Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Your mother is dead.”

Diego hugged his knees as he sat atop his bed (far more plush than the majority of the people living in his country would ever get to experience), staring at the baseball posters that lined his walls (stars from times long past, now. He heard that there was a Shrine in Feroza to Freddy Fonseca, but that it had been looted long ago).

He knew he should feel sad. He never knew the woman who gave birth to him, but they shared blood. There should be some kind of link there, like how he loved his father more than anything, despite all the harm he knew he caused.

But there was nothing.

(That wasn’t quite true, though, was it?)

There was nothing he felt for his biological mother—Maria, he knew it was Maria. He hadn’t known until she died, but he knew now—but there was something he felt.

He pressed his chin onto his knees, staring at the wall but not seeing it.

Instead, he saw the woman who argued with her friends (dead) so that he could get onto the ship with the servant (dead) that had helped him sneak onto the ship to try and escape. He had tried to repay her with his baseball cards, had become irritated when she didn’t recognize their value.

Was their value enough to match those lives lost?

She was supposed to die there too, and yet he saw her again afterward.

He should’ve never run away.

How naïve he had been such a short time ago, to think running away had no consequences, to think that he could repay her deadly kindness in baseball cards.

Had he not been on that ship, would she and her friends be safely in America by now? Did she have family there.

(No. She didn’t. She told him she didn’t.)

He reached out to take the pistol off of his bedside table. His hands shook while holding it, just as they hand when aiming it at her. She had aimed her gun back at him, but it had been evident the entire time that she didn’t want to hurt him.

She saw him as just a kid.

Not the future El Presidente. Not the son of El Presidente, who could be used to gain the man’s favour. Not the boy who, if killed or held hostage, could cripple the nation.

Just a kid.

She had offered him a new chance. She had offered to be his family.

He placed the gun down, able to feel the damp warmth of the tears running down his cheeks.

When he heard she stole his father’s car, he had only thought “good. It’s hers too,” just as it was his.

The woman that gave birth to him may have died that day.

But his mama?

He had no doubt that she had been there when it happened, and she walked away alive.

His mama was fighting for the people. She was cloaked in worn clothes, her arms and legs covered in mud when they deserved to be wrapped in silks and gold and perfumed to match her heart.

But her heart was a fighter too, so maybe it fit.

Diego laid back on his bed, now looking up at his ceiling with a smile.

Wherever his mama was, he knew he’d see her again.

“Fuck.” Dani rubbed her face vigorously as she tried fruitlessly to get all the grime off of her body.

It felt like she’d never be clean. She had never been a neat freak before, being in the orphanage meant you couldn’t be, but she had preferred to be tidy and clean. Her hair was brushed, her army barracks were always up to standards, she washed behind her ears and cleaned her fingernails.

That had all stopped one fateful day when she washed up on a beach.

She met her own gaze in the mirror and only held it a moment before she looked to the side, sighing. Her cheeks were uncomfortably chilled as the water dried on them, but she couldn’t find much of a reason to care.

She did want to get the hell out of Valle De Oro, though.

She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she pulled her extra layers of clothing back on, walking out of the bathroom shared with some hundred guerrillas milling around the camp.

She needed to find somewhere private, somewhere she could be alone with her thoughts.

That was she found herself sitting on the edge of a cliff, her feet dangling off the edge. She had been somewhat afraid of heights, at one point. The orphanage hadn’t been as tall as the rest of the buildings in Esperanza, and young Dani had quite liked that.

The army had more than beaten that out of her, though, not to mention the crappy apartments she lived in and the constant need to use her wingsuit to get around quickly, with all the checkpoints scattered about.

It felt like for every checkpoint she took, Castillo just set up two more.

Dani leant back on her hands as she looked out in the general direction of Esperanza. Sometimes, she missed her old home.

Sometimes, she had delusions.

Her fingertips found hold of a folded piece of paper and she sighed as she read over it once again.

Diego didn’t know that Maria Marquessa was his mother but... surely he must’ve known her in some way. She was close with his father, after all.

Did he view her as a beloved aunt? As a tolerated friend of his father who gave him gifts occasionally?

Whatever she was to him, the fact remained that Talia had killed a little boy’s mother as Dani stood there and watched.

How many little boy’s mothers had she killed herself?

She had been in the army at one point, she knew just as well as anybody that everyone Castillo conscripted was just another person. Somebody’s brother, somebody’s mother. Somebody’s friend.

She swallowed down the bile that rose up.

Perhaps that was another reason she didn’t like going to Esperanza. It was too likely to run into someone she had known once.

Dani knew the names of too many dead bodies already.

She was no saint, and she certainly didn’t deserve the favour she had gained from the Oluwas, even if they didn’t have the same view of good and evil as the Church.

“If you can hear me, Diego.” She whispered, letting the blowing wind carry her voice out in the general direction of Esperanza. “I’m sorry.”

“I am so, so sorry.”

Chapter Text

Diego followed his father loyally.

That was all he could do these days. Anything else got people hurt—not him, never him. His father loved and adored him more than anything, and he knew that well. He was his father’s little lion cub. But everyone around him was fair game.

“They’re bad influences.” His father said, once, after he ordered the immediate execution of a guard that had helped him sneak out to go on a walk.

It hadn’t even been a runaway attempt that time.

He stood there, his every muscle tensed as he watched General Raul pull his mama’s molars from her mouth. Her scream was unsettling—he had never heard her scream quite like that. He never wanted to hear it again.

And yet he stood there as his papa lectured his mama about the story of his grandfather’s own torture while he and his papa were imprisoned.

Thirteen. Just like him.

He stood still, because nothing good ever came from him being anything other than the obedient cub he was supposed to be (except when he was very disobedient and let mama go when he was supposed to shoot her). Maybe if he stayed still and obeyed, papa would let mama go.

And then his papa pressed the cigar to Mama’s tongue while she struggled.

And he disobeyed, begging him to stop.

He knew it was a mistake as soon as he said it.

“Who is this guerrilla to you?”

How could he explain?

He couldn’t.

But when Raul grabbed that knife and took hold of mama’s hair, it was instinctual.

For a moment, his hands were steady in a way they never were before.

His aim ran true. Raul was on the ground, his knife fallen as well.

Mama was okay.

His hands were steady.

And for once, papa was silent as he explained. He knew the look in his eyes, it was pride. Diego was finally becoming the lion his papa wanted him to be.

He didn’t feel sick like he did at every other death he saw, even if his voice shook.

When his papa turned to him, his hands began to shake once more. He knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t, could never make that shot. He’d never be able to kill his papa.

And yet he didn’t lower his gun either.

The gun was taken from his hands, and he was helpless to resist.

“We don’t have time for lies.”

His blood boilt. What lies? He was being the obedient son in all ways he could. The little lion cub.

How hard was it for papa to believe that mama had chosen to put him before Libertad, before her hatred for papa, before Yara?

“I am not a monster, Diego.”

And that was something he knew well. For all his papa killed everyone around him, not a hand had ever been laid on him in a way that was not loving.

He shut his eyes tightly for a moment as mama collapsed to the ground, no more harmed than she had been a moment before.

“We will give them a chance.”

And even as he heard his father pull the pin from the grenade, Diego kept walking out of the lighthouse.

Mama was resilient.

A chance was all she ever needed.

He did not flinch at the explosion, nor did he flinch at the hand his father placed on his shoulder as he guided him into the helicopter.

“You cannot just keep adopting strays, Diego.” His papa spoke in that soothing tone of his, the way he always spoke when they were alone and he was trying to offer advice. “You’ve always had this habit. First the stray cat, now a guerrilla—”

“Dani is not my stray guerrilla, papa!” He didn’t look up from his lap, but even he was startled at the steel in his voice.

“No? Just like that cat scratched you and had to be put down, this guerrilla will hurt you. And I will have to kill her. Adopting strays never ends well, mijo.” His papa’s voice was that same smooth tone, but it just made fire burn in his chest.

“Mama would never—” And the fire froze. His blood stilled and his breath hitched. His entire body became like stone, unmoving as he stared but was unseeing.

The silence lingered before his father hummed quietly and reached out to cradle his jaw, judging Diego to look up at him.

He wondered if he’d look like his father when he grew up. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

“The love a boy has for his mama is immeasurable and unique.” His papa spoke in the vaguely nostalgic tone he got whenever he spoke of his own mother.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

Diego had said something right for once.

“But you know she isn’t your mama. She stood by as your real mama was killed by another guerrilla.”

“No.” And wasn’t Diego a brave little lion cub that day? “Maria gave birth to me but... Dani made sure I got on that ship because I thought it would make me happy and she just saw me as a kid she wanted to make happy. She offered a new life away from all of this, not to spite you, just for me. She offered to be my family. She told her guerrilla friends she was alone in the hotel because she didn’t want to risk them wanting to hurt me.” His hands shook in his lap but there wasn’t a gun in them this time. “Does that not sound like a mama to you?”

Papa was silent once again, but his thumb was rubbing against Diego’s cheek slowly and he couldn’t help but lean into it. “I suppose it does, yes.” He let out a long sigh. “Could you not have chosen someone different, Diego? Someone who was not hell bent on destroying everything our family has worked so hard to create?”

“We chose each other, papa.”

For once, Diego said something right.

Antón Castillo, El Presidente, sat at his desk late that night. His son, Diego, was in bed and had been for at least an hour.

At one point in time, this was when Antón would have gone to check in on his son to ensure he hadn’t run away once again.

His last attempt had been when Antón had blown up that ship. At first, he had thought that it had been his own doing, and in a way it was. He thought he had finally shown his son that trying to leave caused nothing but pain. He had shown him his destiny, how to be a lion.

If nothing else, he thought it was because he had taken all his boy’s means of leaving.

Now he knew it was because Dani Rojas was on Yara.

Mama.

What was it that he had said to his son?

The love a boy has for his mama is immeasurable and unique.

El Presidente knew that better than anyone, truly. His mama had been his everything, raising him, teaching him everything he needed to know, devoting her every moment to him.

He had thought that he was enough for Diego. He thought that he could fulfill the role of a papa and a mama on his own when Maria had told him that she wanted nothing to do with the child.

She would not have been a good mother anyway; she would not have devoted her everything to Diego like a mother should.

“Dani Rojas...” He looked down at the file before him and tapped his finger on the portrait of her in a military uniform. An orphan, raised in an orphanage outside Esperanza. A recruit in the military academy. Conscripted into the army before being dishonourably discharged for punching her drill instructor in the throat.

On the surface, there was nothing that would make her a good mother. She had no mother of her own to base her own attitude off of. She was rebellious and combative, something he certainly didn’t want fostered in his son.

And yet her eyes had barely left Diego’s form the entire time she was being tortured. The pain was secondary to her focus on his son.

And as dedicated as she was to her cause, she had put Diego over it in an instant when they met in Hotel Paradiso.

He never should have let his son be there alone.

“Mama, hm?” He said, looking over her file more closely. His son had never been particularly good at choosing things, whether that be picking up a stray instead of a proper pet, or preferring the servants to the children Antón introduced him to.

This was perhaps the best choice his son had ever made.

And who was Antón Castillo to deny his son to spend time with his mama?

“You know, after Maria refused I never thought I would marry. Diego and the nation were enough to take my attention.” He smiled. “You’re not the worst bride I could possibly take, all thing considered.”

He pushed his chair in as he turned the lights off in his office, beginning to walk down the hall.

A quick peak told him Diego was fast asleep in bed.

Perhaps he’d take an early night. Tomorrow he’d have his tailors start on a wedding dress.

He hoped Dani’s measurements hadn’t changed much from when she received her military uniform.

Chapter Text

Antón Castillo hummed quietly as he looked over the various designs for wedding dresses.

He liked none of them.

His eyes trailed over to his son. His earbuds were in as he worked on one of his models. His son still insisted on listening to that damned “Máximas Matanzas” band but knowing what he did now about who the boy considered family other than him... it was understandable.

To think, the boy he hadn’t even truly wanted, had allowed Maria to bear only out of true necessity, had stolen his heart so much that he was now willingly picking out a wedding dress for a guerrilla woman just because he called her mama.

He stood and walked over to his son, leaning over his shoulder to watch for a moment before tapping his finger on it. “Good attention to detail, mijo. I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t leave the room.”

Diego nodded and his lips curled into a smile as he stepped out. Ever since he blew up that ship his son had turned into such an obedient boy.

Having a mama was good for him, it seemed.

Diego watched his father go for a moment before turning his attention back to his model. He just needed to get this one piece screwed on—

His papa’s phone started ringing from his desk.

He dropped the piece, a quiet “pinga” slipping from his mouth.

He was lucky his papa wasn’t here.

He pushed himself away from his model and walked over to the phone. Hopefully it was something important, and not just—

Oh. It was José. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of his cousin and went to return to his model when something on the desk caught his eye.

Was that... a dress design?

His eyes widened as he carefully inspected the papers strewn across his father’s desk, making sure not to disturb them too much so he wouldn’t notice when he returned.

Three different dress designs, mama’s file (notably missing the fact that she was a guerrilla, but including everything about her childhood and military career), and... a list, written in his father’s own hand.

“Oh no. Mama—” He bit his lip as he read further down the list, one being a to do marked “prepare room for future wife”.

Pinga indeed.

He rushed back to his seat and slipped his earbuds in, turning the music on and picking his model back up just in time for his father to walk back in.

He glanced up and took one earbud out, trying his best not to let his emotions show as his father placed a glass of mango juice onto the table.

“Drink, mijo. I was thinking we could go to the shooting range later today?”

He nodded as he picked up his drink, sipping it. “Okay, Papa.”

He slid the earbud back in as he tried to screw the piece in place, his mind racing.

This was all his fault. Mama hated Papa—she’d never agree to marry him.

And Papa didn’t take rejection well.

He had to warn her.

“Finished, Diego?”

“Yes, Papa.”

But first, he apparently had to practice his shooting. Great.

Mama was a good shot, though. Mama was a really good shot.

Maybe she’d be as proud as Papa if his aim got better.

It was only after a long day of shooting and dealing with José being an idiot (ugh) that Diego finally got to crawl into bed.

Only to crawl out of it three hours later, his usual white clothing traded for the Máximas Matanzas shirt and blue jeans he’d last worn months ago.

Sneaking off of the island was hard, but sneaking out of Esperanza proper was almost trivially easy. And his papa’s notes had said that mama had last been seen in the old orphanage not far outside the city.

He slipped around the sights of the soldiers with practiced ease, wincing only slightly at the mess made of his clothing as he slipped into the underground sewer tunnels at the first opportunity. It was the quickest way to get around Esperanza, and he knew this one led almost directly to the orphanage.

It was a mere half hour later that Diego strode into the orphanage, his hood pulled over his head.

The guerrilla on guard barely spared him a glance. “You been here before?”

“Just... looking for a place to spend the night.” He said with a weak grin. “I stayed here before it shut down last year.”

The woman nodded and let him go as he strode toward the old rooms once (and still occasionally) used as bedrooms, based on the layout.

Mama was the Lucky One, but Diego could be lucky on occasion.

“Dani?” He whispered as he closed the door behind him. Still, that was enough to make Mama sit upright immediately, pistol pointed straight at his head.

A moment later, she lowered it.

“Diego? Chamaco, what are you doing here?” Her voice was impossibly tender and he walked over to her once the gun was down, sitting on the bed.

He knew that his attachment to her wasn’t the healthiest. The most natural.

Most boys didn’t choose the first woman that showed care for them as their mama.

And yet, he longed so desperately to hear her call him “mijo” the same way his papa did.

“I— You—" His words stilled on his tongue as he struggled to explain, leaning into her hand on her shoulder. “Mi papa... He wants to marry you!”

Maybe he should’ve explained more if the way her eyebrows shot into her hairline were anything to go by. “You’re gonna need to take about ten steps back with that one. One, what makes you think that? And two, why would your dad want to marry me?”

He pulled a piece of dried skin off his lips with his teeth, only to realize a moment later that he made it bleed. “I saw his plans for a wedding dress and a wedding and your file on his desk.” He hugged his knees and leant into her side, his eyes squeezed shut. “And he wants to marry you because of me.”

“Because of you?” He felt as mama brushed some hair out of his face and he felt tears begin willing in his eyes, despite them being tightly closed.

“I... After the lighthouse, when we were leaving, I called you mama.”

He could feel the stillness in the air, even as Dani stroked his hair and held him close.

“Okay.” She eventually said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I never did thank you for that, Diego.”

His eyes opened and he blinked rapidly as he looked up at her.

Okay?

That was it?

“Raul was going to kill you. I wouldn’t— I— I couldn’t just stand there and watch him kill you!” And there he was, crying again.

Like a lamb.

“I know. And you shouldn’t have had to, but you did. So thank you.” She squeezed his shoulder and moved to hug him tightly as he sobbed into her chest.

He cried until he went limp, his body suddenly feeling as though fifteen pounds had been dropped onto his shoulders.

He just wanted to sleep.

But mama didn’t let him. She guided him up off her bed and for a fleeting moment his heart ached as he wished to be like any other kid, able to steal at least a few minutes of sleep cuddling his mama.

“Come on, Diego. Let’s get you back before Castillo realizes you went missing.”

The mention of his father was like being dunked in ice water as he remembered the exact reason he had come.

“Mama—” It wasn’t even intentional, but he could see her lips curl into a smile.

“Don’t worry about your dad wanting to marry me or something. I can take care of myself. There’s a reason none of his soldados have even gotten close to killing me yet, much less capturing me.”

“Wouldn’t it be capturing, much less killing?” He asked as she walked him through the sewer paths with practiced ease.

“Nah. Killing is easier than capturing. All killing takes is a bullet to the head. Capturing takes rope—and duct tape, if they won’t shut up.” She ruffled his hair as they reached the sewer exit right outside of the house he and his papa were staying at—one of his generals, he thought.

“Okay.” He smiled at her and relished in the last tight squeeze she gave him before he snuck back into the house.

He curled up in bed with a smile on his face, and when El Presidente came to check on his son just before dawn, he was none the wiser to the fact that his son had just been out only a few hours before.

He had been so obedient lately, after all. Why would he sneak out?

Chapter Text

“You’re kidding me.” Dani put the beer down, her eyes narrowed at her mentor.

The man merely shrugged in response then, after a long moment, spoke again. “Not one bit. So the hijo de puta wants to marry you, let him. You ever heard of Ishwari Ghale?”

The deadpan look she gave him clearly told him she hadn’t, and a moment later Juan sighed. “Jeez kid. Alright, I heard this story from my old... buddy Willis. I wouldn’t trust a word he says, normally, but not even he could make this shit up. She dated the King of Kyrat, Pagan Min, with the intention of killing him for her husband’s rebellion, the Golden Path. She ended up getting knocked up— don’t do that— and a whole bunch of shit happened, but her son Ajay eventually ended up taking the country from Pagan.”

He took a slow puff of his cigar. “America now uses Kyrat as a fucking model— what can happen when one of their own is there to take down third world dictators. All because Ajay Ghale just so happened to have been raised there. Kid’s actually a good king though, from what I’ve heard.”

“So don’t get pregnant,” She rolled her eyes. “Got it. Not like I’ll be fucking him anyway. Castillo is almost three times my age.”

“Hey, some women like older men. Lorenzo still gets pussy—"

She threw an empty bottle at him. “Fuck off, Juan.” She didn’t want to deal with him anymore.

She ignored the “I was talking about cats!” he called at her back as she walked off. His supremos and resolver weaponry were amazing, but sometimes he was just about the most difficult person in the world to get along with.

She sighed as she walked the streets of Esperanza. It was just about the most dangerous place to be nowadays, what with El Este and Valle de Oro completely controlled by Libertad and Madrugada half way there. Still, Esperanza was the only place she had ever truly called home.

She sighed as she climbed onto the roof of one of the few non-military-controlled buildings that circled the city proper, lighting a cigarette as she looked up at the Torre del Léon peaking above the rest of the tall buildings.

Dani had never been the most maternal type. When one of the girls in the orphanage had gotten pregnant at fourteen and chosen to keep it, she had been one of the few to not offer to babysit the child when the mother needed it.

And when the boy had been born and passed around for everyone to coo at, Dani had conveniently made herself scarce causing mayhem on the streets of Esperanza.

