I do not own Encanto.

It had been a sickening type of vigilance that Julieta found herself in some ways.

Beneath the jovial emotions that seemed to affect everyone to be in a good mood were fear and anxiousness. Just because she wouldn't doubt her abilities to be a mother and love this child unconditionally didn't mean she wouldn't worry about her child's development.

When the baby was developed enough to move, she watched, breath held and eyes concentrated on her small, swelling stomach, waiting and anticipating for a kick, or flutter within her. Or, she would go to Dolores to check if the baby had a heartbeat.

And every time she visited her young niece, the girl would comply cheerfully before listening and nodding enthusiastically, giving Julieta utter relief. Other times she wouldn't be able to fall asleep, so she would lay on the bed, Agustín snoring loudly while she ran her hands over her growing midsection, whispering litanies of gentle and loving nothings.

I love you, pequeño corazón.

Te mantendré a salvo.

Eres mi milagro.

It was comforting to feel those tiny kicks or stretches. It was relieving to see the bright smile when Dolores checked on their heartbeats and assuring words from Agustín.

It was scary and yet so wonderful. She was responsible for the little being, to ensure that they would come out safe.

Over and over again, the merciless thoughts of not being able to deliver her baby full term gave her shivers-gave her a moment of panic. It was a certain emotion she knew that wouldn't go away, not until the child was in her waiting arms.

Sometimes she would find herself crying as she held her stomach, praying desperately that this-this one would stay. "Stay with me, please." It was a plead-a prayer almost every night-that this child would stay and experience all the love she has for them.

Her mamá had still...acted a bit indifferently, but there was a small optimistic glance as the second trimester waned. Maybe it was all in the back of her head, but sometimes she considered that her mother's growing excitement was because that meant another gift to help their town.

Regardless, it was something to not worry about until their ceremony. For now, Julieta would be content and grateful.

Her nieces had taken absolute delight in joining Julieta to feel the baby kick or how Dolores would describe the baby's heartbeat.

"It's like horses!" she exclaimed.

Isabela arched an eyebrow. "Horses are not in tía Julieta or tía Pepa's stomach," she commented with a huff. She knew what her niece meant but it was kind of amusing to see them try to describe heartbeats.

Despite everything, Julieta found herself relaxing as the second trimester of her pregnancy was nearly ending, and entering third. Nearly five months of pure bliss and anxiety. Three weeks of feeling the tiny flutters and kicks her baby gave her and the sheer realization she was halfway there.

Meanwhile, Pepa was completely over her pregnancy.

"How in God's green earth are you're able to go on with your daily activities without wanting to strangle everybody?" Pepa asked incredulously, nearing the end of her eighth month. In the past few days, Pepa had a constant cloud overhead, no matter how many times she tried to soothe herself, the clouds wouldn't leave.

"Maybe I'm just good enough to hide it," Julieta replied slyly, looking over her shoulder as she tossed some salad in the bowl. So far, the morning sickness had lessened since her second month, but she could relate to the unbearable back pain at times, especially when she stood in place for hours at her stand.

Pepa scowled and crossed her arms above her pregnant belly.

Over time, her own midsection had grown outside the confines, creating a gentle concave. She had worried, however, thinking that the baby was smaller than usual. Mostly because Pepa's stomach had grown so much during the fifth month.

But the strong kicks and stretching limbs assured her that her child was healthy and alive.

"I swear, this is the last one."

"You said that with Dolores too," Julieta pointed out.

Thunder boomed over her sister's head, followed by a light drizzle. She didn't bother trying to console herself, letting the rain soak her clothes. Julieta turned around, using a rag to shoo away the cloud, sighing when it returned seconds after.

"If it makes you feel better, I've been having a lot of food cravings, mostly sweet."

Pepa's clouds dissipated, followed by a snort. "Ah, is that why Agustín has been out like a raccoon in the middle of the night?"

Julieta chuckled sheepishly. "Sí."

"I'm surprised Agustín and Félix haven't met up during those nights," Pepa mused, leaning back against the chair.

