#did it late in act 2 so I got an extra scene with leandra and I could cry

[tenojan-in-tevinter]

Varric in inquisition: "he was dead! For sure! we checked his pulse and everything, he couldn't have been deader"

Corypheus, waking up after da2: "ugh, finally. Now that those freaks are gone-"

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury

Fic Summary:  A misunderstanding leads to Bruno getting out of the house more. Pre-Movie AU. Rape is a theme but none is shown “on-screen”.

Chapter 1 Next Master List

CH 2 Bad Luck Bruno

Saturday morning, the day after the quinceanera, Julietta told her mother what had happened while Bruno was in the shower. Late Saturday afternoon Alma and Julietta left Casita, Julietta carried her usual basket of food so Bruno didn’t think twice about it, he was too busy acting out scenes from Pepa’s favorite book while she sat curled up in her rocking chair, a blanket draped over her lap and a smile slowly growing across her face. Just as Saturday afternoon became Saturday evening Alma Madrigal reached the goat herder’s house in the mountains.

She knocked on the door and was greeted by Leandra Lopez.

Leandra was beautiful in the way that young women tend to be. When she was younger, she had looked very similar to Alma’s own daughter Julietta, however Leandra spent most of her time outside and it showed. The sun had dyed her skin a dark golden brown, her hair had been lightened from black to almost auburn in the right light, she seemed to gain ten new freckles a day, and often smelled of the sunscreen the apothecary carried or the herbs she used in her soap. She wasn’t what anyone would call a “delicate” beauty, she spent too much of her time hauling a wagon full of soap and cheese up and down a mountain for that, in fact, Alma had once seen Leandra beat Agustín in an arm wrestling contest. 

Today, like most days, Leandra wore a very simple blouse, this one had pale pink flowers embroidered around the collar, and a faded skirt that had once been red with teal vines embroidered around the hem, but was now pink with light green vines. She had a stained burgundy apron on, and her curls were held back in a ponytail through the combined teamwork of a green handkerchief and an undecorated hair clip.

“Is Pepa ok?” she blurted immediately.

“She will be, thanks to you, apparently,” Alma responded, “I would like to hear the night’s events from your point of view.”

By the time the lazy summer sun had set, Alma Madrigal had the full story, not only of the night before, but of the night Rosalie’s life was turned upside down. 

“I-I don’t know for sure that Cicero is the one that did it, but-.” here, Leandra had trailed off, nibbling at her lip.

“But you strongly suspect so,” Alma filled in for her, “have you been keeping tabs on him?”

“Si, well… only at parties, I don’t have time to follow him around all the time,” she’d shrugged. She had chores to do, and he mostly didn’t.

“Have you ever seen him slip something into any other girl’s drink?”

“I… don’t know. There have been a couple times when,” she sighed and shook her head, shrugging again, “when it was definitely possible? Probable, even. I-I didn’t actually see anything extra enter the drink, but the girls he takes to parties all tend to get ‘drunk’ way quicker than usual.”

Alma had sighed, nodding slowly, “Has he taken any of these girls home?”

“No. Both times I got a member of the girl’s family to take her home. I’m not letting any other girl suffer the way Rosalie has.”

Alma had left shortly after that, Leandra had taken one look at the darkening sky and had pressed a lantern into Alma’s hand. She had offered to escort Alma down the mountain herself, but Alma had refused anything more than the companionship of Leche, an old Mountain Dog that helped Señor Lopez watch over the goats.

The dog stuck by Alma’s side as the narrow road back to town ambled its way through trees and down hills. When she was back to the main road the well trained dog turned and returned home.

She sighed once more, watching him go. Her shoulders felt heavy as she wondered, not for the first time, how she had ended up the de facto leader of this village. She knew, of course, it was because she guarded the miracle. Her family protected the village from storms and drought, healed the injured, and warned of coming disasters. In the early days, her house was the only shelter these people had, and so she had offered it without a second thought.

And now? Now the villagers trusted her. Plain and simple.

But why couldn’t anything ever actually be plain and simple? The unfortunate truth was that although they lived in a paradise, some evils had followed the refugees into their Encanto. Like rape, or the tendency of men and women alike to look down on the victims of sexual assault. Especially when the assaulter was a man like Cicero.

