"Codenames?"
Roy stared at Grumman with confusion in his eyes. Why would he need codenames for?
"Yes, codenames," the general answered calmly while he studied the chess board placed between them. He pushed one of his pawns forward and motioned to Roy to make his move. "This will be your first field mission with your new team. Having codenames may help a bit when trying to communicate over phones. You'll never know if someone tapped you."
"Codenames," Mustang muttered the word again while placing his knight forward absently.
What should he choose?
Tired.
The room was dimly lit, and not with electric lights – only several candles.
Bored.
Millions upon millions of letters jumbled upon each other, whispering the secrets of jumping sparks and flickering flames. He heard none of it, ears blocked by fatigue and boredom.
Roy Mustang sighed and put his pen down, pushing away the books and papers he was studying. His eyes flickered to the short haired blonde in front of him, who was absently sewing a shirt while reading a book about cold treatments.
Riza Hawkeye felt his gaze and looked up from her book, staring straight into his eyes with question in her own. Roy smiled slightly and shook his head. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, trying to relax his buzzing mind after so long a time of studying. He loved alchemy, and flame alchemy in particular was immensely interesting. The problem was, of course, that it was also immensely difficult. Sometimes he felt like his brain was swollen beyond hope, pushing through his skull, from the amount of information regarding flame alchemy that he forced into it.
"Do you know any good song?"
The question jumped out of Roy's lips before he could stop it. He blamed fatigue, but at the same time he was also finding himself stupid for asking. This was his teacher's daughter. Their interaction was limited to dinner together with said teacher, study time together, occasional brushing of the shoulders when one would use the toilet or the bathroom, and that was about it. Conversation was limited to 'good morning', 'good night', 'have a good day', 'thank you' and 'you're welcome'. It had been six months since he started living with Berthold Hawkeye and he remained a stranger to his daughter.
To his surprise, Riza's answer wasn't to laugh or to ignore him. "Do you?" she asked back calmly, clearly not minding the conversation Roy started.
"Not really," Roy answered with a light chuckle. A moment of silence passed before he commented, "I know some songs my sisters in the bar sing sometimes. But I don't really like them."
"Hmmm," Riza muttered calmly. "Have any songs you do like?"
Another light chuckle, this time embarrassed. "It's… childish."
"It's a song. How childish can it get?"
Roy opened his eyes and looked at Riza, who had stopped sewing and was currently looking at him seriously. "Maybe not too childish," he admitted. "It was a song my mother used to sing for me. Before she… went."
Riza put the shirt on the table. "That's… nice. My mother never really sang… she's not exactly musical."
Another moment of silence. The awkwardness was more intense this time. Roy longed to break the silence, but was too confused of what he should say.
It was Riza who broke the silence. "Can you sing it?"
Roy blinked in surprise. "What? The song?"
Riza nodded, and Roy felt a rush of heat in his face. "I don't… well…"
"If you're not confident, don't worry about it. I won't laugh."
"Well… if you're so sure." Roy straightened up in his seat and took a deep breath. Then he began singing. "Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green…"
His voice started soft and weak, but it grew with each passing word. He glanced to the girl in front of him, who was listening pleasantly to his voice. He felt a surge of embarrassment, mirth, and mischief mixing into one as he sung the next line, "When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen."
Once again Riza surprised him. She looked at him straight in the eyes and sung the next line with a raised brow, as if the lyrics were their own conversation instead of the lines of a nursery rhyme. "Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so?"
Her voice surprised him. It wasn't as beautiful or melodious as his sisters', but it was clear, and she got all of the notes right, and she seemed to have no problem matching her pitch to his.
He sang the next line as an answer without missing a beat, despite his initial surprise. "'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so."
He had been prepared to sing the next verse, but his voice died when his master's voice cut through the now relaxed atmosphere, "You're supposed to study, not flirt!"
He could feel his face burning as Riza sighed and shook her head. "We're resting, Father, I see no fault in that."
