Somnium {Part Three}

[ficofandalasia]

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Chapter Twelve

The blue of the sky slowly deepened, becoming almost violet as, to the west, the sun bloodied the sky with its death. Mulan knew how quickly the heat would leave the land, as if they had descended into a different world, and she and Giselle both wrapped their cloaks more tightly around themselves as they passed out of the gates, shortly before the curfew was called and the city wrapped itself up into armoured isolation.

They watched from just beyond the crest of one of the great sand dunes, in short glances such that their silhouettes would not too rudely break the skyline. Some of Mulan’s worried attention, however, remained on Giselle, whose distracted shifts and toying with the knife at her wrist could not be anything but troubling. Mulan thought of saying something, but could not conjure up the right words, and allowed silence to remain instead.

The delay, however, was not comfortable for her. She was used by now to having the others to distract her, and even as they waited and watched the form of the gates she found it hard to hold back the ghosts that followed at her shoulder. Once it had been comforting, the whispers of her family a background wind that reminded her that she was never alone, but since the war there had been more voices, louder voices, many of them angry or scared or in pain. Even the voice of the Emperor could not calm them all.

He would always be her Emperor, at least. She had not stayed in Tiānxià long enough to see the son who next took the throne, had already been waiting beyond the borders when first Shang came to her again. He had done as he had promised, he said, and delivered the sword of Shan Yu to her family; even if Tiānxià might never know of her glory, then at least her kin would. It had been then that she had first kissed him, had first slipped from Ping back into Mulan and found, for once, that it fit.

It had not changed, though, that he was a General now and beholden to the people to remain within the borders for much of the time. Even when he could travel, his retinue meant that she could hardly come near him, and they would struggle to find time that could be shared.

She remembered what it was like to travel alone. Mostly under the name of Ping, and mostly through small villages where he would not be too noticeable. It had been the gradual movements west which had eventually bought him into the path of danger: a town which was finding its children spirited away at night, by a man described as having a laugh like a child. None of the village understood how he could have flown; Ping would not have believed that the magic of a captured fairy could be so used, unless he had seen it with his own eyes. He killed the man, bought back those children which lived still, then turned his back on the town before he could become too attached to it,

Aurora had found Mulan, and not the other way around, in the middle of the night and the middle of a forest. Sometimes even Mulan wondered why she had trusted the girl, for Aurora was nothing more than a girl even now to her, but she had not been able to do anything else. Giselle had come later, from a castle owned by a sorcerer both powerful and terrible. It had been battle with that sorcerer which had left the remnants of Mushu’s power seared on Mulan’s skin, his magic the only thing that would draw the newly cursed sword at her side. Only later would they realise the full costs of what Mushu had done, and all to allow the rescuing of Giselle and of the young boy Michael whom they also found cowering in the castle’s ruins. The boy had a family, it transpired, and no more wish to use his burgeoning magic; Giselle was the opposite.

That had been many months ago. Mulan glanced across at Giselle once again, thinking of how much had passed, when the gates to the city opened and both women wheeled to watch. Four figures exited, on horseback, without lanterns or heraldry; by squinting, Mulan was just about able to make out the figure of the Sultan on the foremost of the horses, what moonlight there was highlighting his features. Beside him rode a slighter figure, hooded, but a glint of gold from beneath the robes suggested the Princess.

The two figures behind were less clear: both were cloaked and hooded in black, and like the Sultan and Princess rode on black horses. “Do you think they are guards?” said Mulan softly, but Giselle shook her head.

“One, perhaps. But the other is Aurora. Look, she rides side-saddle, and her feet are bare.”

Mulan cursed herself for not seeing it before, though in the night shadows it was difficult to make out much more than a silhouette. The winking pale of Aurora’s feet, though, she should have noticed. “They must have something planned for her, then. Come on, they’re turning south.”

They followed at a distance, Giselle indicating with gestures of her hand which direction they were to go; Mulan trusted her beyond words. The sword felt reassuringly heavy at her side, though the hair tied around her wrist seemed to itch and she had to clench her fist against it. Giselle had grown more and more visibly troubled as they had waited, eventually refusing to even speak, and though Mulan had allowed her to lapse into silence it was uncomfortable.

As night fell, the air grew chill around them, the sky wide and cloudless over the desert land. The moon hung, gibbous and heavy, in the sky, and though the sand looked half-silver at their feet it was still not difficult to follow the path which was being taken. Even Samson, despite the occasional nervous tossing of his head, allowed himself to be led on his long bridle across the sand.

Mulan sipped water from her canteen, feeling the dryness of the air even as it cooled. There was a sensation in the air almost like that produced by rubbing amber with a cloth; the hairs on the back of her arms stood on end beneath the sleeves of her cheongsam, and she felt prickling along the back of her neck.

At a raised hand from Giselle, they slowed, then stopped just shy of the crest of one of the great sand dunes. “We should leave the horses here,” she said quietly, moving to dismount.

Again, Mulan did not question her as she gently slid to the ground, shoes biting into the sand. An outcrop of rocks managed to shelter a stunted tree; Mulan seriously doubted its ability to hold back the horses, but they tied up the bridles nevertheless. She stroked Khan’s nose and received an unimpressed snort from him, which drew a smile back to her face.

“I will be back, my friend,” she said quietly. “Wait here for us.”

Khan gave a flick of his head that was almost a nod, and she stroked one of his ears affectionately before putting her hand to the sword at her side and following Giselle to the crest of the dune. They crouched just shy of it to look over, watching as the figures below dismounted from their camels - or, in Aurora’s case, were all but dragged down by the hooded guard. She crumpled to the ground, only to be dragged back to her feet again, stumbling on the shifting sands.

