Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mirabel reached for the handle as her heart beat in her chest, rhythmically and quickly. A gift just as special as she was. Would it be good? Would she even like it? Her fingers touched the cold handle. Would she even have one?

The golden shine faded as the door disintegrated, leaving her face in the dark. She stepped back, turning to her Abuela Alma. Dead silence. Even those who weren’t Dolores could hear a pin drop. Then, murmuring. Abuela stayed quiet, then turned to confront the crowd without a word to Mirabel.

“It is with great disappointment that I declare that Mirabel will not receive a gift.” She said, slowly. She opened her mouth to say something, stopped, then started again. “The magic is strong,” She clarified, “and Encanto stands tall.” She stared down at the candle that had flickered mere moments ago. “Go home.”

The people cleared out, talking loudly. It was only when her Mami and Papi embraced her that she realized she was crying. “Why- why didn’t I get a gift..?” She sobbed into their shoulders.

“Gift or no gift, you are still our beloved daughter,” Augustin said, “And that makes you most special of all.” He shared a look with Julieta. The 12-year-old Isabella and 9-year-old Luisa stood to the side, shocked that their sister was… A failure? No, that couldn’t be right. Would that happen to them, if they weren’t good enough?

The thought was terrifying.

Bruno stood before Alma, his back uncomfortably straight. She wanted a vision of what would happen since Mirabel’s ceremony was such a disappointment. As she explained her stresses worriedly, Bruno’s heart slowly sank to his stomach. Another disaster, to be pinned on him- but worse, also on a child. His sobrina was five- just as he once had been. Once he was dismissed to his vision cave, a plan started forming in his brain, but he pushed it aside to focus on his vision. He let out a shaky sigh, willing himself into the whirling mess that was the future of Encanto.

He saw… Destruction. Cracks, the house breaking into pieces, and someone who looked like Mirabel at the center of it all. Then, it changed..? The candle fell, the candle burned bright, the cracks were gone, then they came back. By far, this was the most confusing vision he’d had thus far. As the glass vision appeared before him, with an older Mirabel at the center of the maybe-breaking house, something inside him snapped. He bashed the vision on a rock, causing it to shatter into a dozen pieces, then took those pieces and smashed them on the rock until the glass was in a million tiny bits, and his hands were bleeding red with a million tiny cuts. He sat in the sand, breathing heavily for a few long moments, then stood. No more of this locura. No more.

He walked down the many stairs, two rats trailing behind him curiously. A plan brewed in his head, garnished by frustration. He couldn’t tell anyone about the vision. No one. If Mirabel stayed where she was now, crying herself to sleep in the nursery each night, she’d surely be treated horribly. Well, if she was going to snuff the magic, she was going to do it in a loving home, curse this Casita!

He found a cold arepa in the kitchen and ate it, watching his red, irritated hands smooth out. It relaxed his muscles, flooding his body with a very temporary painkiller while it healed his wounds. Julieta, now she had a useful gift. Plus, she was the best cook he knew. His poor, innocent hermana had to deal with what he was about to do.

He crept up the stairs and opened the door to the nursery as quietly as he could. Two wet, lens-magnified eyes stared back at him. “Come, Mariposita.” He whispered. She hopped off the low bed and clung to his leg.

“Tio Bruno,” She stage-whispered, “Did you see if I get my gift in the future?”

“Si.” He lied. He had no idea if she would. For once, he didn’t know. Still, he thought, staring up at the candle, any so-called miracle that denied happiness to his sobrina was not a miracle worth protecting.

The in-between space was one he’d been experimenting with for a while now. He’d put essentials back there for when he was too tired to climb all those stairs but wanted to sleep. Behind a painting, there was an easy way in. He’d seen that in the future, these hallways were far more dangerous to traverse, but for now, the floorboards stayed fast, and he led young Mirabel back to the room behind the kitchen.

