Work Text:
“I'm the strong one, I'm not nervous; I'm as tough as the crust of the Earth is. I move mountains, I move churches and I glow, 'cause I know what my worth is. I don't ask how hard the work is, got a rough indestructible surface. Diamonds and platinum, I find 'em, I flatten 'em; I take what I'm handed, I break what's demanded.” - Surface Pressure, Encanto
Luisa Madrigal: the strong one. Hard-working, reliable Luisa. Luisa, who didn’t ask questions; she just got the work done and moved onto the next task. Luisa Madrigal, who didn’t demand recognition of her work; no praises, no rewards. Just steady, reliable service to her community and family.
The strong one.
Such a hard worker, the villagers said when she was small.
A little mountain, they said.
A little donkey, they said. That last one sent her complaining to her parents; she didn’t want to be called a donkey! Sure, they were cute once you got used to them, but Luisa didn’t want to be compared to them.
Despite her parents’ gentle entreaties to stop calling her that, the nickname quietly persisted. Abuela said the villagers were being kind.
“They recognise that they can count on you,” she said, and was soon distracted by a bouquet that Isabela brought her.
Luisa wasn’t jealous at all. Nope, no sir. No way! She didn’t want to make flowers, or wear pretty dresses, or have everyone sing her praises…
For all that Dolores was called Isabela’s Shadow, Luisa felt it applied to her too. Isabela was so effortlessly perfect. She greeted each day with a pretty smile; she made the village beautiful, she made everyone smile. It seemed that every single person in the Encanto worshipped her big sister.
Graceful, poised, beautiful Isabela Madrigal. The most graceful of all the Madrigals. The most perfect flower in the entire Encanto.
Isabela was perfect. So clearly Luisa was the problem: her sister was never stressed, or anxious, or worried. Isabela didn’t spend half the night pacing her room, unable to sleep, worrying about all the work that had to be done. Isabela didn’t have to hide all the ugly emotions she felt. She didn’t wish for time to relax. Isabela Madrigal would never be seen with her eyelid twitching like Luisa.
Or so she thought.
It turned out that being able to lift impossibly heavy things and work-work-work weren’t the only ways to be strong. Luisa slowly saw that as her family, aided by the villagers, began to rebuild their home.
Their Gifts were gone. The amazing, magical Madrigals were now only ordinary people.
And, for the first time, Luisa saw her family as ordinary people.
She saw Isabela covered in dirt and pollen, with tangled hair and chipped nails. She laughed loudly, snorting inelegantly. She told people off, getting right in their faces and dismissed anyone who bothered her with a wave of her hand and a sneer.
“Do I look like I care?” Isa snapped at Señora Pezmeurto, and Luisa nearly dropped the sack she was carrying in shock. “Find someone else to bother!”
And, of course, there was Mirabel. Luisa’s baby sister, who she wished so dearly to protect. She wished she could make Mirabel’s problems go away; she’d take them herself, so long as her little sister got to keep smiling. So long as Mirabel remained happy and carefree.
Only, Mirabel hadn’t been happy or carefree. Yet, despite that, Mirabel was the most determined, brave person Luisa knew. It was Mirabel who tried to save the Miracle and Casita; it was Mirabel who got Luisa to open up in the first place. Mirabel was the one to call Abuela out, to put the pieces together and realise it was their grandmother’s impossible expectations, and the family’s denial of their problems, that were causing the cracks.
They weren’t perfect. None of them.
Mirabel didn’t need a Gift to be strong. She just was. Her perfectly imperfect little sister, leading the way and lifting everyone’s spirits. Mirabel, who brought Tio Bruno home and, perhaps even more astonishing, got Abuela to admit she was wrong.
And then there was Luisa. Who was she without her Gift? Without her strength, what did she have?
Mirabel was unapologetically herself, as she’d always been; unconditionally loving and optimistic.
Isabela was discovering a whole new side to herself, letting down the facade of perfection and jumping headfirst into this new stage of her life.
And Luisa…Well, she didn’t know. She kept going to move or lift things, only to realise she couldn’t. She needed breaks now. For the first time since she was five, her muscles hurt. She felt more tired than ever.
The most embarrassing thing was how emotional she felt all the time. She wanted to break down and cry practically every minute of the day and night. Her eyelid didn’t twitch this time, but she felt teary-eyed and exhausted.
“I feel so dumb,” Luisa admitted quietly to Mirabel, when her little sister sought her out and (for the fifth time) asked how she was. “Like…We’re all working together. Everyone’s actually, y’know, talking to each other. Abuela actually told me to rest yesterday and said I did a good job! I don’t remember the last time she did that, Mira, and…” Even now, the tears were at the ready. “I don’t…” Her voice wobbled. “I don’t know why I feel like crying all the time.”
