Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist
After the catastrophic attempt at civility, it was several days before Edward could face the Dragon again. When he was hungry, he slunk down to the kitchens and prepared quick, rustic meals as swiftly as he could, before sneaking back to the library or to his room. His perusal of the library had turned up a vast array of rare manuscripts, much on the subject of the origin of magic, and many disparate and unconnected texts of subjects as diverse as overseas exploration and the formation of snowflakes. It was an eclectic collection, to say the least. The Mage couldn't help but ponder who had amassed such a wide range of academic material, and in such a remote location. Perhaps the castle had a records room in which the information could be found.
The books on magical theory occupied the young Mage for a good week and a half, before he felt the hunger-pang-stirrings of his insatiable curiosity awaken inside him. No matter what faux pas he had committed, no matter what insult he had offered Roy, there remained the burning matter of first-hand Dragon study. Edward knew the strength of his own inquisitiveness. It was only a matter of time before it forced him to confront his fears.
Rather than be a victim of, well, himself, Edward eventually decided upon a course of background observation. Surely, if he was clandestine and discreet, he could make a detailed study of the Dragon without it becoming offended enough to thoroughly crisp him?
This plan, of course, required the Mage to silence the nagging voice in the back of his mind that informed him that he, the Fullmetal Mage, was utterly incapable of discreetness in any way, shape or form. It might have been a true observation, Edward mused, as he wandered the castle in search of his host, but that didn't mean he had to take any notice of it.
After a fruitless hour of searching dank halls, and desirous to feel the daylight caress his face after almost two weeks indoors, the Mage made his rambling way to the outer wall of the north-face of the fortress. And, lo and behold, there stood the Dragon, a gleaming behemoth in late-August sunlight.
Roy appeared to still be ignoring his existence. No matter- it allowed Edward to continue his study with much greater ease.
The Dragon was perched in a weird, hunched crouch at the very edge of the castle's rock ledge. His sinuous neck was curved so that he was staring deep into the boiling, broiling lava flow that bubbled beneath the fortress. Since dawn, the creature had rested, unmoving, seemingly entranced, and it was only now, with the sun at its zenith, that he was beginning to stir. Edward observed the Dragon intently as he uncurled himself, stretching up onto his hind legs (oh stars, what a height he reached when he did that!) to sniff at the air before dropping back to all fours. The great pair of chained wings lifted to catch the currents of superheated air briefly, the metal encasing each spine rattling with chiming tones as it was tossed about. Roy gave an odd shiver, every muscle in his body tensing and untensing for the tiniest moment, then he dropped back to a crouch, bunched his muscles tight and launched himself over the edge of the rock.
Edward yelped aloud. Shock pinned him in place- what…what the hell was Roy doing? The immense black body had dropped like a boulder, with no attempt to slow itself. Surely Dragons didn't kill themselves, and if they did, with so little warning?
The Mage ran to the edge of precipice, leaning over as far as he dared, and peered into the burning depths of the volcano. It revealed little to him. Humming his annoyance at his inability to see fully, he dropped to the floor and sketched out the basic levitation incantation with his staff in the dust, tracing them again over his chest with a fingertip then, with considerable effort of his will, forced his ungainly human body up into the air. The rising air currents from the mountain's core made supporting his flight substantially easier, but it still sapped his strength.
The molten rock continued to ooze and glow, showing no sign of having accepted the bulk of the Dragon. The Mage lowered himself, foot by foot, down as close to the lava as he thought safe, as close to the blistering heat as he dared. He stared at the bubbling mass below.
It did not take long for Edward's mind to start protesting his sustained use of such power-intensive magic; levitation was a temporary, emergency measure, only to be taken in the direst circumstances. Edward ignored the warning signs- he knew the exact limits of his strength and the disappearance of his host was far too interesting to be left alone.
When his eyes were beginning to hurt from the strain of scrutinising the red-hot surface, it was broken by the tip of a dark muzzle, then quickly followed by the rest of the Dragon as Roy swam up out of the lava. Edward gaped- his scales were glowing with the heat. Talons dug into the rock face, latching into crevices, or simply creating new ones, and the Dragon began to haul himself up the vertical ascent, torturously slowly. Every movement was costing Roy dearly, the claw-over-claw slog required every inch of his body to clench in concerted effort to force his massive bulk up against the irresistible downwards force pulling him back. The Dragon's lips were curled in a snarl, his harsh breathing was audible even over the scrape of his scales against rock, and his impotent wings could beat only a little to provide relief from the strain of the climb.
