The Red Harvest explores the darker sides of humanity that I've studied over the years. I felt compelled to write this story now, as the world seems to be in chaos.
If you're sensitive to dark themes or religious topics, this story may not be for you; it contains disturbing content. Those who have experienced abuse might find it triggering due to the intense elements in the narrative. I drew inspiration from an episode of Supernatural (Season 1, Episode 11), and the song "Unnatural Selection" by Muse will accompany the next few chapters.
I'll be adding tags on AO3, and the story will transition from Mature to Explicit content. The original version will be on AO3, possibly with a toned-down version, but that's still undecided. Just remember: "Once something is read, it can't be unseen."
October 2024 UPDATE: I know it's been two years since I last updated this story, and I apologize for the long delay—it wasn't intentional. These past two years have been incredibly challenging on a personal level, marked by a great deal of loss and pain. I've learned to channel my grief into this story, believing that the darkness it brings will enhance its overall depth and cruel beauty. To expedite the process, I'll be running my rough chapters through AI, as I currently lack a beta reader to proofread my work. Additionally, editing can be time-consuming, and I simply don't have the luxury of time. I've also revisited and refined the previous chapters (like this one) to ensure a consistent tone throughout the story.
ONE
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The asphalt shimmered beneath the blazing sun, and wherever Edward's gaze landed, mirages twisted the air, bending reality. Only the distant golden hills seemed untouched by the haze, glowing with an ethereal warmth, like a beacon in the heat. His skin prickled with discomfort, the sun's intensity soaking through his clothes. He glanced over at Winry, wondering if the heat was tormenting her, too. With her fair skin, she must have felt it worse than him. But the wind, at least, brought a fleeting relief, rushing past them in their open convertible and scattering the worst of the oppressive warmth.
Feeling his eyes on her, Winry turned to him, her lips curving into a smile that was so familiar yet always caught him off guard. It was the kind of smile that made his heart stumble, and he blushed, suddenly self-conscious.
"What's the matter, Mrs. Rockbell?" He grinned, trying to mask the warmth creeping up his neck. "Can't keep your eyes off me?"
Winry rolled her eyes, but the teasing light in them was unmistakable. "Please! It's you who can't stop staring, Mr. Rockbell."
He couldn't help but laugh. "You got me," he said, lifting his hands in a mock surrender. He loved teasing her, though it never really worked—Winry could see through his bravado like no one else.
A brief silence followed, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Edward's thoughts wandered back to their decision after the wedding, the one that surprised most people. Contrary to expectation, *he* had chosen to take her name. The people of Resembool had barely batted an eye—many had even expected it. It was Alphonse who had made the biggest fuss, though only because it gave him a new way to poke fun at his older brother. Edward smirked at the memory. But Winry had been thrilled. She'd been over the moon, not just because of the sentiment, but because it meant the Rockbell family business—her legacy—would carry on.
She adjusted her grip on the wheel, her hair whipping in the wind. He briefly wondered why she hadn't tied it back like he did with his, but then again, Winry always loved feeling the wind, the freedom of it. And here they were, in the convertible, a gift from the Armstrong family, no less—a wedding present that had caused just as much commotion as the wedding itself. He could still picture Alex Louis Armstrong, beaming like the sun, arms wide, as he delivered the sleek, shining car to Granny Pinako's doorstep. The memory made Edward smile again. It wasn't just the Armstrongs who had showered them with gifts; the whole town had rallied around their wedding, turning it into an unforgettable affair. And let's not forget the military—Team Mustang, in particular, had gone all out.
A honeymoon at *The Red Harvest.* Edward had initially thought Mustang's team might've been pulling his leg, but they'd insisted—an all-expenses-paid retreat to one of the most coveted honeymoon destinations in Aurego. Havoc had even delayed his own wedding to secure a reservation. How he'd managed that feat was still a mystery Edward planned to solve once they were back. He had a suspicion Mustang had pulled some strings.
Edward opened the glove compartment and pulled out the map, fighting the gusting wind to keep it from flying away. They were somewhere near the border between South City and Aurego, and according to his calculations, still a few hours away from the Red Harvest villas.
"What time is it?" he asked, unable to reach for his pocket watch without losing the map.
Winry glanced at her wrist. "Two forty-five."
Edward nodded, folding the map back as his mind began ticking through the remaining distance. Eight hours total, maybe less with good speed. They'd make it by evening. His pulse quickened at the thought.
*Tonight,* he thought, feeling a sudden, warm rush of anticipation. Abstaining from sex until their wedding had been a mutual decision, one they'd both approached with a mixture of awkwardness and resolve. Neither of them had been particularly... forward, in that regard. It had felt right to wait, but now... *Tonight everything changes.*
He grinned, then suddenly stiffened in his seat as a surge of desire stirred in him. *Damn it, not now.* He shifted, trying to play it cool, but it was too late. Winry had already noticed. Her wide-eyed stare met his, and before he could brace for a scolding, she burst into laughter—loud and unapologetic.
"Want me to pull over?" she teased, raising an eyebrow as her eyes flicked meaningfully to his lap. "I could take care of that right now if you like."
His body responded to her words with an undeniable thrill, and for a moment, the idea seemed almost irresistible. They hadn't seen another car in hours. But no. Edward shook his head, cheeks burning. He had other plans for their first time, and as much as the back of the convertible might serve a purpose later... it wasn't the right moment. Not yet. He wasn't about to throw away months of anticipation for a quick fix on the side of the road.
But before he could respond, the car swerved abruptly. Edward's heart leapt into his throat as a horn blared behind them. He shot a panicked look at Winry, whose knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. The rearview mirror reflected a fast-receding car she had barely avoided.