“Look, Mariposita, Mirabel, sometimes the black sheep of the family gets a bad rap, yeah?” She nodded sadly. “You’ve seen how they talk about me. Many times, I’ve thought about running away, but each time, I couldn’t seem to stay away from mi familia. Would you like to stay back here with me?” He asked earnestly. “We can watch them grow happily,” He looked through a crack, “and it’s better for us too. We stay hidden, nobody’s bothered, nobody calls my sobrina pequeña a disappointment, yeah?” He pinched her cheek and Mirabel smiled for the first time since 7:00 that night.

“Yeah!” She said, still in the stage-whisper. “It’s kinda like having my very own door.”

“You won’t be able to interact with them,” He warned. “You have to be quiet at times, and it might be hard.” Though not as hard as having all that animosity against you for not being special…

“I don’t have a gift,” she frowned. “But you don’t like using yours, Tio. We can be gift-less together! We don’t need them, right? That’s what Papi told me, I can be exceptional even when Casita thinks I’m un-ceptional.”

In another part of the house, a door flickered.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can.”

Ten years later

A dark figure dashed through the back halls, leaping from broken panel to stick with agility and grace. She pushed open a door with golden paint on it - a self-depiction of a younger Mirabel and a happy-looking Bruno standing above her. Their very own door- since Bruno’s had gone dark a long time ago- that nobody could take from them. Similarly, she’d embroidered her own dress with depictions of butterflies. Mirabel started taking the fresh arepas out of her bag and placing them into a makeshift cabinet to store for later. 

“How’s Antonio doing?” Bruno asked, holding a plump rat who had been forced into a little dress. 

“Pepa and Felix are treating him well. They won’t let Abuela get to him.” 

“I know that, I heard the dinners too. I pay attention, you know.” He plucked an arepa out of the cabinet and started eating.

“He gets his gift in a few months, but he doesn’t seem happy about it. He almost caught me getting these.” 

“Did he?” 

“No. Camilo covered me again. He’s been telling stories about us.” Mirabel pushed up her glasses, starting to recall. “Apparently, you’re seven feet tall, and feast on peoples' nightmares.” Camilo would probably ask to borrow a dress again to repay the favor.

“Maybe I do.” The truth was, instead of feasting on nightmares, Bruno lived them each night. Always similar to his visions, yet somehow there was a special element of fear. He woke up holding back a scream or crying, and often with phantom injuries. He'd somehow learned not to scream in just a few months of living in the walls, because he knew Dolores and Mirabel would hear. 

“You just predict things. Not our fault if their futures aren’t like Senorita Perfecta ’s, and we’re living in the walls like a bunch of rats, with old couches for beds and broken boards as cabinets.” She frowned, fists clenching. Bruno sighed. 

“We need to do something about all this.”

“I know, we need to get mattresses or something, or maybe-” 

“No, no, not that. The candle. Whether or not Antonio gets a gift, he’s going to be pressured either until he breaks or we take him back here, and I am not sharing my couch with another kid. We have to fix this.”

“Right! We need to fix the tradition so he doesn’t suffer the same fate.” She hit her fist against her open palm, then paused. “How do we fix a tradition?” She asked.

“Well… I don’t know. But I have some ideas.”

Chapter Text

The plan was all laid out on the table. “Are you sure this is a good idea, tio ? What if someone gets hurt, or something goes wrong, or-” Bruno ruffled her hair and spoke softly.

“Oh, mariposita , it’ll go fine. It might be uncomfortable at first, but in the end, everyone will be better off.” Mirabel looked up at Bruno, then back down at the plan. “Repeat after me. El fin justifica los medios . Nobody will get hurt.”

“ El fin justifica los medios ,” Mirabel whispered. “That’s right.” After all, she had sort of been training for this - The art of sneaking around with the agility of a dancer and quieter than a mouse. Dolores could always hear, no doubt, but for some reason she kept quiet, and other than her and Camilo, no one knew she and Bruno were still here. Bruno never used his powers, so his door stayed dark, and Mirabel just didn’t- Wait a second. “What if you used your gift again?” 

“ Que ?” A rat skittered up to Bruno’s shoulder, sensing his surprise. “No no no, you know I don’t do visions anymore.”

“But you could see what’s going to happen if we go through with this, and we can be prepared! ”

“Mirabel…” He groaned. “I can’t do it, because… Because, uh… I can’t think of a good reason. But let’s pretend I do have a good reason, and then you can be like ‘That’s a very good reason, let’s not make Bruno spark up his gift again’.” 

