Is It Alright?

If there was one thing that newly elected Fuhrer Roy Mustang hated more than anything in the world, apart from rain, it had to be press conferences. He hated being put on show in front of ten or so reporters as they scribbled down notes and asked him stupid questions. Photographers were also on his hate list. They were forever taking pictures with bright flashes. If he had his gloves on him then he would show them a real good flash.

Flash fire, more like.

However, as he sat on a stage on a particularly tedious press conference one day he couldn't help but chuckle at the questions being fired at him.

"What do you think of General Armstrong's marriage?"

"Delighted, I'm happy for her."

"Have you got any thoughts about First Minister Innes' proposals on child benefits?"

"It's a brilliant idea. I think it will benefit everyone and help out the poorest of people."

"Who are you attending the Spring Ball with?"

"My wife, of course."

"Is it alright now that you've got what you want?"

Was it alright? Was his life so much better now that he had taken over Amestres? Was it better that he had reached the goals he'd set himself? Was it good that he now had more money than he could ever dream of? Was it uplifting that he had fulfilled his promises to his closest allies?

"What I want? It depends what you mean by what I want. I want a lot of things, some aren't going to happen, like the sky raining candy rather than water. What I have reached I am proud of. What I have promised has been done. What I wanted I have got but I would've have got what I wanted all along even if I wasn't stood here now."

The press grew into an impressed sort of murmur until one reporter stood up and asked: "What did you want?"

"I wanted a spring wedding. I wanted sponge rather than chocolate. I didn't want to wear my military uniform at my wedding. But most of all I wanted to be able to marry the woman I loved."

There were a few 'ahs' and 'ohs'. Fuhrer Mustang smiled at his audience.

"Any more questions?"

"Who is your wife, sir?"

"Ah… Well… You see… That's the one thing I can't tell you."

With that he walked from the stage, down the hall towards his private chambers. Once he walked into the room he sighed and ordered his staff to leave him to himself. He flumped into a chair and closed his eyes. He heard the door open and soft footsteps walking towards him.

"Headache?" his wife asked him. Mustang opened his eyes and smiled at her. He reached forwards and pulled her gently into his lap. She rested her head on his chest. She smiled. "You never did answer the question. So tell me, Mr Fuhrer, is it alright?"

"Perfect, as long as I'm with you, Riza."

Words: 500

(Xanadu)