Edward shadowed him, buoyed up through the air by iron determination of his will and magic.
Gradually, Roy hauled himself back onto horizontal rock. As he slumped into a heap, Edward jiggled the winds about him just enough to deposit him near the Dragon. He collapsed into a similar mess of weak limbs and overused strength, panting in time with his captor as they both attempted to recover. The ground of the castle courtyard was beautifully cooling for his heated skin, and its roughness would eventually urge him to seek a more suitable resting place, but it was enough for now.
Opalescent eyes flickered to him. "What were you attempting with that display, mageling?" Roy's voice was harsher than usual, rough with exertion.
"I could ask you the same," the Mage replied, too exhausted to care about how polite he was meant to be.
There was a rich laugh. Roy, it seemed, had forgotten or dismissed Edward's blunder. "I was taking a bath. You, it would seem, were spying."
"A bath?" His own voice high with incredulity, Edward lifted his heavy, wool-packed head to gape at the Dragon.
"A bath," Roy confirmed. His scales were rattling along with the shiver of his muscles. "Something of an easier process when one is able to fly, I must admit."
Edward stared at the beast. The flippancy of his tone was a touch too casual, and the Mage wondered how much of a risk the endeavour posed to Roy. Whilst he could clearly survive the lava, and it had beneficial effect for him, if his strength failed on that final climb, would he succumb as easily as a human to a death by drowning?
Not for the first time, golden eyes wandering to the light chain about the Dragon's wings and wondered, Why?
Still glowing with heat, Roy shifted clumsily onto his back, the movement enough to make the ground beneath Edward shake, and wriggled, flexing his muscles like a rolling pony. The Mage watched him, quietly fascinated.
Roy glanced at him again, viewing Edward upside down with the top of his scaly head resting on the rock, and he stopped writhing in the dust. "There are many different types of Dragon," he volunteered, unexpectedly, in the tone of one answering an unspoken question. "We are of the elements- fire, water, earth and wind. Our eggs will only hatch within the embrace of our element- it was a volcano's fire that birthed me, and it is to that fire that I must return, to refresh my spirits. Is that answer enough, Fullmetal One?"
Edward was startled. Never one to miss an opportunity, he forced weakened muscles to push him up into a sitting position, and met the Dragon's gaze evenly. "It explains why you were not consumed by the heat," he conceded, his heart beating loud in his ears as he worked up his brazenness to question the Dragon. "But it does not explain how you make fire."
Roy's eyes flicked to him, quick as a leaping salmon, and Edward met the gaze squarely. "I'm a Mage," he said, his tone low with amused self-deprecation, "We want to know everything."
The Dragon stretched his forelegs up into the air, the great muscles straining as he did so, then rocked back onto his side, his claws screeching against rock for a long, spine-tingling moment, then he folded his forelimbs neatly under himself. His head tilted to the side, as it always did when he was considering one of Edward's questions. The Mage wondered if he would receive an answer to his impertinence, or another dismissal.
Some minutes passed whilst the Dragon decided his course of action. Finally, Roy spoke; "Are there any human theories as to Dragon magic?"
"A few. I made a study of them in preparation to…er…as a matter of interest," Edward hastily corrected himself. Perhaps it would be better not to inform his host that his studies of Dragon magic had merely been part of his preparation to join his brother's Princess- rescuing quest. "They focused on the elemental force tying Dragons to nature magics."
The Dragon made an approving noise in his throat, lowering his head so that Edward would not have to strain his neck as much to look up at him. The Mage was grateful- his overtaxed body was still berating him for his unprepared-for levitation session.
"There is truth in your words. Dragons are as old as the rocks which form the world, we were amongst the first to emerge from its fiery birth," Roy paused, humming for a moment, before plunging on. "In truth, you must have a basic knowledge of the origins of Dragons to understand our magical nature. In the beginning, the world was a different land; our stories tell of lakes of fire, oceans of towering ice caps, a time of scarlet and sapphire separated by the crumbling, cracking expanses of grey and marbled rock. That was the world newly born," Roy's eyes glittered, and Edward felt colour burst to life in his mind as the Dragon's deep voice wove strands of myth and memory into his fertile imagination.