“Come on,” said Mulan, plucking at Giselle’s sleeve. Still hunched over, they followed the curve of the dune, footsteps silent, until they could see clearly the backs of the Sultan and Princess. Mulan’s brow creased to a frown that both were there when Giselle had spoken of the Sultan’s dark magic, unless the Princess had also been caught up in it. Rather than speak further, she pointed down the slope; they moved down in sliding motions, letting the momentum of the sand carry them in hushing sweeps.

Faintly visible by the light of the moon, the Princess turned to the Sultan, who reached out to take something from her chest. Mulan squinted, but could not see, until a burst of gold light and sparks blossomed from the Sultan’s hand.

Beside her, she heard Giselle draw in a breath, but when the glare had gone from her eyes she watched the golden speck flit around them in a circle, then fly forward just a short distance before splitting into two and burying itself into the sand.

She tightened her hand on the hilt of her sword. Something felt wrong, so very wrong, and as the sand rumbled the feeling only intensified. What had been a hummock grew, rose, and Mulan’s eyes widened in shock as it spread out into the face of a giant cat, maw gaping open and glowing from within as if a fire burned there, its sand-teeth glittering.

Aurora screamed. The note was piercing, terrified, and Mulan had to grab Giselle’s arm to stop the younger woman from revealing them both already. Turning, she attempted to run, but the figure grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her back, leaving her to fall squirming and silent. His hood slipped back, revealing the servant boy Aladdin who had seemed to never leave the side of the rulers of Agrabah. A moment passed, then Aurora’s eyes began to glow a soft green, and when she was released she stood patiently before them.

“Imši,” said the Princess, her voice carrying across the sand.

Aurora turned, raising her eyes to look into the great mouth before her, then began to move as slowly as a sleepwalker. One hand rose as she neared the lip of the cave, its red light searing over her.

“Who disturbs my slumber?” Aurora stopped, hand drawing back for a moment, as the cave moved - spoke, in words like rushing winds and drowning waves.

“Speak your name,” said the Princess.

“I am the Princess Aurora of the Kingdom of the Sun, also knock as Briar Rose,” Aurora replied, her voice distant and body now unmoving. “I come before you seer and witch.”

“Know this,” breathed the cave. “Only one may enter here, one whose worth lies far within. The Diamond in the Rough.”

The winds from its voice fell still, its jaw settling, and Aurora began to move once again. Delicately, her hand raised the hem of her tattered skirt as she began to walk up the slope towards its mouth, now a figure in nothing more than red and gold as she drew level with its fangs. The cave drew in a deep breath, then let it out, smelling of gold and spices.

“No!”

Perhaps Mulan should have known that it would come. Before she could react, Giselle was on her feet, running as if all the shadows of the world were after her across the sand. The Sultan and Princess turned in shock at her cry; even Aurora, now just within the mouth of the beast and barely more than a shadow, hesitated and half-turned. Mulan got to her feet as well, drawing her sword in readiness; the ground shook beneath her and then things lunged forth, shambling grey figures odious with death and clutching rusted weapons in their hands.

“Giselle!” Mulan shouted, but she could barely even see as the woman ran straight to Aurora, hair streaming like a banner of blood, and the sand-creature was roaring a terrible warning as its mouth began to close.

Giselle threw Aurora clear of the fire; her body fell limply to the ground, torn dress like a splash of water on the sand. With the sound of the sand still tearing in the air, the features of it collapsed, and in its place remained only a great hump of sand, still and bare. Giselle was nowhere to be seen.

“You-“ Mulan began, feeling threats and dark promises bubble in her throat, but before she could say a word one of the creatures that had risen from the sand raised its sword against her with a moan. Her blade was in her hand as fast as the breath in her lungs, as she raised it to parry. Steel rang on steel, then in a whirl she blocked the blow of the second raising its sword towards her.

The smell of them surrounded her, rich and fetid, and she gagged even though she was breathing through her mouth as she spun and whirled between the blades that surrounded her. The creatures were slow, lurching, but lunged towards her with their blades extended towards her. By numbers alone they surrounded her, and slow as they were they pressed her back, one by one. She sliced down through the arm of one, buried her neck in the blade of a second and had to pull it out with a fierce tug, and kicked a third in the stomach hard enough to send it flopping to the ground. That one, though, she regretted as putrid-smelling sludge splattered over her leg.

One by one they fell to the flashes and sweeps of her blade, but no fight is without retaliation; she felt a cold flash along her left forearm, gritted her teeth against the expected pain, and was shocked when she saw slashed cloth but unblemished skin out of the corner of her eye. Protection, she supposed, and buried her sword so deeply in the side of the creature’s head that she had to plant her foot on its body to pull it out.

There were other moments when the blade whistled close to her skin, but somehow none marked her flesh, even the slash across her cheek which she was quite sure should have knocked her to the ground. Finally she withdrew her dripping blade from the last of the twitching bodies and whirled to face the Sultan and Princess, breathing hard and with her hair stuck to her brow with sweat.

“You,” she said, raising the blade towards the Sultan. He watched her impassively, as did the servant-boy Aladdin; there was an unreadable glitter in the Princess’s eyes. “This will end now, do you hear me?”

“Why, ‘Ping’,” said the Princess, her voice like silk, and Mulan was so astonished that she barely realised she was still talking in her tongue, and not that of Agrabah. “Why ever would you think that? Unless, of course, you mean that your foolish games are over. Do you think that Mamluks are the worst thing at my command?”

She raised her hand, almost lazily, palm filled with a dull red glow. Searing pain, shaped like heat but not quite the same, branded itself down Mulan’s front. The scream that attempted to force itself from her lips, she restrained, but Mulan could not remain standing and slumped to her knees, still gripping her sword so hard that her knuckles turned white, as the pain convulsed through each inch of her.

“Nnnggg…”

Sound crept out from between clenched teeth, but by breathing hard she held back the worst of it. Then the pain disappeared, her eyes flew open, and relief flowed like cold water over her skin. She gasped.

