Chapter Text
Alma Madrigal, new mother and widow, stared down at the three babies sleeping in her arms as the light of the candle, the Miracle Pedro’s sacrifice had created, flickered over them.
Her heart ached and she felt like she was drowning in her grief, the truth only truly settling over her now.
Pedro was gone. Her sweet, kind, amazing husband was never coming home. Her babies, her niños, had lost their papá before they ever got to know him.
Pedro wouldn’t read them to sleep. Or sing them lullabies. Or watch them grow with joy in his eyes.
She was alone in raising them now, something she’d never even considered in her life.
These three lives rested solely in her hands and that terrified her.
Could she protect them? Could she somehow make up for Pedro’s absence in their lives?
She stared down at the three. Little Julieta, her oldest by mere minutes was sleeping peacefully. Pepa, her second-born who she could already see had inherited her Abeula’s fiery red hair, was more restless than her sister. And then little Bruno. Her only hijo, the youngest by ten minutes who had been so quiet after being born that they’d feared the worst. But he’d pulled through despite being the smallest, the weakest.
These three niños were relying on her to keep them safe, to keep them happy and to give them the lives she and Pedro had always imagined for them.
Alma looked up at the candle, tears still wet on her face. She couldn’t fail. It was all Pedro had wanted for them. He’d spoken so often of how happy they’d make their children, of how they’d keep them safe.
He’d done the impossible tonight and kept them safe. He'd saved them.
It was up to Alma to continue and keep that up. To keep them safe. To keep them happy.
She couldn’t lose another member of her family, she couldn’t lose someone else that she loved. And she refused to allow Pedro’s sacrifice to be in vain.
Their children would grow up happy and safe.
She wiped her cheeks quickly before standing and moving to the bed, still reeling from this beautiful, living house that had grown from nothing and opened it’s doors to her.
Alma settled her niños into a nest of blankets, watching as Pepa fussed for a moment at the movement before settling down again. Once sure they were steady and comfortable, she walked over to the window where the candle burned with a bright golden glow.
Outside, there was everyone that had escaped the soldiers, who had been with her when this sanctuary sprang up. They were all relieved to have safety and there had been many tears and awed whispers of the magic they’d seen.
She was more grateful for the Castillo family than the people that had poured praises on her as she clutched that candle in the aftermath. Carlos Castillo had gently guided her away from the crowds while she was numb with shock and encouraged her to go rest in her new home. His wife, Maria, had already cut down any ideas of the others staying inside the house.
“This house and magic is Señora Madrigal’s. We will not intrude,” she’d stated firmly while Carlos sent Alma inside.
She hadn’t really heard much more than that, moving on autopilot as she walked through the house. She’d barely even reacted as tiles shifted and moved, guiding her to the stairs and up to a carved door. Inside was a bedroom and she’d placed the candle on the windowsill before sliding down to sit at the foot of the bed, cradling her niños close as she let the tears flow freely down her face.
Alma shook herself out of her thoughts. She should thank the Castillo family in the morning. They’d been neighbours of Pedro’s for years and had always been kind. They’d also been fleeing with their young son, little Felix barely even two. Maria had given her a lot of advice when Alma had admitted to being pregnant and had offered help when they realised she was having triplets.
She may end up taking her up on that offer now…
Alma studied the sleeping refugees outside the house quietly. She was no fool and Pedro had always been the optimist between them. But Alma was a realist. She’d seen so much of the cruelty of people tonight. On the side of the soldiers, yes. But also among the people here. She hadn’t missed that some people had pushed others aside in their rush to escape, dooming some in the process. She hadn’t missed how easily some had left their neighbours behind without a second thought.
Those with families, she could understand. As much as it had hurt Pedro, he hadn’t turned back to help even though he’d clearly wanted to. He had to prioritise his family. But there were those who were alone and yet hadn’t thought twice about pushing their way through the crowds, uncaring about who got hurt.
Alma herself had almost been thrown to the ground by one of them, Pedro catching her at the last minute as he dragged her forward.
She wasn’t a fool and she knew that the people who had escaped with her weren’t all good people, weren’t all like Carlos and his wife.
They were feeling relief now and were exhausted. But she had no doubt that some would be turning their attention to this large house soon. Turning their eyes to the magic.
She was only a young widow after all, only a new mother of three on her own now.
She was vulnerable.
Alma clenched her hand on the windowsill. She had to be prepared, to protect her niños and her right to this house. She didn’t know how, but she just knew that it was hers.
She looked to the candle again.
Pedro had given them this. She wouldn’t lose it to the greed of others. She had to be strong.
For herself.
For her niños.
Alma took a deep breath despite the way her chest ached at the crushing grief she still felt.
“Give me strength Pedro,” she whispered.
Her eyes widened as the candle flared brighter beside her and a tremulous smile pulled at her lips.
She could do this.
She had to.