My Fanfictions

[bespecledcow]

Wish me luck everyone! For I am embarking on the great journey that is....

THE FMA BIG BANG!!! WOOOOO!

Heh, sorry, I'm just in a really good mood.

[taranova]

WHAT IS THIS FMA BIG BANG YOU SPEAK OF?

[bespecledcow]

Its a challenge to FMA writers done on livejournal. What you do is you sign up, and within the time period you are supposed to write a fully-fleshed FMA chapter story. They also assign you some artists to illustrate parts of the story. Its my first year competing and I'm excited!

[taranova]

Ah yes. I have heard of this. Unfortunately I've got several fics ongoing already. :/ Oh well.

[bespecledcow]

Is ok. So, let's see...some fanfictions!

The Sand And the Sieve- won third place in fma_fic_contest on livejournal, for the prompt 'flush'. Its about Hohenheim, title inspired by the book Farenheit 451.

SPOILER: Click to show

Before, the sun burned his skin during the hours the masters told him to work outside, until he worked past the pain and it fell away.

People were like that too.

The longer he lived, the more fell away.

No matter how much he had, it always slipped through his fingers; slipped past his palms, falling away on the wind, going places he could never find, no matter how long he looked.

Who would have thought that it would be so hard to fade with them?

Her eyes smiled even when her mouth didn't. Her kisses sent a flush all over his body.

He held her, wishing with all of his heart, and all of the souls he contained-wrong as it may have been to use them for something so selfish- that she and his sons wouldn't slip away.

He left her and his bright eyed boys so that when it was time, he could fall away too.

But years passed and his boys grew, and his wife slipped from his fingers anyway, and he wasn't even there to see her go.

In the end, his boys risked it all, lost everything, but managed to catch most of it before it fell.

And he had both of his boys again before he left and finally slipped away, with her grave by his side.

In the end, he didn't really want to die.

But she was waiting. She'd promised.

…her hand reached out to brush his face, and he smiled.

This next one is 'Taken'- a Dark Ling/Ran Fan, if Greed were still in Ling's body.

SPOILER: Click to show

It comes to her in the darkness.

She is waiting, like she always does. Not waiting for it, no, never waiting for it, she insists to herself- but rather waiting to protect him from anything else that could come out of the darkness.

Its eyes glitter in ways that are both familiar and strange to her. It is not the man she once knew, not really. Not anymore.

Its fingers find her arm, and trace up her sleeve, and around her shoulder. She stares straight ahead, saying nothing.

The first day, she had told it to stop, and had even run from it. Not too far, of course, merely going where she could attempt to keep an eye on it while it went about whatever it would do.

But it had followed her. A chase, she should have known, would appeal to it greatly.

Now it traces her jaw line, and she closes her eyes, letting out a slow breath. Still, she does not respond.

She wonders where the man really is, inside of his body. Trapped somewhere? Only able to see and hear but never do, never act on his own?

Sometimes, when she sees its eyes, she sees him again.

He peeks out at her, helpless, silent, tender, and her own words come back to haunt her: "One can sacrifice many things to fulfill one's duty."

It whispers to her, dark, smooth as the silk its wives wear, inching along her skin like many a spider. She opens her eyes, as she always does, because soon she'll see him in its face again. Just like the night before, and the night before that, and on and on.

When its fingers lift up her mask, her expression doesn't change. Long past is the time where she protested, where she fought against it. No one could stop it- not him, and certainly not her.

The mask clatters to the floor, skidding a little along the dark wood.

Now it rolls down her sleeve from the shoulder, looking at her metal arm.

"So loyal…" It whispers, breath fogging up the shining silver surface.

From there its fingers find the fastenings on her back, loosening her armguards and the sash around her waist, removing the daggers and the flash bombs, all of them dropping down by her feet. It peels away at what she almost considers a layer of skin- the black cloth slipping oh-so-easily down to her ankles, where she obediently steps out of the masses.

It peels away at her, anxious to devour her once again.

It presses one finger to her collarbones, drawing a line down her center, to her stomach, as if it's cutting her open. Its finger slips underneath the line of her underwear, pulling the fabric down and away. She steps out of that, too.

She does not have to worry about the physical consequences the average woman would in this sort of instance. At times when she watches it in the meetings, overseeing her people, she pictures its children with his eyes, her fingers gripping whatever she is holding so tightly that the object snaps, just as she does.

Her breathing hitches a little. She cannot help it, really, no matter how many times this has happened before. It is not looking at her face, watching her body, as it traces up her stomach and removes her bra, so gently and slowly as with all of it, the piece of clothing falling to the floor beside everything else that she is dropping for the moment.

