Rating: M (It is T right now but will likely go up in later chapters)
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. If anything is found familiar outside of the Fullmetal Alchemist world. It is but an accident.
Spoilers: FMAB/manga.
Pairing(s): Roy/Fem!Ed, past Royai. If there are any future non-canon pairings, it will not hold any significance in this story as this is about Roy and Ed.
Warnings: Post-Canon AU (Fem!Ed), Gender swapped, OC. (A/N: I'm a slow writer, please bear with me on updates). Turn back now if any of these offend you.
Author's Note: This story takes place 6 years after Promised Day (Spring 1915). The year is 1921.
The State and Heart
Chapter 1: Keeping Up Appearances
by TeaGal
It was tradition that should Roy Mustang meet with Führer Grumman, they would discuss matters of state over a game of chess. Clacking sounds of wooden pieces against a similar surface permeated the Führer's office as they played.
Roy studied the board in front of him, determined to emerge victorious this time. He felt Grumman's gray eyes on him—no doubt trying to gauge his next move. Grumman was a skilled chess player; if he were to win this game, he would have to play aggressively. Thinking of all the possibilities presented in front of him, he decided to move his knight into his enemy's domain.
"A bold move, Mustang," Grumman said, stroking his distinguishable handlebar-mustache. "This is more challenging than I'd anticipated. Have you been practicing lately?"
"You're flattering me, Your Excellency," Roy said smoothly. "I hardly have the time with all the restructuring and rebuilding efforts in Ishval."
Grumman nodded and moved a chess piece to flank his attack. "Tell me more of the Ishvalans' response to the efforts."
"They are still wary of our efforts, but that is to be expected." Roy paused to move another chess piece. "Though they are gaining confidence in us, thanks to Colonel Miles and his unit."
"And the agricultural side of things? Still having issues?" Grumman positioned yet another chess piece defensively.
"There are many Ishvalans that still distrust alchemists, making it rather difficult to get a botanic alchemist out to help with the process." Roy paused to move yet another chess piece. "They are resilient people though and have a lot of pride in their work. While the land may be too arid for agriculture, they are putting a lot of effort into making it more fertile."
"And the railway project?"
"On schedule and should be fully operational in the next couple of months. The trade route between Ishval and the country of Xing would be established, and if everything goes as planned, Ishval would be restored to its former glory or even better as it is going to be the main trading route between Amestris and Xing." Roy paused and raised a single eyebrow. "It is… all in the report, Your Excellency."
"Now, now…" Grumman chuckled and made a move to take one of Roy's chess pieces. "Who else would I call to play chess with me? Besides, you of all people would know how monotonous paperwork can get."
Roy allowed a small laugh. Yes, he agreed that paperwork are a bore—he had several stacks of them on his desk, waiting to be addressed. Nevertheless, he would like to know the real reason why he was here at Central Command.
"That is true…" He moved a chess piece to an advantageous square. "But you wouldn't have asked me to travel all the way from Eastern Command for a simple report—by the way, that's check."
"So it is," Grumman suddenly smirked, moving his king away. His glasses glinting as it caught the light coming from the windows. "When are you going to ask my granddaughter's hand in marriage?"
That question did nothing to rattle Roy. It was an old question and had been repeated often since Grumman had found out about their relationship—which had ended long ago. Perhaps he was waiting for them to rekindle their relationship, but Roy knew this was not the reason why he was being asked, and certainly not why he was called out to Central. He's trying to make me lose focus, he thought.
"With all due respect, Your Excellency, your granddaughter and I have not been in a romantic relationship since the aftermath of the Ishval Civil War." He moved another chess piece, not willing to lose his advantage in the game.
Grumman seemed undeterred by his response and moved another chess piece. "That's a shame. I would have liked to see her married to a Führer."
And there it is. That had to be the reason why he was here. Grumman was ready to talk about his plan of succession. Still, he had to tread carefully. He did not want to appear too eager, even though they both knew that that was his career goal.
Once again, Roy raised an eyebrow. "Careful… you wouldn't be implying that a mere Lieutenant General from East HQ be a candidate over the more qualified Generals in Central Command. That would cause a dispute among the top brass." He moved yet another chess piece.
"Ah! But you see, I was the mere Lieutenant General from East HQ that was made Führer—"
"Touché."
