#swynfelix

ISABELA: “I’ll get it!” Isabela said, trotting towards the door, a field of poppies springing up behind her as she went. While this display was beautiful, it was also a symptom of Isabela’s anxiety. Her magic was wild, vines curling around the columns that framed the doorway as she moved towards it, squeezing tight.

Isabela had never brought a boy home to meet her family before.

She’d had boyfriends, of course. Sweet things when they’d all been children in Encanto that did not really count. And there had been one boyfriend while she’d been in University that she had been somewhat serious with. Pico had been lovely, the son of a politician, but she had lost touch with him after the coup. And he had only ever met her father, who worked in the capital sometimes and had had lunch with him once. 

This was completely different. Clayton wasn’t a boyfriend, really. He was. They’d agreed to be exclusive, but calling him her boyfriend felt immature. This was a proper relationship. One that she wanted to last. And that meant he had to make a good impression on her family. And…they had to make a good impression on him.

She had complete faith in them all. 

“Hola!” Isabela said, slightly breathless as Casita’s door swung open and a burst of flowers rushed passed Isabela, showering Clayton before disappearing as Isabela waved her hand. “Sorry. Come in! Come in!” She pulled Clayton in by the elbow, leading him back into the courtyard. A squirrel skittered across the floor, climbing up the vines that had just appeared in the doorway. 

“Alright, well--this is everyone,” she gestured broadly to the long table set in the center of the courtyard where everyone was bustling back and forth. 

“Tia Pepa, Antonio--” she pointed them out. “Tio Felix and Camilo.” 

“Ay!” Camilo perked up at the sound of his name. 

“Dolores, Luisa, Mirabel--” she pointed as each came out of the kitchen carrying a different dish for the table. “My papa, Agustin. Mama is still in the kitchen, I think. And--” she pulled Clayton a little further into the house. 

“This is Abuela,” Isabela said, smiling wide at her abuelita, heart hammering in her chest. 

CLAYTON: This was not his first visit to the Madrigal household, but it was arguably the most important one. All of them had been important, realistically; the last, when he had stopped by to make sure Isabela was alright after the whole prom night debacle, had very much set them away down the path they were now on. But this was his first visit meeting the family, an activity that Clayton loathed with an overwhelming passion. Admittedly, the families he tended to meet were usually landed gentry and so boring they could reduce a man to tears before the footmen could even bring around the amuse-bouche. 

He had a feeling this meeting would not be so boring. People moving to and fro, little creatures scurrying across their path as they made their way to a courtyard that Clayton was starting to become familiar with. The foliage seemed thicker this time, tangles of vines and flowers coating every other surface. How did anyone ever get anything done around here with all the clutter?

And so many bodies - more siblings and cousins and assembled family than one could shake a stick at. Clayton was used to a house feeling too big, too empty. It was quite the change here; it felt vaguely claustrophobic. Would she want to move the entire family in, once they took over the house at Islip? He supposed if they had their own wing…

He gave each one a nod, a polite smile. Held up a hand to the people who waved in the first place, and let himself be led deeper into their maze of a home.

Now, he was no idiot. Every family had a figurehead, and he knew from the way Isabela spoke about her that her Abuela was very much the head of the household. So he gave his best charming-but-humble smile, reserved very much for situations like this, as he said, “It’s very nice to meet you. And thank you so much, for inviting me - Isabela has told me a lot about your family. It’s nice to be able to put faces to the names.”

FELIX: Felix wasn’t sure about this at all.

But! It wasn’t his place to be sure or not sure about it. Maybe if it was Lo who was bringing home the town Sheriff as her boyfriend he would have a little more sway to say something, but– well, he could only do his best to be supportive of everyone involved. And right now, being supportive meant carrying plates out of the kitchen, helping to get the table set, and keeping his sons out of trouble.

“Antonio, tell the rabbits to stop stealing the salad, there’ll be nothing left for our guest!” He huffed, shooing away a couple of long-eared, fuzzy-tailed thieves. He looked up as Isabela went skittering past in a shower of flowers, pausing to watch the two of them come back through to the courtyard. Nothing was ever ready on time in this family, he tutted to himself. Still a few things to be done before they’d be ready, but never mind. He waved as he heard his name, elbowing Camillo to get him to focus. “Come on, we’ve still got stuff to do, eh? Stay focused.”

He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on the conversation with Aubela. Except that he was, honestly– he knew how scary meeting Abuela was. He’d done it before, a very long time ago now. He’d had the advantage of being a child, he supposed; by the time he came to Abuela as a potential son-in-law she already knew him rather well. 