It saves her hair for last. It always does.

When it unbinds her tresses, it sweeps low, longer than she would have ever imagined letting it reach a few years ago, just before it came. The black strands brush her face, and both of his hands move over her shoulders and neck, fingers running gently through her hair. It presses closer to her, and it meets her eyes.

And there he is, staring at her with such a tenderness and sadness, that she feels her own eyes tear, and her lips curve in response, giving him a smile along with everything else all over again, a thousand times over.

Everything she does, she does for him.

And she curls her head into him, and his into her, his breath on her neck, her lips on his shoulder. But even as they fall back against his too-large bed, she feels it return. And she closes her eyes, feeling it take from her all over again.

When they are done, it vanishes into the darkness, to rejoin its wives.

Another short Hohenheim one, this time about him and his sons.

SPOILER: Click to show

Let Fly

Before, when he was a father and both of his children could fit in his arms and his wife was alive and waiting with a smile when he woke – he had a task.

More and more often then, he would be locked in his study, searching, desperately, for the answers that would fix everything/had to fix everything, so sometimes he would miss meals. Sometimes he would miss the goodnight kisses and twinkling eyes and the begging for a story, please, daddy, please... and his wife usually took care of those things. But there was one thing that he did do.

When he would be in his study, sometimes the door would open, and there would be the sound of small feet, so impossibly small, and he would feel one of his children looking at him, staring at his back, as he scribbled another note, flipped through another book.

"There's a monster under the bed," one of his children would say. "Can you scare it away?"

He would look back at one of his children, and he would see that they did not ask this question because they thought him more frightening than their mother (though that was true), but they would ask him because he was daddy and because he was supposed to be strong enough and powerful enough to protect them from everything/anything.

He used to scare away the monsters under his sons' beds because, after all, imaginary terrors of little boys are easily scared away by a real monster. Later, when his sons' beds were burned and their mother was buried, and he no longer had any right to be their father, they were in danger from monsters again.

There were no sheets that could be lifted, no easy banishing gaze. The monsters were there, and this time – they really could take his children away.

And lastly, one about Scar, and what he thinks about Winry, and revenge, titled 'Enigma'.

SPOILER: Click to show

If I am to continue on this path, I will take everything god has given me, and cast it all away.

The man, Yoki, had asked him for his name.

But he was no longer the man to whom Ishbala had given a name- no, he was Scar. A chasm upon the earth, cut deep and never fading. Dirt crumbled in the cracks and the wound scabbed, but never fully healed over.

They would pay for what they had done.

It was only fair- the lives of his people made up for with their lives. The equivalent exchange the alchemists so devoutly spoke of used upon them in a way they'd never expect.

Justice, his lips said. Revenge, said his heart. At times, the reasons blurred together.

There was no shame, there was no regret. There was only the chase, the capture, and the kill. The need for satisfaction.

For though every alchemist he felled filled him with an odd pleasure, it was painful too, and it was all never enough. He told himself that once he destroyed all state alchemists- then, it would be enough.

One of the early kills he made as Scar had been enough to give him pause, and was something he thought about at times.

He could remember the furry muzzle under his hand. The way the pitiful creature, whom he now knew had once been a young girl and her dog, had cried after he killed her creator, her father. He had created something, fused two lives together, but Shou Tucker died like any other man, blood pooling around his head. When the thing that had once been a little girl crumpled, he had taken comfort in the fact that she would not understand what he was doing. Just as she had not understood what her father had done to her.

At times he would dream of it, remembering how the creature had spoken, her voice rough and guttural, made thicker by the sob in her throat.

After those dreams, he would not fall asleep for a long while.

The first time he met the Elric brothers, he had known, even then, that if he murdered the eldest brother, he would remember the younger's cries for a the rest of his life.

At first, the two alchemists seemed to bring him many things- a reminder of his own brother, and chances to kill two other state alchemists. The reminder of his brother remained, though the alchemists escaped.

Later, the Elrics inadvertently brought him something else, too.

And the day came when he was shown that he wasn't as alone as he'd thought.

Refugees, living in the slums. Red eyes that still somehow carried a little bit of hope, despite the desolate position they were in, followed him, tracing the scar on his forehead without ever even touching him. There, a curious child fingered his tattoo, smiled, and spoke cheerfully, reminding him of the pride he'd long carried for his people.

His mother, father, and brother were long gone, but still, his master lived. His master had been similar to a second father during his childhood, and in honor of the man inside who had once worn his name from Ishbala proudly, Scar was glad to see his former master.

