Hi everyone!

All I can say is sorry for the late update. This is a longer chapter than usual, although probably not by much. Anyways, enjoy!

To Shan Yu's infinite surprise, the young woman who lay still unconscious to his side had been very satisfying—perhaps one of the most satisfying he'd ever had.

In a way, he supposed it was helpful that she had passed out almost immediately. The struggles had stopped and it had been much easier to find release when there wasn't a screaming, crying girl beneath him.

He hadn't touched her beyond what he had to, but he knew that in the future he would. Though her breasts were small, they were pleasing and he planned to take advantage of that. It was almost a shame she would have to die in the end—with her body, she would only grow more pleasing over time.

However, for once he was truly unsure as to how the next part would unfold. Would she be broken, as he intended, or would she fight with renewed vigor? To his own distaste, he hoped she would continue to fight. There would be no more amusement to be had if she broke so easily, if one simple act could destroy her spirit.

He had a stern belief that she wouldn't be defeated by this. He was certain that she was like his first mare; her fighting flame would only die when she did.

For some reason, he no longer wished to see that flame extinguished like he had before.

Fa Mulan was the only living being that could possibly pose a challenge for him. He had felled lesser men, he had felled greater men. Something about her was invincible, undying. As much as he preferred to go unchallenged by his men, there was also something very gratifying about defeating an enemy.

The girl could give him that satisfaction every day as long as she fought him, as long as she didn't give up. He would always win, always be the victor; but he would never be bored again.

Suddenly, it wasn't her destruction he sought anymore.

It was the challenge and the sense of victory she could supply to him endlessly.

He had been unable to fall asleep the night before, even though rest called to him. Not long after he'd started the fire a cricket had begun to chirp loudly, very close to the impromptu camp. It had vaguely surprised him as it had seemed to be a sad song it sang—as though something had been lost. Not long after that cricket begun—he would have gladly found it and squished it had it been alone—more crickets had added to the tune, a singing a song that seemed more fitting for a burial than a mating cry.

Only around dawn did the song stop, when crickets normally went silent, but the result was that he had not slept at all that night. Something about the song haunted him, though he could not figure out what it was. Lesser men would have been brought to tears at the heart-wrenching tune had they taken the time to notice it, but Shan Yu was not a lesser man. It had been said before that he did not have a heart, even among his own men; Shuurkei and Malgai had wives, and though Shuurkei was loyal enough to him to not say anything against him, Shan Yu had heard of Malgai's comments about his khan's heartlessness. When confronted Malgai did not deny it, standing proud in front of his khan and telling him exactly what he thought about the state of his nonexistent-compassion.

It was his honesty that had led to Shan Yu sparing his life.

Shan Yu had a strong conviction that it was compassion that led great men to their fall; he would not make that mistake. Sparing one enemy life could mean his downfall, to his end.

It did not pass his notice that he had chosen to allow the one person who could defeat him, an enemy in every way, to live for his own amusement.

However, now the sun had risen and the crickets had at last quieted, so it was time to finally return to the palace. The only thing standing in the way of moving out was his wife-to-be's continuing unconsciousness. At the same time, something inside him did not wish to wake her…he wasn't sure what it was borne of, but if she chose to stay asleep, he would not ruin that.

It was an action he chose not to analyze.

Gripping her small, petite form and lifting her, he called Ruyun to his side. The horse stood from its resting place and trotted over to him. He swung her so that she rested on his large shoulder as he mounted and then, so as to not unbalance his steed, placed her in front of him and let her lean back against his chest.

Her bound hands lay limply in her lap and he noticed they were a somewhat alarming white. Sighing to himself world-wearily, he loosened the bonds just enough so that they returned to their usual pallor. Then, tapping Ruyun's flank, he set out towards the palace in a brisk trot. He was surprised when even the jolting motion did not awaken the girl.

