I dont own Encanto or any of the characters. This is inspired by the scene from Steven Universe of Amathyst and Greg. I have really fun idead about where I want to take this so get ready. Hope you like it.

"Open your eyes." He commanded over her soft whimpers. His voice still youthful, still the trickster of the family, he never did change it to match this form. Not when he towered over her. His great and proud Abuela, cowering in a little ball against the wall of her room. Eyes clenched shut tightly with arms wrapped round her head to keep from looking up.

"P-please … stop." Her voice shaking as she mumbled out her begs. "Please …d-don't do th-this." The way her voice wavered letting him know she was already crying. He had already been doing this for several minutes, trying to get the old woman to open her eyes but she refused. Having closed them tightly the second she caught glimpse of him sneaking through the open window.

He didn't want to have to trick her, hoping her grief would be enough to get her to open them as it had in the past. She was getting wise to that trick. Her grief still calling her to tears but her desperation to see the face had faded. Replaced by dread, knowing what Camilo was going to do.

Camilo let out a sigh, she wasn't giving in as he had wanted. It could have been over by now, and some part of him kept warning the longer he tries to push the more likely someone might catch them, probably his Tía Julieta. She was usually the first one awake, often times hours before the sun. It was something he was working on. Regardless, if she noticed the noise and found him in here, with his Abuela crying against the wall there was going to be trouble for sure. That fear sparked an idea though.

Taking a quick breath as he felt everything shift slightly as he took on a new form. Dark black braids tied with little red bows resting infront of his, well… her, shoulders. A simple white top and long, flowing magenta skirt.

Kneeling down, beside his Abuela, touching the hands of this younger woman to hers, he spoke. With the new form came a different voice, not his own. "Look at me." He whispered gently, as soft as he could muster.

The weeping stopped in an instant though the haggard breaths still shook her body. She knew that voice. She knew it was him. It had to be him, but … to hear her voice like that. She shifted the hands covering her eyes, allowing her to peak through and gaze at the bright wide brown eyes of her youth that were staring back at her. As if staring at a mirror that reflected what she had been, she noticed the features she had lost in her many years. Her round cheeks, the comforting sweet smile, the soft look in those eyes that held the same sentiment as the words whispered next, as her breathing calmed a bit. "It's okay, everything's alright."

Tears were still welling up in her eyes as she looked at all she had been. The kind, sweet version of herself. The one full of dreams and strange new ideas and stories that had gotten her husband to fall for her all those years ago. So different from the tyrant she was now. So bitter from her loss that she forced so much pressure and responsibility on her family, her kids, even at such a tender age of 5. They were children. She was a slave driver, not an abuela as she claimed.

That was why he was here after all. She had chastised Pepa about her weather again. A terrible habit of 40 years. Now, he was here, in her room as he did every time. To torture her, to punish, to make her face her suffering once again. The guilt, the shame, the reality that if her husband were able to see what she had done to their precious children he would probably echo the same statements as her grandson.

She hadn't noticed when her hands fell away from her cheeks, or her gaze dropped to the floor. But she felt the fingers that gently pulled her chin up. Different from the hands Camilo just had, yet he would find no resistance in getting her to look up now. To gaze upon the form he took, and face her guilt anew.

Pedro.

Just as she always remembered him, just as he looked in the portrait by the kitchen. Pedro stood before her. He smiled, looking into her eyes with ones that didn't match the victory grin now spread across his face.

There was still a small part of her that wanted to smile at his appearance. A small delusional part of her, ignorant to what would come next, oblivious to the guilt and shame that hung upon her shoulders. A small and delusional part that always made what he did next all the harder to bear.

Tears ran warm down her face as she looked into his eyes, watching as they shifted from the kind, sweet, loving look he had passed to their eldest daughter, to eyes filled with disgust and loathing. Her breath, shaky from crying so hard earlier trembled fiercely, returning with vigor for the onslaught.

The silence of the room was unbearable, the waiting being pure torture. Knowing what was next to come and unable to prevent it in any way. Still, afraid that if she moved more than her chest demanded with each trembling breath, it would come, it would finally come, and she could never say which was worse. The waiting, with his hand holding her chin gently to look at him crouching before her, his features shifting from the lighthearted look she knew to hatred of what she was. Or when he actually did it, shattering every piece of her being again as he had done last time and the time before, reminding her with each failing why she should hate herself more and more, that she only deserved Pedro's disgust for what she had done to their children and Camilo was simply here to deliver it for him in person.

Finally, after so many moments of just looking at her, Camilo withdrew his hand from her chin. Though she longed for it to stay there, not simply because it was Pedro's hand but rather it meant what he was about to do next and through the long torturous wait she still wanted to delay it further, yet she dared not move, to reach and pull the hand back. Remaining still and as silent as she could be, knowing she would never be prepared for what she heard next.

"Oh Alma … look how far you've fallen from the woman I love."