Honey, Fire!

Ask: hello! i just wanted you to know atlas is slowly killing me so thank you for that ( : i was wondering if you were taking requests? if not it's ok but i have a fluff prompt: "Daddy, how did you and mommy fall in love?" i need some fluff after that latest chapter xD thanks in advance!

A/N: Hello anon, thanks for the request! Chapter 18 of Atlas killed me too. I hope this fluff/crack-comedy makes up for that. I'm sorry that it's taking forever to finish 3

References include Grimm's Fairy Tales, The Princess Bride, and a bunch of Game of Thrones ones (though the names were changed) because they're on last season and I'm so excited!

Royai. Post-canon. 5.5k+ words. Rated T (crude humor).

A little girl lies on the bed, the crocheted blanket pulled up to just beneath her chin. At six years old, Isabella Mustang, who inherits every temperament from her mother and every dark feature from her father, often dreams of princes and princesses. She looks at Roy, beseeching with those owl-like eyes. And just as he has done for the past few nights, his hand automatically strides to Children's and Household Tales sitting on the shelf of her nightstand.

Thumbing the book, Roy asks, "Alright, what page were we on?"

"Daddy, can you tell me a different story tonight?"

A single brow rising, he says, "Do you want me to read you the kissing book tonight?"

She shakes her head. "Daddy, how did you and mommy fall in love?"

Surprised, his eyes widen. But he chuckles nonetheless, "Do you really want to know?"

Nodding eagerly, Ella bolts upright and drags the back of her head against the headboard, coiling her shoulder-length hair into a tangled mess. The cotton sheet around her snakes to the ground, and Roy snatches it with a deft hand to drape it over her small body once more.

Ella squeaks, "Is it like the fairy tale book you've been reading to me?"

Smoothing her unkempt hair, Roy hums, "Maybe. If you really want to know, then..."

Ella balls her hands in front of her tiny face, clenching them with enthusiasm, "Yes! I want to know!"

Palms up in surrender, Roy acquiesces, laughing, "Alright, alright."

Once upon a time there was a very beautiful woman with long, golden hair. Her name was Elizabeth.

For many years, Elizabeth was kept in a circular tower so tall the spire almost reached the sky. There were bay windows that dotted the column from top to bottom, the ledge large enough for her to rest her elbows, stick her head out and meet the world. On some days, she could be found communing with the clouds, singing to the passing swans and cranes. Some other days, she would venture halfway down the brick structure to smell the blossoming jasmine and magnolia trees.

But rumor had it she could never leave her confinement.

It was one fateful day in the spring, when the flowers were in bloom and the grass greener than jade, that one of the knights of the Six Kingdoms caught a glimpse of Lady Elizabeth, her flowy tresses draping over the windowsill like a cascade of sunshine. He was so awestruck by her loveliness he had forgotten how to speak, his tongue tied into silence as if a spell was cast on him. Then the Eastern sky turned gloomy, as though berating him, telling the knight she was not for his viewing purposes.

Afraid of whatever peril could befallen him, the knight journeyed back to whence he came, the gallop of his horse unstoppable, strong and hasteful. He rode to Scarlet Keep, where the young Prince Roy of House Mustang resided.

"Arise, Ser Jean Havoc," the king commanded.

"My king. My prince," Jean bowed, his head almost perpendicular with the floor. Then his back was once again upright and tall, the line of his jaw set firm. "I brought news from the East."

Prince Roy, who stood guard beside the king, nodded, a wordless gesture for the knight to proceed.

"There was a woman trapped in a tower in the East, near the Aerie," the knight said.

"Go on," the king said.

"She was very, very beautiful. One in a million..." Then, tentatively, the knight added, "And she seemed exactly like Prince Roy's... type, as he so often repeated to me during our horseback ride to the countryside."

At this, Roy's knees buckled, the tip of his scabbard screeching against the ground. The prince moaned in delight, and he could have sworn his eyes temporarily rolled back into their sockets at the mention of a beautiful woman of his… type. "Golden hair?" the prince asked impatiently.

