Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Fandom:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2022-04-26
Updated:
2022-05-30
Words:
15,531
Chapters:
3/5
Comments:
54
Kudos:
139
Bookmarks:
32
Hits:
3,400

And I'm Sorry I Held On Too Tight (Just So Afraid I'd Lose You Too)

Summary:

When Bruno Madrigal finds out that he's going to have a daughter, he's overcome with anxiety. He knows she deserves better than him and his bad luck. And though he knows he'll do whatever it takes to protect his little girl, he can’t help but expect bad things to come.

What he's not expecting is for his daughter to become the perfect, golden child of the family.

Between expectations, family drama, and her mother walking out on them, well, it turns out Alma isn't the only parent passing down trauma.

Papa!Bruno with Isabela.

Notes:

I’m not usually into Papa!Bruno AUs. I’m definitely not trying to knock anyone who does, it’s just not my cup of tea. I think the reason why is that I’m satisfied with Bruno’s relationship with Mirabel as it is in canon. But seeing seeing it done with Isabela, and thinking about the potential dynamics there, I find that so interesting.

Chapter 1: Act I Bruno

Chapter Text

Act I Bruno

 

Bruno's side of the family is almost needlessly complicated.

He wasn't married to Rosa Arias before everything happened.

They hadn't spoken much during their upbringing, despite her only being a year younger than the triplets. She's always been shy, a part of the crowd but somewhere in the background, even in a community where everyone knows everyone no one really thought much of her.

Once Bruno actually gets to know her, he'll find himself quite jealous of this.

He only really takes notice of her one night when he can't sleep and decides to wander the streets of Encanto, a pastime he explores sometimes, to see what it would be like to go out and not be seen. Not be an Amazing Madrigal. Not be a bad omen.

Bruno is surprised the first time he sees someone on one of these adventures. "You're out late."

"So are you." She says from where she sits on the steps of her porch. She holds up the bowl in her lap. "Midnight snack?"

Bruno blinks then accepts.

And thus begins a slightly awkward friendship. He visits her every once in awhile. Only on weekends, she works at the town library on weekdays and he would never want to keep her up. But when he does see her, she's always on that porch, with a snack. Sometimes they'll tell jokes, or he'll tell her about a story idea he came up with, or she'll recommend a book.

It's not anything special. But she's always kind to him. And he's not so used to kindness outside of his family.

They never speak outside of their little meetings. She keeps her head down during the day, and Bruno doesn't want to ruin her reputation by her associating with her.

When she asks him to do something, something Bruno never really had the chance to do, to just get it out of the way for the both of them, he says yes.

The pregnancy isn't planned. Obviously he doesn't make a plan to force some innocent baby to bear the burden of being his kid. Obviously he doesn't make a plan to tie Rosa to him forever. But it happens anyways.

This poor, poor baby.

They didn't ask for this. For a father as screwed up as Bruno. 

And poor Rosa.

It seems harsh to say, but he can't imagine being with her to be like the love matches Pepa and Julieta have. More like they're two friends who've done something they aren't supposed to and know they are going to get in deep trouble together. Like children. Which they might as well be.

They don't even say anything, no announcements on either end or anything. He does mean to tell his family. He's just, well, not good with words. Bruno is not exactly the type to stand up at the dinner table and say he has an announcement.

He does try to say something, at different points, to different people in his family. Every time he stumbles over his words so badly he ends up unintelligible, and proceeds to either tell them something mundane and unimportant, or to merely retreat to his tower, leaving behind a confused and concerned family member.

He doesn't leave his room much these days. He barely leaves his bed much these days. Julieta sometimes drags him out to have family meals, and sometimes he refuses her.

Bruno's never been one for keeping secrets, usually blurting things out, something that matches horribly with his gift. But when his mother sits him down and orders him to tell what's wrong, as much as he wants to tell the truth, as much as he may try, he shuts down. The thoughts of his inevitable failure flood in his mind, and he imagines his mother telling him he could never be good enough for the baby.

He snaps out of it later on with his entire family looking at him in concern.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"It was like you were in a trance or something."

"Oh."

Some days are just really bad. Really, really bad.

Sometimes he doesn't eat the food Julieta leaves out for him, sometimes it's like he's drowning in the fear and anxiety of what it all, sometimes Bruno feels so alone and he wonders how he's gonna make sure this baby never feels the way he does.

It gets worse when Rosa stops being able to hide her pregnancy. Her parents kick her out, and for the first time ever Rosa Arias is the center of attention. The unwed woman who won't say who the baby's father is. She gets a small two bedroom house and tells him how people whisper behind her back. How she's never experienced things like this before. How she wishes things could be like they were before.

And it's all Bruno's fault.

He only ever goes out to see her. Always at night, when everyone else is asleep, and no one can catch them. Only on better days.

One day, one desperate day he peeks. He just wants to see if it works out okay. If the baby is alright, and if not then he doesn't know what he'll do. He's given out enough terrible prophecies to deserve one himself. But Rosa doesn't, and neither does the kid. So Bruno looks.

And it's perfect.

Healthy, small, alive, and happy.

An abundance of relief pours in on him like a flood. It brightens his day, to the point that he's packing his vision in a satchel and going out to town for the first time in months. He finds her on the outside of the library. She looks confused to see him there, but he holds up the prophecy and she gasps when she sees it. Rosa takes it from him, and for a second it looks like she's gonna pull him in for a hug, but he backs away. Bruno smiles at her and waves goodbye as he wordlessly walks away feeling good about himself.

Pepa walks up next to him, staring at him like she can't believe he's really out there. "What were you talking to her about?"

Bruno jumps and stops smiling. "Um- I- um- uh, uh, uh-"

"Brunito."

"Lo siento."

"No, don't be." She shakes her head.

Bruno sighs, hands figeting. "She, uh, she wanted a vision."

"Oh."

"Healthy girl." Bruno forces out with another smile, but this one feels almost painful. He feels sad, and more than a little scared. "Really cute."

"Aw. Well, that's sweet." Pepa smiles, sun growing a little brighter. Then she gasps. "Wait, you do baby prophecies? Do one for me!"

"Are you sure?" Bruno asks, not wanting to know what a bad prophecy about his sister's baby would do to their relationship, especially now that he-

Well, he shouldn't say he knows, but...

She drags him home, to his vision cave, and thank god it shows another healthy baby girl. Not unlike his own- Pepa kisses his cheek and then runs off to tell Felix.

He comes down later to find his family planning a party in celebration, wanting to announce the baby's gender to the entire town. Felix wraps an arm around his shoulder and calls him 'Hermano'. They tell him they're already thinking of girl names for their daughter. Mama smiles at him and looks genuinely proud. And everyone is so happy.

(Julieta's smile is a little forced, but Bruno doesn't really know what to do about that. He thinks about what he'll do if she asks him for a vision, how he'd love to see her have the happy children she's always wanted and deserved, how heartbroken he'd be if he sees it never happening for her. She never asks. Even when Pepa and Mama tell her to, she never does.)

The party goes well, most attention on his sister. To his relief. He keeps to himself mostly, a wallflower, making eye contact with Rosa before she leaves early, and is surprised to find a few tentatively kind smiles from a few townsfolk sent his way.

His mother raises a glass and makes a speech. "I am so proud to know that my first granddaughter will be born healthy. As my family grows, and a new generation of miracles come into our lives to help strengthen our Encanto, I know that the candle burns brighter than ever. To Felix and Pepa, for the wonder they will be bringing to the community. To Bruno, for confirming such amazing news. And of course, to my unborn granddaughter, for the great things she will do in her life. And to the love so many of us already feel for her."

The town claps.

To Bruno...

He smiles bashfully as Felix and Pepa beam. Across the room, Agustín wraps an arm around Julieta and whispers something in her ear. His heart aches for her, and he wonders why she hasn't been blessed with something so wonderful. He wonders why he has.

There are still a million reservations the town has of him. Rosa tells him later that she heard quite a few bitter remarks about how he only gives good visions to his own family. Apparently, they've forgotten about the wedding and that wasn't even a prophecy.

Still, a good vision even more public than the bad ones people spread around boosts requests, to his mother's delight. And Bruno tries- he does! But even as nothing irredeemably awful happens in the three visions he gives, it only serves to send Bruno back into his spiral.

He knows it will only be a matter of time before he sees a miscarriage or a stillbirth. And he knows- He doesn't know, but he thinks it would feel really, really terrible.

Because that's who Bruno is. He sees awful things and curses the community with them.

Stupidstupidstupidstupid-

What if they hate her? What if they want nothing to do with the child of a monster?

Bruno tries to help Rosa out as best he can, but the Madrigals, for all they essentially run Encanto, aren't given money for their good deeds as much as the community just gives them the best of what they need.

Still, under the guise of being neighborly, Bruno does come out of his room to ask his mother, "M-maybe get the- uh, the community to-" He pauses and takes a deep breath. "-cut Ros-Rosa Arias some... um, some slack. A-and let her stay in her-her house without, um, rent while she's not- not working for, um, her- her baby."

Mama blinks. "Did you have a vision?"

"Just-just that she might be, uh, well, stressed." Bruno says. He quickly adds. "I'm being neighborly!"

