Jet: omg . . . I must be on something . . . this fic was in fact, inspired by an FMA AMV where the maker made it look like Ed was lip synching "Just Can't Wait To Be King" from Lion King. Sigh . . . oh well . . . anyway, I was thinking, "Wow. That would be so awesome--Ed as future king of someplace and Roy being his guardian!" At first, I was going to just make Amestris into some kind of medieval place . . . but then I was like, "Ed's a blond . . . Ramza's a blond . . ." So I just made this into an AU kind of thing for FFT where early in the game, Ramza doesn't interfere with the Lion War and the Zodiac Stones, and like Dycedarg planned, the Belouves ruled Ivalice by the end of the war. A century or so later, and young Edward Elric is the heir of King Hohenheim . . . if his father names him so instead of his brother Alphonse . . . some references from Kate Elliot's Crown of Stars book series were used in this fic. Oh yeah . . . I don't own anything BUT the storyline . . . no profit was made on this . . . as if I could get anything for it anyway . . .
Even though it was only spring, the library of Igros Castle that was being used for the classroom of the King's clerics, children, and nobles of his progress was stifling, sweltering hot. Edward leaned forward on the long table he and his classmates were seated at, chin resting on the polished oak wood, a small feather quill pen sticking out between his teeth. His wax tablet lay before him, unused, unlike his diligent classmates, who couldn't afford to be slacking off. Most of them were just clerics of the Glabados Holy Church, from children to young adults. Making an irritated grunt, Edward sat upright, the quill falling out of his mouth as he rubbed at the chafed skin beneath the braided gold torque that marked him as a direct descendant of Ivalice royalty. He'd worn it as soon as he passed from infancy, the accessory itself being adjusted as he aged. Yet he still didn't like the feel of the cool metal on his skin . . .
He sighed, propping his elbows on the table, resting his head on his hands. What was the head cleric of the King's progress droning about again? The history of his noble bloodline, how his family came to rule Ivalice? Not interesting one bit. The head cleric's lectures, especially about Ivalice's history, made him want to take a nap. So what if Edward paid no attention to what he was supposed to be learning? He was one of the King's sons after all . . . no one would dare lay a hand or a word against him. Hell, it was like he'd been crowned as King already! Just without the business of running Ivalice . . . Well, only one person had ever dared to object to what he did as he pleased . . . Edward's molten gold eyes narrowed with evident distaste. His designated guardian since birth, from the family of elite guardians that served under the vast Elric family . . .His eyes darted to the young man in question, standing by the door of the classroom, arms folded over his chest, a certain air of vexing superiority about him.
Roy Mustang.
It wasn't that Edward hated Roy or anything . . . if the bodyguard just wasn't such a stick in the mud all the time, Edward thought they could probably be friends. A sharp glare from Roy's obsidian black eyes told Edward to face forward and pay attention to the lecturing cleric. Lips pulling into a frown, Edward grudgingly obliged. The head cleric stood at her podium, cleared her throat, almost as if she knew a certain someone wasn't paying proper attention. Edward's face was tinged pink from embarassment. Only when Sister Clara was certain the young son of King Hohenheim was listening once more (she doubted if he ever listened before) did she continue.
"The royal Elric family's roots stem from the noble family Belouve, the name first appearing in records around four hundred or so years ago. Before the family became a royal one, they produced fine military captains and generals, commanding authority over the armed forces under influence of the king of the time. However, that changed when the king died of illness, leaving the Queen and her young son to the imminent problem soon facing Ivalice--who would succeed the throne. As the heir to the dead king who would be named as future ruler was too young to succeed his father's position, the one named as guardian to the prince would actually rule Ivalice in his stead."
This statement made Edward give Roy a sharp scowl, as if he were nonverbally accusing the Mustang heir of plotting to do that same thing if such a fate befalled King Hohenheim.
"Prince Larg, the elder brother of the Queen was the obvious choice of the king's council. However, at least half the council was opting for Prince Goltana of Zeltennia, the younger cousin of the king. The lords and the members of the council fought about who would be named as the prince's guardian. This arguement gave rise to the Lion War, in which Princes Goltana and Larg fought for the guardian right. Unfortunately, Ivalice had only just begun to recover from the fifty-year war, the end of which just a year earlier. Ivalice's military forces of both sides, and resources were sparse. Even so, both princes fought valiantly, until both sides came a standstill. A spreading illness had claimed the armies of the princes, and they lost their lives to it. The High Priest of Glabados offered both armies a mediator, what with having lost their leaders, but the request was refused.
