Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist
The days somehow passed quicker with their new guest in residence. Maes brought the twist of amusement to Roy's lips, and he answered every question with a wry draconic grin- the simplest thing made him laugh, and his laughter made the black Dragon smile.
And all the more, with every day that passed, Edward wondered if the melancholy, imprisoned, saddened Dragon he had studied and begun to befriend was the creature that Maes had known. The Roy that smiled soft instead of smirking did not belong to Edward; he belonged to the ice Dragon, a gaier, lighter beast than the Roy that Edward was beginning to understand.
"Age wearies everyone, Quicksilver wizard."
Edward started violently, yanking from his mouth the quill he had been absent-mindedly chewing. This abrupt movement had the unfortunate side-effect of spilling ink liberally over every surface, including the Mage. He cursed colourfully, heard Maes rattle a laugh, and lifted his head to scowl at the ice Dragon.
Maes raised a claw. "My apologies," he grinned, toothily. "You will forgive my presumption upon your intellectual mouldering?"
"If you were not several dozen times my size, sir Dragon, I would turn you into a newt."
"Ha!" Maes slapped his spiked tail against the wall in draconic applause, causing dust to rain down from the high ceiling. "I should like to see the spell that could transfigure a Dragon, even from so mighty a spellcaster."
The Mage, who was hurriedly stripping of his outer robes in order to save his breeches and shirt, muttered darkly about tempting angry wizards and curiosity killing the overgrown lizard. He could feel Maes' amused gaze on him as he kicked the red cloth into a heap and traced a spell in the air over them with his shining right hand; he had taken to leaving his gloves aside whilst casting. The metal hand fascinated both Dragons and besides, he had forgotten how much the gloves had impacted his precision casting. Drawing the ink from the robes with a few flicks of his wrist, Edward considered tossing it in Maes' face for a long, indulgent moment, then dropped it, almost regretfully, back in the inkwell. "What did you wish of me?" he addressed the blue, sharply.
Maes waved a casual claw through the air, green-gold eyes glinting with humour. "I had thought you might be interested in a little magical demonstration. Of course, if your laundry duties absorb you too fully?" He spoke the last few words over a massive scaled shoulder, having turned around whilst he was talking, his side brushing against the wall and causing it to buckle as he manoeuvred in the tight space.
"No!" Edward grabbed up his robes from the dusty stone floor and ran to join the Dragon before Maes could leave. "No, I, I should be…very very interested, I assure you."
The ice Dragon laughed again, giving Edward the distinct impression he was being skilfully manipulated, and led the Mage through the winding corridors of the castle to the main entrance. Edward stared at the gorge separating the castle from the volcano's rim, his eyes fixing on the distant copse of trees through which he and Alphonse had trudged all those weeks ago…Had it really been more than two months? His brother must have reached the capitol by now, triumphant and weary with his love on his arm, his only battle-wound the loss of a Quicksilver Mage…
Edward's musings were interrupted by Maes scratching at the ground; at the gates, the rock was rough and weathered by the volcano's changing moods, by the wind and rain, and the stink of sulphur hung heavier in the air. The blue appeared to be levelling out a square patch of stone the length of three men lying head to foot. Once done, he lowered his great blue head to inspect the surface closer, his nostrils widening to take in the scent.
Satisfied, the beast drew himself to his full height, wings unfolding to rear wide and magnificent behind his body. Glancing across to check he had Edward's full attention, Maes took in a deep breath and, crouching low to the ground with the exhale, blew a gust of icy vapour forth. As he did so, he lifted a single scaled paw, talons curled, and moved it through the mist like a witch swirling a potion. He continued to breathe forth his ice, eyes narrowed in concentration, and swept his wings forwards to shield his actions from view. Edward craned his neck, baffled, but the wings obscured the process completely.
Several heartbeats later, the rushing of Maes' breath, oddly reminiscent of a waterfall's roar, skittered to silence, and the ice Dragon sat back on his haunches, folding his wings away with a pleased snort. In the newly-vacated space, Edward saw, surrounded by the mist of its own construction, a sculpture formed of the Dragon's ice. It depicted the sinuous, coiling form of a water wyrm, delicately poised at the crest of a tumbling wave. The creature had wide, expressive eyes half-closed in an affectionate gaze, and cradled in the crook of its right foreleg was the peerless curved surface of an egg that was at least as big as Edward himself.
The Mage felt his neck prickle, his tongue tingling with the blood-iron tang of elemental magic. The wyrm was extraordinarily beautiful, ethereal as the substance from which it was constructed, fragile as winter frost upon a blade of grass. Either Maes was as skilled a fantasist as he was a spellcaster, or his mate truly was one of the most captivating beasts to swim the seas.
