Ok, this is just something I'm writing to get back in the swing of things, after being off the computer for so long.
I might continue it, if I get enough good reviews. hint hint. No, but seriously, if I do continue it it would be with someone else. See, I've kinda been entertaining an idea about doing a little snatch of each of the adult's childhoods. You know, like Riza's and Hughes', stuff like that. If it sounds interesting, let me know.
Oh, and because I've only seen the anime and have not reaad the manga, my knowledge of the Xingese is sketchy at best. So sue me, I made stuff up. Please no flames about it if I got something totally wrong.
Disclaimer: Yes, it took me months of digging in my backward, but I have finally found the right to Full Metal Alchemist! No, seriously though, not mine. Don't be ridiculous.
The wail of a newborn filled the room, and Miyuki fell back upon the bed in relief. At the moment, she could care less about the fact that she had just brought a new life into this world. Why should she? After all, the child was his.
"Oh, Miyuki, it's a boy," she heard her nurse breath, "The master will be so happy."
"Hooray," Miyuki muttered under her breath. She honestly could care less what her 'husband' thought, but she still couldn't help a flutter of disappoinment. She had secretly hoped that the child would be born female, but of course that would have meant things had gone in her favor for once.
"Here, do you want to hold him?" the portly woman her husband had assigned as her nurse held out a bundle to her, but Miyuki turned on her side.
"No, not really," she said, staring at the opposite wall. At that moment, however, the infant took up a horrible cry, and the nurse began cooing softly. The child wouldn't cease though, and after five minutes Miyuki couldn't take it anymore.
She turned over and sat up, propping herself against the overstuffed pillows of the giant bed, "Oh, give him to me," she snapped at the fat old woman. Looking scandalized at Miyuki's harsh tone, the woman none-the-less handed the screaming babe over.
As Miyuki held the boy to her, his wails died to nothing more than hiccups. The child nestled closer to her breast, and as he turned his head towards her she gasped slightly.
Ivory skin showed under the remenants of birthing muck that still clung to him, and a small thatch of silky black hair was just visible around the blanket covering him. The little boy seemed to fit perfectly in her arms, and Miyuki couldn't help but smile as the boy blinked his small, coal colored eyes up at her.
"Why, you're nothing like him, are you?" she whispered in her native Xingese, rocking the boy slightly, "You're beautiful. There's no possible way you could be born of such a creature. You're too perfect. My son."
At that moment, a man burst into the room. Tall and chisled, he stared at the woman on the bed with cold blue eyes.
"Well," he said, his booming voice causing the child in Miyuki's arms to whimper and squirm, "what is it?"
The fat old nurse gave a small curtsy, "Sir, it's a boy. Healthy as can be, and a beautiful little thing."
The imposing man sniffed and approached the bed, "Give him to me," he commanded.
Miyuki looked at the outstretched arms for a moment, prepared to refuse. but the chance was taken from her as the man suddenly snatched up the baby.
Miyuki cried out, but her husband did nothing more than push the blanket away to better scrutinize the child. His eyes, like two shards of unforgiving ice, narrowed as he caught sight of the black hair and slightly slanted eyes.
"Hmph," he snorted, "Too bad. I was hoping he'd turn out halfway decent," He recovered the babe and handed him back to Miyuki, who grabbed him up and held him tightly to herself.
"Forgive me," she spat, "I guess my people are just more dominent. Geneticly, of course."
Her husband's scowl deepened and he leaned over her menacingly. Despite the defiance that had been reawakened by the birth of her new son, she couldn't help but draw back in fear.
"I thought we got past this years ago. Your my property, I got you fair and square, and I won't tolerate any back talk. Understood," Miyuki didn't answer right away, and with an angry growl the large blonde man grabbed her shoulder.
"Understand," he hissed, squeezing hard. Miyuki clenched her teeth against the pain and nodded.
"Good." he released her and turned, making for the door. But halfway there he stopped and turned his head to face the nurse, "The child will bear the name Roy, after my grandfather. He was a great war hero, perhaps some of the glory of his name will rub off. Although I doubt it," and with that the man swept out of the room without a backwards glance.
"There, you see. Roy. Roy Mustang. What a fine name, don't you think?" the nurse dithered, turning towards the bed with a smile plastered upon her face. Miyuki didn't answer, head bowed over her son so that her long black hair hid her face.
"Yes, well then. I'll get you something to drink, and maybe later a little something to eat if you're feeling up to it. Must keep up your strength for the baby," The ridiculous woman kept up her meaningless chatter, but Miyuki ignored her.
Two years ago, Marcus Mustang and his men had broken into her home, killed her family, and kidnapped her and her younger sister. From what she'd been told, her sister had been raped by the men in the raiding party before she too was brutally murdered. Later she found out that her and her clan had been victims of one of the raids performed by the Amestris military, although the politics of it all escaped her. Basically, if someone said that a person of Xingese origin was a threat to the Amestris government, they were fair game for the military. She had been forced into a marraige contract with Marcus, the great Thunder Alchemist, and had been living miserably as his wife ever since.
