Chapter Text
March 12, 1956
In a Colombian boarding school for girls, the dawn brought with it the rush of several girls–all from ten to sixteen years-old–leaving their dormitory and entering the hall outside. They all wore identical pale pink dresses with cream jabots tied around the bases of their throats.
However, there were still a few stragglers inside the dormitory, which had all the beds pushed against the walls to form an aisle in the center.
The remaining girls were each–save for one–cleaning a bed for the second time that morning. The only one who wasn't was sitting on a bed, rambling as she watched another girl, with black hair in a low ponytail, make the bed next to her.
“It’s just that I haven't been able to sleep well, lately,” the sitting girl continued her monologue, “and it's so hard to make the beds perfectly neat . I’m just not up to it today, you know, Rios?”
Azael Rios rolled her eyes, glad that her back was to the chattering girl as she worked. To be fair, she had it coming after expressing her contempt at Palmira’s wasting a favor on something so trivial as getting her bed cleaned for her, leading to Palmira going on a tangent while trying to explain herself.
“And I did give you that envelope you asked for a week ago. It was on your fifteenth birthday, right? What did you use it for, by the way?” Palmira didn’t wait for an answer from the black-haired girl (who most likely wouldn’t have responded anyway.) “So, yeah, you do owe me.” Azael snorted quietly as she smoothed Palmira’s mauve blanket.
Now she was starting to get insulted; Palmira was acting as if Azael wasn’t aware of how things worked at the school.
Not that it was anything new. The brunette had always tried to exclude her from many things, including her large friend group, after Azael had come to the school five years ago. It had made befriending anyone, which was difficult enough as a ten year-old newcomer in a school that most girls started attending at a much younger age, even harder.
“So, having you do my bed really isn’t a waste, like you said it was.” Azael’s hands tightened on an embroidered pillow as she picked it up.
“Because, believe me, I’m starting to-” That’s it. Enough of the rambling.
“ Sabes que,” Azael interrupted in a falsely conversational tone without turning around, “The more you talk, the less you’re convincing anyone. I’m here to return a favor, not to listen to you try to ramble out an explanation why I’m doing something that you could do yourself.” A pause, and then she finished with, “and to be honest, the more you try to excuse it, the more I’m starting to think that you have something to hide…”
No response came from Palmira, and Azael, with a satisfied smirk, fluffed the pillow in the telling silence. Once she set it down, her task was complete.
Azael finally turned around, an impassive expression on her bronze-colored face as she faced Palmira.
“Finished.” Without waiting for a reply, Azael walked away from the bed to exit the room.
In the vibrant village of Encanto, the dawn brought with it the sound of a door slamming against the wall as it opened. A bespectacled girl walked out, a slight wince on her previously peppy face.
Mirabel probably should have taken better care to try to not damage Casita the day right after it was rebuilt. As the wooden floor rolled under her feet, Mirabel yelped out, “Sorry, sorry, Casita! Accident!”
The floor suddenly stopped moving and Mirabel lovingly patted the wall. A smile returned to her face as she shut the door–carefully this time–and rushed to the railing of the hallway above the ground floor.
Inhaling deeply, she shouted, " Buenos dias , Familia Madrigal!" She then knocked rapidly on each door around the hall.
After sliding down the stairs, Mirabel pranced toward the kitchen, checking to see if her mother was up yet. Entering it, her face turned into one of surprise.
Her mama was there, plating the family's breakfast with her back to the door. But her abuela was also there, sitting on a stool next to the counter and a cup of tea in her weathered hands. Looking up, Abuela started at seeing Mirabel in the kitchen, but gave a kind, yet hesitant, smile.
" Buenos días , Mirabel." Mirabel returned the smile with much more vigor. At her daughter's name, Julieta turned around. She gave Mirabel a soft look and also bid her good morning.
"Buenos días, Abuela, Mamá . Need any help with breakfast?" Mirabel offered, absently adjusting the straps of her bag.
“ Sí ,” her mother replied, “Could you take some food to the table? Luisa must’ve brought it outside by now.”