He knew there would be no reprieve, not with any state alchemists still left alive.

"...You must endure it."

He couldn't begin to understand why companions seemed to suddenly be interested in joining him. He also had no idea why he was keeping the sniveling Yoki alive- the man had betrayed the Ishbalans he had been living with, after all. But the man Yoki kept his life.

He couldn't understand either why children seemed to be unafraid of him. That girl, the Xingese alchemist Mei, had not feared him once, not even after seeing what he could do, or learning that he was a murderer. The girl was odd, true, but he was often surprised by how strongly he felt toward her- he did not want this girl to be scarred, to become a scar, as he had.

And even then he did not realize, that there had begun to be more on his mind than revenge, as of late.

The second time he met the Elric brothers, they did not show their fear- rather, they faced him with anger, and accusations.

They too, had known the creature that had once been a little girl.

Murderer.

Was the killing of alchemists considered murder? Perhaps to other alchemists.

The younger brother would be able to fight him without stopping, but the elder was tiring. The brothers traded cues back and forth, keeping him talking, fighting. They spoke with easy synchronicity, and he remembered another pair of brothers, fighting off soldiers without fighting them, talking back and forth to keep them from attacking, while the sun blazed overhead-

But then the elder Elric -Fullmetal- seemed to draw energy from somewhere, and faced him with raw fury that set his eyes on fire like the sun where he had grown up-

And he remembered, remembered the other reason that he often could not sleep at night.

The doctors. The Rockbell doctors, whom he had heard of even before they had taken him under their care- the husband and wife who had no side in the war, staying only to help people. Not just Amestrians, not just Ishbalans- people.

Murderer.

The younger brother's cries to stop cannot pierce through Fullmetal's words.

And then he sees her.

He sees the girl, whose face is a combination of those married doctors, eyes blue and wide and frightened- alone.

He knew those eyes well. He had had them once himself, after all.

Her fingers trembled, and the gun was too large for her hands. The brothers pleaded with her to drop the gun, and as she aimed at him, her teeth gritted, eyes swimming in despair and fury, he remembers in that moment, his master's words-

"You must endure it."

He doesn't blame her. How can he, after all, when he is doing much the same thing? Her shoulders heave, her fingers itch forward, and he tells her that she has every right to shoot him, but from then on she too would be his enemy.

Even back then, he's not sure that that last part was true.

Still, he charged forward, laying out destruction in his path, reveling that he is getting ever closer, ever closer to maybe, finally-

The girl with the sky blue eyes flinches, and Fullmetal shields her. The young state alchemist does not dare to move, save to lower the gun to the ground with one hand, staring at the man before him with eyes that speak more than words ever could.

And the man known as Scar doesn't strike, his hand out in front of him, mere inches from the young boy's face- but Edward Elric stares him down, not caring in that moment what was done to him as long as the girl behind him was safe.

The man remembers, and in that instant he is the monster, the terror, the evil, killing the innocents below him, destroying them while a brother below him shields someone he loves. Suddenly he is the alchemist and he is the killer, and he is the one that deserves to be destroyed for what he has done-

In that instant, he realized what he had become.

The younger brother's sudden strike was quite literally a kick in the gut.

He was able to get away, the brothers chasing after him (first just the younger, Fullmetal stepping in not long after) the girl with eyes like the sky being left behind, her cries echoing in his ears.

No matter how hard he tried, the images of that day did not fade.

He tried to stay on his course- he had chosen his path, and now he had to continue walking it-but somehow he couldn't erase the look in her eyes, her face cropping up when night fell, or when he was nearly asleep on his feet.

His second meeting with the Elric brothers had brought him far more than he'd bargained for. Just how much- even then he hadn't known.

He wanted both to see that girl again, and at the same time never to see her again. He felt haunted by her eyes, a glaring memory that always stared back at him- breaking his concentration, disturbing the clear-cut line he had once established for himself.

In the end, he had become that which he hated.

When he met her again, much had changed, though many things remained the same.

He had not killed Marcoh, the man responsible for creating the philosopher's stone which helped to destroy Ishbal.

He had failed to kill Kimblee, the man who was responsible for his brother's death. The man he now horribly resembled in actions.

But still he fought the Elric brothers, intent- or so he said –on killing them.

He saw her eyes first- big blue sky eyes, watching him as he attacked the man that had protected her, whom he could tell loved her-

And so the Scar upon the earth let himself be caught.

