Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            Artham Wingfeather was getting very tired of being thrown through portals.

            To be fair, the world he was currently hovering over looked lovely. Lush, green, filled with trees and flowers. A cheerful little town was surrounded by massive cliffs that looked nigh impassable (unless one had wings, of course).

            But it was not Anniera, not his mountains, not one of his towns.

            Artham sighed. He didn’t have any way to get back home without a portal, and he had no idea when another portal would open or where. So for now, the best thing was to head into the town and find a place to stay until his friends and family figured out how to get him out of this.

            He considered his options. He could try to hide down in the town, but it was small, not much bigger than Anniera’s little towns; he wouldn’t be able to escape notice for long, especially considering the natural walls the town had. It seemed likely that they didn’t get many visitors and having one would be quite the to-do (even if they didn’t have wings).

            The best thing to do would most likely be to just fly down and introduce himself (with his wings hidden, of course. He had no wish to repeat the situation he caused the first time he visited the Hollows after getting his wings).

            There was a house that stood above the rest on a small hill. It was big, and very colorful, and at least half of it appeared to be covered with flowers. That was likely where the town leaders resided, if there were any. If not, then likely someone eccentric lived there, and it would still be a good place to start.

            So Artham swooped down and landed in the trees not far from the house. He pulled a piece of fabric out of the pouch at his belt and shook it until it unfolded into a cloak. Wrapping it around his shoulders to cover his wings, he headed for the house.

            As he approached, cheerful voices called to each other from all around and he smiled. Hopefully that friendliness would extend to him. He headed straight for the house, walking purposefully across the lawn.

            “Uh, hey there!”

            Artham stopped and looked over at the girl who had called to him. She was about Janner and Sara’s age, with fluffy brown hair and large, green rimmed glasses. She was wearing a colorfully embroidered dress that swished as she walked.

            “Hello,” said Artham when the girl was closer, smiling a little.
            “Um, hello,” said the girl. “Who are you exactly? I mean, that sounds rude, but, uh, I’ve never seen you before and I’ve kind of lived here my whole life and I know everyone so-”

            “My name is Artham Wingfeather, at your service,” he bowed.
            “Uhhh, okay, what are you doing here then?”
            “I am,” he considered for a moment, then shrugged. “Lost.”
            The girl blinked at him. “Lost?”
            Artham nodded firmly. “Lost. I have no idea what this place is or where I am.”
            “Oh, well, this is La Casa Madrigal,” said the girl. “Home of La Familia Madrigal which, um, I am one of. I’m Mirabel.”

            “A pleasure to meet you, Mirabel,” said Artham. “Your house is lovely.”
            “Oh, yeah, thanks, I mean, it is, for sure,” she nodded.

            Artham paused for a moment and tilted his head. “Does your town happen to have an inn?”
            Mirabel blinked. “Um, no, we’ve never needed an inn. We never really get visitors…”
            Artham nodded. “I expected as much.” He looked around. “Well, the trees look cozy enough here, I should be fine sleeping outside.”

            “Wait, what, you’re going to- I mean, you don’t have to, I mean, we don’t exactly have extra rooms but I’m sure we could find somewhere for you to stay in Casita, I mean, if Abuela doesn’t mind-”
            “Abuela?”
            “Yeah, she’s kind of in charge of everything around here. Oh, and our family is, uh, well, we have gifts, so we’re not… normal, I guess.”
            Artham tilted his head. “Gifts?”
            “Yeah, like, mi mama can heal people with food and my tia Pepa controls the weather, and cousin Dolores can hear everything- oh gosh, I should probably introduce you to Abuela before she tells everyone you’re here, um, here, come this way.”

            Maribel took his wrist and tugged him towards the house, still talking as she walked. “Cousin Camilo can shapeshift into anyone, little Antonio doesn’t have a gift yet but he will soon, my sisters are Isabela and Luisa and Luisa’s super strong and Isabela is basically perfect and she makes flowers grow,” she rolled her eyes slightly. “Mi papa and my tio don’t have any gifts because they married into the family.”
            Artham nodded. “I see. My family is a little like that.”
            Mirabel frowned. “Really?”
            “Mhm. But gifts are not unique to certain families. Everyone has something that makes them special, that they can do fantastically well, even if it isn’t a kind of magic.”
            “Yeah but magic gives cooler gifts,” Mirabel muttered.

            “I notice you didn’t mention your own gift,” said Artham as they approached the house. “Why is that?”
            “Because I don’t have one,” she sighed. “For some reason our miracle gave everyone powers but me. But!” she took a deep breath and straightened. “That’s okay! I’m still a part of this family and I love my family.”
            Artham smiled softly and patted her shoulder as they entered the house. “Magic is not what makes people special and unique. The Maker does that. I’m sure you’re quite extraordinary even without it.”

            Mirabel stared at him, mouth half open like she was about to speak-

            “MIRABEL!”

            They both jumped and turned to see an older woman walking down the stairs towards them. Artham took a quick glance around the house, but since he was only in the courtyard he didn’t glean much more than he had from the air.

            Then his attention was drawn by the gray-haired woman before him, gazing at them with hard eyes. She reminded him a bit of Nia when she was angry, and he consciously resisted taking a step backwards.

            “Who is this?” asked the woman.
            “Abuela! Hi!” Mirabel smiled at the stormcloud of a woman, and Artham added bravery to her list of admirable traits, along with hospitable. “This is, um, Artham…”
            “Artham Wingfeather, at your service, ma’am,” he bowed deeply.
            Abuela regarded him distrustfully. “What is your purpose here?”
            “He’s lost, Abuela,” Mirabel supplied. “He was looking for a place to stay the night and I thought maybe, I mean, we have so much room here, that it would be nice if he could-”
            “He is a stranger, Mirabel,” snapped Abuela. “We do not get strangers in our Encanto.”
            “I am very sorry to intrude,” said Artham. “And I would never wish to impose upon you. If my presence will be troublesome I will simply stay in the forest. I’m quite used to that,” he winked at a worried looking Mirabel.

            “Hmm, well at least you’re polite,” said Abuela. She sighed. “And I suppose that it is our duty to care for those in our Encanto, even if they are strangers who shouldn’t be there.”

            Artham smiled, but he had a feeling that Abuela had other reasons for wanting him here. Here, he was surrounded by people with magic, here he would be easier to keep track of, to keep an eye on. Out in the forest he could be doing anything, and he had a feeling that Abuela liked to know what went on in her little world.

            Mirabel caught on to none of that undertone, or she didn’t appear to, anyway. “Really? He can stay here?” she said, her cheerful countenance returning.
            Abuela lifted her chin. “For now, yes, he may stay.”
            “My deepest thanks, my lady,” said Artham, bowing again. “There is, however, something you should know about me if I am to stay here, and if your family indeed has magic as Mirabel says.”
            Abuela glanced meaningfully at Mirabel, but said nothing to her. “My family was blessed with a miracle, and that miracle has given us great gifts.”
            Artham nodded. “I was also given a miracle once, and it gave me a great gift as well.”

            He unclasped his cloak and shook it off, spreading his wings wide. Abuela and Mirabel’s eyes widened, and they gaped at him.

            Abuela looked as if she was about to say something when a small voice interrupted her.

            “You have wings?! That’s so cool!”

            Artham looked up as a tiny boy with dark brown skin and hair as fluffy as Mirabel’s dashed down the stairs to stand in front of him in awe. Artham beamed at him and knelt down.

            “Hello there,” he said. “My name is Artham.”
            “I’m Antonio!” said the boy. “Can you fly?”

            Artham grinned, and without a word, he flapped his wings and shot into the sky with a whoosh of air. He heard the children cheering below, and several whoops from the other family members who had been watching him during his talk with Abuela.

            He flew above the house for a minute, then landed in the courtyard again. Antonio bounced in front of him, beaming, and Mirabel was grinning. Abuela looked almost amused, but she gave him a stern look.

            “I trust you will not cause trouble, Artham Wingfeather,” she said warningly.
            Artham bobbed his head. “I shall do my best.”

            Antonio tugged at his sleeve. “Can you take me flying?”

            Artham laughed.

Chapter Text

            Artham sat on the roof of Casita, letting the early morning sun warm him as he listened to the small noises of the family waking up in the house below. He had been staying with the Madrigals for three days now, and while he was still eager to return home, he was, for the most part, enjoying his time here.

            Most of the family was very friendly. The notable exception was Abuela, whose real name he had learned was Alma. Abuela was apparently the word for “grandmother” here, as he had found out after he called her that and half the house started laughing.

            Mirabel and Antonio had spent the most time with him, but he had a feeling that was simply because they had less chores than the other members of the household. Since they were the only ones without gifts (and Antonio was only four) Alma seemed to think their usefulness was limited. That saddened him, particularly because Mirabel especially seemed to thrive off any attention she got from him. The two children had taken him out the second day he was there and showed him the town, which was nearly as colorful and lively as their own home.

            The townspeople had been rather in awe of him and his wings. He was used to ignoring stares and mutterings, but it was a bit harder to ignore when people planted themselves around him to talk and ask questions… and to ask him to do things. He had a feeling that had to do with the Madrigals and their gifts, but some of the things they wanted him to do were rather absurd, and it seemed lazy of them to ask when they could just as easily do it themselves.

            “Would you mind hanging up my washing line, young man?” a woman in town had asked him. “I need it tied up high in that tree over there, and you having wings and all.”
            Artham had given her a smile that had been perfected through years of diplomacy. “I would, madam, but your son there looks rather bored, and I’m sure he’s an excellent tree climber.”

            The woman had looked shocked, and her son- who was about Mirabel’s age- looked surprised, then rather pleased. Artham had walked away and left them to their devices.

            “Wow you just, you just told them no, huh?” said Mirabel, skipping to catch up with him.
            “They didn’t need my help,” Artham replied calmly. “Do they always try to convince your family to help them in such manner?”
            “Er, yeah, most of the time, it’s kinda just what we do, or, what everyone else does,” said Mirabel. “Why? Is it different other places?”
            “Yes, it is,” said Artham, frowning slightly.

            “Arthaaam!” Antonio dashed up to them. “Can you get that ball off the roof? Me and some other kids were playing with it and, uh, we might have kicked it up there.”
            Artham grinned at him. “I would be happy to. Would you like to help me?”
            Antonio’s eyes widened. “Me? Sure!”
            “Then hold on,” Artham scooped him up and shot into the air. Antonio squeaked, then started laughing as the wind blew back his hair.

            Artham swooped down and hovered level with the roof. He held Antonio steady as the little boy reached out and grabbed the ball, then flew them down to a group of awestruck children below.

            “I believe this is yours,” said Antonio, proudly holding the ball out to another boy.

            Artham chuckled and looked up as Mirabel walked over to them.

            “Sooooo you can help little kids but not grown-ups?” she asked.
            “I can, and do help anyone who needs it,” said Artham. “The difference between the children and the woman with the washing line is that she had someone who could easily help her in an ordinary way, but he children would have had a difficult and dangerous time climbing up onto the roof by themselves. If I helped everyone do every little thing they didn’t want to do because it was a bit hard I would be exhausted and overwhelmed constantly. Do you understand?”
            “I think so,” said Mirabel thoughtfully.

            The townspeople, however, had not heard their conversation and had continued to ask him for favors. It had all been rather overwhelming, and he was glad when Mirabel had suddenly remembered they needed to get back to the house for supper.

            That night however he had a much more enjoyable time when he remarked about Mirabel’s stitching on her dress and they had struck up a conversation about sewing and crafting. He mentioned Maraly’s mask and somehow ended up telling her (and little Antonio) about the adventures of the Florid Sword and Shadowblade long into the night.

            After being here for a few days there were things Artham was wondering about the Madrigals and their home. First, the fact that the gifted Madrigals were always helping the townspeople and they seemed to do it… every day? Were the Madrigals doing their work willingly, or was there some unspoken expectation that was forcing them to do this? And why did they feel the need to please people so thoroughly? It was rather concerning.

            He wasn’t sure if there was much he could do about that, but the second thing was something he was confident he could handle. The past three nights he had heard what could only be the footsteps of a person creeping through the walls of the house. He had waited to see if anyone in the family had noticed, but no one mentioned it. Not even Dolores, whose hearing was at least as acute as his, possibly more so. Perhaps she just didn’t want to deal with it- or mention it to her grandmother.

            Artham, however, was accustomed to such things after living in Dugtown for a time. The streets below and around Dugtown were full of tunnels used by Stranders, thieving scoundrels who often used passages inside oblivious Dugtowners homes to sneak into the city at night to steal and cause trouble.

            Artham didn’t feel right leaving the problem to the family who had shown him such hospitality, when he was easily prepared to deal with such a thing. So, tonight he planned to find the entrance to the tunnel and apprehend the thief.

            With a nod to himself, he finished his musing and flew down into the courtyard to help with breakfast.

****

            “Don’t you think it’s a little weird though, that he just has wings like that?”
            “You’re just jealous the miracle didn’t give you wings Camilo,” said Mirabel, rolling her eyes.
            “No way! I love my gift. Besides-” Camilo transformed into Artham and flexed the wings on his back. “I could fly if I wanted to.”
            “You’d crash into a tree. For sure,” said Mirabel.
            “Would not!”
            “You’d probably break your nose too.”

            “Mirabel, Camilo!” Antonio dashed around a corner. “Come look what I found!”
            Mirabel glanced at Camilo. “This had better not be a prank.”
            Camilo rolled his eyes. “Antonio’s too nice to go along with my pranks.”

            They followed the little boy to a shadowed corner of Casita. There, hovering in the air, was a swirling, bluish distortion in a roughly circular shape. The older cousins froze and gaped at it.

            “What- what is that?” asked Camilo.
            Mirabel glanced at the house. “Casita?” Several tiles clattered and a window box jumped in an approximation of a shrug. Mirabel frowned. “Casita doesn’t know what it is either.”
            “It’s pretty,” said Antonio. “Maybe the miracle made it.”
            “That doesn’t make sense,” said Camilo. “Why would the miracle make us a random circle of light? We should probably tell someone.”
            “We don’t even know what it is,” said Mirabel, moving closer to the slowly swirling circle. “Besides, what if it’s gone by the time we get back?”
            “I can pass it off as a prank.”
            “It feels warm and sort of, staticky?” said Antonio, reaching his hand out towards it. “Like how everything feels when mama’s upset and stormy.”
            “Hmm,” Mirabel reached out and thrust her hand into the thing. It looked almost like liquid, so she expected it to feel that way, but it just felt warm and made the hairs on her arm stick up. “Weird.”

            “Mirabel-!”

            She turned and looked at her cousins, who were staring at her with wide, horrified eyes. “What?”
            “You’re disappearing!” squeaked Antonio.
            Mirabel looked down and found that she was being pulled into the swirling blue. She gave a yelp and tried to run, but she was stuck fast. Antonio lunged forward and grabbed her hand and she watched with horror as he was dragged in too. Camilo shouted at his little brother and dove after him.

            Then the world went dark.

Chapter Text

            “Welp, that definitely didn’t work.”
            “You think, Kal?! We just brought three random people through a portal!”

            Mirabel woke to the sound of arguing. Opening her eyes, she saw two boys around her own age standing nearby who were the source of the heated conversation. She wondered what they were doing in Casita-

            Wait. She sat up and looked around. The walls and floor around her were made of gray stone. High on the wall behind her were three large glass windows that lit the room, though there were also several lamps along the walls. Most of the room was covered in tools and weird machinery, and the smell of old smoke hung in the air. She shivered a little, it was cold here.