Still... the protectiveness she felt for Diego wasn’t totally foreign. It reminded her of the feeling she got when Oluso had been badly injured, or when Chorizo had been kidnapped that one time.

She looked at the boy and she wanted to desperately to take him away. She had given up on her dream to leave Yara, but she would pick it back up immediately for him. She had offered to be his family and she meant it.

She had never expected to be called mama by anything.

She had never expected the way it both hurt and made her heart sing.

She blew the smoke out through her nose as she finally tore her eyes away from the tower. It was hard to admit that she would tear the world apart for a boy she barely knew.

It was harder, still, to accept that she didn’t know if there was anything she wouldn’t do for him.

There was a sound of a clearing throat below her and she glanced down, her eyebrows furrowing. For once, there was a FND soldier before her that wasn’t shooting at her and probably wasn’t looking for a bribe.

“Dani Rojas?”

“... Yeah.” Her eyes narrowed.

Definitely not looking for a bribe. That soldier was too well dressed—he looked straight out of Castillo’s personal—

Oh.

“El Presidente himself would like to see you, a great honour.”

“Yeah.” She swallowed thickly. “Can I... go get changed first?”

She wasn’t as covered in grime as usual, but she wasn’t exactly clean.

“Not necessary, ma’am. I recommend you just follow me.”

For a moment, she considered drawing her handgun and shooting the man. She had broken records for speed and accuracy when she had been conscripted.

Instead, she hopped off the roof and followed the man to the military-issue vehicle parked nearby.

She was certifiably insane. At least Juan and Clara knew the plan and wouldn’t just think she was running away.

She sighed as she leant back in the passenger seat as the soldier drove them to the shore, then led her to a boat.

Dani blinked in surprise as she realized exactly where she was being driven.

She really hoped Diego was sure about the whole marriage thing.

A mere fifteen minutes later, Dani found herself standing in the doorway to a dining room as the soldier saluted El Presidente himself.

Antón Castillo gave her a smile not unlike the one he had been wearing while watching her be tortured. “Sit, sit.”

She took a few steps forward, glancing toward Diego. The boy was silent but gave her a tight yet encouraging smile.

Okay.

She let out a slow breath and slid into the place clearly prepared for her, steaming food on the plate in front of her.

“Before we eat, I must warn you, Rojas, I demand truth at my dining table. Just as my mother did.”

She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. “Fine by me, I hate lying.”

Castillo’s gaze was piercing, but she returned it as unwaveringly as she could. And a moment later, she took his first bite as cue she could also eat.

Even if it did end up being poisoned, it was well worth it for how good of a meal it was. Perfectly seasoned and tender beef over rice, better than she’d had... maybe ever.

The silence stood for a few minutes before Castillo broke the silence once more. “Mijo, did you end up finishing your model?”

“Yes, Papa. It’s drying in my room right now.”

“Good boy. Once it’s done, put it on the shelf above my desk. Now how are your studies going?”

Diego’s response was more hesitant there, like any thirteen year old boys would be. It was... oddly mundane.

She wondered if Castillo was even going to bring up marrying her before the ceremony itself.

“And what do you think of cars, Dani?” The sound of her first name coming from Castillo’s mouth was enough to startle her from her food.

No lies.

“They’re fine—I prefer motorcycles. Or planes. I hate getting stuck in traffic.”

This time, both of Castillo’s eyebrows raised. “Truth. You’re true to your word.”

“Wow.” She said in a deadpan, sipping her water. “Who would’ve thought that?”

She waited for the other show to drop.

Yet it never did.

After dinner, Castillo set off in one direction. Diego’s hand gabbing her own left her without time to question it as he led her to follow.

“I thought I told you to run,” He whispered.

“And I thought I told you I could handle myself, chamaco,” She responded as they entered a large room—some sort of cross between an office and a sitting room.

Maybe that was just what a rich person’s office looked like—bigger than her childhood bedroom that held three others and full of unnecessary things.

Diego led her to a couch in front of a table and gestured for her to sit down. A moment later, he joined her, pouring puzzle pieces into the tabletop.

“You like puzzles?” She asked quietly, watching Castillo through the corner of her eye as she examined a piece.

He hummed in response. “Yeah. Plus, it has motorcycles, so I thought you might like it too.”

She laughed and shrugged, beginning to collect edge pieces. “Fair enough.”

And from the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Castillo smiling.

It was all rather mundane. Castillo worked on his paperwork—probably ordering the execution of hundreds of her people— as she worked on the puzzle with Diego. Once they finished, she was sent to a room that had been prepared for her and told to wash up. The clothes she had been given fit her perfectly and, somehow, were even styled like something she would have picked out herself.

They felt almost like a family.

She shook the thought off as she brushed her wet hair out and grabbed the thread to wrap around her hair once more, smiling at herself in the mirror.

There.

Too bad the moment she left the attached bathroom she found Antón Castillo sitting in an armchair in the room given to her, looking at her analyzingly.

“You’re handling this all rather well.”

“You’re not shooting at me or my friends,” She responded, doing her best to not let his presence unnerve her. “Funny how stuff like that works.”

His lips angled downward. “Might I remind you that I did not create this... Revolution of yours.”

“Neither did I.” She scowled. “I wanted to get off this damned island, but somebody shot up my only chance to get to America.”

The silence lingered. There was anger clear on his expression, but for some reason he seemed to be restraining it. There was curiosity too.

“You really don’t lie often, so you, Dani?”

“It’s Rojas to you.” She said, unable to help the slight snarl. And yet, Castillo just smiled, all trace of anger and curiosity alike gone as he stood up.

“Not for long. Sleep well, Dani.”

And then he was gone.

Puta.

Chapter Text

“Are you ever going to wake up?”

Dani groaned quietly as she pulled the pillow overtop her head. Her room was too well lit—she was used to sleeping in badly built orphanage rooms that never caught the morning light, or in underground bunkers. The occasional cave. Not this luxurious room that almost burned her eyes when she tried to crack one open.

“No,” She grumbled, shifting to burrow further under the silken sheets. That was another difference about this room—not when she had fallen asleep or now when she woke up did it feel to be the wrong temperature.

A rarity in the Yaran heat.

She grumbled as she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

“Mama, come on. It’s 9 AM, it’s time to wake up.”

It very much was not.

She reacted just as she did when Chorizo or Oluso pressed their cold noses to her warm skin to try and wake her—she pulled the boy in and wrapped her arm around him, pressing him to her chest.

There was a quiet gasp from his lips and he was tense at first, but a few moments later she could feel him relax and snuggle in slightly. Just like her pets always ended up doing.

It was a foolproof plan, always.

“Just cuddle me for like… ten minutes, chamaco,” She said, pressing her lips to the top of his head. “Then I’ll get up.”

“Okay.” His voice was quiet and muffled even further against the fabric of her shirt.

She just yawned in response as she settled back into her dreams. She had been having a good time doing graffiti with Bicho and Paolo—who was far better at art in her dream than in real life.

At precisely 7 AM, Antón Castillo and his son Diego Castillo ate breakfast together in the dining room. The third place setting remained empty.

At 8 AM, father and son sat together in the former’s office, El Presidente working on reading reports from various generals and admirals across the country as the Heir worked on his mathematics homework.

At 8:55 AM, Diego stood up. “I’m going to go check on Mama.” This was, of course, completely because he was wondering what had happened to the woman for her to have missed breakfast and not joined them.

Completely not because he didn’t want to do his mathematics work.

Not at all.

His father glanced up and waved his hand to dismiss him, his eyebrows furrowed. Ever since the guerrillas—including his soon-to-be wife—had stormed Aña Benítez’s island and hung her corpse from a crane, his reports had been a mess.

He wondered if the guerrillas realized just how alike they were to his own military. They saw themselves as better, but they were one in the same. The difference was that they were split into their own factions, barely held together by Libertad’s guiding force, while his own people all swore allegiance to him and his heir.

He wondered absentmindedly how they would deal with him having a wife. It had been a long time since the Yaran people had had a Primera Dama. He privately wondered how good of a Primera Dama Dani would be, but it mattered little. That was not her true role—she was merely Diego’s mama.

At precisely 9:22 AM, Antón Castillo looked up from the last of his reports, only for a brief shot of panic to shoot through his chest at the realization that his son had still not returned.

He turned to his computer, frowning as he made his way to the live feed of cameras in his future wife’s room.

The panic settled and he found his chest filled with a not-unfamiliar, but certainly uncommon warmth. He leaned back in his seat as he watched his son stir in Dani’s arms slightly, only to bury his face deeper into her shoulder and relax once more.

It was obvious that they were both deeply asleep.

He found himself smiling as he looked back down at his work, glancing up every minute or so to check on his wife and son.

His wife and son.

He paused at the thought, his eyebrows furrowing. Despite the fact that he was willingly marrying Dani Rojas—likely more willingly than she would marry him—his first thought had always been of her as Diego’s mama or his future wife.

It made sense, they were not yet married after all.

She was a guerrilla. She hated him and he viewed her with mild curiosity and little else.

And yet.

He found he didn’t quite mind thinking of Dani as his wife.

His Dani Rojas.

His Dani Castillo.

He watched as the woman stirred once more and, instead of burrowing further into her sheets as she had multiple times before, slowly maneuver Diego off of her so she could sit up. He watched with fascination as she bent down to press a kiss to their son’s forehead before getting out of bed and going about the usual morning actions of brushing her teeth and getting changed into clothing that was, at least in her opinion, more appropriate for the day.

Approximately five minutes later, she woke their son by ruffling his hair. He quietly cursed the fact that the camera in the room wasn’t equipped with sound capabilities as she exchanged a few words with Diego. Her smile was bright and his son’s was the same smile Antón thought only he had been privy to. That small smile that was just barely there, so different from the smile he wore during interviews or when interacting with Antón’s colleagues.

If they could be called that.

Dani guided Diego out of bed and Antón turned the live-footage off, returning to a note he was writing for José. It would be good for his nephew—as much as he disliked his sister’s son—to meet his new aunt sooner rather than later.

And he would admit that he relished in thinking of how Dani would likely crush José’s ego beneath her heel, even if it was only to himself.

“Good afternoon, Dani. Did you sleep well?”

“It’s Rojas. And it’s not even 10 AM—notice that AM—so it’s not even afternoon.” She stared him down, her arm wrapped around his son with his crumbled clothes and messy hair. “But yeah, I did. The wonders of air conditioning and silk sheets, apparently.”

He smiled and relished in the momentarily uncertain look on his wife’s face as he picked up his coffee, taking a sip. “And how do your clothes fit?”

“Well. My military files, I assume?”

“Indeed.” He watched as she walked closer to him, arms crossed over her chest.

Diego returned to his homework after a pointed glance.

He held up his cup in demonstration. “Coffee? You missed breakfast; I can have—”

It was his turn to stare in shock and uncertainty as the cup was taken from his hands, their fingers brushing momentarily, only to be brought to Dani’s lips. Any words he had fell from his lips as she walked towards their son, a smirk on her lips and his cup still in her hands.

“Huh. This is good coffee. Thanks.”

Chapter Text

Dani Rojas—soon to be Castillo—was an enigma. That was what El Presidente had discovered after the five days she had spent in his home.

Though, to be fair, he could have noted that down in his notes by the first evening, and he had.

The most peculiar thing was just how unbothered she was by most things. There seemed to be no drive in her mind to leave. It was almost as if she believed that her revolution would be paused without her.

And, fairly, it seemed like it was. Neither the guerrillas nor his army made any significant progress in the past five days. It was a stalemate without Dani Rojas.

And yet she did not care.

She spent most of her time with Diego, watching him make his models (the third day she was there, Antón placed a model of a military plane in front of her. It was finished in under five minutes.) and praising him heavily, or helping him with his schoolwork (she was surprisingly adept at mathematics, but could not say anything about art other than “well, it’s kind of pretty? If I squint”), or just… playing with him.

She first time she tickled his son until he screeched and begged her to stop, two guards had burst into the room, their pistols aimed at her and thus at Diego. They had not shot, thankfully, or they would have been executed instead of heavily demoted and removed from his island.

She had rolled her eyes at him when he mentioned their fate over dinner a few hours later.

“You’re an idiot,” She had told him plainly.

That was another thing about Dani Rojas. She held to his rule of no lies extremely well. Better than he had expected, and better than he had thought possible.

He poured his wife a glass of wine as a slice of cake was set in front of each of the three sitting at the table. While he normally preferred to reserve dessert for after dinner, his nephew had a way of ruining everyone’s appetite, and he would rather not waste the cake that he had requested made.

His lips curled into a smile—he had not smiled so much in years, not since before Libertad had gained traction—as their fingers brushed when she took the alcohol. “There is one thing I’ve been wondering for the past few days, Dani. Why have you not demanded to know why you’re here or to leave? You and I both know you would demand rather than ask.”

“You don’t know shit.” She rolled her eyes as she sipped her wine. She had been at ease from the first night, but had become more and more relaxed over time. It was startling yet somehow refreshing to have this woman he could so easily kill swear around and even at him. She cut off a piece of cake with the side of her fork—larger than etiquette would generally demand—and popped it into her mouth. “I didn’t ask or demand because I already know.”

He chuckled. “I appreciate your confidence, but I highly doubt—"

“You want to marry me.”

Oh.

Well, perhaps she did know.

He blinked and leaned back in his seat, sipping his wine to fill his obligation to speak for a few moments. “And would you like to tell me how you knew this.”

Dani Rojas shrugged and smirked, the glint in her eye spelling trouble. “Nah.”

That was the thing about his wife. She was very good at not lying, but that didn’t mean she always revealed the truth.

She was no politician. She was no Antón Castillo or Clara Garcia.

But she got her way anyway.

“I would appreciate if you did.” Did he perhaps have a traitorous guard reading his notes and providing information to Libertad? He would suspect Dani of sneaking around herself, but she had been at ease since the first day she had arrived.

“Cool. I’m still not telling you.” What insolence.

“Mama—” His son looked nervous, his cake abandoned. Diego certainly knew better than Dani that even him wanting to marry her did not allow her such disrespect.

And yet.

“Chill, muchacho. I’m not lying at this table—wouldn’t want to disrespect your abuela—but I’m also not telling him. I’ve never let myself be stepped on a day in my life, and that’s not starting with the dude I’m going to marry. Fascista or no.”

If someone were to ask him to identify all the emotions running through him in that moment, he’d be hard pressed to do so. Anger, certainly. He had no doubt Clara Garcia had told the Fist of the Revolution just how much that word enraged him, and the smirk dancing on her lips only served to confirm that theory. There was also a sense of rationality—she was not lying, because Dani Rojas was very good at not lying at the dinner table while still not saying the truth.

She was respecting his mama.

Deeper, only found because he was looking for it, Antón found one more thing.

He wanted to kiss Dani Rojas. He wanted to shock her just as much as she continually shocked him, by speaking up to him to his face, by adoring his son as much as he did, by somehow knowing that he wanted to marry her. He wanted to kiss the smirk off her lips and taste the chocolate cake he had not yet had the chance to take even a bite of.

He did none of this, partially because Diego was there, partially because the table blocked him from doing so, and partially because Dani Rojas had managed to shock him once again without even really trying or knowing why.

He pushed himself away from the table without a word, leaving his untouched cake and barely touched wine glass behind.

“I think I might’ve broke him.” He heard his wife say to their son, though his response was indistinguishable.

And yes.

Maybe she had.

The knock on his bedroom door was accompanied by a very quiet “Papa?” and Antón could only sigh.

The one person he could not turn away.

“Come in, mijo,” He said, tucking the small leather journal back inside his jacket pocket. He turned to see his son lingering in the doorway with a plate of cake held in his hands.

No wine though.

His son shifted his weight before walking closer and holding out the cake as an offering. “Mama’s sorry.”

He chuckled and took the cake, placing it on his desk and reaching out to rest a hand on his son’s shoulder. “No, she’s not. I’m not sure Dani Rojas has ever been sorry for anything in her life. It’s alright though, she’s correct. She broke no rules, technically.”

Diego’s shoulders sagged slightly. “She can be sorry—she’s sorry for what happened on that boat. And I though maybe since she’s been acting weird since lunch… but you’re right, Papa. She isn’t.”

He hummed quietly as he gestured to the other chair he had in his room specifically for his son to sit in, since there were no others allowed inside. He picked up the dessert fork and sectioned off a small piece of the cake, popping it into his mouth.

It was still delicious.

“Tell me, Diego, what do you think about this marriage between me and Dani Rojas? I’m sure you must be surprised, given I never did tell you why she was here.”

Diego looked away for a moment. “I’m the one that told her.”

He restrained a smile. Only after he left the table had he realized the only possible way his wife could’ve figured out his plans.

It was good to have his suspicions confirmed.

“I forgive you, Diego. Still, tell me what you think.” It wouldn’t do to have his son knowing he had lied, after all. It was best just to let the boy appreciate his forgiveness.

There was a moment of silence before his son began to speak, but once he did it became clear that he had many thoughts on the matter.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to think, Papa. On one hand I’m happy about it, because you two getting married means that I get to have Mama around more often and it means that… she won’t be tortured or hurt by you anymore.”

An interesting conclusion, but nonetheless he waved his hand for his son to continue.

“But also I don’t want it because I know Mama doesn’t actually want it. She’s acting like she doesn’t care but I think she does care. She hates you, why would she want to marry you? She wants you dead.” Diego let out a shudder breath. “I don’t want her to be miserable just for me. And I don’t want you dead because you tried to make me happy.”

He blinked slowly as he stared at his son. “Dani Rojas will not kill me. Dani Rojas cannot kill me.”

Diego’s face scrunched up into an expression that may have been scary had he been older, or had Antón not been his father. “Yes! She can and will, because you represent everything she hates about the government and the military and how Yara is right now! She hates you and despite that she loves me because unlike everyone else she sees me as not just your son, but she still hates you! I don’t want either of you to die.”

Dani Rojas could not kill him. But clearly the thought of it worried his son enough for him to disregard the absurdity of the statement.

“Mijo…” He opened his arms and wrapped them tightly around his son as he practically launched himself into them. “You know I am dying anyway. Dani Rojas has had plenty of chances to kill me. Even if she wishes to do so, she appears to be much slower than the cancer.”

The giggle from his son was watery, a clear sign that he was crying, but it was still a good sign.

“I am marrying her for you, mijo. Not just because I think you would want her here, but because you deserve to have a mama.” He swallowed thickly. “When my papa was executed, my mama was the one person I had left to support me. I was telling the truth when I said there is nothing comparable to the love a son holds for his mother, bar perhaps her love for him. When I die, it will surely be because of the cancer. But I do not want you to be alone in this world. By marrying the one woman I know would protect you with her everything, would kill for you without a second thought, just as I would, I can relax. I can know that you will be safe. If I die, your mother has legal rights to you as my wife despite not having given birth to you. Even if her precious rebellion somehow manages to take control in the chaos, they respect her enough to not challenge her protection.”

Diego sniffled and pulled away slightly. Antón tisked at the sight of his puffy face and wiped his cheeks.

“I will marry Dani Rojas because it is the best way to protect you.”

His own emotions, as complex as they were, had nothing to do with it.

Chapter Text

“There is a dress placed on the bed in your room, I would like for you to change into it before dinner.” Those were the first words Castillo said to her when he finally left his room after his abrupt departure at lunch.

A departure that was, admittedly, wholly her fault.

She had been scared for a moment at the look on Castillo’s face when she called him Fascista--it was a terrifying, unreadable thing. But it was not the first time Dani had stared death in the face.

And it would not be the last.

“No thanks.” She said, dismantling her model plane. It confused Diego when she did so--his models were all made to stay together and were displayed in his room or his father’s office--but she enjoyed the process. Taking things apart was almost as soothing as putting them together.

“It was not a request.” His tone was darker now, but she forced herself not to look up at him.

She wouldn’t allow herself to be cowed.

“I don’t wear dresses, Castillo. Haven’t worn dresses since I was eight years old and I stole one of the boy’s uniforms to wear to school and burnt my own. Nothing against those who do, but if you want me in a dress you’re gonna have to kill me and put it on my cold, dead body.”

