Vacuous Heart of Blood

Author: MoonStarDutchess

Chapter 8: Dramatic Disclosures and Discoveries

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist and gain no profit from this fan fiction. I do own my idea so don't take it.

AN: Unless you haven't read the previous Author's notes. Scenes in this story may be a trigger for Sexual assault victims. Especially this chapter. Read the AN's!


Dramatic Disclosures and Discoveries
(Read the Author's Note)

Her pain was merely a steadfast throb as she walked along the smooth, level paseo that extended out from the front door. The ointment that Marianna had supplied her was effectively doing its job in lessening the degree of burning that was occurring between her legs. It wasn't until she reached the hill and began the ascent up the steep, rocky, and muddy pathway, that she had to retreat her mental affirmations about the medicine's effectiveness.

She stopped after only walking a meter and looked up toward the top of the hill. The hills were a stunning green and steep and cocky because they were so much brighter than the trees that sat on and around them. Those rude hills were promoting the fact that they were the bane of her existence at the current moment. About a three meters ahead two paths branched off, the longer one being the smoothest, the shorter one that lead directly to the stables being the one that the gardener or whoever it was that took care of these places, neglected to clean. Now even the paths were taunting her. Walk more on steady ground or walk on rocks that she would likely jolt on and cause just as much pain as a long walk.

She began walking carefully again, taking the shortest path with the rocks so she wouldn't hear about taking so long. Three minutes into her slow pacing, she realized that perhaps the smooth path would have taken just as much time for her to trek upon. Her father would no doubt still ask what had taken her such a long time. It was he that had an imperturbable knack for timing. He had the worst timing imaginable and she realized that it was that exact personality feature—out of many— that she inherited from him.

Her ankle giving out as she hit a stone nearly caused her to fall onto her clean habit was taken as a sign that the worst was yet to come. If it wasn't for the small tree that she'd grabbed for balance she would have been a mud covered mess. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath as her pain increased, the salve losing its effect the more she walked. Unless she rode her horse slowly, she was going to be in agony by the time the ride was over. None of the horses enjoyed riding very slow and her father wasn't really one to ride around and look at the scenery. He once stated he loved to watch her ride and jump. Her horsemanship was as good, if not better, than his and it was one of the very few things that he approved of and was proud of.

She smiled softly and began walking once again, paying attention enough to watch the large rocks but still drifting off into a nice memory. As a child, she always loved riding in front of her dad on his grew and white stallion, Buttermilk, as she dubbed it. When her mother died, her father switched over to a slow, old, brown gelding with nothing outstanding about his gait or personality. She still cared about that horse but it didn't seem to reciprocate the feelings. It matched her father's newly acquired demeanor. From then on, he neglected Buttermilk and she had to learn how to ride on her own so that the beautiful, kind horse was ridden as often as possible. She'd taken care of him until she arrived at the stable one day and he was dead.

How she cried over that horse but her father showed no emotions and merely ordered the body to be disposed of. He offered no words of comfort because teenaged ladies weren't supposed to cry over such things. In reality, she'd been crying over so much more than the horse. She'd been crying over the death of the last emotional tie she had to a past when her father wasn't the stranger that he was in the present. When she was his pride and joy and when her mother was there, smiling and greeting them home. The perfect lady in that she was both elegant yet endlessly encouraged feminine individualism.

When she got to the end of the path she was greeted by a wide, shallow puddle. She lifted her habit passed her ankles, a bit too high for modesty's sake, and carefully crossed. When she stepped up two steps and onto a stone path, colored dark grey because of the rain that had soaked it, she let her dress fall back down to cover her boots. She began walking as quickly as she could, pressing down the pain that was still shooting through her lower body at regular intervals.

She was relieved when she saw the white stables in the distance. As her eyes consumed and registered their appearance, the wooden walls out side caked with mud as far as a meter upward, she realized what an impractical color white was for such a structure. What was even more impractical was the man leaning against the doorframe in formal riding attire, much too nice for a simple ride at home. He was completely relaxed and looked like nothing in the world was interesting enough to take his gaze off the other side of the doorframe. His arms was folded, his horse whip in one hand, and his legs were crossed. His black felt top hat was perched on his head, tilted at the proper angle that fashion prescribed.

