Hiiiiii guys...

So, I've had a lot of pestering to update this story, and I'm going to have to ask those of you who are criticizing my update schedule to STOP. I have many, many higher priorities right now than fanfiction, and I'm only really updating when I have a chance to write something as well as the inspiration. Please, when you demand like that it really just puts pressure on me to write, which in turn makes me dislike the story, which makes me not want to write for it, and...yeah. None of us want this story to be discontinued, but if the pressure gets to the point where it did with Entropy, I promise I'm just going to drop this story and not wallow in the misery of trying to update something I loathe.

HOWEVER! We are not there yet. I just wanted everyone to be aware that nagging is not the way to get what you want. You know what is? Thoughtful reviews with insight and input, analysis or observations, etc. Those reviews get me thinking about the story instead of just x'ing out of my inbox and going on with my day, and when I'm thinking about a story, it usually leads to updates.

I mean, if you have nothing to say that's fine! Don't review if you don't want to. However, don't channel that lack of anything to say into, right, nagging. ;)

P.S. These aren't threats, I promise. I WANT to write this story, I WANT to complete it, but I felt the same way with Entropy until the pressure made me lose interest and now, even after it's done, I don't think I've hated any story I've written more than I do that one. I DO NOT want to hate AGAM, so I'm trying to avoid a similar situation.

Anyways! I know this is a shorter than usual chapter, but I just wanted to give you all SOMETHING since most of you have been really patient and I appreciate it so much!

"Their condition is very poor," Mulan was told the next day by a Hun doctor who could very clearly not care any less. "It will take several weeks for them to recover."

She supposed it was nice that the doctor—Mashin—could speak Chinese well enough that she could understand him without a translator, but the news he brought was less so. It was a succinct summary and Mashin was already turning to leave, but she was going to be Shan Yu's khatun—whatever that meant, but she knew it was important to these people—and she decided she could demand respect from even a doctor.

"What, exactly, is wrong with them?" she asked loudly, forcing him to acknowledge her. If she had been quiet or demure like a real Chinese woman should be, she'd be ignored. But Mulan had known for a long time that she wasn't a real Chinese woman.

She was some kind of hellish hybrid, one that nearly saved China but also resulted in capturing Shan Yu's interest.

Mashin glanced over his shoulder at her with an assessing look, meaning that he was probably trying to figure out how much ignoring her would affect him negatively. Mulan put a stern, no-nonsense look on her face and crossed her arms, the image of impatience.

After a moment of appraising her mulish expression, Mashin apparently came to the conclusion that he was better off simply telling her what she wanted to know than resisting, and it was true; she wasn't going to lie back and wait for them to get better without knowing what they were getting better from. She could possibly even help if there was something within her power to aid with, and so she wouldn't be letting this doctor off lightly.

Also, he was a Hun—and she would never let a Hun get off easy, not for as long as she breathed and her heart beat.

"The short one-"

"Yao," Mulan corrected. Her friends and comrades were not going to be treated like less than human any longer, not now that she was here.

The doctor clenched his jaw briefly, the only sign of his annoyance, before continuing smoothly. "Yao," he said pointedly, "has many lacerations, all of which need tending to with herbal poultices to fight off sickness. The fingers of his left hand have all been broken, but are now set to heal properly; we had to rebreak them to reset them and while he is in much pain, he is now in a good position to heal. Whether or not he regains function of his hand is entirely up to him. He has bruises and bleeding that we have given him goldenrod for; it should help him recover more quickly. Otherwise, all that can be done is bedrest, food, and water."

Mashin paused, as if he figured that was sufficient information for all of them somehow, but then Mulan prompted him forward. "Shang? Ling? Chien Po?"

"The ex-captain is the worst off," Mashin went on after a brief pause. Mulan raised an eyebrow at his refusal to use Shang's name, but didn't interrupt him. She didn't want to push him too far, not yet. "All the same injuries and treatments as Yao other than the hand injury, but he needs a steady supply of goldenrod and tight pressure to prevent him from losing too much blood. Out of all of them, he has the lowest chance to recover."

"But he'll live, yes?" Mulan said, and it was not a question. It was a threat, an expectation, that she didn't bother to veil in even the slightest.

Mashin glowered at her. "That is up to him at this point."

Mulan made a note to have the doctor executed if Shang died. It was no skin off her back, and she had no doubt that if Shang died, it would be due to negligence and prejudice, not because Shang was too injured. He had been conscious when she had first picked him up, which meant that he couldn't be that bad off. He had even been lucid, had recognized her. The shock might have been too much for his body, but that didn't mean he couldn't live. It was Ling she was worried about, so she asked after him next.

"He will never use his right hand again—it was completely shattered. His left is in poor shape, but may, with time, regain mobility. His left leg was broken and healed improperly, but it will be usable after rest and recuperation, though he will have a limp for the rest of his life. However, he required no goldenrod, as there was no bleeding, so though he will be handicapped but is going to be fine."

