I own nothing.
Though a few plot elements are still inspired by dragon mythology and Miyazaki's Spirited Away film, this piece is a just little different from my previous Mulan works. It is very random, mostly experimental, and the content is not as dark-fairtytale-ish here as it is angsty per se.
Shang breathes soundly, laying sluggish and rested in the silk bedding beside her. Mulan sleeps there every single night as a good wife should—but with sleep being a light way to put it. All soldiers have dreams about their prior years in combat. It's only natural. But her dreams are not about the war. And that bothers her.
Shang is everything she wanted for so long, everything she worked to have, to keep after it was all over. She should be contented beyond measure, really.
Why is she haunted by this lingering sensation of feeling like shredded pieces lost in the wind, dancing in endless tedious circles? There's a hole in their story now, a hole in her heart. So, why can't Shang's company mend it? Her day hours leave her feeling pointless, and dull. Mundane.
Though behind closed eyes, she sees a breath of dragonfire, red scales, a yellow mane flowing long and agile like a sun-kissed river, and she sees eyes—eyes like a serpent's—slitted in the middle and aglow with an old magic. Behind closed eyes, she remembers how it felt to be encouraged to go forth on her adventures, disguised as Fa Ping, being protected and guided every step of the way by her Dragon Guardian. When she wasn't just a boy, or just a woman, wasn't just a mother to Shang's three boisterous sons. That is the true life a housewife?
In her restless sleep, Mulan even recalls how it feels to fly on her dragon's back through the misty heavens when he grew into his full height, the sight of his long teeth clenching together into a fiery grin, not to frighten her, but to thrill her. She'd done ten years of service—meaning that, ten years of an important friendship to her has forever vanished from her reach—ten years of forming a bond that happened to run deeper than she had anticipated after he had left the mortal realm. It was surreal, spiritual.
Ten years of being the cherished pearl held between her dragon's claws...gone. Just gone! Ripped from her life, ironically torn apart by her own wedding vows, destroyed by her consummating the marriage with Shang over the span of one night.
Grandmother Fa used to tell her stories back then after she'd turned thirteen, ones that did involve dragons, even dragons that came from all over the world.
-.-
"It does not matter what kind they are, my little Mulan...if the dragon-folk do have one thing in common, it's that all of them only keep virgins at their side."
"But why, Nana?"
"Purer the feet, purer the maiden's dance will look in their eyes. Purer the voice, purer the maiden's song will be to their ears. Purer the body, purer the skin. Purer the skin, purer the blood. Purer the blood, purer the soul. And the purest of souls keep the dragon's magic that more alive and uncorrupted. Untouched maidens are the best companions for them, because they are loyal to that dragon alone. They know not other loves to be chained down by."
-.-
Rolling over, Shang is suddenly tapping at her shoulder, trying to rouse her, looking all concerned...and perhaps, even a little jealous as he stares down at her weary face, now dazed under the bright light pouring in through the open windows.
"Mulan, who is Mushu?" he demanded curiously. "And why are you pleading for him to come back to you?"
Peeved, disappointed, and a bit confused, the words don't quite reach her mouth after she blinks up at him again. All that lingers on her lips is a forgotten kiss that should've ever happened and the distant taste of warm cinders turning to ash.
