Chapter Text
Forgiveness is the trait of the wise
Love is the trait of the brave
They married in the winter.
Fa Li had cried joyously throughout the entire affair while Fa Zhao merely watched them quietly, his entire being resounding with happiness and relief. He allowed the rigidness of his spine to soften and his thin mouth was upturned into a small smile as he looked on to see his beloved daughter marry a man whom she loved with her whole heart and who’s love was equally returned.
It was snowing that day, gentle flurries fluttering down like cold, wet kisses on their skin. The couple, however, seemed to take no notice of the snow dampening their fine, silk clothes or the flakes of snow that tangled themselves in their coal black hair. They only had eyes for each other.
The celebration had lasted all through the night even when the couple vanished half-way through, as was tradition, Fa Li remembered fondly, tangling her own soft fingers in between her husband’s rough, calloused ones and felt him squeeze back.
Mulan had happily followed when her husband—ancestors she was going to have to get used to that, husband—had led her away from the people celebrating in their honor. For so long she had believed she would be left unwed for all her life or be forced into a loveless marriage with a man old enough to be her father, both paths had left her awake at night trying to calm her panicking heart and her quaking nerves.
After the disastrous meeting with the matchmaker she had truly believed herself undesirable. Who would want a wife who couldn’t even pretend at being a proper woman?
She felt Shang squeeze her fingers gently, forcing her past ruminations from her head and felt her lips quirk into an affectionate smile as she had found her answer. Shang wanted her, against all logic and tradition. He loved her for her fierce tongue and keen mind, how she refused to bow down when she believed herself in the right.
He loved her so much that he married her. That fact still left her dizzy and grinning like some fool in equal measure. Husband, she had a husband now, someone who understood her and would never want her to be a “proper woman”. Instead he encouraged her to speak her mind, to bend tradition and be his equal in all things.
She felt herself grinning like a loon as led her through the soft snow, leading them to the small stone bench that sat beneath the naked cherry blossom tree, its branches heavy with snow.
“What has you smiling so brightly?” He asked her, his voice rich with affection as they sat down on the cold bench.
Her smile didn’t waver as she brushed her calloused fingers across his cheek. “You,” she replied with a long-suffering affection. “My husband,” she added just because she could.
He smiled in return, his eyes bright with adoration as he stroked her cheek with cold fingers. “Wife,” he whispered reverently.
They leaned in close, their cold noses brushing against each other as they simply breathed together, relishing the closeness they could now share with no hidden, judging eyes watching from the dark. Their eyes closed as their lips met, a soft brush that slowly deepened, stealing their breaths away in a way battle never could. Shang’s hand found its way into her hair, releasing the traditional topknot savoring the feel of her hair, like black silk gliding through his fingers.
She keened quietly before slowly pulling away to catch her breath. Shang smiled, leaning in close content to simply let their breaths mingle even as his lips tingled, urging him to capture her own once more. Her lips quirked into a curious smile as her hands slipped beneath his collar, her cold fingers tenderly exploring his broad, muscled shoulders. He trembled under her touch and not all of it was from the cold.
Mulan felt her cheeks warm in pride and no little pleasure as she felt Shang shiver beneath her fingers as she ran them across his powerful shoulders. Never before had she felt more like a shy maiden and at the same time feeling bolder than she ever has.
With a tender smile he gently removed her wandering hands, chuckling when she pouted at him, more amused than disappointed. “Usually I would bid you to continue my wife,” he tells her in a low voice that makes something low in her stomach twist anxiously, “but I feel such displays should not be enacted outside in the blistering cold where anyone might happen upon us.”
She laughed at this, resting her head on his shoulder. “Very well,” she agrees smiling, her cheeks are beginning to hurt from the constant pull of her lips. “Shall we then, return to our guests?”
Shang nods, pulling himself to his feet before offering her his hand, she smirks taking it with a laugh. “As my wife commands,” he says, guiding them back to the party.