1904
Karima was gasping for air, her face covered with a slick sheen of sweat. Amir and Usama sat at her bedside, their young faces scrunched up with worry. Tears pooled at the edges of Amir's umber eyes.
"Mama— mama, please, you're okay, mama," the little boy sobbed and crawled up onto the bed. He took his mother's clammy hand and held it to his face. Izumi took a step forward and laid a damp cloth across the Ishvalan woman's forehead. Pinako stood at the foot of the bed, chewing on her lip.
"Mama, please," Amir continued to cry, burying his head in Karima's lap. Usama reached for his brother's hand and threaded their hands together.
"It'll be okay, Amir," Usama said, his golden eyes brimming with unshed tears. His little voice wavered. He looked small, pale, and scared.
"Boys," Karima coughed, her whole body wracked with the effort, "boys, my boys…" She weakly placed her hand atop Amir's head and ran her fingers through his soft white hair. She turned her head and laid her hazy umber gaze on Usama.
"So much like your father… my little lion," she whispered, offering her other hand. Usama grabbed it and squeezed with all his strength.
"I'm not like him, mama," Usama insisted. His little voice cracked. "'Cause I'll stay here. With you and Amir. I'll stay and we'll be okay together!" Karima laughed weakly, brought his hand to her lips, and kissed it gently.
"Of course, baby, of course," she murmured. She cast her eyes down upon her boys and smiled.
"My boys, my baby boys… Do one thing for me, okay?" Her voice came out strong for the first time in a long while. Amir and Usama looked up at her. Usama was nodding. Amir's red eyes glistened with tears.
"Don't trust anything that she gives you." Karima said, leaning her head back against the pillow. She coughed again, a deep, gutteral noise.
"Who, mama?" asked Usama. Her thin frame shook under the thin linens.
"Dante…" she sighed. Her eyes slipped shut.
"No," Amir whispered, crawling up the bed to her chest. "No, mama, no, don't leave!" he wailed, balling his fists in the covers. He leaned over to rest his forehead against hers. His tears splashed against her overheated cheeks. Her last breath came as a sigh, brushing against her little boy's face like a kiss goodnight.
Amir screamed.
Usama stared at the sandstone floor blankly, his hand still loosely clasping his mother's limp, cooling fingers.
His other hand was clenched in a tiny, furious fist.
—
1917
"You've got to be shitting me," Ed spat disbelievingly.
Ling blinked, taken aback.
"What's with that, then?" he pouted, offended.
"Oh, pardon me if I didn't want to serve someone that— that laughed at me when I was struggling," Ed snapped before he could stop himself. Idiot, he was a big dumb stupid idiot— why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? He was too used to Envy and the bizarre dynamic between them. Now this prissy Xingese son of a bitch was going to report him to Dante, which was the decidedly (second-to) last thing that he wanted in this world— second only to Alphonse being reported for misbehavior.
Ling cocked his head to the side, looked Ed up and down. The candlelight lit him up from the behind, giving him an almost ethereal glow, godlike, all sharp angles and smooth, tan skin.
"I mean, you don't have to!" the prince chirped, his voice bright, cheerful.
"Huh?" replied Ed, ever the intellectual.
"Serve me. You don't have to. I'm fine on my own," Ling said. Ed gawked at him.
"The Highborne told me to serve you," he repeated, slowly, stepping through the threshold of the guest quarters. Ling nodded.
"And I told you that you don't have to," the prince echoed his previous sentiment. His eyebrows were climbing up his forehead with every word Ed spoke.
"Are you stupid?" Ed asked bluntly.
"Nope! Are you?" Ling put a hand on his hip, jutted it out a little, and pursed his lips. Ed rolled his eyes and tried not to let his gaze drop down to the vee just inside of where the prince's digits rested.
"I was ordered to take care of you. If I don't follow my orders, there will be hell to pay for me. It's pretty simple," Ed spoke slowly, as if he was explaining the situation to a small child and not a stupidly attractive prince.
"Well, I'll just tell the Highborne that I don't require your services, then," Ling countered.
"Are you trying to sabotage yourself, idiot? That's not how this works. I am a gift for you. You can't just turn that down," Ed snapped before clamping his mouth shut and scowling at the prince.
"And why not? I don't want you here. You don't want to be here," Ling challenged him.
Because if you're against slavery, there is no way that Dante will grant you Envy's hand, dumbass.
Ed ground his teeth together.
"Because, like I already told you, that isn't how this fuckin' works. I'm here and you're stuck with me. Can't help it," he spat.
