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What the Sun Melts Through

Summary:

"You have a choice to make. It won’t be fair, and it won’t be easy, but the choice is yours.”

A joyful day takes a tragic turn, leaving Camilo fighting for his life while the rest of the family tries to cope in the aftermath. Old wounds reopen as long-buried secrets are brought to light, and while the house remains intact, Mirabel is left with the feeling that they are facing the collapse of something far more important.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Cold

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Are we sure mami is not sad?”

With the snow almost the height of Antonio himself, the youngest Madrigal has been forced to the back of the line, walking in the furrow his family members have trudged before him. Camilo turns to face him, arms spread towards the endless whiteness surrounding them.

“Yep!” he says with a contagious smile to banish his hermano’s frown. “This snow isn’t hers. It’s all ours!”

To prove his point, he gives Antonio a light shove – and it’s enough to send the kid falling face-first into the snow. The landing, however, is soft, and Antonio remains still until Mirabel picks him up and puts him back on his feet.

“Leave some of the snow for the rest of us,” she calls out to Camilo and is rewarded with a snowball straight to the face a second afterward.

“Here.” Camilo flashes a mischievous grin. “Saved some for you.”

Sharing the nursery for the first part of their lives has practiced both Camilo and Mirabel in the art of roughhousing. Now, without the supervision from either of their parents, it doesn’t take long before the air is filled with snowballs and laughter and feral screams.

Soon, their siblings and cousins have joined them. The fun is the reason why they are out here in the first place.

Officially, the reason why they are out here, beyond the walls of the Encanto, is because they are a responsible and helpful family who knows to live up to their responsibilities. Explained in simpler terms: with the mountain cracked open, new possibilities have opened as well. It’s not the first time Luisa, Dolores and Isabela have stepped outside the Encanto. Alongside some of the other adults in the town, explorations have been taking place, resulting in new paths alongside the river, leading out and into the Encanto.

A few travelers had already appeared, and when the winter skies had finally calmed down and left the surrounding mountain sites in a heavy layer of snow, Alma had worried for any poor souls that still dared to try and find their way towards the Encanto. Luisa and Isabela had offered to take the trip and help mark a proper trail, should anyone need it before the snow had melted. Luisa would clear out the snow-blocked passages, and Isabela would mark their path with newly sprouted tall plants. The outside, though slowly becoming less of a perceived threat, is still unfamiliar, and so Dolores had tagged along to keep an ear out for any dangers.

The other adults had stayed behind. Julieta is far too busy tending to the town – it appears that Camilo had managed to spread his cold to most of the inhabitants before he’d finally collapsed inside Casita where he’d been holed up for a week. That, and the girls had expressed a wish for this trip to be their own shared adventure.

And so the younger Madrigals had begged to come along as well. It’s not just the outside that lures them. It’s the snow.

They know snow. Of course, they do. But with Pepa in control of the weather, snow isn’t something you celebrate. It’s definitely not something you play in.

Things have changed since Casita had been rebuilt, and Pepa is now so happy, most of the snow inside Encanto has already melted away.

Begging to have their first actual snow day (and it’d taken a lot of begging. Especially from a very restless Camilo who’d been kept inside for too long), and with the older grandchildren offering reassurances, the adults had eventually caved in after outfitting the grandchildren in their warmest outfits.

Though Camilo, Mirabel and Antonio have promised to be of help, they all know they are officially there to have a fun day – which is why Bruno has been forced along as the designated adult.

It’s how their parents had finally allowed them to go. You see, it isn’t just a day to create fun memories in the snow – it’s a day to create fun memories with their newfound tío! And that’s important stuff!

Luisa’s arms raise a snowball the size of a boulder above her head. Not sure which one of them is the target, Mirabel and Camilo both duck (or in the case of Camilo: shrinks into a smaller size), and the ball soars over their head and knocks directly into Bruno who’s finally caught up with the group.

There’s a whoosh and Bruno is sent flying back the way he came. Once he’s checked that all his ribs are still in the right place, his hand waves to calm a stunned (and very guilty-looking) Luisa.

“Fun,” their tío croaks as he sits up and brushes off snow from the new thick ruana Mirabel has made for him.

