Part 1 here
Part 2 here
Part 3 here
Idea: Casita raises Mirabel
Julieta is Busy. Very Busy. Busy making sure the people of Encanto are healthy. Busy stopping outbreaks of diseases due to weak, untrained immune systems before they could go any bigger. Busy cooking food all day and night so she could fulfill her job in the first place. Busy, Busy, Busy.
Agustin is Busy. Very Busy. Busy assisting his wife in the kitchen. Busy assisting his wife in whatever errands she had for the day. Busy providing her ovens with the right amount of firewood. Busy, Busy, Busy.
Julieta and Agustin are very Busy.
The kitchen's practically their Room now.
The only breaks they ever get are during sleep, eating times, and for hygiene.
And even those are tainted with work.
Sleep filled with the worries of tomorrow's tasks. Eating times filled with new orders chores being handed out. Heck, their baths are hardly baths at all. It's all as quick as one reasonably can make; because the more time passes that they aren't in the kitchen, the more time accidents and incidents are allowed to happen without Julieta's Gift as a Safety Net.
The more time reasons for her Mamá to double her workload are tempted to manifest.
She can't handle any more.
So, Julieta works extra hard to not make any mistakes- to not have any delays or interruptions. Everything that's to be done is done; nothing more, nothing less. The Encanto is counting on her. Mamá is counting on her.
(It's tiring, but at least she isn't alone. Agustin is always by her side, and she sometimes gets to see her two daughters whenever their chores intersect in time and place. Those are always the best of days: when the four of them are together. Even for the briefest of minutes.
But lately, there's been something nagging at the back of Julieta's mind. There's been something that makes her heart plummet in that certain kind of fear; that raises her adrenaline in that familiar rush that often comes in the wake of a big epiphany. Specifically, the realization that she's forgotten something. Something important. Something very important apparently, because the feeling is slowly increasing in intensity with each passing day.
You've forgotten something. You've forgotten something. You've forgotten something. You've forgotten somethingYou'veforgottensomethingYou'veforgottensomethingYou'veforgottenYou'veforgottenforgottenforgottenforgottenforgOTtENFoRGOTtEnFORGOTTEN-
A lot happened during the weeks following Abuelita's suggestion.
For one, Mirabel finally finished her new dress. It was still mostly white- she was her Mamí's kid, after all -but now it also has splashes of her Tio's green in the form of a scarf tied around her waist, the hourglass pattern line from his old Ruana lining the hem of her skirt, the tassles and frills at the bottom and underside of said skirt, and finally the new Glamour Bandana around her neck.
Seeing that she was going though a wardrobe change, she had decided to take the chance to ditch her old Glamour Ruana after her hermano's report of the accidental mind-screwing (plus sometimes it flies to cover her eyes during roof-runs; she now knows how it feels to land on the pavement face first), and also because of the fact that it was beginning to be too small for her.
Her brother had then suggested the bandanna as a replacement- because it was small and practical and subtle -and from there, the Glamour Bandanna was born.
"Are you sure this won't scramble my brain anymore?"
"I already said sorry, Yano!"
(Her Tio Bruno also cried for a good 40 minutes upon seeing her new dress, but that was to be expected. Don't worry though; Mirabel hugged and cuddled him, Mariano dug up his twistiest plotlines to share a laugh over, Abuelita made him tea, and Casita hummed a calming tune with her tiles. Their efforts washed the tears away, but the proud smile at seeing his ratoncita wearing his color remained smugly stuck on his face for the rest of the year.)
Next, in a discussion over Bruno's potential alter egos for public usage, attention was brought to Casita's lack of a last name. The matter, surprisingly, offended Senora Rosa Guzman; and the woman immediately sought to remedy it.
By offering her original apellido.
"Mi hermana, you're alive. You deserve, at the very least, a last name. So... if it isn't too forward, and you haven't picked one yet... you can use my maiden one. This way, not only will you have a complete nombre, we'd finally be sisters in name as well."
The loud explosion of motion around Mirabel's Lantern following that declaration was a resounding acceptance, and the youngest Madrigal added to the chaos by cheering for her mother's new apellido. (Idly, she wondered if 'Mirabel Valentina Rojas Guzman Milagros Madrigal' was too long a name now. It probably was, but honestly, she could care less. Her mother and Abuelita were 'officially' sisters now! That was the more important thing in this situation!)
Then finally, her Tio being public ready after weeks of preparation. The costumes for his rats were done, his stage-stand was primed, and his stories were proof-read and as riveting as ever.
