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justadreaminghufflepuff · 1 year

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Six Months Ago

Normalcy is a fiddly word to define, even at the best of times. Nearly fifty years ago, the denizens of the valley associated it with struggle–the refugees who eventually formed Pueblo del Milagro fled with only what they could carry on their backs. A decade later, normalcy meant magical triplets who ensured abundant crop yields, healed broken bones with a snack, and warned of natural disasters. Until Mirabel’s fifth birthday, it was normal for everyone who was born a Madrigal to receive a gift from the Candle. For the ten years that followed, it was normal to pretend that one of the Madrigals didn’t exist, and for the rest of the family to pretend that nothing was wrong with this. The past eight weeks saw a magical family adjusting to a different kind of normal–one without empanadas that cured aches, or strength that could move buildings, or storms that heralded an angry woman. Then Mirabel brought the magic back, and the word again needed redefining.

Today, nearly two weeks later, normalcy for Luisa Madrigal was beginning to take shape. It meant starting her work day by leaning one shoulder against Casita’s doorframe, eyes closed, waiting for Mamá and contemplating mundane and abstract things like the way words were defined, instead of a neverending list of chores. The sun was already up (and even now, Luisa had to stamp down her panic that she was late, she was running behind, she was letting everyone down), shining brilliantly even without Tía’s assistance. Rain–again, not Tía’s–had come and gone sometime during the night, leaving behind clear air with a sweet, heavy scent. Luisa remembered reading a specific word for it in one of Pá’s books ages ago, and made a mental note to look it up later.

The clatter of a handcart announced Mamá’s arrival. Luisa opened her eyes–and promptly made a face. Pá was with her and they were flirting.

Pá pulled the cart onto the front path while Mamá walked beside him. She gave a little curtsy as he put it down. “Thank you, Señor. So fortunate that such a fine, kindly man appeared in my hour of need.”

Pá played his part right back with a bow. “No es nada, Señorita Madrigal. You and your family do so much for this town, and it is certainly never a burden to aid such a beautiful and talented woman.”

“Even so, I insist you accept payment, Señor.”

“Oh? And what did you have in mind?” Pá wiggled an eyebrow at Mamá.

Mamá offered Pá a bundle of snacks. “Just this–” When he reached for them, she took the opportunity to pull him close. “--and a kiss or two, guapo.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but how can I say no to that face?” He leaned down while Mamá stood on her toes.

After the third peck on the lips, Luisa cleared her throat, pink dusting her cheeks. “Hey, Mamá, can I get that for you?”

Pá let out a dramatic gasp as he pulled away, clutching his chest. “You are a mamá? You scarlet woman, asking me for a kiss when you are already another’s bride!”

Mamá shook her head and rolled her eyes affectionately.

Pá switched his focus to Luisa. “Ah, I should have guessed as much. Who but you could be the mother of such a beautiful gem such as this?” He kissed the back of Luisa’s hand.

Luisa blushed in earnest now. “Papá-aaaa…”

Pá just laughed. “Alright, alright, I’m done.” Eyes shining earnestly, he beckoned Luisa down and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Uno por mi vida –” then he pulled Mamá in for a final kiss– “y uno por mi amor. See you both at lunch! Te amo!”

Luisa and her mother echoed the sentiment and watched Pá disappear back around Casita. Luisa started to pick up the cart of healing food.

“Ah-bup-bup, no, Lulu,” Mamá chided gently. “I’ve got it.” As if to prove her point, Mamá grabbed the cart handles and started walking down the path before Luisa could protest. Luisa slowed her normal pace to keep side-by-side with her. Her fingers itched to do something, and she actively worked to not twist them in her skirt. I’m strong again, she almost said, I can carry it. She knew that she wasn’t necessarily weak without her gift, and that she didn’t have to carry everything that might be heavy just because of it, she really did.

Still. What kind of daughter let her mother carry everything when she had super strength?

Thankfully, before she could fall down that spiral, Mamá came to the rescue. “How is the Concepcion house coming along?” Grateful for the distraction, Luisa launched into a synopsis of her latest project.