"Ay, we have!" Félix called out, head popping out from the kitchen frame. Both women then saw Agustín's head pop out from above Félix's. "Correcto!" They were both grinning like little boys, complimenting each other on how in-sync they were with their grand entrance.

Pepa rubbed her temples. "Ay..."

Félix walked towards his wife, hands on her shoulders, massaging it delicately. "Mi corazón, relajar los hombros, hmm?"

Agustín approached Julieta, his hand immediately splaying on her growing stomach and pecking her cheek as a greeting.

"You doing good?" he inquired softly. She nodded and placed a hand over Agustín's, feeling a kick. "Sí."

"Your child is kicking me in the ribs," Pepa grumbled.

"They have your lovely legs, mi amor," Félix replied, earning a dry look from her part.

"Speaking of which, have you thought of any names for the muchacho?" Agustín asked, regarding the couple. They exchanged looks before Pepa shrugged and blew a strand of hair from her face.

"We like the name Camilo, or if it's a girl, Camila!"

He hummed. "That simplifies things."

"Yep!" they both chorused together.

"What about you guys?" Pepa questioned. "Any magical baby names you wish to bestow on your child?" Félix chuckled lightly and smoothed down some wrinkles on her shoulders. "Interesting choice of words, mi amor."

"It sounded poetic."

Julieta looked at Agustín with a light-hearted smile. They have been thinking of names in a short amount of time, and they somehow were notably picky about the names they were going to give to their child. They wanted it to be special, a name that describes their miracle baby. Something wondrous.

But there were only two that stood out from the rest of them. "We were thinking Mirabel or for a boy, Antonio," she answered.

Pepa cocked her head to the side, analyzing the names before letting out an affirming nod. "I like Antonio," Pepa complimented. Then, an easing and playful grin graced her lips. "If you have a girl could I take the boy's name?"

Julieta blinked and Agustín shrugged noncommittally.

"I don't mind, but didn't you two already think of a boy's name for your niño?"

"Oh Dios mío, podemos más?!" Félix exclaimed, his pupils looking like they were shaped like stars, which was physically impossible.

Pepa rolled her shoulders and shot her husband a glare. "That's if we have another, Félix."

He held up his hands in surrender and when Pepa was looking away, he gave Julieta and Agustín a thumbs up and a wide smile. They both held in a chuckle when Pepa huffed and held out a hand. "I need to go to the bathroom...Félix?"

Her husband was immediately at her side, pulling her up before smacking a sloppy kiss on her cheek and leading her away from the kitchen, leaving silence in their place.

"Is that what I am looking forward to in the next couple of months?" Agustín asked, breaking the silence.

Julieta smiled warmly and returned to the bowl filled with salad. "I'm sure I won't be that bad, querido, and if I am, we get a baby as our treasure." A faint gasp escaped her lips when she felt her husband envelop a hug from behind her, slender fingers running across her growing swell.

"Nuestra bendición," he said quietly behind the shell of her ear. Julieta closed her eyes, melting in his embrace as they both felt the flutterings of their little miracle, awake and alive.

Alive.

Fresh, dew grass clung onto Julieta's flats as she strolled through, the wispy sounds of the wind gently drafted through the rustling trees and bushes. She hugged herself closer, the shawl providing little warmth from the morning chill.

She passed a few boulders and hills before she was behind their Encanto, revealing a large tree with roots that spread throughout the lush and hill area. Vibrant green leaves were attached to the branches, vines twisting and twirling around the wood and hanging from above.

It was a personal spot she and Agustín had picked, different from where the townspeople buried the dead in the graveyard. But this place was the first time they had confessed love to each other, where they shared their first kiss and spent their time together as often as they could.

Who would've thought, that after all these years, this would be the resting area of their child...

Her feet stepped carefully around the roots and fallen twigs, eyes searching for something on the ground until she saw it. Between the patches of flowering weeds and plants was a small headstone, cracked but it looked as if it was taken care of recently.

Julieta gently sat on her legs in front of the rough and coarse stone, reaching out to brush away the leaves that fell on top. Once she found it cleaner, she leaned back and observed with a firm nod.

