Work Text:
“And to those gods, I will speak bluntly: ‘We've an accord. If you ever touch or harm him, please rest assured that you might not fear a man, but to a woman, by the end, you'll kneel and plea.’” - Inkpot Gods, The Amazing Devil
There were some stereotypes about Alphas, even in the Encanto. In the outside world, the prevalent stereotypes were that Alphas were leaders, protectors. Sometimes they were considered temperamental violent brutes.
Pepa liked to think she didn’t live up to such stereotypes. After all, who wanted to be called a brute?
But she was protective, she’d freely admit that. So what? That was a good thing. She may not have been the eldest triplet, but she was the quickest to anger, the first to jump into a scuffle, the first to leap to her siblings’ defence. An Alpha like her mamá, who always said Pepa needed to cool her temper and control her emotions. Maybe Alma had a point; she was the leader of the whole Encanto, a regal woman with an iron bearing, who people respected endlessly. Pepa wished she could be like that.
Julieta was a Beta like their papá, something Pepa knew her sister took a quiet sort of pride in: to have something in common with Pedro.
Then there was Bruno, the family’s sole Omega (until Dolores and Luisa were born anyway).
Yes, Pepa was protective. Everyone knew not to mess with Pepa Madrigal’s children, unless they wanted a lightning bolt to the head.
But long before her children were born, those protective instincts were aimed at her little brother. Yes, yes, he was younger by ten minutes, but those ten minutes counted, thank you very much.
The residents of the village whispered about Bruno: el brujo, Bad Luck Bruno, he sees your dreams and your fate is sealed when your prophecy is read…Despite that, they knew not to lay a hand on him, lest they be faced with a furious Pepa (and, honestly, an equally furious Julieta not far behind.)
Really, Pepa was just teaching them some much needed lessons. She wasn’t that bad.
Age 7:
“Get off of my back and into my game; get out of my way and out of my brain. Get out of my face and give it your best shot. I think it's time you better face the fact: get off of my back!” - Get Off My Back, Bryan Adams
Some kids were idiots. It was just a fact. Julieta said so with a long-suffering sigh, like she was so much older than them. Thanks very much, Miss Oldest By Seven Minutes.
But Julieta had a point. Some kids really were just outright dumb.
Such as the idiotas who thought it would be a good idea to bully Pepa’s brother.
She heard distant shouts and, most worryingly, Bruno’s voice; “You’re hurting me!”
And it did something funny to Pepa’s brain. It felt like everything got fuzzy, sort of haywire. She was growling without even realising and she stalked around the corner to find three other boys (one Alpha, two Betas) had Bruno cornered. The Alpha boy had a tight grip on Bruno’s hair, she could see her brother’s knees were skinned and bloody and one of the Beta boys was holding Bruno’s school bag.
“You can go home when you tell us the answers for tomorrow’s test,” the other Beta boy said, nose in the air and his voice was all self-important.
Pepa hated the three of them on sight.
In an instant, a dark cloud appeared above her head. Thunder rumbled, the wind picked up in a furious gust, nearly knocking the boy holding Bruno’s bag over. She recognised them, she’d seen them on the playground, but she’d never learned their names.
That was okay. She didn’t need their names to punch their teeth down their throats.
They took one look at her and paled, dropping Bruno. Good. Maybe they weren’t entirely stupid.
Bruno instantly ran to her and Pepa opened her arms, pulling him to her. She was still snarling, still growling; she couldn’t seem to stop. She just knew she was angry, so angry, angrier than she’d ever been before.
“Pepita? Brunito?” Julieta was there, running towards them, eyes wide. “What’s going on?”
Wordlessly, Pepa handed Bruno to Julieta. Julieta was their big sister, she was safe.
But these three morons sure weren’t.
“You,” Pepa growled, pointing at them. “You’re dead.”
The Alpha boy raised his hands placatingly. The three of them began to back away; they’d dropped Bruno’s bag onto the ground and Julieta picked it up, one hand still gripping Bruno’s arm tightly.
“Pepa?” Bruno was staring at her. Pepa hardly noticed.
She just pounced.
Mamá was not happy. Whether she was furious at Pepa or the bullies, Pepa wasn’t quite sure. She was certainly furious at their teacher, who made the mistake of trying to brush it off.
“When an Alpha is mean to you that just means he likes you,” she tried to tell Bruno.
Alma immediately put a stop to it. “And the two Betas? What is their excuse?” Her eyes narrowed in warning. “Do not think to fill my son’s head with such nonsense, I won’t have it.”
The teacher’s already nervous smile turned even more worried. Pepa slouched in her seat, arms crossed and scowling.