Okay, it wasn’t just her project. When the mountains had split, the small quake that followed had also cracked the foundation of the Concepcion family house, just a few streets off the main road. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed. Yet, the Concepcions insisted that Casita be rebuilt first–“no use splitting our resources” was the argument used, despite the Madrigal’s protests. Now that the gifts were back, Luisa intended to build them a new home in record time.

As the pair reached the village, Mamá stopped and handed Luisa a bundled napkin. “In case you get hungry before lunch, mi vida. Te amo.” She wrapped her arms around Luisa’s middle in a hug, then picked up her cart and headed toward the plaza.

Luisa undid the package just enough to peek inside. Two large buñelos. Her favorite. She smiled and wrapped them back up.

At the end of this street, at the very edge of town, was the masonry yard. The yard itself was open air, with a small one-room office in the corner. A wooden awning stretched between the office and the yard’s edge, providing shade for workers to complete orders. It was a place Luisa was well acquainted with; all bricks and stonework in the Encanto came from here.

A thick-set man with sun-darkened skin and short, black hair stood from the desk before bowing as Luisa entered the office. “Ah, Señorita Madrigal, buenos, buenos! So good to have you back! Can’t let the lazy sons of guns at Tomás’ shop hog you all the time.” Tomás was one of the village’s carpenters. “What brings you here, bonita?”

Luisa couldn’t help the grin on her face. Señor Aponte always greeted her with a bow and a compliment, no matter how many times she worked for him. It wasn’t necessary, but…it was nice. “Hola, Señor. Is Elias around? He said yesterday that the bricks for the Concepcion house were ready.” Elias Hernandez was Señor Aponte’s apprentice, a sweet, gangly boy as tall as Luisa’s Pá, that she remembered from school.

Señor Aponte pottered around the desk, muttering, “Where is that boy, where is that boy–ah, sí,” he snapped his fingers without looking up. “He went to speak to Fernando about extra mortar. Ah-ha.” He held up a sheet of paper. “He’ll be at the worksite later, no preocupes. I’ll show you which pallets are yours, come! Now I know this isn’t your first day, so I know you know what I mean when…” His voice faded as walked out the back door, and just like that Luisa fell back into a decade-long routine. A tension she didn’t realize she was carrying released at the familiarity of it.

The build site wasn’t far, but it was further into town. With a pallet of bricks balanced over her head (if she paused to appreciate that feat for a second, that was her business), Luisa started out. She found herself dodging more people than usual. Most were heading to the plaza. Could be nothing but…she bit the inside of her cheek unconsciously. Was there an accident already? A new illness going around? Did they need help? If it was serious, they might need her gift, but…

Somewhat reluctantly, Luisa continued to the build site. If anything was the matter, Mamá would be set up by now, and would likely be the best person for the job. If Luisa was needed, someone would get her. They always did. That wouldn’t have changed, surely.

Already, the worksite bustled with activity. Tomás and two of his workers were hefting beams for the frame and setting them in concrete. Señor Concepcion stood by a table, surrounded by his three brothers and six sons, going over blueprints. As soon as Luisa heaved the pallet to the ground, she heard him call over. “Hola, Luisa. How many more?”

“Six more today–already on it, back in a bit!”

“Bueno! I’ll go over the plan with you when you finish!” He began barking orders at his sons. “Julio, José, start moving those to the south side! Juan, Javier, Jaime, help Tomás! Joaquin, with me! Don’t let the señorita show you up!”

Luisa held back a scoff at the last comment. Not sure they have a choice in the matter.

She made it halfway back to the mason’s before the commotion reached her ears. She paused and looked around. There was definitely a crowd gathering by the plaza. She heard yelling–muffled and indistinct at this distance. Before she could make a move, Dolores came hurrying down the street, moving toward the crowd and practically dragging Abuela by the wrist. Tío Bruno and Mirabel were hot on their heels. Just before they disappeared into the crowd, Dolores caught Luisa’s gaze and waved frantically for her to follow. Dread began to creep into her mind, but Luisa set her jaw and rushed to follow.