Jean nodded.

"Coral lips with large, hazel eyes?"

Jean nodded again.

"Porcelain skin so smooth it looks like milk?"

"Uh, yes?" Jean replied, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

"But her cheeks are flushed to resemble the shade of a rose, right?"

"That was oddly specific, but I suppose yes…"

And that was how Prince Roy found himself lingering before a lofty tower jutting out to the atmosphere, unsure if he had arrived at the correct destination.

His knight and friend, who had given him an approximate location, refused to accompany him for an undisclosed reason. Roy had an inkling as to why he wouldn't be there; it was apparent from the hasty retreat the knight had made and his reluctance of speaking about her. Ser Jean Havoc simply told him, with a smirk so feigned Roy wanted to slap it off his face, "You wouldn't want me to cockblock you, my prince."

Roy's dark hair trembled in the wind, no longer slicked back in the way he had it styled. The wind whispered eerily, even when the sun was high and bright above him and his verdant surroundings serene with the chants of tiny creatures. His black steed gnawed on the tall grass by the tree, chomping and looking up, chomping and looking up, as if telling his master, "Any day now..."

And so Roy summoned his courage and called out to the tower, weather-beaten and shot with silver among the stones. "Hello?"

No answer.

"Hello?!" he called out again, louder this time.

Silence.

"Hell-"

"Oh my God, will you please be quiet?!" came a curt reply, the tone unmistakably irritated. A woman with porcelain skin, large, hazel eyes, and long, golden hair drew her face towards the window, her complexion shadowed by the darkness of the interior.

Upon seeing her, Roy sensed a furious spike to his heart rate, rapidly dashing in and out like the little rabbits playing among the wildberry bushes. Impulsively, his fingers clenched into a fist, and he felt the bed of perspiration along his palm. Holy mother of God, she's f***ing gorgeous!

"I apologize for the noise!" Roy shouted. "What is your name, my lady?"

"And yet you're still making so much damn noise!" she huffed, crossing her arms below her breasts. "My name is Elizabeth. And I will need you to come closer and speak a little bit softer."

Obediently, Roy approached the bottom of the tower. He tilted his chin up, eyes towards the sky, and he found Elizabeth meeting his gaze from several feet above him. She was even more attractive from up close. Oh the things he would do to- Shaking his head profusely, he cleared his throat (and his mind) before speaking up once more, "My name is Roy and I came from Scarlet Keep in Central Kingdom. My father sits on the throne, but he's getting older, you see, and he wants me to succeed him."

"Okay, and what does that have anything to do with me?" Elizabeth asked.

"I need to marry before I can do that."

"You want to marry me?" she laughed mockingly. "We don't even know each other!"

"How about we get to know each other then?" Roy replied, hopeful.

"And how do you suppose we do that?"

Roy commanded in the gentlest tone, "Lower your hair so I can climb up."

She snorted. "You think I'm Rapunzel? My hair only goes down to my back, and you don't have my permission to touch this soft thing."

"Oh," he said, wrinkling his brows. "Then how about you drop a ladder or tie up some fabric for me to climb up?" Roy asked, persevering.

Pointing an index finger to somewhere on the ground, she said, "How about I just meet you at the front door?"

"Wait, what? You can actually do that?"

"Of course!" she barked.

Then a moment later Roy heard a heavy clank at the door, followed by the sound of metal bolt unfastening. Elizabeth stuck her head out in between the door, her golden fringe fluttering in the breeze. Roy trailed his gaze from the bare of her feet to the point of her chin. Slowly, he examined every inch of her face, dawdling on her coral lips, then venturing up and into her deep, mesmerizing eyes.

It was when she met his intense, scouring gaze that Roy knew, at that precise time, that Elizabeth too couldn't take her eyes off of him.

Opening the door wide, Elizabeth reached for the hand hanging suspensefully by his side. She dragged him inside into the murky basement, where Roy stood rigidly under her enchanting beauty. She flicked a curious stare at his mouth, catching her bottom lip in between her teeth. Swiftly, Roy brought his lips nearer her inviting ones, closer, and closer, until-

Riza's hand flew towards his cheek, fast and brutal. Slap! "What are you doing?!"

