The Eternal Flame
Word Count: 903
Timeline/Spoilers: no timeline; spoilers for Hawkeye and Mustang's pasts
Summary: This withdrawn but wholehearted young girl unknowingly lit the flames of a revolution decades before it ever started. — Royai Week, Day 6: Ignite
Notes: If you told me I'd one day write a royai fic from Bradley's POV, well…
(I mean, only the first part is his POV, but still.)
"I love her and it is the beginning of everything."
– F. Scott Fitzgerald
It's hard to pinpoint when it all starts.
When "Mustang" starts to really mean "Mustang and Hawkeye," when the Flame is just expected to show up with his loyal guard dog in tow. It's simply implicit; there is not one without the other. Of course, it's only logical that Fuhrer Bradley's game-changing move was cutting off the queen from the king.
Bradley sees it from miles off. The humans thought themselves so clever, but they really should have played it much closer to the vest, he thinks. He felt those killer's eyes trained on him at the close of the war; he recognized that look – hungry for power. He didn't pay it much heed at the time. Humans were all the same after all.
The foot soldier Roy Mustang was hardly of any consequence before he entered the warfront as the Flame Alchemist. He left the field with the hefty title "Hero of Ishbal" worn more like a cowl than a badge of honour and a staunchly loyal adjutant at his heels. Coupled with his meteoric rise in the ranks, it is then that he starts to garner interest as a sacrifice.
The Hawk's Eye garnered a substantial reputation for herself out on the battleground as well. Together with the Flame, they made a formidable and decidedly deadly duo. They might have met during the war and arranged their plans to take the government from there. The when is of little consequence to Wrath and his associates. All that matters is that she is his weakness. Thoughtful women often take the fall for overly ambitious men; history doesn't lie.
What they don't know is that it happened long before military ranks ever factored in, before the Homunculi, and before any longstanding plans to rise to the top. It began with a "Miss Hawkeye" and a "Mister Mustang". The bond was formed not as 'old war buddies' but as like-minded children. It starts with a desire to protect others – to "be thou for the people".
.
It's noble, it's altruistic, but in his heart of hearts, Roy sees the selfish written all over it.
Desire to further his alchemy stemmed from that proud smirk on his aunt's face and the incessant coddling heaped upon him by indulgent older sisters in response to his first transmutation. Fixing creaky wooden planks on the bar floor and spinning simple jewelry from rusty chain links fueled that satisfaction. Soon, he was being shipped off to study the art under a proper teacher.
The young teen who prided himself in keeping his aunt's bar in tip-top shape with simple transmutations was stunned and discouraged to see the state of disrepair of his new master's home. Shabbier still was the man himself, dressed in a threadbare, moth-eaten cloak and wrinkled pants that looked like they hadn't seen the wash in weeks. A city boy himself, he was suddenly cognizant of the great disparity between his own upbringing and life in the countryside, each house some miles away from any neighbors. Later, he would realize that his master's state of dress was not a product of his environment but rather of the obsessed researcher's lifestyle.
The man's young daughter, who was garbed in simple skirts and plain blouses, was flung into his orbit suddenly but not unwelcomely. To this day, he has never managed to escape her magnetic pull. His aunt and sister's praises may have been the tinder, but she sparked the flames. The desire to help and gain approval from those around him morphed into the desire to protect. This withdrawn but wholehearted young girl unknowingly lit the flames of a revolution decades before it ever started.
Though she was far removed from the frail and feeble waif she initially come across as, he possessed this burning need to ensure her happiness and well-being. Unbeknownst to the both of them, that wasn't the only thing kindling in his heart.
By enlisting in the military, and gaining a State Alchemist's license, he could help give her a better future. The academy taught him to secure and defend his comrades in arms. By the time he returned to that girl, she was a woman grown, and his goal had evolved to protecting the people of his country, even if it meant being swept up like a piece of trash on the wayside.
The war gave him one final push to guard everyone serving under him, so that they in turn could guard everyone below them. No matter how vast his dreams grew, she was the matchbox keeping him alight and keeping his flames in check. The Homunculi who indifferently branded them as the same war-raging humans that had carried on for generations failed to take into account their motivations. Yes, the Flame Alchemist was a worthy candidate for human sacrifice, and a powerful alchemist in his own right, but writing off his leagues of comrades and his equally devoted other half sealed their defeat. Underestimating humans was their weakness. Underestimating Riza Hawkeye was their downfall. To think that she would simply allow herself to die and spur Roy Mustang into committing the ultimate taboo. (No, she was under orders after all.)
She was never a mindless follower incited by the charms of her commanding officer or the ambitions of ruling a nation. A conversation at her father's graveside also ignited a dream in Riza Hawkeye. The flame was lit long ago.
"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."
– Emily Brontë
Notes: Definitely my least favourite fic from this week. Not sure how well I pulled off this concept I was going for. (The quotes at the beginning and end are meant to embody this.) Sigh. Also may have overstated Roy and Riza's importance to the Homunculi's plots, but I took some creative liberties? Please review and let me know what you think!