"—after the coup d'état you'd initiated six years ago." Grumman made a move to take one of Roy's chess pieces. "You would've been the Führer then, but you had relinquished that honor to me. Now, I have a few years ahead of me, however, one of my Generals will be retiring in a year and I would like you to accept the transfer to Central and the promotion to General when the time comes."
"I would be honored to accept that promotion… What's the catch?"
"Why would you think that there is one?" Grumman said, his tone, innocent.
"There are several good candidates for this promotion. General Armstrong to name one… and then there's General Saulnier of West HQ." He moved a chess piece to another square. "I am sure they would not be happy to hear an upstart getting that transfer." He recalled his previous transfer to Central under the late Führer Bradley's rule. It was not a popular move.
Grumman nodded. "They are both strong contenders. However, it is your vision for the country that tipped the scale." He moved a chess piece and pronounced his advantage with a check. "The catch—as you so eloquently put it—for the transfer to go through is that you will have to find yourself a wife before the year is up."
Roy tried to suppress his reaction but it must have shown on his face; Grumman's mouth shaped itself into a self-satisfied smirk. He quickly recollected himself. Where is the old man going with this?
"Surely that is not necessary," Roy said. He was proud that he managed to keep his voice steady and nonchalant. His eyes scanned the chess board and he moved his king away; he can still save this.
"Being unmarried is a political liability… especially when you have an eye on the throne," Grumman said—suddenly aggressive in his chess play—he moved his queen.
Contemplating Grumman's words, Roy sighed and said, "I appreciate you watching out for my well-being. But I have gotten this far without a wife and certainly will not be married by the end of the year." He moved a piece on the board, but he could feel his concentration slipping.
"You should have no problems getting a good woman interested. Why… when word gets out that you are looking to settle down, I'll wager that there will be ladies fighting tooth and nail to be the wife of a man with your looks and prestige," Grumman teased. He made another aggressive move on the board.
"While this is all very flattering, I do not want a sycophant for a wife nor do I have any intentions of settling down anytime soon," Roy said, hoping that Grumman would drop the subject. He moved a chess piece carelessly.
"I suggest you reconsider your stance on this, or I might just have to rescind the transfer offer. Even the late King Bradley was married, Mustang," Grumman said in a very casual tone, in contrast with the weight of his words.
Roy narrowed his eyes as the Führer continued.
"Your efforts in Ishval put you in a good light. Your prowess in battle is legendary. You are dubbed the Hero of Ishval for all the lives you had saved… however, there are people who fear that power."
A loud sound resounded in the room when Grumman struck his knight on to the board. His face turned serious.
"With the direction you want to take this country, you will need more than your war hero status on your belt. The image of a family man goes a long way. The population and even your fellow officers will question your ability to take care of their families as you don't have one of your own. They would be afraid of the kind of decisions you may make. While I would not hesitate to show you my support, I'm afraid you will have to win the hearts of your peers and your countrymen."
And finally, as if to mitigate the effect of his words, his face lightened up with a silly grin on his face. "By the way, that's checkmate."
Roy could not help but shake his head over the predicament he found himself in. The Führer got him and got him good.
"That is hardly fair, Your Excellency. You've distracted me with all this talk of… marriage."
"As they always say, 'all's fair in love and war'," Grumman chuckled and then grinned widely. He pulled out a pen and a small notebook from his pocket to jot down their score and then mumbled to himself.
Even though Roy was still stunned by the sudden turn of events, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he began to examine the hand he had been dealt.
With his high rank and reputation, he had always afforded help to those who needed it, making him very popular among the underdogs; but they are not the ones he would need to convince. The Führer would nominate his successor, but it would be the top brass and the Generals from each province who would vote for their successor. Should they be unhappy with the Führer's choice they may even select another candidate. Such are the ways of Amestrian stratocracy.
Roy was confident that his contributions to the country would be enough to sway most of the Generals. However, the probability of them choosing one of their own—the top brass—were much higher. The country had also been more peaceful since King Bradley's deposition, and the need for war heroes was diminishing. Perhaps Führer Grumman was right in seeking someone with a family man image.
This promotion was an opportunity he couldn't miss. Should one of his rivals get that promotion instead, it would be all that much harder for him to ascend to the top. He understood Grumman's stand on this, but having to find himself a wife under these circumstances was not palatable.
He was shaken from his train of thoughts when he saw a thick folder held in front of his face. Roy blinked and looked at it for a couple seconds more before he moved to receive it from Grumman. "What is this?"
