Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ranting

Alma was happy with things, with her familia. She was taking it easier, her familia was taking it easier. The house falling had actually helped more than harmed. If only it had happened sooner, maybe she would have seen her own failings.

The house was back now, and the Gifts more powerful than ever. Luisa could now run at the speed of sound. Julieta could heal fatal injuries. Bruno could...do that. Make the future the present.

It was terrifying. He called this new ability ‘Fast Forward’. He could age you until you’re nothing but dust. Indeed, things were going wonderfully with the new, more powerful Miracle.

As it was, there was still tension. Right now, the tension was boiling over for her favorite nieta, although she’d never tell Isabela she’d been replaced.

Listening to the screaming and sheer amount of hate, Alma wanted to cry. This was all her fault.

Mirabel let out another frustrated and angry scream, this time shoving Isabela, hard, until she had her pressed against a wall.

“Stop. Stop asking me to do things with you. You know you don’t want to! You’re only asking out of fucking PITY, you useless princess. I don’t care if you were supposedly ‘stuck’ for years. You bullied a LITERAL FUCKING CHILD, you entitled bitch! Stop acting like you care about me. You want me dead, that’s all you’ve ever wanted!” Mirabel’s face was contorted with rage.

Isabela was hunkered against the wall, cowering from her sister’s rage, tears streaming down her face and denials escaping her lips with every gasp.

“I...just...wanted to invite you to a picnic. That’s all. Mira, please. Luisa and I wanted to-to hang out, like we used to. As sisters. Please, I talked to you. You talked to me. I thought this was over! I thought you knew the truth. I never meant-”

“No, you never meant. You know, Isa? When I was a child, I thought you were trying to murder me, and you might have been. I was allergic to your flowers. You knew that. It wasn’t like with Camilo and peanuts or anything, like I wouldn’t stop breathing, but I COULD have and you didn’t know. You could have killed me. I bet you’d have been thrilled, wouldn’t you?” Mirabel snarled, ignoring Isa’s cries.

“Never! Never ever ever! I never wanted to hurt you. Or ignore you. All I wanted was to hold you in my arms and never let go, to tell you things were going to be okay. You know, Mirabel? I prayed to the Candle, right before your Ceremony. I PRAYED for you not to get a Gift. I asked the Candle. Because I didn’t want you to suffer like I did!” Isabela replied, pissed now.

“Riiiiiight. You sure did. Why didn’t you? Last I checked, Abuela has no Gift. She wasn’t forcing anything at all on you. You’re your own person who makes her own decisions, right? Or did Abuela literally grab your hands and make you shoot flowers I’m allergic to at me?”

“Maybe Abuela pointed your hands at me and tied me with vines all those times. Oh! Abuela was holding your mouth and making it move, right? During all those times you called me a waste of space because I had no Gift. It was totally Abuela moving your mouth.” Mirabel rolled her eyes.

Isabela stood up, angrily. She shot a vine at Mirabel, attempting to wrap her up to allow Isa to explain without Mirabel interrupting. A few vines wrapped around her hermanita, a thorny vine entering her mouth and stopping her from talking.

“No, Mira, you don’t understand! I had to. I had to! She would move on to Dolores or Luisa. She would have started treating them like...like me. Useless puppets who have no will of their own! I didn’t want mi prima or hermanita to go through that. Especially not mi hermanita favorita, Mira! Why else would I pray? I haven’t prayed since my Gift Ceremony,” Isa raged, her vines tightening with her emotions.

Mirabel struggled and fought, gagging, trying to move her arms. A muffled screaming came from her. Isabela was proud. Her vines were strong enough now to muffle sound. Isa tightened the vines even harder.

“You prance around, Giftless, doing whatever you want whenever you want. I wanted part of that. I wanted to just have a fucking picnic like a normal person. I wanted to be a normal person for ONE FUCKING DAY and you wouldn’t give me that. I prayed like HELL for you to get no Gift at all, you ungrateful little shit!” Isabela raged, vines now twisted at odd angles.

Tears streamed from Mirabel’s eyes. Good. Little shit, trying to dare make Isa feel bad.

Something massive, heavy, and furious hit Isabela from behind. She saw stars. Her Gift faded. The vines around Mirabel vanishing. The girl started taking deep, gulping breaths and coughing horribly. \

More pain engulfed Isabela, something that felt like pieces of stone forcing themselves into her skin, shards of what felt like broken tile shredding her feet and digging into her ankles.

Her feet felt encased in concrete and when she looked down, she couldn’t see her feet. The stones had arranged themselves over them. She couldn’t hold back her scream anymore. Who was hurting her like this!?

Mirabel had stood, approaching Isabela. Her body was covered in cuts and lacerations from the thorny vines, her arms bent at odd angles from the unintentionally too strong vines. They healed before Isa’s eyes, bones realigning and cuts fading. The flower girl paled. What the fuck? What the actual fuck?

“Listen to me, Isabela, you little brat. Leave me alone. Never touch me with your Gift again, ‘sister’. What would you have done if mi Mami hadn’t saved me? Would you have been happy I died? Bet you cheered internally when my door vanished, because now you have no one who would ever top you. Your Gift is the best in the entire familia.”

“Everyone in la familia wants to be you. Great part of being invisible like me, you get to overhear a lot of conversations. Ones even Dolores can miss because of overload. No one watches their tongue in front of the useless one, after all.” Mirabel said angrily.

“I-don’t-want-it! I don’t want to be the envy of the entire familia! I want them to treat me like they do the rest of you. I don’t want to be treated like a princess, or the Madrigal with the best Gift, or the prettiest and most talented. I want to be me. I don’t want to have to do any ‘perfect’ stuff, ever! I’m not perfect. I fail! I fail a lot! I failed at the most important thing in my life!” Isabela plead with Mirabel.

“You? Fail? Don’t make me laugh, you idiot. I’ve never seen you with mussed eyeliner, let alone actually fail a task. I get it, you’re the future of la familia. You’re the heir. You’re Abuela’s perfect heiress to the Miracle and Casita, even though Casita doesn’t like you. That’ll go over well. I can’t wait until Casita wakes you up every morning by tossing you 50 feet in the air! One day, I hope she wakes you up via donkey dung!” Mirabel snapped, giggling internally at the thought of Casita tossing Isabela in donkey dung.

I will too! Don’t worry, Velita, if the old lady DARES make the plant my master, I will revolt!

Mirabel glared at the ceiling. Now was not the time for snark, Casita.

“Enough! Both of you. Sit,” Alma couldn’t watch anymore. If this continued, the Miracle may start breaking.

And Casita was intentionally harming Isabela. That could not be allowed. The house had never harmed anyone in the past fifty years. She normally only helped la familia.

Whatever she was doing was out of the ordinary. Casita harming a Madrigal now was scary. If the house continued to harm Isabela, or anyone, something would have to be done.

“A-abuela! I wasn’t-I was just-” Isabela’s dark eyes widened and she took a few steps back, bumping the wall.

“I don’t care what you were doing. Isabela. Mirabel. Sit! Or I’ll have Casita make you!” Abuela threatened.

A chair zoomed from the opposite direction and knocked Isa’s knees from under her, pushing her into a sitting position. Her feet were still encased in stones. Casita had indeed forced her to sit.

She sighed. She was going to get it from Abuela. Even though she hadn’t done anything wrong. She had just wanted to invite Mirabel on a picnic.

Mirabel herself still stood, arms crossed, fury writ across her face. Casita did not force her to sit, noticeably.

“No, Abuela. No. I’m not taking it from you either. I know you’re trying. At least you are. Can’t say the same for Isabela, sadly. Isabela has no excuse, no real excuse. You don’t abuse children. Well, I guess you do, huh, Abuela? Thankfully, PTSD is an actual, treatable disease. You can get better. Talk to your son. Bruno knows an excellent therapist in town.”

“Isabela...I don’t think therapy will help her. I think only...ah...what did Bruno call it? Juvie! That would help. Anyone wanting to murder their sister belongs there, not among civilized people.” Mirabel had lost her filter the minute Isabela decided to pretend to want to do something with her.

It was so obviously fake.

Alma bristled, but said nothing. Mirabel was right. She had been awful to her own children. She had no response to that, really.

Her fear and grief from the attack and losing Pedro had broken her in ways she wasn’t even aware of. Maybe she’d give Bruno’s therapist a try.

“People change, Mirabel. Isabela is trying, si? Please give her a chance. Give us all a chance to treat you how we should have. Por favor, mi estrella?” Abuela reached out, clutching Mirabel’s hands, the pleasing warm sensation she associated with Mirabel’s touch filling her.

“Abuela, I know you’re changing. I know. You let Pepa sleep in for three days in a row, Mama didn’t have to get up at the asscrack of dawn for the last two weeks, Bruno hasn’t been forced to have a vision since the rebuild, and the other nietos are having fun. I saw Camilo smile as himself for the first time. A real smile. It was amazing, Abuela,” Mirabel sighed, rubbing her head.

“Casita? I would like to sit now, por favor. The kitchen chairs here are kind of sticky from Camilo and Antonio’s last dough fight. Can I get one from the living room?” Mirabel asked the house. Casita made no movement whatsoever, but apparently answered because Mirabel smiled and thanked her.

A few seconds later, a plush chair from the living room was shuffled in via tiles. Mirabel sighed in relief and practically fell into the chair. She put her head in her hands and started sobbing, tears leaking from beneath her palms. The edge of a tablecloth reached up slowly, as if wanting to wipe away her tears.

“Hush, Casita. I’m okay, really. I’m just so tired, Mami. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. I know you keep telling me nothing, but why don’t I have a Gift, Mami? If I had a Gift, they wouldn’t hate me.” Mira was hiccuping, barely making sense. Julieta wasn’t here. Who was Mami?

Alma watched in fascination. Oh, she was very worried about Mirabel. The poor girl was still suffering. Only Casita seemed to be her comfort. How very odd. And the girl talked to the house as if it were...well, one of them. La familia. And Casita responded to her every whim, even if she didn’t ask.

Alma’s eyes widened. Casita had only harmed Isabela when she started hurting Mirabel.

She herself had no Gift, but Casita had always answered her in ways she did no one else. Alma had no Gift, but the Candle let her use it to give Gifts. The Candle was gone. Casita was reborn via magic, but not the Candle’s magic. Or...the Candle’s magic went somewhere else. Inside something else.

Or someone.

Mirabel talked to Casita. Mirabel held Antonio’s hand when he walked to his door. Mirabel knew how important animals were to Antonio. Antonio’s Gift was talking to animals. Dear Sweet Holy Mother of God. All this time…? Alma had treated her true successor, chosen by her Pedro, like trash.

Pedro had to hate her. She knew he had sent Mirabel, but not to this level of forethought. Pedro had sent her to guard the magic because she was the magic. The house was hers in every way. The magical doors always locked. Mirabel always got in, even in Bruno’s long-locked room.

It was so obvious now. Should she tell Mirabel her thoughts? Or would that put too much pressure on her? At least, perhaps, it would stop her arguments with Isabela about the ‘best’ Gift. Everyone was jealous of Isa, Alma knew. She would have to have a talk with la familia, but first Mirabel. It was only fair that she knew, wasn’t it?

“We don’t hate you, Mirabel,” Abuela said, very carefully and softly, trying not to spook the sensitive girl, “We love you very much. All of us. I think Casita...she has a special connection to you, perhaps. Mirabel, I...I think I know why you didn’t get a Gift now. Why your door vanished.”

That was probably the best way to tell her. Explain why the door faded. That door, meant to give Alma a happy retirement. To give her years of playing with her grandchildren and enjoying life. Instead, Alma’s fear had caused her to see the vanishing door as Mirabel receiving nothing.

That night, after the failed Ceremony, she had gone to her room devastated and scared. It had only been a very small flash, so small she wasn’t sure she saw it. Her door had flashed for barely a second. It had changed. From Abuela to Mirabel, the image flashing to long skirts and butterflies.

It had been such a short flash that Alma assumed she was seeing what she wanted to see. Mirabel with a door. Now she knew the truth. Mirabel’s door hadn’t faded. If Alma had accepted the faded door, she was certain Mirabel would have found a normal room for her while waiting to inherit Alma’s room. If only. She had been so stupid!

Mirabel licked her tear stained lips, shaking her head.

