Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.
AN: Hello all! Just a quick note to say that I've responded to a couple guest reviews from the Prologue at the end of this post. I hope you enjoy the second chapter :)
The Village of Freyne - Northern Amestris (319 years later)
Roy Mustang twisted out of his bedding with the haste of one escaping unsettling dreams, his breaths heavy, a droplet of sweat trailing slowly down his neck. The cold floor on which his feet landed did naught to ground him, and he ran a hand through damp hair before pacing toward the table set in front of the fireplace. The room was peaceful, a current of air drifting lazily through the open window, barely wafting the drapes as it passed, and that serenity could not be more different from the dream that had torn him from sleep. The one he'd been having for centuries, ever since the vampire with the brown and red eyes gave him her blood.
It was always the same, taking place in a dimly lit bedchamber, with a vast carpet over the stone floor and several ornate furnishings in the periphery. The fire had burnt down to mere embers, only a few candles continued to flicker on a table, and a hint of sunlight trickled through the minuscule part in the thick drapes. He was drinking blood, the rich, strangely sweet liquid leaving a metallic tinge on his tongue, and waves of potent despair washed over him. He had no idea from whom he fed, but utter anguish consumed him.
After what felt like an age he stood, walking a touch unsteadily and grasping the bed's sturdy oak foot-board for support. He could feel power surging through him, a rush unlike any he'd ever felt, the sensation equally exhilarating and revolting. When he reached a petite writing desk he dropped into the chair, slowly raising his head to look in the mirror, only where his face should have been he saw the blonde. Her lips were parted slightly, blood dripped languorously from the corners of her mouth, and tears coursed down her cheeks as she stared wide-eyed at her reflection. She clutched at her chest and sorrow ripped through his, and then she dipped her head for another instant.
From somewhere in the darkened room a tentative, nameless voice asked, "Riza? Are you ready?"
The blonde's chest rose, and he felt the breath she took as if it were his own. "Yes." When she looked up again her gaze was determined, mouth set in a frightening little smile, and a new emotion swirled with the others: anger.
Then he would wake, always at that moment, the influence of those powerful emotions wreaking an impressive amount of havoc on his own. It had the effect of bringing back into focus everything he'd ever felt about the loss of his family: the sadness, the rage, how lost he'd been for decades. He still was in a way, if he was honest with himself, since during his long life he'd never stayed in one place for more than a smattering of years. On that topic, however, Roy preferred not to dwell.
The sudden hand on his side and the lips at his shoulder were a reminder that he was not alone, and the woman in his quarters quietly said, "The wagons won't be here for another hour. Stay in bed."
"I cannot." He shook the remnants of the dream from his head and poured himself a glass of wine, downing it quickly. "I need to scout the forest."
"I could make things much more interesting for you here." Kinna smiled suggestively and pulled him toward the bed, dull brown hair flowing over her shoulders as she watched him with dull brown eyes. He had found her reasonably attractive when they met, and her easy manners had made her more friendly than most in that isolated town. However, what had truly drawn him to her was the fact that she'd known what he was and still sought his company. He knew why, of course, but it was a welcome respite from the usual ostracism with which he had been faced for three centuries. He had only ever tried to protect humans, one would think that would earn him an iota of goodwill.
"I'm sure you could," he replied with forced amusement. It seemed a cruel thought, but he recently realized he'd already grown tired of her company, and had spent the last few days contemplating his next destination. "You should go. Get in your house and stay there."
Kinna slowly began to dress, and he could practically feel the cogs turning in her mind as she attempted to determine how to best broach the inevitable subject. "You know, it's just mother and myself. I worry about our ability to defend o..."
He exhaled heavily. "I'll not turn you."
"Why would you oppose the idea?"
"For one, I don't believe you can be turned. For another, I'm not so easily persuaded that seducing me is the equivalent of convincing me." Roy naturally neglected to mention that he'd watched his entire family die horrifically during their transition.
With a thinly concealed glare she tugged on her dress. "You knew what I wanted….you used me."
