iceshattered:

   “Captain Mulan?” The inclined statement felt wrong on her lips, wrong when associated with this lovely mannered, gentle young woman. Captain was reserved for men with narrow gazes who were forced here by their country. Captain was reserved for people who hated eye contact, and hated idle conversation more. Elsa had understood them, in the calm manner that she did understand people who were not avid conversers, but she had to admit, it did make the time she was required to spend with each party more difficult than need be.

   Moving slowly to stay her fear, Elsa pulled the body her frozen dress rested on towards the window. The blinds were brushed out of the way, almost frightenedly, as if believing that the touch of the sunlight could kill her – and with how little she spent outside, perhaps it could.

   Elsa was unsure if it would melt on its own accord, but she hardly had a better plan. She couldn’t quite wear an ice-logged dress into a room full of dignitaries.

   The young queen’s eyes found the young soldier, and she offered a gentle smile, gloved greeting finding one another. It was so natural for her to be wearing gloves, that even mostly naked, she didn’t feel out of place with them against her skin.

   Communication would probably be preferred, would it not? If questioned later on how they knew so much, she’d merely say they ran in on the way to the festivities and decided to talk amongst each other on the way. Hopefully, her depth of Captain Mulan’s story would not get too far to make such a story seem outlandish. 

   “When did you join the army?” 

“Captain Hua,” Mulan corrected her, apologetically; then added, “But you can call me Mulan, if you want–Your Majesty.” Though the gesture of friendship was genuine, on second thought, Mulan couldn’t stifle her own amusement. Ambassador Kuei would squirm to see a member of his delegation (this member in particular) on familiar terms with the queen.

    Oh, well. Mulan wasn’t the one responsible for maintaining Arendelle’s relationship with the Middle Kingdom…though, of course, she’d still be careful of what she said and did. From now on, anyways.

    As Queen Elsa moved towards the window, Mulan was unaware of mirroring her movements once more–as effortlessly as if she really had been assigned to protect the woman. Foremost in her mind was the problem at hand: Glistening with ice in some places and furred over with frost in others, Elsa’s gown shone in the dying sun like the clothes of some heavenly goddess. Unlike a goddess, though, the queen was surely very uncomfortable, and Mulan’s first thought was of getting her warm (and dry!) again. 

    “Last year, the Huns invaded from the north and the Emperor called for army recruits from all his provinces. My father is a veteran soldier.” She wrinkled her nose; it felt strange, to tell the story so simply, as if it had happened to someone else. Mulan was fumbling for something in her waistband. “But he’s…he walks with a cane now. Some families are able to send sons to war, instead of husbands, but I–ah!”

    At last, her fingers closed on something slender and sturdy. With a practiced flick of her wrist, Mulan pulled a fan out of her clothes and unfurled it. Not for the Savior of China the cheap paper of her girlhood: she’d gone through too many fans in previous months, once she realized how useful they were in combat. This one was sturdy silk, stretched across cherry wood and decorated with fashionable geometric patterns. It wasn’t indestructible either–she’d be sorry to see it go–but might serve the purpose Mulan wanted it for now.

    “Do you think your dress would thaw faster,” she suggested, “if I fanned it? And–maybe you could open the window? If it’s still warm enough outside.”

iceshattered:

   Elsa’s face bent, somewhat, in a smile at this woman’s simple offer. Help you get ready. The thought was tempting, but… wasn’t the entire reason the ice was here in the first place was because of Elsa’s fear of people?

   Then again… Hua Mulan standing outside the door of the queen would only raise questions in her servant’s lips that need not be there.

   No matter. Elsa could still attempt to ready herself, and Hua Mulan could stay in here.

   “You can wait for me in here.” Elsa still had no idea what she would wear. Nearly everything was frozen, and what wasn’t wouldn’t be proper to wear to a… a party. The offer of the other woman’s clothing still hung in the air, but it was one Elsa felt foolish to comment on after so long.

   Regardless… she had to take care of first things first.

   Elsa existed the clothing room, hopefully with Hua Mulan in tow, and went to one of the three dressers stretched throughout the room. She pulled them open, cringing slightly when ice bit at the handles, and hurriedly reached for the first pair of gloves, fitting them tightly over her fingers.