She looked at him, as he sat there, feeling oddly unworthy of even looking back at her. Her lips formed the words, the words that he had tried to prepare himself to hear:

"Why did you kill my mom and dad?"

Of course there is no answer. Not a real one anyway, not one that could ever erase the hurt in her eyes, the hard set of her lips. He had no right to try and explain himself, especially as there was no proper explanation.

And in that, he felt shame. He felt regret. He nearly drowned in it, wanting to fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness, find some kind of words that could somehow heal the pain, and the scars that he inflicted upon the kind heart that is all too easily reflected in her sky eyes.

She didn't rage at him. She didn't scream. She stared at him for perhaps a full minute, during which he wanted nothing better than to close his eyes and never wake.

Slowly, jerkily, she turned on her heel, and walked to a nearby pile of rubble, ripping off some cloth that had perhaps once been a curtain of some kind.

She kneeled in front of him, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. She told him that if he didn't wrap up his arm, he would bleed to death.

"This...is what my parents would have done."

He could hardly breathe, something constricting in his chest. He asked if she forgave him, but he knew the moment the question left his lips that it was impossible.

Her eyes blaze at him, burning ice, as she said that she would never forgive him.

He hadn't expected her to, but as she stands he could no help staring at her.

Who was this girl to treat him with kindness, after all that he had done?

He didn't deserve it- he knew that without even needing to think it over. He hadn't earned it, and in his mind her eyes flashed again, swirling stormy skies that concealed her kind, brave, crumbling heart.

But when she turned and smiled at the two boys who so obviously loved her, and told them that she wasn't going to cry, that she was okay, he remembered his master's words:

"...You must endure it."

He closed his eyes.

Later, he reflected that some part of him knew, even then, that nothing was the same in his mind.

There was no longer the clear-cut line. No longer the unending desire to see the eldest Elric brother fall under the destruction of his right arm (though really he was not quite sure that he had ever truly wanted that for a while). When he set eyes on the flame alchemist, part of him still wanted to slam the man to the ground and kill him again and again, to make up for his father, mother, and brother, and all the others-

When it comes to Kimblee, he was positive that his feelings would never change. But that didn't mean he would act on it.

He had always found Amestrian eyes to be a little odd, all the different colors a bit unsettling. But her eyes remained at the back of his mind, resurfacing when he felt as though he were about to give up, or when he felt his wound deepening. He remembered her eyes, and her words, the love she felt for the brothers, and he lived. He had to live, so he could change the country.

Winry Rockbell deserved to live in peace.

If I am going to change this country, I will take all of my vengeful feelings, and cast them all away.

Please enjoy and comment!

[Artemis Day]

Here's my account:

www.fanfiction.net/u/1103425/Artemis_Day

Unfortunately I haven't written any FMA fics... yet.

[Rainbow-Lord Crowmunculus]

Droppin' links of my most recent shite to revive this thread no I am not just looking for attention of course not what are you talking about

Crow, Phoenix: short ficlet about Ed's final transmutation in the last episode of the first anime, complete. Basically me vomiting alchemy symbolism onto the page in pretty words because I CAN.

Of People and Pineapples: in which Ed has an adverse reaction to the new painkillers. Oneshot.

Alfons in Wonderland: ongoing series about Alfons's zany adventures in the Hagaren afterlife, eventual HeiEd, utter nonsense.

[taranova]

So, dig this. My girlfriend's friend is apparently a huge fan of my fanfiction. XD Found out yesterday. Small world.

[Rainbow-Lord Crowmunculus]

^...that is fucking BIZARRE XD You're an internet celebrity!

[taranova]

FOR SERIOUS. I was like, no shit!

[bespecledcow]

That is really really cool, tara!

[PuzzleChick]

Jun 5, 2011 18:05:41 GMT -5 taranova said:

So, dig this. My girlfriend's friend is apparently a huge fan of my fanfiction. XD Found out yesterday. Small world.

Awesome!! ;D

[taranova]

I felt special. <3 So we're meeting at a showing of The Room next month. ^-^

[bespecledcow]

LIVE THREAD LIVE

Sooo, here's the first chapter of my big FMA fanfic, All Is For The One. Warning: Cussing, gore, het/canon pairings. Mentions of rape and the death of children too.

Synopsis: Six years after the promised day, things are settling down. But some are still desperate for revenge.

AU just slightly in the sense that Ed still has his alchemy.