She knew that Agustín visits here from time to time clean around the area and...well, to talk to them as well.

"Hola, Pequeño," she greeted in a hushed voice, tone thick with emotion.

It had been a while since she's been here. Usually visiting every now and then, but since Pepa announced her pregnancy, she couldn't bring herself to come back. While gone, guilt had consumed her and when she did come back, everything felt so foreign.

Sadness clouded her features as she gripped the fabrics of her nightgown. There was guilt that weighed her down, the shame and remorse for not coming here as often as she wanted to.

How many times could she have visited their little stone, or at least left flowers for her previous child?

"Lo siento," she rasped out, tears leaking out from her eyes. She was sorry for not being able to save them, for not coming around to see them. True, she was talking to a headstone, but it was the closest thing she had to them. "I'm so sorry."

She sniffed and wiped them away as much as she could. "You have a little sibling," she mentioned, hand coming to cradle her swell, feeling a small summersault from underneath her skin. "You would've been such a good older hermano, Pequeño, a wonderful, amazing one."

Upon closing her eyes, Julieta was transported into the painful past.

She was staring at the ceiling of their casa, chest rising up and down rapidly. Frantic voices were ringing in her ears, fumbling hands and bloodied rags flying over her vision.

So much blood.

"Get more rags!"

"Where're the scissors?!"

"Mi bebé," her own raspy voice joined in with the others, but it went unnoticed. She felt immobilized, like boulders pinned her down. She turned her head, mouth opened, a wordless cry at the tip of her tongue.

She wanted to scream.

The pain- the sharp piercing agony that coursed through every fiber of her being; the nauseating uncertainty of her baby that boggled her entire mind-it consumed what little strength she had.

But despite the weakness, she lifted her head, desperate to catch a glimpse of something-anything of her baby-

Horror flashed through her eyes when she saw the midwife cradling something in her arms, a hand -so freaking tiny- peeping out from the sullied cloth. Panic struck her when the midwife swiftly left, leaving her shaking her head and reaching out as far as she could.

"P-please!" she cried out loud, raw and breaking. "Mi bebé! They need me-they need me!"

Hands weighed her down as she started to thrash, furiously trying to get where they were taking the baby, but it was fruitless. A harrowing scream escaped her mouth, face contorted in absolute despair and eyes brimmed with tears-

Julieta sucked in a trembling breath, snapping her eyes open when a high-pitched squeak, and then a thump caught her attention. She whipped her head around, glancing at a rustling bush. A sudden, "Oof," came from the bush, and a petite form fell from their hiding spot.

She slowly blinked, eyesight clearing. "Dolores?"

The little girl squeaked loudly and stood up abruptly, dusting off the dirt from her gown. "Sorry! Sorry," she repeated bashfully. "I-I was just-I heard someone leave and-and-"

"Dolores."

She squeaked and looked at her with wide, apologetic eyeballs.

A tired sigh escaped her lungs before outstretching an arm as a gesture. "Come here."

Reluctantly, her niece gradually inched closer until she was in arms reach and Julieta reached around her waist and pulled her to the side. She squeaked again, but she patted Dolores' shoulder, bringing her closer.

"It's cold outside, you could have at least brought something warm," she said.

Dolores looked down at her lap but relaxed against her. Julieta rested her cheek on top of her head, shutting her eyes. There was an air of quietness that hovered both of them. Julieta inhaled and exhaled silently, feeling the young girl do the same.

"Tía Julieta?"

"Hmm?"

"Where are we?"

Julieta reopened her hazel eyes and craned her neck towards Dolores, who was biting her lip and fidgeting with the hem of the gown. It was weird, how her nieces were so intelligent and gifted, yet they were so pure and innocent.

Dolores and Isabela were too young when she had lost the baby and Luisa wasn't even born yet. At that time, all they understood was that their tía and tío lost something very important to them and that they both needed to recoup.

Additionally, the children have never been to this part of the area since only Julieta and Agustín ever visited, and maybe even Pepa and Félix.

But apparently, they weren't too young for overstimulation sensory, panic attacks, or grief.

