Hello y'all!

Here's the first part of "Amestrian chronicles", where you can find all translations of my non-Royai OS that are gathered in "Nuits d'Amestris - Recueil". Most of them have been written during the "Nuits du FoF", monthly nights organized by a French forum here on FFnet (link in my bio), where we have one hour to write about one theme, between 9pm and 4am.

I hope you'll like all these short stories!

The first theme is "daughter".

Characters: Winry Rockbell, Elicia Hughes, Olivier Armstrong, Maria Ross

Rating: K

Disclaimer: FMA is not mine, it belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

Daughters

As her parents walked away on the road, escorted by soldiers, Winry felt lost. They'd always been here for her, for their only daughter. She'd never been parted from them, and now the military were taking them away from her, because they had to treat wounded soldiers in Ishval. She didn't understand, she didn't want them to leave.

Winry began to cry, and even Granny's wrinkled hand on her shoulder couldn't help her. She didn't want her parents to leave. War was dangerous, and perhaps they would never come back. That thought made her cry harder. She decided then that she hated the army, she didn't like the military.

Some time later, when she began her apprenticeship as an automail mechanic with her Granny, she read lots of medicine books that had belonged to her parents. She understood that the best way for someone to get used to their automail was to adapt the mechanical limb. And studying anatomy helped her a lot with that. She was able to decide how to make realistic automails with the best proportions.

A few years later, after helping a woman to give birth, after giving an arm and a leg to Edward, she realized that her parents would have been proud to see their daughter grow that way. She'd become a talented mechanic, a lively woman who helped people, gave them a new life, with all her energy, like they had done until their last breath.

III

One of the things Maes Hughes was the prouder of was to have known Gracia, the woman he'd met a few months before leaving for the battlefield. During the war, she'd been his support, his consolation, and his hope. He knew how much blood was on his hands, but he wanted to live to make her happy, to be able to protect her from all life hardships.

However, if someone were to ask him the same question now, as a small being, pink, soft and fragile was resting in the crook of his arms, he knew he would say everyone how much Gracia was admirable, but that his daughter, his little baby, was the most beautiful thing that could exist in the entire world.

He gave his wife a loving glance. She was lying in her hospital bed. "Have you got any name ideas?"

"Maes," she replied tiredly. "You know we spoke about it already, but I think that stress has made you lose your memory."

Maes smiled. Of course, they had spoken about it. For the last months of Gracia's pregnancy, it had become their favorite topic for discussions and debates. They'd stand their grounds, saying their own idea was the best. But when he looked at his daughter sleeping soundly, her thumb in her mouth, he knew. There was only one name for her. His choice was too pedantic.

"Elicia," he whispered and kissed the baby's forehead. "My daughter's name will be Elicia."

III

"Armstrong, Olivier!"

The blond woman rose as her name was called, and soon after whispers rose in the classroom of the Academy.

"She's General Armstrong's daughter!"

"She's a daddy's girl! She's here only because of her tie with the military!"

Olivier sighed as she heard her classmates' not so discreet comments. That year was beginning exactly like she'd expected. She was the only girl of her class, and people expected a lot from her. Of course, the daughter of a well-known General would succeed easily, since her father could pressure the Academy leaders in case anything was to happen.

During the next months, she proved to them that her family ties weren't linked to her abilities. She proved them by beating them all in hand-to-hand combat, shooting, fencing, race, and strategy.

She left the Academy as valedictorian two years later and managed to do the opposite choice that her father had made. He'd been General in the South; she would be the same in the North. And no one would ever speak about Olivier Mira Armstrong as General Philip Gargantos Armstrong's daughter, but as a talented officer who would be promoted to the highest ranks.

III

Maria made a few steps in the alley leading to her parents' house in Central suburbs. It's been months since she hadn't seen them, and emotion overwhelmed all of a sudden. How would they react when she would be in front of them? They believed their daughter was dead months earlier, burnt alive by Colonel Mustang when she'd been accused of murdering Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes.

She sighed and glanced at Denny Brosh before straightening and walking toward the door. Promised Day's events were over, she was free to reunite with people who knew her, because her name had been cleaned from all guilt for her crime thanks to Mustang.

Eventually she knocked at the door. She gulped when she heard footsteps coming. The door opened and a grey-haired short woman appeared. She raised her head and her eyes met Maria's face. She gaped for a few seconds and tears flowed on her cheeks as she recognized her.

"Maria, is that you?"

"Yes," the young woman muttered, nearly sobbing. "I'm home, Mom."

She felt suddenly pulled and found herself caught in her mother's warm embrace. She cried, hugging her back. God, how she'd missed her!

"Honey, come here!" Her father, a mustache on his face, appeared in the hall. He dropped his newspaper at Maria's sight. He made a few steps toward her. Her mother pulled away and took her hand. Her father's eyes shone with restrained emotion as he put his hands on her cheeks.

"My daughter…"