   As she worked, she called to the stranger, “What would be your title, Hua Mulan?” 

She drifted after the other woman, feeling like an unexpected guest in someone’s home. Mulan’s cheeks still burned: she was, in a way.

    Worse–she’d never actually burst into someone else’s home before. If Queen Elsa had ordered her out in a towering rage, Mulan wouldn’t have been in the least surprised. She’d been a fool to invade!–even if there was no harm done. And while the queen might have forgiven her, Ambassador Kuei certainly wouldn’t. The thought made Mulan, who had a poor opinion of the man, wrinkle her nose. Kuei had a way with words; her impulsive rush to protect the queen had jeopardized the Chinese embassy in Arendelle, and Kuei wouldn’t forget it. 

    If he found out, anyway. Calm down, Mulan told herself. Despite her bare limbs and–well–all the ice, Queen Elsa carried herself like the royal she was, and Mulan did her best to pattern her conduct after Elsa’s.

    “My title?” she parroted, watching. There weren’t many people who, once undressed, would reach first for a pair of gloves–but then again, Mulan supposed, she didn't know many people who wore gloves at all. The Queen of Arendelle didn’t look like the sort of woman who wanted to avoid callouses from archery or hawking, and neither did her gloves–

    –but then, Mulan didn’t look much like a war hero, did she?

    And then said hero blinked, remembering that in Arendelle, as well as in China, it was usually considered good manners to answer a question when it was directed at you. “Oh! I don’t really–I’m a captain. In the Chinese imperial army.” Her smile was bashful and small–for a moment Mulan had half-thought that Elsa expected her to be something…grander. Although “Savior of China”–an unofficial title–was nothing to sneeze at.

iceshattered:

   There was a tempting thought, when the prettier, younger woman offered that she knew so “little” of such things, to offer that she, too, felt out of place in this skin. The only drawback, however, was that there was no skin Elsa did feel comfortable in. In the workplace of a queen, one had to guard their tongue and their emotions against accidentally betraying them. In the familiarity among contemporaries, one had to speak and communicate and relax in a way that was foreign to Elsa. When she felt safe, felt as if she could breathe, her ice hurt people.

   There was no escape for Elsa. She had known that for so long, and the sliver of hope that there was an escape had died the day her sister had.

   Regardless of her sister’s life, restored, it was impossible to completely reign in her newfound pessimism.

   “I see.” Elsa nodded, forgoing the improper statement that had passed her mind. A soldier? “I’d like to hear more of your experiences later.” The smile she offered this Hua Mulan was bare, but kind, indeed.

   “I should probably be more… properly clothed first.” 

Not for the first time, Mulan had an overwhelming urge to hug Elsa. The queen’s eyes were round and fearful as a child’s–and perhaps a queen had more to fear than most anybody–but she was a queen, her person was sacred, and it was shameful that Mulan must meet the ruler of Arendelle in this state: vulnerable, half-naked, perhaps on the verge of tears.

    A wave of anger surged in Mulan’s stomach then, sickening her; it was most shameful of all, that the queen could be so unhappy. It was as bad as seeing your comrades cut down in battle, there was no light in their eyes and you could not reach them in time.

    But her pity had raced ahead of reason. In less time than it takes to write Mulan had stepped forward, reaching out to the ethereal figure in the flimsy robe. “Your Majesty.” Her voice was low, but her own eyes were soft with sympathy and Mulan struggled to keep a tiny, encouraging smile on her face. She could feel the coolness of the other woman’s skin, even through the fabric of her sleeve. “If there’s anything I can do, to help you get ready–”

    Flushing, she released Elsa’s arm, but persisted bravely. “Or I’ll happily wait outside, to escort you downstairs.”

elsa-de-arendelle:

   Just because an emotion was illogical, did not mean it wouldn’t be felt.

   Elsa had known that for many years.

   Just because it was illogical to miss her sister when she knew they could no longer be together, her reddened eyes still watered, her deceiving fingers still grabbed at her knees and pulled them to her chin, her breath still caught in a loop of never-ending sobs. 

   Just because it was illogical to feel disappointed that this woman was now treating her so formally, when she was, in fact, the queen, her heart still fell, her eyes still slid to the ground, the smile that she finally offered back up was still sad. 