She looked around to see if there was any sign of her stepmother. If he wanted to go riding alone then there was something extremely important that he wanted to talk about. There was never any casual time alone with him unless Amelia was at his side. She forced down her pain-filled grimaces so that he wouldn't question why she was looking such a way. It wouldn't do for him to find out the source of her condition or what the condition was. He would be suspicious enough that she was going with him without argument and that she was riding aside instead of astride. He looked in her direction and straightened his posture.

"Good morning father."

"And a good morning to you. I must admit that I'm surprised you are actually here," he replied.

"You told me to come didn't you?"

"Yes, which is why I am surprised you are here. How did the plant hiding go for you this morning?"

"Obviously it was ineffective since you knew I was there. Next time I'll paint my face green and slink a tiny bit lower so you can't spot me. Or maybe find a bigger plant or hide behind a curtain."

"Or do none of those. Doing things like that is much too unladylike for a young woman. Really, what was the purpose of your morning activities?"

"I figured it was obvious that I was trying to avoid you," she said, then walked past him without a glance. "Good morning Phillip," she said to the man who was in the process of saddling a black stallion.

"Morning Miss Riza," he said, his thick country accent coming through in his words.

"Is he new?" Lord Hawkeye asked, walking up to stand beside his daughter.

"If you mean new as in him being born after the last time you came here, then yes."

"Who's foul is he?"

"Crisis and Rapiers."

"Name?"

"Sabre" Riza said. "He's a good horse." She patted him on the nose and he moved to nuzzle her cheek.

"Who trained him? Phillip?"

"No sir," the man slurred as he walked around the horse. "Miss Riza trained this beauty along with a few of the other foals."

He looked at his daughter in shock. "You trained horses?"

"Yes," she said, "it's a hobby." She then turned to Phillip. "Have you put the side saddle I had made onto King?"

"Yes Miss Riza but are you sure you want to ride him that way?"

"He'll be fine," she said.

"I was worried about you Miss Riza," he said.

She laughed. "I'll be fine."

"Alright then," he said with a nod and walked to another stable.

"What is so unusual about riding side saddle?"

Riza chuckled and walked to the last stable on the right beside the east door. She jolted for a moment and grabbed her stomach.

"Are you not feeling well?" Hawkeye asked as he led Sabre."

She lowered her hands away from her abdomen. "Not really but I'll be just fine. Let's just get this ride over with.

They walked up to the stall and Hawkeye was taken aback at the huge horse in the stable, staring at him with cold midnight eyes. He was shocked that as soon as Riza touched his nose, the look in the orbs turned into extreme affection.

"You are going to ride a Clydesdale side saddle? Those are labor animals."

"Not King. Actually it has become quite…vogue…to ride them.

"Where did he come from? I don't recall purchasing him."

"You told me this year that I could have whatever I wanted for a birthday present since you couldn't be here. I chose this guy. His name was Jewelry but he didn't like that so I changed it."

The horse neighed as if he was agreeing with Riza. She reached up and rubbed King between the ears.

"I'll arrive at your birthday next year," he said. "I was busy this year. I'm sure the baron you marry will throw you quite a huge party."

"I'd rather have the horse."

"You'd rather have a horse than seeing me or you'd rather have the horse than marry the baron?"

Riza turned her gaze to look at him. "Both," she said.

"You are still very rude," he said. When he lifted his hand to pet King, the horse huffed and took a bite at him.

"That horse isn't well behaved."

"Actually he is. He's just a good judge of character," Riza said, opening the stable doors. She slowly led the horse out and over to the exit to wait on her father. "Come here King," she whispered. The horse lowered its head. "We have to take it nice and slow. I'm in a condition where it hurts to ride quickly. Can you do that for me?"