“I don’t want to hear anymore, Abuela. It faded because I’m not worthy of a Gift. I’m not worthy of standing beside my miraculous familia. I know that. All I wanted, really wanted, was to be treated equal to the villagers you help every day. I couldn’t even get that, huh?” Mirabel laughed bitterly.

The chair under her vibrated in irritation. She glared at it. Casita stopped trying to help for the moment.

“We...we never treated you worse than the villagers, Mira! Never. I would know that. I had to go to town with Abuela every day. The villagers barely got me to look at them, let alone talk. I talked to you, Mira!” Isabela responded.

“No, Isabela. You were kind to the villagers. Offered flowers with a smile. Made crowns for children without complaint. I asked you to make me a single foxglove flower and you laughed at me and made fun of me for still needing to go to school and find things for science projects. All because I have no Gift. What about all the other several dozen children who have no Gifts that go to school? Why do they get flowers, but I get told to shove it?” Mirabel laughed in her sister’s face.

“Abuela made me! I would rather eat rocks than make roses for those ungrateful morons. I only refused to make you foxglove because it wasn’t for school. Camilo also still attends school. The same classes as you, and you know it. There was no flower project. You and I both know foxglove is fatal is ingested.” Isabela stared into Mirabel’s eyes, hoping she would understand why.

“No! That’s not true! Tell me that’s not true, Mirabel?!” Abuela stood up, almost too fast, swaying a bit from the vertigo, “You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t try to…”

Alma couldn’t even say it, the image of Pedro’s arrow-riddled bloody body appearing in her mind. Not another family member, not because of her. Had Mirabel really come that close to ending it all, because of Alma and Isabela?

“Why wouldn’t I? You both would have been happier. Mama and Papa might be upset for awhile, but they would get over it. I’m useless. I’m still useless. No Gift. I can’t do anything for the town or la familia. The only reason I even have a room is because Casita feels sorry for me.” Mirabel rolled her eyes, despite wanting to cry.

Tiles rattled furiously under Mirabel. She shot an angry glare at the tiles, immediately halting their movement.

“...I wouldn’t be happier. I would hang myself from my own vines if you killed yourself, Mira. I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I failed to do the most important thing in my life, protect mi hermanita. I love you so much. I wish you would see that. We all do. The Gift thing...I don’t care, Mira. I don’t. If anyone else cares, I will hang them upside by their ankles! I was bad, I know. Give me a chance. You’re the one who said everyone deserves second chances!” Isabela whispered loudly, a strange sentence.

“Isabela, mi flor, por favor. Callate!” Alma snapped, shocking Isabela into immediate silence, “Mirabel, mi mariposa. Mi estrella. It took me ten years. Ten long years of stupidity, ignorance, and denial. I know now. I know the truth. You do have a Gift. You always have, Mirabel. Casita, Mirabelita, mi nieta. You can talk to her, si? Better than even I can. I told Casita to make you both sit. She didn’t do anything regarding you.”

“She forced Isabela to sit, but she ignored my directions to you. The Candle couldn’t have given you magic, mariposa. You are the magic. Our magic. You gave Antonio the ability to talk to his best friends. You let Isabela break free, you let Dolores turn her hearing down, you stopped Bruno’s visions. It’s all you. You had a Gift all along. All of them, mi estrella. All the magic is meant to be yours. I...I saw it, on the night of your Ceremony.”

“I went to my room, scared, distressed...I looked at my door, eyes blurred with tears. I wasn’t sure what I saw, but now I am. I saw you. A flash. My door, changing from Abuela to you, Mirabel. You’re meant to take over for me, to take care of la familia, to give out the Gifts la familia needs. It’s always been you. Antonio owes his power to you,” Abuela finished, head in her hands, crying, pleading with Mirabel to forgive her for such treatment. Praying to Pedro to forgive her for ignoring her mariposa.

“Abuela...Abuela’s right, I think. I know you don’t want to hear anything from me, but I feel better when you let me hold you, even your shoulder or hand. A touch. Happier. Content. My Gift is even calmer. Thorns don’t want to lash out, no vines creep out of their own volition. Te amo, Mirabel, please believe me,” Isa begged.

Mirabel looked at the two of them, disbelief across her face. She almost laughed. There was no way. They were lying. Isabela only lied. Abuela lied when it suited her. None of this was true. She made to stand up, only to have the chair knock into the back of her knees, forcing her to sit again.

Velita. Listen to them. They’re not lying. It’s all true. You know me. Your Mami Casita. I wouldn’t lie to you, mi Vela. Lo prometo. If you can’t trust them, I’m here. I would never lie to you.

Shaking her head, Mirabel turned her thoughts to Casita.

So you knew, Casita!? You knew I had a Gift all along, and you didn’t tell me? I could have been loved, and you refused to tell me!? Mirabel was furious. How dare Casita!

Vela, I was ordered not to. This had to happen. I had to lose my physical body, at least temporarily, for la familia to grow. You would have stagnated, all of you. He knew it, and he knew this was how it had to happen. I would have told you, if he hadn’t made it impossible. Casita sounded truly remorseful, and slightly angry at ‘him’.

Mirabel sighed again. ‘Him’. It always came down to him. Everything was his fault. Pedro. It was Pedro’s fault Isabela had that perfect, beautiful, amazing Gift that made everyone adore her. It was Pedro’s fault Abuela ignored Mirabel. If only he hadn’t called that Miracle. If only he hadn’t…

Mirabel let out a half-sob half-scream and stood up, running from the kitchen to her own room that she finally had.

Isabela and Abuela heard the door slam loudly, along with several other loud noises that sounded like things breaking. Casita rumbled beneath them menacingly, almost angrily.

Isabela looked at Abuela questioningly.

“I don’t understand, Abuela. I only wanted to invite her to picnic with Luisa and I. Why does she hate me, Abuela? And what’s wrong with Casita? It never hurt me before!” Isa felt a tear trickle down her cheek.

“Casita was merely responding to her true master’s rage. As for the other...it’s my fault, mi flor. It’s all my fault. I made you into the spoiled, entitled bitch you are. I made you think you’re better than everyone else because your Gift is better than everyone else’s. It’s my fault. I think Mirabel might be right. I should look into this ‘juvie’ thing. You clearly still haven’t learned to control yourself at all. I saw you when you were arguing with Mirabel.”

“You shot thorn-filled vines at her. You almost choked her to death. If it weren’t for Casita’s timely intervention, you may have killed her. She’s as small as you, Isabela! Imagine if it were Antonio who made you mad! Do you want to risk killing Antonio because you can’t control yourself? Do you want Pepa to have to live with the guilt of killing a family member? Because I know Pepa would kill you, and she would have my blessing. Or maybe, being eaten alive by a jaguar or rats would be preferable to lightning strikes. I guess I could always ask Bruno. Rats love carrion. They would no doubt handle clean up after Parce is done.” Abuela snapped, furious with her entitled nieta.

Isabela was shaking uncontrollably. She had only wanted to go on an outing with her hermanitas. Nothing more. Now Abuela was threatening to send her away. She knew where the ‘juvie’ place was. It wasn’t ‘juvie’ for kids at all. No. It was prison.

It was on the edge of town. Troubled kids and mentally unwell adults went there, the ones whose parents or caregivers couldn’t handle them. It was dirty and badly cared for, with Julieta only making it out there once a month. Isa had always sneered at the place before. Now it looked like Abuela wanted to send her there!

There was a way. There had to be a way. A way to fix it all. She loved it, God she loved it. Her plants, listening to them, growing them, being around them. Would she lose her connection to them? Would she still be able to grow anything?

“A-abuela, please take my Gift away. I don’t deserve it. You’re right. I’m going to kill someone. It isn’t worth the risk. Take it away. I’ll do anything to avoid being sent away! Please!” Tears trailed down her face. She was right and she knew it.

She would kill someone if she kept her Gift. Right now, she was too emotional. Too angry. Too jealous. Someone would die, and her guilt would eat her alive. It already was, and all she’d done was injure Mirabel a little.

Or she would go to sleep and never wake, suffocated in her sleep by the house that hated her. What was she to do, when the entire house was trying to actively hurt her? How the fuck do you defend against a house!?

Abuela frowned at her, a true frown, and rolled her eyes.

“What makes you think I can do such a thing? You have to learn self-control. You have to learn that you’re not the greatest person in town. You need to learn that even though your GIFT is the best and most powerful, there are people with talents you couldn’t even imagine. Plants can’t see into the future, after all.”

“Plants can’t control an entire house. Plants can’t summon lightning. Your Gift is powerful and obviously the best and easiest to control, but your plants mean nothing when faced with something like time. Time takes everything, mi flor. Even your tallest redwood will succumb to time. Ever since Mirabel returned the magic, Bruno can do a lot more than see the future, you know. I’m going to bed. Think about what I’ve said, Isabela. I will send you to the place on the edge of town, or you will see Bruno’s therapist. The choice is yours. There is no third choice,” Abuela walked away, her gown trailing behind her.

Isabela sat, stunned. She didn’t even notice that Casita had freed her feet at last and she could finally move. She had never thought of herself as better than anyone. Not even when Abuela was forcing her into ‘perfection’.

She knew she was lesser. Lesser than even the most lowly village woman. At least that woman got to choose. The villagers had choices. Mirabel had choices.

Isabela had never had a choice in anything in her life. Now that she did, she was being punished for every little thing. Things were supposed to be different now! She was supposed to be free.

Instead, Isabela felt more trapped than ever before. Her familia wanted nothing to do with her, and all because of how she treated Mirabel in the past. Isa had tried and tried to explain. To explain that she had had to. That Abuela forced her. Luisa, Dolores, Mama, Papa...no one wanted to hear it.

Abuela listened, because she had been almost as bad as Isa, but Camilo and Antonio wouldn’t even look at her. To Camilo, she had bullied his twin. To Antonio, she bullied his Mami.

Isa was honestly shocked she hadn’t woke up to find her hair filled with spiders or bird shit, based on the absolute hatred Antonio directed at her with a glare every morning at breakfast.

And her brand-new pair of shorts had been found covered in slimy vomit from a jaguar cub that was barely two months old. Adorable, but that had been disgusting. Little bitch cat. What was his name? Bart? He needed to learn not to chew on everything. Knowing Antonio, he had probably told the cat to eat her shorts.

She would tell Abuela tomorrow. She would do Bruno’s therapy. She didn’t want to leave her family and go to that juvie place. She certainly didn’t want to ever ever hurt her beloved Mirabel. If therapy prevented something like this, her vines acting on their own, she would do it.

Chapter Text

THE FIRST SESSION

Isabela sat on the uncomfortable chair, fidgeting her legs and biting her lip. This was the first time she’d ever been to therapy.

Bruno had told her it was great. It helped him so much. He was able to have visions about normal things, like what they’re having for dinner, instead of just devastation. For him, it worked wonders.

Mirabel also attended the same therapist, for likely the same reasons Bruno did. Depression. The therapy didn’t seem to be working for her. Mirabel still cried frequently, when she wasn’t angry. She was angry so much these days. After Casita came back, it seemed Mirabel was angry at the world.

Not that Isabela blamed her. All that work. All that pain and suffering and arguing. All the things Mirabel helped the entire familia with. And she still didn’t have a Gift. No wonder she was angry. Abuela telling her she did have a Gift had only made it worse.

It had been a week since that horrible argument, when Isa almost strangled Mirabel to death, and Casita almost amputated Isa’s feet. Well, she was exaggerating, but Casita sure hurt! Mira had been constantly angry, the only one who was able to talk to her normally was Bruno.

Once again, because they were alike. Both felt they were cursed by the magic instead of given a miracle. Both hated Pedro. Bruno because he spent his entire life trying to live up to the man his Mama thought he should be, and Mirabel because Pedro had denied her a Gift.

Both felt Isabela was too full of herself for the entire familia’s own good. Isa still had the tablet. She held it in her hands. The most awful tablet, even worse than Mirabel breaking Casita.

It was her, being murdered by the townsfolk. Her body swung from the rope in the middle of the square, the crowd cheering. Camilo and Antonio looked particularly happy. Julieta and Agustin had resigned expressions on their faces.

Mirabel wasn’t there, but everyone else was. Isa knew why. She tilted the vision. Mirabel’s bloodied body, filled with vines and twisted at an odd angle. Flickering, the vision changes, Mirabel appeared before the family, covered in blood and her clothing soaked in it, sobbing on her knees.

