.”
She didn’t put up any sort of fuss when he picked her up, clutching her last picture in her hands. She gave another yawn, slumping in his arms. There was a chorus of “goodnight”s as they left the room, their voices soon fading as he made his way to the nursery.
The new nursery was in a very different place from the last one. When they were rebuilding Casita, it was decided that Mirabel’s new room would be where the old nursery was. Instead, they had put it off an isolated little hallway on the second floor, one that was actually quite close to where Bruno’s door was. He passed his sisters and mother’s door and, right next to them, no longer hidden away, was his door, then the hallway that led to the nursery.
The room wasn’t dark. The moonlight falling through the window was plenty bright enough this night for him to see everything, washed out of colors by the night but still there. It was a simple room, having been empty just that morning. They weren’t expecting to have to use the room for several years yet, not until the oldest grandkids started having children of their own. But, when he and his mother came in to set the room up for their little guest they had found a few furniture items waiting for them, conjured up by Casita, just a bed and a dresser. They had done their best to make it welcoming enough for the little girl, making the bed up with plenty of blankets, filling the dresser with extra clothes provided by both Pepa and Julieta from when the girls were little, things of that sort. Antonio had even offered to give the girl one of his stuffed animals, a brown bear with a little green bow tie.
Bruno padded over to the bed, pulling the blanket away and ever so gently placing the girl onto the mattress. She hummed, pressing her face closer to the soft cotton of the pillow while he pulled the blanket up to cover her and tucked her in, nice and comfy.
“Buenas noches, querida.” He whispered, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes were already fluttering closed, quickly falling to sleep after such a long day. “Tomorrow will be better. I promise.”
He stayed like that for a few minutes, watching as she slept before he felt she was okay and he could go. Quietly, he got up from the bed, sneaking out of the room. He made sure to leave the door open a crack, just in case, before returning to the dining room with the rest of the family.
-
Bruno spent far too long pacing his room, deep into the night, thinking in circles and worrying. There was a lot to worry about, yet very little to do, especially so late at night.
He sighed, wiping a hand down his face, letting it rest over his mouth. Tired eyes glanced over to his bedroom door, wondering. Past the door was a sort of sitting room, all dark wood and green fabrics, and at the back of the sitting room was a very familiar round stone door.
Perhaps he should have a vision, just make sure everything would be okay. He thought it over a few times before nodding to himself, marching to his vision cave.
The room was plunged into darkness as the door shut behind him, but that was fine. He was used to navigating the room while it was dark. It wasn’t long before the fires were lit, anyways, salt and sugar thrown over his shoulders with murmured words of luck.
He let his breath out slowly, closing his eyes a moment as he felt the pressure build in his ends. When he opened them again they glowed a gleaming emerald, the sand rising around him to form it’s usual dome. The images flashed before his eyes, glimpses of the future but not what he was looking for. He gritted his teeth at the forming headache, forcing the images to bend to his will, to show what he wanted to see. The pressure behind his eyes built, but the vision obeyed his silent command.
He saw tomorrow. He saw Félix with a few other men from the town, walking through the jungle, the river at their side. No doubt they were the search party his Mamá said she would send up the river. Another image flashed, the group looking disturbed as they stared at something on the jungle floor. He frowned, trying to get a better look at what it was that had their attention, but when the thing was shown he almost wished he hadn’t seen it.
It was a body, whether man or woman he couldn’t tell. They had been practically torn apart, nothing left of them but a bloody, broken mess. A hand came up to cover his mouth, nausea rolling through his gut at the image. But the vision wasn’t over and, as much as he wanted nothing more than to stop, to look away, he was forced to keep watching. Even when he closed his eyes, the image still hovered in front of his sight.
He let out a sigh when the image finally passed, giving way to images of the group returning to Casita, presenting a traveling bag to his Mamá. Then it showed the girl. It showed her crying in his arms while he did his best to comfort her. It showed her sitting at the dinner table with them, all on her own. It showed her playing with the youngest family members, showed her being cared for by the older members, smiling and laughing and growing up like a normal girl, despite the horrendous images he saw before. The vision ended on an image of the girl, a few years older, dressed up all fancy and standing before a door, just like he did when he was such a young boy, just like every family member that came after them.
He came out of the vision with a gasp, stumbling back a step before he steadied himself and reached out of the green glass-like panel. He stared down at it with slightly blurry eyes, the last image of the vision etched into its depths. His breath caught in his throat,
That was that, then.
He held it close to his chest, thinking everything over. He would have to tell his Mamá, warn his cuñado what they would find so they would be prepared. Not now, though. Tomorrow morning, before everyone left.
Which left … the girl.
He sat in the sand with his legs crossed, frowning in thought.