She saw Diego shudder from the corner of her eye, the boy looking vaguely uncomfortable. She almost felt bad, but it was the truth. She was comfortable in her body, in her gender, but she didn’t like dresses.

There was silence and she looked over, expecting Castillo to have abruptly left again only to see him standing only a few feet away and looking at her contemplatively.

“Fine. I shall have another outfit delivered to your room for you to wear instead--but you will wear a dress at our wedding.”

Her face scrunched up. It was odd to hear Castillo acknowledge it again like he had at lunch. It’s was easier to ignore why she was there when no one brought it up. Still, a wedding was one of the few places she would... accept wearing a dress, if only for a few hours. “Fine.”

He smiled and she turned back to her model to avoid the sight. It wasn’t right for a dictator to have such a pleasant, nonmenacing smile. “Thank you, amor.”

She dropped a piece of the plane on the ground and had to pull back from the table to get it. “Don’t call me that,” She hissed, glaring at him.

“I shall call you amor so long as you insist on calling me fascista.” He said with a self satisfied glint in his eye. “It’s just the same--a pet name.”

Fascista wasn’t a pet name.

She snarled but returned to her model, pushing down the churning of her stomach.

For Diego. She was doing this for Diego.

And maybe, if she could ever find a chance, for the Revolution as well.

Her fingers ran over the fabric of the outfit on her bed. The dress that Castillo had clearly wanted her to wear at first laid beside it--a well made, red cocktail dress with white detailing. It was gorgeous, something she could’ve seen Lita wearing when going out on a date with one of her many rotating girlfriends and boyfriends.

It wasn’t to her tastes though.

The new outfit that Castillo had had delivered, on the other hand, was. Straight leg black jeans, a simple white blouse, and a cherry red leather jacket, it was in all the colours of his regime.

She’d look like walking propaganda wearing it.

And yet she loved it. It reminded her of the magazines she’d flip through when she was a girl, old magazines with American fashion that showed women in grunge styles, sitting on motor bikes with messy hair.

This was certainly far too classy and clean for grunge, but it was more her than any dress would ever be.

She changed quickly into the outfit, even as she made sure to fix the blue thread wrapping her hair and pull the top half of her hair back. She may be wearing red, but she was Libertad through and through.

She ignored the fact that she hadn’t joined Libertad willingly. The fact that as much as she had hated Castillo’s government, she had at first looked at the rebels with scorn and a “you think you can do better?” attitude.

Lita had told her she joined Libertad and they had gotten into such a big argument that Dani had moved out for a few days.

She pushed the door to her room open and wove through the hallways to Diego’s room. She wasn’t technically supposed to know where his or Castillo’s rooms were--security, after all--but it wasn’t all that hard to figure out.

“You wanna tell me why your dad insisted on dictating what I wear tonight, chamaco?” She asked when the boy emerged, his hair neatly combed and wearing his uniform instead of his usual casual clothes that he wore inside the house. “And why you’re all dolled up too?”

Diego wrinkled his nose as he took her offered hand and they began to walk together. Dani caught a glance of them in the mirror as they passed--they truly did look like mother and son with their outfits matching as they did.

“José’s coming over for dinner tonight,” The boy grumbled, his tone telling her everything she needed to know about his opinion on his cousin.

She was glad to know that even the Castillos seemed to hate José.

“I see... why?”

Diego shrugged at that. “I think Papa thinks that if you’re going to be part of the family, you have to deal with José too. Or maybe he wants you to kill him.”

Hearing Diego joke so casually about her killing his cousin drew a startled laugh out of her. Still, if she had José Castillo as a cousin, she would probably joke about it too.

Oh no.

She’d have him as a nephew.

“That can be arranged.” She muttered quietly, thinking back to looking at the man down the barrel of her gun. If it hadn’t blown up in her face--

“Ah, good, you two are here.” Castillo was already waiting for them, sitting at the head of the table. He had changed out of his pristine white uniform into an identical pristine white uniform.

Or maybe he hadn’t changed at all.

She actually couldn’t tell.

She took her usual place sitting to his left between him and Diego, quietly bemoaning the fact that she food hadn’t been delivered yet. It was later than they typically took dinner, and by the looks of it José was going to make them wait even longer.

The expression on Castillo’s face told her that he was just as annoyed.

Finally, ten minutes later the door to the dining room was pushed open once more. It had been long enough for Dani to finish not one, but two glasses of wine.

“Uncle! So good to see you, what’s--” Her eyes locked with José’s and she couldn’t help herself a small grin as she sipped her wine.

This would be interesting.

“Uncle, why is there a guerrilla sitting at your table? Would you like me to deal with her?” José asked, walking more cautiously to his own seat across from her.

Castillo himself did an excellent time not laughing or even smiling. “I don’t appreciate you speaking of my fiancée in such a way, José. Sit. You have kept us hungry long enough.”

José’s ass hit the chair with a thud almost immediately, but he looked as though he had been slapped. “Fiancée? You’re getting married?”

“Yep.” Dani chimed in, unable to keep the mirth from her voice. “We met on a boat and you know it was love at first sight and all that.” She winked at Diego, the boy clearly struggling to keep himself from laughing.

José looked over to his uncle desperately, but apparently Castillo didn’t mind a couple of small lies when it came to fucking with his nephew--even if it was at the dinner table.

The food arrived and Dani dug in with fervour. She was hungry, and she wouldn’t let Napoleon El Pequeño’s presence ruin an otherwise exceptional dinner.

“Uncle, I, uh, really think you should reconsider this marriage.” José said when Dani was about half way through her food. “Your future wife tried to assassinate me from the bell tower of a church.”

Castillo frowned. “Lies.”

Dani couldn’t help it, she cleared her throat. “Truth, actually. But he really deserved it, and he didn’t even die like he was supposed to because my gun blew up in my face.”

Castillo raised an eyebrow. “Is this when you killed Carlos Montero, José?”

“Sí.”

He hummed and put a piece of meat into his mouth, chewing slowly. “Then I wish she would have been able to make the shot. There would have been far less harm done to the stability of Madrugada.”

Her grin grew on her lips as José’s expression fell.

Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be as bad as she had expected it to be.

Chapter Text

Diego Castillo had never been to a wedding. By the time he was born, his father’s closest friends (the only people he ever called friends, really) were already married. No one ever thought his papa would get married, and most doubted Maria Marquessa would ever get married for the exact same reason.

Diego had fully expected the first wedding he attended to be his own, because it wasn’t like José would ever actually marry someone.

As far as he was concerned, the only person he could believe in his cousin loving was himself.

Similar to how he had never attended a wedding, Diego had never had a mother. He had never expected to have one--mothers were things that other people had, people who weren’t expected to become El Presidente when they grew up.

And then a scrappy young woman had helped him onto a boat.

Then that scrappy young woman, now a guerrilla, spared him when she could’ve--should’ve--killed him.

Then his papa not only accepted, but whole heartedly decided that the woman Diego called mama as an accident would become his mama.

And Dani never said a word against it when he called her as such until, now, it would taste wrong on his tongue to say her name.

Diego had never expected to have a mother and now he would be attending her wedding to his father.

“Thank you for your patience, Diego.” The seamstress said as she finished her measurements and pins. “You’ve gotten so much better at being patient since you were a little boy. You’re nearly a man now.”

He offered her a tight smile. He didn’t want to be a man.

When he was a man, Papa would be dead and Diego would be El Presidente.

He didn’t want to be El Presidente.

But that was dangerous to tell his papa. Last time he had tried, the boat he had been on had sunk and Mama had barely survived.

Her friend hadn’t been so lucky.

“Mrs. Castillo, are you done?” The seamstress asked, knocking on the wood door his mother hid behind. She was supposed to be getting changed into her wedding dress so that they could do final alterations.

“It’s Rojas!” She called back in response, clearly irritated. Diego wondered absentmindedly if the servants could see just how much his mother hated his father.

He wondered if his father could see that he didn’t hate his mother, not anymore at least.

“Only for a few more days! Come on out.” The seamstress clearly thought she was being friendly and kind. Couldn’t she tell that Mama was uncomfortable?

Diego’s pinched frown was wiped off his face as the door opened and his mother walked out, her brow furrowed. Despite her disgruntled expression, she looked beautiful. The dress fit her well--likely due to the corseted back.

She looked almost like the photos Diego had seen of his abuela at her wedding to his abuelo.

He knew his father well enough to know that it was intentional on his part. While his father had many criticisms for Abuelo, he had never spoken anything other than kind words about Abuela.

Diego wished he could’ve met her.

He knew that she was the reason he was allowed to have his mama, despite her being a guerrilla and dead set on tearing down everything his papa built.

“You look beautiful, Mama.” He said, smiling up at her and hoping to push across as much love as he could muster. “Really beautiful.”

“El Presidente will be so wowed that he likely will stutter on his vows--and he never stutters.” And there was the seamstress, ruining all his hard work. Where he had gotten Mama to smile and start to admire herself in the mirror, the servant’s words had brought the scowl back to Mama’s face as she looked away from herself.

“Right. I’m glad you like it, chamaco.” She reached out to ruffle his hair, not even looking in roughly the same direction as the mirror.

Diego was not a violent person, but he would like to yell at that stupid seamstress a bit in that moment.

She leant down to press a kiss to the top of his head and he wrapped his arms tightly around her middle, hugging her with all the force he could muster.

He needed to do something to make this wedding just as beautiful for her as it was for Papa.

He was cleared to leave after his mother tried on a variety of different veils--he picked one with pearls on it--and he immediately went to his room. Normally he would go visit his father in order to avoid doing his schoolwork for as long as possible, but this was more important.

He chewed on his lip as he considered his words for a brief moment before beginning to write.

To Maxímas Matanzas (Paolo de la Vega, Talía Benavídez, and Paz Duarte)

You’re invited to the wedding of Antón Castillo and Dani Rojas. Please don’t bring guns or act threatening. Show this letter to one of the guards, they’ll know the handwriting and signature.

And they can ask me for confirmation anyway.

Papa gets to have everyone he knows and loves here, Mama deserves to as well. I can’t invite the others because they’re only guerrillas, but you make music! So it should be ok.

Please come. She really misses you.

Diego Castillo, son of El Presidente, Antón Castillo

(P.S. I really love your music and would appreciate if you could sign a copy of one of your albums I have when you’re here, but it’s okay if not.)

He grinned as he read over his letter one last time and sealed it in an envelope.

He left his room and walked to the library, clearing his throat. There was one guard who he knew was most likely to get this letter delivered--a friend of Mama’s from when she was in the military, apparently. It had been a fanfare when she had realized, though Diego thought he saw jealousy on Papa’s face.

“Excuse me.” He cleared his throat and held out the letter. “I need this delivered to Paolo de la Vega, son of General de la Vega. I don’t care how it gets delivered, only that it’s done quickly.”

The man rose an eyebrow but reached out to take it. He examined the envelope then shrugged, a grin spreading onto his features. “Alright, pequeño presidente, whatever you wish.”

Diego couldn’t help himself from breaking into a grin as he turned and walked away. He would make sure Mama enjoyed her wedding, whether she wanted to or not.

Chapter Text

Dani grumbled as she hauled herself out of bed. Thankfully her wedding wasn’t in the morning (she definitely would have just pulled an all nighter in that case), but it still required her getting up at the ass crack of dawn.

“Fucking… Castillo. Fucking wedding. Fucking makeup and dress.” She grumbled as she turned the water up to boiling and stepped into the shower. There was something satisfying about trying to waste all his hot water, particularly when it served a dual purpose to relax all her muscles in a way they hadn’t been since she was a child.

Even if it only lasted a few minutes until she stepped out of the shower and her muscles cooled once again.

She took her time massaging her shampoo into her scalp and washing herself thoroughly using all the fancy and expensive soaps Castillo had. She even bothered to put on the honey-scented body lotion that she would never dream of wearing normally for fear of being eaten alive by mosquitoes.

But today was her wedding, which would be in the middle of Esperanza inside a giant hall, not in the on the top of a mountain in El Este or in the swamps of Valle de Oro. She could afford to wear scented lotion.

Her wedding.

She closed her eyes as she stepped out of the shower.

Today was the day that, legally, she would no longer be known as Dani Rojas. It was odd, she had never been overly attached to her last name—the opposite, in fact. It was the state given last name to all orphans for whom neither parent was known. A good, patriotic last name, according to the government. Dani was one of hundreds, if not thousands who bore the name Rojas.

A Rojas was not special. A Rojas was one of many, a Rojas was someone who was given up, unloved.

A Rojas was about as far from a Castillo are you could get.

Castillos were lions. Castillos had, for better or for worse, ruled Yara in some way for generations. Whether that be the numerous El Presidentes elected from their line, the businesses they ran that controlled large portions of the economy effortlessly, or merely the social influence they exerted.

Dani would begin the day as a Rojas but end it as a Castillo.

And she didn’t want to.

She would admit, albeit reluctantly, that she hated Castillo less now than it felt like she had ever before. He was different in private, she’d learnt. He doted upon Diego, even if he actively still tried to make him into a replica of himself. So long as she didn’t lie, he was surprisingly patient, even if ever word she said was cruel and meant to stab deep into him.

But she still hated him.

She didn’t want to marry him.

She didn’t want to become a Castillo.

He was a good father though, or at least, he tried.

She took her time drying herself before walking into her room (would she be required to sleep in the same room as Castillo once they were married? It was customary, but he had never said anything about it and she hadn’t asked.) and beginning to get dressed. It would be hours until she would be laced into her wedding dress and she had to wear something until then.

She looked at the window longingly for a moment before grabbing the bag she would take to Esperanza—including a change of clothes for after the wedding and a few weapons—and heading toward the dining room for an earlier than usual breakfast.

“Morning, chamaco. Castillo.” She smiled at the sight of her son, half asleep in his pan tostado, his coffee untouched. Her soon to be husband got a curt nod and only barely.

“Dani.” He said, looking over some reports like always. He almost always had his nose buried in reports or other documents, though they were always carefully locked away when he wasn’t around to keep her from prying into them.

Probably a good idea. For some reason her phone had never been taken from her, so she still kept up with other members of Libertad, though rarely and with their correspondences always quickly deleted. It was unwise to risk anything when she was quite literally living in the lion’s den.

“You look… awake this morning.” He said, a tinge of sarcasm evident as she wiped up the milk dribbles where she had missed her coffee cup from the table with her napkin.

Her eyes narrowed as she sent him a biting glare. “Fuck you, Castillo.”

He let out a long, low sigh as Diego looked up from his food sleepily. “You know, like it or not as of tonight you will be a Castillo too, just like our son and myself. You will have to call me something else—my name, perhaps?”

Perhaps it was the way she wasn’t completely awake, but anger boiled in her chest as she took a bite of her breakfast. “No. You are Castillo. I am a Rojas, and so is he.”

She didn’t know where the conviction came from. Diego had no claim to the name Rojas, really. He was a Castillo, or if not a Marquessa. He knew his name, he knew his parents, unlike Dani. For all she knew, she could have been one of Lorenzo’s many love children and her mother abandoned her to not deal with the struggles of being a single parent.

She didn’t know. The headmaster of Esperanza School for the Lost, as much as she had been her favourite, still told her nothing about how she had come to be at the orphanage other than the fact that Dani was the name her mother gave her.

Whether that was her mother’s dying wish to the hospital she birthed her in, or it had been in a letter, or embroidered painstakingly onto her baby clothes, or he had spoken with her mother himself she didn’t know.

She would never know.

She had attended his funeral with Lita and Alejo flanking her sides as she gave his eulogy.

He had been the closest thing she ever had to a parent, and she saw him at most once a day.

She ignored the traitorous warmth of tears pricking her eyes and threatening to spill onto her cheeks as she pushed away from the table.

“Mama—” Sweet Diego. Her son looked startled and concerned, his lips downturned and his eyebrows upturned. He looked at a loss for words as he opened his mouth once then closed it. “…Where are you going?”

“Not hungry, chamaco. I’ll be in my room, just come get me when the helicopter’s ready.” She said, loathing the way her voice wavered as she grabbed her coffee to take with her.

She was starving.

But she couldn’t just stay there. She could even make herself glimpse at Castillo to try and gauge his mood as she left.

She didn’t run, but she still very nearly knocked into no less than three guards as she rushed to her room, closing the door behind her.

She had hated her last name for a long time. It was a dark stain on her, one she felt she could never rid herself of.

And yet here she was driven to tears at the fact that she would be getting rid of it.

Surely the reason she was so upset was because she would be becoming a Castillo instead. If there was one name worse than Rojas, it had to be Castillo.

But she didn’t like lying, even to herself. She knew that wasn’t the reason, not really. If she could love and adore Diego Castillo with all her heart, she could tolerate Dani Castillo.

But who was Dani Castillo, if not a lie?

All the Yaran people would see is the woman that married El Presidente. The Primera Dama. The vast majority would watch the wedding on Yaravision and thing that she was little more than Antón Castillo’s adoring, subservient wife. They would look at her and see Dani Castillo and see a lie.

She was Dani Rojas. She was the Fist of the Revolution. She was Bebé Tigre.

She hadn’t let herself cry freely in a very long time, but now Dani Rojas was curled up with her knees pressed up her chest, sitting on the floor beside Dani Castillo’s big, plush, luxurious bed with its silk sheets in her air-conditioned room.

She was a mess.

She almost pitied the makeup artists that would have to deal with her doubtlessly puffy face, trying to make her camera ready for the millions of pairs of eyes that would be on her. Everyone, Fake Yarans and Real Yarans alike would be watching her wedding, watching for any flaw or weakness.

She had never been timid or shy. She had spoken against her headmaster on more than one occasion, she had punched her drill instructor, she had called Clara Garcia a commemierda in a camp full of Libertad guerrillas. But she didn’t know if she could do this.

There was a hesitant knock on her door and she scrambled up, checking the time. “Come in, Diego, I’m just going to be a second!” She called out as she rushed into the bathroom to wash her face.

She couldn’t remove all the traces of her breakdown, but at least she could make sure she didn’t worry her son any more than she absolutely had to.

She turned the cold tap on and let the water run until it was almost painful to her fingertips, washing her face once, twice, three times until the cold had numbed it and she was convinced that the tear tracks were gone and maybe even the puffiness had gone down a bit.

She practiced her smile in the mirror a few times before deciding that it was more likely to scare the kid than anything else and walking back into her room.

Only to stop dead in her tracks.

Castillo’s hands were folded behind his back as he looked at her, but there was something about her that seemed almost… awkward?

Even more awkward was the way they just stared at each other for a few moments.

“Your bag is already on the helicopter with Diego, who is doubtlessly talking the ear off of the pilot. The poor man can handle it for a few minutes though,” He said, catching her wrist as she tried to walk past.

She let out a strained breath and grit her teeth. “Didn’t I tell Diego to come get me when it was time to go? Let go of me.”

“We have a few minutes, Dani.” Castillo said with an oddly tender voice. That didn’t negate the fact that he was entirely ignoring her request and tugging to get her arm back.

“A few minutes for what, Castillo?” She wouldn’t look at him. In almost anything you were doing, you looked at your target. Driving, shooting, anything.

She stared at the door.

“Questions. I know this didn’t the dining room, but I still expect truth from you.” He tugged gently and she tugged back, ignoring the slight pain in her shoulder and the way her wrist still didn’t come free.

“Of course you do.” She muttered bitterly. The door was so close, yet too far still.

Not like reaching it would do much anyway. She’d still be stuck on a helicopter with him anyway for the flight to Esperanza, but at least it would be too loud to really talk.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” And wasn’t that the question? How could she answer a question truthfully when she didn’t completely know herself.

“Diego.” She said eventually, not offering any more explanation.

But that, it seemed, was enough. The grip on her wrist loosened enough for her to pull her hand free and she walked off, rubbing it gently.

By the sound of his footsteps, Castillo was only a few steps behind her.

Because Dani Rojas wasn’t allowed to have what she wanted.

She was silent as she climbed into the helicopter, not smiling at Diego because that was more likely to scare him than anything else.

He didn’t smile at her either.

Castillo followed her a few seconds later, sitting beside Diego with a neutral expression as she forced herself to look at him and maintain her uncaring expression.

She took the pan tostado her son offered her and bit off a piece, staring out the helicopter as they slowly rose off the ground.