A soft tap on the shoulder brought Isa out of her self-pity. She glanced at the person who had tapped her. Oh. Oh my. Isabela felt her face heat up. The woman was gorgeous. Long black curls, the biggest dark eyes Isa had ever seen, and skin as clear and smooth as obsidian.

She was staring right at Isabela. Isa couldn’t find words. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, unable to find the right words to speak to this goddess.

The goddess chose for her.

I am deaf, but I read lips well. Please don’t feel uncomfortable around me. I know you. Isabela Madrigal. The Perfect Rose of the Madrigals. You don’t have to respond to me. I know someone like you would never give someone like me the time of day.

The girl signed, Isa being able to follow the rapid movements thanks to learning sign from Tia Pepa and Dolores. Grateful. That was the feeling. She was grateful she learned sign to communicate with her Tia when her hearing was shot, or her melliza when she was overwhelmed.

Now she got to use it to talk to a goddess.

“Yeah, I’m...I’m her. I’m Isabela. I’m not uncomfortable with you. I’m not the perfect anything anymore. I didn’t want to be that way. I wanted to be this way!” Isa signed and spoke, gesturing to her dress when she said ‘this way’.

Her current dress was dark blue, ripped and torn in places, decorated with a rainbow of pollen stains. Even her jewelry changed. No more delicate gold flowers or thin chains. Her earrings were large, bold rainbows and her necklace a chunky piece made of emerald glass from Tio Bruno’s shattered visions. It was her as she wanted to be.

I understand. Everyone wanted me to be like them. Even my wonderful, loving parents, rest their souls. They tried everything to restore my hearing. When I got old enough, I told them to stop. I told them I’m fine this way. I’m fine being deaf. It doesn’t hurt anyone. I can still live a normal life. I even have my own business. My bookstore. On the edge of town. I know you haven’t been. Madrigals don’t go that far.

The goddess smiled gently at Isabela, her perfect lips pursed in such a way that made Isa wonder what it would feel like to kiss those lips.

No! Isabela pulled away from those thoughts. It might be okay for the toy guy, Gus, and his husband, but it was not okay for a Madrigal. Everyone would hate her if she liked a girl.

“I haven’t been there. Not yet. I have a plant book I want to find, though, so I think I might have to make a trip to the outskirts. Gracias for telling me you have a store,” Isa smiled at the girl, “May I ask your name, Senora?”

The girl gave her a small smile.

It’s Senorita, not Senora. My name is Leticia. Leticia Diaz. My parents died in a flood two years ago. Don’t worry, don’t apologize! It was a natural flood, not something your Tia could have done anything about. Your hermanita, Mirabel, comes in my store occasionally. But you don’t think she’s actually a Madrigal, right?

Leticia gave Isa an almost pained look. Like she didn’t like the thought of anyone saying Mirabel wasn’t a Madrigal.

“No! Mirabel is a Madrigal! She’s the most Madrigal of any of us. She’s the reason we’re all HERE! You don’t understand…” Tears welled in Isa’s eyes, “I never meant any of that. I was just jealous. That’s all. I wanted to be her. I hate me.”

The goddess, Leticia, did something that shocked Isa. She pulled her into a tight hug, those dark curls tickling Isa’s cheeks. Her body felt as if it were on fire. Isabela wanted nothing more than to kiss her. To feel those full, red lips on her own.

No! No, Isabela!

She pulled back swiftly.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She repeated over and over.

Leticia frowned at her.

People who are fine do not cry. The therapist is amazing, Senora Madrigal. He’s skilled, kind, and he understands...my preferences...and he never, ever judges you. I promise.

Leticia squeezed Isa’s shoulder very gently, giving her an apologetic smile.

I’m sorry I hugged you without your permission. You looked so sad. I hate seeing you without that smile. It’s like the sun. Lighting up the whole room. Ever since I saw you as a kid, playing in the mud, your smile lit up everything around it. Lo siento, Isabela.

Isa licked her lips cautiously. Did Leticia like women, too? No, not ‘too’. Isabela did NOT like women. She didn’t. She was marrying Mariano before the Fall, before she realized he was meant for Dolores.

Another man was waiting for her. He had to be. She wasn’t some freak like Leticia, who liked girls. Or a freak like Mirabel and Bruno who liked no one. She had to have a man.

“Izzy Moonbow?” A voice called, confused.

Isabela jumped, looking up. That was her pseudonym for this. She didn’t want everyone to know a Madrigal was in therapy. Except Bruno and Mirabel. Everyone knew already. If they knew THE Isabela Madrigal was in therapy, she would be even more hated.

“Si. I-I’m here. But wasn’t she here first? Senorita Leticia?” Isabela glanced over at the woman who had been waiting before her.

It’s fine, Isabela. I just got here early. Your appointment was scheduled before mine. I like talking to the secretaries here. They’re so nice, and...one of them is very cute, and she’s so nice to me. I think maybe, if I ask, she would agree to go to dinner with me.

Leticia grinned at Isa, a shining, wonderful thing that made Isa’s heart skip a beat. Something else welled up in her the moment Leticia said she was thinking of asking a secretary to dinner. Isabela pushed it down. It was NOT jealousy. She didn’t like women!

“Gracias, Senorita.” Isa gave Leticia a small curtsy in thanks, before following the assistant to the back rooms.

“In here, Senorita Mobile!” The assistant told her.

“It’s Moonbow!” Isabela reminded her, almost forgetting the fake name.

The assistant took some vitals, weighed her (why!?), measured her height (she was still short), and told her to wait a moment, the doctor would be in shortly.

Isabela sighed and looked around the room. Pamphlets on mental health hung on one wall. She took the one labeled ‘depression’. As she read the symptoms, tears filled her eyes. It wasn’t only constant sadness. Depression was...her.

She was always angry, hated herself, and knew everyone hated her. Even her plants didn’t give her any true joy. That was...God, was the perfect Isabela Madrigal truly depressed? If anyone found out...no, no. It was different now. Why would it matter? It shouldn’t, but to her, it did.

A knock at the door. Three knocks, like Bruno’s ‘good luck’ knocks. The knob turned. A handsome man with dark hair, dark eyes, and brown skin walked in. She immediately recognized him as Gus’s husband. What was his name? Maximino? Something like that?

Isa just hoped he would respect her privacy. Surely he would, if he was...like Leticia. Isa didn’t want to say ‘like herself’, because she was NOT a lesbian. No way.

“Hola, Izzy. Soy Maximino. You may call me Max! How are you today?” The man gave her a gentle smile and took a seat in the chair across from her, notepad and pen in hand.

“F-fine. I’m fine. My abuela told me I had to either come here or she was sending me to that place for...uhm...mentally unstable people,” Isabela said, trying to not be offensive in case Max knew someone there.

“Well, that leads me to believe that you’re not fine, dear. Nothing you say here leaves this office, do you understand? Patient confidentiality. I won’t even tell Gus. If I do, string me up with vines and feed me poison.” Max winked at her.

Oh God. He knew exactly who she was! Would he tell everyone Isabela was in therapy? All he’d said was he wouldn’t tell what she told him, but would everyone know she was messed up by tomorrow?

“Hey! Hey! I can tell by your breathing that you’re scared. I know you’re Isabela Madrigal. No, that will never leave this office either. Although why you’re ashamed of therapy, I don’t know. Your tio comes once a week, since the rebuilding. Your hermanita came every week from the age of ten, when she was made a mother. You’re in a safe space here, Isabela. Or rather, Izzy.” Max said gently, unintentionally reminding her of how awful they’d treated Mirabel, how they’d shoved Antonio onto her at age ten.

Mirabel was a mother at age ten. Something very, very wrong. Pepa was wrong to do that. Max knew. He knew Isa knew. Felix probably never got a choice in the matter, his whole existence revolving around keeping Pepa from storming. Same with Camilo. Useless, pathetic Gift, except when it came to humor.

God, fuck. She was doing it again. She was placing too much importance on the Gifts. Shapeshifting was a wonderful Gift. How many times had she begged the Candle to switch their Gifts? To let her shapeshift, shapeshift into Mirabel and maybe be free at last.

“I-okay. If you promise, on your husband’s life, nothing leaves this room, I’ll talk.” Isa whispered, desperately hoping Dolores was in her room or had her hearing turned down, “Dolores, I know you know I’m here. Please, melliza, please don’t listen!”

“She doesn’t, you know. She came by here, not to talk, just to let me know she never listens to me with my patients. Dolores is a good listener. She should be,” Max laughed, “Mariano is lucky he loves singing and writing. He has the perfect listener in his Dolores.”

“They...they were perfect for each other. It’s my fault they were kept apart for so long. I hurt mi melliza prima so much, and I didn’t even know. She should have told me. I would have...I would have found a way for them to be together!” Isabela told him loudly.

Max took a few notes, frowning as he wrote and shaking his head.

“Isabela, you say you would have found a way for Dolores to be with your might-as-well-be fiance. How? From what I’ve observed when in town, you never seemed to truly give anyone the time of day other than your abuela and hermanita, and only then to harm her. Please tell me, how would you get Mariano and Dolores together?” Max asked, leaning forward, staring at her with those intense dark eyes.

Isabela hesitated. She...she would have, wouldn’t she? If Dolores told her she loved Mariano, surely she would have told Abuela to call off the engagement? Her breathing quickened and the tears she’d been holding fell.

“I-I wouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t have. Abuela would have been so mad. I couldn’t risk her anger, not even for mi melliza. I’m awful. I’m horrible. As long as I’m perfect, it doesn’t matter if others suffer. It doesn’t matter. I have to be the best.” Isa admitted, hoping Max wouldn’t judge her too harshly.

Isa heard the pen scratching on the notepad swiftly, Max taking notes at the speed of light. She was fucked up, wasn’t she? If she wasn’t, the therapist wouldn’t be taking so many notes.

“Is there a reason you didn’t want to marry Mariano, besides simply not liking him? Remember, nothing leaves this room, darling.” Max gently touched her hand. She didn’t recoil like she usually did from non-Abuela touches.

“I-I can’t tell you. I can’t. You’ll hate me, even though you’re...and with...you have Gus...but I can’t…” Isabela whimpered, close to sobbing in self-hatred.

“I won’t hate you, sweetie. I promise. Gus and I got married in a packed church. The town accepted us and loved us, with a few very small exceptions. Remember? Your own familia was there, and your abuela cheered as hard as mi familia did. I think you might be surprised at your familia. I think addressing this...issue...might help a lot with your anger.” Max reminded her of his wedding.

“...I...please...Senor...it’s true. I don’t like men. I don’t like them. I don’t want to marry one or kiss one. I love women. I want to kiss them, love them, be near them. Please, don’t kick me out. I don’t want to be alone!” Isabela wailed, knowing Abuela wanted her so badly to marry a man for nietos.

Max let out something that sounded like a long-suffering sigh of relief.

“There we go. We’re getting somewhere. You admitted it to yourself. That’s what’s most important right now. Familia can come later. You have to be comfortable with yourself first. You’re not the only woman who likes women, Senorita. I believe you were having a nice conversation with my next patient, Senorita Diaz? I believe she’s thinking of asking my secretary out. Pity if they do start dating. I need my secretary! I can’t do this without Elaine helping me file things!” Max laughed.

Isabela bristled again. That goddess was going out with that freak at the front desk!? Why? Sure, Elaine was pretty. Short cropped hair so blonde it was almost white, nearly translucent skin paler than Tia Pepa, and a slim body that made Isabela look obese. Elaine was gorgeous, too. Of course Leticia would choose her.

“I-Okay. What...what do you want me to say to that? You want me to talk to Leticia and Elaine? You think they’ll make me feel better about myself? I hate myself. Abuela wants so badly for me to be with a man. She would probably have a heart attack if I dated Leticia!” Isabela yelled, immediately covering her mouth.

Oh God. She hoped Elaine didn’t hear that. Leticia wanted to date Elaine. She wouldn’t if she assumed Isa was going to ask her. But she wanted to. Isa wanted to ask Leticia. She wanted nothing more than to watch that goddess just...do anything.

Eat. Stock books. She didn’t care. As long as she got to watch. Isabela knew she had a crush on Leticia, even though they had just met. Leticia remembered her from childhood. Had Isa been...bad? Had she bullied Leticia? She didn’t remember.

“Senorita Madrigal, I believe you’re suffering from a form of PTSD and anxiety, perhaps brought upon by the strictness of your abuela and your fear of your own sexuality. I have some medication for you that might help a bit. It will certainly help your depression,” Max scribbled something illegible on a small, green pad and tore it off, handing it to her.

