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faith-trustpixiedust · 1 year

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Nothing is as Simple as Black and White

Inspired by the “What if Bruno Madrigal is Carlos de Vil’s father” idea by me and @silverloreley plus this fanfiction by @silverloreleysfanfics.

Carlos hovered nervously at the outskirts of the village.

It looked like a nice little village. Friendly. Peaceful. People bustling around on their everyday business, children playing.

Completely foreign, for an Isle boy.

He scratched Dude between the ears. It had been a hassle, bringing him all the way here - two plane flights, a short boat ride, and a lot of walking, not necessarily in that order - but in Carlos’ opinion it was worth it.

“It’s going to be fine,” he told Dude, rubbing his fur. Dude growled softly in contentment.

“Right,” Carlos continued, emboldened. “We’ll just go in and ask directions to the Madrigal family….there’s a bunch of them, it shouldn’t be too hard to find one…and then we’ll just - well, I’ll just say who I am and ask them to stay and give them the letters he…Oh, forget it,” he said abruptly. His arm dropped to his side. “Who am I kidding?”

Dude barked cheerfully, as though to say, “Me!”

“They don’t even know me,” Carlos muttered. “They probably don’t even know I exist. If they did they would have showed up at Auradon Prep like Snow White did for Evie. They’ll just kick me out and I’ll have to find somewhere else to live for the summer.”

It was hot. He was thirsty. There were birds singing in the trees - even after months in Auradon, he still found that odd - and beautiful, vibrant flowers grew everywhere.

This wouldn’t have been nearly so bad if one of his friends or cousins were with him. But his cousins, of course, were still on the Isle. Carlos had promised to try to get them off, just as Jay had to Jade and Mal had to Hadie and Evie had to Dizzy. But so far, nothing was doing. Being friends with the, admittedly extremely busy, king of Auradon didn’t have as many advantages as Carlos had thought it would. And just being in Auradon didn’t mean they had the power to change things. The newly-arrived and technically on paper not actually in Auradon Freddie Facilier was already getting very impatient.

And his friends weren’t there, because for the summer they weren’t allowed to just live in the dorms. (“We live there the rest of the time!” Mal had argued, but Fairy Godmother had been adamant. “It’s not like the buildings are unfit for human habitation! There’s enough food and running water and plumbing and everything! Why are you looking at me like that? We won’t be lonely, we’ll have each other! We can even catch up on all our schoolwork since we’ll literally be living in the school! What do you mean we need adult supervision and stable family structures?”)

So for the summer, they were all staying with whatever family they had in Auradon. Which wasn’t much.

Evie was staying with Snow White, who was technically her stepsister. From what Carlos had seen so far, the time Snow had come to school to meet Evie and from whatever Evie mentioned about the occasional texts they’d exchanged since then, they seemed to be getting along all right. But then, in a way the Evil Queen was Snow’s mother as well.

Jafar had no known family, so Jay was staying with Coach Jenkins.

Maleficent also had no known family - at least, no known family that could be contacted and was willing to. Unless Mal wanted to wander into the wilderness in Auroria and wait for any fae kin to find her, she was alone, so Ben had convinced his parents to let her stay with them for the summer.

Which left Carlos. The only one of them who had biological family anywhere in Auradon.

Ben had been surprised. “I thought all the de Vils were on the Isle,” he’d said.

“We are,” Carlos had said. “I don’t mean my mother’s family.”

Now, Carlos took a deep breath. “Come on, boy,” he murmured to Dude, slinging his backpack, which contained everything he owned, onto his shoulder. “We might as well get this over with.”

Mirabel spun as she danced in the street, laughing. “Come on, dance with me,” she called, and three small figures (usually there would be four, but Tía Pepa had informed Camilo that it was his turn to watch Antonio for the day) ran after her, spinning and dancing to the best of their ability. Which wasn’t much, considering none of them were older than six, but their enthusiasm more than made up for it.

Mirabel liked spending time with the little kids of Encanto. Children were so sweet and adorable and enthusiastic. She played with them and made up games with them and told them stories, and they told her all about the events going on in their lives, competing for her attention, and at least this way she was doing something useful, right?