Legally, Dani Rojas may cease to exist that day.

But she would always exist in her heart.

Chapter Text

The moment the helicopter landed, Dani put as much space between herself and Castillo as possible.

“Why haven’t you killed me?”

“Diego.”

It was the truth, in a way. If Dani killed Castillo, she didn’t know what would happen to her son. To kill Castillo in a house full of his own soldiers was next to a death sentence for herself as well, something she didn’t overly mind but would prefer to avoid. More importantly, if she died killing Castillo, Diego would have absolutely no one. More than likely those around him would push him into the role of El Presidente, just as Castillo had been grooming his son to do for the past few years. That, or José himself would try and take the role, killing Diego in the process to secure his place.

It wasn’t at all out of place for that hijo de puta.

But for some reason, Dani knew that wasn’t the whole story.

Because the truth was that Diego would probably be fine. Dani had a few opportunities to kill Castillo without guards around, where she could take Diego and escape easily.

So why hadn’t she?

Why did Castillo still walk freely?

Why was she still marrying him?

She looked down at the feeling of a small hand slipping into hers and let herself smile weakly at the sight of her son smiling up to her. She had never expected herself to become so attached to the kid, to love him so much.

He was El Presidente’s son. She should hate him and his father alike.

But she didn’t.

“Come on, Mama, you need to get ready.” He said, guiding her through the halls confidently as the dozens of people bustling around moved aside and bowed their heads as they passed.

She felt sick.

She was no better than any of them. She shouldn’t be treated as royalty.

And yet, Diego didn’t even blink. He had never known anything else, he had always been a Castillo lion cub. He had always been Yara’s royalty in all but technicality.

They stopped in front of a room and Diego stood on his toes to press a kiss to her cheek. “I need to go help Papa, but don’t worry. It’ll be okay.”

And then Dani was alone.

For a moment she considered running away. It wouldn’t be hard, truly. It would be so easy to just turn around and walk out. No one would dare question her as the future Primera Dama until it was too late to stop her. She knew Esperanza like the back of her hand, she knew there was a manhole nearby that accessed underground tunnels that she could easily use to escape the city.

She could return to Libertad. She could continue the fight—Valle de Oro and El Este were already free, didn’t Madrugada deserve their freedom too?

Espada needed her help, particularly since the death of her father left her as the head of the Monteros. She didn’t have the time to do everything she needed to do.

Dani would, if she was there.

All she needed to do was turn and run.

She wouldn’t be the first woman to get cold feet at her wedding—far from it.

But she didn’t, because Dani Rojas was a coward.

She pushed the door open, expecting to come face to face with makeup artists and other assistants ready to make sure she looked like perfection for her wedding day. And to be fair, she did. There was a woman with a bag bursting with makeup products Dani couldn’t even name (that had always been Lita’s specialty) and a hair stylist that Dani would kill if they even touched the thread-wrapped strand.

But she also saw someone—no, three people—she wasn’t expecting.

“Talía? Paolo? Paz?” Her voice was little more than a whisper as she rushed forward, letting herself be wrapped into a bear hug from Máximas Matanzas’s very own graffiti artist and head of Radio Libertad.

“Dani!” She couldn’t help but laugh as she was picked up and swung around, even as many of the others in the room looked distinctly uncomfortable.

These were her friends.

Her friends were there for her. At her wedding.

She let out a shaky breath, not letting herself cry as she was placed down and she turned to get a shorter and less strangling hug from each of Paolo and Talía.

“You—How are you guys here?” She asked, finally stepping away and smiling in a way she had almost forgotten how to do.

Talía crossed her arms and shrugged. “You’ve got a sweet kid, Dani, a sweet kid who wants you to be happy.”

Paolo nodded, even if he looked distinctly more uncomfortable than Talía. Dani knew enough about him and his history to know that it was probably more from the familiarity of the situation than anything else. After all, unlike Talía and Dani herself, Paolo had grown up amongst Esperanza’s elite. She had no doubt he had attended dozens of weddings himself, even if she knew he still had a ring hiding in his belongings, citing a lack of perfect moment.

“And since he wants you to be happy, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind too much if you didn’t actually marry… his papa,” Paolo said, looking around the room. She could see some of the assistants stiffen, but none moved to remove her friends.

And she had to do this.

For Libertad.

She shook her head, feeling better than she had in weeks about herself and about the wedding itself. She had never considered that she might’ve been missing talking to her friends on top of hating being in Castillo’s presence almost constantly.

Paolo shrugged at her response. “Okay. But the offer’s always open—you’d be helping me fulfill a childhood dream of crashing a wedding.” She took his shoulder bump with a laugh as she went to fit down in the hair stylist’s chair.

“Thanks, Paolo. Really. It’s good to have you three here.” She said as she caught the hand of the woman going to remove the thread in her hair. Her light tone turned dark as she glared at her through the mirror. “You take that out and it goes right back in as soon as you’re done, got it?”

The woman squeaked and nodded and she let go of her hand.

Talía laughed quietly. “I’m impressed, Dani. You even sound like a Castillo now.”

“You wear authority well,” Paolo agreed, grabbing a cup from the coffee setup a few feet away.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror as the woman styled her hair. It was different from how she normally chose to wear it, all her hair curled into soft, loose curls and brushed out. Then, two simple braids were made to keep the majority of her hair from her face, with two strands left to frame it.

The thread was washed by hand—probably a good idea, given Dani almost never did that herself—and then wrapped back around the hair behind her ear.

Did she sound like a Castillo?

She swallowed thickly as she reached up to touch her hair. “It looks nice,” She muttered to the woman quietly.

She did. She sounded like a Castillo. At some point in the time she had spent with Antón and Diego, she had become accustomed to issuing orders to the various servants and guards around her.

Then again, hadn’t she been doing that before too? She gave orders to various guerrillas without second thought, not just Libertad but La Moral and the Montero’s people as well. She had always worn authority well.

It was just that now she looked like a Castillo as well.

The truth was that Dani Castillo was really not all that different from Dani Rojas. Dani Castillo was everything Dani Rojas was, just with honey scented lotion, and styled hair, and makeup.

And a son who adored her as much as she adored him.

And a husband who was not as bad as she thought him to be originally.

She turned her head at the sound of bickering and rose an eyebrow at the sight of Talía arguing with the makeup artist, holding up a palette full of colour while the artist attempted to snatch it from her hand.

She couldn’t help but laugh.

“Put that down, Talía. I’ll be changing into a different outfit for the reception, something I can get drunk in. You can do my makeup with all the colours you want then, okay?”

Her friend pouted playfully and Dani was struck with the realization that this was actually happening. She would have her makeup done in a conservative style all of Yara would enjoy before being laced into her wedding dress and exchanging vows. Then she would go and change into something else with different makeup for a private reception where even Antón had said he wouldn’t be surprised if everyone ended up drunk.

And she wasn’t upset anymore.

She took the coffee Paolo handed to her and sipped it once before she was forced to abandon it as the makeup artist spent the next hour—or so it felt—painting her face until her pores and freckles disappeared, applying eyeshadow she declared made “that gorgeous green” in her eyes “absolutely pop”, and trying and failing to convince Dani to wear false eyelashes.

There was a line and that was where she drew it.

She chugged the last of her coffee and let the woman paint some shade of pink onto her lips, assuring her that it wouldn’t come off no matter how many times she kissed her groom.

She barely kept herself from laughing at the way Paz’s face scrunched up and he imitated gagging.

“You look gorgeous,” Paolo said, at some point having changed into a suit that fit him impeccably. “Who would’ve thought you’d clean up so well?”

“I did.” Talía grumbled as she elbowed her boyfriend, in a gorgeous Libertad-blue dress of her own. “Now come on, shoes and dress, lets go!” She nudged Dani into a curtained off portion of the room, clearly meant to help her preserve her modesty.

Not that she really had any of that in the first place.

“Just call me in if you need help lacing it up or getting your shoes on! I’m going to kick Paz out real quick so he can go save us seats up front.”

“I think the seating may have already been arranged,” She called out as she stared at her body in the mirror. She was covered in scars from being shot at and blown up more times than she could count. She even had a bite wound on her side that came from Oluso herself.

She smiled and pulled the dress on.

She really did look good.

True to her word, Talía came and helped her lace up the corset back and slipped the stilettos that Dani had had to practice walking in for the past few days onto her feet.

When she emerged with Talía, the makeup artists and hairstylists and even the assistants had all left. All that was left was Paolo and a small boy holding a box as he rambled to the former at the speed of light while the man tried and clearly failed to keep up.

“Chamaco?” She said, taking pity on her friend. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your papa?”

Diego turned to her and grinned. His hair was combed, and he was wearing perhaps the cutest suit she had ever seen, even if it made him look like a replica of his father. “Mama! I’ll be going back to him in a minute, but I have your jewellery!”

She rose an eyebrow as she walked over and carefully set down, letting him put the pearl necklace on and hand her the matching earrings to put on herself. She was almost thankful he didn’t even attempt it himself.

“They were Abuela’s,” Diego whispered into her ear as he gave her a tight hug. “Papa normally keeps them in his room locked up tight, but he took them out last night because he decided he wanted you to wear them today.”

She decided not to let herself think about the warmth in her chest at that. She didn’t want to figure out if that emotion was anger or, God forbid, happiness.

“Thanks, Diego.” She said instead as she stood up and nudged his shoulder. “Now go, I’m sure your papa is waiting for you.”

He nodded and ran off, closely followed by Talía after the woman hugged her too and promised that she would shoot Castillo, consequences be damned, if she gave her the sign.

Her lips twitched as she turned toward Paolo, the only one remaining. “Why aren’t you going with her?”

He grinned. “Hope you don’t mind, but we decided Talía would be your maid of honour, and there’s no way in hell I’m being one of Castillo’s groomsmen. So instead, I get to pretend to be your papa and walk you down the aisle. Think I can get away with threatening Castillo like a papa too?”

Dani grinned so wide her cheeks hurt as she hugged him as tightly as possible. “You can try, I think.”

By the time the two of them reached the entryway, the only person left waiting to walk down the aisle was Talía, a priest Dani didn’t recognize having just slipped out. She winked at them before she, too, walked out.

Dani shared a look with Paolo and allowed herself a few moments of steadying breath.

She ignored the cameras. She ignored the military members lining the aisles. She focused only on the sight of Talía in her blue dress, of the priest, of Diego standing next to his papa with the biggest smile in the world.

And yes. She focused on Antón too, perpetually composed as she watched her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher.

And maybe she was smiling without even realizing it.

She took her place at the altar, standing as the priest gave his speech—something highly religious and expected—then Antón—full of patriotism and propaganda but surprisingly wholesome—then finally herself.

It was rehearsed and classic but… for some reason Paz was crying even still?

She took the simple golden band Diego held out and slipped it onto Antón’s finger, surprised her own hands weren’t shaking.

His hands were warm in contrast to the cool metal he slid onto this finger.

And to her surprise, she found she didn’t quite mind kissing Antón as much as she had expected to.

Or even at all.

She leant into it ever so slightly, her eyes closed.

Now she had to figure out when she had stopped calling him Castillo in her mind.

Chapter Text

Dani was grinning when she escaped into her dressing room after the official wedding ceremony had finished. It hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as she had expected, but she was still quite thankful to be away from all the cameras.

“And now the drinking commences!” Talía cheered and hip checked her before helping her loosen the corset back. “You were amazing out there, you looked hot as fuck, you didn’t even give those assholes a glance, and you didn’t cringe once during your speech or while kissing Castillo.”

She snorted, ignoring the churning in her chest, the guilt at enjoying the kiss and even the wedding in general.

She reached up to touch the necklace, frowning. She had planned to take it off, but maybe… maybe she’d leave it on for now.

“Thanks again for walking me down the aisle, Paolo.” She said, kissing her friend’s cheek.

He nodded but remained silent, his eyebrows furrowed and a troubled look on his face.

She dismissed it in her mind, taking her reception dress and shoes—not stilettos, this time—to go change. She let the pearl necklace and earrings remain, even as she was greatly thankful to change into the shorter and more freeing clothing.

She emerged to find Paolo and Talía staring at each other, Paolo’s jaw clenched tightly.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, grabbing a pin to keep some of her hair out of her face.

Paolo remained silent as Talía huffed. “Paolo decided to tell me just now that he saw his father in the audience.”

Dani stiffened slightly. “General de la Vega?” She turned to Paolo to see him nod curtly.

She knew just how bad Paolo’s relationship was with his father and she reached out to place a hand on his shoulder but let it drop when he pushed it away gently.

“I think he should leave,” Talía crossed her arms over her chest, “you’ve never met him, Dani, but Paolo’s old man is a dick. There’s a reason Paolo hasn’t talked to him in years.”

“And I said that I can handle it, Talía. He’s my father, and dick or not I handled him for twenty years, I can handle him for Dani’s wedding.” Paolo turned toward her, a scowl on his lips. “Look, Dani, I promise I’ll try to avoid causing a spectacle, it’s your wedding, but I’m not leaving.”

Dani let out a slow breath. “I’d never make you leave, Paolo. If you think you can handle it, you deserve to be here. You’re one of my best friends, and you’re the one that walked me down the aisle.” She rested her hand on his shoulder and this time he let her. “But you say the word and I’ll have him kicked out like that. It’s my wedding, after all.”

He gave her a crooked smile and nodded as Talía huffed but helped Dani straighten her dress.

“I still don’t like it, but I’m clearly outnumbered,” Talía grumbled as she straightened the necklace on Dani’s neck so the clasp was back behind her neck. “That asshole better not try anything. Let’s go.”

Dani snickered but nodded, heading back out with her friends into the banquet hall.

Unlike her wedding ceremony, the hall was completely free of cameras and the vast majority of people that had been in the room before. Now, only Antón’s top admirals and generals—including Paolo’s father—lined the majority of the banquet tables, with notable exceptions being the head table that held Antón himself, a visibly excited Diego chatting to an equally excited Paz, and José.

Who was technically a general, but Dani refused to believe he had that role from anything other than nepotism.

In the corner was a band of musicians, traditional ones that Talía wrinkled her nose at as Paolo sighed and nudged her. “You know I can play the violin, right?”

“Yeah, and you were just as stuck up about it as I bet they are when we first met.” She grumbled as Dani nudged them forward, going to take her spot at the head table next to her husband.

Her husband, Antón Castillo.

The words didn’t taste as sour on her tongue as she had expected it to.

She took the glass of wine and sipped it as Antón stood to prompt the hall full of people to begin eating and drinking—there was an open bar after all. She smiled into the glass of wine as she watched a good half of the military officers immediately head toward the bar as the others began to begin piling their plates with the food at the centre of each table.

She startled and looked over quickly as she felt a warm hand on her chest, his fingers rolling over the pearls.

“You’re still wearing the necklace,” Antón hummed, his eyes flicking up to look at her after staring at the pearls for a few long moments.

“Yeah.” She said, licking her suddenly dry lips. “It’s pretty and surprisingly comfortable, plus it matched this dress well.”

He nodded, his hand falling as he went to grab his drink. “It looks good on you, you wear it well.” He took a sip of his rum then held the glass out to her.

She blinked and took it, taking a tentative sip. “That’s really good.”

“It is.”

“Can I try?” Diego chimed in from beside her and she glanced down at him, handing it over when Antón waved his hand.

“The boy is thirteen and it is his parents’ wedding. If José is getting drunk, which of course he is, then I see no reason not to let him as well. This is perhaps the safest place in the continent at the moment, better here than anywhere else.”

Diego handed the rum back. “It’s… not the best,” He muttered, glancing away.

Dani snickered and passed the rum over to Antón, ruffling Diego’s hair. “It’s an acquired taste, chamaco, let me make you something you’ll probably like a little bit more.” She paused. “Actually, you know what? I’ll make drinks for all of us—it’s been too long since I’ve mixed drinks for a group. I used to be a bartender, you know.”

“Oh fuck yeah, Dani and Bicho get pissed part two!” She heard Paz say as she walked over to the bar. She exchanged a few words with the bartender and returned to the head table with a few bottles of drinks and mixers.

She started by making the table a round of her favourite drink—a sweet, fruity thing that most people wouldn’t expect her to love. “And don’t worry if you don’t like it, chamaco, I’ll just drink it.” She said, handing him his glass after passing a glass to everyone there including Antón, who sighed, and José, who looked at it suspiciously before tasting it and downing the whole glass.

They were small glasses, granted. After all, the goal was to have Diego try a variety of different drinks.

She handed him a glass of water immediately after he handed the drink back to her, finishing it herself. “Hydration is key for not getting too hungover, so drink up.”

Antón shook his head after a few drinks so Dani just drank his portion.

It was only a few drinks later that Dani saw from the corner of her eye as Paolo got up, but she ignored it and stole his drink. More for her, he was probably just going to the washroom.

She had just finished her next drink—something a bit darker in flavour—when her attention was distracted by the sound of skin hitting skin.

She turned to see Paolo glowering at his father, his hand wrapped tightly enough around the man’s outstretched wrist that she could see the stark white of his knuckles.

“Oh fuck,” She muttered, hopping up from her seat and ignoring the slight swimming of her vision.

“That’s not my name.” The closer she got to Paolo, the easier it was to make out their conversation. Paolo’s voice was practically shaking with rage and it was clear that both he and his father had a few to drink.

“You are my daughter and will always be my daughter. Nothing you do, whether that be cutting off your hair and tits or wearing a strap on will change that.” The man spat, his face flushed deeply.

The world seemed to pause and then General de la Vega was reeling back and there was a smear of blood on Paolo’s knuckles. That was when Dani reached her friend.

The General stood once again, more than likely prepared to have an all out brawl with his son when he saw Dani.

She wondered what she looked like, in that moment, because the man’s face lost all colour.

Or perhaps it was because Antón had come to stand beside her a moment later, his hand gentle on her shoulder.

“General de la Vega…” He spoke, his voice smooth and composed. There was no doubt in Danis mind that he was completely sober. “What exactly is going on?”

The officer straightened up, not even alcohol able to make him make a rash decision in front of El Presidente.

“Señor Presidente. This is just a small family dispute, my daughter—”

Her husband let out a slow breath, prompting the General to freeze. “I do not like lies, General. I see you’ve had a few to drink—perhaps it is time for you to return home before the alcohol leads you to say something you might regret, sí?”

General de la Vega swallowed thickly, his eyes fixed on Paolo with Dani’s hand on his bicep. Not holding him back, just holding him.

“Of course. My congratulations once again, Señor Presidente… Señora Castillo.”

She forced herself to nod when Antón squeezed her shoulder, watching with hatred as the man walked out.

Her husband then turned to Paolo, looking at him in an analyzing sort of way. “I will ensure your official documents have not been accidentally marked with the wrong sex—I cannot see why General de la Vega would be so confused otherwise—tomorrow. Today is my wedding, a day for celebration.”

Dani blinked and a moment later she was back sitting at the head table. It felt like no one had even noticed the altercation between Paolo and his father.

Talía put a glass in her hand and she drank deeply. Out of everything she was most surprised that Antón had just… offered to fix the official documents so no one could legally misgender Paolo again, especially his own father.

Then again, Antón had never been as bad as she thought and hadn’t even batted an eye at her referencing having slept with women before.

She placed the empty glass down. “Pass me more of that rum, Paz, I want to try mixing it with…” She picked up the bottle of blue liquid and shrugged. “This.”

By the end of the night, Dani was well and truly drunk.

Which was fine. That was why Talía had handed her drink after drink after all. They all needed some drinks after Paolo’s short-lived fight with his father.

She was proud of her boyfriend, though.

“Alright, chico, I think your mama is done for the night.” She said, helping Dani up as the woman leant on her heavily.

Diego looked over at her and nodded, halfway through his millionth water bottle. The kid was drinking responsibly, at least, unlike the rest of them. “Yeah. I’ll show you to her room, come on.” He glanced back to his father, but El Presidente waved his hand. The man—and wasn’t that odd, to recognize that the dictator was just a man—was watching Paolo arm wrestle José Castillo with an odd sort of fascination.

She supported her friend as the teenager led her through the twisting halls and past more guards than she could count until they reached a room with a heavy wooden door flanked by two guards.

