Chapter Text
“Bruno!”
Bruno startled awake, sniffing before focusing on Pepa, who was leaning over and staring directly into his face. “Finally! He’s here again,” she said with a slight hiss as she snapped back upright. Her nose crinkled in the beginnings of a snarl.
“They’re up to something, I know it.”
Bruno was still parsing out what had been idle dreams and what was currently happening, looking up at his sister in confusion. He had been taking a break on one of the balconies, enjoying the spot of sun and apparently drifting off at some point. Leaning to the side he peeked around Pepa and across casita’s courtyard to where he could just see Julieta standing in the main doorway. She was speaking to someone out on the front steps, basket of arepas resting against her hip. He had to push himself up on his elbows to catch who she was talking to. He was still half obscured by the doorframe but was unfamiliar enough that Bruno realized it had to be one of the city men that had come to town earlier that week, the young one. He struggled to remember his name for a moment.
“Agustín?” he said incredulously, looking back at Pepa. She nodded, arms crossed tight and a strong breeze coming through. They both turned to look back at the entranceway as Agustín headed back down to the town proper and nearly trip over a rock before Julieta caught him. “Pepa, he’s just accident-prone. You can’t fault him for that.”
“I don’t trust him,” Pepa said, stubborn as ever. “There has to be something going on with that group.”
Bruno sighed, giving up on being able to return to his nap and fully sat up on the bench, tucking one leg underneath himself as Agustín presumably made his way back down to town in one piece while Julieta returned to the kitchen, where she had been spending most of her time that week. “Look, I’m not excited about the four of them hanging around myself. They give me the creeps—and that should say something—but I think Agustín himself is pretty harmless.”
“You should look into it,” Pepa said, whirling back around on him. “Have a vision. Try and see what plans they have for the Encanto.”
“I’m not spying on people for you Pepa,” Bruno said. “And you know it doesn’t work like that. I’m a mere prophet, not a mind reader.”
Pepa snorted at the flourish he added to “prophet”, rolling her eyes but was otherwise undeterred. “You still should try.”
“If I do that, one of two things is going to happen,” Bruno said, leaning back against the wall and folding his arm behind his head. He used the other to help illustrate his point. “One—It’s bad and it’s definitely going to happen since historically speaking, nothing we try to do is going to change whatever I see in my visions. Or two—it’s nothing and we get to continue to sit around and not worry.”
The dark cloud and low rumble were more than enough to showcase Pepa’s annoyance. “You’re acting awfully calm about this.”
“It’s because I am,” Bruno lied. “Plus, if there were fiendish designs against the family, Casita would protect us. They’re an excellent judge of character.”
The nearby shudders waved and the tiles below their feet rippled in approval/agreement. Bruno grinned as the bench rocked along with the motions, though Pepa didn’t seem nearly as convinced.
“I don’t see how Casita could manage to protect the entire town like that.”
“Well they wouldn’t even let Dario up the walk, so I think they can get a read on some men from the city.”
Pepa cracked a smile at the memory. Julieta’s would-be suitor struggling to even make it up the walk that evening for dinner. Bruno had never liked him, and though Pepa never admitted it at the time she didn’t either. It was only later that it was revealed he was a cheating asshole and Julieta had taken care of the trash herself, but even before the reveal, it was nice to see how Casita had their back.
The clouds dissipated and Pepa sighed as she fell back onto the bench next to Bruno. She leaned against him, tucking her head onto his shoulder while Bruno easily shifted to accommodate her presence. “I don’t know. Something feels off about this year. It’s a bad start.”
“You’re probably tired from ‘clear skies’ all week. Why don’t you go read your book for a while? I know you’ve been excited for it.”
“Eh, Mamá would kill me if it leaked out of my room again,” Pepa said, fiddling with the edge of Bruno’s ruana in her fingers.
“Hum. It is about time for the next chapter to come out though. The merchant groups should be coming through in the next few weeks or so. Be a shame if you weren’t caught up yet.”
Pepa sat straight up. “You better not be joking with me.” She leaned over right into Bruno’s face, noses bumping even as he leaned back. “Are they really coming this month?”
“They usually pass by the Encanto this time of year,” Bruno said, hands up, the picture of innocence. “And I...may have double-checked this morning since I finished the last installment myself the other day. I for one am very eager to see what happens with Leon and Clara after the—”
“No no no no shut up shut UP,” Pepa nearly yelled covering Bruno’s mouth for good measure. She groaned, scrambling to her feet as a burst of wind and splattering rain followed with the same frenzy, punctuating the mix of curses and “Why didn’t you tell me? Why DID you tell me?” she muttered to herself.
