Author's Note: This story takes place after Lanfan loses her arm, if Ling had put his search for immortality on hold to accompany her to Xing.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. Seriously. So stop asking if you can borrow it!
The Prince and His Guard
Chapter One: Lanfan Gets Tickled Pink
"Young Master, may I ask why you are accompanying me?"
Ling Yao, 12th Prince of Xing, snorted. "You know I hate that 'Young Master' crap."
Lanfan shook her head disapprovingly. "It is unbecoming of a prince to use such vulgar language, Young Master," She said, having no regard for his comment. "Will you answer my previous question?"
"Hm?" He was distracted, lost in his own whimsical thoughts as his horse's hooves clopped across the dirt road.
"Why have you insisted on taking Grandfather's place in escorting me to Xing to get automail?" She repeated.
"It is my fault you have only one arm, so it is also my duty to make sure the lost arm is replaced," he said, suddenly switching into the eloquent tongue he used only in the palace and only to his father.
"You don't need to go through such trivial pursuits for the wellbeing of your guard, Young Master. But thank you."
Ling remembered when they had departed Central. Lanfan couldn't do anything on her own. She even needed Winry's assistance with tying her hair into its trademark bun. Ed had given her a rib-squeezing hug that made Lanfan blush, much to Ling's annoyance. But he didn't let it get to him. He was aware that Ed and his fellow Amestrian militants were all in on some conspiracy act to make Lanfan the next Empress Yao. And as amusing the thought of Lanfan fighting hand-to-hand combat in an imperial gown was, Ling didn't think that Lanfan would take well to the many concubines the emperor was expected to have.
The horses had reached a bump in the road, and Lanfan winced, trying to disguise it as a muffled sneeze.
Ling didn't hide the concern in his voice. With all his easygoingness, sometimes it was hard to see through the prince's narrowed eyes and lazy smile, but she could see he was totally serious. "Should we rest, Lanfan?"
She cursed under her breath. "I'm fine, but if you are tired, we can stop at the next town."
Ling hated it when he caused Lanfan pain, which seemed to be happening a lot recently. "I've decided I'm tired. I demand we stop."
Lanfan could see through his ruse, but she couldn't defy the orders of her master. She sighed. "All right then."
They rode through the forest for a little while, finally seeing the budding lights of the town. They dismounted at a stable by an inn.
She got off, stumbling a little from the imbalance in her limbs. The chi ran through her body lopsidedly, and she had difficulty controlling her motions. Ling jumped off and held her only arm, steadying her. He still remembered her silence as King Bradley had lopped off her other arm, and the seemingly never-ending silence that followed.
She bowed. "Thank you, Young Master." Her voice was much more subdued, her obsidian eyes tired.
Ling's eyebrow shot up in confusion she didn't blush, like she had when Ed squeezed her. But what was he to expect? For the entirety of his affiliation with Lanfan, she was stoic and formal. He'd never even seen her laugh.
Then, the idiot prince had an idea.
"Hey, Lanfan, are you ticklish?"
The guard stopped in her tracks. "No, Young Master."
Ling grinned mischievously, an expression Lanfan both enjoyed and detested. "Are you lying to your prince?"
"No one has ever tried, because those who were ever curious knew I could probably rupture a vital nerve in a second," she retorted.
He nodded thoughtfully. "True, true. You would never attack your prince, would you, Lanfan?"
Lanfan edged away from her employer, who seemed to be creeping closer with that same grin plastered on his face. Needless to say, this was one of those times when she detested it.
Before she could protest or even bat an eyelash, Ling tackled her, putting his theory into effect.
"Ling!" She cried, muffling her giggles in her sleeve. After a few minutes of cruel and unusual torture on her part, she finally came to her senses and shoved Ling off of her with her good arm. She got up herself, brushing the straw off of her uniform. Her cheeks were tinged with a shade similar to carnation, but more from exhaustion than from embarrassment.
"You called me 'Ling'," he commented triumphantly, his grin replaced with a smirk.
"I apologize for the informality, Young Master," she muttered, more involved in the issue of her hair, which had come out of the bun and hung to her shoulders in a jet-black mess. She smoothed it out a bit, frowning.
"Sorry about your hair. Want me to help?" Ling's sisters had been vehemently protective of their hair, and had made sure he was on the other end of a round-house kick whenever he had bumped into one of them in the corridors, knocking the carefully-styled locks out of place. Luckily, they had mellowed with age, and he had learned to avoid them at all costs.
She shook her head. "The Young Master need not fuss with such a subject." A few strands fell into her face, which she blew away with a huff.
"I demand you let me help you," He said, nodding to himself as if he were just realizing he was a prince.
She sighed yet again. "If I may say so, the Young Master is becoming somewhat of a spoiled brat."
He laughed. "It's just a perk of the job, Lanfan. So let me help you."
He stood a head over his guard, making it easier to handle her hair. He tied it into a simple ponytail at the top of her head, leaving the bangs as they were.
She stared at herself in the reflection of one of her kunai blades. "It's seems…loose."
The prince gasped in mock distress. "Are you saying I'll never be able to live out my dream to be imperial hairdresser?"
She chuckled, which was the closest to a laugh that Lanfan ever gave. "You will only achieve the disgrace that comes with being imperial hairdresser's assistant, Young Master."
He chuckled. "Where are we off to next, Lanfan, with your magical bag of sarcastic remarks and witty banter?"
She was still testing out her new hairstyle, shaking her head around comically. "Wherever you'd like, Young Master. We can retire for the night, if you'd like."
He thought for a moment. "I've decided I'd like to go to a bar!"
Lanfan blanched. Amestrian bars were a guard's worst nightmare. Too crowded, full of drunken men willing to pick a fight with anything that moves. The exits were always blocked with said overly-confrontational males. Mere thoughts of the place gave her shudders.
With no reply, Ling nodded affirmatively. "Good then. Off we go!" He patted his horse and left the stable.
Lanfan buried her face in her hands. It was early, only about seven at night. Nothing could go wrong, right?
Author's Note: Like it? Hate it? Would you date it? I'd marry it, personally. But please review. All compliments, constructive criticisms, and absurdly long flames are appreciated.