Maybe it's because it's one of the few times Bruno has left his room in awhile (to her knowledge) or maybe it's because he stuttered his way through the request but Mama agrees. With her influence, she gets the bank let her live in the house without making payments for a year, and adds dropping off a basket of food at Rosa's doorstep to Julieta's job list.

But that leads to him becoming so anxious about being a bad brother to Julieta that he's throwing up, which leads to him blocking the bathroom when his other sister is pregnant, and everyone looks so concerned that he's running to his room because he can never do anything right for the people he loves.

When the time comes, Julieta goes out to be at the birth with a plate of empanadas and a bag of baby formula ready at hand in case of emergency. Bruno waits for her, sitting at the top of the staircase long after everyone else has gone to bed, and trying to make himself look small when she comes back.

"Is the baby okay?" He asks quietly.

If she finds his interest odd, Julieta doesn't show it. Maybe she's too stuck in her own head to realize. "Yes. Ten toes and fingers. Strong, healthy cry. Normal weight. A small fuzz of hair. She calmed down easily. Her mother seemed awkward, but she'll get the hang of it. Such a sweet little girl will be good for her."

She sounds like she's longing, and Bruno knows he's longing too. He just hopes she doesn't see it.

"That's wonderful."

"I'm just sorry she did it all alone, besides the midwives."

Bruno nods, guilt consuming his heart, pushing back tears and looking away to hide his face from his sister. "Yeah, well, whoever the father is, he's an idiot."

"He is." Julieta agrees, sounding so sad. "Can I just say something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Bruno asks. "Of course."

"Yeah, it's just... It must be because of Pepa's daughter, but I felt... Well, I felt as though I was connected to this baby. Which is completely wrong of me, and I'm sorry. But it's what I felt in the moment. You know?"

"Wow, um..." Bruno walks down the stairs and hugs his sister. She hugs back just as tightly. In that moment, he wishes Isabela could have been her kid. Julieta would have been a good mother, she deserves this baby more than Bruno ever has, and-

And Bruno could see her without being a burden on her.

"Julieta?" They both look up to see Agustín looking down at them. Juli gives a weak wave and he's next to them in an instant, immediately taking over for Bruno, who quietly slips away.

When he hears them return to their room together from where he's listening through his door, he sneaks out like he has so many times before. This time though, when he gently knocks on Rosa's door, he's greeted by a woman and a baby. The newborn isn't asleep, but she's not crying. Her little eyes flutter around her mama's little house like it's the whole world and she wants to explore it.

Rosa doesn't say anything. Just hands Isabela to him (she doesn't say if she changed her mind on the name so Bruno assumes she didn't) and walks to her bedroom and goes to sleep. Isabela looks up at him and he's immediately in love.

"You're perfect." And how Bruno wonders how someone like him could have had a kid as perfect as her.

The baby does fall asleep eventually, and he puts her in her crib before going back to Casita and spending the next day sleeping himself.

Months pass, Pepa's child is born to celebrations throughout Encanto (something Isabela was never going to get either way), and Bruno develops a system of sorts. First he gets through the day, whether that means hiding away in his room or avoiding eye contact with his family for meals or when he gets sick of the sand. He usually sleeps during the days, and wakes up at night to visit his daughter and relieve Rosa for the night.

And it's not as ideal as if Bruno wasn't bad luck, and he wasn't a mess who couldn't do anything with other people, and he could just be her papa and there was no problems that come with that.

But he sees her every night, away from prying eyes, and behind the walls of Rosa's house and in front of Isabela's excited face whenever she sees him, he pushes away his worries and allows himself to just exist.

He sits at Rosa's little table and holds her in his lap, bouncing her as Isabela looks at him like he's her whole world.

"You're a cute one aren't you? So cute. You're going places, kid. Trust me. You're gonna rule the world one d- Ahh!" He helps when he looks up and sees his older sister's face pressed against Rosa's window, watching in on them.

Heart beating faster now, he quickly unlocks the front door and she walks in, arms crossed.

"What is this?" Pepa asks, taking in the scene. Bruno balancing Isabela on his hip, Rosa waking up from a nap with her bedroom door open, both looking caught in an act of some kind.

"What are you doing here?"

"I know you've been leaving in the middle of the night." Pepa says, hands on hips. "And Dolores was being really good today, and Felix is watching her, so I decided to follow you."

"That is so creepy." Bruno shakes his head. "So creepy. You looked so weird in the window."

Rosa gets up and closes her bedroom door.

"Never mind that. What is this!? What are doing here?"

Isabela giggles in his arm, seeming to find her parents distress funny.

Pepa's eyes soften when she looks at the baby, but then narrow when they go upwards at him holding her. They stare at one another. He blinks. She gasps.

"No! Really? What? No! What? Really? No! Really?"

Bruno stays quiet. He can say no. Say that he's just a friend who babysits at night. He's a really bad liar though. And he did want to tell her at one point, he just gave up when he failed all those times. So he just winces and silently nods. Isabela giggles again.

"Well, let me hold her! Since I haven't been holding her in the months since she was born!" Pepa opens her arms. Bruno blinks and moves to hand his daughter to her. She holds Isabela above her head, causing the baby to squeal in delight. Her cloud dissipates instantly, leaving only a rainbow above her head. "I think she likes me!" She hugs her close. "So... All of your behavior for the past year and a half...

"Yeah..."

"Alright then." Pepa makes a silly face at Isabela. "You should have told me sooner. We could have shared our fears together! Well... You still would have been a mess, but I could have helped you with that."

He shrugs awkwardly. "I-I guess."

"I'm going to tell you the truth, Bruno. You have been terrifying everyone for so long. And I see now. It all started around the time my beautiful sobrina would have been conceived. Our daily musings and fears that you have cracked like an egg and snapped like a twig have been because of an extreme case of parental worries. I see you now."

"Uh... Thank you?"

Pepa nods, holding Isabela up to study her niece's face. She hums. "We should tell Julieta."

"And tell her what? That I accidentally had a child the only time I did... the thing."

"What thing?" Pepa asks.

"You know, the thing that causes babies."

"You mean sex?" Bruno gasps and reaches over to cover Isabela's ears while she's still in Pepa's arms. "Bruno, she's a few months old, she cannot understand what we're saying."

"Says the woman who covers the ears of her child's teddy bear when she's talking about something slightly unpleasant."

"Besides that, a) Why don't you never tell me anything else about how she was conceived again? And b) ... The only time? Really? And a baby this cute and this healthy came out of it? ... Yes, I do suppose I see why you don't feel you can tell her about this."

Julieta and Agustín often talked of children in the beginning of their marriage. It was something they'd both wanted their entire lives. Agustín wanted to have a large family to make up for being an only child. Julieta, on the other hand, had a maternal streak for as long as they can remember, looking after the younger siblings that were less than an hour her junior, taking care of all the sick and injured members of their community. 

Yes. They would've doted on any baby that they were blessed with.

They married young, their early twenties. They were still childless.

Mama is, however gently, trying to broach the possibility of her oldest child never having a child of her own. It makes her nervous, they know, to think a Madrigal could be doing something wrong. Just like how Bruno makes her uneasy most times.

Julieta, on the other hand, is devastated. She refuses to give up hope, but they know their sister and know when she's waning. It hurts them to see her hurting so much.

Pepa's first pregnancy went as smoothly as possible. No miscarriages or false alarms, and she became pregnant soon after they started trying. Her and Felix, for as affectionate as they are, waited two years before getting pregnant, and have already been frank about waiting until after Dolores gets her Gift (if she'll even get a Gift, which Mama is convinced she will) before trying again. They said they wanted to enjoy themselves as newlyweds first, and then to focus on their daughter when she's at her smallest before adding another kid to the mix.

And Julieta is still desperate for a baby of her own in any way that she can have one. Since Pepa and Bruno clearly don't have fertility problems, they can have options. But they both know that if Julieta had those options, she'd be the most loving mother in the world.

Instead, there is Pepa and Bruno and his secret kid at Rosa Arias' house trying to figure out what to do.

"Alright then. I'm going to help you." Pepa declares. "When I'm through with you, you are going to be more sure of yourself than anyone ever thought possible."

"How?"

"Just trust my methods."

Bruno sighs. "Okay."

"Oh, and I have to tell Felix. Not because of my methods, but as a principle."

"Obviously."

They walk home together, only after Pepa covers Isabela's face with several goodbye kisses, arm in arm like they would before her wedding. The next morning, Felix pats him on the back as they walk towards the breakfast table and both members of the couple give Bruno glances when they think no one's looking.

When both Pepa and Bruno wake up again in the afternoon, they try the first of Pepa's methods. Which is just to spend time with Dolores.

"I trust you with my darling little girl. Use that trust to strengthen yourself."

"I can trust myself to babysit." Bruno argues. "It's the major life things that make nervous."

"Okay, except it isn't babysitting when it's your own child." Pepa says, wrapping her arms around him. "And you have a big family full of people ready to tell you what to do for major life things."

Bruno sighs. "It's just that most of the town hates me, and I would be putting that on her for the rest of her life."

She squeezes tighter. "Hey, no. Isabela would rather have a papa than anything else. Reputation or whatever you think you're protecting her from. And don't let 'most of the town' keep you from being happy. You are my hermanito and you deserve to be happy. And I know you love that child. That will be more important to her."

Bruno swallows. "Okay."

