Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

Notes: And still happy birthday!!

At Twelve Years

Serving as the prince's guard gave Ran-Fan a certain measure of pride. She could look at the boy's unscarred face – in secret, when he didn't see her eyes directed towards him – and know that, in part, that was because she had done well at her job. A fear of the tiniest scratch upon his cheek or scrape on his elbow would haunt her for days on end after close calls, but they had never happened. Ran-Fan was good at what she did, because she tried wholeheartedly to fulfil her purpose.

Still, her job didn't require much more than keeping offensive people from touching the prince. She wasn't truly challenged until well into her second year, when Prince Ling chose the wrong time to walk down the wrong alley. He shouldn't have been out that late at night, but Ran-Fan was only his guard, and had no right to tell an imperial prince what he should and shouldn't have been doing.

A handful of drunkards staggered by them, and Ran-Fan's ears pricked up in a poor imitation of Sang, one of the palace cats kept to make sure the palace didn't become overrun by rats and mice. The men passed, singing raucously, but the prince didn't appear to be any more inclined to return to the palace than he had been when the sun sunk beneath the horizon some time ago.

Loud voices approached once more, and two men tottered up, eyeing the prince and his guard.

"Whatah- What are two kidzz doing out thiz late?" one asked, approaching them swiftly for a man in his state. His companion followed close behind with a chuckle and a snort.

Immediately, Ran-Fan placed herself in front of the prince, and readied herself into a steady stance, measuring each of them to see if she could find their weakest points. A voice in her head told her not to consider them beaten because they were drunk. Drunk only meant that they were less predictable, and thus they became more of a danger, not less.

The companion stepped forwards, as though her movement had made him eager for the fight. "You think you can beat us, kid?" he asked, his voice slurring a little. "Go on. Go home to your cows so that your little friend here can buy us a drink. He looks like he's got the money for it."

He reached out to put Ran-Fan to the side, and the moment his hand came near her, she took a hold of his wrist, using his already badly maintained balance to throw him down to the ground. At that moment his friend saw what was happening, and lunged for her. Ran-Fan pushed the prince to the side and stepped out of the way so that the attacker fell to the ground.

The first man was standing up, muttering obscenities about fighting girls when his friend's face hit the ground. Ran-Fan knew she couldn't physically overpower the man, so her hand flew out in a stabbing motion, hitting a nerve in the man's neck that would essentially keep him down for hours. Knees buckling beneath him, he collapsed. She spun around just in time to do the same to the other man before the fist he had sent flying hit the observing prince. The man dropped, his punch missing the prince by a few inches.

Ran-Fan turned back to her master, who gave her a grin she could see in her peripheral vision. "I think it's time to head home now."

He stepped over each of the men gingerly, and Ran-Fan did the same, following after him. Unfortunately, she didn't notice a leg in the way of her last step, and her foot caught on it, sending her flying towards the ground. She stopped with a jerk, the ground still some distance beneath her.

A pair of arms had wrapped around her shoulders and waist, stopping her descent. Burning red, she looked at the prince in shock.

Instead of scolding her for the contact, like he should have, he smiled. "Be more careful next time, okay?"

Ran-Fan averted her eyes from his face – another thing she shouldn't have been doing – and extricated herself from his arms. "Yes, master. Thank you, master."