SPOILER: Click to show

"Don't be shocked that people die; be surprised you're still alive." –Cassie, acoustic version, Flyleaf

Chapter One

The man waited in the darkness, the sounds of celebration echoing up to him. He peered out through the scope into the bright sunshine, perfectly calm. His finger inched toward the trigger, and he mimed shooting the face down below. Smiling just a little, he pulled back.

"Now," he mused. "Where would it hurt you the most?" He pointed the gun to each part listed. "Your arm? Your leg?" He focused on the other face nearby, watching, as always, "No. Your heart will take the pain."

He watched down below for a few more moments, watched them in their stupid assurance. They did not believe that justice would find them. He stood, looking back to greet the other person entering the room. The taller man walked forward, still mostly concealed by shadow, the faint light just barely illuminating the scars on his face, and his blood red eyes. "We must be sure in our choice," he said. "Wouldn't the proposed wife be a better fit?"

"You have not been observing here. Look out the window, and you will see the perfect choice." Perhaps this Ishvalan man- a man who had just much a right as he to fight for justice- was too soft. His words had been filled with conviction, but mere words were useless. Few understood this, and anger coiled within. How could they fight for justice without proper resolve?

The fire cooled. No, now was not the time to think such thoughts. Soon, he and the Victor would prune all those not committed, but only time would tell who those were. The Victor had said this other was worthy, and as such would be welcomed as a brother. They stood for justice; they alone would bring goodness and righteousness back to the world.

"You are our Star in the darkness, correct?"

The man gave a brief nod, expressionless. "You are to be known as 'The King' for now. Our Victor told me much about you."

The mention of the one leading them calmed any remaining doubts The King had.

The Star took the offered gun, looking through the scope into the crowd below. "This girl- not the future wife, not his closest sister; this quiet one in the back will bring him to his knees. Besides, the sister is already slated to be used."

The Star nodded, giving the gun back. "You spoke the truth. Not once do their eyes meet, but he knows where she is. Not once does the public see them communicate, but these outward signs are not needed. It is in their every move, the slightest flick of their eyes."

The King gave a faint smile. "You speak of this as if you know it well."

The Star shrugged, still watching the crowd below. The faint light made the scars on his face seem deeply etched, as if in stone. "The General and his wife are the same. I've observed them for a long time." His hand clenched upon the window sill. "I survived the war. Survived my family, because that man saw fit to burn my house to the ground, with them alive inside, and that woman saw fit to shoot those that escaped. The violence against my family and my people cannot be atoned for, not until all of Amestris suffers the same fate."

"And that man below?" The King asked, fighting a grin. The more people saw their side, the more evil would bleed.

The Ishvalan scowled. "He is their ally. We can offer no quarter toward Amestris or its allies." He glanced out the window again. "After the Emperor has been discarded, I will welcome the people as our allies."

"If they follow the path of justice," The King supplied. He knew that such people had the potential to be wondrous and good, like the Wise One helping them. "If they see the right, then they shall join us, and be thankful we helped them to escape such rule."

The Star smiled for the first time, a bitter smile that promised terror and pain for the evil ones. "I must be cruel, if only to be kind. Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind."

The King inclined his head, and they both turned to watch the bright street. "In the end," he whispered, remembering her screams, her blood, the demons that had destroyed himself, her, and the life they had created. "Their blood will collect in the gutters, and find its way to a foul underbelly. Our Victor is leading us down the right path, and with him we will watch them suffer. First their hearts-" he gestured outside, "and their minds. Then their bodies, their last tie to the earth. From there, their souls will fly to the dark depths waiting for them."

"Perhaps for our crimes to come, we will soon follow." The Star turned away from the window, watching the shadows, his face set.

"Then so shall we suffer. But our way truth, justice, and if we are to die, or to exist in anguish forever, the way will be cleared for those we love." The King closed his eyes, his jaw clenched. "They ripped out my Queen's heart; let her blood stain the floor with the remains of a new life." He did not bother to hold back the rough sob, the hate and misery pushing out of his mouth. "We must destroy them as they destroyed us, if we are to have peace."

"Some rise by sin," The Star said quietly, still watching the shadows. "And some by virtue fall."

"They will fall!" The King hissed, ripping away part of the dead plaster from the wall.

"Yes. They will." The Star spoke with deadly promise, and raised his eyes toward the ceiling. "Ishvala, guide me on this journey."

The King forced himself to calm. He needed his energy for the fight. "How is everything with our Victor? Is he well? What of my Queen?" Communications were slow and careful for good reason, but as a result he was often left waiting in fear as to the condition of those he loved.