"Ouch!" Roy brought his palm up, rubbing at the sudden heat ripping through his skin. "What was that for?!"

"For trying to kiss me without permission!"

"You pulled me inside because you wanted me to seal the deal, no?"

But all quarrel died down with a sudden rumbling noise overhead. It sounded like a crash of thunder, but amplified through a giant cone to increase the volume ten times over. Then the bats screeched, and the crows cawed. The trees quivered, raining down its foliage as an offering to appease whatever it was causing the disturbance. Then the tiny sliver in between the door, where daylight shone in not a moment ago, was quickly shadowed by an eclipse.

The sun was gone. Plucked from the sky.

"Uhh… what is... going on?" Roy asked nervously.

Putting a finger on her lips, Riza said, quietly, "I pulled you in because I could sense my father flying above us. I didn't want him to see you."

"Fl-flying?"

"Why do you think I never leave here? He never allowed it, and he could easily find me by gliding through the forest."

His lips thinning, Roy asked, "Elizabeth… what is your father, exactly?"

"He's uh- a dragon."

"Wait, dad. Grandpa's a dragon?!" Ella asks, her tone ascending in excitement.

"Well, he was pretty much like... a dragon," Roy says, his reluctant gaze avoiding his daughter's widening eyes. "Big and mean…"

"So what happened then?"

The rest of the tower was as gloomy as its basement. It was no wonder Riza had been seen staring out the window. Beside Riza herself, nothing in the room had struck Roy as particularly interesting or worth examining. There was a lot of grey and black. The wall, the linen drapings, and the lack of furnishings and decor. There was also only one of everything. One bed, one pillow, one table, one chair, and lastly, one set of utensils and eating wares. It was as if the singularity was a stern reminder that she was meant to be here alone, isolated from any other form of life.

Roy supposed this was one of the most terrible situations he had ever come across. It was sad. Pitiable.

"Riza, aren't you lonely here all by yourself?"

"Sometimes," she replied, "but I often daydream of a handsome boy who would whisk me away. Take me to a place far away from here."

Roy thrusted his chest and straightened his back. His spine was so vertical he felt as though he grew at least two inches taller. He smirked, "A handsome boy like me?"

But she shook her head, "No. A farm boy. Poor. Poor and perfect. With eyes like the sea after a storm…"

"Oh," he said, his lips downturned from disappointment. "Well, I'm not a farm boy… but I can certainly pretend to be one..."

But as Riza perched on the thin mattress beside him, narrating her tale and goals and desires, Roy started to forget her lamentable circumstance. Instead, he found himself wordlessly amazed, his jaw slack and eyes glazing, and his mind dazed as though in a stupor. How could a woman so intelligent, beautiful, and intriguing be shackled in a solitary prison such as this?

"Don't you ever wonder about that, Roy?" Riza asked.

"Huh? What?"

"You know... what would happen if you give a dog chocolate?"

"They would die," Roy said without a second thought, his face completely straightforward even when his mind was curvy and twisty from his own wonders.

Her face stretched in horror, palms on both of her cheeks. The shock was warranted, considering Roy's square expression and her lack of knowledge of the outside world. But her reaction had been much too adorable for his stomach to handle. A cluster of moths and butterflies swarmed his belly, fluttering it with a strange but pleasant sensation.

Sometime during their glittering discussion, about why something as delicious as chocolate could kill a beloved pet, Riza had strode a few feet away to cook dinner. The smell would waft in and out of his nostril as incessantly as their smooth conversations and jests and the rolls of laughter, knitting an amiable pattern that Roy just could not stop marveling at. It was strange to Roy how easily they got along. It was almost as if they were a match made in heav-

"Roy, were you listening?"

"I uh-"

"You had asked me the first thing I would do once I leave."

He nodded, if only to save himself.

"I would go to the beach and build sandcastles."