"I believe it was mutual. You knew exactly what you were doing, your only failure was in not recognizing that I saw through your ploy." He shook his head, letting out a faint chuckle. "I've been walking these lands for more than a few years, and you're not the first woman to try to use me for her own ends."
"Fucking sanguiferus," she spat. "Just like all the others...content to keep the humans weak and easily fed upon."
"I never took a drop from you, despite your many offers."
"How pitiful you are." Kinna gave a mean-spirited laugh. "The only companionship you can find is from women who seek something from you. Are the rest too disgusted?"
"Faex," he muttered to himself, moving to take her hand and kiss it in a conciliatory gesture. "I fear that, even if I could turn you, it wouldn't help. It'd be centuries before you had any real hope of fending off the draugur." He took her face in his hands. "We've enjoyed our time together. Can we not leave it at that?"
She watched him with an expression that was still half-glare, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and left with a slam of the door. He exhaled lightly at the less than pleasant exchange, glancing at the other pewter chalice on the table before lifting it to take a whiff of the offering from the innkeeper. The man had provided him with food and lodging, as well as a bit of coin, in return for his services as part of the town guard, which had been on alert due to an increase in altercations with the draugur. He swirled the deep red liquid, deducing that it came from a young man of approximately twenty years, his preferred source. He then drained that goblet and strode to the mammoth mahogany wardrobe to dress, periodically pausing to partake of the bread and turkey also set out. Gazing out the window to check the moon's position, he wrapped some of the food in a linen cloth and took the stairs down to the rear door. It meant he would emerge near the aromatic pigpens, but it was worth it to avoid traversing the common room with its obnoxious villagers.
The evening was dark and calm, with silence pressing in from all sides, disturbed mainly by the sporadic snort of a pig or chirp of a cricket. Those nights were his favorite, when the black mountains rose in the distance and the moon was a hazy disk behind the clouds. The forest edge loomed ahead as he walked toward the outskirts of town, acting as a protective wall for the village, and the world bestowed on him one of its rare moments of peace. He had not fully appreciated the darkness when he was human, preferring sunrises and their promise of a new day to sunsets. At some point in his long life he came to love the night, taking comfort in the way it fell over everything like a shroud, hiding the world until morning.
He then heard additional movement through the field, and in response held out the small packet of food he'd prepared. "I knew you'd sneak out here."
"Going to tell me to go back?" Lan Fan asked, taking what would be her dinner for the evening. She was almost a full twelve inches shorter than him, her black hair just long enough for the majority to be pulled into a knot at the back of her head, and her frame was rather thin. "Where it's safe?" This last word was pronounced with obvious irony. She lived with her father, the village baker, who happened to have a drinking problem, along with a 'being an unmitigated bastard' problem.
"Not me, but if anything does happen..."
"I know...look out for bloodsuckers and follow your lead." She held up a turkey leg. "Thank you, by the way. They give you the best stuff."
"Only because they're afraid of me." He looked over at the yellowing bruise on her face. "That eye's healing nicely."
She reached reflexively toward the injury. "It is. That compress you recommended helped. The cut healed in no time." After a few more steps, she teased, "I guess it's true what they say...the old really are wise."
"Always making fun of my age. Quite rude, young lady."
After another step, she asked, "Have you heard anything?"
"Not yet. Why?"
She shrugged. "The village elder said he sent word three days ago to a coven of hēlans, but received no response. I was curious."
They paused partway through the field, listening closely to the sounds of night and watching the line of trees. "They're here. In my experience, they don't always reveal themselves, but I'm sure they came." He continued toward the forest, wading through the tall grasses. "An intelligent move on your elder's part, after agreeing to this ill-advised night delivery."
"He said Lord Cormack was the only man with extra grain he was willing to sell."
"Cormack...A lord who happens to do business with the shadow-walkers. So..." He gave her a meaningful look. "...who sold what, I wonder?"
Lan Fan met his gaze uncertainly, considering that thought, and then abruptly pointed to the cut along his hairline. "I thought your kind healed instantly."