The Princess had walked closer to her, her gaze cold and light glowing from her hands, the bracelets on her wrists, the necklace at her throat. Still Mulan could not understand, how this girl younger than them could hold such horror in the palm of her slender hands, and looked up in wordless uncertainty.

“Perhaps you should die upon your own sword,” said Princess Jasmine, as if thinking aloud. “There are not too many other weapons nearby, after all…”

She clenched her fist, the light within it seeming to flash brighter, and a golden glow lit around the Dragon Sword. Its hilt grew hot beneath Mulan’s hand, almost unbearably so, but she clung to it with both hands even as it began to burn. The sword wavered in her hold, attempting to turn its point towards her, and as the Princess began to slowly straighten her fingers the pressure became still stronger, the force greater, leaving Mulan’s wrists shaking and her body bending backwards away from the edge.

The ground trembled beneath them, then there was a mighty roar like the sound of a large cat turned into a beast. The sand beneath them shifted, ruptured, throwing them all aside like rag dolls as a flash of blue-white light came from the centre of it, obliterating Mulan’s night vision. As the clouds on her eyes cleared, she looked back, struggling to her feet and raising her sword once again.

“Princess Jasmine.”

Giselle’s voice was pure and clear, but carried with it some strange otherworldly touch. Mulan blinked, but the image did not fade; Giselle stood upon a carpet that floated in the air, its body perfectly flat and golden tassels waving lazily at its corners. At her shoulder - stranger still - stood what looked at first like a man, but huge, his skin blue and body made of smoke, arms folded across his chest.

Jasmine looked up from where she knelt in the sand, her cloak torn away to reveal her red clothes beneath and her hair wild around her face. She lunged upright. “My genie!”

“No,” said Giselle; she had blood dripping from her cheek and smeared on her sleeves, making her grey cloak look black in the moonlight. A small shift of her body, barely visible, and then the carpet drifted down towards the desert floor, without disturbing the sand over which it hovered. It rippled, forming into steps, and Giselle stepped down only for her hand to go to her side in pain and for her feet to stumble beneath her, dropping her to the floor. A shining golden lamp fell from her broad sleeve into the sand.

Triumph flashing in her eyes, the Princess almost ran across the sand, raising one glowing palm again. “Abbash rus-“

Her words came no further. Aurora began to sing.

“In sleep shall I find you, my magic, my sister…”

She was still sprawled in the sand, her tattered dress seemingly even worse than it had been before, her eyes closed and brow puckered. As Mulan watched, she opened her eyes slowly, and tried to push herself up to a seated position.

“Magic, you have been awake too long,
Hear now my words; hear now this song.
Magic, you have here done too much,
How can you let the world turn such…”

Her voice, like crystal, shivered on the air as she drew herself slowly to her feet. She held out her hands, palm up, towards the Princess, who began to shake violently and wrap her arms around herself.

“No!” Jasmine snarled, her hands flaring brighter. Light spilled from her eyes where she gazed upon the desert floor.

“Rest magic, sleep magic,
To slumber now return;
Still magic, sleep magic;
No longer the world burn.”

Screaming cut through the air, primal, with the terrible sound of a wrecked throat forming it. Mulan put her hands to her ears, but it could not block out the sound, and with a wrench she forced herself to look up. The Princess was the one screaming, weeping, tears rolling down her face and blood rolling down her arms as she turned back to the others. The figure of the Sultan dissolved into dust, wisping away on the desert night wind; Aladdin fell to the ground, his bronze skin turning grey-green, his hair falling away in clumps, his clothes rotting on his body. He looked like nothing more than the scattered dead things that Mulan had cut down to face the Princess and Sultan, and bile rose in her throat as the Princess ran to his form and threw her arms around him.

“No!” The Princess screamed, the sound drawn out until it almost reached wordlessness. She cradled the rotting body to her chest, ignorant even as Aurora walked closer to her. Mulan grabbed her sword and rose as well; Giselle had also already returned to her feet, albeit somewhat unsteadily, and with the carpet and the blue figure in her wake finished the triangle as they closed down onto the princess. “Aladdin…”

She had stopped screaming now, and started sobbing instead, stroking what hair remained on the body’s head, cradling its cheek even where teeth gleamed white through decayed flesh. The bracelets and necklace that she wore were turning to green, to black, starting to wither away even before their eyes as Aurora reached her first, and laid one hand on her shoulder.

The Princess turned her head sharply, hair whipping, her lip curling into a snarl even as she clutched what had been ‘Aladdin’ closer. Aurora’s hand moved, fingertips pressing to Jasmine’s forehead, and she spoke simply.

“Sleep, sister.”

It was something like magic, but did not stir the air, and Aurora had claimed that it was no such thing. The Princess’s eyes drooped closed, and she slumped sideways into the sand, face finally becoming smooth. Mulan reached in and dragged out the body from her vicinity, using both of its arms once the first one felt like it might just rip away.

“Genie?” said Giselle softly, turning to the blue figure beside her. He bowed deeply, placing his hands with their gold cuffs together; as he straightened Mulan thought that she saw a sort of ancient weariness in his eyes. “You were saying before about wishes.”

“Wishes? Oh, wishes,” he said, and his voice was brighter and richer than Mulan had expected. “Yes, well, I’m guessing you guys aren’t from around here, so I’ll give you the run-down. I’m a genie.” He pointed two big blue thumbs towards his broad chest. “And you, ma’am, rubbed the lamp, which means you get three wishes. Not four, certainly not five - three.”

“And what can I do with these wishes?” said Giselle. She reached up to rub absent-mindedly at her cheek, then winced as fabric touched blood. Mulan remembered the sword that she was sure had slashed her skin, and looked down at the inside of her right wrist. The red stain had almost faded away now.