   It was time to do what was required of her.

   Diplomacy. 

   It felt strange, straightening her back, beginning to put on the guise that was expected of her in this room. Her old room. Where there was nothing and no one but her true self. 

   She faced the other with a forced apathy as she began to speak.

   “Yes, I remember meeting your ambassador. Such lovely clothing is displayed by your culture.” 

   Elsa’s eyes moved to the young woman’s clothing, just for a moment, as if in confirmation, before returning to her face. 

   “You have nothing to make amends for. If you heard my shouts and believed I were in mortal danger, I do hope you would enter, queen in her dress slip or not.” 

   Her hands, bare and dangerous, folded over the robe she had adorned recently. 

   “You said your name was Hua Mulan? What is your business with the Embassy?”  

It was true. If she'd known it was the queen’s rooms, if she’d known she might make some terrible breach of etiquette, Mulan still wouldn’t have hesitated at the sound of a woman’s cry. She had always had trouble knowing the right thing to say or do…until she rode away from home in the night. In the Imperial army, she wasn’t just free to abandon courtesy for what was practical, what was right–it was her duty. Easy manners, the carriage of a highborn girl, would have made “Ping” even more of a laughingstock than he’d been to start with.

    Mulan acknowledged all this in the quirk of one corner of her mouth, knife-thin and rueful. But absurdly it was Queen Elsa’s compliment that snagged on the edges of her consciousness; Mulan, too, dropped her gaze. She had forgotten what she was wearing, but it was pretty.

    "Thank you,“ she said faintly. And swallowed; it seemed ostentatious somehow to clear her throat aloud in this hushed suite, when the smaller gesture would serve.

    Either way, it bought her the time she needed to think. I am only here to give importance to the mission. Mulan was half-tempted to say so–she was speaking of policy in the Queen’s rooms and more richly-clad: The situation could hardly be any stranger, for the truth. (And Mulan was certain Kuei would have given his eyeteeth to be in her place just now.) But no. It was one thing, to read the battlefield in a sweeping glance; the young soldier was no ambassador herself.

    Often in Arendelle, Mulan felt as if she’d discovered her words were an untested weapon. And nobody would show her how it was used. When she opened her mouth again, a stutter escaped her. Her voice was girlish, unusually high. "Um…I, I know so little of this sort of thing, Your Majesty,” she hedged, and a thought expanded suddenly in her head like some night-blooming lián. “Because much of my service to the Emperor has been on the campaign. It’s felt that I should learn something of the court, too.”

    Which was true, considering her unease whenever summoned the Imperial City. Mulan thought the nobles would have been relieved to think she would learn better manners.

elsa-de-arendelle:

   It was a surprisingly good reaction. No gasps or screaming. No asking for her to be burned at the stake. 

   Yet. Of course, her power was ice magic, not telepathy.

   Her face however, wasn’t surprised. It stared at the slip that hung on its hanger in silence, face frozen silently.

   “I’m kind of the queen of this region.” Kind of. The perfect words to accompany her. She wasn’t really the queen. She wore the crown and the clothes and sat in the chair and nodded when they asked her questions, but the queen was a brunette with a warm touch, not a cold one, and had two daughters and currently resided at the bottom of the ocean. “My attendance is more than required.” Her voice suddenly went quiet. “It’s necessary.”

   And that was Elsa.

   Her true mantra.

   Beyond conceal, don’t feel. A deeper meaning to it all. 

   Locked up in her room, as a child. Necessary. 

   Forced to run the other way when her sister caught her after classes. Necessary. 

   Sitting in on meetings, going to countries, doing jobs that she was definitely, nearly no good at. Necessary. 

   Going to a party when her hands shook with ice that was ready to explode.

   Necessary. 

   “You haven’t heard of me? Queen Elsa of Arendelle? The witch?” How had news not reached… “Where did you say you were from?” 

It was as if somebody had hit her over the head.

    "I…“

    Mulan shook her head rapidly back and forth, the close-cropped ends of her hair swaying. Anger stirred in the pit of her stomach, sudden and sickening; annoyance too, at the position she’d blundered into. There were a hundred things Mulan might have said, and they choked her silent–for now, anyway. 

