Work Text:
Murmur
Despite what Señora Hernández had said to her husband in their kitchen at three in the afternoon the Tuesday before last, Dolores never meant to spy on her family and neighbors.
Well…
Not often, anyway.
The fact was, her gift wasn’t like anyone else’s in the family. Turning her hearing off just wasn’t an option. Not like how her tía’s gift only came out when she cooked, or how Camilo could decide for himself when he wanted to transform, as well as to decide just how extensive the change would be.
Dolores could hear everything in the Encanto.
Everything.
All the time.
Whether she wanted to or not. And or not was how she felt about it more often than she’d ever admit out loud.
Her gift had been overwhelming when it first appeared, the instant barrage of scratching, and clicking, and rattling, and breathing and EVERYTHING hitting her out of nowhere and sending her sobbing into her mother’s arms in the middle of her gifting ceremony, an action she would repeat many, many times over the next couple months.
(Mamá had apologized profusely for the resulting thunderstorms, which had made her first ever stress headaches so much worse, but Dolores never held it against her. Out of everybody in the family, Pepa Madrigal came the closest to being able to understand what it was like to have a gift that never really went unnoticed.)
She had adjusted over the years, and had learned to live with the constant noise coming from Casita, the village, and the mountains surrounding their home. More often than not, the sounds blurred into a steady hum, with individual voices only coming through when she was actively searching for them.
And she might sometimes search for them, but…could you really blame her? Some conversation were just so interesting!
Dolores just had to listen to Camilo’s clumsy first attempts at imitating the village priest, pressing her hands to her mouth to contain her laughter when Abuela had stormed into the church with the actual priest at her side, neither amused by his attempt to hijack the service.
And little Daniel, the sweetest, most energetic boy she’d ever met (not counting her adorable baby brother, Antonio), singing while he watered the flowers growing in a small planter outside his home was so cute! Dolores wasn’t so sure that the singing actually helped the plants in any way, but she sure wouldn’t be telling him that.
Or the nights she stayed up late, listening to her tío narrate the story of a woman scorned from within his makeshift home within the walls. Dolores gasped in outrage when Maria caught Eduardo in the arms of her conniving half-sister, Daniela.
(How was Daniela even alive?! Hadn’t her ship gone down in the Atlantic after she’d fled with her former paramour’s family heirlooms the night before their wedding?)
This was one of those nights, with Dolores sitting up in bed, her eyes closed as she let the scene play out in her mind like the best sort of theater.
(Daniela had been rescued by pirates shortly after escaping the sinking ship in the vessel’s only lifeboat, and had immediately won the position of captain after defeating her bloodthirsty predecessor in combat. It was the start of an entirely new character arc for her, and Dolores couldn’t wait to see if the pirates would feature as side characters while the latest love triangle unfolded.)
Tío Bruno had finished the story for the night, settling into his own rickety cot while the rats scurried off towards the kitchen, when-
”This true love of mine
with eyes so bright
With lips of rosy red
And hair like night-“
Was that…poetry? At (she sent a quick look at the clock on her nightstand) one in the morning?
Dolores blinked, turning her head towards the village as the voice continued to speak, now trying and failing to find a rhyme for ”A laugh like the warmth of the summer sun.”
Huh.
She didn’t recognize the voice, which wasn’t too much of a surprise. Voices changed over time, of course, and, again, she didn’t go out of her way to spy on everyone. Most conversations weren’t even worth the effort, no matter what Señora Hernández thought.
Still, the poet had to be about her age, or maybe a year or two older.
She tuned back in, noting that his words were being accompanied by the scratches of a pen on paper.
”-the stars that glimmer
In the sky above
Can never outshine
The one I love.
.
.
.
…the lady I love? Eh.
My lively lady love?
My…precious dove? No, no, it needs to be love. Love sounds better.”
Dolores couldn’t help the way her lips twitched as he struggled with the words. The poetry wasn’t what she’d call good, like, not even a little, but it was kind of sweet that the boy was working on a love poem when he was supposed to be sleeping.
”Hmm…maybe if I - yes, and then…”
The murmuring, accompanied by scratching and the soft rustling of paper, was oddly soothing. Dolores felt her eyelids growing heavier the longer she listened. It wasn’t exactly a lullaby, but he did have a nice voice.