The door swung shut behind Edward; it slammed against the frame, the sound echoing down the hallway. He stalked forward and sat down heavily on one of the many plush divans scattered about Ling's quarters, propped his elbows on his knees, and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.
"What are you doing?" asked the prince, blinking confusedly at the blonde. Edward sighed.
"There are people watching you, you know," he said; his voice was soft.
"Yes. My people always have my back," Ling replied, eyes narrowing.
"Don't play dumb, jackass," Ed threw his hands down to his sides and jerked his chin up to meet Ling's eyes. Shining gold against dark obsidian. Ling's breath caught in his throat.
"Of course I know," Ling hissed, suddenly walking over to Edward and crouching down in front of him. Their knees knocked together; Ling winced in pain, and Edward jerked his leg away so fast that he almost fell off the cushion. He shot a searing glare at the prince.
"If you know," he hissed, "then you have to know that you gotta look like you support the Highborne's practices, dipshit."
The prince blinked.
"Don't tell me that didn't occur to you 'til I said it," Edward groaned. The prince grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. Ed rolled his eyes so hard that he thought he ought to be able to see his brain.
"Whatever. You know now. So," Edward stood up, leaning heavily on his good leg, and splayed his hands at his sides, "here I am. At your service."
Ling stood as well and gave Edward a once over. He hummed.
"I don't want your service—" but Edward cut him off with a long groan and a, "Did you not even listen at all?"
Ling crossed his arms and raised his princely eyebrow again. Ed wanted to punch him.
"Are you done? Because I wasn't," he said. Edward huffed and gestured for him to continue.
"I don't want your service, but I wouldn't say no to your company," the prince added. He shot Ed a million-watt smile.
"I'm not sleeping with you," Ed replied bluntly, crossing his arms. Ling spluttered.
"N-no, not like that!" he waved his hands around frantically. Edward stared at him; for just a moment, Ling thought he might have seen a flash of amusement in those unnervingly golden eyes. He chuckled awkwardly; Edward raked a hand up his face and through his hair, pushing the headband against his forehead backwards. Ling tracked his movements, swallowing thickly when he caught a glimpse of the tanned jawline that had previously been covered by the blonde's long bangs.
The prince turned abruptly and made his way over to the bay window at the other end of his quarters. He caught the curtains as they fluttered in the desert breeze and pushed them to the side. He let his gaze trace over the Xerxesian skyline; the flickering candlelights in the windows of the stucco buildings mirrored the stars in the dark sky above.
"So," he called back to the blonde, "tell me about your country, Edward."
Edward cocked his head to the side, his lips pressed into a thin line. He made his way over to the window, a limp to his gait. His eyes darted down longingly to the gardens; he knew now that he would not get to enjoy the evening with his friend, brother, and the snacks that they'd snagged. Though his temporary not-master evidently encouraged slaves to follow their own desires, Edward was wary of excusing himself before the prince actually dismissed him. Like he'd said before— eyes were everywhere in this palace. One complaint about his behavior and he would absolutely find himself on the receiving end of a leather strap— the thick, dark one that Dante kept in her chambers, lovingly tucked into the chest pushed flush against the foot of her bed.
Edward dragged his gaze up from the gardens with a sigh. "What about my country, sir?" he asked, weary. The prince glanced toward him and caught his eyes with his own again. He smiled. Edward ignored the quick thump in his chest and pretended he didn't notice how Ling smiled with his eyes, not just his mouth.
"Everything," the prince chirped, his grin never wavering.
—
Ling sat cross-legged just inside his balcony, only just beyond the reach of the desert sun's rays; he'd woken early when its rising light crept into his room and began to beat insistently against his eyelids.
The chamber he'd been given was, in a word, beautiful. Intricate circular patterns were carved into the otherwise plain sandstone walls, the shallow lines inlaid with copper and the whorls accentuated with jewels. When the light bounced off the polished marble floors, the tiny specks of sand in the walls sparkled like thousands of diamonds.
His bed was large, plush, and, strangely, round; the mattress sat two steps down in a slightly sunken section of the floor against the far wall. To the right of the bed were the massive archways that led out to the balcony, and to the left was both the exit and a smaller arch which served as an entrance to the restroom.
Edward had come by after he had been awake for a while, violently elbowing the door open while bearing a tray of goat cheese, cucumbers, warm bread, and honeyed dates. He'd scowled viciously when Ling gently tried to turn him away.
"Just take it," he grumbled, dropping the tray unceremoniously onto the bed and stalking over to a small spigot on the wall next to the bathroom, "or else the food will go to waste."
"Share it with me, then," Ling replied as he stood and padded toward the bed, his voice singsong despite the fact that he tried (and failed miserably) to stifle a yawn. The blonde scoffed and turned back towards the prince, his hands wrapped around a pitcher of cold water, knuckles white against the handle.
