"Rose! What are you doing?"

"Sleeping." I flipped away from the sound of my father's voice, folding my pillow in my arms and shoving my face deep inside the soft cushion to drown out what I knew what would be coming next.

"I see that." He laughed a little and I heard the tap, tap, tap of a cane getting closer. Despite his cheerful exterior, he must have been having a hard day. He hated using that cane. Unfortunately, I knew someone else who wouldn't be nearly as amused by my little show of defiance as he was, especially today. "Your mother is waiting in town for you."

The sheets felt that much softer with the reminder of what would be waiting for me in the harsh reality beyond my bed. At this point, did it even matter if I rushed off to meet her? I was so late that she'd be pissed either way.

When I told him so, my father made the choice for me by throwing open the curtains. "Go. If you don't, we both get to listen to her complain about what could have happened if you had bothered to show up."

I hissed at the light, but not nearly as loud as I did when he shouted out some last minute fatherly advice over his shoulder.

"And wear a dress, will you? Sometimes we have to remind them that you're a girl."

The stupid thing was slipping again. I adjusted the black fabric over my thighs for the third time since leaving the house and kicked off my shoes to run the last few blocks towards Ms. Rhonda's place. A younger man gave me a passing glance and a suggestive smile before his wife slapped him harshly on the shoulder. They had been married about a year now, but that man's reputation for a wandering eye was legendary. Apparently, their marriage was on the rocks for it, but there wasn't much that could really be done about those sort of things. She just needed to soldier on and pretend that everything was alright. That's all anyone ever did around here: pretend and soldier on.

There was sure to be several girls tittering about the square, waiting for some big announcement about their future and the lifelong love they were sure to find with the help of Ms. Rhonda, but I wasn't going to be among their numbers. I guess I was, technically – being forced to be a part of the whole charade and all. But I certainly wasn't going to bounce on my toes and gossip with the others about how excited I was about someone else deciding my fate.

I had put this off as long as I could, and from the disapproving fire in my mother's eyes as I rounded the corner, she wasn't going to let some mussed hair and dirty feet keep me from meeting with the so-called matchmaker. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"I got distracted."

She scoffed. "You neglected to get out of bed."

I wasn't going to lie to her, but I wasn't about to admit that she was right either.

"It doesn't matter now, I guess. You're here, and that's what really counts." She glanced down, sneering as I tried to slip on my shoes without falling. "We don't have time to clean you up any, but perhaps that's for the best."

When I paused, shoe half on, and looked at her with confusion, she sighed and continued, "We wouldn't want to give any false impressions."

I laughed, mostly because her little slights had stopped offending me long ago. I knew I wasn't the perfect daughter that she had hoped for – she had made it quite clear over the years – and I had eventually stopped trying to play the part.

The whole process seemed archaic to me. At one point, over a century ago, matchmaking had been necessary to keep Dhampirs alive: match a Dhampir woman with a (typically low-class) Moroi man, and bingo, survival of the race. Now, people did it as a way to show off their status. Families bragged about who their son or daughters were matched with.

It wasn't limited to dhampirs and low-class Moroi anymore, either. While I'm sure royal Moroi had used some sort of arranged marriage system in the past to keep their family lines 'pure,' it was hardly the spectacle that it was now. Their matching party almost out-shown their actual weddings.

Some Royal Moroi didn't have the luxury of those big celebrations, however.

"Liss!" I rushed towards the perfectly primped blonde in a very stunning (and appropriate) blue dress. She was the girl that I knew my mother would have wanted me to be. Unfortunately, for my mother at least, Vasilisa Dragomir was my opposite in every single way. Perhaps the most glaring difference was the fact that she practically a princess, the last heir of her royal line. I wasn't much more than a menace to society.

"Fancy seeing you here, Rose. I wasn't sure you were going to make it." She gave me a knowing smile, completely recognizing my utter hatred for this whole process. I could forgive her for being here. Her presence was practically a necessity, especially if you considered that she had been orphaned a few years back and needed a good match to continue her family line. Ms. Rhonda would certainly take care in choosing a spouse. But I, and the other dozen or so girls here were nobodies.