Loud, but…gentle. A better kind of loud than most.
Dolores wondered if he always sounded that way, loud but genuine.
Kind.
She hoped his lady love, whoever she was, appreciated how much effort he was putting into wooing her. He sounded like the prince in one of her tío’s happier stories. The one who meant it when he said he loved someone and always would.
Drawing the comforter over her, Dolores let the awkward, fumbling, and strangely sweet rhymes wash over her as she drifted off into sleep.
Dolores didn’t mean to overhear the boy who wrote his own poetry late into the night, but she did mean it the next time, and then the time after that.
It became a thing.
Two years later, she put a face and name to the voice, in the form of the tall, handsome young man handing her cousin a handpicked bouquet of begonias while Abuela and the woman who had to be his mother watched on in approval.
Mariano Guzmán, the “excellent young man who would be so good for our Isabela.” She’d been hearing all about him, but she hadn’t known…couldn’t have known he was the one she…
Anyway.
He really did look as sweet and gentle as he sounded, with those warm brown eyes and soft looking hair.
Unasked for and unwanted, a memory of the one and only time she’d requested a vision from her favorite uncle played out in her head, dramatic as any of his nighttime telenovelas.
”So, I saw a man, a really tall, handsome guy, and you’re going to fall head over heels once you see him. That’s great! And that’s all I….oh…um….so there might be one more thing you should know about your man...”
As a smiling Isabela allowed the man with the voice she’d fallen in love with to press a quick kiss to the back of her hand, Dolores finally understood why her mamá still scowled and stormed when anyone brought up her wedding day.
What am I supposed to do now?!
The answer probably wasn’t to spend the next five months continuing to listen in on her favorite poet, but she’d just blame that on the magic. Her gift didn’t turn off, so anything she might or might not hear really wasn’t her fault, now was it?
So maybe Señora Hernández had a point.
Declare
Standing in the ruins of their home, their Casita, with her gift gone and her younger cousin missing, Dolores had never felt more useless.
Not that she’d never felt useless before.
Enhanced hearing was well and good, but it didn’t really match up with Mamá, who saved their crops from drought, her tía who could cure any wound, or even her other cousins, one strong enough to move mountains and the other the embodiment of nature and beauty.
Compared to all that, what was a gift like hers? A useful messaging service, but no more than a slight time saver when you consider how quick it is to go from one end of the Encanto to the other. No wonder Señora Guzmán had wanted her only son to pursue-
But her enchanted ears would have been able to find Mirabel, no matter how far she’d wandered. Dolores could have found her.
Could have found her the day before, or even a couple hours earlier.
Now? Now she couldn’t even do the one thing her gift could really be useful for, because their house was gone and her family’s miracle along with it.
Dolores would give anything to see her door again, to know that she could help when it was needed.
…Was this how Mirabel felt? Was that why she was always trying to help them?
(Dolores realized she might never hear the soft thump of Mirabel knocking on her door in the mornings, or the soft singing as her cousin added embroidery to her latest creation. Her ears were ringing now in a way that had nothing to do with the Madrigal family candle and everything to do with feargriefdreadshameguiltguiltGUILT.)
The hem of her skirt caught against a broken plank, nearly sending her falling face first into a pile of brick and tiles if her papá hadn’t been close enough to catch her arm.
He was saying something but the ringing was too loud. She couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything.
(There was nothing left now. What was going to happen to them? Was this it for the Amazing Madrigals? She still had most of her family here, but Mirabel was gone, and she couldn’t see Tío Bruno anywhere and when had Abuela left?! The woman had just seen the home Abuelo Pedro’s sacrifice had created fall to pieces and they’d just let her wander off?!)
Still unable to process what her papa was saying, Dolores let herself be led over to her mama and brothers. She leaned against Camilo, allowing him to pull her into a tight hug as Antonio clung to her legs.
It didn’t fix anything, but it was enough to push back the ringing, to remind her that, for all they’d lost gonegonebroken, she still had her parents, and her brothers, and everyone else they could still account for.