It's like this for three days; At night they visit Isabela, and for two out of three nights they bring Dolores and coo at the cousins playing together. They have breakfast with the family and don't tell anyone else. They both catch up on missed sleep. In the afternoon, they take care of Dolores and hope it does something for Bruno's plight.

[Because of this, neither of them are in town to hear the rumor mill spinning erratically. Neither realize that they might have woken up the neighbors until it's too late. Whispers spreading throughout the town in the matter of days, until a few brave souls actually hint at it towards Alma and Julieta.

"Did you hear-"

"Can you believe-"

"Is it true?"

"Apparently the neighbors heard Pepa and Bruno talking about it. At Rosa's house." 

"A secret Madrigal?"

"They visit her house every night!"

"Of all the things Bruno has done-"

And the timeline of Rosa's pregnancy aligns with Bruno's worsening mental health. In the past few days, he's come to breakfast every morning. Pepa and Felix have these looks, like they know something.

Bruno's spending so much time with her again, in the nursery with Dolores. It has Mama hopeful for Bruno's sake. It's like they're little kids again, getting messy playing in the mud, while Julieta was the golden child in the kitchen to please their mother. They had been the closest of the three, and though they were all triplets, bonded like nothing else, the three of them against the world, there was still something she could never break into. It went away after the wedding. It's back now.

And Julieta knows why.

They have something in common after all.]

"Is it true?"

Bruno and Pepa look up at her in the doorway from where they sit on the nursery floor with Dolores playing with a doll. Somehow they just know what it is she's talking about, and look appropriately caught doing something wrong.

She takes a step back. "Oh my god."

"Julieta-"

"That baby is seven months old! And you- What? You just-? You didn't care!?"

"Juli, you saw how he was!" Pepa stands to defend him. Bruno takes Dolores into his arms. "He was having a breakdown!"

"And that gives him a right to abandon her!?"

"He was not abandoning her! He visited her every night! He was just scared of telling anyone! You know what the townsfolk think of him!"

"So he was just gonna 'visit her' her entire life!?"

"He just needs help!" Dolores whines and hides in Bruno's arm.

"Help!? A baby is here, and her father is the one who needs help!?

"Why can't you just be happy for us!?" Pepa snaps.

Anger drains from Julieta's eyes, until there's only shock and horror. There's a moment where no one says anything, both his sisters looking like they can't believe what they've said to one another.

"You're a very lucky man, Bruno Madrigal. Congratulations." Julieta says stiffly and then walks off. Bruno stands up, hands Dolores to Pepa, and takes off after her.

They walk out of the nursery, but his sister's hand on his wrist stops him from following Julieta to her room. He looks at Pepa questioning, then turns his head to see what she's looking at. Mama is standing by the stairs, her expression concerned but more calm than he would have expected.

Wait, so Julieta is clearly going to tell Agustín, which means that that's everyone in the family.

They sit in the living room, her across from him as he looks at her anxiously.

"Pepa, take Dolores and get Rosa Arias. It is Rosa Arias? That's what the entire town is saying, after all. Bring her and the baby here. I need to talk to her."

Pepa nods, moving to the stairs to get Dolores ready for outside, but she halts. "What if Isabela is sleeping?"

"Sleeping?"

"I mean, there has to be a reason she's always awake at night."

"Oh, well, don't some babies find a stroll outside to be soothing for sleep? Bruno did."

"But that's not all babies."

"No, not all babies. Alright, wait until Isabela wakes up then."

"... Alright."

Pepa walks off.

And so Bruno and his mother are left alone to stare at each other for thirty minutes without speaking, and he is stuck between mortification and relief that it's all out there and she seems to take it somewhat well.

"Uh... Are-are you mad at me?" Bruno asks timidly.

"I'm mad that you didn't tell me sooner. I'm mad that you've scandalized the family." Mama admits with a matter of fact tone. "I wish you'd been married first. I would have loved it if I'd been there for my granddaughter's birth and the first few months of her life." He looks down. She reaches over and puts a hand on his shoulder. "But another little miracle? How can I be angry at that?"

Bruno blinks. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Mama puts her hands on hips, slightly annoyed at his disbelief. "I was worried I'd have to wait six years for my next grandchild. Your sister is so stubborn. Now, this is a mess that you've made; I'll handle everything. Tomorrow I'll make an official announcement to the town. Not that it will be much of a surprise. Don't worry, you can stay in Casita. Then I'll take Rosa to have Isabela's last name changed to Madrigal. Then we'll send Agustín and Felix to help her move any of the things she wants to keep to Casita. I'm sure Isabela is attached to her own toys. And then I want to spend time getting to know my granddaughter."

"Wait-" Bruno says, taken aback. "Uh, Rosa has her own house."

"Yes, and according to rumors it only has two bedrooms."

Bruno shrugs. "They're two people."

Mama sighs. "Ai, Bruno. You always did prefer simple things. Like your father..." She looks down. "But Isabela is a Madrigal, and Madrigals belong in Casita. And I would never separate a mother from her child."

"Oh..." Bruno nods. "So Isabela will stay in the nursery but where will Rosa stay?"

"Yes, Dolores will get a roommate." Mama nods. "And Rosa will be in your Room. We'll hurry the wedding."

"The wed- The what!?"

"You're getting married."

Bruno gapes at her. He blinks. "Um...?"

"You have a child together. You must get married for her sake." Mama says. "Honestly Bruno, if you didn't want this, you shouldn't have done marital things."

"Oh..." Bruno nods.

Mama smiles and kisses his cheek. "Good. Now everything is going to work out in a way that strengthens our family. So long as you do what I say."

"Yes, Mama."

"And don't worry about Julieta. She's just emotional over this subject."

"We're back!" Pepa announces, Dolores cradled in her arms. Rosa is behind her, eyes red like she'd been crying, frowning in distress, also carrying Isabela.

Mama gasps, stands, and walks towards them. She pays Rosa no mind as she takes Isabela from her hands and into her own. She coos over the baby, love in her eyes.

"Oh, she's perfect!"

Rosa tries to speak, but nothing that comes out.

"I must show her around Casita!" Mama takes off with his daughter, Rosa trailing after him.

Bruno stands next to his sister. "That went surprisingly well."

Pepa rolls her eyes. "I cannot stress enough how worried we all were for you this past year and a half."

His wedding day doesn't feel like a wedding day, though it's the only one Bruno will ever have. It's a private ceremony. Apparently his former behavior was enough to sway his mother on the big weddings she loves to plan. Only his family and the very judgmental priest (who still blames Bruno for baldness running in males from his family) are in attendance. They hold it in Casita to avoid other people...

Does Bruno have agoraphobia? Because now that Isabela is at Casita, he has no desire to travel outside again.

"I look stupid." Bruno mutters, pulling on his sleeves.

"You look nice." Pepa says.

"I feel like I'm dying."

"Well, that's just punishment for my wedding day."

"I said I was sorry."

"It was a hurricane!" Pepa reminds him, like he could forget.

Bruno sighs and turns back to his mirror. "How is it possible for a suit to be both too tight and oversized at the same time? That shouldn't be possible."

Julieta knocks and peeks her head in. She pauses when she looks at him. "I told Mama not to make you wear Papa's wedding clothes."

"These are Papa's?" Bruno looks down at himself in surprise.

"Um-" She shares a glance with Pepa and then walks up to him. "I'm so sorry!" Julieta cries, hugging him. "I really don't want you to think I'm mad at you on your wedding day." Bruno immediately flinches and makes an animal noise. Julieta pulls away and looks at him questioningly.

"He doesn't want anyone to mention it's his wedding day." Pepa explains. "I think the attention makes him nauseous."

The ceremony is one of the most awkward experiences of his life. Mama cries when she sees him. He looks over at his family more than once, seeing Isabela in his mother's arms and reminding himself why he's doing this. Neither Bruno or Rosa have vows, and when the priest tells them to kiss, he slips up and says in surprise, "Oh, I forgot about that!" Before a brief and awkward kiss.

He changes into a ruana for dinner, and Julieta makes his favorite food, which is nice.

He takes Rosa to his bed that night and they kind of just awkwardly lay there on opposite ends, not touching one another. There are attempts at rekindling the friendship they had before, which means having conversations, but there is a lot more baggage than there was when they first met.

But it's alright that the nights are so strange. Because the days get better. He stays in, always feeling anxious at the thought of going out and facing the judgement of the townspeople, maybe hearing them whisper about his daughter. So instead he stays in and plays with his niece and daughter.

And he's happiest that way.

Chapter 2: Act II Julieta

Notes:

I was not expecting to get this chapter out so soon but wow!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Act II Julieta


Julieta has been told her entire life that she was good. A good girl who looks after her rambunctious siblings, mediates their fights, and never gets into the trouble they get in together. Together. A good girl who takes care of the community, heals what's broken, works herself to the bone to fix everything.

She doesn't ask for much in return. She simply asks to marry the man of her dreams, no matter how much her mother might bulk at the match or how townspeople whisper about how she can do better, or how it's probably his fault they can't-

She's blessed with that, with the husband she loves more than life itself. Julieta wakes up every morning to her amor's face and she knows that she is loved.

And to add to that, she simply wants a baby or two or three to call their own. Little pieces of her and Agustín to hold and to cherish. To watch flourish and grow into beautiful young women or handsome young men.