Cicero’s father, Señor Gutierrez, was Encanto’s only winemaker, and Cicero Gutierrez was his father’s only heir. Encanto would need much more than the word of a herdsman’s adopted daughter before they were willing to banish a Gutierrez.

Alma shook her head and kept walking.

She spoke to the other two women that Cicero may or may not have drugged on Sunday, after church. Neither of them had anything concrete to add, although they both swore that they’d only had one or two drinks before they’d suddenly found themselves blacking out. They also both admitted to not feeling safe around Cicero.

On Sunday afternoon, while Bruno was in his tower giving a vision to an extremely ungrateful baker (who was destined to lose this year’s baking contest to his competitor across town) Bruno’s new arch enemy infiltrated his home. Leandra “Reina” Lopez stopped by with a basket of Pepa’s favorite creams and soaps, she offered to replace the dress she had spilled food on and had been relieved to hear that Bruno had saved it. When Pepa had hugged her and rain had soaked through her shawl, Leandra had rubbed Pepa’s back and insisted that she just wished she’d thought of a more graceful way to handle the situation.

“Honestly,” Leandra had said, wringing the rainwater out of her shawl, “I’ve spent more time than is probably healthy thinking about what I would do if I caught that gilipollas in the act, but when I actually did, I just… panicked! I’m so sorry.”

Pepa had chuckled and waved her off, somewhat bitterly reminding her that her quick action had saved Pepa from something a lot worse than a lap full of food. They’d spent a bit of time chatting then had hugged one more time and parted ways.

Seconds after Leandra had left Bruno walked out of his room, being followed by the baker who was insisting that “well clearly you saw it wrong”. 

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Oh did I? Well, in that case why don’t you look into the future and see it better.”

“What was that?”

Bruno cleared his throat, his mother’s voice ringing in his ears, reminding him that he had just delivered some bad news and he should have a bit of empathy for the recipient, “Nothing Señor, I was just… noticing the wind. It looks iffy, I-I should probably uh consult with Pepa, make sure that no big storms are about to, you know, cause problems.”

“Oh,” the baker had frowned doubtfully at the window but ultimately agreed. Bruno and Pepa had been able to mitigate the damage of a hurricane that would have otherwise destroyed the town when they were thirteen years old, ever since then, Bruno had been able to use every puff of wind or wisp of cloud as an excuse to escape uncomfortable situations.

If you asked him, it was the real miracle.

With the baker gone, Bruno had sought Pepa out, and was pleased to find she was already with Julietta. The triplets had left Casita and met up with Agustín for a picnic by the river. Felix had eventually strolled out of the bushes with a fishing pole thrown over his shoulder and he had been all too happy to join them.

Monday passed in its usual array of chores and magic. Bruno was happy to note that Pepa seemed to be doing better, although he still felt she was owed an apology. Leandra was unhappy to note that when she and her father walked into town to have dinner with the Sanchezes, Cicero had briefly abandoned his friends in the town square to lavish her with unwelcome attention. 

A few hours later Alma, who had stopped by the Apothecary earlier to ask them if they stocked anything that might be mixed into a young woman’s wine to make her vulnerable, had intercepted Leandra on her way out of town to ask what exactly she had seen Cicero put in Pepa’s drink.

In short, Leandra had spoken to one of the Madrigals about Friday’s incident every day since it happened, so you can imagine her surprise Tuesday morning when Bruno marched up to her stand in the market, planted his hands on the wooden counter, leaned in close and told her, “You need to apologize to my sister”. 

Her response was to stare at him for a solid minute

She didn’t mean to gape the way she did, but she had just sort of assumed that Bruno knew what happened. She hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest. Bruno seemed like a nice enough guy, and the triplets were close in the way that triplets tend to be. Why wouldn’t he know?

Bruno, personally, had been expecting a slightly bigger reaction, maybe a sneer or an arrogant toss of her hair. He had spent the entire walk over here psyching himself up for this confrontation and her complete lack of reaction was a bit of a let down. It was almost enough to make him worry he was missing something. He scowled deeper and forced himself to hold eye contact.