Suddenly, the horse stopped without his command and Shan Yu paused. Ruyun was the most reliable horse he'd ever owned; such action was against his nature. However, the horse blustered and they turned to the side, as though looking for something.

In that moment, a flash of red appeared in Shan Yu's peripheral vision. He glanced around quickly, but it was gone as soon as it had come.

With the right command, Ruyun reluctantly began to move again and Shan Yu urged him to move faster. Even at a gallop, the girl did not awaken, and he was forced to use one hand to hold her to him while guiding his horse with the other.

Now he was beginning to be concerned. Why wasn't the girl waking up? He had never heard of anyone sleeping so deeply that riding a galloping horse would not awaken them.

Suddenly her chin snapped up and the back of her head cracked against his collarbone. He brought Ruyun to an immediate halt, since his wife-to-be was clearly awake and trying to harm him by lashing out at him with her head. It was the only part of her that could do any damage, after all.

But when he released his hold on her, she slumped forward limply, almost falling off the horse. He gripped her to him again, pulling her up so as to stop her fall. He twisted her chin to the side, inspecting her face. She had infiltrated the Imperial army as a man; she was clearly a good actress.

However, upon further inspection, there was no way she could be awake. In his frustration, he hit her face, hard enough to awake anyone.

She did not show any response, only falling limply back against him.

It was not panic; he did not panic. He checked her pulse and breathing and she was very much alive.

But she would not wake up. Why?

It was still a ways to the palace, but the girl clearly needed the attention of a doctor. He had no idea as to why this would be; he'd not done anything out of the ordinary to her when taking her the night before. She was not dead, that much was clear—he knew a dead body when he saw one. No, she was alive, but she would not wake up.

Growling, he spurred Ruyun back into action, towards the nearest village he knew of. He was loathe to stay away from his rule longer than he had to, but he had just decided that Fa Mulan was not allowed to die.

He would not lose his only entertainment, his challenge, his prey, to a death he had not caused.

This time, he did not notice that the crickets had started up again; a raucous, angry tune.

She saw colors.

At first, she had not known why she saw them; everything was fuzzy, hazy, and all she knew was black.

It was calm, peaceful, in the world of darkness. She couldn't feel temperature, but she knew that if she could, it would be cold and dank. Nothing moved, nothing changed, and there was nothing but bliss in this emotionless world.

She didn't know when it came to her, but the first color was red. It was the color of blood; she'd seen so much of it in the war.

War…what war?

All she knew was that there had been a war and that the color she saw, this crimson, deep red that flowed around her like liquid was the best representation of this war. She knew it stood for pain and death, but shouldn't the blackness that the red had replaced have been death?

All she knew was that she saw red and not black anymore, and that the red was pain. She ran from it, but the red followed her. She had no body she found, but she could still try to get away from the red liquid.

Not red liquid—blood.

But the blood would not leave her; it coated her, filled her, covered her in its essence. It was frightening and she wanted to scream.

No longer was there calm and peace in this realm; there was pain.

Mushu was crammed into a saddlebag on Big-and-Scary's giant horse that was filled with rations. He gladly ate some of it as he doubted there be more coming in his time until the palace. Mulan would feed him if she could, he knew, but something was wrong with her.

He had nearly attacked Shan Yu went the beast of a man moved towards her, but he knew that there was nothing he could do without Mulan's help. If there was a way he could kill Big-and-Scary for her, he would, but even he admitted that he was rather small compared to the Hun and probably wouldn't stand much of a chance in defeating him.

Besides, Mulan was the one known for her incredible plans, not him. He'd just helped her get into the army.

And now…now he really wished he hadn't been so selfish. Mulan did not deserve any of the pain that she had been put through because of his own self-seeking actions.

It was fair to say that the dragon absolutely loathed himself at the moment, and perhaps he always would after his terrible failure.

The horse abruptly stopped at one moment and Mushu was sent flying to the other side of the pouch. He heard a reverberating slap and it took all his self-restraint—what little he had—to stop himself from flying out of the pouch to defend his charge.