They’d lost so much all at once, but they hadn’t lost everything, and she needed to focus on that. She needed to remember what was important now, namely making sure Mirabel, Tío Bruno and Abuela were safe.
So they kept searching.
And they found them.
Or, rather, Abuela, her Tío and Mirabel returned to them.
They were safe. Her tío was reunited with her mamá and Tía Julieta. Mirabel and Abuela were talking about rebuilding.
Dolores felt herself begin to smile as she listened to her family plan to remake their broken home.
And then she heard something even better.
“Lay down your load (lay down your load)
We are only down the road (we are only down the road)
We have no gifts, but we are many
And we'll do anything for you!”
It was everyone from the village, from the elderly to the children, walking the path up towards them, tools in hand.
And at the front, leading the charge…
Mariano.
Even after being (accidentally) harmed and humiliated at what was supposed to be his engagement dinner, he was there, promising to help her family rebuild.
Dolores never knew it was possible to love him more than she already had, but she did.
She, Dolores Madrigal, was truly, deeply, wonderfully in love with Mariano Guzmán.
And, for the first time ever, she wanted to stop listening and start giving him something to listen to instead.
In retrospect, she should have known it was Mirabel who’d give her that final push.
Staring up into those gorgeous brown eyes, Dolores couldn’t stop herself if she tried.
(And she didn’t try. Not even a little.)
“You talk so loud
You take care of your mother and you make her proud
You write your own poetry every night when you go to sleep
And I'm seizing the moment, so would you wake up and notice me?”
Face slack with shock, Mariano stared back at her. Dolores refused to step back or let go of his hands. For better or worse, she needed to know if he-
“Dolores, I see you.”
His hands, large and warm, clasped hers tightly as he looked at her. No one had ever looked at her like that, like she was the only thing they wanted to see.
“And I hear you.”
Dolores had to decline the resulting proposal, but that didn’t stop her from having a quick picnic lunch with Mariano just outside the village before they both returned to their work for the day.
The next time he proposed, a year to the day after she had put everything on the line by telling him how she felt…
She said yes.
Vow
Now that their Casita had rebuilt and their magic had returned, things weren’t back to normal.
They were better than they’d been before.
So much better.
Dolores hadn’t seen it before, how stressed out and miserable her family had been beneath the surface. She hadn’t heard it either, or hadn’t known what the things she did hear really meant.
But the difference was startling.
The wild beauty of Isabela dancing among the plants she grew, pollen and sap staining her dress and turning her hair from black to orange.
The way Luisa would complete one task or another and then stop, taking some time to relax in her hammock, eyes closed as she took a well deserved nap.
Seeing Mamá let go, to rain and storm without causing harm. To be okay with her abilities and her emotions.
How Abuela stood now, no longer feeling like the untouchable, unreachable matriarch of their family but their abuela. Warm and accepting and - just a different woman entirely.
And Mirabel, who had come into her own with passion and joy. Looking at her now, Dolores had no doubt that her youngest cousin would one day take over for Abuela as the leader (leader wasn’t the right word…more like the guiding hand) of the Madrigal family.
Who else could do it half as well? No one, that’s who.
As for herself…
Dolores Madrigal might not have changed as much as the others, but she was different in the ways that mattered.
She was happy now. Truly happy.
And she had some news she hoped might help add to the family’s joy.
Sharing a look with Mariano, Dolores nodded, and they both set down their flatware with audible clinks, silencing the chatter going around the table.
“Mija?” Her papá looked at her as she and Mariano stood, his hand moving to grasp hers.
Mamá’s mouth dropped open, eyes filling with tears as a sudden breeze raced through the room, throwing her braid into an equally started Camilo’s face.
Antonio just grinned.
(She would later find out that he’d already known. The rats really did know everything.)
“Everyone,” Dolores could feel her heart beating double time, but she wasn’t afraid. She just really couldn’t wait to make it official.
“Mariano and I have something we’d like to tell you.”
She squeezed his hand, letting him know it was his turn.
Mariano gave her that look, the same one he’d had when she’d said yes just the day before, before turning back to her family.
(Their family, as his mother was there as well, sitting next to Abuela. Tears were gathering in her eyes as she beamed at her son.)
