A golden butterfly passed her by and sat on top of a huge, sparkling flower. Little Mulan turned around so her look could follow the fragile animal which appeared so soft and innocent as fresh snow. She took a step closer, her feet barely touched the ground in fear of scaring it away and reached her hand in its direction, when she noticed the sword she held in her was not a good sword, old and rusty and the hild was wrapped in smelly rags. But she didn't stare at it with wide eyes because of the smell, the blade of the sword was covered in fresh blood dripping down on the grass and the pretty flowers. She dropped it like it was burning hot and she felt the heat singeing her skin, dropped the sword on the floor soundlessly but her heart was like drums in her ears. The moments passed and felt like years until the golden butterfly caught her attention again. It had not moved for a whole while and now started to flip his wings softly until they'd carried him down to the floor. Mulan watched the tiny animal sit on the blade of the sword where it turned for some time until it had found its most comfortable position. She bent down to touch it but shrugged away again: like red rivers the blood floated through the small body and pressed into the golden colour of the butterfly's wings like red colour would circulate in a bowl of water. "Unbelievable...", she heard herself whisper, the butterly melted away and all what remained was another stain of golden shimmering blood.

Mulan screamed. She felt her body lift in terror and stared into the darkness around her. A tiny oil lamp was the only source of light and Mulan felt overwhelmed by relief when she noticed that she was in her bed and the sword and the golden butterfly was just a dream.

"Just a dream.", she whispered and wiped her forehead. It was wet from cold sweat and Mulan shuddered from the cold night air, pulling her blanket closer around her shoulders. Suddenly somebody scurried into her room, scantily dressed and with an oil lamp in the hand: she noticed her fathers silhouette. "Mulan?", her father asked into the deep darkness of the night and sat down on her bed. Hastily the little four-year-old scooted closer to her dad and wrapped her tiny arms around him though she could not embrace his trunk in entity, she was still to small for that. "Father. I had a bad dream.", she whined and pressed her face into his chest. He smelled of warm wood, grass and peaceful sleep, a calming smell since it belonged to him like his strict eyes and his calm breath. Mulan pressed against her father who smiled down on her, caressing her tiny back with his hand. "You don't have to be scared, child."

She looked up at him with her serious eyes. "I dreamed of a golden butterfly." Mulan did not notice her fathers surprise, but she felt herself being lifted onto his lap and cuddled against his chest and into the protecting curve of his arm. "It sat on a flower and when I tried to touch it I...held a bloody sword in my hand." Again Mulan closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her cheeks as if she wanted to prevent an inner explosion. "I was so scared! I dropped it and then the butterfly sat on the blade in the middle of the blood and its wings turned red."

Her father said nothing and for a second Mulan was scared that he was angry with her for speaking about her dream, that her dream was something bad and she was almost ashamed when her father padded her back and kissed her head. "Then you don't have to be scared.", he said, carefully lay her down on her mattress again and covered her with the warm blanket. The winter winds were relentless in that time of the year and he didn't want his little magnolia to be cold. "Do you know what a golden butterfly means?", he then asked and pushed a strand of hair out of her tiny round face from where serious dark eyes looked up at him. Mulans father frowned. A girl was not supposed to look serious, they should giggle and smile and brush their hair, but his daughter was a suspicious and stubborn little thing. She nodded and a sparkle of curiosity appeared in her eyes.

"You know that a butterfly is not born in this body."

Mulan nodded. "First of all it is a caterpillar, then it does pupate."

Her father nodded. "The butterfly is a symbol of metamorphosis, reincarnation and" "What dies reincarnation mean?", his daughter interrupted him.

He smiled at her indulgently and answered her question: "Incarnation means that, if somebody dies, his soul is reborn in another life and within another body. That's why the butterfly is also a symbol of immortality."

Mulan's eyes grew big as plates. "Immortality.", she whispered. "With golden wings"

Her father smiled. "The colour of an emperor."

This stunned her even more. Little Mulan frowned, pondering on something, he knew it, but he didn't say anything before she was ready to ask him her question. Her voice was strangely mature when she finally asked: "Why do you think did I hold that sword? That sword covered in blood?"

He looked over her head into space, knowing that he could tell her a lot about oracles, destiny and prophecies, could explain her a lot of politics and power.

Oh, how much he could explain her.

But not tonight, not in her age. "I don't know.", he said and recognized her disappointed glance. "Maybe you will find out one day." With that he lifted himself from his daughter's bed, once again made sure she was covered and kissed her on the forehead. "Now you have to sleep, child.", he said in a strict tone though he smiled. "It's still in the middle of the night and me and your mother also need to sleep a bit more." Mulan smiled obediently and cuddled deeper into her pillow and her mattress as she said: "Good night, father."

"Sleep well, little magnolia."

With that he turned around and left her room, silent and gently like a cat. Mulan smiled about him, knowing that he was a warrior and maybe, the four-year-old thought, warriors couldn't stop being careful though they weren't at the battlefield, sneaking around like a wise old cat.

Her lid became heavy and her eyes were itching so she closed them and with her last thoughts before she fell into deep sleep, she looked forward for the next day. She thought of her mother, oh, her beloved mother who was such a beautiful woman and would await her with a breakfast of warm milk and rice. Mulan was sure that her mother was beautiful because her father always looked at her for such a long moment whenever their daily duties let them cross their paths. Later the mother would take her to the old grandmother, a white haired woman Mulan like very much: she would tell her stories of young princesses, enchanted flowers and brave warriors. Mulan rubbed her eyes once more. She couldn't wait to visit the horses with her father, especially since the oldest mare had cast a new colt which was as black as coal. Her dear father; Mulan knew that he was highly respected by everyone, and feared by his enemies. His men followed him wherever he would go and would protect his family with their lifes. He was the greatest warrior on earth, Mulan was sure of that.

Her father, Shan Yu.

What if Mulan did not run away to save her father and China? What if she was born on the other side of the great wall as daughter of Shan Yu? And what if she'd fall in love with a certain chinese general during the greatest war between China and the huns? This is her story!

I hope you enjoyed reading, further chapters if requested.