“Are you alive?” Luisa asks and pulls him up the rest of the way, and Bruno manages to regain his balance before he can fall straight into another pile of snow.

Rubbing his now red face, Bruno’s brows furrow in wonder. “I can feel my nose tip. Are you supposed to be able to feel your nose tip?”

The group, now all focused on their own noses, is about to give their answers when Dolores’ head snaps towards Camilo. “I heard that.”

Camilo has collapsed on his knees and smashes his face against the undisturbed snow. With his face hidden, he gives his sister a thumbs-up.

The rest are too busy to notice. Mirabel especially has her hands full – more specifically; filled with snow as she prepares a snowball double-throw at her oldest sister. Isabela, however, is faster, and a palm tree leans to the side to drop all of its snow onto an unprepared Mirabel.

“Unfair!” she cries and gets her mouth stuffed by the snowball that hits her square in the face.

“That one’s fair!” Camilo cheers with his arms in the air. “A totally normal not-special snowball right to the face!” With a gleeful shriek, Camilo shifts into Señora Mora as he dodges her revenge snowball with an ease earned from many hours of playing fútbol with Casita.

“Maybe we should play in the snow after the job’s done?” Luisa suggests as she moves between them, effectively ending their fight. “I don’t want to feel cold before we’re even halfway.”

“Good point!” Bruno says, barely keeping his teeth from clattering. In his hurry, he grabs Antonio and places him on top of Parce who’s been trying to find a thrown snowball in the midst of the snow it’d landed in. “Let’s move! Very quickly.”

The group begins to move again, albeit slowly, and Camilo ends up walking next to his shivering uncle. “You could have just stayed home.”

“I really couldn’t,” Bruno sighs. “Your mamá made that very clear.”

“He loves spending time with us,” Mirabel says on their tío’s behalf. She’s become the family’s unofficial Bruno-translator as she knows him the best, and Bruno, born with a foot in his mouth and grappling with the aftermath of a decade of solitude, is still learning how to properly communicate with his family members.

“I do!” Bruno nods frantically. “It’s just … la nieve.” He glares in the direction of the snow, but unlike Pepa, he doesn’t have the intensity to make it melt before him. “I can’t see the appeal of it.”

“We’ve never played in snow before,” Antonio says from Parce’s back.

Immediately, Bruno’s stare softens. “I –“ A snowball barely misses his face, brushing his ear.

Mirabel spins around to hiss at her cousin. “Camilo.”

“What? We’re teaching him how to have fun. Throw one back at me!”

A bewildered Bruno stares at his sobrino. “Wha- No.”

C’mon.”

“I don’t want my hands cold,” Bruno says, hiding his gloved hands beneath his ruana. “And we just decided to save the playing for the trip back. Vámonos.”

There’s a distance between them and their older siblings now, and with Bruno waving his hands at them, they are forced to pick up the pace.

“Antonio, do you think you could ask the birds to carry snowballs?” Camilo wonders out loud, gesturing towards the crowd of animals that always follow his brother around. Even here in the cold, a pair of toucans follow them, landing on every palm Isabela uses to mark their trail. “What? It’s for the army. The other side has Luisa.”

“The other side can hear you,” Isabela yells from the lead.

“And that’s why we need the army!”

“Parce doesn’t like the snow,” Antonio says thoughtfully and leans forward to scratch the big cat behind his ears. “He says it makes it easier to be tracked.”

The jaguar lets out a low rumbling sound as it trudges through the snow, keeping Antonio above the white edge.

Camilo walks right behind the cat, stepping in its pawprints and earning a tail-whack against his ruana. “Doesn’t it also make it easier to track?”

Antonio just shrugs. “Parce doesn’t need the extra help.”

“Good to know –“

Camilo gags as his mouth and nostrils are suddenly filled with snow.

“A normal not-special snowball,” Mirabel says sweetly, leaning toward him in a mockery of a bow. “Just for you. Payback.”

“I like snow,” Camilo says despite his look of disgust as he wipes his face clean. “But at least balls bounce.”

“I’ll play ball with you when we come home.”