It was his turn to instinctively raise a couple fingers to the tiny scrape on his scalp. "Only the very oldest and strongest of us, and even that's not instant. It appears that way because what takes a human weeks to heal may take a vampire mere days or hours depending on age and severity of the injury." Remembering the blonde he added, almost to himself, voice a touch softer, "I once saw a woman slice open her own hand, only to have the wound slowly drift closed as I watched. I'd never seen a thing like it."
The girl eyed him, clearly not missing the change in tone. "How old was she?"
"I don't know exactly...but old. I never saw her again, never had the opportunity to ask." He kept a hand on the pommel of his weapon while they walked, spotting other guards traipsing through the field to their posts, and glanced at the short sword she'd brought. "Have you had any training with that?"
"Some." She touched the hilt nervously. "My father used to be a soldier. He was training me before..." Lan Fan paused, trying to decide how best to convey the thought 'before he became an abusive asshole' without using those precise words, and settled on saying, "...before my mother died."
"Alright...just make sure you only kill draugur. If you start attacking hēlans, they may not agree to help you again." He tried to keep a note of jest in his voice to lighten the mood, but he was partially distracted by the urgent desire to threaten her father with a violent death. It was astounding, the extent to which Lan Fan reminded him of Sofia, and he'd even be willing to pay repeated visits to this distant town if it kept her safe.
She gave a little nod, a tiny smile breaching her normally stoic features, and then uneasily said, "The shadow-walkers have bright red eyes, pale skin, and tattoos of their kills."
"Very good."
"And the others? What will they look like?"
"Like normal people, for the most part." He crouched to check a trail, deciding based on trajectory that it belonged to a farmer that had come for the delivery. "They can seem a bit...eerie."
"Eerie," the teen repeated, confused.
"You'll see." Once more on the move, he said, "I thought you were forbidden from speaking to me. Since I fill your head with crazy ideas."
She shrugged. "I took it as more of a suggestion than an order." The bell in the town square tolled to announce the visitors' arrival and they returned to the trees' edge, watching the laden wagon trundle along the forest road.
"Moment of truth," he muttered before suddenly spinning, brow creased, when he thought he heard the clash of metal ring out somewhere behind him.
"What was that?" Lan Fan asked tensely.
He held up a hand to quiet her, scanning the darkness as he listened intently, waiting for the silence to be broken once more. He was about to turn back to the town when he heard it again, a muffled clink from some distance away. "Warn the..." he started to say, but then the bell again pealed, this time chaotically. "Never mind….stay behind me."
Drawing his sword he strode forward, giving the young woman a look to indicate she should do the same and, as the clashes grew closer his pace quickened. When a pale draugur emerged from between two trees, swinging a broadsword, he parried the attack, responding with a kick to the chest that sent him reeling into a low-growing tree branch. He then deftly slashed his blade as the enemy fell to his knees, decapitating him in one swift stroke. Lan Fan stared, wide eyes shifting from him to the now headless vampire, but he simply said, "Let's move."
As soon as he spoke the sky glowed brilliantly, illuminated by the defensive fires that erupted around the perimeter of the settlement, burning arrows finding the pitch-soaked ground. Screams were carried on the breeze that jostled his hair, and he could not help but feel satisfied that some draugur had been caught in the blaze.
Roy continued to pace warily in the direction of the earlier sounds of battle, aware that it meant the hēlans had indeed arrived, and he let the thought cross his mind that the blonde might be with them, but he found the possibility unlikely. He did not know which coven had traveled with him all those years ago, but as the village was hundreds of miles from the stronghold he once called home, he doubted that particular coven was stationed near enough to help.
When footsteps close by cut off his train of thought, he hefted the weapon in his hand and told her, "Remember, you're light and quick. Use that." He kept his momentum and, when the first shadow-walker materialized, he met sword with sword. Gripping his opponent's weapon by the blade, he forced it lower, providing himself with an opening to ram his own into the man's heart. Moving forward, he parried two attacks and spun to elbow the next vetalan in the face, twisting around to embed his sword in another's back. He quickly pulled it free and reversed his grip on the hilt, stabbing the draugur with the now broken nose trying to attack from behind.
