Chapter Text
“Welcome to the Family Madrigal! The home of the Family Madrigal! I know it sounds a bit fantastical and magical, but I'm part of the Family Madrigal.” - The Family Madrigal, Encanto
Another day of paradise in Encanto, another day of Mirabel getting followed by small children as soon as she left the palace.
It was the usual three: Cecilia, Alejandra and Juancho, friends of her little cousin, Antonio. Antonio called Juancho “Pumped Juancho” and the name seemed to quickly be spreading through the kingdom.
Mirabel wasn’t sure where the kid got so much coffee…
“Story, story, story!” the kids cried, trailing after her and Antonio. “Mirabel, come on, please? Please? Please, please, ppplllleeeeaaaassseeeee?”
“Who’s asking?” Mirabel turned to them with a smirk. Antonio, sitting on his favourite jaguar Parce, laughed at his friends’ antics.
“Us!” Cecilia cried, clapping her hands.
“Well, ‘Us,’ I can’t just pull a story from nothing!” Mirabel made a show of throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Do I look like Camilo to you?”
“Kind of,” Alejandra said.
Hm, okay, maybe Mirabel walked right into that one. She looked at their bright, eager faces and huffed in amusement. “Okay, okay- what kind of story do you want?”
“Tell us how you fought the evil witch!”
“Tell us how you saved Casita!”
“Tell us how you saved Prince Bruno!”
“That’s all the same story,” Antonio pointed out.
“It is?” Juancho’s voice was getting high-pitched again. His hands shook and his eyelid twitched as he quickly drank his coffee before Mirabel could snatch the cup away. Seriously, where were the kid’s parents? Mirabel needed to talk to them about hiding their coffee better. All that caffeine could not be good.
But they were all staring at her expectantly. Antonio nudged her.
“It is,” Mirabel confirmed and the kids whooped in excitement, asking more and more questions, shouting over each other.
“Okay, okay, calm down!” Mirabel cried. “Follow me.” She trooped off, the kids at her heels and Antonio by her side. She led them through the city streets and they followed obediently like baby ducklings- particularly excitable baby ducklings. The streets were already packed despite the early hour. She saw her sister Luisa lift a bridge over her head and move it further down the river. She saw her cousin Dolores arm in arm with Lord Mariano and Camilo shape-shifting to the amusement of another group of kids.
“Camilo!” Antonio called, waving for his brother’s attention. “Mira’s gonna tell the story!”
“Oh?” Camilo turned from Abuela back to himself and hurried over. The other group of kids followed him, five in total. “You can’t tell the story without its star!”
“That would be me,” Mirabel said, nudging him. “You turned up in Act Two.”
“Lies and slander, I was the star.”
Antonio shook his head. “Act Two,” he repeated seriously. Camilo shot him a look of betrayal and pushed him. Antonio clung to Parce and Mirabel rolled her eyes fondly, leading the quickly growing group to the family mural.
The mural was only a year old, and was in the same plaza as Abeulo Pedro’s mural, directly across from it. Flowers and candles were in front of Pedro’s mural and Mirabel wondered if they’d ever get around to changing the mural; it still showed Pedro holding baby Bruno.
The family’s mural showed all of them. There was Abuela Alma and Abuelo Pedro, hand in hand. Abuela had her crown on her head, Pedro was forever young and handsome, holding their precious candle. Just below them were their triplets; Mirabel’s own mamá Julieta, her Tia Pepa, and Tio Bruno in the middle of his sisters. Her papá Agustín and Tío Félix were next to their wives. Then there were all the kids: Mirabel and her sisters, Luisa and Isabela; Camilo, Dolores and Antonio. Above them all was La Familia Madrigal, and they were surrounded by a border of candles, flowers, dumbbells, butterflies, suns and soundwaves, chameleons, jaguars and toucans, hourglasses and rolling pins and frying pans, bees and umbrellas.
It was a crowded mural to say the least.
Mirabel loved it dearly. It always put a smile on her face.
“You have a big family,” Alejandra said.
“I do,” Mirabel said fondly. “Now-” She clapped her hands together. “It’s story time.”