"Sure, Mama!" Gathering as many plates as she could balance, with Casita's help, Mirabel made her way outside. The family was already starting to gather around the table. The sight of Antonio chatting happily to his tentative Tío Bruno about his rats brought a hopeful smile to the teenager's face.
The family’s finally okay.
Right?
After Azael entered the dining hall, she strode past all the long tables. She chose her customary seat at the farthest table from the door; with her back to the wall, Azael had a clear view of the whole room and could see any new arrivals, which was why this strategic spot was her favorite.
She ladled changua onto her bowl from a pot on the table, and as she took primly ate the soup, Azael’s brown eyes glanced around the dining hall.
The teachers, save for the headmistress, were at their customary position across the room from her. Palmira was seated among her friends, although Azael noticed that she was much more detached from the conversation than usual.
Azael sniffed; Served Palmira right for alienating her all those years ago, leaving her alone in a school full of tight bonds– all formed from early childhood. Now Azael was accustomed to minding her own business and handling things herself.
Azael’s eyes shot to the door as it opened and allowed a crowd of girls from five to nine years-old to stream in. They were all murmuring quietly, but the polite behavior didn’t fool Azael; she had heard them when she had tutored a group of the girls a while ago, and her ears still ached at the memory. She was forever grateful since that day that they slept in different quarters from hers.
A particular pair of nine year-olds scanned the room, grinning when they spotted Azael. As they made a beeline for her, Azael rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her changua .
“ Buenos días , Azael!” Azael ignored the enthusiastic greeting, sipping the soup on her spoon slowly, her eyes fixed on her bowl. “ Oye , Azael, we know you can hear us!” Azael still ignored the giggle. Once she finally finished swallowing, she glanced up at the girls.
Although they both had brown hair, one of them had a darker tawny color than the other. Both of the girls grinned at Azael as they waited for a response.
“And my breakfast was going so well, “ Azael drawled as a single eyebrow arched on her round face. “Elena, Valeria.” Scrutinizing, Azael could make out hints of nervousness behind their grins.
“Well, remember that one time that Señorita Sánchez had you help a bunch of us study some stuff?” Elena twirled a coil of hair around her finger in an agitated manner as she talked.
Azael nodded, a small smirk growing. They definitely want something. Many of the younger girls were wary of her–with her furtive mannerisms and inscrutable face–and Azael knew that they liked to puzzle out where she came from and where exactly the mysterious girl spent her summer; she never left the school with the others when summer vacation came.
Among the girls younger than ten, however, Elena and Valeria were the least cautious of Azael. They didn’t hesitate to use their chaotic behavior to often annoy her.
“Yeah, so you know how hard math is, and we were hoping that, well…”
As Elena trailed off, Valeria continued for her. “And you were pretty good at tutoring us, so maybe you could… do it again? We can owe you, of course!”
Azael gazed steadily at them, which just caused the nine year-olds to fidget uncomfortably, as she contemplated the request. “Have you seen Headmistress Acosta around? And did the mail come today?” she suddenly asked.
Valeria blinked, and then answered, “We saw her after we left our dorm. She was heading to the office, with some mail in her hand, so I guess it came. But what does that have to do with anything?”
The question was disregarded by Azael, as she looked down at the table to continue thinking.
So the letters came. Guess I have to go see Headmistress Acosta…
Students could only meet with the headmistress after six p.m., and classes were finished at three.
I can spare a few hours. Who knows, it might take my mind off the letters, she concluded.
Having made her decision, Azael lifted her head to answer. “Sure. I can explain some stuff. She smirked. “And you two don’t owe me anything. I don’t take favors from younger kids, and there’s nothing that enanas like you two can do to help me anyway.”
And though Azael would rather lick the floor than ever admit, she actually enjoyed helping younger children learn.
As the two girls started sputtering protests about how they were, in fact, very useful, Azael shook her head with a small, unseen smile. She placed her spoon in her empty bowl and stood from the table’s bench. “Meet me in the older girls’ dorm after classes.”