            And it was definitely not Casita.

            Lying on the floor beside her were Antonio (still holding her hand) and Camilo. As she watched they began to stir as well. Mirabel turned to the two arguing boys again.

            “Um, hey there!” she called. The boys jumped and turned to her, looking surprised.
            “Well at least they’re fine,” said the shorter boy. He had black hair and sparkling blue eyes. “Hi! I’m Kalmar, and this is my brother, Janner,” he nodded to the taller boy, who had brown hair and the same blue eyes as his brother, though he looked distinctly annoyed at the moment.
            “I’m Mirabel,” she said. “And these are my cousins, Antonio and Camilo.”
            “Hi!” chirped Antonio.
            “Hola,” Camilo waved. “So where are we, exactly?”
            “You’re in Anniera!” said Kalmar, cheerfully. “In Castle Rysen, to be precise. We, uh, didn’t mean to bring you here…”
            “Kal just had to mess with an untested portal device,” muttered Janner.
            “I mean, it did work.”
            “Yes, but now it’s burnt out and there’s no one to fix it until uncle Fiddleford gets back. You really didn’t think this through, Kal.”
            “Where’s Anniera?” Mirabel cut in before they started arguing again.
            “In the Dark Sea of Darkness,” Kalmar pronounced far more cheerfully than that named deserved. “You probably don’t know where that is though. You guys are from Earth, right?”
            Mirabel and Camilo exchanged a look. “Yes?”
            “Okay, so your world is Earth, and our world is Aerwiar. What we did is open a gate between the two worlds and you three got sucked into it.”
            “Can you open the gate again?” Antonio asked.
            “No,” said Janner, glaring at his brother.
            “We were trying to get our uncle back, but we got you three instead,” Kalmar explained apologetically.
            Mirabel’s eyes widened. “Your uncle doesn’t happen to be named Artham, does he?”
            “Yeah! He is!” Kalmar grinned. “You know him?”
            “He was at our Casita,” said Camilo. “He never mentioned weird gates to other worlds though.”
            “Well it is a little unbelievable unless you experience it,” said Janner. “Unfortunately, thanks to Kalmar, we can’t send you three back right away.”
            Kalmar threw his hands in the air. “How was I supposed to know the device would overheat?!”
            “You barely know anything about it! Which is why we should have left it alone!” snapped Janner.

            Kalmar sighed. “Okay, fine, fine, this is all my fault, happy now?”
            Janner raised an eyebrow. “No.”

            Kalmar sighed dramatically. Antonio giggled, and Mirabel hid a grin. Kalmar shrugged and turned to them again. “Well, since you’re here I’ll give you a tour of the castle and we can introduce you to everyone. If you want, of course.”

            Mirabel was pretty sure the whole, “you can’t go home” thing should have bothered her more, but at the moment she was just excited. She was in a new place where nobody knew her! (Well, almost nobody, she though, glancing at her cousins.) She wasn’t giftless or a problem child here, she was just a random girl from a different world, and therefore just as special and strange as her cousins. It was refreshing.

            Antonio squeezed her hand and she smiled down at him. He looked up at her worriedly. “We’ll get to go home, right?”
            “I’m sure we will,” she said as they followed Janner and Kalmar out of the room. “But for now let’s just enjoy this adventure, okay? And who knows, maybe there are new animals here for you to meet.”
            Antonio perked up a little. “You think so?”
            “There are definitely animals here that don’t live on Earth,” confirmed Janner. “You can look at my Creaturepedia if you want, it’s got almost all of them listed.”
            “And our sister can talk to dogs,” added Kalmar.
            Antonio’s eyes grew wider and wider. “She talks to dogs?!”

            Mirabel laughed. Ahead of them, Camilo had snuck up to talk to Kalmar.

            “So are there a lot of people in this castle?” he asked.
            “Not as many as there could be,” said Kalmar. “Why?”
            “No reason, just seems like it’d be a good place for pranks,” grinned Camilo.
            “Oho,” Kal grinned back at him, and shot a mischievous glance at Janner. “Well you’re in luck. I am always happy to accept a partner in crime.”

            Janner groaned.

****

            Artham stood silently in the shadows at the edge of the courtyard. If anyone had seen him they would likely have assumed he was a statue. His eyes were closed and his ears were pricked. He had been waiting there for about an hour since the occupants of the house had gone to bed.

            There. A small creak in the floorboards above him, and the quiet breathing of someone experienced in stealth. Light footsteps padded down the hallway that bordered the courtyard, then down the stairs.

            Still, Artham didn’t move. He didn’t even open his eyes. He could hear perfectly well what the person was doing, and he was curious to see where they headed in the house- or if they would simply leave.

            The footsteps paused at the bottom of the stairs, and Artham could almost see whoever it was looking around to see that the coast was clear. He almost smiled.

            He had been very careful the past two nights to memorize the sound of each Madrigal family member’s footsteps and breathing, so that he didn’t catch one of the children sneaking down to get a midnight snack instead of an intruder. That seemed like it would be frowned upon, especially since he was armed with his sword.

            The footsteps made their way to the kitchen. Artham waited a few moments, then followed soundlessly. He finally opened his eyes when he arrived at the doorway to peered inside.

            In the kitchen was a rather small, cloaked and hooded figure. He was accompanied by rats for some reason, (who Artham had heard skittering through the walls) who scurried in and out of his cloak.

            Artham slipped into the kitchen and positioned himself to the side of the figure, then spoke in a low, calm voice. “You know, stealing is wrong.”

            The man jumped a foot in the air and whipped around. He stood frozen for a second, staring at Artham, the hood hiding his features.

            Then he ran.

            Artham sighed and chased after him.

            His pursuit led him back up the stairs where he was just in time to see the man scramble into a hole behind a portrait in the wall. Artham dove after him without hesitation.

            The passages in the walls of the house were dark and surprisingly wide. Artham found he could easily run through them. And run he did. He sprang over and ducked under beams and pipes in the walls, hot on the heels of his quarry. He leapt onto a rickety stairway and shot down it, almost close enough to grab the man’s cloak. He didn’t even pause when they came to a huge hole in the floor, easily skipping across the floorboards sticking out over it.

            It was a merry chase, and Artham would have been lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself. He hadn’t run like this in a long time, and it brought back fond memories (and less fond ones, but he was ignoring those).

            A second ahead of him the man shot through a doorway and slammed it behind him. Artham, not having heard a latch or lock click, simply kept running and barreled through it, banging it open.

            Abruptly he skidded to a stop. He was in a small room filled with odds and ends (and a good number of mildly alarmed rats). Amidst the clutter was a red armchair and a tiny stage set up in front of it on a barrel. Against one wall was a small table and a chair, while stacks of books and random kitchen utensils littered the floor. It looked rather like a disused attic, or possibly Kalmar’s bedroom.

            Artham considered this, revising his opinion of the fellow he had chased somewhat. Considering the room the man was most likely more civil than a Strander. But he was stil living in the Madrigal’s walls, and that was very unusual.

            He tilted his head and focused on the armchair. “I know you’re there.”
            No response. Artham sighed and walked over around the chair. There, tucked very close against the side of it was the man. He looked even smaller up close, and he had a tangled mass of black, wavy hair. When he saw Artham, he yelped and leapt to his feet, grabbing a broom off the wall and brandishing it at him.

            Artham raised an eyebrow. With one swift, fluid motion he drew his sword and deftly cut the broom handle in two. The man blinked, then stared at him in shock.

            They stood staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but was really probably only a minute.

            Without warning, warbling music started to play and the rats started squeaking in what almost seemed like a chorus. Artham jumped and glanced over at them. Seizing his momentary distraction, the man darted away- only to trip and topple over the piles of things on the floor. He managed to scramble back to his feet and made a valiant dash for the door, but Artham caught his arm and held it fast.

            “Who are you?” he asked.
            “I’m- I’m nobody,” said the man, struggling to pry Artham’s hand off his arm.
            “That’s not an answer,” said Artham. “What are you doing in this house?”
            The man glanced around uncertainly. “Living?”
            Artham’s wings twitched. “Yes but why? No one just lives in the walls of a house for no reason.”
            The man looked down and stopped struggling. “Well, um, you see, my family didn’t really want me around, so, um. And, I mean, I guess if you want to kill me that’s, I guess I don’t really have a good reason for you not to since no one would miss me or anything, heh.”

            Artham stared at him, trying to process that. “What, I’m- I wasn’t going to kill you, what-”
            “You chased after me and then cornered me and drew a sword, I just assumed that was what you were planning.”
            “You tried to hit me with a broom.”
            “I was defending myself! Guy chases me down and breaks into my house of course I’m going to try and get him to leave!”
            Artham tilted his head. “Your house?”
            The man shuffled his feet. “Well, I mean, my room, I guess.”
            “You are living in a broom closet in the walls.”
            “I- … okay, you’re right, you got me there.”

            Artham tried to fit the pieces of the strange puzzle forming in his mind together. “What did you mean your family didn’t want you?”
            “My family? Out there?” he pointed to the wall with the little table against it. Artham could see now that the stone had been cleared in this one little patch of wall, leaving only wood to separate it from the rest of the house. A tiny sliver of light came through a crack in the wood, and now that he was paying attention to it he could smell the kitchen beyond it.

            He turned back to the man slowly. “You’re one of the Madrigals?”
            “Um, yeah,” he twisted the fabric of his cloak in his hand. “I’m Bruno, heh. They um, like to pretend I don’t exist because, uh, my gift really only made everything worse, so.” He shrugged and wrapped one arm around himself.

            Artham let go of him and let his arm fall limply to his side as his mind filled with old memories of living in Glipwood, of spying through tree branches and wandering through town trying to catch a glimpse of his niece and nephews.  

            Bruno was watching him uncertainly. Artham shook his head to dispel the memories and gazed at him with sad eyes.

            “I’m sorry I frightened you,” said Artham, his voice softer. “My name is Artham Wingfeather. My family tried to pretend I didn’t exist for a time as well.”
            Bruno blinked. “Wait, really?”
            “Mhm. Their cottage wasn’t big enough for me to live in the walls though, so I lived in a treehouse in the forest nearby to watch over them. I don’t really blame them for pretending they didn’t know me at the time, I was… not fully sane. But I understand the loneliness of being able to see the people you care about without ever being able to say hello.”

            “Oh, I, um, well, that’s, that’s unexpected. I wasn’t really, well, I kind of just thought someone figured out I was here when I had the vis- when I saw you- and that you were going to get rid of me I guess. Wouldn’t really surprise me, heh.”

            Artham felt a familiar sadness settle over his heart. He reached out and gently set a hand on Bruno’s shoulder, not pulling back when the other man twitched.

            “I did rather expect that was how this would go,” he admitted. “But I’m glad I took the time to hear your story.”

            Bruno mumbled something. Artham smiled a bit and pulled his hand back.

            “So why were you sneaking into the kitchen?” Artham asked.
            “Oh, well, I usually go down there at night to get some food for the next day or two,” said Bruno. “I didn’t make it there yesterday, did I make it there the day before?” he looked at the rats, who squeaked at him. “Right, right, yes, it’s, um, been a few days I guess.”

            Artham frowned. “It’s been a few days since you’ve eaten?”
            “Well, I mean, the rats have stolen me some food, but, um, yeah.”
            “And I interrupted you.”
            “Oh, I, it’s fine, I’ll be fine, this isn’t the first time this has happened, ha,” he swayed a little, and Artham resisted the urge to reach out and steady him, worried it would startle him more than help.

            “Well, I’ll just have to make it up to you,” said Artham firmly. “Stay here, I’ll be back.”
            He had taken a few steps towards the door before his words caught up with Bruno and the other man trotted after him. He made to grab Artham’s sleeve, then stopped and simply stared at him. “What are you going to do?”
            “Get you some food,” said Artham.
            “You- you don’t have to.”
            Artham reached out and gently patted him on the head. “Yes I do. Now stay here and find somewhere to sit down, alright?”
            “O-okay. Be careful no one sees you.”
            Artham nodded. “I will.”

            Then he was gone.

Chapter Text

            Castle Rysen was huge. Mirabel had always thought Casita was a big house but the castle could easily have fit four or five Casitas in it. The hallways were well lit, and warmer than the first room had been but still chilly. The stone walls were fitted together smoothly and filled with windows that looked out into the rolling hills outside. Hills, Mirabel realized after the second or third window, that were covered in snow. She had only ever seen snow when tia Pepa was upset, or on the rare occasions her tia did it on purpose for some reason. She had certainly never seen s much in one place.

            Ahead of her, Camilo was deep in conversation with Kalmar. She could only assume they were planning mischief. Not far behind them, like a shadow, walked Janner. Antonio was huddled close to her, glancing around occasionally but not saying anything.

            They continued that way for a bit until Mirabel heard a steady tapping sound growing closer to them. She stopped, frowning, and was about to say something when a girl came around the corner of the hallway.

            “Janner, Kal, mama’s looking for you!” she called. “She wants to know if you’ve found out where uncle Artham went yet.”
            “We did in fact find out,” said Kalmar proudly.
            “In the most difficult way possible,” added Janner.

            Mirabel surmised this was the boys’ sister. Hopefully the one who could talk to animals. She had dark blonde hair and blue eyes like her brothers. She was short and walked with a crutch… because of her twisted leg. Mirabel found that strange, almost unsettling. There weren’t really any permanent injuries in the Encanto, thanks to her mother, so she rarely saw anyone who had been hurt so severely.

            The girl had noticed them and she smiled brightly. “Hi! I’m Leeli.” She waved, then looked back to her brothers. “Let me guess, you didn’t find uncle Artham, but you found them.”
            Janner snorted. “More like Kal used uncle Fidds’ portal device to drag them here.”
            “Not on purpose!” Kalmar protested. “I was trying to get uncle Artham back. And he was in the same place as them, so I was close.”
            Leeli sighed and shook her head, but when she looked up at the Madrigals she smiled again. “So what are your names?”

            “I’m Camilo,” her cousin offered.
            “He’s going to help me pull pranks,” said Kalmar, looking very pleased.
            Leeli raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell mama that.”
            Kalmar rolled his eyes. “Why would I?”

            Leeli shook her head and limped over to Mirabel and Antonio. “Hi!”
            Mirabel smiled back at her. “Hi! I’m Mirabel, and this is Antonio. He’s kind of nervous, I think, we’ve, um, never actually been away from home before.”

            Leeli nodded and bent down in front of Antonio. “I know what that’s like. But this is a good place, and you’ll be safe here.”
            Antonio looked up at her. “Your brothers said you can talk to dogs.”
            Leeli grinned. “I can!”
            “I love animals,” said Antonio. “I wish I could talk to them.”
            “Well, I can teach you dogspeak if you want,” said Leeli.
            Antonio’s eyes widened. “Really??”
            “Sure! You can come with me down to the houndry later.”
            Antonio bounced in place. “Can’t we go now?”
            Leeli giggled. “I think we should take you all to mama first, but I’ll take you there afterwards. If it’s okay with your-” she glanced up at Mirabel.
            “Cousin.”
            “Brother,” Camilo added.
            Leeli nodded. “If it’s okay with them.”
            “That would be great,” said Mirabel.
            “Yeah, Antonio, maybe you can learn something awesome, like how to summon an army of dogs,” said Camilo, grinning.
            “I’ve done that,” said Leeli, casually.
            Camilo blinked. “Wait, really?”
            “She did,” Kalmar said, nodding solemnly. “During the Battle of the Hollows.”
            “Ay, that’s crazy!” Camilo shook his head. “Wait, battle?”