“I’ll cover if Mamá asks for you,” Bruno called out as Pepa rounded the corner towards her room.
“I’m not going to forget this!” Pepa said, looking back around the corner and stabbing a finger in Bruno’s direction before disappearing.
Bruno wasn’t sure if that was intended as a threat or thank you. Knowing Pepa, probably both. He looked down at his now rather wet ruana and pants and decided a walk would probably be better that trying to reclaim his earlier nap.
###
Bruno wandered the familiar paths of the valley, hands tucked behind him as his eyes were trained up at the stretch of blue skies visible over the mountain peaks. He gave the town proper a wide berth, the red-tiled roofs blending together in the distance like a river stone gently placed in the stream. He knew he had to go there at some point to finish his errands for the day, but he was still feeling drained from the hustle of the past week.
It had been his, Julieta and Pepa’s birthday a few days ago, which became a town-wide celebration about the time they turned ten. It wasn’t unusual for parties and festivals to be hosted at their casita, it’s magical properties somehow managing to fit any all guests inside its walls for the occasion without notably changing. Since it was technically a party celebrating him though—at least in part—it was hard for Bruno to slip away when he began to feel overwhelmed. Even with Julieta and Pepa naturally and easily bearing the brunt of the attention, it was still at his house and even the times he had managed to slip away to his room it was hard to block out the sounds. Or his Mamá coming in to scold him for leaving when so many people came to wish him well.
Ten days later was also the anniversary of the Encanto and the Celebration of the Miracle—now only a day away. With two big local events so close together, various other parties and dances would always crop up in the days in between. It was almost as if the town stopped its usual goings about for a week and a half and just celebrated. He remembered enjoying it more as a child, the constant parties, the dancing and decorations and sweets. He remembered his mother spoiling them, letting them stay up late and eat more than they usually would be. Run through the streets with banners and toys, watch as Sr. Cordoba set up the fireworks, and then follow them as they raced into the sky. He remembered people singing for him and his sisters and hiding his face in Julieta’s skirt in embarrassment.
In recent years however it had felt more and more of a drain on him than the rest and enjoyment everyone else seemed to get. It was hard to tell if it stemmed more from his natural inclinations towards solitude or the growing amount of responsibilities being placed on his and his sister's shoulders. They weren’t kids anymore (clearly, they were twenty-three now) but were at the same time still “The Madrigal Children”. They now shared the responsibility of Hosting with their mother but were also the shining beacons presented forth to the town almost as much as the candle itself. Symbols that, despite everything that had happened, they had survived.
And maybe, just maybe some of it was the quiet stares of the townspeople, conversations snapping to a close as he approached, murmured prayers, and averted gazes. Maybe the Encanto’s festival week began to be a burden on him at the same time the green glass plates began to feel heavier and heavier in his hands after a vision.
This year was additionally complicated by the arrival of the men from the city. The Encanto had had visitors before, and even some regular trade with nearby towns and villages, but few had entered the quiet community with such an air, and even less had stayed for as long. Perhaps a night or two as the caravan they were part of moved on, but the four men from Bogotá had been there nearly an entire week. Bruno didn’t know the specifics but had heard they were staying with Señora Montaña since her house was large and she already had the habit of lending beds to the merchants and travelers that would pass through the valley and needed a place for the night. He’d never met or talked to any of them himself, just saw them in passing when in town. Most of what he knew was from what he’d overheard on errands. The consensus seemed to be Osvaldo and Tadeo—the older tall one and the shorter bald one—were quiet and off-putting; the young one, Agustín, was a klutz but well-meaning and painfully polite; and Aitor—the apparent leader of the group—was charming and well-spoken but not in the way that seemed to talk down to others. Friendly for a city-man and incredibly willing to listen.
What Bruno hadn’t told Pepa earlier was Mamá had already approached him about the men their second night in the Encanto. She had the same fears and wanted to see if they had any plans for the town or it’s people. Bruno had tried, he really did, but the visions had been harder to pick out than usual. It felt muddled, even after hours spent trying to pull clearer visions from the sands, there seemed to be nothing solid enough to focus on for him to get a good look. At the end of it, all he had was a handful of rounded green glass and a single plate with Aitor in the center, arms out in a welcoming gesture in the middle of the square.
Mamá had simply pursed her lips slightly as he had shown her the vision, letting out a low “humm” as she turned, laying a brief hand on Bruno’s shoulder as she passed. He had stood there for a few moments before returning to his room, grabbing a pinch of salt to throw over his shoulder and tucking the plate away with the rest.
“Bruno!”