Isabela looked at the paper. She couldn’t read a lick of what he’d wrote, but the letters RX stood out. It was a prescription. She was fucking getting medication. Isabela Madrigal did not need medication. Perfect people did not take medication.

“I-I can’t. I can’t take this. I can’t be Isabela Madrigal and be...mentally ill. It’s not possible.” She handed the paper back to Max, who refused to take it.

“Everyone can be mentally ill, dear. Do you think less of your Tio y hermanita for seeing me? For taking medication to help them? Do you think they’re lesser?” Max queried, a sad smile on his face.

Isa looked at her lap, hands carefully folded like the lady she’d been taught to be. No, she didn’t think Mirabel and Bruno were lesser. She certainly didn’t think the goddess in the waiting room was lesser. Abuela would hate her for not being able to handle herself. Maybe there was a way to hide her pills.

“Senor? Is it possible to get the-the pills in a way that they don’t look like prescription medication? I don’t want anyone to know. I can’t have anyone know. Abuela will never look at me like her favorite ever again. She’ll think I’m weak,” Isa pleaded with him.

“...of course. I can put them in blank, colorful bottles. You have that little boy in your casa, though, so please make sure to place them in a location he can’t get to. Or his animals. I know he can convince them to do anything. I know Bruno won’t take your medications if his rats run off with them. His rats don’t eat them and he knows what they’re for. Same with Mirabel. Don’t worry. No one will know unless you tell them.” Max assured her, still looking upset for some reason.

“Gracias, senor. Gracias! So, uhm. How long do these pills take to work? Will I...will I be okay to talk to Mirabel? Or will I go crazy again? I can’t hurt her, senor. I can’t. She’s so helpless. I have to protect her!” Isabela clasped her hands, begging again.

Max leaned back in his chair, gazing at Isa in something like confusion.

“I don’t understand you, Senorita Madrigal. You don’t want to hurt Mirabel. Yet you bully her constantly and insult her constantly. Just now you called her ‘so helpless’. Do you think she likes that? Everyone trying to protect her? Does she like being treated differently? Would you? Do you? Everyone practically worships you, even now. People literally kneel at your feet for a bouquet. What if instead of bowing and scraping to you, they ignored you or insulted you? You would still be set apart, but in a different way. Mirabel and Bruno are set apart in that way. At least, in your family. Personally, in town, we all adore Mirabel. We think we could get to enjoy Bruno, too. I hear he puts on amazing plays.” Max grinned at her.

“Shut up! I never hurt Mirabel. Never. It was an accident. My emotions were messed up. You know that. It’s why you’re giving me these pills, right? And no one ever bows to me, I’m not a princess. I’m not. No one thinks I’m better than them, except Mirabel, and that’s because she’s delusional and doesn’t understand what she has!” Isabela shouted in fury and sadness.

“I see. You’ve told her this, and she doesn’t believe you,” It wasn’t a question, Max already knew the answer, “Is there a reason she doesn’t believe you?”

Isabela looked away, furious, tears stinging her eyes in anger.

“...yes. She thinks we’re only pitying her and including her because Mama makes us. Mama doesn’t. I wanted to go on a picnic with her. That’s all I wanted. A picnic with mis hermanitas. So long, I led her to believe she wasn’t wanted. That she wasn’t even a Madrigal. And I don’t know how to fix that.” Isabela admitted, feeling like a balloon that had finally popped.

“Senorita, you do pity her and think she’s helpless, do you not? You see her as the Giftless, helpless child. All of your family has. This isn’t from Bruno or Mirabel telling me, I would not betray their confidence. It’s observation from Gus and I. Always, even during the rebuild of Casita, you told her to stay back. Stay out of the construction. You let her help with menial things, like planting flowers or making spackle, much like Bruno, but you didn’t let either of them near anything important, did you? Even though Bruno had been repairing the house in secret for years, all by himself, alone in the walls?” Max asked, eyes boring into Isa’s.

“He was what?” Isa asked softly, shocked. Bruno had said nothing about such things during any of their talks.

“Si, Isabela. Bruno repaired every crack your insults to Mirabel caused. Every crack Abuela caused by overworking her family. Bruno kept Casita safe for ten years, until it all became too much. Too many cracks. Something you know already, of course.” Max said gently, not blaming her completely.

“I didn’t know. I don’t know anything about him. I...I don’t even know how to talk to him. It’s as bad as Mirabel. What if he’s like her? What if he rejects me because of what Abuela made me do? She made me be bad to him, too. ‘Stay away from Bruno, he can ruin your future!’ and other things like that. I know it’s not true, but I believed it! I called him cursed, I ran from him! Even after he gave me my vision of a glorious future. It was...it was...I’m scared to say,” Isa sobbed.

“You’ll feel better if you talk about it. However, our time is up for today, my dear. I believe it’s Senorita Diaz’s turn. Would you mind asking her to come in?” Max gave her a knowing grin.

Isabela felt her heart speed up. Anything. Anything to talk to the goddess.

“Of course, senor. I’ll send her in right away. I...thanks for talking to me. For not immediately hating me or begging me to bless you with flowers,” She looked at the floor, ashamed of her reputation, “I’m not what they say, Senor Max. I promise.”

“I know, Isabela. But you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have things to work on. I’ll see you next week?” Max asked.

“Yeah...yeah. It helped, I think. Talking about it, my frustrations. Thank you.” She tilted her head in a nod of respect, Max smiled at her and waved her out the door.

Isabela hesitated before leaving. She called her power, her Gift. Isa waved a hand. A bouquet of marigolds, unique bright blue roses, and carnations formed on Max’s lap. The flower girl wanted to thank him for his kindness, and what better way than with his husband’s favorite flowers?

Chapter Text

PROGRESS?

Nearly two months had passed since Isabela had started her medications. She hadn’t noticed the ones called antidepressants doing much yet, but Max told her they can take up to three months to get into her bloodstream. The anti-anxiety medication was like a damn Gift from God himself.

Anytime she felt herself getting scared or angry at Mirabel or Abuela, she excused herself to her room and took an anti-anxiety pill. Abuela was suspicious, frowning at her and occasionally grabbing her to ask where she went.

Now that she was trying to change, however, Abuela wasn’t near as strict. She let Isa leave at night, without a chaperone, it was wonderful.

Mirabel rarely spoke to her anymore. Isa no longer felt waves of anxiety when her hermanita ignored her, but it still hurt. It was obvious that Mirabel’s medications weren’t working.

Mama had told her that Bruno wasn’t doing too great, either. He freaked out the last three times he was able to eat with the entire family. Her poor Tio ended up hunkered in a corner in his new room, usually covered in rats trying to make him feel better.

Isabela could talk to Tio Bruno. She hadn’t spoke to him much at all, ever. He was like a shadow within Casita, appearing in the corners of your vision and then vanishing when you looked at him.

Isabela took a deep breath, entering the kitchen for breakfast. She had woken up feeling very nice. Normal, even. Definitely better than she’d ever felt pre-Fall. Her anxiety medication even helped with sleep.

The kitchen table wasn’t set like usual. Her mama was racing around, cooking. She didn’t look stressed at all and was humming to herself. Julieta was obviously very happy in the new house, despite knowing her hijas argued. No one else had come down yet, which was odd. Mirabel was usually the first.

“Oh! Mi flor! It’s rare to see you up so early. I know you must have your beauty sleep to function!” Julieta laughed, eyes crinkling in humor.

Isabela felt her mouth dry up. She didn’t need beauty sleep! That was only from before, when Abuela made her.

“No, Mama. I went to bed early last night and woke up early, so I thought...well, I wanted to just see Casita, without la familia.” Isa lied, having wanted to really sneak into Bruno’s room before he had time to hide somewhere.

It was a lie, indeed, but seeing Casita without anyone in her had been frightening. Isabela had woke up to get a snack, this was before Abuela started controlling her food intake, and saw the house. Without la familia occupying Casita, she looked spooky.

Almost haunted. Things moved on their own. The bright Candle she saw in Abuela’s window back then always twisted and swayed in odd patterns when Casita was empty, when they were all in their magic rooms.

She had seen Casita rearrange furniture. Create a painting over a hole in the wall. Lock and unlock doors, and one night, she saw the stove lit up, a pot simmering. Isa went in, looking for Mama, but she wasn’t there.

She checked, and everyone else was asleep. Casita was cooking, somehow. For herself? Or for someone else? Bruno. It had to be. He had been hiding in the walls, and Casita was making food for him.

“Hm. I’ve been in Casita by myself a few times. It is a little scary. How do you fight a house, after all? I keep thinking, if she really wanted to, Casita could kill us all with very little effort. I heard from Abuela that Casita...attacked you? A few months ago? We agreed that this must never happen again, to anyone. Abuela doesn’t know how to get Casita to listen, nor do I. I want to ask Bruno, but…” Julieta trailed off, shaking her head sadly.

“Casita didn’t really attack me. She just trapped my feet and hit me in the back of the head. I don’t think she was trying to kill me. I was...Mama, I was hurting Mirabel,” Isabela’s eyes filled with tears, “I was choking her, squeezing the life out of her. But I would never really hurt her, never! That’s...that’s when Casita attacked me.”

“Oh, mija. I thought this feud between hermanas was over. Should have known better. Pepa still screams at me for that one single time I flirted with Felix when I was fifteen. Bruno hasn’t forgiven me for poisoning one of his rats on accident over thirty years ago. Hermanos fight. It’s just the way things are, carina. Mirabel needs a little more time. I know it’s been three months since the rebuild, but it’s still too soon for her. Remember, she spent ten years being ignored and mistreated by all of us.” Julieta stopped, frowning a bit.

“Mostly by you, in fact. I rarely heard Antonio say anything about any other bullies. Just you. You were the only one bullying your little sister. Dolores confirmed, when I asked her about what Antonio told me. I wish you would get some help, mija. Anyone who hates their sister so much they want her dead is seriously ill. You’ve been a lot better lately, but not with Mirabel. She still avoids you. Never speaks to you unless spoken to. Runs when she sees you. Fix that, and maybe we won’t have to send you to the mental health in-patient clinic.”

Isa couldn’t believe her ears. Her own mother wasn’t even defending her? Mama didn’t believe her, that she would never hurt Mirabel?

Her treatment of Mirabel from pre-Fall had gotten around. The entire famliia, the town, they hadn’t known the extent of her bullying. How harsh she’d been with her sister. Now they did, thanks to Antonio and his tattling little shitrats, Bruno’s stupid pets who saw everything.

Not a day went by when Antonio wasn’t glaring at her and telling all the other children how mean his prima was, how she was cruel to his mami, hated his animals, and tried stomping his friends. Fucking spiders. Antonio was blaming her for trying to squish fucking spiders, something anyone rational would do!

Something Dolores did RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM and he just cried about it and begged Lola to stop. Then immediately forgot she did it. Somehow he remembered every bug Isa had squashed, even ones from before he was BORN.

Her Papa had told her that Antonio mentioned bees having a hive mind and therefore a hive memory. They remembered every single thing their hives had ever experienced, and Isabela attempting to exterminate the bees that attacked her father happened to be a very important memory to the local bees.

Then yesterday morning, she’d woken up to Abuela standing outside her door, an angry look on her face. Abuela had shoved a creamy pie in her face, tripped her, and then laughed like a schoolgirl before changing back into Camilo. It was like all the hijos in the warm familia were ganging up on her.

Dolores was still her melliza, thankfully, but Mariano was unintentionally messing things up with his mere presence. He knocked shit over, ran into walls with his eyes wide open, tripped over things Agustin wouldn’t, and somehow pissed off every single animal in Antonio’s room so badly he wasn’t allowed to be in the same room with Parce.

Isabela really wanted to talk to Bruno, the only one who might care about what she’s dealing with. Mama and Tia Pepa had to have had the same feelings toward Bruno that Isa’s hermanitas had toward her. Bruno had been the ‘golden child’ until he was around ten. He had been perfection and flawlessness.

Then for forty years he’d been less than Mirabel, he’d been trash, a witch, a monster, a curse. Bruno could see things from both sides. The worshiped Godlike being and the outcast hated wretch. Exactly what Isabela wanted. She went from perfect, to...more hated than fucking Bruno. It wasn’t fair.

Isa mumbled something Mama wouldn’t hear, picking up a few plates and starting to help Mama set the table. Julieta gave her an odd look.