A big smile warms Camilo’s face at his brother’s offer. “Gracias, Antonio.”

“I’ll play too.” Without Antonio’s charm and with the playful look in her eyes, Mirabel’s offer just sounds like a threat. “Then we can team up and play against Camilo.”

“Can Bruno join Camilo’s team?” Antonio looks over his shoulder to ask, though it’s unclear whether the question is directed at Bruno or Camilo. “Then it’s even.”

Camilo’s eyes dart toward Bruno who lets out a doubtful noise. “Actually, this trip was supposed to tire you all out,” he says and shrugs. “We’d figured you’d drop dead the moment Casita welcomed you back.”

“So you underestimated us?” Camilo concludes and it doesn’t surprise him. Sure, he doesn’t mind Bruno tagging along, but to him, Bruno is still a stranger trying to get to know them. He’d be surprised if he wasn’t underestimated considering how awesome he is.

“The day’s still young,” Bruno says and shakes some snow off his leg.

Mirabel comes to a halt to wait for him. “Well, we should –“

“I heard that.” Dolores doesn’t even turn towards them this time, though you can’t mistake exasperation in her voice. The thing is, they all know Dolores hears everything. It’s the way of life, pretty much like how gravity keeps their feet against the ground.

A reminder from Dolores in that tone serves as a special form of scolding usually reserved for Camilo.

“Heard what?” Mirabel spins around, her hems brushing up snow, to face her cousin who’s turned his back on all of them.

“Nothing,” Camilo croaks, but then they all hear it – and see it. His form quakes as he coughs, and then they are all staring at a doubled-over Señor Flores whose wig falls off after one more cough.

It’s an amusing sight – and familiar rather than worrisome.

Isabela is the first one to sigh. “Camilo.”

Her stare is more pointed than Luisa’s whose expression is crumbled into disappointment. “You told mamá you were all fine.”

Camilo had spent the last week fighting off a cold, and they’d all grown aware (though not quite used to) of Camilo’s weird magical side effects to such illness. He’d been treated with cups of tea, Casita throwing blankets at him, Julieta cooking soup, and several kisses from Pepa. While Camilo never became bedridden, the house almost wished that had been the case – the unwilling shifting had resulted in broken plates, dented doorframes and bruised foreheads, random baby voices, and a miserable Camilo – and Camilo is loud when miserable.

It'd been a relief for all of them when Camilo’s breathing got lighter and the coughing had stopped, and a reluctant Pepa had eventually agreed to let him tag along.

“Basically not a lie,” Camilo croaks. “I’m not sick. I just… cough once an hour! I’m not going to miss this for that!”

The group watches unimpressed as he coughs again – shifting into a miserable-looking and red-nosed Agustín before falling back into his own shape.

“That’s twice,” Dolores says. “And it’s not been an hour.”

“It’s been five minutes,” Mirabel corrects her, and Antonio, who is clinging to her skirt, shakes his head.

“Two,” he says helpfully.

Camilo is doing his very best to glare down his cousins and siblings, but his attempt is interrupted by Mirabel who slaps a hand against his forehead with enough force for them to all hear the smack.

Ay!”

“No fever,” Mirabel declares but keeps her palm in place. “Actually, you feel cold.”

“Maybe that’s from the snowball you just threw in my face.”

Mirabel’s lips twitch in a suppressed smile. “Maybe.”

“Are we taking him back?” Isabela asks, eyes landing on Bruno who flinches, obviously unprepared to make any kind of relevant decision.

“It’s a long way to go …” Camilo tries with an innocent smile.

Mirabel, taking this into account, turns towards her sister. “Luisa, how far could you throw him?”

Luisa eyes Camilo’s slim form first, then her eyes drift toward the mountain in the background. She lets out a thoughtful hum in consideration as they all await her answer with curious excitement.

She never gets to reveal whether or not she thinks she could manage such a shortcut as Bruno leaps between the group, arms spread to shield Camilo from any throwing-attempts. “No! No,” he says frantically. “The designated adult says no. No throwing.”

“I thought that was Isabela,” Camilo points out dryly, and his prima tilts her head to the side.

