Hello all! Thank you for finding interest in this story - this is a project I started a while ago, but which circumstances only recently pushed me to post. Hope you enjoy! I'd like to thank my anonymous Guest reviewer and Dotdodot for already giving me some feedback.

Dotdodot: Thanks for the catch! If you'll notice, I have tweaked Ling's age to match your expertise. ;) Keep it coming!

Also, the first few chapters of this are already written, but I will continue to publish on a weekly basis... just to give it that good ol' school feeling. :)

With that, and a disclaimer assuring you I am not the owner of this magnificent series, enjoy the show!

Ling was not a bookish man. Sure, he liked to read and sometimes even write, but he belonged on his feet, actively changing what he could and living life to the fullest. Unfortunately for him, his adventures seemed to have peaked early in Amestris. After all, nothing could quite top chasing, fleeing, and battling mostly immortal beings that were out to destroy everything he loved.

The adjustment, he supposed, was probably going to be the greatest hardship of becoming Emperor – the sitting around in an ornate throne and endlessly sifting through paperwork. Politics had always made his head hurt, what with all of the manipulation and grovelling, the back-stabbing and gossip. Ling himself was never above the occasional mischief and trickery if it meant a good laugh, and perhaps some stolen prize or food. Oftentimes, however, the dealing of court seemed so cold and impersonal. It was difficult to maintain the balance when his country's welfare was one of the sole things he was so passionate about.

This passion also served to act against him as he often had to force himself to attend to the duties of future Emperor. Having been trained and educated from a small age, Ling understood the obligations of the throne, and he even found interest and a cooler form of passion in policy making. When the policy-making was reduced to circular arguments within the council room, however, he found that he very much would rather be anywhere else in the world. Ling could master any style of fighting thrown at him, he could eat twice his weight in food in one sitting, and he could stay awake and alert for up to three days straight with no sleep, be he could not stand the piles of musty paperwork and tedious councils enforced by his Councilmen. His well-meaning, tradition-abiding, over-paid Councilmen.

These were the same Councilmen whom just so happened to be holding him custody at this very moment. Not that he was paying them any attention.

The old men were mostly talking among themselves, voices tumbling over each other in a mild bickering fashion that didn't seem efficient. The meeting was about things he really should, but could not, care more about – mostly political appearances and how he should look and act for the public to 'accept' him. Whether or not his people 'accepted' him was a minor problem to Ling – he was mostly concerned with how he could (and eventually would, as Emperor) protect them all.

This was the subject that plagued him the most as of late, and it was no idle one - unlike, in his opinion, the one that he was 'attending' now. His goals were ambitious, even he could realize that fact. He basically wanted to revolutionize his nation within the time that spanned his rule, which history could show had never really turned out well. Fast change and progress generally meant great sacrifice, whether economically, politically, or, most commonly, in blood and violence. Oftentimes, it was a deadly combination.

Needless to say, Ling knew he had to proceed carefully, walking on eggshells as he was. Even thinking of how tenuous and dangerous revolution could be made his palms sweat a little in nervousness, and he shifted in his chair with a grimace, as if in a high-risk game of Amestrian chess. No one he knew would define Ling as a nervous person, or really even a cautious one for that matter, but his experiences in Amestris had left him with lessons he would not soon forget. Revolting, rioting, angry people could cause far more damage than anyone would care to admit - it was the blind violence which people were capable of that made the further goals of the homunculi feasible.

But it was achievable, of that much he was certain. For all its outdated flaws, Ling was very proud of his nation, and confident in its capability. He saw it for what it could become and just knew that if he could get his people to see it too, there would really be little problem. After all, it wasn't as if he was changing the governmental system or even the grand political layout of the country. That would come later. In the meantime, he would continue as Emperor with his Councilmen, and focus on molding his country into something that really resembled a nation, instead of a patchwork quilt of extended families.

The problem that really weighed on him stemmed from the fact that he was young and impatient and could not bear to wait for propriety's sake. As it was, he would be the youngest Emperor to have serious diplomatic say in his country's affairs, never mind the fact that the Old Emperor was little more than a wheezing, tired old figurehead. Xing wasn't used to a strong Emperor, and he was banking on the fact that a strong Emperor was what the people wanted and wouldn't complain about. Ling may have disliked the intricacies of court politics, but he was not fool enough to be ignorant about the state of affairs in his nation: there was a strong divide between the wealthy families and the peons, and the latter surviving in feudal conditions while the former basked in the increasing luxuries of a new age of technology.