“I hope she only told him the good things, hm?” Felix chuckled, looking at Mirabel as he passed by her.

MIRABEL: Mirabel doubted that. She could imagine Isabela complaining about her to the Sheriff, apologizing for her screw-up sister who didn’t get a gift and failed out of school and continued to embarrass herself at every turn. The image was vivid in her mind, entirely constructed (Mirabel didn’t think she’d said two words to the man), but very vivid. The way she imagined it, Isabela was still the enemy, and Sheriff Clayton was her new co-conspirator. 

So no, Mirabel did not have any reservations about whether this was a good match. It was clearly a great match. And one that was totally designed to torture her. 

Because Mirabel looked at her sister and her new boyfriend and all she felt was jealousy. This was a man Abuela would approve of. He had money, and he was prominent in the community, and the only thing that would make him better was if he was Avaloran— but that was harder to achieve in Swynlake. If Mirabel brought home an artist… well, Abuela would probably just silently judge, Mirabel imagined. 

Still, she was supposed to be polite and supportive and not cause drama the way she always did (even inadvertently). So she smiled at Tío Félix. “There aren’t any bad things, Tío. Except maybe my dancing,” she laughed and set down the tray of arepas she was carrying. She glanced at her tía. “Is there anything else I can grab from the kitchen?” Mirabel preferred to have any excuse to run around tonight— and avoid having to tell Isabela how thrilled she was for her. 

PEPA: Pepa was — 

Well, Pepa was excited. Pepa was anxious. Pepa was trying to take deep breaths so that she did not summon a storm in the middle of Casita on this very very important dinner! All of that meant that Pepa was actually trying to keep herself as occupied as possible, and till Clayton had showed up, Pepa had been following Julieta around the kitchen, listening to her older sister and dutifully following in her lead. It was good to put the decisions in someone else’s hands, though if Pepa knew her sister at all, she knew that Julieta was probably putting all her energy into the food so that she wouldn’t worry herself.

All that being said, by the time Mirabel came up to her, right after Pepa had set the second bowl of salad down (this one untouched by the rabbits), there was simply nothing left that needed to be brought —

“Hmm, maybe we should bring out some wine?” Pepa suggested. “Your father brought home a good bottle the other night — which one was it Agustin?” She called to her brother-in-law. “Do you think our guest would like it? I liked it a lot — a good, full-bodied red. If he has good taste, he’ll like it.”

Pepa threw her niece a wink, trying to soothe any nerves that she might have. To be honest, Pepa wasn’t looking at anyone’s reagents right now. Not when she was trying to keep the skies clear and sunny and the mood festive and joyous! No, no, no, getting bogged down by any one else would not do.

“Agustin — go help your daughter with the wine. Oh, glasses too!” 

DOLORES: Dolores was 100% trying to eavesdrop on the conversation with Abuela and Isa AND Clayton. She wanted to know if she liked this man. If she liked the guy her cousin who was basically her sister was bringing home and at the same time she was jealous because she didn’t have anyone and not for a lack of trying either. And here Isa was with someone she cared about on her arm meeting Abuela.

It was tough.

But she would be pleasant and proud and happy for her.

She would!

And she would spy just a little. It was what she did.

Slipping over to her Mama, Dolores set a hand on her arm with a smile and a reassuring grin. They all knew to keep Mama calm incase of a sudden storm. What a horrid first impression. But then there were more animals rushing across the ground and Dolores had to move carefully to avoid them rushing after Ani to help get them calm.

“Food is on the table whenever we’re ready to sit!” Dolores called out ushering the animals away from the couple and Abuela.

AGUSTÍN: Agustín had his reservations about the sheriff, namely that he didn’t seem qualified for the job and that he had to be closer in age to him than to his daughter…which he supposed was fine, with Ines being nearly thirty. Still he had to wonder what he had in common with his daughter beyond good looks. But that wasn’t the point of this evening and nor was Agustín Valera known to be ‘that kind of man’, the kind who was mistrusting and overprotective, and who bristled when you called him by his wife’s surname. Agustín was none of those things both by nature and for optics. 

He brought the wine into the dining room with Mirabel and nodded politely at Clayton, before gesturing to Mirabel for her to sit. He picked his spot out between Julieta and Mirabel — figuring Isabela would want to be with Clayton and Alma — and began to pour wine for everyone. 

“The first class for the guest of course,” Agustín said, pouring some into Clayton’s glass, then Isabela’s. 

