Roy and Maes were sitting on the ground, waiting and chatting, along with the rest of the military academy students. Today would be the day when they would view several displays of weapons play. The first to offer an exhibition would be the sword wielders. After seeing all of the weapons exhibitions, the students would decide which weapon they would further study and develop expert capabilities with in addition to their alchemy training. At this time there were two hundred students in their class. They had been warned by their instructors on the very first day of academy that by the time they graduated, there would only be fifty or less of them left. When a young woman with a thick, rope like braid stepped out of the door onto the field, all eyes became riveted on her. There were very few women in the academy, especially ones who looked like her. She was wearing the same dark navy blue cargo pants they were along with the same heavy black combat boots. Unlike the black tank tops they were wearing, she was wearing a skin-tight, short-sleeved Lycra shirt that clung to her breasts like a second skin. Standing there squinting in the blinding light, her hand held above her eyes in an attempt to shield the sun out of them, it was nearly impossible that all of the young men did not notice her. The dual short swords held to her back in a case tethered to her body by thin leather straps that criss crossed over her chest and between her breasts gave them all pause to approach her. Then a man appeared behind her giving each recruit a quick and harsh judgment with his one emotionless dark blue almost black eye. The other eye was covered by a black eye patch. The six and a half-foot tall man with shiny, coal-black hair, a thick mustache, and muscles galore made them fearful to varying degrees. He had a long sword held in an ornate gold sheath strapped to each of his sides. Each man sat completely still as they gaped at the two people. Führer King Bradley and his daughter, Reyna, had arrived for the swordplay demonstration. Without any fanfare or announcement of any kind, the father and daughter moved to the middle of the barren, grassy field to begin.
Reyna stood facing her father. She closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths. Reaching back to grab the handles wrapped in lengths of braided silver and black cords, she withdrew her short swords. Upon opening her eyes, she saw her father had taken a fighting stance and was ready to attack. The old man had never once given her a break in her entire life. He treated her like the son he had always wanted but had not gotten. Even on the day her mother had died, he had not allowed her to cry. She had never forgiven him for that. She also blamed her father for her mother's death. Her mother had died under 'mysterious circumstances' that had never been fully investigated or explained. Perhaps her mother had died because of the involuntary sin she had committed by not providing him with a son. Genetically speaking, it was actually her father's fault that her mother had not produced a son. But nothing was good enough for him. As a child, she had done anything and everything to please her father, to make him love her. She had punished her body by training in martial arts eight hours a day, received many injuries using weapons, incurred scars physically and emotionally while pushing herself beyond her limits so that once, just once in her life, he would tell her, "Good job, my daughter. I'm proud of you." That confirmation of her existence or her skills never came. Sighing loudly with disappointment, she gripped her swords tighter. Truth be told, she was just as disappointed in him as a father as he was in her as a daughter.
Bradley was losing patience with his daughter. He had taught her to always attack first, to always get the first blow to offset her opponent. His lips pressed together to form a thin line of anger and disapproval across the bottom of his face. She always did this. Would she never stop disappointing him? With a bellow of fury, he sliced to the left with his right sword. Before she could jump clear, the extremely sharp tip ripped through her shirt to inflict a four-inch diagonal cut across her abdomen.
"That's one," she announced, pointing her sword at him. She was about to try a new maneuver on him that she had been practicing in secret. Infuriating him would cause him to lose focus and underestimate her. He had underestimated her for years, and she was sick of it.
Bradley gave her a lopsided smirk full of arrogance. He had no idea what she was up to, but he was thrilled to see that she had obviously been covertly planning something in hopes of defeating him. No one could beat him at his own game. No one. Especially not her. Not ever. He offhandedly jabbed his sword at her, expecting her to dodge as if it were a deadly thrust. When she did not move, keeping her swords raised and her eyes locked on his, he muttered under his breath a somewhat bumfuzzled, "Hmmmm...what are doing, my dear?"
Reyna smiled while backing away from him a few steps. She lowered her swords and breathed to clear her head and steady her focus. Without warning, she lunged toward him, her swords raised above her head. The crossed tips of her swords caught the left sword he attempted to bring down on her with all of his strength. If he had succeeded, he would have split her skull. The possibility of her death never bothered him. She guessed he would even welcome it. He had become more violent and refused to hold back the last few years when sparring with her. He claimed it was only to make her better. She knew it was because he wanted her 'accidental' death. She wondered how a man could hate his own daughter so much. After years of tears, heartbreak, and struggling with her own emotions, she had decided to return the sentiment to save herself both mentally and emotionally. She held her swords steady without shaking as he bore down harder to bring his sword down upon her. Kicking out with all of her strength, she knocked the sword out of his right hand that he was swinging toward her. Turning to the side while moving her hands down at the same time, she used his own strength to push his sword to the ground where the tip sank into the soil. Thrusting her elbow backwards, she punched him on the side of his very square jaw. Swinging her fist up, she caught him in the nose with the metal butt of her sword handle that was shaped like a dragon. Twisting her body around, she laid one of her sword blades against his neck and the other poked into his belly button that was outlined by the tight fabric of his shirt. Pressing into his skin with both swords, her face so close to his she could feel his breath on her cheeks, she snarled, "Two."