"This part of me being your company?" he asked as he approached, poured Ling a cupful, and placed it on the tray. Ling took the pitcher out of Edward's hands and sat it down on the floor next to his feet. The air was heating up rapidly as the sun rose, and the pitcher was already sweating. He wiped his hands on his pants unceremoniously. Ed watched him, his eyes widening imperceptibly; Envy would have insisted that Edward fetch him a towel.
This prince was so odd.
Ling picked up the cup and pressed it back into Edward's grasp, the pads of his fingertips grazing the blonde's.
"Only if you want it to be, Edward," he said with a sleepy smile.
Edward's heart skipped a beat. He ignored it, along with the heat that rose to his cheks, and glanced outside with a huff.
"I don't have time," he grumbled, refusing to meet Ling's warm gaze, "I have other duties."
"I thought you were meant to serve me," Ling chuckled, voice low, still proffering the cup. Ed glowered.
"I thought you didn't want me," he spat back and shoved the cup back towards the other man. Some of the water splashed out against the prince's loose sleep shirt.
"Shit, fuck, sorry, here," Ed spluttered, spinning on his heel and starting off in the direction of the bathroom.
"No, no, no it's no issue, here," Ling grabbed Edward's wrist gently to stop his mad dash away, "see?"
And then he reached down, grasped the hem of his shirt, and pulled it up over his head. He tossed it behind him unceremoniously, the fabric fluttering down to settle amongst the pillows scattered across the bed. Ed suddenly felt lightheaded.
"Uh," he wheezed, pointedly staring at the wall behind Ling's head. Ling let out a long groan as he stretched his arms up over his head, then pushed himself up off the bed and padded over to the chest of drawers situated between two of the bay windows. Edward risked a glance and watched as a beam of light caught against the tanned planes of the prince's shoulderblades. He swallowed.
"But seriously," Ling began as he bent down to the bottom drawer and pulled out another shirt, "have you had breakfast, Edward?" He turned towards the blonde as he pulled it over his head; Ed jerked his gaze away and crossed his arms.
"Does it matter?" he mumbled.
"Of course it does! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all," Ling was obviously feeling a bit more awake after his sudden dousing because he practically skipped back over to Edward. He leaned forward, prodded Ed's stomach twice, then wrapped his fingers around his wrist and sat, dragging Ed down with him. He ignored Edward's spluttering and busied himself with the food, spooning a date onto a piece of bread; he seized the opportunity when Ed was mid-protest and shoved it in his mouth.
"Eat," he insisted with a grin.
"Mmmphh!"
Envy was rudely awakened by a blast of hot, dry desert air and the Xerxesian sun piercing into his eyes like a damn icepick lobotomy. He groaned loudly, rolled over, and curled in on himself. A pillow thudded against his back.
"Get the fuck up, sunshine, the Earth says hello," Edward's voice was somehow snappish and singsong all at once. He threw another pillow at Envy. The Circlet rose with a low growl, caught the squashy monstrosity, and chucked it back at his slave at full force. Edward sidestepped it with a roll of his eyes; it slapped against the chamber wall and slid to the floor with a sad thud.
"Fuck off, pipsqueak," Envy demanded. Edward promptly ignored him and began to limp towards the bed. He yanked down the covers and rolled his eyes at Envy's grumpy, bedraggled state.
"No-can-do, buckaroo. Dante says it's time for the Circlet to wakey-wakey," the blonde shoved Envy to his feet and set about making Envy's bed, shouldering him to the side as he yawned. The princelet stumbled, scowled, then slapped at the blonde with no real force behind his hands.
"Why the fuck does she want me up this early?" Envy moaned, cracking his back and sluggishly making his way to his wardrobe.
"First of all, it's fuckin' noon," Edward grunted as he made a quick sweep around the room, picking up Envy's discarded pillows and tossing them onto the bed, "and second, because two more arrived last night and there's another on the horizon."
Envy slammed his head into the door of his wardrobe with a hollow thunk and let out a short, frustrated shriek.
"Tell them all to fuck off. Mother too," he mumbled. Edward snorted, elbowed him out of the way, and flung open the wardrobe doors.
"Daytime formal-wear," he announced, businesslike, "what color?"
"Fuck off," Envy repeated, flinging his hair out of his face and shooting Edward a withering glare. Edward merely met his eyes, rolled his own, and turned back to the closet.
"Hm. Red, probably," he reached inside and pulled out a short robe, carefully arranged on its hanger, "since our little Princelet is being especially pissy today."