    "Your Majesty–” she began again, bowing hastily, and Mulan felt as if her words were tumbling over one another, as clumsy as she’d been on her first day at Wu Zhong. “I never meant to barge in–if I’d known it was you, I never would have–I had no idea–”

    Her cheeks flushed crimson then. Mulan could have bitten her own tongue off, from embarrassment as well as a cold fury. She was meant to be a prominent member of the embassy to Arendelle, attending ceremonies and festivities alike–but she had never been introduced to the queen, knew nothing about…about this. Involuntarily Mulan’s eyes lifted to the icy walls, crisscrossed with a thin pale sheen like some weird climbing plant.

    If she’s a wū queen, why wouldn’t Kuei or the others have told me?

    Because they tell you nothing, came the obvious answer. She ruminated, unsure of what to say to Queen Elsa; at last, it was an answer that would have made the slippery courtier she traveled with proud. “I’m part of the Chinese embassy,” Mulan apologized, “but it’s Ambassador Kuei who you’ve probably met. I’m sure he’s kept much better-informed than I. I’m only–”

    –only the Savior of China? You can’t finish a sentence like that.

    "Never mind.“ For the first time Mulan looked at the queen, the queen, and fully appreciated how bizarre the situation was: a stranger, a foreign woman, in the apartments of the queen of Arendelle, and all because she’d heard a noise. And all the time ignorant of such a crucial fact about the queen.

    Mulan looked at her shoes. "If there’s anything I can do to make amends, Queen Elsa, please tell me.” Her voice, though, indicated that she was sure she’d done enough to embarrass her hostess.

elsa-de-arendelle:

   This was new. 

   People had not known about her… powers… before. That was common. Often, she had had to hide them away, hide herself away behind some guise, some mask. But she’d never had to lie about her powers. It was don’t ask, don’t tell – and why would anyone ask her if she had powers that could freeze the fjords, turn a summer into winter? 

   But now the entire kingdom knew. Everyone knew. There was no reason for her to hide herself anymore. No reason to lie to the stranger in front of her, stranger and unfamiliar though she may be. 

   Elsa turned, breathing heavily, and moved to open an adjacent room – a large closet, with dresses enough to fill a room of this size. The ice had seeped beneath the door and ruined most of the dresses here, as well, but there were a few night robes in the back. A green one was slipped on, immediately, over the little she was already wearing, but she reached out and, unsure if the other had followed her, wrapped her fingers around the sleeves of one of the slips.

   Before her eyes – and the eyes of the other as well, presumably – the small slip froze, ice creeping up and solidifying the soft fabric, frosting over and crackling loudly in the near-silent room. Elsa released it, jumping backwards, lowering her head and pulling her new clothing piece of clothing tighter around her shoulders and near-bare body, eyes downcast and breath catching, cringing at herself. 

Mulan had—it felt like—always had a knack for ending up in situations that nobody else seemed to: awkward or difficult, tricky or simply bizarre. It was less often that she was really daunted by it; no matter whether she’d earn a scolding from her mama later, the only thing to do was to take the problem in her two hands and solve it.

    (Taking a soldier who was spoiling for a fight in her two hands, however, would have been suicidal and stupid, and so during her brief stint as “Ping” Mulan had often opted to run away instead.)

    She dropped her gaze as the other woman turned away, feeling slightly ashamed. It was true that Mulan had come into the room with the best of intentions—clearly, something was very wrong here, and she only wanted to help, to salvage the situation.

    But on the other hand, she was beginning to feel that she’d interrupted something incredibly private. The young soldier glanced at her companion’s hunched and bare shoulders, her pained face and thin underthings—Mulan longed to offer her the thick captain’s cloak folded in her trunk, to warm her with an encouraging smile and a friendly arm around her shoulders, but she hung back, unwilling to startle a woman who was after all a stranger. Her hands balled into fists, although to Mulan’s credit, the guilt and frustration that twisted Mulan’s gut played only briefly across her face.

    If only she could understand what was going on—

    A crack like a thawing pond split the air in two. Though she’d lingered by the mirror as her hostess retreated into a room full of clothes, Mulan stepped towards her almost without realizing it, ears sharp and eyes narrowed in concentration. She was just in time to watch, still half-unbelieving, as ice snaked up the fabric in the woman’s hands and pulled it to the floor.