That didn't keep some of those nobodies from throwing dirty looks my way as if my mere presence would have any standing on their matches. I acknowledged one with an overly friendly and perhaps slightly threatening smile, relishing in my victory when she huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder in annoyance.

"Nice dress." Liss's smile grew as she looked me up and down.

I let my hip jut out a little. "Yeah, I figured I should show off the goods for whatever poor guy ends up getting stuck with me."

Our banter dissolved into laughter since we both knew good and well that either:

A. We were being matched to someone in town so the poor guy was already well aware of what 'goods' they were getting or

B. We were being matched to someone out of town and wouldn't be meeting them for a week or so.

Our joy was cut short by the creaking of a door. It shouldn't have sounded so loud with the hustle and bustle of life in the square, but destiny always demanded attention.

"Camille Conta." The older woman didn't even look up before walking back into her little storefront. The girl she had called looked stunned for a moment before slowly falling in line behind her. The excitement that she had been showing just moments before seemed to drain away with every step she took towards the red-trimmed doorway.

My own irritation seemed to melt into nervous dread as she moved forward, too. One by one the girls exited the tiny building, most with a smile to some degree on their faces, and a few nearly squealing in delight. But there was one, Avery Lazar, who was in literal tears as she gave her mother her match's information. The moment her mother looked at the paper, her face turned red with fury. It clearly wasn't something as simple as a daughter's impending and possibly far away move that was causing the tears; they obviously didn't agree with the match. But once a match was made, it was final.

Just as tradition dictated, her match was announced to the public. When the herald called out the name, Lissa and I both winced.

"Christian Ozera!"

Christian was a friend to us both. Perhaps more like a brother to me, since we had grown up with neighboring properties and tended to play together in the dirt when I should have been learning 'more appropriate' tasks for a girl of my station, according to my mother. I think she partially blamed him for my less than ladylike ways.

But he certainly wasn't brother-like to Liss. Since my father had been an advisor to her family, she and I had also been playmates. When her family passed, she was often found in my home and eventually met Christian. They had taken a certain liking to one another, and while I hadn't exactly approved initially, they were good for one another.

Their match, though, would never happen. All three of us knew it. It was one of the reasons why I was hesitant to encourage their romance. It was a big reason why I hated this entire process. They would never match a noble like Vasilisa Dragomir with a lowly, poor, unfitting outcast like Christian Ozera. Not when he was living off the generosity of his aunt and uncle, who had purchased his parent's property to keep him out of the poor house. It wasn't his fault that his parents gambled off the family money, ran away, and left him with all their debt when he was barely thirteen — everyone decided to blame him anyway.

I heard a shuddering breath beside me and took Lissa's hand. I knew that, on the outside, she appeared like the amazing, regal woman that she always projected to the world. Inside, however, I could practically hear her heartbreaking.

My name was called second to last. The crowd had built steadily over the afternoon as people gathered to hear the Dragomir match, and it was somewhat intimidating to know that so many would witness mine as well. I had the brief thought as I walked through the doors and into Rhonda's red velvet covered room, that perhaps I should have been matched with Christian. It wouldn't have been a romantic life, but I never expected one. Not really. But at least we wouldn't hate or be hated by our partners. He already had an uphill battle from the reaction of his future wife, and I doubted my soon-to-be husband was going to be much happier.

The useless thought passed quickly as I was urged to sit on a padded chair across from the matchmaker, with a table covered with plum colored silk between us. There were several woven baskets filled with trinkets that would inevitably decide the rest of my life. She pushed one such basket filled with several decks of cards, all bound with colored string, towards me. She gave me a quick nod and I grabbed a black and red one near the back, bypassing the one with golden edges. Lissa would probably like that one more than me. When she smiled and started shuffling the chosen deck, I caught sight of a few of the cards. Images. These were tarot cards, I realized.

"Three card reading," she said, pulling my curious gaze away from the deck. "I must know who you are and what your future entails before I provide a partner to assist you in walking that path."

When she put it that way, it almost seemed ideal – the idea of finding a partner to share a path in life with. However, the fact still remained that a woman who was a stranger to me and holding nothing more than a pack of cards would be the one deciding exactly who that person would be with pretty much no input from me.

She pushed the deck towards me, telling me to cut the deck into parts before pulling three cards out. The symbolism behind the cards was beyond me, but I was still able to read the titles and see the images.

