One Year's Chance

Disclaimer: I don't own Mulan.

Author's Note: Sorry. Temptation overcame and I wrote a new story. Poo me.

First ever Mulan fanfic. This story is not compatible with Mulan II, since I am not fond of its sequal. Oh yeah, the names and places in this story are made up unless otherwise said. But other than that, hope you enjoy! Please review!

The truth was a very strange thing indeed. While it wasn't always pleasant--actually, it wasn't most of the time--it could be rather blunt or told in a cunningly confusing way. But in the blunt truth, she was disappointed. After inviting him over to dinner, he did not do much but speak courteously to her parents and seem a bit... well, quiet, to put it one way. Standoffish, even. He barely glanced her way at all the whole time.

In the blunt truth, she'd hoped for something more. Perhaps a secret smile shared between them; a small talk after dinner instead of the practical "The food was lovely; thank you for inviting me to stay" over-used phrase. And Mulan watched Shang leave that fateful night, when the world she thought she knew came crashing down a second time.

When it came crashing, it was, well, what one could say was blunt and discrete at the same time. For a while, the truth was well hidden from her, but then it was revealed. And her world stopped spinning.

She had been studying quietly by herself in the library when her mother suddenly arrived, disrupting her from her absolute concentration. "Mulan," she called softly, a bit of anxiety in her voice. "Your father and I want to see you in the dining room."

Mulan looked up from her studies and frowned. What could be so urgent to call her father down from his daily routine? His knee was getting worse and he knew that he shouldn't move around quite as much, or so said the doctor. "I'll be there, Mama," she called, marking her place in the book before putting it in its proper place. She hurried to find her mother, who seemed rather ready to fall over if Mulan had arrived only a second later.

They walked to the dining room in silence, Mulan's mind swimming in thoughts all the while. What was so important? What was so grave? She dreaded to hear of a death. It wouldn't be Shang's, would it? She bit her lip as she suppressed the growing suspense and anxiety that started to worm its way through her.

Her father was already seated at the table, and her mother found a seat as well. Mulan tried her best to hold her curiosity in, but the words came pouring out of her mouth. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," her mother said gently, her tone slightly warm.

Visible relief spread throughout Mulan. She released the breath that she'd been holding since her mother called for her that day. "Then what's happened?" she asked as she, too, took a seat.

A small smile spread across Fa Li's face as she said, glancing at her husband with a warm look in her eye, "We've found you a husband."

The blood that once rushed through Mulan's veins suddenly ran cold. Her heart stopped pumping and all the color drained out of her face. "What?" she choked out, looking from parent to parent. Fa Li's face was slightly excited; Fa Zhou's looked a bit crestfallen--just the tiniest bit, she likely had only imagined it.

Marriage was a common concept in the area, and she wasn't one to deny that; however, it had never occurred to her that she was falling into the common action as well. When she thought of her future, she thought about adventure. She hadn't given much thought about marriage--not since all hopes were killed that night one year ago when Li Shang had left their home.

She'd dreamt up some wild stories--or slightly more realistic ones--that he'd return someday and propose to her. It never happened. And day after day passed, and reality sunk in. She accepted--with a bit of pain--that she would never marry Shang.

But suddenly the world came crashing down on her. She had difficulty hearing; she had difficulty breathing. She felt as though a weight had been dropped onto her chest and shattered her bones.

Fa Li, who, in her own excitement, had mistaken her daughter's horror for delight, smiled warmly. "Yes," she said, continuing. "To Hei Jing-Qiou, from Mei Shan. He has a sister named Hei Ai-Tian. His father is a captain in the Imperial army."

Mulan had no response. She could make none. She was in too stunned of a trance to react at all. Her mind was cleared of all ideas; her nobility had been slashed. She just watched her mother, wide-eyed, until Fa Zhou stood up and said, "Mulan, let me talk to you in the other room."

Mulan stumbled up, following his father as he entered another room in the house. He sighed deeply before speaking, rubbing his temples.

"I... delayed in finding you a husband," he told her wearily, "because I had been hoping that Captain Shang would make his prescence known, but he has never appeared." Faltering slightly, he looked up at Mulan's blank expression before continuing. "I couldn't let your life pass by waiting," he said. "Jing-Qiou is a very honorable man, I believe you'll find."

Mulan was slightly confused. She never told her father--or anyone, for that matter--about her feelings. How had he known?

Then again, her father was rather observant. It was why he was so high-ranked when he was still an active military general.

However, to know that her father did try, in the first place, to arrange a marriage between Shang and her, was enough. She knew, despite whatever she felt, she had to accept her position in society. She'd already been reckless enough; she didn't want to possibly disgrace her family any further.

"I know," she whispered, her voice low. "I'll be fine. I'll--I'll marry him." Her eyes flickered up toward her father's face; his eyes showed his falters.

"Are you sure?" he said, doubting her words. He was able to tell that night when Captain Li came over for dinner about Shang's feelings for Mulan, and vice versa. "Once a word is spoken, you can never take it back completely."

Mulan nodded. "It is my duty," she said quietly, looking away from him.

Fa Zhou sighed deeply as he moved toward the door. "Your honor and duties are extremely important," he agreed, "but so is your heart."

And to this, Mulan had nothing to say in return, and watched her father leave the room to talk quietly with her mother. And since then, everything was changed. Nothing was ever normal now. Her heart could protest all it wanted, but it was much too late now; she couldn't say no anymore.

The week after, Mulan met the young man to whom she was to be married to. The suspense and anxiety that was built up from the days previous was too much for Mulan, and she was thankful--though extremely apprehensive still--about meeting Jing-Qiou.