“Honey, what can’t you do?” He spun on the spot, stretching out his arms, and it seemed like rings and small planets spun around him. The broad smile only lasted for a moment, though, as he sunk back down to their level and drew a pair of eyeglasses from nowhere to perch upon his nose. “Well, hyperbole, but we’ve all got to get our kicks somewhere. The plus side,” he held up one hand, a glowing silver symbol floating above it, “phenomenal cosmic power, all wrapped up in yours truly, yours to command. But,” he said, voice becoming more serious. “There are rules. All magic has rules, and I’m sure that you know that.”

She only nodded, with a faint wry smile on her pale face.

“One, no wishing for more wishes. Paradoxes are not our friend.” Being him, a strange ghostly figure of a snake eating itself, wound like an infinity symbol, exploded into dim white sparks. “Two, you can’t make anybody fall in love with you, no playing with hearts. And three,” he glanced down at the scattered body parts that littered the desert floor. “No bringing people back from the dead.”

“Those are good rules,” said Giselle. “But why do you need to give me those wishes anyway? Do you want to?”

“Well, granting wishes is a good way to pass the time,” he admitted, “even if it gets a bit tedious sometimes. But… that’s how genies work, you see. We get tied to the object, and then get released at the touch of our master. We only become free if someone wishes for us to be so, and who’s going to do that?”

Self-deprecation dripped off his words, and Mulan could see why: a once-in-a-lifetime chance, time to change the world, and it’s limited to three wishes? She wasn’t sure that she would want to give one of those up, either.

Giselle did not seem to react, merely gave another brief nod. “All right. Let me think for a moment.”

The genie nodded and drifted back a few paces, folding his hands in front of him and appearing to dim slightly. Giselle glanced towards Aurora, who was now kneeling beside the sleeping Princess, then turned to Mulan. “This isn’t done yet,” she said softly. “We need to fix this.”

Fixing things wasn’t normally part of their bargain. They came in and removed whatever was harming, whatever was wrong, and things tended to turn right by themselves instead. The rightful Prince or Princess would come forward for the throne, the land would turn beautiful again, evil things would wither and die without whatever was ruling them. They didn’t need to fix.

But Mulan thought of the Land of the Black Sands that they had heard of, the young Prince who had relieved its former owner - rotten to the core, by all accounts - of possession, and who had an interest in Agrabah. The Seven Deserts were carefully balanced powers, Shang had told her, and a lull in one Kingdom could cause ripples that would create all-out war.

“She was the only heir to the throne,” said Mulan quietly. “She still is.”

Giselle nodded. “Genie,” she said, and he perked up and became more solid at her words. “For my first wish, I wish for you to heal the Princess Jasmine in body and mind such that she might be a fit ruler for Agrabah.”

The Genie raised his hands, light glowing between them, then let it drift out in a silent explosion of opalescent butterflies that settled all over the Princess’s sleeping form and surrounded her in a soft glow. When they faded, she seemed to be sleeping more deeply, and the blood on her hands and the faint lines around the corners of her eyes were gone. Aurora looked up for a moment, caught Giselle’s eye, and nodded.

Giselle’s hand came up to rest in the centre of her chest, as if remembering something. “Genie, for my second wish, I wish for all traces and effects of dark magic to be removed from the Kingdom of Agrabah, that all who are slaves to it might be free.”

“The line between light and dark magic is a little fuzzy,” said the Genie.

She turned to him with a smile, and with brilliant blue-green eyes that showed starkly against her skin. “I trust your judgement.”

For a moment, Mulan thought that the Genie might have been on the verge of smiling in return. He raised his hands, whispered something that turned into the wind, and a great gust swept through, almost knocking her to her knees once again. When it passed, the air seemed to smell somehow sweeter, and she felt as she did when she removed the bandages that bound her breasts.

“And for your third wish?” said the Genie. He drifted a little closer to Giselle, moving round in front of her and leaving a shimmer like heat haze in his wake. “You’ve been very selfless. Perhaps…” he was suddenly close to her, faces inches apart, and Mulan had to bite back the urge to raise her sword again. He meant no harm, she was quite sure, and there was nothing that she could have done even if she did. For a moment, woman and genie looked into each other’s eyes. “I could send you home,” he said gently. “Back to where you came from. You don’t feel like a part of this world.”

“This is my home now,” Giselle replied.

“I could make your magic the strongest in the world,” he said.

“It is strong enough for me,” she replied.

He tilted his head just slightly. “I could take away the pain from the dreams that haunt one close to you,” he said, so quietly that Mulan barely heard it. She looked round, but Aurora did not look up from where she knelt.

At this, Giselle fell silent, and then turned her head sharply away. “You didn’t say that I needed to make the wishes straight away,” she said quietly. “I need some time to think.”

“As you wish… so to speak,” said the Genie, and in a rush of smoke he disappeared back into the lamp at her feet once again. Giselle bent and scooped up the lamp, this time tying a loop of her belt through it and letting it hang at her hip. She looked round to the rug, then reached across to stroke it fondly, as one would a pet, before turning back to Mulan once again.

“We should get back to the Palace. The Princess will awake before long; someone will need to speak to her.”

There were shadows underneath Giselle’s eyes. Mulan could feel pain in her muscles, where she had wielded a sword and fought, but she knew this was different. “You cast a spell that took my wounds and put them on you,” she said. The only reply was a shrug; it could not very well have been argued. “Why?”

Giselle just smiled, and Mulan supposed that she didn’t need to ask, not after the number of times that she had taken up her blade to protect them. She sheathed her sword, then stepped forwards and embraced the redhead. Giselle gave one shuddering sob, but then fell silent again and squeezed Mulan tightly, her skin feeling unnaturally warm even now. Mulan suspected, though she did not say, that she could smell burning hair.