Berthold sighed loudly. "You'd better start studying again soon. There are still many things you need to learn about."
"Yes, sir," Roy answered curtly. He could still feel his face burning. He pulled the books he had pushed away closer to him and took a deep breath, willing himself to concentrate on the knowledge offered by them.
Riza leaned closer. "Would you like to have something to drink? I know you're sick of having to study so much."
Roy smiled at her gratefully. "If it isn't too much trouble for you."
Soon both of them were sitting in their designated seats, reading, sewing and writing with a cup of hot chocolate by their side. There was still silence hanging in the air, but it was warm and comfortable, unlike before.
Roy found study sessions to be much more enjoyable.
"Checkmate!"
Roy winced. He had never been able to beat the general before. He didn't expect to be able to do it anytime soon.
Grumman's grin was wide and toothy. "So, have you decided?"
He shook his head as he stared forlornly at the chess board, finger moving and flicking his king so that it tumbled down pitifully. "I don't really understand, Sir. We have gone on missions without needing to use codenames before. Why now?"
"Because your mission deals with someone who is good with technology, and while you have a member with a very good knowledge over it, there is no guarantee that you will have a leak of information. Better be safe than sorry."
"Is that so," Roy mumbled, looking sideways thoughtfully.
A snap of the fingers, and a surge of blazing inferno.
A click of a weapon, and a bang as a bullet sailed.
Bodies fell left and right, almost like a rain. Buildings crumbled into rubbles in front of their eyes. The violence was unimaginable. Resistance was seen everywhere, but nothing could go against what they had at hand.
The higher ups called it a war. The soldiers called it a massacre.
Roy knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that State Alchemists were the ones who killed the most. They weren't called human weapons for no reason. And he knew that among all alchemists he was probably the one that killed most. Flame alchemy was powerful and it covered a large area, capable of injuring (killing) more people than other type of alchemy at a time. He was an asset to the military, he was their strongest weapon.
He finally understood why Berthold had refused to teach him the rest of his alchemy lessons.
The knowledge that Riza was somewhere in this battlefield gunning people down didn't help the constricting pain in his chest, the pain of knowing he was turning into a murderer so conveniently called a war hero. So many times he felt the urge to scream out curses at his superiors, to go do their own dirty works, to let him be. He wanted to stop killing, he knew just how futile it would be to keep this fight up. Especially considering how the Ishvallans were ready to lay down their weapons and surrender anyway. Because he had seen how they fought. He may not have been a soldier long, but even a newbie could tell the difference between fighting for a cause and fighting for one's life.
He was turning into a murderer.
No, he was already a murderer.
Riza was one, too.
But despite the pain, he kept on snapping his fingers and sending raging flames into every Ishvallans passing his eyes. He had his orders. He couldn't go against them.
He had met Riza. It pained him even more to see the innocence in her eyes dying away, replaced by numb coldness. The girl he grew up with was gone, replaced by a machine ready to pull a trigger and take a life at a moment's notice. When he saw her eyes, he felt a sudden chill snaking his spine. She had the eyes of a murderer.
Just like him.
They never spoke. Not really. They had greeted each other, lamented about the horrors of war. Wondered about the morality of their own selves, wondered why they had to kill, wondered about the stains in their hands. Other than that, no. They didn't meet each other anyway, since camps for men and women were separated and they were usually placed in different sectors. In the rare occasion where they were placed in the same sectors, they still couldn't see each other. His job required him to be on the ground, looking around for a place to burn, while she perched up on a building to seek victims through her gun's scope and pull a trigger.
So when he saw her in one of the tents made for soldiers to rest between their shifts, he was surprised. They never met here… not before.
"Hello," he greeted her awkwardly.
"Hi," she greeted back, just as awkward.
Thank heavens for Hughes, who was also there. He wasted no time giving his own quip; "Hello there! We've talked before but we haven't really introduced ourselves. I'm Maes Hughes, Roy's friend from the academy! And you are?"