Mirabel had also finished the enchanted threadwork for glamour needed on his cape (similar to her bandanna), and so with the added bonus of her mother gleefully, proudly letting her Tio have her new last name as his alter ego's- Oscar Milagros:The Storyteller was born.
"Knock their socks off, Brunieto!"
Suffice it to say, this year had been quite busy for the Guzman-Milagros-Madrigal Bunch, but they wouldn't have it any other way.
Bonds were tightening, connections were strengthening, skills were flourishing; the little family was thriving.
(And Casita couldn't help but preen proudly at the fact that she was the catalyst to all of this. She had set out to raise and take care of her Little Miracle, and she had done it. Her daughter won't ever be alone and unloved now
especially if something bad were to happen to her.)
Bruno's first show was held near the outskirts of town.
Not only did that fact allow him a small sample size of a viewing audience as a field test- as well as give the illusion that he came from outside of the Encanto with the usual traders -it was also away from Madrigal Traffic.
Because Alma Madrigal was always one for appearances, and that made her focus on the central part of town- unintentionally neglecting the Outskirts.
(They exploited that fact with unparalleled glee.)
So they dragged his wheeled stage-stand into one of the plazas, took a step back, and allowed Oscar Milagros to come out and play.
Later, Mirabel would be happy to report (read: Recall. They were all present for her Tio's first show) that it was a hit.
People were instantly drawn in by her Tio's natural air of mystique and playfulness. His new special way of speaking kept them in place just as much as the words conveying his tale. The weirdness and cuteness derived from his use of costumed rats in conjunction with his gorgeous painted backgrounds only added to his unique charm.
The hook of his Pilot episode certainly didn't hurt the positive reception either. From the current reactions, she couldn't wait to see how'd the Town would handle the biggest plot twist in Season 1.
All in all, it was a promising start. And as weeks went by with an episode every couple of days, it was clear that it'll only be uphill from there.
"Senor Oscar! Senor Oscar! What's gonna happen next?!"
"Ay, Oscar! You better give Georgia what she deserves!"
"I knew it! I called it!"
"Hey Oscar! They aren't really related, are they?"
"Senor Oscar! Can I play with your rats?"
"Oye, Oscar! Here's some cheese for your actors. They did a good job during Episode 24!"
"Oscar please tell me they'd get together! I can't handle the suspense!"
"No! No fucking way! That wasn't- wait. That was what that foreshadowing meant?!"
"Oscar hijo! Have a drink- that episode was more emotional than usual, eh?"
"Hey Oscar! When you showing at other parts of town? I have a couple of amigos interested over at the East side!"
"Guys, guys! Senor Oscar's here! He's here!"
The audience had even started throwing money at the end of each episode- which Tio Bruno originally declined, but in the end accepted to use for funding the show and repaying Abuelita despite her protests.
Mirabel took note of her Tio's growing self-confidence- his wide smile, carefree movement, much more expressive self; and smiled.
Yeah, he was going to be fine.
(The Lantern Burns, a little stronger.)
It's almost Mirabel's birthday again (Ay Dios Mio, how time flies!), and Rosa Guzman has a Plan.
Ever since Little Mirabel found them (or more accurately, was led to) at the tender age of 6 and became her student in all things concerning the needle and thread, the woman has learned a lot about her adopted nieta.
(Never before has she felt the urge to strangle an old friend so strongly.)
The most relevant to her Plan though, was the fact that the little butterfly had to run from La Casa Madrigal all the way to La Casa Guzman and vice versa, every single day. Either on the roads, or on the rooftops.
It was good exercise yes- little Mirabel had the body of an athlete hidden under all that baby fat -but surely doing so so often, not to mention all the chaos that she usually falls into between each run, would be tiring?
Casita's physical form would always be her home even if the family within it isn't, of course. But giving her precious Mirasol one of the guest rooms in the house for times she's too exhausted to make the trip would make for a good birthday present, no? Her own place in the house that isn't the Sewing Room. (She could even do the same for her darling Brunieto!) Oh, just thinking about all the benefits of such an arrangement for her beloved nieta makes her all the more excited to start.
The rooms themselves were already ready to house a person, so besides being a bland blank canvas (that would be absolutely bursting with color once her nieta was done with it, she was sure), she didn't have to worry about that front.
What all she really needed to do was get her Mirasol material and furniture to decorate her new room with, clean said room of dust, and go to Senor Alfonso downtown to commission for a personalized doorknob.
She had noticed that trend with all the Madrigal Doors- their doorknobs carved with the first letter of their name -and figured her nieta would like to have her own.
(Casita telling her that the Nursery's handle was only a dull, common knob was merely more motivation and more disappointment and sadness and anger and offense.)
