Hello! Thanks for checking out my story! And—and—Happy National Novel Writing Month, everybody! I'm actually participating in this! Yaargh!

Ehem. Inspired by the Chinese legend The Ballad of Hua Mulan, Disney's warrior heroine Mulan, and Dreamworks' Shen, I created this fanfic in a KFP setting, featuring the peahen Mulan and the peacock Shen semi-romantically. I say 'semi-romantically', because...well...haha XD

This is set twenty years or so before the KFP2 timeline. I originally wanted it canon, but I ended up twisting a lot of things so now it's AU.

And now that the author's notes are out of the way…here we go.

Reflection

Prologue

A one-eyed wolf scurried through the leafy forest grounds, crunchy leaves and twigs getting trampled under his paws as he went on. His one red eye glinted contemplatively against the crimson light, completely lost in thought. It was an unusual thing for him to be contemplative, but when you've been through the hard times, you tend to do it more frequently. Only one thought had been swivelling around and around in his brain ever since, but as minor as it sounded, the sharp, pointy tip was starting to grill on him—

Master couldn't be that cruel…

He swallowed thickly, his loyalty clashing against his own moral values.

Could he?

The light of the full moon seemed a little reddish tonight. Red, the colour of fire and blood, two of the things that he and his pack had caused for tonight's mission. The command had been simple. Wreak havoc on the Imperial Base and strip them of all military equipment. And he and his pack had done so, successfully. Their weapons had been replenished, and the stolen handful of supplies would prove to be useful for his master's next phase in the plan. With Oogway and Kai now gone and out of the way, it should be easy for them to conquer China. The grand invasion his master had been preparing for all his life was ready to take place.

Except, something was bothering the lieutenant.

He burst through his master's tent. His taller master had his back turned to him, so surely he wouldn't be able to see him, but Fang got onto his one knee and bowed anyway. With his master, you never know.

"We're almost ready, Master," he reported, with a voice reinforced by militaristic undertones. "But we've run out of soldiers."

A cold pause followed after that. Silence stretched into unbearable seconds, seconds that seemed like centuries. It was tormenting. But eventually, his master managed to summon a throaty chuckle.

"And what the hell do I care about them?"

Fang flinched. Flinching was beyond protocol, yes, but who bloody cared about protocol at a situation like this? The offensive words had escaped his master's mouth like a string of distasteful profanities, and Fang wanted to point out to him that his attitude was starting to become intolerably…intolerable. But if he even dared raise a single finger against his master, the price would be his neck.

His master didn't forget about replenishing their weapons, but he forgot about the many lives they've lost?

Which was more important to him, really?

Fang cleared his throat. "Sir. Remember? We kicked Oogway and Kai's bu—I mean…we vanquished them, but we've lost too many of our soldiers too."

And many of them are my brothers, he grimly added in his mind.

But the master only scoffed.

"Forget about those pups you call soldiers." His master dismissively waved a paw in the air as if words he'd just said actually smelled something like rotten feet. "They died because they're sissies. And I don't need sissies in this war for China."

"But sir," said the bowing soldier, ears flattening in despair against the sides of his face. "How about our army?"

The question was answerless. For a second.

"Our army, you say?" His master, a vicious creature, finally stepped out into the vermillion light, one hairy foot after another, crimson red eyes gleaming like rubies on fire. "We barely even had a casualty," he said. "We're still intact; our army is still standing strong. We can still make it, and establish the original plan. Which we will initiate, right about…now."

He looked down at Fang with those eyes of his, eyes that Fang could never have the gall to look into, so he made sure to bow down and look as respectful as possible. "Search the farthest villages," the master finally commanded, his thunderous voice sending even the airwaves shaking in fear. "Find more weapons! China…" He grinned, revealing ragged, large and yellow tombstone-shaped teeth, stretching his nasty, rancorous face, "…will be mine."

"Yes, Master Khan." Fang had no other choice. He rushed out of the tent to relay the direct order of their commander to his brothers—his remaining brothers. "You heard 'im, boys! Move out!"

