Chapter Text
Waking up was jarring.
The bed was the wrong size. Teo’s hand carved headboard was gone. Her handstitched sheets were replaced. It smelled like forgotten memories and not the well-groomed garden meant to be just outside her window. The only familiar thing was that Francesca and Teodoro were playing at the top of her head in surprisingly quiet voices.
“Niños?”
“Mama!” Teodoro rammed his head into hers. He squeezed her head as hard as his little arms could manage – which was quite hard for a three-year-old. “You awake!”
“Yes.” She groaned. “Awake.”
Sitting up was a painful affair – with one child attached to her face and another sitting on her hair. Even with tired eyes, she reached for Francesca’s face, hands prepared to meet bandage, but there was only perfect skin. Francesca was still blinking slowly, as if she wasn’t used to seeing the world, but still, she could see. Mirabel made sure - she made her daughter count her fingers, look at the pictures on the nursery’s walls. It was hard not to cry.
“Where are we, Mama?” Francesca asked, ignoring her brother as he rolled around the bed with abandon. “Abuelo’s house?”
“No.” Mirabel paused, unsure of how to begin.
She had told her children so little of her birth family. The second she’d gotten married; she’d tucked the Madrigal name and history deep inside herself – where it couldn’t hurt her anymore. She was an Avila now. She wasn’t even sure her children had ever heard her say the name Madrigal before.
“We’re… at Mama’s family house.”
“Mama casa de familia?”
“We goin’ eat?” Teodoro asked.
There was a heavenly scent in the air. Her mother had wasted no time in cooking up a storm. There wouldn’t be a single person tonight left unsatisfied. It would be a true party – an event to rock the entire Encanto.
“Please tell me we’re staying to eat.” Teo sat up in the other bed, stretching like a cat with a shudder. “I’m starving.”
Mirabel knew they’d have to stay for dinner. She couldn’t let her mother’s work go to waste, but then what about after dinner?
She couldn’t stay. The longer she stayed the more at risk the magic was. She could feel it – see the cracks that seemed to shift all around her. Her presence would tear the house apart.
“We…can stay for dinner.”
They couldn’t stay for much longer though. Not if she was to keep her promise and keep the future of Encanto safe.
“Stand still, Rito.” Mirabel said, doing her best to make him look presentable. There was something to be said about the crazed happiness of a child. He was without a care in the world while Mirabel was using every ounce of strength not to shake.
“Listen to mama.” Francesca ordered, she stood perfectly still as Teo clumsily pulled her hair into pigtails.
Teodoro had never been one for listening. Mirabel had always joked that he had too much of her in him. But maybe he could sense her mounting fear because he actually stood still…for a good 30 seconds.
Everything was moving too quickly. As painstakingly as she had prepared herself and her family for what was coming, it had felt as though they were much too quickly approaching the edge of a cliff.
She had to be strong.
Mateo was suddenly behind her, wrapping himself around her in a warm hug. She couldn’t help but relax in his arms.
She had to be strong, but she wasn’t alone this time.
Teodoro and Francesca were busy at their feet, thankfully oblivious. It was strange. She had done so much in her life to avoid being seen. To avoid someone seeing past her defenses and giving name to the nameless cacophony that had been building in her bones since the day she’d been denied a gift. Mateo had always been able to see her. Even when she did her best not to be seen.
“Everything is going to be alright.” He whispered into her neck.
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t have to.” His lips brushed her tense muscles. “Let’s just believe that it will be and work hard to see it through.”
Casita seemed to delight in that because the room around them danced alive.
“I still can’t believe – a house that moves.” Mateo chuckled, grabbing the back of Teodoro’s pants and hauling him closer to the door. “You’re not ready.”
He knew her too well to even question it. To him, it was probably written all over her face.
“I am.” She lied. “I have to be.”
…
Dolores stilled and the rush around her automatically matched her. She could hear it clearly, as if the footsteps were happening right in front of her. She wondered what it sounded like to the others. Could they hear the pitter patter of what must be Francesca? Or the jumpy bangs of what was definitely Teodoro. Mirabel was shaking and gripping the fabric of her skirt like her life depended on it. Mateo walked like a man who wasn’t sure the floorboards weren’t going to suddenly jump up and whack him in the head.
“Okay, okay, everybody places!” Tia Julieta whispered, urging the family to look less like statues.
Tia Julieta and Tio Augustin would greet them. Dolores watched her padres hover behind their chairs. Camilo was still outside with Antonio and Luisa – they’re trying to seem like a happy normal family. Isabela and Mariano are setting the table. Abuela sat at the head of the table, the only one moving fluidly.