The horse huffed in frustration as if saying he didn't want to.

"Please," she asked.

King tilted his head at her and then moved his head up and down in agreement. "Thank you boy, I'll be sure to give you some extra carrots when we get back if you behave."

The horse neighed and Riza mounted him, easily comfortable in the side saddle.

A moment later, her father road up beside her. "I'm still very surprised. Side saddle, that's not like you at all."

"You expect me to ride astride in a dress?"

"It's not like you to wear a dress while riding."

"I felt like riding in dress," she said a bit too defensively.

"Perhaps there's hope for you yet."

"Doubt it," she said. Upon her instruction, King took off at a very slow pace.

They road for a short distance at the pace, staying quiet until Hawkeye spoke, "Are you going to ride this slow all the time?"

"You said you wanted to talk. We can't do that at a high gallop, now can we?"

"No, probably not."

Riza and her father turned to the left and began riding along the driest road that was still present among the still damp environment. Hawkeye stared at his daughter who was looking ahead, trusting the horse under her completely. The horse itself was very comfortable and relaxed, seemingly enjoying having Riza with him. She was riding sidesaddle, something quite unusual considering the type of horse she was riding upon. Her posture, her hand positioning, the way her hat was sitting atop her head, the position of her feet and legs, all made her seem like a regal lady with noble blood rather than a high tempered, stubborn, loud mouth woman. Hawkeye got a glimpse of his former wife in his head before pushing that out of his mind. Riza may look like him but she got most of her mother's spirit. While he loved his daughter, he couldn't handle seeing her every day.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" she questioned, not turning her gaze toward him in the slightest.

"Your mother," he said.

Those two words caused Riza to turn her head toward him and look him dead in the eyes. "What about her?"

"You used to ask about her all of the time. I was thinking about the incident that happened with us in the study. About what you spoke about her, and Amelia."

"I see," she said. "At least something good came about with that talk."

"I want to talk about having you not bring her up again."

"You took me out riding to talk about not talking about my mother? How strange of you. Tell me, have you had any coffee yet because your brain must not be functioning at maximum efficiency."

"Riza," he said, frustrated at her bluntness. "Be serious."

"I am. I want to know more about my mother."

"Well I'll tell you one thing. You certainly have her personality."

"Good," she said. "Maybe she's looking down from heaven and being proud of me."

Hawkeye tensed. "I doubt that," he said. "Riza, please don't make me talk about her any further. You'll only be hurt by it."

Riza stopped. "What do you mean?"

Hawkeye shook his head and stopped his horse. He looked out over the horizon then sighed heavily. "Riza, your mother… she's not…" he swallowed. "I need a drink."

"She's not what?" Riza said, raising her voice. She knew what he was going to say, she could feel the words bubbling in her head, readying to shoot forth out of her thoughts as if they donned a fuse that was burning rapidly.

"Your mother isn't dead Riza," he said, then turned his gaze away from the shocked look on her face.

Riza opened her mouth to reply but nothing would come. While she expected him to speak those words, while they waited in the back of her mind, to hear it confirmed, to hear her father say them, was surreal.

"You okay?"

Riza looked down at the mane on her horse and shook her head. "N…no. I'm not. In more ways than one I'm not."

King move forward and began a canter based on her instructions. Her father stayed paused for a moment before quickly catching up to her. "Don't you want to know anything else?"
"So she left us?" she said.

"Yes," he said.

"What about the grave I visited every year?"

"Fake."

Riza looked at him incredulously. "Fake? You have got to be kidding."

"Your mom fell in love with someone else. She told me and I no longer wanted her if that was the case. To save face we went away that spring, and then worked up a story that she died there."

"She didn't want me either?"

Hawkeye hesitated.

"Answer me!" she shouted.

"No."

Riza felt a stab in her chest: a physical manifestation of a broken heart. She swallowed, sending a cramp through her esophagus.

"Do you know where she is now? Not that I will look for her but I just want to know."

