Chapter Text
Today is a very special day for the Madrigal Family.
The lights are blaring, swallowing the shadows from all angles of the densely packed room as hundreds of voices fight to be heard by their conversation partners, anticipation swelling for the girl of the hour’s arrival.
And Bruno stands, just as tense and excited as everyone else, beside Pepa and Felix; wide green eyes absorbing as much of the event as possible from his vantage point.
He must commit as much of this event as he can to memory, just like he did for the four identical celebrations that he’s attended prior to this one.
(At least, they began identically. It’s always the ending that’s unique, special, magical… )
The weather can’t seem to decide what it intends to be as his atmokinetic sister clutches her husband’s arm, crying and smiling in equal measure as today’s special girl appears at the entrance to the ceremony space.
Casita directs the dazzling lights to her, illuminating her tiny form for everyone to see. The birthday girl, Mirabel, Julieta and Agustin’s youngest daughter, his youngest Sobrina.
She looks so cute, downright adorable, in her frilly little white dress. Her fluffy brown hair has been adorned with a matching white bow that only serves to make her look even more like her Mother; what Julieta had looked like when they’d gone through a very similar ceremony 35 years ago.
She starts walking tentatively down the isle created by the split down the middle of the attentive crowd, and he can see the nerves pinching at her round face as she walks forward, up the stairs, to meet with her Abuela, his Mama, who wears a benevolent smile underlit by the family’s most precious heirloom. The Miracle Candle, the source of all their blessings.
Julieta and Agustin are standing to the left of their youngest child’s undefined room door, observing the proceedings with pride and love shining their eyes as though this is their first time standing there.
Bruno watches eagerly as Mirabel places her teeny hands on the Candle’s wax, and he can barely breathe from the anticipation of what is about to happen…
She’s standing in front of the swirling vortex, and her figure is practically dwarfed by the size of the blue door frame just the same as it had for her sisters and cousins before her. He can’t tear his eyes away, not wanting to miss the slightest second of his niece’s big moment.
She wipes her hand on her skirt (she usually does that) and reaches forward, placing her small hand on the golden doorknob…
And…
‘What’s-?’
A blinding flash of gold sparked over his vision and suddenly, without due explanation, his left side is now devoid of emotional sister and brother-in-law.
And Mirabel is now the only person standing on the first floor of Casita…
‘… What in the Miracle’s name just…?!’
Mirabel’s door dissolving quickly becomes secondary to the inexplicable vanishing of his sisters, his brothers by marriage, his Mother…
(Upon examining the rest of the first floor from where he’s standing, he is terrified to notice their doors are just as absent as the people who owned them…)
The voices from the crowd, which had quieted with Mirabel’s entrance, pick up in exuberance at the disappearance of the community’s leader and the birthday girl’s parents. The added loss of Pepa and Felix quickly spreads through the gathering as Bruno… panics.
‘Oh no oh no oh no-’
Mirabel, poor sweet little Mirabel whose special day is crashing and burning right before everybody’s eyes, turns away from the blank wall in search of her Grandmother and, upon not seeing her, turns to seek her Mama and Papa, a search that also turns up empty.
Even from as far away as he is, he can see the budding tears welling up behind her glasses and she- she just looks so small and-
The other kids should (should) be standing together right now, they should have each other for support and Bruno… he can’t fall apart until he’s made sure they’re all okay!
He rushes up the stairs, leaping over two at a time in order to reach his Sobrina just that little bit faster without thought to the people watching him. As soon as he’s within grabbing distance he scoops the five year old into his arms, cradling her trembling body close. She clings back tightly, burying her face in his chest to hide.
He… he needs to address the people. He needs to…
Taking a second to pet her hair and squeeze her reassuringly, he turns to face the mass of people who, well, they’re a lot quieter than earlier.
He swallows thickly, trying to play Hernando without the hood.
“So… first?” One thing at a time. It’s weird and new how everyone’s eyes are trained on him, he’s failing to detect the usual malice… but that’s probably because he’s so far away. “It seems Mirabel wasn’t given a Gift. Th-this is because… Mirabel doesn’t need one. There is nothing the Miracle can give her that she doesn’t already have.”
Is he lying? He doesn’t think so, but he doesn’t truly know why Mirabel was declined a Gift, so he will go with the most charitable explanation.