The boy opened the door and helped Talía get Dani into the bed. “Thank you again for coming. I think you and Señor de la Vega and Duarte really made sure Mama would enjoy her wedding too. I think it had been making her really nervous…”

She smiled and patted the top of the kid’s head. “Thank you, kid. She really loves you, and it’s clear that you love her too with how much you tried to make it good for her.” They walked back toward the banquet hall together. “You should go to bed soon. You had a lot of water, so your hangover shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I will.” Diego paused before the door and kicked at the ground, making Talía raise an eyebrow. “You know, I think Papa really loves Mama too. And I think she loves him as well, even if she doesn’t realize it.”

Talía stared at the door for a moment then sighed and nodded. “I know, chico. I’m not blind. And you know that we stand behind Dani no matter what, right?”

Diego nodded silently in response, smiling as he pushed the door open.

Talía glanced around the room, snickering. José was passed out on the floor and Paz had his head laid in Paolo’s lap. Her boyfriend didn’t even seem to have the energy to look annoyed by it.

And yet El Presidente looked entirely unfazed.

He stood from his place, brushing down his clothing. “I have called a driver for you, Señor de la Vega, and Señor Duarte. Tell him where you need to go and he will drop you there. I… thank you for coming, Señora Benavídez. It’s clear you are a true friend to my wife despite your grievances with myself, and it is well appreciated.”

Talía wrinkled her nose as she helped Paolo and Paz up. “You do so much as make her cry—”

“You will murder me violently, yes, yes. I can assure you that I have no intention to harm my wife.” Castillo waved his hand flippantly.

And yet she believed him.

Máximas Matanzas was gone. Diego was in bed. Even José had been carried by a guard to his own bedroom.

Finally, Antón could sleep.

Normally, he wasn’t much one for parties like there had been that night. He preferred everything to go to plan, and the Paolo boy punching his own father—with excellent form, mind you—was not in the plan. Nor was everyone getting quite as drunk as they did.

And yet it was still enjoyable.

He smiled as he walked into his room only to quickly draw his gun when he saw something move from the corner of his eye.

“Do not shoot your wife, Antón…” He muttered to himself as he placed the gun on the bedside table, beginning to undress. He hadn’t expected to share a bed with Dani but… he really should have expected it with Diego being the scheming little brat he was sometimes.

It was fine, they would discuss it later.

He sighed as he climbed into bed and leaving plenty of space between the two of them. It was a large bed after all.

Right now, he just wanted to sleep.

Chapter Text

Antón Castillo wasn’t used to sharing his bed. When he was a child, he was like a prince. He slept in a large bed in the exact middle, curled in a nest of pillows. Then when he was thirteen his father was executed. He slept on the floor of his cell with his mother and sister away from him during the nights and days, except for two short hours in the evening after his twelve hours in the tobacco fields in which his mother was allowed to speak with him.

Most of that time had been spent educating him the best she could.

When he finally finished his fifteen year “sentence” at twenty-eight years old, he emerged into a crumbling Yara with a little sister already married to a wretch of a man who blindly followed the new government.

“Your sister is a lamb.” His mother had said with mild disdain and slight pity in her voice. “But you, mijo, you are a lion.”

In those times, he slept on the floor of his mother’s room and then in an apartment of his own when he became successful enough, repairing cars for everyone from the average man to Yara’s then-pitiful military.

It was only when his mama died and he himself found out he had leukaemia did he allow Maria to sway him to sleep with her, at least as long as it took for her to bear a child.

She had never spent the night in his bed in those times. He had never let her, no matter how much she dawdled and clearly wished to.

She was a good friend and perhaps the closest person in the world to him after his mothers dead, closely followed by Reyes and Raul. She would understand exactly why he did not want her in his bed.

He didn’t have time for a wife. He barely had time for his son once he was born, despite the fact that he was also extremely reluctant to even allow nannies around his son.

His popularity had a spike that year, as he took interviews and meetings with his infant son always close by. Diego had sat on his lap and drawn as a young child, listening and learning until he was old enough to sit in his own seat beside his father when he wasn’t in school.

Yet despite their closeness, the closest his son had come to sleeping in his bed were the times when his son demanded to be cuddled until he fell asleep, at which point Antón would deposit him into his own bed.

It was not hard to be elected, not when his smooth voice sang promises of a prospering economy, of how he knew his people and they knew him, of paradise.

Whether he had believed it then or not, he truly could not remember. It had been so long ago.

What was certain was that after his election, he slept alone. He had no reason to seek the company of most women. It was a waste of time, time that could be better spent regaining energy or rebuilding his country. Networking with businessmen and world leaders. Personally ensuring his military had only the best.

This? This was different.

He looked down at the sleeping woman beside him with curiousity. She often inspired that emotion within him. Dani Rojas—no, Castillo—was the antithesis of rationality in many ways. She risked her already promising career in the military (he had been surprised to know that she still held the record for the standard recruit’s gun’s course by quite a large margin) by punching a drill sergeant in the throat, and paid for it with a dishonourable discharge. She chose to stay with the rebellion, despite having planes and boats she could easily use to leave Yara and go to America like she had been trying to do when he retrieved his son from the ship she was stowed away on.

She had not once tried to kill him since stepping foot on his island, despite having had multiple chances.

... That he knew of. There were many things he did not know about his wife.

What he did know was that he appreciated the warmth of her body pressed against his own. He appreciated the fact that, despite layers of makeup and jewellery, his makeup artists could not hide the roughness of her lips as they sealed their marriage the day before. He appreciated the curve of her jaw, sharp when awake but soft in sleep.

He traced his finger down her jaw, from her earlobe to her chin and watched as she sighed contentedly and snuggled closer to him.

They had not consummated the marriage. He did not overly care—he was well aware that he was over twice her age and he had never much cared for sex in the first place.

He had not particularly enjoyed having a sibling and he doubted Diego would either, given how well he got on with his disgrace of a cousin.

His lamb sister had produced a lamb son, but he was still family.

Somehow. Sadly.

His fingers went to the strand of hair wrapped in blue cord, partially hidden behind his wife’s ear. A staunch display of Libertad pride, he had thought, but he had been unexpected for the way she lashed out when he suggested she forgo it for their wedding.

Her wedding gown had been white, as were his mama’s pearls.

And her hair had only mostly hidden a strand wrapped in blue.

He did not know why she was so attached to it, he did not ask. He was the type of man who kept the knife he used to cut tobacco, after all.

He let himself admire her for a few moments before he bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips with the type of tenderness he typically reserved for Diego and none else. Then, he forced himself to emerge from the bed. The sun was rising, there was no use in wasting what little time he had left.

He glanced back at her quiet, unconscious whine as she shifted to occupy the warm space he had left. He chuckled as he dressed himself in his usual outfit. She could claim to hate him as many times as she wished, but he was a smart man.

No one would subconsciously lean into someone they hated as much as she did to him.

His wife may not be in love with him—love was such a fickle concept in the first place—but she did not hate him. He did not know if his wife loved anything other than Diego and her Revolution.

A Revolution she had clearly placed their son above, if his still-beating heart said anything about it.

His wife could afford to sleep in and enjoy her dreams, even if he could not. “Sleep well, mi reina.”

He left their room and walked through the quiet halls of his Esperanza home, overlooking the city itself. Breakfast was not typically taken for another hour and a half, so he had plenty of time to just enjoy the silence and get a head start on his day. Thankfully he was not due to make an address for a while yet as the nation would expect him to be spending time with his wife and son, even if he knew the guerrillas wouldn’t wait.

He wouldn’t be surprised if his wife had somehow found a way to orchestrate an attack while having her makeup and dress put on.

And unsurprisingly, there were no less than three different reports on his desk about guerrilla activity.

He sighed as he looked at the reports from Madrugada. Even without his nephew there to royally fuck things, it was still a mess there. The guerrillas had used the distraction of his wedding to mount an attack and take two checkpoints, even if their attack on the airstrip had been rebuffed.

Esperanza was mildly better, with only riots occurring throughout the city. That had been expected and easily dealt with.

He reached out to take the coffee in front of him before pausing. He had not—

“Ah. Diego. I had not expected you to be awake already—how is your head?”

His son stood in front of him, rubbing his eyes. It was clear the boy had asked a servant to make coffee for both himself and his father, going by the way his other hand was clinging to a cup.

The boy was thirteen, thus Antón had not stopped him from drinking as much as he wished. It was a special occasion after all, and it was amusing to watch as his wife mixed a variety of different drinks offered each to their son to try.

By the time he had stopped drinking, she had still been going strong.

Her tolerance was almost admirable.

“It hurts.” His son grumbled quietly, sipping the coffee. “But Mama made me drink a lot of water in between each drink, so I have a feeling it’s not as bad as it otherwise would be.” 

He hummed in agreement and reached out to smooth down his son’s messy hair. The boy was still in his pyjamas, clearly not having seen the need to dress himself so early.

Despite sharing no blood, his son was remarkably like his mother.

“So...” Diego spoke again after a moment. “What now?”

He rose an eyebrow as he put the reports aside. “What do you mean?”

Diego shrugged in response. “You’ve married Mama—What now? The Revolution continues, and you are still dying. Do we just... continue as we were before? What will Mama do?”

What now indeed.

“I suppose that depends on how helpful your mother is willing to be.” He eventually said in response. “If she were to agree to help fully, the Revolution could be over in less than a month. She knows all of their plans, and she is the one who made the majority of their military advancements, advancements she could easily reverse.”

“But she won’t do that.”

“No, I don’t expect she would.” He shrugged a shoulder. “You cannot make a person fight, but you do not need to. Fighting is a human instinct. More than just that, your mother is a lioness. She will not stay idle for much longer.”

Diego frowned. “You expect her to rejoin the rebellion. Libertad.”

He sighed and placed his cup down. “I do. I hope that she will choose something else, of course, but I doubt it. Your mother... she is opposed to doing what anyone tells her to do. The less I press her, the more likely she is to stay with us.”

His son closed his eyes for a moment then finished his coffee. “I’m going to go enjoy the time I still have with her, then.”

He chuckled, stopping his son halfway to the door. “Mijo, you will have all the time in the world with her, if you wish it. Certainly far more than I will.”

And wasn’t that a novel thought? El Presidente wished he had more time left with the Fist of the Revolution.

He coughed quietly as his son slipped out of the room, wiping the blood off his hand with a handkerchief.

At least Diego got what he would never have.

Time.

Chapter Text

“The guerrillas have attacked José’s airstrip once again.”

Dani looked up from her dinner, blinking. “Did they kill him?”

“No.”

“Pity.” She shrugged as she popped the piece of chicken into her mouth and slowly chewed it. “So why are you telling me?”

Dani Rojas had been Dani Castillo for two weeks now and simultaneously nothing and everything had changed.

She still acted the same as she usually did--generally disrespectful enough that anyone else would be executed. She kept updated on Libertad activities before quickly deleting any evidence of having contacted them. She took dinner every evening with Diego and Antón.

And yet she called El Presidente “Antón” in her head and to his face. Every night she returned to the same bed as him and every morning she woke briefly as he stirred and enjoyed a few minutes of cuddling before he left the bed. The guards took her orders without a single hesitation.

Antón’s lips twitched as he let out a sigh. “As annoying as José may be, you cannot wish for his death.”

Sometimes, she wondered if Antón forgot she was a guerrilla. Forgot that at the end of the day, she was Libertad.

No matter the fact that she could not bring herself to shoot him in their bed.

No matter the fact that she had only yesterday realized that she would shoot anyone that threatened Diego without hesitation.

Even Clara García herself.

She found herself oddly unashamed.

At her continued silence her husband sighed as he speared his food with his fork. “Tomorrow, I will be making an address at the airstrip. You and Diego will be with me.”

Her breath hitched in her throat.

On some level, she knew this would be coming. She was the Primera Dama and the whole country knew it. Of course she was expected to stand beside her husband as he made his proclamations and speeches.

What with how she had heard Diego’s voice blasted over speakers for short speeches of his own, Dani wouldn’t be surprised if she was soon expected to make her own speeches.

Her gut churned and she placed her fork down. “I see.”

Her mouth tasted sour.

Antón stared at her for a few moments. “If it helps, José did get shot and is currently insisting he’s on his deathbed.”

“Where?”

“It grazed his side.”

Diego burst into giggles and Dani’s lips twitched as she forced another small bit of food into her mouth.

Still sour.

She sighed quietly and took a drink of water instead.

If she were braver, she would slit her husband’s throat with his tobacco knife he kept on the desk in their room.

She would take Diego and steal a boat and drive it all the way back to the Libertad base on the Zamok Archipelago.

Her son would be safe and the government would be so destabilized from El Presidente’s death that it should be easy for Libertad to take over.

But the truth was that Dani wouldn’t do that.

Because it didn’t matter whether she was Dani Rojas or Dani Castillo--she was a coward. Dani Rojas just wanted to escape Yara, and Dani Castillo craved the love and stability living with Antón and Diego gave her, despite how morally corrupt it made her.

She grabbed her knife automatically when she felt a hand on her own, though she let go of it when she looked up to meet Antón’s gaze.

She didn’t apologize, but she doubted he expected her to.

“I think I would enjoy a walk around the island after dinner.”

“... okay?”

Diego snickered and she looked over to her son.

“What, mijo?”

He opened his mouth but his words seemed to die on his lips as he processed what she said as she did.

It was the first time she had called him “mijo”.

She glanced back in slight concern as Antón devolved into a coughing fit, but Diego’s voice drew her gaze back to him.

“... Papa wants you to go on the walk with him.”

In hindsight, that made sense.

“Diego is correct,” Her husband’s voice was rougher as he stuffed his folded handkerchief into his pocket. “If you would join me, amor? There is somewhere I’d like you to see.”

She focused on the feeling of his thumb rubbing against the back of her hand and wondered if it was to soothe her or himself. There was an odd tenseness in his shoulders and jaw that weren’t there before.

She wondered what it was about. Her guerrilla activities--was he going to ask her to finally make a proper choice between Libertad and him? Was he going to tell her she needed to start making speeches too?

(A small, small part wondered if he was going to kill her, but he hadn’t killed her yet.)

“Sure, I’m up for an evening walk. It would be nice to catch the sunset.” She ate a few more pieces of her food. It was cool, but it seemed her stomach had finally settled.

Antón finished his food and Dani stood, her hand coming to rest on her husband’s arm. Diego walked with them part way, but separated to go to his room and grab his things so he could go swimming.

Dani still didn’t understand why they had two tennis courts when neither Castillo seemed inclined to play the game. Maybe José did, but she couldn’t see the man who spent more time fucking and doing enough party drugs to kill Guapo playing tennis.

They walked a bit, but it was clear Antón was just trying to stall until he finally worked up the nerve to stop where he wished. And a few minutes later, they did.

Before them was a small monument made of brick and wood and metal with a small cross atop it right near the tennis courts.

Antón sighed and pulled a cigar from his jacket, lighting it as he stared at the monument. Only when she took the offered cigar for a brief drag did he speak. “This is a shine to my mother--her ashes are within. When I had this house built, I made sure that there would be somewhere for her that I could visit often.”

Dani stilled, swallowing thickly as she offered the cigar back to him. She knew how much Antón loved his mother. She was perhaps the only person in the world he could speak no rude word of.

“She died in 2007--breast cancer.” He coughed and smiled sadly as she glanced over at him. “A month later I discovered I had leukaemia.”

“My Papa’s sick. That’s why he’s not here.”

Diego’s words in that hotel rang in her ears now. At the time she had thought it to be a minor illness, even if living with them and hearing Antón’s coughing told her it was likely something more.

But she hadn’t thought of cancer.

“So that’s why... Viviro?” She asked, reaching up to play with her necklace.

He chuckled. “I suppose so. It’s the reason for everything. Edgar approached me when I discovered I was sick and offered me time with his new discovery--not a cure, just time. Maria approached me and convinced me I needed an heir, someone to continue my legacy--thus, Diego was born.”

It made sense, in a way. Why Diego had not been born until so late in his life, why Antón was so obsessed with Viviro.

In a way.

“Diego was the best thing to come of it all. But Edgar was right--his discovery was no miracle, no cure. All it gave me was time, time to have a son, time to guide him the best I could.”

She fixated her gaze on the grave as her husband was wracked with a coughing fit, just as he had many times before.

“It stopped working, didn’t it?”

“Diego picked well.” Antón’s voice was rough but full of pride. “Yes. It stopped working, and while experimentation continues, there was little hope for more while Edgar was alive. There is no hope now.”

Dani crushed the slight guilt in her chest beneath her heel. Edgar Reyes had been a monster, he had sewn a poison device into her for his own enjoyment, he had tortured thousands of Outcasts in his research.

She should not even be feeling empathy for Antón.

Even if she did.

“I see... I’m sorry.”

Antón chuckled. “Months ago I would have dismissed that as a lie. I’m still not sure if I should.”

“I don’t like lies.” She found herself looking at him, a frown on her lips to contrast his smile.

“I’m well aware, amor.” He stared into her eyes for a moment before turning back to his mother. “It is also why I married you. I am dying, it is a fact I have accepted long ago. Whether I die from cancer or your little guerrillas matters little now, I have done all I can. But Diego...”

He turned to take a vase from the soldier that had come up behind them. Dani startled, her eyes wide. She was losing the reflexes and instincts that a lifetime of being in survival mode had given her.

“Diego has not yet had a chance to do anything.” Antón placed the vase on the memorial, closing his eyes. “Can you swear that if I died your precious Libertad would not want to see Diego slaughtered just the same? Would not force him to watch my execution before the masses, only to sentence him to more punishment than the years he’s already lived, despite the fact that he has done nothing?”

Dani thought to her time in that lighthouse. She thought to the speech she had barely payed attention to through the haze of pain and panic and the sight of Diego standing there watching with wide eyes.

She thought to the tobacco knife Antón kept on his desk.

She thought to the way she had instinctively lied to Clara that the hotel room was empty. To the way Juan hesitated whenever she brought up how Diego had saved her.

“No.” She said finally. “I can’t. But I can swear that they will never lay a hand on him to harm him, not while I’m alive.”

She set her jaw as she watched the flowers rustle in the wind. Maybe, just maybe, she finally understood Yolanda Castillo and her son’s devotion to her.

“I know.” She stood still as her husband offered his arm to her once again. “And that is why I married you. That is why I have not had your phone smashed. That is why I have dealt with most disrespect than I have allowed since my mother’s death. And that is why I have fallen in love with you.”

She closed her eyes and let her hand rest on his arm.

“Tell me more about your mother?”

And shortly after another cough, Antón Castillo began to weave a tale of a women who devoted her everything to him, who taught him everything she knew and protected him as much as she could. He told the story of a woman who pushed him further and further, never letting him give up no matter the beatings. He told the story of a woman who sang with the voice of a nightingale and did not cry, even on her deathbed.

And Dani Rojas understood.

And Dani Castillo understood.

Chapter Text

“Support for Castillo just keeps growing.” Clara folded her hands under her chin as she stared at the map of Yara in front of her. There were scrawls and tokens all over the map with who they had where, who was alive, who was dead. Yelena with La Moral (sadly missing Jonrón) and Lucky Mama with the Legends (sadly missing El Tigre) in El Este. Máximas Matanzas in Valle de Oro. And...

Well, Clara García was smart enough to know Libertad didn’t have the Monteros, not really. Dani did, maybe, but the Monteros would never follow an older Clara made.

Then there was Dani herself, her token placed on Isla del Leon.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Dani.” Clara murmured, tapping on her token.

It felt as though the war had been on standstill ever since Dani had gone to the island, alone, without help. She and Juan got a text almost daily (and those few times she missed her daily text it always sent a shot of panic through her chest) but there understandably wasn’t much that the other woman could say.

“We just need to trust her, Clara.” Juan puffed on his cigar, sitting across from her. For some reason he preferred to look at the map upside down. “She’s a guerrilla through and through.”

She pursed her lips as she picked up the piece they had chosen to represent the Fist of Libertad. Unlike all the other pieces that were blue with an initial on them, Dani’s was white.

At the time, it had been the only piece she had left. Lita’s piece had been blue, but Dani was unexpected.

Now, she wondered if it was symbolic. In her mind, Castillo’s were always red, Libertad was always blue.

