Author's Note: I got the idea for this story when I saw a summary for some fic – I don't remember the fic or the summary, but somehow it made me come up with the summary for this. So I wondered what he did do with those flowers...and then this idea slowly formed. This is mangaverse, obviously. Oh, and all flower info is taken from Wikipedia, so the validity might be questionable XP

For Dailenna, who is still the Queen of Royai even though she doesn't write them anymore :P

"Are your eyes closed? No peeking!"

"I'm following your orders to the letter, sir." Riza Hawkeye – no, Mustang now – laughed as she covered her eyes with her hands to convince him. Normally, she wouldn't put up with such nonsense, but...well, it wasn't often that Roy was in such a good mood. Besides, he was so playful that she even dared to call him...cute. In her private thoughts, at least.

Riza wasn't used to the mansion yet, so she had no idea where Roy was taking her. But he had lived here for almost six months already, so he confidently directed her up one carpeted hallway and down another. "A few steps down now," he murmured in her ear, and she slowed down to feel her way. But she wasn't really afraid of falling, because his hands were firmly gripping her shoulders. She could feel his new ring against her left shoulder, even through her shirt.

Finally, Roy pulled her to a halt. "Almost there." The sound of a door opening, then Roy guided her forward several more paces. She felt him leave her side, then he announced, "All right – now open them!"

A mass of color dazzled her as soon as she let her hands fall, and for a moment or two she could only gape stupidly. They were in a small room she had never seen before, though it seemed to be at the back of the mansion judging from the view out the window. The room was bare except for various tables and pedestals set up all around the walls. And on every surface sat a vase filled with roses. Every color, every shade imaginable seemed represented among this collection, and they were arranged so haphazardly, with such little attention to the combination of colors that Riza was sure Roy had been the one to place them.

"What's all this?" she finally managed to gasp out.

Roy smiled next to a bouquet of yellow flowers. "You probably don't remember this, but several years ago I ended up buying more flowers than I knew what to do with. I called to see if you wanted some, but you said you didn't have any vases."

"I remember." Roy had never realized how much that simple phone call had meant to her. She had been shaken to her core, jumping at every shadow, expecting to feel cruel hands around her neck. And then he had called, his voice so soothing and familiar, reminding her that even though the world was cold and harsh, there were still a few points of warmth and safety.

Then it slowly dawned on Riza what he had just said. "You mean...these are...?"

Roy nodded smugly. "The very same flowers," he finished for her.

"But..."

He chuckled at her astonishment and rubbed his fingers together. "Alchemy can do many amazing things. I was saving them for this day, but I'm afraid they won't even last till evening now that I've returned the moisture to them."

Riza reached out and touched one of the delicate yellow petals near her. It was as soft as velvet, as though it had been freshly plucked from the ground. A smile touched her lips. He's always liked showing off.

"Are you familiar with the language of flowers?" Roy asked, his playful tone returning.

"I can't say I've studied it, no."

Roy drew himself up proudly. "Every kind of flower carries its own message, and since roses are the most popular, they have the greatest variety. Every hue means something different." He stroked one of the flowers with the back of his finger. "Yellow roses, for example, symbolize friendship."

Riza lifted one of the blossoms to her nose, even though it didn't have much scent anymore. He had certainly shown his friendship that day, calling at exactly the right time.

"The dark pink ones stand for gratitude," Roy continued, as though he had read her mind. He passed on from a pink bouquet to a vase filled with roses of a deep, brownish red. "Burgundy means 'unconscious beauty'."

Riza looked up with surprise, heat creeping up her cheeks as he held her gaze with silent meaning and a smirk.

Roy was moving around the room as though he had rehearsed this beforehand, gesturing towards a cluster of purple roses. "Lavender means 'love at first sight'."

Riza remembered the first time she had laid eyes on Roy Mustang, and she was sure he was stretching the truth a little at this point. He had been a gangling, bookish teenager with acne issues, and she was sure there hadn't been anything in her younger self to attract him. They hadn't even associated with each other much until her father died and their future in the military began.

"Light pink – passion."

Shaking her head at his dashing, suave look that used to make young girls swoon, Riza slowly followed her husband around the room. The days when he had covered his tracks by pretending to chase after women were long gone, but he had proven that he could still be as passionate as ever.

"And white, of course, means 'purity'...or alternatively, 'secrecy'."

They shared a knowing smile; gone were the days when they had to hide their feelings. For so many years, instead of love letters and romantic candlelit dinners, they had been reduced to glances of silent understanding and long days side-by-side in the office. That made the transition to marriage both easier and harder than a normal couple, she supposed.

Roy was back by the door, gently caressing a perfectly-formed red rose, like something out of a fairy tale. "Ah, and red... Red roses mean 'true love'."

Riza's smile widened as his eyes met hers, warm and fond as though she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It was like a bedtime story. And the peasant girl married the handsome prince, and they lived happily ever after. She knew it wouldn't be quite like that, though. She knew they would have their differences, as they always did. They would raise their voices, slam doors, annoy each other with a thousand miniscule mannerisms as they grew old together.

"And this?" Riza gestured to a single pedestal set up in the middle of the room. On it sat a delicate porcelain vase, filled with both red and white roses.

Roy crossed to her side and laced his fingers through hers. "'Unity'."

But they would grow old together. Riza squeezed her husband's hand, holding firm to that conviction, that relief, that assurance. They had gone through all the ups and downs of friendship, of working together for the same goal. She knew that, however hard it might be, they would achieve their happily ever after. In the end, when they retired and spent their days in rocking chairs in some backwater village far away from the bustle of Central, they would look back to this day and know that the flowers spoke true.

Resting her head against Roy's shoulder, Riza took in the beautiful sight of all these roses and murmured, "You didn't have to do this, you know...but thank you."

Roy kissed the top of her head. "For what?"

"I have plenty of vases now."