Girls Really Do Like Mustangs
Disclaimer: I don't own FullMetal Alchemist.
A/N: So this is my third RizaRoy fic, (and could someone explain to me why it's referred to as "Royai?") and it's going to be a oneshot for sure. There may be a prequel if there's enough demand for one, but I'm not sure I want to embark on that challenge just yet. Anyway, I know there are a few things that may seem out of place, Like I don't know anything about Riza's family, and I'm pretty sure there aren't Mustangs in the FMA world, but that's why this is fanfiction, no? I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to check out any of my other Royai fics.
Riza Hawkeye sat down at the brown wooden desk in the apartment she had been sharing with Roy for several months. She raided the drawers until she found some plain stationary and a working black pen. She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair and sighed. She knew she had to write home to her mother and explain the events that had occurred throughout the last few months, but there was just so much to tell and so many details she would need to leave out. Riza knew that no matter how vague she was, her mother would piece things together anyway, but Riza knew the dangers of letting out military secrets, much less her own. Riza decided she would concentrate on her most important news first, hoping that would distract her mother enough to keep her from noticing the vague mentions of recent military activity. Of course it wouldn't, but Riza figured it was worth a try. Riza picked up her pen and began the letter by writing "Dear Mother," at the top of the stationary in her neat cursive writing. The words flowed from her pen freely as she continued. When she was finally finished with her letter, it read:
Dear Mother,
A lot has happened since I last wrote home. It's too much to explain in just this letter, but I promise we will be together soon, and I'll elaborate further then. It will be precisely Wednesday two weeks from now actually, but before I explain anything, I have a question for you. Do you remember my first car? That sleek blue mustang that I had hated at first, but that every teenage girl secretly desires? I remember I didn't like it because it seemed so superficial. It was just a car, but it certainly commanded the attention of everyone who laid eyes on it. I didn't understand what was so special about a glamorous attention seeking car. But I came to appreciate it for so many reasons. Aside from its beautiful exterior, it was fast. The feeling of the car accelerating under my foot gave me such a thrill. With a car like that, I could finally race with the boys, which I know caused you a lot of headaches. The dangers of having a car that could accelerate so rapidly made it all the more appealing. Driving wouldn't have been any fun if there had been no risk involved. I remember I used to purposely push the speedometer to read numbers well above the speed limit, right before turning a sharp corner, just to feel the adrenaline rush that came after the brief moment of doubt of whether or not my car could actually make that turn. Do you remember how I used to polish it every day, and how I would do all the maintenance on it? I hated doing that at first because it was so tedious, but I pushed it to reach its full potential, and potential it had. It also taught me to be persistent, and to work hard to support something I love. I did everything in my power to keep that car running at top condition. I did that mostly to keep it safe from any damage other factors such as the weather or careless drivers could inflict upon it, but it was in part to keep it safe from any of the damage that I might be foolish enough to inflict.
Why am I telling you this story again, mother? It's because I met someone. You know him well but you don't approve of him, much like how you felt about my first car, right? I remember how angry you were when father drove the car from the dealership into our driveway, exiting the car to announce that it was a gift for my sixteenth birthday. But the car grew on you, only because it made me happy. This is similar, I promise. I haven't been foolish in my decision. This man is someone I've known for a long time. He's someone that I devoted a majority of my time and energy to protecting, and he's taken ample care of me in return. The path that our relationship leads us down may not be a safe one, but I've never got much satisfaction from leading a safe life, and that's the reason I joined the military in the first place. I wanted to be a part of something that would service something greater than myself. That's what my relationship with this man has been for the past few years, but now we're going to take care of each other as equals. Things are in a rocky place right now, with our government being in shambles due to the fall of the Fuhrer, but we're working to rebuild it into something better than the original. In the same way, he's working to rebuild his career. You know I'm not allowed to tell you the story behind the Fuhrer's situation, as there are few people in the military who know the truth behind it. I can tell you though, that his involvement in the death of Fuhrer Bradley isn't what it sounds like. He's going to testify before the assembly within the next few weeks, and it looks like it will bode well for him. He's still as ambitious about his career as always, but with things looking brighter he's decided to direct his ambition towards our relationship. I'm sure you've figured out by now that Roy Mustang proposed to me. We're getting married Saturday, August 21st. I know you don't approve. I know that right now you're probably sighing and shaking your head in frustration. But I promise you I know what I'm doing. I know you'll remind me of all that I went through at the beginning of my relationship with him; you'll remind me how much I detested him at first, how I complained at having to serve and protect a man like that. But I told you that story of my car for a reason. Though I hated it because it was impractical, unnecessarily showy, and tedious to maintain, I grew to love it because of its finer qualities, those glamorous qualities that no matter how hard she tried, no girl could resist. I guess it's true what they say, mother, girls really do love Mustangs.
Sincerely,
Riza Mustang