He nodded, "I think she lives in Xing. It's been years though. She just agreed that she'd never come to this country again."

Riza nodded and mentally forbid the tears building inside her from coming forth. Her mother was a woman that left her husband and child, something Riza despised more than almost anything she could think of. She didn't really want a family but if she had one she wouldn't stoop so horribly low. "I see."

"I'm sorry I kept it from you this long," he said.

"No you aren't," her voice shuddered, foretelling the coming of tears. She wanted to be like her mother since she "died". The fond memories of the woman, what little she had, were now squashed by the heavy weight that was her disrespect.

"I didn't want this to hurt you."

Riza nodded yet again. "I shall do what you say from now on," she said, slowing her horses pace.

"What?" He was shocked at his daughter's words. Her voice was flat, with no fire anywhere in her tone or her posture.

"I'll marry who you say, dress the way you want. I'll marry that Baron as soon as he arrives if he is interested," she said, then turned her head towards him. "And I never want to see you or any other member of my family again." She turned to full gallop, outrunning her father.

Hawkeye stopped and watched his daughter ride away, like someone on a hurried journey to a place of comfort.

Riza rode to the top of a large hill and slid off her horse. She leaned against him, burying her face in his mane. He stood perfectly still, letting her cry there on him. Her life was nothing but chaos with no good points about it except her horses. The hope that her mother would be proud, everything that gave her courage, was gone. She was horrified that she was willingly going to give in to marrying that Baron out just to get away from everything there in her life.

When she heard King neigh, she straightened. She walked around to face him and looked up to see him looking down at her with brown eyes, full of more caring than anyone ever gave her. "Let's get you wiped down," she said, her voice cracking as she spoke. She took off his saddle and led him around for a short cool down before grabbing the brush and taking further care for him. After she was finished, she moved to sit under and rest against a large sycamore. She leaned her head back as tears continued to fall down her cheeks. After a short while, she closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep. If anyone would come, she was confident King would alert her.

Roy smirked as he walked into the opened field, the clouds were filling the sky, blocking out much of the noon sun. Some of it hit upon him but he just shrugged it off. It wasn't powerful enough to do any sort of damage to his body. He walked up the hill and took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air that foretold of the coming rain, if he estimated correctly it would be there by evening.

He took another breath, enjoying the smell even more, but when a different scent accompanied it, his eyes widened. It was a smell that haunted his dreams nearly the entire time he tried to sleep. It was her, completely her. He smelled her blood and the smell of her tears of all things. He'd recognize the salt that came from the eyes from any smell in the world. He ran quickly up another hill and looked out at the landscape to search for her. He saw no sign until he looked on a far hill. There was a large black horse, sans its saddle, and a few feet away he saw her. Her eyes were closed and her head was leaned back against a giant tree. He moved to turn around, to get away from her for the time being, but the smell of those tears tugged at his mind and heart. It was like the smell of her blood, far too intense to ignore.

He jumped across two hills before slowly walking up the one that she sat atop. The horse snarled up its teeth but he looked into its eyes and it quieted. He slowly walked up to the large animal and petted its nose. "I won't hurt your mistress. I'm just here to check up on her."

The horse, seeming to understand that he meant no harm, walked away and let Roy walk up to Riza.

Roy kneeled in front of her and stared into her eyes. Reaching a gloved hand up, he trailed his thumb over her cheek, taking one of the teardrops onto the tip of his fingers. He brought it to his lips and licked it before moving in and gently kissing her lips. He pulled away when he heard her heartbeat increase and felt her stir. He sat back and watched as she opened her eyes.

What he wasn't expecting was to get punched in the face and knocked down on his butt. He then found a gun pointed between his eyes.

"What kind of greeting is that?" he snapped.

Riza's narrowed eyes transformed into those that displayed surprise as she saw who it was. "I wasn't expecting to see you again."

"Evidently not," he said, moving to sit upon his knees, facing her fully. He rubbed his nose. "If my body wasn't so durable that would have hurt."

"It didn't even hurt?"