“Hey, you don’t have to have a vision if you don’t want to. I just think it’d be better than going in blind. It's like you said; el fin justifica los medios. ” Bruno was quiet for a while, reading through the plan again and again. Save his family. Stay for the family. Sacrifice, for the family. Hadn’t he done that enough? Then again, if it was just this one last time…

“Let’s sleep on it, sobrina . We’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

It had been a long time since Bruno had come to this cave. The open, empty space, once ringing with the screams of the damned - mostly just him. Last time he’d come here, he saw the house, breaking. He saw Mirabel, hurting. The miracle, gone. Humph. Some miracle that had been. Bruno tossed some salt over his shoulder for good luck as he readied himself. This might hurt a little bit, Bruno. Do it for your familia . Do it for your sobrina . It’ll be fine.

The wind picked up. Sand went flying. Everything was dark, except for the green. Yes, yes, there it was-! A butterfly flew by. His eyes hurt. The cracks in the Casita faded and came back. His head pounded. Mirabel stood tall at the center of the house. His hands stung. She reached for a doorknob, and then- 

It was nearly pitch dark. Bruno was on his back- When had that happened? He rolled over, trying to get to his hands and knees, coughing intensely. The vision had ended suddenly, leaving his lungs burning. Once he shook most of the sand out of his hair and wiped the tears from his eyes, he stared down at the glass. It showed Mirabel surrounded by butterflies, with cracks beneath her feet that came and went faster than Pepa’s clouds.

Oh, how he missed his dearest hermanas . 

He didn’t want to show Mirabel the future he’d tried to protect her from. Still, even hidden from the family, everything rested on her shoulders? After everything he’d done to stop this madness? He should have known he couldn’t change the future. He’d been on a fool’s errand for the last ten years.

All he could do now was try to help his sobrina . 

He barely made it back down the stairs and into the back room by morning. He stumbled into the door and fumbled through the cabinet for some of Julieta’s food. It might take the headache away long enough to fall asleep, he figured. He flopped onto his couch and got comfortable quickly. If Mirabel was awake, she might have heard him come in, but she was probably asleep - plus, she was in another part of the rooms in the walls that he was pretty sure Casita had created just for Mirabel and him. 

A little over an hour later, Mirabel crept out of her makeshift room to peek through the crack and watch the family converse while eating a stale arepa , all punctuated by Bruno’s soft snoring that only she and Dolores could hear.

The table was subtly tense, as usual. Abuela led the discussion on the day’s duties - Luisa was to help out with the donkeys, a tilting roof, and whatever else the citizens of Encanto needed that day. Isabella was to fix the gardens. Her poor sisters, their smiles looked forced. And her cousins - Dolores was constantly used as an instant messenger, and Camilo… Well, Camilo seemed fine with their duties, at least for now. 

“Almost makes you glad you didn’t get your gift, right?” Bruno rubbed his eye. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t even need to make my little telenovelas when there’s so much drama brewing right here.” He mumbled. Dolores’s eyes darted to the crack for a moment of concern, then moved on. Right, she liked to listen to those, didn’t she?

“I don’t get why nobody’s stood up to Abuela yet.” Mirabel hissed. “She treats them like la escoria de la tierra. ” Her nails dug into the perfectly-cooked bread. 

“I know, Mariposita ,” Bruno said, tugging at a strand of his hair. “That’s why I went to my vision cave last night. I went to go see what would happen, and, uh, no one gets hurt. That’s all that matters, right?” 

Mirabel breathed a sigh of relief. “Right. Then we need to do it, sooner rather than later.” She and Bruno watched the table clear out. 

“I’ve always hated seeing them like this. You know, Pepa used to be way more emotional.” Mirabel looked at her tio as he stared blankly into the sliver of light coming from the dining room. “She was sensitive and kind, like a normal kid. She’s still a great person, but I stood by and watched her get more closed-off as Alma and the rest of the town pushed her to make the sky do what was convenient for them.”