The plaza in Pueblo del Milagro was the hub of town; it was centrally located, with the main street running down one side, another wide street feeding into it from the southeast, and several smaller roads leading there from the outlying farms. If someone needed to get anywhere in the Encanto, the best place to start was the plaza. The cathedral where Sunday Mass and big ceremonies like weddings or funerals were held was on its southern edge. Mamá set up her healing table there, as did the merchants every market day. Festivals often centered around it. All in all, it was the beating heart of the village.

It made sense, then, that whatever was wrong started there.

“Make way, muevolo, por favor!” Luisa called over everyone's heads. The crowd parted enough to let the Madrigals through, until Dolores stopped abruptly in front of a sight that made Luisa’s blood run cold.

The crowd had formed a circle around the scene. On the right were Isabela and Mamá. Their part of the circle was dotted with a mismash of plants, ranging from lilies to saplings. Isa’s new plants had a language, just like Tía’s weather, but Luisa hadn’t seen enough of it to know more than that cacti meant anger. There were a lot of cacti. Mamá had one arm around Isa’s shoulders, simultaneously comforting and steering her so that Mamá stood between Isabela and the other four.

Three of the four Luisa knew by sight: her primo Camilo, Mariano Guzmán, and Elias Hernandez. They were locked in a wrestling match with the last man, who–

Luisa blinked. She…didn’t recognize him. She wracked her brain, but came up empty. That was unheard of. There should have at least been a resemblance to someone she knew, so she could know the family name at a minimum. Even the traveling merchants who came every few months were all family enterprises, with parents teaching their children the trade and swearing them to secrecy about the route in and out. Now, though–she glanced sharply to the mountains, freshly split and easy to see. Now, could anyone get in if they so chose? The thought sent a shiver of icy fear up her spine, which she ruthlessly squashed.

The wrestling match came to an end a few moments later. Elias hauled the stranger up and held him with one arm wrapping the man’s neck and the other looping under his shoulder, one hand gripping the opposite wrist. Camilo scooted back on his butt, one arm clutched across his chest in a way that should have been painful, before Mariano helped him to his feet. The crowd near them parted to let Camilo limp away. Luisa heard Dolores exhale in relief. Only once he was sure that Camilo was not in fighting range did Mariano turn to the stranger. Though Mariano had a split lip and bruises were forming on Elias’ face, the stranger looked far worse, with blood seeping from a broken nose and a cut on his brow and his shirt torn. His eyes were screwed shut in pain, and Luisa thought she saw a black eye starting to form.

Mariano rolled his shoulders and dusted himself off. “What in God’s name did you think–”

The stranger opened his eyes to glower at Mariano, and several gasps were heard in the whispering crowd. His eyes glowed gold. Not just the iris, like when Tío used his Gift, but all of it, as if someone had replaced his eyes with balls of solid gold. The crowd, minus the Madrigals, pressed back a step.

He spoke in a gravelly sneer. “Think you’re a big man fighting for a poor, innocent girl? Think she really loves you, boy? You didn’t see. She’ll chew you up and spit you out for a fling.”

Two-inch long thorns sprouted from Isabela’s hair. “What?!”

The man continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Leave this to a real man, niño.” He locked eyes with Isabela and tried to reach for her. “You see, Señorita? Señor Lily-Livered couldn’t even take me one man to another. Your men here are soft.”

Several men in the crowd protested at this. Abuela had apparently heard enough. She strode purposefully into the circle, the rest of the Madrigals following half a step behind. Luisa heard Camilo push his way over to where his sister was and whisper to her.

Abuela addressed the stranger in what Luisa called her “Matriarch” voice. “What is going on here? Who are you to–”

Again, the man continued as if he hadn’t heard any interruptions. “Life out there is hard, it makes us tough. We learn to ride with whatever comes–”

“Perdón, Señor!”

“--so let me show you the ride of a lifetime. Let me show you how–” he grinned lecherously, “-- hard life has made me.”