Hughes' chipper attitude must have been contagious, because Riza's face broke into a small smile immediately. "Riza Hawkeye," she said. "I'm… Roy's acquaintance."
"We practically grew up together," Roy admitted. Then he whispered to Hughes' ear to avoid being overheard, "My alchemy teacher's daughter."
"Grew up together, eh?" Hughes' brow quirked up in surprise, though Roy couldn't tell if it was surprise that he grew up with this girl or that she was his late master's daughter. The bespectacled man leaned closer to her and whispered conspiratorially, "Got any embarrassing story of him?"
Roy pulled him back before more words could be exchanged. "That's enough of that, thank you very much."
"Let's meet later to exchange stories," Hughes whispered loudly to the young woman. She smiled at him and shook her head in amusement. Soon, the three of them were sitting around the table Riza had been sitting by, Hughes' gun and Roy's gloves on the tabletop and Riza's rifle leaning on it. All ready to be grabbed and used in a moment's notice.
Roy and Riza, once again, lapsed into a silence, not knowing what to say. And once again Roy had to thank the heavens that Hughes was there, because he wasted no time going on a rant about how beautiful his girlfriend back home was, how wonderful his wife-to-be was, and how he was so impatient to start a new life together with her while shoving her photograph to their faces.
Roy sighed. "Hughes, haven't I told you before? You need to stop bragging about your girlfriend. All soldiers who brag about their women dies in every book ever!"
Hughes' smile disappeared and was replaced by a scowl. He still held a photograph in his hands as if it was the most precious thing in the world. "You really have to ruin my day, huh, Roy?"
"Sorry, but I have to say I agree with him," Riza said calmly. "All story have that one dead character with too much love for his family."
"Awww, really?" Hughes seemed more disappointed than upset this time. "But she's my ray of sunshine!"
"All the more reason to keep a hold of yourself so you can meet her again," Roy countered easily.
Hughes was about to retort when a bell calling the soldiers of the next shift sounded.
"That your shift?" Hughes asked Riza.
She shook her head. "Mine's later in the evening."
Hughes nodded. "Same with mine and Roy's, then. Good, good, we've got time to rest."
The bell was still sounding. The three of them watched their fellow soldiers walking out of the tent with heavy steps, as if the burden of the world was placed upon their shoulders. In a way, it was.
"Call out your men, dilly dilly, set them to work," all of a sudden, Riza started singing. Roy turned to look at her immediately, as well as Hughes. She looked away, not continuing the song.
Roy was the one who picked it up from there. "Some to the plough, dilly dilly, some to the fork. Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to cut corns."
Riza joined his singing at the last line, "While you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm."
Hughes whistled after a moment of silence. "Never pegged you for the type to sing, Roy! And I sensed a heavy sarcasm in that last line there."
"Because we were singing sarcastically," Roy rolled his eyes.
"Did it all the time when he was still an apprentice," Riza added.
Hughes chuckled in amusement. "But really," he said after his laugh receded, "that verse is just so on point."
Roy snorted. "With the higher ups dawdling around and directing men to battlefields while we battle until we drop? Of course it is."
"… I think I've got it."
Grumman's grin went even wider, if it was even possible. "Oh, wonderful. Perhaps you'd like to go and see your men to inform them?"
"If it's alright with you, Sir."
"Well of course it is, of course it is! I'll take care of the chess board and pieces, you can go right out. You're dismissed."
"Thank you, Sir." Roy stood and saluted, turning on his heels and went out of the room without looking back. His mind was whirling, trying to figure out the best code for each of his team members.
A small smile found its way to his lips. At least he knew Riza's codename without needing to think. She had had that name for years, now, ever since that study session when she somehow got him to sing their song.
Sand and pieces of rocks fell on top of their heads. Far away they could hear the booming noises of exploding ground and crackles of alchemical powers as the crust of the earth was shifted to the alchemist's wish.
"Are you okay?"
