Live To Serve, Serve To Live

Prologue

The Madrigals were, in a word, magical.

They were, in another word (or two), incredibly destructive.

Oh, sure, not all of them. But enough of them to prove an issue.

As far as the villagers were concerned, Bruno Madrigal threw out curses left and right. That alone was enough to make social pariahs out of a family.

But there were real problems, too.

No-one has perfect control over their emotions 24/7. Pepa's powers weren't even a 1:1 good emotion = good weather, bad emotion = bad weather. It was more complicated than that. She could bring sunshine in the coldest months, but she could also bring hailstorms in summer. The times of her pregnancies are still talked about in hushed, frightened whispers.

Luisa, in her younger years, was a menace. She didn't mean to be, she was far too gentle for that, but a toddler with super-strength running around wasn't exactly the safest scenario.

Privacy was not a thing in Encanto. Had a fight? Had sex? Threatened someone? Still talk to your favorite doll? Cried over a trashy romance book? Dolores heard it. Dolores knows it. Dolores will drop overly-mysterious hints about it, as Mirabel and Bruno learned the hard way.

Camilo is, well... Camilo. He is as helpful as he is mischievous, and likes to scare people as much as he likes to make them laugh. As much of a whirlwind of emotions as his mother, but with a body that changes with his moods. No-one in Encanto has lived a prank-free existence in years.

Isabela was a perfect, golden child. Powerful, yes, but she never did anything more than craft beautiful statues of flowers or swing elegantly on vines. Until she tore up part of the town and broke her would-be fiance's nose. People were a tad bit more weary of her after that.

Antonio was a five year old with an army of jaguars. You do the math.

And yet, their praises were sung in the streets. Alma was the leader of their community, her word was law. When a Madrigal shopped, they didn't bring money — they simply asked and were provided for. Why, you might ask?

Because who would deny the woman who spent her days toiling in the kitchen so she could heal their wounds? The girl who kept their crops prosperous year-round? The boy who whispered to their pets and made them behave themselves? The girl who kept their secrets, yes, but also kept an ear out for unseen dangers? The girl who retrieved their donkeys, moved their crates, lifted what they could not? The boy who rocked their babies with their own arms and entertained their kids with his silly acts?

Who could hate or argue against those that served so selflessly despite their power? The chaos and laws of the Madrigals were a small price to pay for large crops, free healthcare, free childcare, free assistance in just about anything and everything they could possibly need.

The family Madrigal were gods among men. Gods evoke fear more often than worship, and men have a habit of turning against that which they fear, no matter how powerful. But who could fear a god who smiled at you and offered to take your burdens away for nothing or next to it?

So the family served the village even as they lead it, and they served well.

Except Bruno. But we don't talk about Bruno.