“Aaaaaand,” Mirabel cuts in helpfully, “Isabela says throwing is fiiine!”

Isabela’s eyes twitch but she remains silent, and instead it’s Luisa who adds, “It’d be a soft landing.”

No,” Bruno tries, doing his very best impression of a stern adult. Camilo has seen better actors – and counts himself among those way better actors. His impression of Alma scolding her grandkids is actually very good, should anyone ask.

“So I get to stay?”

With a sigh and his fingers pressed against his forehead, Bruno looks down at this smiling sobrino. “You already have a cold … And if your mamá asks, you could say the cough came back on the way home.”

“We could say that,” Camilo agrees, grin growing wider with every word.

But,” Bruno holds up a finger, “it gets worse, you tell.”

“Of course.” When his tío continues to look doubtful, Camilo tries again, this time in the shape of an innocent-looking Antonio. “Of course, tío.”

A shove from Mirabel sends him headfirst into the snow. “Don’t leech on Antonio’s cuteness.”

“Don’t make his cold worse,” Dolores warns her in turn.

In the snow, Camilo goes poof as he grows back into his own body. He lies still for a moment before waving his arms up and down in his first attempt at a snow angel.

Antonio laughs and jumps from Parce’s back to join his brother in the snow, matching his movements so they leave two disfigured holes in the snow behind. Mirabel picks him up while Dolores walks over to offer Camilo a hand.

“I’ll tell mami when we come home,” she warns him while pulling him upright. However, she does note the smile on his face and how it doesn’t look flushed like the week before.

“Eh. I’ll achieve what I want either way.”

Dolores sighs but doesn’t press her point further. Instead, she joins Isabela and Luisa who have continued to march onward.

Luisa, who is having a blast forcing their way through the tall layer of snow, smiles at the sight of snowflakes falling through the air. “Snow is so … soft.”

“It could use some color, though,” Isabela says while sprouting a bush with bright red berries on it. Less than a minute later, they’ve been eaten by Antonio’s toucan friends.

Once again in the back of the line, the younger Madrigal kids ignore the temptation of the snow to bother their tío instead. Naturally, Camilo is the one who initiates things.

“Hey, Bruno.” His voice alone is enough to startle his uncle who jolts before meeting his stare. “Is snow better than sand?”

The surprised expression quickly falters into one of pure thoughtfulness. “Eh,” he says, weighing his options by tilting his hand to each side. “It’s colder. It makes your clothes wet. It doesn’t fly well through the air – except for the snowballs.”

The kids nod in understanding, hands itching to start another snowball fight.

“I’d say sand is better,” Bruno finally concludes with a satisfied nod. “Much better.”

With a long trail still ahead of them, Camilo isn’t willing to let the conversation rest just yet. Plus, there’d been a rare eagerness in Bruno’s eyes when discussing sand and its properties. Camilo supposes his uncle is boring enough to have sand as a relevant hobby.

“How about salt? Better than sand?”

“Both hurt to get in your eyes,” Bruno replies right away. “Salt tastes better. It’s better for luck. But sand is – is pretty great. Makes me think of home. I’ll say sand.”

“But sand itches.”

“But sand can be warm.”

Camilo doesn’t have many memories of his tío before he disappeared (except for the rats that’d made a greater impression than his uncle, apparently), but he does recall hanging out in Bruno’s room. Warm sand between tiny fingers that had shaped castles and houses, and his mamá’s sigh as she’d shaken the sand out of his ruana afterward.

Absentmindedly, he nods. He’d liked sand back then, at least.

In front of them, Antonio has come to a halt. “Mira, look!” Parce is making himself useful by rolling a big ball of snow with its forehead, and by the time it’s the size of Antonio himself, the youngest Madrigal begins to shape it.

“Aw.” Mirabel walks over to admire the work. “What a sweet snow capybara!”

“That’s a jaguar,” Antonio says, and next to him, Parce growls. It’s hard to tell whether or not it’s good that it’s the cat, and not Antonio, that’s offended by her lack of creative imagination.

“I’ll help finish it, then!” Mirabel says with a strained smile that quickly turns genuine as she turns away from the jaguar and kneels by Antonio instead. Together, they add and remove handfuls of snow to slowly shape the pile into something recognizable.