"I took the liberty of compiling dossiers of the most eligible bachelorettes in Amestris."
Not missing the mischievous grin on Grumman's face, he sighed, defeated. "You've been planning this for a while… I should have known."
Grumman's features soften. "Don't look so downhearted. Who knows? You'll probably thank me one day. The ball is in your court now, so do what you will with the dossiers. I hope to be invited to your wedding soon." He stood at attention and Roy followed suit. "You are dismissed, Lieutenant General."
"Führer Grumman," he saluted and walked out the door.
Once outside the door, Lieutenant General Roy Mustang took a deep breath and walked down the corridor. He schooled his face into a well-practiced, confident expression—even though he felt anything but. The many soldiers that he passed would stand at attention and salute when they saw the insignia on the epaulet of his pristine, cobalt-blue uniform. They would then burst into hurried whispers when they thought he was out of audible range.
"…that's the Hero of Ishval…"
"…I heard he's quite the ladies' man…"
"…who is that General?…"
"…is that the Flame Alchemist?…"
"…he looks too young to already be a General…"
"…do you think he'll ask me out?…"
Roy did not react to the whispers. It was not new. He knew he attracted attention wherever he went and was used to being a subject of curiosity. So he fashioned himself to fit what he wanted others to see.
As he made his way to the elevator, he greeted other officers of rank, showing his personable and flamboyant character. As he sauntered through the reception hall, he flashed a charming smile to the female sergeant; rousing the blush on her face. And as he exited the building and strode through the compound of Central Command, he nodded towards the enlisted men and greeted them; causing surprise as they were not used to being acknowledged by officers of his rank.
He made his way towards his car. His adjutant waiting. She gave him a salute and opened the door for him. He, in turn, gave her a nod and stepped inside as she closed the door behind him and then proceeded to the driver's seat. All this was done so fluidly, displaying a manner of practiced professionalism between him and his subordinate.
Finally away from prying eyes, he shed his public façade. He loosened the jacket of his uniform and sat with a slouched posture. The confident expression he had held on his face is now replaced by an annoyed scowl. His brow furrowed as his hands fidgeted on the impressively sized folder—which felt very heavy, both literally and figuratively.
"Where to, General?"
The voice of his adjutant interrupted his thoughts. He looked up and saw the reflection of his adjutant in the rear-view mirror—she had a single eyebrow raised questioningly.
"Madame Christmas'," he decided.
She had both eyebrows raised now. "Must be important… what did the Führer want?"
He exhaled, slightly irritated. "Just drive, Captain. I will explain once we're there."
"Yes, sir."
They stopped by their temporary accommodations at the Central Barracks to change into civilian clothing. Captain Riza Hawkeye made sure to do a few false turns and parked the car a few blocks away to ensure that they were not followed. Roy did not want to be caught entering a bar—a hidden secret, but many locals knew that the bar was a masquerade for a bordello.
Inside the bar, they were greeted warmly and with familiarity by the hostesses. Roy sent a dashing smile their way, a few hugs, and flattery. The hostesses pulled the Captain aside for some ladies' gossip. So he headed towards the bar to the person he came by to visit. He took a seat.
At the bar, a heavy butch woman was cleaning some glasses. She looked about fifty but she was young and confident in style. Her face was heavily made-up, her dark wavy hair styled into a ponytail. She wore bright, glitzy clothing—it contrasted exceedingly with the austere look she carried on her face. She held a cigarette to her lips. When she notices Roy, she put down the rag and glass, then removed the cigarette for a puff, speaking in a scratchy alto voice.
"It's been a long time, Roy-Boy."
"Good evening, Madame Christmas." Roy smiled meekly. She still treats me like a child, he thought fondly.
"Are you doing well?" Madame Christmas asked.
"Nah… I'm not doing well at all. I came here to cheer myself up," Roy said. Over the years, they had developed a way to communicate while hiding what they meant to those who were listening to them. He knew that she would have understood it as: I'm in a predicament and am in need of your assistance.
She seemed to be giving him a scrutinizing gaze. "I see you brought Elizabeth." You brought your adjutant, this must be a serious matter. She took another puff of her cigarette.
"She kindly agreed to be my drinking buddy tonight. I'm probably going to need help back as I plan to drink my sorrows away." We have much to discuss. It's going to be a long night.
"I see… We have a room out back. Why don't you and Elizabeth settle in and I'll bring you two some drinks." Let's talk in a more private setting.