Envy reached over, slapped the hanger out of Ed's hands, and stomped off to his balcony. The curtains in front of it blew merrily in the breeze- he tossed them to the side with an undignified flail and flopped forward to lean against the rail with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a pout on his lips. He gazed out over the inner palace garden petulantly. Edward let out a long-suffering sigh and bent down to fetch the garment; he winced when the metal of his leg pinched at the tender flesh on the back of his knee.
"Get back here, sire," Ed called, carefully spreading Envy's robe out on his obnoxiously massive bed, "it won't do for your suitors to see you in your sleepwear!"
"The suitors can suck my entire cock and balls," Envy yelled back. Ed scrubbed his hand down his face and let out another heavy sigh. He started after Envy, limping ever-slightly more than usual. The previous evening had been entirely exhausting.
The Xingese prince hadn't asked him to do anything extreme- he hadn't asked him to do anything. But he'd stayed up entirely too late— he hadn't slept until the moon was past the center of the sky, casting its rays down to turn the sands silvery and the dry breeze cold. They had had talked far into the wee hours of the night; the prince—Ling— had so many questions. He'd asked about Xerxesian customs, inquired about foods and music and pottery and plumbing and even textiles, of all things.
He'd asked about Ed, about his family, his past. The blonde had shut that conversation down very quickly, of course.
He'd asked about Envy. Edward wasn't exactly candid as he answered the questions— he kept his replies vague— yes, the Circlet is Dante's firstborn; no, Envy's father was not any of the current Highborne, he was banished long ago for becoming too involved with a slave woman.
The royal pain in the ass in question stomped back into his bedroom and flung himself facedown on his bed. He let out a loud scream into a pillow. Ed tossed the robe at him and ignored the princelet's indignant squawk when the fabric slapped against his back.
"Either get dressed or let me do it for you," he ordered curtly.
"Don't fuckin' try to boss me around, slave," Envy spat, whipping his head up and shooting Edward a sharp look. Ed closed his eyes and took in a quick breath, then bowed slightly, an insincere apology. Envy huffed, then gave Ed a once-over.
"You look like shit, shortstack," he observed, sitting up and pulling his soft linen sleepshirt off.
"You sure you're not looking in the mirror, sire?" Edward shot back, turning back to the task at hand. Kneeling down, he began searching through the frankly absurd number of shoes piled up at the bottom of the heavy wooden wardrobe. Envy tossed his sleepshirt at him; it whacked him in the back of the head and slid down his back to the floor. He huffed, grabbed it, and tossed it into the hamper next to the wardrobe. It was getting full; he needed to take it down to the laundry soon.
"Late night with the new guy?" Envy asked; his voice was accompanied by the sound of cloth rustling as he sat up on his bed and began changing. Edward grunted in lieu of an actual answer. The princelet scoffed.
"I'll take you off his service if he wears you out. I can't have you slacking," he sneered.
"I'm fine," Ed snapped, finally deciding on a pair of brown sandals. He stood, turned, and tossed them at the foot of Envy's bed; they hit the marble floor with a slap. Envy rolled his eyes and scooted down to pull them on. Ed stalked back over to him, dropped to his knees with a grunt, and began to lace the straps up to the princelet's knees.
"I'll take my breakfast in the gardens," Envy said after a moment, voice less venomous and more conversational for once, "and you can do my hair while we're outside."
"Your mother says you aren't to go outside until after the presentation tonight," Ed began; Envy cut him off.
"Are you mine or hers, pipsqueak? Do I need to remind you again?" he reached down to the blonde's chin, slid his fingers underneath, and wrenched his head up to face him. He met Edward's eyes and cocked his head to the side, his sharp features twisted into something dark, something icy.
Edward dropped his gaze.
"I'll go tell the kitchens," he said, voice low.
"That's right," Envy crossed his arms, his milky skin stark against the scarlet robes, "I want melon and fresh bread. Cold melon. Meet me at the usual spot." Ed nodded, eyes still fixed upon the floor. After a beat, he rose to his feet and left the room silently, save for the ever-present sound of his leg clicking metallically against the tile.
The Xerxesians' gardens were much like their people, Ling mused as he walked along the inner palace's garden's path, a masked Lan Fan at his back. At first glance, they were unassuming, almost dull, full of stunted cacti, hardy grasses, and artfully arranged boulders. A few short trees provided limited shade, their small, waxy leaves rustling in the hot, dry breeze. Upon closer inspection, however, one could observe the rugged beauty of the plants and the strength it took for them to thrive in such harsh conditions.
Yes, they were much like the people indeed.