"Her nose is too big."
Edward jerked around; his attention had been so wholly consumed by the alluring figure that the Dragon's voice came as a shock. Maes was scrutinising his handiwork with a sceptical expression. "Her nose isn't actually that big," he sighed, in the tones of one suffering severe depression. "Oh, what a poor imitation! If only there was a way to show you my Gracia exactly as she is…"
The Mage shook his head in disbelief. The ice Dragon was clearly raving.
"Of course he is insane," Roy snorted, his chin resting upon a sapphire coil. "He buries himself in glacial caverns and gorges on whalemeat, what other proof do you require, Fullmetal?"
Maes, whose blue form entwined once again with the black, grunted in a drowsy manner- he was fast asleep. Edward, sat at the entrance to Roy's massive sleeping chamber, chewed his quill thoughtfully. "So, Dragons of opposite elements do not necessarily share a rivalry?"
The black's tongue flickered out to taste the air, accompanied by a hiss of amusement. "Do you quarrel with your dark-skinned neighbours, or hate another human for his love of milk? I do not understand Maes; indeed, you would require powers of the most extreme lunacy to comprehend the labyrinths of his twisted mind. But that does not exclude us from kinship, anymore than that ocean's attack upon a rockface causes land and earth to quarrel."
"Elements are above conflict?"
Roy chuckled. "Not quite; conflict is our nature. Maes and I have always fought, fire and ice cannot resist the intrinsic impetus to battle. Yet, we are not enemies."
Edward sat back, tossing his quill to the floor in frustration. "That makes no sense," he argued, earnestly. "You cannot fight and be at peace, that is an insoluble contradiction."
"Nevertheless."
The Mage frowned at his host. "You are insufferable," he told the Dragon, and Roy grinned.
"As you say."
"I would call that a draw, gentlemen."
Edward, keeping his eyes trained on the heaving mass of muscle before him, tightened his hands about the wood of his staff. "A hasty statement," he panted, grimacing as sweat tickled down the side of his face.
"I agree," Maes remarked. The ice Dragon towered over the Mage, his wings spread so that they blocked out the weak autumn sunlight, and the result of Edward's last enchantment lay at his feet, encased in ice and still rocking from its impact with the ground.
Roy, who had been appointed adjudicator of the impromptu duel, raised a craggy eyebrow. "Maes, you find the restriction on flight far too limiting when facing a wizard," he said, with brutal accuracy. "And Edward, as remarkable as your talents are, to empty your magical reserves in a friendly test of strength goes against the wisdom of your Order. I call a draw, which either of you are welcome to protest once you have your breath back."
Edward's muscles chose this moment to give out, and he collapsed into a crouch, his energy quite gone, entirely drained by the extravagant display of spellcasting he had just performed. He was bounced up from the earth a moment later when Maes thumped back onto all fours. Roy tsked, lowering his head to buffet the blond human with gentle fondness. "You need food," the black told the Mage, sniffing at his combat-torn clothes. "I will return with refreshments. Maes, pray abandon your façade and sit down, you are no better than he."
The wizard watched Roy disappear into the castle, then, with the slow, agonised movement of a Mage who has emptied the magic from his veins, Edward fell backwards to lie in the dirt with a heartfelt groan. "Remind me never to challenge a Dragon to a cast-match again," he said, dryly, and heard Maes rumble a laugh.
"Remind me never to accept such a challenge from a Quicksilver Mage," the blue replied. "It has been many a year since I hexed against a wizard of such power, you have my congratulations."
Edward mumbled uncertain thanks, crossing his wrists behind his head and resting on his arms to better observe the Dragon. Maes was working out his coils, each, comparatively slender limb indulged in a luxurious stretch before the blue shook himself out from snout to tailtip. Curiosity, his eternal downfall, prompted Edward to say, "If I do not make too bold, what would draw an ice king into combat with a Mage? Your home is a remote one, far beyond the limits of human survival, and none but the most insane would seek to displace a mated pair of Dragons."
The Dragon…hesitated. Glancing at the entrance to the castle, Maes hovered on the edge of answering, his tail lashing at the air. Quirking an eyebrow at the unsettled behaviour, Edward wondered what draconic social code he might have violated. Maes seemed torn; looking between Edward and the gigantic doorway, hooked talons began to worry at the rock, like a cat kneading an unsuspecting human's lap, and the Dragon dropped his jaw closer to the Mage's.