But hope is fading, flickering out. It's gone for her mother. But Julieta is still in a child rearing age, and until her menstrations stop she won't stop hoping.

There are other options, of course. But there aren't many orphaned children in Encanto. There used to be, but now they're all older than Julieta. Life lasts long thanks to Julieta's Gift, a blessing, and if the unthinkable happens then there's likely family or a friend in their small town to take them in, another blessing. The more jaded part of her knows that people who don't want their kids would rather keep them in unloving homes than risk scandal. That's what makes her blood boil. That people who don't deserve kids can have them when Julieta is left childless.

(The amount of times Julieta has to remind herself that her siblings deserved the children they have is something she'll keep to herself and to the confessionals.)

She's so happy for her brother and sister, however.

"Have you and Rosa spoken about another baby?" Mama asks, a year after everything went down. She curses herself for carefully articulating the dining room as a safe place for serious conversations, and wonders if her mother was being spiteful when she decided to sit him down during a time of day that Julieta would be working.

"What?" Bruno asks, sounding blindsided by the question. "Um, no."

"Oh, well maybe those types of conversations should be happening." Mama suggests. "After all, you made such a beautiful daughter the first time."

Julieta's smile widens as she turns over the empanadas with a pinch more force than usual. So her mother will probably never sit her down at the dining room table and try and discuss a second child, even if she is blessed with a first one. That's fine. She doesn't need the three children that they'd dreamed of. She just needs a- a miracle.

"It was only one time!" Bruno blurts out, then blinks hesitantly.

"One time what?" Julieta asks from the kitchen, inserting herself into the conversation as a calm, cool, and collected family member that doesn't let her emotions get the better of her when it comes to difficult topics.

Thunder crashes. Pepa stands in the dining room doorway, furious. "Stop giving out details!"

"Oh..."

One time?

But she just feels so happy for her brother and sister and sister-in-law and brother-in-law.

Julieta is so happy that they're so happy.

Everything is going to be just fine-

["I'm leaving!"

Bruno turns around. "What?"

"I can't do this." Rosa looks at him with wide eyes, hands holding onto the seams of her dress like a lifeline. "I'm leaving Encanto. You can keep the baby, raise her with all the security and lavishness I could never give her. I'm sorry. I can't keep living like this. Being a Madrigal. Everyone staring at me all the time. Whispering about me. Always having to be perfect. Always being scrutinized, especially because of my history. Especially because of you. Always trying to please your mother."

"Look, I am so sorry that I got you involved in my life." Bruno says earnestly. "But Isabela-"

"She needs your family more than she needs me."

Bruno sits down the bed.

He realizes it's the most he's heard her, actually heard her, since... well... before.]

Hell breaks lose on a Sunday. Pepa rages for weeks about how she never deserved Bruno or Isabela or their family at all. Julieta and Mama do too, but they have to keep their composure for the rest of the town and do damage control. Again.

Bruno seems more confused than sad. Julieta knows that it was never love. She wonders if they ever tried to make it love. Regardless, it doesn't justify this.

They all wait for another breakdown, not unlike the one he'd gotten from Isabela's conception. Or maybe unlike that one. Different circumstances and all.

What he does next though, might not qualify as a breakdown. Maybe it does, but it's just so subtle that they really have to be paying attention.

Not everyone pays attention.

But Bruno moves an old crib, from when the triplets were babies living in the earliest days of Casita, not like the newer and carefully crafted cribs Mama had commissioned for her granddaughters, or even like the cheaper crib Rosa bought for Isabela that Mama threw out the moment the new one was finished, to his room. There are nights he sneaks his daughter into his room, keeps her near to him.

Julieta can understand the sentiment to want to keep your child near to you, even if she doesn't have a child, she knows that when or if she does-

But, not for the first time in her life, she wishes she could read his mind. Know what runs through his head as he does the things he does.

Is he afraid of ever losing Isabela as well, and that's why he keeps her near? Or does he accept that he is now a single father, that a hole is there that he cannot fill, and he wants to reassure the baby that he will always be there for her? Or, and this is the cynicism speaking, had he always wanted a crib for her in his room, and now that Rosa is gone, he can finally do so?

Maybe it's a mixure of two of those things, or maybe it's all of that combined together, or maybe it's none and it's something else entirely. She doesn't know.

Julieta shouldn't try to read his mind. They've all long accepted that it's an exhausting endeavor.

A new rule is put in place, at their mother's demand; They don't talk about Rosa.

Julieta sees Bruno's face when Mama tells them this. His eyes widen, anxious, unhappy. She's seen it before. Tried for years to get rid of it, but was never successful. But this is an exaggerated version of that.

And though Julieta really shouldn't try to read his mind, something just clicks. Call it a triplet thing, call it years of being the rock her siblings could use to anchor themselves with, or call it Julieta being 'the understanding one' as she'd been labeled since she was five. But something clicks.

It's not intended to be but 'We Don't Talk About Rosa' is a warning. They have to be good enough for the family or they'll be erased.

That must be terrifying to Bruno.

But he won't protest the rule and if he has anything at all to say about it then he'll wait until he's with someone he thinks understands. That's usually how it goes when it comes to Mama.

She invites him into the kitchen. He holds Isabela in his arms, the baby smiling up at her.

"You know you don't need to worry about the 'not talking about her' thing. Rosa..." Julieta swallows, not knowing what to say. She wants to be as sensitive as possible, but...

But how dare she?

How dare a mother, blessed with a beautiful little girl, abandon her own child? And why was she the one to have a child when she's so ready to leave, while Julieta is left childless?

"Rosa didn't care. You do. We all know you do."

If things were different Julieta might have said something softer. Still, she doubts that she would understand Rosa's decision any more if she'd had a baby of her own. Though she does wonder if she'd be more angry if that were the case. If she had experienced all the joys, every up and down, of motherhood, would she be even more angry at this woman for leaving such a beautiful little girl?

Maybe one day she'll know.

Bruno nods. "I know, Juli." He holds Isabela up for Julieta to kiss her cheek and then they leave.

Julieta sighs at the mess they're in and gets ready to make dinner. A young girl will grow up motherless. Of course she'll have Julieta and Pepa and Alma, but there will always be a question as to why. And of course, there will always be people who'll judge her for the drama she was born into and had no say in. It's a disaster.

But Mama says that the Madrigals will come out of all this drama stronger than ever.

The unspoken 'because we have to' is heard by all.

Mama never tries to set him up with another woman, even if the thought of her granddaughter being motherless clearly worries her. Julieta knows from experience that their mother has a lot of opinions when it comes to love stories. But despite that, Mama does want the triplets to have the hopelessly romantic love stories that she had with their father.

The problem is that Mama has her own ideas of what their love stories should look like or what their perfect matches are. Pepa and Felix are made for each other, and he brings out the best in her, makes her the happiest. The kind of man everyone, not just Mama, had pictured for her.

Agustín isn't what Mama pictured for Julieta, she made that very clear, but he is and always will be the love of her life.

As for Rosa... Maybe Rosa was what Mama imagined for Bruno. Quiet, easily flustered, but down to earth. They were similar in that way. Julieta, for all she tried to befriend cuñada in her free time, and even inviting her to help her work, never got close enough to see if she had the same kind heart as Bruno.

But even with that, it wasn't a good marriage. Everyone knew it, but no one knew what to do about it. The two fed into each other's most reclusive habits. They didn't communicate. They encouraged each other to retreat inwards.

(Julieta wonders what Mama would have said about the pairing if they hadn't already had a baby.)

Or perhaps Mama pictured someone more outgoing, to prompt Bruno out of his shell. And maybe that's the kind of lover he needed, or even still needs, if there's any other chance for romance for him, which he doesn't seem very interested in. But it is too soon to tell.

(Maybe it's done. Maybe she watched him have a breakdown, got a grandchild from him, witnessed an awkward marriage, and watched the mother leave, and said 'Not again. Not unless he wants to.')

In the meantime, Julieta keeps working and, as Mama always says, the world keeps turning.

A miracle happens when her sobrinas are two years old.

Julieta is late, her appetite becomes downright bizarre, the nausea unbearable, soreness and wooziness become constants, aching and dizziness pop up as well.

And Julieta knows- She knows the signs. Knows the symptoms. She's known what it looks like longer than she's been trying to have kids. It's one of those things you learn from being the entire town's designated nurturer.

Agustín kisses her. "A nene."

"A nene." Julieta repeats.

It's everything they've ever dreamed of.

But not all is well in paradise.

Julieta learned young; She had a Gift and the world would always depend on her for it. She had to take care of her family and her community, and sometimes 'take care' means working yourself to the bone.

It's hard for her to take a step back. It feels wrong. Like it's against her very nature to not be working for hours on end in the kitchen or at her stand in town.

But she does so anyways because Luisa, the town midwife (because even with her powers, a woman in labor needs a professional there) tells her to.

So as foreign as it feels to not be up at the crack of dawn, working, she relaxes. Relaxes and tries not to think about what will happen if there's an emergency before her designated cooking time.

But it will all be worth it when her baby comes.

Mama isn't completely happy with the arrangement either, and the question is always in her eyes, 'What are you doing? Why aren't you perfect?' But she wants a grandchild from Julieta too, and so she doesn't say anything beyond the occasional musing that she hopes the town will be okay with less help.