"I'm sure it would have to a normal man."

"Normal man?"

"Never mind," he said, "it's not important."

"Oh, I see," she said. She stood, turned away from him, and stuck the gun in the holster underneath her riding skirt.

"Don't I get an apology?"

"For what?"

"You hit me."

"You snuck upon a sleeping woman, you deserved to be hit."

"I don't know of any woman alive that would be disappointed in me sneaking upon them. You should be quite flattered that I was worried about seeing you lying against that tree. You've been crying too. Which also slightly worried me. I can't have the best lay I know to get sick or injured."

"Best lay? That's a good way of describing me."

"It is, isn't it?"

"That was sarcasm," she said. "Do I need to write out the definition for you so that you can learn what that means?"

"No thanks, I can figure it out," he said. He studied her body for a moment. "You look nice today. Never thought you would be the type to ride horses. Especially not side saddle and in a dress."

"I normally don't ride that way, but thanks to you I had to this morning."

"It's really stupid of you to ride horses the day after you lost your virginity. Aren't you sore?"

Riza growled and stood. "Of course I'm sore. After all that you did how could I not be. It's not like I chose to go out and ride horses. My father basically ordered me out here so he could talk."

"And I think it's safe to assume that those tears of yours are a result of that talk?" Roy asked. Riza stood and looked away from him. "Apparently I'm going to marry a baron. I willingly said

I would."

"And this baron will want you after you've been taken? I doubt it. Of course, my guess is that was your initial plan. Am I right?"

Riza's eyes widened. "Heavens, yes, you are right," she lifted a hand to rub her right temple, "My father is going to kill me first. If I died I would have liked to have died of old age or at least doing something worthwhile. I don't even get the satisfaction of that." She turned to him and arched an eyebrow. "Do you happen to be a murderer?"

"It depends on who you ask. I don't tend to murder people."

"Do you happen to be willing to do a mercy killing?"

Roy folded his arms across his chest. "I'm not going to kill you," Roy said. "I can't believe you even had the guts to ask me that."

"Well it was worth a try," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

Roy got to his feet. "Really, perhaps this baron...no, never mind."

"What were you going to say?"

"I was going to say that maybe he had no interest in you for sexual reasons."

"He's a man. Fat chance of that," she said. "Men will screw any woman at any time if he's desperate enough. He has children with his late wife and likely can't find anyone else."

Roy came up behind her and grabbed her waist. "What are you doing?" She struggled against the hold as he twirled her around, her back hitting roughly against a tree. He grinned. "I didn't mean it that way."

"How did you mean it exactly?" she questioned.

"Doesn't matter, I have another question on my mind."

"And that is?"

"Why in the hell do I want to rip out that baron's fucking neck," Roy said then slammed his lips against hers roughly. She instantly submitted to his attentions but tensed as his hands trailed lower and began pulling up her dress. She grabbed his wrist with her hand causing him to pull away from the seal he had on her lips. He looked at her questioningly. "What's wrong?"

"Too sore to do anything," she said. "You said once that if I refused you wouldn't push it."

Roy grinned and nodded. "That I did," he acknowledged. He made no move to pull away from her. "There are other things I could do to you though. With your permission of course."

"Other things?" She found what he said odd. What other things could one do when it came to sex? She never had much of it taught to her and her books were frequently watered down when it came to sexual relations.

Roy grinned picked her up and laid her on the ground on her back.

"Hunting isn't worth a damn around here," Archer griped as he stared with his spyglasses around the area. He paused when he saw a horse without a saddle and recognized it as Lady Riza's horse. Perhaps she was in danger. If he were to save her from trouble perhaps he could earn some favor with Lord Hawkeye and have her. The maid that looked like her sufficed to sate his urges but fucking her was far less satisfying than it would be to fuck the real Riza Hawkeye.

"Usually hunting is done earlier in the day, Sir," the man beside Archer said.