“That’s not dumb,” Mirabel said firmly. She hugged her, her arms barely wrapping around Luisa.
Luisa clung to her, bent over her little sister protectively, though it often felt like Mirabel was the one protecting her.
“Luisa, hermana, you’re tired. You’ve been working non-stop, every day, since you were five. Dios mio, Mamá cried over spilled milk this morning! Literally! Everyone’s adjusting.”
“It’s just…I don’t…” It’s weak. I’m meant to be the strong one.
“It’s not weak.”
Oh dear, she’d said that part out loud, didn’t she?
Luisa cringed, trying to pull away, but Mirabel clung to her tightly. Truth be told, Luisa could have easily pulled away; Gift or no Gift, she was much bigger than Mirabel.
But…Well, the hug was nice.
“Luisa, I cry all the time! So does Isa, and Tia Pepa, and Mamá. Papí cried yesterday, remember? When Tio Bruno called him Gus, he just wailed like a baby!”
Despite herself, Luisa giggled. “I thought Tio Bruno was gonna have a heart attack,” she admitted. “He looked terrified.” He’d looked even more terrified when Agustín hugged him, but also sort of okay with the hug? It was weird.
“Even Abuela cries,” Mirabel added softly. “She cried at the river. She cried when she apologised.”
It was true. Abuela even shed tears in front of Luisa, holding her hands and quietly apologising for everything.
You are so strong, mija, she’d said. I’m sorry I didn’t see that until now.
At the time, Luisa had thought it was weird. She’d been strong until now. Until she lost her Gift.
“You handled everyone’s problems by yourself,” Mirabel continued, still hugging her tightly. “Everyone in the family, you always tried to fix things for everyone. And not just us; you always did your best for the villagers. You did everything they asked and you didn’t complain once. Now’s your time to rest and complain as much as you want, Luisa.”
“I don’t…I don’t think I know how,” Luisa admitted, feeling oddly small. Venting and complaining were brand new concepts, like hobbies and naps.
And finally spending time with her sisters and parents.
“Being sad isn’t weak,” Mirabel continued with that loving, fierce tone of voice that was just so distinctly Mirabel that Luisa had to smile. “Being anxious isn’t weak. Asking for help isn’t weak. I’d say admitting you need help is actually pretty strong of you, sis.”
“...Yeah?” Luisa asked.
“Yeah.” Mirabel smiled at her. Luisa’s hold on her tightened and, in a flash, she scooped Mirabel right up into the air. Mirabel clung to her like a monkey, her limbs wrapped around her in a perfect mimicry of Antonio’s lost animals.
Strength didn’t have to be muscles. Strength could be love; her mamá’s gentle, nurturing love. Her papá boisterous, teasing affection. Tia Pepa and Tio Félix’s loud, passionate love for them all was practically unmatched. Even Camilo, though he’d never say it in the presence of his friends, loved them all. Dolores quietly loved their family, always keeping one ear on them.
Mirabel loved them so openly, so unconditionally, that Luisa thought she must have the biggest heart in the village.
Tio Bruno hid away by himself for ten years to keep Mirabel safe, because he wanted to help the family, because he loved them.
Abuelo Pedro died for them.
But love didn’t have to be sacrifice, did it? Love could be found in Antonio’s giggles and the way he ran at them all to hug them. Abuela was slowly getting better at showing her love for them as they were, not for the images they portrayed.
What was the quote from Dolores’s book? Love is patient, love is kind.
Y’know, she’d overheard Tio Bruno saying to Mirabel a few days ago. It’s probably weird, but I keep thinking of this quote I heard in a vision once.
Yeah? Mirabel had smiled. Was it a nice quote?
Actually, yeah. Surprisingly. Heh. It was, um…Oh, right! ‘You must never give into despair. Allow yourself to slip down that road, and you surrender to your lowest instincts. In the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength.’
Tio, that’s…Really beautiful, actually. You should write it down.
I can’t steal it! Tio Bruno had protested as Mirabel tried to shove his notebook into his hands. It’s not mine, someone else is gonna say it years from now!
Just write it down for you, Tio!
Luisa had given her presence away by laughing, but she’d sided with Mirabel on that one.
Maybe she could ask Tio Bruno to write it down for her too.
Love. Hope. They were some of the strongest forces in the world. Luisa was starting to see that now.
Love, hope and acceptance. Luisa liked to think she was starting to understand.
She didn’t need to work all day and handle everyone else’s problems to be strong. She didn’t need to be a little donkey, or a mountain. She didn’t need to hide her feelings or envy Isabela’s perfection, because that hadn’t been real either.
She’d never really stop worrying about her family, but…
But she didn’t need super-strength to be strong. She didn’t even need to be The Strong One.
She just needed to be Luisa Madrigal, and she had all the time in the world to truly discover what being Luisa meant.
She would have the strength to be herself.