He couldn’t let her get to him, he had to be strong. For Pepa.

“What?” Leandra finally said.

“Pepa, you owe her a real apology,” Bruno hissed, “you and I both know you didn’t trip.”

“Do we?” she asked, doubtfully, because it really didn’t seem like Bruno knew what was going on.

Bruno, who indeed did not know what was going on, gestured sharply as he spoke, “Don’t try to act innocent, I was standing right there, I saw you throw that plate of food. Deliberately.”

Leandra stared at him some more. Was there any particular reason nobody had explained the situation to him? Did Pepa not want him to know? What the hell was Leandra supposed to do now!? If Pepa didn’t want Bruno to know, then obviously Leandra couldn’t tell him, but then what was she supposed to say?

On the one hand, she could just tell him what he wanted to hear, on the other…

“Did I?” She drawled, leaning forward and smirking.

On the other, she’d never seen this side of Bruno Madrigal before. She had to admit, she was curious where he was going with this.

“Yes, you did. And you’re going to admit that, you’re going to march right up to Pepa, and you are going to give her the apology she deserves,” he crossed his arms and stared down his nose at her. It involved tipping his head back, since he wasn’t the tallest of men.

She cocked her head, “Or what?”

“Or I’ll ruin any and every chance you have with Cicero.”

Leandra froze, eyes going wide in what Bruno assumed was fear. In truth, she couldn’t believe such a wonderful opportunity had fallen into her lap. Cicero had shown up earlier to “help her set up the stall” and had happily ignored all her insistence that she didn’t need his help, and really she didn’t want to keep him, and she would understand completely if he had someplace else to be. He had slapped on his snake charmer’s smile and told her how kind she was, apparently assuming she was being shy. Come to think of it, he had only left when he saw Bruno coming.

It was never a good idea for a young woman to incur the wrath of a known rapist, but if she could find some way to avoid him without making him angry; if, for whatever reason, the town’s bad omen started following her around and scaring said rapist away from her… 

Leandra flipped her hair off her shoulder and did her best to look evil. Bruno stood a little straighter.

“Bruno,” she purred, “I’ll admit, I’m impressed. I always thought you were a bit of a push over. But this, this is a whole new side of you. Confident, imposing even. I like it. Brings out the green in your eyes.”

“Wh-what?” he almost took a step back in his shock, La Reina Malvada wasn’t supposed to compliment him. In the play the evil Queen had, naturally, ignored the princess’ bodyguard and had flirted with her prince.

Apparently unaware that she was breaking the rules, Reina stood from her chair behind the counter, and leaned into Bruno’s space, “Too bad it’s pointless. I’m not going to apologize to Pepa. I have done nothing wrong.”

Bruno’s scowl returned, “You dumped a plate of food on her so you could steal Cicero from her.”

“And how easy he was to steal, he’s been following me around like a puppy ever since. You think you can chase him off? Hah! You’re welcome to try,” she sat back down and leaned back in her chair, looking as smug as she could manage.

“Oh, I will do more than try.”

“Wonderful.”

“Yes. Yes it is!”

There was a pause, silence stretching between them as Bruno did his best to look imposing and Leandra tried to maintain her evil smirk. Eventually he cleared his throat, and she shifted in her seat so she could sit more comfortably.

“Would uh, would you like to sit, or something?” she asked.

“No,” Bruno declared, putting his hands on his hips.

There was another long pause.

Bruno’s feet began to hurt.

“Actually, I would like to sit, so I can um… save my energy for scaring Cicero away,” he said, in the same grandiose tone. 

“Claro, come on back, you can sit here, oh do you mind dogs? Leche is back here,” she pulled up a stool for him as he marched behind the stall to join her. Leche lifted his head and his large tail beat against the ground as Bruno got close.

It was a far cry from the stony growls and displeased huffs the dog had made when Cicero had tried to insert himself behind her stall.

“Dogs are fine,” Bruno sat down on the stool and spent some time trying to figure out how to hold his arms so he looked the most scary. Eventually, Leche sat up and put his head in Bruno’s lap, so Bruno gave up on being intimidating and petted the dog instead.