"I've frequently seen rabbits around here at noon. That is what I am hunting. If you can't be helpful then keep your mouth shu…" he trailed off as he lowered his spyglasses toward the ground a bit of the ways away from the horse. Riza Hawkeye was laying there, legs spread, and her hands fisted in a man's hair as he did things to her lower area. Fury engulfed his body at the thought that a man was taking what was his. He should be the one doing that to her, she was his. His! Now she was no better than a strumpet. All of his goals of having her first, of breaking her spirit down so far that she would be no better than a walking mannequin, had been demolished.

"Lord Archer, having any luck with the rabbit hunting?" Archer smirked inwardly. If he couldn't break her at least he could destroy her life. Lord Hawkeye always had the knack for being in the right place just exactly when he needed him. Archer lowered his spyglasses, putting a distraught look on his face.

"No, I'm afraid not but I have distressing news about your daughter."

"Ah, so she talked with you about the circumstances? She was upset."

"I'm afraid we didn't talk. I was spotting for rabbits when… well, perhaps you should look yourself. I think I've discovered the reason Lady Riza has refused marriage to men."

Hawkeye dismounted from his horse and walked over to Archer. Archer handed him the spyglasses and pointed in the proper direction. He watched as Hawkeye saw what his daughter was doing. The spyglasses started to shake, a clear sign that Lord Hawkeye was losing his temper. He quickly lowered the glasses.

"Lord Archer, would you be kind enough to have your servant retrieve a doctor and tell him to arrive at my home with some nurses. Perhaps a midwife as well."

"Of course," he said, he walked close to his servant and whispered in his hear. The servant quickly mounted his horse and left.

"Perhaps he is raping her," Archer said, "Shall I go and…"

"It's not rape," Hawkeye said, then turned to Archer. "I shall make sure you are handsomely rewarded for bringing such an issue to light. I am sorry that my daughter refused you and made up those lies about your conduct. I'm sure that injury came from something else."

"Like I've said, it was all a severe misunderstanding," Archer said.

"I assume you no longer have an interest in my daughter, correct?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. I don't."

"Understandable," Lord Hawkeye said, bestriding his horse. "I hope this does not cause you to resign from your position. You are very efficient in your work here."

"Not at all," Archer said.

"Very well," Hawkeye said.

"What shall you do with Lady Riza, if I may ask?"

"That woman is no lady," Hawkeye snapped and rode away, running his horse at full gallop.

Archer turned back toward the area where Riza was but made no move to lift the spyglasses, "The jade."

Riza made her way into the house, much happier than she had been. Seeing Mister Mustang seemed to bring back a bit of fire and hope into her. She ascended the stairs and walked into her room. Her body went into shock when she saw her father in her room taking with a doctor and three nurses. Her bed was covered with a white sheet.

"What is going on?" she asked.

"Her father directed his gaze at her, his eyes filled with such distaste that she could barely keep up the will to keep eye contact. He walked past her as two of the nurses came up to her sides and grabbed her arms. She began to struggle, "What's going on!" she said, panicked at what was happening.

Hawkeye turned, the look in his eyes not changing in the slightest, "They are going to tell me if you really are a wanton."

"You…" When she realized what he knew and what was about to happen, her body began to shake and her heart began beating so rapidly that she thought it was going to explode through her flesh. "Father…you can't let them do that! It's—" Hawkeye closed the door behind him.

She felt herself being pulled toward the bed and struggled roughly. "No! You…No please! Father! Father! Don't them do this!"

Hawkeye leaned against the door and closed his eyes. If she'd done what he thought she had, he would have to take extreme actions against her.

"Stop! No!" he heard Riza scream, "Stop it!"


Note: I was told by someone that it was impossible to ride a Clydesdale side saddle. It very very possible to ride one in such a manner and I have done it several times. Though they were originally labor horses, they are rode frequently now in competitions and for leisure. My horse King, loves it.

Vocabulary:(At the request of a reader)

Paseo: Walkway

Habit: Attire that is typically worn by a horseback rider (especially a woman's attire)

Jade and Wanton: Pretty much means "whore"