dawningbriarrose:

While Philip and Hubert’s kingdom remained in a state that was bad enough to hinder the wedding, and very-bad enough to be something that Princess Aurora was not privy to, Merryweather negotiated with Stefan and Leah that their daughter learn something of neighbouring kingdoms, so that she could rule with wisdom, kindness, and compassion. China was a major trading partner; the teas, silks, and gunpowder made a strong relationship with the Emperor’s court essential. China was also in the middle of a war, a brutal war with a tribe of nomadic conquerors. If Aurora was to be a good queen, she would need to know something of soldiers—what they did, what they required, how to inspire them. Her own lands were soft, and peaceful, but that was no promise that they would remain so. She would take with her a promise of a strong battalion, and a renewal of the trade contracts of what China purchased from their land—and a little bit of magic, if they could feel such things. 

Aurora had been reading a great deal in preparation for this visit; Chinese swords were made from folded steel to compensate for the relative weakness of their ore. German steel was stronger by far, and she would be bringing five perfect swords; the finest to be sent to the Emperor, one for the Consul, another for the General, a fourth to the General’s son, and a fifth to be won by the finest recruit at the base. 

She was also bringing a fairy. That was not a small token of esteem, to offer the wisdom of her beloved aunt. 

And so it was that with a case of relatively modest gowns in tow, Merryweather stood with the Princess, wand aloft.

“Now, mei-gui, you needn’t be worried. Teleportation magic is a little dizzying, but it’ll get the job done! We’ll arrive at the gates of the camp at sunrise.” The Mandarin word for ‘Rose’ served to ease her worries a little, and she smiled awkwardly.

Aurora nodded, and held Merryweather’s hand where it clutched the wand. Merryweather breathed words and tones, and the two women (and luggage) vanished into the air.

Ping sat in his tent…what he called a tent…on the outskirts of camp, trying to decide what to do with his free day.  To be fair, the young recruit had only just woken up.  Hair sticking out, face oily, breath stale, Ping sat slumped over under his blanket, trying to decide if it was worth while opening his eyes.

“Well, I ain’t gonna feed you bite by bite myself,” scolded Mushu, “when I already went to all this trouble just trying to get a good congee going.  Look,” he picked through it with his chopsticks.  "There’s chicken, and pea shoots, and mushrooms - “

"Mushrooms?!”  Now Ping’s eyes flared open.  "Mushu, where did you - “

"Cool your jets, girl,” retorted the little red dragon, pushing the bowl of congee into Ping’s hands.  "I didn’t haul your behind through weeks of training just to kill you off with some weedy mushrooms.  They’re from the mess tent.“

It didn’t escape Ping that Mushu hadn’t explained the chicken.  And given the state of the mess tent, Ping privately thought that Mushu might still be about to poison him.  But the ripe smell that filled the tent wasn’t the congee.  Working in the fields as he grew, Ping had never gone longer than one week without at least pouring a bucket of cool water over his head in the evening.  "Maybe I’ll take a bath today,” suggested Ping.

The guardian dragon rolled his eyes.  "Sure, and then you can waltz through camp in a cute little towel and see just how long our secret lasts after that.  First things first, Mulan - eat up before it gets cold, and then I can stop you from taking a bath.“

Which is how it came about that Ping, his dirty hair tucked into a neat topknot and his clothes (if not what was under them) clean, was sitting in the opening of his tent eating his morning congee just as two figures in gowns materialized a couple feet away.  "Yiii!” yelped Ping, dropping his bowl and retreating into his tent.  

He already had the worst luck of anybody who ever joined the army.  Now he would be visited by demons?