Summary:
Shaken after the news of Lt. Hughes untimely murder, Roy resorts to liquor in order to console himself. Stumbling into his office, the drunken colonel finds his lieutenant faithfully at work in the dark.
Disclaimer:
This piece was inspired by Roy and Riza's backstory as explained in FMA Brotherhood. Additionally, the astounding art by rei_17 depicts this scenario perfectly. Overall, this story is highly emotional and related to their conjoined backstory as well as their blossoming relationship as superior and subordinate. I hope you enjoy my offering to the Royai fandom. post/129094058241/vverbatim-by-rei17
Copyright: Full Metal Alchemist © Hiromu Arakawa and produced by Funimation. I do not claim copyright or ownership of the characters, show-related content nor am I profiting in anyway.
Chapter 1: A Brusque Gale
Burn: a glowing flame to consume a material; blazing up in smoke through painful exposure
Leaves fluttering through balmy night air eagerly whispered the approach of a storm. Right of the Capitol dome, reaching into the Southeastern quadrant of the largest Amestrian metropolis, a lone figure meandered through the abandoned district. The grisly news of Lt. Colonel Maes Hughes untimely death had struck the city harder than he imagined it would have; after all, the man was only a menial officer of the Investigations Department. Despite the anonymity of the case and accelerated governmental shush up, curtains were drawn and the doors of stores along the streets were sealed shut. No wonder the peaceful capital had grown suspicious with news of a deranged Ishvallan fueled by a personal vendetta to murder State Alchemists. In addition to these numerous occurrences, concern for his outfit's home base in East City weighed upon his mind as did the signs of emerging dissent amidst the citizens of Lior. Unfortunately provincial discord spelled potential peril for nearby Resembool, the Elrics' far-flung rural village settled in a scenic landscape relatively close to the country's desert region.
Sighing, his breath formed in the cooling night as the dark individual slinked through the fog swathing up from the nearby moat which surrounded Central Command's headquarters. Subordinate offices of Central's authoritarian administration formed an attached compound to the imprisoned yard. Clinking a near empty glass bottle against the outer gate's railing, the man drowsily altered his course despite inclement weather.
Quaint cafés and boutiques lined the ridges of the Armstrong Circle, an upscale neighborhood leading to the national museum and laboratory district. The archives of Central were something to behold. Pale governmental buildings recalling the Greco-Roman tradition rose into darkening clouds, each spiraled tier standing to the glory of Amestris' Parliamentary Republic. The grandiose architecture seemed to espouse the merits of unifying several multiethnic regional divisions into the expanding militaristic state. How they were successfully incorporated was a wild notion to ponder indeed, one far beyond the withering thoughts of the man languidly buffeted by the winds of August.
A sudden torrent of rain pattering along cobblestone streets ushered the figure drawn in a somber long coat to take shelter under the wing of Central Command as he rounded the Circle. Perfect, those dithering preoccupations of the mind had not prevented him from attaining the self-imposed mission of the evening.
Lacking all semblance of grace, Roy stumbled into the foyer of the Capitol. With a bottle tinkling along marble flooring, eyes blurred with the effects of heavy consumption managed to pinpoint and direct the bumbling officer through the darkened space towards the realm of his jurisdiction. Stale and bland, the musty scent of Havoc's tobacco burned his senses in a familiar greeting before fingers fumbling with keys managed to pry open the door allowing entry into his unit's domicile. Regal desks groaned beneath mounds of transfer paperwork which insistently requested immediate attention due to his recent promotion to Central from the seemingly long ago post held in East City.
Squinting past the parchment littering his bureau, the drunk glimpsed a faint glow flickering in the agency's conjoining room. The banging in his skull prompted the man to crumple at his desk and blearily acknowledge that the intruder, besides himself, must be his faithful lieutenant hard at work. Murmuring praise for her diligence instigated thick brows to cross in slight confusion to the question as to why she was here at this late hour. Grumbling to himself, Roy let his forehead rest against smooth mahogany, inhaling the resin coating the polished lumber as a means of distracting himself from contemplating whether Riza Hawkeye always worked this late.
A guilty pang struck the colonel when he concluded that that obstinate woman may be covering for the slip-shod excuse of her commander, the gun-wielder opting to slave over her chief's unfinished paperwork in order for him to avoid being reprimanded by his superiors. The corner of his mouth tugged into a nostalgic smile, mentally noting that he had all of Command on the ropes; surely the entire army assumed he were as the rumors claimed - Mustang merely amounted to an apathetic charmer only concerned with promotion and reputation. However, those closest to him knew that even their lofty commander served as a capable employee of the state and adept leader despite savoring the ability to complain to his staff or slack off when his gallantry sought to impress a lovely lady. Overall, however monotonous, he usually managed to complete most tasks. Yet in this scenario, paperwork mounted high.
Understandably the Flame Alchemist was shaken after the demise of his dear companion and ally. The glow emanating from the room adjacent accompanied by the light scratching of a quill over fresh parchment and the wafting perfumed scent of lilacs lulled the sorrowful man into a drowsy disposition. Lowering eyelids heavy with tears and intoxicating firewater, the inebriated colonel drifted to sleep.