In the end, however, it didn't matter that Xing the country was ready for change, was ready for him: it mattered that the Xingese people might not trust him. As he knew from experience, trust was key if he was truly going to be able to protect his people the way he promised he would. To protect his people in this initial change, he needed to stay alive, and not be assassinated, for at least ten more years. To develop his change and progress the way it needed, he would have to hold out for much, much longer.

The philosopher's stone was, of course, the most prime candidate to complete this objective. With the incomplete philosopher's stone in his possession, Ling had returned to his clan as a hero. The stone itself was still locked away in a safe place that no one but he and his closest trustees knew of.

The plan had been to use the stone to become immortal immediately after retrieving it. As far as anyone else knew, that was what had happened. He was already known as the Immortal Prince, the ruler who could not be slain. He had not, however, accepted the stone into his body yet. Indeed, it was only because of good fortune that only the eager and amateur had attempted to test the title of "Immortal Prince". Assassination attempts had always been inevitable, but thus far the attackers had been sloppy enough that Lan Fan, and even himself once, had always pulled him through with a comfortable margin of success. Still, there was always the possibility that a more serious threat lurked beneath the Xingese nation, a deadly threat that they might not be able to stop in time. The lord smirked against his folded hands, not for the first time, in grim humor at the razor-sharp game he was playing. In the meeting, his dependable Councilmen tossed ideas about social events over his head, and they seemed to have forgotten the urgency of his goals and the tight rope they all had to walk to achieve them. Then again, most of them weren't aware that the man (or boy, as some insisted) before them could be killed as easily as any one of them. Irresponsible and dangerous, yes; but it all boiled down to the fact that he had reservations.

First and most obvious, there was the matter of its ingredients. Ling had never told anyone except for the Emperor himself what the stone was made of, and it seemed that Mei Chang had also kept the information close to her. The troubling moral concept of using human souls to fuel his body for his own purposes had never lost its edge. When he had shared his body with Greed, there was always the tumultuous ocean of bitterly tormented souls across which he had to concentrate. And yet, as impossible as it was to comprehend, sharing that ocean with another conscious being – namely, Greed – had made it bearable. In fact, he had been so often concentrating on finding Greed's weak spots and searching for chances to reclaim his body that he was able to block out the ocean all together. Ling often wondered if he would be able to keep his sanity among the sorrowful cries of those trapped inside of him when he was all alone. Besides, there was no way they could predict the nationwide reaction to such a horrible truth, or what chaos would ensue because of it. With the current state of affairs, additional controversy was not in the best interests for the country, or Ling's health for that matter.

Ling smiled a small ironic smile at the thought of current state that Xing was in. With the outward appearance of Immortal Prince, Ling had immediately been chosen as next in line to the throne. It had been his first proposal to the Councilmen to commence the integration of the fifty clans into one. As he had said in Amestris, he wanted to protect all of the people in his country. He felt that such a lofty goal would be far easier to accomplish if they acted as one instead of fifty. Yet, however true that sentiment was, it did not mean that the transitioning period was simple. Piles of maddeningly wearisome legal documents and forms had to be taken care of, in addition to the understandable tensions that had been rising throughout the nation. For as long as their history had been recorded, the fifty clans and their representatives had fought and clamored over each other to reach the throne before their brethren. After such deep-grained rivalry, a union was no easy task. The simple irony of his intentions and their outcomes had never escaped him: his goal was to be able to protect all of his people, but using the means to do so meant creating conflict and putting peoples' lives at risk.

Alas, there seemed to be little way around it. Ling sat up a little straighter, reminding himself as he continually did that this was an uphill battle. He needed all the help he could get.

Then again, aside from the main issues, a lesser con against the stone was the simple fact that he had already endured its immense power. The knowledge of the excruciating pain alone that accepting the stone into his body meant made him hesitant enough. He still shuddered and his gut still clenched in unease when he remembered the fire in his veins, being stretched thin, unraveled, and sewn back together with completely different thread. It was not an experience he would take on again lightly. What was more, no one could be entirely sure it would give him the same power it had the first time. Back then, there was a homunculus in the stone, and it was really mostly Greed's power that had made him so strong in the first place.