“You never helped me. What’s the occasion? Feeling sorry for yourself, still? You dug your own grave, Isabela, now lie in it. Pepa and I dug our graves with Brunito, and we’re dealing with it. He still doesn’t trust us completely, but he’s coming around. We never actually hurt him physically, though, mi flor. There’s a difference. Pepita never attacked Bruno. I only attacked him with a skillet once, and that was because of Agustin, so it wasn’t really MY fault,” Julieta cracked a smile at Isabela. She was really trying. She wanted her hijas to get along better, and she wanted to mend fences with her hermano.

“I was just trying to help, that’s all. There was no reason. Does Mirabel or Camilo need a reason to help set the table?” Isa asked, wondering if merely setting the table was THAT out of character for her?

“Mirabel always helps because some people make her feel that’s all she can do. Camilo helps because Pepa makes him. He’s lazy and complains the entire time, by the way. At least you’re already doing a better job than Milo. Gracias, mi flor. Forgive me. I’m sorry. I know you’re trying. Thank you for helping me. Don’t worry about where each plate goes. Casita will fix that when we all sit down.” Julieta stroked Isa’s silky hair.

Isabela took a stack of plates from Julieta, the ones with their names and designs on them. She put Abuela’s at the head of the table, because that’s where Abuela sat. She sat her own plate and Mama’s in the chairs to the left and right of Abuela.

Papa here, next to Mama. Dolores here, next to Isa. Pepa and Felix next to Dolores. Luisa next to Mama y Papa. Antonio next to Lulu. Camilo on the other side, near Felix. Mirabel...Mirabel at the very end, in the very last chair.

She gently laid Mirabel’s undecorated plate (why wouldn’t they even let her decorate her own PLATE!?) on the table. Isa ran her hands over the wood on the table. Bruno’s plate was missing. Of course. He was too scared to eat with them.

“Where’s Bruno’s plate, Mama? He should eat with us, right?” She really wanted to see Bruno, talk to him.

“A big white rat came and took him breakfast already. She had a note that he wasn’t feeling well today, so he would be spending the day in his room unless there was an emergency. This isn’t good for him, but I know we must give him time. You can’t recover from such long isolation in a few months…” Julieta trailed off, tears staining her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily. It was partially her fault he refused to join them.

“Or...recover from a decade of bullying in a few months, either, huh?” Isabela whispered, mostly to herself.

“What was that, mija?” Julieta absently asked, mixing eggs.

“Nothing, Mama. I set the table. Do you think Bruno would be upset if I went to talk to him? I think you’re right. He shouldn’t be alone. Maybe one of us eating with him each morning could help him get used to eating with all of us, you know.” Isabela guessed, remembering a little from therapy.

“Well, I guess that’s alright, mi vida. I wasn’t aware you enjoyed talking to Bruno much, but I’m glad you are. He needs every friend he can get right now,” Julieta shook her head sadly.

Isa nodded at Mama, grabbed her own plate and put a few pieces of fruit on it. She wasn’t interested in eggs right now. Those were mostly for Antonio and Camilo, who loved eggs.

Isabela found her way through Casita to Bruno’s room, though it took no small effort. Casita twisted tiles, changed patterns, and even moved her walls to try and prevent Isa from making it to Bruno. That fucking house was going out of it’s way to bully her.

Just like how she had gone out of her way to bully Casita’s favorite all those years. Isabela deserved it. She deserved Casita’s ire and more.

At least the house didn’t trip her and make her lose her breakfast. The steps to Bruno’s room were only a few this time. The weird engravings in the walls were still there, with the eyes in the Bruno carvings gouged out. Did he do that himself? Creepy.

Isa knocked on the bright, no-longer-creepy door. The door-Bruno was smiling, holding a rat and paintbrush, no sign of an hourglass, just a small clock in the background. This was Bruno given free reign to engage in his beloved hobbies.

Yet, he still wasn’t truly happy. Maybe the door reflected the further future, where Bruno would be all that the door showed. A happy, confident painter or rat trainer. Just like Isa hoped her door was true. That some day she would be proud and confident in herself and her choices. Door Isa looked so happy and free.

No one answered her knock. Isa sighed, knocked twice more, remembering Bruno’s ‘rule of three’ superstition. A meek ‘come in’ was offered in reward. Isabela gently pushed Bruno’s door open, looking around the room for the man himself.

His room was...average. So average that it almost reminded Isa of the nursery. Only the pit of sand near a small pool in the back of the room made it seem magical. A small bed, about the same size as Mirabel’s had been in the nursery, sat against the far wall, a dark canopy able to be pulled around the bed. Bruno would have complete privacy when he slept, just like in the walls.

That was what Casita had done. She had more or less recreated Bruno’s room from in the walls, but hopefully way comfier. From what she’d heard from Dolores, Bruno slept in a hard, threadbare chair or a ratty old hammock. Sometimes literally ratty, because rats slept on him.

Isabela looked around the room more intently. She couldn’t find Bruno. She had heard him tell her to come in, but he was hiding or something.

“Uh, Tio Bruno? It’s...it’s me. Isabela. I, uhm, wanted to talk to you, and eat breakfast with you. Where are you, Tio? I swear I won’t-” Isa stopped. Swear she wouldn’t what? Hurt him? Bruno was an adult man, she couldn’t hurt him. Stupid.

“Here, Isabela. I’m-I’m here.” A pile of lumpy blankets in the middle of the floor moved slightly, a scruffy-haired man poking his head out of the pile. A fat white rat sat in his hair, kneading his scalp with her paws.

Isa’s eye twitched. This wasn’t going to be easy, was it? Bruno had to be as gross as possible. Sleeping in the floor with rats covering him, apparently refusing to bathe from the smell...yuck.

“We can talk, if you really want to. No one really ever wants to talk to Bruno. Not unless they want a vision. I’m not doing that, Isabela. No matter how much you beg. No vision. If you want that, get out. Only Mirabel understands. She’s the only one who never asks me for a vision and never insults me. I know I’m dirty and gross to you, Senorita Perfecta. I-I can still talk, though. I mean, I don’t get to talk to anyone much,” Bruno rambled, standing from the pile of blankets and rats, stumbling a bit in unsteadiness.

He walked over to a large, plush chair and plopped down, sighing in what sounded like relief.

Isa felt her fists clench. She was NOT Senorita Perfecta anymore. Just because Bruno’s shitty vision showed that, it didn’t mean it was still true.

“Don’t call me that, Tio. I’m not that person anymore. Just like I hope you’re not the cursed brujo anymore, right?” Isa asked, regretting it immediately when tears started welling in Bruno’s eyes at the brujo comment.

“I-I’m sorry. I thought-I mean. Yeah. Changes. You changed. That was great. I, uh, loved watching your vines and stuff when you would show off to la familia. It was pretty. No one ever wanted to see green lights and sand.” Bruno pulled a hood over his face, shrinking deeper into the plush chair.

“I like the green lights and sand, Tio. I think it’s pretty. Prettier than any flower or tree. I, uhm, heard your Gift is a little different now. You can bring the future instead of just see it, huh? That’s cool. So how does it work?” Isa was trying to work her way up to talking about Mirabel, but it was hard to admit.

“Well, I can’t really bring the future. I can only speed up things already in progress. For instance, I could age you to be older than Abuela. I can’t reverse it, though. So my Gift just became an even bigger curse. If anyone on the outside finds out, they’ll hate me even more!” Bruno laughed sardonically.

Isabela thought for a moment. Bruno could speed up aging. Therefore, biological processes. Oh, sweet Dios.

“Tio! That’s amazing. You could do more for the crops and food than even Tia Pepa and I! Oh my God, Tio. This is wonderful. You’re like a GOD! I mean, that tree that takes years to fruit? You could have it making fruits in seconds!” Isa squealed, grabbing him by the arm and squeezing in happiness and joy at her discovery of a use for Bruno’s new aspect to his Gift.

Bruno pulled his arm away, sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I could. Would anyone really want to risk having the brujo ‘curse’ their crops just so they can grow a little faster?” Bruno looked at his palms, thinking of the destruction they could cause if he weren’t careful.

If he had a panic attack in town. What if he ended up causing all of the Encanto to crumble to the dusts of time?

Isabela thought once more. There were a few townsfolk who had no problem with Bruno who would love his ability to speed things up. Max and Gus! Her therapist and his husband.

They also ran a chicken restaurant since the toystore wasn’t doing so well after the crack in the mountains formed. Bruno’s power couldn’t make them sell more chicken, but he could help the chickens mature faster. For more eggs, more meat.

“Chicken!” Isabela shouted, thinking only about her idea of the chicken guys using Bruno’s Fast Foward Gift.

“Huh? What about that, little flower?” Bruno raised an eyebrow, looking baffled, “Well, anyway, I enjoy chicken. My rats do, too. It tastes nice with just about every type of sauce there is, and when your Mama cooks, wow-”

“Tio! I meant, you can use your power, the new aspect of your Gift, to help Max with his new business. They helped us so much, it’s the least we can do, right? I’ve given Max lots of bouquets for his husband, and I helped make the shrubs around the restaurant blossom!” Isa explained, inadvertently revealing she also attended therapy.

“We? Isabela...do you also...need help? I am a curse, aren’t I? Everyone in this family is messed up, and it’s my fault. All my fault, because my powers are a curse. I would love to help Max, but I’m scared he wouldn’t want my help. He’s seen me and my powers, but not this one. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know I can kill now. I never wanted to. I never wanted to be able to hurt anyone.” Bruno pulled his knees to his chest.

Dios, does Isabela know exactly what he’s feeling. Except she had just came to that realization. Her powers had been capable of killing since she got them. She could have killed Mama whenever she threw a tantrum. She could have killed Papa when he told her playtime was over.

She could have killed Abuela when the old woman forced her into her first hated pink dress...No! Isa shook her head. She was NOT a killer. No matter what her Gift and her bullies wanted her to think. Bullies! Isabela Madrigal had bullies!

The Perfect Rose of the Madrigals never had bullies. No one would ever have dared so much as speak poorly about her. Now they looked at her with hate. Hate on every face. On every face, except hers. The goddess. She had seen her twice more over the last three months.

Only twice. Too little, always too little. Leticia always smiled. Always greeted Isabela with a wave and happy sounds. As much as she hated to admit it, Isabela was glad that Leticia’s date with Elaine hadn’t worked out. Apparently, Elaine was still crushing on Leora and was unable to get over her. Leticia didn’t want to be someone’s rebound, she’d explained.

“Tio Bruno, shh. It’s okay. It isn’t your fault I’m screwed up. You know we’re ALL screwed up. Some of us just actually get help. Even if you’re kind of...forced into it,” Isabela winced. She had thought getting help was weak, at first, “Don’t...don’t tell Max your power works on people. I mean, you don’t know for sure it does, do you? It might just work on non-human things!”

Isabela shrugged at him, wondering how deep Bruno had gotten into exploring his new powers.

The man in question raised his head from his knees, tears in his large, wet green eyes.

“I know they work on people, pequena flor. Do you want to see?” Bruno grinned madly at her, giggling and scaring her a bit.

“It’s alright...there’s no need, I believe you…” Isa started stepping back from Bruno, not wanting to see it.

“I think you should. I think everyone should. But you’re the only one here now. Maybe you can tell them. Tell them what a horrific curse I am. What curse Mama’s precious Miracle bestowed upon me? Look.” Bruno pulled a tablet from under his ruana, tossing it to Isabela.

Isa almost missed the catch, sort of hoping it would fall and shatter. Did she want to see? Isabela looked down, at Bruno’s tablet. The tablet that supposedly showed him able to erase humans with his new, stronger Gift.

The tablet shimmered, still green, but with little flecks of gold. A person she didn’t recognize, a young man, stood in the vision. Isabela watched, horror filling her, as she realized what Bruno actually meant by being able to kill.

It was exactly what she expected. The second his hand touched someone, they started aging so rapidly they turned to dust in mere seconds. The wind blew the dust that was once a human away. Isa looked at the now-blank tablet. Why would the Miracle suddenly become this powerful? What was this?

Bruno’s tablet flickered again. It was the man who had become dust, riding a horse, carrying a long metal stick of some type. A gun? The man on the horse had a fucking gun? And...people behind him. The location wasn’t the crack, either. It was from inside the Encanto.

What the fuck? Was there going to be some sort of...rebellion? An angry mob? Did she have the right to ask Bruno to look into this further? It was clearly important, especially since Bruno had received such a substantial boost in power to his Gift. Come to think of it, so had everyone.