"It is not a tale I could ever tell lightly," Maes confided, though the soft tones of a Dragon were no quieter than a child's shout. "And…though Roy trusts you, I cannot trespass so far on his privacy. If you do not know, then I may not tell you. I'm sorry."
Chains rattled in Edward's minds, silver chains encasing black wings, and why was that mystery never far from the surface?
By the time Roy returned with the promised 'refreshments', his friend and his guest were idly discussing basic water charms, as though no secret words had darkened their lips
Another week passed, swift as sunrise, and Edward was finishing yet another in an endless series of sketches when Maes announced his intention to leave.
The gloom that came with his statement was instant, and smothering; Roy closed his eyes with the quickness of a flinch, his claws rang out against the stone of the floor, and Maes curled his snout around to nuzzle the drooping head of his friend.
Edward thought it best to leave the two Dragons alone, gathering up his things and departing with unusual haste.
The next morning, true to his word, Maes climbed the northern tower, Roy at his heels, and launched himself from their lives with only the briefest backwards glance. His wings were fuelled by some strange urgency, swift, sure beats carrying him up and away with the effortless grace of a creature born to roam the skies.
When the blue Dragon was but a fading speck on the horizon, Roy clambered smoothly down from his high perch, dropping, catlike, to the ground with a thud that set Edward's teeth a-chatter. The Dragon turned his head upwards, his nostrils dilating to take in the scent of the air, and he sighed, deeply, heavily.
Edward stepped cautiously closer. Roy's moods were fickle and capricious at the best of times. "Why did he not stay longer?" he asked, desperately curious, but aware that he might easily be goading his host.
For a long while, Roy continued to stare at the sky, not answering, then he swung his head round to face the Mage. Edward almost recoiled- such desolation, such loss, echoed in those pearly eyes, the despair of a thousand scarred, burnt-out ships, the despair of as lone survivor's gaze…
"Male Dragons cannot co-exist peacefully for long," the Dragon replied, softly. "He and I would have killed each other, had he stayed. Besides," Roy turned away, heading for the castle's entrance, "he has his mate and his egg to think of."
The Mage watched the Dragon disappear, his black form melting into the shadows of the keep. He lingered in the courtyard for some time, turning his face upwards to the sun. His hands gripped his staff, hard, clenched fists about gnarled wood, then he bowed his head, his shoulders slumped, and he followed Roy into the darkness.
The thought occurred whilst he was copying from rough some observations of ice Dragon conformation. The complimentary nature of muscles employed for swimming and those employed for flying sparked a thought, a niggling, bothersome sort of a thought that had been on the tip of Edward's mind for some time, but to which he had never been able to give shape.
Until now. The enormity of the revelation bowled the Mage over, caused him to freeze where he sat, pen dropping from nerveless fingers, and stare stupidly at the row of books before him. How could he never have noticed?
In a trice, the wizard was on his feet and sprinting from the room, knocking over the chair in his haste to find the Dragon.
Roy's head lifted from its position, resting on his crossed forelegs, as Edward thundered into the room, and he raised one of his ridged eyebrows in polite question.
Edward, panting furiously in the doorway, flung up an arm to point a quivering finger at the Dragon, his mouth flapping as he attempted to form words. "You…you c-can't fly!" he gasped, eventually, stuttering a little in his anxiousness.
The Dragon's eyebrow arched further and he shifted, his chained wings tinkling merrily. "Bravo. You have eyes. Was there something you wanted, mageling?"
"No, shut up, wait, you can't…you can't fly, you can't leave the castle…how…bastard, if you c-can't fly, then how…?"
"Sit down, Edward, you've changed colour. Humans are not meant to resemble milk, are they?"
The Mage's legs seemed to cut out from underneath him at the casual request, and he flumped to the floor, gaping helplessly at the Dragon, his hands waving vaguely to illustrate what he was apparently unable to say. Roy sighed, a tiny burst of fire issuing between his teeth, and levered himself to his feet. He stepped closer to the Mage, curling himself around the shaking figure to surround him with warmth, and rested his jaw on his foreclaws at the wizard's feet. He met the boy's wide, bewildered eyes.
"You wish to know how it was that a flightless Dragon stormed a faraway kingdom, and stole away a Princess, when it could not take leave of its prison?"
Edward nodded, dumbly, slumping back to lean against the Dragon's side without seeming to notice what it was he was resting on.
"Twas not my doing, but for happenstance I would have not set eye on your brother's lady."
"Then how…?"
"Hush now, Fullmetal. Let me tell you a tale…"
