Chapter Text
Ben was fascinated by diplomacy. He always had been, preferring to spend his hours studying under his parents’ chief diplomats (primarily their former servants, from the old days) than any of his other tutors. Especially the ones trying to teach him military strategy. He’d been young when he decided that the only battle tactics he was interested in were the ones that prevented battles entirely. He’d yet to find a victory that made up for the cost of it.
Cogsworth had kept precise logs during the formation of Auradon, as he always did. Something about his careful hand, his exacting language, took some of the sting out the words until your brain was able to truly comprehend them. Like how his stock of the Auradonian fleet before El Reino del Encanto stood 60 warships strong, crewed by nearly 50,000 sailors; how, afterward, it had 30, helmed by barely 25,000. The reason was as simple as the rest of his writing: Storms.
But, underneath, in the flowery script favored by Lumiere, was scribbled a key word: MAGIC.
“And these are the people you’re inviting to Auradon?”
He glanced across the table at Mal, who had joined him to pour over the documents and (mainly) eat Mrs. Potts’ scones with clotted cream and jam at a ratio of 1:20:50. He grinned, reaching to wipe some cream from her chin. “Encanto is a very important trading partner: Their food imports revolutionized our healthcare system, and you know how crazy everybody’s been over those never-wilting flowers.” A trend everywhere in Auradon, except for his own castle; Dad had nearly ruined a dinner when Aurora had shown him her new roses. “Our treaty with them is ending soon,” he said. “A summit will let us handle that and our treaties with Arendelle and Motunui. Three birds with one stone.”
“I’m just saying － my mom killed way less Auradonians than whoever this weather lady is? And she doesn’t get invited to fancy dinner parties.”
“It’s not a… Never mind. I don’t think she was even one of our targets,” he said, shuffling the papers. “My mother’s notes say something about a… seer? We couldn’t really get good intel on them. Still don’t. They’re really insular.”
“I mean, I’d be, too, if my first interaction with the outside world was a bunch of shiny people telling me they were my new overlords!” She paused. “Oh. It kinda was, wasn’t it?”
”I remember our first meeting a lot differently, I think.” He sighed. “Well, I guess we’ll have all the intel we’ll need in a few weeks. The ambassador sent a letter saying she needed ten rooms.”
“Wow. Her wardrobe must put Evie’s to shame.”
“No － I mean, it might, but… Apparently, what started as maybe three representatives turned into… the entire royal family deciding they wanted to come?”
She raised one eyebrow.
“I couldn’t just say no!”
“You could have very easily done that.”
“It just got out of hand! First, she said her aunt wanted to come, and then that turned into an aunt and an uncle, and then that turned into more cousins, and then sisters, and a mom and dad, and a grandma, and then there’s one uncle that’s just by himself and for some reason, I find that very unsettling－”
“That’s probably the seer. Dating’s hard when you can see the future… What? That’s what Freddie says! It might not just be an excuse for her dad!”
“Anyway, the ambassador was just so… nice about it. So, I spent all of last night figuring out the logistics.”
“Oh, is that why you look like you’re running on three hours of sleep and some very strong coffee? I didn’t want to say anything.”
“It’s going to work. It has to work.”
She placed a hand over his, rubbing circles with her thumb. “And, if it doesn’t, then a bunch of rich people don’t get their magic jam and dumb flowers,” she said. “It’s not the end of the world.”
It was, actually, potentially, that. But, he liked when Mal was being the optimistic one in the relationship. He wanted to encourage it.
-
When she was finally old enough to learn about such things, Mirabel’s mother told her about the time Encanto came under attack.
Isabela hadn’t been more than a babe in arms when they arrived. A small band of ships had shown up in the seas just past the mountains, and a group of strange-looking people speaking an odd tongue had stepped off the ships and appeared, in a burst of sparkles, in the middle of town.
“It was a king and a queen,” she had said, rolling out masa dough as Mirabel and Camilo listened with rapt attention. “And a woman dressed in a long blue robe, with a wand that shined with magic.”
“Like in a storybook?” Camilo had asked, somewhat dubiously. And Julieta had laughed, and told him his mother had thought the same thing. And how she had been right, in a way. And very wrong in others.
The strange people (once their fairy cast some sort of spell that allowed translation) had been courteous enough, at first. They had called Abuela a queen, and their Encanto a kingdom, which all the residents had found very amusing. Up until the point they realized that the strange people had a plan to unite all the kingdoms of the world under one rule. Their rule.
“Oh, you’re telling that story?” Tío Felix, carrying a sack of grain into the pantry, had eagerly joined in. “Don’t forget the best part! Remember Abuela’s face when that hada madrina called the miracle, ah, what was the word…”
“’Quaint.’”
“And then she said that, once they were in charge, we’d have to give up all the magic! Because it’s not ‘modern.’ Oh, you’ve never seen your abuela so mad! I thought she’d punch her right out!”
Camilo had looked stricken by the thought, and Mirabel could understand. Their gifts were a part of them; asking them to give it up was like asking them to give up breathing. Because of that, and because nobody in town was too interested in being ruled over by some strange foreigners, Abuela had politely but firmly declined their offer, and sent them on their way.
A week later, the warships had come.
The Encanto wasn’t built for war; they had no arms outside of the rifles the farmers kept for hunting and pest control, and no defenses outside of the mountains. They had no idea what the strange people's technology, and magic, could do to them. In desperation, Bruno had retreated into his tower for hours, returning with a solemn expression and a plate of green glass, which he had handed to Pepa. She’d spent ten minutes studying it in complete silence, a growing fog flowing around her. Then, with her siblings at her side, she had gone to the top of the mountains.
Camilo looked impressed. Mirabel felt vaguely nauseous. All she could think was that it was good Dolores hadn’t had her gift back then; the screaming must have been terrible.
That was all she knew about it, really. That Tía Pepa’s storm had forced the foreigners to back off on their plans of conquer, and start to treat them like they were a world power in their own right. (Apparently, they still considered them royals; this King Ben guy had called her “Princess Mirabel of Encanto.” Her! A princess!) She knew that ships came to their shores sometimes, filled with all the advanced technology of that far-away land, and that they left loaded up with her mother’s passionfruit jam and Isabela’s flowers. And she knew, quite randomly, that there were animals there that could really talk, because one of the newer trade ships was crewed by pirates, and some of them had some very annoying parrots. But, that was it.
And this was the place she was getting on a ship to sail to. The place she was visiting as a diplomatic representative of her entire familia, the entire Encanto. The place where people were going to look at her and expect a princess.
She sighed, rubbed her eyes, and fell back on her bed, pushing her notebook onto the floor. Maybe living in the walls for a few years wasn’t the worst way to avoid responsibilities…