"I do not know what human science makes of the universe, but we Dragons know that the world is of the stars, a sister to their light and life, and it shares their magic; once upon a time, every creature that lived on this earth was as the blood is to the body, rich in vital magics and energies, as intrinsic to its workings as the sunlight is to the harvest. Dragons are but one of many, many species whose lives wove magic as an artist weaves a tapestry." Roy's lips pulled back from his fangs in a smile that matched his wistful tone, and his face lit suddenly with mischief. "This is a tale of how Dragons made the world," he uttered, softly, with his typical quiet arrogance.
Entranced, Edward felt himself leaning forwards, shuffling closer to his host to better hear the rumble of his melodic voice. He found himself wishing fervently for pencil and parchment- his memory would have to do for now. It was an inexhaustible resource anyway.
The Dragon growled to clear his throat and continued. "Life is but a form of magic, did you know? It is of that same energy, that same starlit force, that formed the skies and seas, and that is why every creature has its own magic, like every natural thing has its latent power. In the beginning, that energy was the plaything of the Dragons, who burst fully-formed from the fire and ice to clasp and shape it in their claws. Our stories tell us how they feasted on that energy and grew powerful as gods, adding their own voice to the world's song."
Pride, unashamed, fierce pride, filled Roy's voice. "They made the first trees, the first grasses, and covered the rocky plains with them for miles around. It is Dragons who breathed life into the seas that had formed, who breathed birdsong into the skies and breezes into the grass. They made the world, built it from the raw stuff that had made us. Theirr battles, epic and grand, melted the ice and rent apart the land, forming countries and islands and myriad different landscapes."
Roy closed his eyes, perhaps painting the wonders of the past on his eyelids. "That was centuries ago. Millenia ago. All of the ancient ones died so long ago that not even their names survive."
"Do you think they had practical names?" Edward blurted out.
Roy blinked in surprise at the outburst, and chuckled. He was apparently appreciative of Edward's particular, wry humour. "I can only hope that one of my great forefathers was named as I. The image is a pleasing one."
A burning question in Edward's mind was slowly searing its way through his sense of decency, and it was not long before it dropped, white-hot, to scorch his tongue. "What happened to them? If they were gods, they might never have died, what happened to them? And the magic?"
Opalescent eyes flickered, darkened, and the Dragon shifted, curling tighter about himself. The fading of the white-hot glow in his scales from his 'bath' gave him an air of gathering sadness, a dissipation of his pride and delight in the story, a coalescing of sadness. When he next spoke, his voice was deeper, thick with that rich melancholy that seemed constantly to plague him. "I spoke of battle, Fullmetal Mage, but I did not speak of the extent of those battles. We…we are a proud race," the chained wings twitched, metal jingling against scale as Roy spoke, "We are swift to anger, merciless in vengeance, and bestial in instinct. The power was overwhelming, all-consuming, and those Dragons that held it were driven mad with lust, envy, wrath…We are no better than humans," the Dragon quipped.
A show of his typical disregard for humans lightened Edward's heart momentarily- the Dragon looked so weighed down by his tale that the Mage was almost tempted to call it off…but his curiosity was ever his downfall, in judgement and sensibilities. And he recognised the words for what they were; an apology for the Dragon's harshness those days before.
Roy cleared his throat. "Anyway, I am quite sure you could tell me the outcome of the Dragons' hunger for power and dominion; war. Terrible, horrific wars, litanies of blood and death, painting the fresh new grass with the stain of our sins. Dragon fought Dragon, using the very land as a weapon, and never fearing to strike at an enemy's heart with his own claws if necessary. The skies darkened with torn and ragged wingbeats, the endless cycle of dawn and dusk progressing to the screams of nature's tinpot gods. Darkness reigned over my people, and through them, and about them, and they wrought it as surely as they wrought the magic that bound them to the land."
The Dragon quieted. He lowered his eyes to the floor, where his foreclaws were digging deep into earth, clenching and ripping as if sunk into flesh. Edward felt the strangest urge to approach his host and offer the touch of his hand, an anchor of this present world to assuage the agony of the past. Instead, fearing the reception of such a move and the heat that still emanated from the beast, the Mage clenched his own hands into fists and remained as still as he could, hoping not to distract his host's thoughts.