"Fantastic hospitality as always, Madame." I knew I could always count on you, Mother.
Roy selected a jazz record just as the Madame entered the room with some glasses and a bottle of whiskey, locking the door behind her. A jazzy tune played in the background when she offered them both a glass: Riza kindly refused as she was the designated driver, Roy accepted it all too eagerly—he needed it.
"Roy-Boy, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit today?"
Roy recounted the day's event to the two women. By the end of his account, Riza was shaking her head and the Madame seemed to be deep in thought.
"I cannot believe that the Führer stooped to meddling with your private affairs," Riza said. "What are you planning to do about this?"
He closed his eyes, he could feel the eyes of the two women on him, awaiting his answer. "If I am not married by the end of the year, all the work we put in for the past decade would be for naught." He opened his eyes. "I need that transfer if I hope to be Führer."
"Sir, with all due respect, this is ludicrous!" Riza argued. "I'll talk to him tomorrow and ask him to rescind this…" the next word laced with disdain, "prerequisite."
Giving her a small smile and grateful of her intentions, Roy shook his head. "That is considerate of you, but I have given it much thought." He poured himself more whiskey and took a sip. "The Führer is right on the money with this one. It is as he said—being unmarried is a political liability." He took another sip of whiskey. "Though… he's making blatant suggestions—you would not believe who he had put on the top of the list." He gestured to the folder on the table.
Madame Christmas, who was listening intently to the exchange reached for the folder and opened it.
Riza who was sitting on the couch next to her looked at the first dossier. Her eyes immediately drawn to the familiar face on the picture on file; a blonde woman with fair skin, eyes of cognac-brown and a soft defined nose. Beautiful, only marred by the frown worn on her lips. She was staring at a picture of herself—her facial expression now matching the one in the dossier.
She muttered, unimpressed by the Führer's antics. When she mentioned something about drawing her gun, Roy chuckled quietly, joked, and reminded her that she would be charged with treason, even if she was the Führer's granddaughter.
From the corner of his eyes, Roy noticed that Madame Christmas looked unamused. She pulled a new cigarette out of the box. He instinctively put on his ignition glove and snapped his fingers, lighting her cigarette with a small display of fire alchemy.
Mumbling a thanks, she took a puff of her cigarette. "When the Führer asked me to gather this information." She gestured to the folder. "I had no idea that I was gathering information on a potential daughter-in-law."
Roy felt his jaw dropped and he heard Riza silently cursing at her grandfather's audacity.
"The Führer got this information from you." He stared blankly, not questioning. He knew his foster mother had some connection with Grumman so he was not surprised that he would use her to procure the information. It does make sense not to use official channels for this matter, it was just the gall of it all that left him dumbfounded.
The Madame shook her head and began to flip through the folder, taking out a dossier and then flipped through some more and picked out another. She repeated the process a few more times. "These…" she took the stack of dossiers she picked out and set them aside. "I do not approve of, so don't even bother."
"I see you are already picking out women that I should not bring home," Roy said, slightly amused.
"Of course. If she's going to be part of the family, might as well be someone we can tolerate."
"Yes," he said with a grim smile. His expression turned somber. "If I can't marry for love then it must be someone who could elevate my political prestige."
Madame Christmas and Riza looked at him sympathetically before they start looking at the files seriously.
"Armstrong, Amue—"
"Oh dear God—No." Roy quickly vetoed the suggestion.
The dossier went into the mentioned rejected pile.
"Armstrong, Catherine. Youngest daughter of Philip Gargantos Armstrong. A well-respected family with old aristocratic bloodline. Wealthy, Her hobbies are—"
"The only thing she has going for her is her pedigree. I don't need her family's backing nor wealth. She lived a sheltered life, I doubt she can take the stress and pressure that comes from being a first lady." Roy said.
"Armstrong, Olivi—"
"Is both my rival and ally." Roy interrupted. "She hates my guts."
"Armstro—"
"Let's just skip the entire Armstrong family," Roy said as he started feeling a little ill. The Armstrong ladies, he thought, are in a league of their own. He took a swig of his drink.
"Okay then," Madame Christmas moved all of the Armstrong's dossier to the pile. "Ashton, Laura. Daughter of a minor alchemist in South City—"
"Does she still lives in South City?" Roy asked.
"Yes, sir," Riza said as she skimmed through the dossier.