One was a man who looked to be walking between three trees, called the three of wands. Another was a knight on a horse, helmet barely covering some dark hair, and charging into battle with sword held high. The card was aptly named the knight of swords. Finally, the last card was flipped upside down from the others, but the image was still pretty clear: a sun. There was a naked child looking fairly happy and playing underneath the sun, but the card was clearly named for the bright, smiling image in the center.

Ms. Rhonda stared at the cards for a while. And then a while more. After what felt like 'a while' too long, I started to get worried, and it seemed like she might have been also.

"Is everything okay? I'm not going to die, am I?"

She gave a vague 'hmm' that was anything but reassuring.

"What is it?" I could hear the tremble in my own voice, and as much as I wanted to silence it, I couldn't. Forcing my mouth close only made my teeth grind together.

"Your cards. There are some...concerning things." She straightened out, waving a hand over the three cards and then pointing to one of them in particular. "The Three of Wands. You're optimistic and confident in who you are and the endeavors you undertake."

So far, that didn't sound too 'concerning' to me. Perhaps a bit creepy with how well it described me but weren't most people confident in their decisions once they made them? At least to some extent?

"Then we have the Knight of Swords. They're heroic and often speaks their mind. The knight's also impulsive. 'Punch first and ask questions later,' if you will."

I gave a little laugh, barely hiding my interruption behind a false cough when she glared at me.

She tapped in the card and continued, "I don't see just your personality in this card, though. I see something else. Perhaps..." The way she said it, it was as if she wasn't so sure of herself. She looked over a paper next to her that seemed to be a list of names – perhaps possible matches – and shook her head. "I don't know what to make of it. Though you chose it, this card isn't yours alone."

"What about this one?" I pointed towards the last card that was laying upside down on the end.

She sighed, and I went rigid. "Unfortunately, I feel very confident about what card means."

"It seems pretty happy to me."

"It is. It suggests that you should be true to yourself. It encourages you to throw off cultural conventions that might encourage you to hide your hopes and desires. It promises you that if you reveal your true nature, others will appreciate what they see."

With every word, I felt myself smile a bit more. I wasn't immune to the stares and whispers that occasionally followed me when I was walking in town. My resentment and occasional disregard for our local traditions had made me an outcast among some of my peers. Most days, I was able to stick to my guns and hold my head high, but every so often I just wished that people could understand where I was coming from and accept that I simply wanted something different in my life.

"But," my hopeful feeling shattered that single word from her. "When a card is upside down, you can expect the opposite. Hide yourself. Others won't accept the real you. Follow traditions or prepare for a difficult road ahead. Set aside yourself for the greater good."

It's just a deck of cards. I repeated the phrase over and over. It means nothing. It's just a card. Ink on paper. I just randomly chose these three cards and their supposed meanings are imaginary.

None of my twists of logic were making me feel any better. It just...stung. Those stinking cards were saying the same thing everyone else in my life told me: change yourself.

"I'm sorry." The touch of Ms. Ronda's hand pulled me back into reality. I quickly blinked back the threat of tears, hoping that she didn't see, but her soft smile told me that I hadn't been so lucky. Apparently, luck just wasn't in the cards for me today.

"Anything else?" I asked, trying to hold my head high and save the last of my pride.

"No. That's all."

I nodded, standing just as she did, and turned to follow her out the door. It wasn't until we were stepping outside that I realized she had never given me a paper for my match. She had never even told me his name.

She must have sensed my question right before I asked it, because she whispered to me, "I cannot match you."

I wasn't able to ask her why, or really even process what she was saying, when she spoke louder over the crowd, "No match!"

I heard the sudden intake of breath from everyone, myself included. Then the whispers. I knew if I looked, I'd see their stares. I knew that two, in particular, would hurt more than the others: Lissa with her pity, and my mother with her disappointment.

The whispers became louder with every step I made towards the crowd. They weren't even trying to hide their curiosity. I couldn't remember a time when a woman had been denied a match, and it seemed nobody else could either. I was waiting for someone to outright ask me what happened in there, but they were kind enough to offer my mother that honor, and she wasted no time in doing so.