    Mulan held her hands up.

    “Okay,” she said, trying to sound calm and commanding, but her voice wavered over that one word. “I don’t think the party will start for a while. If you want…I think some of my clothes will fit you.

    “Or maybe—“ her voice was helpful still, but Mulan’s eyes lingered over the ice-blasted room and the frozen garments on the floor. “I could tell them you’re not feeling well?” As her mind worked, Mulan felt the beginnings of relief, even if she had no idea yet who, for example, them would be. “Are you visiting with somebody who’ll notice if you’re late, or absent?” The Savior of China’s lips twisted wryly—somehow, she wasn’t sure her own embassy would miss her.

elsa-de-arendelle:

   Elsa turned, watching as the other walked into the room, biting her lips and messing with the edges of her fingers. For a moment, she left the door ajar behind her, but then thought better of it and rushed to close the two of them in. It was impossible not to notice how silent it fell as the door closed, how the ice and cold seemed suddenly eternal. 

   They seemed to be more cut off from the world in here, with the door closed. As if the entire room was sound proof. 

   Perhaps that was just Elsa’s perception. Perhaps years of sitting in this room, all alone, and hardly seeing behind the walls that were now covered in a thick layer of white made it seem, sometimes, as if there was nothing else but this room. 

   As if there wasn’t a door there, and one couldn’t just… open it up, and step outside, and leave. 

   As if a party of hundreds of people didn’t wait for her down below. 

   No. In here… it was almost as if none of that existed. 

   Or mattered. 

   She could feel herself begin to gnaw on the inside of her lip as she sought for words. She wasn’t one to lie, but she’d never had to. No one asked about the ice because everyone knew. All the servants knew. Anna never had an inkling. Her parents – they’d known. 

   It was the middle of spring. Not a icicle remained anywhere, let alone a snowstorm. What could she offer to this young, dark-haired girl now?

   Elsa moved slightly, back and forth, the snowflakes that were frozen in the air drifting away from her. “Me.”

There was a cavern, half-underground and nestled into a bend in the river that flowed past Juexizhen, so cold that its walls were always wet and, in the summer, a fine mist could be seen drifting from the entrance. The townspeople stored things, there, that would spoil otherwise–a slaughtered ox waiting for salt and smoke, new cheese, sometimes even big blocks of ice, precious and  packed in straw to keep them from melting. Some noble families, she knew, could afford enough ice to cool a small building, made for a similar purpose; certainly none of them lived in Juexizhen.

    Sometimes…especially in the summer…Mulan went to the cavern on some errand for her mother and lingered, enjoying the cool shade inside. It seemed like another world, wet and quiet and lacquered over by a thin white frost.

    It was like that here, but even the snowflakes seemed frozen in midair. Mulan lifted a quivering hand to touch one; it fell from her fingers, as if it was an ornament she’d pushed from a shelf, and drifted noiselessly to the floor.

    Her hand still lifted, Mulan turned in surprise, taking in the frozen dress, the way the mirror was silver and white and showed the reflection of two blurred women. On an impulse she went over to it, blew gently on the polished surface; the warmth of her breath was just as cloudy, yet it wetted the surface and began to thaw. But not by much.

    A strange chill ran down Mulan’s spine, though she couldn’t have said for certain that it was the coldness of the room that caused her to shiver.

    She twisted, canting her head towards the pale girl in concern. “I don’t understand. How did you–?”

elsa-de-arendelle:

   On the opposite side of the door, Elsa was pacing above frost, attempting to control herself. Her footsteps were long yet somehow restricted, a slight, almost nervous hop in them as they moved across the freeze, and her two fingers were clasped across one another held close to her racing heart. 

   She could feel it, through the small, pre-party slip what was to go under the dress she was to wear tonight to the party. Long, black, decorated in gentle hues of purples and greens, like the majority of her dresses – as queen, it was only her duty to wear her kingdom’s colors as often as humanly possible. 

   And yet… 

   Elsa hesitated for a moment, turned to look at the suspended freeze she’d thrown her room into, watched as it coated every wall, dresser, vanity… and the dress for the evening. 

   And she sighed. 

