Chapter Text
It was a solemn night in the casita. There were no visitors, no fireworks, and no parties. A heavy raincloud loomed over the whole house, which dutifully kept the water outside the building.
“What’s going to happen, Abuela?” Mirabel whispered, her voice shaking.
“No one knows, Mirabel, but we will always love you. Nothing that candle gives you can separate our family.”
When the casita tossed a ticking clock at their feet, Abuela kicked it away. Nobody wanted reminding of the time.
With an iron strength and an entirely fabricated calm, Abuela took her youngest grandchild’s trembling hand. No matter how much it pained her to walk the child to her door, neither did she want to see another ceremony like Isabela’s. The miracle that defended their town had been clear: it came with a price, paid however the family preferred it taken.
Stepping from the nursery, little Mirabel did not shy away. Knowing the story of the family’s magic had evidently prepared her for her fate rather than startled her from it.
The casita had helpfully cleaned itself up and prepared decorations while the family spent the day worrying. Rather than colored paper and fireworks, a more somber mood bedecked the casita- dark painted tiles, long curtains, subtle lighting from small candles. Mirabel tried to pretend she hadn’t heard the family's whispers and mutters, but Auntie Pepa’s cloud did no such disguising. The more agitated the entire family grew, the more the cloud swelled.
Luisa had stayed in her room tonight. Better that than break another support pillar. Isabela couldn’t have come even if they could explain it to her.
Everyone else had shaken their sorrows off and stood at attention at the top of the stairwell to support Mirabel. The stairs seemed miraculously shorter than normal to Abuela.
“Here we are, mija,” Abuela whispered.
Mirabel stood resolute in front of the new, swirling doorframe. Her soft dress glittered with reflections of the door’s light.
“You look so grown up,” Mirabel’s mother, Julieta, sighed. Light bee stings covered her hands and ears, but most notable were her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. Augustin, Mirabel’s father, was not much better off, but he had been in worse shape before the two parents shared a meal. He gave his youngest child a proud smile in the hopes it would comfort her. It did not reach his eyes.
“She looks very brave,” Tio Felix nodded while signing. Dolores, adjusting her protective scarf around her head, nodded in affirmation. She signed a quick ‘good luck’ to her cousin. Tio Felix kept signing to make sure she could follow along with what everyone said. Camilo was not visible just then, but he shouted, “good luck!” at the top of what must have been baby-sized lungs. Mirabel guessed he was standing somewhat to the right and trying to work out the visible spectrum of light again.
Even Tio Bruno had come down from his tower to support her. He didn’t get out much, not since his wife Catalina’s… absence, as Abuela phrased it. He gripped the railing on the stairs for dear life, but a flicker of hope graced his eyes. He’d seen every family member in a vision before, sometimes multiple times a day, but he had never seen Mirabel’s power in his tablets.
With a gentle step, Mirabel faced the door. It was much taller than she was. No amount of sparkles could make it welcoming, no finely polished doorknob could make it easier to touch. The one good thing about Casita’s doors seemed to be that they tried to help carry their burdens. Luisa’s room constantly repaired itself, her mother’s room doubled as a stocked infirmary… whatever curse Mirabel was sure to receive, her room would help her overcome it.
Mirabel screwed up her courage. If her family had all borne the curse to keep the village safe within the mountain, then she should too. They would be proud of her- they would keep her safe. She would keep everyone safe.
She hoped she would still be able to see, after.
A little hand reached for the door, grasping the doorknob with no temerity. It was her door, her room, her family, her world on the line, curse or not. She would be a hero.
From the top of the frame, flecks of gold dissolved into the air.
The door hissed and fizzled out of existence like an angry street cat, as though the curse had been denied a meal. Casita’s tiles began to chime merrily.
The door vanished. No room lay behind it.
“What happened?” Mirabel asked.
The door had never shown.
“Do you feel different,” Julieta insisted, kneeling to her daughter’s eye-level. “Are you alright? Is anything hurt?”
“No, mami, I’m fine.”
The family crowded around, inspecting the littlest Madrigal. If anything, their nervous muttering doubled. Dolores signed at her faster than Mirabel could read.
“Nothing feels funny?”
“Your head still screwed on straight?”
“No strange second sense?”
“Brunito, what does this mean? Did you see anything,” Abuela demanded.
Mirabel had a hard time tracking everyone, but she shook her head to each question. Nothing was different, but she had no room to protect her from the curse. Perhaps it would arrive later?
Later that week, the Madrigals celebrated. Mirabel had been blessed- perhaps the curse had finally been paid for. Perhaps there was hope for them all.
---
It took a long time for the hard-won joy of Mirabel’s safety to shatter.
Luisa had been uncontrollably happy and had accidentally run through one of the walls. Casita had helped repair the damage, but it had been noticeably grouchy since. They had tried to explain the situation to Isabela as well, but she wasn’t much for conversation. They hoped she understood.
There was also the uncertainty of the town to worry about, though everyone wished the family well. Everyone understood what had happened the day Isabela refused her curse; nobody wanted to repair another crack in the mountain. Encanto had become a haven from the war outside, and it was commonly understood that only the Madrigal’s personal suffering kept their mountains from crumbling. Sparing even one of that family was long overdue, in many eyes.
The family shared that view as well- for a time.
Felix and Pepa had another son the year after. Everyone celebrated the arrival of another Madrigal, another child who might prove safe from the curse.
Bruno’s first vision of the boy was so dark, he refused to talk about it. He spent most of his days in his tower, muddling over his visions in silence. Nobody begrudged him for it. Instead, they guarded the little one, Antonio, all the fiercer.
Mirabel stayed in the nursery. She grew up loved, protected, cherished, and somewhat envied. She had a sister who was a little clumsy but strong of heart, parents who could bear anything, cousins who loved to play, an aunt with a sense of humor, an uncle with glowing eyes, and an Abuela who spent each day reminding her how special she was. Her village was safe from invaders, the food was plentiful and delicious, the skies were rainy but spotted with moments of sunny light.
It was a perfectly charmed life.
If only they could just get rid of the charm on it…