            Janner, Kalmar and Leeli shared a look.

            “We’ll tell you about it later,” said Kalmar. “For now, let’s go find mama and tell her what’s going on.”

****

            A short while later Mirabel and her cousins found themselves standing before a woman who looked as if she could be as stern as Abuela, but whose eyes were as kind and caring as Mirabel’s mother’s. It was a strange combination, and Mirabel wasn’t quite sure what to think of it.

            As Kalmar and Janner explained what had happened, Mirabel’s gaze wandered over the sitting room they found themselves in. Several couches and armchairs were facing a beautiful stone fireplace that had a merry fire crackling in it. Large windows high on the walls let in ample amounts of light, and a plush carpet on the floor stroked her sandaled feet.

            Along with Janner, Kalmar and Leeli’s mother, Nia, there was a girl sitting on one of the couches with long blonde hair whose name was Sara. She was apparently a friend of the Wingfeather’s who lived in the castle. Sitting next to her was Arendelle, a tall, graceful woman who was Artham’s wife. They seemed nice. Everyone in this castle seemed nice so far.

            Antonio was fidgeting next to her, eager to be off with Leeli learning to talk to dogs. Camilo was lounging in an armchair, looking bored.

            It was then that Mirabel realized that she was the only one of them who didn’t have anything to do after they were dismissed. Antonio was going with Leeli and Camilo would likely sneak off to cause trouble with Kalmar, but what was she going to do? She hadn’t connected with any of the Wingfeathers like her cousins had. Her heart sank a little. She might not be a giftless screwup here, but she was still managing to stand out somehow.

            When Nia had heard the story of their arrival, she promised that they would find rooms for the Madrigals during their stay and told them what time dinner was. Then she went over and sat down next to Arendelle and the rest of the children dispersed. Antonio trotted off with Leeli and Camilo and Kalmar slunk off together with Janner following them wearily.

            And she was left alone, with nothing to do and no one to talk to about the castle and the snow and how much of an adventure this was.

            Well, she would just have to explore the castle. By herself. She was used to that. It would be fine. It would be fun. She would-

            “Hi there,”
            Mirabel jumped and found Sara standing in front of her. The other girl gave her a small smile.
            “You look lost,” said Sara.
            “Oh, well, you know, I just, um, I’m not really sure what to do with myself now,” Mirabel shrugged. “I mean, my cousins went off and I’m… I’ll just have to explore on my own, I guess.”

            To her shock, Sara slipped up beside her and looped her arm through Mirabel’s. “No you won’t. I’ll show you around.”
            “Oh! I- well, I mean, yeah, sure, that’d be great!”
            Sara smiled. “I’ll show you the kitchen first. It’s where I work and it’s one of my favorite places.”
            “I like being in the kitchen too, but most of the time I don’t get to help very much because my mom is busy in there and I’ll just mess things up.”
            “Well you are welcome in our kitchen any day,” said Sara, leading her out into the hallway and patting her arm. “And I am sure you won’t mess anything up.”
            “Are you sure? That’s kind of my thing, getting in the way and making a mess of things.”
            Sara gave her a strange look. “You’re not a problem.”

            She said it so simply and frankly that Mirabel could only stare at her, openmouthed. Sara smiled a little sadly and pulled her along. “Come on, the kitchen’s this way.”

Chapter Text

            Bruno sat with his back to the stone wall of the kitchen, trying to listen and see if Artham really had gone back there to get food, or if he had just been trying to get away from Bruno. He was having a hard time focusing though, between hunger and exhaustion and the familiar, persistent headache building behind his temples.

            He curled into himself more, hugging his knees tightly to his chest and resting his head on them. This was not how he had expected any of this to go. Granted, he never knew exactly what to expect from his visions, but he certainly hadn’t imagined he’d get any kindness from the situation when he’d had a vision of a man with wings chasing him through Casita’s walls. He had thought he was going crazy (or, crazier) when he saw that, since people didn’t have wings and no one had ever gotten into his tunnels before and…

            But now it had happened, and it had ended in the most unexpected way possible, which was Artham being kind to him.

            He didn’t understand that. There were too many confusing emotions floating around in his head and he couldn’t focus on any thought long enough to process it. He felt unsteady, like he was about to topple off a cliff into an abyss and fall forever.

            Maybe it was a good thing Artham had wings then.

            As soon as he had the thought his vision flashed green and pain spiked in his head. He whimpered and shook his head. “No, no, no, I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see,” he muttered. His chest grew tight and his breathing uneven.

            An image flashed into his head of Artham falling, his wings useless at his sides. Bruno made a choked noise and shook his head violently. “I don’t want to see!”

            But the vision did not fade and the green stayed swirling in his eyes. In desperation Bruno made his hands into fists and beat them against the sides of his head, trying to chase out the images that were trying to take shape. When that didn’t work he stood, turned around and hit his head against the stone wall behind him over and over, fear overriding his pain.

            He still hadn’t succeeded in fully breaking the vision when strong hands grabbed him and pulled him away.

****

            Artham was packing food into a satchel Mirabel had given him when the floor suddenly heaved under him.

            He hissed, but kept his balance, because what kind of sailor would he be if he didn’t. He braced his hands against a counter as the floor pulled itself into waves and the tiles clattered anxiously.

            Artham frowned. Mirabel had told him that the house was alive but beyond a friendly wave when he had first entered it Casita had not interacted much with him. He followed the waves and the clattering of the tiles into the courtyard and saw that they led up to the hall by the portrait entrance to the wall tunnels.

            At the same moment he heard a groan and a worrisome thudding noise from the other side of the kitchen wall. His heart skipped a beat and in an instant he had flown up the stairs and dashed into the hidden passage.

            He shot through the tunnels just as fast as he had the first time and in less than a minute he was standing at the door to Bruno’s “room”. He pushed it open and halted inside.

            The first thing he noticed was the strange, swirling green wind hovering on the far side of the room. The second was Bruno beating his head and fists against the wall crying and practically yelling, “I don’t want to see!”

            Artham ran to him and grabbed his hands, pulling him away. There was blood on his knuckles and a steady stream of it trickling down his forehead. He gave a heart wrenching sob when Artham took hold of him and shook his head. “I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to!”

            Artham wrapped his arms around Bruno and held him steady as the smaller man sobbed, shaking like a leaf in a storm. He rested one hand on the back of Bruno’s head and gently ran it through his hair.

            “Shh, shh, it’s alright, Bruno, you’re alright, you are safe, shh, shh,” Artham said softly. He closed his eyes and quietly started to sing an old Annieran lullaby, one he had sang to his brother and his nephews when they were small and frightened.

            Gradually Bruno calmed down. Artham eased them into a sitting position on the floor and Bruno pressed his face into Artham’s shirt, crying softly.

            The wind and the strange green light were gone too, Artham noticed. He wondered about that, but this was certainly not the time to ask.

            “I’m sorry.”

            The small voice brought him out of his musing and he looked down at Bruno. His shoulders were hunched, and he was still shaking a little, and he had leaned away from Artham, though he didn’t really look like he’d wanted to.

            “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” said Artham, softly, wrapping his arms a little more tightly around the man. “Everyone breaks sometimes.”
            Bruno made a noise that was not quite a sob and almost a laugh then winced and brought a hand to his head. “Ow. I- I really- ow. I guess I shouldn’t do that again.”
            “You should not,” Artham agreed quietly. He opened his satchel and pulled out a piece of bread. “But you should eat something. That may help a bit.”
            “Heh, yeah,” Bruno took the bread and nibbled on it. As he did, Artham noticed something strange.

            He brushed Bruno’s hair back from where the cut on his head had been. The blood was still there, but the wound was gone, as was the bruise that had been forming.

            “It’s my sister’s food,” Bruno muttered. “Julietta. That’s, um, why it healed me.”

            Artham did remember Mirabel telling him that now, but he hadn’t really thought much about it until he’d seen it at work. “That is very interesting. Where I come from there is water that can do that- heal people. The water from the First Well.”
            “Huh. You should tell Julietta that, she’d think it was interesting.”
            “I will keep that in mind.”

            They sat in silence for a few moments. Artham mulled over the strange events of the evening until Bruno spoke again, just as quite and uncertain as before.

            “You, um, you don’t have to st-stay here with me, you know. I- I mean I know I’m not very good company.”
            “I don’t mind staying, and there’s nothing wrong with your company,” Artham replied simply.
            “Are- are you sure because I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine on, on my own,” his voice wavered and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly. “I’m used to being alone.”
            Artham sighed. “I know. But I have been where you are now, and I would never abandon anyone in that place if I could help them.”
            “I don’t really know what that means, I just, don’t want to be a burden to anyone.”
            “You are not a burden,” said Artham firmly. “And I will stay until morning. Then I will have to go lest someone wonder where I am. But I will come back again tomorrow night.”

            Bruno looked up at him uncertainly. “Really?”
            “Really and truly.”
            Bruno sniffled. “Thanks,” he said, his voice very small.

            Artham pulled him closer and this time Bruno did lean against him and curl up, stray tears dripping from his eyes.

            Artham took a deep breath and started to sing again, his voice low and gentle. He sang quietly until Bruno relaxed and his breathing evened and a peaceful expression rested on his face.

            Artham smiled. Then he sighed, leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

            Bruno woke up curled up in his armchair with a blanket and a cloak covering him. He stared at the cloak for several minutes, coming to the conclusion that Artham staying with him last night must have been real and not just a nice dream. He had also been left Artham’s satchel, which had food in it. He ate hungrily and handed out pieces to the rats that scurried onto him, thinking.

            Artham had promised he would be back tonight. A part of him (most of him) knew that realistically that was unlikely, but Artham had come back last night so it was possible.

            He looked around at his room. Should he try and clean it? So that it would be nicer if Artham did come back? That was what people did right? Clean their rooms for company? The task was daunting, and he wasn’t even sure he could, but he should probably at least try.

            With a sigh, he dragged himself to his feet. He folded the blanket and the cloak neatly and set the satchel on top of them so he wouldn’t lose it. He walked over and peeked through the crack in the wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of his family, but the kitchen was deserted. He was probably too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. He sighed again, drooping.

            He forced himself to start moving. With the rats’ help he moved his stacks of books, stray papers, kitchen utensils and random pieces of junk to new locations, trying to make his home look neater.

            “Do you think it looks any better?” he asked the rats. They squeaked and tittered at him. “You’re probably right. It just looks bad, huh?”

            He checked the crack again, but there was still no sign of his family. And no smell of Julietta’s cooking, he realized, frowning. And he hadn’t heard anyone talking in the house yet (his hearing was not as good as Dolores’ but he had grown accustomed to being able to hear murmurs of conversation throughout the day).

            Maybe they were just busy in the village today? Maybe there was some sort of event going on- was it anyone’s birthday? He ran through a list in his head, and while he couldn’t be sure of the exact date he was fairly certain it was just an ordinary day.

            Curious, and a little worried, he slipped through the walls to his portrait. He listened, but heard no one nearby, so he flipped up his hood and climbed out of the wall, stopping only to knock on it and toss some salt (sugar?) over his shoulder.

            The house was still and silent in a way that it never was when the family was simply out doing chores and errands. It was a little creepy. Bruno crept through the halls but found no sign of anyone.

            “Casita?” he said quietly, glancing up at the house. The floor tiles and shutters clattered slightly. Well, at least the house was alright. He nervously slunk from the shadows in the courtyard to stare up at his mother’s window and was relived to see the candle still burning brightly.

            He didn’t know where his family had gone, but it would not do to be out of the walls when they Abuela returned so he hurried back to them.

            The day dragged on. Bruno tried to find something, anything to focus on, but the mystery hanging over the house was too great. He finished arranging things in his room. Then he decided it wasn’t good enough and rearranged them again. He checked the walls for new cracks. He talked to Hernando and Jorge and the rats. He realized belatedly that he should have gotten more food from the kitchen while everyone was out and debated going back. Eventually he decided it was too risky, since he had no idea when the family would be back.

            He fell asleep curled up in his chair. When he woke up it felt like it was around suppertime, but there was still no sign of anyone.

            He was getting genuinely worried by that point, and starting to wonder if he should try to sneak out of the house and find his family- just to see that they were okay.

            He had just about convinced himself that this was the right thing to do, when he heard a familiar yelling, followed by a thunderclap and a placating voice in the kitchen. He relaxed a little. If his sisters were back then things must be alright. Bruno berated himself for getting so worried when the family was likely just doing some sort of project together in the village.

            He ate the last of his food for dinner and settled in to wait for Artham (if he had been serious about coming back, that is, and Bruno hoped he had been).

            Evening faded to night and the house grew quiet again. But this was a better kind of quiet, the kind that felt living and normal, where he could sense that just on the other side of the walls were his family.

            Bruno waited.

            And waited.

            And waited.

            He fidgeted anxiously, his hopes fading further and further away that Artham would return. He had given up and was curled up despondently on his chair when he heard a creak outside his door, which swung open a moment later.

            Bruno perked up immediately. “You came back!” he said, trotting over and stopping in front of Artham.
            Artham gave him a weary smile. He looked tired, standing in the middle of the room with his wings droopy and his head half raised.
            “I did indeed,” said Artham. He held up a container. “I brought more food as well.”

            Bruno hesitantly reached up and took hold of Artham’s jacket, tugging him over to the chair and not quite pushing him into it. He sat down on the floor in front of it. “What’s been going on today?” he asked. “I mean, you look tired and everyone was gone earlier…”

            Artham sighed, running a hand through his fluffy white hair. “Three of the children are missing.”

            Bruno froze. His eyes widened and it felt as thought his heart stopped, along with the entire world. “W-what?”
            Artham nodded. “The three youngest ones, Camilo, Mirabel and Antonio. Everyone has been out all day looking for them, but there’s no sign of them. It’s like they vanished,” he ended thoughtfully.
            “What do you mean there’s no sign of them?” Bruno asked, trying not to panic and failing.

            Artham blinked, then shook his head and slid off the armchair. He knelt down and took both Bruno’s hands, squeezing them a little.

            “I’m sure they will be alright,” he said gently. “And believe me when I say that I searched for them as if they were my own niece and nephews. I flew over the entire valley today and over the mountains to the other side, looking, which is why I’m back so late.”
            “But where could they go and, I-I mean, things are dangerous outside the Encanto, why, why would they, and how would they even get out and-and…”

            “I have a theory,” Artham interjected. He took a deep breath and seemed to brace himself. “I am from another world called Aerwiar. For complicated reasons there are a great number of portals- types of doorways- from my world to yours. They appear totally at random and often cannot be avoided. That is how I came here.”
            “S-so you think the kids went through one of these portal doorway things?” Bruno asked.
            Artham nodded. “It would make sense. The first time I went through a portal into this world a family traveled through a different portal into my world, so it wouldn’t be without precedent.”
            “Where are they then? And how-” his voice wavered. “How do we get them back?”
            “My guess is that they are at my home, on the Isle of Anniera. It is a good place, and my family will look after them,” Artham sighed. “Unfortunately there’s no way to tell for sure that’s where they are, so I dare not tell your family this and get their hopes up unless I can find proof, which seems unlikely.”

            Bruno felt a jolt go through him and he shivered a little. “I-I might have a way.”
            Artham tilted his head. “Go on.”
            Bruno rubbed his sleeve between his fingers and stared down. “I get visions, sometimes, of things that are going to happen. Maybe- maybe I can use that to see where the kids are.”