Teodoro skidded in first, frozen in the gaze of his grandparents. It was like looking back in time. He had Mirabel’s eyes and the set of her mouth. As adventurous as he seemed, he turned right back into Mirabel’s skirts in a single breath.
Dolores tried to ignore the greetings. Tried to ignore the sounds of eight people trying very hard to not to act like they weren’t listening. Times like these she envied them all. There was more to speaking than just words. She’d learned that shortly after getting her gift, there were so much more to hear between the lines.
Tia Julieta was saying one thing, but her heart raced and she gripped Mirabel like she wouldn’t ever let her go again. Tio Augustin sounded delighted, but his heart might be hammering faster than anyone’s. Mirabel breaths were quick and short. The only one who sounded relatively calm was Mateo, but she could hear him stroking Mirabel’s back, a slow assurance.
So much left unsaid. Even with her perfect ear, she couldn’t hear if what was coming spelled disaster.
…
“Antonio!” Camilo yelled, but it was no use. His hermanito was sprinting as fast as he could towards the house, a parade of animals behind him. From the yard, Camilo could see why. He could just make out the top of Mirabel’s head.
“They’re here?” Luisa nearly dropped the beam she’d been swinging them around on. Camilo was quick to land on the ground. He watched, breath bated, as Antonio zipped into the kitchen out of sight.
“Okay, we got this.” Luisa whispered maybe just to herself.
If he were a little younger, he might deny that openly. Now, he kept the sentiment to himself. It was better left unsaid. No one wanted to hear what they already knew; that this might be the beginning of the end.
He wasn’t nervous. Not really. There wasn’t a word for the ugly, hot feeling sitting in his chest. It wanted out; to spark fire and get the world moving as fast as he could, but he knew better.
He caught a glimpse of Mirabel’s eyes as she moved closer to the dining room. She was the same and different in just a glance. They’re the same age, but she’d always been the more mature of them. In 5 years, he’s taller than her, but her gaze carried a weight that reminded him of his abuela. Like she’d seen something that she’d buried so deep inside that it would take years to dig out.
He hadn’t shifted into Mirabel since she’d left, but he’d doubt he’d be able to get it just right. The thing about shifting is that it took time. Sure, you could look at someone and mimic their height, their hair, their eyes, but there were things easy to miss. The way they walked, the way they held themselves, or the light in their eyes when they saw someone they loved. He’d gotten so seamless that he could trick someone’s own mother. But now, he doubted he could capture Mirabel – to trick her mother or her husband.
Speaking of Mirabel's husband - someone new: Mateo.
Usually, the new people Camilo met were infants. Everyone he’d ever known who wasn’t here before him were only known to him once they arrive in a screaming, flailing blanket.
Dolores was right. The man wasn’t ugly, thankfully. Now that he’d got a good look at him, he could see the resemblance in the niños.
“Camilo?” Luisa’s hand was warm on his shoulder.
“We got this, right?” He asked, looking up at her.
Luisa frowned, but eventually nodded, determined. “We got this.”
…
Antonio held tight to Mirabel. It’d been so long since he’d hugged his cousin and he desperately didn’t want to let her go. He was sure any second now his Mama or Papa would pull him back, but Mirabel sank to her knees at his embrace and squeezed him so hard it almost hurt. But it was fine because she was here.
He pulled away only as she sat up. Her eyes shining, but a smile on her face. Her hands weren’t as soft as they used to be as she stroked his cheek.
“You got so big.” She whispered.
His chest puffed up. He was one of the shortest boys in class, but of course Mirabel could tell the difference. He was surely on his way to manhood.
“You can sit with me.”
“Of course,” Mirabel’s grin was perfect. “Well, is it okay if my husband sits with us? And your primos?”
Antonio peered beyond Mirabel’s skirt to catch the gaze of said primos. Francesca was now stood up, no longer a bandaged bundle. She held his gaze without an ounce of fear. Her brother was another story. The little boy had somehow managed to shove his entire face into the skirts of both his mother and sister. Only his bouncy curls and feet were visible. Mirabel’s husband dipped onto his knee and gave Antonio a handsome smile.
Antonio decided he liked him. Anybody who Mirabel liked was definitely good. To get married meant that Mirabel must trust him with everything. So, Antonio would do so as well.
“Yes!” He grabbed Mirabel’s hand and began to drag her towards the table.
This was going to be amazing. Mirabel was back. She’d brought more family he could actually play with. Her husband was nice like Mariano. Tia Julieta had made lots of yummy food and she was actually smiling again. The fog around his mother’s skirt was gone and the air tasted cleaner.
Nothing could go wrong!