The first two tasks were easy. All she had to do was keep the material and furniture in their supply crates and store them in the room during the evening (after she cleaned it, of course) when her nieta was at La Casa Madrigal.
"Really, Mama?!" Mariano's face was indescribably excited. At her fond nod, he beamed before saluting.
Then he rushed off, grabbing his machete from the wall and practically burst into the Sewing room, eliciting an adorable yip of surprise from his hermanita.
"Miraposita! Break! Mama's got a sudden errand to attend to! Wanna go Scouting with me?!"
Poor little Mirabel blinked at him a few times in confusion, but quickly recovered with a big, wide smile. Ah, they'll never get enough of that sight, will they?
"Really! Race you to Montana View Point!" With his challenge made, Mariano ran to the nearest balcony, jumped on the railings, and climbed onto the roof with a masterful flip. Mirabel- with a bit of a scuffle to gently put away the piece she'd been working on and an indignant 'HEY!' -was right behind him, face set and her bag glowing extra bright as Casita shifted a few planks to allow her an unbroken sprint.
Seconds later, as Rosa watched her children fade into flitting dots above the rooves against the horizon; the woman smirked triumphantly.
Time to get that doorknob made.
There's definitely something going on with the Lantern.
Casita hummed, feeling out that piece of her intertwined with her daughter's soul. Already, it's starting to feel less her and more Mirabel's; which was great! Not only would that strengthen both her Candelita and the Lantern's flame, it would also give Casita more of a leg to stand on when claiming the youngest Madrigal as a daughter.
(Unnoticed, Mirabel's image on The Madrigal Family Portrait slowly fades away. Bruno's is not far behind.)
But anyway; ever since Mirabel and Mariano's acknowledgement of their siblinghood, the Lantern Candle's Flame had suddenly switched from being just a window she can reach out from into a whole entire room. It's been storing energy, using energy, increasing little by little in magical strength- and for once, Casita doesn't have the faintest idea why. Actually, that's a lie, she does have a theory, but- it's too early to tell. Though if it is going that way...
Bruno understands, but he can't help but worry.
"Ay, little listener. What's the, what's the problem? Rain is beautiful but your clouds are so dark."
His little Bat hums tiredly, a half-heartedly eaten arepa in her hands. Her hair is loose and free, as his hands need them to be in order for a comb.
It's only a few minutes after his show today, after all. They've got time.
Brush, pull, brush, fluff. Her hair's smooth, silky. The sensation is funny.
"Tio...I've, I've been..." Her voice is smaller than usual.
"...it's her 8th soon." There's sadness, longing.
"You have a gift ready?" An out.
"We're up to 3 years now." Ah, he's always known she was as stubborn as her mother. She's started it, she's seeing it through. There's pride in his chest.
"They're up to 3 years. They forgot. We didn't. You didn't."
Gratitude flashes in her eyes. It's quick to be drowned. "She doesn't know though."
Bruno grins. "But she could."
There's fear. Of rejection, specifically. Of hate. It's irrational, Bruno thinks, considering his Mouse is involved.
"Isn't it too late?" Her voice had no business being that meek.
"We never stopped though, Little Bat. Even with, with me in Casita's walls. Even with you in Mamá's noose. Never missed a birthday. We've got perfect attendance. Mira's just not the Monitor for yours."
He thinks of the flashes of surprise, suspicion, recognition, and dangerous hope in his Mouse's eyes whenever she received one of Dolores' gifts under the guise of them being from Bruno.
He thinks of his Mouse going the extra mile for Dolores' gifts on her birthdays; more than for any other family member (except him).
He thinks- he hopes, really -that they might have a new family member soon.
"But she'd love to be, I feel," He grabs her red ribbon and begins tying, "She'd love to see your record."
A tight pull, a quick fluff. His sobrina's beautiful.
A bite on the arepa. "You think so?"
There's... nervousness. Jittering. And then it's gone. An inhale, an exhale, one final breath; and determination replaces.
"I should have enough of Abuela's trust by now," She breathes out, "That I, I could make it. I would make it. But- But I don't have a gift yet. I mean, I do but- it's not, it's- nothing worthy for this." The end is an octave higher.
His smile is a little mad.
"Oh, little Bat. Your presence would be a gift enough."
It's Mirabel's 8th birthday, and La Casa Guzman came alive in more ways than one.