“Let’s go back to the Palace,” said Mulan, and they stepped apart once again. She looked round to Aurora, who was still sitting beside the sleeping - though perhaps unconscious would be a better word - Princess. Though perhaps they should be saying Sultana as well. She would worry about that more once they were safely back within the walls of Agrabah. “Giselle, is that… carpet safe?”

“I think so,” said Giselle. “It seems… friendly. And it carried me out, and wasn’t afraid of my magic. So I’m guessing so.”

“All right, then,” said Mulan. “Aurora, take the Princess and the carpet, and head back to Agrabah. Meet us before the gates - I can’t imagine that anyone else is going to be there at this hour. We’ll bring back Samson.”

Without any prompting, the carpet flew over to Aurora and Jasmine; it moved more sinuously when it did not have to form a board for someone to stand upon. It paused above the Princess, as if thinking - Mulan told herself that this was putting far too much motive onto the movements of a carpet - then wriggled underneath her and scooped her gently out of the sand. It then held itself still for Aurora to climb on as well, proving more than spacious enough for the two and bending a little to cradle them somewhat more securely.

Mulan waited long enough to see that they were safely airborne before turning back to Giselle and nodding up the ridge to where the horses lay. She had a feeling it was going to feel a lot taller to climb up this time. “Come on,” she said quietly. “Let’s finish this.”

Chapter Thirteen

The sky was still velvety-dark by the time that they made it back to Agrabah. Giselle could barely keep the reins wrapped around her hands as she rode, whilst Mulan steered both Khan and Samson over the shifting desert sands. When they reached the gates, Aurora stepped down to walk beside them, but they left the still-sleeping Princess on the carpet as they crept round and through the secret tunnels back into the Palace once again.

Mulan was muttering something about the guards having grown lazy, perhaps with a lack of fear that came with having powerful rulers.

“I’ll take the horses,” said Mulan, as Giselle almost stumbled to the ground.

“Thank you,” Giselle replied.

She felt… faint, wavering, as if she was looking at herself through a heat haze instead of the rest of the world. Her feet seemed to catch on each other and she almost stumbled over her own feet, only to have cool hands wrap around her wrists and hold her upright with barely a touch. She looked up to find Aurora looking into her eyes, a very faint hint of concern written on her face; a tired smile found her lips as Aurora’s cool touch brushed over the sore band around her right wrist.

“You saved us all,” Aurora breathed, and Giselle’s hands started to shake all over again. Giselle put her hand on Aurora’s shoulder, the younger girl still the tallest of them, and looked round to see Mulan reappearing, now with Jasmine in her arms as if she weighed nothing at all. The carpet was following obediently at her ankles, thought it looked - as much as a carpet could - cautious.

“It’s what we do,” Giselle heard herself say.

Mulan walked past them both. “I will take the Princess to the throne room. I think she’s starting to wake up. If not… at least the guards should find her there. Giselle, take Aurora to our room. Get some rest. I will be back later.”

She nodded in reply, but it felt as if it was Aurora who was keeping her upright as they made their way back. The corridors were dim and quiet in the darkness, though the Palace felt as if some great weight had been removed from it, the air clearer and the shadows less dense. Giselle expected there to be guards outside the room still, but they had gone; she barely had the energy to frown as she helped Aurora to pull the doors open and slip inside.

“Sit down,” said Aurora quietly. She neither wished nor was able to argue as she sat down on the side of the bed, head hanging over her lap. Through loose strings of hair she saw Aurora cross to one of the chairs, draped with some finely-embroidered blanket, and remove the cushions from it. She peeled her dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, sand scattering from it, and pulled the blanket around her in some sort of wrapped dress, tied over her shoulder. Giselle did not care to ask where she had learnt that skill, though she could not help but think that Aurora could make anything she might find look like a gown.

Aurora left the room for a moment; Giselle’s eyes drooped almost closed, but she forced herself to sit up again, wrapping her arms across her chest, as Aurora reappeared with a bowl of water and a cloth in her hand. She knelt in front of Giselle and reached out to take her left arm gently.

“The water’s cool,” said Aurora. “But I suppose that might be better.”

“You don’t have to do this,” said Giselle. “I can dress my own wounds.”

Aurora didn’t say a word, but pushed back Giselle’s sleeve and started to wash away the sand that clung to her skin and the wound. Once or twice, Giselle drew in her breath sharply, but did not say a word even as the water in the bowl was stained pink.

“It’s quite shallow,” Giselle said. “It will heal by itself.”

“Are you sure?” Aurora asked. Giselle nodded, and she accepted the words, taking the right arm in turn. Beneath the water, the dark smear on the inside of Giselle’s wrist washed away as well. “Let me see the others,” she said, pointing to the glossy darkness that marked Giselle’s side. Muscles going stiff, Giselle struggled to remove her abaya to reveal the white shirt and loose pants that she wore beneath, even more so when she had to remove the shirt to expose the nasty slash in her left side.

Aurora winced slightly at the sight of it, then motioned for Giselle to lie down and sat on the bed beside her. Touches so gentle that they could barely be felt traced over her skin, around the wound first and then gradually closer, drawing a faint hiss of pain.

“You took these wounds for Mulan, didn’t you?” said Aurora. Perhaps it was meant to be a distraction as she began to work on the wound itself.

“Yes. I said that I would do what I could to protect her.”

“I doubt that she was expecting this.” She smiled faintly, perhaps sadly, and tried to toss her hair out of the way but did not quite succeed. Giselle reached up and pushed a stray lock back. “You put yourself at great risk for us.”

“I would do anything for you.”

The words came out before she thought about them, and somehow the inflection was not quite right. Aurora paused, hands stilling, and reached up to meet Giselle’s eyes just for a moment. Her eyes were violet, with flecks of green deep within them which sometimes glowed a little too brightly and drew something away from her face, and despite the shadows beneath them there was warmth there still.

