Chapter Text
Luisa wakes up first – she had for a long while. She liked to exercise in the quiet. No one, but her and her strength. No chores, no requests, or demands. Just her and her gift.
When the sun had just barely begun to rise, she stopped lifting and running and finally stepped out into Casita. She walked down the stairs into the kitchen and got the coffee started. Casita helped out some – bringing her the best brewing pot and the family’s cups.
She wasn’t the best at brewing coffee. She’d been terrible 5 years ago, but no one else woke up as early as she did anymore. And someone had to do it…since…
Luisa took a scalding gulp of coffee, hissing at the burn and waving off Casita’s tiles tinkled distressed. She didn’t have time to think, she needed to get the house ready for breakfast.
…
Julietta is up second. She was an early riser by habit alone – she’d prefer to spend one morning in bed, but since no one had magically stopped needing to eat, she didn’t have much of a choice. She’d dressed quickly, slipping her apron on with practiced ease before stepping into the hall.
She bypassed each door without a single glance, before stopping at the nursery. She eased herself inside and dropped to her knees at her daughter’s bed.
The prayer had been the same for 5 years.
When she rose, she wiped away a single tear and put herself to good use.
…
“Mija,” Julieta pressed two kisses into her second daughter’s cheeks, holding her for just a couple seconds more. “Buenos dias.”
“Buenos dias, Mama.” Luisa cradles her mother as gently as she would a flower. “I started the coffee.” Her mother’s thanks soothes the burn of her mouth.
Julieta cooks. Luisa helps Casita set the table.
Abuela had asked to have breakfast outside last night.
The sky was clear. The sun just peeking over the Encanto’s massive hills. Luisa hadn’t watched a sunrise in some time. The colors hadn’t been the same for a while. Plus, she hadn’t had much time to rest these days.
She carried the table and the chairs. Casita’s help had dwindled and dwindled over the past years. Luisa didn’t complain – just picked up the slack. The family was already worried enough as it was. She could handle it – someone had to.
She put out 11 chairs. 11 plates. 11 cups. She’d turn to get cutlery to find Antonio’s jaguar with the drawer in his capable jaws. Antonio gave her a sleepy smile and they worked quietly in the morning – Luisa ruffling his hair as they set the table.
Luisa lost herself in the rhythm – the scent of breakfast, Antonio’s quiet chatter, and the purr of a lazy jaguar. The work was reliable, easy even. The family slowly began to appear as the sun rose higher and higher.
…
First, Isabela and Mariano. Isabela fell into rhythm perfectly, decorating the table in plumes of deeply violet flowers. She helped deliver plates piled high with food. She avoided Mariano until she couldn’t. The man didn’t seem to mind – he saw perfection in her every action, even the ones that took her far away from him.
`Then Dolores and Camilo. Dolores primped and preened. She plucked at the couple of withering flowers from Isabela’s center pieces as Mariano pressed a kiss to Isabela’s cheek. Dolores didn’t say a word, turning away towards something farther away from the perfect couple. Camilo was in the kitchen. He carried the bigger plates, sneaking mouthfuls when he thought no one was looking.
When Pepa arrived, she became her sister’s shadow. As she swept into the kitchen, a fog settled onto the floor. Felix swept most of it away, but like a train to her dress, the fog dragged behind her.
By the time Abuela came downstairs, there was so much food on the table it was practically overflowing. Luisa placed her coffee in Abuela’s hands. Isabela smoothed Abuela’s hair with a tired smile. Camilo began to make her a plate. Antonio beckoned his friends away from the end of the table where she sat.
Dolores stood a ways away from it all, her head tilted to the side.
“Dolores?” Antonio shimmied from under the table, a capybara trotting beside him. His older sister was standing on the edge of the hill. She had the slightest frown on her face, with her hands cupped against her middle.
She only shook her head. “I…I thought I heard something.”
“You hear everything.” He reminded her.
“Thought I heard something impossible.” She spun around with a chirp.
Abuela helped place the last dish and breakfast commenced.
“The farms along the west are in need of expansion – Luisa and Antonio, you’ll be expected after noon. Julieta, Maria gave birth to her new child. I know you can prepare something to help her with her pain. Isabela and Mariano, you’ll be in the town square with Camilo.”
Antonio liked the west farms. As the Encanto grew, so did their farmlands. There were so many animals over there. Lots of friends to talk to and lots of games to play. It was just far enough from the village that there wasn’t even a handful of kids who came out that far. He’d be alone in peace with his real friends.
Of course, he wasn’t a little kid anymore – there was more to life than playing. He’d do his best to encourage his animal friends to help make the work easier for Luisa. But sometimes Luisa needed to work until she couldn’t stand anymore. On those days, he’d leave her to lose herself and he’d hope to find himself amongst the plants, the animals, and the sun.
Suddenly, the floor trembled.
Everyone turned to Dolores.
“It’s not an earthquake.”
The floor trembled again, even harder.
Abuela frowned, looking back at la casa.
The trembling became more of a pulse. The windows shook in their eaves. The roof’s tiles clattered.
Antonio watched with wide eyes as the crack that had been over the back door seemed to disappear.
With a crash, a single chair appeared in the doorway. Casita shimmied it outside and sidled it up at the end of the table.
“Casita?” Abuela stood, hands clasped at her chest.
“A chair? All that for a chair?” Camilo asked, ducking as a swirling cloud appeared over his mother’s head.
“Pepa? Julieta? You invited someone?” Abuela asked. The two daughters shook their heads. “I don’t understand.”
Dolores shot up, her chair knocking to the ground.
“Oh,” Antonio whispered to the capybara under the table. “It’s for Dolores – her chair fell over.”
Camilo rolled his eyes and sidled between his siblings.
“That’s not possible.” Dolores whispered, her voice barely audible. “I can’t believe it.”
“Darling, what’s wrong?”
“Is it the magic?” Camilo asked.
“We are not talking about the magic this morning – I wanted a nice morning. Pepa- the rain?”
“Something is wrong with my first born. Who cares about the rain?” The cloud seemed to cover the whole terrace. Antonio ducked under the table – he didn’t need to be a weathervane to know they were all about to get wet.
As chaos erupted, Antonio ate his arepas con huevos under the table. Abuela would normally never allow something so fun, but thankfully she was quite busy.
He was just licking the last of the eggs from his fingertips when he noticed the woman standing on the very edge of the property.
Maybe it was the glare of the sun, but it looked like she was shaking – like a mirage. He’d never seen anyone hesitate to walk up before – then again, most people tended to wait until after breakfast unless it was an emergency. Maybe this was an emergency?
He crawled out, only getting a little damp and hurrying away from the growing conflict and into the morning light.
“Buenos dias! How can I-.”
Antonio froze, dark eyes wide.
“Hola, primo.”
Mirabel grinned weakly, pressing a hand warm to his cheek. Her eyes glittering in the sunrise.