But El Présidente wore a white suit. The FND uniform was white. Yet Libertad used plenty of white too.

It made sense that Dani was white.

“I know, and I do trust her... but I wonder if maybe we made the wrong choice. Dani herself was uncertain about if she could handle the mission, we pushed her to do it. Dani is a guerrilla doing a spy’s job.”

She closed her eyes.

She thought of the way people began to praise Castillo following his wedding, the way they pointed at the way FND soldiers seemed to be less strict on their areas and more people were allowed in and out of Esperanza to see their loved ones, whispering about his wife having a good influence on him.

She thought of the picture that circulated of Dani in casual clothing with young Diego Castillo asleep with his head in her lap as she stroked her hair. No one was sure where the photo was taken or by who, but everyone agreed it just didn’t feel set up. The fact that it wasn’t distributed through official channels seemed to reinforce that idea.

She thought to the way Castillo made an official announcement that some official documents had been found with incorrect genders marked upon them and declared that any Yaran who believed their official documents were incorrect needed to go to their nearest government office at the first opportunity to have the error fixed.

She thought to the sight of Dani standing next to El Presidente with a hand on Diego Castillo’s shoulder shortly following an attack on José Castillo’s airstrip a few months ago. She thought of how Dani publicly denounced José’s murder of Carlos Montero with Antón Castillo not a foot away.

The man had looked unfazed and Dani had no hesitation in leaning against him after her statement.

That in and of itself was concerning and Espada still hadn’t been returning Clara’s calls following the incident.

She thought to the folded letter close to her breast in the inner pocket of her jacket, a letter that had been passed to a guerrilla by her FND soldier brother before being passed to her.

She thought of not only Antón Castillo’s signature on the letter, but the small star scrawled in blue ink right beneath.

A letter she had not yet told Juan of. A letter she was not sure she would tell Juan of.

Juan placed a hand on her shoulder as she placed the token back down. “Dani will make us proud.”

Clara was already proud of her.

“I know.” She smiled at her old friend and mentor before going silent for a moment.

Juan frowned. “What do you need, Clara?”

He was smart. You didn’t survive a Revolution and jump into another one without being smart.

You also didn’t do it without being a little bit stupid too.

“I’m going to be gone for a few days... I have some people I need to meet in Esperanza.” Clara swallowed. “Old friends, people I grew up with that I can’t have Libertad knowing I’m meeting with. They’re not guerrillas but they’re not as much of True Yarans as they’d like everyone else to believe.”

“And you need someone to hold up the fort and cover for you.” Juan nodded, grinning at her. “I think I can do that.”

Clara didn’t necessarily like lying, but she found it necessary, sometimes.

And she was good at it.

She let her shoulders sag and she hugged her mentor tightly, the letter burning against her chest so hot she wondered for a moment if Juan would be able to feel it too.

“Thank you so much.”

Juan was a guerrilla.

Dani was a guerrilla.

But Clara? As much as Clara tried, she would never be a guerrilla, not truly. There was a reason she spent the majority of her time safely tucked away on the Zamok Archipelago.

No, Clara was not Dani, nor was she Juan.

She was a politician.

Just like Antón Castillo.

Chapter Text

Antón Castillo was no fool.

When he was a child, he had been naïve, just as Diego was now. He had believed in his father wholeheartedly, he had believed that he had to be the lion and the lamb.

When he was thirteen, he realized his father was wrong. It was his father’s insistence on being the lion and the lamb that had him slaughtered like one.

Antón had always been devoted to his mother, but he had not learnt the value of listening to her until after his father’s death and the punishment he was henceforth subjected to. The “Revolution” didn’t care that he had been just a child, a child that barely knew how to hold a pistol and had horrible aim, a child who had loved music and cars more than anything.

Just as his son did now.

When Antón was thirteen, he killed the lamb within him. He didn’t need it anyway. With that lamb died his naïvety.

But even with the lamb, he had never been a fool. He had seen the brewing of dissent in even his school, he had warned his father, he had been ignored.

Antón was no fool because he listened. He listened to his papa, because his words had value despite their error, and he listened to his mama and learnt everything he could.

And now?

“Let people change their gender.”

He blinked rapidly and looked up from his work to his wife sitting on the edge of his desk, peering down at the paper he was signing.

Technically he should hide it, she could give that information to Libertad. But really, he was busier being confused by the abruptness of her statement and the fact that he hadn’t noticed her come to sit on his desk.

“Excuse me?”

“Let people change their gender on official documents.” Dani placed a cup of coffee down in front of him and he picked it up to sip. “You changed Paolo’s official gender and name, I don’t see why you can’t let everyone.”

He frowned, pushing his paperwork to the side when it became apparent that his wife wasn’t leaving. “I changed Paolo de la Vega’s official documents because I don’t like lies.”

“And you think that all the names and genders on those documents are truth?” Dani scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him as she sipped her coffee. “What reason do you have to not let them?”

He paused. “It would be a hassle. I would face enough backlash from my generation to give me a headache for the rest of my life. Why should I bother?”

“It’s not the truth.”

And wasn’t that a simple answer? Yet from it he sighed and went to grab a piece of paper to start drafting a speech.

Being in love was inconvenient. Being in love with an intelligent woman was even more so.

“That and it would make people happy. Those old geezers are going to die soon anyway, I’m more than happy to accelerate it myself.”

He sighed and handed her the quick speech he had drafted--after all these years it had become almost second nature to write them.

“There. If it’s to your liking, I’ll give the order and make the announcement tomorrow morning.”

The shock on her face was enough to make smugness swirl in her chest as she picked the paper up. “That’s it? That’s all it took?”

“Sí. I am no fool, amor.”

Dani hopped off his desk with the paper without another word, leaving him to his paperwork.

That was the first time Antón realized that his wife knew more of Yara and her people than he did, in a way.

The way one of his guards had personally thanked him immediately after he gave the announcement and asked for a ten minute break to go file his--no, her paperwork was evidence enough.

Antón was no fool. He had listened to his papa, his mama, and now he listened to his wife.

“You should let people visit their families in Esperanza more easily.”

“Why?”

“Libertad can get in and out. The blockades do nothing to stop them, they just hurt the people and make them mad.”

He almost always demanded an explanation, and one was almost always given.

He had gotten to the point that he stopped giving announcements and just gave the orders to the suitable people.

“You should acknowledge the holiday today.”

Antón sighed, resting his head in his hands. “There’s a holiday?”

Dani hummed. “The Triada--”

“Dani.” His words stopped her as he held a piece of paper out to her.

“This is blank?”

“Yes.” He looked up at her and took a sip of the water next to him. “You are the Primera Dama, it is more than within your right and perhaps even is your responsibility to make this speech. I am Catholic, as loose as that term may be. This is not my place.”

He had seen Dani endure torture with less terror on her face than there was now. “I can’t just... I’ve never given a speech before.”

Antón laughed quietly. “It’s not hard. Write it, I will read over it, and you can give it over the radio. Even Diego has given more speeches than he can count, it is your turn, amor.”

The speech his wife wrote was far more personal than something he would’ve written for a holiday. Typically he just mentioned the holiday briefly, Dani had included an anecdote of her own experiences on the day and a heartfelt hope that everyone enjoyed the day.

It was perfect for her first speech.

“That wasn’t so bad.” She had mumbled that night, curled up against his chest.

He hummed in response, already half asleep. It had been a hard day, he had woken up with little energy in the first place and it felt as though it had drained faster than normal.

He pulled her slightly closer at the kiss on his cheek, his thoughts heavy and slow. He could’ve been dreaming when he imagined her telling him she loved him, quietly and muffled against his skin.

Somehow, though, he doubted it.

Antón looked down at the letter in his hand.

He wrote exclusively in black ink, preferring the look of it. He had most certainly not drawn a crude five point star onto the bottom of the paper in blue ink.

It looked like something a child would do, but, well, while his wife could most certainly sing (and hadn’t it been startling to hear her singing one of his mother’s songs to Diego one evening), she had not a lick of artistic talent.

He chuckled as he sealed it into an envelope and walked to the library. He had nothing he needed in the room, but right outside it?

“Lieutenant Martinez.”

“Señor Presidente!” The man was looking at him with wide eyes, not that he could exactly blame him.

Antón handpicked the guards that served in his home, though he didn’t know everything about them. He hadn’t known Martinez had been a friend of his wife’s until he had seen them speaking amicably before she had even relaxed in the house.

He held out the letter, smiling. “I need you to get this to Clara García--calm, Lieutenant.” His hand was up as his man’s eyes went wide and he stiffened. “You are in no trouble--and I do believe Dani would object if you were--but I am well aware you have some kind of way to get this to Clara García. I do not care how it gets to her, just that she receives it unopened.”

Martinez took the letter as though it would harm him and nodded his head stiffly. It was more than apparent that he was still deeply uncomfortable. “Yes... Señor Presidente.”

Antón barely restrained a sigh. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Then, he turned and left.

He knew exactly how it would get to Libertad’s leader--Lieutenant Martinez had a younger sister that was a guerrilla herself.

But the Lieutenant didn’t need to know that he knew that.

He had one last thing to do.

It had been a long time since Antón Castillo had regularly rode a horse--a hobby he had used to enjoy with his mother every Sunday after church. But it was not a skill one tended to forget, so he barely felt it as the steed moved under him.

“I’m surprised you wanted to go hunting with me, Uncle.” José said, playing with his gun as he rode alongside him.

This place--Danzante Ridge?--was really quite useful. Much of the area was completely undeveloped forest, which made it idea for hunting.

It was also a restricted military zone, so it meant they were unlikely to run into anyone.

“As much as you may irritate me with your refusal to grow up, you are still family.” He looked ahead, not bothering to unsling his rifle. He knew it was loaded, there was no use in messing with it.

That would just cause an accident. Antón didn’t like accidents.

“Valeria would be ashamed of me if I ignored you just because of that.” He let out a slow breath at the thought of his sister. The woman had always been more lamb than lion. While Antón had killed his lamb to survive after their father’s death, his little sister had been only seven years old.

He couldn’t exactly blame her for killing her lion. That had always been a point of disagreement between them, he thought the “Revolution” was only made possible because their father was too soft on their people, Valeria had thought he had been too hard on them and had in turn killed anything dangerous about herself.

Antón had never been a fool, but he couldn’t say the same for his sister.

Why else would she die by her own hand in a place so easily accessible by her ten year old son?

José shrugged with one shoulder as he looked down the sight of his gun. “I guess so. I don’t think about mom all that much.”

It was almost as though his nephew were incapable of speaking the truth, what with how he ran from it at every opportunity.

His lips twitched downward.

“Be that as it may, I do. I care deeply for my family, and I would not want you to forget that.”

It was odd how easy it was to tell not a single lie, yet not the whole truth. It was odder, still, how José had never managed it.

The boy scoffed. “Okay. You know, Uncle, you talk all the time about truth, lies. You’re the worst liar of us all.” José stilled his horse, taking aim at a deer then sighing and shaking his head when the deer turned toward them and ran away.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” He scoffed once more, his tone bitter as he began to lead them down another trail. “You don’t actually care and you never have. Mom died and then what? You let me live with you, took dinner with me and told me no lies, then went and had a son with that Marquessa bitch. I once spent two months when I was fourteen without hearing your voice.”

They passed a tree with an orange ribbon tied around it and his nephew reached out to tear it off for no reason other than he could.

“God forbid you actually show your nephew some care. You love that guerrilla bitch more than you ever loved me, and why? Because Diego decided he liked her?” José stilled the horse and turned to stare at him. “You’re dying, Uncle. You’re dying and when you do that guerrilla bitch will take over and ruin everything and I already know you expect me to just let that happen.”

It was perhaps the most honesty he had ever heard from his nephew, and it was refreshing. The first gunshot did not surprise him at all.

Nor did the second.

When José dismounted to inspect the buck he had killed, Antón followed to inspect the boy he had killed.

“Lies.” He reholstered his pistol and knelt down to graze his fingers over the bullet wound in the back of his nephew’s head. “I never expected you to let it happen.”

He smeared the blood between his fingers as he remounted his horse and took the trail back to the helipad.

At least José was right about one thing--he did love Dani and Diego more than he loved him.

It was a pity that the boy didn’t realize he actually had loved him, but it didn’t matter in the end.

“Successful hunt, sir?” The helicopter pilot asked as he got in.

“I didn’t shoot a single buck.” He frowned. “I think José would’ve had more luck without me, no reason to stay.”

“Of course, sir. Your wife and son will be happy you’re home in time for dinner, at least.”

He smiled to himself. “Indeed they will.”

Chapter Text

“Hello.”

The man looked over at her with a critical eye. It was almost odd just now much Lara’s older brother looked like her--they almost seemed to be twins as opposed to the four year age gap Clara know they had.

He sighed and put out his cigarette on the wall before slipping it back into the package, a habit she was pretty sure would lead to a fire one day. “Good to finally meet you, Clara García.” He held his hand out. “Santiago Martínez.”

It was odd to be shaking hands with one of Castillo’s lieutenants and not trying to avoid death, but she was a politician. The discomfort didn’t even flicker across her face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tiago. I’ve heard a lot about you from your sister.”

The stare he gave her immediately told her she’d done something wrong. “Lieutenant Martínez, to you.” His hand fell from her own and he began walking, obviously expecting her to follow. “Only Lara calls me that, and I’ve been trying to get her to stop since we were thirteen.”

Ah.

“My apologies then.” She said, caching up to the man and walking alongside him. The dock they reached contained a simple, nondescript boat with no weaponry to speak of. It’s was more than likely someone’s personal boat that had been seized by the military after they were arrested.

Santiago gestured for her to get into the boat and she obeyed, holding the letter in her hand tightly. He started it and they began the slow journey to Isla del Leon.

She wondered how Dani had felt making the journey herself. Had she been as nervous as Clara was now?

“If you have any weaponry I recommend you hand it to me now, keeping it with you won’t do you any favours.” She wondered if the man had practiced the speech, what with the way his voice was completely even and monotone. “You may think you can sneak one in, you may think you’d succeeded when they let you in with it. You haven’t.”

She placed her pistol on the man’s lap and a second later a knife joined it.

Castillo had invited her. Dani had scrawled a blue star on the bottom of the letter.

She had faith that she’d be okay.

And even if she wasn’t, Juan was more than capable of running Libertad himself, even if he’s curse her until he day he died.

Santiago nodded at her and she wondered if he was aware of the way his shoulders relaxed. “When we arrive, two other soldiers will take you into the house, I have other things to do. It’s also in case I’m a mole, if I had to guess. Standard procedure.” She wondered how men like him could be so content knowing they weren’t trusted. She trusted her guerrillas with her life and they trusted her with theirs. “A word of caution--El Presidente is not a man to be trifled with. He may be getting up there in age, but his mind and reflexes are as quick as a man half his age. If you respect him, he will respect you.”

Clara swallowed thickly as she remembered the way she had tainted him on the phone, calling him Fascista.

Step one failed.

Still, it had been the best move at the time. The man had been so angered that he had made some snap orders, ones that had gone badly for him when Libertad reacted quickly and as a whole.

Clara García was a woman with many regrets, but she did not regret that.

“You’re lucky, though. You know the Primera Dama, right?”

“Yes.” She licked her lips as she stared at the large manor on the island as she exited the boat. It was odd that she hadn’t had her wrists bound or even been blindfolded. “Dani and I are not particularly close,” one of those regrets, “but we know each other.”

Santiago snorted. “You should call her Señora Castillo while you’re here. I understand you mean no disrespect, but the guards here are a close knit group and we are all quite fond of the Primera Dama. They won’t react well if they think you’re being disrespectful.”

That was surprising to her.

Dani had a certain charisma to her. That was the reason Clara had chosen her, despite being new to Libertad, to recruit the other major rebellion factions. She was honest in a way Clara was not, and people liked her.

But Dani was also resistant to authority, even Clara’s rather hands off leadership. She couldn’t imagine that to have gone over well in the Castillo manor, not with the man’s guards being the most loyal there were.

And yet, apparently it had. Enough that Dani had earned their loyalty as well, though it was unclear if she earned the loyalty as Dani or as the wife of El Presidente.

“I see. You’re being very helpful.” She said as they walked up a rather winding path, past numerous guards whose gazes made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “May I ask why?”

Santiago sighed, visibly annoyed with her questions as he stopped before a large gate. A moment later, it opened. “I want this war to end about as much as you do, García. I love my sister, I don’t want every dinner was have together to have us both stepping around discussing our days because it’ll blow up into a fight. I want Yara to finally heal from all her wounds.”

Clara scowled. “So then why don’t you join Libertad? You--”

She found her own knife hovering just inches from the skin of her throat.

Santiago’s eyes were hard. “Because I believe in Antón Castillo. For all his flaws--because he is human--he has done better for this country than his predecessors. And because I don’t believe that throwing our country into chaos is the way to solve things.” The knife left her throat and they continued walking. “You’re a smart woman, García, but you don’t know what it actually takes to rule a country. Neither did Santos Espinosa. You are both idealists and little else.”

Clara wished she could make her point in contrast--she was a realist, she had always doubted she would leave this war alive, but they stopped before two other guards right before the entrance to the manor.

“Goodbye, Clara García.” Lieutenant Martínez nodded to her sharply. “We’ll see each other again when it’s time for you to leave.”

So the plan wasn’t to kill her.

She had been hopeful, but realistic about her fate, contrary to what Santiago believed about her.

The two guards that led her inside were much less friendly than Santiago, completely silent and flanking her on both sides. It didn’t take long--up a flight of stairs and down a hallway--until they stopped.

“Señora Castillo.” One of the guards--the higher ranked one--spoke, nodding his head.

Dani looked... different. When Clara had last seen her in person, she had been caked in days of grime. Her hair had been visibly tangled despite its short length and the bags under her eyes had been heavy enough and dark enough that she seemed to put out a perpetual aura of exhaustion.

She could not have looked more different while still being quite clearly herself.

She looked well rested and pampered, not wearing makeup but not a speck of dirt on her either. Her hair was neatly combed and her nails neatly trimmed, with a pearl necklace accompanying the cord and bead necklace Clara was used to seeing her wearing. Somehow, they worked together.

“Thanks, Miguel, Luis. I’ll take her from here.” She even sounded different, somehow. Her tone was lighter, more casual than it had ever been when directed toward Clara. And there was an undercurrent of authority that Dani had never been comfortable wielding.

She wore authority well, now.

Luis, going by the way Dani had nodded at her second, frowned. “Señora, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Dani’s frown and slight narrowing of the eyes shouldn’t have been as chilling as it was, it was almost as if she had taken notes from Castillo himself. “It wasn’t a request.”

Miguel placed a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “Of course, Señora. We’ll only be a call away if you need us, though of course I don’t expect you to.”

“Thank you.”

And then Clara García stood alone in the hallway of El Presidente’s house with the Primera Dama herself.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Dani wrapped her in a tight hug and she eagerly returned it.

The two of them weren’t that close, but there was a kind of camaraderie that being two women at the head of a Revolution brought them.

“It’s good to see you, Clara.” Dani said as she pulled away, a grin so different from yet similar to the serene smile she had had minute before. “Really. I’m... glad you decided to come. I’m really hoping we can end this war.”

And Clara found herself grinning back as they came to stand outside the dining room door where Antón and Diego Castillo doubtlessly waited.

“Me too, Dani. Me too.”

Chapter Text

There was something downright odd about entering a dining room with Dani Rojas, only to find Antón and Diego Castillo staring right at them, their food growing cold as they waited to start eating.

“Lieutenant Martínez gave notice that he arrived at the front doors with Clara García and handed her to the Lopez brothers ten minutes ago.” Castillo said in a chilling tone and Clara fought to keep herself looking calm.

It was almost as if Dani didn’t need to fight at all, depositing herself in the seat to Castillo’s right and leaving Clara the only remaining seat on his left.

Also the furthest from the door.

“We were talking.” She shrugged nonchalantly and stabbed a piece of food with her fork. “You could’ve started without us, I told Diego--”

“Papa said no.” The boy chimed in, even as he kept starting at Clara. It wasn’t necessarily in a bad way, though. It felt almost like the way newborns stared at anything they’re were unfamiliar with.

“Then that’s on you, Antón.”

