Chapter Text
“Mirabel!”
Mirabel bolted upright, hair wild and heart hammering. She shoved her glasses onto her nose and squinted at her clock through the sunlight that burned into her sleep-filled eyes. “Mierda,” she hissed seeing it was past 9. Jumping from under her covers, she started throwing on her clothes with lighting speed. Mirabel shot casita a dark glare. “You should've woken me up.”
The tiles shivered and her wardrobe doors opened in a shrug. Oh, right, I forgot. With a calming breath, she apologised and quickly ran her hand over the wall. She brushed off her smart skirt –printed with the symbols of the family gifts around the base – and wrapped her butterfly-embroidered shawl over her shoulders before dashing from her room.
It had been four years since the house was rebuilt, and 3 months since Abuela had left the Encanto. The townsfolk had their questions but respected the family’s privacy. They understood enough that Alma was old and only getting older. Truth be told, the family knew little else on the matter.
Except Mirabel.
In the foyer, the breakfast table was being cleared away by Antonio and Camilo. Mirabel practically ran to the stairs, then without a second thought, slid down the banister. Casita shifted to make the ride more exciting, spiralling the stairs and throwing her into the air at the end. She stuck the landing and Antonio clapped with a small ‘wow’. Mirabel bowed dramatically, pleased she’d made her nephew laugh. Camilo just rolled his eyes and got back to clearing plates, but Mirabel caught the small, impressed smile on his face.
Her ma, however, was not so easily swayed. Mirabel shrugged and readjusted her glasses on her nose. Julieta tapped her foot impatiently, arms crossed.
“Mirabel. You’re up late.”
“Ay, I'm sorry mamá.”
Unable to stay mad at her daughter, Julieta muttered under breath about ‘lazy teenagers’ and turned to enter the kitchen. Mirabel followed with a shrug. Behind her, Camilo was chortling. Mirabel ignored him.
In the kitchen, Julieta handed her daughter a plate of leftovers from breakfast and an espresso. Mirabel thanked her and propped against counter, watching idly as her ma got to work on today’s batch of Buñuelos.
“You know you need to be more responsible. Your Abuela chose you as her successor, so all her duties are now yours. I know the last few months have been hard on all of us. But the time for grief is over. You must take your Abuela’s place in the community. And that involves being up early for breakfast and preparing the family for the day.”
“I know mamá.”
Julieta frowned. She’d been doing that a lot since the new year. “Lord only knows why mamá would leave when you’re still just a child. It’s a lot for you to take on. And with so little experience-”
“Technically I’m not a child anymore. I’m turning twenty tomorrow, mamá.” Mirabel placed her empty plate on the counter and wrapped her arms around her ma’s shoulders. “It’s okay. I’ve got this, trust me. I just didn’t sleep well, that’s all. I’ll make sure to be up early tomorrow.”
Julieta smiled. She kissed Mirabel on the cheek and resumed her work. “I know, mi Vida. I know.” Mirabel felt like her ma had left something out but didn’t push her on it. She would have time to talk to her properly later. For now, she downed her coffee and escaped the uncomfortable silence that fell on the kitchen. She wished she could tell her ma the full truth. But some secrets were best left unshared.
~
Three hours and about fifty conversations later, Mirabel collapsed on her bench. Louisa had put it in the ever-expanding garden after the magic had returned, intending to use it herself, but growing tired of people interrupting her relaxation. Nobody else had time to really use it, and her pa didn’t want to risk getting stung. So, Mirabel had inherited it gleefully.
Isabela had grown a beautiful Cordia next to the bench which blossomed all year round. The yellow flowers reminded Mirabel of the butterflies which had connected her to her Abuela. She talked to them sometimes. When the wind rustled through them, it was if they were talking back to her. Now when she spoke to them, she imagined her Abuela was listening.
She couldn’t stay long. She had a meeting with Senora Blanka about the expansion of her home, which Mirabel would need to call on Louisa for, and then she was required to attend a church reading. After that, she was free, at least until another problem arose.
Despite her mother’s views, Mirabel didn’t mind the work around town. Though it was a lot of listening and the occasional speech, she felt important for the first time in her life. But there was an underlying feeling that people didn’t respect her. Unlike when her Abuela had taken her around town to learn the way to greet people, the townsfolk would now whisper as she passed alone, or at times, question her demands. Mirabel put it down to her youth and newness to the role. She smiled through it and spoke proudly. For years she had dealt with people looking down on her. She would earn the people’s respect.
But not all the responsibilities of being the matriarch were so straightforward.
Her Abuela had warned her about the transition of power from one matriarch to another. She'd warned Mirabel that the process could be painful. Over the years, Abuela said she had grown used to the feeling, and eventually, as she grew her connection to Casita and the magic, the ... episodes had stopped.
Mirabel tensed as she felt the ache start in her fingers, like pins and needles. It spread up her arms and through her chest, up her neck, and down to her toes. Where the feeling went, so did trails of gold. It whorled under her skin in deceptively beautifully spirals. Mirabel grimaced as she braced for what came next. The gold glowed brighter as the ache turned into searing heat which burned like alcohol in a cut. The feeling only lasted seconds, before the light faded and the pain petered out. She was left feeling overly warm and, strangely, a little itchy.
