Choose Me When You Dance

By: WynterAlchemist

Standard Disclaimer: I don't own FullMetal Alchemist any more than you do. Unless, of course, you happen to own FullMetal Alchemist.

Author's Drabble: This in an AU fic taking place in Dublin, Ireland. I don't know why that city and country in particular, but let's roll with it. It's a Roy/Riza pairing in the extreme, and will be rated for mucho sexual content in later chapters. Because you can never have enough smut in the world.

Plot: Roy is captain of the Dublin branch of the Royal Guard, aka the military. Riza is the Lady of the Hawk's Eye Manorain't I clever, and catches the ever-wandering eye of Roy. With that said, I'd like to outline the plot for you a bit. The Throne of Ireland has been empty for years, the rightful king having been murdered, and his only heir, a small, blond-headed child, had been sent to live with a common knights family, to keep her safe from the plotters that killed her father. With the king dead, only the mother of the sole heir knows where the child was sent, but her mind was broken by the news of the kings death, and is of no help. When Roy finally puts two and two together, can he support Riza's rightful bid for the crown, and make her fall in love with him? We shall see…

Author's Drabble: Yes, I am referencing the tales of King Arthur, if anyone was sharp enough to catch that… When Arthur was born, Uther sent him to live with a knights family to keep him safe, and teach him humility and love for those of a lower station. Onto the fic!

She was gorgeous. Cold and refined, she sniffed and turned up her nose at louts like himself, but her coolness towards him, when other women were flocking and vying for his attention and affections, was refreshing. In the light of the grand ball room, her hair shown flaxen in color, a shade of blond that none of the other women of high society, no matter what chemicals they put on their heads, could match. Her eyes were a fascinating cinnamon color, a reddish brown that had held his attention since the first time he had seen her. Her figure was slim, but muscled- Odd for a lady of society… Of course, her father had been in the military, so it was only expected that his first born be trained as well. Her womanly frame was clothed in a field of dark blue. Full dark blue skirts that rustled whimsically against her no-doubt slim and toned legs, a form-fitting bodice of blue and gold, the neckline low enough to make a man wonder, though modest enough that the small bit of skin exposed shouldn't be bothering him as much as it was. Her arms were fully covered by long, sweeping sleeves of the same dark blue and gold material as that of her bodice. Her hands were small, like a child's, though her fingers were long and tapered. He knew, from hear-say, that she could make those long fingers dance across a piano to create the liveliest of songs and the most heart-breakingly sweet of melodies. She was a woman of many talents, it seemed, because she had yet to be bested in a duel of pistols. Riza Hawkeye, the Lady of Hawk's Eye manor, daughter to a war hero, and woman of his dreams.

He was handsome, she'd give him that. As she risked a glance in his direction, she was forced to admit to herself that he was much more than handsome. Every female he came into contact with would swoon, and every man would was forced to admit their shortcomings. A few of them swooned as well. Not that she could blame, really. As long as she was being honest with herself, she had to admit his midnight black locks of hair, slightly too long and always seeming to fall into his equally dark eyes, was endearing and attractive. His mouth was firm, full, almost feminine, had it not been for the days growth of beard he always seemed to have. His tall, lanky body was clothed in a suit of black, a crisp whist shirt underneath his stylish jacket, and, she imagined, a well-defined and toned body underneath his high society finery. She quickly looked away from him as her thoughts took a turn for the risqué, she took a small sip of the red wine in front of her. There was not much to be said for the man. He was far more aloof than he appeared, and no one was close enough to know what his likes were, his dislikes, what sort of plays he enjoyed, even if he enjoyed them. He was Roy Mustang, fire alchemist, Captain of the Royal Guard stationed in Dublin, and puzzle to her. Having been thinking into her wine, she hadn't noticed when he had moved to walk, confidently of course, across the dance floor to her family's table. Blinking up into his dark, endless eyes as she became aware of his presence, he gave a polite bow at the waist.

"If I may have this dance, Lady Hawkeye…" He smiled at her, a small smile, but a genuine one. It wasn't the lecherous smirk he used with other women, or the condescending smile he wore when other men were talking to him. It was unnerving, to say the least. Placing her hand, with it's slightly callused fingertips, into his large and tanned one, she nodded briefly before standing up. She let him lead her onto the dance floor, where he swept her into his arms and whisked her across the floor, moving smoothly and in time with the music. Riza could dance as well as any ballroom socialite, but she had to concentrate a bit on the steps. The song had an upbeat tempo, and Mustang was a man that put his mind to his work, especially when women were involved. He moved her skillfully around the other dancing pairs, never moving further away from her than he had to.

"Why me, Mr. Mustang? There are plenty of young women here that you could-"

"Fist of all, call me Roy. Please," he said when he saw her reluctance to address him in such an informal way. "Second, there are indeed many young women here, but you are the only one here without an escort," he said, shooting her one of his winning, women-charming grins. She didn't respond in kind. She had never been one for men, and now it was beyond her why she had accepted his invitation to dance.