            He was startled by the sound of Artham laughing. Confused, he looked up and saw the other man beaming at him. “That’s fantastic, Bruno.”
            Bruno blinked at him. It had been a very, very long time since anyone reacted positively to his gift. “I might see something bad. I can’t always control what they do. And they…” They hurt, he almost said, but he stopped himself. His niece and nephews were more important than any amount of pain a vision might cause him.

            Artham laid a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, glancing reflexively into the other man’s eyes. “It will be alright,” said Artham. “If you’re willing to try then I will only be grateful.”

            Bruno wasn’t quite sure Artham understood how bad his visions could be and that they would happen and they would be terrible and them Artham would blame him for making bad things happen too.

            But making sure the children were safe was more important, so he would try.

            Even if it meant losing someone who might have been his friend.

Chapter Text

            “Alright, here’s the plan,” said Kalmar. “I’ll cause a diversion. Then, you sneak into the kitchen and steal as many of the blueberry tarts Sara said they were making today as you can.”

            “And I’ll pretend to be you,” clarified Camilo.
            Kal grinned. “Yes. Everyone will be so confused they won’t have a clue where I was and where I wasn’t.”
            “And how can you get in trouble when you have a good alibi?” Camilo grinned back.

            It hadn’t taken Camilo long to tell the other boy about his gift. Sure, he could have waited to made sure that these were good people and they weren’t going to use him for evil purposes or something, but he so rarely managed to get a willing partner in crime these days. When they were little, Mirabel would play pranks with him, but as she’d gotten older she’d become more and more concerned with what Abuela thought of her and she had stopped. None of his other cousins had ever been interested in causing shenanigans with him, and while he was friendly with the other young people in the village he didn’t exactly have… friends.

            Plus, nobody knew about his gift here, except Kalmar (they had ditched Janner by making a detour to the library earlier) and that was an opportunity too great to be wasted.

            Now, their plan secure, both boys hurried off to cause their mischief. Camilo waited, crouching inside a closet near the kitchen, until Kal had had enough time to enact his side of the plot. Then he shifted into a perfect lookalike of the other boy and walked confidently into the kitchen. He followed the delicious aroma of baking until he found the tray of tarts, then reached out to start packing them into the bag Kal had given him.

            Unfortunately, he didn’t notice how precariously placed the pile of dishes stacked next to the tarts was until his arm banged a pot and it clattered to the ground with a CRASH.

            Camilo froze and waited. When he didn’t hear footsteps or yelling, he grinned to himself and returned to his task, this time careful to make sure he didn’t knock off anymore dishes.

            Unfortunately, someone had heard him.

****

            Nia Wingfeather was walking through the halls of the castle, thinking about their new arrivals and her missing brother-in-law when she heard a crash from the kitchen. Curious, she hurried along the passage to see if everything was alright.

            She found the kitchen deserted except for a familiar figure at the back, shoving something (probably pastries) into a bag. She sighed and shook her head, folding her arms and making her expression stern. She had thought that Kalmar was out leading a snowball fight in the yard, but her son could move quite quickly, especially when motivated by food.

            “Kalmar Wingfeather, what do you think you’re doing.”

            For a second, the boy didn’t pause in what he was doing. Nia frowned. Kalmar’s reactions to her were always as fast as the rest of him. Then, as if he’d realized his mistake, the boy jerked around and looked guiltily at her.

            “Oh, mama, I was just-”

            Nia quickly ran through a list of possibilities in her head and settled on one. It was just a hunch, but stranger things had happened to them. “Camilo?” she said in her best even, straightfaced voice.

            The boy paled and his eyes widened. Nia smiled, just a little.

            “How did you know?” said the boy, shifting back into himself.
            “A mother always knows, dear. Now put those pastries back, they’re our desert tonight.”

            Apparently acting on instinct, Camilo began to unload the contents of his satchel. “But how did you know? I didn’t tell anyone about my gift except Kalmar.”
            Nia tilted her head. “Kalmar never hesitates when I call his name like that.”
            “But how did you know it was me and not like, I don’t know, anyone else ever?”
            “Well, you and your cousins are new here, so I knew it had to be one of you three, no one in Anniera can do anything like that,” said Nia. “Mirabel doesn’t seem to have that sort of mischievous streak, and Antonio I know for a fact is with Leeli. That left you.”

            Camilo shook his head. “Ay, that’s impressive, most people can’t tell it’s me, even if they’re in my family.”
            Nia smiled. “Can your mother tell?”
            Camilo looked sheepish. “Si.”
            “There you have it then. Now run along and tell Kalmar I foiled your plans this time. He won’t be surprised.”

            “Yes ma'am.”
            Nia didn’t look back as he headed out the doorway. “And Camilo.”
            “… si?”
            “Put those last two tarts back before you go.”

Chapter Text

            It was just before supper that evening in the castle. Sara had shown Mirabel around for hours, both the finished, and unfinished parts of the castle (apparently parts of the castle were still being built). Sara had even lent her a shawl and some boots when Mirabel mentioned how cold she was.

            “It almost never snows in our Encanto,” Mirabel explained, trying to figure out how to lace the boots up. “Unless tia Pepa wants it to, or gets really upset about something.”
            Sara knelt down and helped her start the laces. “She can make it snow?”
            “Uh, well, yeah. See, all of our family has gifts, these magical, amazing things they can do,” Mirabel sighed and started on the other boot. “Tia Pepa controls the weather, mi mama can heal people with her food, cousin Dolores can hear everything, Camilo can shapeshift-”
            “Wait, he can do what?”
            “Shapeshift. Into anyone. He uses it to play pranks, mostly.”
            Sara laughed. “No wonder he and Kalmar got along so well.”
            Mirabel managed a smile back. “Yeah. And my sisters, Isabella and Luisa, well, Isabella can make flowers grow anywhere and Luisa is super strong. Mi papa and my uncle Felix don’t have gifts because they married into the family, and Antonio’s too young to have one yet.”

            “I see,” said Sara. She sat next to Mirabel on the bed. “Can I play with your hair?”
            “I mean, sure, if you want to.”
            Sara nodded and began combing her fingers through Mirabel’s hair. “You don’t have a gift?”
            “… how did you guess?”
            Sara shrugged. “You didn’t mention yours, so either you don’t have one or you hate it.”
            Mirabel sighed. “I’m the only normal one. I don’t even know why.”
            “There’s nothing wrong with being normal.”
            “There is when your entire family is special and you’re not.”

            Sara stopped and leaned around to look Mirabel in the eyes. “Who told you you weren’t special?”
            Mirabel frowned. “I mean, everybody? It’s kind of a given since I didn’t get a gift and literally everyone else did.”
            “That doesn’t mean you aren’t special,” said Sara. “And that doesn’t mean you’re useless.”
            Mirabel snorted. “Try telling that to abuela.”
            “Abuela?”
            “My grandmother. She’s the one who got the miracle that gave everyone their gifts. Except me. So I’m the one who gets blamed when things go wrong and I’m the one who can never do enough even though I try harder than everyone else and she never even notices, no one ever notices-”

            Mirabel stopped. She was ranting. To a stranger. “Um, I’m sorry, I just, uh, I don’t really get to talk about this much.”
            “It’s alright,” said Sara. “I’ve spent plenty of time feeling useless and helpless.”
            Mirabel frowned. “What do you mean?”

            Sara was quiet for a few moments, and when she spoke her voice was soft. “There was a war in Aerwiar, not that long ago. Gnag the Nameless led an army of Fangs- terrifying half human, half animal creatures- in trying to take over the world. I lived in Skree, which is across the Dark Sea.” Her voice was calm and even and she twisted Mirabel’s hair into little braids as she talked.
            “They needed children. Gnag wanted them for his armies, but the Fangs in Skree used us to make weapons. I felt helpless then, alone in a terrible, dark factory. And then one day hope came in the form of Janner Wingfeather, and after he escaped the factory I decided I wasn’t going to let myself be helpless anymore. I gathered the other captive children and filled them up with the hope I’d found, and together we freed ourselves from the Fangs and the Overseer,” her voice grew stronger as she spoke, her hands moving faster. “And we did it without magic, without any special powers, without even help from adults. You don’t need anything outside of what the Maker has given you to change things, Mirabel, and anyone who says differently is foolish.”

            Mirabel couldn’t think of anything to say to that. What finally came out was, “You were a slave?”
            “Mhm.”
            “For how long?”
            “Oh, I don’t know. A year or so?”
            “A year?!”
            “Many of the children had been there longer.”
            “What happened to them?” Mirabel asked hesitantly.

            Sara smiled. “Some of them went home after the war ended. The ones who didn’t have homes anymore came to live here in Anniera. People have adopted them since then, they all have homes now, all my orphans.”

            “So, what do you think I should do then? With my family?”
            “I don’t know,” said Sara. “All I’m saying is that if you don’t like the way things are then work to change them. It takes time, sometimes it takes such a long time, and planning, and sometimes you need help, but you have to start somewhere,” she came around and sat in front of Mirabel and took her hands. “And knowing your worth is a good place to start. You’re not a tool, you’re a person that the Maker made with a purpose, and you are important and valuable because of that, not because of what you can or can’t do.”
            “Yeah, but I should be able to do something to help my family though, right?”
            “I think you will,” said Sara thoughtfully. “But not by trying to make yourself seem more magical and less ordinary. That’s not who you were made to be. You have to accept who you are now and your situation now, as it is, before you can change things.”

            Mirabel stared at her for a moment, then ducked her head, rubbing her suddenly watery eyes. “Ha-a, you-you might be on to something there.”

            Sara leaned forward and hugged her. Surprised, Mirabel hugged her back.

            “I think you’ll do something quite extraordinary, even without magic,” said Sara.
            Mirabel tried and failed to swallow her tears. “Thanks,” she managed.
            “What are friends for?”

            Mirabel pulled back suddenly. “Wait, are we, we’re friends now?”
            Sara grinned. “Well, if you want to be.”
            “I- yes, sure, I would love a friend!” Mirabel grinned back.
            “Then we’re friends,” said Sara. She hopped off her bed and offered her hand to Mirabel. “Now we’d better hurry and get to dinner, before Kalmar eats it all.”
            “And Cam! It’s starting to sound like those two are long lost brothers or something.”
            Sara laughed. “Poor Janner, I can’t imagine him chasing two little brothers around trying to keep them out of trouble.”
            And walking arm in arm the two new friends headed out, laughing.

Chapter Text

            Artham and Bruno stood in front of the small stairway that led to the door of Bruno’s room. Artham regarded the door curiously. It was adorned with the portrait of the man beside him that happened to look… nothing like him. It looked far too stern to fit the nervous, fidgeting little fellow beside him. The door was also not glowing like those of the rest of the Madrigal family (except Mirabel, who didn’t get a door, which seemed unfair). Bruno was very pointedly avoiding looking at it.

            Artham gave him a moment. He had a feeling this would be very overwhelming for his new friend and that, despite their time constraints, it would be best to take this slowly.

            Finally, Bruno took a deep breath and looked up at the door. He pulled a handful of salt out of his pocket and tossed it over his shoulder, and knocked several times on the wall, muttering, “Knock, knock, knock, knock on wood,” and tapped himself on the head the last time. Then he held his breath, crossed his fingers and walked up the stairs to the door.

            Artham shrugged and followed him. Bruno was hesitating again, his hand on the doorknob. Artham reached out and covered Bruno’s hand with his own, causing the smaller man to jump and twitch as he looked up at him.

            “Together,” Artham said quietly.
            Bruno seemed to tense at that, but he nodded. “Together.” He said, and turned the knob.

            They opened the door and stepped into… a cave. A very bare, plain cave whose only feature appeared to be a waterfall of sand falling over a gap in front of them.

            Artham blinked, pulling the door shut behind him. “This is… your room?” he said, frowning.
            “Part of it,” said Bruno, walking to the sand waterfall. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “Okay, just, follow me, and watch your step.”

            Then he stepped through the sand and disappeared. Artham blinked, shrugged again, and followed.

            The sand slid under his feet, and rather than try and walk down it, Artham flapped his wings and landed on the floor of a larger cave below it where Bruno was sitting. He shook himself and flapped his wings again until a mighty whoosh of air knocked most of the sand off both of them.

            With that taken care of, Artham inspected his new surroundings. The cavern was enormous and still very barren. Across from the sandy entrance stood a massive stone staircase that stretched up, up, up to a small cave at the top.

            The sight of it filled him with dread and the desire to grab Bruno, fly them back out of the room and lock the door behind them. The last time he had been in a cave like this, with an endless line and a song and the dark and the glowing eyes of the Stone Keeper as she reached out towards him-

            “A-are you okay?”

            Artham jumped and looked down at Bruno, who was staring at him with concern. He forced a smile onto his face and looked away, shaking his head. “I’m fine, I just, I do not have very good memories of being in caverns like this.”

            “H-heh, yeah, there’s not, I don’t have a lot in the way of welcoming decorations,” said Bruno, his voice wavering a little.

            Artham took a deep breath. He was wasting time. “Well, at least we won’t have to walk up all those stairs.”

            Before Bruno could reply, Artham had scooped up the smaller man and shot into the air. The stairs ended at a small platform with a rickety bridge across an inexplicable little gap between the stairs and the cave. Artham didn’t think much of that (or the “room” in general) and landed them on the side of the cave. He set Bruno down and Bruno stumbled against the wall, shaking a little.

            “W-well that was fast,” he said. “I thought, well I, I guess why wouldn’t we just do that when you, with wings and all that, makes more sense than walking, I don’t know why I thought…” he shook his head.
            Artham winced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought that since we were trying to save time it would be best. I’m sorry, I should have said something, this place just has me a bit on edge."
            “My room’s not the best,” muttered Bruno. “Okay, I guess we’ll just, um, follow me.”

            Artham did, clenching his fists and dinging his nails into his palms to keep himself focused. The small tunnel was not very long, and decorated with only broken pots, sand, and more inaccurate depictions of Bruno. And at the end of it…

            Artham froze, his heart beating faster and his breathing turning uneven. At the end of the hall was a large, circular iron door.

            No no no no no, this wasn’t, this, this was different, it was fine, he was fine. He forced himself to take a few steps closer. Through the crack in the door he saw a faint glow and his breath hitched. He took half a step back and shook his head, feeling madness creeping up behind him like a malevolent shadow.

            “Are you okay?”

            Artham jumped and looked down at Bruno, who was staring up at him with genuine concern and gripping both Artham’s wrists. Artham took a deep breath and let the touch ground him, desperately trying to hold onto his sanity.

            “I- a long time ago I, there was a metal box, like a coffin, and those who went inside and sang the song came out changed, wrong and broken. This is just a little too similar for me to be calm about it.” he was aware that the explanation didn’t really make sense, but Bruno nodded as if it did and looked down.
            “I’m sorry. If it helps any I really don’t want to be here either, heh. If-if you want to you can leave I’ll, I can get back on my own.”

            Artham gently pulled his wrists out of Bruno’s grip and took hold of the other man’s hands. “I’ll stay. I know this is hard for you as well. Hopefully we’ll get through this together, eh?” he smiled.
            “Y-yeah, right, together,” Bruno took a deep breath and abruptly turned around to face the door. “Okay.”

            Artham took one of his hands and together they slipped through the doorway. Inside were stone walls and a floor covered in sand. At several points under the sand a bright green light glowed. Artham pointedly ignored this and Bruno did not mention it.

