Author's note: New drabble! Sorry for the wait. Kudos to Wind Kunai, ConiferShort, Edelilah and IvyShort for reviewing. You guys are amazing. Thanks for the compliments – they mean a lot to me.

By the way – I've decided that I'll try to upload a new drabble every weekend. That should keep me in shape. I need to go faster!

FMA belongs to Arakawa, blah blah blah...

2. Love

Greed doesn't understand. He knows of his host's longing for the girl, free and unadorned. It flows through him every time his eyes fall on her. It's no small wonder that the prince is able to act himself when her mask and armor are off. He can understand that part of it, at least. She's an impressive one, handling Gluttony with the power and skill of one far beyond her years. Otherwise, her timidness only amuses him.

Why? he demands silently as he lies awake by the fireside, waiting for sleep to claim him after a day of Ling's eyes straying to his shadow. Why that girl? Surely a prince like you can have all the women you want; she's something, but she's not everything. Why waste your time on a little slip like that?

The prince flinches. You wouldn't understand.

Damn right I don't understand, kid. Enlighten me. It's my body, too.

He feels Ling's eyes widen. It's the most Greed's allowed for so far – normally, he likes to make it clear that this is his body and his alone. He's very protective of his property. It comes with the name. Lanfan is...different. She's not really my servant. I wouldn't hurt her or be mad at her if she disobeyed me, not really.

Greed half-growls. The girl is his property.

Don't call her property.

He chuckles, then laughs harder, the sound startlingly bleak and detached in the warm night air. I'll call her whatever I want. Relax. I won't hurt her. I'm just curious is all. Why does it matter?

It doesn't, I suppose. Ling sighs. I don't get it either. His façade returning, he places his hand over his heart dramatically. Can't you find it in you to feel sorry for me and comfort me in my tragic state?

Greed freezes for a moment before stretching languidly. Sorry, kid. I'm Greed, remember? I didn't come with pity or sympathy or that whole package. Wasn't made that way.

They lie in a rather uncomfortable silence for the next few moments before Ling laughs abruptly and Greed feels him rub his chin. You're really not too bad, are you, Greed?

Completely baffled and rather unnerved, Greed turns on his side – Ling's side – and wishes he would just fall asleep already.

Lady Jing doesn't understand. Her son has never shown any interest in the delicate, regal ladies she's invited to their home; she was beginning to think he just didn't like women, if that was possible. What could his scrawny, stammering shadow offer, what appeal did she hold that they did not?

Ling, of course, denies the attraction in every way, denies that his eyes linger, that his breath catches, that she means far too much to him. The prince and his mother did a rather excellent job of edging around the subject for almost a month after his return from Amestris. He didn't want to think that she might be aware of his feelings, and she didn't want to think that her son – the emperor's son – could be smitten with a commoner. Someday soon, she thought, he would crack. He would forget himself and smile at the girl, touch her hair or her face in front of Lady Jing, and then she would have him where she wanted him.

But he never did. And Jing is the most surprised of all when, two weeks after the emperor names her son as his successor, Ling mentions casually over his last dinner at home that Lanfan will not be coming with him.

Edward doesn't understand. Ling supposes he understands better than the others – they still know each other well, and he's been showing Winry off proudly since they were engaged a year ago, but still, Ed is Ed, and he can be painfully blunt at times. "Why don't you just tell her? I mean," he mutters around a mouthful of food, "it's not like she can refuse you or anything. You're the goddamn Emperor of Xing. I don't see what you've got to worry about."

"I can't just order her, though," Ling counters, setting his chopsticks on top of his bowl and pushing the tray aside. They're sitting on a private balcony on the top floor of the palace, no servants present but for the two bodyguards on the roof and those outside the door. Formalities have been dropped; no one will bother them here. "I mean, that's really the point. Of course I miss her, but I can't force her, it has to be her decision. But it makes me nervous that if I ask she might reject me. Of course, she won't believe me when I tell her it's not an order. Would you stop eating for five seconds?" he adds, amused and slightly irritated. "I feel like all of this is going straight over your head."

Ed stops eating for a moment, but only to glare at him. It's a natural reflex for him to kick into defense mode after someone makes a possibly size-related comment, even though he's as tall as Ling now. Ling grins. The former alchemist resumes eating. "What do you expect me to do? You know Lanfan better than I do. You're just being a coward."

The jab is meant to sting, to goad, but Ling doesn't rise to the bait. "I know that," he admits, rather pathetically (Edward looks up sharply), and lowers his voice. "When you proposed to Winry, weren't you scared stiff and shaking?"