If he hadn't been convinced then, he was convinced now. His sole purpose was to free her from her father's custody. In his head, he had already pictured the creases from strained muscles on his back and his arms as he swung her over his shoulder and carried her into the sunset. He'd give her the beach and all the sand in the world so she could build however many sandcastles she would like.

And so his adventure began.

When dusk finally gobbled the last flicker of light, Roy pushed himself up from the edge of Riza's bed. The content of the bowl in his hand had been scraped clean, and he put the round metal atop the chest next to him. "Thank you for dinner, Riza."

"You need all the strength you can get," Riza said. Approaching him, she ironed out the slight crinkle on his leather jerkin and placed her hands there. "Remember what I told you. And be careful." Tiptoeing, she kissed the corner of his mouth, and Roy could have sworn he had forgotten what he had set out to do, even when she literally just told him a second ago. The blood in his limbs felt like water, rushing briskly and violently, drowning his sensibility and buoying up a lovesick teenager.

After a tearful goodbye, the prince found himself skulking on the mountainside, creeping towards the highest peak with black soil and rocks beneath his sturdy boots. Upon reaching the top, he would find a cave, Riza had said. Then she instructed him to cross as deep as a thousand meters in before reminding him to take extra care, for at any moment her father's scorching heat could consume him, flesh and bones. The dragonbreath. Hotter than any flame in existence.

Armed with a broadsword - Hardsbane - that was passed down from generation to generation, Roy threw over the black cloak he received from Riza. It was large enough to blanket his entire body, and the fabric gradually drained the coloring from his armor and weapon, blending them flawlessly against the volcanic wall. Slowly, he plastered his back all along the cavern, afraid a tiny misstep will plunge him into the steep cliff below. Dragging his feet, little by little, Roy advanced into the humid air and earth-scented musk.

Inside, everything was dark. It was terribly difficult to see anything beyond five feet away. It didn't help that there was not a single sound beside the dripping globule from the stalactites above. Nevertheless, the squelch from his boots were steady, pushing onward, with Lady Elizabeth on his mind to guide his courage and determination.

It must have been the way she smiled, shy yet charming, or the way she timidly tucked a loose strand behind her ear. Or maybe it was the delicious stew, properly spiced and sprinkled with a lot of love (or so he would like to believe). One way or another, Roy couldn't get her out of his head even when he had shaken it off for the hundredth time. She really was as beautiful as Jean remarked, inside and out. And whether it required him to drive a sword inside the dragon's chest or chain it to its lair for all eternity, he would do whatever it took to release Lady Elizabeth from her prison.

About halfway in, Roy heard something. Something quiet yet sinister, waiting just around the bend. Is that her father? But he hadn't yet approached his thousandth meter, where Riza claimed her father lie in slumber before he soared out of the cave to ensure his daughter was still bound to the tower, alone.

Cautiously, he drew nearer. And nearer. And nearer…

"What is this story you're telling her, Roy?" a voice asks from behind.

Turning around, Roy finds Riza standing by the doorway, her side leaning against the frame. There's a fond smile teasing her lips, reserved only for Roy and Ella when she finds the two scheming and giggling and playing. His wife walks in, and similarly to his younger self, Roy's heart stops in its snare before pounding again with a faster drumbeat.

He hadn't realized why it had happened then. Or perhaps he had known but rejected the idea altogether.

But now, as Riza takes a seat on Ella's bed beside him, he is fully aware of how much control she has over him, body and soul.

Affectionately, Riza tames the dark tendrils sticking out of his head, brushing it down with her fingers. She chuckles, "You've grown more gray hairs since last week."

Roy sulks, "Don't remind me."

"This is what happens when you're in your forties," Riza tells their daughter, laughing outwardly but without a hint of ridicule in her mirth. It is one of the little things Roy appreciates about his wife; she can easily turn his frown into a genuine smile in a matter of a heartbeat. "Anyway, what story were you reading to Ella?"

"Mommy! Daddy was telling me a story how you two fell in love!" Ella chirps, eyes twinkling. "He said he's just about to kill the dragon and save you!"