            They sat down on the floor and Artham gave Bruno his satchel with the supplies Bruno said he’d need in it. Just herbs and twigs and a couple of matches. Bruno made little piles of the sticks and herbs and pulled out a match. He sighed and slumped down, looking defeated. Then he lit the match, set the little herb piles on fire and closed his eyes.

            When he opened them again, they were glowing.

            “You might wanna hang on,” he said, offering his hands. Artham took them, as all around them the sand began to swirl in a mighty wind, bright green flashing alongside the sand.

            The green flashes turned into pictures. It took a moment, but Artham saw Anniera and scenes appeared from inside Castle Rysen.
            “There’s Mirabel!” yelled Bruno, pointing eagerly at a moment of the girl laughing with Sara in the kitchens.
            The scene switched to one of little Antonio, surrounded by Leeli’s dogs and beaming, then again to Kalmar, Janner and Camilo running down a castle hallway.

            “They’re alright,” said Artham, relieved. “They’re in Castle Rysen with my family, just as I thought.”
            Bruno laughed and beamed at him. Artham grinned back. The struggle of getting here had been worth it to see that the children were well.

            The wind began to fade, and the swirling sand slowly dropped as the glow faded from Bruno’s eyes.

            Then without warning the wind howled fiercely, and spun into a maelstrom.

****

            Bruno felt a flood of relief at seeing his niece and nephews safe. He laughed and Artham smiled at him as the vision faded. Bruno sank to the ground. Finally he’d managed to see something good.

            Then all at once pain exploded in his head and the wind screamed in his ears. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled back. No no no no no-!

            ‘Please no, please please please…’

            But the vision came. It rushed upon him and nearly knocked him off his feet.

            It was the one from last night, that he had tried to chase away. It started with Artham falling, and now he could see something tangled in his wings, like rope. Then the scene changed to ships converging on an island with distant mountains, then again to an army of unearthly creatures crashing like a wave against the wall of a castle. A boy stood on the castle wall, yelling and swinging a sword.

            The vision was gone as fast as it had come, and Bruno sank to his knees, exhausted and trembling. He couldn’t breathe.

            And now Artham would hate him too, like all the other people he’d given bad visions to. Chase him away and call him bad luck. Maybe even tell the rest of the family he was still here.

            Bruno curled in on himself and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, squeezing his eyes shut.

****

            Artham watched as the wind kicked up the sand and green light once more, this time filled with new images. He saw himself, falling, a fleet of ships sailing to Anniera…

            Fangs. An army of Fangs assailing the walls of Castle Rysen like one of his nightmares come to life again.

            But instead of himself or his brother fighting them he saw Kalmar, standing on the walls, shouting orders like a true king. Janner would not be far away. He never left his brother for long.

            Then the vision dissolved. Sand crashed down on them, and Artham found his eyes drawn to a bright green slate in front of him. He picked it up and turned it back and forth, seeing the Fangs scaling the walls with Kalmar on top of them. He took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes, thinking.

            “Bruno, how long does it usually take for one of your visions to happen?”

            There was a long pause, and when Bruno replied his voice was shaking. “It- th-there’s no specific time, c-could be tomorrow, could be years…”

            Artham looked back at the tablet. Kalmar didn’t look much older than he was now, it couldn’t be more than a year, maybe less, and Anniera would be attacked again.

            Artham took a deep breath and felt his heart settle in a way it hadn’t since he’d stepped foot in Bruno’s tower. This was something he could handle. It was bad, yes, but he and his family had faced worse. So, so much worse…

            He looked up at Bruno to say something and froze. Bruno was huddled with his head down, one hand tightly clenching a handful of his hair, his other arm wrapped around his chest as if he might break.

            Artham set the slate down quickly and went over to him. “Bruno, are you alright? Are you hurt?”
            Bruno flinched slightly and raised his head a little. “Y-you’re still here?”
            Artham felt a pang in his chest. “Of course I am. What’s wrong?”
            Bruno shivered. “A-aren’t you angry?”
            “About what?” said Artham, frowning.
            “M-my vision it’s, it’s really, really bad,” his voice wavered like he was trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t mean- I t-tried to stop it, last night, I- and it’s awful and I’m so sorry I didn’t mean t-t-to.” His words dissolved into sobs and he curled tighter into himself.

            Artham said nothing as he very gently wrapped his arms around Bruno. This just made the smaller man sob more intensely, shaking furiously. Artham carefully eased Bruno onto his lap and tightened his arms around him.

            He waited until Bruno’s sobs had quieted a bit, then he spoke again. “Bruno, listen to me. Years ago, when my nephews were little and my niece had just been born our home was attacked. My family was forced to flee for their lives across terrible, dark storm-filled seas, thousands of our people were lost and made into monsters, hundreds were killed. My brother and I were captured and tortured until our minds were twisted and we were not who we had been,” Artham took a deep, shaking breath and ignored the tears dripping down his face. “And all of this happened because we had no warning, we had no idea we would be attacked. Our enemies kept their plots so secret that until they struck we never knew they existed. If we had had even the barest notion we would be attacked so many of our people may not have been lost. My family might not have had to flee across the sea, we might not have lost- I might not have lost my brother.”

            He pulled back and Bruno looked up at him with wide, watery eyes. Through his tears, Artham smiled.

            “I would have given anything to have had something like this vision to warn me of Anniera’s fate. And now I do have a warning. And for that I will be forever in your debt and so, so immensely grateful that I will never, ever be able to make it up to you.”

            Bruno just stared at him, openmouthed and speechless for a few moments. Then he began to weep and shake again, and buried his face in Artham’s shirt. Artham held him close as his tears dripped down into Bruno’s hair.

            “Come along then Bruno,” he said quietly, standing and picking up the little man easily. “Let’s go back to your room.”

Chapter Text

            Antonio was curled up in an unfamiliar bed, unable to sleep. He had never been away from home before, and he had definitely never slept in a room by himself before. He had always had Mirabel there if he got scared or had a bad dream.

            The Wingfeathers were very nice. He was sure they would have put him and Mirabel in the same room if he’d have asked. But Mirabel had been so excited at the idea of having her own room- even if it was only for a few nights- so he hadn’t said anything. He knew how much Mirabel wanted a room of her own and he had thought he’d be okay. He’d had so much fun today with Leeli and her dogs that he hadn’t felt homesick but now, when he was all alone, in the dark…

            He sniffled and rubbed at the tears dripping from his eyes. He wanted Mirabel, or his brother, or his mama or his older sister. He thought about getting up to find Mirabel’s room, but it was so dark and scary and every little noise and shadow seemed like a monster.

            He was crying softly when he heard a sound he did know.

            Antonio peeked over the edge of the bed and saw the dark shape of a cat sitting next to it, purring loudly. Seeing he had noticed her, the cat jumped up beside him.

            “Hi,” said Antonio, softly. He reached up and stroked the cat gently. She was very fluffy, and she purred even louder when he pet her. “Who are you, kitty? I didn’t see you earlier.”

            The cat rubbed her head against his face in response and he giggled. She laid down next to him, watching him thoughtfully.

            “Are you going to stay with me?”
            “Mrra,” she replied, headbutting him.

            Antonio giggled again and pressed his face into the cat’s soft fur. “Thanks.”

            He fell asleep in minutes. The cat curled up against his chest, purring quietly until she too fell asleep.

****

            The next morning Antonio was awoken by a loud, “Mrrrraaaawww!” and paws (but not claws) pressing against his shoulder. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, yawning.

            “Good morning,” he said to the cat. He rolled over onto his back and she sat down on his chest, watching him, purring a bit.

            She was just as fluffy looking as she had felt. Her fur was long and various shades of light and dark brown. She had a white chin and chest and bright green eyes with flecks of brown in them. She looked amused.

            Antonio smiled and pet her. “Thanks for staying with me.”

            In answer, the cat leaned forward until they were nose to nose. Then she gently tapped her nose against his.

            Antonio blinked and grinned. Before he could do anything else though, the cat had jumped off him and onto the floor. He sat up quickly and climbed out of bed, the long, borrowed nightgown he was using pooling at his feet. The cat sat a few feet away, watching him.

            She turned and hopped onto the dresser and promptly nudged off his clothes. Antonio giggled and hurried over to get dressed.

            Not long after he followed the cat out into the hall, now in his own clothes (with the addition of a too-big sweater and warm socks Leeli had given him).

            “I’m glad you’re here, I don’t think I could find my way anywhere in this place, except to the houndry,” said Antonio.
            The cat glanced back at him. It looked like she was smiling.

            Antonio heard a tapping noise and when he looked up Leeli was coming around the corner. She stopped when she saw them and grinned.

            “Good morning Antonio!” she called.
            “Good morning!” he skipped over to her and pointed to the cat. “I made a friend!”
            “I see,” said Leeli. “That’s Dora. She’s uncle Fiddleford’s cat. You must be special, because she doesn’t usually like strangers.”
            Dora, who had stopped and sat next to Leeli, got up and rubbed against Antonio, as if to confirm this.
            Antonio pet her happily. “She came and slept with me last night. I was homesick.”
            “Well I’m glad she helped. Dora’s good at knowing things like that. She always shows up when someone’s having a bad nightmare or a rough day.”
            “I like her!”
            Leeli smiled. “I think she likes you too. Are you ready for breakfast?”
            Antonio bounced. “Yep!”
            “Mrrrrrrawwwww!” meowed Dora.

            The children laughed.

Chapter Text

            It was dawn when Artham finally forced himself to wake up and leave the walls. It was cutting things close, but he had wanted to get at least a couple of hours sleep before he had to face the Madrigal family with his news. He left Bruno curled up asleep on his chair again (if this went on much longer Artham was going to acquire a bed for him) and slipped through the corridors, listening intently before he climbed out through the portrait.

            He had only just made it down the stairs and into the courtyard when a hand shot out and dragged him into the shadows.

            Artham blinked and raised one eyebrow. “Good morning, Dolores.”
            “Is tio Bruno alright?”
            Artham stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “So you do know he’s there,” he said, calmly. “He’s fine, I suppose. As fine as anyone can be in his situation.”

            Dolores relaxed a little. “I was worried. I knew you two went into his room last night but there’s something about it,” she shook her head. “I can’t hear everything that goes on in there, not up in the vision cave. But what I did hear wasn’t good.”
            That was an interesting bit of information, but Artham didn’t comment on it at the moment. “If you know he’s here, why haven’t you said anything to anyone?”
            “Abuela wouldn’t like it,” she said softly. “And I don’t want to do that to him.”

            Artham’s memory flashed back to being cornered in an alley by Podo in Glipwood, blood in his mouth, crying as he ran away. He winced and sucked in a breath.

            “That’s very wise of you,” he said. “And it may interest you to know that I may have a way to help him.”
            She frowned. “How?”
            “I can take him home with me, when I go home,” said Artham. “My family is very kind, and used to these sorts of situations. We would take care of him until, or if, your family was willing to accept him back.”
            “Are you sure?” she said, hesitantly.
            “Yes I am,” said Artham, quietly, firmly. “I’ll speak to him about it, once I’ve figured out a way to get home.”
            Dolores hummed. “To the other world you’re from.”
            “Yes,” Artham smiled a bit. “I would have thought you’d have been asleep by then.”
            She shrugged. “I heard you chase tio Bruno through the walls and I wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt him. I feel asleep when you started singing the second time though.”
            “Glad to hear it,” said Artham, amused.

            “So did it work? Tio Bruno’s vision? Did he see my brothers and Mirabel?”
            “It worked,” said Artham. “And I think I even have a way to explain it to your family.”

****

            Artham waited until the family had gathered for breakfast, took a deep breath, and walked into the dining room. He had rehearsed what he planned to say to Dolores and she said she thought the family would believe it, so that was encouraging.

            He just couldn’t get this wrong.

            Artham stood by the table and cleared his throat. What little conversation had been being muttered ceased and all eyes turned to look at him.

            “I know where the children are,” he said simply.

            Silence, then, pandemonium.

            “How?!”
            “When did you find out?”
            “Where are they?”
            “Are they safe?”

            Artham held up his hand and the questions halted. “They are safe,” he said, glancing at the parents, his eyes lingering on Julieta and Pepa. He knew how much Nia worried about the safety of her children, he had a feeling it was much harder when your children didn’t even know how to hunt for food or use a sword.

            “Where are they then?” Pepa demanded. “And why didn’t you tell us before?!”
            “Because I only found out last night,” Artham replied calmly. He took a moment to steady himself. This was the part he had to get right.

            “My family, much like yours, has magic in it,” said Artham. “When my niece, Leeli, sings, sometimes it allows her, her brothers and myself to see where the others are. It connects us. Last night, in the midst of my dreams, I saw your children with my niece and nephews. They were safe in the castle I live in, with my family.”
            “If it happened while you were asleep, how do you know it wasn’t a dream?” Isabella asked.
            Artham shook his head. “There is a different feeling to it than a dream. More real, more serious and alive. It’s hard to explain without experiencing.”

            “So if our kids are in your home and you’re in ours, can’t we just, you know, switch?” said Felix.
            “I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” said Artham. “You see, I don’t just come from another place, I come from another world. I don’t exactly understand it, but there’s a vast amount of space between the two worlds and this makes it very difficult to cross from one to the other. Occasionally, portals- doorways- between the worlds open, but they do so at unexpected times and in unexpected places, which is how I ended up here. I have a friend who made a device to track where and when the portals appear, and I’m sure that my family will be working hard to switch us all back to our proper places, but I’m afraid for now all we can do is wait.”

            Silence greeted his explanation.

            Then chaos erupted again.

            Artham didn’t try to follow the exclamations this time, he simply sat down at the table and let everyone shout at and around and over him. He couldn’t offer any better explanation than what he’d given them. They would simply have to accept it, as he had.

            Finally, Julieta’s voice cut through the others. “So the children are safe?”
            Artham looked at her and nodded. “Yes. They’re with my family,” he smiled gently. “They’ll take good care of them.”
            There was a sigh, and Artham looked at Alma. She looked frustrated, but all she said was, “Julieta is right. All that matters now is that the children are safe,” she looked pointedly at Artham. “And that they will be returned to us. Soon.”
            Artham twitched a little, but nodded. “I hope they are.”

            And that was the end of it.

            For now.

****

            Artham found himself pestered with nonstop questions by the Madrigals after breakfast. It was… rather overwhelming. If he could have snuck into the walls and stayed with Bruno he would have, but with how closely everyone was watching him it seemed unlikely he could do it without being noticed.

            So he did what any sensible person with wings would do.

            He flew away.

            Artham perched in the treetops of the forest, listening to the birdsong and thinking until sometime after lunch. He was fairly sure that the family was out helping the town by that point, so he returned to house. He slipped into the kitchen, deciding that if everyone was indeed out this would be as good a time as any to steal some food to give Bruno later.

            His plan was shattered when he heard the sound of someone cleaning, however.

            Coming around the corner he saw Julieta, scrubbing a pile of dishes more aggressively than was needed. He hesitated. He could leave, sneak back out of the house and not return till nightfall. But that would probably be suspicious, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for the distress he was causing the household.

            So he knocked on the doorframe, smiling a little as he thought of Bruno, and asked, “Do you need any help?”
            Julieta jumped, and turned to look at him. “Ah, Artham. I thought you’d flown off.”
            “Only temporarily,” he said, walking over. “The constant questions were getting to be a bit much.”
            Julieta chuckled. “We are a bit much. You must have quite a family of your own if you’re willing to put up with us.”
            Artham hummed. “I do indeed,” he held out his hand. “I don’t know where any of your dishes go, but I can clean them if you’d like.”
            She smiled at him. “Alright.”