After some minutes had passed, Roy looked up again, his claws relaxing minutely. "Even ultimate power is not limitless," he said, softly. "With the immense expenditure, the drain upon the world, the Dragons slowly began to fade, weakening, drawing closer to the dirt with every spell we cast. It took only centuries for Dragons to become almost as they are today, shadowed remembrances of a past long since destroyed. Rather than command all of the elements, with each decade that passed, we became tied to a single one- fire, or water, earth or wind. Hence," the Dragon paused to take in a deep breath and huff a flicker of flame into the air above Edward's head.
The Mage prided himself on his lack of girlish shrieking.
"With our decline," Roy continued, "the land, free of our control, began to germinate a vibrancy of life in it that only occurs in the succession of tyranny. From this, new life grew up, sprouting out like the trees and grasses that Dragons had so sculpted, and relying upon that green life for existence. As our magics faded from our control, they became part, once more, of the land, and from the land came birds, animals, the first humans, a raw and reckless abundance of life to replace the charter of death that the Dragons had wrought."
The black Dragon's scales had returned to their normal, cool, glossy shade, and Edward shuffled a little closer, hoping to conquer his nervousness about being in the creature's shadow. Roy did not pause in his story, but did noticeably fold his wings closer to his body, making himself smaller and marginally less threatening, encouraging the Mage's bravery.
"Humans soon ascended to the lofty position we Dragons had vacated- the genesis of magical study granted your people a power almost equal to the diminished power of the Dragons, and it was recognized by those of my kind who still possessed intelligence that we could either war with you, ally with you, or retreat to nature that had birthed us and have nothing to do with you. We chose the latter option, and those that can tell our story to each hatchling that breaks free of its shell, warning them of the folly of tyranny. My parents told that story to me, just as I have told it to you, mageling."
Edward's brow was furrowed as he considered those last words. "If that is so, why are there Dragons who persecute human settlements? Do you not feel resentment for the divinity you have lost?"
Roy sighed. "I spoke of diminishment, did I not? There were those who lost themselves completely in the fading of Dragon might. It was not only their divine power that was taken from them, but the spirit and intelligence of reason, sensibility, intuitive logic. Some Dragons became beasts, monsters, a burden to us as much as they are a burden to you. We do what we can to restrict them, but it is an unfortunate truth that they are bestial enough to rut like base animals, and breed with alarming speed. We who have retained a sense of decency court and woo like humans, which is infinitely more pleasurable, but does leave us at something of a disadvantage in productivity."
The Mage wondered if his cheeks were as crimson as his new red overcoat. The Dragon was completely unabashed by his frank words about breeding, but Edward was teenager enough to still find the topic uncomfortable.
"Ah, I have embarrassed you." If anything, Roy sounded amused. "Forgive me, Sir Fullmetal, have I been overly indiscreet?"
"No," Edward managed to squeak, somewhat unable to meet the Dragon's mischief-glittering eye.
Roy chuckled, a low reverberation of sound, and clambered to his feet, his scales rattling in a shiver. Edward noticed, with a jolt, that the light about them was dimmer, that the sun had descended considerably during the impromptu history lesson, and that the day's heat was just starting to flutter away like a nervous moth.
"I have been an appalling host to you this past week," the Dragon remarked, his tone softening from its teasing edge. "Will you allow me to make good my appalling rudeness? I am sure we might retain civility for longer than an hour, should both our tempers permit it."
The Mage was completely floored. Not for the first time, he had to stare dumbly at the Dragon whilst his brain attempted to catch up with the surrealness of the situation. Once it did, he leapt to his feet, grinning with his usual manic energy. "I am honoured by your graciousness," he responded, the politeness of his word belied by the belligerent enthusiasm of his tone. "I still wish to know that exact technique by which you create flame."
Roy laughed again, then lifted a foreclaw in a mocking gesture, ushering the Mage to step ahead of him. "Then I pray you, sir, enter and be welcome to my keep. We have much to talk about."
This time round, in their procession to Roy's sleeping chamber, it was the Dragon who had difficulty keeping up.