Her nieces are a little too young to understand but they're excited that the adults are excited. Julieta simply tells her girls that they'll be having a new playmate soon and revels in the way their little faces light up.

The world turns and turns and turns, Julieta's stomach grows bigger than Pepa's did, to the point that there's chatter of her potentially having multiples. Luisa says there's only one heartbeat though, so she doesn't get her hopes up.

When the day finally comes, nothing can prepare her, not even years of taking care of women in this very condition. Julieta screams and sweats and grips her husband's and mother's hands tight enough to bruise- Nothing an arepa can't heal.

At eight pounds and thirteen inches, Luisa is a big baby. Named after her amazing midwife, she's the sweetest thing Julieta has ever laid eyes on. The baby cries hard and loud. She doesn't want to let go when her daughter is placed in her arms. She wants to hold on to her little girl forever and ever.

And while Julieta basks in the glow of new motherhood, her nieces learn to walk and talk and run. She sees her siblings wonder at each new milestone and looks forward to everything new to come, even as she's determined to savor the baby stage while she has it.

"Be grateful it wasn't triplets." Mama says in a rare but quiet moment of joviality, something usually reserved for villagers. Julieta is caught off guard. Mama quite liked the idea of multiples.

'As many miracles as we're given', she would say.

"Really?" Julieta murmurs.

Mama nods. "It was almost as if I sped through it all- My hands were so full. There were so many of you, and no father, and... my responsibilities for the town... My responsibilities." She seems to snap out of whatever stupor she's in, straightening her back and clearing her throat. "Yes. Now Julieta, we must talk about when you'll be working full time as you were before. The people are getting antsy after all."

Julieta blinks, but smiles and nods at this.

Luisa grows beautifully, if surprisingly fast. She learns everything so early that it almost breaks her heart.

Julieta and Agustín agree not to tell her about their fertility issues when she gets older. There's no need to stress the little one (she'll call her baby 'little one' as long as she can) out with her parents' struggles. Their problems are their own.

But they aren't the only ones with problems. Because as their little girl grows older, Bruno and Pepa's near their fifth birthdays.

Bruno hasn't looked to see if there are gifts for the third generation. That's because of nerves but Mama doesn't think they need one.

"The miracle will provide." Mama always insists.

She smiles whenever she says this. Bruno, decidedly, does not smile.

"She's so full of light." Bruno whispers sadly to her one night in the kitchen, while they're alone over a drink. "She's an adventurous type. She thinks the world will be a wonderful place. I just don't want her to get a gift and all that light to be snuffed out like..."

Like...

Isabela's fifth birthday is extravagant at their mother's behest. The entire town waits and sees if the gifts will be passed on, even the ones who don't like Bruno and extend their dislike to his daughter as well. Even the ones who whisper that her cousins are inherently better, that she doesn't deserve the Madrigal name because her father doesn't, and Julieta has such a hard time not- not-

Mama stands atop the staircase, next to the door, candle in hand. Bruno stands behind her, more in the darkness of the shadows, hood up as though he's hiding.

Isabela looks wonderful in her white dress, and walks the passageway with confidence. She smiles at her family members, at the villagers who smile at her, and at the villagers who don't. She's blissful, excited, unaware. And Julieta says a silent prayer for both their sakes whatever happens next is good.

Anyone can see the love in Mama's eyes a mile away, Isabela's hand on the candle. She turns the knob and a bright, glowing door with a carving of her niece as a beautiful woman appears. She's surrounded by flowers.

Isabela gasps, and taking a step back she raises her hands towards the staircase. Flowers and vines bloom down the railing. The crowd gasps. Isabela squeals and little daisies bloom in her hair. She then grows a rose in Mama's and then walks past her. Bruno takes his hood down and flowers grow in his.

"We have a new gift!" Mama declares happily, voice thick with joy. "We have a perfect gift! For my perfect granddaughter!"

They party in Isabela's new room- A fantastical garden. Isabela spends half the time dragging Bruno around, making him dance with her or play with her or even just carry her.

"It's perfect." Bruno says in amazement when he gets a moment alone, as Isabela and Dolores are going hand in hand to different villagers and growing flowers for them, under Pepa's supervision.

Her sister keeps an eye out, steering them away from any shellshocked villager who might've said something bad about the girl, all while sending naysayers a snooty but triumphant look.

"It's so perfect." He repeats.

And Julieta...

Julieta tries not to flinch at the word, because she is not going to do anything to ruin this day for her little brother. But...

Julieta was the golden child. Bruno and Pepa weren't. Everyone said so. And as caring as Julieta tries to be for them, there are some things that they just don't understand about each other.

'Perfect' is a compliment. Julieta knows that. She's not complaining!

(It's just a compliment that Bruno sees as clean and pure while Julieta can see something a little more tainted...

But that's ridiculous. Who is Julieta to complain? Julieta, who the town and their mother has always adored.

The entire town...)

Dolores gets her gift next, and the entire town waits to be awed as they'd been awed months before. Instead, when her niece turns that knob, the door lights up and the child covers her ears and screams.

They all watch on in horror as Pepa and Felix rush to their daughter, desperately asking what's wrong. Bruno and Julieta look at each other in horror, and she notices his grip on Isabela's hand tighten. Her parents take her inside the room, while Mama addresses the murmuring crowd.

"It would appear that our dear, sweet Dolores has received a blessing! This truly a wondrous day. But even blessings can catch you off guard at times. Please! Stay and enjoy the celebrations. But I fear we won't be going into her room this day."

The party starts, much less festive than Isabela's. People murmur, and Mama hates it when people murmur, because it usually means that they're unhappy. They're either happy or they murmur. Every single time.

"I wanna see Dolores!" Isabela tugs on Bruno's hand, pouting.

Bruno starts to stutter. "Uh, um- Well-"

"I'm not sure she'll want company right now." Julieta says for him, calm and composed. "Maybe just her parents and Abuela for now. Okay? You'll see her tomorrow."

"Uh... I'll get you a cookie." He offers her in recompense. She nods.

Bruno leads Isabela away to the food table Casita moves into the courtyard for them.

"What do you think her gift is?" Agustín asks. "To make her scream like that?"

"Sound? Look at her door."

"Superhearing?" He says. "I hope she gets used to it."

"Me too."

Mama calls a family meeting later. Outlines everything that they plan to do to make Dolores feel comfortable and help her adjust, while still teaching her to help the community.

"We've had difficult gifts before and we've gotten through it. We can show Dolores that her gift is something to bring wonder to the community."

There's another, 'Because we have to,' that stays unspoken.

Another miracle happens and Julieta can't believe her luck when she falls pregnant again, three years after her first baby. Luisa, the midwife, says that she doesn't need to cut back as much as she did with her first pregnancy.

Which is good, because for all she loves the state she's in, the feeling of life growing inside of her, wondering what life her child will lead, who they'll act more like, who they'll look more like, the world never ever stops turning. Especially when the day comes that both her siblings need her-

Isabela and Dolores start school.

"She's growing up too quickly!" Pepa sobs, rain pouring down on them. She's hormonal from her own pregnancy. "Oh, I'm so proud of her. She's gonna be a genius."

Julieta wraps an arm around her and agrees. "She's gonna be a genius."

And when Pepa calms down, she goes to Bruno's room and hears him out.

"People are gonna tease her." Bruno worries, pacing. "People are gonna bully her. People are gonna murder her! She has to stay. I'll homeschool her."

"Please don't tell your cousin about this." She says under her breath, in case Dolores is listening. "People aren't gonna- Wait, was that a prophecy?"

"No, it wasn't a prophecy. It's- it's- it's realistic!"

"It's gonna be fine."

"It's not be fine."

Julieta should have known that he'd do something strange for Isabela's sake, he's always been worrisome, unsure but... brave when he needs to be. When it comes to protecting someone he loves. She just wasn't expecting to have to take him by the ear and drag him away from the bushes outside of the school.

"Is that a camouflaged ruana?" Julieta asks in disbelief.

"... No?"

Julieta messages her temples. "Okay, come on, you're helping me by my stand."

"But-"

"No buts. We're going now." She grabs his wrist and pulls him along.

There's less food traffic when Bruno helps her, but when school lets out the girls head straight to them as was the plan.

"Did you come outside just for me?" Isabela asks in delight.

"Uh, yeah! Yeah! That's uh, definitely one way to put it."

"Thank you!" She smiles ignoring at least half of that sentence. "Is that a new ruana?"

"Uh, yeah." Bruno hesitates then smiles at her. "How do I look?"

"So beautiful, Papi." She says in admiration. Then she gestures to her own pink dress and asks, "How do I look?"

Bruno beams. "Perfect."

The months fly by and Bruno relaxes a bit as Isabela comes home everyday with happy eyes and a wide smile, talking of all the friends she's made and how much she enjoys going to school. She wears pink every day, like spring.

"Green and pink make spring." Isabela says happily.

Julieta and Mama take turns doing her hair every morning, combing out every knot, sometimes crafting it into braids or ponytails. Isabela will add her own flowers to her hair.

"Roses." Mama tells her as she picks a white stray from her hair. "Pink roses with green stems make perfect."

Isabela nods.

