Godmother

..

A few notes before I start this fic: this is my first foray into this fandom, and I've done my best to keep things accurate to the implied time period and history of Colombia's culture and folklore, but since it's a fantasy story where magic is an accepted reality there will be slips here and there to suggest an alternative historical timeline, it's going to play a little fast and loose with history. I did a lot of research before starting this but if you notice anything off, don't hesitate to let me know!

Also, I found out while I was researching that Colombia has the largest variety of lepidoptera (butterflies and moths) in the world.

Trigger warnings up the wazoo for human trafficking, violence, SA and general upsetting stuff. Things will get grim.

…..

Strangers coming into the Encanto were a rare but necessary evil.

The community as a whole was as self-sufficient as possible, but there were times the occasional outsider would have to be brought in. When the old cobbler finally passed away, a younger one from a village over the river was brought in to finish teaching the old man's apprentice. A handful of livestock and bloodstock agents stopped by every few years to breed their animals and trade yearlings. Travelling merchants from old families known to the community entered the village with cloth, tools, jewellery and anything else that was hard to come by, they showed up whenever the paths were clear.

Every now and then, the Encanto also took in people displaced by or fleeing from violence. Most moved on once it was safe to do so, but sometimes they applied to stay for good. These people were carefully vetted and watched, though the marvellous Madrigal family were confident that they could repel any that turned out to be a threat.

The outsiders brought in news from the outside, almost always about some new violence or upheaval. New gangs and militias seemed to form in the blink of an eye and ravaged the land, burning down entire villages and raiding farms down to the last coffee bean. Factions split and turned on each other, and peasants were usually caught in the crossfire. But the Encanto had been brought to life to keep that very violence at bay, and they were so careful about who they let inside.

It worked.

Until it didn't.

…..

Mirabel wasn't used to male attention.

Men who came into the Casita usually gravitated towards Isabela first, then Dolores. Luisa had her fair share of admirers who made a beeline for her. Between that and the general showcase of the famous Madrigal gifts, Mirabel might as well have been a piece of furniture to the visiting strangers.

On the last night before the merchants were due to leave, the Casita usually hosted a party for the visitors. After helping with food and decorations, Mirabel typically chose a corner in the upper floors where she could watch everyone coming and going, and she stuck to it. This was where the stranger found her.

No, this was where the stranger sought her out!

He wasn't a particularly handsome man, and he had to be at least thirty years old if not older, but Mirabel still found herself tongue-tied as he made small talk, asked her questions. He was considerably taller than her, and loomed over her even with an arm's length of space between them. He had dark eyes, almost black, and an intense stare that made her squirm under his gaze.

He was a merchant of some sort, she hadn't really been paying attention when the visitors introduced themselves, thinking they wouldn't be talking to her anyway. She supposed he was a tailor or cloth merchant, given the rich fabric and cut of his suit. He complimented her embroidery, both the skill and the quality of the stitching.

"And they say you have no gift," he murmured. "You're a gifted seamstress."

Mirabel didn't know how to respond to that, she chuckled awkwardly and adjusted her glasses.

"It passes the time," she shrugged, eventually.

"You do yourself a disservice," he insisted. "A skill is a most valuable thing. A gift can be given freely to anyone, but a skill...that takes work and perseverance."

His eyes bore into hers until she felt like he was physically pushing her up against the wall.

"How old are you?" he asked her.

Before she could answer him, her mother (how long had she been there?) grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her away from him.

"She is fifteen," Julieta shot back icily, not even looking back at the stranger.

She held her wrist so tight it almost hurt, kept her in her grasp until they reached the kitchen. Julieta began throwing bowls and cups into the sink so hard they clattered. Mirabel was stunned; she had rarely seen her mother so upset.

"Don't talk to that man again," she was told.

Confused, all she could do was nod.

…..

Naturally, Isabela wanted to know all the details the next morning. Dolores probably listened to the entire conversation but was keeping her lips sealed, and Isa's more friendly attitude to her sister had her so giddy with the thought that she might have a suitor (even better, a suitor that their mother didn't approve of) that she was following Mirabel around the Casita asking questions.

"What's his name? Surely you got his name?" she asked.

"Nope," Mirabel shrugged. "I told you, we weren't talking for that long."

"That's usually the first thing you learn about someone," Isabela growled. "You're not that hopeless, are you?"

As good as things were now, old habits died hard, and some of the old casual cruelty slipped into Isabela's needling.