Customers came and went, some of them eyed Bruno but nobody asked why he was there. When lunch time rolled around Leandra shared some of her lunch with Bruno, who hadn’t planned on this being an all day affair.

Maybe he should have brought his own chair, the stool was better than standing but not by much.

“So,” Leandra said, drumming her fingers on the wood top, after they had been sitting in silence for most of the day, “the future, huh?”

“Yep,” Bruno replied, then paused to wonder if he should have hissed or growled his answer at her. He really wasn’t an angry sort of guy, and honestly, it was only his love for Pepa that kept him in that stall. He hoped Reina would apologize soon, he couldn’t imagine trying to be angry for longer than maybe a week at most.

“Anything…, I don’t know, anything fun? Or, or weird? In the future I mean.”

“Man will walk on the moon, eventually.”

“No kidding, really?”

“Si.”

“Huh. That’s amazing.”

Leandra looked up at the sky, even though the moon wasn’t out. 

Bruno twiddled his thumbs for a while. If she hadn’t apologized by Thursday he would have to bring something to entertain himself.

The baker who was destined to win that year’s baking contest showed up and Leandra chatted with him as she helped him load his usual order of cheese onto his cart. He asked her if she could use some of her herbs to flavor a special order for him, so he could start experimenting with flavored cheese before the contest.

“He’s going to win,” Bruno blurted, as soon as the baker left.

“Si? Good for him. He’s such a hard worker.”

“Yeah.” He had never shown up at Bruno’s tower, demanding a vision of victory, unlike other bakers Bruno might name. If Bruno wasn’t horrible at remembering other people’s names, that is. There were six bakers in town and he really only knew them by their bread and the visions they had asked for.

The baker that had just stopped by loved to mix things into his bread like cheese, honey, or jams in order to test out different flavor combinations, so Bruno called him Experimental Baker. The guy who visited Bruno for a vision on Sunday leaned heavily into his European heritage for his recipes so he was European Baker. Not to be confused with Croissant Baker, Croissant Baker’s family had moved from France to the Caribbean then Colombia, and he had adapted his grandmother’s croissant recipes to make cheap lunches you could eat quickly. There was Pastry Baker, and Better Pastry Baker, whose names were self explanatory, and finally Dead Dog Baker. 

Dead Dog Baker loved dogs and hated surprises. He was a good man, and adopted retired working dogs so he could make the rest of their lives as comfortable as possible. Every time he got a new dog he’d ask Bruno how long he would have with his new pet. If Dead Dog Baker wasn’t constantly asking Bruno to watch dogs die, he’d be Bruno’s favorite repeat customer. He always gave him a thank you basket full of bread, honey, and cheese. It almost made up for how depressing his visions were. Almost.

“Can you hand me my bag?” Leandra pointed at the bag hanging on a hook under the counter, Bruno gave it to her and she pulled out a pen and a notebook. He watched her scribble notes for a little while, then put the notebook away. She hung the bag on the hook on her side of the stall. After a second she reached back into it and pulled out a bag of nuts, offering him some then tossing a handful into her mouth before putting it back.

Bruno fiddled with his ruana for a little. He wondered idly what they would have for dinner that evening. 

He glanced at Reina and debated asking her what her name was, but shook the idea off. It’d be too weird to ask after he’d been sitting with her all day. Besides, she would apologize soon enough, anyone who was willing to cross Pepa for a boy must be desperate.

Movement caught his eye, Cicero was standing across the street staring at him. Bruno scowled, crossing his arms. Cicero glanced back and forth between Bruno and Leandra, face pale. Eventually he waved at her then turned tail and fled.

She felt like cheering but did her best to pout for Bruno’s sake. Bruno smirked at the other man’s back, satisfied.

“See, if you don’t apologize to my sister, I’ll make sure that he never comes near you!”

“You can’t guard me all the time,” Leandra pointed out, going for haughty but landing a bit flat. She had explained some of the situation to her father so he officially retired Leche from herd guarding and insisted that she not go into town without him. All the same, she couldn’t help but worry that Cicero would catch her alone somewhere somehow.

“Myeh,” Bruno shrugged, “I don’t have to. Just when you’re in town. Cicero is pretty lazy when it comes to courting, he never once went out of his way for Pepa.”