“Y-yes, Señora Madrigal.”
The other boys’ parents all eyed Alma nervously. Pepa thought they even looked nervous when they looked at her. Geez, she hadn’t hit them that hard. Besides, it was their own stupid fault.
Mamá did not tell her off in front of everyone else, but when they got back to Casita she summoned Pepa to her bedroom and told her, in no uncertain terms, to never resort to violence again.
“You could have seriously hurt them, Pepa,” she said firmly. “Do you understand me?”
“But they were hurting Bruno!” Pepa protested.
Alma sighed and kneeled down to Pepa’s level, placing her hands on Pepa’s shoulders. “Sí, they were,” she said and that undercurrent of anger was back. “And I am proud you defended your hermano- but not with violence, is that understood?”
Pepa didn’t answer.
“Pepa.” Alma just kept staring, not breaking eye contact; she hardly even blinked. Her jaw was tense, her eyes sparking in warning.
Pepa sighed and frowned at the ground.
“Sí, Mamá.”
Well, she’d try anyway.
Age 16:
“I wanna see you fly way beyond the sun. Anything you're ever gonna dream, I pray that it will come. But if you ever fall down straight to the bottom and you can't get back where you started, any place, any time, you gotta know for you I'll fight.” - I’ll Fight, Daughtry
Agustín was a complete and utter dork and Julieta kept throwing him bright-eyed glances. He was a Beta like Julieta and he was always “dressed smartly” in Julieta’s words. He was Julieta’s most frequent visitor at her healing stall; Pepa thought he must be going for some sort of world record for injuries.
Or maybe bees just really hated this guy.
But her sister liked him (Julieta denied she had a crush on the little nerd, but Pepa wasn’t stupid- and she said nerd with fondness) so Pepa kept an eye on him. Really, someone had to, or he might break his neck.
Bruno agreed with her. He often watched Agustín from the corner of his eye and he was quick to catch the other boy when he fell.
Anyway, back to the point: Agustín was nice, Pepa liked him, she liked that he made Julieta smile…But she was used to keeping a protective eye on him. They all were.
So what really won her over was the moment Agustín stood up for her hermanito.
They were at Julieta’s stall as usual. Supplies were running low, so Bruno had offered to head back to Casita to grab more of the food Julieta had prepared that morning.
Pepa was thoroughly distracted when Félix came over to say hello. They’d only known each other officially for two weeks, but she was quite smitten. Not that she’d ever admit that to her siblings. Well, not yet anyway. She’d like to hold off on the inevitable teasing for a while longer (though she had reason to suspect they already knew: Bruno had literally shoved her at Félix after all.)
She saw Agustín approach and waved him over (for once he didn’t look hurt) but Agustín stopped halfway to the stall, a shuttered look coming over his face. He scowled (Pepa didn’t even know he could scowl like that!) and stormed away, towards the edge of the plaza.
Confused, Pepa followed his path with her eyes…And growled, leaping to her feet.
Manuel fucking Sanchez.
Pepa hated him. She was pretty sure Manuel was responsible for half the rumours about Alphas being brutes. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself or take no for an answer.
And he was once more bothering Bruno. He seemed to take it as a challenge that Bruno kept telling him to leave him alone.
Julieta slapped down a plate of food too harshly, eyes narrowed. Félix stood with Pepa, fists clenched.
Together, the three of them followed Agustín and, once more, Pepa could not stop growling. Her instincts screamed at her to get over there and protect her brother, to slap Manuel’s filthy hands off him.
Agustín, bless his heart, merely tapped Manuel on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” he said. “You’re bothering my friend.” Agustín was fifteen and lanky and his glasses kept slipping down his nose, but he didn’t flinch when Manuel rounded on him with a glare.
“Piss off, Beta,” Manuel snapped and if she wasn’t so angry, Pepa would have rolled her eyes. Manuel was one of those: the type of person who said your dynamic like it was an insult, if it wasn’t Alpha.
“How about piss off, Alpha,” Bruno sighed, stepping back. This had been going on for so many months he’d long since stopped stammering around Manuel, letting his annoyance freely show. He held a box of Julieta’s food to his chest, frowning at Manuel. “I’ve told you before, I’m not interested.”
“Oh, come on,” Manuel laughed. “Don’t be so uptight.” He went to brush a stray curl off Bruno’s forehead and Pepa shouted, “Don’t you touch him!” running forward.
Surprisingly, it was Agustín who moved first. Lightning-fast, he grabbed Manuel’s wrist before he could touch Bruno.
Everyone froze. Pepa grinned giddily. Well, well, well, their little nerd had some pluck!