   None of this would have ever happened to Anna. If Anna was queen… if Anna were crowned heir… 

   The woman on the other side of the door was still talking, and Elsa could hardly stifle her relief when she realized that she didn’t know who she was. 

   Not for much longer, of course. How could Elsa continue like this? The party was expecting her, and she couldn’t come down in a dress that was clinging to ice crystals, completely frosted over, unless she wanted to ruin it as well. She also couldn’t thaw it. Thawing… wasn’t as easy as it had been since the great thaw. Seeing her sister’s sacrifice had stirred something in her, but since then… gathering such powerful love… 

   Anna had been right. She knew nothing about true love. 

   Only how to shut people out. 

   Elsa didn’t like this. 

   This went against everything she had been taught. 

   This went against everything she had taught herself. 

   Her body shook and protested, her head began to pound, and she was sure the temperature of the room began to drop as quivering hand moved to the door handle. At first the door would not open – it was locked – and after rectifying this situation, Elsa pulled open the door, slowly, pulling herself forward and attempting to push herself through the door rather than cower behind it. 

   “Hello.” She took in Hua Mulan with at first a moment of surprise and then a smile that was lacking any real emotion, before moving to open her room to the other, attempting not to cringe away at the sight of what she had done.

For the first time, Mulan was painfully-aware of how strange the situation must look to the woman on the other side of the door. Hello, she might as well have said. You can’t see me, and I can’t see you, but I’m part of the Chinese embassy–the part that’s given nothing to do–and the most useful thing I’ve done since my arrival is ask a woman, minding her own business, who she was and if she was okay.

Maybe, by some stroke of great good luck, Mulan would find that her concern was not unusual in Arendelle’s culture…or maybe she would remember her mother’s latest scolding: Āiya, Mulan, a captain in the army is not your only duty! You cannot treat everything like war! At the time, Mulan had looked frustrated and insisted that, mamaaaa, if anybody looked at the entire world as a battlefield it was Shang; and Hua Li had looked incredibly smug about how familiarly Mulan spoke of her commanding officer, and…well, now Mulan was practically standing self-appointed guard outside a stranger’s room. So maybe her mother had a point.

Mulan sighed, only to jump to attention, wide-eyed, as the door swung open. 

Her first instinct was one of relief: the girl on the other side–tall, pale, easily a few years older than Mulan, a woman really–though anxious-looking and obviously not fully dressed, appeared unharmed. “Hello,” returned Mulan easily, and then she looked past the other woman and into the room.

Several choice swears–the kind she picked up during sparring practice–came to mind, but they never reached her lips. Mulan’s mouth opened, forming a soft o. At last she murmured, “May I–?” and slipped past the pale-haired girl as soon as she allowed it.

Of course Mulan had seen a frost before. As a little girl she’d blow out big breaths when the air grew biting cold, pretending she was a dragon that could belch smoke and steam. She’d seen the way a sudden frost made the world glitter sharp and white and how it killed anything still standing in the fields. She’d fought her first battle in deep, powdery snow and used it to bury China’s enemies.

It wasn’t winter, but a killing frost seemed to have descended on the room. When Mulan caught her breath, she could see it fade in the air. Cold crunched under her feet, seeped through the soles of her thin slippers.

“What happened here?”

elsa-de-arendelle:

   Heart thumping. 

   Head spinning. 

   Hands shaking. 

   Eyes shut in terror. 

   Breathe. 

   Breathe. 

   In for five. 

   She could feel herself holding her breath. 

   Elsa! In for five!

   One. Two, threefou –

   Start over. 

   One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

  Her breath out was shaky, but clear enough, and she opened cerulean eyes on an icy and undoubtedly chilly room. 

   No. 

   “Not again.” 

   The words were breathed out, hardly whispered, before she turned back towards the door frame, the visitor that was no doubt still awaiting her reply. She attempted first to process the words that were given to her. 

   Hua Mulan. 

   In her fear, her mind went black, blank. Did she know such a person? Did she know such a name? 

   Did it matter? 

   “Ever – ything’s fine.” She attempted to hide her fear behind a shaking fist, pressed to her lips. “Is there s – omething you need?” 

Something I need? 

