Fanart! I am a lucky lucky girl SilverDagger has created an interpretation of Dragon!Roy, possibly in the pre-Sorceror days without chains on his wings, and you can find it here: http:/mikiemynchi(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/Fanart-to-Demus-148130726
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist
Bit of a rushed chapter, this, sorry, I thought I'd better hurry up and give you something before uni starts again and I have no time. Hope you enjoy!
The night before the day after.
Edward flipped a golden coin between his hands, tiny chinks issuing as it bounced into his metal palm. His eyes stared sightlessly at the wall, glassy with introspection.
Four and a half months to the day that he and Alphonse had stepped across a magically-formed bridge to enter a Dragon's lair. It was years ago, surely? Surely a lifetime had passed, a lifetime since he had seen his brother's face, heard his high laughter? A lifetime under a Dragon's jealous care, a lifetime with a creature almost as old as the world, a lifetime of learning to read all that was admirable in humanity in a reptilian face, a lifetime to learn every quirk and idiosyncrasy, and he'd only begun to decipher the complex sigils that made up the parchment scroll of his captor and companion.
The Mage muttered a word to make the coin explode into a fluttering cloud of metal dust.
The world outside sang to him, rich and enticing, free and corrupt and dangerous, and so, so achingly close that he could almost taste the air that contained no sulphuric taint, could almost smell the freshness of green grass, could see the outline of the capitol city dominating the skyline in his mind.
Every time he reached for it, he heard a snarl echo in his ears, the fury of the loneliest creature in the world.
He thought about silver chains, delicate as a lady's wrist, that bound an elemental force to the dirt.
Outside, freedom beckoned.
Edward's last day in the Dragon's castle dawned crisp and chill, a cold sharp enough to penetrate even the mountain's heat. The Mage took time to wash and dress, donning the very best of the clothes in his wardrobe; now that he knew the fates of the previous owners, he could not help but shudder when cool silk touched his skin, cold and impersonal as death, or when the black leather trews tightened over his legs. He even polished his metal arm, bringing it to a bright shine with a healthy amount of elbow grease and only a couple of whispered words. His staff, leaning against the wall, pulsed with energy; he had not used it for a week, instead channelling it to absorb the power of the volcano, and it itched to be used. Strapping leather wrist greaves into place, Edward eyed the staff, thoughtfully. Yes, perhaps it might have power enough…
He made his way through winding halls, pausing at the library to neatly stack his extensive research; he would have to sort it, had meant to sort it, but there was never enough time, and in the last few days, Roy had been increasingly reluctant to let the Mage out of his sight...Edward swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling incredibly constricted. The Dragon had become protective of him, as protective as he had begun to feel about Roy, and the thought of leaving him…But beyond, beyond, away from this lonely mountain with its sulphurous stench of death, was everything of Edward's life…
The Mage put his work aside, deliberately quashing any thoughts of whether he would be alive later to sort it. He hastened to the kitchen, forcing himself to swallow some bread and water. Casting on an empty stomach was almost as ill-advised as summoning a demon, or fighting a Dragon.
Roy was waiting patiently in the courtyard when Edward finally emerged. Glorious in his size and strength, the magnificent creature sat as still and implacable as a wise and ancient tree. He, too, seemed to have prepared at length; wicked talons gleamed with sharpness, as did the fangs glittering over the edge of Roy's lower lip. The Dragon shone, even in the dim, weak winter's sun, his hide glossy with cleanliness.
Edward halt before him, staff clasped loosely in his hand, and bowed. Roy inclined his head in return, eyes shining with fondness, though when he spoke his deep voice was stern, formal. "Edward of Elric, Fullmetal Mage of the Quicksilver Order and apprentice to the High Mistress Izumi," the Dragon intoned, raising his claw like a magistrate in court. "Four months and twelve days ago, you swore a pact to live under my guard at this castle. You have honoured your contract. I hereby declare my intent to honour my obligations. We shall duel, you and I, until only one stands. If you are the victor, you may go free and take from the castle anything you wish. If I shouls win," Roy paused, the gleam in his eyes flashing sharp, like a blade in the night. "If I should win, you are to remain here eternally. Do we have an agreement?"
"My word is my bond," Edward said, simply; Mages could not but be bound by their word.
"Then it is to be battle," the Dragon said, and lowered his head to better see the Mage. "It has been an honour to argue with you, Fullmetal," he added, softly, and Edward stroked his nose in response.
"Good luck, Roy."
With that, Edward turned and strode away. When he had some distance between himself and the Dragon, he turned back and assumed a defensive stance. Roy clambered deliberately to his paws. He tilted his head to one side, scrutinising the Mage for a good long moment, as if to impress Edward's every feature upon his memory, then threw back his jaw in a characteristic motion. "En guarde, Mage!" he roared, fire glowing about his mouth, and then he launched his assault.