“Faster!” Mirabel shouted, reaching out her arms; Juancho and Cecilia and Alejandra grabbed her hands - well, Cecilia and Juancho did, Alejandra held both of their hands - and they all spun in a circle until they fell down dizzy, giggling.

“That was fun!” Juancho announced. “Let’s do it again!”

Mirabel stretched in the warmth of the sun and began to sit up.

Her head hit the dirt as she fell over backwards, bowled over by a heavy weight that had materialized on her stomach. She yelped, her vision full of brown fur. Something warm and wet lapped at her face.

The children were laughing and shrieking.

“Dog! Dog!”

“Mirabel! Are you okay?”

“I wanna pet the dog!”

Someone shouted in English, accompanied by running footsteps.

The dog sprawled atop Mirabel shifted, ears perking up. Mirabel tried to sit up again, pushing the dog into her lap and wiping the dog spittle off her face with her sleeve.

A boy of about Mirabel’s age was running forward, his face panicked, calling out in English; Mirabel caught the words no and stop. The dog leapt off Mirabel and bounded over to the boy, tail wagging, as though expecting to be rewarded with treats. The boy gave it an angry look, gesturing to Mirabel, then looked at her nervously as she stood up and brushed her dress off.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in stilted, accented, but understandable Spanish. “He doesn’t usually do this. I am very sorry. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, but he still looked afraid, like he thought she was going to be furious at him. “No, really, I’m fine! No harm done.”

“Is that your dog?” Cecilia asked.

“Of course it is!” Juancho interrupted before the boy could answer.

The boy looked startled. “Oh - yes, this is my dog. Sorry. Um-”

“Can we pet him?” Alejandra wanted to know.

“Oh - sure - he liked being petted - just be gentle-”

He’d barely gotten a few words out before the dog was laying down with a supremely contented look on its face while the three children gave him belly rubs.

“You’d think they’d never seen a dog before,” Mirabel commented fondly.

“No?” the boy asked.

“I mean, they have, they just get really excited over, well, everything,” Mirabel explained. “Anyway, so…you’re new here?” Clearly, he was; the Encanto didn’t get many visitors, so strangers were instantly recognizable.

“Um, yeah, I’m….My name is Carlos.”

Carlos. That was a Spanish name, but Carlos himself didn’t appear to be. He didn’t look it, and while his Spanish, while fairly good for a foreigner, wasn’t fluent, and his accent wasn’t Colombian either. Perhaps his parents had died when he was young, and he’d been raised elsewhere?

Enough speculation. He was a visitor to the Encanto, and she was the only Madrigal present and so must give him a good impression of the Madrigals and the Encanto. Although that was kind of hard to do with mud all over your skirt.

“I’m Mirabel,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

Carlos blinked. “I - oh - thanks,” he said. “Um, I’m actually looking for something…someone, I mean, a few people….Would you happen to know where the Madrigal family is?”

Oh. Well. That made sense. To anyone outside the Encanto, the Madrigals were the only notable members inside it, what with the magic most of them possessed. Maybe he needed help, help that only her family’s magic could give him.

“Right here!” Juancho piped up from where he was scratching Carlos’ dog behind the ears.

“What?” Carlos said.

“Mirabel’s a Madrigal,” Alejandra explained.

“Oh!” Carlos, if anything, looked even more nervous. Which was ridiculous, really; no one would ever be wary of her. Not when there was Luisa-Who-Can-Lift-Anything or Dolores-Who-Knows-All-Your-Secrets or Tía Pepa-Armed-With-Lightning (Okay, so Camilo’s imitations were a little funny, she had to admit) to be faced.

Or, once, Tío Bruno. But no one talked about him.

“So….do you want to meet my family?” Mirabel prompted. He’d have to, if he needed their help, but he looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Um…yes?” Carlos almost squeaked. “Please? If it isn’t too much trouble?”

“Of course it’s not! Come on, Casita - my house - is this way.”