"Then no. Just remove everyone that are not in East or Central. I can't very well neglect my work just to woo some unsuspecting woman hundreds of miles away." He was getting irritated. How did Grumman even come up with this list? he thought.
And so began the long tedious process. The process was stressful for Roy as he was nursing his drink the entire time. Every time Riza or Madame Christmas thought they found someone he might be happy with, he would reject it. Honestly, he did not want to deal with this. His mind knew that this had to be done, but his heart was not ready, and the alcohol was not helping. While he chose objectively, he knew some of the ladies he rejected were due to petty reasons.
"What are you looking for Roy-Boy?" Madame Christmas asked, "I know this is difficult, but you can't reject every single one for mundane reasons. You will have to make a decision, it takes time to woo a woman into marriage after all."
He looked at her dead in the eyes. "I am looking at this objectively." He argued. "I'm not just picking myself a wife, but a future first lady. Everything she does will reflect on me. Her political stance has to line with mine. She has to be intelligent, so she does not do anything that could ruin my political image." He took a big gulp of his whiskey. "I made a lot of enemies getting to where I am now and will have more when I am Führer. She will have to be able to defend herself should the need arises. And since I'm expected to—"
"This might work!" Riza interrupted suddenly.
Madame Christmas scanned the dossier that Riza held up. "She certainly fits the bill."
He raised an eyebrow. "Let me see that," Roy said. He took one look at the file and grimaced. "No."
Both women then protested, citing that she fits all his requirements and then some more. Roy held up both his hands in the air and waited for them to calm down.
"She is too reckless."
"Yet she has the love of the population," Madame Christmas said.
Roy took yet another swig of his drink, "She is too young."
"You had never treated her like a child when she was your subordinate," Riza said pointedly.
"That was work. I was not trying to woo her—I'm thirty-six."
"And she's twenty-two. She hasn't been a child for years," she countered.
"You are seriously suggesting this," he realized.
"We've spent hours deliberating over all these dossiers and she's the only one that fits all your requirements," Madame Christmas chimed.
Riza continued. "And she's not a complete stranger like most of these other women. You respect her and she respects you—"
"She hardly respects me, have you not heard our yelling matches?" he scoffed.
"Only because you make it a mission to goad her every time you see her," she said. "At the end of the day, she has stood by you no matter the odds."
He began to make a remark but Madame Christmas interjected. "What Elizabeth is trying to say is that we are looking out for you Roy-Boy. I have not met this young woman personally, but her reputation precedes her. She may be the support you need to get all the way to the top. Now the question is, how are you going to proceed with this?"
To say that Roy was unhappy would be an understatement. He took another swig of his drink. He knew he would be suffering from a hangover the next morning. He muttered to himself and paced the room.
She is reckless when it comes to the well-being of others, earning her a reputation as the Hero of the People. She is intelligent, definitely devious in her methods, but she gets favorable results. A close-combat expert, even calculating her inability to perform alchemy, she could hold her own. Definitely qualities I value in a partner. However, she can be callous in her demeanor. Honest to a fault. She's too straightforward and appears arrogant.
He sighed and then picked up the dossier and looked at the picture of his former subordinate and potentially future bride-to-be, her golden eyes staring piercingly back at him.
"I must be crazy to be considering this." He dropped the dossier into the fireplace, opened, bared for anyone in that room to see.
Major Edelweiss Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, Retired.
He picked up all the other dossiers and drop them into the fireplace as well. He proceeded to snap his fingers, burning the documents. The fire danced—licking and then devouring the dossiers. His precise control over the flames left no evidence of its existence.
When he left the bar, to any passerby he would have appeared to have had a few too many drinks that night.
(Words: 4404)
Author's Notes:
1) I hope you've enjoyed this so far, I definitely enjoyed writing it. Take your time to follow or favorite this as updates may be irregular due to my work schedule and life and such.
2) English is NOT my native language, so I have occasional issues with grammar and spend a lot of time reviewing what I write. Sometimes, mistakes still slipped through my radar, so any criticism on grammar and/or word usage is definitely appreciated.
3) This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story. Future chapters are planned and outlined, it's just a matter of me getting around my busy work schedule to write it.
4) There are 28-30 chapters planned (if the direction of the story does not change as I write), so expect about 80-100k words when this is completed. (This is my first guesstimating, so I may be off).
5) Reviews are always welcomed. Whether it be a simple one sentence review or a long constructive criticism. I always reply to reviews via PM, though it may take a bit.