She let out a soft breath and held her tighter. "This is a special place that me and tío made," Julieta responded soberly.

"What is it for?"

Her throat constricted painfully and she swallowed the small sob that wanted to erupt. "A-" she paused for a moment. "-a resting place." She didn't know how to explain that this area was where they had buried their child long ago.

The young niece furrowed her brows together, looking at her with inquisitive innocence. "A resting place?"

Julieta nodded slowly. "Sí." For some reason, she was hoping that Dolores would be satisfied with the answer, but to no avail.

"What do you mean?"

She bit her lip, contemplating if this was a subject to talk about when she's older, but Julieta also knew that kids would continue asking questions until it was answered. Death is a subject that not even adults can understand very much, including herself.

Even then, she supposed that death was not meant to be understood-it takes and steals, hungry to take lives with no end of fulfillment.

Silently, she pointed towards the headstone.

"You see that stone?" she questioned. Dolores averted her gaze in the direction of it and nodded. "And do you remember when your mamá told you that your tía and tío lost something special?"

A minuscule nod.

"Sí... well, me and tío lost a bebé." A lump formed within her throat, but she continued. "And this is where we decided they should rest."

Dolores' face was blank but Julieta could see the gears and cogs work inside her brain. "Did they not have a heartbeat when they were in your tummy?"

"I'm not sure, sobrina," she replied honestly. There were no kicks, or movements on behalf of the baby and Julieta assumed that they were sleeping...until she realized that something was very wrong.

"Oh..."

The atmosphere was filled with silence. Thoughts and words went unspoken but they didn't seem to mind. She knew that the young girl had more questions, and she was sure that her niece would ask them eventually, but for now, she was thankful that she didn't.

When Dolores began to shiver, Julieta gestured they'd go home.

Agreeing, they both stood up and Dolores grabbed onto her hand as Julieta led them home.

"If you don't mind me asking," Julieta started. "Why were you out on this chilly morning, sobrina?"

There was a roll of her tiny shoulders. "It's quiet in the morning," she answered in a mumble, hiding a tone of embarrassment. Julieta arched an eyebrow. "But your room is soundproof?"

"Yeah, but I can go outside with no noise in my ears," she exclaimed before looking down at the ground. "It can get really loud outside when everyone's out."

Julieta knitted her brows together in contemplation. Her niece's gift was enhanced hearing, and while it was an advantage in some ways, it caused poor Dolores rather bad sensory attacks. It sucked to know that her niece (and at such a young age) experiences these attacks.

She sympathized, though. People can be noisy and loud, and be as it may, Julieta wished at times that she could get that alone time for a day.

"Ay, silence is nice, especially in your case," Julieta said, earning a solemn nod from the short girl. She squeezed Dolores' small hand in solace, and from the corner of her eye, she could see her smile a bit.

It broke her heart though when she saw that small smile of agreement. No child so young should ever have to rely on silence for anything but if they prefer it that way. Dolores didn't, Julieta had realized. Her young niece would frown, fingers in each ear as she watched children scream loudly on the side, however, there was a yearning gleam in her eyes.

Sometimes she was able to play, and other times, it was too much for her poor ears. Maybe Dolores would learn to adapt to her gift as she grew older, but it still made Julieta's mind wonder if she'll live a normal life with her gift-if the sensory attacks will ever lessen.

She hoped it did.

Sun greeted the Encanto above the hill, brilliant light gleaming. Julieta inhaled and exhaled, fresh air whiffing through her pumping lungs.

Humming in satisfaction, she looked over at her niece with a warm smile.

"Since it's quite early, do you want to help me make breakfast?"

Dolores' eyes light up. "Arepa Boyacense?" she asked hopefully.

"I don't see why not."

"Papi, do you know where tía Julieta is?" Isabela asked. "I asked tío Agustín but he was still snoring loudly."

Bruno looked down to face his oldest daughter, who had still yet to change from her nightgown. They both stood underneath the doorframe, both their hairs unkempt from the night prior. He felt his eyeballs twitch slightly from lack of sleep, but he smiled at his daughter and shook his head.

