AN: I'M BACK and i couldn't resist posting the prologue to my newest project!

so this fic spawned from an idea about a royai "rewrite the stars" fic (both our faves from two different social classes who want to be together (the "i'm not the one you were meant to find" lyric SLAYS ME) and it has grown arms and legs from there ("it's rewrite the stars but with assassins")

enjoy! updates will be posted posted more often than once a week but i won't confirm a set time yet. i'm just putting this out there as a taster so let me know what you think!

also, shout out to lexi for helping me spawn this idea. i hope you enjoy it!

I am not a stranger to the dark

Riza Hawkeye doesn't remember much about her childhood. Moments came to her in dreams and when she calls upon them, but they are fleeting and don't hold much substance. One that sticks out the most, the true turning point in her early years, was her mother's death. It happened when she was eight. It was an illness, they said. She didn't feel any pain, they said. But Riza distinctly remembers hearing the screams.

She remembers her father before and after that event but both faces look the same. His cold eyes and uncaring expression never changed. When her mother died he went so far as to hide her away. The cupboard under the main staircase became her new home. Whenever Father had visitors, she would be hidden in that godforsaken space for hours at a time. In that cramped room she had no real way of tracking the time. She just remembers the fear and the overwhelming sense of loneliness that threatened to suffocate her.

"You can't come out, Riza," her father always told her. For once, some emotion had crept into his eyes but it was fear. He was scared of her, ashamed of her.

During night hours she had free reign of the house, so long as she kept the lights off. No one was allowed to see her, no one was allowed to know she was living here. Young Riza didn't understand. She just wanted to go out and play with Mother like she had for years prior to her passing. She wanted to hug her father but every time he looked at his daughter there was a look of shame on his face. So she turned in on herself. If her father refused to love her then she was by herself in this world. Nobody cared about her. Nobody knew she even existed. The only other person who did was in the cold ground.

And Riza is not sure why, but she prominently remembers a boy's face. When she turned eleven her father recruited an alchemy apprentice. Of course, Riza was hidden away once more whenever he attended lessons but the boy found her. She had cowered in fear in her small haven from the outside world, terrified at having been discovered. However he simply looked curious. Like she was a priceless artefact from a civilisation long lost and he was trying to place her in this world. He had smiled at her. He had acknowledged her existence. The first person to do so in three years. She knows his name but chooses not to say it. Because if she did then the anger and sorrow that had been festering inside her since she was fifteen years old would burst forth, pushing her out of control.

Riza can't recall much of her childhood, whether it was because she had pushed all that down far within her so that nobody could access it, not even herself, or if her memories were altered using alchemy, she doesn't know. The latter would not surprise her. Even the mere mention of the word "alchemy" draws her mouth into a sneer. If she wasn't tailing somebody right now she might even spit on the tiled roof she was crouched on.

As Riza grew older and began to venture out of the cupboard with the boy she learned a lot of new information. Suddenly things about the world were a lot clearer. She realised why her father had hidden her away.

Alchemy was a source of power and status in this world. Anyone who wasn't blessed by the skill was treated as a second class citizen. Those who were unfortunate enough not to be chosen were cast out of Central and into the slums. This who were fortunate sat in positions of power in the centre, with King Bradley at the top.

The bastard.

But no matter how much she understood it didn't stop the pain she felt inside her chest when she remembered the look on her father's face as Bradley's men dragged her out of her own house and away the slums. The look on that boy's face as she called out to him to help her. He had been the only person since her mother's passing who had shown her kindness. And when she really needed him, he hadn't helped her.

That had been ten years ago. She had only been fifteen.

Deciding that was all Riza was going to reminisce about tonight, she scoffed and vaulted over the low wall on the roof silently, making her way down the tiles carefully and soundlessly. The added wetness from the rain during the day aided to her silent approach of her target.

The man walked the streets below completely unaware of death stalking him from above. He laughed merrily with his male companion, stumbling over his own feet. Almost staggering into a lamppost he paused, then laughed once more.

How can they celebrate and live so freely when there are people dying every day in the slums? How can they walk together knowing that slaves in the eastern mines died day in and day out while they lived in their luxury?

Disgusting.

Deciding Riza had heard enough of their pointless conversation about the weather and what the winter months will bring, she dropped from the rooftop.

One feeling that remained with her after all these years was the thrill she felt when falling through the air. When moving towards the ground so fast she felt as though she might splatter on the concrete. She was flirting with danger every time and she knew it. Her grandfather told her off every time. Said she shouldn't throw herself around the way she did. Said it would get her killed eventually.

Riza never admitted it to him – or anyone – but that fact never really bothered her.

At the last second she angled her feet towards her target's shoulders, hitting him dead on. With a cry he fell forward, face smashing off the cold ground hard enough to shatter his teeth. Well, he won't need them anymore.

Keeping the man's companion in her peripheral vision, she deftly released the hidden blade strapped to her forearm and slit her target's throat. Warm blood spilled over her hands but Riza barely reacted. She had done this hundreds of times already. What was one more drop of blood on her hands?

This was all over in a few seconds, giving the companion little time to react. But when Riza looked up as she after hearing a snap, eyes coming face to face with the boy from her childhood memories.

each chapter will be titled after a lyric from one of the songs from the greatest showman (all building up to a rewrite the stars chapter which i am DYING to write), hence the title of this chapter