"The plans have all been initiated perfectly. We have a young man under the very nose of General Armstrong and the betrayer Scar. Our Victor is well, and is secured with his country's current ruler, the alchemists and the military suspect nothing. Your Queen has been employed, working with the Wise One, and has assured us that everything works better than we could have hoped. I will wait among my people, and assist the young man with the traitor Scar."

"While I take my place with the Cretian ambassadors." The King found his finger inching toward the trigger again. He remembered her face, all of her blood, her broken body, and what had been stolen from them by the demons.

It took all of his effort to wait longer, to not punish the evil now; it was only the knowledge that the planned end would be more satisfying, that stayed his hand. Without a word, he turned and left the room, clutching the gun to his chest.

"Soon," he vowed.

(~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~)

He watched as the ground shot up, forming towering spikes, blue energy crackling around the tips. A woman with long black beaded hair sliced through the spikes, throwing some knives to the ground.

"You'll have to do better than that!" Her hands hit the ground, and blue light connected the knives, creating circles. Immediately, the surface of the ground before her exploded, the smoke hiding her from view.

A girl ran through the smoke, drawing a quick circle with her foot in the dirt, throwing her own knives to make two more circles. Her palms slammed to the ground, making a giant hollow arrow that propelled itself forward through the smoke. The girl straightened, panting, and tucked her short black hair behind her ear. Suddenly she whirled around as the woman emerged from the side, meeting the oncoming knife with one of her own.

The woman smirked, drawing back. "Cutting it a little close, aren't you, pupil? You still have much to learn."

The girl bowed. "With your teaching, I have come far. I will go farther still, no matter what!"

The woman's lips twitched, and then she seemed to force herself to scowl. "You have to work harder tomorrow before we leave. Don't' think you won't train in Amestris either." She leaned close with a sly smile. "Or in the desert."

The girl set her chin, dark eyes flashing. "I'll work hard no matter the setting."

"Mei, stop teasing Jia. You know very well we'll hardly have the strength to walk, let alone train." He walked toward them as the smoke cleared, shaking his blond hair out of his equally golden eyes. The spell between master and pupil was broken as Mei bounded forward into his waiting arms. "I have to say, though, Jia, you really ought to challenge my brother when we reach Amestris. I'd like to see his face when you beat him!"

Jia laughed as the man held out his other arm to her. Mei glanced back to make sure no one was watching, and then gestured Jia forward, her own arm held out in invitation.

Jia ran into their arms, closing her eyes. He felt her warmth between them, both he and Mei clutching her tighter. After all this time, they were family. "What's for dinner, Al?"

"Mei's cooking," Al said, nuzzling said woman, who giggled, kissing the tip of his nose.

Jia blanched. "Oh. Really? Perhaps I'll eat in the palace tonight after all…"

Even with the lightness of the situation, Al knew that would never happen. Not if Jia could prevent it, or Ling for that matter.

Mei glared, sticking out her tongue. "Oh no, you won't!"

The two continued to argue as they all clasped hands, walking back to the city. Al smiled as he watched them, though his thoughts were not on their words.

Mei nudged Jia so hard she nearly toppled over. She giggled, and tried to hide behind Al, Xiao Mei climbing up Al's shoulder and watching with amusement. Mei's black hair whipped around as she ran from Jia, still laughing. Even as a girl, she had been cute, but over the years she had grown into a beautiful woman. Al's smile grew, that was what the outside world saw; but to him she had always been beautiful. Her eyes were still wide, childlike, and sneaky. She could make him laugh until it hurt, and cry for sheer happiness. She had not been afraid of him in the armor. She had been there when he'd existed as nothing but a scared boy in a hollow shell. Sometimes she had stayed awake with him at night, talking. About her distant mother, whose place in the Emperor's bed had been secured by her beauty. From the moment after Mei's birth, she did not care to know her daughter. This fact hardly bothered Mei; others in her clan loved her, so she never felt the absence of parents. Her family had grown ever since; now she had Al, Ed, Winry, Ling, and Jia.

As they approached the town, Jia let go of their hands, walking ahead of them. Until Al and Mei were married, it would not be acceptable for her to be seen holding hands with another man.

Mei drew closer to him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. The roads were muddy and they stayed toward the side so they wouldn't get splashed while others passed by. Jia jumped easily up on the low rock wall following the road, her arms out on either side for balance. A few older people shot her scandalized looks, but most did not care; society had been changing under Ling's rule, and besides, Jia did have some sort of diplomatic immunity with her position.

She kept her shoulders back and her chin up. Wind blew lightly at her short hair, a small braid Mei had done the night before poking out from behind her ear. She reached up, grabbing a rain sodden branch, laughing as the cool drops slid down her face and over the freckles around her nose and under her eyes.

