Chapter Text
“Tell them how the crowds went wild, tell them how I hope they shine. Long live the walls we crashed through, I had the time of my life with you. Long, long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you. And I was screaming, ‘Long live all the magic we made!’ And bring on all the pretenders, I'm not afraid! Singing long live all the mountains we moved; I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. And long, long live the look on your face, and bring on all the pretenders. One day, we will be remembered.” - Long Live, Taylor Swift
There was one more plate: Alma’s.
Casita had gently rolled the plate towards Bruno after dinner. When he tried to put it away with the others, the house simply refused to cooperate. To Casita’s credit, it didn’t feel pushy. Just a nudge in the right direction. A question: what now?
Alma’s plate had two candles on the sides, a handful of red blossoms on top and pale green leaves all around. But, like the rest of her family, Alma was so much more than one thing. She was much more than a candle, miraculous or not.
They didn’t love her because of the candle.
Bruno studied it carefully, pondering. What to add? What to do?
What would make Alma smile?
As soon as the question came to mind, Bruno had his answer.
“I can take a hint, Casita,” he said and took the plate upstairs. Casita rattled a few drawers, radiating a faint sense of smugness.
Bruno went to his room and got to work.
The next morning, Alma’s plate was waiting at her usual spot at the table. All around the rim were butterflies: pink, red, yellow, orange, green, blue, purple. A few more sparkles had been added around the candles.
And in the middle of the plate, all crowded together was the whole family. Pepa’s painted counterpart cradled Antonio with one arm. (No doubt, Bruno would have to update it as the kid got older. He didn’t mind.) Everyone had their eyes open, they were all smiling. Alma was not holding the candle. Isabela was in her new vivid azure dress. Julieta and Agustín were hand in hand. Alma had her hands on her heart; Mirabel had a tiny butterfly resting on her finger. Dolores had a hand on Camilo’s shoulder; the kid was sticking his tongue out. Luisa was in the pastel dress that Agustín was helping her make, looking sweet and earnest. Félix was grinning broadly. Bruno added Esma and Luz to his shoulders.
Alma took one look at it and her eyes watered.
“Ay, mijo,” she said and pulled Bruno into her arms. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”
“You do?” Bruno asked.
“Yes.” She pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s wonderful.”
It gave him some ideas for the town’s mural. With how many changes that needed to be made, it might be best to just paint over the whole thing and start from scratch. Something new.
“Hey, niños!” Bruno called, poking his head out of the backdoor. The kids, all scattered about the garden, looked up. Camilo was swinging from one of Isa’s vines. Luisa was curled up on the back steps, sketching. It looked like dress designs and…unicorns? No, they were donkeys with horns. Donkey-corns?
“Yeah, Tio?” Mirabel asked.
Bruno leaned against the doorway. Inside, he could hear Alma gushing to Pepa and Julieta about her new plate.
Yeah, something new would be good.
“Wanna help with some more art?” he asked with a grin.
It certainly caught their interest. He didn’t entirely trust the gleam in Isabela’s eyes.
“I’m gonna paint over the mural,” he explained. “Start a new one, y’know? So…Wanna help paint over it?”
“Can we make a mess?” Camilo asked, a bit too eagerly.
“Not too much, kiddo,” Bruno warned. “But a little bit.”
That was all Camilo needed to hear. He whooped and ran inside, babbling something about getting a different shirt because his mamí would totally kill him if he got paint on the one he was wearing.
“Can we help with the background too?” Luisa asked, looking hopeful. She was clutching her sketchbook close to her chest.
Well, how could he say no to that face?
He nodded and his nieces immediately huddled together, whispering and trading ideas. Mirabel looked like she’d just been handed a very important mission: all business. Dolores was tapping her chin as she thought.
Bruno loved those kids so much it hurt.
Smiling, he went back inside to change too. No way was he risking getting paint all over this ruana; not the one Mirabel had embroidered. It felt like years ago now, though it had only been a few months.
Bruno put the ruana carefully away and hurried back downstairs. The kids were all gathered impatiently by the doors. Camilo was literally bouncing in anticipation.
“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Bruno said.
Casita opened the doors and the kids ran ahead. Luisa was giving Mirabel a piggy-back while Mirabel urged her to go faster. Dolores laughed loudly as she ran. Camilo cartwheeled and shape-shifted into different people: Pepa, Mariano, Luka and Félix. Isabela hitched up her skirts and positively sprinted, shouting to the others to pick up the pace.
Bruno followed more sedately, happy to watch.