“We’ll catch up with you, Dolores,” Camilo says. His sister and his other cousins have disappeared from sight, having rounded the big boulder up ahead. “This might drag out a while.”

It does. Making a tail out of snow is an impossible task, and Camilo bites back curses when it keeps crumbling between his fingers. Bruno remains completely helpless as he watches them work – obviously torn between wanting them to move on and enjoying the sight of them having fun.

By the time Camilo can almost recognize the thing to be a cat, three coatis have joined the scene. One has climbed onto Antonio’s shoulders while the others are carefully sniffing at the snow jaguar.

“At least it has some admires,” Camilo says dryly, and the animals move away when he stands up to brush snow off his knees.

“They say their nest is filled with snow.” Antonio frowns as he shares this gossip with them. “It’s made it wet.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Bruno stumbles his way towards them, almost stepping on Parce’s tail in the process. “Snow! Blargh!”

“We should go help.” The coati nuzzles its head against Antonio’s before jumping down, moving away from the trail to join its friends. Antonio turns to stare at them. “They don’t like to get their paws cold.”

There’s no way to say no to Antonio. Mainly because his eyes are a bit too cute to disappoint, but also because this is serious business. It’s Gift-related. They’ve all been taught to be useful throughout their entire lives; rejecting Antonio the chance to make a difference is just setting a bad example.

Antonio takes the lead, walking on his own legs as Parce has decided to remain behind with his new friend. The jaguar is lying on its back, desperate to get the snowy version of itself to play with him. It would have been a sad sight had it not been so amusing.

The coatis scramble away from the path, going in a western direction. There is no true fear of getting lost – even without the big palms Isabela has created to mark the path to Encanto, they can always find the rest of their family by following the furrows in the snow.

The layer of snow has begun to dwindle ever so slightly, allowing Antonio to pick up the pace as he follows his new friends. The remaining three Madrigals do their best to keep up, though they are slowly starting to feel the exhaustion that comes from spending the day in a snowy landscape. Maybe Luisa had a point about preserving the strength to also walk the way back home.

Camilo suddenly freezes, then spins around with enough speed to make his ruana fly dramatically. There’s no way of hiding his cough, however, as he is transformed into a twitching José.

Heard it,” Bruno and Mirabel say in unison.

Camilo is quick to shift back into himself as Mirabel marches over, hands lifting her skirt. There’s enough force in her steps to make Camilo back away, but his cousin is faster, desperate to get into his personal space.

“Stop trying to slap me!” Camilo cries as Mirabel’s hands reach for his face. To keep the fight fair, he tries to hit her back, and suddenly Bruno is staring at a scene that might as well be two battling toddlers.

“I’m trying to check your temperature!”

“I’m so glad your mamá’s the town’s the healer! Ow!” Mirabel, having wrestled him into a headlock after stepping on his foot, slaps a hand against his forehead. “You’re wearing a glove. We can all see you wearing a glove! Bruno, help me.”

Bruno does, in fact, not help him. “Your mamá is going to be worse,” he says in a dark tone. “And she’s going to blame me.”

“No, she’s not.” Mirabel lets go of a struggling Camilo to give their tío a calming smile. “Not when you insisted that we went straight back to the Encanto the moment Camilo let out the first cough, and we all listened to you, and that’s exactly what we did.” She nods gravely, remaking the truth into this, before sending Camilo a final glare. “Don’t you dare get a fever from this.”

“It’s not my plan.”

“Best try to avoid it,” Bruno advises him as well, brows furrowed. “I don’t want to see snow mixed with a hurricane.”

Keeping track of Antonio from the corner of their eyes, the group begins to move again. Camilo, now nursing himself a sore foot and an aching torso, presses a fist against his sternum when no one is watching. It doesn’t really hurt, not like when he’s been actually coughing his lungs out earlier this week, but there’s a hollow ache that’s remained and it keeps nagging him.

If he doesn’t think about it, it’ll probably go away. Nudging his tío with his elbow, he restarts the previous conversation. “Hey, if you used snow for your vision, do you think you’d end up with like, a slab of ice?”