But there was no cry of pain, not even a muffled whimper. In fact, it was completely silent except for the horse's hoof stomping on the ground impatiently.

Mushu almost jumped out of his scales when a low growl, much like a wolf's, came from above him. Was that Big-and-Scary? Suddenly, the horse took off in a different direction and Mushu was sent flying to the other side of the pouch…again.

He'd never thought he'd miss Mulan's cow, but it was clear that he was much easier to travel with than Big-and-Scary.

After two hours of hard travel, Shan Yu stopped almost immediately when a sound finally came from his wife-to-be's lips. It was an agonized sound, like it was meant to be a scream, although in reality it was nothing more than a strangled whimper.

He turned her face back towards his and was pleased to see that her facial features were twisted in pain. She was waking up at last, meaning that his trip to the village could be ignored. He waited for a long moment for her come back to consciousness.

When she took too long for his liking, he backhanded her, frustration fueling him. Now that he could avoid staying from his palace longer, he was impatient to resume travel.

However, when he struck her, she stiffened for a moment and then fell back limply into his lap.

After another long moment of waiting, he decided that something was definitely wrong and the village was still his priority.

Shan Yu set his pace back towards the village.

The blood was still there, but it was slowly fading and there was no more pain.

It was replaced with orange. There was rage there, like fire, but it was not intense and painful like it was with the red, the blood. It was like a warm flame licking over her, burning her painlessly, consuming her.

She embraced the fire. It was peaceful somehow, to allow this unstoppable force to take over her being. She felt anger but she felt calm, as though an acceptance of this burden of hatred. She didn't know to whom the anger was aimed at, but she knew it was there. The fire accepted her and brought her peace.

Then the orange grew lighter and lighter and she only felt happiness, like sunlight caressing her on a day with clear skies and laughing, babbling creeks.

They had arrived at the village.

It was small, but it bustled with people just like any town on a warm and sunny day. At his arrival, however, baskets were dropped and the people stilled as though enveloped with fright. Two young men drew swords—flimsy little things—and pointed them at him.

Clearly they had not heard the news about the Hun takeover of China. Pity, since the two who drew on him would die as an example of what he would do them, could do to every one of them, should they not obey him.

"Hun scum, we will kill you!" cried the older one.

"Turn back now!" called the younger one, as though finishing the other's sentence.

Ah, so they were brothers. Fools, the both of them. They would be lucky if he did not decided to eliminate their entire family.

Silently, he drew his jagged blade and dismounted the horse, vaguely remembering to let his wife-to-be slump onto Ruyun's neck. No, she hadn't awakened, and there had been no signs of further progress in that area, either.

"You will bow to your new emperor," Shan Yu replied to them, smirking toothily. He pointed his sword towards them, his stance casual. "Or you will die."

"China will never have a Hun emperor!" cried the younger one, charging at him. Shan Yu absently noted that the villagers were watching with horrified fascination.

Shan Yu sidestepped the inexperienced boy-warrior and cut him down with a single thrust of his sword.

The older saw his brother's death and only hesitated for a moment. "No! Shuu!" He charged at Shan Yu as well, although his movements spoke of slightly more experience with a blade. "I will kill you for my brother!"

Shan Yu didn't deem this worthy of an answer and allowed the boy, no older than Mulan, to attack him.

He decapitated the boy simply, the head rolling away from the body.

There was a scream. "My boys!" It was their mother.

"Fools," Shan Yu told them, pointing his sword at the other villagers threateningly. "Any who wish to die may challenge me. I am here for your doctor and nothing else. All those who oppose me will serve as further examples."

There was a murmuring in the crowd. Clearly they did not feel as threatened as they should have by him, as several more men raced forward in synchronized movement to take him down.

Every one of them was killed effortlessly.

