Fearless (A Mulan Retelling)

Chapter One

"Oh Iris, you don't have to look so sad, you know?"

An older man leaning on a cane spoke to his daughter, who was sitting with her head hung idly by a lit fireplace. At hearing the words, she raised her face to look at him. She managed to draw up a smile for him, but it was only half-convincing.

Iris Gwenneth stood from where she sat now and walked over to her father. When she got close enough, he used his free hand to touch her face gently above her eyebrow --as if he were trying to smooth the dent caused by her incessant worry.

"What's wrong, girl?" he asked.

She didn't answer, only widened her smile, as if that as supposed to make it better. They both realized at the same time that somehow her face had instead contorted into more of an awful grimace. Iris turned her face away, pulling the corners of her lips back in. "I'll tell you exactly what it is --it's nothing you need to worry about. You've got enough to worry about as it is." On cue, she looked down at his quivering knee --forever tarnished by war injury.

Her father seemed to follow her gaze. "You know, I've had a good life, Iris. I used to be tall and strong." The words were meant to comfort Iris. "In fact, I was quite the man before I had to start using this gods-forsaken cane." He now smiled at her --really smiled at her. It was one that caused his eyes to crinkle at the corners --just like they had for as long as Iris could remember. His hand slipped from her forehead, and he used his calloused thumb to carefully caress her cheek. Time seemed to stop in its tracks as he stared into Iris's dark eyes. Just like her mother's, he thought to himself.

"I'll bet," Iris answered, chuckling a little.

"I'll ask again, what's the matter? You know I hate seeing you like this."

Iris went quiet again, denying her father an answer once more. How could she tell him what was wrong? How could she tell him that his decreasing health topped her long list of worries without making him feel terribly? And aside from that, how could she remind him that she'd shamed her family by losing a betrothed? Ah, yes, and wasn't that just the thing. In light of all the hard times her family had been put through, she'd had to ice the cake by being a failure. She'd just had to lose Shadford --or Shad, her beloved, after two long years of being together.

And what was more? He'd left her for another girl --a petite girl named Emery, with a wide smile and coffee-colored hair. The people of Eda, her small village, had never forgotten it.

"Iris," he called.

"I'm serious. I'll live. I don't feel like talking about it. It'll only make it worse." She raised a brow at him.

In that moment, her father couldn't decipher her exact dilemma --but he indeed had a couple of good guesses. He knew her arguably well by now-- the past twenty years, to be exact. Her father had lived in the same house as her since they day she'd been born. He just narrowed his eyes in her direction.

"If this is about Shadford," he said, "You'll find better. You know that."

The mention of his name paled her face, but she still said nothing.

Now, Elliot Gwenneth's eyes swept across his daughter's features. A few tears pricked at his eyes. He indeed felt deep sorrow for what Shad had done to her, and he surely didn't understand why he'd done it. In his eyes, Iris had a wonderful personality, and she was as beautiful --if not more, than the flower she'd been named after. She was a spitting image of her mother, with sharp, but delicate features, lengthy dark hair, and fair skin with cheeks that flushed with color when she was happy --not that they did that often anymore.