"He probably told me and I forgot," Mirabel muttered, looking for a quick escape and finding it in an open second-floor window to the roof. "I don't know."

She had just stepped out onto the roof when a vine wrapped around her waist, yanking her back inside.

"Don't give me that tonterías," Isa scoffed. "First time I see you talking to a boy, and you don't get his name? No way!"

"The boys are usually busy talking to you," Mirabel shot back, tugging the vine off and dropping it on the floor with a heavy thunk.

"I know!"

"Not a boy, a man," Dolores chipped in, sliding by them. "That's what got Tía Julieta so upset."

Mirabel trailed after Dolores as she made her way to the kitchen, Isabela trailing after them both.

"An older man, that's exciting!" she squealed. "Why aren't you excited?"

Lost for words, Mirabel shrugged. Maybe if she didn't speak at all Isabela would go away.

"You should be less excited, Isa," Dolores said, a touch snidely. "If the men are coming for Mirabel that means we've gotten too old for them. It's fine for me, I have a man but..."

Isabela snorted, tossed her hair over her shoulder. A flurry of rose petals floated to the ground.

"He was nearly my man, don't forget. And I'd be perfectly happy for the men to leave me alone for a while, thank you very much."

But she turned and left the kitchen, so obviously Dolores had hit a nerve.

"Thanks for getting rid of her," Mirabel groaned, pouring two glasses of aguapanela and pushing one in Dolores' direction.

Dolores made her customary squeak by way of an answer.

"Was Mama really upset because I was talking to that man?"

"Well, he was much older than you...it's natural, you know? Isa and I have been putting up with it since we were your age, and now it's your turn."

"It feels like it's more than that though..." Mirabel mumbled. "I never saw her yank Isabela away like she did last night...not even when that creepy blacksmith kept sneaking into the cellar..."

"He wasn't that bad..." Dolores sighed. "Okay, I'm going to tell you something but you didn't hear it from me, right?"

"Right," Mirabel nodded eagerly.

"And promise me you won't freak out?"

"Is it going to make me freak out?"

"That's why you have to promise me you won't freak out..."

"How am I supposed to know if I'm going to freak out or not if I don't know what I'm freaking out or not freaking out about?"

"Fine, I'm not telling you."

"Okay, okay, I promise I won't freak out."

Dolores took a little breath, and then a little sip of her aguapanela. Then she spoke.

"Tío Bruno saw a vision about you."

"WHAT?!"

"Keep your voice down!" Dolores hissed, covering her ears. "You promised you wouldn't freak out!"

"Sorry," Mirabel gasped. "What do you mean, a vision?"

"I heard him talking about it to your Mama and Papa," Dolores told her, leaning in to speak in a hushed tone. "He didn't want to make a big deal about it since, you know, we're still dealing with the last vision he had of you..."

"So Abuela doesn't know?"

"Nobody knows, except him and your parents. And me. And... now you."

"What was in the vision? Was that man in it?"

"Bruno said he saw you walking away from Casita. From the Encanto itself. Forever, I think, or not, it was undecided."

"That's ridiculous!" Mirabel said. "Why would I walk away from the Encanto?"

"If anyone was going to, you'd be the most likely," Dolores replied. "Tía Julieta thought so too, that's what she said."

"If I was going to run off, it wouldn't be with some man I just met!"

"Hm, I don't know," she hummed. "I would have thought so too, but if Mariano wanted to run away I don't think I'd protest too much..."

"No thanks," Mirabel muttered.

"You say that now," Dolores chuckled. "But who knows? Maybe an attractive stranger could turn your head yet?"

With another little squeak, she left the kitchen.

Mirabel turned it over in her head for a few hours, tried to imagine leaving Casita behind for love. But Casita drew people in, it didn't chase them away.

It was impossible, she reasoned, and decided to put the whole matter, vision and all, behind her.

…..

When the merchants had been gone for a full week, Julieta finally relaxed and life continued as normal. No more was said about Mirabel's mysterious suitor (Camilo hadn't gotten a good enough look at the man, otherwise he would have changed into him to tease her for at least a few more weeks).

Being the centre of attention, even for a short time, had been oddly uncomfortable for Mirabel, and she was glad to fade back into the furniture once again.

She had all but forgotten about the man when shouting woke her from her sleep one night, followed shortly by loud banging on her door.