He paused his walk to look over his shoulder and saw Julieta running down the hill towards him, skirts gathered in one hand and the shawl around her shoulders kept in place with the other. She bounded to a stop beside him, her silver hoop earrings glinting in the afternoon sun as they swung with leftover energy. “I’ve been looking for you! No one in town knew where you had gone.”
“I’m just taking a walk before finishing my errands,” Bruno said.
Julieta frowned slightly. “Mamá’s not going to be happy they’re not already done.”
Bruno just hummed in response, shrugging one shoulder with a casualness he didn’t fully feel. Julieta sighed fondly and grabbed his arm as they continued the walk at a leisurely pace.
“You have some flour in your hair,” Bruno noted.
“Oh of course,” Julieta said, leaning forwards slightly and trying to shake the front of her hair out. Most of it was gathered in a bun near the top of her head, wrapped with intricate braids and held by delicate pins. He remembered that morning when it was fresh and tight, a single delicate curl by the side of her face the only piece allowed free. The day’s work and the heat of the kitchen had loosened most of it, stray tufts poking out and a few pins begging to escape. He helped as much as he could until she looked only lightly powdered instead of partially dusted.
They walked in silence until Julieta sighed wistfully, and a little loud, and leaned her head on her brother’s shoulder. She looked up at him through her thick lashes. “Brunito...”
“Julie...” Bruno replied, already suspecting where this was going.
“As my favorite brother and in the spirit of this grand festival time, could you perhaps do a small favor for me?”
“I’m your only brother, and no, I’m not going to look into your boyfriend’s future.”
“That’s not—” Julieta started, straightening up. “Bruno please? Just this once, really.”
“I’ve already said, I’m not looking into yours, Pepa’s, or anyone’s romantic future,” Bruno said.
Truthfully, it wasn’t just Bruno’s rule originally. He remembered the first time someone had approached him wanting a vision about a potential lover. It hadn’t been until he was sixteen, which he guessed was partly due to no one really wanting to ask a literal child about their love life. The girl had been older than he was but still young, hands clasped around a handkerchief as she began to stutter out her request. She had barely gotten through the first sentence when Bruno felt his mothers hand on his shoulder pulling him back, stepping up to the young woman and firmly declaring her son would not be using his gift on such frivolous questions, further berating the woman until she apologized profusely and rushed off, near tears.
Bruno had already had the good sense before then to refuse any visions about his sister’s romances that were beginning to crop up. Well, mostly Julieta’s. Pepa had gone out on two dates with a boy, Javid, the second of which had ended with a small tornado ripping through town and then a weeklong rainstorm as she locked herself in her room (apparently, he had said she was ‘too volatile’ to continue seeing). But he hadn’t thought much of the young woman’s question at first. Romance was fun to read about in novels or hear Sr. Sierra wax on about in his stories, but in practice, it felt messy and unpredictable. Exactly the kind of thing someone would want a vision for, even if he didn’t really get the appeal.
His Mamá had turned back once the young woman had left and warned him of the dangers of getting in the middle of other people’s love troubles. At the time Bruno just nodded and followed her advice out of respect for his mother, but as he grew and saw his sisters and peers deal with the trials and tribulations of young love he put down further boundaries of what visions he would and wouldn’t do. Visions of if you and your crush would end up together? Hard no. Visions of the health and safety of a current partner? Usually fine, and if Bruno happened to notice other things, he kept his mouth shut. Most people usually back off after Bruno refused a vision out of fear of Alma’s retribution. Julieta was scared of nothing and had asked Bruno for visions of at least half her various partners over the years—all of which Bruno had still refused.
“Why would you want me to look anyway?” Bruno asked. “If you’re concerned you should just talk to him.”
“I’m not concerned about anything,” Julieta insisted. “I just want to know if me and Gregorio are meant to be.”
Bruno failed to stifle a laugh and Julieta whirled on him with narrowed eyes. “Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly. “Just this is what, the fifth guy you thought might be ‘the one?’”
“Did you just say you didn’t want to mess with my love life?”
“I said I’m not having a vision about your love life, brotherly teasing is fair game.”
Julieta snorted, rolling her eyes as she settled back into his side, both arms wrapped around his. “I just want to know if he’s planning on proposing.”
That made Bruno’s eyebrows raise. “Did you see him talking to Mamá?”
“No nothing like that, just in general,” Julieta said.
“Do you...want him to?” he asked. He wasn’t even directly involved in this and somehow the idea was making him nervous.
Julieta tucked her head on Bruno’s shoulder, nothing responding for a long moment until “I know I want to get married, I want a family, and we just turned twenty-three so it’s...it’s something I’m thinking about.” She looked up at Bruno. “And Gregorio’s a great guy.”