Ling's brown furrowed as his head dipped lower to his chest in thought. The third reason why he shouldn't accept the stone into his body seemed both crucially important and yet whimsically idle. He wasn't sure how to sort out the conflicted feelings he had about the problem itself – all he knew for sure was that it bothered him, and thus was a problem.

There was Lan Fan to worry about. Ling grimaced at the way that sounded in his head. To be fair, it was not a problem for Lan Fan alone. Her entire family will be affected as well.

If Ling became immortal, there was no real reason why he would need body guards any longer. Such was the allure of being an Immortal Emperor, but such was the double edged sword. Lan Fan's family had been protecting the lords of the Yao Clan for generations. Money and position was not the issue. He would, without a second thought, provide her family with all the wealth and comfort they would need. The problem was that they did not know how to do anything else.

The simple solution was to allow them to continue protecting him even when he was immortal. After all, if the stone ended up not giving him the power of a homunculus, there was a chance that it would only make him heal faster, and live longer – there was no guarantee that he could not die before his time, even with the liquid stone in his blood. In such a case, he would still need the help of Lan Fan and her family line as the Immortal Prince. But it was all so unclear, he didn't know, and could not afford to make the same mistake twice. It would destroy him.

The unbidden memory of that crucial moment in Amestris made him clench his hands reflexively until his knuckles showed white and his skin creaked like leather. The familiar stinging of pain, regret, and helplessness ached through him as it had ever since that day when Grandfather Fu had resolutely fought by him. The honorable warrior had fought even though Ling really had been the Immortal Prince at the time.

He died to protect me.

The level of grief and guilt that he still felt, the anguish at losing the old man, was remarkable, really. It had been almost two years, he realized with a little shock, since their return from Amestris, and Ling was beginning to doubt that these feelings would ever ebb completely. Sure, it could never be as intense as it had been in the first few months. Those had been the hardest. He hadn't been able eat anything, to even speak in more than one-sentence answers. But it had gotten better. Life, in the end, moves on.

Now it was more like a hollow in his chest that he occasionally forgot about, but which he would suddenly fall into – it would remind him that it hadn't always been hollow. Something irreplaceable had been ripped from him, and it was a thing that could not be regained through all the souls in Xing. Ling closed his eyes, allowing the memories and the feelings to wash over him without resisting. He had found that it was easier that way. The ache continued to swell and fade as it would, and he knew from experience that there was no rushing its retreat. His throat tightened painfully, but his eyes remained dry. He was past the tears, at least.

It was only by his good fortune that the Councilmen seemed so wrapped up in discussing an object on the table that his agitation went unnoticed.

It was his weakness that had killed Fu. This was a fact that he accepted. Ling frowned in thought as the Hollow ached a little more, imagining what Fu would say. 'A sad man who laments his sadness is doomed to be perpetually unhappy', or something of the like. The thought did manage to coax a shallow smile from the prince. He had never been good at either coming up with, or heeding, the advice of old adages.

Fu had been better than a father to him his whole life, and Ling knew the old man would scold him for these remaining feelings of such sadness if he could. And yet… it was so hard to remember that. It was becoming so increasingly difficult to forgive himself for what happened that day.

The Councilmen nearest him were beginning to look at him inquiringly. Ling quickly cleared his throat and reminded himself of where he was. His thought process had completely derailed and gone off track, and his composure suffered from it. This was not the place to dwell on the past – this was the place for control. He told himself that he could brood later, and only then did his hands begin to relax. Meanwhile, the Councilmen were returning to their murmured conversation, gesturing to Ling and nodding as if in acquisition. At least it seemed that their discussion – which, Lind realized bitterly, could have easily been conducted without him – was coming to an end. After pretending to care for a few more moments, Ling returned to his original train of thought.

The point was, he had been immortal, shot through the head and unaffected. And somehow, due to that insane logic that holds this world together, the thousands – if not millions – of souls that kept him so invincible were reduced to nothing. The awe-inducing truth was that not one of them could replace that soul that was returned to the Creator that day. His immortality had not made him able to keep only one of his most loyal subjects alive.

He would not let the same happen to Lan Fan. Not for all the souls and immortality in the world.

And so the cycle repeats itself. Immortality is the best way I can become Emperor, yet immortality is worthless compared to the worth of my subjects.

