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ghostisclearfandom: ouat
ship: marian/mulan
rating: t
words: 751
notes: pre-infidelity ??? lmao AU where mulan joins the merry men pre-canon instead of s2 or s3 or whatever
-forfemslashfete prompt 7: wander
& Why don't you show me the little bit of spine
You've been saving for his mattress, love + Marian/Mulan for Jukebox June
& a belated adventuring april fill: - d12 table: 8. morning / mouring
Mulan did not want love.
Joining the Merry Men, she'd sought companionship, a sense of purpose—love was unimaginable.
And to fall in love with Robin Hood's wife?
Unforgivable.
The thought of throwing in with a group of thieves gave her pause, but her traitor heart found no such moral quandary stopping her love for Marian from blossoming.
Mulan should leave the Merry Men, strike out on her own again—spare the others the burden of her feelings.
She doesn't.
The least she can do, then, is avoid Marian—cause hurt in the short-term to avoid hurt in the long-term.
She doesn't..
(Won't lie to herself that she can't, it's simply that she doesn't.)
As long as she doesn't act on her feelings, doesn't let them affect her or change anything—she can stay.
(She can keep the life she's come to love, with the people she—)
Simple.
Hard. Agonizing.
But simple.
She stays and pretends and ignores the part of herself that hates it and things continue on.
Mulan and Marian still pair up more often than not for the various missions and tasks set to the Merry Men.
When Mulan had first joined up with them, Marian had sought her out, hopeful the warrior would see her as an equal in battle instead of a wife or mother to protect.
And now, when the camp's morning briefings are concluded, Marian naturally falls into step beside her.
“Figured we could scout the northern route,” Marian says, smile easy on her lips.
Mulan smiles back—(too easily. pull it back.)—“Sounds good.”
She looks forward and marches on toward their goal, missing—(ignoring. pretending not to see.)—the confusion tightening in Marian's gaze.
.
They take the northern route while other groups cover the remaining possible courses the rich noble of the week may take through their territory.
It should have been easy.
Instead, they're ambushed—outnumbered by a group of smugglers.
One of them lands a nasty blow with a club against Marian's back that sends her to the ground.
Mulan beats the pack back after that, long enough for Marian to regain her footing, and they're shooting off.
Thankfully they don't know these woods as well as Marian.
With Mulan half-supporting her, they run until they've made it to a well concealed spot the Merry Men frequently use as a hideaway.
They catch their breath.
Marian tries to hide the shakiness of her inhale, but it brings Mulan immediately back to attention.
She stands, steps behind the rock Marian's slumped over, “Let me take a look.”
A moment of hesitation and then, “Okay.”
Pause—on Mulan's end this time. Marian makes no move to do so herself, so Mulan finds herself in a position she has, despite great effort, imagined many times before.
Her hands reach out, raising the layers of fabric covering Marian's back, very intentionally not allowing their skin to touch.
She squats down to get a better look, keeping hold of Marian's clothing with one hand—fills her mind with all the medical knowledge she's gained over the years and tells herself this is okay.
Mulan keeps her gaze steadfastly on Marian's wound, engaging every ounce of conviction she can muster to dissuade her focus from wandering.
In her head she recites every fact she knows about bruising, distracting herself—trying to unsee and unfeel the sensation of her fingers gingerly pressing against Marian's skin—hot compared to the chill in the air.
Marian lets out a shaky breath.
“Sorry—I know it hurts,” Mulan says, keeping her touch lighter as she checks for more serious damage, “Almost done.”
“No, it's—” Mulan feels Marian shake her head, “Nevermind. How's it look?”
“Like you just got clubbed.”
A breathless laugh—one that Mulan can feel move through Marian's body beneath her fingertips—and she slips, lays the palm of her hand against Marian's back.
(Wants to feel it again, wants more.)
Marian sighs—not disgusted, not reproachful, something that would lift Mulan's heart almost out of her chest if she chose to believe it—pressing back into Mulan's palm with the movement of it.
She thinks of Robin.
Her hands shoot away—(too quickly. not quick enough.)—snap to her side as she stands, locks her posture into rigid formality.
Clears her throat.
“You'll be fine,” she coats her voice in a steeliness she hopes reflects her resolve. “Bruised, but fine.”
Stepping back, Mulan swivels away from Marian—shuts her eyes against the rapid beating of her useless heart, the ache of her disloyal hands missing Marian's touch.
