Kind of based on a conversation I had on Tumblr, after getting slaughtered by a bunch of Sleeping Warrior feels.
Set in an AU where Phillip was never brought back, but Mulan and Aurora continue to travel together.
Mulan is most beautiful when she wields a sword.
She is beautiful always; it is strange to think Aurora could ever have mistaken her for a man. Mulan is unmistakably a woman, a beautiful woman. Her beauty suits her personality: strong, uncompromising, firmly there. It is not the kind of beauty that needs dresses or silk for emphasis; nothing is delicate about her. Perhaps that is one of the reasons she wears her helmet: men always think a beautiful woman is weak, and Mulan has no patience for such foolishness. Mulan is a warrior, stronger than anyone else Aurora has known. She makes her own destiny.
And she is most beautiful with a sword in her hand.
-xxx-
"You're beautiful." The words slip out her lips almost before Aurora is finished thinking them.
Mulan is too disciplined to jump; instead, she stills completely. It only lasts a moment, and her outstretched sword remains steady before she sheathes it in one smooth motion… but her cheeks pink, and her eyes dart to meet Aurora's before looking away.
It is just past dawn. Mulan rises early every day to prepare breakfast and practice her swordsmanship. Aurora rarely sleeps through sunrise herself, still tormented nightly by trips to the burning dreamworld. She'll wake with a panicked gasp and sit up, eyes searching for her companion. The sight of Mulan always makes her shoulders relax, her breath come easier. She makes Aurora feel safe, even against the threat of dreams.
And yet she seems surprised to hear herself called beautiful.
"Your sword," Aurora says, feeling a need to explain, feeling unexpectedly angry at the sight of Mulan's flushed cheeks and shy eyes. "It looks… right in your hands. You look strong, and – brave, and capable. It's beautiful."
Mulan doesn't speak for a long time; she rounds the campfire and sits on the log next to Aurora, looking down at her hands in her lap. Finally, she looks up, and smiles, and Aurora holds her breath.
"Thank you," Mulan softly says.
Aurora smiles. "You make me wish I could use a sword."
"I can teach you."
Aurora is not sure which of them the offer surprises more. She blinks, and Mulan blinks, and after a moment Aurora has to laugh because they're both just sitting and blinking at each other, and it's ridiculous. It is.
Mulan doesn't seem to think so. "It was not a joke," she says. "I will teach you."
She's determined now, gaze steely enough to make Aurora's spine straighten, and there is nothing to do but agree.
-xxx-
Aurora is miserable with a sword.
She tries, she does, she tries her hardest for days. But Mulan's mighty sword is too heavy for her to even hold properly for very long, not that she can hold it correctly in the first place. Every time she picks it up she tries to remember Mulan's instructions, the careful way she wrapped Aurora's fingers around the hilt and smiled and said, "Like this."
And every time, somehow Aurora still gets it wrong. Mulan will watch silently as she tries to adjust her grip, and Aurora will become impatient, fumbling all the more. When she finally gets it right, flushing with shame already, then they practice stance and swing, and inevitably Aurora will be wrong, will drop the sword, will trip over her skirts, will just not get it until finally the lesson ends.
It's frustrating. It's exhausting. It's humiliating, when Mulan gives her a long stick to hold instead of the sword, when that still makes no difference, when nothing ever makes any difference. Aurora tries even harder, grips her stick tighter, swings it faster, grits her teeth and tries again and again and again until her hands blister and Mulan forces her to stop.
She sits on a log by the fire while Mulan kneels in front of her, cleaning the scrapes on her hands and bandaging them carefully, and Aurora can feel tears welling up in her eyes.
It's stupid to get this worked up and she knows it, but she can't help it, she can't stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks.
"There, that should-" Mulan looks up and lets out a little gasp of concern. "Aurora, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
"No," Aurora says, and tries to smile, shaking her head. Mulan's worry isn't helping; it just makes her feel stupider, but at the same time she doesn't want it to stop. "No, I'm sorry, I'm fine. It's silly."
Mulan hesitates, and then says, "If something is bothering you, you can tell me."
Aurora shakes her head, a refusal on her lips, but –
"Please."
Mulan's gaze is steady and strong and most of all kind, but uncertain still. There's vulnerability in her eyes, and Aurora knows suddenly that if she refuses to talk, if she pushes Mulan away now, her protector will hurt. She won't say a word but she might not ever do this again either, kneel before Aurora with her hands in hers and say please.
Once again, Aurora speaks almost before thinking: "I just realized I'll never be a warrior, like you or Phillip. That's all."
Her voice wavers on Phillip's name, but no more. Aurora smiles down at Mulan, and hearing the words aloud helps a little. She never truly expected to be able to match Mulan or Phillip. In Aurora's opinion few warriors could ever have matched Phillip, and she's never met a person who could win against Mulan in a fair fight. And Aurora – she is the kind of woman who wears silk, delicate and in need of saving. She's never even held anything bigger than a dagger before these lessons began. She's a fool to cry about this, and she wouldn't blame Mulan for laughing at her outright.
But Mulan's not laughing. She's not even smiling. "No," she agrees seriously, "you will never be a warrior like me."
Aurora flinches despite herself, and looks down at her hands. She can't hear it that bluntly, not yet.
"You don't need to be like me," Mulan says, and her hands squeeze a little tighter around Aurora's. She took off her gloves to apply the bandages, and her fingers are warm, and Aurora wants to tangle them in her fingers. "You have your own strengths, no less great."
Aurora looks up in surprise. Mulan is smiling now, such a gentle smile that Aurora can feel her breath catch behind her teeth.
"Your heart is strong," Mulan says, and her voice is so sure, her eyes so sincere, she looks truly in awe. Aurora feels shivery and warm at once, can't look away. "I have never seen one braver."
Aurora opens her mouth slowly, but she can't think of anything to say. There is nothing she could say to this. Nothing anyone could say.
Instead of speaking, she leans forward and slowly presses a kiss to Mulan's lips.
-xxx-
They've touched before: a helping hand up, a shake on the shoulder to wake up, a pass of food across the campfire. They've slept side by side on occasion, scant inches between them. Ever since their sword lessons have begun, there has been much more touching: gloved fingers arranging Aurora's grip, again and again; a nudge to correct her stance; arms around hers and warmth against her back as Mulan guides her through the proper way to swing her sword; brushing her off after she's fallen down once again – and now, warm bare fingers against her own, gently cleaning her hands, wrapping them in soft bandages.
And now, warm lips against her own, still at first but Aurora kisses them, and kisses them again (softly, softly), and the third time they kiss back, hesitantly. Eyes closed, Aurora smiles and keeps kissing, kissing the strongest warrior she's ever known, a woman so kind and brave and true, kissing Mulan.
They've touched before, and Aurora has kissed before, and none of this feels quite new. It feels familiar, and it's only when warm fingers squeeze tighter around hers that Aurora understands why – of course, this is not the first time Mulan has held her heart in her hands.
They pull back at the same time; Mulan's smiling, blushing so bright Aurora has to laugh, because she can feel the heat on her own cheeks too. Mulan laughs a little too, and her smile is so strong, so bravely happy that Aurora thinks Mulan isn't most beautiful with a sword in her hand after all.
A heart suits her even better.