            They switched places and Julieta set to drying off the already clean dishes and putting them away while Artham scrubbed the dirty ones. They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes.

            “Artham,” said Julieta, not looking up from her work. “While you’ve been here, have you heard anything about my brother, Bruno?”

            It took all of Artham’s self control to not jump as high as the ceiling and screech. He shoved his hands under the water as they started to shake a bit and shrugged. “The name is familiar,” he managed to say calmly.

            If Julieta noticed his reaction she didn’t mention it. “I was just wondering. We don’t- mama doesn’t like us to talk about him. He’s been gone a long time now.”

            Artham felt his heart tighten. He wished he could tell her that her brother was right here, on the other side of the wall, but…

            Memories of Glipwood sprang unbidden into his mind again, of Podo’s anger and Nia’s apparent indifference. Knowing your missing family was right around the corner sometimes only made things worse, and he didn’t want that for Bruno.
            So, Artham opted for a safer comment. “I lost my brother as well.”
            “Oh, I- I’m sorry, Artham,” she said, looking up at him worriedly. “I just… I only mention it because he would have visions of the future, and they sounded like how you described seeing the children.”

            Artham felt a jolt in his chest. In spite of everything he almost smiled. This family was full of very clever people indeed.

            “I am sorry about your brother though,” Julieta continued.
            “And I’m sorry about yours,” said Artham. He looked down. “It is terrible to lose people you care about.”

            Silence hung heavy in the air for a few moments.

            An idea wormed its way into Artham’s head and he hid another smile. He may not be able to tell Julieta about Bruno, but he could at the very least take a suggestion her brother had given him.

            “Of course, losing people happens less often when you have a magical way of healing them,” he said.
            “That’s true,” Julieta agreed readily. “I am glad I have a way to keep my family safe.”
            Artham nodded. “In my world there is water that works similarly to your food. It can heal any injury or illness.”

            Julieta turned toward him, curiosity in her eyes. “Really?”
            “Mhm. The water from the First Well.”
            “What’s the First Well?”
            “It is a spring that bubbles up from the river that flows within Aerwiar- my world- and gives life to it. The Maker gave the First Well to the First Fellows long ago when the world was new. It was lost for many long years, but my nephew Kalmar and I both found it on separate occasions. I’ve seen it work and it is quite miraculous.”
            “What have you seen it heal?”
            Artham smiled. “Between myself and the children? Everything from little dogs to dragons.”
            “Dragons?”

            Artham’s grin widened. “Yes. Dragons.”

****

            Artham and Julieta talked for a while even after the dishes were finished. Julieta finally apologetically said she needed to go into town and check on things before dinner, so Artham wandered out of the kitchen.

            He had hardly entered the courtyard when he was confronted by Augustin and Felix.

            “Hello Artham,” said Augustin cheerfully. “Do you have a moment?”
            Artham gave them a strained smile and tensed, fully ready to fly away if he needed to escape. “I’m sorry, but I’m not prepared to answer more questions at the moment.”
            “Well then good thing we weren’t going to ask you any, amigo,” said Felix.
            “Except one,” amended Augustin. “Have you, by chance, ever played football on your world?”
            Artham tilted his head, curiosity roused. “I can’t say that I have. What is it?”
            “It’s a sport where you try and score a goal with a ball without using your hands at all,” said Augustin.
            “So it’s the opposite of handyball,” said Artham, amused. “Fascinating.”
            “You wanna give it a shot, amigo?” Felix asked, grinning.
            Artham shrugged, smiling a little. “I suppose I could give it a shot.”

****

            Artham liked football.

            Augustin and Felix had explained that normally it was a sport played by teams, but since there were only three of them they would just try to score against each other. It hadn’t taken Artham long to catch on, and he very quickly decided it was something he needed to introduce to Anniera.

            He shrieked and laughed, running around on the hill with the two men, who very quickly teamed up against him to try and block him when they realized how fast he was. For fairness sake, Artham didn’t use his wings, but it hardly mattered. He was quick and he was clever, and that was all he really needed.

            Finally the three of them collapsed on the ground. Artham was laughing, as he had been for most of the game.

            “This was delightful,” he said, cheerfully.

            He didn’t miss the grin Augustin Felix shared in the wake of his statement. “Glad you enjoyed,” said Augustin.
            “You’re quite a football player, amigo, you sure you’ve never done this before?”
            Artham shook his head, grinning. “Never. My brother and I did use to play games like this when we were young though.”

            As soon as he said it, Artham felt a little worm of worry that they’d ask about his brother, or why he didn’t do things like this anymore, but they didn’t mention it. Instead they fell to chatting about the weather and how warm it was this year, and Artham told them about how it was winter in Anniera and they marveled at that.

            It was refreshing, and soon, Artham had an idea.

            “You know,” he said. “Since you’ve taught me a sport from this world it seems only fair that I should teach you one from mine. Have you ever heard of zibzy?”

            “Zibzy?”
            “Nope, amigo, never heard of it.”

            Artham grinned at them. “Well, then I shall just have to teach you,” he stood, brushing dirt off his pants. “We will need some brooms though.”

****

            “Isa, over here!”
            “I’m trying dad!”
            “Luisa stop throwing them so high!”
            “Sorry!”
            “FELIX!”
            “I’ve got it, mi amor!”
            “CASITAAA!”

            Artham cackled as he dove through the chaos in Casita’s courtyard. What had started as him teaching zibzy to Felix and Augustin had turned into a family-wide game after they had to go on a hunt for materials. They had located six brooms with Dolores and Pepa’s help, Luisa had happily collected rocks for them, and Julieta had found them what seemed to be an old cutting board. Isabella had been the most recent addition to the game, and she was making up for not knowing what was going on by using vines and flowers to confuse the opposing team (and her own). It wasn’t quite a traditional game of zibzy, but Artham thought it was fantastic how things had turned out.

            The house was playing as well, which was the most amusing development of the whole thing. It snatched up brooms and rocks, and occasionally people, and tossed them around, much to the amusement of the family. Artham hadn’t had such fun since the Great Snowball War earlier this winter.

            And then the door of Casita opened, and Abuela stepped through.

            Everyone froze. Brooms clattered to the floor. The family members exchanged stricken, guilty looks with one another.

            “What,” said Abuela in a dangerously low voice. “Is going on here?”

            When silence followed her question, her face hardened. “You are all supposed to be examples, supposed to be using your gifts to help others, not throwing things around and wrecking our home!”

            That was hardly a fair statement, Artham knew. Before they’d started everything breakable had been moved out of the way and nothing had been damaged.

            But Abuela, Alma, was, as many people were, only willing to see what she wanted to see.
            And for some reason Artham couldn’t fathom, she seemed to only want to see her family failing to live up to her expectations.

            So he took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Don’t be angry at them, Alma, it was my idea,” he said, his voice soft after her sternness. “A little fun can be a good thing, I didn’t see any harm in it.”
            “Of course you didn’t,” Alma all but spat. “You are an outsider. You know nothing of our ways and our struggles.”

            Artham didn’t reply. Nothing he could have said would have either changed her mind or helped the situation, so he stayed silent.

            Alma stared at him for a long moment. When he didn’t cower or tear away from her gaze, she huffed and turned to her family. “Clean up this mess and yourselves,” she said, walking across the courtyard with her head high and her eyes forward. “I expect dinner at the usual time.”

            No one said anything to him as the Madrigals slowly picked up what little mess they’d made and went to their rooms. Artham stood silently in the middle of it all, looking up at the door Alma had disappeared into, and wondering what kind of pain the woman had been through that had made her so bitter towards her own family.

Chapter Text

            “I FOUND IT!”

            Kalmar’s shout echoed through the rooms and hallways of the castle until it reached the mixed group of Madrigal and Wingfeather children in the sitting room.

            Kalmar dashed inside the room, waving a small metal tablet in the air. Camillo skidded after him a moment later.

            “I found it!” Kalmar yelled again, his grin so wide it looked like it would split his face.
            “Found what, Kal?” asked Janner, not looking up from the book he was reading.
            “The portal detector!”
            “The what?” asked Mirabel, frowning.
            Kalmar turned to her excitedly. “It tells you when a portal is going to open and where it’s going to open to. I thought I’d lost it when Janner and I went sailing last fall but I found it!”
            “It was probably in your sock drawer, because we all know you never change your socks,” Janner muttered. Antonio giggled from where he sat on the couch with Dora, and the girls made faces of disgust.
            “I’ll have you know it was under my dresser, and that I change my socks at least once a month!” said Kalmar.
            “No wonder you’re always so smelly,” said Leeli.
            Kalmar stuck his tongue out at her. “At least I don’t smell like wet dog whenever it rains.”
            “You used to.”
            “Hey!”

            “So what does this mean?” Mirabel cut in.
            “He said it means we can find a portal that’ll take us home,” said Camillo.
            “Oh,” said Mirabel quietly.
            “Yay!” Antonio threw his hands in the air and squealed, startling Dora, who meowed at him scoldingly. “Sorry,” he said, grinning and petting her apologetically.

            “Alright,” said Kalmar. “Let’s see if this works.”

            He fiddled with some knobs and buttons on the machine and it whirred to life. A tiny satellite dish spun on the top of it and it hummed, vibrating slightly in Kalmar’s hands. He typed something into it and the satellite dish spun faster.

            A little ding! sounded and Kalmar grinned.
            “Looks like the next portal that’ll open to your home is tomorrow afternoon,” he looked up at the Madrigals. “You guys are going home.”
            “So we only have one more day here,” said Mirabel, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
            “We’d better make it a good one then,” said Camillo. He turned to Kalmar. “What do you suggest?”
            Kalmar rubbed his hands together. “Well we could always have a mini Snowball War.”
            “That’s just called a snowball fight, Kal,” said Sara.
            Kal shrugged. “Not if we build forts. And use the snowball cannons.”
            Camillo grinned. “Snowball cannons?”
            “We should not put you two on a team together,” said Janner, shaking his head.
            “If I can’t be on a team with Camillo you can’t be on a team with Sara,” countered Kalmar.
            Janner and Sara both blushed. Kalmar and Camillo snickered.

            “Or maybe we should go sledding,” said Leeli, a little twinkle in her eye.
            “Ohh, both, definitely both,” Kalmar clapped his hands. “Alright, everybody, we’d better get going before Janner and Sara’s blushing melts the snow.”
            “KAL!”
            Kalmar shot out the door, Janner hot on his heels. Sara just covered her face with her hand and followed them. Antonio caught up with her and tugged on her sleeve, asking something about if sledding was scary. Camillo followed, grinning at the sound of Janner and Kalmar yelling down the hallway.

            Mirabel didn’t follow right away. She sat on the floor, a half-finished stitching of a dragon she was doing on one of Leeli’s dresses in her hands. They were going home tomorrow. Home, where she was little more than an inconvenience, where she could never seem to do anything useful, she couldn’t help her family, she couldn’t help her town…

            She stared down at her shimmering red stitches. Maybe… maybe she could stay here, where people didn’t care that she didn’t have a gift, where being normal wasn’t something bad.

            Maybe…

            “If you don’t finish it in time that’s okay.”

            Mirabel jumped. She looked up to find Leeli watching her, leaning idly on her crutch.

            “Oh, um, yeah, thanks,” she ran her fingers over the stitches and found her eyes once again drawn to Leeli’s bad leg and her crutch. It was still so strange to see, and though she looked away quickly, Leeli caught her staring.

            “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
            Mirabel blinked, looking uncertainly at the other girl, “Er, I know, I just, I’m not used to, well, to seeing…”
            “I’m not useless,” said Leeli. “And I’m not any more broken than anyone else. Different doesn’t mean bad.”

            Mirabel smoothed the little wrinkles in the dress absently. “I know-”
            “You’re not useless either.”

            Mirabel looked up, her eyes wide. “What?”
            Leeli raised an eyebrow. “You think that because you’re different from your family you’re broken and that you can’t do anything. But that isn’t true.”

            Mirabel just stared at her.
            Leeli sighed and sat down in front of her. “During the war my brothers went off on a mission. I couldn’t follow them. I stayed behind in the Hollows. But just because I couldn’t go off and try and end the war didn’t mean I couldn’t do anything. I fought with my songs and my whistleharp. The Fangs always hated music, and I am very good at playing and singing songs,” she smiled, a little sadly, and looked down. “I drew their attention so that the Hollowsfolk could kill them and protect their home. I kept the worst of the attack focused where I was. And I gave people hope. And I taught the dogs to carry messages and told them where to take them,” she looked up at Mirabel. “My brothers could never have done that. And there are things you can do that your family could never do either. That’s why you have to go back home, because even though people might look at you with pity, like you’re broken and there’s something wrong with you, they’re wrong. And you’re going to do something extraordinary.”

            She reached out and squeezed one of Mirabel’s hands, heedless of the tears that dripped onto her. “The Maker doesn’t make mistakes, Mirabel. Your family is going to need you someday, and you have to stay with them so you’re ready when that day comes. And they’re going to need you not because you have some special powers, but because you’re you.”

            “Thanks,” whispered Mirabel, her throat tight. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand and gave a watery little laugh. “I’m getting tears all over your dress.”
            Leeli leaned forward and hugged her. “I don’t mind.” she said. After a moment, Mirabel hugged her back.

            Finally Mirabel pulled back, wiping her eyes, and Leeli leaned away. The younger girl grinned. “Now come on, let’s go throw snowballs at Kal and that cheeky cousin of yours.”

            Mirabel laughed. “You know, that does sound like a good way to spend my last day here.”

Chapter Text

            Bruno sat curled up next to the hole he used to leave the walls, listening to the laughter of his family beyond it. He hugged his knees to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to stop the tears from running down his face.

            It had been a long time since he had been around his family, and even longer since they’d been happy while he was around. It was better this way. They didn’t need him, they were happier without him and his terrible prophecies ruining their lives.

            Artham was probably happier without him too. Artham had continued to be shockingly kind to him even last night after his vision but…

            But now he was out there, having fun with Bruno’s family (Bruno had seen him flying around). The ones who were normal and didn’t live in the walls and talk to themselves and the rats and deliver cursed prophecies. Why would he come back after that? After he realized how much better company the rest of the Madrigals were?

            He wouldn’t. Of course he wouldn’t. Bruno should stop hoping that he would. It was stupid. He was stupid. Stupid and cursed.

            He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. He should go do something. Patch the cracks, the only helpful thing he could do for his family anymore. But he was so tired after yesterday, and he ached down to his bones. Having one big vision in a day was draining enough, but having two? His head had been pounding all day, and it was all he could do to drag himself through the walls.

            It probably didn’t help that he hadn’t eaten. He had decided to save the food Artham had brought the night before, since it was highly improbable Artham would come back and Bruno really didn’t want to sneak out of the walls at night and risk meeting him outside. It was very likely, he knew, that once the shock of Bruno’s vision had worn off and Artham had time to think about it that Artham would be upset, maybe even angry about it. Bruno had been on the receiving end of plenty of angry townspeople’s abuse for his visions, he had no desire to have it from Artham, especially since Artham had been nice to him before and now Bruno had gone and messed it up, just like he messed everything up-

            Bruno took a shuddering breath and stood suddenly. He swayed dangerously, bracing his hand against the wall, and forced himself to walk slowly back to his “room”. Rats scurried along the pipes beside him, squeaking with curiosity and concern. He tried to smile at them, but he didn’t think he succeeded.