ISABELA: Isabela and Clayton chatted with Abuela for a moment, whilst the rest of the family bustled around, but then, it was time to sit down. Isa moved over to her chair, her hand on Clayton’s arm so that she could direct him to the seat next to her, just in case he got stressed about where to sit. It wasn’t necessarily intuitive. And no one sat the same place every night. Sometimes, Isa and Lo sat together so they could gossip about the going ons of the day. Sometimes, it was Camilo and Isa for the same reasons. When Antonio was littler, Isa used to sit next to him to help him with dinner, so the adults could take a break. Sometimes she sat next to Luisa because her sister had had a hard day at work. Sometimes, it was Tio Felix, so that they could discuss the latest episode of whatever telly show they were watching. Or Abuela, when she had something impressive to tell her.

The one constant was that Mira and Isa usually avoided each other. No one commented on it, but it was rather obvious. 

Her sister was down at the other end of the table now, thank God. Both her parents as a buffer, so, hopefully, she didn’t say anything nasty. The last thing Isabela needed was for Clayton to think that her family was a handful. There were many of them, but they were chill! Relaxed. Totally normal. 

“Thank you all for coming, I know we don’t always get to sit down together, but it means a lot to me and I know it means a lot to William too.” She reached over and put her hand on his arm for a moment. 

Abuela, who had taken this time to serve herself, took a bite of her food, which meant the table burst into a flurry of activity as everyone else started passing around the food. (She could see her mother, on Clayton’s other side, eyeing what he put on his plate.) 

“So, Senor Clayton, please. Tell us about yourself.” That was Alma, watching him with a keen eye.

CLAYTON: There wasn’t really anything about tonight that was stressing Clayton out as it happened. He had no doubts that he was charming enough to be able to make a good impression, but he was careful to keep himself a step behind Isabela, following her gentle guidance. It wasn’t that he was timid, needing her to point him in the right direction, though if it came across that way he wasn’t sure he would mind. Better that than to put his foot in his mouth. He was a naturally confident person, yes, but he was also used to moving in the same circles. Circles that he understood, and knew how to navigate - this was new to him. And he was smart enough to know when to tread carefully.

He really should’ve become an actor, he thought, as he gave a gentle, gracious smile, looking to Isabela as she placed a hand on his arm and thanked the family for gathering as they had. To be honest, he couldn’t care less; but it was important to her, which meant it had to be important to him. 

He waited until everyone else started to pass around the plates, careful to put a little bit of everything on his own. Not that he knew what half of it was, but he also wasn’t particularly fussy. And tonight was about the meal anyways, it was about this: painting a specific picture of himself, so that the family didn’t try to throw too many spanners in the works.

“Well, I grew up in the country, not too far from Oxford. But I’ve actually lived in London most of my life - I was very lucky to get a job straight after I finished my Masters degree, right in the city. I was a journalist for a while, but London was…” He shook his head, considering his words. “It’s not the type of place you settle in, and that was really what I was starting to look for. I had a few friends who had mentioned Swynlake, so I decided to look into it, and,” He smiled, raising his shoulders in a half-shrug. “I never left.”

FÉLIX: The good thing about having been a parent for many years, and about having specifically parented his own children, was that Félix was good at having his eyes on two different things at once (and having eyes in the back of his head at the same time, too, but he wasn’t using those right now). He was busy loading up his plate, making sure Antonio took some of the vegetables as they were passed round and trying to make sure Camillo didn’t take all of the patacones before they’d had a chance to make their way around the table. 

But he was also listening to Clayton. Growing up in the countryside, living in London, he wasn’t sure how Alma would feel about any of those things but that comment– wanting to settle. He glanced sideways at Pepa, sharing a look with her. Alma would be happy with that, surely. She wanted stability for Isabela, she wanted someone her eldest grandchild could depend on, right? And it sounded like that was who Clayton was, even if he wasn’t necessarily the person any of them would’ve picked for Isa…

Félix glanced at Alma, trying to gauge her reaction - he spent a lot of his time doing that. And he did remember being in Clayton’s shoes, meeting her for the first time. Félix hadn’t exactly been nervous, because he’d known her since he was just a boy, but it was still sort of scary, to meet her not as a family friend but as Pepa’s boyfriend. She was quite imposing when she wanted to be. Most of the time, in fact.

Félix looked away, passing the plate of tamales to Mirabel.

MIRABEL: Oxford. London. Master’s degree. Mirabel didn’t even need to look at Abuela’s face. She knew that her grandmother was probably overjoyed. Being a journalist was sort of interesting, but Mirabel imagined it was probably for some horribly boring topic, like economics or something. And he wasn’t even doing that anymore, he was the Sheriff. 

And, apparently, Isabela’s boyfriend now.