Mirabel led the way. Carlos, who kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, followed just behind her, and his dog right behind him, accompanied by the three kids who had apparently decided that said dog was currently their most favorite thing in the world. (“Look! He licked my hand! He likes me! Look, he lets me pet him! That’s nothing, he lets all of us pet him! Ooh, look, he’s smiling at me! Dogs don’t smile! Yes they do! Isn’t he smiling, Juancho?”)

“So, um…Mirabel.” Carlos swallowed. “Could you…tell me about your family?”

“Sing him the song!” Alejandra called from behind them.

They both turned. “The song?” Carlos asked.

Mirabel shrugged. “A while ago I made up a little song about my family, to sing for the kids around town. I guess they liked it.”

“We LOVED it!” Juancho announced, jumping up and down; Mirabel wondered if he’d been at the coffee again. “Sing it again! Please!”

“You have to sing it, for him,” Cecilia pointed out. “Because he doesn’t know your family.”

Mirabel gave a half-laugh. “Oh, all right, but only if we keep walking.” Somewhat self-consciously, she began her song.

She sang of how her family had been blessed, how they used their gifts to keep the Encanto safe and flourishing. She sang of her Abuela who led the family and the village, who had received the miracle so many years ago, through her own love and grief; of Tía Pepa, who could control the very weather with her emotions, calling up a storm in a rage or a rainbow in bliss; of Tío Bruno, the prophet long gone (Carlos flinched); of her mother, the kindest, gentlest soul in the Encanto, with the gift of healing to match; of her father and Tío Felix, who both proclaimed that they’d become the happiest men alive the moment they’d married their respective wives.

Moving on to her generation, she began with Dolores, who could hear a pin drop from the other side of the village. Then on to Camilo, who could change shape at will and perfectly imitate anybody he saw. Antonio, soon to receive his gift. Señorita Perfecta Isabela, beautiful and graceful, who could grow any kind of flower, anywhere. Luisa, gifted with superstrength.

“Wow,” Carlos said when Mirabel had finished. “That’s….a lot.”

“It is,” Mirabel agreed wholeheartedly.

“So what’s your gift?”

Mirabel’s heart sank down to her toes. She’d hoped he wouldn’t ask that.

“Mirabel didn’t get one,” Cecilia informed him.

“No?”

“Nope!” Juancho chimed in. “She’s the only Madrigal not to get one! No one knows why.”

“Oh,” he said. “Uh. Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she assured him. It made sense that he would ask. The questions - at least the first questions, the ones of “What’s your gift?” and “You didn’t get a gift?” didn’t bother her; they were only to be expected. What did bother her were the ones like “So why do you think you didn’t get a gift?”

“Anyway!” she said with some relief. “Here we are!”

Mirabel led him into the courtyard. Juancho, Cecilia, and Alejandra offered to stay at the gate and watch his dog. Carlos said, in English, “Stay, Dude!” to his dog, who plopped himself right down for some more belly rubs.

“Mirabel!” her mother called, coming through the door. “Where have you b- Oh! Who’s this?” She gave Carlos a surprised, almost spooked look.

“This is Carlos,” Mirabel said. “He’s from…” She realized that Carlos hadn’t actually told her where he was from. “Anyway, he wanted to talk to all of you, and I said I would bring him to meet you? He needs our help.” Carlos didn’t contradict her.

Mama blinked several times. “Hello, Carlos. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry - it’s just that you reminded me of someone for a moment. Come right in; Mirabel, bring him to the living room, Abuela will see him there.”

Mirabel led him through the hallway, past Tío Felix, whose eyes widened; past Dolores, who poked her head out of a doorway, squeaked, and pulled herself back in; past her father, who dropped the stack of plates he was holding and shooed them both away when they tried to help him pick them up; past Luisa, who was juggling dumbbells; and past the kitchen, where her father had deposited his miraculously unbroken plates and was whispering loudly to her mother “Doesn’t he look a bit like-” before finally reaching the living room.

Sometimes she wished she’d been born into a normal family.

“You can sit if you want,” she offered. She didn’t usually entertain guests and had no clue of what to do.

Carlos jumped a little, said “Thanks,” and sat down gingerly on the very edge of the sofa.

Abuela walked in, took one look at Carlos, and demanded “Who are you?”

Carlos quailed, but drew himself up and answered “Carlos de Vil.”