He checked the area as he wrenched the weapon from the dead man's gut, finding Lan Fan in the process of pushing a body off her, the pommel of the short sword she'd carried poking out from below his collarbone. The girl rose shakily, frightened gaze finding his, and he made a gesture with his head that was half approving nod and half tilt of pleasant surprise. "Well done."
About to walk to her, he saw movement to his right and turned to block a spear thrust, simultaneously shouting, "Lan Fan!" in warning when another marauder ran toward the teen brandishing two very sharp, curved knives. Trying to divide his attention between the girl's circumstances and his own, he parried a second too late and metal bit into his arm. Shoving the spear downward with his weapon, he stepped in the middle to snap it in half and sliced at the draugur's arm, amputating it above the elbow. He glanced back to see a figure jump in front of Lan Fan and block the knife-wielding vampire's advances, at which point he finished off his current opponent. Stepping around his body, Roy rushed toward them and ran his sword across the distracted enemy's throat.
The unknown hēlan gave him a kind of salute with his weapon and started to say, "Thanks, yo…."
He quickly stopped speaking when an imposing draugur appeared, a battle axe with a blade the size of a wagon wheel waved with disturbingly little effort. He had hardly taken another step when a sword abruptly flew into view, skewering the new arrival through the heart and pinning him against a tree trunk. "Havoc." A woman strode toward the weapon, yanking it from wood and flesh before letting the body slump to the ground and smoothly slicing off its head. "If I have to tell you to watch your back one more time, I'll kill you myself. I trained you better than that."
"He was walking directly into my trap, Hawk," the hēlan that came to Lan Fan's rescue cheerfully responded. "You'd have found it incredibly impressive."
"I'm sure." The woman's tone was sarcastic, but when she turned there was an amused smirk on her face, and then Roy's eyes widened, because her features were unmistakable. She looked at him for a moment, that brown and garnet gaze as formidable as it had been three centuries prior, and it was momentarily difficult to reconcile this version with the tear-stained images from his dream. If he was at all familiar to her she gave no concrete indication, pausing next to one of the men he'd killed to view his face and shaking blood from her blade. "Get the girl out of here, Havoc. And tell Olivier I've..."
Roy turned on his heel at the same moment the blonde fell silent, and they watched the trees to the east, both moving to position themselves between Lan Fan and the oncoming threat. The first shadow-walker ran at them and Roy waited, dropping at the last moment to slash at the backs of his legs while the woman fluidly spun to open a long gash across his throat. He twisted and rose to his feet in one movement, sidestepping the downward arc of an axe, drawing a dagger, and lodging it between two of the man's ribs. Knocking aside a blade thrown at his face, he swung his sword at an approaching draugur's neck and then whipped a throwing knife into the trees, a gratifying thud reaching him seconds later.
Then a voice behind them suddenly boomed, "Looking for me, Hawk?" and he turned to find the tallest shadow-walker he'd ever seen. His white hair was in a thick braid that hung down his back, bright red tattoos decorated every inch of visible skin, and his clothing was covered in the stains of his violent work. Blood dribbled from his lips, just as it flowed from the recent bite marks on Lan Fan's neck. The man called Havoc lay on the ground a few feet away, and Roy's jaw clenched when the vampire tossed the young woman away unconcernedly, like she was no more than a table scrap.
"Long time, Tomás," the blonde replied, slowly pacing toward the draugur.
The new arrival started to move and Roy threw his sword, sprinting to drag Lan Fan out of harm's way. The man was forced to block his weapon and Hawk used that instant of inattention to attack with a sideways cut, but he knocked her blade away easily. She then landed a solid hit to his sternum with the heel of her hand, but the massive vampire only moved back a few feet. He swung an arm and she stopped the attack with her forearm, only to be tossed backward by a punch to her gut.