The next day, Julieta brushes her hair and asks, "You like roses, don't you?"

"Of course. Roses are my favorite."

If her niece says it with a rehearsed voice, so different from when she talks about school or friends or things that excite her, she doesn't think much of it.

(A little rehearsal never hurt anyone.)

Mirabel Madrigal is born on a March day and she's as beautiful as can be. Her baby learns to laugh so soon after she is born. It's as though she can light up the world with her smile. And though everyone thinks this when they're children are newborns, Julieta can feel that this little girl in her arms will change the world someday, and if not the world then all of Encanto. She's already changed Julieta's life.

The rest of the family come in to her room, all eager to meet their new family member. Luisa running up, so excited to be a big sister. Isabela and Dolores giggling. Bruno discretely handing Pepa money, trying to pretend they didn't bet on the gender, and - How does he ever lose? And finally Mama, looking down at her youngest grandchild lovingly.

Julieta thinks that this is the miracle she always talks about. Julieta, her loving husband, her two beautiful daughters, nieces and a nephew, siblings, and everyone else. This is what they protect and preserve.

When the day for her first little girl to get her gift comes, Julieta watches her five year old daughter lift a bolder.

Luisa is happy to use her gift to help others. She always was Julieta's little helper girl, and now she has a gift of her own. She tries to be conscious of Luisa's limits, but it seems like there are none.

She can carry houses and churches, even reroute rivers.

"It's like the weight of the world is on her shoulders." Julieta says one day.

Mama beams. "And she can carry it all with ease."

Julieta knows she doesn't need to worry. Luisa is like her in a lot of ways, always happy to help.

Mama agrees with that assessment. "They take after you."

As Mirabel grows, it becomes clear that she follows in that boat. Her adorable little helper, always accompanying her in the kitchen and at the food stand.

Mama gravitates towards her youngest daughter. She hugs her every day, and in the few hours of spare time she has, she spend it with Mirabel... Much in the same way she had gravitated towards Isabela as a child, who by now has grown less excited and curious, and more soft spoken and dignified, all the parts of growing up.

They grow up so fast, don't they? It's seems it was just yesterday that she'd helped deliver Isabela in a cottage far from Casita, not knowing she was there for her niece or that the baby would hold a special place in Julieta's heart. A special place in all of Encanto's heart.

"Isabela begged me to come out to the village today. And, well, you know I can't say no to her." Bruno gives a weak chuckle. "People were staring. They didn't look all that trusting, but no one said or tried anything." He smiles. "A few people approached us and gave Isa a compliment. She was polite and everything. Like people stop and compliment her all the time. The entire town loves her! It's amazing."

"The entire town..." Julieta repeats, nodding. "Do you think Isabela is happy?"

Bruno looks confused and says, "Why- Why wouldn't she be?"

Julieta shakes her head and turns away from him. "Never mind."

"Wait." Bruno stops her. "If you think something is wrong with her, you'd tell me right?"

Wrong with her...

The entire town loves her niece, singing her praises wherever she goes. There's nothing that can possibly be wrong. And Bruno would know. How many times did Julieta have to wipe away his tears after someone was cruel to him?

"It's not that." She assures him. "I think I'm just projecting. With Mirabel's ceremony coming up..."

Bruno nods. "I get that. Do you remember how much of a mess I was before Isabela got her gift? But it all turned out better than fine. That wasn't a prophecy. Do you want a prophecy? Oh god, why did I offer that? What if turns out horrible? Not that it will! I'm sure it will turn out great. But that's not a prophecy either-"

"I don't think I want a prophecy."

"That's fair."

Forgetting about her previous worries, Julieta allows herself to ponder over her younger daughter instead.

All of them get a little worried when it comes to what power their children will get. Bruno's lucky to have that out of the way, honestly. It's something their mother doesn't quite understand, seeing all their gifts as unabashed forces of good. But Julieta's really not that worried about Mirabel's gift anymore than they all worry.

Maybe she should have worried.

Notes:

Julieta is a good and loving mother, but no one tells her when anything is wrong. And she was in a position similar to Isabela and Luisa, and so that's normal to her. And you see the logic of beloved=happy. Mirabel is something completely out of left field to Julieta, in a way that kind of reminds her of her troubled brother, and so it's more obvious to her that her youngest needs her support.

I'm just a little scared I made it a little too obvious/in-denial-ish and not enough as something that Julieta thinks is normal while occasionally wondering if this is best.

Honestly... I might go right into writing chapter three. I already had a bit of chapter two written when I published chapter one, so this one might take longer, but... Yeah, I might be obsessed.

Chapter 3: Act III Isabela

Chapter Text

Act III Isabela

 

One of her defining memories is made up of three memories.

She thinks she was seven when she had a teacher get married. All of her friends, including Dolores, were so excited, and they all began to imagine what their wedding days would be like. Isabela promised to personally make flowers for each and every one of them.

One thing that really caught her interest was a detail she hadn't known before. 

"My papa will walk me down the aisle!" Isabela declared, excited just thinking about it. "I can't wait!"

It would have been perfect if not for the teacher scoffing and muttering, "If he doesn't make your flowers wilt before the ceremony."

She'd frowned. "What do you mean?"

Señora Ruiz wouldn't say and so she went home and asked her father.

Papa gave a whole story about how he said a simple joke and Tía Pepa blew it way out of proportion but the thing that stuck in her mind was this;

"It's best not to mention it to her. She doesn't like to talk about it. Heh. She wouldn't talk to me for- for two years afterwards! And then you came along and everything was happy again." He smiles as if to say, 'And they all lived happily ever after.'

But what would have happened if Isabela hadn't come along?

She must have been eight or nine when she begged her father for a prophecy about her future. He'd resisted up to that point, it being one of the few things he would ever say 'no' to her about. Maybe that was why she was so adamant about it.

Back then, she didn't know why he was so wary about it, because it was beautiful. It showed her swinging around on a vine, smiling as she swung across the entire courtyard. Her and some girl on vines (Roots? No, vines.) and hugging in front of the candle. She gasped at the realization that her vines will be strong enough to do that one day. Isabela hugging her father. It finished on something not so lavish but... content. Isabela, much older, throwing her head back in a boisterous laugh before settling on her in a moment to herself with a wide, happy and untroubled smile. She looked so happy.

"I love it, Papa!" She'd said and immediately ran to hug him. He wrapped his arms round her and hugged back just as fiercely.

He described it as 'The life of her dreams' and she agreed.

The third and last memory came with her cousin. Since Isabela's prophecy went so well, she thought it would be nice for cousin. After all, she was always the romantic type, daydreaming about her future husband.

They saw a man, muscular and handsome in an obvious way, writing poetry, Dolores looking out the window dreamily, and then- then him on one knee proposing to an unseen woman. They could only see the edge of her dress and her hair. But Dolores wasn't her, she was sitting at the table, the only other clear person in attendance, watching as this happened with an unhappy expression.

Dolores fled, tears streaming down her face, Papa stuttering out apologies. Isabela ran after her.

Outside his door, she took her cousin's hand and begged, "Don't tell your mama. Please don't. I don't want her to be mad at him."

Dolores sniffled, but nodded.

She went back to her father soon after, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"It didn't happen, Papa. It didn't happen."

Isabela learned a few things from those three memories. Things she can never forget.

And now, as her baby cousin cries and cries, and it seems all of Encanto is filled with uneasy murmuring, Isabela thinks that maybe her lessons will extend to others.

She's put to bed, but she doesn't know what she'll do in the morning for the little girl who didn't get a gift. She doesn't know how she eventually falls asleep, but eventually she's being shaken awake by her father, looking worriedly down at her. "Papa?"

"We might have to leave."

"Leave where?" Isabela asks, not understanding.

"Leave Encanto."

"What!?"

He tries to explain. He had a bad vision, and it's in everyone's interest if he goes away. It doesn't make sense. They can't leave Encanto! And the family is not better off without him.

But if he needs to be convinced, then Isabela will convince him the best way she can.

Papa isn't a liar. Maybe he should be but there's no changing the past. Isabela wonders how anyone could think that he has say over the future. If that were the case then why wouldn't he change it so that people wouldn't get angry at him before they receive their prophecies?

In that moment she wishes that he could simply call it into existence that he keeps his secret for the rest of his life.

"Have another vision! And see something nice. Not the same thing but something different. Then just pretend all the ugly stuff just never happened."

"I don't know..."

"You have to try." Feeling desperate, she says something she thinks about a lot. "Do it for me!"

Papa pales but then nods.

"There's no explanation." Papa assures her abuela. Isabela presses her ear to the door to eavesdrop, though she missed the first part of the conversation. "It's just... one of those things. But, um, the next Madrigal to have a ceremony will have a gift. For- for what that's worth."

"Gracias, Brunito."

Isabela runs back to her own door when Papa walks out. He looks at her and sighs before approaching her.

"You should get some rest."

She nods obediently. "Yes, Papa."

He leans down, though he's barely taller than her anymore, and presses a kiss to her the crown of her head. "Te amo, Ratonita."

"Te amo." She whispers. "It didn't happen, Papa. It didn't happen."

The next morning, Abuela tells the entire family that future Madrigal's will still receive gifts. Isabela's hand slips into her father's under the table, seeing the guilt and nervousness on his face.