(It’s the only one he can offer them…)
“A-as for, um, the other thing that just happened…” Dios mio, he’s never been the centre of attention in this manner before! It’s always been Abuela, or Julieta, or Pepa, or- “I… I don’t know what… it’s an… unrelated tragedy, for sure…”
What else is he meant to say? He can’t let them leave thinking Mirabel is remotely to blame for any of this!
“Th-thank you all for coming, but um, and I’m sorry this… didn’t go perfectly so…” He clutches his niece tighter, already frantic with worry over the other children and what he’s supposed to do… he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do!… “If you all could… see yourselves out, I hope you have a g-good rest of your night.”
That… went terribly. Bruno’s never been one for public speaking.
“Casita, could you…?” The sentient house clatters its tiles at him before beginning to assist with showing the visitors out as respectfully as it may.
And Bruno runs down the stairs, searching for the children. Unless… unless they disappeared too? Did they-
He finds Camilo, the poor boy crying in his confusion and fear. At five years old, he’s too young to understand what just occurred (just like Mirabel), and Bruno shifts to hold his Sobrina in one already aching arm as he reaches his nephew, taking the boy’s hand gently to grip it soothingly.
Dolores is standing next to her brother, her hands cupped behind her ears as she scans the floor with her eyes.
“Dolores-?”
“I can’t hear them.” He cringes. “I can’t- I can’t hear them! Where did they go, Tio Bruno? Where are they…”
He doesn’t know. What is he supposed to say? How can kookie Tio Bruno possibly make any of this better?
Crouching down to set Mirabel on her feet, he feels her immediately latch onto his ruana, her eyes large and scared. Camilo seems to have noticed what his Prima was doing, and tugs his hand free of Bruno’s to copy Mirabel’s grip on his other side, freeing up his hands.
He ensures to keep his motions slow and gentle as he carefully removes Dolores’ hands from the sides of her head.
“ Shhhh , c’mere kid.”
He pulls her to him, pressing her ear to his chest and allowing her to find comfort in his ever present heartbeat. It’s the only comfort he is capable of offering her.
(What is he supposed to do?…)
“Tio Bruno!” What is- Luisa! The muscular girl is running towards him with teary desperation, Isabela keeping up at her heels. “Tio Bruno! What can I do to help? What can I-“
He doesn’t let her finish. When a little girl’s vital family members suddenly disappear, said girl’s first thought shouldn’t be to help others! No, that can’t be healthy; especially for one so young, not on Bruno’s watch!
Carefully nudging Dolores to the side, he snags Luisa in a securing hug in an attempt to make her feel safe.
“That’s it, just let it out.”
He can’t allow himself to fall apart, not just yet, the children’s tears come first.
He gathers the five of them together, taking his time to check on each one as he tries to stitch together a mental plan of action.
(Because he’s all alone, for the first time in his life, and he doesn’t know what to do…)
They really are beautiful children. His sisters’ children, who had just become orphans within a fraction of a second… (He tries not to think about how he is just as much an orphan as they are…)
Isabela’s hair is covered in multicoloured flowers that only grow more numerous the more she cries, grasping her siblings and cousins in hugs of her own. Right, she is the eldest. She’s probably used to watching over her sisters whenever Julieta and Agustin were too busy.
… Where’s, wait… where’s the Candle? Abuela had been holding it, right? After a moment of thought, he encourages the children to their feet and leads them up the stairs. He can’t leave them alone, but he needs to check.
(He has to make sure…)
Walking around the corner to the wall his sister’s rooms no longer decorate, he freezes when he sees the centremost door that was meant to be Abuela’s.
‘Meant to be’, because the door on display is… his!
He shakes, grabbing for tiny hands as he tries to keep it together. His door, right below the window which displays the Miracle Candle in all its glory.
His green painted tower had moved. No longer standing to the side, his section of Casita now stands in the middle. The Candle shines from his tower… above his door… his door that’s… that’s changed…
The pose of his image is still the same as ever with his hands raised upward, but his expression is no longer as harsh and menacing. With upturned brows and a small smile directed at whoever approached, his door looks downright welcoming.
The large hourglass that used to cover the lower middle of his image is gone, moved, to hover over the engraving’s left hand, with his right poised under an intricate, distinct image of… the Candle?
‘Ay, dios mio, this can’t…’
(It can’t mean what he thinks it does… can it?…)
He glances down to the kids, seeing the hands he’d grabbed belong to Camilo and Isabela, before leading the small entourage into his altered room.
He doesn’t give himself the time to absorb the significant changes to his room, focusing instead on leading his family up the first flight of stairs and over to the bed.