Roy rushed forward, dodging another swing and pinning the man's arm under his own, ramming the heel of his hand into his nasal ridge while the blonde gripped his other arm and, in quick succession, stabbed at his hand and chest before plunging the blade downward near his shoulder. A hit that felt like a rock to his side shoved Roy to the ground and, as he rolled away sucking in a breath, the blonde spun beneath Tomás' sword to kick him in the back. The giant stumbled forward, backhanding her in the process, and Roy finally pushed himself to his feet, moving behind to jump up and wrap an arm around his neck. He put all his strength into the hold, but the draugur grabbed him by the jacket and dragged him over his head.
His back collided with solid ground, jarring his limbs, and then a hand closed around his own neck in an iron grip. He was lifted from the forest floor, feet dangling uselessly as he tried to pry thick fingers away, attempting in vain to coax oxygen into his lungs, and for several seconds he felt as maddeningly ineffectual as he had when fighting the vetala as a human.
"Idiotic hēlan," he half-heard the man chuckle as his consciousness faded, but then the vampire was unexpectedly knocked to his knees and Hawk appeared behind him, tossing aside a monumental tree branch and snapping his neck.
Roy fell to the ground when the shadow-walker's grip mercifully gave way, coughing hoarsely and watching as the blonde retrieved her sword, kicked the shadow-walker onto his back, and ripped out his heart as if for good measure. A thin red line trailed from her forehead and down the side of her face, but it was faint, as though the blood flow from the injury had largely ceased, and he assumed she'd hit something one of the times she was thrown back by Tomás. Crouching next to him, she slit the dead man's wrist and handed it to him. "It'll help you recover."
He took the proffered appendage, blood oozing from the cut, and drank while she crossed the small clearing to evaluate Lan Fan's and Havoc's injuries. The blood had a slightly unpleasant, sour taste but he soon began to breathe easier, the pain in his neck and throat having diminished. Inhaling deeply, he hurried to the girl's side, mouth forming a line when he saw she'd started to tremble in response to Tomás' venom. It was a better sign than instant death, at least.
The two hēlans joined him, Havoc looking battered but alive and the blonde with the dead vampire's heart still in her possession. She knelt, tilted open the young woman's mouth, and held the heart over it, squeezing to let a few drops of dark red liquid drip downward. Her other hand momentarily hovered curiously near the bruise over the girl's eye, but then she handed the organ to Havoc and tasted the blood on her thumb, eyes closing for a moment before she suddenly stood. "I must go. Get the girl to the village. She has time, but Olivier must attend to her soon."
"Aye, Hawk." They watched her vanish into the trees without another word, and then the other man turned to him, piercing ultramarine eyes examining him from a long face framed in sandy hair. Finally he held out his hand and said, "Jean Havoc."
"Roy Mustang," he introduced himself as they shook hands. "A pleasure." He waved off toward where the woman had disappeared into the darkness, asking, "Should one of us go with her?"
The other man shook his head. "No...if Hawkeye had further need of our aid she'd have said." Gesturing behind him, he added, "Nicely done back there."
Roy chuckled skeptically, taking note of what was probably the blonde's surname and lifting Lan Fan from the ground. "I nearly had my head ripped off." They made their way through the forest in the direction of Freyne, the teen groaning in pain and muttering unintelligibly in her delirium.
"I was already knocked out...you fared much better than I did." The vampire examined the girl's short sword as he spoke, giving the weapon a few swings and testing the blade with a fingertip. "That Tomás was an evil old son-of-a-bitch. Hawk's been looking for him for years...glad we finally found him."
"Old is right. That bastard was strong. Every time he hit me it felt like a goddamn boulder."
"I don't know how many years he had exactly..." Havoc began as they crossed into the field between the forest and town. "...but he was older than Lord Armstrong, which is saying something. And he had a penchant for killing young ladies, which we didn't care for."
"Bastards," he muttered, shifting Lan Fan in his arms so her head could rest on his shoulder at a less severe angle.
"Fucking disturbing. And let me tell yo..." He stopped, waving the short sword toward the northern end of the village "I think Olivier was headed that way. Take the girl to the inn...we'll meet you there."