Later, that day, before going out to make her flower deliveries, Abuela stops her and beckons her to sit in the dining room.

"You, mi amor, are the future of the family." Abuela runs her fingers through Isabela's hair. She wonders if talking about her 'future' would mean less without her father. "With everything that happened with Mirabel, I'm going to count on you more than ever. Show the community that our family is strong."

Isabela smiles and nods. "Yes, Abuela."

But she already knew that.

So she does her jobs as quickly as she can without seeming rude whil still smiling and assuring the townsfolk that 'All is well in El Casita.'

"What was it?" They ask.

"It was just the miracle's will." Isabela repeats the most flattering of Abuela's justifications. "And the miracle is never wrong."

"Of course not."

They all agree with her, as always.

It's only when her back is turned that she can hear the whispers-

"El brujo."

"His fault."

"Cursed."

"His own niece."

"He doesn't deserve to be a Madrigal."

People can be so... dumb.

It's not the first time she's heard such whispers and it won't be the last.

To want to be perfect and to want to scream at the same time. But she can't scream. She's too perfect to scream. So instead, as time passes and the whispers persist, she smiles wide and insists-

"I love my father very much."

"My father is one of my favorite people in all of Encanto!"

"I don't think I could ever marry someone who didn't get along with my father."

She feels proud of herself when she comes up with that last one.

Some people look at her like they don't believe her. Others just look confused, as if her loving her father is a math problem they can't figure out. A surprising amount sigh and attribute it to her perfection, that she wouldn't cut him out like a weed.

"Your father has made a few missteps in the past." Abuela admits to her. "It doesn't justify anything, of course, but you mustn't let it bother you. You and him are both above such things. Just stay kind and patient and you'll prove to everyone that they're just... misguided."

Mirabel gets over not getting a gift, and so does everyone else.

They focus on more important matters.

As she gets older, she starts to... test things out. Her entire life, her Sundays were spent like this: Morning Mass, food after church, then she goes back to Casita to be at their home alter with her father. Whenever she asked why he didn't go to Mass with them, the answer was always the same.

"The Padre doesn't like me very much."

But maybe she can do something about that. Maybe she can change the world.

No, not the world. But maybe she can change things for her father.

Because Isabela Madrigal wants for nothing and cannot want, but she is allowed to want nice things on behalf of her father.

So she wears pink, she blooms flowers in her hair, and she stops by the church in the morning. With a bright smile and innocent eyes, she asks the priest if her father might be allowed to accompany her to church on Sundays.

His bald head sweats, and so she lets her smile dip into a pout, as if she'll go outside and cry if he refuses. Maybe she will.

Isabela Madrigal gets what she wants, though she cannot want anything, because if not than how can she want for nothing?

It's so satisfying to want something and to get what she wants. If only on rare occasions.

She holds her father's hand as she leads him to their pew, head held high, and she feels victorious.

Papa kisses her forehead, they're at the same height now, and whispers. "Gracias, Ratonita."

(He only calls her that when no one is listening. They both know Abuela wouldn't approve of someone, even Isabela's own parent, calling her precious rose something like that. It's their little rebelli- secret. Hers and his, and Dolores' obviously.)

(He's getting good at keeping secrets.)

Her father's birthday is always a grand and busy affair. It's not just his birthday, it's her tías' birthdays as well. The Madrigal Triplets can only have the best.

It is the day they got their miracle after all

That means a big party, something Papa isn't in love with, with lots and lots of preparations. And Isabela is the decorator. She learns to bloom flowers with yellow and blue and green stems in a pattern with all of the pink, as if sewn together. And despite himself, Papa always tells her that her work is brilliant.

It also means that every single kid in the house is celebrating a parent's birthday at the same time, which means spending a pinch more time with them than everyone else.

Papa isn't the type to dance, so she just sits with him between dazzling the crowds with extravagant dances she does with her vines and many rows of roses. But it's nice, to just sit with him and... be.

People still side-eye her father, as always, and she hears a few mutters about him keeping her from the floor, at the center of everything where she belongs. She just thanks god that her father doesn't hear it, and begs Dolores to keep an ear out in case some unfriendly villager approaches him.

A part of her wants to scream, but instead she laughs, a beautiful and melodic sound of course, and pretends it's at a joke he tells. A petty, but flawless way of proving a point.

And when she sees Mirabel run up to her mama, trip, and then get up like nothing happened to give Tía Julieta a crumpled a card, the mother smiling brightly as if Mirabel didn't trip and instead put the stars in the sky, something in her chest burns.

Isabela is a perfect young woman, and perfect young women are nice to everyone, even if they make passive aggressive comments about how the apple falls far from the tree and glare at her father when they're together. But Isabela is nice and good and perfect.

Abuela, gentle and orderly as she may be, discourages Mirabel from 'helping', because it when it comes to her cousin it usually means 'messing things up'.

Mirabel never listens. And why not? All Abuela wants is for her to not do anything! She doesn't have to smile even when she feels like frowning, she doesn't have to keep her composure at all times, she isn't the future of the Encanto. The family doesn't depend on her, and neither does her father's happiness.

You'd think by now, Mirabel would have gotten the message.

Isabela Madrigal is too perfect to yell, but she can remind her cousin to know her place. Abuela never warned against that, and if anything, she encouraged it.

(And if the hurt looks bring out a relief Isabela shouldn't be feeling, as though tiny drops of water  are leaking through a crack in a dam that can never, ever break, then who cares? It's only Mirabel.)

(No good can from that dam breaking.)

Even as Isabela watches Mirabel grow close with Papa. They spend afternoons together while Isabela is off being useful along with the rest of their family, and it's just her prima alone with Isabela's helpless father in the house. 

They talk, and it's as though they fit together like puzzle pieces. There's an understanding there, something absent from when he's with his own daughter.

Papa is like everyone else- In awe of her, looking at Isabela like she's the brightest star that ever was, like she can do no wrong and maybe she can't. She supposes that is another gift she gave to him, a chance to be in the same boat as the townsfolk for a change.

Surely, Mirabel can't do things like that for him? Can't keep secrets or keep up reputations or keep composure. So why does he like her so much?

(It doesn't seem fair that Mirabel gets two doting parents and Isabela's only one as well.)

But Isabela has much more important things to worry about than Mirabel, as she keeps reminding her. Abuela's mind was made up long ago, and what she says goes. Isabela will be the next matriarch after Tía Julieta (and how pathetic is it that Mirabel can never live up to her role model mother). And that means responsible and nurturing and golden, and when the time comes, Isabela will choose the next perfect, golden child to take over the role and be flawless, and it will just go on like that forever.

But it will be worth it.

Maybe future townsfolk and generations will never look back at her father with love, but... 

Perhaps the horror stories can be forgotten, every memory of every mistake plucked out and thrown away like a weed, leaving only the memory of The Isabela Madrigal's father.

And she knows he would love nothing more.

And after everything he's been through, he deserves nothing more.

(Maybe it's what Isabela deserves too. After all, she's learned all the decorum, all the pleasentries, everything needed for a perfect matriarch, she's earned the right to be remembered as a beautiful and benevolent leader of the Madrigal's.)

(Whether she asked for it or not.)

They love her. (For all of they never loved her father, they love her.)

She wonders what it would be like to be Mirabel. To be babied by a nurturing mother, a father, and an uncle for doing nothing. To simply have to stay out of the way. Get to do whatever she wants all day without being regulated by their abuela. To be free as a bird. If Mirabel absolutely wanted to, she could just choose not to go into town, unlike the rest of the family, and spend the entire day with someone else's father. She doesn't have to perfect, she doesn't have all eyes on her at all times, she doesn't know what could be lost with one bad mistake.

She can trip and fall, and her mother wouldn't love her any less.

Isabela, on the other hand, needs to make sure every last petal blooms bright as can be. No wrinkles. No unflattering colors. No thorns. 

(Would a few thorns really be so bad?)

(Abuela would think so, and so it would be.) 

(Just let it be.)

(No.)

Isabela grows graceful as ever, and she's taller than her father before they know it. They've never looked alike, but still. Everyone says she looks just as beautiful as Abuela did as a young woman. That she's just like her Abuela, in her appearance and in her kind heart.

"You'd never guess!"

"For the best."

"I keep forgetting who her parent is."

"I just like to imagine that she's Julieta's, or even Pepa's!"

Isabela doesn't scream.

She keeps her smile as pleasant as ever, is admittedly a little harsh when she hisses at Mirabel to get out of her way when they pass one another in the hallway, and goes to her father's room as her cousin had just left it.

"Poor Tío." Mirabel mutters. If Isabela trips her with a vine, that's neither here nor there.

The stairs were never a problem for her, and they never will be. She swings on vines, and for a moment lets herself enjoy the air blowing against her hair, being able to swing without rhyme or reason and not as a show for other people. And then she goes to father.

"Papa?"

He looks at her and breaks out into a wide grin. "Yes, Ratonita?"

If the townspeople knew about that nickname, they would vilify him. He would be a devil or otherwise some sort of villain preying on the poor innocent princess.

Ridiculous. 

He would not be a father who can call his daughter whatever makes her happy.

So no one knows about the nickname.

Isabela smiles. "When was the last time you went to that cliff we used to go to?"

