Warning: To be honest I'm still debating whether or not I should make this an M rated fic as it does walk on a pretty thin line between a strong T and an M. Nothing is that explicit but it certainly does imply a number of sexual things as well as murder.
In any case, I would greatly appreciate hearing what you think about it so far :)
Maes Hughes held onto his gun tightly, his eyes shifting from one end of the room to the other. He was confident and calm but he maintained the necessary amount of wariness when entering the enemy's home.
The 'enemy' was a term that seemed to be on everyone's lips. It came rolling off the tongues of their communing officers and it kept rolling right on down to the newest and easily replicable Private.
Maes used this word too but it never felt right. Nothing about this 'war' felt right. But if he and the others did not dub the Ishvalans the enemy and buy into at least some of the propaganda that was constantly being shoveled down their throats, how would they be expected to live?
Maes turned to corner and went into another room, searching for any and all survivors of today's attacks. He heard the sound of bare feet sliding gently across the sandy floor. Maes turned and fired twice in the sound's direction. The limp and lifeless form of a young boy slumped forward and hit the ground.
Maes knelt beside the boy and touched his neck, feeling for a pulse. When he felt nothing, he felt satisfied. When he felt satisfaction, he felt guilt.
That was when the term 'enemy' would echo through his mind.
Yes, the Ishvalans were a threat to Amestris.
Yes, the Ishvalans were a threat to himself.
Yes, the Ishvalans were a threat to Gracia.
Yes…even the children were a threat.
It was his safety or theirs. They could not coexist. Their Fuhrer had told them so and their Fuhrer would not lie.
This is what he told himself. This is what he chose to believe.
Footsteps rushed towards him, he turned around and fired. It must have been the boy's father. He held an Amestrian made gun. He had attempted to kill Maes with the same weapon that had killed his kinsmen. He checked the pulse again.
He was glad that he was a good aim. He didn't want to have to shoot the same person twice.
Maes then heard the sound of someone trying to exit the house. He jumped to his feet in time to catch the two women. One was old and well wrinkled, the grandmother, perhaps. The other was much younger and while the old woman fell to her knees right away and began to pray, the younger one stood firmly and glared at Maes.
She was daring him to shoot. She shouted to the old woman in Ishvalan, most likely telling her to stand up but the woman kept to her knees and kept on praying.
Maes couldn't understand a word of what the woman said but he imagined that she was asking for help. Maes knew that no one was ever going to save them. By the time this so called 'war' was over with they'd all be gone. Still, he allowed her to continue.
What kind of God could let this happen to his people? What kind of people would go on believing in a God that never listened?
He wanted Ishvala to help them. He wanted someone to end all of this and cleanse him of his sins. He wanted his 'enemies' to be free.
For his enemies were the old, the sickly, the children, the mothers, and the peacekeepers.
The old woman finally went silent but she kept her head bowed. Maes raised his gun and shot her execution style.
The younger woman was not fazed by this. She just kept watching him.
"I'm sorry." He told her honestly.
"Don't be." She replied in clear Amestrian, "We may worship a God that has stopped listening to us but you worship a man who has commanded you to kill the innocent."
She pointed to the old woman, "Even my mother, who was praying for you."
"For me?" Maes was startled. His 'enemy', his country's greatest threat, had used her last moments of life to pray for him.
"She asked Ishvala to keep your heart pure, so that when you return home, you will still be human." Her voice was shaking, "So…it is you I feel sorry for."
The gun went off and Maes heard the small voice of a little girl, "Momma?"
Maes awoke.
He felt Gracia stirring in bed beside him. "Mmm..." she moaned and yawned, "Sounds like Elicia is up."
Maes was still in a state of shock. He'd been having that same nightmare more and more but this was the first time he had heard that voice. It was a voice he knew didn't belong to his daughter. Whose voice was it?
He felt Gracia slowly getting up from bed, Elicia was crying now. Maes snapped himself out of the trance like state that the memory had placed him under and grabbed hold of Gracia's wrist. She looked back at him.
"What's wrong, Maes?"
"Go back to sleep," He said sweetly "I've got this."
Gracia was about to protest when Maes kissed her into silence. Pulling back he reiterated, "Really, I'll take care of her."
The moon was full and the sky above the alleyway walls were engorged in its light. The stars were few and far between, as they were on most nights, thanks to the over abundance of street lamps.
Edith's head was pressed stiffly against the brick wall; her eyes faced upwards so as to never lose sight of that moon. She made imaginary lines around the shadows, hoping they'd take the shape of something concrete. They didn't.
She felt the flesh of her scalp being pulled up and down against the wall with every thrust. She felt a pair of cracked lips gingerly nudge away a few strands of her white hair from her neck, before fiercely munching down upon the bare skin.
Edith cringed before letting out an uncontrollable moan. Still she refused to look anywhere but up.
"Ishvala made the moon so we could sleep and he made 'sleep', so we could dream." That's what her grandmother would tell her when they heard the cannons going off in the distance.
"So dream of better days and Ishvala will make it so."
One final thrust and her client was finished. He released her from the wall and she stood and adjusted her skirt.
He plopped the 1,946 cens* into her hand. It wasn't much but it was what she had come to expect from the "gentlemen" of Amestris and besides, it did pay the rent.
He nudged her chin up with his thumb and index finger. He stared into her red irises and said, "You really are the most beautiful Ishvalan I ever fucked."
She could have slapped him. Her lip wanted to curl in disgust but she was used to these sorts of comments. She was an Ishvalan. Her people lived in slums because no one in Amestris wanted to see them anywhere near "proper society".
She shot him a smile, "Oh well you're too kind. I myself am always happy to see a man in uniform."
Yes, that man was an Amestrian Military Officer, who had undoubtedly served in the Ishvalan Civil War and with out a doubt in Edith's mind, she was the only Ishvalan he had ever had consensual sex with.
She was an Ishvalan. Her people lived in slums and were invisible to the world around them but Edith didn't live in any slum, she lived there in East City. For she did not deserve to live with her people, just like she didn't deserve to use her own name. She had adopted the name of Edith Dover, for Ishvala would never forgive her sins.
*I looked up dollar to yen and it said that 1,946 yen is equal to about $20, so even though it looks like a big number it really isn't.
Hope you liked it :)