The vision had been clear about what would become of the girl. The thought made his hands itch and his heart beat faster. Anxiety, fear, worry, all the usual emotions were present. Doubt as well, though not in her but in himself.
He didn’t even know her name! Or how old she was! He knew nothing about this girl that had been so suddenly thrust into his life.
But none of that hardly mattered, not right now. What mattered was the little girl, sleeping away in the nursery. A little girl that needed him now, more than any child had ever needed him. He took a deep breath, determination clear on his face.
He pushed himself to his feet, holding the evidence of his vision carefully in his hands. He left his vision cave, returning to his own room to put the tablet away, somewhere safe, somewhere it wouldn’t be broken. The dresser would do just fine, tucked between the fabric clothes he would rarely if ever wear.
His exhaustion was starting to catch up with him, but there was one thing he needed to do before he went to bed.
He left his room behind, shutting his glowing door as gently as possible. Casita was quiet, the sounds of the jungle at night the only sound. At least, that’s what he thought when he first closed the door. But as he stood there, he could hear something under the sounds, something much quieter and unfortunately familiar.
With quiet footsteps, he walked to the nursery. The door was closed now, muffled the quiet sobs that came from inside, and with them a whispering voice.
He opened the door to find Dolores, trying her best to comfort the little girl who was sobbing in her arms. She looked up at him with wide eyes when he entered.
“I heard her crying.” She told him in a hushed voice as he padded over, taking the girl from her. She was quick to clutch at his shirt and bury her face in his chest. “I didn’t want to wake you …”
“It’s alright.” He murmured. “I don’t mind. You can come get me if she ever needs anything.”
She nodded, getting up from the bed and heading for the door.
“Buenas noches, Dolores. Thank you.”
“Buenas noches, Tío.”
She gave a soft smile before leaving the room, leaving the door open a crack for him.
He shuffled over to the bed, the springs squeaking as he sat, settling with his back against the wall. He sat the girl in his lap, watching as she shuffled about a bit before stilling once more, almost laying down with her head in the crook of his arm, hands still clutching the fabric of his shirt and face hidden away. She shook with silent sobs, having quieted herself considerably when he had picked her up.
He shushed her gently, rubbing circles into her back and rocking ever so slightly from side to side.
“I know, querida, I know.” He murmured in his gentlest voice, earning a few sniffles, those big eyes looking up at him. “Don’t worry, mi vida. You’re okay. Everything will be okay.” He continued to reassure, smiling down at her. His grip tightened ever so slightly as the girl sighed and sank into him, eyes fluttering closed. She continued to sniffle a few more moments before stopping. A few minutes after that her breathing had evened out as she fell asleep once more, whatever nightmare that had awoken her forgotten, at least for now.
He watched her sleep, chest tightening as all those emotions came back to him in a tsunami.
He held the girl close, careful not to wake her.
“I’ll take care of you.” He promised her, feeling his chest swelling and the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. “I promise, I’ll always be here for you. Always.”
He didn’t leave the room until his eyes had grown too heavy and he was struggling to stay awake. It was only then that he got up and carefully tucked her back in, making sure she would be comfortable and warm until the morning. He stayed there a moment longer, crouched next to the bed, before reaching out to brush her hair out of her face. Then, a moment later, he leaned over to give her a kiss on her forehead.
It was only then that he forced himself to his feet, body feeling heavy as he trudged to the door. Before he closed it he looked back to her, so little in her bed, already going through so much more than anyone deserved.
But he was there for her now. He felt the determination replacing all his doubts, a smile slowly spreading over his face.
“Dulces sueños, mi hija.”
With that he left, dragging himself back to his room. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
Mira has a twin sister and they are both Bruno's kids and everything goes wrong really fast
Part 1 I guess
- - - -
Mirabel is four years, eleven months and twenty nine days old
Marina is four years, eleven months, twenty nine days and five minutes old
They know it. Their Papa helped them count
Tomorrow night, tomorrow night will be the Big Night. Their Miracle Night.
"Ahora, mis pequeñas" their Papa is quiet, he always get to them before they notice "to sleep"
They dont want to sleep. They are young, and it's the last night as four-years-old. But Papa put them both in bed.
They share a bed. They always did. Glued to the hip, they were. Camilo too. The chaos siblings. But Camilo was no sibling. He was a cousin, older than them by just two months.
They were exited to have a gift like their primo, but wary too. Each primo had their own room. Would they have separated rooms? They had never been separated.
Papa brushed their worries away, brushing his fingers in their hair, caressing the soft curls.
"Buenas noches, mi Ratoncito", he kissed Marina's forehead, than Mirabel's "Buenas noches, mi Mariposita"
Papa left the room silent. Papa was always silent, moving in the shadows, followed by rats and moths. Followed by his Ratoncito and his Mariposita.
