A/N: Hee, WOW. Within an hour of updating, I get six reviews right off the bat. HOLY FRIKKING COW, PEOPLE, YOU PRACTICALLY ATTACKED ME! But no worries! It makes me happy that I can write stories for people's enjoyment and it motivates me to try to update as soon as possible. Thanks, peeps!

S.N.R.

P.S. For those that care... THIS IS THE LAST CHANCE TO REQUEST A PAIRING OR AN IMPLIED PAIRING! I AM NOT TAKING REQUESTS AFTER THIS CHAPTER! That is all.

Summary: Gonna stop putting this thing in later chapters

Pairings: Ed/Roy, Al/Marta, Hughes/Gracia, and possible Havoc/Riza (Still unsure on this last one)

Warnings: Shounen-ai/yaoi, language/swearing, blood/gore, violence, references to alcohol, awkward moments, and the "oh-my-god-I-can-write-straight-pairings" factor

Key:

'Blah' – Thoughts

"Blah" – Talking

Recommended listening: Brothers (Instrumental) by Michiru Oshima

Metal Heart

Chapter Eleven

It had been a slow day at Tsuki-kage. The townspeople had watched their king ride off with the blonde-haired, golden-eyed stranger, leaving them to question who would run the government and all the affairs, who will take care of them. And yet, even as they pondered that for the next day, nothing had fallen out of order. Everyone expected it to immediately, but everything was in working order. The rumor floated around that their king had left First Archer—Riza Hawkeye—in command and that he would return while others claimed that he had abandoned them and the female archer had assumed the role as ruler.

Neither was exactly, true, really. But who was to know?

Maes Hughes let out a sigh, scratching his head as he stood on the balcony, staring out across the community surrounding the palace. He was wearing black pants with fiery red streaks running up one of the legs and a red tunic top, this time streaked down the back with black flames, being the contrast to his bottom clothing. As he leaned on the balcony railing, his head in his hand, his green eyes scanned the villages beyond the palace, hoping to see a familiar black horse accompanied by a familiar brown one. It was mid-day, three days later.

Roy hadn't contacted them yet.

Of course, this made Hughes worry to the point where he would subconsciously begin to pace on the balcony, looking up every now and then. He began to neglect his duties until Riza came in with her quiver on her back, bow in hand, and asked him why he wasn't doing what he was supposed to do. He couldn't help it, really. He naturally worried.

But if Roy hadn't contacted them, then could he have—

"Daddy, daddy!"

Hughes blinked and turned around, seeing his young daughter Elysia run into his room, holding out her hands to him, racing to his side to hug him. She was wearing a long flowing skirt, colored a bright red color with white streaks going down the sides—her own mother's handiwork no doubt—and a pink top with sleeves that cut off three-fourths of the way down her arms. Her hair was tied up into two pigtails. Her hair had gotten a little longer over the years, so instead of like spiky balls, they were now strands that spiked down.

"Hey, you," Hughes grinned a little as he bent down to hug his little girl. Well, she wasn't so little anymore, being ten, but she was still small to him and he picked her up, holding her on his arm and balancing her with his other. "How's my cute little Elysia?"

The girl smiled big. "I came to play with you, daddy!"

A knock came at the door and a woman walked in. Her hair—dirty ash blonde to match Elysia's, but cut short—walked in, wearing similar clothes, a red skirt that fell to her knees, but her streaks were black, not pure white and her top was red as well.

"Well, if it isn't my lovely wife, coming to see me," Hughes grinned.

Gracia smiled, shaking her head before walking over to stand at his side. "Of course. Elysia insisted we come see you, even if you were busy, with Lord Roy being gone."

Hughes let out a sigh. "Yeah, First Archer Hawkeye has full run of the place and she's working us into an early grave."

Hughes made a face and added emphasis by groaning and Elysia giggled. "Daddy, you're making funny faces!"

Hughes raised an eyebrow. "Really? How about this?" He made another face; sticking out his lower lip and narrowing his eyes, making him look as if he were pouting, but serious at the same time. Elysia giggled again and clapped her hands. Though she was ten now, she still acted as she did when she had been three and only with her parents around. It was sweet, really.

Hughes smiled and turned to Gracia, who had on her trademark smile, but worry was glinting in her eyes. "I'm worried."

Hughes blinked a few times. "About what?"

"I'm not sure," Gracia brought up a hand, her fingers curled together and she glanced over the balcony at the sun, which now began to set. "I just get a bad feeling about this."