The kids all sat around in a circle. Mirabel, Camilo and Antonio sat against the wall. Antonio’s jaguar curled up against her little cousin’s side, looking distinctly sleepy.
Camilo started the story in his most dramatic voice; “This is the story of how Mirabel died.”
There was a horrified pause. Juancho dropped his cup (how was it full again?) and Cecila caught it before it smashed.
Mirabel slapped Camilo’s arm. “Don’t scare them,” she scolded and turned to them with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry!” she said brightly. “It’s actually a very fun story and, truth is, it’s not even really mine- it’s mostly Tio Bruno’s story.”
“The Lost Prince,” one of the little girls said, with that big, sad-eyed look most people used to have when they mentioned her uncle. Maria, Mirabel was certain.
“Not lost anymore,” Camilo said. He winked at Mirabel and added proudly, “Thanks to Mira here.”
Mirabel could feel herself blushing from all the stares. More and more people in the plaza were taking notice of them; more and more were stopping to listen, kids and adults alike.
Mirabel cleared her throat and tried to look princessy and wise.
“Okay, so you know how we got our miracle?” Mirabel asked. The kids all nodded, attentive little students. Even some adults played along and nodded.
Mirabel smiled at them.
“So you know our Abuelo Pedro gave his life to protect Encanto,” Mirabel said. She saw a priest cross himself, vaguely heard him begin to murmur a prayer. Antonio waved at him. “And when he did, we were given our magic: tall mountains grew around the city, our enemies were blasted away…And our palace became alive.”
“Ooohh,” the kids said. Cecilia glanced at Casita curiously, clearly visible at the top of a hill.
“Casita’s lots of fun to play with,” Camilo said with a smug grin. “Very easy to play hide and seek in there, the walls will move for you.”
“Are you telling this story or am I?”
“Carry on.”
Mirabel turned back to their audience. Even more people had joined. She wondered how long it would be before Dolores gathered everyone and brought them along.
“But that wasn’t all: when our parents and Tio turned five, Casita granted them new rooms and gifts- magical gifts. My mamá Julieta can…” She pointed at one little boy, Criston, whose hand had shot up.
“She can heal you with food!” he said happily. “One time I broke my arm and she healed it with an empanada!”
Mirabel grinned. “My Tia Pepa?”
“Controls the weather!” Juancho said, bouncing in place. “With her moods!”
“10 points to Pumped Juancho!” Antonio said, grinning.
“And our Tio Bruno?” Camilo asked. “Any guesses from the class?”
“He sees the future,” Cecilia said with wide-eyed wonderment. “That’s why the witch took him. That’s what my mamí said.”
It had been a year since everything had been fixed, but most of the crowd still went quiet and solemn when Bruno’s disappearance was brought up. Mirabel wondered if that would ever change. Maybe it would and maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing if it didn’t, though she knew “all the fuss” made her Tio uncomfortable.
Camilo nodded, looking unusually serious himself.
“Sí,” he said. “Exactly. She stole our Tio right from Casita. She wanted his magic all to herself.”
“Tio Bruno didn’t remember being a prince,” Mirabel explained to the kids. “Or much of anything after a while.” Her smile dimmed, her chest tightened the way it always did when she thought about it too much. “He was only five, and he was gone for so long; and the witch, she…” She shook her head and tried to smile properly again. “But here’s a secret about the Madrigals: we’re all very stubborn, and the witch didn’t count on that.”
The kids all giggled, a few of the adults smiled or huffed in amusement and Mirabel glanced up at the mural, at the image of her Tio and grinned.
“We released thousands of lanterns into the sky, every year, on Mamá, Tia Julieta and Tio Bruno’s birthday,” Camilo said with an extravagant wave of his hand. “Bruno could see them- and he wanted to know what they were.”
“And that’s where the fun begins,” Mirabel said. She pulled Antonio closer, ruffling his hair. He giggled and leaned against her shoulder. Camilo nodded at her as though to say, Take it away.
Mirabel’s gaze roamed over their audience. Many of them knew the story, though not a lot of them knew the details.
“If you ask Abuela,” Mirabel said. “She’d say this was another miracle at work. And maybe she’s right.”