"What are you counting down to, my love?" he murmured low enough that only they could hear it.
"The moment when I finally best you father," she spat out at him with rage. When his lips lifted in a cruel smile, she added, "Don't call me your love. You never loved me...or my mother."
"Don't say that," he growled back, grabbing the back of her collar to spin her around. To add insult to literal injury, he kicked her in the butt to push her down to the ground.
Releasing the air contained in her lungs with a loud 'oof' sound, she did not hesitate to flip over before he could stomp his heavy boot heel into the base of her spine. She had seen him do that to too many unsuspecting newbies who became paralyzed or were forced to endure chronic pain for the rest of their lives. Dropping one of her swords and grabbing his booted foot with the other, she announced the last number with a scream, "Three!" Using her sword that she always kept sharpened to a deadly fine edge, she sliced through the leather of his boot that protected the back of his ankle. It was like going through soft butter with a heated knife. Pushing her sword back in the other direction, she severed his Achilles tendon. She hurriedly crawled backwards on her hands and feet managing to look just like a giant crab to avoid her father's body that was falling like the Tower of Babel. After picking up her other sword, she got to her feet in a less than elegant manner that made her resemble a newborn fawn trying out her spindly new legs. Standing over her father in triumph, she held both of her swords at the back of his neck. Applying gentle pressure, the tips sunk into the delicate flesh at the base of his skull.
"That's enough!" the Amestrian Military Academy Commander General yelled. He would surely be reprimanded if the Führer received anymore harm. Never before had he seen Reyna get the best of her father. Apparently the man's heavy-handed and merciless approach to training his daughter had worked.
The true nature of the relationship between the Führer and his daughter was kept secret. Visible outbursts displayed for all eyes to see were regarded as the two of them going at each other to put on the best exhibition they could for the cadets or visiting dignitaries. The father put on a the mask of a humble but strong leader, a protective but firm father. Reyna pretended to be happy; putting on a smile and happy-go-lucky attitude for the world to see. Only she knew that she cried herself to sleep every night and her beautiful smile hid the profound pain that had scarred her heart. She did the best she could to lead a normal life despite the identity of her father. He did the best he could to totally exclude her from his life entirely.
Reyna watched in silence, dragging in noisy breaths of air as two of the biggest and most muscular cadets assisted her father with standing. Her eyes narrowed in anger as he willingly accepted the help of the two men as he limped away. He would recover soon. The man had never been sick in his life, and his body had an amazing way of healing itself from injuries. It was almost as if he could regenerate or something as if he were barely human at all. The tension slowly oozed out of her body as her father disappeared inside the building. Her shoulders sagged and her head drooped forward. She was spent not only from the fight with her father that had been a very real skirmish instead of a mock battle for display purposes. Every fight between them had been real. He had made it an actual life or death struggle. There was no do or die; her only option being the Führer's daughter was to simply do. Her mother had received the other option, but Reyna was sure it had not been her choice at all. One day...one day she would find a way to make her father pay not only for her mother's death but for every wrong he had committed against humanity in general.
"Reyna!" a familiar and friendly voice called.
Reyna lifted her head and forced the corners of her lips upward into the well practiced smile that appeared to be sincere. Maes Hughes. Her smile became genuine as she looked at the bespectacled man with the cheerful disposition that sometimes bordered on annoying. However, he had become a ray of sunshine in her dreary days long ago. They had first met a year ago in Alchemy Ethics class. While she began to doze through the teacher's long list of the 'what not to dos' of Alchemy, Maes, who was sitting next to her in the back of the class, got bored as well. She remembered being poked in the arm until she regained full consciousness. Then he began to talk. And he talked and he talked...and he talked some more. It was okay with her. Not only had he been keeping her awake but entertained as well. The lecturer was not quite so amused. The both of them had been banished from the class for the rest of the day. What had meant to be a punishment turned out to be a pleasant afternoon spent chatting and drinking coffee which led to a friendship. Maes was one of the few true friends she possessed. Most people just wanted to be her friend because of her father. Some of the girls her age even tried to become the next Mrs. Führer King Bradley. Status, money, and being something of a celebrity could bridge any age gap apparently. The boys wanted to be her boyfriend to get close to her father so they could be raised in the military ranks faster. Some wanted to be her husband in hopes they would be the next Führer. She had to be really careful with people she allowed to get close to her. Not just to keep them from using her, but also to keep them from knowing how miserable it was to be her or that her father was not really the amiable and fabulous leader he pretended to be.
