Summary: At the right angle, in a line of sight, one might wonder why he never stopped staring at her for so much as a second.
Theme: 088. Given Name
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.
Angles
088. Given Name
The White Queen.
He first hears the name vaguely whispered through the halls; the bloody queen, the white queen and her dog, the cold princess of the army base. First, he thinks they mean Olivier from up in the mountain strongholds. But the comments run silent when he enters, the names ash on hostile tongues; and eventually Mustang realises that they mean Hawkeye.
"They are calling you their Queen."
She who only associates with the women and his chosen few, who treats everyone with polite indifference. In all the years she has spent here with him, she knows perhaps thirty names of those around them. She sets herself apart from them with her beauty and skill, and only treats him any different. Perhaps they knew before him that a King needed a Queen to make his judgment wiser. Or more simply, the most likely reason for the way she came across was his affection for her. It set her apart from them. This was the very reason they loved her, despite all the blood she had spilt; if she was good enough for their popular leader to set her apart, then she was more than good enough for the rest of them. She answers this with a shrug, clearly unabashed by the name. After all, it is only a name.
"Sticks and stones, Colonel."
Of course, it means nothing to her. She continues with the latest batch of paperwork he has piled on to her desk, forging his signature where appropriate; ticking boxes and stamping to maintain the weak burecracy he was supposed to uphold. In a way it is cruel, as though she has no choice but to support him. As though she is beneath him simply because he will associate with them, and she will not. They have noticed the way he touches her arm and lingers close to her, and how she does not return the small gestures. To them, it is obvious that she has charmed him; and petty names make it sting less that he would chose a pretty woman over the men that have defended him just as much.
"Hawkeye; if I offered you the right hand seat next to me as the first lady, I sometimes wonder if you would take it or simply laugh in my face."
She looks up at him blankly, barely registering the implications of such words. Her lips part invitingly and he turns away from the stare. She tempts him like this; she has tempted him for years like this. A young Roy and an even younger Riza on the run, her becoming a woman while he watched in his awkward early stages of adulthood. When he returned from the frontline bathed in blood, she was the one to hold him. She soothed the fire and pain and anger. They could never understand the sacrifices she has made.
"Of course, but not as first lady. You could never love me, sir."
The implications are obvious – it has been too long, too many years of friendship. And even though she may love him as he loves her, there will always be a brief moment of hesitation where he is scared to give her what she gives him. This time, he does not make excuses; but simply leans forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead. It is a genuine gesture, and unexpected; she is flustered from the break in the rules, embarrassed by his soft acceptance of her. To him, to call her his Queen would be the ultimate honor. Nobody else could take that space; it would always be reserved for her and only her.
In the years to come, he knows she will accept without hesitation.
A little bit of old school Roy & Riza, before the war; before the cruel end. There can only ever be one true Queen for a King.
Reviews & criticism appreciated.