Ling thoughtfully picked up a figurine before him that represented the Yao Clan. It was the figure of a dark haired Lord with legs and arms crossed, and eyes closed in apparent meditation. The peaceful stance was offset by the presence of a sword in each of his hands, held in a formation so that they came together in a point just above his head. Between his eyebrows was a minuscule Yin Yang symbol. It was meant to represent the balance that the Yao clan stood for, the endless dance – when peace could only be obtained by force, or when force needed to be offset by peace.

Immortal or not, I cannot fight armies or quell revolutions on my own. Life is fragile, and not everyone can be guaranteed endless life.

Ling sighed and pressed his eyes closed as he set the figurine back to its rightful spot. His arguments with himself in respects to the stone always went like this. It was an antagonizing circle. The prize was great, but was the price greater? At this rate, he wasn't sure if he would ever have a perfect solution.

"- this is the perfect solution." A Councilman was saying. "Ling? Prince Ling, are you listening to us?"

Ling tensed, but raised his head slowly, schooling his features into his default courteous, mild expression that usually worked well for politics. They all looked at him expectantly.

"Councilman Shi, you must repeat your solution once more." Ling suggested with feigned sagacity. "Such brilliance should not be uttered only once."

One of the Councilmen closest to him, a man known as Cheng, cleared his throat to disguise a chuckle. Ling's mouth twitched upward ever so slightly at his reaction: it was likely that Cheng would comment on it after the meeting was over. Cheng had a fatherly way of chiding Ling for his occasional flippancy in a manner that seemed more like encouragement.

The Councilman who had spoken in the first place – the man named Shi – grunted in a way that said he knew exactly what Ling was up to. He had no choice, however, but to consent and repeat himself for the prince's benefit.

"What we have been so adamantly and attentively addressing is the substantial problem of your appearance as a leading figure of Xing," Shi said, gruff and a little irritable. "As a prince so young becoming the Emperor, our people need to know that your choices will be grounded and firm, and will not lead our nation down the wrong path."

Ling frowned slightly at the implication, but he knew logically that this was not an unfounded belief. Always watchful, Cheng nevertheless must have noticed his reaction, and he spoke next in more compromising tones.

"My Lord, everyone in this room knows that they can trust you to become one of the greatest Emperors Xing has ever seen," he stated firmly. With a quick glance around the conference table, Ling noted all of the gravely nodding heads that affirmed his proclamation.

"However, public appearance is, in fact, a very real concern." Cheng continued. Shi seemed to sit a little straighter and look a little more important at the open admission. "The overwhelming majority of your people have not had the privilege to speak to you, and many of the clans most likely have vile rumors spreading about you due to the contention between clans. It is of the utmost importance that the people gain trust in you, and quickly. The best way to do so would be to begin taking on the public demeanor not of a premature Emperor, but that of a man who has no intentions of desertion. In this way, we can begin to make known to the Empire that being ruler of this land is not simply a whim or competition to their prospective Emperor."

Ling listened to all of this with pensiveness, and he slowly nodded when Cheng was finished. He had to admit, he hadn't thought about it that way, but it made sense. He had acknowledged himself that he needed to gain the peoples' trust before he moved forward, but he had not connected that necessity with what he considered to be the frivolity of public appearances. The prince sighed in admittance. Taking small measures to make his public image more presentable was only one of the many things he would need to consider when taking on the formidable role of Emperor.

"Thus," Shi spoke up. "We have come to the conclusion that it is imperative that you marry."

Yes, it made perfect sen –

Wait, what?

Any shred of his regained composure was instantly dashed to bits. The once proud, collected Ling Yao suddenly felt as though he had been doused with cold water. He managed to keep his eyes from widening in alarm, but his jaw went slack and his breathing halted as he waited from someone to announce that this was a prank. Shi, misinterpreting his reaction in his own self-competence, continued proudly.

"It just so happens that the 'perfect solution' I mentioned earlier was the choosing of the ideal bride for a budding Emperor."

Perfect solution? Ideal bride?!