Yeah, he thought. They’re all gonna be just fine.
Five years later…
The colourful curtains of flowers parted and the spotlight zeroed in on Antonio. The poor kid looked so anxious, fidgeting in place. His big brown eyes, always so expressive, sought out Mirabel, hand in hand with Julieta.
It was no secret that Mirabel was Antonio’s favourite person in all the world.
Mirabel’s eyes widened. She looked uncertainly at Camilo and Dolores; they both nodded. She looked back at Antonio. Looking more worried than ever, he held his tiny hand out with a pleading pout.
“Please,” he whispered. It was so quiet that Bruno could hear him, even from his spot next to Agustín. That one little word was enough to break his heart. Antonio was so shy, he’d never liked being the centre of attention.
Mirabel straightened up; shoulders back, chin up, and she marched to Antonio’s side like she was going into battle. She took his hand and all the tension drained him from.
“Come on, néné,” she said gently. “Let’s get you to your door.”
And there it was, another vision came to pass; one of the first Bruno ever had of Antonio.
(His gaze flickered to Pepa and Félix, waiting by the door with Alma. He wondered if any of them would figure out he’d known what Gift Antonio would get all along. He’d surely be in for an earful for not warning Pepa about the jaguar.)
Hand in hand, Mirabel and Antonio walked through the crowd; past Mariano and Señora Guzman (Mariano kept throwing Dolores sappy little smiles. Surely Dolores knew he was planning to propose tomorrow; super-hearing aside, that sparkle in her eyes gave it away), past the Rojas family (Luka gave Antonio two thumbs up and Maria waved), past Osvaldo and Ofelia (both of them had flower crowns from Isabela, bright orange and red), up the stairs and to the door.
“You’ve got this,” he heard Mirabel say. She kissed Antonio’s cheek and skipped to Pepa and Félix. Félix threw an arm around her shoulders and Pepa kissed the top of her head.
Alma bent down to Antonio’s level, gently cradling the candle.
“Antonio, mi amor,” she said gently. “Do you promise you’ll use your Gift for good?”
Antonio looked at the candle and wrapped his hands around it. He took a deep breath and nodded, speaking as loudly and clearly as he dared: “Yes, Abuela.”
Alma smiled at him, eyes shining. She gently poked his nose and stepped back, gesturing towards his door.
In a flash, Bruno remembered-
A much older Mirabel, an adult Mirabel, was holding the candle. She kneeled down to a small girl and held the candle out. They were standing in front of a golden door with no carvings.
“Do you promise to use your Gift for good?” she asked.
“Sí, Tia,” the little girl said.
But that could wait. He watched, biting his lip, as Antonio reached out and twisted the handle on his door. There was a blinding flash of golden light and, once it dimmed, Bruno could see the carving on the door: Antonio, surrounded by animals and smiling.
For a moment, Antonio looked baffled. He tilted his head, pouting.
And then a toucan flew into the courtyard and landed on his still outstretched arm. It squealed at him, flapping its wings and Antonio’s mouth dropped open.
“Uh-huh,” he said. The toucan squawked again. “I understand you!” Antonio said happily. Awed gasps rang out. Pepa squealed.
The toucan nudged Antonio’s forehead and Antonio said, “Of course they can come!”
Here we go, Bruno thought, smirking.
Julieta glanced at him. Her eyes narrowed. “Hermanito,” she began, but she was cut off by a loud roar.
Right on cue, the jaguar arrived. Along with the other toucans, the capybara, the coatis, a tapir, cats and dogs, a handful of mice, parrots and a whole lot of hummingbirds.
The jaguar, eager as a puppy, ran right to Antonio and scooped the kid onto its back. With one powerful pounce, it knocked his door open and carried Antonio into his new room. The rest of the animals swiftly followed.
There were gasps, anxious cries, laughter and cheers from the crowd. Luka loudly proclaimed he wanted a jaguar. Poor Ismael looked faint.
Alma blinked, looking a little shocked herself, but she swiftly recovered. Chuckling, shaking her head, she followed Antonio.
“Well, let’s get this party started!” Camilo yelled. That got everyone back on track; the fireworks began and people began to hurry to see Antonio’s room. That trio of kids who followed Mirabel around were pushing each other to reach the room first.
Pepa, a little pale, caught Bruno’s gaze. Like Julieta, her eyes narrowed and a cloud appeared above her head. She leaned over the bannister to shout, “Bruno! Cabron! I swear if you knew about the jaguar-!”
“What jaguar?” Bruno asked, batting his eyelashes.
