Work Text:
Isabela hates Mirabel.
She hates her eagerness to please the family.
She hates the freedom that Mirabel is allowed.
She hates the way she dresses.
Isabela hates Mirabel because she has what she wants.
Abuela has a rope around Isabela's neck, and every time the noose tightens, she has to stand straighter, be prettier, smile more. And her back hurts, her face is strained, and she hates being so fucking pretty.
Then she looks at Mirabel and sees her free of the family noose.
And she should be happy for her, but she's not.
Because Mirabel gets to slouch, her smiles get to be awkward, and she gets to be herself.
And she is so fucking pretty for it.
She hates how Mirabel is so eager to join her on the gallows. So eager for a rope around her neck.
Isabela, the family's pretty little puppet, wants to grab hold of the Madrigal's most free child and make her a puppet too.
Except this time, Isabela is the one in control.
She wants to push Mirabel down and see her finally on Isabela's level. She wants her sister's irritated faces, and her grinding teeth, and she wants Mirabel to look at her with those defiant eyes.
Isabela wants to wrap Mirabel in her vines until she can't move without her say so.
To give her the rope that she's so eager for.
Because Isabela also loves Mirabel.
She wants to hug her.
She wants to finally show all of her prickly self to the girl who might understand her inner weirdness.
She wants to kiss her face and tell Mirabel that she had been watching her try for all these years.
That her determination in the face of disappointment was so admirable that she wanted to cry.
She hates Mirabel. She loves Mirabel. She wants to be Mirabel.
She wants to have Mirabel.
And now that she knows how to be imperfect, she’ll happily take her chance.
….
Mirabel hates Isabela.
She hates how easy everyone loves her.
She hates the love Abuela favours her.
She hates how perfect she is.
Mirabel hates Isabela because she has everything she wants.
She watches from the side as Isabela shines like an angel and shoves it in her face like the little demon she knows her sister really is.
She sees her pretty dresses, her perfect posture, her aloof face, and all Mirabel wants is to see the mask crack. See her sister on her knees with those dark beautiful eyes, helplessly looking up at her.
And she wants to make a mess out of her.
Then, Señorita Perfecta uncovers her spikes and Mirabel smiles in sick pleasure.
Because Miss Perfect wasn't as perfect as she thought.
Then Isabela dresses the way she wants, and grows what she wants, and does what she wants.
And she's so fucking pretty for it.
Because Mirabel also loves Isabela.
She loves her hugs.
Loves seeing her sister free and unburdened.
She wants to kiss her and tell her she was so brave when she was willing to marry for the sake of the family.
That her soft heart underneath her prickliness was so precious that she wanted to protect it always.
She hates Isabela. She loves Isabela. She wants to be Isabela.
She wants to have Isabela.
And when they cross that forbidden line, Mirabel will gladly offer her neck up to Isabela with her ropes and vines. And Isabela will gladly be the mess at Mirabel's feet.
And they'll finally be the sister's they were always meant to be.