"Not sure, cariño, but remember that tía Julieta's favorite place is the kitchen," he responded lightly.

Isabela nodded in reply and immediately zipped to the kitchen, where multiple feminine voices resonated from afar.

Oftentimes, Isa would ask Julieta to do her hair, not because she couldn't do it, but because he was pretty crumby at trying to braid his daughter's hair. Meanwhile, his sister would gladly do Isa's or even Lu's hair if she asked.

He was thankful for Julieta filling in a role where he couldn't, especially when he was a single father and considered himself "the black sheep" of the Madrigal family.

True, he helped around town with physical work but his gift wasn't exactly wonderful. Pepa can back him up. As dramatic as she is, he didn't really help with her wedding.

Bruno just hoped that little Luisa wouldn't inherit this type of curse. It would devastate him if his girls followed after him. Her gift ceremony wasn't for another few months, but he stressed about it enough at night while struggling to keep his uncontrollable visions at bay.

There were times when some made sense and others that didn't, but at the end of every vision, it led him to questions that he couldn't answer himself. Some even involved his daughters, which absolutely terrified him, and knowing nothing about them frustrated him.

Bruno sighed out loudly, running his fingers through his messy hair.

It didn't make sense. Why-why?

There was something foreboding about the future, and the more he pondered, the more it worried him. However, he couldn't let his family know, he had two daughters that needed him and he needed them back.

As a father, his concerns were always his daughters. His job was to protect and shelter them from harm's way. And if these odd visions were ever related to Isa or Lu, or even the upcoming family additions, he had to see.

Moreover, should something happen to him, Bruno knew that Luisa and Isabela would be taken care of by his sister and brother-in-law, who loved them like they were their own.

Although it was never mentioned, Julieta understood.

It was an unspoken promise between the two, and it had eased his nerves to know that they would be loved and looked after if something did happen to him.

He looked around his tower, plucking his ruana from the sandy floor. Grimacing, he shook away the remaining grit from his clothing and shrugged in satisfaction before putting it over his head.

Once he fished out his sandals, Bruno found himself walking down the balcony corridors and to the stairs, where the casita rolled its tiles in greeting.

"Morning," he murmured, yawning afterward. The day was starting, and as much as he wished he knew what that every vision he had was all about, he still had two daughters and the rest of the family to care for, even without the need for his gift.

When he entered the kitchen, he saw Isa sitting in a chair as Julieta was behind her, brushing away the knots in her hair. A small grin wormed up his lips when his daughter noticed him as tender fingers ran through her silky hair.

"Papa!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, and he waved at her silently.

"Hold still, pequeña," Julieta murmured quietly, but she glanced up at him with a warm smile. "Buenos días, Bruno."

"Buenos días."

He grabbed the pitcher and poured himself a glass of water, observing how Dolores was in the kitchen too, mixing something in a bowl while his eldest sister started braiding Isabela's hair. He watched as Isabela started talking about the flowers she's been sprouting, or the gossip that Dolores heard while Julieta remained attentive in styling Isa's hair.

It was an endearing sight.

Motherhood was perfect for Julieta.

And yet, somehow it took almost ten years for the world to notice it.

Ever since he could remember, she was always motherly towards her nieces and the children of the town, treating them as if they were her kids.

Bruno had watched from afar as Julieta tended to children at her station, so gentle and soft-spoken whenever there was a child in line. Then he would see the sad and desiring flash in her chocolate brown irises when some hugged and thanked her before hopping away to play.

He couldn't imagine how hard it was-for both of them, even if they were expecting now. Despite the excitement that buzzed through the couple of their new bebé coming soon, Bruno could tell that Julieta was struggling and experiencing anxiety that she may not be able to make it to term.

Never had she ever asked for a vision from him, but he was well aware that she was dying to know what the future was for this baby. However, she did not ask and kept it that way.

And perhaps it was for the best.

woah hi there you get a little spurt of the past and some lovely niece-aunt bonding, lovely huh? also, Bruno, whatcha got there?

hope you guys enjoyed it :)