“You little shit!” The fireworks drowned out the thunder. Camilo was laughing so hard he had to cling to Julieta for support.
“She’s going to kill you for not warning her,” Julieta said drily.
Bruno stuck his tongue out. “Ay, she can try.”
Antonio’s room was jungle themed. He had a giant tree house with a hammock instead of a normal bed. There was a river and all sorts of places for his new animal friends to sleep.
The jaguar tried to cuddle Agustín. He seemed delighted. Antonio happily informed them the jaguar’s name was Parce.
Mirabel sidled up to Bruno as the music began in earnest. “So,” she drawled, hands on her hips. “Did you know?”
“Since before the kid was even born,” Bruno admitted. Mirabel snorted, a hand clapped over her mouth.
“Yeah,” she said. “Tia Pepa is totally gonna kill you for not warning her.”
Bruno looked at her, his favourite niece (hey, he was only human). This bright-eyed, quick-witted kid with her big heart and more brave than she gave herself credit for.
He thought of the future, of Mirabel holding the candle out to a little girl who hadn’t been born yet. (Who, in all likelihood, wasn’t even a thought in Isabela or Luisa’s heads yet, whichever one of them was the mother.) Mirabel, the next candle-holder. Mirabel, who’d taken one look at Bruno five years ago and decided they were going to be friends. She’d practically called dibs.
Mirabel Madrigal, who shone even brighter than the Miracle.
His smile grew and he linked his arm with hers.
“Ay, Mira,” he said. “Some things are better as surprises, don’t you think?”
She hummed thoughtfully, leaning her head on his shoulder. Give it another year and she’d be taller than him.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “But Tia’s still gonna kill you.”
Yeah, maybe so. And maybe Mirabel would give him an earful in the future too. One of these days, that candle was going to transfer to her. That kid was a leader down to her core; she had enough love in her to light up the world. If you asked Bruno, she was the perfect choice.
But why spoil it?
There's something you need to know.
In the mountains, there’s a hidden village. More of a town now and always growing. Protected by magic, by sacrifice; by love. Only those who need a home and safety may find it. Those with evil intent will never lay their eyes upon it, no matter how hard they seek.
And in the centre of that town, is a mural. A mural of the founding family (such as they are); the ones given a Miracle fifty years ago. A family that had been torn apart in more ways than one and pulled themselves back together. This mural was painted by a lost boy, a found man, with the help of his sobrinos.
Alma Madrigal with her welcoming smile and steadfast gaze. Next to her, forever young and handsome, is her husband, Pedro Madrigal. Above their joined hands, floats the miraculous candle, shining gold.
Beneath them are their children and sons-in-law. Bruno, holding a glowing green hourglass with a pair of little rats on his shoulders, his smile shy and crooked. Pepa, surrounded by all kinds of weather: a cloud, raindrops and sun above her head, a rainbow twisting around her like a ribbon. Julieta, surrounded by various herbs and spices, wielding a frying pan like a sword. Félix, holding a bright yellow umbrella and grinning, his arm around Pepa’s waist. Agustín, holding sheet music and surrounded by little musical notes (and, yes, a little bee is hidden in there as well.)
And then there’s their children.
Dolores, hands held behind her ears, head tilted with a bright grin. A little coin purse is attached to her skirt. Camilo, doing a dramatic flourish, his grin mischievous and his eyes kind. Antonio, cradling a puppy, smiling shyly and earnestly.
Isabela, in a bright blue dress with coloured streaks in her hair: purple, green and blue; there’s an orange flower in her hair and her nails are painted black. Cradling a cactus, surrounded by passion flowers and bright flower petals raining down. Luisa, holding a donkey above her head, dressed in a pretty lavender dress with a red ribbon in her hair. Mirabel, surrounded by butterflies of all colours and sizes, her arms opened wide in welcome. All three of them are grinning widely.
All around them and behind them is the village: the church, the houses, the river, the mountains. A wreath of stars and butterflies surrounds them, enclosing them.
Los Madrigals. Quite the big family. Soon to grow even more.
They’re safe. No more visions of disaster. No more heartbreak over missing family members. No more mysteries and pain.
No more cracks.
It’s not perfect, but what is?
And that’s all there is to say.
“There never was an Anastasia; she was a dream. (A beautiful dream). A dream only time will fade. (So no more talk of the Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanov). The new order has no need for fairy tales. The case is closed. Still... Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember. Things my heart used to know…Once upon a December.” - Finale, Anastasia: Broadway