Mulan didn't even have to prompt him for Chien Po, as it seemed Mashin had resigned himself to his fate. "Po simply needs food, lots of it, to gain weight, and rest. It seems he was the least tortured; all that was done to him was starvation. He will be fine once he gains weight and exercises to regain mobility."

Mulan nodded succinctly at that, knowing all she wanted to know. She could help them all by supplying them with the best food that could be offered, that was obvious. She would stay out of their way to let them rest and get their strength back. She would help Ling and Yao get usage back in their hands, whether through massage or small exercises to promote mobility—they had been taught the latter during weapons training, and even if it wouldn't do any good for Ling's right hand, and would be painful for both of them, it would be better than nothing. She also needed Ling to be able to move quickly, which meant helping him adjust to his new handicap so even if he couldn't run, he could at least ride a horse. If they ever needed to escape—not her, of course, her place was unfortunately right here in the palace, but her friends—Ling would need to be mobile.

She worried about Shang momentarily, but in the end decided that he was the only one she couldn't help. It hurt to think he might die, even though she was certain he wouldn't—it was merely the fact that the doctor had mentioned it was possible that made her stomach sick. She had once had feelings for her captain, no matter how they had sputtered and died when she was abandoned, and she still felt a terrible amount of affection for him. It would be a great wound to her heart if he didn't make it.

Sighing, she asked the doctor one last question: "Can I visit them?"

The doctor mirrored her sigh, although he sounded exasperated rather than depressed. "As long as you don't disturb their recovery." He said it with such vehemence that Mulan realized she didn't have to order his execution should one of her friends die—Shan Yu, as much as she despised him, was actually in her corner on this one. This doctor would be punished if he failed in his duty, and though the severity was unknown to her, she could assume by his attitude that it wouldn't be light.

She felt a near disturbing hint of pride at that, disturbing because it was because of Shan Yu being on her side. Momentarily, she swallowed bile, and then corrected herself. It wasn't the fact that Shan Yu was on her side—it was that she had given him so much trouble so far that he felt the need to follow through on their deal to the letter in order to have her submission. That meant, she realized, the taste of bile now very far away, that she had the upper hand.

And didn't it make sense? If she was constantly defying him in front of everyone—and if she ever won, even just once, publicly—it would cause him a great many problems.

But she wondered about Alba's words then. She wouldn't have sway over a new ruler if Shan Yu was killed or demoted. For better or for worse, she was stuck with him. It was probably in her favor that he be the ultimate ruler, because she had learned just now that she actually had power.

The pride suddenly made sense, and it was with great pleasure that she fully separated it from being because of Shan Yu.

But it also brought the truth of Alba's words to stark clarity in ways she hadn't been willing to realize before. Not only did she hold sway, but she could suddenly see that maybe she really did have value to Shan Yu, and while that was mildly alarming, she wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. It made sense now to fulfill her part of the deal, not because of a misguided sense of honor, but because not only was he actually following through with his end of the bargain, but behaving publicly for him would endear her to him, would make him appreciate her, would increase her sway. With positive feelings came only good things from Shan Yu, she realized.

And then, suddenly, the wording hit her.

Publicly.

He had, she remembered vaguely, emphasized publicly just the smallest amount. In her adrenaline and worry, she hadn't noticed it, but she knew the words verbatim, as they were so important in deciding her future. Why, she wondered, would he specify publicly? Why wouldn't he ask for her total, one hundred percent submission?

And then she realized with a sick feeling that perhaps he actually liked her rebelliousness, her determination to not obey his every command. Maybe he enjoyed their battles in a way that she didn't—because he always won and she always lost. There was something to be said about the headiness of victory, Mulan knew. She remembered how it had felt to watch the thousands of men in the Hun army become buried beneath snow, how she had felt duping her guard and escaping for the brief period of time she had after being taken into Shan Yu's harem, and all the small victories along the way. She might not have necessarily won in any meaningful way yet, but that didn't mean she couldn't understand how good it felt to clash with someone strong and win.

She realized then that out of everyone she had encountered in her life, Shan Yu was the only one who could really fit the descriptor of rival, and that they definitely were, although not in the vaguely friendly way, or at least benign, that rivalry implied. They always had been and always would be enemies, but there was also a certain amount of competition there too that encompassed more than just being on opposite sides of a war.

And suddenly it hit her like a freight train: those times that she did win, or came very close, she also enjoyed their battles.

Though it made her feel sick to realized she enjoyed anything about Shan Yu or her relationship with him, she knew then that she couldn't deny it. The headiness of nearly killing him, every attempt, even when she failed, had left her walking away angry but somehow satisfied. She was staying true to herself, and one of those days, she had thought that she would kill him.

Now she knew that she couldn't kill him, but it didn't mean she couldn't inconvenience him, and she could do so in ways that would influence him to take care of China, take care of her fellows instead of just the Huns that he ruled. She wouldn't have doubted prejudice against her people now that the Huns had taken over, but with Shan Yu effectively under her thumb, as she had decided he would be, she could actually bring her people to a greater height. Somehow. She'd figure out a way.

Satisfied, she returned to her bedroom to mull over her thoughts, the welfare of her friends and her people at the center.