Roy did not bother with a reply as the other man jogged away, instead focusing on his footing and tightening his grip on Lan Fan. He trudged through grasses that were still smoldering, the haze of smoke stinging his eyes and blurring the edges of buildings ahead. However, he'd walked that route so many times during his short stay that he still vaulted the rudimentary fence in his usual place, taking her up the same staircase he'd used to leave earlier.
The common room was full of voices, and many a room he passed had been taken over by the wounded being brought there for aid. It reminded him that, to truly earn his keep, he should return to the forest, enter once more into the fray. And at the thought of leaving Lan Fan, he momentarily chastised himself for not sending her straight back to the village when she'd found him earlier. She was a teenager, and he should not have let his sympathies for her violent home life override his logic when it came to fighting the draugur. His mind quickly changed, however, when he realized her father would sooner hand her over to the shadow-walkers than protect her. Impossible as it seemed, she'd been safer in the forest with him.
He opened the door as deftly as he was able and kicked it shut with his heel, laying her gently on the bed and grabbing the closest cloth to dab at the foam spewing from her mouth. Tears fell over her cheeks and her entire body began to seize, limbs locking and shaking uncontrollably. It was like watching it happen to Sofia all over again, and his hand formed a fist around the fabric, which turned out to be one of his shirts,
When she relaxed, he dampened what he ensured was a clean cloth in a pitcher of water and wrung it carefully, letting several drops fall into her mouth. The girl coughed, her already terrified expression contorted in pain. "It….hurts."
"I know. It'll pass."
She coughed again, more foam crawling along her cheek, several flecks flying to land on her chin, and she seemed to be trying to speak but all he heard was a garbled mess. He reached over to wipe away the froth, trying to give her a little water, and kept her steady when she seized for a second time. After the tension subsided he checked the mantel clock impatiently, pacing toward the window to look for any sign of Havoc out in the darkness. He soon heard feet pounding up the stairs and turned to face the door as it was thrown open, catching a small vial that was tossed to him. "She couldn't come now, but she'll check on the girl later," the hēlan reported, breaths short as if he'd run the length of the town in seconds.
"Thank you." He immediately returned to Lan Fan's side, shaking her awake and helping her drink the red liquid. When she gargled, appearing about to retch, he quietly said, "It'll help, but you have to keep it down." With closed eyes she drank, placing a hand on her stomach in a pointless effort to ease the turmoil, and once finished she slumped back into the pillows.
Behind him, Havoc said, "We found more shadow-walkers coming from the southeast...we could use you."
"Of course. I'll be right there." After the man left he poured a goblet of water and placed it next to the bed, sitting briefly beside her. "Lan Fan..." She lazily met his gaze and he told her, "I'll be gone for a while. Keep the door locked and, if something happens, put a candle in the window. I'll see it."
This was received with a slow nod and he expected no further response, making instead for the door and securing it behind him. He remembered the extreme incoherence he experienced during his own transition, and that had only been magnified by the unequaled lethargy caused by the strain of the transformation. It was unquestionably how, two days following his own change, he'd somehow found himself forty miles from what remained of his home. For that reason he disliked having to leave her unaccompanied, but her survival would mean little if the village still swarmed with draugur that could as easily kill her as say hello.
He vanished into the dark forest, following the sounds of conflict as he had earlier to catch up with Havoc, and a further three hours of fighting ensued. While clearly younger than himself, the other man was an able soldier, and together they made significant additions to the growing tally of dead. Unexpectedly, it seemed the bulk of the enemy forces were young and therefore weak, and he wondered briefly if the attack was one of the group's well-known initiation nights, in which the newly turned were sent to one location en masse. Those who survived were accepted into the lowest echelon of draugur society, and those who died were often forgotten. To the shadow-walkers, everyone was expendable.