“We have made vows to do this together,” said Giselle after a moment’s pause, and Aurora nodded before turning back to the water once again. Gritting her teeth, Giselle struggled up onto her elbows, then to seated, and before Aurora could turn back took gently hold of her hand. “Stop. Please.”

Aurora’s hand was shaking slightly, though Giselle could not tell whether it was cool or cold skin that she felt beneath her fingers. She still felt as if the fire of that desert cave rolled beneath her bones.

“I dreamt of what was there,” said Aurora finally, barely above her breath. Her eyes fluttered, and almost closed. “Fire. I remember teeth closing around me and the stars falling from the sky. I remember-“

“It did not happen,” she replied fiercely, cupping Aurora’s jaw with both hands. Aurora looked up, tears in her eyes. Giselle’s voice softened a little as one thumb traced across Aurora’s cheek. “It did not happen; you do not remember it. You dreamt it, that is all. Not every dream must come true.”

“So many have,” Aurora whispered brokenly. “Not all, but so many… true or almost true, balancing like a drop of water almost falling. So many times, I saw you almost die…”

She tried to turn her head away, but Giselle kept her hands in place and stilled the movement. “I’m here. I’m alive. We’re all alive.”

There was another pause, punctuated only by Giselle’s calm breaths and Aurora’s more erratic ones. Then Aurora reached up and gently dabbed at the dried blood on Giselle’s cheek with the damp cloth in her hand. Weak, relieved laughter broke from both of their lips, and they leant their foreheads together for a moment, then as their hands slid away Giselle leant closer. Her lips brushed against the corner of Aurora’s mouth as the younger woman turned her face away.

Giselle licked her lips, but could not speak. Aurora shook her head just slightly, the movement muted by the contact of their foreheads.

“My chance has come and gone.”

“Aurora…”

“The spell was broken. I have had my True Love’s Kiss.”

Barely daring to breathe, Giselle reached up and pushed a curl off Aurora’s brow. “Why should love be jealous? Why possess?” she breathed. “Where is it written that love can come only once?”

Giselle felt fingertips brush against her parted lips. Aurora’s touch was cool, her fingers slim, as ethereal as ever she was; it did not tremble the way that might have been expected. Then the fingers drew away again, and Aurora’s gaze finally drew upwards once again.

“All love can be true,” Giselle said, because it felt as if what she had said had not been enough, but then she realised that the words themselves were the problem, and instead drew across the short distance between them for a kiss.

It was only a brush of lips to lips, barely more than a touch, dry and soft and lasting only for a couple of seconds. But Giselle felt her breath stolen, a faint beautiful twist in the centre of her chest as they hesitated, so close that she could not open her eyes because her vision would blur, and then Aurora kissed her in return and the circle closed around them. The world fell away before the kiss, and then Aurora broke away with a shuddering gasp and bit her lip.

Giselle stroked her cheek cautiously, not daring to say anything. For a terrible moment she thought that Aurora was about to leave, but then one more time their lips met and there, just there, was a moment of perfection wrapped beneath all of the layers of horror they had faced.

How long they remained there she could not be sure, in nothing more than tentative exploration, until finally Aurora leant their foreheads together and twined her fingers with Giselle’s, still cold but with a little more warmth than there had once been in them. “Thank you,” she breathed, and Giselle was not sure whether she had the words for why but suspected that she understood in any case.

“You owe me nothing,” Giselle said for a response, and Aurora almost nodded, hair swaying around them. “Your being is wondrous enough.”

Perhaps the words were a little much; colour, alien and harsh, rose in Aurora’s cheeks, and she drew away slightly with a turn of her head to the side.

“I meant-“

“Please, do not pin hopes on me,” said Aurora, voice quiet but firm now. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, making more visible the profile of her features, her returning composure. “Too many have lost things in doing so.”

Giselle reached out and took the other hand, wrapping both of hers tightly around as if to hold Aurora still, to tie her to her seat. “Then let me be thankful for what is here and now, and not worry what may yet come to pass.”

Chapter Fourteen

The carpet, perhaps, she could handle. Aurora and Giselle she had sent away to tend to their wounds - Giselle’s physical, but no doubt both of them carrying other burdens, fears of what had happened. With Giselle went the golden lamp that she had clutched to her chest, and the spectral blue creature which had pooled from it was no longer a concern. The Princess had not yet awoken, and the guards here were so trusting and afraid together of their rulers that they were not abroad in the halls this deep in the night. It was quiet, only Mulan’s footsteps to break the peace in the air, only her form to break the cool planar shadows of the hallways as she passed through them.

Perhaps only the echo of peace was enough.

Originally she had thought to take the Princess to the Royal Chambers, but if there were guards in any place they would be there, and Mulan doubted that their fear would extend far enough to stop them from drawing weapons against her. Instead she made her way cautiously to the Throne Room, finding one door ajar enough to push open and slip through, and the room itself empty.

There was one lamp by the doorway; she used it to light some of the others around the room, casting light gradually across the floor and walls as the Princess lay in the carpet’s gentle hold. She did not pretend to understand what it was, how it was capable of flight or intelligence as good as or better than any animal Mulan had ever met, but she did not fear it. It seemed benevolent enough.

As she finished lighting the torches, she heard the Princess murmur, and the carpet fluttered slightly as if to catch her attention. One hand on the hilt of her sword, Mulan crossed the floor again and waited, silent and patient, until the Princess’s eyes fluttered and she raised one hand. It rose a few inches only, then with a sigh she let it fall, brow creasing as if in slight pain. Still, Mulan said nothing.

Finally, the Princess’s hand clenched into a fist, and with a forcing of her will that was almost tangible in the air she pushed herself up to a seated position, eyes opening but not focussing for a moment. Mulan almost thought that she might call for the guards, but then their eyes met and a moment passed between them.

“I remember everything,” said the Princess finally. She raised one hand to her chest, where the golden scarab had sat, and when she clenched it again it left faint marks of her nails on her skin. Anger and shame burned in her eyes and on her cheeks as she frowned upon herself. “I remember everything.”

