I fought at the Battle of the burning plain. Even sixty years on, the memory is still strong within me. Picture it in your mind youngling. The desolate blood washed terrain, the cries of the dying, the clashing of metal, screaming of horses. I know many a man that woke screaming after that horrible battle. It still gives me nightmares even now. The smell was terrible, blood, arid smoke, shit and burning flesh. I was a foot soldier in that battle, drafted into the Varden by the thought of freedom. My older brother had been killed by soldiers in Galbatorix's army. I never…I never before that day had killed someone. On that day I did kill people, I'm not sure how many, I lost count in the melee. I somehow managed to survive pretty well, until the end of the fight where I was speared through the gut. A slow death for any man. As I lay left for dead, a shadow fell over me.
"Are you Death?" I somehow managed to ask.
"No!" The figure squawked indignantly "I look nothing like that bastard."(1).
The strange man moved closer, and I could now see his face. He had long blond hair that would be the envy of any fashion conscious woman, or man for that matter, and stranger than that he had golden eyes. I swear his eyes were bright gold, standing out from the rest of his face.
"You have…golden eyes?"
"No shit. Now shut up, I need to concentrate." He said adjusting some strange little daggers around my middle where the wound was.
"Wai-" Was all I managed to say before he pressed his hands onto my stomach. Blue lightning erupted from where the daggers were. My stomach felt strange. It tingled, and then it burnt. After the light stopped. I lifted a finger to prod my middle. The wound was gone, the flesh repaired, not even a scar left. I looked up to my, well, saviour I suppose.
"Was that magic?" I asked, still muddle minded, and a bit out of it.
"Magic?" He blanched. "Fuck no, that was Alakahestry." He said, gathering the small daggers up. It didn't really answer my question, but I didn't bother to chase it up. The man had just saved my life. He stood up, and made as if to walk off.
"Wait!" I called out to him "What's your name?" His form was shrouded in smoke, and I could only see his eyes clearly, bright specks staring at me. The man smiled at that question, but it was a sad, sinister smile.
"My name? Well…I haven't been asked that in a long time. I no longer have a right to any name, but I used to be known as Fullmetal."
~Linebreak~
(1) Far away in a parasite dimention, Death sneezed dropping the kitten he was petting
AN
So I heard you like Full Metal Alchemist. This is an old one shot I wrote a couple of years back, polished up, and plopped on the interwebs. Would you like it to be expanded, with Ed's adventures through Aleglasia? Please leave a review, as reviews are this shameless author's life blood! (Shameless advertising is shameless)