Clara nearly choked on the first bite of food she tried it eat--she was confident they didn’t plan on killing her here and then, and Dani and Diego were both eating freely. Castillo even had a few bites already.

Antón.

They were married, it was technically right for Dani to call him by his first name and yet... it felt wrong to her. But it fell so easily from the other guerrilla’s mouth, and based on the complete lack of even an eye twitch from the other two they were completely used to both the name and mild disrespect.

Not for the first time, Clara wished she could’ve known what happened in that house all those months Dani was there alone.

Castillo merely sighed and frowned, but there was an oddly soft sort of look in his eyes that shook Clara to her core. It was hard to see Castillo as a person. Dani? Yes, of course. Diego? He was just a child.

But Castillo was never supposed to be a person.

“I disagree, but nonetheless. Now that Libertad’s glorious Clara García,” and that sarcasm practically dripped from his lips, “is here, we can begin. First, a rule--”

“Don’t lie.” Dani interrupted Castillo mid speech and once again Clara was shocked to see the man actually smile, even as he shook his head. “That’s the rule. You don’t lie at the dinner table--actually, you don’t lie at all, but especially not at the dinner table--or Yolanda Castillo herself will curse you from heaven.”

“That’s not... Dani.” Castillo sighed, his eyes narrowing.

“You can not answer a question if you want, I’ve done that many times.” The look Dani sent Castillo was equally as adoring as the one he sent her and her blood chilled. Castillo was not the only one that had fallen in love. “But you can’t lie.”

For the first time, Clara García reconsidered Dani Rojas--no.

For the first time, Clara García reconsidered Dani Castillo’s loyalty to Libertad.

“You exhaust me, amor.”

Clara swallowed thickly.

Now she just had to figure out just how much loyalty Dani still held to Libertad and whether her loyalty to Castillo outweighed it.

She had never expected this.

She forced a tight smile onto her face. “Understood, no lies.”

Castillo’s gaze bore into her. “Good.”

She forced herself to look away from him, her heart pounding in her chest. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she should’ve told Juan the truth about where she was going. Maybe--

Her eyes found place on someone else who was looking at her. Diego Castillo was dressed in his military clothes, yes, but there was an ease with the way he wore them that she hadn’t seen in his early appearances standing beside his father.

More important than that, he had the same smile as Dani despite any lack of true relation.

‘It’s okay.’ It took her a moment to realize he was mouthing the words rather than truly saying them, and she only did because she could still hear the flirting disguised as an argument occurring between Dani and Castillo. ‘Mama will--’

Clara regretted not getting better at reading lips, but it had never been a skill she found essentially.

Still, despite the fact that she couldn’t decipher much of his message, one thing was apparent. Diego Castillo had complete and utter faith that things would turn out well because Dani wanted them to.

Clara just wished she could have as much trust as he did. To realize that one of her best guerrillas, the Fist of Libertad, loved the fascist they were fighting against?

It was unsettling in the very least.

“So tell me, Clara García,” and she hated how her name rolled off his tongue, knowing very well that he had known her father and grandfather and that her great grandfather had stood alongside his father. “Why do you want so badly to see me follow my father’s fate?”

This, at least, she could answer. She had written a thousand drafts of pamphlets on just why Yara should rise up against the man before her. “The Yaran people deserve--”

Dani cringed slightly even as she started to speak, shaking her head. Castillo himself cut her off, a frown etched onto his features. “Perhaps you misunderstand me. I asked why you want me dead. Not the Yaran people, not Libertad. You.”

She froze.

She was Libertad. She was the Yaran people.

“Why does the only and most beloved daughter of Ernesto García want me dead?”

She licked her lips and took a sip of the ice water in front of her to delay her answer.

She had been the leader of Libertad and the voice of the Yaran people for so long that she barely remembered why she had spoken out against Antón Castillo in the first place.

“It is not power, I know that.” Castillo kept speaking, seeing she clearly wasn’t going to. “You would have had vast amount of power, what with your father’s wealth being passed onto you and you alone. That’s why you were able to be a journalist, no?”

“Being a journalist is the exact reason I learnt to hate you.” She spoke without thinking, a habit from her youth that she thought being a political leader had trained out of her. “I was all set to take my father’s mantle and govern Isla Santuario, but being a journalist exposed me to the truth of your crimes.” It was... a flimsy reasoning. But what could she say if she was not allowed to act as the voice of her people?

Castillo frowned. “I have never lied about what I am doing. There has never been any truth to uncover. You cannot expect me to believe that if you were to take power from me, from my government, that you would not also commit crimes.”

“I wouldn’t.” She grit her teeth. “The crimes you have committed are not unavoidable things. Sacrificing thousands of lives to your Viviro--”

“Just as you have sacrificed thousands of lives to your revolution? Thousands of guerrillas, farmers, people who buy into your words and pamphlets. All dead.”

“That’s different.” And it was. “We are fighting and dying for a new tomorrow. I am fighting and dying alongside them. You waste--”

Castillo smiled and she stilled from where she had been leaning over the table. “Interesting. Waste is such a funny concept.” He leant back as Dani groaned under her breath. “Waste is something used for resources. For water, for food, for money.”

“People are not resources, Castillo.” She spat, narrowing her eyes at him. Why wasn’t Dani interjecting, saying something, anything?

“You just said so yourself, did you not? I waste them.” He let out a slow sigh. “I am tired, Clara García, so let me put it clearly. We are not different, not at all. We both sacrifice the lives we deem necessary--because they are a resource--to achieve a goal. You want control of Yara because you think you can do better. I believe I am bringing Yara needed wealth from other countries, the fact that I am saving other people is a bonus.”

“I fight with my people. I put my life at risk for them.”

“Do you?” Castillo rose an eyebrow. “Tell me, is this not the most danger you’ve been in since you managed to escape your ancestral island? I have not heard word of Clara García since then--no, from Madrugada, from Valle de Oro, from El Este, all my reports speak of Dani Rojas being a nuisance.”

And he was right.

Clara had been sat in the Libertad base on the Zamok Archipelago since they had escaped Isla Santuario.

“I am a politician. I’m not a guerrilla.”

“Sí.” It was odd to have Castillo’s smile actually directed at her. “Just as I am. We sit in our respective offices, or... wherever you sit, and we make decisions that impact thousands of people and often sacrifice lives.”

It made her feel sick.

But it would be a lie to deny it.

“I still don’t believe you deserve to rule.” Clara said after a long moment, her mouth dry.

“Perhaps not. I am tired, I do not know if I want to rule either. But I do not believe you deserve to rule if I do not.”

And that was a shock to her.

She had always thought that Castillo would rule until he died, or at least his son was old enough to take his mantle.

Diego was only thirteen. While there was the possibility of him taking over if Castillo died, it wouldn’t be accepted in any other circumstance.

“But.” The hope that had slowly started to build died in her chest. “I do not want everything I have worked so hard toward to go to waste. And you know that even if I die, and Diego dies, and Dani dies, my military will not surrender. They will not take your control kindly, and thousands more will die, likely to end with my country in chaos and no true leader.”

“I’m sure we could...” The words died on her tongue.

“No. You are not.” Castillo clicked his tongue. “Let’s make a deal, Clara García. We will both, here and now, sign a ceasefire. Any of our troops that break the ceasefire once being informed will be executed--I will accept nothing less. In a week’s time, we will meet at Torre del Leon and Libertad, the Montero family, La Moral, and--Dani, it was your friend you said had control in Valle de Oro?”

Dani snorted and Clara looked over at her. She looked smug as she played some sort of game with her fingers with the boy, as if this was all going according to her plan. “Yeah, Máximas Matanzas.”

“And Máximas Matanzas will all have a say in who becomes the next Presidente.”

It was a better outcome than she had hoped for but...

“We want free elections in Yara.”

Castillo snorted derisively. “Yara elected me, García. A free election in Yara would not work at this point and you know it. To end this war, someone must be placed on the throne. They can decide after our country has healed to reinstate free election.”

Our country.

She nodded slowly. “I find those terms acceptable.”

Castillo smiled like a shark as he stood, Dani and Diego following automatically a moment later. “Let us go to my office and have a drink. There, we will draft--and redraft, I’m sure--our ceasefire, to be given to our people at 9 AM tomorrow morning.”

Clara had at one point doubted she would leave the dining room alive.

She had never expected Dani’s arm to sling around her shoulders as they walked into Castillo’s office together, a beaming grin on the other woman’s face.

She was hopeful, but despite what Lieutenant Martínez had said she was realistic.

She would not celebrate until the war was over and Castillo was off the throne.

Chapter Text

When Clara García finally left the Isla del Leon, it was with a copy of the ceasefire signed by both Antón Castillo and herself, with an additional signature from Dani Castillo (and hadn’t it been startling to see the woman sign that name) as a witness.

That same woman walked alongside her as they returned to the dock, having denied a personal escort and stared Castillo down when he tried to insist.

“Clara isn’t about to hurt me,” She had said, her tone icy. “You forget that I ran around Yara for months getting shot at and blown up every day. I can handle myself, Antón.”

After that, he had let them go.

Still, it wasn’t as though they were without constant supervision. Every two seconds, Dani would be greeting a new guard by name, smiling and nodding at each of them. It was odd just how comfortable she was with them.

Everything was odd.

Dani sighed quietly as she crossed her arms over her chest, prompting Clara to look at her. “I was an FND soldier at one point, you know. So was half of Libertad.”

Clara frowned. “I know.”

“They’re people too. Not just the ones with guerrilla siblings, or the ones that you can bribe for info. All of them.” She kicked at a stone on the ground with shoes Clara doubted had even been further south than Esperanza. “That was one of the hardest things for me to learn when I came here.”

“Harder than falling in love with El Presidente?” She asked as they finally reached the docks.

Dani ignored her for a moment to hug Lieutenant Martínez--it seemed they were on first name basis. She wondered how close they really were, if they were closer than she was with Dani herself.

Only when they were on the boat, something that startled Clara slightly as she now realized she didn’t know exactly how far Dani would be coming with her, did the Primera Dama speak again.

“I don’t know.” Dani was looking at the manor on the island even as they drove away from it. It seemed Lieutenant Martínez was using the skill that anyone that guarded someone important had--pretending not to listen. “I didn’t exactly intend to fall in love with him. I only agreed to the marriage because you and Juan--” because this was all Clara’s fault. She was the leader after all-- “thought it was a good idea and I thought it was the best way I could protect Diego. And he’s still a horrible person, but...”

Martínez snorted as Clara frowned. “But what, Dani? What can possibly excuse everything he’s done?”

“But he’s not as bad as he could be.” She eventually spoke. “He’s not a good person, but fuck, Clara, neither am I. Neither is Juan. He’s a good father--or at least he tries, and that’s more than I ever had. He had Paolo’s official gender and name changed because he doesn’t like lies, then extended it to every Yaran when I asked. He didn’t blink when I mentioned having girlfriends when I was younger. He doesn’t care that I celebrate the traditional holidays and that Diego tried to celebrate with me.”

“He enslaved thousands of people!” She couldn’t help the outburst, remembering now that she hadn’t been given back her weapons but Dani very much had hers.

But the other woman didn’t even move. “Yeah.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I know. But he also knows that it’s time for a new page for Yara, one where he’s not at centre stage. And he’s willing to do his part to make sure it happens.”

She couldn’t believe this. “Like what, Dani? What has El Presidente sacrificed to try and better Yara? To bring a new age?”

Dani opened her eyes and looked at her from the side. “Haven’t heard from José Castillo in a little while, have you?”

“José Castillo was found with a bullet in the back of his skull in Danzante while he was supposed to be hunting.” She frowned.

“Yeah.” Dani’s hands were shoved in her pockets as the boat docked. “Santiago, don’t forget to give her her weapons back.”

Lieutenant Martínez frowned, pulling out the pistol and knife. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Dani?” And hadn’t he reprimanded her for calling Dani by her first name earlier that day?

Dani sighed as she took them from his hands and handed them to Clara herself. “She’s mad at me, but she doesn’t hate me.”

And it was true. Because even if she married Antón Castillo and somehow fell in love, this was still Dani Rojas. She was still Libertad.

Clara took the weapons and smiled at her, nodding. If she could come to an agreement with El Presidente himself, then understanding her friend wasn’t so hard.

“Don’t wait up for me, Santiago, just make sure Javier doesn’t shoot at me when I come back or Antón might get all pissy again.”

Lieutenant Martínez’s eyes widened. “Dani, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. And I really don’t think that Señor Presidente would either.”

Dani rolled her eyes even as trepidation swirled in Clara’s stomach. “Diego knew I didn’t plan on coming back right away and he’ll make sure his papa doesn’t act too dramatically. It’ll be fine, Santiago, I promise.”

Lieutenant Martínez looked uncertain but Dani was already walking up towards Esperanza and, Clara had no doubt, their base at her old orphanage.

“El Presidente is going to kill me,” He muttered under his breath, rubbing his face before pausing. “That was a joke, Señora García.”

“Right...” She watched Dani as the other women stopped and looked back at her quizzically. “I think Dani herself might kill me herself if I don’t follow her.”

“... Probably.” Lieutenant Martínez offered her a tight smile as she jogged to go and catch up with the other woman.

Dani seemed slightly different now that they were alone, her shoulders slumping slightly as she looked around. “Do you think everyone else will be upset with me?”

Everyone else.

Not just Libertad was at the orphanage, from what Juan had texted her. It seemed like everyone had been gathered there because Juan hadn’t actually believed her when she said she was visiting old family friends. The Montero siblings, Yelena (though not Lucky Mama, apparently), all three members of Máximas Matanzas...

They had been planning to raid the island if Clara wasn’t back by morning, though she still wasn’t sure how Juan had figured out where she was. The only reason he hadn’t been there during the dinner was because he couldn’t gather people until now.

“No.” Clara wrapped her arm around Dani’s shoulders. “I don’t think so. You’ve been trying your best to make everyone happy the entire time you’re been with Libertad and that never stopped. You should’ve seen how everyone gathered around the radio to hear your announcement. Every time there was a photo or video of you, we celebrated because it meant you were still alive.”

“Oh.” Dani smiled and Clara squeezed her from the side.

They were still friends.

“They’ll be so happy to see you, so I really hope Castillo doesn’t expect you back tonight. No doubt Juan will bring out his good liquor.”

“You think?” Dani rose an eyebrow as they approached the orphanage.

“I know.” Clara walked through the door and didn’t even have time to announce her presence before Paz was screaming to announce that Dani was back.

Clara may have been the leader of Libertad, but Dani was the one that held them all together. Dani was the reason La Moral even agreed to work with Libertad. She was the reason Máximas Matanzas still made music. She was the reason the Camilla Montero even deigned to look her in the eye.

Dani’s laughter was infectious as she hugged Paz before moving on to hug everyone else in the room, even Yelena, who seemed surprised, and Espada, who stood stock still.

Everyone except Alej.

Dani stared at him for a long moment and he stared back until finally she spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Alej’s shoulders sagged slightly before he shrugged. “I get it, don’t worry.”

Clara shared a confused look with Juan before the man just shrugged and held up a bottle of rum. “So can I safely assume that Castillo is dead?”

It was Dani’s turn to share a look with Clara and she cleared her throat, silencing everyone. “No, actually. But... I do have this.” She pulled the ceasefire from her jacket. “Signed by both Antón Castillo and myself, this is a ceasefire. He’ll announce it to Yara at 9 AM tomorrow morning, though I’m going to start spreading it tonight so I can make sure it gets to all of our guerrillas. Paz, can I rely on you to help with that?”

“Sure can!” He grinned from where he was handing out beers to everyone. Of them all, the Máximas Matanzas members were the only ones who looked unsurprised.

“In a week, we will all, and yes, I mean all, gather at Torre del León to sit down with Castillo and decide who the next Presidente will be.”

“They made an agreement that it wouldn’t be either of them.” Dani chimed in, opening her beer and taking a sip. “But Antón is willing to put his full support behind whoever is chosen.”

Clara could see Juan mouth ‘Antón?’ to himself and she couldn’t blame him.

Yelena frowned. “Wait. We’re letting him live and have a say in who rules Yara?”

Clara pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yes. This is the best option. It results in the fewest amount of deaths, and we must be realistic. Castillo’s military would not fall with his death, even with Benítez and his nephew dead. This way, we can avoid insurgencies after the war is done and work on actively demilitarizing from there.”

Silence filled the room and Espada scoffed. The woman was the one there who liked her the least, something she made sure Clara knew well.

Instead, the new head of the Montero family turned to the woman standing beside Clara.

“Do you trust this, Dani? The Monteros don’t follow Libertad, we follow you. You know this.”

Dani straightened up and smiled. “I do. Antón’s not a good person, but he doesn’t lie. If he says he’ll do something, he does it. He’s never broken a promise to me, and I’ve demanded a lot from him.”

Espada nodded. “Then the Monteros will be there. Or, well, me and Alej.”

Alej wrinkled his nose and nodded.

“La Moral will too.” Yelena chimed in, her arms crossed. “I don’t trust Castillo. I don’t even trust Clara--no offence.” There was very much offence. “But you’re the one who helped us, Dani. You fought for us, so we’ll fight for you.”

Yelena let out a strangled noise after Dani punched her shoulder, grinning.

“Thanks, Yelena.”

“You don’t even need to ask about us,” Talía said, grinning. “Now let’s drink!”

By the time Dani returned to the Isla del Leon, several hours and drinks had passed since she had left it. Clara had been somewhat annoyed that she was returning, but she wasn’t about to pick a hard cot over her plush bed, especially with the hangover she knew she’d have in the morning.

“Thanks for not shooting me, Javier.” She yawned and waved at the man as she passed him, opening the gate to the manor with ease.

It was nice to see everyone again. Juan had cornered her at one point to make sure she hadn’t pulled an Ishwari--she hadn’t!--but had only sighed when she said she had genuinely fallen in love.

“I guess that’s my fault.” He had said, nudging her. “I knew you were a guerrilla, not a spy, but I still sent you on a spy’s mission. You did well, kid.”

Of course, at that point Talía had pulled her out of the corner to dance with her.

It had been a good night, but she was happy to be home.

She opened the door to her bedroom slowly, trying not to wake her husband, but it turned out she didn’t need to.

“Antón?” She asked, approaching the man now clad in casual clothes but sitting at the desk in their room. “Why are you still awake?”

“I was waiting for you to get back.” He frowned as he placed his pen down and stood, taking her jacket from her when she took it off without her asking. “I tried to sleep, but apparently I have gotten used to you being there. It’s quite inconvenient, I have an address to make tomorrow morning.”

Dani snickered and pecked his lips, nudging him toward the bed. “You’ll be done with that soon.” She said, finishing disrobing and slipping on a set of light pyjamas. “What do you plan to spend your days doing?”

Antón hummed as he wrapped his arms tightly around her and pressed her back against his chest. She sighed happily and closed her eyes. “I doubt I have much longer left, but I think I’d like to spend my remaining time with Diego.”

Dani frowned slightly. “Ignore that. If you had all the time in the world left, what else?”

Her husband let out a long, slow sigh as he rested his face on her shoulder. “Perhaps I would spend more time restoring cars and painting. I used to enjoy doing that, but I haven’t had enough time recently.”

“That sounds nice.” She just hoped everything went well so he was able to do that.

“Indeed.” He squeezed her. “Now sleep, breakfast is still at 7 AM.”

Dani groaned to the sound of her husband’s quiet laughter but settled in to sleep.

Everything would go well. It had to.

Chapter Text

Clara García sat at one side of the table, flanked by Juan Cortez on one side and Yelena Morales on the other. The rest of Libertad affiliated groups sat spread out on that side of the table.

In contrast, at the other side of the table sat only Antón and Diego Castillo. The former was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Amor, sit down. At this point I don’t even care where.”

“No thanks.” Dani Castillo stood at the head of the table, her arms crossed. There purposefully hadn’t been any seats at the head to show how the two groups were supposed to be equal, but of course the woman couldn’t decide where to sit.

If she sat with Antón, Libertad might think that she was siding with him for everything and it would harm their moral. And if she sat with Libertad, it could make him less likely to be cooperative with them.

So she stood.