“I mean he’s fine,” Bruno said, scratching his jaw with his free hand.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing....just, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to forgive you if you end up subjecting me to his singing every evening.”
Julieta stepped back and smacked him on the shoulder. Bruno laughed, rubbing the affected spot as she stormed off for a few steps. “You’re going to regret that after we get married!”
“I really am,” he agreed, meeting up with her and letting her take his arm back. “So should I invest in earplugs for the Serenata now or after the proposal dinner?”
Julieta knocked her hip into his, nearly sending both of them to the ground, and they continued laughing.
They weaved their way through the rough footpaths, chatting idly about the weeks going on. When they passed one of the corn farms on the outskirts of the town proper Julieta gave him a peck on the cheek and said she had to run to finish dinner. Bruno suspected this was his sister's not-so-subtle way of getting him to finish his errands as soon as possible. The annoying thing was it almost certainly was going to work. Sighing, he continued down the path which turned from feet-packed dirt to proper stones. He pulled the small list Mamá had made him out of his ruana pocket, flicking it a couple of times to get the sugar off it. As he calculated the quickest way to gather the items without spending too much time at any one store, a heavy arm hooked over his shoulders and nearly bowled him over.
“Bruno! ¿Quiubo, Parce? Haven’t seen you all day—happy birthday!”
“Uh, thanks Félix,” Bruno said, adjusting under the friendly weight.
“We didn’t get a chance to chat and you and your sister's party the other day, so I wanted to make sure and congratulate you personally,” Félix said, his usual boisterous personality on full blast. “What brings you to town tonight?”
“Errands for Mamá,” Bruno said. It was nearly night, wasn’t it; Mamá was definitely going to be upset.
“Here, let me help,” Felix said, plucking the paper out of Bruno’s hand before he’d had a chance to react.
“Félix, it’s okay, I got—”
“Oh come on, chores always go faster when you have someone to chat with,” Félix said, arm still around Bruno’s shoulders as they started down the street towards the market. Bruno caught a glimpse of a group of farmhands gathered nearby, whom Félix clearly must have been chatting with before spotting Bruno, looking at him with mixed expressions. A particularly tall one leaned over to say something in his friend’s ear who chuckled in response. Bruno gave a nervous grin before Félix drew his attention back.
“Are you going to be at the party tonight?”
“Party? Oh, I um.” Bruno hadn’t even been aware a party was going on that night, which was a strong indication it was not the kind of party his presence would be appreciated at. “I-I don’t think so.”
“Come on Bruno, live a little,” Félix said, giving him a friendly shake. “Can’t spend all of your time locked up in that tower of yours.”
“It, it’s not really my thing. Parties and stuff. Don’t want to bring the mood down, you know?” He chuckled, managing to duck out from under Félix’s arm.
Félix frowned. “People aren’t as scared of you as you think, parcero. Plus, you’re plenty fun to be around. Plus, I’ve heard Pío, the tanner’s son, still has some of that rum from last year’s merchants and is going to bring it.”
Bruno mustered up a weak smile. Félix meant well, but he also only saw how people reacted to Bruno’s presence when they were together. Félix’s friendly personality was impossible to dampen, even with Bruno’s steadily growing reputation as a bad omen. Not that anyone would directly confront Bruno about it, but he could tell. He saw them avert their gaze as he passed in the street, changing directions when they saw him coming, the hurried whispers and quick glances. The people who did greet him in an openly friendly manner did it out of respect for his mother, or because they sought a vision from him despite the growing risks.
“There’s still the Founding Festival tomorrow,” Bruno said in an attempt to deflect him away from the topic.
“Yes, but that has so much pomp and ceremony around it, much less fun for you, I’m sure. This one won’t have your Mamá there on high alert.
Bruno hummed. Félix was right, while Mamá had always been preoccupied with the family’s role in the town, determined to project an image of strength and dependability. it had taken on a new edge in the past few years. Perhaps since he and his sisters were getting older now and able to take on more of the responsibility on their own, making sure they properly followed in her footsteps and upheld the family name.
“I doubt Mamá would let me go anyway,” Bruno said eventually.
They had reached the yarn shop for some of the supplies on Bruno’s list. Félix turned, pausing directly in front of the door. “Ah, that’s the brilliant part,” he said with the flash of a grin. “You don’t tell her.”
Bruno snorted. “Casita would definitely tell on me.”
“Your house knows how much time you spent cooped up inside even better than I do. Dear Casita would be ecstatic you wanted to sneak out to a party in the mountains.”