Agustín gulped when all eyes turned to him, but he still met Manuel’s furious gaze.
“L-leave him alone,” he said. He took a deep breath and, this time, his voice was much stronger; “He said no. Leave him alone.”
Félix let out a low, impressed whistle. Julieta’s whole demeanour screamed In Love. Pepa would come back to that later.
For now, before Manuel could shake off his shock, she gently disentangled him and Agustín, smiling sweetly despite the growing cloud over her head. More and more people were stopping, turning and staring.
“Oh, not again,” she heard someone mutter.
“Someone get Señora Madrigal down here.”
Pepa stood between Manuel and Bruno, still smiling.
“Pretty sure we’ve been over this, Sanchez,” she said in sugar sweet tones. “Lots of times now. Can’t you take a hint?”
There was a flicker of fear of Manuel’s dark eyes, there and gone in a flash. Félix gently pulled Bruno away, passing him back to Julieta. Smart boy. Pepa knew she liked him for a reason.
And then Félix stood next to her, cracking his knuckles.
“Are you really that dumb, Manuel?” Félix asked. To Pepa’s increasing surprise, Agustín didn’t move either; he stayed next to her too, clenched fists shaking.
“It’s just a bit of fun,” Manuel muttered.
“No, it’s not,” Pepa said, still smiling. “But this will be.”
With that, she swung with all her might and punched Manuel in the face. When he staggered back, she pounced on him and Félix happily cheered her on, whooping, “YES, PEPI!”
Agustín let out a startled gasp but, to his everlasting credit, he still didn’t flee.
It was official: those two boys were golden.
And, sure, Alma was furious that Pepa was in a fight but even she looked quietly impressed to realise Félix and Agustín had stood by her, defending Bruno.
Alma gave them a little nod and left them be after that.
“That was really brave,” Julieta whispered to Agustín. He gave her a goofy smile and turned bright red.
Gross, Pepa thought with a fond roll of her eyes. She kept her arm firmly around Bruno’s shoulders, keeping her brother close.
Bruno mimed gagging when Julieta and Agustín weren’t looking. Félix let out a bark of laughter and, when their sister turned around, Bruno was smiling innocently. Julieta didn’t look convinced. Pepa couldn’t blame her, they both knew better than to trust when Bruno gave them that look.
Speaking of Bruno, he lightly nudged Pepa and smiled up at her, a little sheepishly.
“You know, you don’t have to keep doing that,” he said quietly.
“Sure I do, dummy,” Pepa said. She shrugged and ruffled his hair, ignoring his exaggerated noise of protest. “You’re my hermanito.”
“We’re triplets!”
“Ah, ten minutes, ten years- what’s the difference, really?”
“There’s a big difference!”
Félix was laughing again and Pepa beamed at him, but she quickly turned back to Bruno. She kissed his forehead and he stopped complaining in surprise. Pepa poked his nose and he made a show of rolling his eyes and pouting.
“I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you,” Pepa told him.
Bruno’s expression softened into genuine concern.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you either, hermana.”
Age 21:
“I'll be right here now to hold you when the sky falls down. I will always be the one who took your place. When the rain falls, I won't let go, I'll be right here. When daybreak seems so far away, reach for my hand.” - Right Here, Ashes Remain
Here’s the thing: heats differed from Omega to Omega. Pepa pitied the poor women who had to deal with heats and periods, but that was neither here nor there.
Whatever. They varied. For some Omegas they didn’t disrupt their routine at all. Others felt vaguely nauseous. Some had no energy and basically slept all day. And some, like Bruno, had an absolutely shit time.
Whether it was genetic, just unfortunate luck, or some weird side-effect of his Gift, they didn’t know. What they did know was that Bruno was frequently left bed-ridden with a migraine, feverish and in pain, unable to even keep Julieta’s food down, and it broke Pepa’s heart every time.
Bruno was an Omega like their Papá’s mamá, the Abuela they’d never known. An Omega like Mamá’s aunt and cousin, other relatives they never got to meet. But Alma hadn’t really been around them during heat- it wasn’t the done thing back then, she said- so she couldn’t confidently say this was a genetic thing.
The town doctor couldn’t help, Julieta couldn’t help. Pepa hated it.
And, yes, maybe Pepa was partial to the trashy romance novels that depicted heats as sexy but she wasn’t stupid, thanks. She knew how biology worked, she knew the science behind it…She also knew some people actually bought into the myth that heats were all about non-stop sex. For Pepa it was a bit of fun; for others it was a genuine belief.
Idiots. If ruts weren’t sexy what made them think heats were? Was this another stereotype that had carried over from the outside world, or did the rest of the world know it wasn’t the case? Pepa wished there was someone she could truly ask.
