snarky_panda (snarky_panda) wrote in mulanficspace, @ 2007-07-21 00:47:00 |
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Current mood: | content |
Current music: | Kim Possible |
30 Kisses: Mulan and Shang, Part Six
Written for the 30_kisses challenge.
Title: Night Vigil
Author: snarky_panda
Fandom: Mulan
Pairing: Li Shang/Fa Mulan
Theme: #26, if only I could make you mine
Disclaimer: All characters, etc. from the Disney movie belong to Disney.
The night wore on and still the rain came down in torrents, threatening to wash away everything in its path. The lantern burned steadily inside their small shelter despite the pounding sounds that covered them as the rain pelted the sides of the tent. Shang moved over to the flaps in front and ensured that the ties were secure. With the change in the air and the onslaught of the raging storms, Mulan had succumbed to illness, no doubt brought on by the sudden shift in the weather. He had to make certain that she remained warm and dry.
Sighing, he returned to her side. Her condition hadn’t taken a turn for the better. Raging fever gripped her and she writhed in her sleep under the layers of blankets, mumbling deliriously, incoherent words that he couldn’t understand. Shang kept a worried vigil over her, a swollen waterskin and a cloth beside him. Hoping to bring her temperature down he wet the cloth and began to bathe her forehead. Then he soaked it once more, wrung it out and laid it across her brow.
Her face was pale and drawn, and there were dark circles under her eyes from her illness and the nights of fitful sleep. Raven hair was tousled and splayed in all directions.
Bringing both hands up to his face he rubbed his eyes and shook his head, fighting the sleepiness that threatened to overtake him.
She had thankfully become still now, looking more peaceful, and he removed the damp cloth from her brow. Remaining awake and by her side, he watched her as she slept, staring at her lovely visage. He didn’t move a muscle for a long time, mesmerized and resisting an impulse to rest his hand against her cheek and trace the contours of her face.
I love you, Mulan.
The words had just popped into his head, startling him with the ease at which they occurred to him.
For a long time, he gazed at her as she slept, thinking of that phrase which had so naturally come to mind and reflecting on their friendship that was still so new but felt as if it had existed forever. There was no denying the stirrings and sensations in his body that he experienced when she was near, just thinking about her prompted them. But there was much more to it than that.
He’d never known a woman as intelligent as Mulan. She was multifaceted and complex and he loved talking to her. Their conversations were stimulating and even their mutual teasing was something he relished, that he looked forward to. A perfect sparring partner verbally as well as physically. And there were so many other things, things that he couldn’t put a name to. Spending so much time on the road together they had come to discover many details about one another. They shared similar childhood experiences as well as family background. Had they grown up in closer geographic proximity to one another their parents might very well have arranged a betrothal.
A vague ache of disappointment settled in his heart as the reality of their situation crept into the forefront of his mind with this last thought. In another world he could love her and even ask her to marry him, on his own.
If only things were that easy, he thought with a sigh. He could choose Mulan to be his and cherish her for his lifetime. But everything was complicated by tradition, antiquated customs that shrouded the simple, natural instinct of a man and woman to desire and love one another. A strict moral code had governed the pairing of couples for centuries and would continue to do so. It was impossible to get around that. Either a matchmaker or some kind of go-between was required. Then there were the letters that had to be written to the family and all sorts of rituals that had to occur before a young man and woman finally consummated their vows to one another.
They were already defying tradition by traveling alone together, even if they were comrades in arms and under Imperial order. Young Chinese men and women didn’t go anywhere alone; they weren’t even supposed to be out together in the streets of town. Yet here they were in the middle of nowhere, just the two of them.
Still, he was in the Emperor’s favor, they both were. It was he who encouraged Shang to go after her when she rode off after saving his life in the Imperial City.
The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.
A smile flitted across his face as he watched her and thought of those words. It was clear that the man advocated the match. Surely his approval meant more than any matchmaker. But how could he ask for such a thing? Perhaps after their mission, if an opportunity arose…
She mumbled fretfully as her slumber became disturbed once more, and he reached out without thinking about it and placed his hand against the side of her face, relishing the feel of her soft skin under his calloused hand. His thumb absently traced small circles where it rested on her cheek. In her sleep she seemed to turn and lean into his touch. Or maybe he was imagining it.
“Mulan?” he whispered, leaning over her as he noticed that she had started to shiver uncontrollably.
Wanting to stop her shaking, he bundled her up in the layers of blankets and scooped her up onto his lap, clinching her against him in an embrace, her head cradled against his chest. She twisted toward him, still asleep, and he shifted as his body reacted to the feel of her face pressed against his stomach, nuzzling him.
His clothing was becoming damp, he noticed after a long while. He cupped a hand under her chin and turned her face toward him. Tears had begun to spill from her eyes and his hand moved up to gently wipe them away.
Leaning down, he tenderly kissed the top of her head. Her hair had dampened too, not from tears but from sweat, and he sighed with relief.
Her fever was beginning to break.
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