He was left hanging for a long time. His heart thumped loudly against his chest, so strongly that he feared it was going to jump out to the open.
"… I've been better."
For the first time he realized that he had forgotten to breathe. He took a deep breath. He couldn't see anything in the darkness of their confinement, but he could hear her breathe, he could feel her skin under his hand, he could tell that she was still alive.
They were still alive.
"Do you think we'll make it?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know. Can you use alchemy to get us out?"
He shook his head, only to realize that she wouldn't be able to see him either. "Sorry," he said instead. "Flame alchemy will just burn us alive, and I can't draw an array like this."
"Oh," was all that she said. He had a feeling she said that simply to make sure he knew she responded, one way or another.
Another boom, and once again rocks and sand rained down on their heads. Roy bit back a hiss when his leg, once again, throbbed with pain.
It was a disaster, he knew it.
He had been sent to a sector to (surprise surprise) exterminate more Ishvallans in the area. Riza was sent together with him to ensure their safety as the sector was one of the more dangerous areas, as her ability as a sniper enabled her to secure larger territory.
Unfortunately for them, the Ishvallans seemed to have predicted this. Roy and Riza both came into a building, and the Ishvallans blew it up. The power of the explosion wasn't enough to kill them, but enough to make the building, which had been weakened by long battles of the civil war, crumble upon them. They were lucky enough they could somehow avoid being crushed alive, but now they were trapped together in this ridiculously small space. They could sit or squat, but the width and the height of the place reminded Roy of large crates the military would use to ship weapons. There was no light whatsoever. And Lady Luck sure was generous to him, because he found his leg crushed by a large piece of rubble that he was unable to move.
Riza shifted by his side, foot accidentally pushing at his bad leg. Surprised by the sudden movement and the sudden spike of pain, he let out a hiss.
"What's wrong?" she asked in alarm. "Are you hurt?"
"No," he lied. He knew that it wouldn't fool her.
"I heard you hiss. Tell me."
He was silent for a moment before he finally gave in. "It's my leg. A big piece of rubble is crushing it. I can't move it."
"Let me try to push it away," she said. He felt her shifting and wriggling beside him. Then he felt her pushing the rock away, and he moaned in pain. He really, really hoped that his leg wasn't damaged too much.
The rock shifted, little by little. Then suddenly the wall on their heads gave a shuddering jerk, pulled by gravity downwards and threatened to bury them under. Roy automatically yelled "Stop stop stop!" frantically.
Even without seeing her face, Roy could tell that Riza was wearing a grim expression. "It seems that your leg is a part of the reason why we aren't buried yet," she stated, voice calm as always.
"Unfortunately," he agreed. He looked up at the ceiling, which now loomed so much closer, so much more menacing. He gulped.
Silence hovered again, broken only by the muffled sounds of battles outside their cage. The air was heavy and stagnant. Before they realized it, they had rested against each other, Riza's head leaning on Roy's shoulder and his cheek pressing against her crown.
"Do you think we'll survive this?" Roy asked weakly.
"I'm sure they'll send someone to find us," Riza answered. We're too much of an asset for them. It went unsaid, but he was sure she thought of it.
"But if they arrived too late?"
She didn't answer.
Having been in so many battles, Roy had been reminded of his own mortality. He knew just how easy it would be to kill someone, or for someone to kill him. A bullet to a specific point, a knife to a certain part… a surge of flames that came like a wave.
Perhaps being buried alive was a less painful method.
He slumped against the wall, cheek pressing even more to Riza's head. There was no hope of survival. Who would have thought of them being pressed together in a mountain of rubbles? Buried alive, side by side, unable to save themselves despite being hailed as heroes for their abilities in the fields of war. He closed his eyes.
Moments passed. The air was uncomfortably hot. It felt like they were being baked. Their breaths came in pants, and their clothes were drenched with sweat. The pain in Roy's leg was unbearable. He had his teeth clenched, trying so hard not to hiss, not to moan, not to show any kind of weakness in front of Riza; mostly to make sure she wouldn't worry. He wasn't too worried about ruining his self-image in front of her. He had done it years ago while still studying under her father.