Mulan frowned at the door, brows darting together in confusion. Being a door, it could not offer her an explanation (and it didn’t). She stepped back, hands on her hips, although the door also foiled Mulan’s attempts to take in the situation at a glance. Her lips pursed.

Everything certainly didn't sound fine, but she was at a loss for what to do about it. Since nobody–including the woman behind the door–was there to see, Mulan paced a few steps away in thought, only to turn back, staring at the angular purple pattern as if the answer could be found there:

What would Shang do? Which was an impossible question to answer. Shang, who had been best in his class at military academy, who had effortlessly arranged a training regimen for a group of untested soldiers and probably had five proven strategies at his fingertips at any given time.

Mulan scowled and ran her hands through cropped hair in frustration (the door did not look offended). Maybe effortless was the wrong word for it, but at the very least Shang had made it seem that way. What would he do now? What would he say if he’d heard a noise like a woman being hurt?

“No?” she managed finally, creeping nearer to the hairline crack where door met wall so that the woman on the other side could hear her. Mulan wasn’t sure why it sounded like a question. “But–I was going to find the party. I heard a noise, and I thought I should make sure you were okay. Sorry–who is this?” she blurted, cheeks reddening. Who was she speaking to, anyway?

elsa-de-arendelle:

   Shaking hands assessed every curve, every area of her old room. 

   Her old room. Where she had used to spend every minute of every day. 

   After the thaw, Anna had been insistent. Anna had been almost livid about Elsa moving back into their old room, where she had remained. There were many reasons Elsa knew she shouldn’t – she had a boyfriend now, and they were grownup, and Anna definitely needed personal space – but there had been little room for argument after all she had done to her in her childhood, after all she had done to Arendelle. 

   Besides… Elsa had sort of… wanted to. 

   But here, in her old room… her demons still lingered. They still breathed, and moved, and spoke. 

   It was as if no time had passed. 

   It was as if all was well again. 

   Hours before a party was to commence, Elsa still in nothing more a paled dress slip, her hands and feet bare (for once), as she allowed her hands to brush over the surface of the vanity before her. 

   Shouldn’t it be better, now? Now that Arendelle was thawed? Now that she was freed? 

   Yet still, ice burned from her skin and leapt onto vanity, began to creep out from her feet and taint the floors, the walls, everywhere, eating, decaying, grasping, haunting, holding… 

   Elsa stumbled backwards, against the door, chest heaving up and down, her body shaking in terror as she watched ice she could not stop, no matter how much she wished, consume her old room. She shut her large, frightened eyes, feeling so much a child, so much a babe despite her age, despite her heritage, despite what she had endured… 

   And then, a knock on the door. 

   She stiffened immediately, pulling away from the door, her ungloved hand over her mouth for a moment before she pulled it away to allow one stuttered phrase. 

   “W – … who is it?” 

Mulan was lost again. 

She had devoted a great deal of time to preparing for the party, and she’d blithely assumed that it would be the most time-consuming part of the evening for her. There were two maids, kindly provided by the castle, to run errands for Mulan and dress her and other, such helpful things. Only Mulan had never had a maid before; she was often at a loss for what to do with them, and they in their turn had never wrapped a woman into an elaborate hànfú.

So Mulan had giggled and offered helpful comments and in the end she had to do half the tucking and tying herself, but at least the overall effect was neater than if she had attempted it alone, as she often did. In comparison, selecting a few matching jewels and, reluctantly, adding a little rouge to bare lips and cheeks had been a simple and swift process.

But once she stepped out into the hallway, tucking a handkerchief and fan into the folds of her clothing, it occurred to the young woman that she probably should have asked the maids for directions. Worse, she wasn’t even sure which room the party would be held in.

The hallways were well-lit, with high ceilings - and empty. All she could do was wander, trying not to look too self-conscious, and listen hard. If she didn’t find the party, Mulan reasoned, she’d at least find someone to ask for directions.

What she did find was a quiet corridor, a thump. Mulan swore she could hear heavy breathing. Forgetting her silks and ornaments and general discomfort, the Savior of China shrank against the wall, stepping noiselessly toward the door. She listened, paused, knocked. Given the stillness and her caution, Mulan’s voice sounded unnaturally loud.

“It’s - me,” she stumbled, wondering what harm it could really do to give her name. “Hua Mulan. Are you all right in there?”