Mulan bowed before the emperor. He offered a council position, Chi Fu's job. There was nothing she would rather do than go home.

The emperor placed his medallion over her head so all would know what she had done for him.

Then he gave Shan Yu's sword so the world would know what she had done for China.

She hugged the emperor. He was surprised, but smiled.

She turned to bid goodbye to those she'd fought alongside.

Hugs were exchanged with comrades, tearful goodbyes said.

The captain knelt, taking her hands in his. He professed his love and asked for her hand. A promise to be at her side always.

She was without words. Loyal comrades gasped in shock. There was a glimpse of the smiling emperor, of cheering crowds. An unconventional proposal, but tradition was not her way.

The hopeful's honest eyes gazed into hers, patient for her answer. All was silent and watching.

She pledged her own love. How could she not? He stood with a smile, but did not release her hands.

The emperor placed a hand on each lover's shoulder, speaking of flowers blooming in adversity as the most rare and beautiful of all.

To Shang, he reminded him of the rarity of a girl like that in any dynasty.

To Mulan, he called out her father's courage in her. The elder hero must know His Excellency's blessing was given of her pending union.

They bowed and gave their thanks.

He turned again to his young captain. Six days were given to accompany her home and petition for her hand. Then he must return as General Li and train more soldiers. The invading Huns had depleted current forces.

A two-day journey lay ahead. But first, his plan was sleeping fireside while she used the tent.

Much like after a chance lakeside discovery six months prior, neither expected what happened that night. A goodnight kiss led to heated desire, tangled bare limbs and breathless sighs.

Still tangled, they woke before dawn and quickly dressed.

Dumplings were heated over coals from last night's fire, love was made one more time and two lovers resumed their journey.

Hours til dark, she bent over her horse seeking relief from a clenching grip over her middle.

Camp was made early. She curled on her side tightly like the unborn child she was about to lose.

An unborn child who's presence was unknown. Within hours birthed and lost, then buried and forgotten. Customs dictated not mourning those born sleeping.

They stayed three nights. The dark found them in the other's arms, but only sleeping, other activities precluded by needed recovery.

In the remaining miles, they exchanged few words and none about their unexpected child.

She greeted her family with hugs and spoke of their engagement.

Not a word was said to her family about their child, laying in an unmarked grave along the road to the capital. Better not to speak of lost honor and innocence.

The jagged sword of the Huns and the golden crest of their Emperor were stored with the armor. A proclamation of continued heroism, from father to daughter.

An approval for her hand was needed and given and plans were underway. The novice general returned to the Emperor with new soldiers to train.

His beloved watched daily for letters, as did he. Six moons passed. He returned to her. Solemn vows of forever were exchanged. Goodbyes were tearful as an old home was left for his city dwelling.

A slightly raised portion of earth was passed on the road. No words were spoken, but the one who had birthed him turned her head. Buried, but never forgotten. The firstborn that never was. Tradition stated to not remember, but the old rules were never her way.

The black, powerful horse was turned around. She returned to the raised earth. On her knees on the ground, a name was finally given. Zian, son of peace.

Time passed on. Another child was conceived and born. Then another, and two more. But, to her, the eldest was always remembered where he lay along the road, her son of peace. Through their struggles and joys, he watched over them all.