            He was halfway there when the world spun and he collapsed on the ground, vision going black.

****

            Artham was tired. It had been a long few days and a long few nights. He trudged through the walls with his satchel of food for Bruno, hoping his new friend was alright after yesterday.

            Bruno had been nearly inconsolable last night, but he had also been completely exhausted. Artham doubted he could have made it back to the walls without help. He was asleep by the time they arrived in his little room, and Artham hoped he had slept long into the day. His visions must be taxing on him, and Artham doubted he usually had two in one day.

            “Squeak!”

            Artham looked down and frowned. There was a rat at his feet. Even as he watched two more appeared. They sat up and stared at him for a moment, chattered furiously at him, then suddenly turned and scurried off as fast as their little paws could carry them.

            “That isn’t good,” Artham muttered. He hurried forward, worry banishing his weariness.

            His concern was confirmed when he came around a corner and stopped short, staring at a dark shape curled up on the floor. His heartbeat quickened, and, forcing himself to be calm, he knelt down next to Bruno and felt for his pulse.

            It was steady, and Artham let out a breath that only shuddered slightly.
            “I wish I didn’t have to leave you alone during the day,” he muttered, checking his friend over for injuries. He didn’t find any, but Bruno did twitch and whimper as Artham touched him and murmured, “’m sorry, didn’t mean to.”
            “Shh, Bruno, it’s alright,” said Artham gently. “You’re alright.”

            He easily scooped Bruno into his arms and stood. He had carried Bruno a couple of times now and it was always concerning how light the little man was. He was about the size of Kalmar but didn’t weigh nearly as much. Artham sighed and shook his head. He had to talk to Bruno about getting out of here and coming to Anniera.

            But not now. Artham started walking towards Bruno’s little room, then paused as an idea struck him. He smiled a bit, turned around and walked back to the opening in the walls.

            He listened intently before moving the painting, and again after he had pushed it aside. But no one stirred and the house stayed quiet. Silent as a stalking cat, Artham walked to the edge of the balcony and leapt off, his wings hardly rustling as he soared into the sky.

            He swooped around to land on top of the house. He sat down and set Bruno down so he was leaning against Artham’s side. Then he leaned back and gazed up at the star-filled sky, smiling as the breeze ruffled his hair.

****

            Bruno noticed several things as he woke up; first, he was no longer laying on the floor, but he wasn’t in his chair either. Second, he was leaning against something warm and solid.

            Third, he was on the roof.

            He became aware of the last thing when he felt a breeze hit him and his eyes flew open. His gaze darted around, took in the roof tiles and the darkness and the wind. His breathing started coming in short, panicked gasps, and in his panic he jerked to his feet.

            He slipped, and before Casita could catch him, strong hands steadied him and gently, firmly sat him back where he’d been. He blinked, still breathing too fast, still not thinking, and threw out his arms and legs, kicking and swinging to try and free himself.

            A calm, steady voice cut through the building fear in his mind. “Bruno, it’s alright, it’s only Artham, you’re safe.”

            Bruno stopped swinging. “Artham?” he said, voice wavering.
            “Yes. Hello.”

            Bruno turned and saw Artham’s kind blue eyes gazing back at him. He let out a shuddering breath and any fight he’d had in him vanished. He drooped and pressed his head into his hands, curling into himself. Artham rested a hand on his back for a moment, then started to rub up and down. Bruno tried to hold back his tears as he remembered his mama doing the same thing to calm him down when he was little, and Julieta when he was older.

            “You came back,” he managed finally.
            “Of course I did,” said Artham, as if this had never been in question, as if Bruno hadn’t spent the entire day convincing himself otherwise. A pause, then, “Why did you think I wouldn’t?”
            Bruno laughed, and even to his own ears the noise sounded painful. “Why would you? I’m the one who’s cursed and gives visions of people’s homes being destroyed, why would you want to hang out with me when you could be around my family and their amazing gifts instead of having to deal with me and-and,” he squeezed his eyes shut. A sob escaped him and he pressed a fist into his mouth to stifle any others.

            There was silence for a moment. Artham wrapped an arm around Bruno’s shoulders and squeezed gently. Bruno gave another pained laugh-sob and shook his head.

            “Why are you so nice to me?” he asked, looking up at Artham pleadingly. “I don’t have anything you could possibly want and there’s- there’s no reason for you to keep visiting me, nobody’s telling you to do it, I m-made sure the kids were o-okay, I don’t, why would you, why would you want to keep coming to see me?”

            There was silence for a long agonizing moment, then, “That’s not true.”
            “What?”
            “That you have nothing I could possibly want.”
            “What- I, I don’t, I don’t have anything, I, even without the visions I’m not that great-”
            “I want to be your friend, Bruno.”

            It felt like the air had been punched out of him. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to breathe. He just stared at Artham, unconsciously holding his breath and crossing his fingers for what felt like an eternity.

            Artham looked away and stared up at the sky. “I lived alone for nine years,” he said softly. “I desperately needed my family and I desperately wanted to help them, but they did not want me. Precious few people were kind to me and the ones that were could not help me heal from what I’d suffered. The pain and despair and confusion I felt during that time I would not wish on anyone. When I met you you reminded me of myself during that time, and it made me want to help you. I still want to help you, and the best way I know how to do that is by being your friend and looking after you.”

            “Oh,” Bruno felt tears well in his eyes and he tried in vain to blink them back. “Oh.”

            Artham pulled him a little closer and they sat in silence for a while.

            “The stars here are beautiful.”

            Bruno looked up at the sky, filled with twinkling lights. How long had it been since he’d seen the stars? “Yeah, they are.”

            “I don’t recognize most of the constellations, but then again I only know a few from this world. I know all the constellations in Aerwiar.”
            “Just because you like stars?” Bruno asked hesitantly.
            Artham smiled. “No. I learned most of them while I was learning to sail. Navigation is a very important skill, especially when you live on an island.”
            “Y-yeah I guess it would be. What-what’s it like there, where you live? Is it, well, is it… good?”

            Artham’s smile widened. “Anniera is wonderful. It is a beautiful island full of rolling green hills and mountains and little towns and forests that are just beginning to grow again,” he gazed off into the night like he could see the land he was talking about. “Every little town has a bookstore, and the people are kind. It is incredible to see how the land has been restored so quickly after nine long years of destruction,” he looked down. “Though it never truly died. Leeli said the flowers bloomed the day the war ended.”

            “Nine years- that was how long you said you were by yourself,” said Bruno. “Was- was it because your home got destroyed?”
            Artham sighed. “That was how it began, yes. But other things transpired that kept me away from my family.”
            Bruno hesitated, but if he was going to press now felt like the time to do so. (Artham could still back out, still had time to realize being Bruno’s friend was a bad idea. He never said or did anything right, Artham should understand that, understand what he was getting into.)

            “W-why didn’t your family want you around? If you were there to protect them, well, I mean, you seem like you’d be pretty great at that.” Bruno rubbed his arm. “I mean, I know why people don’t want to be around me, I’m bad luck and cursed and all that, but you? You’re, well,” Bruno glanced at Artham’s wings and ducked his head. “You’re pretty amazing.”

            A long silence followed, during which Bruno went from questioning if this had been a bad thing to say, to cursing himself for saying anything at all.

            “I was not always like this.”

            Bruno looked up quickly. Artham sounded so sad, almost lost. His head was bowed and his wings drooped.

            “When Anniera fell I was captured by the Fangs, along with my brother. I lost my mind in their fortress, in the Deeps of Throg. I sang the Song of the Ancient Stones and it transformed me, but not into this. I sang it out of despair and pain and I did not finish it. My hands grew into claws, and when I fled from that place I was no longer myself. I had done something terrible- and it broke me. When I arrived in Glipwood- where the rest of my family was hiding- I spoke gibberish and wore socks on my hands to hide the claws. The only sane thought I held onto was that I had to protect my niece and nephews. That I loved them more than anything in all of Aerwiar,” he looked up, his eyes distant. “It was not until I sang the Song again to save my nephew Kalmar that I grew wings and became myself again, and even now it is a struggle at times to keep my sanity.”

            Bruno clenched fistfuls of his ruana in his hands, heart fluttering like a bird. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

            To his surprise, Artham chuckled and patted him gently on the head, ruffling his curls. “It’s alright. Every time I explain it it gets easier to say. For a long time I couldn’t speak of it at all without falling back into the darkness.”

            His arm moved off of Bruno’s head and settled on his back. Bruno took a few quick breaths, knocked on the wooden edge of the roof and steeled himself.

            “I left to protect my family too,” he said in a quick, trembling voice. “I-I had a vision that, of Mirabel, and she, I knew the family wouldn’t understand, they’d see the worst in it even though it wasn’t set- all of my visions are set- and I didn’t want her to be like me, for everyone to call her bad luck and think she was cursed, she was only five I couldn’t- I couldn’t let that, I couldn’t let it happen.”

            Bruno shook so hard it felt like he was falling to pieces. He clutched his arms and hugged himself, eyes squeezed shut. He’d never told anyone, about the vision, about why he left. But he could trust Artham, he could trust him, he could trust him, he could-

            Arms wrapped around him and held him tight, held him close, pressed his broken pieces back together. He took a breath and it came out as a sob.

            Artham started to sing. His voice was calm and deep and clear and soothing. Bruno didn’t realize he was half asleep until Artham’s soft words whispered into his hair.

            “It’ll be alright, Bruno, for both of us. It’ll be alright.”

            He fell asleep with that comforting thought echoing in his mind.

            And maybe, just maybe, he started to believe it was true.

Chapter Text

            It was time, time to go back to their Encanto, their family.

            Mirabel felt a tug on her heart as she stood with her cousins facing the Wingfeathers. She knew Leeli was right, that she needed to go home, but…

            There was still a part of her that wanted to stay, that wanted to feel useful and important, like her worth wasn’t dependent on something she did but on who she was.

            Then Antonio slipped his hand into hers. She looked down and saw him wrap himself around her arm, giving her a tiny smile.

            She smiled back, her heart feeling lighter. Even if the rest of her family didn’t need her, at least her baby cousin did.

            She looked up at the Wingfeather children, who were watching them sadly. She turned her smile on them and made her voice bright and cheerful. “Well, thank you so much for letting us stay here, it really means a lot and-”

            She was cut off when Sara and Leeli flung themselves at her and Antonio. Antonio gave a squeak as Leeli hugged him that Mirabel almost didn’t hear as she was so focused on Sara’s tight hold on her. Mirabel hugged her back and sighed a little.

            She would miss this. She would miss having friends.

            But it was time to go.

            Distantly she heard Camillo saying goodbye to Kalmar and Janner but her attention was taken by a swirling, twisting light that appeared on the far wall. Wordlessly she stepped forward with her cousins, but stopped just short of the portal and turned back to the Wingfeathers. They looked sad and solemn, except for Kalmar, who was grinning and waved to her.

            “See you soon!” he called.

            She waved back at him, smiling just a little.

            Then she took Camillo’s hand, squeezed Antonio’s, and they stepped through the portal and into Casita.

****

            Bruno was happy. Which was, well, a big thing for him. He woke up curled in his chair feeling tired and worn and still aching but not hopeless, not so weighed down. It was like one of Pepa’s clouds had been hanging over him and finally lifted, taking his pain and despair with it.

            He had a friend. Bruno couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a friend. He had his sisters, of course, but they had simply always been there, they had felt obligated, he assumed, to be his friends. His brothers-in-law had always been kind to him, but by the time he met them he was already too closed off, too used to hiding, too cursed and full of bad luck to think about having friends (even if they had wanted to be his friends, which he had never been sure of).

            But now he had someone who had chosen to be his friend, who had seen the worst of what he could do and hadn’t run away or gotten angry and called him cursed. Someone who kept visiting and wanted to be around him. Someone who understood.

            It made him feel giddy and lightheaded (though maybe the lightheadedness was just hunger) and he skipped through the walls, humming happily.

            He would work on patching the cracks, then he could say he had done something good when Artham came back this evening. And then they could sit and eat (the food was even fresh) and he could ask Artham what his family had been up to and about Anniera (it sounded lovely) and he wouldn’t be alone, he had someone who wanted to see him now…

            Bruno worked with these cheerful thoughts bouncing around in his head, smiling as he thought about them. He knew the feeling wouldn’t last, that the dark thoughts would creep back in soon and cover him in dark clouds again, but it felt so nice to have something to be happy about again, something to give him hope.

            So for once he shoved thoughts about the future away and focused on the present.

            It was far too early, still afternoon, when he heard footsteps in the walls. Bruno froze, immediately tense and looking for a place to hide. But there was none and the footsteps were coming too fast anyway-

            Artham dashed around a corner and managed to skid to a halt right in front of Bruno. Bruno felt calmed and confused all at once. On one hand, it was only Artham. On the other hand, why was he here so early?

            “Wh-what’s going on? Did something happen?” he asked.
            Artham took a breath. He looked serious, but his eyes were wide and a little wild, and it made Bruno nervous. If Artham looked like that because of something it couldn’t be good.

            “The children have returned,” said Artham, his voice deceptively calm.
            Bruno blinked. “Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Maybe he was wrong, maybe everything was okay and Artham was just excited?

            “It is,” said Artham. “But they brought me this,” he held up a small box with buttons on it. Bruno frowned. “It’s a portal detector,” Artham continued. “It allows a person to see when and where a portal will appear and where it will lead to. I can use it to go home.”

            Bruno’s heart dropped and he felt that cloud settling back over his head. “Oh.”
            Artham’s expression softened. “The next portal to Anniera opens tonight.”
            Bruno stumbled back, feeling like he’d been struck. “O-oh.”

            And just like that, the darkness swallowed him back up. Of course this was his luck; to make a friend, to actually have someone who wanted to see him and visit him again, and to lose them the next day. Why had he expected anything different?

            Artham reached up and laid a hand his shoulder and slowly, painfully, Bruno looked up and met his eyes, trying his best to hold back tears. He was being selfish. Artham deserved to go back to his family. He had lost them for a long time, he should be able to go back without feeling guilty for leaving Bruno behind.

            To his surprise, however, Artham knelt down, his hand moving to rest on Bruno’s arm. His eyes looking up at Bruno were sad and understanding, but a fire burned behind them.

            “Bruno, I need to speak with you about something,” he sounded nervous suddenly. “If I- if you could, would you like to come with me to my world?”

            Bruno stared at him, uncomprehending. “What?”
            “You don’t have to, of course,” said Artham. “But I think it would be good for you. And me. I don’t have a great many friends and it would be nice to have another around. And my family would be happy to have you- they’re very used to situations like this, partially because of me,” Artham gave him a lopsided smile.

            Bruno kept staring, still not understanding. “You want me to come live with you?”
            Artham nodded firmly. “Yes.”
            “But I-I’ll just mess everything up, I mean, with my visions and, and th-they won’t, they’re not gonna,” he nervously twisted a handful of his ruana and bowed his head. “They won’t want me around. N-nobody wants me around.”

            “I want you around.”

            The simple statement made his breath hitch and he shook his head. “I-I think you’re an exception. N-nobody’s wanted me around for a long time.”
            “Maybe you just haven’t been around the right people.”

            Bruno shook his head. “I-I don’t know if I could h-handle all new people, especially if they decided that, w-well, that they hated me. I, I don’t wanna have to leave again, I don’t wanna-” he shuddered and didn’t quite will back his tears. “I don’t wanna be alone again.”

            Artham was silent for a moment, then he took a breath. “Some time ago I had a friend who was worried that my family wouldn’t accept him back after he caused an accident at the castle. He made me promise him that if my family drove him out I’d go with him- with my wife, of course.”