Ling felt an odd mixture of cold surprise and hot embarrassment battle for dominance in his stomach. He had committed the cardinal mistake of the battlefield: He had underestimated. He had most definitely not been expecting this, though perhaps he should have been. Ling was far more overwhelmed than he had ever thought a dusty old conference could make him, and he looked like an idiot for it. Realizing that he was gaping, he clicked his mouth shut and forced himself to swallow a few times. This was what he got for not being involved in the conversations with these nosey old men, he supposed. Now he just had to figure out how to reverse the situation. After all, marriage was out of the question, wasn't it? He'd had little to none romantic experience with the opposite sex. In the years when other young men his age were strutting for done-up ladies and courting, he had been battling in Amestris and burying himself in the workings of a nation. He wasn't even sure he had what it took to be a… a husband.

Of course, arranged marriages were not unheard of in Xing. They often had to be made for political advance. For some reason, he supposed, he just hadn't thought it would apply to him. Not this early on, at least. Maybe not ever. It was unreasonable, he realized now, but that didn't make it any less true or less appealing.

Ling's silent objections were cut short when his attention was drawn to something that a Councilman had slid across the table to him.

"This is a picture of your prospective bride. Her name is Bilan, of the Xu Clan. She is sixteen years old, and has been raised as a Lady her entire life. She has even gone so far as to spread her kindness to other clans, and is well known and loved. As you will be uniting the clans of Xing into one, it will only be necessary to have one bride, and so we must chose very carefully indeed. She would be an optimal match, and would gain the trust of most of the clans of Xing," Shi advertised.

There was a ring of truth to his words; the face in the picture looked vaguely familiar to Ling, and he seemed to recall an outsider helping his clan with irrigation problems a few years back.

He's right, Ling admitted begrudgingly. There probably couldn't be a better Empress. But it still doesn't sit quite right with me.

Cheng seemed to notice Ling's hesitation, because he decided to throw in his bit as well.

"You may also notice, young Lord, that she is not exactly hard on the eyes," he said with a grin in his words.

The unexpected prompting startled a burst of short laughter from Ling's lips. He studied the picture before him.

Right again, he noted.

Bilan had a smiling face that was creamy white, with dark animated eyes that shined happiness and generosity. Her black hair was long and well kept, catching the rays of the light glossily in intricate loops and waves. Her dress was vibrant and artfully embroidered, hugging a well-shaped body that, he noted with a rush of heat to his throat, was undeniably luring. Delicate fingers held a flower from one of the many blooming bushes of a lush garden behind her. The overall effect was not unpleasing.

But should he marry her off of a photo and some well-spoken words? The idea seemed rash to him, despite being advised from some of the wisest and most trustworthy men in Xing.

"I suggest we send her an invitation to stay at the royal palace for an extended amount of time," Shi piped up, sensing a drop in Ling's guard. "Perhaps we could hold a celebratory feast and give the young Lord a chance to meet the Lady for himself."

"Yes, I agree," Cheng nodded. "Let Ling meet Bilan and acquaint himself with her character. Allow him to decide for himself if she would be a good match for his rule. After all, there is no reason to rush into anything without thinking." He added, with a pointed look at Shi. The other Councilman shifted a little, but Cheng continued on without notice. "Besides, the young Lord's eighteenth year is less than a month away, is it not? Perfect timing, it seems, to begin considering this commitment."

Ling blinked in surprise again, and realized Cheng was right. He had forgotten how soon he would become eligible – not just for becoming an active Emperor, it seemed, but for marriage as well. Had time really slipped by so quickly? He resisted the temptation to shake his head in disbelief, struggled to take it all in stride. But really, what other option did he have?

The young prince bowed his head in acquisition. "Very well. Send her word that there is a room waiting for her at the Palace, and she may bring whomever she must to feel comfortable."

Shi nodded solemnly, but Ling caught the gleam in his eye and got the uncanny feeling that he had tangled himself into a game of matchmaker. With an inward grimace, he decided that now was as good a time as ever to make his escape.

"Well, if that is all that need be decided for this meeting, I'm famished. If you'll excuse me…"

The rest took his cue and got up from their seats, murmuring happily amongst themselves about things like a young royal romance and pork dumplings. Without another word, Ling left with a slight frown upon his face.

Marriage… is this what I must do to be true to my people?

His ponderings were interrupted by the familiar sound of his stomach rumbling. With a smile, Ling began to clear his head of this burdensome development.

I suppose I really am hungry. Not surprising, but a welcome distraction all the same.

Ling tucked the picture of Bilan Xu loosely into his pocket, and vowed to think of the matter no more until her likeness arrived in person.