Tilting her head in amusement, Riza asks, "Save me?" Then she looks at Roy, smirking, "Are you sure about that, Roy?"

"Ohhhh! So it was mommy who saved daddy?" Ella shrieks, gripping the hem of her blanket and tugging it closer to the base of her nose, as if trying to cover her face. "What happened then?!"

Smiling, Riza begins to narrate, "Alright, this is what happened next..."

Riza tapped Prince Roy lightly on his shoulder. "Hey you," she greeted softly.

"Ahh!" The prince jumped, his ridiculous expression stamping an unsolicited grin on her face. "How did you see me through the invisibility cloak?" he asked, confused.

"Oh, I was just joking about it making you invisible. I wanted to get rid of that black blanket for a while now, but I couldn't leave!" And Riza smiled, innocently, "But at least it's keeping you warm, right?"

He gave her a look of disapproval, tinged with disbelief. "Uh, I suppose..."

As they proceeded deeper into the cave, an ominous presence made itself known, raising the hairs on her arms and legs. Riza was not one to be fearful of the sensation. If anything, the familiarity was a welcome change. If all had been peaceful and quiet, it would have alarmed her all the more. Looking at Roy, his face ashen under the glowing stalactites, Riza wondered if he could feel it too...

At long last, they encountered the dragon. Her father.

Lining the perimeter of the circular den were small torches, their dancing flames providing a clearer vision of the beast. His long and fat tail curled up against the wall. The snout, which was crocodile-like and rounded at the tip, flared against the ground as he breathed, fluttering the soil with every huff and puff. Each one of his scales was as large as Riza's palm. They were stitched neatly together to create a steel-like hide, protecting the body from an effortless slaughter.

From this short distance, Riza, decisively, felt a tinge of fear. She had only ever seen her father up close in his human form. She muttered under her breath.

"Did you say something?" Roy asked.

Frowning, she said, "As much as I'd like to escape my father, I could never hurt him."

But the dragon seemed to have heard her and opened his eyes. Striae of faded amber writhed frighteningly behind vertical, black slits. But his large orbs were otherwise dark and empty, as if there was not a soul underneath the web of scales and pointy spines. "Who dares disturb me?" Berthold said, his voice booming, reverberating along the lair.

Riza could feel his fiery vapor from his flaring nostrils, a jetstream of mist and hot wind against her slender figure. "Father, I've come to ask for my release. If you agree, we can all walk out of here peacefully."

Instead of answering, the dragon rose from his nest and swiped his claws at her. The unprotected part of his stomach and chest was on display, shaded a menacing umber, the color as dark as his demeanor.

Sidestepping swiftly, as though she had spent her whole life practicing the movement, Riza eluded his attack. She stood her ground, surefooted. "But father-"

"Never!"

"Stop attacking my future wife!" Roy bellowed from the other side.

Berthold whipped his head at the noise and snarled, "Who are you and what do you want with my daughter?"

"I plan to ride my mustang into the sunset with her. Then I'm going to marry her and father her children!" Roy shouted, his tone insistent.

"You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you," Berthold said. "But you will fight me. Only one of us can emerge victorious."

Scoffing, Roy replied, "You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die."

With this, an idea suddenly struck her, and Riza dashed to the opposite side of the cave, foraging the fallen stalactites and gathering them into her arms. The tip of each one was sharp, and the icicle was made of sturdy deposit that barely cracked beneath its surface. She heard a loud clang, metal against steel, and as she whirled her body towards the sound, she found Roy engaging her father.

Roy was an excellent swordsman, trained since childhood as Riza recalled from his narration. His steps were masterful and his hands adept at precise stabbing and prodding. It looked to her as though he was dancing, the refined sequences seamless and appropriate for his lean frame. He was a worthy opponent who immediately adapted to the rhythm of their duel, pivoting and twirling, rigorously pushing and taunting, avoiding each swipe and hook effortlessly.