The skyline in the rooms match the time of day of the outside world. It would be rather inconvenient otherwise. She never minded the heat of her father's room. Maybe it's because she's his daughter. Still, it cools down a bit at night and... Isabela likes it, she always has. 

When she was little, he would take her out to a cliff and they would lay side by side, staring at the stars. She always wondered if Casita made its own stars, it's own version of space, just to put in her father's room and make it more beautiful. 

But it's best not to question a miracle.

It's a shame that more people don't want to admire the view.

They haven't done this in awhile. She's been busy, she's had other activities to focus her time on, she has to get a good night's rest if she wants to look her best in the early hours of the morning.

Time passes, and people forget.

She wonders if he's come up here with Mirabel, but doesn't ask.

Isabela thinks back to a different time, a different memory, at the top of his tower. 

(She was young, but she wasn't scared when she looked at the rat in his hands. She never was scared of rats, as her cousins had been. She thought she was so brave back then. In truth, maybe it was actually because she was his daughter and no child of Bruno Madrigal would be anything less than comfortable with rats. 

That theory is tested by Mirabel being okay with the rodents as well, though.

But she looked at the rat in his hands, and ever the curious child, who hadn't yet learned not to- to be curious, (sort of like-) she asked, "Why rats, Papa?"

And he gasped, eyes widening. "This is all I've ever wanted."

"What?" Isabela asked, confused. 

He shook his head, snapping out of it." I just- Repeat the question, repeat the question."

"Okay?" She blinked. "Why do you-"

"Exact wording as you used before."

Isabela huffed. "Why rats, Papa?"

He beamed, looking so happy. "Rats are the lowliest and most despised of all creatures, mi amor. If they have purpose, so do we all." And then he kissed the top of her head.

At the time, she thought she understood, but now that's she's older she's realized that it was just whimsical storytelling gibberish.)

(She cannot be expected to understand the meaning of something when the person telling it to her doesn't understand it himself.)

That was a happy memory, and maybe memories like those are the ones she should be defining herself by. But nothing happened when everything was silly and light, there was no lesson to be learned, she didn't do anything grow into the person she is today.

If she only ever took away lessons from moments like that one then she would be a completely different person than the one she is today.

And some people don't get that choice. Some people have so much baggage from their past that it's not as simple as ignoring the bad and focusing on the good. Isabela would be selfish to put her needs above her family's when her father needs her, and Abuela needs her, they all need her to be perfect. 

And Isabela is many things, but selfish is not one of them.

But it's one night. One night to spend with her father and look at stars as though she's a little girl again. A little girl who's closer to growing up than she thinks, but doesn't know it yet. That's all she asks for.

And in the peace of the night, she almost wants to ask Papa what he could have seen Mirabel doing that almost led to them fleeing their lives and their family. But that's a small weed that doesn't grow as the garden does, and if ignoring means it doesn't grow then it's best left ignored. Besides, it didn't happen.

But what could have happened if they had left the family they both love so much it hurts?

What could Isabela do?

But she doesn't ask that. Instead, she asks, "If you had to chose; Green or pink?"

"Green." Papa answers without missing a beat. "But pink is perfect for you, mi vida."

Isabela smiles, and tries to ignore the hope that he'll ask which color she prefers. He doesn't do that, and she's not disappointed.

(She thinks she would have said green as well.)

(But she knows she would have said pink.)

Beautiful roses don't start off as beautiful roses, at least not traditionally. They need sunlight and fertilizer before they can bloom. All plants do. All plants need time to grow into what they're supposed to be.

But Isabela's flowers don't need that. She creates them, they come out fully formed, absolutely and completely perfect right off the bat. 

But people aren't like the flowers she grows. She had to learn, be nurtured, be taught the art of being a perfect rose put up on a pedestal before the entire Encanto.

Still, it didn't feel like she was put in the sun for the right amount of time. She wasn't watered enough. The fertilizer was all wrong.

Like Isabela Madrigal wasn't supposed to grow as a rose grows. 

Maybe she's another flower, or not even a flower. Maybe she's like her father; a cactus in the desert.

But no one can know that, because if they do then the person they'll point their fingers at is Papa, and she can't do that to him. 

And no one likes cactuses very much anyways.

(She does.)

They're prickly, and green, and oddly shaped. Not like the perfect blossoms Isabela grows.

(They're beautiful though.)

(But no one else sees it.)

So she wasn't grown as a normal plant grows, and she didn't come out a fully formed perfect flower either. It was something in between.

Isabela thinks back to when she was five and getting her gift, and when she was six and going to school, and nine and asking for a prophecy, and thinks she might've grown up too fast.

["The Guzmáns?" Bruno repeats.

Mama nods and smiles. "Sí, sí. I think Mariano would be a perfect match for our perfect Isabela."

The Guzmáns had always been nice to Bruno, maybe that is why Mama chose that family specifically. Señora Guzmán never treated him differently than his sisters. And while she could be a little chatty, a little gossipy, she-

She-

She didn't blame him, when he saw Señor Guzmán die. She brought her husband to Casita and they assured him that it wasn't his fault.

And then she promised not to tell anyone.

And at parties, the grandson always said hello without a hint of distaste or mockery. He was a genuine man. His little girl would be happy with him.

Bruno might not have been happy with her mother, but she'll never have to worry about that.

"I think they could be good together."

"So good for the Encanto."]

No one asks if she's happy. They just assume. No one asks if this is what she wants. They just assume.

When was the last time someone asked what she wanted?

Perfect girls with perfect lives don't want for anything. They already have the best of the best. 

And so the perfect girl gets the best man of all the Encanto.

(She's old enough to get married, or so everyone thinks. She wonders when she'll start to think of herself as a woman and not a girl. It should be soon. She calls herself a woman when she speaks to others. They can't know about that little bit of doubt. Isabela Madrigal is a woman of twenty years, proud and confident, full of wisdom, perfect in-

Perfect in every way, as Mirabel would say.)

(She remembers being a kid, and wanting the entire world.)

Mariano is nice enough, Isabela supposes. He's a perfect gentlemen. He charms her entire family, and most importantly, he never looks at her father with anything other than respect. It doesn't seem like an act, and she knows when it's an act, and so she can tell herself it's okay when the Guzmáns leave and Abuela claps her hands together. The smile alone is enough to tell Isabela that her fate is sealed. 

Mariano is a perfect man. 

But he's just like everyone else. He looks at her like she's something above.

He calls her the most perfect flower in all Encanto. And she is the most perfect flower in all Encanto. 

She's been called everything. Rose. Flower. Señorita Perfecta. The most beautiful woman in all Encanto. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

And she's been called everything else. Bastard. El diabla. Witch. Devil's Spawn.

(Her favorite nickname was always a secret.)

It's nothing special, to be called a perfect flower. Same old, same old for someone whose life is as wonderful as Isabela's.

She doesn't bother trying to tell him her father's nickname for her, or that her favorite colors aren't pink or purple, or that she sometimes feels so wrong in her own skin. It would only break his rose tinted perception of her, and he wouldn't want to marry her, and no one can reject the golden child. Otherwise, she wouldn't be the golden child.

So she lets him swoon and sigh and write poetry and think that he actually cares and think that he actually knows her, and let's herself accept that that's that.

(She doesn't try to get to know him either.)

(Wouldn't give her a choice in the matter either way.)

The perfect woman needs a perfect husband, and with Antonio's ceremony coming up the family needs to be as strong as ever to avoid whatever caused Mirabel to be such a disappointment. And getting the perfect marriage is gonna help the family, and the Encanto, and her father, and it's not all about Isabela. 

She'll do it for them. And they'll never have to know that Isabela's not doing it for herself.

Isabela Madrigal has a very complicated relationship with wanting, but she decides it's best not to think about it too much. She's been thinking about it for years and it's gotten her no where. She came to a certain conclusion a long time ago and after years of thinking it over, her fate has never come out to be different. 

So when she marries Mariano, and she will marry Mariano, there really is no point in thinking about any other life for herself.

And, anyways, the was always that vision of her future that she had gotten from her father. Isabela was so content in it. She'll be content one day.

She just needs to grow up a little until that day comes.

And in the meantime, no one can ever know that she hasn't grown up yet.

Isabela Madrigal has a very complicated relationship with wanting.

But even so, she can want things on behalf of her father, which sometimes even aligns with what she wants.

"And my father will walk my down the aisle?" Isabela asks her Abuela, smile soft and pleasant, with a precisely measured hint of excitement in her voice. She thinks that if the answer is no, she might even ask twice.

If she isn't allowed to want anything else, than she can at least want this one thing.

Abuela meets her smile. "Of course."

Then she'll be fine. She promises. 

This is what Abuela means whenever says Isa is a blessing. Whenever anyone says that Bruno's life was so lonely and sad and then Isabela came and made things better. 

Her father will walk her down the aisle, and he will dance with her, and she will make sure her Tía does not have a single cloud, and she will make sure Mirabel will stay quiet, and not a single flower will wilt, and the entire Encanto will know how proud and happy she is to have him as her father. Because she will show everyone how much she loves her father and maybe that will get through to them.

And there's not a thing they can do to stop it.

Perhaps it will be the happiest day of her life.

Isabela is perfect. She is the bringer of miracles, for her family and for everyone else.

And she's fine, she's fine, she's fine.