"So you didn't want to deal with jealous boyfriends, is that it?" she asked, arching a blond eyebrow at him, her cinnamon eyes not looking away from his obsidian gaze.

"You're not afraid to speak your mind, that's for sure. You're bold, Miss Hawkeye. And skilled with firearms, if I heard right. Why are you not in the Royal Guard?" he asked, effortlessly changing the subject. Riza was well aware of answer that wasn't an answer, but she let the subject be changed. Without her noticing it, the song had changed, slowed, and they were moving in a slow, perfectly matched rhythm, step for step they were in perfect time. Again, it was unnerving to feel so… comfortable with this man, of whom, up until now, she had only known through popular gossip.

"I was… for a brief time, I was in the Royal Guard. My mother had died in child birth, and when my father became ill for a long period of time, I resigned and came home. He better now, of course, as you can see," she said, gesturing to her family's table, "but I had been too long out… The military wasn't the place for me. My duty was to my father, and so now I'm here, dancing with you."

"So is dancing with me part of your duty?" he asked, using the same cynic tone and eyebrow arch as she had earlier. Riza nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Touché," she said. "I was rude, and I apologize."

"You were bold, not rude," Roy said, expertly moving her nearer the edge of the floor, near the open doors that led out to the extensive maze-like gardens of the estate of the fellow that was holding this ball.

"Most see little difference, I'm afraid."

"It shows character and backbone, two traits which I admire, Miss Hawkeye."

"Then you'll allow me to exercise my boldness, which you are so fond of. I'm a giggling school girl, Roy. I want fall into bed with you because you've offered me a few compliments and a pretty smile." Roy had led her off the dance floor, she realized, and had looped his arm with hers, leading her into the maze gardens she had admired earlier in the day. And he was laughing. A chuckle, really, but it was deep a resonant, even in the open air. It sent minor shivers along her spine. Putting his hand in his pocket, the hand that wasn't currently resting at her elbow, he just shook his handsome head.

"I never meant to-" he stopped himself before looking down at her. "Well, maybe I did mean to… invite you to my bed, if you will. But now that I know you've no intention of bedding me-" Riza gaze an unlady like snort at that, causing him to look down at her.

"You twist words to suit your needs, Mr. Mustang. As if I would ever even think of bedding you," she said, shaking her head. Roy chuckled again, moving his arm to encircle her waist, pulling her closer to him, his other hand coming from his pocket to hold her hand in his as they walked along the garden paths. She stiffened at his sudden shift in contact, and she found herself wondering why she didn't just slap him and go back to the main ballroom. Because, she answered herself, you like this game of wits, the sexual banter, however light and subtle. You like himshe told herself.

"You'd be surprised at what women do around me," he murmured, his voice entirely too intimate and arousing for her comfort.

"You'd best watch your tongue, Captain," she said coolly, stepping away from his embrace. "Back to an earlier topic, why did you choose to dance with me?" Roy knew she wouldn't let the subject be changed or evaded this time. She was an intelligent woman, as well as beautiful, and he couldn't let himself forget that. But could he tell her that he had been sent to dispel a rumor about her that had been floating around the so-called heads of the kingdom? Could he tell her that he had been sent specifically to find out the origins of her birth? Could he tell her that she could be the heir to the throne of Ireland? Could he tell her that he was already smitten with her? That she was the most beautiful, intelligent, perfect woman he had ever met? That he, Roy Mustang, philanderer and wooer of many, had fallen first this time? And had fallen hard? He doubted it.

"I chose you because you have the most fascinating colored eyes I've ever seen." It was true- He'd never seen a woman with such strong colored eyes. She blinked those wonderful eyes up at him, an almost girlish innocence in them at his unexpected remark.

"I…" amazingly, she flushed a bit, her milky skin turn a light pink across her high, proud cheek bones. Roy smiled to himself, glad he had finally phased her. He was afraid she was already too cynical, had given up on romance… But, by God, she hadn't, and he was a master at romance, if not love itself. "Thank you," she finally managed, regaining her composure, but the scant glance behind those walls made Roy think this whole ordeal of finding if she was then one was going to be worth it.

"I think we should be heading back, Riza…" he said, using her first name for the first time. It rolled off his tongue easily, leaving an after taste of fine wine and honey to linger in his mouth. He was more than happy when she didn't correct his unasked for familiarity.

"Yes, I'm sure my father was more than a little nervous to see me escape the ball room with a man of your…" she paused to choose her words carefully, "reputation."

"Of my reputation, yes…" he mused, taking her arm again. He had made a point to be every bit the gentlemen when in public with her this evening, and still his 'reputation', as she had so softly put it, had preceded, and, indeed, undermined him. As soon as they made their way back into the ballroom, Riza bid him a genuine, if brief, good bye. He watched her hurry back to her father's side, and couldn't help but think that she had dainty hands for one so capable of handling herself, and an entire manor. Riza herself was wondering how a man with such considerable charms and taste for women was, as of yet, still unmarried.