Al smiled, feeling Mei's shoulders shake with silent laughter. His smile faded, even while he tried to reassure himself. She will still be able to laugh and smile. Ling will treat her well.

Xing was changing. To the young, these changes ranged from exciting to confusing, but for all of those that had grown up with the rigid traditions, the changes were foreign and unwelcome. The laws may have changed, but much of society had not. Al knew that people's minds would have to change first; they were facing a similar problem back in Amestris. He supposed that some of the looks they were getting were for him and Mei as well. She ignored their whispers and stares, her jaw tight. He held her tighter. Mei was powerful, both politically and physically- her consenting to marry a poor Amestrian alchemist caused quite a stir. Ling and Jia's quiet rebellion caused another.

He'd never be happy with anyone but Ran Fan. And Ran Fan can never marry him, because she has to keep him safe.

A few bowed as they passed; his skills and his relationship with Mei and Jia gave him some positive recognition too, and a few even sent smiles his way. Jia hopped off the wall as it ended, walking closer to Mei as they approached the market.

One wife. That was revolutionary to the culture, something Ling had been trying to push through for quite a while. Finally, in light of the contest between the many princes and princesses, society had begun to see his reasoning. One wife, out of any of the clans. It just so happened that Jia was the only one of marrying age; all the others were too young, too old, or already married.

They passed the close clustered houses of the merchants and the market, the crowd thicker. People shouted out prices and special offers, or demands to see more merchandise. A shop selling hand woven silks and tapestries was enough to make Jia pause, though she shook her head when Mei asked if she wanted to stop.

As Emperor, Ling would be allowed to take a concubine if he wished, but Al knew Ling would never- could never- ask that of Ran Fan.

Jia, as ignorant as the rest of the country in regards to Ling and his most faithful bodyguard, knew that she also had no choice. It had been coming on for a few years; her mother and father glowed with the triumph and honor awarded them for their daughter being the Emperor's sole wife.

That's all they care about, Al thought bitterly. They have a lovely, powerful, smart, kind, daughter and all that matters is who she marries. Mei squeezed his hand, and he felt himself relax, unable to keep from smiling a little. She always seemed able to read his mind.

Jia was not beautiful in a way that was immediately noticed. Still young, she had not quite grown into her body yet; she had small lips and too-long arms in comparison to her legs. Slightly shorter than Mei, she had a larger quantity of freckles than most Xingians, and somewhat limp hair. But, like with Mei, Al saw that she was indeed beautiful. When she smiled, when she was determined to win; she was beautiful in all the accidental ways that many overlooked, and her features showed that more beauty would come with age.

The streets became less crowded, houses farther apart. Men pushed wheel barrels full of food past, a healing and alchemy clinic taking up the space of five houses. Father up the road, the Emperor's palace stood on top of a hill, surrounded by great walls and flowering trees. Xing was in its prince season; bright colors and fresh grass greeted him everywhere Al turned.

Until Ling and Jia married, she lived with Al and Mei in a house just within the walls of the palace. The house stood, grander than many in town, with two floors and a garden, though plain in architecture. Looking at the outside, it was hard to imagine that they'd lived there for all those years. Inside the house was a different story.

The walls were dotted with tapestries and photographs. A tapestry an older woman had made for them, depicting Al and Mei sitting under a blossoming tree on a hill, covered one side of the living room wall, while photos covered much of the other side.

The photo of Ed and Winry's wedding a year ago hung most prominently next to the tapestry, Ed's broad grin and Winry's glowing smile shining still through the photo, no matter the passage of time.

Al smiled, sharing a glance with Mei as they passed, thinking of how Granny Pinako had sung a drunken duet with Havoc (the latter being dragged off later by an equally drunk but slightly steadier Rebecca Catalina, to a place in the woods not quite far enough away to hide their sounds). Or how Ed's own eyes had glinted with happy tears. Al had been shaking when he'd made the toast- not from nerves, but because in that moment, looking out at all their friends and family, he knew that through the triumph and the sorrow, they would make it. That their whole lives were ahead of them.

A picture of Jia was next to that, hair dripping wet from falling in the rive, while another with the three of them was under that, along with a few pictures from when he was a child, and two from his days in the armor. One had Ed and Winry; Winry's arms wrapped around one of his, Ed in front of them, grinning. The other was in central; Maes Hughes, one arm around Al back in his armor, the other ruffling Ed' s hair, while Mustang, Hawkeye, and the others were clearly trying not to laugh. Ed's mouth was partly open, arms blurred as he reached up to slap Hughes's hand away.