Osulo rubbed against her legs as Antón sighed pointedly one last time and clicked his pen. “Very well then. As discussed by myself and Clara García, neither of us will be allowed to be deemed the new Presidente after this meeting, but anyone else is an option. As a collective we will all discus and come to a conclusion and we will not leave this tower until that conclusion has been made. There are people on standby to provide food and beverages, and there are bedrooms if need be. Am I understood?”

There was silence as the guerrillas looked between themselves and nodded.

Juan, however, scowled. “You’re telling me this has to be unanimous?”

Antón rose an eyebrow. “You surely cannot have expected a majority vote, given how many of you there are. No, everyone must walk out of here at least satisfied for this to work.”

Juan grunted, which Dani knew as well as anyway was his begrudging agreement.

Clara spoke up first when it became clear that no one else would. “I’d like to nominate Yelena, personally. She has plans for how she’d like to see Yara grow.”

Dani walked toward Diego to peer over his shoulder, grinning when she saw her son was making a pro-con list for everyone in the room. She ruffled his hair and smiled back when he beamed up at her.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Yelena grimace slightly. “I’m... willing.” The other woman eventually said. “The plan for La Moral was always to take things one step at a time and, if we managed to take Yara back, have a council system ruling with representatives from each province who serve for two year terms.”

Antón seemed unimpressed. “I see. That may work in the long run, though I think you’ll find problems, but what about in the immediate?”

Yelena narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

“What about immediately as soon as you take power? You cannot seriously believe you can set that up immediately, no, you will need to work with those already in power who govern their regions.”

“I have no desire to work with them.”

“And they have no desire to work with you, but you cannot seriously believe you can come in and fire them all if you want a peaceful transfer of power. That will merely result in an uprising from them for you to deal with.” Antón waved his hand derisively and pulled out one of his cigars, lighting it.

Yelena looked tense, her jaw clenched as Dani wandered over to look at the notes Clara was writing. “La Moral never planned for a peaceful takeover. The only reason I haven’t tried to kill you now myself is because of Dani.”

She glanced up just in time to catch Antón’s eyes gleam as he took a drag of his cigar. “Clearly. You are an intelligent woman, Señora Morales, but your skill lies in your computer skills, not politics. Plus the military would not favour you, La Moral’s ruthlessness is well known.”

The fact that Yelena didn’t speak spoke magnitudes about her agreement, as reluctant as it was.

“What’s about Espada?” Dani chimed in, sharing a smile with the other woman. “She has both natural skill and practice leading people, and she can be very charismatic when she wants. Pretty much all of Madrugada would fall behind her easily, including much of the military.”

Despite Espada’s smile, she was already shaking her head. “Sorry, Dani. There’s no way in hell I’m becoming Presidente. My place is in Madrugada, working with my people directly. Not sitting in some office here in Esperanza.”

Alej’s arms were crossed over his chest. “She’s neglecting to mention the fact that there’s someone she wants instead.”

Dani furrowed her eyebrows and waited for the Montero matriarch to speak up but her lips remained sealed.

“What about Paolo then?” Yelena chimed in, nodding over at the man who looked vaguely surprised at the sound of his name. “Unlike the rest of us, he’s from a ‘True Yaran’ family, so the military and all your stupid governors will respect and follow him easily, won’t they? He’s charismatic enough to be one of the most popular people in Yara and any gaps in his knowledge of politics or economics can be filled by advisors.”

“I would not be against Señor de la Vega.” Antón inclined his head, visibly shocking a few people from what she could see.

“No.” Paolo’s voice was even and steady. “Sorry, Yelena, but you’re wrong. Too many of those governors met me when I was a kid and will hate me because of that. I’m no more of a True Yaran in their eyes than you.”

Dani frowned. “Paolo, surely that doesn’t matter that much. Hell, if it does we can just get rid of them.”

“We can’t get rid of them all, Dani. My father controls too much of the military and holds too much power, particularly with José and Benítez gone. If I become El Presidente there’s too great a chance of a military uprising.”

Juan scoffed from where he sat. “Clearly there’s someone you want, Castillo. Just spit it out so we can reject it already and you can try and pin us down. Who is it, Paolo’s father? Another one of your generals? Diego?”

Antón’s lips curled into a smile as Dani finished her loop and came back to look at Diego’s notes, but the boy quickly turned his paper over, shaking his head at her. Weird. “I admit, it had always been my plan for Diego to take over when I died. I have tried to teach him what I believe would make him into a good Presidente. But I can already predict your objections--he is too young, making him El Presidente would essentially be having me remain in power, he is too easily influenced. Besides, none of my governors and officers would accept him if I still live.”

The room fell silent, save for the odd whisper between members on the guerrilla’s side of the table or Dani trying to convince Diego to show her his notes. The noise all stopped when some servants came in to deliver food and coffee, each person grabbing at least a pastry or some fruit as the table came to a silent agreement for a proper break.

It was only when Dani was chugging the last bit of her second cup of coffee that someone addressed the table as a whole again.

“What about Mama?” She nearly choked at the sound of Diego’s voice. “The government and military wouldn’t be upset because she’s viewed as a True Yaran and in their mind there would still be Presidente Castillo, but she’s still a guerrilla just like you all. There’s a reason she fought against Papa in the first place.”

Espada shrugged, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. “Dani’s the one I’ve been banking on this whole time too. She’s an honourary Montero at this point and all of Madrugada knows her name and knows that she actually cares about them as people, not just the tobacco they produce.”

Yelena slowly nodded. “Dani’s the whole reason La Moral still exists to sit in on this meeting, and I’d say pretty much everyone in El Este knows her name too. She’s shit with computers--no offence--but that’s not a requirement.”

Lucky Mama stared at her as Dani opened and closed her mouth. The elderly woman had been silent the entire time they were debating on the other people in the room possibly becoming Presidente.

She felt her stomach drop as she remembered what the old woman had said to her while she had been sabotaging McKay Industries.

You may think you’d never betray Yara, but once you’re on the throne...

“I don’t want this,” She hissed, staring right at the other woman. She didn’t want to betray Yara, she didn’t want the throne.

She had wanted to escape Yara. What ever happened to that? What happened to Dani Rojas on a beach in Miami.

Lucky Mama smiled. It was a kind thing, but there was sadness in her eyes too. “I know, Dani. You’re not Lobo.”

Lucky Mama looked at Clara then at Antón and the pit in Dani’s stomach only grew. She filled her cup with more coffee but she doubted she’s be able to drink it. “I don’t think Dani Rojas, La Presidente, sounds all that bad.”

“I don’t--”

“Dani...” Paolo held out a cookie to her. “I’m sorry, but he’s right. You’re the only option.”

“Clara? Juan?” She needed somebody to say it was a bad idea for her to take the throne. “I know nothing about politics. About economics. About how to rule!”

“You... kind of do, Dani,” Clara admitted, standing up and walking over to her. She so badly wanted to tear her hands away when the other woman took them in her own. “You’re a natural. People want to follow you. You’re the reason so many people are with Libertad, not me, not Lita, definitely not Juan. You.” Dani closed her eyes tightly. She didn’t want to look at anyone right now. “You’re adored by the people, the military would accept you. You’re only one step away from Presidente right now, so it wouldn’t be a big change for the government. And I can trust that you’ll make the changes Yara needs because you care so much. We’ll all be here to help you with the things you don’t know how to do.”

Her lips pressed together tightly as she opened her eyes to stare at the floor.

She was never meant for this. She was just a number, that was all she was. One kid of dozens at the orphanage. Draftee #0418. Cadet #2683.

Numbers didn’t rule a country.

Rojases didn’t rule Yara.

(But Castillos did, didn’t they? And she was just as much a Castillo as she was a Rojas now.)

“You planned this, didn’t you?” She didn’t intend for the sheer amount of venom in her voice directed to her husband, but the man didn’t even blink.

He didn’t say anything either, instead opting to sip his coffee. After all, this was close enough to a dinner table, and Antón Castillo would never disrespect his mother in that way.

Dani let out a slow breath and finally squeezed Clara’s hands back, the other woman’s shoulders visibly sagging in relief. “One of you, any of you says you don’t think I should do it and I won’t.” She said, looking at her other guerrillas.

She wasn’t sure if she was begging them to object or not.

In the end though, Juan just gave her a crooked smile. “Sorry, kid, but I think we all knew it was going to turn out this way.”

Dani gave him a shaky smile and nodded, regretting her choice to not sit down with the way her legs were shaking.

She glanced over to see Diego place a chair down at the head of the table, glaring at her in a pale imitation of his father’s glare until she finally sat down.

Antón clasped his hands together. “Wonderful. Now, if we can begin the document showing our agreement of this? I would like it to be foolproof, after all, generations will be studying it.”

Dani tried to pay attention, but she just felt so tired. Orphans from Esperanza weren’t supposed to rule Yara. Orphans from Esperanza weren’t supposed to do anything other than be cannon fodder.

And yet here she was.

It was only when she signed the document--which she was vaguely aware had been drafted no less than a dozen times--and Antón announced that it was late and rooms had been prepared for everyone did she finally regain some semblance of awareness.

It took too long for her to finally get to leave the room, it felt like everyone needed to reassure her that they’d be with her and we’re still willing to try and assassinate Castillo that night before they went to bed. Still, eventually she walked out of the room with her right hand clasped tightly in Diego’s and her husband walking in step with her on her left.

“I hate you.” She muttered quietly, even as she leant slightly into his side. She blamed it on the exhaustion that had permeated her bones at this point. “I didn’t want this.”

“I know.” Antón pressed a gentle kiss to her temple after brushing her hair to the side. “But I also knew you would never refuse, because you know as well as I that you are the only one that loves Yara enough and can properly bring her into a new age. I may be remembered as a villain, but you will forever be a hero, amor.”

She clenched her teeth as they stopped and Diego wrapped himself tightly around her. “Clara could’ve.”

“Perhaps in another world, where she had been the person to win the hearts of our people. But not here.” His hand cradled her jaw. “Here it always had to be you.”

And maybe she was crying. And maybe she felt so many emotions she couldn’t pin one down in that moment if she tried.

But she knew that that night she would go to sleep at El Presidente’s side, just as she would every night until the night in which she would go to sleep by the Primer Caballero.

And as she laid in bed that night, she felt a kiss pressed to the top of her head. “Are you truly that angry with me?”

It took her a few long moments, but eventually she shook her head and cuddled closer. “No. I’m not.”

Because maybe Dani hadn’t wanted to be La Presidente. Maybe she was never supposed to be, because orphans and numbers weren’t supposed to rule Yara. But if she were to be La Presidente, she would be the best Yara had ever seen.

Chapter Text

“Now, her name is Sarah Tilly.” Dani listened to Clara’s briefing with half an ear as she nervously fixed every aspect of her appearance in the mirror. “She’s one of the few American reporters who’s done coverage here who’s still allowed in the country. She might bring things up about her interview with Castillo, just move past that was quickly as possible.”

“Alright.” She gave her new Minister of Culture two thumbs up and accepted the quick hug she offered her. “Thanks again, Clara.”

“It’s quite literally my job now, Dani.” Her friend laughed and nudged her toward the door. Dani started to walk toward it with mild trepidation, knowing Clara would be following her in a moment later.

“It’s okay, Mama,” Diego said from beside her. He had shot up like a weed in the past year, even if he wasn’t quite as tall as her yet. “Ms. Tilly’s actually quite nice.”

“Thanks kid, but it’s not her niceness I’m worried about.” She let out a slow breath and pushed the doors to the main room of Torre del Leon open, the very same room she became La Presidente in.

“Sorry if I’m a little bit late,” She said, trying to diffuse the tension she felt within herself as she hopped up onto the chair. She had never been good at speeches or even interviews like this, but she had gotten better. “I was working on some things before this and didn’t even realize the time until Diego came to get me.”

“It’s no problem.” The reporter waved her hand with a smile. She had a pleasant voice, something Dani would expect helped her in her job. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And it’s nice to see you again, Diego.”

Her son smiled from beside her, playing with his hands in his lap. “It’s good to see you again too. How’s your father?”

The woman’s eyebrows rose, clearly surprised at Diego’s memory, or perhaps just the fact that he cared. “The Viviro helped quite a bit. I just saw him for his seventieth birthday last week.”

Silence lingered comfortably for only a moment before Clara cleared her throat. “Sorry to be a disturbance, but perhaps we should continue? We have plenty of time, but I know you have a lot you’d like to ask. After all, this is the first time an American reporter has gotten to speak with the President of Yara since the change of power.”

The reporter nodded. “Of course. It’s to my understanding that you became president nearly a year ago now, yes?”

Dani relaxed into her seat as someone distributed coffee for the three of them. After about three addresses Clara noticed that both she and Diego calmed down significantly when they had something to do with their hands. It also served as a good prop whenever she needed time to think. “You’re correct--actually, we’ll be celebrating a year of my presidency in exactly three weeks.”

“Let me be among the first to offer my congratulations, then. Now, President Rojas, it’s to my understanding that you’re actually married to the previous President, Antón Castillo?”

Her lips twitched. It was an expected question, but the fact that every foreign reporter asked it made it almost comical. “Yes, I am. I’ve gotten this question many times, so let me to just cover the bases now--my legal name is Dani Castillo, but I chose to go by Presidente Rojas so as to not confuse future generations who have to learn about me in their history books.”

Well, that and Clara thought it was the best way to subtly signal to the rest of Yara that this was a new age. It wasn’t just Libertad giving into Castillo’s regime.

“I’m not Diego’s biological mother, obviously, but I entirely view him as my son. My husband does act as an advisor on occasion, but we differ on quite a few things politically, as I’m sure looking at even a few of our policies would demonstrate.”

Ms. Tilly laughed and turned the page on her notes while Dani relaxed. Step one, announce that she was different from her husband, done. “Thank you, you just covered a good few of my questions. Perhaps let’s talk about your husband for a moment before we start discussing the bigger topics--I interviewed Antón Castillo myself almost two years ago now, and he showed no sign that he intended to step down as president. Can I get some insight as to why he did and what he’s doing now?”

Dani took a sip of her coffee, using it like the prop it was. “I won’t go too into his thought process behind stepping down because, as close as we are, I can’t read his mind. But the civil war obviously had an influence on his choices, and I have a feeling part of him was just tired. He’s quite enjoying retirement, at least from what I can gather. He spends a lot of time with Diego, and a lot of time repairing vintage cars.”

Tilly accepted the diversion, thankfully, and turned toward Diego. “I did note that you and your father were quite close last time I was here, it’s good to see that’s still true.”

Diego nodded, a wide smile on his face. “Yeah. When Papa was El Presidente I spent a lot of time with him, but he was always busy. Now we can spend time together doing more casual things. He’s teaching me how to repair cars now.” Her son gave a sly glance to the camera and leant forward. “I hope he doesn’t watch this interview, but he actually really likes watching telenovelas with me.”

Tilly laughed and Dani hid her grin behind her cup, knowing full well that Antón was probably watching the streamed interview then and there. At least it was true.

“And I see you spend a lot of time with your mother too?” Tilly asked when her laughter finally subsided.

Diego nodded. “Now Mama is the one busy with being La Presidente, but we still find the time to do fun things when we can.”

Clara cleared her throat and Tilly glanced back, nodding. “Right, right. So the big topic then--Viviro. Despite the fact that you have a lot of policies that differ from your husband’s, Viviro still hasn’t been made available to the American public. The blockade has been lifted after your recent meetings with President Biden, and travel between Yara and America has eased greatly, yet still no Viviro. Why?”

Dani smiled. “I’m really sorry about that, but the truth is that things have to come one step at a time and you can’t have it all. One of the biggest things Antón and I disagree on is the use of labour camps to produce Viviro, and it’s one of the biggest problems I’ve faced since becoming Presidente. So much of our economy internationally is linked toward Viviro production that dismantling the Outcast system has been difficult without sending the country into a massive recession.”

She took a sip of her coffee again, this time not to think but to ease her thirst. She had practiced this speech in the mirror and to Antón dozens of times, to the point that he had huffed and told her to shut up and go to sleep.

“We’re already struggling to meet the demand of other nations now. Thankfully, one of our top scientists, Alejandro Montero, recently discovered a compound that prevents many of the side effects that we’ve found the fertilizer PG-240 can cause for those using it. PG-240 is practically necessary to produce any significant amounts of Viviro, but farmers haven’t wanted to use it because of the health risks it poses--completely understandably. Alejandro Montero is from one of the oldest farming families in Madrugada, so he was more than elated to discover something that could help the people he grew up with.”

She made eye contact with Clara who subtly gave her a thumbs up. She was doing well. Good, good.

“That being said, since the discovery of this compound Viviro production has gone up once more and we’re expecting to have enough Viviro stocked up to begin trade with America for it on a smaller scale.” Smile, Dani. This was, after all, a momentous announcement. “By my Ministers’ estimates, we should begin trade with America for Viviro within the next six to eight months.”

Ms. Tilly’s eyebrows rose nearly into her hairline. “That’s wonderful news! I’m sure my viewers at home will be elated to hear that.”

“Oh, there’s more.” Dani grinned, silently congratulating herself. “We’ve determined through trials in the country that this compound actually produces more effective Viviro. Whereas Viviro previously had the possibility to lose effectiveness after a decade or so--it was no miracle--the tobacco produced with PG-242, as we’re calling the new mixture, has been able to make Viviro that works to halt cancer spread and even kill cancer cells after Viviro has previously stopped working for the patient.”

Dani would know better than most. After all, her husband was still alive and with more energy than she had seen him with in a long time.

And no longer coughing up blood.

“Wow--”

“It’s not a miracle.” Dani stressed. “And we don’t know how much better this new Viviro is--there’s a possibility that it could only be slightly better. That’s why it’s undergoing new testing strictly supervised by our Minister of Health, Matías Alonso. But it shows promise.”

“President Rojas, you need to understand that, for many, Viviro itself is a miracle.” Ms. Tilly smiled at her. “I can attest to that myself. No one ever expected a cure from it, just a little more time with our loved ones. And that’s what Viviro has delivered.”

She shrugged and looked away. They were diverging too much with what she had expected from the interview now.

She took a sip of coffee.

Tilly made a point of looking over and Dani watched as the camera panned to the sunset streaming in through the large windows. “It’s getting late, so I’ll just ask one last question, since I’m sure you’d like to go spend some time with your family. Rumour has it that you were a member of Libertad--after all, Minister García herself is confirmed to be the very same Clara García who founded and led Libertad. Do you have anything to say in response to these rumours?”

Dani blinked and shrugged. “I don’t have anything to say in response, really.”

“You won’t confirm or deny them?”

She smiled. It was just like her fest dinners with Antón and Diego, before she had become a Castillo herself. “I don’t think I will. A little mystery is healthy.”

Tilly laughed and Dani shook her hand easily. “Thank you for your time.”

“Of course.”

When the camera turned off, Dani let go of the reporter’s hand. “Thanks for making the interview so easy.”

The other woman shook her head. “It was no easier than any other interview I’ve ever given. You were well prepared, and I can tell you care about your country a lot.”

“I’m sure it helped that Diego decided he wanted to discuss my television preferences.” Dani looked over to see her husband leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he frowned lightly.

Still, the ease in his posture and expression betrayed his lack of true care for the matter as Diego laughed. “Ms. Tilly.” He nodded sharply. “It’s good to hear your father is doing well.”

Dani doubted he actually cared but the reporter seemed to appreciate it. “And it’s good to see that you’re doing well yourself, Mr. Castillo. Retirement is a good look on you.”

Dani snorted quietly. “I agree.”

Clara spoke quietly to the reporter and they began to pack up as Dani hopped off her seat, walking over to her husband with their son. “Dinner?”

“It’s been ready for the past ten minutes.” Antón turned and began walking as Dani shared an amused look with Diego. “You need to stop letting reporters dictate when the interview ends.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” She rested her hand in the crook of his arm. “But I did well, right?”

She didn’t need to look at her husband to know he was smiling. “Very well. You are an amazing Presidente, Dani.”

She couldn’t help herself. “Better than you?”

“Now I wouldn’t go that far.”

Still, the history books would go down with Dani Rojas being one of the most influential and greatest presidents in the history of Yara.

They would say that it was with her presidency that peace and equality in Yara truly began.

That was a legacy anyone would be happy with.