"The troje is on fire!" Luisa called from the hall. "We all need to get out before it spreads!"

There had been a blaze at the Casita once before, when a wildfire in the forest had spread with the wind. Mirabel had been six or seven at the time, and it was during the day so it was quickly stifled, but she remembered how the Casita's power had diminished as it tried to put itself out. It was the first time she had ever seen it weakened, up until it collapsed.

She heard footsteps and the crashing of a thundercloud passing her door as Pepa ushered Antonio down the stairs. The wooden shutters on the windows rattled in distress. Swearing under her breath, Mirabel sat up, reached for her glasses on the nightstand.

They weren't there.

A little panicky now, she swiped her hand across the nightstand, knocking over the lamp. Even in daylight she could barely see two inches in front of her face without her glasses, in the dark she was as good as blind. The smell of smoke was rising, and Casita was in no fit state to guide her out as it might have done.

But a moment later, that was the last of her worries.

An iron grip took hold of her shoulder and in one smooth motion shoved her back down on the bed and pressed a blade to her throat. A scream died in her mouth when a hand firmly closed over it. Blind as she was, she knew that dark-eyed stare that bore down on her.

"You're a nice girl," the man whispered. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

Dolores will hear him, they'll come to help me...

Even as she thought it, she knew Dolores wouldn't hear a thing. The fire was too well planned to drown out any other noise from inside the Casita.

"You and me are going to take a little trip," he whispered into her ear. "Bosses' orders. Don't make a fuss and there won't be any trouble, understand?"

He didn't wait for a response; with the blade still pressed to her throat, he took his hand off her mouth and pressed a noxious rag over her face. She was still conscious when he lifted her off the bed, wrapped her in a blanket and slipped the shutters open to step out onto the roof, but she couldn't move a muscle.

Up until he bundled her onto a waiting horse and hustled them both away from the Casita, just before she slipped into a dank oily slumber, Mirabel hoped she would hear her family coming to her rescue, but all she heard was the roar of the fire.

…..

The fire was finally put out in the early hours of the morning, thanks to a combined effort from the villagers and the Madrigal family. The roof of the troje was completely destroyed, most of the dry goods inside charred and beyond saving, but the damage to the Casita itself was only superficial.

Irritable from their rude awakening, the family gathered just outside the courtyard as Julieta handed out obleas from a basket she kept stashed away for emergencies. When the basket was nearly empty, she finally noticed that someone was missing.

"Where is Mirabel?" she asked. "Luisa, didn't you wake her up?"

"I did!" Luisa protested through a mouthful of wafer and caramel.

"How could anyone sleep through all that?" Camilo grumbled. "I think Dolores has gone deaf..."

"Unfortunately, no," Dolores moaned, rubbing her temples.

"Well, go get her now," Julieta scolded. "Isa, you go."

"What? Why me?"

"Just do it!" she snapped.

Grumbling under her breath, Isabela stomped up the stairs and threw open Mirabel's bedroom door, fully intending to chew her out.

"You'd better have a damn good excuse for..."

She trailed off as she realized she was talking to an empty room. Her blood ran cold.

Mirabel's glasses were on the floor, one lens shattered.

The lamp was broken, lamp oil soaked into the floor.

Her shoes were right where she left them at the foot of the bed, but her quilt was gone.

And the shutters at the window were snapped in half.

"She's gone!" Isabela shouted, picking up the glasses from the floor and heading back to the courtyard as fast as her feet could carry her. "Mama, she's not here!"

The family stared, unsure how to react.

"That's not funny, Isa," Julieta said at last.

"I mean it," Isabela retorted. "She's not there!"

"So...like, she ran away?" Camilo asked.

A split-second glance was exchanged between Julieta and Bruno, before Bruno dropped his head into his open hands.

"No, I found her glasses on the floor," Isabela insisted. "She wouldn't go anywhere without them, you know she's blind as a bat. And the window's broken."

Without another word, Julieta threw down her basket and rushed upstairs, followed closely by Agustin. Alma sank into her chair for a moment, collapsing in on herself, before summoning all of her formidable dignity and rising to her feet.

"I'm going to rouse the villagers to search the forest," she told her family. "In the meantime, you should search the grounds in teams of two. Antonio, perhaps you can ask some of your animal friends to help."

Even with the help of every villager, and every animal that could be summoned, all they would find by way of evidence was a rag soaked in toxic fluid and fresh hoofprints that stopped at the river.