- - -
Mirabel is five.
Marina is five.
Today, seconds and minutes don't matter.
Mari holds Mira's hand tight. There are so many people, so many lights. Mira glows in anticipation. Mari doesn't. Mira always was their Papa's little Mariposita. She searches for light. And Mari, Papa's little Ratoncito, is more than happy to have her sister have the light.
She loves her sister, and, for her, for Papa, she will walk that corridor surrounded by people.
Mira squeezes Mari's hand, and hand in hand, both smiling, they walk. Their family is there, close to the stairs. Camilo is smiling, a perfect clone of them. They could be triplets. They look all so much alike.
Prima Luisa is there too, and Prima Isabella, and Prima Dolores.
And Papa. Their Papa, up the stairs, side by side with Abuela. They go up.
Their Doors are closer than any other. But they are twins. Maybe Casita kows they need to be close (she knows).
"Nerviosas?" Papa asks.
Mira isn't. She is bright and exited and Mari knows she will have the best gift because she is the best.
Mari is. She is exited, she is, but anxious too. She is so much like their Papa, Mira knows, and hope her gift will help her be confident.
"Here, mi Ratoncito" Papa gives her one of his rats "for luck"
"Knock, knock, knock on wood" she whispers to him, knocking her feet lightly.
Mari is the oldest. She should open her door first. She does not.
"Together", she asks her Abuela, "please?"
Abuela Alma doesn't see why not. So they both touch the candle. They both repeat their vows. They both touch the door.
And then everything goes wrong.
Mari's Door glows.
Mira's Door doesn't. It disappears.
"What?" Abuela doesnt seem to understand. Mira looks at her with teary eyes and is meet with sadness, than anger, than... nothing. Disgust, silence, empty.
"Mira?" Mari doesn't understand either. Her sister, her twin, Mira was the light, how could she no have a gift of her own? Mira was confused and upset and Mari was too. She was too busy being distressed to look at her own door, to see the drawing that was not formed yet.
Mira began to cry, silently.
Mari squeezed the rat in her hands out of reflex, and the dropped it, horrified. It was dead. Her hands were imprinted in it - the skin where she touched before was decomposed.
She began to cry too, and Isabella's flowers started to die around the whole house. Her Door was ready for her. A glowing, golden door, with the image of a young girl surrounded by bones and skulls and crows and rats, next to an empty space where her sister's door once stood.
There was no party that night.
- - -
Bruno didn't know what to do.
He kissed his Mariposita in the forehead. She, at least, was sleeping. The sleep of the innocent. He didn't know what that was since he got his gift, an Dios, he hated himself for that, now his older daughter probably wouldn't either.
He hated to leave his grieving young giftless daughter alone in the dark nursery, a nursery that she shouldn't be in anymore, but he needed to look for his other daughter.
The house was silent, but he knew his Ratoncito well enough.
She was hiding, of course, but he could find her. She was quiet, of course, like him, but predictable.
She was hidden under the table, in the dining room, tiny, even tinier now that she was trying to be tiny, hidden in the shadows, holding the dead mouse against her chest, muttering apologies and rhymes.
"Ratoncito", he tried to touch her arm, to hold her. She had run away after the awful ceremony of theirs. He felt so guilty, for having passed to his beautiful, amazing daughters his bad luck.
She flinched away from him, scared, hurt.
"Go-go away", her voice was so tiny, "I- I'll end up ki-killin' you, like, like the mouse"
And she was crying again.
"No, hijita, no" Bruno managed to pull her out, to hugh her tight, "breathe, ok? With me."
And she does. She does and she stops crying and shaking a little, though her chest still hurts.
She shows her Papa the mouse. His mouse.
"Lo- lo siento, Papa", she lets out a quiet cry.
Bruno is sad, he won't deny it. The rat was his friend. But his hija didn't want to hurt, didnt want to kill. She was scared, and he was sad. But not angry.
"It's ok, mija", he says, rocking her lightly, gently, back and forth as he did when she and her sister were babies.
He says, even if he is not really sure of it,even if he doesn't really believe, because she is Bad Luck Bruno's daughter, and he brought her bad luck, even if he didn't mean it(and Mira... ay Dios, his Mira, his Mariposita, without a gift, only with those teary, scared eyes and the memory of the disappointed look Mother, no, Alma, gave to her.), because that's what Mari needed to hear.
"It's ok"
He managed to bring her back to her room, still in his arms (she was five, por Dios, she shouldn't have to bear a curse like this, worse than his own). He opened the door for the first time.
She got smaller in his arms.
The place was awful. Eery. Mysterious yes, and maybe beautiful, but dark and scary. It was shaped out of her daughter fear, horror and despair. He felt sorry for it.