Devil? Wasn’t that the English for Diablo? What kind of name was that?

“A-are y-you Doña Alma Madrigal?” Carlos stuttered. Mirabel thought he was trembling. He looked terrified.

“I am,” Abuela answered, but before she could say anything else Carlos reached into his pocket and withdrew several grubby, folded pieces of paper; sealed envelopes. He unfolded one, then another, and handed that one to Abuela.

“This is for you,” was all he said.

The envelope was labeled, simply, Mamá.

“Oh, Dios mío!” Mirabel gasped. “You’re C!”

“You’re C?” Camilo asked. “You must be!”

“He’s C!” Dolores agreed. “Wow, I never thought we’d actually meet him!”

Carlos looked overwhelmed, like he quite wished no one would be paying any attention to him. Unfortunately, the exact opposite was the case. “C?”

The entire family was crowded into the kitchen. Mama and Tía Pepa were hugging each other, weeping about their poor Brunito, the letters Carlos had delivered to them from him clutched in their hands. Abuela was sitting in her seat, reading her own letter over and over, as though trying to discern some hidden meaning in the words.

Carlos himself was sitting at the table with the heaping plateful of food Julieta had demanded he eat before interrogating him about his father and ripping open her own letter to read. So far, he’d eaten very little of it.

Papa and Tío Felix were huddled together, whispering.

Mirabel and her sisters and cousins were all crowded around poor Carlos.

“You got a door,” Isabela explained. “To your room in Casita, and you would have received your gift when you opened it. It had your initial on it, so we knew you existed, and that your name started with C. But that was all we knew about you. And you weren’t there to open it, so your door disappeared.” She hesitated. “You do know about the doors and the gifts, right?”

Carlos nodded jerkily. “He told me. But I thought it was just a story, then.”

Antonio interrupted them all to come up and wrap his arms around Carlos and the chair Carlos was sitting in. “A new cousin!” he proclaimed. “Hi, new cousin! I’m Antonio!”

“Uh - hi, Antonio,” Carlos said, sitting very stiffly and ill at ease, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Do we also get to meet a new tía?” Antonio wanted to know, still keeping his small arms wrapped around Carlos’ stomach.

“What?” Dolores asked.

“If we have a new cousin,” Antonio explained, “then we also have a new tia! Is she visiting, too? Can we meet her?” He looked around expectantly, as though waiting for the cousins’ new tia to come walking in.

“No!” Carlos snapped, and then again, calmer, gingerly removing Antonio’s arms from they were wrapped around him, “No. You won’t meet her. You can’t meet her. She’s not here.”

Mirabel remembered when Carlos’ door had appeared, only about a year after her own failed ceremony. She’d been so excited, because she’d thought she would finally be getting a gift, after all. But then the door hadn’t even been for her.

She’d been jealous, at first. She had been born and raised in Casita and got no gift or room at all, while the cousin the rest of them knew nothing about would have gotten a room and gift of his own - or would have had, if he’d been there to open his door. But he hadn’t been, so his door had faded as well.

But she’d also felt a strange kinship. After all, the mysterious C was also a giftless Madrigal. There had been no C to open the door. No C to receive a gift. She wasn’t the only Madrigal without a gift, then.

Every year, the Madrigal cousins marked the date the door had appeared as C’s birthday. It was a day of tense silences, a day to be lost in thought, just like the triplets’ birthday was, and Mirabel’s birthday, and a random day near the beginning of November that they had eventually realized was the day Tío Bruno had been taken away.

She’d always wondered if one day, somehow, she would get to meet the mysterious C. And now, here he was.

This is a week or so before Antonio receives his gift.

I figure that Carlos would know some Spanish because if and when Bruno was present in his childhood, he would have spoken it to him. Also, once he found out he’s getting sent to Encanto for the summer, he would have tried to learn some; he’s smart, he’s picked up at least the basics by now.

As an aside, according to Return to the Isle of the Lost, Carlos’ middle name is Oscar. And what was Bruno’s name originally in some early concept art? Oscar.

#i love this!!#descendants #encanto #Carlos de vil #bruno madrigal

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