Mirabel had initially thought that her own connection to Casita had been pretty strong already. So maybe the episodes - which she called 'surges' - wouldn't be so bad. But that one definitely felt worse than the last. Mirabel put it down to how much she still needed to learn. Afterall, the type of connection she had to Casita now was a different kind of understanding. Deeper. Personal.
She could hear the magic flowing though the Encanto, and on occasions like this, feel that same magic in her own body. It burned through her her veins, carved into her bones. She was overtly aware of everything connected to the Encanto. It was at times a little overwhelming. She imagined it was how Dolores felt when she couldn’t control her hearing, or her TÍo Bruno when he had an involuntary vision.
Her Abuela had never worked out what brought on the painful episodes. But Mirabel was determined to figure it out. She wanted to control this “power”, as her siblings and cousins had learned to do. It was the final task her Abuela had given her, and part of the secret she had inherited. Being matriarch was more than Mirabel could have imagined. But she could handle it. She had to.
The church bell tolled, and Mirabel cracked her bones, shaking off the last of the aching. “Time to make the town proud,” she said, touching her hand to the trunk of the blossom. As she walked away, a small breeze whispered though the flowers and they waved her goodbye.
~
“Gloria al Padre, y al Hijo, y al Espíritu Santo. Como era en el principio, ahora y siempre, por los siglos de los siglos. Amén.”
Mirabel stood from the pews, keeping her head bowed till she was out in the open. Churchgoers bustled around her, many clutching their bibles and performing la señal de cruz. Mirabel copied their actions out of respect. The last thing she wanted was to offend the tonwsfolk, or restart the rumour that the Madrigals were demons sent from el infierno. She shuddered. That was a hard year.
“Dona Mirabel. An honour to be in your presence.”
Mirabel rolled her eyes with a smile as she turned to the voice.
“Hello to you too, Estella.”
After the magic returned to the Encanto, the people had warmed to Mirabel. She’d grown the confidence to meet more kids of her age, figuring it was a little strange to be hanging around the hyperactive youngsters who demanded stories from her all the time. Not that she didn’t enjoy telling stories. But babysitting 24/7 was getting old.
Estella had stood out from the rest. Quiet and reserved at first, she hadn’t tried to use her to get to know one of the ‘cool Madrigals with the actual powers'.
Mirabel had first met her when Abuela took her to a house-meeting to ‘show her the ropes’. When the Senora had shown discomfort at discussing private matters in Mirabel’s presence, Mirabel had escaped into the backroom when she ran into a girl at work on a pottery wheel. Estella had stared at Mirabel with wide eyes and immediately stopped her work to stand and bow. Mirabel laughed, taking in this messy girl with clay all up her arms and on her face. The rest was history, bonding over their creativity – and their shared exasperation of wearing glasses.
“I didn’t see you at the service,” Mirabel said as they wandered down the street.
“Oh, I was busy trading some of my vases for bread and cheese.”
“The pretty ones with the flowers around the rim and the fancy handles? Just for bread and cheese?”
Estella laughed. Mirabel loved her laugh. It was contagious, full of snorting when she really got started. “I make plenty of vases. It’s no big deal. And it’s really good bread.
They walked in silence for a bit, Mirabel waving to townsfolk who greeted her and smiling at the ones who frowned. Estella looked at her curiously.
“How do you do it?”
“What?”
“Put up with los idiotas who think you’re not good enough to fill your Abuela’s shoes?”
Mirabel raised an eyebrow. “Quiet what you say. I need those 'idiotas' to like me.” Estella blew out a breath and Mirabel wiggled her fingers conspiratorially “I memorise their faces to I can get Antonio to set a jaguar on them.”
Estella bumped into her friend with a snort. “Yeah right, as if. I like Tonito.”
“Yeah, me too.”
They reached the edge of town where the path up to Casita started. Mirabel could sense the power threading through the cobbles. She resisted the urge to kneel and see if she could feel its warmth under her palms. Instead, she turned to Estella who was looking at Casita wistfully.
“You are coming to my fiesta de cumpleaños tomorrow, yes?”
Estella turned to her, fiddling with her glasses which hung from her neck on a leather cord. Small star charms hung from it, glinting when the sun hit them. Mirabel had joked about how having glasses on a cord was such an old lady thing to do, but secretly she thought it was an excellent idea. Without Casita, she would always be losing her own.
“I’m invited?”
“Pft, yeah of course you are. My mamá would invite the whole town if she could. Actually, I think she might have. But I’d like you there specifically. You’re my mejor amiga.”
Cracking the widest grin Mirabel had ever seen, Estella grabbed her into a tight hug, resting her chin on her friend’s head. When they parted, Estella spun around with a small squeal. “I get to see inside the famous Casa Madrigal and meet your family personally. So exciting!”
Mirabel gave her a mock-hurt look.
“And celebrate your 20 years, of course.” Estella chuckled. “I better get going to work on a gift for you.”
“You don’t have to-”
“¡No seas tonto! I’ll see you tomorrow. With a gift. Adiós.”
“Adiós.” Mirabel waved her off, shaking her head but grinning all the same.
Behind her, Casita rattled her cobbles impatiently. Mirabel got the feeling someone was looking for her. “Coming Casita.” Mirabel took one last look around the town, watching Estella disappear into the crowd, before turning and letting Casita lead her to where she was needed.