For a while they were mostly silent, helping Mei cut vegetables, boil water, and take out the plates.

"When you love someone," He'd told Jia once, "You are happy to just sit in silence with them."

All those moments, even hours, of silence with Ed and Winry flashed behind his eyes. It was hard sometimes, being apart from them, and yet he was not sad. No matter the distance, nothing between them would ever change. They would always be a family. Winry had been there to cry for them, to say kind words and mean them, to be the strength that pushed them forward when they started to forget about the home that was waiting. Ed never gave up; not down in that awful hole fighting the homunculi, not after their mother had died. He was the one that helped them both to have the strength to look back, to remember those waiting. Al- he knew that he had been there to protect them too, as they had both protected him so many times, in so many small ways.

Though distance did not change their feelings for each other, still he could not wait to see them again. He reached for a sharper knife to cut up some particularly stubborn carrots, and then stopped as a knock sounded on the door. His hand clenched upon the knife as a voice rose beyond the door-

"I come bearing a message for the Lady Jia, from Emperor Ling Yao!"

Mei approached the door swiftly, Al right behind. Peeking through the eyehole for a moment, Mei opened the door to reveal a young man in rather traditional garments. He bowed low to all three of them, his rather impressive, though thin, mustache flapping. "The Emperor wishes for you to come to the palace, so that his seamstresses may make sure that the clothing for your travels fit."

A small role of paper lay in the messenger's hand. Jia, her face expressionless, took the scroll, unfolding it. Her eyes quickly scanned the words, and then she handed it to Al without looking back at him. "Take care of this."

He was not offended by the command. This was how she was to act around others. Quickly reading the message himself, Al looked toward Mei, and gave a nod. She nodded back in understanding, turning to the messenger.

"Inform the Emperor that Lady Jia needs her sleep. We have a long journey ahead." Mei spoke sharply, her anger not directed toward the messenger, or Ling, at all. "She can try on the clothes tomorrow night while we are on the train."

Sorry, the note said. The council is all over me about you hardly being here. But if Mei uses her influence it will be acceptable for you to miss this.

"As Jia's teacher, caretaker, and bodyguard, I can assure you that she needs her rest." She rummaged through the papers on the table, finding a clean one, and quickly wrote out a response. "This should suffice. Bid the Emperor and the council good evening, and a safe night. Farewell."

He barely had time to bow again before she all but shut the door in his face.

There was silence. Jia stared at the door, her face still expressionless.

"Jia?" Al touched her arm, sharing a concerned look with Mei.

"I can only put it off so long." She spoke quietly. "Here I am, not the prettiest or the smartest, yet still it must be me. Soon I will be pampered and beautified, and honored beyond belief. I will be the Xingese face of alchemy. Someday I will bear the Emperor a child- the sooner, the better, right?"

They pulled closer to her, and she turned toward them, her voice becoming thick. "I'll be okay…" She gave a slight smile, lip trembling. "He'll be good to me, won't he?"

"The best," Al whispered, bringing her to his chest, Mei encircling her from behind, smoothing back her hair. Jia had always seemed to more or less accept her fate- but now he realized that she had always been hoping that somehow, she could get out of it.

Jia cleared her throat, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I'll be fine. He's a good man. I'll be provided for. I'll be fine."

"Shhh," Mei said softly. "We're here. Close your eyes, little one."

Gently, Mei began to sing a song he faintly remembered, while continuing to stroke Jia's hair. After a moment, Al joined in as the words came back to him.

As the seas part

And the skies flame

Cool the fire with your rain

Carry out the sun with your hands

Close your eyes

Fly with me

And please smile again

They stood like that, singing softly, and Al remembered his mother singing to them at night, or when they were sick. He remembered Winry's bright laughter, her tears, and her kind words; his brother's hand on his shoulder or the metallic echo from him lightly rapping the old armor with his knuckles.

Family is never gone

Forever in your heart

Even if we have to go

We'll whisper from the flowing earth

And sing with the leaves

Be in the mirrored water

And in the long shadows

Never will you be alone

Jia joined them on the last few words, her voice trembling.

So, close your eyes

Little one, my love

And please smile, again.

A lot of OCs will be in this story. Also, the 'Star' here likes to speak in proverb like ways, though the quotes in particular used here are from Shakespeare. 'Some rise by sin' and 'I must be cruel'.

I modled Aruego after Italy, and Creta on Greece.