The yellow was like sunlight, she realized. She had always loved sunny, peaceful days when she could ride her horse through the forests surrounding her home.

Khan…her horse's name was Khan.

But why did that name send a jolt of hatred through her? Did she not like her horse?

No, no, that wasn't it. Perhaps the horse had been named after someone she didn't like, but she knew she loved her horse.

Khan…

The village doctor had been summoned by a wise old woman after the sixth man had come to his death. Women were weeping and shielding their children's eyes from their bloodied, fallen fathers' bodies, while the other villagers had simply stared on in shock.

Finally, the doctor pushed through the crowd. He was a wizened old man, short with a humped back and leaning heavily on a polished wooden cane. The man was unperturbed by the fallen bodies and simply looked in Shan Yu's direction.

"What would you have me do, your Majesty?"

Shan Yu was glad that even if the doctor did not believe that he was the emperor, he was smart enough to play the part.

"My wife has fallen ill," he replied, leaving out that the matrimony was pending. It would only make things easier in the long run. "I would have her seen to."

"Of course, Your Majesty," the doctor replied. "We will bring her to my home and I will examine her." The doctor motioned to one of the younger boys, one who had not attempted to kill him, to go fetch his wife, who was slumped on the horse.

Shan Yu gave one look at the boy and he halted in his tracks. The khan pulled Mulan from her place on his horse, removing the ropes binding her hands before anyone could comprehend that she wasn't a willing participant. The doctor would obviously notice the bruises and broken skin where she had struggled the rope, but Shan Yu trusted that he would be wise enough to keep his findings to himself.

The doctor led Shan Yu to his home, Ruyun following his master obediently. The crowd parted for them as they passed and Shan Yu was glad that they had all realized their place.

It didn't matter that after he returned to the palace, he would send some of his men to burn the village and all its inhabitants to the ground.

He clearly needed an example to show that he was not to be trifled with.

The yellow had faded and now she saw all shades of green.

They covered and caressed her like leaves falling from trees. She felt reborn, like a budding flower, just about to bloom.

She was reminded of her parents. She could see their outlines but not their faces, although she knew they were holding each other and smiling at her happily. She could feel their love and acceptance, even though she was not like the other girls and that their only child was a daughter—not a son who would carry on the family's name.

But they loved her despite that and her father cherished her above all. He loved her as much as he would have if she were a son.

She could feel herself moving through stages of her life. She remembered not wanting to play with the dolls her mother had bought her and she could remember the other girls making fun of her and eventually avoiding her because she would not play dress-up. She was not like the others and she knew that from a very early age.

She remembered when her father bought her Khan. Khan had only been a colt at the time, a spindly young thing that was disliked because he was black and could not be used in the army—for some arbitrary reason, black was not a suitable color for Imperial stallions. Mulan loved him all the more for it; he was disliked and unwanted because his coloring was different and she was disliked and unwanted because she was a woman who did not belong with the masses.

Khan was an exceptional steed, however, and despite her mother's protests that it was unseemly for a girl to learn to ride a horse professionally, her father taught her anyways. The moment she had sat upon Khan's back, she had known that he was perfect and they just fit, like two pieces of a puzzle. They were inseparable ever since.

She remembered the matchmaker. The woman had hated her because she was different and Mulan knew that even if she had played the part of a perfect woman in their meeting, the woman still would not have done anything in her best interests. Rumors of Mulan's unwillingness to be the perfect woman had reached far and wide in the small town and it was unlikely any man from her village would want to marry her. That meant more work for the matchmaker and it was clear the woman would not go to any extra lengths for the village outcast.

She remembered that her status as a pariah had only worsened after she'd returned from the war.

The doctor's hut was clean and simple. In the front room there was a cot where Shan Yu placed Mulan and the doctor motioned towards a chair for him to sit in, but the Hun refused. The chair would probably break under his weight anyways and he preferred to be on the alert. At his full height the hut seemed smaller than it probably was, but that was of no importance. He wanted the girl to be fixed as soon as possible—he'd been away from the palace for too long now.