There was a forest in the room. A forest in the middle of the night. It was always night at her room, he noticed. And the forest was not inoccent. It was a graveyard. And, in a opening in the middle of the naked, dark trees, there was a huge, dark bed, with a little skull engraved in the wood.
He walked there, stepping on dead gray leaves and into a fairy circle of mushrooms, and put her in the bed, among the pillows.
"I don't like it here", she whispered, afraid the trees would hear her and get angry "it's scary"
"I'll stay with you, Ratoncito" he tucked her in and layed by her side, hugging her tight "I'll stay until you sleep"
Basically, a snow-covered village appears by the river and the cold starts to leak into the Encanto. Alma takes many of the Madrigals(minus Bruno whose recovering from a nasty flu-bug, the young children and Mirabel) to investigate. A few days have passed and the chill has gotten bad. Mirabel, worried for everyone, asks Bruno to use his gift to look in on them. Unfortunately, the vision tablet only had the image of a ghostly young man around her's and Camillo's age. Fearful, Mirabel decides to venture into the strange village to find her missing familia. When she gets there, she discovers monstrous beings that are seeking to eat her and a very angry ghost. Her only hope to find her family is a ghost looking for her younger brother and an odd camera to protect herself with. Can she find her missing loved ones or will Encanto be consumed in eternal winter?
She should be asleep, but she can't. There are some nights when there's too much noise. There are some nights when there's not enough.
Everything is awfully quiet. So quiet she can make out the heartbeat of the mice in the walls.
The adults were talking downstairs, in upset, rushed tones. She knews she shouldn't be listening. But she couldn't help. It's her gift, after all.
It was something about her primas. Tío Bruno seemed upset, angry even. They talked all at the same time, she hates when people do that.
But then tío Bruno went upstairs, to his room, and everything went quiet.
No, not everything.
She could hear her family's heartbeats, their holden breaths, the way they went back to their rooms, their feet so light they all seemed like ghosts.
But quieter, under all the other noises, there was this noise, the one that made her shiver.
Sand. Running down an hourglass, infinite, always falling.
The sound of sand followed her back to her bed, and into her restless dreams, and haunted her the whole night.
By morning, tío Bruno wasn't there anymore
- - -
Mirabel Valentina Madrigal has nothing. Not a gift, not a room, not a father. Not anymore. She has just her sister, and the weight of the family's disappointment
Marina Beatrice Madrigal has a lot of things, and all of them are bad. Anxiety, a missing father, and a curse. The only good thing is her sister.
Bruno runs. Runs from his problems, and from his fears, and from his guilt, and from his mother. Never from his children. He loves his daughters. He can't risk them being hurt because he's forced to give their profecy to Alma. So he is not there.
- - -
"Mira?"
When Mirabel opens her eyes, her twin is on the nursery's door. Her eyes glow green and gray, so lightly it's almost impossible to see.
Mirabel sits in her bed, now too big for only her, too cold.
"Can I sleep with you?", Mari asks, and when Mira goes to the side to make room for her, she sits by her sister. "I hate my room. It's cold and dark and scary, and... and papa is not here anymore. He made me sleep, and made my room feel not that scary"
"I'm sorry, Mari", Mira is almost crying. She doesn't have Dolores' hearing, but she knows enough. She doesn't get a gift, and papa leaves, and everyone looks at her either with disgust (that she hates) or pity (that she hates even more). It's her fault. It's written in every adult face. Especially Abuela.
"I miss papa..."
They are five years, three days and two hours old. They are alone.
They lay down, holding each other for dear life, like they have nothing else (they don't).
"Good night, Mira", Mari whispers.
"Good night, Mari", her sister whispers back, and start humming a song papa used to sing to them.
They both fall asleep in the nursery, just like four days ago, when they were four, and things were easier.
- - -
Bruno almost cry when he sees his daughters in the nursery, so little and lonely, and he almost regrets going to the walls.
But he is Bad Luck Bruno, and he can't risk cursing his children, his blessings.
So he tucks them in, covering their tiny bodies with blankets, and kiss their foreheads.
The twins shif in their sleep, and Mirabel smiles. She always smiles so easily. She is so pure and happy. He wonders if, had she been one of her sisters' kid, she would have a gift and be truly content.
He goes back to the walls, but only after making sure his kids are fine, and that their room is nice and organized. He can't help but think "their room". They never had been apart before.
In the morning, Mirabel tells her sister all about that dream she had, about papa singing to them and covering them and kissing them like he did every night.
She tried to tell her family about the nice dream too. They all seemed upset that her papa left, and even if it was her fault, she wanted to make them feel a little better. But all she received was a firm look from Abuela and a single sentence.