“Everything that has been is past,” Mulan replied. They spoke now in the tongue of the land, and at that without embellishments of rank or power. “Nothing that is to come has yet been decided.”

The Princess bowed her head. She looked in some ways younger now, without the jewellery gilding her looks or the look of haughty power in her eyes. The hard lines of her face seemed to have softened, the cast bronze replaced with warm flesh and soft skin. Yet at the same time there was a patience of age about her, her shoulders squared to take the weight of what had been.

“You will not kill me for what I have done?”

For a moment, Mulan did not reply, and the Princess turned her gaze upwards once again. There was no fear there, though not quite resignation. “No,” said Mulan finally. “What is done has been fixed, and killing you is neither just nor necessary.”

As if to illustrate, she removed the hand from the hilt of her sword, clasping both hands behind her again. Touches of soldier-hood that she never could shake off, and this land felt more like home than the woods with which Giselle and Aurora both seemed so familiar.

“You were sixteen years old when you were wed. I doubt you were a sorceress then.”

“That was six years ago. I doubt I am the only one whose world has changed.”

To that, she did not rise, nor reply. “How deep did the enchantments run?”

“Throughout the Palace, little more.” The Princess shook her head. “With him within my power, I was content enough… usually. I had no desire to hurt my people, not when the poor suffer enough already.”

Mulan thought of Sadira, the tale Giselle had told of the woman with her blood worn like jewels. “What of other magic-users? Did you not shackle them?”

“I did not want to be thrown down… no, that is not true. I did not care if I was thrown down or not; what I feared was losing my power over my-” she shuddered “-husband. At least, it started there. Over time I became more and more fearful that I was being conspired against. The guards believed still that Jafar ruled, and would not accept orders that they did not believe had come from him.”

“You became cruel.”

It was not a question, not a threat. She could see in the Princess’s eyes that it did not have to be after what they had seen that night, after the rumours of a feud with the Land of the Black Sands and the other Kingdoms of the Seven Deserts.

“It grew heavy, like a weight on my brain. Like a weight on my soul, if I have one still.” A fleeting look of pain crossed over the Princess’s young face; Mulan let it do so. “Like burning anger, and hopelessness. Somehow… I lost hope.”

The final words were spoken with a faint confusion, as if from a distance, and she realised that the unspoken ones to follow would have been, ‘But now I have found it again.’ Giselle had worded her wish carefully, it seemed. The Princess pushed forward to let her feet touch the ground, then her eyes widened as she caught sight of what she had been upon.

“I do not know what it is,” Mulan admitted. “Some magic, it seems. It came from beneath the sand when-”

“The Genie!” Suddenly the Princess spun to face her, rising fully to her feet though she was still not too imposing a figure there. “When the other woman returned from the Cave, she had-”

Before she could speak further, Mulan held a dagger at her throat, tip to skin. “I do not know about ‘genies’,” she said, tongue carefully tracing the foreign word, “but I have heard it speak and I will not give you that power after what you have done with what you already have.”

The Princess’s hands, which she had raised, were lowered slowly back down, but she did not step back from the blade that came into brushing contact with her throat. “When I searched for it before, it is true that I did so out of greed, out of wrath,” she said. The words sounded carefully chosen. “But my world is different now than it was then. I do not understand how, but I promise you - if you will believe any promise that I make - that now as I wake the world seems different before my own eyes.”

“My friend used one of the wishes from the Genie to heal you. She thinks that you can still sit upon the throne of Agrabah.”

“You do not sound so certain.”

Pursing her lips, Mulan shrugged. “I know that you have no kin who could inherit the throne in your place, and that a war over Agrabah would be a long and bloody one. But perhaps my trust is not won so easily as hers.”

The Princess reached up, placed her fingers on each flat of the knife, and turned it away from her neck. It was worth no fight; Mulan allowed it to fall back to her side again. “My father was a good man,” she said, “and I loved him. But both good men and loved ones can be fools, and I was married to one that was neither. From my father’s death I knew that Jafar intended to destroy me, and it seemed that there was only one way in which I could fight to survive.”

She held Mulan’s gaze, eyes arresting.

“I can see that I am not the only one who has been forced to fight for their survival.”

“Sooner or later we all are,” Mulan replied, feeling her own voice become a little gruff and defensive. The Dragon Sword hung heavy on her hip. “We do not all destroy good things in that fight.”

“We do not all make the right decisions the first time.”

In those words, there was a tender regret, and even Mulan could not think of that as a masquerade. She sheathed the dagger and buckled it into place, a firm promise of truce, and nodded to the thrones. “And now?”

The Princess turned towards the thrones as well, the torchlight on the planes of her face and glinting - now warm, and without the harsh tones that were in hindsight apparent - in her eyes. A distant sadness passed over her features for a moment, and Mulan was struck almost from nowhere with thoughts of her own parents, and her childhood, then it was gone and determination, glowing rather than burning, settled there.

“Now my Kingdom will have a Sultana,” she said, “and the Sultan’s blood upon the throne. I have many years for which to make up.”

Mulan nodded, and allowed herself a faint smile, before turning to leave. Once the weight of evil was removed, things had a way of righting themselves, after all.

Chapter Fifteen

She had found Giselle, her wounds now dressed, asleep with her head in Aurora’s lap. Aurora laughed softly when Mulan pointed out this was hardly the usual way around, but her fingers traced gently over Giselle’s temple, and she suggested that they not leave until the morning.

Mulan agreed, but did not sleep, even when Aurora drifted into her usual light and fitful slumber. During the night she packed their things, and paced the rooms, and drank cool water whilst looking out over the sky beginning to lighten in preparation for the dawn. Their horses were not yet prepared, but by the time that the others awoke they were otherwise ready to move on. It had been a long time since any of them had even wanted to risk waiting to see the celebrations. There was too much danger that they would be asked to stay for a still longer time.