Luisa suddenly had to hold on to Tío Bruno and Mirabel before they jumped the man. Dolores did the same with Camilo, though she looked so thunderous that Luisa half-expected a cloud to start forming above her head. As it was, Elias released the stranger at the same moment that Mariano punched the man in the gut. The man doubled over on the ground.

Mamá pushed Isabela fully behind her, eyes blazing and posture rigid. Luisa had never seen her look more like Abuela. “How dare you! How dare you say such things about my daughter to her face, you–” she let loose a list of curses that Luisa didn’t know her mother even knew. Isa, for her part, just looked at the man, haughty and disdainful. Abuela gave Mamá a reproachful look but said nothing.

Elias knelt over the stranger and pinned him down. The Madrigals formed a wall between him and Isabela, with Abuela at the center, hands on her hips. Luisa stood at her side, arms crossed, and prayed that her expression was menacing enough to mask her racing heartbeat. Mariano squeezed in beside her, whispering inaudibly. Talking to Dolores, then. Gently, Luisa pushed Mirabel and Camilo behind her.

Camilo’s hiss of “Hey, we’re not kids–” was cut off as Abuela spoke again.

“I don’t know what kind of place you were raised in, Señor, but such behavior is beyond unacceptable here! Now for the last time: who are you?”

For nearly a full minute, the stranger said nothing. His strange eyes flicked between Mariano, Abuela, Bruno, and behind them, presumably toward Isabela.

“Well?” Camilo tried in vain to push past Luisa. “Forgot how to speak, bastardo?” For once, Dolores didn’t thump him on the head for swearing.

Still the stranger didn’t respond, beyond a narrowing of his eyes. Abuela started tapping her foot. Luisa resisted the urge to fidget. Then he scoffed.

“You truly believe that, don’t you, galán? Ha! You didn’t–” He was talking to Mariano, who just furrowed his brow.

“What are you talking about?”

The stranger didn’t even pause. It was like he was listening to an entirely different conversation. “--see what I saw.” He let out a laugh with a manic edge. “Or you did, and that’s just life here? Hahahaha, that makes sense! So much sense! She’s got you under her thrall. The boy causes a stampede, the woman kills your loved ones and steals their bones to make a husband, but a few words from her and your eyes close! Ah, but mine are open, wide open!” He suddenly tried to throw his head back, shouting, “The doors to your Hell are open! Run, run all of you!”

Elias snarled, but before he could do anything to silence the man, Mirabel saw her opening. She slipped between Dolores and Tío and stepped toward the man before anyone could grab her. Barely a pace away, she stopped and addressed him, her pose a mirror of Abuela’s. “Listen here, you asshole, whatever–”

Something strange happened then. The stranger’s face snapped to Mirabel–the first time he’d responded to something directly, besides violence. A mix of fear and hatred washed over his face. “You!”

Mirabel froze, faltering. “Me?”

“Who else, bruja?”

Luisa’s hackles rose. She unconsciously bared her teeth, not that the man noticed as he continued ranting.

“What am I talking about? What do you think? I’ve seen your magic–I see it now,” he managed to free one hand to point accusingly at Mirabel, “dripping from your lips. You won’t trick me again!” Lightning fast, he kicked Elias off of him and rolled to a discarded pack that Luisa hadn’t noticed before. He pulled back a few straps on it and rose. “You won’t trick anyone again!” With no further warning, he lifted a shotgun to his shoulder. Luisa’s heart nearly stopped.

Now, shortly after receiving her gift, Luisa had noticed a shift in how the village treated her. People were less likely to initiate the friendly head pats and hugs she was used to, and flinched away if she started to look upset. Even little Luisa couldn’t blame them, not really. Heck, the first thing she did the night of her ceremony was nearly break her father in half. She probably would have holed herself up in her room forever, if not for the combined efforts of Mamá, Tía Pepa, and Tío Bruno. Tía knew what it was like to have a powerful gift that scared you as well as everyone else, and to have a whole town monitoring your emotional state. Tío did, too, though in a different way. And Mamá utterly refused to be afraid of Luisa, even when that sometimes led to her getting hurt. She helped Luisa relearn how to hold things so they didn’t break, until practice and care became second nature.