Hughes frowned and placed his free arm around her shoulders. "He'll be fine. I know Roy. He'll come back soon."

'I hope,' was how it ended in Hughes' head.

"Don't move."

Roy turned his head sharply to where the voice came from, his grip subconsciously tightening on the reins; keeping his limbs locked in place should Shadow have to bolt any time soon. "Who's there?"

There came the soft crunching of underbrush and two shadows—one tall and one short—still hidden by the trees caught Roy's eye. Unconsciously, Roy took an arm and tightened his hold on Ed against him. Why was the teenager asleep of all times? He would probably know who these people were.

Stepping out from the darkness were the two shadows, one carrying a bow with a quiver attached to his back—that was the tall one—while the other, the short one, was stumbling with a wooden cane, sporting a long white beard. Their skin was dark, brown to the point of the color of drying mud and their eyes were a deep blood red, staring at Roy as if he were scum. At least, the first one was. The second one—the old man—had his eyes closed. Roy vaguely wondered if he was blind.

One of them stepped forward—the one with the bow in hand. "What business do you have here, white man?"

Roy, for a second, didn't know how to respond to the question or the insult that had been added to it. He blinked a few times before he spoke, and spoke slowly, trying to calculate quickly in his head on how to handle the situation. "I'm just traveling... looking for someone."

"'Looking for someone', he says," spoke the first man to the one behind him and Roy noticed the grip on his bow tightening.

"We don't want to trouble anyone," Roy added, taking the normal detour, knowing it wouldn't always work like this. "We just need to get through here..."

"Why should we let a white man like you do that?" asked the first one, crossing his arms as the shorter one attempted to speak, but was cut off. "You're all the same; you enter our lands, saying you're innocent and then you try to force an oppressive law on our beliefs. Why should you be any different?"

Roy hesitated to answer that. He could say he was a king, but that wouldn't mean anything. He could say that he was an alchemist, but that could get him and Ed killed on the spot, if his assumptions were correct. Roy let out a small sigh.

"I probably am no different than any other white man you see stride in here like a pompous ass and force you to follow him," the king began slowly. "But I have no army behind my back that I would call upon anyway to hurt you, nor do I wish to cause any trouble just to get through. I just need to find my friend some help and then find his brother."

The two men were silent for a moment, the first one's mouth drawn into a thin line, thinking over the response while the second man frowned, letting out a "hmm" sound. The first one took a step back and flicked his wrist. For a moment, Roy thought he was setting the bow in position to use to attack them again, but he flipped it in a way that showed that he was withdrawing, letting the second man handle this.

Said man stepped forward, hobbling with his cane, his long white beard trailing down before him, as if leading him towards the horse. The closed eyes "looked" up at them and Roy realized that eyes were not closed, just narrowed to the point where they would let in enough light to focus and enough so that he could see, but appear blind to the onlooker. Roy remained still, feeling that if he moved, he'd find an arrow in his back and that was something he seriously didn't need at the moment. He didn't notice his arm which he had placed around Edward's waist was tightening, keeping the boy both from falling and protecting him in the same manner as before.

The man stared at him for a while before he moved to Ed and his eyes seemed to open a little. Then, something clicked and his gasp nearly startled Roy. "Ah! Yes, I recognize this boy..."

Roy blinked. Now that was completely unexpected. "You... know him?"

The man looked up at him and the age began to show in the wrinkles along his face that Roy had hardly noticed beforehand. "Yes, this is the metal boy, the one who helped us not two years ago. He's grown a bit and his hair is longer than I remember, but yes, I know him. Skillful alchemist, but he helps us without using it, using natural ways instead to respect our customs and keep us together. Yes, I remember him..."

Roy didn't realize he was gaping until the man with the bow snorted at his look. Roy quickly closed his mouth as the old man went on. "He had a boy at his side, too, if I'm not mistaken. A boy looking like him, but his hair was like our skin and his held the most gentle look I had ever seen from an outsider."

Roy swallowed. "His brother... Alphonse?"

The old man nodded. "Yes. But let's not dwell on memories, my friend. I see he needs help. You may come with us if you are true to your word. We owe him much."

The man with the bow became serious. "But Elder, what if they—"

The old man—the Elder, apparently—held up his hand, waving it slightly to make the man lower his bow. Roy looked between the two, seeing the tenseness wafting off the archer in contrast to the gentleness seeping from the old man. Roy then nodded and bowed his head a little. "Thank you."