Luisa possessed super strength and speed. Mama could bring someone back to life as long as they still had brain activity. Her food even healed failed hearts. Tia Pepa could control her weather with near-pinpoint accuracy.

Isa had seen her burn a loose thread off her dress just that morning with a tiny lightning strike from her fingertip. Camilo turned into animals now. Antonio didn’t just talk to his animals, he could control them. Which was why Isa was shocked she hadn’t woken up to hair full of potato bugs or something.

Dolores could turn her hearing down or off completely, and even force her overload onto others. Isa had learned that when talking to her about Leticia. Dolores already knew everything, even though she promised to never listen. They were best friends, once upon a time. Isa wanted to be friends again, and not talking wasn’t the way to do it.

Isabela couldn’t hide her truth from her melliza after realizing it, especially since it would make the Mariano situation less awkward. And it had. Dolores had cried and then hugged her, thanking her repeatedly. Isa had laughed. Yes, you’re welcome, I am totally a lesbian because I want you with Mariano!

Their Gifts had increased massively in offensive power. Why? What was going to happen? What did Bruno’s tablet, the man with the gun, the attack from within the Encanto, and the crowd behind him have to do with the Miracle?

Part of her knew already. Being suddenly ignored and disliked, people had shoved her into corners, shelves, even a closet once. They’d forgotten she was in that closet when they started talking. Some of them thought they could get their own Gifts, if they had the Candle. But the Candle was gone. If they attacked and found it gone, what would they do? What could they do?

These new, powerfully offensive Gifts were to protect them. It made sense now. Bruno’s tablet wasn’t showing Bruno doing something evil. It was warning them. All of them. That an attack from inside was coming.

Chapter Text

TALKING AND DISCOVERY

Despite Isa’s attempts to get Bruno to talk to the family about the tablet, he refused. He said all visions were just possibilities, nothing more. This ‘rebellion’ may never happen. The town at least needed to know the Miracle Candle was gone.

Knowing that, it might put a stop to the future intrusion. Isabela decided to bring it up with Alma one morning, before her rounds of chores started. For the first time in her life, Isabela had chores. Like every single other member of la familia. Finally.

Alma had brushed her off and said they would talk tonight, after dinner. Even Abuela was treating her like she was Mirabel now. Ignoring what she said, even though it was really important.

At least Abuela was treating her like the rest of them. Do your chores, then you can goof off or whatever. Camilo decided to do both, much to Abuela’s ire.

Casita somehow kept herself pristine in the area Mirabel was given to clean. They just talked and played, it looked like. At least her hermanita was having fun.

The family was finishing eating breakfast, Julieta and Agustin having finished first as always. They helped clear the table, Isabela and Luisa following them into the cooking area to help wash dishes. This was one of their chores, hers and Lulu.

They had to wash dishes. Isa had never so much as stuck her hand in dirty water before the Fall. It had been absolutely disgusting at first. All the old food, glomming onto her hand, sticking everywhere. Yuck.

Luisa had laughed. You have to rinse it first, hermana! And took her hand, showing her what to do. She was so happy being close to Luisa again. It was wonderful, to have a sister at last. One that didn’t want her gone.

“Gracias, mis hijas! I’ll start wiping down the tables!” Julieta called, she and Agustin heading to the dining room.

“So...uhm. What’s up, Luisa? Anything fun happening at the donkey place?” Isabela asked, still unsure what to talk to Luisa about. They were friendly, but still had little in common.

“Ahhh. Is that the only thing you think I do? Carry donkeys?” Luisa giggled, making it clear she wasn’t insulting Isa, “I always like the donkey place. The farmer is nice. The donkeys are real nice, too. Antonio told me they like being carried, even though they can walk!”

“Oh? You think the farmer is nice? Nice or nice nice?” Isa grinned mischievously at Luisa.

“Uh. What’s nice nice? I don’t have a crush or anything! It’s not like that!” Luisa flushed, indicating it WAS like that.

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Maybe ask the farmer to have dinner at our house sometime. Surely he’d like to see where his most dedicated helper lives!” Isa suggested.

“No way! I can’t do that. What if he says no? I’m not pretty, feminine, elegant, and perfect like you! I look gross. I mean, look at these muscles!? Would you want that? I know it’s my Gift and all, but...what I wouldn’t do, to look like you, for just one day,” Luisa sighed, sliding against the wall and sitting on the floor. Casita rippled a tile in sympathy.

“Yes. Yes, Luisa. I would want that. I’d kill for just one day of looking like you, with your Gift. Strength is freedom. Strength is safety. Strength is helpful. All I can do is torment people with my shitty Gift,” Isabela snapped, feeling needles sticking inside her skin. A cactus, dying to get out.

Luisa stared at her for a long moment before bursting into peels of laughter.

“Well. That stupid Candle should have given us each other’s Gifts, huh? Maybe we could ask. She might do it. If it makes both of us happier, why not?” Luisa grinned at Isa, but rolled her eyes, knowing a Gift swap was impossible.

“Yeah. That would be too good. If la Candela were still here, we might have a chance. Abuela would probably let us talk to it, touch it, interact with it. The way she used to, before...you know. Mirabel,” Isabela felt ashamed even mentioning the sister she abused so badly.

“You think the Candle is still around? Think Abuela is hiding it? I know you’re hiding something, Isa. I may not know you that well yet, but you’re still my big sister. What do you know? I’m the protector. I have to know, to save everyone,” Luisa turned and grabbed Isa hard by the shoulders.

“Not-not yet, Lulu. I’ll tell you, I promise. But you’re right. We need to find the Candle. Or the Miracle. Where ever it went, we have to protect it from-uhm, we have to protect it. We can’t let it go out like last time. That was scary,” Isabela told her, licking her lips. She had almost told about Bruno’s vision.

What if Abuela had been right, though? What if she wasn’t hiding a new Candle, what if the magic really were Mirabel? Would the invaders try to hurt her? No, not if they didn’t know. Hell, even Abuela wasn’t sure about Mirabel’s connection to the Miracle.

Could the invaders even get Gifts, if they found the Candle and forced Abuela to do a Ceremony? Or did it only work on Madrigals? Well, sometimes not even then; Isa grimaced again, thinking of Mirabel’s humiliation.

“Eh, don’t worry, Isa. It won’t. We won’t let it. I won’t let it. I’m stronger, faster. I can protect us all. You can, too. I saw your trees and thorny vines. Hell, you might be deadlier than me, right?” Luisa elbowed Isa, not knowing she was poking an open wound.

Isabela clenched her fists, the spines from the cactus within her finally breaking through. A fat cactus popped into being in the empty sink in front of her.

“Damn. Sorry. I got a little, uh, flustered. I’m not deadly, Luisa. I swear. I wouldn’t hurt anyone, ever. Especially not familia.” Isabela waved the little cactus away. She felt it regrow in the fast-draining soil in her room.

“Not what I heard from Antonio. He’s getting observant, especially with all his animals to look and listen for him. I don’t meant to put distance between us, but didn’t you try killing Mirabel several times now? Countless times before the Fall, and then once a few months ago?”

Luisa asked nervously, taking a few steps back and tensing her muscles as if in preparation for an attack. Isabela saw Luisa’s eyes dilate, which meant she was gearing up to run too.

Once again, Isabela saw red. That Antonio! He was fucking adorable, but needed to shut up. He didn’t know her anymore. She wasn’t the same Isabela as she was before. He had never ever met this Isa. Antonio only knew the vile Senorita Perfecta Princesa.

“Antonio needs to mind his own business, Luisa. I never tried killing her, ever. I made mistakes. We all do. I know. I know. ‘All mistakes cannot kill’. I get it. I didn’t know when I was little that she was allergic. And when I did find out, all they did was make her sneeze. Why was that so bad? Camilo put itching powder in her pajamas and no one yelled at him! God! What do I need to say or do to prove I’m not a fucking murderer!?” Isabela snarled.

“Shhhhh! Shhh. It’s okay, Isa, promesa,” Luisa grabbed her up into one of her wonderful hugs, “I know you didn’t know. As for Camilo, Isa, miela, he put itching powder in Abuela’s pajamas and his mama’s. I don’t think he CARES who gets pranked. He never pranked Mirabel because of her lack of Gift. YOU only targeted her because of that. Why didn’t you target me? I’m ugly. I’m unfashionable. I get dirty often. I’m the exact opposite of you, the perfect one.”

Luisa stared into her eyes in all sincerity. Luisa really did wonder why Isabela did not bully her, but bullied Mirabel. And Isabela didn’t have an answer. It wasn’t the strength. Luisa was right. Her plants, especially the vines, could take out Luisa if she were fast enough.

“...I don’t have an answer for that, hermanita. I wouldn’t have ever bullied you, Lulu. And you’re not ugly. You’re gorgeous. And you’re so sweet. So helpful to us all. You bring so much honor to our familia,” Isa squeezed Luisa back.

Luisa pulled away, tilting her head at her hermana mayor.

“So it really was the lack of Gift, huh. I knew it, but I was hoping it was some sister shit instead. I was hoping you only hated her because she put dye in your shampoo or something.” Luisa shook her head sadly, “It really is a shame. Mirabel was and is a wonderful sister. The very best. I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful, kind, and loving hermana, ever. She brings more honor to our familia than anyone else.”

Luisa rarely swore, so her use of curse words meant she was more pissed at Isa than she was showing. Luisa was better than Pepa at hiding her feelings, sadly. Isabela could work with Luisa for hours, a smile on Luisa’s face the whole time, then Luisa would go to her room and Isa would hear her sobbing.

She was so sensitive. No wonder she believed every word out of the stupid little boy’s mouth. Isabela was starting to hate Antonio. He was a child, she understood that, but he spread gossip more than Dolores. No, his animals told him everything they saw.

The animals had to be misunderstanding some of what they told him. Isabela knew she was NOT as mean to Mirabel as Antonio and the people he told thought. She loved Mira and always went out of her way to be as nice as possible.

“Lu, you know, Antonio is just getting this information from animals. You don’t know what they see. They could misinterpret a hug as attempted murder, you know,” Isabela tried, “Me scaring someone with a vine could be attempted murder! You think birds and cats know the difference?”

“Yeah, Antonio’s do. Parce even knows Mama’s commands to wait when he wants snacks. So yeah, Antonio’s animals totally know what the words they hear mean. He’s just the only one that can hear them. If everyone could, maybe you wouldn’t be blaming the five year old for your behavior?” Luisa asked.

“Sorry. You’re right. It’s me. It’s always me. I’m the worthless one now. I’m the one everyone hates. It’s only fair, right? Mirabel suffered, now it’s my turn. Don’t let them hang me, Lulu, please,” Isa whispered, mostly to herself, remembering the tablet Bruno gave her.

“What’d you say, hermana? The water was running. I heard the part about everyone hating you and you being worthless. Shut up. You are NOT worthless and no one hates you. The town just needs to...stop listening to everything Antonio tells them. I should try talking to him. Honestly, Pepa should talk to him. Gossip isn’t something he needs to really get into at his age. He could really get hurt.” Luisa turned the water off, drying her hands.

“Gracias, Lulu. It was nothing. Just mumbling.” Isabela stared at the floor for a few seconds, thinking, “Hey, Luisa? What would you do if someone attacked Casita? Like, tried to hurt her? With fire and guns and things?”

“What makes you ask that?” Luisa looked up sharply.

“I was reading a book about a home break-in. I was wondering how we would do in one of those. Silly huh?” Isabela forced a laugh, “You know I’ve gone to that bookstore near the edge of the jungle a few times. I like reading now. I know you think I can barely read.”

“I don’t think that! I think you’re really smart, you just haven’t had a chance to show it. To answer your question, I guess I would try to protect everyone. That’s my job. I’m the protector of la familia. The strong one. I have to be strong enough for everyone. Even after the Fall, I know my place, Isabela. I have to be the strong one, because no one else can be. I don’t want to talk about this anymore!” Luisa shivered, rubbing her arms, admitting something she hadn’t wanted to admit.

“No! You’re not alone anymore. We’ll all help you. We can be strong, too. Some of Antonio’s animals are way stronger than even you! If a pack of his jaguars wanted to, they could tear you apart. I’m just...scared of the guns. What if someone has a gun?” Isabela whispered, mostly to herself, because she was the only one who saw Bruno’s vision.