On waking, Giselle seemed as bright as usual, although she moved with a stiffness that betrayed her injuries. With no guards outside their door, they had saddled their horses and were almost at the Palace gates when a shout came from behind them.

“Stop! Please, wait!”

It was not the threat that Mulan at least had half-expected, but nor was there the desperate thankfulness that had marked the voices of some of those whom they had helped. The three women stopped, turning in their saddles back to the Palace steps. The Sultana, robed in pale lilac and with her hair in loose waves around her face, ran down the steps with her bemused-looking guards following behind.

“Please…” she was a little out of breath by the time that she reached them, but still held herself commandingly and paused to regain her breath before speaking further. “I wanted to thank you,” she said, “for everything that you have done. Not for me… but for Agrabah.”

This time she spoke in the northern tongue, and Mulan replied in kind. “It is how we conduct ourselves… Your Majesty.”

“I want you to know,” said the Sultana, dropping intent gently into her words, “that you are always welcome here. And should you find yourselves in need, Agrabah will answer.” She motioned to one of the guards, who stepped forwards and offered up to her a small wooden chest. Ignoring their faint protests, she opened up the chest to reveal three gold rosettes, fashioned almost like lace at their edges, and with shining jewel-bright enamels set into the centre of them. Closing the lid again, she offered the chest up to Mulan. “The crest of Agrabah. I hope that someday it will be of help to you.”

Mulan accepted the chest; it was lighter than it looked, and at perhaps twelve inches in length would not be too large to strap to the saddlebags. However, she withdrew a pouch from her pocket, placed the three crests inside it, and then returned the empty chest back to the nearest guard.

“We travel light,” she said, by way of explanation.

The Sultana laughed, a sound which Mulan would have thought even recently would be impossible; it was bright and youthful, the early morning sun still spilling forth. “Very well. From that I understand also not to hold you longer. Fare well, travellers.”

“Wait,” said Giselle, barely before the words had spilled in the air. From beneath her cloak she withdrew the golden lamp; the Sultana’s eyes went wide, but it was with amazement rather than the lustful gaze Mulan had momentarily feared. Giselle rubbed gently on its bulging side; there was a flash of light and a wave of blue smoke as the same figure all but erupted out into the air.

It stretched its arms wide. “Oh baby, it’s good to be b-” The words died, the Genie looked sheepish, and he rolled down to an approximately human size as he floated next to Giselle. “Master. Your final wish?”

Giselle exchanged a look with Aurora that, Mulan was quite sure, nobody else was supposed to even come close to being able to read.

“Yes, Genie,” Giselle said. She turned back to him with a smile like she had not worn in many months on her face. “For my third wish… I wish you free.”

There was a moment of pure, incredulous silence. Mulan stared, the Sultana stared, the guards stared, and the Genie himself stared at Giselle with a look of awe on his face. It was made more dramatic by the fact that his jaw apparently didn’t have to follow the rules of anatomy in how far it dropped.

“You mean-”

“Yes,” said Giselle, more insistently. “Genie… I wish you free.”

As the Genie watched in dazed awe, light began to come from the golden bracelets around his wrists. He held out his hands as they began to glow, brighter and brighter, until Mulan had to shield her eyes and could only hear the air rushing around them and a sound like ice, and then she looked round to see the Genie looking at his bare, blue wrists, tears rolling down his face.

In an instant, he had enveloped Giselle in an oversized embrace. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank-” he hugged Aurora and Mulan in turn - his skin was warm, there-but-not-there, and he smelt of magic - and was about to hug Khan when the horse gave him a singularly unimpressed look for his trouble. Instead, he patted Khan on the nose. “Well, you know what I mean.” Without a pause for breath, he whirled back, the smoke of his lower half coalescing into legs and allowing him to strike a pose. “Ten thousand years! So much I gotta catch up on, so much I gotta…”

He trailed off, looking at Giselle with a smile that had a faint hint of pride around it. She was wearing much the same expression in return.

“I know it’s not been a lot of time,” he said quietly, walking over to lay his hand on hers where it rested on the pommel of her saddle. “But I’m not going to forget you, kid. No way.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Giselle replied. “Say, Genie, one more thing…”

“Ah ah ah!” He stepped back, waggling a finger at her warningly. “Three wishes! Wait, no, I’m not even a tied genie now! I don’t have to grant wishes at all!”

He seemed to have surprised himself all over again with this revelation, and Giselle took the moment to laugh. “I know. Not a wish, Genie, just… a favour.”

“A favour…” he drew out the word slowly, as if tasting it, trying it on for size, then seemed to grow a couple of feet as he declared: “I like it already!” Back down to normal again; it exhausted Mulan just to watch him. “What is it?”

“Keep an eye on Agrabah,” said Giselle. For a moment she looked across to meet the Sultana’s gaze. “Help it get back on its feet once again.”

Some of the mania faded from the Genie’s smile. He stepped upwards, lower body becoming a wisp of smoke once again, until he hovered level with her and could reach out to touch her cheek. “I can do that.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded in return.

With a deep breath, Giselle turned back towards the others, and lifted the reins in her hands - merely to make the point; a brush of her heels would be enough to set them into motion. “I believe we have somewhere else to be,” she said.

In some ways, it was not true, not yet - they did not know where their feet were about to turn, where they might end up. All they knew for certain was the danger; Mulan was no fool of that, and she knew that as long as they travelled from land to land they invited danger down upon themselves with every step. When she saw the peace in the Sultana’s eyes, however, and the happiness in the Genie’s, she remembered why they did. Because in another way it was true: they had to be somewhere else, today, yesterday, always moving on before the world caught on and tried too hard to fight them in return.

“I believe so,” Mulan replied, and saw Aurora simply smile.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three