As she grew older, a new fear joined the old one–the fear that one day, she would have to use her gift to hurt someone intentionally. She had always shied away from learning how to fight; it was too dangerous. What if she misjudged how much force she used on someone, and then couldn’t get them to Mamá fast enough? But what if by refusing to learn, she guaranteed that she would face a threat unprepared? Back and forth the anxieties drove her– damned if you fight, damned if you don’t . This time, it was Pá to the rescue, distracting and teaching her with his stories full of great heroes who used their strength for good.

(“But they still hurt people, Papí.”

“Sí, mi vida, but there is a difference. Heroes only fight if they have to, when they are protecting those they love.”

“But why? Why do they have to fight?”

“...Sometimes, Lulu…sometimes the people in the world get so lost, so consumed by a selfish goal, that they forget how to be nice. They only remember how to be hurtful. It’s the job of the good, the strong, to protect who they can from people like that. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”)

Luisa had resolved to do the same: only hurt to protect those under her care. It…helped, in a way, to know what and where the line was. It grew nuance as she grew up, but it was still there.

In short, Luisa was not an angry woman. Nor was she a violent one.

Until the exact moment she saw someone point a gun at her little sister.

With a bellow like a lion’s roar, she charged the man. The gun went off–so close and so loud that Luisa could feel it in her teeth–but she didn’t stop. In one motion, she yanked the terrible thing from his hands–and kicked.

The crowd had screamed and scrambled back as soon as the gun had come out, meaning Luisa had a clear shot down the road behind them. The stranger rolled head over heels for nearly two dozen meters, before his back thumped against the edge of the bridge. Luisa marched to him. Without pausing, she crumpled the gun like paper, dropping it in front of him. With one hand, she seized the man’s collar and dragged him up to her level. His head lolled to the side, his eyes only halfway open–alive, but barely. Her other hand reached into her pocket and produced one of the buñuelos Mamá had given her. Unceremoniously, she shoved it into his mouth, barely giving him time to swallow before bringing him nose-to-nose with her.

“If I catch you here again, I’ll tear you apart! Leave, and never come back!”

She tossed him down–more gently than before, he needed to be able to run back to whatever pit of Hell he crawled from–with a snarl. He tore down the street, in the direction of the new mountain pass. For what felt like seconds but was probably longer, Luisa continued glaring at his retreating back, until she felt someone touch her arm.

“Luisa, amor, mija preciosa…” Mamá was searching her all over. She zeroed in on a new hole in Luisa’s shirt–near perfectly round, just below her ribcage–and made a sound like a wounded animal. Isabela was at her side, hands hovering like they couldn’t decide what to do.

Automatically, Luisa started trying to soothe them. “No, no, I’m fine, I’m okay, see?” She ran her mother’s hand over the spot near the hole. “No damage. And–” she pulled out the other buñuelo and took a bite. “There. Now you know I’ll be okay.” She smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging way.

Mama did not look reassured. Neither did Isa. In fact, Isa looked like she was getting angry. Luisa shifted her weight. “Are you all okay? Anyone hurt?”

“Are we okay,” Isabela repeated incredulously. “You’re the one who got shot and you’re asking us if we’re okay?”

Luisa desperately needed something to do with her hands. “Well, are you?”

“Yes, idiota, we’re fine.”

A warm cannonball suddenly latched onto Luisa from behind. She twisted. Mirabel.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” came her little sister’s voice, muffled from her face being buried in Luisa’s back.

“Of course I’d do it again, I’d do it a million times if it kept you safe,” Luisa replied without thinking.

Oh, none of them liked that answer. Mirabel clung tighter, looking up with a scowl that was more cute than angry. Mama and Isabela wore similar expressions, with much more effectiveness, as Luisa found herself in the midst of a group hug.