The Elder chuckled a little. "It's no problem, my friend."

And so, despite the archer's silent protests echoing in the silence around them, they began to walk through the trees. Shadow was quiet, knowing that this was still a tight situation. Roy didn't grip the reins quite as harshly as before, but he was still just as tense as the horse was. Ed was still unconscious. Roy noticed the archer stealing glances at them every now and then; it made the king somewhat suspicious and uncomfortable. The Elder who walked by the horse's side began to talk about himself and his tribe of people with red eyes and dark skin, shunned by the world.

Yes, they were Zigeunians. They were the ones cast out of many other lands since the Civil War six years ago, and forced to live up in the hot northwestern part of the country, in the deserts of Zigeune and in the open valley of Sahah, despite the fact that they could move into Sneeuw, as it had been deserted not long ago. However, the weather there was deadly and many would say it wasn't worth it. The Elder went on to explain how Ed had helped them, with Alphonse behind him all the way.

Roy listened to the history with fascination reflecting in his coal eyes. He had never known the truth behind it all. Sure, stories had gone around, but they spoke of the Zigeunians as barbaric monsters that would gladly take lives, as if the intent to kill was always in each pair of bloody red eyes. But now that Roy heard their side, all those stories made him furious inside and he wanted to hit everyone who spoke of the brown-skinned people badly. He felt they were nothing of the sort. Roy also felt admiration towards Ed for helping these people through their hardest times, despite behind rejected at first. In addition, he had found out that Ed was only fifteen at the time, so since that had been two years ago, Ed was now seventeen.

Seventeen. But he was still so young...

"Ah, here we are," the Elder spoke softly, so much so that Roy hardly heard him. He looked up and gasped. They had breached through the trees and before Shadow's hooves lay desert streaking off to the left, heading so far northwest that Roy lost sight of the endpoint in the dusty wind. Branching straight in front and then right, he saw tents set up with a few old run-down houses mixed in here and there from the old Sahah village.

Roy let his lips part in a silent gasp at the sight. He had never seen people survive in such conditions and he vaguely wondered how they ended up like that. Had the Elder not told him the story along the way so whole-heartedly, millions of questions would probably be springing from Roy's mouth. But he kept his mouth shut—despite the new questions rising even now—and used the reins to silently command Shadow to follow the Elder as he made his way down the hill.

As they entered the town, many people sharing the same red eyes and dark skin turned to see the new incomer behind the Elder on the proud black horse, the two white men riding atop the animal. Some of the Zigeunians shrank back a little and many of the women retreated to their tents. The men stayed out, watching the horse follow the Elder down row upon row of tents and old building, some showing distrust, others disgust, but all curious, like cats suddenly seeing water for the first time, but getting the feeling that something bad would happen should they touch it.

The Elder stopped in front of a large erected tent that hid the small house underneath, the old house made of wood and stone that was in surprisingly good condition, considering its obvious use. The wood was old and somewhat rotted and the stone color was wearing thin and faded. The archer from before opened the door for the Elder and the old man walked inside while Roy stopped Shadow, dismounting slowly and carefully, mindful of all the stares from outside the tent that peered in.

Roy reached up, took Ed by the underarms, and brought him down off the horse as Shadow settled back on his knees, making it easier to take the teenager from his back. Roy shifted Ed in his arms and carried him bridal style to the door, but he didn't pass through it. He waited until the Elder stuck his head back out and beckoned for him to walk in. It was all right.

Roy warily entered the small hut-like structure and a few people came up to him, all men, but obviously healers. Though their eyes were chary of Roy, all the king did was stand still as they slowly took Ed from his arms and to an old bed, laying him down carefully.

Roy turned to the Elder. "Is there anything I can do?"

The Elder seemed to smile under his white beard and mustache. "Just be patient with us. We know this boy's stipulation better than anyone."

"You know about his—"

"Condition? Yes, we know all too well," the Elder mused a little. He settled himself on the ground by the bed, having no chair to sit in. Roy politely stood behind him. The men that had taken Ed from him now covered the boy with blankets and went about getting some fresh water for starters.

Roy watched Ed for a moment. The boy's face was serene, almost at peace, but the few lines above his eyes were more than to suggest he still felt pain. The body hardly moved, the metal now seemingly dulled for being inside the semi-dark hut.