Normally when Bruno’s heat was coming up he’d stay home. You know, more so than usual. But today he’d accompanied Pepa to the fields and sat with her as she watered them (holding an umbrella above her as her novel drove her to dutiful tears) and coming up with his own dramatic stories, each more outlandish than the last.
And then, on the way home, his scent spiked and turned sweeter. He staggered slightly, one hand going to his temple and Pepa immediately grabbed him and pulled him against her side. Whether it was a vision or the start of a heat, the routine was pretty much the same: keep Bruno steady, get him somewhere safe. Get him some water and let him lie down.
So Pepa marched them home, murmuring, “Sana, sana, colita de rana,” as they went. Bruno hummed along, squinting against the light. Pepa scowled and clouds came in, blocking out the sun and Bruno sighed in relief, slumping against her.
“You okay, Brunito?” she asked, careful to keep her voice quiet. (Who knew she was actually getting good practice for her own daughter?)
“I hate this,” Bruno mumbled and his voice was already shaking.
“I know,” Pepa said, her heart twisting. But they got back to Casita in one piece and she brought Bruno to her room. No way was she carrying him up all those stairs or, heaven forbid, letting him sleep in a pile of sand. He’d done it before.
Bruno looked around in confusion. “This isn’t my room,” he said and closed his eyes, wincing.
“Nope,” Pepa said cheerfully. “It isn’t.”
If it was a Madrigal Triplet cuddle pile she’d have simply shoved him onto the bed, laughing, and called for Julieta. If it was any other time she’d have lifted him straight up and thrown him, and he’d have kicked at her, laughing despite his protests.
But it wasn’t any other time, so Pepa was exceedingly careful as she helped Bruno lie down. He’d gone about two shades too pale and Pepa hated to leave him but she ran down to the kitchen to pour a pitcher of water and grab a glass for herself and Bruno, before sprinting back up the stairs as fast as she dared while carrying glass.
She shut the door quietly, set the pitcher and glasses down by the bed and sat down, gently shifting Bruno’s head onto her lap, her thumb brushing over his forehead. He felt a little too hot, but not feverish, not yet. He wasn’t shaking or throwing up, or crying.
Not yet. But it was all too likely.
“You okay, Bruno?” she asked.
He grunted in response, eyes firmly shut…But he reached up and grabbed her other hand, holding on tight.
“I’m here,” she whispered, again and again, until he drifted off. “I’m here, I’m right here, you’re safe.”
Age 30:
“If they say, who cares if one more light goes out in the sky of a million stars? It flickers, flickers. Who cares when someone's time runs out if a moment is all we are? Or quicker, quicker. Who cares if one more light goes out? Well, I do.” - One More Light, Linkin Park
Bruno had never been interested in romance or relationships and he still pulled disgusted faces at the mere mention of sex. He once told Julieta and Pepa (when they were all more than a little tipsy) that the one perk of his terrible reputation was that no one was interested in dating him anymore. They left him alone like he wanted.
(Julieta had started crying when he said it, and Bruno and Pepa both panicked, trying to calm her down.)
But it didn’t entirely put a stop to it. Bruno was still a Madrigal. The only boy. The only Omega. The only unwed, childless Madrigal Triplet.
It was annoying at the best of times. This was not the best of times. Two weeks ago Bruno had tried to…To…
Pepa shut her eyes, shuddering, trying to hold the tears back as they sprung to her eyes.
Clear skies, clear skies, clear skies.
Through a tremendous amount of willpower, the cloud above her head went away. She glanced at the clock and went in search of Bruno. Ever since it happened they were taking it in turns to sit with him, to make sure he was never alone for long.
He knew what they were doing of course. He didn’t call them out on it. He hadn’t done much talking at all since it happened. He just sat and stared into space and there was no light in his eyes.
When he’d woken up, his head on Julieta’s lap, he’d quietly muttered “Damn it,” and burst into tears. As far as Pepa was aware he hadn’t cried since then.
Bruno didn’t react much to Julieta’s tearful pleas or Agustín’s quiet sympathy. He blinked listlessly and stared into the distance at Félix’s attempts at humour or heartfelt speeches. He didn’t even react much to Pepa’s thunder or rain. He didn’t react at all when Alma yelled at him, but he did stand up and protest when Alma rounded on Julieta and Pepa, demanding to know why they hadn’t kept an eye on him, why they hadn’t known.
“Don’t you dare blame them! None of this was their fault!” he’d shouted, the loudest Pepa had ever heard him shout. It had shocked them all into silence, stopping the brewing fight in its tracks.