Ling felt out of place here. And, well, that made sense, considering the fact that he was not technically supposed to be here,in the gardens. Suitors had been explicitly instructed to stay within their own personal quarters until after the presentation ceremony later this evening. However, when Lan Fan stole into his room and informed him that the Circlet intended to dine in the gardens alone, he did not hesitate to make his way there. He had an impression to make.
Ling had more than just one crown to win.
The centerpiece of the inner garden was a covered patio fashioned out of polished sandstone. It provided a place to duck out of the sun's harsh rays. A small fountain occupied the center of the space, bubbling happily away and slightly cooling the shaded air. Low tables and stools were scattered around the space.
The Circlet's back was to him. Tattooed upon their shoulders were dark maroon circles with thick lines trailing towards the center of their back, one fully exposed and one just peeking out from behind the single shoulder of their dusty red robe. Their hair was pulled into a braid down the center of their head and tucked around their right shoulder. Edward stood at their side, golden eyes trained to the ground, unseeing. Ling glanced behind himself— Lan Fan was nowhere to be found— then took a step towards the duo, clearing his throat.
"Good afternoon, Your Highness," he chirped, allowing his face to fall into his signature toothy grin.
"What the fuc—," Edward startled violently out of his trancelike state and jumped out between Ling and Envy. The Circlet did not even flinch.
"Damn, pipsqueak," they said, tossing their braid and glancing back over their shoulder, "didn't you hear him coming? Some help you are."
Their features were sharp but somehow still delicate, their skin milky pale, their eyes dark— Ling couldn't help but think about how they really were the complete opposite of Edward. Ed opened his mouth as if to give an angry retort, then thought better of it and snapped it closed. He redoubled his irritation towards Ling and took several steps toward him.
"You," the blonde huffed, aggressively prodding at the air in front of Ling's sternum, "are not supposed to be here. I told you, the Highborn said that you are to wait in your quarters until you are summoned to the presenta—"
"Presentation of the suitors, yes," Ling cut him off with a grin. He grasped Ed's finger in his fist and suppressed the urge to giggle when Edward's cheeks reddened.
"I got bored," the Prince chirped, "so I decided to explore the palace a bit!" Edward ripped his finger out of Ling's grasp with a scowl.
"Yes, and I'm sure you just conveniently happened upon us here and you definitely weren't looking for the Circlet," he sneered, "now leave. I'm sure that if you managed to find your way here you can get back to your chambers just fine."
"God almighty, shrimp, lay off the guy," Envy's voice rang out, laced with irritation. They twisted the rest of the way around on their cushion— flexible, Ling noted— and fixed the blonde with a glare before flitting their eyes over to Ling. Violet met black, then glanced down to give the prince a quick once-over.
"Now, which one are you, again?" they asked disinterestedly, turning back to the table and daintily selecting a piece of pale green melon from the plate in front of them.
"Prince Ling, of Xing," he answered, shuffling forward with a smile still plastered across his face, feeling Edward's glare burning into his back the entire way. He stopped in front of Envy as he rounded the table and inclined his head when they looked up at him. He smiled, the bright, charming one that he knew was disarming.
"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Highness," Ling said after a beat of silence.
"Are you?" the Circlet replied cooly, now picking almonds up between thin fingers, inspecting them, and dropping them back down into their dish with soft clunks.
"Of course," said Ling, all confidence. Edward scoffed. The royals ignored him.
"And why, exactly," Envy drawled, looking up and finally holding Ling's gaze, "is that?"
Ling crossed his arms over his chest, cocked his head to the side, and shot the Circlet another bright grin.
"Of course I want to get to know my future spouse," he answered. Envy barked out a bitter chuckle.
"What makes you think we will be wed, huh?" they asked, voice low.
"I'm confident in myself and my abilities," Ling replied simply. He winked. Edward sniffed loudly. Envy rolled their eyes, then dropped their palms to the table and pushed themself to their feet.
"C'mon," they drawled, turning abruptly to face away from the prince, "let's go get me dolled up for this one and all the other pricks vying for my fist up their ass."
They tossed their braid over their shoulder and started off towards the palace, their sandals kicking up sand along the unswept pathway. Edward scrambled to collect their dirty dishes and hurried after them, his leg clanking against the hot sandstone with every step. Despite his haste, he didn't waste the opportunity to shoot Ling a withering glare before he left.
Ling watched him go, the desert sun reflecting off his hair like candlelight off of gold, and couldn't help but think, "He deserves more than this."
Ling had a plan.
His plan didn't factor in pretty boys with eyes like honey and tongues like fire.But maybe, maybe, he thought— maybe his plan could break more than just the Yao clan's chains.