Thoughtfulness creeps back into Bruno’s expression, and Camilo makes a mental note that discussing sand (or the lack of sand) is a great way of distracting his uncle. “That’d be impractical. And cold. Did I mention cold?”

But –“ Camilo clicks his tongue, “That way, you could always get rid of the evidence. Mira found your broken vision after a decade. But if it’d been made out of ice, it’d had melted. Gone. Forever.”

“And I don’t think that would have been a good thing.”

Camilo briefly considers a world where they’d kept ignoring all the problems and all the cracks, all the secrets and the hurt, and winces. “True.”

“But it would have saved me a lot of –“

Antonio!”

Both of their heads shoot upwards at Mirabel’s cry, terror rushing through their bodies and filling them with a sensation colder than the snow.

They run and realize with terror that the dwindling snow has disappeared and turned into ice instead. Before them is the usually calm river, frozen solid, and in the middle of it is a wide-eyed Antonio.

Mirabel is standing at the edge, hands outstretched and trembling. “Don’t – don’t move!”

Coming up next to her, Camilo can hear what she’s noticed – the faint sound of cracking. Dolores must hear it too, and he turns his head, almost expecting his sister to come running, but there is nothing but a snow-covered landscape. How far ahead is the rest of the group?

“Oh no,” Bruno breathes behind them, eyes wide with fear and looking just as helpless as Mirabel.

Camilo inhales, instinctively knowing what to do next.

“I’ll go get him,” he promises and shifts into the smallest walking kid he can think of – little Alejandra years ago. “Coming, Antonio!”

His brother is frozen on the spot, not looking at any of them. Instead, he is looking down at the cracks spreading at his feet. The coatis he’s been following have gathered at the other side of the river, watching the scene unfold quietly.

“Don’t move!” Mirabel calls out, and she isn’t sure if she can actually hear the ice crack, small pops breaking the silence, or if the fear is messing with her senses. “Camilo, be careful.”

She receives a grim nod from Camilo who takes his first small step on the ice. There’s fear somewhere buried deep inside his chest, along with the ache that’s been growing ever so steadily.

But he is also painfully aware of his role in this; that is his hermano out there, in danger, and this is one of the rare times where his Gift can actually make a difference.

They hadn’t intended for him to hear, but he knows the adults were whispering the night of his ceremony. He knows his abuela had asked questions his mamá could not answer; how could they make use of his Gift? Where would he make a difference?

It’d been a slow journey of discoveries to find his usefulness. From reaching the tall shelves to babysitting children to making people laugh. But he’d never been like Isabela who could have the whole town gasp in awe, or Luisa who’d saved people’s lives by moving boulders and breaking down doors.

Then again, he’d never been like Mirabel either, so who is he to complain?

There’d been the few instances where Camilo could feel the difference he’d made, and where Pepa would shower him in kisses and proclaim her pride; the time he’d turned small enough to fetch Amaia from the hole she’d fallen into, or when he’d tricked Señor Meza into telling where he’d hidden Señorita Cano’s precious old books back when a love drama had taken place in town.

The thing is, you don’t ever truly need Camilo for those things. There’s always someone else who, in theory, could have done the same. Camilo just … changes himself into whatever they need from him to make a difference.

And right now, his brother needs rescuing.

Camilo takes step after step with his borrowed small legs, arms outstretched to keep his balance. It’s difficult to choose between looking at the ice, fearing the sight of cracks, or keeping eye contact with Antonio to keep him calm.

He is so close now that he can see how his brother’s lip trembles. “Milo.”

Camilo can feel it building in his chest. His ribs feel too tight, his heart beating so fast he can hear it echo in his ears (is this how Dolores feels?) when he steps closer to the cracks beneath Antonio’s small body. For a horrible second, they widen –

- and then they hold steady when Camilo takes his final step.

A shaking arm is outstretched until his fingers brush against Antonio’s. “Got you.” They curl around his wrist in a tight grip, and Camilo allows himself a brief moment to breathe.

There’s a trembling beneath his feet.

“Antonio! It’s going to be okay!” Mirabel cries from the river bank.