The color that found her was the hue of robin's eggs.

If she had thought the black was peaceful, this blue told her otherwise. It soothed her like calming water, like she was floating on a slow, steady river and being carried away into the ocean.

She'd heard of the ocean but had never been. She knew it was a vast expanse of water that went on without end; that you could get lost in it forever. If getting lost in the ocean meant staying in this beautiful feeling forever, she would gladly allow it.

It was as she was floating, staring into the blue, that she saw the red again. It did not touch her, did not bring her pain, and the blue surrounded her, protected her, kept her from fear. But when the red stayed there, looking at her unwaveringly, she understood.

She had been hurt. The red was not others' blood; it was her own. But the blue would protect her. As the red stayed she understood that she would be hurt again and as it swirled around her, close but not moving closer as though trapped behind a glass wall, she knew that her pain would not go away just because she wished it.

The blue deepened, became like a sapphire, hard and glassy but still soothing.

She knew now that she would live with this red, this blood, this pain. But she also knew that she did not have to succumb to it. She could fight it, fight back; she was strong. She had survived this pain and she would survive all the pain that was to come.

She would not allow the red to break her.

Po Aio had been a doctor many years, many years more than this Hun who stood in his home had been alive. He had seen sickness and death swirl around him before, never touching him but not leaving him unscathed.

He knew that even if this young woman was the Hun's wife, it was not a willing union.

In fact, he found that their union was most recent, as well. He did not need to inspect her much to know that she had been raped—the blood on the insides of her thighs spoke of it and the rope burns on her wrists and ever-so-faintly on her cheeks spoke of great brutality. Disgust filled him at the sight of this poor girl's fortune, but he valued his life and would not risk it to confront a man who had felled six others in the span of five minutes.

Aio knew that he was no warrior and that there were many in the village who would still need his help after the Hun left.

As for what ailed her, Aio had not seen it often but he had seen it before. It was usually when something so bad had happened that the person could not handle the pain they had gone through. In his eyes, it was clear what had brought this on. The girl was not sick—rather, she was healing.

The blue and the red mixed and swirled together, and then there was purple.

It was not a color she'd seen often in her life, but it was beautiful and she could recognize it. It sent her wave after wave of strength, of willingness to fight through the red and find the blue once more. She knew herself now, she knew better than before what must be done.

She did not know who it was that she sought to defeat, or who it was that had given her this red, but she knew that she had the strength to do so. She was powerful in her own right and that was what set her apart.

She was special, she was powerful, she was strong; she would defeat the red and bring the blue to encompass the world.

And then everything faded, and she saw white; the most pure color of them all.

She felt peace.

Shan Yu had waited long enough for the doctor to figure out what was going on. It had been an hour, maybe two, and he would not be patient any longer.

"What is wrong with her?" he demanded.

The doctor looked up at him with wizened eyes. Wrinkles framed every part of his face, telling of old age, but with that age came a knowledge that Shan Yu hated to think he might never possess.

"The girl is merely sleeping," the doctor said. "She is healing." Shan Yu could tell the man had noticed what had happened the night previous and wanted to say something about it, but was intelligent enough to not do so.

"If she was merely sleeping, why won't she wake up?" He was seconds away from snapping the old man's neck. This had taken too long, and if Mulan was merely sleeping, his time had been wasted.

"You must let her rest," the doctor replied, sighing and looking down at the girl. "She is tired and she is healing."

"Why won't she wake up?" Shan Yu pulled the doctor into the air by the lapels of his clothing. The old man was avoiding the question and that was irritating, especially when it was the only question he cared to have answered.

The doctor did not show fear, even though his life was about to end.

"She will not wake up because she does not want to."

That's all. Kind of a boring chapter, but VERY important.

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Cheers!

Of Healing Love