"That's not the—"

"It's exactly the same thing. Just because you couldn't say it straight to her face—"

"Winry told—"

"Sure she told me. I think I'm a bit more practiced in these things than you, I think, and if she—"

"Oh, so you know more, but you can't even get up the cour—"

"Excuse me for being a bit nervous when you have to use some silly alchemy slang to—"

Ed growls, turning faintly purple in a way that clashes horribly with his golden hair. "You squinty-eyed bastard—"

A kunai thuds into the doorframe millimeters from Ed's ear, and he freezes, the color quickly leaving his face as he slowly turns to look at the door. Ling doesn't turn until his friend's face goes blank, then he looks staggered and his eyes flicker, conspicuously, to the emperor.

He twists back to look at the door and his heart skips a beat. A young woman is standing there, dressed in a plain red tunic and boots. Her hand is still extended from the throw, and her cheeks redden and lips part, sleek talent turning to awkwardness as his widened eyes fall on her.

"Don't insult Master Ling," Lanfan says softly, and bows clumsily before dashing away.

Her rushed footsteps down the hallway echo painfully in Ling's ears.

Mei doesn't understand at all.

"You're going to wait?" she shrieks at her brother as he fiddles with the sash of his tunic, avoiding her gaze. "The woman you love travels fifty miles just to see you, and you're too – you're stupid enough to completely avoid her until your crotchety old councilors have approved your decision? You're even more brainless than I thought you were!"

"She didn't come to see me," Ling protests wearily, crossing the room to sit heavily on the nearest bench. "You heard her. She came to visit family in the capitol. She's just dropping in."

"Untrue!" Mei declares, stabbing a righteous finger in his direction. "She was just making excuses, and you know it! You haven't seen each other for two years! You should have run after her yourself, called every servant – every man and woman in the palace to go find her and bring her back! Why are you just standing there?"

"Why are you bugging me about this, Mei? Why do you care?" He rubs his eyes and stares at the corner, feeling lost. "I thought you hated Lanfan."

"That was when she was working for you. Stupid brother." The diminutive princess folds her arms haughtily and turns her head with a sniff. The tiny panda on her shoulder parrots her movements flawlessly. Ling watches, unnerved and amused at the same time. "Besides," she adds after a moment, "this is a noble cause."

"And what would that be?"

Mei's eyes widen theatrically and she clasps her hands. Ling swears he can see little pink sparkles floating around her head. "True love, of course!" she cries with relish, sounding like a child after her first fairy tale instead of a sixteen-year-old noblewoman. "What nobler cause is there in the world? What better time for us to lay aside our differences and unite? What—"

"And here I thought having a boyfriend might shut you up for five seconds." He grins cheekily at her despite his mood. "It's only made you more of a romantic."

She scowls at him. "You're just jealous because I'm happy and you're not. Go get her!" When he doesn't move, she dives at him and attempts to pull him off the seat. "GO!"

"I don't WANT to!" he protests, clinging to the bench.

"You must!"

"I DON'T 'must!' Get off me!"

"I WILL NOT!"

"Your Highness?"

They freeze and turn simultaneously towards the door. Ling is hanging halfway off the bench, and has to pull himself up quickly, disgruntled. Mei releases him and steps away with a huff. The servant in the doorway clears his throat awkwardly. "Your former bodyguard is here. She requests an audience with you."

And unfortunately for Ling, he can see from the wicked gleam in his half-sister's eye that there's no way he's getting out of this one.

Lanfan is bewildered. She was about to leave when her former master came running down the staircase, shouting her name at the top of his lungs, and skipped the last couple of steps in his haste to get to her, grabbed her hand, and, between gasps of air, tells her how much he's missed her and he loves her and would she please marry him?

She's completely stunned.

But she can feel herself turning a shade of red she hasn't been in two years, and her hand starts to tingle in his, and a smile gathers in the back of her throat until it bursts up and widens on her face. She laughs, elated, amazed, even though somehow, behind the blushing and the stuttering and the not knowing, it turns out she's always known, always expected, and maybe she's been waiting for this for years, even if she hasn't known it. Ling is still clinging to her hand, biting his lip as he waits for her reply. Mei Chang is leaning over the stair rail, grinning, and the servants are trying to hide their smiles.

She understands perfectly.

Author's note: Yes, I know the last chapter showed Lanfan behind Ling's throne! Just go with it. Reviews equal love, guys. You know it. I know it. Ling knows it. And yes, I also know that this is too long to qualify as a drabble. It became a oneshot somewhere along the road, okay? AND YES, I know Ling is being OOC. Deal with it. ( Do you know how hard it would have been to put him MORE in character? Seriously?

Reviews equal love, guys. You know it. I know it. Ling knows it.

Written while listening to "Awakening" from the FMA soundtrack, first anime.