Fearless (A Mulan Retelling)

Chapter Fifty Eight

It was early when Iris woke the next morning. Too early. As she rose from her bedroll, she wanted nothing more than to lay back down again. Gods. As she wiped her eyes, she scolded herself for not getting much sleep. The whole night had been such a roller coaster of emotions. Not all good ones either.

She wondered how she would have been feeling this morning if her death wasn't looming right over her head. Would she be smiling? Probably. But unfortunately, impending doom was at her doorstep... and like a good soldier, she'd have to answer when it came. She'd have to answer it with a brave face too.

She sat there, wondering if dying was really as bad as it sounded. It was quick, surely. Just a flash of pain... and just like that, it's all over. The struggles and hardship... the stress of trying to make ends meet... over. In a second. After a second of thought, she figured that that in itself was why it was so bad.

All her life she'd spent trying to get to a point of content... and now? All her work over the years was for naught. She would never get to see it through to the end. She'd never get to experience being married or having a child. She'd never get her own home... or even get a chance to start looking.

Her life was at its end... and it was too soon.

She would dishonor her family... and then leave them for good.

"I would ask you if you're okay," she heard a voice from over her shoulder, "But how could you be?"

She turned her face a little to see Zayn, already dressed and ready to start their journey. Their final journey, as it would so happen. He watched her curiously, as if he was trying to discern exactly what she was thinking. But he couldn't. She stood from her spot completely and stretched.

"What do you mean?" she asked, "I'm perfectly fine."

"Iris," his voice was almost stern, "How can you stand a day before death and pretend to be fine? I don't understand you."

She stopped moving at that moment and just stared at him. "You're being prickly."

Now it was his turn to stare. With a furrowed brow, he was still. Iris sighed, and took a slight step toward him.

"Hey, be jovial," she reworded, "You don't have much time left. Wouldn't want to spend it being angry. Well... you might. I wouldn't."

"How can I not be? You don't deserve this."

"Does it matter?" she asked, "Whether I deserve it or not, it's happening anyway. Being resentful isn't going to make things any better, so might as well move on. Come now, cheer up, like I said. Try and distract yourself from what is to come."

"Iris," he groaned, rubbing a temple.

"Shh, now," she said with a slight smile, doing her best to accept her fate herself, "everything is going to be alright, you just wait. Whether or not we die, we will not perish. We will live on in the hearts of those that loved us... of those that respected us. And we will be okay, I swear it to you."

With a deep breath, he gave her a weak smile. "I hope you're right."

And then, just like that, one of the final days of their lives began.

---

When they arrived at Oraborn the next day, the emperor and the group split ways. He'd left a few guards behind to make sure they stayed within the city limits. Oraborn was bustling with activity. Iris noted that this was by far the busiest city she'd ever been in. She also noticed that news of her was spreading quickly. It wasn't but a moment when she stepped into the marketplace that she saw a painting of herself on the first page of the town's broadsheet.