She gaped at Roy, mouth parting in thirst. With roaming eyes, she explored the hard lines of his muscles, protruding nicely over the fabric. Each little movement would highlight a different set, and she could only stare in awe. If he could be so wonderful with his combat skills, then he must also be wonderful in be- She slapped her own cheek in defiance, banishing the perversion from her mind. Then she collected the rest of the stalactites, and sprinted to Roy, fighting alongside him.

"Are you doing alright?" Riza asked, shouting.

"Yes! But he hasn't... even... used... his flame... on me!" Roy answered, his breathing ragged.

Berthold replied to him, "Inconceivable! If I use it, I would kill my daughter along with you, you little punk!"

"Hah! I guess... it's good that… you showed up after all, Riza! He won't be... using it!" Roy replied, and she could hear the smugness in his tone.

She reminded him, "But you still need to take him down, honey!" Then, with all her might, she threw one stalactite at the dragon, piercing his chest. Then another. Then another. Over and over until the same area turned raw and red, and the hide slowly peeled away. With every piece she flung at her father, the image of Roy's broad shoulders and well-defined chest replayed like a motion picture in her head, more vivid each time.

"What are you doing, Riza?!" Berthold rumbled.

"Helping Roy, father! I want to have his children!" And as she said this, she continued launching sharp icicles at her father. At the same spot.

"You're such a... good shot, Riza!" Roy exclaimed in between respiration, the slicing sound of his blade wrangling against Berthold's skin. Shing, clang, shing. "And did you just say... that you want to have... children with me?"

"Yes!" she replied, chuckling with the most coquettish delight. "Yes, I do!" And the truth with which she spared her father was that she wanted to feel the prince's toned abs along the flat of her stomach, the press of his muscular arms against her soft skin.

But her words seemed to further anger her father. The dragon sucked in air, rapid, and his belly distended as though he carried a child within. In that moment, a realization dawned on her. He was going to burn-

Before she could finish molding the rest of her thoughts, Roy said, "I'm sorry, my love." Then he pushed her out of the way with an immense strength she didn't know he possessed.

Riza yelped in surprise as she flew towards the far wall, away from the scuffle. Her back twisted in pain, a dull sensation robbing her focus. Then she felt the cold, rounded surface of the damp stone underneath her, rubbing against the ache. But before she could tend to her injury, she sensed a warmth that soon turned into feverish heat.

Then she saw it.

Her father's dragonbreath.

"Roy!" she screamed. But her voice quivered, so fragile and subdued against the roaring fire.

It was too late. She knew.

The flame was brighter than anything she had ever seen. All-consuming. Literally.

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, and her chest heaved once, twice, from the penetrating sob she tried to conceal. Riza pulled herself up abruptly, ignoring her protesting back and limbs. Her feet would not cooperate. But she had to move. Lugging them over the trail of dirt, she began to search for Roy, frantic.

She scanned the murky den, left to right, up and down. Nothing. Then she scoured the same area, afraid she had missed a spot. Again and again. She couldn't find him. "R-Roy? Answer me..." she rasped.

Silence.

Taking a deep breath, she wailed, "Answer me!"

And his reply came a second later, faint and feeble. "A-as you wish, Riza."

She chased after his familiar voice and found Roy huddled against the wall. The purple blot on the crown of his cheek looked tender to the touch, and the tiny cuts on his forehead and chin trickled a dark crimson in the obscure light. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him up to his feet. "Let's get out of here before father turns you into dust!"

Roy protested, "But I can't leave... until I've defeated hi-"

"He's right... Riza. He still... needs to... defeat me," the dragon groaned. But her father seemed exhausted, his breathing coming and going in quick succession: panting, wheezing, gasping. His body had dropped to the ground, immobile, as if a great weight had been put atop his spiny back.

"Then you leave me no other choice, father," Riza said. Then she threw her arm over her shoulder and clasped her back. Not a moment later, she drew a large, burning sword from underneath her skin. The flame was as bright as the dragonbreath that it prompted both Riza and Roy to shield their vision. She handed it to Roy without hesitance. "This is Firebringer, my father's sword. Borne out of one thousand years of research and my mother's tears."