"What did you do!" I could barely hear her voice as she hissed the accusation in my ear, but it was pretty clear that it was taking everything in her power to keep from yelling at me in front of everyone in the town square.

"Nothing. I swear!" I replayed the past few minutes over and over again. There had been several chances for me to misbehave or talk back, but I had actually done pretty well. Did I choose the wrong deck? Surely it wouldn't have come down to something like that. "She gave me a card reading, told me some stuff, and then said she couldn't match me. I barely said a word the entire time. I don't know what happened."

People kept staring at me, even after Lissa's name was called. They had all been gathered for her, but now I was going to be the talk of the town. I was used to getting some sort of attention for my rebellion here and there, and it had never truly bothered me this much before. Sure, it stung, and sure, I hated that they didn't accept me, but I was still generally okay with who I was. Right now all I wanted to do was hide.

'Hide yourself. Others won't accept the real you.' That's what Ms. Rhonda, and the cards, had told me.

I had planned to stay behind and wait for Liss – I had always been there for her before – but I just couldn't take it. So I ran.

I didn't cry. I didn't do crying. I was just…

Okay. I was crying.

Not about not being matched. I had never really wanted to be matched in the first place. It was the embarrassment. Once again I had stuck out like a sore thumb in front everyone. Not only that, I had become a public spectacle. Usually, if I caused an uproar, it was by my own choice, not because someone stood me up in front of a large crowd and pronounced me unfit to move up to the next level of 'normal' society.

But that's what Ms. Rhonda had said, hadn't she? I needed to hide myself. Follow the rules or risk never fitting in. Now, I was risking being outcasted entirely.

"Hey, Kiz." Tap. Tap. Tap. "How are you doing."

I turned, quickly using my dress sleeve to rub at my eyes to remove any trace of my tears before facing my father. Granted, I could practically feel how red and bloodshot my eyes were, so I was sure I wouldn't be fooling him or anyone else.

"I'm fine, Baba. It's just been a long day." I shrugged like it had been nothing more than a hard day of work or school, and not one of the most horrible moments of my life thus far.

"Your mother said that things didn't go well at the matchmaker?" It sounded like a question, but I'm sure my mother had told him, with plenty of colorful language to describe both me and my shame, exactly what had happened.

"Yeah." I sniffed and biting my lip and using the pain to fend off more tears. "Apparently I'm unsuitable for a match. It's not really surprising. I mean, who would want to be matched with me. I'm a mess."

"You're perfect," he insisted before I could dive into another session of self-hatred and doubt. "Sure, you can be reckless and obstinate at times, but that's part of your charm. You jump in head first and with all your heart. That's something to be admired. You protect those you love, and you work hard to accomplish what you believe in. That's worth more than you may think."

I shrugged but felt his arm come around me and pull me tight against him.

"Did you ever consider that it might not be that you were unsuitable for a match, but that there wasn't a match suitable for you?"

I laughed outright this time. I knew he had to say those things because he was my father, but I wasn't so vain (even on my best day) to believe that I was so much better than every man in that match pool. "Sure, Dad. Whatever you say."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but my mother called us from the back door. She didn't sound angry anymore, but she still sounded plenty upset. Frantic even. Enough so that I popped up from my place on the grass to run over.

Despite the urgency, I slowed a little when I saw how much distance had grown between me and my father in my rush. He was moving quickly, but he obviously wasn't as spry as he once was and it showed. Physically, at least. He was still smarter than a whip if he needed to talk himself (or me) out of trouble.

My mother met us on the last few steps holding a red envelope with a gold seal. I ripped it out of her hands, ready to break the seal when my father took it from me.

"The Queen," he started, saying what we all already knew. When he served as the Dragomir's advisor, these sort of letters weren't too uncommon. They would typically mean some sort of business needed to be handled at Court, and he'd be gone for a few days. Those letters had trickled off a long time ago, however. He was retired, now. We hadn't seen one in nearly five years, maybe longer.

As the wax holding the envelope was broken, a sense of foreboding seemed to fall over the three of us. I noticed the unusual addressing a moment before he pulled the single piece of paper from its sleeve. It wasn't addressed directly to him. In fact, it wasn't addressed to any of us, really. It just said, "Mazur."

His breathing had been a bit shaky from our run across the yard, but it became worse as he silently read the first line.