Tears in her eyes, Alma had swept away. Julieta held her arms out and Bruno practically collapsed into them.
Only Isabela and Dolores seemed to get any smiles out of him since then. So that was what most of them did now: they dragged Bruno into the back garden, parked him onto a lounge and then plopped one of his little nieces into his arms. Isabela would babble at him and smile, wriggling about and pointing out pretty flowers or particularly fluffy clouds. Dolores would just quietly cling to him and whine in protest when anyone tried to take her from Bruno’s arms, shrieking outright when they managed it. It was like she knew something was wrong. Pepa had to wonder about that.
And she had to wonder if their mamá had a point. Why hadn’t Pepa known? Why hadn’t she protected her little brother?
The thoughts kept whirling around and around in her mind as she sat with Bruno in the garden. Dolores and Isabela toddled around, occasionally stopping to smile at the adults or solemnly bring them one of their toys before getting distracted and rushing around again.
“I can hear you thinking,” Bruno mumbled and Pepa tensed up.
Clear skies.
She didn’t mean to say it, but the truth burst out anyway; “I didn’t protect you.”
Bruno sighed heavily, that awfully sad sigh he’d had right from childhood. “Pepa, hermana, you-”
“Pepa?” Alma stood in the doorway. She looked slightly baffled as she glanced over her shoulder. “We have a visitor.” She said “visitor” with a strange emphasis and it set Pepa’s teeth on edge.
“Mamá, can’t it wait?” she sighed, nodding at Bruno.
Félix gently pushed past Alma and took the empty seat on Bruno’s left, smiling at her reassuringly. Bruno’s mind was already drifting elsewhere; he stared up at the sky, fiddling with a loose thread on his ruana. Dolores called his name and he smiled faintly when he looked at her; his smile widened when she waved and he waved back.
“Go on,” Félix murmured to her and, reluctantly, Pepa left Bruno’s side.
At least she knew he was in good hands.
When Pepa joined Alma and Julieta in the sitting room she was surprised to find another Alpha present, sitting across from Alma. She was older than the triplets, somewhere in her forties, if Pepa had to guess. She took a moment to place her: Juana Ortiz, one of the jewellery store owners; she ran the place with her sister.
Pepa tried to think of any business they had with her and came up blank. Had they promised to help any of the shop girls, or the ones who made the jewellery? Juana personally? Or Juana’s sister? Pepa couldn’t remember having any conversations with Juana before. She certainly hadn’t put in any orders for jewellery lately.
“Have a seat, Pepa,” Alma said. Her voice was abnormally quiet, it had been quiet for two weeks now. She’d offered Julieta and Pepa a very quiet shame-faced apology after Bruno yelled and she hadn’t once raised her voice since.
Pepa sat, feeling on edge. What could this possibly be about? Did someone have an accident? People came to the Madrigals for help. Was Juana hurt or ill? A member of her family or a friend perhaps?
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Señora,” Juana said in tones of perfect politeness. She lowered her head in respect and offered Pepa and Julieta equally polite smiles. The type of manners Alma would normally approve of.
“Of course,” Alma said. “How may we help you?”
“Well, Señora, this is…A sensitive topic,” Juana said. “But I hope it will prove to be a joyful one.”
Pepa looked at Julieta to see her own confusion reflected back at her. But it seemed Alma suspected something, because her already impressive posture straightened further and a steely glint entered her eyes.
“It concerns your lovely Omega, Bruno.”
Oh hell no.
Pepa tried not to snarl, honestly she did. Judging by Juana’s alarmed glance she’d failed to keep a straight face. Pepa was seething, consumed with rage in seconds. A black cloud appeared, flashing with lightning.
“Pepa,” Alma said. “The cloud.” But her voice was still quiet and she laid a hand on Pepa’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “Go on, Señora Ortiz.”
“Please, call me Juana.”
Alma did no such thing. Pepa felt oddly proud of her mother then. The cloud did not go away.
As the silence stretched on, Juana’s smile turned nervous and her cheeks flushed pink.
“Well…To be frank, it seems such a shame for an Omega to be alone in the world, does it not? That’s why I…I would ask for your blessing, Señora.”
Alma’s eyebrows rose. “Pardon my bluntness, but Bruno has not mentioned you and yet you wish to propose?”
“Oh, goodness, no! No, but I hope to have your blessing to court him.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Pepa thought. Her nails dug into her chair and a growl fought to escape. She wanted to shove Juana right out of Casita. She wanted to run back to the garden, to Bruno.
Her brother had tried to kill himself two weeks ago and some idiot thought now was the time to ask about courting?