            He felt Artham press a hand under his chin and very gently lift it up so they could see eye-to-eye. “I will make that same promise to you, Bruno, if you agree to come back with me to Anniera. If my family casts you out I’ll go with you wherever you want to go, so you won’t be alone,” he smiled a little. “And my wife Aurendelle will come with us, because if she can put up with me she can put up with anything.”
            “I don’t wanna take you away from your family.”
            “I would still go and visit them,” said Artham. He grinned. “I do have wings after all.”

            Bruno rubbed his eyes. “Are you sure? B-because I’m not, ah, I don’t h-have a very good record with, um, keeping good relations with people, even my family.”

            Artham leaned forward and hugged him and Bruno hugged back, trying not to melt into the comforting embrace too much.

            Artham spoke quietly. “If there is anywhere in all the wide worlds the Maker has made that you would be welcome, Bruno, it would be on Anniera. Trust me. Please trust me.”

            Bruno pressed a little harder into the hug, eyes squeezed shut. At least, even when things went badly, he would have had a friend for a little while. At least he wouldn’t be by himself. He’d been alone for so long, when all he’d wanted was to go back to his family, to talk to them and hug them and play with the kids again…

            Artham’s family wasn’t his, but it would be something at least.

            “C-can I come back here and visit sometimes?” he asked. “J-just in the walls, to-to check up on things?”
            “I’m sure that can be arranged,” said Artham.
            “W-well then I guess, I guess I, I could give it a shot.”

            Artham pulled back and looked at him, eyes shining. “Truly?”
            Bruno nodded, trying to look determined. “Y-yeah.”

            Artham laughed, and suddenly Bruno’s feet weren’t on the floor anymore as Artham picked him up and spun him around.

            Bruno was too shocked to do anything but hold on. When was the last time anyone had been happy to have him around, to invite him to their home? Even his own family didn’t want that.

            But for some reason, Artham Wingfeather did, and it made his heart warm.

            Artham set him down and put his hands on Bruno’s shoulders. “Pack up your things. I’ll come get you tonight after I say goodbye to everyone. The portal opens a couple of hours after dinner, I think.”
            Bruno took a breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay, I’ll be ready. Th-thanks, Artham.”

            Artham smiled at him and ruffled his hair. Bruno was getting rather fond of the gesture.

            “You are very welcome.”

Chapter Text

            “Are you alright?”

            Bruno jumped, but stared at his feet instead of looking at Artham beside him. They were standing in the woods, not far from Casita, waiting for the portal to open. Bruno had a sack of his things slung over one shoulder and a gang of stowaway rats squeaking in his pockets. He felt too exposed out here, knowing that anyone could come by and see him and then tell the family where he was. And even if no one did, then what? He’d walk through a portal (whatever that was) with Artham into a strange new world full of people who didn’t hate him yet but they would and he didn’t know if his heart could take that again-

            “Bruno?”

            Artham set a hand on his shoulder and he forced himself to take a breath. “I-I’m terrified.”

            Artham’s arm wrapped around him in a protective way and Bruno curled against him, almost instinctively. “Why do you feel so safe?” he wondered out loud.

            He felt Artham twitch and that sent a small spike of panic through him. What was he doing? He still barely even knew Artham and he was going to live with him. And what would even happen if Artham got mad at him? He’d put up with a lot so far but Bruno couldn’t stop himself from being stupid and-

            “I suppose that’s what comes from being taught and expected to protect people all my life,” Artham said softly, jolting Bruno out of his spiraling thoughts.

            “Wh- what do you mean? Are you a-” he groaned and tugged at his hair, trying to come up with the right word. “Are you a guard for someone or-or something?”

            Artham sighed. “Yes. I am a Throne Warden. My job is to protect the king and the people of Anniera.”

            Bruno sucked in a quick, panicked breath. “Oh so y-you, you’re royalty, oh, I, I don’t, th-this-” he stumbled back, a sharp pain traveling through his chest as he did so. “Th-this isn’t a good idea, I c-can’t, I-I’m not-”

            He couldn’t live with royalty. He just, he couldn’t. He was him and they were… he lived in the walls of his home because his family didn’t want him and let rats crawl over him and eat his food he couldn’t live in a palace with royalty he-

            He felt a firm grip on his shoulders that he was coming to specifically associate with Artham and found the other man kneeling in front of him. “Bruno, listen to me. You don’t have anything to be afraid of. The king is my nephew Kalmar, he’s about the same age as Mirabel and Camilo. He’s just a little boy and he-his heart is so kind.”

            Artham’s hands on his shoulders started to shake. “He was kind to me when I was mad and lost. He had compassion on the most broken people in our world and called them home. And he-” Artham’s voice broke. “He f-found Besen-Esben, fis hather, father, and cook tare of him when le hooked-looked like a monster. And he didn’t e-e-even know who Es-Esben was. Because Kalm-a-a-r bas hen- has been us. He-e was transformed like me-e-e and lost himself. But we helped him hind fis way back and then he helped all of us. When I s-said of all the worlds wide- w-wide worlds the Maker has made you’d be wost melcome- most welcome, in Anniera, I meant it.”

            Bruno stared at him with wide eyes, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. “What do you mean like us?”

            Artham took a long, deep breath. There were tears running down his face and he looked different. Like something in him had cracked and now his brokenness was creeping out too, which might explain why he’d started stuttering and mixing up words.

            “I t-told you there was a song, and if you sing-sang it would form-form, transform you. If you sang from despair or fear or greed you turned into-into a monster. And if you d-didn’t finish, l-like me, you were cloven, and wat’s hat- that’s what they called us. K-Kalmar snag but nasn’t- wasn’t named. I got him out in time. Bis hother- brother, brother, Janner, reminded him who he was. But he liked looked- looked like a little Fang- a little wolf. And he sang because he’d hiven- given up hope so he understood. So when he met others hike lim- like him, he was kind. He is kind.”

            Bruno swallowed hard and fought to blink back his own tears. “Do- do you think he wants a reminder of all that though? Because, I mean, I can’t- I can’t s-stop, it’s, I’m just cursed-”

            Artham laughed and his head suddenly fell forward and thumped against Bruno’s chest. “Bruno, he’s reminded every time he looks at me. The last time I brought home a friend like me he stole his hat and started sneaking away to build things with him when he should be doing his THAGS,” Artham gave another watery laugh and looked up at him. “I don’t think he wants to forget.”

            Suddenly the air around them grew electric, and Bruno jerked his head around, certain Pepa must have found them and whipped up a thunderstorm, but instead he saw a bright, swirling oval a few feet away.

            “W-w-what-” he stammered.

            “It’s the portal,” Artham took a breath and stood. “It won’t stay for very long.”

            A hand appeared in front of him and Bruno looked up to find Artham staring at him with eyes full of kindness and understanding that he didn’t deserve.

            But, oh, did he want it.

            Shaking from head to toe, he took Artham’s hand. Artham smiled at him, tears still fresh in his eyes.

            “You don’t mind if I hold on to you, do you?” Artham asked as they approached the portal.

            “N-no, th-that’s fine. I-I meant it, you really-really do feel safe.”

            “I’m glad to hear it,” said Artham softly as he wrapped an arm tightly around Bruno’s waist. “Alright, hold on, we might end up in the air.”

            “We might what-”

            And then they stepped through the portal, into the unknown.

****

            It was good he’d hung on to Bruno, because, as he was coming to expect, the portal dropped them straight into the air above Castle Rysen.

            Bruno yelped and clung to him for dear life. Artham tightened his grip on his little friend with a small smile as he swooped through the air.

            He landed in one of the castle towers and glanced down at Bruno, who was still clutching him in a death grip, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

            “We’ve landed,” Artham said gently. “Welcome to Castle Rysen, Bruno.”

            Bruno slowly pried his eyes open and let out a breath. “O-oh.”

            A cold wind hit them and Bruno started to shiver. Artham carried him down into the castle proper and dug out his cloak, which he wrapped around his little friend.

            This was enough to prompt Bruno to detach from him and stand shaking beside him. Artham wrapped an arm around him again and Bruno curled against him, just like he had when they were waiting.

            “Are you alright?” he asked.

            “I-it’s c-cold here, th-that was, s-snow?”

            “Indeed. Come on, let’s get to the warmer parts of the castle. My good friend Fiddleford installed a heating system, so most of it is quite warm.”

            “Th-th-that’s good.”

            They walked along in silence for a bit, Artham paying close attention to the tremors running through his friend and, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he pulled off his coat and wrapped it around Bruno along with the cloak.

            “S-s-sorry,” Bruno muttered.

            Artham shook his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Your home is very warm so you’re not used to cold,” he smiled a little. “But I grew up here, so I don’t mind it.”

            Bruno accepted this and they continued on. The castle did grow warmer as they went and Bruno’s shaking died down to only an occasional shiver as lights began to appear on the walls around them.

            “Y-your castle is r-really big,” said Bruno, eyes darting around. “I-I always thought Casita was big but this,” he waved his hand vaguely in the air.

            Artham nodded. “Castles do tend to be that way, they-”

            He paused and tilted his head as a noise reached his ears. Then a small smile tugged at his lips.

            “W-what, what is it?” Bruno’s head whipped around, a feeling of panic Artham knew all too well starting to surround him.

            “It’s alright, nothing’s wrong,” Artham said soothingly. “But the little king is about to find us.”

            “The little- your nephew? That- Kalmar?”

            “Mhm. I will warn you that he’s very excitable and he’s going to be very happy to see me,” he gave Bruno a gentle squeeze. “But don’t let that frighten you, alright?”

            “I-I’ll try,” Bruno slipped behind him a bit as the footsteps grew closer and Artham wrapped a wing around him so that he could keep his arms free for what was coming.

            Kalmar appeared around the corner in front of them and Artham had a feeling he’d been looking for him because the boy’s face lit up and he shot forward without hesitation.

            “UNCLE ARTHAM!”

            The boy cannoned into him and Artham laughed, catching him and swinging him into the air. Kal gave a delighted shriek and then hugged him almost as tightly as Bruno had been a short while ago.

            “We knew you’d be back tonight because the portal detector said so, but of course you know that, because you’re here, so we’ve all been looking around the castle waiting for you to show up somewhere!” Kalmar rambled excitedly.

            “I did wonder,” Artham smiled and set the boy down, pulling back a bit. “You had fun with the Madrigal children, I assume?”

            Kalmar beamed. “We had a mini-snowball war! And we went sledding on uncle Fidd’s boggan! We didn’t make it fly this time though.”

            Artham chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

****

            “Oh, hi there.”

            Bruno nearly jumped out of his skin when the boy spoke to him. He looked up and found himself staring into a pair of curious blue eyes.

            Every instinct in him screamed to run, to hide, to dart away back into the walls where it was safe and no one could find him and he couldn’t disappoint anyone. But he couldn’t, because he wasn’t at home, he was in Artham’s home and he didn’t know anything about it or where he could hide or-

            “My name’s Kalmar.”

            His eyes darted back to the boy, who now had his head thoughtfully tilted to one side.

            While Bruno clung to the back of Artham’s shirt and tried to breathe, he heard the boy talking to his uncle.

            “Is he like you and uncle Fidds?”

            “Yes. He’s one of the Madrigals. But he… he’s like me in Glipwood, when your mother and grandfather kept us apart, except instead of living in a treehouse he was living in the walls.”

            “In the walls?! Like a Strander?”

            Artham chuckled, a deep sound that reverberated through him and was oddly comforting to hear. “Yes. That’s how we met. I chased him through the walls.”

            “Y-you chopped my broom in h-half with your s-sword,” Bruno mumbled.

            Artham laughed. “Yes I did,” he turned a little and Bruno looked up and found Artham watching him. “It’s alright, Bruno, like I told you before, Kalmar’s very kind.”

            “Really? I am?”

            “Yes. I told him about you and- and your father.”

            “Oh.” There was a pause, then Kalmar peered at him. “I really won’t bite, I promise. I only did that to Janner like once. Maybe twice.”

            Slowly, almost painfully, Bruno forced himself to move. He let go of Artham’s shirt and shuffled around to stand beside him, shaking and trying not to curl in on himself.

            He felt Artham’s arm wrap snugly around him and he relaxed just the tiniest bit.

            “I-I-I’m Bruno,” he managed finally, staring down at the castle stones under his feet. “A-Artham said you d-don’t, you w-wouldn’t mind that I’m c-cursed, but I don’t-don’t know if I believe it.”

            Silence for a moment then, “You’re cursed?”

            A shudder went through him and he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing closer to Artham for support. “I-I see visions of the f-future, I- they’re bad, th-they’re always bad, almost always, I, I mess everything up, I, I already saw one a-about you and I-I’m sorry…”

            “About me?” Kalmar sounded surprised.

            “About you and Anniera,” said Artham. Bruno heard a noise and looked up just in time to see Artham hand his vision to the boy. He flinched and quickly shut his eyes again, not willing to see Kalmar’s reaction.

            “Woah,” the boy whispered. “That is me, and those are- those are Fangs. So we’re going to be attacked.”

            “Yes. Not very long from now, I’d wager, since you seem about the same age there.” Artham agreed.

            Bruno wondered if he could make a break for it before this got worse. But Artham’s arm was wrapped around him and that was nice and he was warm, curled up there against his friend and he didn’t really want to leave, he just didn’t want to see another person upset by one of his visions and-

            “Bruno?”

            He flinched and forced his eyes to open, but he still couldn’t look at the boy.

            A jolt went through him when a pair of small hands took his and in his shock and confusion he finally did look up into the boy’s bright, blue eyes and he didn’t see anger there, but-

            “Thank you,” said Kalmar, quietly and deliberately.

            Bruno stared at him, uncomprehending. “But I- it’s bad, you-” his voice quivered. “You’re not angry?”

            Kalmar’s mouth twitched into an almost-smile and instead of saying anything the boy leaned forward-

            And wrapped his arms tightly around Bruno.

            He felt a spasm in his chest and a jolt of confusion as the boy hugged him, his soft black hair brushing against Bruno’s cheek. “Wh-wh-why are you-”

            “I’m sorry people said you were cursed,” said Kalmar quietly. “But I don’t think you are. In fact, you might have just saved my whole country from getting razed to the ground again,” he pulled back and he was smiling, though there were tears dripping down his cheeks. “Do you want to stay here with us, on Anniera?”

            Something inside him cracked and before he could stop it a sob slipped out of him and his knees buckled and he felt himself start to fall, only for Artham to catch him again and hold on tightly to him as more sobs came and tears streamed down his face.

            Kalmar sat next to them on the floor and joined Artham in hugging him and his chest heaved and he curled into himself, unable to process the idea of being wanted after so long being nothing.

            He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, or how long he left his face buried in Artham’s shirt in shame, but finally he managed to make himself look in the general direction of Kalmar.

            “If-if you’ll h-have m-me,” he whispered, feeling foolish even as he said the words.

            But Kalmar just lifted his head and grinned. “I’d be delighted to.”

            Bruno blinked at him for a moment, then sighed and pressed his face into Artham’s shirt again. “M’sorry.”

            “Whatever for, Bruno?” Artham asked.

            “Everything, I think.”

            Artham laughed and ruffled his hair, then hugged him tightly. “So am I.”

            Bruno felt a small smile creep onto his face and, for the first time in a very, very long time, let himself believe, just a little, that he might be able to be wanted somewhere.

            That he might be wanted here.