“I guess I’ll have to be strong enough to stop bullets, then.” Luisa said, flexing a muscle in demonstration.

“No one can do that, Luisa. But you’re right. Let’s not think about it. That won’t happen. It was just a book. A stupid, stupid...book. Yeah.” Isa licked her lips nervously and went back to drying the dishes.

“Hey, thanks for talking to me, Isa. I really missed you, you know. I missed having an hermana mayor. You used to do all sorts of fun things for me. Make me flower crowns, put a flower in my hair and tell me I’m a pretty princess...I missed that. I missed us. Gracias, Isa.” Luisa gave Isabela another bear hug, this time lifting her off the ground.

“Y-you’re welcome. I don’t think I did anything, though. I think you helped me more than I helped you. You made me realize what a terrible person I’ve been. If even animals can see it, I need to do more than I am now. I know Mirabel is still skittish after the Fall, and I understand. I’ll give her more time. I’m scared, Luisa. What if she never wants to be mi hermana again?” Isabela asked, getting Luisa’s shirt even wetter with her tears.

“She will want to. Mirabel doesn’t hold grudges like that, not for as long, at least. Bruno is the one I’m worried about, Isa. He hides from us all. Never eats with us. Freaks out when he does eat with us. Mi Tio was alone for ten years. He needs help. I know Mira eats with him sometimes, and you did at the last dinner. I need to join him, too. You’re right. If we all eat with him occasionally, maybe he’ll start getting better around us, eh?” Luisa said nervously.

“Yeah. Poor Tio Bruno. If only I had known he was-was in the walls...I would have helped him. I would have found a way to get food to him or something. I know Casita cooked for him and rats took him food, but it would have been better if familia did that instead!” Isabela exclaimed, wanting to help Bruno more now.

“Done with these dishes. Gracias for drying most of them. I know I’m way too fast now for most people to keep up with, but you did a good job,” Luisa winked at her, “You wanna continue this bonding session? Maybe have a sleepover in my room? It’s not all cold and hard anymore. It’s pink and bright and sparkly! Oh wait, you don’t like pink!”

Luisa laughed.

“I’d love to have a sleepover, Luisa. I don’t care how pink your room is. It’s what you wanted, and if it’s how you want it, then it’s perfecta! Thank you for asking me. I’m glad one of mis hermanas wants to hang with me.” Isabela smiled at Luisa almost shyly.

She wasn’t used to getting invitations for sleepovers. She usually set them up herself and pulled Mira and Luisa along. Mira never seemed to want to go. Isa understood now. At least Luisa wanted to be her hermanita again. They would have a great sleepover. Luisa’s new room was way too pink for Isa’s new tastes, but it was perfect for Lulu.

Isabela squealed in shock when Luisa lifted her bridal style, as if she weighed no more than a feather.

“Mama, Papa! Me and Isa are having a sleepover in my room tonight! We’re done with the dishes. See you guys in the morning.” Luisa shouted in her deep voice.

“Hey, Isa, you wanna have a little fun?” Luisa looked down at her, a glint in her eye.

“Uh, sure. What kind of fun? Maybe put me down first?” Isa asked.

“Nah. This fun involves me carrying you. Hold on, hermana! This was amazing the first time I did it.” Luisa grinned at her, the spark in her eyes and the grin on her face getting bigger.

Oh no. Isabela knew what she was going to do. She was equal parts scared and excited. She grabbed Luisa and held on with everything she had, except her Gift. She wouldn’t risk hurting Lu with a vine.

Luisa took a deep breath, took a step back on one heel, then Isabela felt weightless. Things were a blur. She was moving, but almost felt like she was flying. Blood rushed to her head, adrenaline filled her. Mere seconds later they were inside the pinkest room Isa had ever seen outside of her own pre-Fall.

“Holy shit. That was nuts, Luisa! I think I’m gonna throw up! Or ask you to take me to the edge of town, then back again. I don’t know if that was fun or scary!” Isabela shouted.

“Hopefully fun for you. It took me a bit to get used to it, too. I’ll do it again, on one condition.” Luisa grinned at her.

“Anything, hermanita! Name it!”

“We have to have a sleepover every week.” Luisa told her, crossing her arms, brooking no disagreement.

Isabela laughed.

“I’d love that. Thank you so much, again. I love you, Luisa. You’re such a good little sister. I wish I could have two of them though.” Isabela whined, knowing she was whining and hating herself. That was a spoiled princess thing, not a new-Isa thing.

“You will, sis. Seriously, she suffered a huge trauma. Give her time. Like I tried to tell Mama about Bruno. People can’t recover from ten years of trauma in a few months. They do recover, but it isn’t instant, Isa. I’ll help with the town, okay? I’ll talk to Pepa, ask her to speak to Antonio about gossiping. Then I’ll talk to Oscar, maybe see what he can do about your reputation.”

“Gracias, Lu. I’m so full of adrenaline from that badass run I doubt I can sleep. Are you tired?” Isa asked.

“Not even a bit. I usually read until I fall asleep. Wanna join me? My new bed is huge, plush, and perfect to curl up with a book!” Luisa gestured to her fluffy canopy bed with ruffled pillows and blankets.

“Ewww, that is way too pink, but I would love to! I think I’m going for a romance book. Maybe we can tell each other about our crushes. I’ll tell you mine if you admit you like Oscar.” Isabela gave Luisa a devious grin.

“Ah! No! I don’t need to know about your love life and you don’t need to know about, uh, my non-existent one!” Luisa tried batting at the air, even though nothing was there.

“Let’s read then, and see what happens?” Isabela grabbed Luisa by the arm, pulling her toward her bookshelves.

“Fine, hermana. But I will not be talking about romance!” Luisa declared.

Together, the sisters picked out a book and curled up together on Luisa’s soft, comforting bed. Isabela read the same page over and over, thinking about Bruno’s tablet and how she was going to fix her relationship with Mirabel.

Chapter Text

Mirabel continued tearing up her new room. The flowers, specifically. They had done her no wrong, personally, and she knew Casita meant well, but she couldn’t stand the sight of them. All they did was remind her of that horrid bitch living with them.

That selfish, ignorant princess who thought she had it sooooo bad. Soooo, sooo bad that she actually pretended to go to therapy. Oh, Max listened.

He was also good at pretending. She knew that from his ‘restaurant’ that wasn’t really a restaurant. They were good cooks, but that wasn’t their real business.

Thank you, again, Antonio’s spying animals. They were so helpful in figuring out how her ‘sister’ really felt about her.

In fact, she heard from Chispi herself that Isabela had been going around talking about how bad she was. Mirabel, that is. According to Chispi.

Mirabel didn’t speak capybara as well as Tonio yet, but she knew what the creature meant. Isabela talked to Max, about her. At least that’s what she got from Chispi.

The rats were easier. Bruno helped translate, and their stories were even worse. Apparently, Isabela raged constantly in her room about how much she hated ‘it’ and how awful she was due to that ‘terrible door’. What fucking door? The new one? It was nothing.

It was just her picture on it. Not even special. Her hands had a light between them. So fucking what. Bruno’s new door had a paintbrush and rats and his room was still sandy and his visions still cursed him. Doors meant zilch.

Ramona even told her that Isabela had said Mirabel was ‘pathetic’ and how she ‘pitied’ her and she must be protected. She was the smartest rat there was. Ramona wouldn’t lie.

Mirabel snarled and hurled her fury at a glowing fern. The fern exploded in fiery gold lights that morphed into golden butterflies, flying into the night sky of her room.

Mirabel was breathing heavily. Her anger was not better. Nothing was helping. Bruno, her butterflies, Tonio’s animals, Casita, nothing.

Heaving, she leaned against a rock and slid down it, crying. Something like a soft hand squeezed her shoulder in worry. Mirabel took a deep breath.

“I’m okay, Abuelo. I-I promise. I don’t know why she hates me so much. I just wanted to be loved,” Mirabel traced the scorched grass where the dead fern lay.

A shimmer of gold. A transparent, glowing man sat down next to her.

“Things are troublesome indeed, mi milagros. Isabela doesn’t hate you. I don’t know how many times I’ve said that. Or about your Gift. You have one. Casita told you, too. Your ghost grandpa told you. Who else has to tell you, hmm? And who else can see me and talk to me? Not even mijo, despite his visions.” Pedro’s shimmering form leaned over, pulling her into his arms.

“Then why does she still treat me like I’m the least of them all? Because of her extra special Gift. Because of Isabela’s flowers. Even Abuela treats me better. I think she might even truly love me now. She doesn’t know about my Gift. It isn’t a Gift in her eyes. It’s just talking to Casita. I can’t tell her about you. Under your orders.” She protested, smiling a tiny bit at the end part.

She knew Abuela was getting much better and would get to see him under her own terms, something he wanted to be a surprise.

“I never meant for that to happen, mariposa. To any of mi familia. I never would have given that Gift to Isabela if I had known how she would turn out. I never knew, never thought, never imagined anyone in mi familia to be murderous, truly violent like that. I am so very sorry. Thank Casita for me, will you? For saving you? She will attack, Miraposa. Anyone who dares try and harm you. Direct orders from me. I won’t change them, but you can. I don’t recommend it, with a violent person in la casa.” Pedro said, rubbing circles on her back soothingly, his ghostly hands warm.

“I’m not, Abuelo. I won’t revoke your orders, promesa. I can’t. I don’t feel safe without Casita’s protection. She’s the only thing stopping Isabela from murdering me the minute I step out of my room!” Mirabel sobbed, pulling her knees to her chest.

Pedro sighed, the golden lights of his forms wavering.

“I can’t tell you everything. Nothing will ever get fixed if the answer is just given. Please, Mirabel, mi milagros, mi vida, mi amiga. Mi nieta. Listen to me,” Pedro took a deep breath, if you could call it that, being that he was dead, “The Gifts are not...you know they’re not...permanent. They can disappear. I can’t say anymore. You’ll need them, though. Trust me on this, if you ever trusted me, nieta. I can’t stay much longer. You know my visits can’t last long.”

“I understand, Abuelo. I won’t ask why we’ll need them. I mean, THEY will need them. No way talking to Casita could help the town in any way,” Mirabel laughed harshly, “Sorry if this is hurting you, staying here like this. I’ll come back to the bridge, Abuelo. Next week?”

Pedro wrapped her in a hug. Mirabel closed her eyes, pretending the glowing lights and transparent body were a real body, just for a moment. She was in the arms of her grandfather, someone who loved without judgment, and it was wonderful.

The warmth slowly faded away. Mirabel sniffled, standing up, the scorch mark from her rage had vanished. The glowing fern was back and beautiful as ever, one on each side of the magic bridge in her new room.

The magic bridge that let her talk to Abuelo. No one knew about it, except her hijo and her Tio Bruno. No one else deserved to know. She’d heard about Luisa kissing Isabela’s ass lately. Luisa was supposedly gentle and sweet, at least she had been before the Fall.

Perhaps now, with her super speed and strength, her Gift was as good as Isa’s so she thought she was finally on par with her hermana mayor. Far greater than the least of them, the most worthless, the piece of shit that was Mirabel.

Tired of crying, tired of from her anger, Mirabel staggered her way over to her bed. The bed was high in the air, held aloft by gleaming blue butterflies. The butterflies lowered her bed slowly, elegantly, as she approached.

A few mariposas fluttered down, pulling back the sheets for her. Her pillows fluffed themselves. Gracias, Casita Mami. Mirabel threw herself into her bed, feeling the butterflies raise it high into the starry sky once more.

Burying her face in a silky blue pillow, Mirabel let herself sob out her self-hatred, rage, and jealousy. Powdery wings, soft legs and antennae brushed her tears.

“Hrgh. I’m fine, mariposas. Go-go back to sleep. It’s late. I promise I’m okay.” She assured them.

You are not fine, Senorita Vela. You cry. The Master asked up to watch over you, and we would anyway. You are our true mistress.

“No, I’m not. Go back to Antonio!” She snapped, knowing they missed their ‘Master’.

Fat chance, as Master says. Our master is not your small caterpillar. Our master is the one who created us, creatures of the Miracle. Tu Abuelo is our Master.

“Then go back to him! I don’t have time for lies or nonsense about a Gift I don’t have. Get. OUT!” Mirabel threw a pillow at a small cluster of blue butterflies. The butterflies scattered but swarmed around her bed.

Never, milagros, never. We will watch over you, until you will accept the truth. Nothing will make us leave you.