Loud, enthusiastic greetings and songs. Impromptu dances. A flour fight in the kitchen while they were baking Mirabel's cake. A scuffle-tickle-wrestling fight in the same kitchen while they were trying to clean it up. A water fight in the bathroom while they were getting cleaned up. Playing dress-up in Mariano's room and the whole debacle ending with them somehow making a patch that striped the boy's hair with a fitting yellow and a scarf that made him look like a girl version of himself. Playing weirdly complicated but very engaging games in the living room with Casita as their Gamemaster, the whole event evolving into a full-on story/play that Bruno immediately wrote down for a possible side-show. A singing competition after Mirabel playfully mocked Mariano's latest poems for not rhyming, and the boy broke out into song in response. A race across the whole of Encanto after the two kids (and one magical entity) were kicked out so that the rest of the food could be made without chaos.
All-in-all, a normal day for the Guzman-Milagros family; and Mirabel wouldn't have it any other way.
(The Lantern Sparks. The Candle Shudders. Casita pauses, and anticipates.)
When they were finally allowed back, the sight that greeted them can only be described by the word 'cosy'.
The dining table was all set up and ready, filled with delicious food enough for all of them. Around the living room were colorful decorations: flags, triangles, stars, banners, streamers- but none too bright or too flashy. They just put a lot more pop of contrast against the warm clay brown of the walls, emphasizing that while there was a celebration, it was still home. There were also more pillows than usual and even a few blankets on the sofas too- as well as a hammock and a thin mattress on the floor next to the fireplace -just for good measure.
They already had their rambunctious fun in the morning, after all, so now it was time for quiet.
(And considering what was probably going to happen in the next few minutes, the reprieve was very much needed.)
The cake was not yet done though, so Mirabel and Mariano took that chance to rest and cuddle by the fireplace; Bruno later joining them with a cup of Chocolate Santafereño and a half-bitten Buñuelo. They shared a few stories, a few jokes- a fight over Bruno's Buñuelo almost happened and the only saving grace had been the fact that the siblings were tired: typical bonding activities of the Guzmán-Milagros'.
The calm, amused quiet that followed that almost-fight was later pleasantly broken by Abuela Rosa's beautiful voice.
"Cumpleaños feliz," She sang softly, emerging from the kitchen with a two-layer white cake covered in colorful frosting and 8 candles, "Cumpleaños feliz!"
Mariano and Bruno shared a glance before putting on two happy grins. "Te deseamos todos!" They eagerly led their little Mirabel to the table, putting her on the head chair that Casita provided with a few tile shifts.
"Cumpleaños feliz!" All three elders finished, the result of their efforts a little girl with teary eyes and a brilliant smile on her face.
"Graciás," Mirabel managed, "Graciás."
"Happy Birthday, Hermanita." Mariano smiled, pointing to the candles with a tilt of his head. "Go on; make a wish!"
Abuelita lightly smacked her son by the bicep, earning a giggle from the birthday girl. "Let her have the moment, mi pequeno Ciervo. Your stomach can wait."
"Ay but Mamá! Your Ají de Aguacate!" Mariano half-joked, half-whined; sending a wink to his sister before fully immersing himself in the argument of the ethics of using manipulation to get to eat food faster.
When Bruno joined the bickering seconds later, Mirabel couldn't help but close her eyes and relish in the feeling of having her family's voices all around her. It was nice. The subtle but always-there hum of her Mamí's magic slowly seeping into La Casa Guzman, the presence of her family members, the bond underneath all their playful arguments and insults, the warmth of their love from the bodies surrounding her to the food and decorations- it was all so... home, that Mirabel wanted to bawl.
Her her bigger family La Familia Madrigal was a big family. But it never felt like one, barring very few, very rare moments. Everyone was almost always separated, lost in the monotony of their work, that even during Family meals- it was all just chores, chores, chores. It was all about the image of a perfect family; rather than striving to be as close as they can to being one. The connections were flimsy, superficial. Dios, they even forgot about her!
(Idly, unknowingly, instinctually; she thinks of cracks covered in desperate plaster, slathered with layers of substandard paint.)
(Casita startles. The Lantern gives an almost playful spark. The Candle trembles.)
La Familia Guzman-Milagros, though? A small family of 5? With half of them not even related? The bonds are tight, thick. No matter how far away each member are from each other, they never feel alone. The... there-ness, of each person is ever present. It's impossible to ignore- not that anybody ever wanted to. There was love, there was care; and it was warm.
(When Mirabel blew out her candles, her wish was plain on her face.)