“You think that could happen to Antonio? Knock, knock, knock on wood.” She tapped her knuckles against a nearby beam and then her skull. It was a habit she’d picked up from Bruno a few years back. It was second nature now.

“No. No, not if we fix it.”

“Right.” Mirabel took the final bite of her food, and brushed off her hands. “I’m doing it tonight.” 

“You think you’re ready?” 

“I have to be.”

Chapter Text

When dusk fell, it left Encanto a dim purple tint. Mirabel crept out of the painting, followed by a very careful Bruno, who promptly hid behind a plant. “You’re not coming?” 

“I’m just here for emotional support, kay? It’s your fate, Mariposita . You’ll do great.” He stuck a thumbs-up out of the plant. Mirabel stiffly nodded. 

She walked lightly across the hallway, watching the gold illuminate the house as the sky fell darker with each moment. Her heart beat in her chest, rhythmically and quickly. If this didn’t work, she wasn’t sure what to do. Go back to Bruno’s back rooms and live the rest of her days in hiding, going slowly insane? What kind of life was that? She’d been raised in a cramped back-space; she didn’t want to grow up there. 

As she reached for the handle, she heard a voice. “What are you doing? ” She spun around to see Camilo, and watched Dolores’s door shut. “That’s gonna be Antonio’s door.” 

“I know.” She said, “You should go back to your room.” They walked forward a bit. 

“Not this time, Mirabel.” Camilo pushed their hair out of their face. “If you’re messing with Antonio’s door, I’m gonna have to stop you.” 

“I can’t let you do that, sobrino .” Bruno grabbed Camilo from behind and locked his arms around their chest. Camilo transformed into Bruno for a second out of surprise. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Bruno clarified. He could never hurt his familia - They mattered too much.

Mirabel smiled weakly at her tio and turned back around with a deep breath. She touched the handle and immediately it was as if a wind had kicked up, coming from the door, blowing her skirt and hair back. The door glowed bright enough to leave a glare on her glasses, and so too did the candle. Abuela, noticing the sudden change, opened her door and looked out of it, shocked. Bruno dropped Camilo and stood up. 

It was too late for Abuela to do anything now. As the rest of the family emerged from their rooms, a swarm of butterflies collected out of nowhere, swirling around Mirabel and landing on her shoulders, hair, and hem of her skirt. Still more fluttered around her feet. The door solidified to show a Mirabel holding her hands up, and butterflies surrounding her, with some weird swirly lines- She didn’t really know what those meant. She beckoned Bruno and opened the door.

Once he got in, she shut it and barricaded it with the nearest thing - a chair. Mirabel looked around her room. It was dim, she had to admit, but it had flower bushes around the edges that butterflies were feasting on, and lots of big open space. 

“I can’t believe that worked!” Bruno said, “Camilo was like, ‘Step away from the door,’ and I was like, ‘WHAM! Grab!’ and you were like, ‘Wooo, butterflies!’ And, uh! Now we’re here?” 

“Right.” Mirabel looked at her hands, which butterflies were perching on. “Is that it? Is that my gift? Butterflies follow me around?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing. Bruno paused and quickly switched to being serious. 

“I don’t- I don’t think so. It’s probably more complicated than that, but since you’re older than you should be, it skews your perception of it. You might have to figure it out on your own.” 

“Maybe something in here will tell me, like designs on the walls, or that stuff over there.” Mirabel was, of course, referring to the furniture and trinkets to the right- The room was big, and it appeared that it was always a clear and starry night, but it still appeared to have all the essentials, such as a bed. She turned to Bruno. “What are you going to do? They know we’re here, everybody does.” 

“Ehh, I’ll probably go back in the walls…” As he trailed off, Mirabel and Bruno noticed the shouting outside. “Or, uh, maybe not.” He picked at the hourglass embroidery on his ponco. “I should talk to them.” 

“You’re sure, Tio ?”

“Yeah.” Bruno rubbed his neck. “There’s a lot to talk about.” 

“Be careful,” She said. “You haven’t left the back rooms as much as I have.” Bruno removed the chair from the handle and slid out of the room with a final worried glance. 