Camilo cannot turn to look at her or Bruno, and right now, he cannot bear to look at Antonio either.

So he closes his eyes.

He can feel it. Maybe that’s the worst part. The hollow ache within his chest that’s begun to claw at his insides – he’s grown familiar with it this week. He knows what it means.

The moment is over, and Camilo’s eyes snap open. “Mirabel,” he croaks, and he wants to say more, but he finds himself biting his lip to hold it back. Changing his arm into the one belonging to Luisa, Camilo swings Antonio towards their cousin with the strength he has left.

It’s enough. Antonio skates across the ice faster than they expect, and when he reaches Mirabel, it’s by slamming into her legs, knocking them both over. In another setting, it’d be funny.

Maybe they can laugh at it one day. Camilo hopes that.

There’s a fire in his chest, and it makes his eyes sting as he looks at Antonio in Mirabel’s tight and relieved embrace.

Faintly, he can hear his sister’s voice, carried by the wind. It’s not strong enough for him to make out any words, it’s just enough for him to notice, and there’s another pain striking through his chest. Dolores.

He cannot hold it back, and it tears through him mercilessly. In a borrowed body, it has the opposite effect, and this time, when Camilo coughs, he turns back into himself.

He hears the ice break. He’s gone before Mirabel’s scream reaches his ears.

Camilo is cold. He is cold, he is cold, it’s so cold, he’s surprised he isn’t completely numb. Maybe that would be better. This is painful, like needles digging into every part of his skin, his own skin for once, and it’s only pure instinct that keeps his mouth from opening into a scream.

The next sensation is panic. In his fall, his ruana has embraced him, clinging to his face and arms, the heavy fabric pulling him down. In this darkness, Camilo flails in his weightlessness. He kicks out with his legs, arms trying to claw their way towards the surface, but he isn’t even sure which way to go. For a brief moment, he has enough control of his Gift to shift – he doesn’t even know who, he cannot even feel it, he isn’t even sure if his limbs are still attached – and his ruana disappears, allowing him to stare into a blueish darkness that still renders him lost.

Then the moment is broken, and Camilo is back in his own freezing body. It hurts, it hurts. He wants to swim to the surface, and his limbs twitch in a fruitless attempt to find his way back to his family – to the air his lungs desperately need. They are burning, and it’s strange – this fire in his chest alongside the excruciating cold.

Mami! Mami! He cannot scream, though he can feel the losing battle as his jaws tense, chest twitching as he keeps his lips squeezed shut. Mami, help!

The golden fabric drifts to the side, releasing his face, but it’s a little comfort as Camilo still doesn’t know where to go – and even if he did, the pain of the cold has begun to fade into a terrifying numbness.

A flash of green.

Bubbles escape from his mouth as Camilo is rendered stunned by the sight. Far below him, into the darkness – it glints, stealing his attention and replacing his panic with a deadened confusion.

He knows that green. That’s Bruno’s. That’s one of Bruno’s visions at the bottom of the river.

Maybe it’s the cold getting to him, maybe it’s some kind of Madrigal instinct, but Camilo lunges towards the green color, hand outstretched, body flailing –

And then a moment of clarity hits him, and he kicks out with his legs, pushing himself away from the sliver of green. His limbs twitch, every movement jerky and desperate as he follows the bubbles upwards, towards air, towards -

Camilo’s head smacks against unyielding ice, and the painful fire within him dies down with the final spasms of his tired body.

The water trails a long, crimson ribbon from somewhere beneath Camilo’s curls, but his vision has gone dark before he can see the blood. However, the blackness doesn’t last long this time.

A warm speck appears, fluttering its wings as if greeting him. It’s joined by another, and another, and another …

Content, Camilo lets himself be swept away by a swarm of golden butterflies.

Notes:

"There is nothing in the world as quiet as snow / when it silently falls through the air / it softens your steps / hushes you, hushes gently / the voices that talk too loud" - Helge Rode in "Nothing in the World", translated from Danish by me.

 

I can't believe I haven't written a proper whump fic for this fandom so here we are. Time for me to be evil for a while.

Hope you all enjoy!

Thanks for reading.