That admittedly discouraging thought ran through his mind as he added a head to the grisly collection of corpses at the edge of town. It would soon be set aflame, as was the custom in such situations, and on his trek to the inn he could hear hēlans dousing the pile with accelerant behind him. Wiping his weapon clean, he sheathed it and made straight for his quarters, stopping only to ask that food be sent up. However, upon reaching the landing he paused, a hand reaching for the hilt of his only recently relinquished sword when he noticed the door to his room was ajar. His paces became smooth, quiet, and he silently drew the blade despite the fact no struggle was audible; he was taking no chances.
He entered to find a figure bent over the young woman stretched out on the bed, the visitor's head turning a fraction in acknowledgment of his presence, and it was not until the edge of his weapon rested against the intruder's neck that he recognized the golden hair in the dim light. The woman he now knew as Hawkeye positioned her hands to show they held only bloody bandages, and said, "I'm no threat."
Roy returned the sword to its sheath, setting the weapon belt aside as he moved closer. "My apologies. I thought her father might've sent someone looking for her."
She glanced at him, raising Lan Fan's shirt a few inches to reveal the bruises on her stomach. "His work?"
"Yes."
Hawk nodded that she understood, lips in a line, her fingers returning to the bite at the girl's neck. "It may not look like it, but she's already healing."
Speaking softly, so as not to wake the patient, he replied, "I expected her to heal more like a human for some time."
"Tomás was powerful...he'd lived for at least a millennium," she said, pressing fresh linens to the wound and gently wrapping a bandage around her neck to keep them in place.
"Her transition will be quick, then."
"Far quicker than normal, yes." The blonde stood, joining him where he stoked the fire, her attention briefly directed at a book on the nearest table. "We'll be escorting the remaining villagers to the next town...you're both welcome to join us."
"Thank you. I'll speak with her." Roy gave her an appreciative curve of the lips, one which he could not be certain was returned, though her mien seemed to soften slightly.
The woman watched him a moment longer, and then eyed the sleeping girl. "Her resemblance to your sister is remarkable."
"It is," he responded, looking at her in surprise.
The corners of her mouth turned upward, she added by way of farewell, "If you'll excuse me, Lord Mustang."
He held her gaze briefly, and then gave her a small nod. "Lady Hawkeye."
Her head tilted curiously at his use of her surname, perhaps wondering where he'd heard it. "Not lady, just Hawkeye."
With that she left, and he lowered himself distractedly into the chair beside the bed, still shocked that she'd remembered him. Given the number of people she'd had occasion to meet in what was undoubtedly a long life, one human was surely trivial, and he'd imagined his near death would hardly be memorable for her. He had minimal time for such ruminations, however, because Lan Fan then asked, in a voice with no trace of slumber whatsoever, "Did she just call you Lord Mustang?"
Roy narrowed his eyes at her. "You were pretending to sleep?"
"How do you know each other, Lord Mustang?"
"I'd prefer you not call me that." He leaned forward to hand her a glass of water, checking a cut on her arm that turned out to merely be a spot of dried blood. "How are you?"
"You ignored my question," she retorted, accepting the water begrudgingly.
"You ignored mine."
"Well, how…?"
"Lan Fan," he interrupted with mostly amused exasperation. "I may tell you that story one day, but not tonight."
She watched him as she drank, almost certainly trying to determine whether this situation called for further teasing, or for dropping the matter entirely. Apparently choosing the latter, Lan Fan stared at the chalice and faintly said, "I'd like to leave with the hēlans."
"Alright." Roy nodded, cracking open the book and leaning back in his chair. "I suppose I'd better come along. To make sure you stay out of trouble, young lady." Her only reply was to scoff as she fluffed a pillow and pulled at the blankets to get comfortable, but he caught the tiny smile she tried to hide.
AN: Thank you for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day :)
AN2: Responses to guest reviews from previous chapter:
Clic: Thank you so much for the review! I'm glad to hear this caught your interest. (I'm not sure why I didn't send you a message reply for this review when I got it, but anyway...lol) Gracias y que tengas un buen día :)
dvltgr: Thank you! Those were wonderful compliments :) And I'm so happy you enjoyed the first chapter! Have a good one!