"Maes!" she yelled back excitedly, giving him a wave. Her indigo colored eyes settled on the man walking beside him. To call him a man would be stretching the age his youthful appearance hinted at a bit. He appeared to be all of fifteen years old but she knew he had to be at least 18 to be accepted into the Military Academy. He possessed a round, baby face as pale as the moon set against a gorgeous back drop of midnight black hair with eyes to match. Although the hair was somewhat messy and disheveled, he was still quite handsome. She rather liked his narrow dark eyes that gave him an exotic and very appealing quality. Gritting her teeth in preparation for the bone crushing hug she knew would be coming, she ignored her sore muscles and aching wound that filled her body with excruciating discomfort when Maes wrapped his strong arms around her and squeezed.
"Are you all right?" he asked with concern, pulling her back to look at her when she whimpered.
"I'm all right," she responded less than truthfully. She was glad she was wearing black so the blood seeping from the wound on her belly would not show. Turning her attention to his companion who was practically hiding behind Maes' tall, lanky frame, she questioned, "Who's your friend?"
"This - " he paused when he looked down next to him and Roy was not there. Seizing Roy by the collar, he pulled the shy man around him so Reyna could get a good look at him, although she already had seen him clearly. "This is my best friend, Roy Mustang."
"Roy," she repeated, putting out her hand that was covered with bruises and dirt. She quickly recoiled it due to the filth to hide it behind her back. It had not even occurred to her how awful she must look.
"Roy, this is Reyna," Maes continued, unfazed by his other friend's current state of disrepair.
Roy silently and curiously studied the woman standing in front of him. Her black hair that had been perfectly smooth earlier poked out from her head in random strands as if she had been zapped with electricity. Her ivory complexion visible on her face and arms was covered with dirt, sweat, blood, and bruises. The clothes that had been crisply ironed were now wrinkled and soiled. She was the same age as himself and Maes, but she seemed older, jaded, and world-weary. He had seen her around the campus quite frequently, surrounded by males and females both. She was the Queen Bee, and they were the drones. He knew she was the Führer's daughter but had no interest in her whatsoever. Although being friends with both people, Maes had never subjected them to having to spend time together as a group of friends. He was thankful for that. He had absolutely no desire to become entangled with females at the moment. His main focus was getting through the Academy and clawing his way up the military ranks. One day he would become Führer to save this country, to repair all of the damage her father had done. Giving her another once over, he would have to say that despite her sorry appearance, she managed to be cute. Maybe he found her somewhat attractive since she had whipped the Führer's ass in a sword fight, beating him at his own game so to speak. Her father had legendary sword skills; now hers would be even more so. Perhaps in the future she could be valuable ally because she seemed to have no loyalty to her father as her parent or his position as Führer.
"Nice to meet you, Roy," she stated using her proper manners and distinct enunciation just like she had been taught at finishing school. She had been tortured for three years at Miss Finch's Finishing School for Proper Young Ladies. Every day, for three long years, the correct way to speak, the correct way to stand, the correct way to laugh, and geez, even the correct way to fart, wait, break wind, had been taught by the spinster crone Miss Finch. The woman had even taught the girls how to get a husband but had never gotten one of her own. Reyna seriously doubted the validity of Miss Finch's teaching skills in that area. Giving Maes one last hug, she trotted off with a wave behind her. "See ya later, Maes!"
Maes and Roy watched her walk away without exchanging a word. Without warning, Maes grabbed Roy, securing his friend's head under his arm to give his sullen companion a painful head noogie. "Roy! I told you that you would love her!"
"But I don't," Roy complained, shoving his hyperactive and irritating friend away. "I don't even like her because I just met her."
"Oh, Roy, it was just a figure of speech," Maes sighed. He thought to himself, You will love her. You just don't know it yet. He smiled as if he harbored a fantastic little secret.
Maes ignored the raised eyebrow of diffidence from Roy. He knew his friend believed he was nothing but a silly, romantic fool. He already knew that he was a silly, romantic fool and had no intention of changing that. Was there something wrong with him wanting to see his two best friends happy? Together?