Fascinated, Roy took the sword from her hand, eyes large and unblinking to study the weapon in his hands. But rather than asking about the Firebringer, he said, "Wait. One thousand years? How… old… are you, Riza?"

But Riza chose to ignore him when Berthold stared at her, surprised. His countenance was engraved with shock that he seemed to have forgotten why he had puffed up his chest in the first place, readying himself to emit another round of his firebreath. With a thundering voice, Berthold roared, "How dare you give this boy Firebringer! Don't you know this sword is precisely why I kept you in that tower? You foolish child!"

"You told me I can give it to someone worthy," Riza countered, "someone worthy of my love and dreams!"

Catching his breath, Berthold said, "Do you truly love this boy?"

Riza nodded. "I realized it when he saved me from your flame. Not every man would do that for me. I love him, father."

Her father appraised her, the same dark gaze that seemed unfazed by her sudden confession. But following a series of coughing fit, Berthold finally turned to Roy and sighed, "Take care of my daughter, Roy." Coughing, he added, "I'm sorry for all the troubles. Now leave me be. I would like to have my peace."

With his last words, something in the prince's expression shifted, as though he'd plunged himself into a vast ocean, diving along a current of ruminations. Riza couldn't tell what it was, and as the seconds passed, she felt her hands fidgeting, the curvature of her nails digging half moons into her skin. Did Roy change his mind?

But Roy's voice finally gave way to her musing, "When you handed me Firebringer, I knew you'd given your life to me, and I'd like to do the same." Then he reached for her hands and held them in his. He smiled, "I love you, Riza. And I'll give you as many children as you'd like. One hundred beautiful babies, if that is your wish."

His voice spoke of conviction and the promise of a wonderful future. Riza knew then, that Roy would heed her father's request and give her his whole heart.

At the end of the story, Riza finds her fingers intertwined with Roy's. Her husband's palm is warm and his clasp tender, every sensation allowing a stroll down memory lane, to the day they first held each other's hands. Riza rises up from the bed and brushes her daughter's fringe away, laying her soft lips on her forehead. "Goodnight, Ella."

Ella's eyelids flutter languidly, heavy from drowsiness. She replies with a yawn, "Goodnight, mommy."

She sees Roy following in the same order, tucking the hair falling over their daughter's beady eyes so that he could place a kiss there. Then he whispers his goodnight and tails after Riza, catching up to her, who quickly weaves their fingers into the same affectionate pattern.

Once they've closed Ella's door with a quiet creak, Riza chuckles in the dark hallway, "We're terrible storytellers, aren't we? Why must everything we say sound so ridiculous?"

Roy rests a hand on her elbow, leading her a few feet away from their daughter's room so as to not disturb her imminent slumber. Slipping his arms gently around her waist, he says with an endearing smile, "I wanted to tell her a fun bedtime story rather than the cold, hard truths of our childhood, so I came up with the dragon bit for your father. So I'd like to think we're rather... creative."

"And when was it exactly when you realized you were in love with me?" she teases. "I missed that part."

"Oh I've been in love with you for God knows how long," Roy smiles, tightening his clasp around her, "but I didn't admit my own feelings until I returned from academy and saw you again."

"Ah. If I'm not mistaken," she starts, her tone playful, "the day after my father's funeral was the day you dumped sand into my garden beds. You said that we should build sandcastles because it would make me feel better."

"And did it make you feel better? Building sandcastles with me?" Roy asks, his tone curious.

With a content smile, she nods and whispers, "Of course."

"Get a room, you two!"

Spinning towards the reprimand, Riza captures a glimpse of her twelve year-old son, Elio, entering his room at the end of the corridor. Chuckling, she turns back to Roy, who mumbles her name and a string of adoration in her ear.

She winds her arms around his neck and tiptoes to meet his height. Slowly, she reaches for his lips, and upon discovering it, she presses a soft kiss, spilling every beat of her heart and every ounce of her breath. Just as she has done on that day so long ago. The day she realized what Roy truly means to her.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Comments are appreciated!