Edward was ready. With a word, he halted the progress of the fire, the great surging mass of flame scorching his face as it struggled to break free; with a flick of his wrist, he turned it back upon its sender. Roy batted it aside like dust, nothing but an irritant, and flamed again, this time throwing himself after his fire to charge the wizard. Edward had seen Roy fight enough times to know the pattern of his assault, and he had prepared for this devastating move; touching a hand to one of his greaves, he ignited the sigil there enscribed and, with a great effort of his magic, blasted the oncoming inferno with a billowing torrent of ice. Roy screeched as it hit him, landing with a bone-shattering thud to the ground and countering the attack with a wild spray of flame that had Edward running for cover.
So far, so good. Edward crouched in one of the many doorways about the courtyard, mentally assessing his position. He needed, ideally, to be above the Dragon to cast his killer spell, but he could not afford to waste energy on levitation. He would simply have to let the Dragon put him in position.
He peeked out of his cover. Roy was snarling as he cuffed at his frost-encrusted eyes, but it didn't take him long to clear them, or to sniff out Edward's hiding-place. As he did so, Edward sank to his knees, slamming a hand on the floor and barking an incantation. The rock responded instantly and a vast crask appeared, splintering with lightning speed towards the Dragon, immense spikes of rock flying up to impale him.
Roy hissed in alarm, rearing up onto his hind legs, and flamed. White-hot fire engulfed Edward's spikes, melting those nearest, but the Mage did not halt the spell. The solid rock continued to attack, forcing Roy backwards and away from Edward, only now it was tipped with the red-hot glow of the Dragon's deadly fire.
Cornered, the Dragon swung his massive muscular body around, yelping as a spike burrowed with deadly accuracy in his haunches, and crouched low. A second chunk of rock lodged itself in his tail, splitting flesh from bone with enough power to make Edward flinch, momentarily halting his casting
A moment was all Roy needed. With an almighty roar, the Dragon sprang from his crouch into a leap, bunched muscles propelling him upwards; he hit the castle walls with a great grinding and screeching of claws and scale against stone. The impact was enough to set Edward's teeth a-quiver, and to send him tottering out of cover. Roy, who was gripping the protesting stone like a horrific caricature of a squirrel, then pushed off, twisting in the air with all the grace of one of the wind's children, and crashed inelegantly to the ground over Edward, who was flung helplessly onto his back one giant paw either side of the Mage, the Dragon's maw mere feet from him.
How fitting, that it should end like this, in the same position as the whole thing began.
"My…victory…" Roy panted, hot breath washing over Edward. "Yield."
Edward drew up his staff, clasping it in both hands and waking the stored energy with a single touch of his mind. "Not yet!" he shouted, throwing caution to the wind, and released the spell within.
Rosefire, red-stained light of the purest Quicksilver magic, drowned the Dragon's surprised roar as swiftly as it encased him. Edward stood as the Dragon staggered back, holding the staff forth and chanting the words he had written only the night before, new words, words forged from the fresh coals of his own ingenuity, a new magical language like that his father crafted, every letter a part of his own soul. Roy keened as it enveloped him, the mighty Dragon stumbling, falling, helpless against this manifestation of the purest, strongest magical power.
The purest energy burns up the fastest. Tiredness suddenly overwhelmed Edward, crushed him as surely as any Dragon's fire, and he fell to his knees, the spell halting as quickly as it had begun. His staff, cold and dead, clattered hollowly to the ground, followed by the great hulk of the Dragon. Roy's eyes were open, however, unpained, and he was wearing an expression of the deepest confusion.
Edward smiled, wearily. "Open your wings," he said, simply.
Scale on scale, shifting. A pained groan; those muscles had not moved for centuries. And, sweetest of all, the most beautiful sound in the world, the soft, chiming tinkle of silver chains, falling to the ground. Roy surged to his feet, pearlescent eyes bulging as his wings unfolded fully over his back, enormous and grand and magnificent, completing him for the first time in the months that Edward had known. "This is what I claim," Edward said, pride exploding inside him, tears dripping from his smiling eyes. "I claim your freedom, Dragon, as wholly as I claim my own."
The Dragon gaped at him, stupidly, clearly unable to believe. To undo a Sorceror's enchantment was no easy thing; Edward had poured every ounce of himself into that spell, every mote of love and compassion, hate and genius and arrogance and spite, every moment when he had seen Roy wince at his dark memories, the sadness in Maes' eyes, his own anguish at the cruelty of what had been done…And the result now unfurled before him, Roy's wings, free at last.
With a bark of happiness, Roy started forwards, stretching out a claw; Edward braced himself, a delicious coil of anticipation sparking in his belly- this was it, Dragonflight, the culmination of all of his efforts…But Roy halted, with a grunt, dropping to all fours, his wings drooping.
Edward gaped in shocked horror. Protruding from Roy's chest, piercing his heart with the deadliest poison known to Dragonkind, was Alphonse's sword. His brother had come, and he had brought Dragonsbane.
And Roy would die, just as he spread his wings to fly.