Then Ed stirred. The tissue above his eyes clenched and a small groan escaped his lips. He turned on his side—his left one—and his left hand came to grip his right arm. His teeth were gritted in pain and his legs shifted slightly, as if he were trying to run from something. The Elder frowned. "He hasn't improved... that's worrisome."

Roy glanced from Ed to the Elder for a split second. "He didn't tell me too much about it. Can you?"

The Elder shook his head. "It's not my story to tell, stranger. But, if he wants to tell you, you'll be around to hear it."

Roy blinked for a moment before he nodded. "I'll try to be."

"You know, I was surprised by you, stranger," the Elder went on, his hands stroking his cane once before he glanced back at Roy. "I can see you hardly know him and yet you want to help him so much. Why is that?"

Roy was taken aback by the question. "It's a little bit of a long of a story, really..."

Ed turned again on the bed, distracting Roy from saying anything else and the boy's body curled into a ball, the left hand not loosening its grip from the right prosthetic arm. The men came back with water. One tried to sit Ed up, but the boy subconsciously rejected the helpful notion and fell back on the bed, curling away. One tried to hold Ed down, but the boy thrashed. Roy wanted them to help Ed and if this was how it was going to go, then fine. But... the expression on Ed's face. It was so pained, so frightened, and the boy wasn't even awake.

He never wanted to see it again.

Roy intervened then, against his better judgment. When the men backed off for a minute, he took that as his opening to cross the distance between him and bed and he sat down, pulling Ed up and putting him close to his chest without a word, one hand on Ed's right shoulder and the other absentmindedly stroking the golden hair. Roy closed his eyes, his face set into a fairly hopeful expression that Ed would calm down.

"Come on, Ed. You won't let something like this keep you from everything," Roy muttered into the boy's ear. "Here I thought you were strong. Calm down. Calm down now..."

At first, the boy thrashed against him, too, his hands trying to hit him, but missing and his legs moving as if he were running again, but soon it died down and Ed rested comfortable in Roy's arms, now in a peaceful sleep rather than his fitful one not moments before. Roy let out a small, satisfied sound and refused to let his grip go on the boy. He kept him close, the golden head against his chest as if he were a human pillow and the body loosely straight, unafraid.

The Elder smiled. "You care for him greatly, don't you, stranger?"

Roy glanced back at the Elder, somewhat confused by the sudden words that sounded more like a statement than a question, but he eventually frowned and nodded.

The Elder continued to smile under his white hair. "He seems to find comfort in you."

Roy blinked at that, too, and glanced down to the sleeping boy. "No, he's not. He's just..." Well, Roy didn't really know how to explain it.

The Elder chuckled a little. "I'd suggest... that you wait and talk to him when he wakes up. He may confide in you, stranger."

Roy frowned at that. Ed? Find comfort in him? Tell him things he wanted to hear? The thought was optimistic and hopeful, but in reality, Roy knew Ed would try to refrain from doing something like that. The boy was secretive, and stubborn at that, but he was still just that: a boy. A child, who had obviously seen too many things to be as young as he was.

Roy tightened his grip a little. Why did he care so much? Why? It was at that moment that Roy realized it all.

He had fallen for Ed.

And fallen hard.

Note: Apparently, I've come up with alternate names for the people/tribes/groups in FMA. Here's what I've got so far:

Zigeunians – Ishbalans (Nuff said)

Tsukians – People from Central Headquarters (Roy, Riza, Havoc, etc)

Fuchlanders – People from Risembool (people like Winry, Pinako, etc)

Trementians – Similar to people in Xenotime, but with evil complexes (people like Russell, Fletcher, etc)

Welamians – People from Dublith (people like Izumi, Sig, Mason, etc)

Sneeuwians – Once a group of arctic outsiders (but they're all dead now)

Apredizagemians – Xing people (people like Ling Yao, etc)

Drachians – Barbaric outsiders (random people; think Vikings, really, but no sea or ships)

Fumeès – People that are only mentioned every now and then (people like Roy's teacher/Hawkeye's father, etc)

Tierrians – Kinda like South and East headquarters mixed, really (People like Armstrong and all the left out peeps)

Opalians –Rush Valley kind of people (people like Paninya, Dominic, etc)

Zukonians – Undecided, considering there are eight different towns in there with different names. I'll get back to you all on this one.

And that's about it. Just thought I'd put that in so it'd be less confusing, but I've probably made it worse now, haven't I? –Nervous laugh–