(An actual bed! A proper, plush bed with which to sleep on, nothing like his old uncomfortable hammock…)
He picks up each child one by one, seating them on the thick green duvet before joining them himself, holding as many of them at once as he is able with his bony twig-like arms. The mattress is so soft and luxurious, it cradles his sore side as he settles into it. If he doesn’t pay enough attention, he’s sure he could fall asleep like this easily.
“Where’d Mommy go?”
He’s too emotionally drained to identify which of the children had spoken, so he tightens his hold on as many of them as he can reach.
“… I don’t know.”
He’s not sure how long they spend laying like this. Long enough for both the children and his arm to fall asleep, at least, which must have taken around half an hour or so considering how hectic their day’s been.
After laying there for just a little bit longer, he extracts himself from the cuddle pile and shakes out his arm to encourage blood to flow through it once more. Sitting for a second, taking the brief pause to breathe himself into something resembling composure, he turns to examine the room more thoroughly now that the children have been taken care of (at least for now, he’s sure things’ll only get even more complicated when they wake up…)
The space looks like a rather extravagant yet homey bedroom. A large bed, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, plush green seats that bracket that heart wrenching windowsill…
He approaches the Candle slowly, still trying to process the implications; what this all means for him, for the kids, for Encanto, for all the people who rely on his sisters’ Gifts.
Julieta’s healing, Pepa’s weather, Mama’s spearhead authority, Felix and Agustin’s support, all of it just… lost to them so quickly, there one second and gone the next.
He hadn’t Seen any of this coming, but- but of course he hadn’t! He had sworn off performing visions of his family after the disaster that had been Dolores’ glimpse of her future; there had been no chance for him to See anything surrounding Mirabel’s Gift ceremony.
(Not Mirabel’s lack of a Gift… nor the lack of her parents- the lack of all of them…)
Hands trembling, he reaches to take ahold of the Candle carefully, gingerly plucking it up to get a proper look at it. This… he was never meant to hold it! If not Abuela, then surely Julieta would be next to carry it, as the eldest child, or maybe someone else like Pepa or Isabela or… but… but not Bad Luck Bruno!
It feels… right… in his hands, but it’s not supposed to. It’s not… it was never meant to be him! This isn’t…
The Candle warms his hands, warm and tingling with a magic that seeps into his skin and simmers up his arms. It feels… weird, new, otherworldly yet also… natural? It shouldn’t, though.
Is it just him, or is the Candle shining brighter?
And he finds himself keenly aware of… of the community! Everyone’s fear at the disappearances, their concern over how to handle being without those vital people and the essential roles they played in the running of Encanto’s ecosystem, and so much more he can barely process, the weight pulsing through his head lowering him to his knees.
And as for Abuela, Julieta, Pepa, Agustin, and Felix… they’re not just ‘gone’, of course not, they ceased to exist! Taking all evidence of their presence within Casita with them. Bruno just… knows.
He’s used to intrinsically knowing things he shouldn’t be able to within the confines of his mortal body, his future vision never exactly harbouring an ‘off’ button, but this new knowledge isn’t sourced from his Gift. It’s… coming from the Candle!
(... This… must have been why his Mother always prioritised the community over her family, he realises, with all this overwhelming information being thrust into her brain whenever she would touch the origin of the Miracle, it’s hard to think of anything else…)
But he’s used to a similar experience from his Gift, so he pushes through it in order to examine his family. There is himself, at the top, and the five children beneath him, under his care. Is this why Abuela had been so obsessed with having more grandchildren? If all of them felt like… this… he can’t blame her for wanting more of it.
Strangely, he can also feel the faded echo of his Papa above him, of Pedro Madrigal, though it feels like… leftovers, an excess of what used to be there. Which he finds odd, as his Father had died before the Miracle came into being.
No sign of his Mama, or his sisters and their husbands, Bruno is… alone. He knew that already, but it’s something else to have the Miracle Candle confirm as such without ambiguity.
His hands shake as he puts the Candle back in place, staring at it from his place on the floor. Now that his point of contact with it is gone, he’s once again returned to the confines of his skull.
Glancing back at the children, making sure they are all still sleeping peacefully, he allows himself to break.
(The children’s tears have been taken care of, now it’s time for his…)
He’s alone, with five children that are depending on him, and an entire community of over three hundred people who will now be looking to him for leadership now that the Candle has been passed over to him.
He dreads tomorrow.
He can only hope he’s up to the responsibility, that he doesn’t crumble under it like sand.
(He has no other choice…)