How far away those days felt now. He missed them. He missed the days of studying books of alchemy, of awkwardly eating dinner Riza cooked together with her and his master, of trying to chat with the girl under Berthold's constant, watchful eyes. The simplicity of those days, the innocence he once had, he missed them all. He knew he would never get them back. Not when death was so, so incredibly close.
"I don't want to die," he whispered hoarsely, pitifully.
For a moment, Riza said nothing. Her hand moved clumsily, searching for his, and soon they were grasping each other's hands, trying to find comfort in the clammy contact.
All of a sudden, Riza started singing. "Lavender's green, dilly dilly, lavender's blue," she sang softly, breathily. "If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you."
He couldn't help it. He smiled softly and sang the next line. "Let the birds sing, dilly dilly, and the lambs play."
He felt her move her head to face him despite the bleak darkness. He moved as well and looked at her general direction, staring only to blackness that he had come to hate so much, for it made him feel like a blind bat. At least her touch was there to make him feel grounded.
She continued singing, now louder, but her tone was somehow softer. "We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harm's way."
Another moment of silence. She leaned her head against his shoulder again, and his cheek resumed its place against her crown.
"Do you believe that we'll be safe?" he whispered softly to her.
"I believe that someone will try his best to find you," was what she whispered back.
He frowned in confusion. "What… who?" he wondered aloud.
If she wanted to answer, she never did. More sand and pieces of rocks and cement fell on them as the rubbles shifted above their heads. For a moment Roy was afraid that they would truly die, just like that. His hand clenched Riza's like a lifeline, and she returned the grip just as tightly.
Then sunshine broke through the cracks of the rocks and stones, along with a voice that was so incredibly familiar to his ears.
"Hey, Roy! Are you there?!"
His heart leapt with joy. "Hughes!" he yelled. "Yeah, I'm here! Hawkeye's here too!"
"Thank God I managed to find you – are you alright?"
"Yes, we are!"
"Mustang's leg is hurt," Riza yelled as soon as he closed his mouth. "A rock is crushing it. We couldn't pull it off because if we do we'd be buried alive."
Hughes cursed loudly. "Just… hang on for a bit! I'll find someone to help!"
"Okay!" Roy said to him.
"Oh, just one thing," Hughes added before he left, "That was nice of you two to sing. That was how I managed to find you. But for now just shut up and be silent, we don't know if the Ishvallans will hear and decide to put a bullet between your eyes!"
And once again they lapsed into silence, slumping against the rubbles at their backs. This time they had light from overhead and they felt relief instead of despair. Their hands were still interlocked together.
"Out of harm's way," Riza whispered to Roy.
"Out of harm's way," he whispered back in agreement.
"For this mission, we will be using codenames."
His announcement was met with equal parts confusion and excitement.
"Codenames?"
"What for?"
"Do we get to pick out own names?"
He grinned at that. "Sorry, men. I've already decided them for you."
"I honestly don't know if I should be thankful or dreadful," Breda muttered under his breath.
"Definitely dreadful," Havoc muttered back.
Roy decided to ignore the comments. "Fuery," he began, "you will be 'Pawn'."
"Pawn, Sir?" Fuery asked, face showing confusion.
Roy nodded. "And Breda, you will be 'Rook'."
Breda grinned. "Ah, I see! Chess, is it? I have to be honest, Sir, this is a lot better than what I expected."
"And what did you expect?" Roy asked with a raised brow.
"Maybe it'll be better if you don't know, Sir."
Roy shook his head while Havoc let out a barely concealed coughed laugh. "Falman," he continued, "your codename will be 'Bishop'."
"Sir," Falman nodded dutifully, ever the model soldier.
"And Havoc," Roy turned to the soldier, "will be 'Knight'."
"Knight, is it?" Havoc grinned, chewing on his cigarette. "Gotta say, Sir, I like that one."