“We should head back.”
ship: marian/mulan
rating: t
words: 751
notes: pre-infidelity ??? lmao AU where mulan joins the merry men pre-canon instead of s2 or s3 or whatever
-for
femslashfete prompt 7: wander& Why don't you show me the little bit of spine
You've been saving for his mattress, love + Marian/Mulan for Jukebox June
& a belated adventuring april fill: - d12 table: 8. morning / mouring
Mulan did not want love.
Joining the Merry Men, she'd sought companionship, a sense of purpose—love was unimaginable.
And to fall in love with Robin Hood's wife?
Unforgivable.
The thought of throwing in with a group of thieves gave her pause, but her traitor heart found no such moral quandary stopping her love for Marian from blossoming.
Mulan should leave the Merry Men, strike out on her own again—spare the others the burden of her feelings.
She doesn't.
The least she can do, then, is avoid Marian—cause hurt in the short-term to avoid hurt in the long-term.
She doesn't..
(Won't lie to herself that she can't, it's simply that she doesn't.)
As long as she doesn't act on her feelings, doesn't let them affect her or change anything—she can stay.
(She can keep the life she's come to love, with the people she—)
Simple.
Hard. Agonizing.
But simple.
She stays and pretends and ignores the part of herself that hates it and things continue on.
Mulan and Marian still pair up more often than not for the various missions and tasks set to the Merry Men.
When Mulan had first joined up with them, Marian had sought her out, hopeful the warrior would see her as an equal in battle instead of a wife or mother to protect.
And now, when the camp's morning briefings are concluded, Marian naturally falls into step beside her.
“Figured we could scout the northern route,” Marian says, smile easy on her lips.
Mulan smiles back—(too easily. pull it back.)—“Sounds good.”
She looks forward and marches on toward their goal, missing—(ignoring. pretending not to see.)—the confusion tightening in Marian's gaze.
.
They take the northern route while other groups cover the remaining possible courses the rich noble of the week may take through their territory.
It should have been easy.
Instead, they're ambushed—outnumbered by a group of smugglers.
One of them lands a nasty blow with a club against Marian's back that sends her to the ground.
Mulan beats the pack back after that, long enough for Marian to regain her footing, and they're shooting off.
Thankfully they don't know these woods as well as Marian.
With Mulan half-supporting her, they run until they've made it to a well concealed spot the Merry Men frequently use as a hideaway.
They catch their breath.
Marian tries to hide the shakiness of her inhale, but it brings Mulan immediately back to attention.
She stands, steps behind the rock Marian's slumped over, “Let me take a look.”
A moment of hesitation and then, “Okay.”
Pause—on Mulan's end this time. Marian makes no move to do so herself, so Mulan finds herself in a position she has, despite great effort, imagined many times before.
Her hands reach out, raising the layers of fabric covering Marian's back, very intentionally not allowing their skin to touch.
She squats down to get a better look, keeping hold of Marian's clothing with one hand—fills her mind with all the medical knowledge she's gained over the years and tells herself this is okay.
Mulan keeps her gaze steadfastly on Marian's wound, engaging every ounce of conviction she can muster to dissuade her focus from wandering.
In her head she recites every fact she knows about bruising, distracting herself—trying to unsee and unfeel the sensation of her fingers gingerly pressing against Marian's skin—hot compared to the chill in the air.
Marian lets out a shaky breath.
“Sorry—I know it hurts,” Mulan says, keeping her touch lighter as she checks for more serious damage, “Almost done.”
“No, it's—” Mulan feels Marian shake her head, “Nevermind. How's it look?”
“Like you just got clubbed.”
A breathless laugh—one that Mulan can feel move through Marian's body beneath her fingertips—and she slips, lays the palm of her hand against Marian's back.
(Wants to feel it again, wants more.)
Marian sighs—not disgusted, not reproachful, something that would lift Mulan's heart almost out of her chest if she chose to believe it—pressing back into Mulan's palm with the movement of it.
She thinks of Robin.
Her hands shoot away—(too quickly. not quick enough.)—snap to her side as she stands, locks her posture into rigid formality.
Clears her throat.
“You'll be fine,” she coats her voice in a steeliness she hopes reflects her resolve. “Bruised, but fine.”
Stepping back, Mulan swivels away from Marian—shuts her eyes against the rapid beating of her useless heart, the ache of her disloyal hands missing Marian's touch.
“We should head back.”