She pulled herself up short. Bruno had tried to…
Bruno had tried to kill himself.
There. She’d thought about it. She’d faced it, even if only to herself. There was no dancing around it anymore.
Her ears were ringing, her heartbeat was too fast. God, her baby brother had tried to die and here they were sitting and making nice with a woman they barely knew? Pepa swallowed and looked at Julieta again. Her sister didn’t look impressed; she mimicked Alma’s posture, straight back and hands on her lap, ankles primly crossed.
And Alma…Well, she looked like the leader of the Encanto.
“I’m afraid, Señora Ortiz, that my Bruno has no wish to marry, nor shall I force him.”
Pepa had grievances with her mother. Many grievances. But this would never be one of them. Alma never fell into the trap of thinking romance or marriage would “cure” Bruno’s depression and anxiety. Alma may have hoped for a miracle cure, but she never thought marriage was it. She may have dreamed of grandchildren (and Pepa was pretty sure her mother had been dreaming of grandchildren since the second they came of age) but she’d never force it on them. She might nag and cajole and hope, but if they kept saying no she’d leave it be (albeit after heavy sighs and pointed comments.)
So Pepa felt safe enough to stand and say, “What she means is, you can leave now.”
Juana gave her a startled, offended look and Pepa only sneered at her. No, she wasn’t the eldest but she was the Alpha of the triplets and, to a lot of people, that meant something.
Your lovely Omega. Not even “your son.” Like the only thing that mattered about Bruno was his dynamic.
Fuck. That.
“You can go,” Pepa said firmly. She swept from the room and back towards the garden. There were hurried footsteps and she knew Julieta was following close behind.
They found Bruno and Félix sitting on the grass instead of their seats, helping Isabela and Dolores build a house with brightly coloured blocks. Pepa flopped down onto Bruno’s right, Julieta sat on his left and they both hugged him tightly.
Bruno looked between them, tangled hair falling in his eyes.
“What did this mysterious visitor want?” he asked with just a hint of his old humour. Pepa clung to it.
“Nothing she can have,” she grumbled and passed Dolores a red block.
Age 40:
“They say it's what you make, I say it's up to fate. It's woven in my soul, I need to let you go. Your eyes, they shine so bright; I wanna save that light. I can't escape this now, unless you show me how. When you feel my heat, look into my eyes. It's where my demons hide. It's where my demons hide.” - Demons, Imagine Dragons
A fog covered the Encanto. After a full week of storms, Pepa sat and stared into space and let fog coat the streets, blocking out the sun, covering everything like a funeral shroud.
She clapped her hands over her mouth, trying not to sob. A funeral shroud…
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.
But how could she not think about it? Bruno had vanished in the middle of the night, his door had gone dark and Pepa had been so sure he’d done it this time.
Alma insisted he was alive. That he’d run away.
Pepa couldn’t understand it. Yes, she knew things had been…rough between them all lately. For a long time now. She knew, in the back of her mind, that Bruno wasn’t exactly well. But this? This vanishing act? She hadn’t expected this.
Where are you? she wanted to scream. Come home, come back. We’ll do better, I’ll do better, I’ll keep you safe this time.
Had Bruno really left the Encanto? How had her skinny slip of a brother managed to get past the mountain range?
“Dead for sure,” she heard the village elders whisper, those who had been there the night they got their Miracle, of an age with Alma and older.
“It’s dangerous out there, especially for an Omega alone.”
“Defiled or dead, but it won’t end well for him!”
“Don’t say things like that, what if poor Alma hears?”
“Do the Gifts work outside? An Omega who can see the future? Well, I wouldn’t hold much hope.”
“Shush! Keep your voice down, the children could hear. Think of young Dolores too!”
“Mamá?” Dolores had asked her, her nose wrinkled in confusion, in a way that resembled Bruno so much it hurt. “What’s Doña Garcia talking about? How can a person be ‘defiled’?”
That question had nearly started a hurricane. Alma had words with people and, just like that, Bruno’s name was banned.
Don’t talk about Bruno.
Don’t even think about Bruno, because if Pepa thought of him she’d inevitably spiral. She’d panic about what could happen to him, what may very well be happening to him right this second, without his family there to protect him.
(But they’d stopped protecting him a long time ago, hadn’t they?)
What if the elders were right? What if Bruno was being hurt right now? They had brought horror stories to the Encanto with them, rumours and myths; genuine tragedies that happened to friends and relatives. Especially about what those soldiers on horseback had done.
