Shan Yu was a glorious man that many groups around the area had only heard of through his many great deeds. He was the sort of man who appeared and disappeared like a shadow, never to be seen again until it was prudent for him to be.

His people respected him perhaps more than they had any other leader in the past, and it had been well earned. Under him, the territory that they controlled swelled to unprecedented sizes, sizes such that even the oldest of the tribe elders had not yet seen.

Shan Yu himself was a proud man. He felt that he had every right to be with how much he'd done for his people. And, of course, there was no one in the world who would ever dare to tell him that he was wrong. He had personally made sure of that. Anyone in his position would have, after all. Control was important.

He never allowed anyone to challenge his authority. Sometimes young, hot-blooded men would try to challenge him for his place as the chief. They lost indisputably every single time and were exiled in the same breath. He had no time for such nuisances. He was a conqueror, not a petty squabble partner.

There was, occasionally the question of who would succeed him. It was expected that he would perish in battle - even an honor - but no one knew one. So when he didn't have an heir - well. Needless to say, his people were curious as to why. It was no secret many of the women wanted him. But he himself had not made an effort to choose any of them. Instead, he had his eyes set on someone else.

Han Chinese.

Beautiful.

You. He'd seen you from afar and had made his way into your life through his own wiles. You knew he was Mongolian, of course, one of the Huns - but no one knew what he looked like. No one lived to tell that particular tale. So, naturally, you didn't know that he was the very leader of the group who wished to take over and rule your lands. Not that it mattered.

He took you in the dead of night. He didn't tell you you'd never be coming back. He'd bundled you in a thick fur coat and whisked you away.

It wasn't long before he was presenting you to his people, helping you down from the back of his great, black Mongolian-bred stallion. "Behold!" He called out as your hood fell. Whispers rippled through the crowd.