"Well then. Now that we've got that covered, let's think about the best strategy to smoke our target out."
They stared out to the distance from the hill they were standing on, watching dust rolling like thunderclouds as the trucks made its way through the dry roads leading to the soldiers' camps.
Civil war was over. The Ishvallans were all killed, exterminated… at least officially. They all knew many had taken refuge somewhere, but they were all so sure that the number was small compared to the ones that had fallen. Physically, the war was over.
Now they only needed to battle the demons haunting their dreams.
"It's almost impossible to believe, is it?" Roy muttered. "After battling for so long… it's over."
"It's certainly hard to believe, but it is still believable," Hughes said. He grinned. "I'm just so thankful I'm still alive. Now I can finally see my darling Gracia! She's such an angel!"
"I'm surprised you're still alive, with the amount of time you brag about her," Roy muttered under his breath.
"You're just jealous there isn't anyone to wait for you back home," Hughes shot back without missing a beat.
"At least that ensures that nothing will distract me when packing my things up," Roy shrugged nonchalantly. When Hughes gave him a puzzled look, he sighed. "You really didn't realize it, did you? All you packed was the letters and photos and your uniform. You completely forgot your underwear. I wanted to tell you earlier but you kept on going on a rant about your girlfriend."
"Then you should've stopped me!" Hughes yelled childishly before sprinting down the hill.
"You know as well as I do that there's no stopping you when you start ranting!" Roy yelled at his retreating back.
He watched as Hughes' form went farther and farther, smaller and smaller, down the hill to their camps. He shook his head in amusement.
The sound of footsteps snapped him out. He turned, alert, fingers ready to snap in case there was yet another Ishvallan trying to take his life – something that he was so ready to say goodbye to.
It wasn't an Ishvallan. It was Riza.
"You haven't gone yet?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I got the last truck. I will leave tomorrow."
He nodded. "I see. Mine will come later today, if I'm not mistaken."
She, too, nodded. They stood side by side, watching the trucks came and went.
"Will we meet again?" Roy asked calmly.
"I'm sure we will," Riza answered, just as calm.
His lips turned into a thin smile. "You sound so sure about that."
She shrugged. "Considering how we always somehow end up meeting each other, I won't be surprised if I somehow got assigned under you."
It was him, then, who shrugged. "Well, I can hope."
"There is no guarantee, of course."
"I will definitely hope."
Her face remained stoic.
"Are you in the mood to sing?" he asked suddenly.
"Why do you ask?" she asked back, turning to face him.
He turned as well, and they stood face to face, hopeful smile meeting cold expressionless mask.
"What song?" she asked again.
"I think you already know what," he replied with an amused smirk.
She allowed a smile this time. "I love to dance, dilly dilly, I love to sing."
He reached to her hands, and she began swinging them side to side. "When I am queen, dilly dilly, you'll be my king." He pulled her towards him as he took a step back, and suddenly they were dancing clumsily. "Who told me so, dilly dilly, who told me so? I told myself, dilly dilly, I told me so."
Their movements were stopped as soon as the song ended. The smile that was previously on Riza's face disappeared as she turned away from Roy, pulling her hands from his. She refused to look at him in the eyes when she asked, "Can you come to the house sometime? So that you can… do it?"
He blinked in confusion at first, then he remembered what she told him when she buried the small Ishvallan child just the day before. His face fell. "… of course," he said. "I will call before I come."
She moved her head, just a bit, and asked again, "Do you… are you okay with it? With having to burn it off my back?"
"Of course I'm not," Roy shook his head. "You're asking me to deliberately hurt you. I can never be okay with it." He stepped a bit closer to her. "But if it's your wish… if you're sure you'll be happier that way, then I'll do it."
"Even if there will no longer be any more flame alchemy in the world?"
Roy turned to the ruins of Ishval, eyes darkening as he felt his shoulders sag. "We have both seen the damage flame alchemy is capable of," he said. "I have no wish to teach it to anyone anyway."