As Alma strolled toward the breakfast table, she wore a peaceful smile on her face.
Finally, Casita was rebuilt. The miracle had been returned. And most importantly, her hijo Bruno came home, and the family Madrigal was reunited.
The smile faltered, however, as she reached her customary position at the head of the table.
Alma now knew, thanks to Mirabel, that certain changes needed to happen in the family. The fact that the changes had not been made earlier had been the reason that the horrible disaster had occurred a week ago.
But how do changes happen in a family with traditions several decades old?
Dios m í o , what even are the changes that need to happen? As much as Alma regretted it, her strictness had caused the family to not feel comfortable sharing any issues with her. How does she begin fixing the mess that she made?
"Abuela? Are you okay?" Alma started out of her ruminating and snapped her head towards the source of the question.
Mirabel, the nieta she did not deserve, was staring at her with such a worried look on her face, leaning forward on the chair immediately to Alma's left. How could she always push away such a caring, sweet girl? How could she never see the light shining within her before?
"Abuela?" Alma realized that she still hadn't answered, and her silence was beginning to draw the attention of the rest of the family. "Aren't you gonna sit?"
Right, she still had not taken her seat. As Alma did so, she gave her granddaughter a reassuring smile. " Lo siento , Mirabel. I was just thinking."
Mirabel gave her a doubtful look, but ultimately left her abuela alone. She instead striked up a conversation with Bruno, who was across the table from her.
With her attention out of her thoughts, Alma remembered her role of leading the discussion at breakfast. Was she still supposed to continue her previous responsibility?
"Um… Señora Madrigal?" The family all turned to look at the interloper. Andres, one of the residents of Encanto, was hesitantly approaching the table, an agitated look on his face.
Abuela's face switched to politeness. "Yes, Señor Andres, what is it?"
"Um-well-the other townsfolk were wondering when-well- if your familia was gonna come help us today?" The family stayed silent, turning as one to look at Alma. The man, encouraged by the silence, continued. "The Castro familia 's fence needs to be fixed, Fabian sprained his ankle while he tried to fix the fence, Señora Garcia's children ran away while she was also helping with the fence, among other things…"
Alma stayed quiet, gazing at her family. Mirabel and Bruno wore apprehensive looks. Felix gave Pepa a worried smile, which was mirrored almost exactly in the expression his oldest son wore, and massaged her hand.
Alma had to resist the urge to point out the cloud growing above her daughter’s head.
Julieta's weary eyes were glued to the table, whispering with Augustin. Dolores and Isabela, who was wearing a lavender dress that was more casual than before, exchanged unsure looks. Antonio looked confused as he glanced around at his troubled family. Luisa, like her mother, was staring at the table.
How did the family approach the subject of helping the town now? Of course, the villagers still needed assistance;the townspeople still relied on them, whether they liked it or not, and it wouldn't be right to just stop helping them. But Alma was skeptical that putting so much stress on giving aid was not one of the reasons that the family had crumbled. What would be the consequences of them returning to their old habits?
Before Alma could decide on an answer, Luisa spoke up. "Of course we can help, Señor Andres." She flashed a dauntless smile toward her abuela. "I can start with the fence, Abuela."
Alma gave her granddaughter a relieved look. "Gracias, Luisa." She glanced away before she could see the strain hidden under Luisa's confident expression. Mirabel, however, shot her older sister an unconvinced look.
One by one, the rest of the Madrigals assured that they would be able to assist the town.
Except for Bruno, Alma noticed with worry. He just fidgeted with his ruana before standing up from the table with the rest of his family. But as the other Madrigals started their excursion to the town of Encanto, Bruno scurried back into Casita with a panicked look on his face.
Alma stared after her only son, debating with herself on whether she should go after him. While she usually insisted to others not to avoid their fears, and wanted to tell him the same, she decided to leave him be. After all, it must be difícil to return to a village that viewed you as a bringer of woe.
Alma turned around to follow the rest of her family to the village.
For the first breakfast in decades, “La Familia Madrigal!” had not been chorused.