Félix backed up into the shop, loudly greeting Sra. Sanchez as the two entered. He exchanged pleasantries naturally, leaning against the wooden counter as the older woman laughed behind her hand.
“Always nice to see you, but what brings you here tonight, Félix dear?”
“Oh simply helping Bruno here with some of his chores.”
Bruno had naturally kept to the edges of the shop, gaze drifting over the multicolored skeins on display. He looked up at the sound of his name, briefly making eye contact with the shop woman. “A-ah, I see,” she said, the waver in her voice as she quickly snapped her gaze back towards Félix. “And what can I get for the two of you then?”
Bruno looked back down at the skeins, rolling one of the loose strands between his fingers. There it was, the effortless confidence Félix carried with him, that seamless charm that had even the coldest heart in the towns smiling along. Bruno wondered sometimes, if Félix had been a Madrigal, had received a gift like he and his sisters, what it would be. Some brilliant extension of his natural aura, that infectious optimism able to sooth and invigorate in equal measure. Sometimes he was jealous, jealous that the other man didn’t need a gift to bring joy to the town, jealous that he seemed to have found some secret that eluded Bruno himself. Sometimes Félix’s eternally optimistic outlook was grating, the man seemingly incapable of seeing the negative to things. Other times it was one of the few things able to pull Bruno out of whatever spiral he had found himself him.
He wasn’t sure why Félix seemed so intent on being a friend to him. Well, he had some idea. It was rather obvious—even to Bruno—how enamored Félix was with Pepa. How just noticing her passing by would completely derail his train of thought, drifting off mid-sentence; how he made a point to greet her warmly no matter what cloud might be hovering over her head, ready to offer small gifts of flowers and sweets. Pepa, to most observers, seemed rather unaffected by the attention, meeting him with the same curt acknowledgment she did with most suitors. It was probably only Bruno who noticed the warm breeze that would drift through whenever Félix presented her with a new flower, the break in the clouds whenever he paused in his work to smile at her and wave, or the threads of fog that would gather when she would be watching him with a group of friends, and he would suddenly glance over, nearly catching her.
But Félix never spoke with him about Pepa over the years they had known each other, at least not more than one would usually ask after an acquaintance’s sibling. He seemed genuinely interested in Bruno for the sake of himself. Bruno didn’t really know what to make of it. Sure, he had had other friends in his life, but not the kind that survived past the uncomplicated relationships of childhood, and certainly none that had sought his attention since the first time maldición was targeted at him. It wasn’t that Bruno didn’t enjoy Félix’s companionship either; he was funny, and would play along with Bruno’s wild stories—even egging him on during some of his more questionable stunts. Sometimes though, Bruno couldn’t help the voice in the back of his head that told him Félix was friendly with everyone in the town and he should feel lucky that he somehow wasn’t an exception.
Bruno made a point of not seeking out visions for the people close to him, and Félix certainly fell into that category. But sometimes he saw things anyway, when the visions would come unbidden and leave glass pebbles in his palms instead of full plates. It had been over a year ago at this point when he had been resting in a shady craig in the mountains and felt that familiar pressure in the back of his skull. He couldn’t see much, couldn’t sift through, and make sense of what he saw as easily as if he had followed his ritual, but he did see Félix. An older Félix, hair longer and lines beginning to show in the corner of his eyes. Félix sitting in Casita’s courtyard, a small bundle tucked in the crook of his arm and the delicate hand of a young child reaching out towards his smiling face. He didn’t know why, couldn’t see anyone else around or whose child it might be, or even why Félix was in Casita in the first place, but it had been clear that Félix was going to be a presence in his life for many years.
He couldn’t really say he minded the idea.
They left the shop, the items carefully wrapped and tucked in a basket in Bruno’s hands. They headed to their next destination, Félix—still in possession of the list—chattering about the recent goings-on in town he figured Bruno had missed (he was correct) with a bit of new gossip thrown in for good measure. Sometimes Bruno felt half-stuck in the future, worrying about what was going to happen and never really looked at what was happening. He was twenty-three, stressing about events and responsibilities, and his friend just invited him to a party.
“Maybe,” Bruno said.
Félix paused, catching up with Bruno’s meaning despite not discussing that night’s party for several minutes. His voice was hopeful. “Maybe?”
“Maybe,” Bruno repeated. “If Casita doesn’t tell on me.”
Félix laughed in excitement, shaking Bruno’s shoulders. “I have a feeling Casita will be an excellent accomplice,” he said. “Now let’s get your Mamá her things so she won’t have reason to keep an eye on you tonight.”