She was quiet for a long time. Then, softly, she spoke, "Thank you, Mr. Mustang."
His eyes fell to her back, and once again he remembered the lines and runes etched upon her skin, the dreaded secrets to the alchemy of death, the curse she bore on her back. For the umpteenth time he wished that she didn't have to bear the burden of the flames.
He hoped, somehow, that he would be able to burn away the burden as he burned away the lines and symbols.
"Wait a minute, Sir… we still haven't known the codenames for you and Lieutenant Hawkeye."
Roy chuckled at Havoc's question. "You should've known already, Lieutenant." His eyes strayed over to meet Riza's, who had been sitting quietly by the table the whole time, listening to him without word.
"Well, this is chess, so… 'King' and 'Queen'?" Breda guessed.
Roy nodded.
"But why chess? Why 'King' and 'Queen'?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
"Please forgive me."
"I asked you to do this; you have nothing to apologize for."
"Sorry anyway."
"Mr. Mustang?"
"Yes?"
"Can you… sing for me?"
Her voice was faint with pain. Fresh burns adorned her back, ruining the tattoo on her skin. Tears of pain wet her cheeks, and her temples were glistening with sweat. He bit his lips upon her request, heart heavy with guilt for doing this to her and wishing he could cut off his own hands, the hands that caused her so much pain. But there was nothing he could do to help her that way. So, as he tended to her wounds, he sang softly, as she requested to him.
"Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green. When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen. Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so? 'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so."
She gave a sudden hiss of pain, and he stopped singing, surprised. She shook her head and urged him to sing again.
"Call up your men, dilly dilly, set them to work," Roy continued, voice even softer this time. "Some to the plough, dilly dilly, some to the fork. Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to cut corns. While you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm."
Riza grasped his hand suddenly, and he stopped singing. He stared at her, wishing so badly that he could take away the pain.
"Lavender's green, dilly dilly, lavender's blue," she took over, eyes telling him to keep silent and let her sing. Her voice was strained and faint, but she kept singing anyway. "If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you. Let the birds sing, dilly dilly, and the lambs play. We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harm's way.
"I love to dance, dilly dilly, I love to sing. When I am queen, dilly dilly, you'll be my king. Who told me so, dilly dilly, who told me so? I told myself, dilly dilly, I told me so."
The room was silent for a moment before he spoke, "We need to get you treated."
"We will," she nodded in agreement.
"I'll stay for the night. Consider it a payback for those days when you took care of me while I was sick when I was studying under your father."
She shook her head. "You don't have to."
He took her hand. "But I want to."
Silent. And then, "Thank you."
Roy and Riza shared a look, eyes glinting with mirth and pain of days long gone, of memories that still haunted them whenever they sleep; memories of stolen innocence, of war, of pain, of things meant only for them and no one else. They both smiled knowingly.
"Because when I am king, she will be my queen."
Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green…
A/N: I don't consider this my best work, but I definitely like this one.
So, good news for you people who already know me and are following my ongoing story, To Bleed Each Other White; turns out I can still continue that story here after all! The bad news is, however, that I'm hitting a writer's block. This story is supposed to be a little something to help me get my hands working so that I can gather my creative juices to continue that story. Haven't actually gotten the result for it yet, but I have my fingers crossed. I can't guarantee when I can have another chapter posted though.
And for the song I'm using for this fic... it's actually a nursery rhyme called Lavender's Blue (sometimes also called Lavender Blue) that reminded me of royai the moment it reached my ears. More specifically, the king and queen part. And I've fallen in love with this song. I can't stop singing it, myself! I blame Disney's Cinderella (2015)... best movie I've seen since How to Train Your Dragon 2.
There are parts that I've edited a few times because it didn't sit well with me for some reason. They're still a bit iffy, but they're better now. I just really hope no one's OOC and that you all enjoy it.
Please leave some review before you close the tab - feedback is like my secondary food!