She hugged them back and scanned the crowd. Abuela stood in front of everyone, one hand clinging to Tío’s wrist while the other gestured. People were dispersing on her command. Mariano was crouched down, comforting a wide-eyed Dolores, whose hands were pressed tightly against her ears, while Camilo helped her to her feet. Elias still sat on the ground. When Luisa met his eyes, he flushed and looked down. The few townspeople who were still there switched between staring at Abuela and staring at her.

Luisa took a deep breath, and then it was like the events of the past ten minutes crashed into her head all at once. Someone tried to threaten my family, she thought. I threatened someone with my gift.

I would have killed him.

She started to shake.

No! Stop that! Strong Luisa. Steady Luisa. That’s who they need right now.

Abuela had apparently finished with whatever she wanted to say, because she turned and started toward the four of them, bringing Tío with her. Luisa straightened and squared her shoulders.

She barely had time to open her mouth–to reassure, to question, she didn’t know–before Abuela wrapped her in a hug just as strong as Mamá’s. “Ay, corazón.”

It took Luisa a second to respond, carefully hugging her in return. She tried to reassure them all again. “I’m okay, I’m fine Abuela, are you–”

“Luisa.”

Luisa shut her mouth with an audible clack as Abuela pulled back from the hug just enough to study her. Her face was tight, with sorrow, fear, and determination warring for dominance in her eyes. A few moments passed–Luisa felt a bead of sweat start to form at her temple–when Abuela released a sigh through her nose, shoulders falling. She held Luisa’s hands between both of her smaller ones and looked her straight in the eye. “What you just did was reckless and terrifying, and we will be talking about it later.” Luisa felt her shoulders creep up to her ears. She resisted the urge to look away. Barely.

Mamá, who had moved to fuss over Mirabel, looked up sharply. “Mamá–” she warned.

“It was also one of the bravest things you have ever done,” Abuela continued. She gave a small smile, expression tinged with pride.

Oh. Luisa swallowed and felt the tightness in her chest ease minutely.

Abuela dropped one hand to reach up and caress Luisa’s face. Luisa stooped to meet her halfway. “Pequeña Hércules,” she whispered, kissing her cheek. A faint warmth spread in her chest, and Luisa managed a small smile back. With a soft sigh, Abuela dropped her hands to her sides, and Luisa stood up again. “Dolores, come over here, please. Bring your brother,” Abuela said softly. A few seconds later, Camilo and Dolores joined the rest of them. “The town has been told to stay indoors until the council can figure out what happened and create a plan. We are meeting as soon as possible in the church. Mirabel, Camilo, go home and send your padres to the church, then stay in Casita and watch over Antonio. The rest of you will be needed at the meeting.”

Camilo looked like he was going to argue until Antonio was mentioned. The pair of them nodded and ran off. Mamá fidgeted with her hands on her apron as she watched them, until Tío said softly, “I’ll follow them,” and hurried to catch up. Only then did she relax a little. “Mamá, is it necessary to have all of the girls there?” She asked Abuela.

“Yes,” Abuela responded. Her back was straight, her head high, her expression determined and stern–Luisa could almost see her putting on her strict Village Leader persona like armor. “The man went unnoticed until he approached Isabela, Dolores heard everything he said, and Luisa–” she glanced up at her. Luisa double-checked her own armor. “--without Luisa, the man would have shot Mirabel and who knows what else.”

Mamá flinched. “Ay, I wish it weren’t…” She trailed off, staring at the mountain pass.

Abuela’s demeanor softened. She put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Sí, amor. Yo tambien. Yo tambien.” She patted Mamá’s cheek, then turned in the direction of the church. Just as quickly as she left, Doña Alma was back. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

The Family Madrigal fell into step beside their matriarch, with Luisa just a step behind. She kept glancing back over her shoulder. What if that wasn’t the only stranger to cross the pass? Were there more close to town even now? Born and molded by a cruel world, blinded by some sort of magic, carrying guns and just waiting the the opportunity when there was no Luisa nearby–

Luisa slammed a lid over those thoughts and snapped her eyes back in front of her. Not now. Not now. Be strong . That was her gift; that was her purpose.

Whatever came over those mountains, and whatever the council decided, she could handle it. She would.

She could. She would. No matter what.

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