Worth The Shot

The Eplilogue

"Sebastian would think so," you quietly suggested, nuzzling your nose against Camilo'a warm neck. The night was a cold mist.

With the last of the Candella candle's melting wax, Gothel had forcefully absorbed Marcos' gift. He'd extinguished the threat of your father. With Sebastian's rough encouragement, Gothel had slashed his own memories apart.

With no memory of the golden drug, gifts, or magic, Gothel would never learn of his dark potential. Sebastian had guided him away from the encanto to live a bland, charmed life. Your uncle had glared and griped about Gothel's plan. But you noticed how he watched Gothel with careful sharpness in his green eyes, as if preparing to take a blade in the chest for him. You knew he wouldn't mind. They would take care of each other.

Camilo's forearm was touching yours, lingering softly. You held still, afraid to break the skin-to-skin contact. Camilo's tired hazel eyes slid to you. "So what now?"

"Anything," you whispered, tracing a pattern with your eyes in the stars. Camilo was a black silhouette next to you. The swirls of the galaxy twisting across the canvas sky awakened an odd, small feeling inside of you. You felt insignificant and powerful all at once. "Anything we want."

5 YEARS LATER

You loved the marketplace in the spring.

Cotton clouds, tinted golden by the sun, stretched across the sky. The fresh tang of approaching rain sweetened the air.

Ripples of laughter punctuated the hubbub of chatter and gossip. You wove through the crowd, grinning to Cristina as she passed. She cheerfully waved back, bouncing her carrot-top 1-year-old on her hip. Even after her happy marriage to Senor Gomez, she'd still remained close with you and Mirabel.

"Are you excited for the ceremony tonight, sweetie?" The steel shopkeeer graciously asked, counting out your tiny coins on her marble countertop.

"Oh, of course," you cheerfully agreed, "as long as I can finish this guitar in time!" 5 years ago, Marcos had been generously offered a refuge in the Encanto. Perhaps too generously, in your opinion. However, he'd shaken his head in agitation, coldly insisting that his wife was still alive. The last you'd seen of him, he'd shuffled over the mountains, anger and confusion sparking his gaze as he embarked on a doomed quest to find nothing but ghosts.

Five years later, you'd blossomed into the Encanto's finest guitar craftsman. After the enthused reception of Camilo's theatre performances, it seemed that every villager longed to grab their own guitar.

You loved the business, but you didn't exactly need money. You payed your adoptive Abuela a feeble rent to live in her cozy saltbox home, but only because you insisted.

"I recognize you!" The steel shopkeeper suddenly burst, his tiny blue eyes blinking wide. He shoved his wiry glasses further up his nose. "You're the girl with the oldest Madrigal boy."

"I am," you smiled, inclining your head in concession.

"You've been in love for 5 years." He mused, sorting out a boxy block of steel that flashed in the sunlight. "The talk of the town. Everyone thinks your wedding will be next."

"Ah, they do?" You raised your eyebrows, leaning your elbows on the marble counter.

"Maybe you'll marry him someday," the shopkeeper suggested, a playful gleam in his eyes.

"If he asks me as himself, maybe i'll say yes."

The shopkeeper's lanky height deflated an inch, morphing his pale skin tones into a deep coffee.

"It was worth the shot." Camilo smirked, leaning over the counter until his nose almost touched yours.

"Don't you have things to do?" You grinned back, narrowing your eyes at him like a staring contest. "Little Maya's gifting ceremony is today. I don't think I have to remind you that Dolores can hear exactly where you are."

"Dolores and her daughter can wait." Camilo half-smiled, but abruptly the humor vanished from his eyes. He swallowed, blinking at you as if about to share a dangerous secret.

"20 years old and you're still avoiding chores. Just go help Mariano with the banners!" You'd meant to joke, but Camilo didn't respond. Sweat beaded on his forehead even though the air felt moist and chilled. He bit his cheek, looking sick with nerves.

"What?" You reached across the counter to rest your hand on his. It shook slightly, like it had the night he'd taken a beating for you. Concerned, you studied his eyes.

"If I really asked you to marry me, would you say yes?" Camilo breathily whispered, all too fast in a messy haze of words.

"Are you asking?" Your heartbeat twisted, thumping painfully loud. You stared at him, desperately hoping that for once his words were cold serious.

"I'm asking," he said, clumsily digging through his pocket and pulling out a velvet, black box. Hands unsteady, he held your gaze while planting the box in the palm of your hand. "You don't have to say yes if that's too much. If you don't want to marry me we don't have to change, but I'm deeply in love with you and-"

"Yes," you quietly interrupted, smearing hot tears away from your eyes. A surreal giggle burst from your chest. "Yes, Camilo."

Relief exploded across his gaze. He slid the golden ring over your finger, reverently holding your hand as if touching a queen. The ring sparkled, a life-filled diamond cut into the shape of a shimmering butterfly.

"I love you, Mariposa. I always will," he roughly murmured, before holding your face in his hands and kissing you fiercely over the marketplace stall.

And you forgot the block of steel, but it was okay.

It's not every day that you marry a shapeshifter.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

I hope you liked this story. :)