"Ivalice was then torn, either to the late Larg's army or Goltana's, leaderless fighters tearing the kingdom apart. That was when the first Belouve to succeed the throne, Dycedarg Belouve, had strived to unite the divided Ivalice using the Holy Stones' miracles. He traveled from town to town in all of Ivalice, disregarding the dangers, curing illnesses with the Stone, restoring order to flayed communities, revitalizing food supplies, and more. Eventually, the people, endeared by this saintly former military general, ordained Dycedarg officially as the new king of Ivalice, some five years after the start of the Lion War. Through a marriage alliance with a neighboring kingdom, Ivalice grew substanstially, prospering under the Belouve rule."
Sister Clara glanced outside the open windows, seeing the long shadows of the fountain, benches, and people in the Igros courtyard. Clapping her hands together, she said spiritedly,
"And that concludes today's lesson on Ivalice's history. You may all return to your duties."
"Finally! I was going insane listening to that." Edward rose from his chair, stretching his arms out and yawning rather loudly.
He made for the door, his cheery demeanor soon evaporating under Mustang's harsh scrutiny. As they walked out into the castle corridors, Edward leading the way, the familiar bickering known to every inhabitant of the castle began anew.
"Pardon me, young master, but I don't think that you should take Sister Clara's teachings lightly. The knowledge will be invaluable when you ascend the throne as king."
Edward could only roll his eyes at the ceiling, making a turn to a stone staircase leading to the ground floor.
"How will knowing my family's ancestral roots help me any with current affairs of Ivalice?"
Roy replied with the patience of a parent lecturing a child.
"Knowing the progress and outcomes of various wars years past will help you to make wise desicions if Ivalice is ever faced with war in your time. Not just war, too, you know. Countless other affairs of past Ivalice will guide you to a long, prosperous, and hopefully peaceful rule."
And so it dragged on, down the stairs, following more corridors, exiting the castle, strolling about the courtyard and gardens,
Edward making a "Do I really need this or that" kind of deal about most things he was required to do at his age as prince, and Mustang throwing precise, accurate reasons of why the young prince "really needed this or that" right back at him. If it were anyone else but his designated royal guardian and adviser, Edward would have had the man's ass thrown out of Igros long ago.
The two young men stopped at the marble fountain in the middle of the rose garden, Edward sat down on the bench before it, also constructed of the same red-tined marble. It was late afternoon, almost sunset, Edward was just kicking up pebbles, staring at the ground and Mustang watching viligantly like a hawk for any assassins or the like intent on taking Edward's life when a deep voice startled them both.
Strolling casually toward them, the gold torque glinting metallically in the sunlight on his neck, King Hohenheim smiled at his son and Mustang. Mustang hastily made a deep bow to show respect, while Edward, knowing that being the king's son excused him from such formalities, merely looked up at his father. King Hohenheim took a seat beside his son, Mustang returning to his usual, watchful self. In a gentle voice, the ruler of Ivalice said to his son,
"Edward, you are becoming of age soon. On the twentieth day of spring."
"Yeah," the prince replied, still kicking up rocks, "I'll be eighteen soon." It was the tenth day of spring. He would become of age in just ten more days. The King wasn't finished, though. He didn't come for idle conversation.
"And in ten days I will send you on your heir's progress."
Edward abruptly looked up at his father in alarm. What progress? He didn't know about any progress!
"What do you mean, Father?"
King Hohenheim just stared at his son disbelievingly, as if the young prince were playing a joke.
"Surely Sister Clara taught you in her lessons?"
Edward only blushed a violent crimson. His father continued.
"When an heir to a king is of age, he or she is sent on a progress to prove he or she is capable of ruling. A king or queen has many duties and commitments, and the ability to produce an heir to succeed him or her is one of them."
Edward felt the blood drain from his face, he could see out of the corner of his eye Mustang smiling mockingly at him.
"Edward, what I'm saying is that on your heir's progress, you have a year to prove your fertility. If proven, you will be designated as my heir to the throne."
The words hit Edward like a mountain avalanche. In other words, his father was telling him in ten days, he must embark on a journey with a single goal in mind: to have a child!
King Hohenheim gave no notice to his son's obvious discomfort.
"If you cannot prove your fertility, then when your brother Alphonse is of age (which should be by the time your heir's progress is over), I will send him on his progress."
By this time, Edward had managed to swallow the lump in his throat, and hoarsely croaked out a single word.
"What . . .?"
Jet: Hahha, poor Edward. Sitting on a bench thinking he's been the heir all along because he's the elder brother, and now to be ordained as heir, he has to go out into the world and bring his child into it! Hahahha, reviews would be appreciated.