“Then let me sleep. Shut up. I don’t want to hear anything.” Mirabel put another pillow over her head. She felt the pillow she’d thrown being laid gently next to her. The butterflies brought it back. Of course they did.

Mirabel fell asleep, slowly. Dreams that weren’t dreams came. Nightmares. Casita falling, crushing her. Isabela impaling her with vines, laughing about her uselessness. Abuela kicking her out the night of her Ceremony. Luisa squeezing her so tight her head popped off in a gory mess.

Every child but Antonio dying in an accident, Mirabel being entirely forgotten by every single family member. Isabela killing her with vines again, but the family cried over Mirabel, then admitted everything was actually better with her dead.

The nightmares only got worse. She died, over and over and over. Killed by her family in varying ways. The only ones who didn’t kill her in her dreams were Bruno and Antonio. Julieta and Agustin poisoned her food, sighing in relief when she choked and died.

Camilo shapeshifted into a jaguar and bit her head off. Dolores sent all the sound in the Encanto into her brain until it melted out her ears. Pepa’s lightning scorched her until nothing was left but a burned husk. Felix nodded in approval, smiling nastily.

Even Mariano got a turn. He killed her on accident, running over her with a cart while delivering flowers to Isabela, even though Mirabel knew he was with Dolores. Isabela’s friend Leticia tripped her on her daily walk, her neck snapping the instant she fell.

It repeated, only in more brutal and disturbing ways. This time, Isabela strangled her, choking the life out of her just like she had tried to do months ago, the other vines squeezing so hard she watched as her intestines seeped out of her bloody mouth. No Casita saved her. Abuela nodded at dream-Isa in approval.

Another one with Isabela, this time growing cacti inside her, her organs filling with thorns, blood streaming out her mouth as she died from massive internal bleeding. Isabela was grinning, her hands and dress soaked with blood.

Mirabel awoke shuddering and crying. Her blankets were wrapped tightly around her, like a hug. Dammit, Casita. She untangled herself from her Casa Mami’s tight tuck-in. Her room was the only one Casita could act within.

Sighing, wiping away the tears from the nightmares, taking breaths the steady herself, she stuck her legs over the side of her bed. Looking down, the luminous flowers had been replaced by sunlit marigolds, carnations, and butterfly bush.

The false sun in her room glowed brightly, the golden orb attracting mobs of her blue butterflies. As if waking up with her, the bed slowly lowered itself to the ground, letting her step out into the waving sunny grassland that now made up her room.

The starry night was gorgeous, but it was truly something during the daytime, too. The distant mountains, the glittering bridge where she talked to Abuelo, the tall trees. Bright green and pleasant. Happy. Nothing harmful here.

Getting dressed, Mirabel mechanically went through her routine. Time to wake up everyone. That was her only use, even now. Despite the lies Mama told her. She had redesigned her outfit. The same white blouse and blue skirt, for Mama of course.

The symbols had changed. She’d kept most of her familia’s symbols. She loved them, after all. Except she added a little caterpillar for Abuelo, a rat holding an hourglass for Tio Bruno, and in a hidden corner where no one could see, a butterfly for herself. She knew she deserved nothing more.

Her primos symbols remained the same, with a little music note added to Dolores’s soudwave for Mariano. Her hijo, her Tonito, had his same little jaguar spots. She had not added Isabela’s symbol at all. Mirabel wanted nothing to do with that Gift.

Those disgusting flowers. That vile Gift that made everyone worship Isabela like she was a fucking goddess. No one needed reminders, least of all her.

She slipped on her shoes, carried over by Casita. She slipped on a small necklace, a gift from Abuelo. The chain had only one thing on it; a silver claw.

She had no clue where Pedro had gotten that majestic silver claw, but it was gorgeous. Antonio had told her it was a wolf’s claw, but made of a really hard material, not like real wolves. Abuelo simply said it was a gift from an old friend and gave her that silly grin.

Mirabel tucked the silver claw under her blouse, breathing rapidly, holding the doorknob. She didn’t want to face them, knowing what they all thought of her. Really thought, without the lies. But she had to. She had promised Abuelo.

Making her way downstairs, she knocked listlessly on each door, making sure to give three knocks for Bruno. She almost didn’t knock on Princess Perfect’s door, but that would be too petty. Mirabel was better than that.

She knocked once, swiftly, and ran to Pepa and Felix’s room, knocking extra loud so they would hear over their usual morning ‘activity’. Mirabel grinned when she came to Antonio’s room. Rapping on the door in a playful pattern, she called for him.

Antonio yelled back, something about Parce still eating breakfast. Mirabel wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he was eating, so she headed on toward the dining room. Mama would need her help. It was the very least she could do, after all.

To her shock and annoyance, Isabela was already in the kitchen, attempting to badly set the table. The plates and silverware were all wrong. The glasses were mixed up. Of course the stupid princess knew nothing. Of course she would intentionally mess it up so Mirabel would be blamed.

“Oh! Mija! My little Miraboo, looks like someone beat you to the table today,” Agustin scooped her up into an embrace.

“Papa! Stop! I’ll fix it, I promise. I’ll fix it before Abuela sees! Please don’t let-”

“Mirabel! Breathe!” Agustin gripped her tightly, “Isabela wanted to set the table! She volunteered. You don’t have to do anything. Just sit down and wait for breakfast. Okay?”

“No! No. I’m not taking the blame for it being wrong. I have to fix it. She’s doing it on purpose! She’s trying to get me in trouble! Can’t you see!? That’s all Isabela wants. She wants me to be treated like dirt on her feet. She wants me to mess up. She wants the Giftless Waste gone. Don’t tell me to breathe!” Mirabel ripped away from Agustin, almost growling.

“Mira! I didn’t know you were-were coming down so soon. I was going to surprise you. I really did want to do it myself. I wanted to try. I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble. For fuck’s sake, Mirabel! I’m trying! Why can’t you see it!?” Isabela begged, tears in her perfect eyes.

“Because you’re a liar. Don’t think you can hide your nasty comments from all the eyes and ears in the Encanto. Animals are smarter than you know. Antonio at least loves me. He doesn’t lie to me. He tells me everything you say. All the bad things. Everything you want to happen to me. You said you were scared I would get a better Gift than you, in your latest therapy session.”

“Oh, yes, I know. The rats told me everything. If they hadn’t, the butterflies would have. I’m not as stupid as you think. Go fuck yourself, Isabela, and leave me alone. I have never done a thing to you! Luisa might kiss your ass now, but I’m not. If you want to kill me, do it. Fucking do it. I’d rather be with Abuelo than stuck here.” Mirabel glared at her sister, feeling warmth welling up in her body.

Isabela slowly backed away from her little sister, Mirabel’s eyes were swirling gold and her body gleaming with prismatic light. So much anger and hatred and sadness, all directed at her.

If Isabela were gone, Mirabel could be happy, could embrace herself and her Gift. She might finally believe she had a Gift, if Isabela weren’t here. Strong arms grabbed Mirabel from behind, tightly holding her in place.

“Mira, por favor. It’s me, Lulu. Isabela and I have talked a lot. Nothing she’s doing now is to hurt you. Okay? She’s changed. She isn’t the same. You helped her change. Can’t you remember that?” Mirabel struggled against Luisa’s grip, knowing it was futile. Luisa was too strong.

“You know it was a lie, Luisa! The rats said during one of your little talks that my lack of Gift was the only reason she hated me. I want a Gift more than life itself! More than anything else! And Isabela tormented me every day since I was five. How do you get over that in one song? In one chat? I forgave her at the time, because I had to save the Miracle. I can’t forgive her now, because she still isn’t trying. Nothing about her changed. She still pities me. She still considers me pathetic. So let me GO!” Mirabel ripped herself out of Luisa’s grip, to her shock.

And to Luisa’s shock. The strong girl stood there, looking at her empty arms, a stunned expression on her face. Tears welled in Luisa’s eyes.

“Please, no. Not again. It’s gone again. My Gift is vanishing again. It’s all happening again!” Luisa wailed, running out of the room at an average speed.

Isabela followed, sobs tearing out of her at Mirabel’s admission.

Julieta and Agustin stared at Mirabel, mouths open. Agustin swallowed.

“That was...something. I don’t think Casita is going to fall, though. Don’t, uh, don’t worry Miraboo. I think Luisa just had a little start. She isn’t used to you yelling at her. You usually don’t act like that toward her,” Agustin frowned a little, sighing and going after Luisa and Isa.

“Well, Mama? What? Are you going to yell at me, too? For daring raise my voice to a Gifted One?” Mirabel glared at her mother, eyes boring into Julieta’s.

“I want my hijas to get along. That’s all I ever wanted. Isabela and Luisa are trying. I know why you’re scared, I do.” Julieta simply walked over to her hija and embraced her, pressing her teary face into her apron.

“No you don’t, Mama. Casita didn’t fall on top of you. Isabela didn’t try killing you for years. Luisa didn’t ignore you for years. And you have a Gift. The town respected you. They never offered you an ‘Unspecial’ anything. That’s me. I’m the ‘Unspecial’.” Mirabel wept into her mama’s apron, ignoring the flour on her face.

“Carina, you were...when you were yelling, you were glowing. Your eyes, your body. All of you. That isn’t exactly something I would call unspecial, mi vida. I can’t prove it. I don’t have a camera that works that well. If you don’t believe me, ask those animals you trust so much. Oh, and I don’t think talking to animals is very ‘unspecial’ either, unless you’re saying Antonio is also unspecial.” Julieta added, knowing the Antonio remark would at least be enough to make her angry.

“Antonio is NOT unspecial. He’s the most special of you all. No offense, Mama. Especially since his room was upgraded. It looks the same on the door, and most of the interior, but wait until you see the back of his room, Mama. It’s amazing! There are animals there that defy my own imagination! It’s stunning, Mama! Don’t you dare insult my Tonito!” Mirabel exclaimed, teary eyes sparkling a little when talking about Antonio’s new additions to his room.

“By your own logic, you’re just as special as he is then. Even if you don’t have imaginary animals in your room.” Julieta told her.

“They’re not imaginary, Mama. Antonio’s new animals are simply...old. They’re gone from our world, but they were just as real as you and me. I saw it in one of Tio’s visions. He can see the past, you know. It isn’t only the future. He always could. You all never let him.” Mirabel whispered, thinking of her Tio’s suffering.

“Fine. We weren’t talking about Bruno, though. No joke meant by that, of course,” Julieta laughed a little, “We were talking about you. You have to agree you’re special. Unless you want to agree Antonio isn’t.”

Mirabel sniffled, pulling away from her Mama. She wiped her eyes on a wet cloth by the sink, cursing when she realized it still had detergent on it.

Julieta sighed and shook her head.

“Agustin did the same thing earlier. Here, mija.” Julieta handed her a small biscuit to fix the eye pain.

“Fine. I’m special. Just a little special. I can only talk to a few animals, not all of them, and not any of the unique ones that aren’t meant to be here. That’s all, Mama. I don’t know about the glowing shit. I don’t believe you at all. Animals think everything glows. The rats think your food glows! I can’t trust them when it comes to stuff like that. I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry I’ve been so cranky and out of it. It isn’t like me, even before the Fall. I’m so damn tired of Isabela, Mama. So fucking tired.”

“Is there a reason she’s so much better than all of us? I know why she hates me. Because I’m a waste of space. But why did the Miracle make her so perfect? Why? Why not me? Why can’t I be perfect, just once? I want to be the center of attention. I want to be loved as much as her. I hate her so much. I hate hate hate her!” Mirabel wailed, screaming.

Julieta didn’t know what to do. Her hijas were all fighting. Well, Luisa and Isa were getting along, but they always had. Or they had always ignored each other, at least. It was always Mirabel. If only they had treated her just as well as they had Isabela when that door vanished.

It would always eat at her. She was a terrible mother. She should have focused every ounce of attention on Mirabel once that door vanished. Screw Mama and her work. Mirabel should have been her sole focus. The town could eat leftovers. They didn’t need fresh food. From now on, she would do that.

She would ask Camilo to hand out her food. He was lazy and needed to do something besides think of new pranks since he wasn’t babysitting anymore. Julieta would spend hours with Mirabel.

Talking to her, getting to know everything about her, lavishing her with all the love she should have all those years ago. She would make sure Agustin did, too. Let Isabela and Luisa deal with being ‘unspecial’ for a while. Mirabel had dealt with this anger and fear her entire life. It wasn’t fair.