Surprisingly, the birthday dinner was calm- for Guzman-Milagros standards, at least. Mariano hogged all of the Ají de Aguacate but Abuelita Rosa managed to stop him before he could get a stomach ache. Bruno accidentally dipped an arepa in hot sauce and only survived because Casita got him some milk. Mirabel choked on a candle that Mariano somehow included with the cake slice he gave. The more exciting stories they'd saved for this event finally got told, helped by a couple of Bruno's rats for practice. There were also a few close calls to a 4-way food fight- over the argument of whether or not coconuts were of mammalian nature, no less -but Abuelita, amazingly, halted those with just a single raised eyebrow and the Look Of Disappointment™ brimming behind her eyes.
(Casita feels excitement. The Lantern's about to put on a show.)
Before they knew it, they had cleaned up the table, and it was finally time for presents.
(Mariano and his Mother shared excited glances.)
The two men of the family went first, with the more theatrical one revealing his box with a graceful flourish of his cape. Bruno's gift is a custom pocket watch; polished silver for the casing, green glass for the face, and the intricate butterfly designs inlaid in gold. The words 'Las arenas se arremolinan, pero el desierto es un río' are expertly carved on the side.
"'The sands swirl, but the desert's a river'," Mirabel read, gently tracing the words. Bruno smiled.
"It's to remind you," His hand seek her hair and he obliges, "that the Future is always changing. It's to remind you, that however worse the sandstorm is, it isn't still. It's to remind you, that you should always push forward, no matter how hard it may be." He looks her in the eye. For a second, green glows in tandem with gold.
"It's to remind you," There's a lilt in his soft voice; a lilt perhaps of mischief? Fondness? Joy? Love? "that I See by the sand, and thus so you should never worry when traversing it, because I will always be there by your side, as your eyes and as your guide."
It takes a minute for Mirabel to calm down.
(The Lantern sparks. It's Bright.)
After cooing at the adorable Sobrina-Tio moment, the youngest of the two men finally stepped forward and his grin is something fierce. Mariano's gift is a small machete (What? Tia Casita told me I could! Mira will be fine, Mama!)- engraved with Mirabel's name and with a sheath made of the best leather for her enchanted embroidery.
"Two more years and they'd let you join me out there," Mariano said, watching as his sister admired her new blade, "and by then you'll have needed to have your own bolo. So I got you one! You're the best dance partner I've ever had, hermanita. I can't wait."
Mirabel's beaming smile rivaled the shine of her machete's polish.
(The Lantern sparks. It's Brighter.)
It's now Abuela Rosa's turn, and Mirabel could feel the atmosphere shift. Like... the world itself was holding it's breath- excited and nervous for whatever laid inside the innocuous small wrapped box.
"Mijita preciosa," The elder woman began, "I've had the honor and pleasure of calling you one of my own for two years now, and hopefully for more. You've thrived under my care, and we as well in your company. La Casa Guzman became a home for you," Her smile is mischievous, "And I think it's about time to make that official, no?"
"Come with me, Mirasol." Gently, the Guzman Matriarch led the Madrigal Heir to the bedroom wing, escorted by their two men. They passed through Abuela's, then Mariano's- until finally, they came to a stop in front of one of the guest rooms.
A dangerous feeling burst inside of Mirabel's chest as she realized that the door had no doorknob.
That feeling only doubled when Mariano left her tail with a realizing Bruno in tow, both of them then positioning themselves on each side of the door.
"Abuelita?" Mirabel asked again, tears in her eyes and a desperate, reluctantly reigned-in hope in her voice.
The elder woman's smile was all love.
"Happy Birthday, mi pequeña Mirabel," the box that had been taunting her all walk was finally placed in her hands, "Welcome Home."
Shakily, the little girl unraveled the ribbon and lifted the cover.
Inside was the most beautifully crafted golden doorknob she'd ever seen.
Fully trembling now, she grasped the object with as much care as she could while emotions of all kinds and intensity were roiling around inside her poor little heart, her fingers tracing the monogrammed 'M' over and over and over again- as if just to prove to herself that it was real.
She didn't know how long she spent in the trance, or how her tears were big and flowing, but when she finally looked up and saw the patience and love in her family's eyes, she realized it didn't matter. They knew how important this was to her, how needed- and they let her have her moment.
"What are you waiting for, hermanita?" Mariano softly half-teased, "Your Door is waiting."
An actual Door to an actual Room.
A Room that was all her own.
It shouldn't have felt like the few steps needed to be closer took years to accomplish, but it did. Mirabel looked at the doorknob again- one last check, one last check -and saw...
With her family right behind her.
(The Lantern goes wild. It sparks. It burns. It-)
A happy sob, and finally the doorknob is clicked into place.
(Reblog for Part 5! Sorry this took long; School punched me in the gut and had us have the 3rd Mastery Test 2 weeks after the First Day of class when even our LMS is still desert empty. Hope you enjoy!)