Omegas snatched from their homes in the dead of night and kept as playthings. Omegas run through with swords, their bodies left hanging from tree branches. Omegas with their heads dashed against rocks, Omegas drowned, tortured, beaten. Because the outside world saw them as toys and little more than that, just objects to be used and cast aside, and when those in charge were bored of using them, they’d…
Don’t think about it.
Pepa buried her face in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, letting her tears fall and trying not to scream.
Someone was bashing Bruno’s head in right this very moment, they were hurting him, taking something he had no intention of ever giving to anyone, and-
No. No. He was…okay. For all Pepa knew, maybe he was even on his way back home. Yes, he was on his way home and Pepa was going to give him hell for scaring her like this, for scaring all of them.
He was fine. Bruno was fine. He had to be.
For now she’d just…Try to push it aside. She couldn’t leave their village in fog forever. She had to try and clear it.
Besides, how would she ever spot Bruno coming in all this fog? What if he got lost?
Clear skies.
Pepa could try to tell herself to focus on a cheerful outcome all she wanted, but it still took another three days for the fog to vanish- and her hope of her brother’s homecoming vanished with it.
Don’t talk about Bruno, or Pepa Madrigal may just flood the entire Encanto.
Age 50:
“I've got so much to give so I'll give it again, and again, and again. I'll take this red ribbon, stitch my heart together and I know I'll be fine. Remember all of the pain, was it all too much? Remember falling apart everytime we touch. Remember going insane but I'll never give up. A heart that's been broken is a heart that's been loved.” - Red Ribbon, Madilyn Bailey
He was home, he was home, Bruno was home. She was hugging him, she was actually hugging him!
It was so strange to be crying without a cloud overhead.
Bruno had gotten so thin, so worryingly small and Pepa was afraid she’d break him if she squeezed too hard but when she went to loosen her grip, Bruno’s just tightened. He still smelled the same: like incense, like warm tea.
“You’re okay,” she found herself saying again and again, repeating it desperately. A reminder to herself, a promise to her brother and to Julieta as well, who hadn’t properly stopped crying either. “You’re okay, you’re okay. You- you’re safe, we have you, we’ve got you-” Her voice broke and she buried her face in Bruno’s hair. “You’re home.”
“I’m sorry,” Bruno kept saying, and Pepa had to wonder if he’d heard her at all. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“You’re okay,” Pepa whispered. She breathed deeply, trying to steady herself and held her siblings close. “You’re okay.”
Maybe if she said it enough times it would start to feel real.
The walls. The thrice damned walls!
“You were so close,” Julieta murmured in stunned horror, squeezing Bruno’s hand. They were all drained, they’d been talking for hours now and there was still no end of the conversation in sight.
That was just fine by Pepa. If they were talking that meant they were all there and she had no intention of letting Julieta or Bruno out of her sight. Every time Bruno so much as shifted about, Pepa found herself snarling and pulling him closer. He was clearly doing his best to sit still now, though he kept wringing his hands, twisting his ruana’s hem and tapping his knuckles against the table.
The church’s cramped kitchen was chilly and perhaps not the most comfortable place for such a conversation, but it was all they had for now.
Pepa thought of all the times Bruno had been bed-ridden during heats or vision migraines. She thought of the panic attacks, the bouts of depression and she felt sick.
Ten years. Ten years of isolation; her brother had been a wall away all this time and she hadn’t even noticed. How many times had he been in pain or sick and she hadn’t been there?
She hadn’t been there. For ten years (for longer than that, if she was truthful) she hadn’t been there.
That was going to change, starting now.
Maybe she was too old to be throwing punches (though she’d argue that wasn’t the case) but she didn’t need to get into fights to protect her brother.
Hermana mayor, she thought, keeping a firm grip on Bruno. Reporting for duty, starting now and ending never.
Of course everyone noticed. Of course they did. Pepa was many things but subtle had never been one of them.
Julieta just gave her fond smiles and let her be. Agustín didn’t seem at all surprised. Félix openly encouraged her. Alma shook her head tiredly but with a soft smile on her face that Pepa was still getting used to.
As another nosy villager was sent packing, metaphorical tail between their legs, Bruno let out a huff of laughter.
“Don’t you think we’re getting a little old for this, Pepa?” he asked, gently teasing.
“Nope,” Pepa said, perfectly serious and linking their arms. People were still staring but they backed off quickly when Pepa growled. Sometimes the Alpha stereotypes came in handy.
Bruno shook his head with a little sigh, hair flopping in his face. Pepa wondered how long Julieta would last before she started to nag about cutting it.
“Pepa-”
“Nope, shut up. I’m your big sister, it’s my job to protect you, it doesn’t matter what age we are. Comprende?”