He turned out to be an average-height young man with serious eyes and large hands. He moved forward slightly, and Mulan kept her head bowed down. What had she done to herself? She'd trapped herself into a prison of matrimony to a man whom she did not know.

"Fa Mulan," he started, his voice deep and slightly gruff, not at all like Shang's--not that it mattered, of course, "it is a pleasure to meet you."

Mulan did not look up and said in an even voice, "As it is to you, Hei Jing-Qiou." She raked her brain; what had that matchmaker spoken about? "Would you care for tea?"

"Tea?" Jing-Qiou asked. "Tea would be nice."

Mulan thus had no choice but to invite them to the sitting room as she went to make tea. When she came back, she noticed that their conversation was light and cautious. As she set the tea down on the table, however, and placed the china cups before each person and started to pour, Jing-Qiou's father began to speak.

"So, Mulan," he said as he accepted the tea from her, "I hear that you went into the army to fight the Huns."

Mulan looked up, startled. She hadn't expected this topic of conversation. When she understood his words, she bowed her head down again and said, "Yes, I did." She didn't pursue the topic, but apparently he was not done.

"Who was your captain?" he asked casually.

"Captain..." Mulan's voice got caught in her throat as she attempted to speak his name. "Captain Li Shang." Her mind started to wander off; why did he not speak to her in the past year at all? Her risen hopes were dashed that night when he stayed for dinner. Did he honestly dislike her? She hoped not, but she regretfully believed it true.

"Ah," Jing-Qiou's father said, nodding his head. "Captain Li. I hear he was almost killed."

Mulan's anxiety started to rise as her stomach clenched into a fist. "That might be," she said, "but the fact remains that he was not killed in war."

"Yes, that is true," Jing-Qiou's father said discardingly. "But his father did die, however; it is a pity. He was a good man--a good general."

Mulan then visibly stiffened, but only slightly--she wanted to steer clear of this topic. She attempted to do so by mentioning his own career as a captain. "I hear you are a captain as well," Mulan said politely.

However, it seemed as though he was not done with what he wanted to say. "Yes, I am," Jing-Qiou's father said. "But I could never be compared to General Li. He should not have died so early on. But what's done is done, I suppose. Jing-Qiou, have you heard of Captain Li as of late?"

Jing-Qiou looked up at his father's calling his name and replied, "I have crossed paths with him once or twice in the army."

Mulan suddenly looked up at Jing-Qiou, desiring to know more, but he did not give anything away. His father was watching Mulan intently and merely chuckled. "Jing-Qiou here," he said, patting his son on the back, "is also in the army. He has the potential to be a general someday. Everyone says so."

Mulan had an urge to ask what was included in 'everyone,' but it would have been deemed improper by the matchmaker and she kept silent. Instead, she said, "Is that so?"

Jing-Qiou's father only nodded proudly and said, "Yes, and he is an excelling soldier. You won't have to go back into war again, Mulan, with him around. You will stay home and live the life of a fortunate housewife."

Mulan's jaw clenched slightly and her fingers faltered. Was that the life he thought that she wanted? Was that the life that she thought she wanted? She strongly doubted it. She wanted something more... something with a bit more adventure. And, with a husband as serious and conservative as Jing-Qiou, she highly doubted she'd ever recieve what she wanted. Especially with no love in the marriage.

However, she managed to choke out a strained, "Lovely." Jing-Qiou's father did not notice her discomfort and beamed.

"Mulan will be an excellent wife for Jing-Qiou," he said to Fa Zhou. "I am glad that we have agreed on this match."

Mulan glanced desperately at her father; he did not seem too pleased at the opposing father's behavior. He only nodded slightly. She supposed that he did not approve of the match much.

The family insisted on staying until after dinner, when they finally departed. And Mulan couldn't be more relieved.

But along with the relief, there was pain. It was evident that Jing-Qiou's father--who later made himself known as Shwa-Kwong--would not accept a break in the proposal. In other words, Mulan was trapped with Jing-Qiou, whatever happened--other than death.

And she couldn't help but feel the least heartbroken.

That night, as she went to bed. She dreamt of her time of freedom--in the Imperial army. And she dreamt of Shang.

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Shang looked up at the sky. It was getting dark. He sighed, heading back into his own home. He was procrasinating, and he knew it; he hadn't contacted Mulan in any way, shape, or form in the past year. It was just much too difficult to deal with the feelings that he was suffering everytime he thought of her. Sudden emotions would just swarm over him and he'd manage to think, "It's okay to leave it for another day."

Whatever he could do to rid himself of such uncomfortable feelings.

But now it was much too late, and there was a large possibility that Mulan was not waiting. She probably didn't feel for him like he felt for her, and he was rather broken because of it. He knew he'd acted a fool on his great chance that dinner one year ago, and he passed it up. But if only he could go back in time...

Pity that he couldn't.

And he knew he would have delayed another day--which would lead to another year, likely--if he hadn't had matters to discuss with her.

He sighed, withdrawing paper, ink, and a brush from his desk. Dipping the brush in the ink, he began to write. He could only hope that it he was not too late.

But as soon as the brush touched the paper with its black ink, he realized he could not write. He sighed, shaking his head. There was only one thing he could do.

He had to go to her town and see her... show her how he felt. Tell her face to face. And repent for his indifferent attitude during their last meeting.

He nodded, comfirming this thought. Tomorrow morning, he'd set out to see her. With any luck, he'd see her within a week.

And maybe he could finally win her over.