“Okay, Mirabel. Figure out your gift. That’s the first step.” She pushed up her glasses and walked further into her room. The exclamations from outside faded, and Mirabel was left with the quiet fluttering of butterflies. They tingled on her skin. 

She sat down cross-legged on the ground and shut her eyes. Air filled her lungs, and left with an exhale. Focus on intuition. Now that she was focused, she could feel it- The strong sensation of wanting to move, but without her muscles. As a fly on the wall, it would appear that Mirabel had exploded into butterflies and reappeared moments later, several feet away. Mirabel also found that she had control over each butterfly, and could contort the swarm into the shape of a dress, or a giant hand, or even the shape of how she imagined her late Abuelo Pedro looked. 

Mirabel started rubbing her arm. She certainly wasn’t nervous, no- she trusted her Tio . She was merely excited, that had to be it. No matter how the butterflies filled her vision with pretty figures and astounding colors, she couldn’t help but see Camilo’s face, all heartbroken and betrayed. After all, Camilo had helped her so many times, and for what? She vaguely remembered when things were normal, before she turned 5. They played together, imagining their gifts and dreaming of helping the citizens of Encanto.

Oh, her townsfolk, how would they react-? They relied so heavily on the Madrigals that-

No, no, she had to snap out of this. Everyone was fine in the end, Bruno had promised, el prometio. It was like he told her, el fin justifica los medios. Camilo might not like it at the moment, but he would come around eventually. 

Mirabel didn’t really know how this would go, but she knew one thing for sure- she had to take down the magic. To do that, she needed to get to the candle. 

She stood and walked to the door, and hovered there. It was deathly silent. That was suspicious. She cracked open the door - Nobody. Where had Bruno and the others gone? Was he okay?

“Dolores,” She stage-whispered, “Dolores, where’s Bruno?” No answer. Well, that was to be expected. 

What wasn’t expected was for Isabela to string her up by the ankle the moment she stepped out of the door, and especially for Mirabel to phase right out of it with a pop by using her gift, landing perfectly on her feet.

Chapter Text

“Is that really a way to greet tu hermana after ten years, Isabel?” She asked. “Did you string up Tio Bruno too?” 

“No.” Isabel retained her pose. "Do you know how worried I was when you and Bruno disappeared? Abuela refused to acknowledge you, we searched for a week straight, but you were here the whole time!" Deep scarlet petunias spread in a spiral from where she was standing. 

"I was 5, Isa! All I knew was failure, okay? I wouldn't expect you to understand, Senorita Perfecta !” Similar to her sister, red butterflies swarmed around her feet. Isabel scoffed. 

“Do you know how much pressure that is!? When your sister is gone and you have to be perfect? I’m not perfect, and I don’t want to be, okay!? Why’d you have to go and ruin what we had going, the family was healing from you and Tio Rata .” 

“No. No, I don’t have to listen to this tonterías . I have a mission.” Mirabel ran at Isabel and exploded into butterflies just before hitting her, then reappeared behind her. After a moment of disorientation, she continued to run. The candle, she had to get to the-

A few minutes earlier…

Bruno emerged from the door after a final glance of pity. He couldn’t imagine receiving his gift at 15 - all those teenage hormones… Ugh. He wasn’t all that happy as a teenager, anyway. Perhaps Mirabel could be, but only if this went well. He stood in front of the door to survey the situation.

Abuela was standing by her door, with his hermanas next to her, arguing- With each other, or with Alma, he couldn’t tell. His nieces and nephews stood back in hushed discussion with the men who had married into the family. Camilo was distracting Antonio while holding his ribcage- A pang of guilt ran through Bruno’s mind. Had he done damage? He didn’t think he’d grabbed him so hard… Well, no matter. Julieta could heal him if it was that bad. 

As he walked closer, the accusations died down and he could feel the family’s eyes on him. “Er… Hey. Am I interrupting something?” He asked with a little wave, hunched over and fiddling with a single chunk of hair. Julieta ran over and enveloped him in a hug, which, ironically, wasn’t something he saw coming. 

“You never left us,” She said with a sigh of relief. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“This is unacceptable behavior, mijo . What have you done with Mirabel?” Alma stepped closer. “And with yourself? You look terrible.” 