My mother must have noticed too. "What does it say?" she pressed.

"Strigoi forces have pushed back troops beyond our southern border, and are expected to continue their advance unless reinforcements arrive. In light of recent events, Queen Tatiana has issued a draft, calling on families to sacrifice one male family member to military services. Please visit your local city hall for more information."

I kept waiting for there to be more. Certainly, there would be something inside that said our family was exempted. My father was the only male member here, but he was nearly forty-five. He had served as a part of Court staff, so surely they must be familiar with him. They must know he was unfit for combat. He was injured! He was crippled in the same attack that killed the Dragomir's! Surely they couldn't expect him to become a soldier!

"Dad?" I stared at him in shock, but he didn't say anything. The letter hadn't offered anything else for him to say. Nothing special to release him from duty. It had merely been a form letter, exactly like the one that every other family in town had probably received.

His back straightened and his cane dropped to the ground, falling with an echoing 'clang' at my feet. "I'll pick up my papers tomorrow morning."

Apparently, we would do what everyone always did: pretend and soldier on.

I ran to my father's side the moment he stepped through the door. He had left hours ago for the city hall, and it was well past dinner now. "What did they say?"

He patted my shoulder gently, urging me away a moment later so he could collapse in the chair next to me with a long sign. After a moment's rest, he opened his eyes, and I could already see my answer in their weary, defeated gaze. "I'm a year shy of the cut off date."

"Even with your injury?"

"I never told them."

My mother slipped him a cup of tea and looked at him questioningly. "You didn't tell them?"

He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "The truth is, things are much worse than we were led to believe. They're desperate. They need men and I'm able — or at least more able than others. I may not be as young or healthy as I once was, but I can manage."

He tried to stand and I watched him wince as his full weight rested on the old wound. He couldn't manage, he just wasn't willing to admit it. My father was just as stubborn as I was. I had inherited that trait from him.

Well, if he wasn't going to accept reality, I'd be more than happy to slap him in the face with it. "You'll die out there! You know you will!" My mother hissed at me, begging me to shut my mouth, but I continued without missing a beat. "Those monsters will be more than happy to pick off the weakest prey and you'll be the perfect target: an older man with little training and a leg that slows him down."

I waited for him to fight back and defend himself, but the longer he stared at me in silence, the more I realized that he already was well aware of his fate. He had already resigned himself to it.

"No…" I said slowly. I felt the words morph into a small plead. "No. You can't go. Please."

"I have no choice. They need me."

"We need you here! They can have someone else. One person won't matter." I was begging now.

"I'm going, Rose. That's final!" His voice echoed through the house, and when the air finally settled, he looked at me with remorse. "I leave tomorrow. And yes, I may die, but if I die making sure another man is able to live, then so be it. If I die making sure you and your mother live, then that sacrifice will be worth it."

I couldn't change his mind. It wasn't worth even trying anymore. Perhaps I should have spent that last evening enjoying my final hours with my father, knowing that I'd probably never see him again, but I couldn't bear to stay in the room with a man condemned to death. I couldn't watch him eat his last meal and pretend that everything was going to be okay tomorrow. I couldn't laugh and act like it was normal. If they wanted to put on some sort of show, then good for them. I wasn't going play along.

I stood abruptly, giving him one last glare and one last chance to change his mind, but he just turned away. I mother didn't get anything other than my disappointment. At least I had tried to get him to stay. She had just sat there, content to let him leave without a fight. With a bitter slam of the door, I started walking towards the old oak that I had been wallowing under just yesterday. Yesterday, I had been positive that I had lived the worse day of my life. Surely nothing could have been worse than being told that you, and perhaps society in general, were better off with you pretending to be anyone other than yourself. Certainly, nothing would hurt as much as knowing that nobody would ever accept you as the girl you were. And of course, I had been wrong – things could always get worse.

It didn't seem right to mope in the same place twice, so instead of settling against the trunk of the tree, I turned and made my way towards the road leading into town. I wasn't sure where I'd go, but hopefully, it would beat where I was. I eventually made it to the edge of the main square and started watching the last of the men file out of the Town Hall. Some of them seemed confident, but a good deal of them seemed like they were barely masking their terror. I wasn't the only one watching them as they left, though. I saw a familiar figure, Lissa, sitting next to one of the shops. Twenty-four hours ago, we had been the ones on parade, and now, people couldn't give a damn about matches or romantic possibilities.