…sometimes, he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn't been banished from Gongmen in the first place.

oO0Oo

The Emperor on the throne looked up, a spark of hope erasing the evidence of distress on his eyes when the large doors of the Grand Hall suddenly opened out wide. When he saw who it was, his knees nearly buckled with relief. The royal messenger had returned. Finally. The Emperor immediately stood up, anticipating the news, and waited until the humble sparrow touched down onto the royal red carpet to bow before his superior.

The kind Emperor motioned for his servant to rise. Then he asked the one question he'd been dreading to hear the answer ever since. "Do you bear me good news, little one?"

There could only be two answers: yes or no. Whatever the answer, either could significantly affect his dynasty, the lives of his people—the only difference was, positive or negative.

And that is quite a tiff.

The sparrow raised up his head. "Your Imperial Highness, I—"

Laughter. It came from the Emperor's side, making the old one turn his head to him. He was a pig, short and stout, dressed as a scribe with one feathered pen and scroll in each of his pudgy hands. "Oh, of course, it should be good news this time!" he said. "It better be!"

"Guiren," the fox Emperor drawled, pinching the bridge of his snout patiently. "Please let the sparrow speak first."

The pig's laughter stopped, shame overcoming him. He faced the ground, and nodded, a signal for the sparrow to continue. The subsequent silence granted the sparrow the permission to speak again.

"Emperor Fuzhou, your excellency. Unfortunately, I…bring unpleasant news." The royal messenger paused, as if debating from within him how he should break it to the Emperor. But, finally, he decided that a short and simple report would do, even if he himself was disheartened by it. "Masters Oogway and Kai are missing. Presumably dead." He paused to let this sink in, and watched as the Emperor's shoulders sagged like the rotten peels of a banana. "From the remains I witnessed, it hadn't been a victorious fight for China. The enemy won, and the Xiongnu are on its way to the Imperial lands. I also bear news of their most recent activity. The Imperial Camp far-off the Great Wall had been raided, our weapons stolen by the Xiongnu. Khan is leading them, and is showing no signs of slowing down, despite the tedious battle he'd recently just had against the armies of Masters Oogway and Kai." The sparrow bowed his head. "I apologize."

"I…I see." The old red fox's wise eyes lost their twinkle and dulled back to their previous distress. But only for that fleeting moment. Immediately he stood stiffly upright. "Do not apologize, Meng. None is your fault, only Khan is to blame."

The Emperor motioned for the pig beside him. His name was Guiren. The scribe may be pert, even insolent at times, but even the Emperor could trust his life with him. That was the reason he appointed the pig as the highest member of his Council in the first place.

"Guiren," the Emperor started, pacing around and about the podium, wise gears behind those old of eyes of his whirring to life, battle strategies long unused all suddenly resurfacing. "Travel to Gongmen City. Send for the general. Tell him that China's situation is dire, and his army might be our only chance."

He stopped pacing, and grimly looked ahead of him, as if the realization of his people lying in blood and ruins finally dawned on him. But just as quickly, that dismalness immediately turned into determination, setting his seemingly old and fragile face into a fixed figure of strength and willpower. Yes, there was still the slightest chance that Masters Oogway and Kai, China's greatest warriors, are still alive, but the Emperor is not taking any chances. He couldn't depend on them to protect his territory his entire life—it was time to take the risks himself.

The Emperor turned to Guiren, who bowed down at him in honour and respect. "I need to settle battle plans with the general," he told his servant, "and urgently at that."

oO0Oo

Ignorance is bliss—news had not yet reached Gongmen City's Tower of the Sacred Flame, and every citizen certainly was enjoying him or herself while they still could, at this moment in time. The merry yellow sun shone upon the rich and prosperous city, as if rejoicing in this special day indeed deserving of a grand celebration. That was because it was a day of grand celebration—

A perfect day for marriage.

After years and years of searching for the dynastical woman his parents had been looking for all their lives, Gongmen's young prince, Lord Shen, finally had a bride. And, as everyone else knew, she was, of course, no other than the imperial beauty, her royal highness, Lady Lan-Niu herself, famous for her blossom-like kindness and astounding pulchritude.

But, before anything else, there was one, teeny, tiny predicament Shen's father had to deal with for a moment.

"GONE?!"

oO0Oo