Really, they were perfect for each other. Because they were both so bloody perfect.

She tried to think of something interesting to say, but she imagined Isabela would probably prefer it if she just didn’t. So Mirabel just took a tamale and passed the plate to her father, looking at Clayton the whole time, her expression polite but maybe a little pensive. And then she caught Abuela’s eye— her expression unreadable as always— and wondered if she needed to be more friendly.

“That’s, um, really cool,” Mirabel said on a whim, even though she had just decided she was going to keep quiet. But that was harmless, right? 

PEPA: Now, Pepa was impressed! A Masters degree meant he was smart. And so-very English too — that accent! Pepa smiled, taking a sip of her wine and listening to Isa’s boyfriend talk. 

They were both so beautiful too. If this was serious — and it was serious, because Isabela would not bring just anyone to family dinner like this — then Isabela would make a most beautiful bride. They’d be a gorgeous couple, with gorgeous children! 

Okay — maybe she was getting ahead of herself. But could you blame her? The family needed some good news, especially after all they’d been through. The coup, losing Bruno, the past five years in this small, rainy little town, their magic faltering… the family needed to come together about something joyous. And what was more joyous than love? 

Pepa looked fondly at her husband, and reached for his hand.

“Oh, I hope Dolores finds someone as successful as this soon,” she whispered, stroking Felix’s arm. 

DOLORES: Growing up in the country, it could be so romantic, Dolores swooned just a little bit, and the fact he didn’t want a big city life, in a way Dolores could make it out to be some Jane Austen type of deal. Meeting in the small city, wanting to stay away from the crowds. A whirlwind romance potentially.

Focused on the story Dolores almost missed the food being passed to her so she could take some, passing it onto the next. A blush coating her cheeks at her Mama’s words. She wanted this too, she really did. She wanted to be swept up in a romance that you were bringing them home to a family dinner.

And not to mention Isa had set the standard very high with the sheriff. 

“That sounds lovely, you want to make Swynlake your home then?” Is that good or bad, would they ever go back or would they set up roots just like this.

AGUSTÍN: Agustín sat quietly, not really having anything to add. He wasn’t sure he cared to get to know this man quite yet; but more importantly, thought he’d do better to suss him out by observing. He nodded along as he talked himself up as any man would do meeting his girlfriend’s family for the first time and tried not to think about how this man probably had his Masters degree before he’d achieved his own.

Him, really?

Ay, he seemed like a respectable man. He was trying to be positive, open, and not so protective of his little girl who was a grown woman now, but…he knew Isabela was dating with the intention of marriage within a couple years. Alma didn’t always say it in so many words but she certainly expected Isa and Lo to marry sooner rather than much later. He hoped Isabela didn’t feel pressured to make it happen, that she’d just go with the flow and know when the time was right.

Still, he knew she preferred to date seriously, with her future in mind. He liked that about his eldest daughter; that she was careful, calculated, and took steps to meet her ultimate goals. 

Only, hm. When he pictured meeting a future son-in-law, he pictured a man…at least young enough to be his hermanito Danilo’s age.

He supposed if Isabela was happy and being treated well he could get used to it! Yes, surely he would.

ISABELA: “Yes, what a good question, mi vida,” Abuela said before looking back at Clayton with sharp, alert eyes. “Do you intend to make Swynlake home?” 

She had been sitting quietly whilst her family prattled on. Despite being the matriarch, Abuela Alma could be rather sparse. She preferred to observe. And you could always feel the way that she watched you. Isabela felt the weight of her gaze now and made sure to straighten her shoulders so that she would not crumble underneath it. She smiled and looked at Clayton herself, curious what he had to say. 

It had never occurred to her that Clayton may not want to stay in Swynlake. His home was elsewhere after all, and there was nothing keeping him from it. Not like Isabela. She wondered if she married him…would she ever be able to go home? Would he want to move into Casita the way she always imagined her husband would? Just like her Papa and Tio had? 

There was no point in thinking about that now. They had to survive the interrogation first. 

CLAYTON: Oh, but there was such an easy answer to this question. Honestly, he didn’t even have to try.

He had played the role of the good boyfriend before. The doting boyfriend, the almost-too-good boyfriend. Being charming was like any other talent - some were born with a natural capability for it, but it still needed to be worked at to be perfected. And Clayton had worked at it. He had put hours and hours into it.

(Of course, playing the good boyfriend was often extremely tedious and boring. He preferred it when he got to play the bad boyfriend. The bring-him-home-to-piss-off-your-parents boyfriend. He’d done that a few times, when he was younger, and it was always so much more fun.)