“Well, I, uh,” Bruno couldn’t make himself look into her eyes. “I had a vision. Let’s go downstairs, I’ll explain it all to you there.” This, of course, was a lie - It was mainly to get the family away from the candle so Mirabel could do her part. As he walked down and onto the tile, two rats appeared and crawled up to his shoulders. They chittered worriedly. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, he looked at where the rest of the family was supposed to be following, and instead saw Dolores mid-whisper. It was clear she’d already told the better part of the family about the plan he and Mirabel had concocted- maldita sea , he hadn’t thought about that! 

“Isabel, go watch Mirabel’s door.” His mother commanded. “We will not allow you to destroy the magic, Bruno.” 

Bruno found laughter erupting from his throat uncontrollably. They wouldn’t let him? They hadn’t planned for the Madrigals being okay with this, no, Bruno had more insight than that - and especially insight into the future. His laughter descended into coughing sand from the vision he’d had this morning - this time, without telling Mirabel. She couldn’t know he was so worried that he had to see the future to avoid getting cold feet. Though, the future didn’t tell him if he won. That was still up to his mariposita , he supposed. 

“You’ll have to catch me first,” He said with a raspy voice, and darted away, quickly descending into a full run with his ruana trailing behind him.

He ran out of the house and out towards the town, then remembered that if the villagers saw him, surely they’d chase him too. Droplets of rain began to fall on his face. This was surely Pepa’s doing, whether that was intentional or not. He took a hard right and headed into the forest as the sun disappeared over the mountains of Encanto . 

He glanced back for a moment to see Abuela, Antonio, Julieta, and Camilo further back. He continued to dart left and right between trees that grew denser with each step. He couldn’t run forever, he knew that. His 50-year-old legs were starting to feel it. 

“Bruno, we aren’t- huff - going to hurt you!” Felix shouted at him. That’s what they thought he was worried about? A sharp branch cut his cheek as he dashed by. Bruno found humor in the timing of that, but there was no time to laugh. 

He could hear running water ahead, maybe it was a creek? It was so loud, it was hard to tell. His heart in his ears, the rain on the ground, the wind in the leaves, all masking the more intricate sounds of the forest. The air burned his lungs. One slip up, un solo error , and he was-

The mud was slightly too slick. His shoes lost traction on the wet ground, leaving his arms flailing in the air. It was as if the whole world had gone into slow-motion - he barely realized he was falling until the dim ground came up to meet his face, and Bruno slid face-first into the creek. 

The water was freezing, enough so that he could barely pull himself up enough to spit out the muck. Splashing around him told him the family had caught up. He ran his hand along the silt below the water. This might just be enough… Bruno lifted his head as his family grabbed his arms to pull him up, and his eyes snapped open, which he knew were bright green. 

The wind blew hard around them, lifting up the silt, sand, and some water with it. He vaguely heard mumbles of a vision, assumptions which proved correct when the darkness of night was pierced by the green of his vision. The family was shouting, en pánico , all around - they let him go, and he sat in the cold river and watched the vision as his toes went numb.

Ah, there he was-! A green depiction of him, shouting something incomprehensible at- no, that couldn’t be right, he was shouting at Mirabel? There were butterflies all around. The candle flickered and a hand reached for it, but pulled back. Then- Oh, now this was new- Luisa stumbling back, and- and falling. Then, there he was, hand outstretched, but was it to push her or save her? It had to be the latter, he’d never hurt his beloved familia , no matter how blind they were. 

The water and silt fell down, and everything else it brought up collapsed with it. Green glass materialized in front of him - there was his hand, reaching out to Luisa. That was, uh… concerning. 

He couldn’t run anymore. He knew that. The family around him was reeling from the sudden vision, and honestly, so was he. He sat in the creek, a dark streak running down from his nose. Ah, so that was happening again. 

The remaining family members around him were Felix, Augustin, Pepa, Luisa, and Dolores. Hopefully that gave Mirabel enough time to destroy the pressure that held the family back. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy, and the transition would be rough, but it was like he’d told her - el fin justifica los medios.