Leandra nodded, it had been the same way when he was pursuing Rosalie. Belatedly she realized she was supposed to actually like Cicero.

“Hey, watch it! How dare you, you… you uh jerk,” she did her best to look outraged. Sadly, this was her first acting role.

“I’m the jerk?! You threw a plate of food at my sister!”

She pressed her lips together, usually he’d have a really good point, but there were extenuating circumstances here. Fortunately, he didn’t give her time to blurt that out before he steamrolled on.

“Honestly, who even does that? A-and for Cicero of all people. You know that guy chases a different skirt every month, what could-, why would you even-, you don’t actually think he cares about you, do you?”

Another really good point. Leandra scowled at him and sucked on the inside of her cheeks. God, why didn’t Pepa just tell him what happened? Leandra hated lying and she didn’t really want to pretend she was head over heels for that monster if she could avoid it. Then again, Bruno’s presence was the only thing keeping Cicero away, and she didn’t see Bruno offering to guard her if he only knew half the truth.

Time to distract him.

“Oh, come on Bruno, there’s no need to be jealous,” she grinned at him, watching him through lowered lashes. She couldn’t fake outrage, but she didn’t have to fake the mischief in her eyes.

“Jealous?! Me? Of him?” Bruno almost laughed, the idea was so preposterous, “I am not jealous.”

Honestly, he was sort of disgusted by the other man. The skirt chasing, the fact that he never seemed to do any real work, and now the way he’d jumped from Pepa to Reina at the slightest provocation, it didn’t paint a pretty picture of the guy’s character.

“No really, you could easily get just as much attention as he does, if you put a bit of effort in.”

“Wha-? Wait, what?”

“Sure! You’re a very handsome man, I’ll admit, your reputation is a bit of a hindrance, but I’m sure you could work around it,” she snapped her fingers and sat up straight in her chair, “Oh, oh, oh! Or you could use it to your advantage. Play up the whole forbidden fruit angle.”

“Forbidden-. H-hold on, I-I think we’ve gotten a bit off topic here.”

She ignored him and instead held her fingers out in front of her so they framed him like a scene she intended to paint, “Look at that bone structure, the dark lashes, even the way your hair falls into your eyes. You could totally play the bad boy.”

Bruno gaped at her, cheeks growing steadily warmer. He searched for something to say, something that would get his quest for justice back on track.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she hummed, like he’d just made a cleverly crafted argument instead of flapping his jaw uselessly, “you’re way too big a gentleman to pull the bad boy thing off.”

“Hey,” Bruno said, before his brain could stop him, he was about to defend his acting skills but just barely remembered his priorities, “I-I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you?” she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“Yeah. I mean yes. You’re trying to flatter me.”

“I’m mostly trying to amuse myself,” she said with a shrug, “but sure, why not. That too.”

“Well, it won’t work,” Bruno wagged a finger at her, “you can flatter and flirt all you want. I’m not leaving you alone until you apologize to Pepa for what you did to her.”

“How about pouting and begging? Do you like begging?” she retorted, giving him her most sultry pout.

He sputtered intelligibly for a second, then scowled at her.

“What? You said I could flirt all I wanted,” she made a show of blowing him a kiss and wiggling her fingers at him, “and honestly, I really enjoy flirting. It lets me show off how witty I am without hurting somebody else’s feelings.”

Bruno snorted, “Where was your concern for the feelings of others when you threw food at my sister?”

That gave Leandra pause. She immediately regretted bragging about her wit, because now it was failing her. She really needed to practice this whole pretending to be evil thing.

Bruno tapped his foot impatiently against the leg of his stool, “Well? If you care so much about not hurting people, why did you embarrass Pepa like that?”

“I wanted to get her away from Cicero,” she finally told him. It was the truth, even though he would misinterpret it.

He huffed and shook his head, no longer worried about holding on to his anger, “You two deserve each other.”

Leandra grimaced, but reminded herself that (for some reason) Bruno didn’t know Cicero was a rapist. He definitely didn't mean that the way it sounded to her. She bit her tongue and turned away from him so he couldn’t see the discomfort on her face.

They sat in tense silence until the market closed.