“As you all know,” Mariano spoke, voice strong and sure, “yesterday was mine and Dolores’ anniversary. It has been a year since I first saw what a warm, loving and incredible person Dolores is, and every day I find something new to love about her.”
Was Camilo crying? Silly boy. Dolores would be sure to hug him extra tight after they’d finished their announcement.
“And…I know that I will love her tomorrow, and the day after, because I see Dolores and I know that she is the one I will love for the rest of my life.”
He turned back to her, one hand moving to clasp her cheek. Dolores looked into his eyes and reveled in the feeling of being seen.
“And that is why I asked her to marry me.”
“And I love you so much, Mariano.” She whispered back, the words almost catching in her throat as she looked at the man she had chosen to spend her life with. “I fell in love with you before we ever met, and knowing you, speaking to you and seeing you for the man you are…I can’t wait to be your wife.”
“Dolores…”
“Mariano…”
She leaned in at the same time he did.
“Whoo!” Dolores and Mariano almost bumped heads when Camilo and Antonio sprang to their feet, cheering wildly.
(She was a little embarrassed to admit that she’d sort of forgotten they had an audience.)
All around them, their family (their family!) rose from the table, moving to surround her and Mariano. Señora Guzmán (“Call me Mamá, darling, or Patricia if you’d like.”) was hugging them, and then her parents, and siblings, and cousins, and her tía and tíos and Abuela and-
And, in that moment, Dolores had never been happier in her life.
Four months later, reciting her vows and having herself and Mariano declared husband and wife, Dolores had a new Happiest Moment Ever.
And the funny thing about that?
She was wrong about it being her Happiest Moment Ever.
She could be happier.
And, as Tío Bruno promised her as they danced together during the reception, she would be. Fairly soon.
And her tío’s visions were never wrong.
Sing
Dolores hadn’t been completely truthful when she’d told the family that Mariano wanted five babies.
He’d never actually given a number, though he had mentioned to his mother several times that he would like to be a father one day.
It had been a petty move to fluster Isabela in front of Abuela, and something she had actually apologized for not long after they started rebuilding Casita.
(It was also something that, once shared through the Encanto, had people wondering if Bruno wasn’t the only one able to see the future.)
Carina and Maritza Madrigal, their beautiful twin girls, came first, a couple years after their marriage.
Identical in every way, from the shapes of their noses and mouths to the happy squeals they gave when Mariano tickled them gently, Dolores couldn’t wait to see the absolute spitfires she just knew they’d grow up to be. Mariano swore they looked just like her, but Dolores knew those eyes anywhere, and she saw them every time she looked at her husband.
Admittedly, her second pair of twins, born three years later, were more of a surprise.
(Mamá Patricia had offhandedly mentioned that twins had run in her late husband’s family, but Dolores was still confused about how it happened twice. Not mad, but what were the odds?)
Gabriel and Silvia didn’t look much alike, Gabriel taking after his Abuela Pepa quite a lot while Silvia had lovely black curls and darker skin. The two were a bit less chaotic than their older sisters, but their bond as siblings was no less strong, and Carina and Maritza adored them.
Six years later, they had their fifth and final child, Pedro. Abuela’s smile was radiant when he was introduced to the rest of the family, and she was quick to point out the uncanny resemblance to his namesake.
Mariano would sing to their babies at night, or read them the poems he’d written just for them, even after both sets of twins had moved out of the nursery and into their own rooms.
Every night. No matter what. They tended to cycle through which room they’d all meet in, but that just added to the fun in her opinion.
Being parents to five children, all magical Madrigals, wasn’t easy, but Mariano and Dolores wouldn’t have it any other way.
Curled up together on the couch, Mariano ran his fingers through her hair as they listened to the children, both their own and Luisa’s, playing outside.
“Looks like we’ll have some time before they’re ready to come back in, mi vida. Perhaps we can have a little picnic, just the two of us?”
Taking his arm, Dolores grinned.
“I know the perfect place.”
Admit
Dolores almost never meant to spy on her family and neighbors.
But the fact that her gift had led her to the man of her dreams, and then led them both to the life of their dreams?
Well…
Some might call it a miracle.