"Oh Roy," she whispered in Xingese, voice thick with tears, "I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this to you. You don't deserve this. You shouldn't have to become a part of this nightmare. I'm so sorry."
Miyuki sat in her rocking chair, staring out her bedroom window. Rain pounded, and the grounds of the Mustang estate were damp and grey.
"Even the worst rain serves to water flowers," she murmered to herself, repeating a well-known Xingese proverb with an unmistakably ironic edge. But before her gloom could swallow her completly, a knock on her bedroom door interrupted her.
"Come in," she called wearily. The door opened a crack and a small, dark-haired head poked in.
"Mom?"
"Roy!" a smile alighted upon Miyuki's face, and she gestured the boy inside, "Shouldn't you be at your alchemy lesson?"
"They were canceled. Professor Kirsch is sick and couldn't make it," Roy said in his quiet voice, closing the door behind him and making his way over. At an inviting nod from his mother, the boy crawled up onto her lap. At six years old Roy was tiny, roughly the size of a child of four. His smooth black hair was kept in a sensible ponytail at the back of his head, and his clothes were plain and respectable, kept always in perfect order without a wrinkle in sight.
"Mom, when is father coming back this time?" Roy's voice broke through Miyuki's thoughts, and she forced a smile.
"Not until next month," she said. To her astonishment, Roy's face showed, not disappointment, but relief.
"Good," the little boy said, "things are more fun when he's not here. He yells too much, and he hurts you. I hope one day he never comes back."
The venom in the small boy's voice nearly broke Miyuki's heart, despite the fact that she agreed completly. No child should know that much resentment at his age.
"I know, hikoi," she whispered, cradling him close and using the Xingese term of endearment her father had always used for her, "I'm sorry. This is the way life is. But the Xingese are a strong people, and as long as their blood runs through your veins you too must be strong. No matter what happens."
She felt Roy nod into her shoulder before he sat up straight. His coal-black eyes bore into her own, and he wore an expression so serious that it would have been comical on the face of any other child his age, "I'll be strong if you'll be," he said.
Miyuki tensed, and Roy gave her a strange look. A moment later, though, she relaxed and smiled at her son, "Of course, hikoi."
Roy smiled and wrapped his small arms around her neck, "You promise?" he whispered.
A second of hesitation, but then Miyuki hugged him back, "Yes. I promise."
As she held her son close, Miyuki glanced out the window. Rain slid down the panes, and againt the darkness outside Miyuki saw herself reflected in the glass. Roy's face was buried in her shoulder, and her cheek rested against his soft hair. There, in that silky black nest, her tears were falling unnoticed by her son.
"Goodnight, hikoi. I love you so much," Miyuki whispered, kissing the slumbering six year old and backing out of the room. She shut the door softly and turned, not towards her bedroom, but towards Marcus' study.
Checking to make sure no one was around, she slid a small ring of keys from her pocket and opened the heavy door. Slipping inside the austere room, Miyuki experienced a moment of nervous fear. Never had she been allowed to enter her husband's study without his explicit permission, but it didn't matter now. No, not anymore.
Strengthening her resolve, she moved swiftly to the oak desk and selected another key from the ring in her hand. This one fit perfectly into one of the many drawers, and as she pulled the handle a glint of metal met her eyes.
A chill touched Miyuki's spine as she allowed her hand to close around the metal object. It was cold to the touch, and as she lifted it from its resting place she found it to be heavier than she'd imagined. But the weight of the pistol, although unexpected, gave her a strange sense of power. Her destiny was in her own hands now, in the most literal sense of the term. Here lie the answer to her problems, and as she set the barrel under her chin she found that to her surprise she was smiling. It was a smile that, before, had only been able to be called forth by the sight of Roy. A real, genuine smile.
And so, with a smile on her face and the thought of the single person on this earth that still brought her joy set firmly in her mind, Miyuki pulled the trigger.
"And so, we bid farewell to Miyuki Mustang, beloved wife and mother. May God protect her eternal soul."
Finished, the priest closed his thick book. The crowd that encircled the open grave numbered at least one hundred, but to one little boy at the front of the crowd they may have well not been there at all.
Roy's vision was clouded over by unshed tears, but his mother's last words to him about being strong caused him to hold them in. The coffin began to lower, and Roy felt a heavy hand settle upon his shoulder.
Looking up, he saw the face of his father. Marcus Mustang stared straight ahead, icy blue eyes burning. To a stranger, it would have appeared that the large man was simply trying to show a strong front, but his son knew better. There were no hidden tears behind that gaze, only anger. His property had been taken from him, and he wasn't happy about it.
The grip on Roy's shoulder was painful, but he bore it silently. Together in this rictus of father and son love, Marcus and Roy Mustang watched Miyuki's coffin disappear into the cold ground.