“I like to think I already have,” He answered simply, smiling at Alma. “And now, especially, I can’t imagine why I’d want to leave.”

He looked at Isabela for a moment, placing his hand over hers, squeezing gently.

FÉLIX: He squeezed his wife’s hand gently, smiling at her. Glanced at Dolores in his periphery, just for a moment, wondering if she had heard. Knowing that she probably would have. He didn’t want her to feel any pressure, of course not! But Pepa was right. It would be nice if Dolores could find herself someone who seemed as successful and well put together as the Sheriff. Someone as devoted, too!

Because he did seem so devoted. Félix looked at his wife again, eyebrows arching for a moment in silent communication, a little smile on his lips. Oh, yes, it all seemed very serious! And Félix was sure that was just the answer Abuela was wanting to hear. Honestly, it was like he was reading aloud from a script, almost. It was perfect! Was it too perfect?

Félix wondered for a fraction of a second about the uneasy feeling that crept over him, until he noticed Antonio slipping scraps of meat to the badger that was sitting underneath his chair. Félix hissed at him to cut it out, thoroughly distracted again.

MIRABEL: Now that Mirabel was over her initial annoyance at just how picture-perfect Isa and her new boyfriend were and the conversation had moved into this lovey-dovey shit, Mirabel was starting to get bored. 

She didn’t want anything crazy to happen, because that would be stressful, but she wished this were a normal family dinner when everyone wasn’t on their best behavior. Was this going to be the new normal whenever the Sheriff was around? All these manners and polite conversation?

The thought was very depressing. 

Mirabel heard Tío Félix’s scolding and smiled at Antonio, though she didn’t dare egg him on. She just had to get through the rest of this dinner.

PEPA: At the mention of home, Pepa’s heart panged.

She missed her home — she missed every place she’d ever called home. She missed Avalor, where she had spent most her life. And when she allowed herself, she let herself miss Colombia. Sometimes, late at night, she squeezed her eyes shut very tight and remembered running through the grass with her siblings and picking flowers to give Felix. 

Around her, it began to mist slightly.

She cleared her throat, trying to think of happier things — the last thing this evening needed was a rainstorm!

So she thought of smiling Isabela. She thought of Swynlake. This was home now. It was grey and cloudy and cold more often than not, but Casita still stood strong, and her family still shared a meal together. And if Clayton and Isabela got married then, well, this would be home even more! They were resilient, the Madrigals, and Pepa knew they could weather any storm. 

“And what a lovely place to call a home!” chimed Pepa. She giggled, hoping that any clouds gathering around her would disperse with her laughter. 

DOLORES: Good. That meant Isa was staying here, with her, with her family. Dolores wasn’t sure what she would do if another one of her family members left without the intent to come back. It was why when Mirabel left it was easier to handle since she would be back sooner than later.

Maybe if they could go home, Clayton would join them as well.

But for now this was enough to settle any other worries for now.

Issue one dealt with.

CLAYTON: Well, it seemed like that had been the correct answer, at the very least.

He supposed it wasn’t wrong. He had made Swynlake a home, and truly, he had no plans to leave it. Why would he? He had the town under his thumb for the most part, and now he was securing for himself a match that meant when the old man did finally kick the bucket, he would have someone to manage the house, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the sodding thing. He might have to move back there for a few months, whilst things got settled and everyone got into the swing of having a new Baron in charge of the place, but it would still only be temporary. 

Though he wasn’t sure he could ever call a place home for too long. At some point he’d grow tired of playing policeman and the game in the forest would dry up and then he’d be forced to look for somewhere else. Until then, however, this was very much his home, and he had no plans to change that.

“My thoughts exactly,” He said, directing a smile at Pepa before he looked at Isabela again, attempting to gauge her reaction.

ISABELA: Isabela had not actually thought about that. To ask it. To know what his plans were. He was the sheriff. Of course he was planning to stay here. And Isabela had simply just always thought that whoever she married would move into Casita with her. It was big enough. Whoever her husband was, Casita would make room for them. Quite literally. There had never been another thought about it for her. It simply was.

But now, she realized it was not guaranteed. Maybe whoever she married wouldn’t want to live in Casita. Maybe they would have obligations elsewhere. Maybe they wouldn’t want to be in Swynlake. The idea had struck her so forcefully that she’d actually sprouted a few daisies in her hair that she managed to brush off with a simple smile as Clayton had answered. 

Plus, it seemed as if he was saying that she was part of the reason to stay. Which made her very happy indeed. She smiled more broadly, pleased with Clayton’s reply. 

“Aye, it is a good home,” Abuela agreed.