"How are you?" I asked.

"I'm fine." She gave a pathetic attempt at a smile then let it fall, perhaps deciding it wasn't worth it.

"You sure about that?"

"Not really." She shrugged weakly. "But it hardly matters now."

I nodded, fully understanding her somewhat vague reply. "So what happens now? Actually, I haven't even asked what happened yesterday after I left." I had been so distressed with my own issues, I had almost forgotten that her life had changed as well.

"I'm heading off to Court," she answered flatly, almost like we were discussing the weather rather than her marriage. She didn't notice my shock and continued just as blankly as before. "They matched me with Adrian Ivaskov."

"The Queen's nephew?" With her own noble heritage, had expected a high match for her, but a Royal one? I didn't imagine that. Seeing that the Queen had no heir of her own, nor any living siblings, her nephew was actually in line to inherit the throne.

Lissa nodded. Most women would have been thrilled to have such a match, but I knew Lissa wasn't one of them. She didn't care about titles. She had wanted Christian, and now Christian was stuck with that horrible girl, Avery, and neither of them could really do much about it.

Another man walked through the double doors of the hall and Lissa perked up. The black mop of hair left little doubt as to who he was. Perhaps Christian wasn't stuck with Avery as a match after all.

"He enlisted." It wasn't a question.

"He didn't have a choice." None of them really did.

He turned, automatically spotting Lissa through the thinning evening crowd. It was as if the two of them were magnetic, pulled together automatically any time they were within a breath of one another.

"You two should talk," I insisted, standing up and leaving her behind before she could protest. Honestly, it looked like she didn't need much encouragement from me. She was rushing towards him before I had a chance to finish my sentence.

I watched him take her hand for a second, just a moment before remembering that she wasn't his, and immediately dropped it again. They walked back slowly down the path that I had come, talking and occasionally brushing hands as if savoring each and every one of those little touches, counting them down until there were no more left. Soon, all three of us would be separated. I had always known this day would come, but I had always thought that maybe, somehow, we'd end up happy. Or at the very least, we wouldn't end up miserable.

I wondered the town until the shops had closed and the streets had cleared, and then a little longer still. When I finally gave up and admitted that I couldn't run away forever, I started the long walk home, using the candlelit windows of the various houses as my guide. Occasionally, I was drawn to the silhouette inside one of those homes. A couple holding on to one another, perhaps saying their own goodbye like Liss and Christian had done earlier today. A man alone, packing a bag. And then finally, a father playing with his child. That one hurt me the most since the child looks no more than a five or six. She was far too young to understand that her father was going off to war. I stared, heartbroken, while he picked up the little girl and swung her around while her hair fanned out behind her. She looked like she was laughing with him, and wiggled when he brought her close for a tight hug. Finally, I noticed something that struck me more than anything else. He lifted a helmet – a clear sign that he wasn't a new soldier and was more likely to come home from battle – but instead of setting on his own head, he placed it on his daughter's. The helmet completely masked her, and while it seemed to amuse them both, it sparked an idea in me.

I ran home, now energized with new hope in my future and a plan to save my father.

Author's Note

Yay for a new story! This is an adaption of Mulan, created for the "VA does Disney" project on Tumblr's VAfiction page. While it will follow the basic storyline, there will be a few distinct changes. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and I hope you'll enjoy the chapters to come.

A few notes: this will NOT be updated weekly like the DPOV series. It will be updated randomly as chapters are finished. That might be every other week, that might be once a month, who knows (not me lol). I have several scenes written, but at the moment the DPOV series is my priority. But you guys know that I never jump into something without the intent to finish it. I also want to give two big shout-outs. The first is to my beta for this story: Muffin1995. She's a dear and is jumping in since I'm running my other girls ragged. The second is to DoubtTheStarsAreFire. We teamed up with the cover art for this story. I did some of the sketchings, but she made it pretty enough to be posted. Thanks love! You can check out the FULL artwork over on my tumblr.

Let me know your thoughts in the reviews and be sure to fave/follow to get notices when I update!