When Riza Hawkeye was just a girl, she used to lose herself in the old fairy tales her mother would tell her. They took place in the mystical, medieval days of the world where dragons and witches terrorized small villages, and were defended by valiant knights who served the kings and queens of the land.
The enchanting stories spoke of elegant princesses who lived in large castles and beautiful palaces. Princesses were beautiful and well-mannered. They would dance in ballrooms and have extravagant dresses at their disposal. Princesses even had enchanted fairy godmother's serving as their guardians, keeping them safe.
Though some princesses were not so blessed, some were cursed as a little girl by evil forces, putting their royal family to shame, and locked away in a dark, gloomy tower, that fell far from the elegant life of a conventional princess. Here, they waited for the day their prince would come for them, returning them to the fine life of royalty. Far too often, Riza questioned why these damsels didn't simply save themselves.
"Things are never that simple, sweetie." mommy replied to her naive question with a heavy heart, pulling her daughter into her chest. Elizabeth embraced her daughter's warmth, probably for one of the last times.
Soon after, Mommy said she can't play with Riza any more; daddy said she was really sick. Mommy kept saying she was alright though her dry coughing said otherwise. Daddy said mommy had to go soon, but Riza had no idea where.
Until the next week, Riza did know. Into the ground. They buried her. Six-feet under. They buried mommy. Mommy's gone. Who was going to read her stories tonight? Who was going to make her favorite stew?
Riza, her tummy growling, found daddy in his study, doing his important work. She approached him, tugging on his coat. Riza held up her favorite story book, only to have it ripped from her small hands. Her book was thrown into the fire, and she watched it burn in the flames. Daddy just told her not to put any stock in fairy tales or happy endings.
The next day daddy asked Riza to come into his study that he's going to give her something important. It has to do with his important work, his alchemy. Daddy said it was supposed to be used to help people. She didn't care how much it hurt, the needle biting into her skin. Riza's screams were muffled into the towel she's biting into.
Her dreams of becoming a princess were abandoned soon after that. From then on, Riza did what she was told, she cleaned, she cooked for herself, and whenever her father felt like he should, though days apart, she'd cook for him as well. She still loved her father, despite all she put her through. Riza never blamed him, she loved him.
I have too. He's my father.
Year later, the stumbling teenage boy, eager to learn alchemy, didn't look like prince charming. He was far from it. Riza would yell at him for staring at her in an improper manner, eating more than he should, but Riza was fond of his his presence. It was a light in her life, added more excitement.
We've been together a long time.
Despite she had been bleeding from her jugular mere seconds earlier, she smiled at the humorous, but sincere tremor in his voice. They were alive. He was here. They were real. This was no fairy tale.
Roy Mustang would never be prince charming. He was her king. Despite always wanting to be a princess, she ended up being a queen.