Bruno’s smile was small and fond, a little shy and awkward, like he’d forgotten how to smile. One more thing to fix, one more thing to make better.
“Sí,” he said. “Maybe one of these days I can return the favour. I’d say I’m long overdue.”
Pepa only grinned at him and led him back to Casita’s growing foundations.
Age 50: The Tables Turn
“But did you see the flares in the sky? Were you blinded by the light? Did you feel the smoke in your eyes? Did you, did you? Did you see the sparks filled with hope? You are not alone, ‘cause someone's out there, sending out flares.” - Flares, The Script
Bruno was not an intimidating person by nature, or even by appearance. He was pushing 5’4” and skinnier than he’d ever been; he had big eyes that he knew usually looked sad by default. He was, in general, a very small person. He looked like a gust of wind would knock him over.
He spoke quietly; he stuttered and stammered quite often. He tended to avoid eye contact. He kept rats as pets and threw salt and knocked on wood. He was an Omega and, while most people didn’t care, a lot of the older people in the village and the adults his age assumed that made him fragile.
No, he was not intimidating.
Not unless you counted his old reputation.
Don’t get him wrong, the villagers were doing much better than they ever had. They approached him awkwardly now, some were apologetic and most of them just let him be. Mirabel, Dolores and Camilo had not-so-accidentally let slip that his disappearance had “something” to do with protecting Mirabel which made a lot of people warm up to him considerably.
The local kids just really seemed to like his rats. So there was that.
But still, that reputation of Bad Luck Bruno, the foreteller of doom and destruction, lingered in the back of minds.
And when Bruno caught some idiot farmer giving Pepa an earful he decided to use it to his advantage.
He stormed over (Pepa would appreciate the pun), glaring, fists clenched and eyes sparking with anger. He could hear the man shouting before he was anywhere near the fields, something about Pepa watering the crops too much, then switching around and saying she wasn’t doing enough.
Yeah, no, Bruno wasn’t about to stand for that, thanks.
And when the idiot dared raise his hand (Bruno wasn’t sure if the man was actually stupid enough to try and hit Pepa, but he wasn’t taking any chances) Bruno jumped in between them and grabbed the man’s wrist. Doing his best impression of Pepa herself, he snarled.
He could admit a part of him took great delight in watching the blood drain from the farmer’s face.
And, well, he’d always had a flair for the dramatic: Bruno let his eyes glow, let a vision take over and, through the haze of green, he could smell the farmer’s fear.
“If you ever raise a hand to my sister again,” Bruno growled. “I’ll foresee your death and make you watch.”
In truth, the vision he was currently having was about a bunch of baby rabbits. The farmer didn’t need to know that.
Besides, it did the trick; the man took off sprinting, shouting frantic apologies over his shoulder.
The vision faded and reality returned. A wave of dizziness hit as it always did and Bruno stumbled back.
Pepa caught him. Of course she did.
“Holy shit, Brunito,” she gasped and Bruno burst out laughing, he couldn’t help it.
“Worth it,” Bruno said, massaging his forehead as the dizziness slowly stopped. “So very worth it.”
Pepa bit her lip. “But…Bruno, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but- the villagers-”
Bruno gave his best innocent smile. “Oh, I don’t think it’ll be an issue this time.”
And indeed it wasn’t. Here’s the lovely thing about a lot of people becoming convinced you’re some sort of martyr: they get wildly defensive when someone tries to claim you did something wrong.
Of course the farmer went around claiming that Bad Luck Bruno had threatened to kill him.
Señora Guzman looked ready to gut the man. “Bruno sacrificed ten years of his life to protect his little niece, how dare you!” Where exactly Bruno had been and what he had protected Mirabel from, no one knew. But it made for a good story.
And Bruno knew how to tell a good story.
“Bruno wasn’t even at the fields,” Pepa said, giving the farmer a confused frown. She was the very image of poise. “You were just yelling at me again.”
To the family’s stunned glee, Alma only said, “I don’t know what he’s talking about. Brunito was in bed with a migraine all day yesterday.”
There were sympathetic glances and little tuts all around. Bruno stood between Pepa and Julieta, giving his best innocent look. A look his sisters knew to never believe.
A look the crowd was utterly eating up.
And if Bruno gave the farmer an utterly vicious grin when no one was looking, that was his business. If he widened his eyes and let them shimmer, that was also his business.
Pepa could say it was her job to protect him all she wanted. As far as Bruno could see (pun mostly unintended) it went both ways.
Julieta snorted as the crowd dispersed. “Alright, you trouble maker,” she said. “What did you really do?”
“Nothing,” Bruno said primly, linking his arms with Pepa and Julieta. “I was just protecting my sister.”