"Sorry! I got distracted," she muttered, eyes wide, her breath uneven.
"You know this is your fault!" she accused, her glare snapping towards him.
*My* fault? "What?" Edward shot back, incredulous.
"You heard me!"
He crossed his arms, not about to let her get away with that. "Care to elaborate?"
Winry opened her mouth to retort, but then stopped. Her face flushed. The silence between them deepened for a moment, before he caught on. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"So... you got distracted because you liked what you saw, huh?"
Her face flamed even brighter. "I could've hit that car!" she screeched, mortified. Edward threw his head back in laughter, unable to hold it in.
"But you didn't," he chuckled, still grinning. "We're fine, wifey."
"Don't call me that," she grumbled, though her pout had no real bite.
They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the hum of the road beneath them. Edward's mind drifted, eyes tracing the passing scenery, until he saw the sign for The Red Harvest.
"One more hour," he said, his voice soft, more to himself than to Winry. The excitement buzzed through him now, anticipation settling like a weight in his chest. Their long journey was almost over.
Winry's voice broke through his thoughts. "I'm glad we waited," she said quietly.
Edward wasn't sure if she was talking about their near-crash or the promise they'd made to each other all those months ago. *Probably both,* he mused, smiling to himself.
Winry's hand found his, squeezing gently. He turned and met her eyes, feeling the love radiating between them. "I can't wait for tonight," he whispered.
"I know," she replied with a knowing grin, her voice soft but certain.
Edward leaned over, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek, savoring the touch. "I love you, Winry Rockbell."
Winry glanced at him, eyes warm. "I love you too, hubby."
Edward's heart swelled at the sound of the word—*hubby*—and as they drove on, the road stretching out before them, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.
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*The Red Harvest,* Edward read silently, staring at the faded red letters of the sign. The name had an odd ring to it, one that conjured images of vineyards and ancient traditions. He wondered if it had something to do with the sprawling rows of grapevines surrounding the complex. His brow furrowed as he squinted in the afternoon sun.
"This place is named after our special flower," a small voice piped up, breaking through his thoughts.
Edward blinked and looked around. He hadn't seen anyone approach, but movement at the edge of his vision drew his gaze downward. A young girl stood there, grinning up at him with a smile as wide as her face. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine. Edward smiled back, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
"Rats!" he laughed, scratching the back of his head. "And here I thought I was the first person to ponder the meaning of that sign."
The girl giggled, her laughter bright and infectious, as if he had just told the funniest joke she'd ever heard.
"Isabella! Stop pestering the guests!"
Another voice cut through the air, and Edward turned his head. A boy, perhaps a few years older than the girl, jogged over, shooting his sister a disapproving look. The resemblance between them was undeniable—the same dark hair, the same expressive eyes. He looked like he was used to chasing after her, though.
Winry appeared beside Edward, the soft crunch of gravel under her boots signaling her approach. "Hi there," she said warmly to the girl before turning her attention to the boy, offering him a kind smile. "We're the newlyweds from Resembool," she added, her eyes darting around, as if expecting an adult to appear.
The girl's face lit up, her eyes sparkling as though someone had just told her the best secret in the world. "Oh, you're the *special* ones!" she cried, practically bouncing on her heels with excitement.
*Special ones?* Edward's brow creased in mild confusion. *What does that mean?* He opened his mouth to ask, but before he could get a word in, another voice—this one deeper and more authoritative—called out from across the field.
"Pay no mind to my Bella."
Edward turned again, this time spotting a woman walking toward them. Her smile was broad and welcoming, but there was something in her hurried stride that made Edward feel like she was trying to cover for something. The woman reached them and quickly gave the boy a gentle nudge.
"Antonio, please take the couple's luggage to their villa."
The boy nodded obediently and rushed off. The woman turned back to Edward and Winry, smoothing the front of her apron as she spoke. "My children like to help out with guests. I hope they weren't too much trouble."
Edward shook his head. "Not at all," he said, his tone polite, though still a bit distracted by the odd comment about being "special." Extending his hand, he introduced himself. "Edward Rockbell," he said, feeling Winry's arm brush his as she stepped closer. "And this is my wife, Winry."
The woman took his hand with a firm but friendly grip. "Catalina," she replied. "I'll be your hostess during your stay at The Red Harvest."
As she shifted to shake Winry's hand, Catalina gave a warm smile. "You are indeed beautiful," she said, her eyes lingering on Winry's face for a beat longer than usual. "And such striking blue eyes."
"Thank you," Winry replied modestly, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks, though Edward noticed she squeezed his hand just a little tighter.
Then Catalina's gaze moved to him. Edward felt the shift, a strange pause, and noticed a flicker of something in her eyes—was it surprise? Confusion? Her smile faltered for only a heartbeat before returning.
"Yours are hazel, yes?" she asked, her voice quick, almost too casual.
Edward blinked. Hazel? He nearly corrected her—his eyes had always been a deep, unmistakable gold—but shrugged it off. "Close enough," he muttered with a faint smile, deciding it wasn't worth mentioning.
Catalina seemed to relax a little, her composure settling as she gestured for them to follow her inside. Edward didn't give the moment much thought, but something about it lingered at the back of his mind, though he couldn't quite place why.
"This place is... really quiet," Winry commented, looking around at the stillness that seemed to cling to the air. There was something off about how deserted the area felt. For such a famous honeymoon destination, there was a strange absence of people, save for the children.
Edward's unease deepened. He scanned the surroundings—just rows of vineyards and the distant hum of insects. No other guests, no signs of life beyond the four of them standing there. He'd been expecting a bustling retreat, with staff ready to cater to their every need.
Catalina's smile tightened slightly. "Yes, it's a bit quieter than usual," she admitted. "Most of our guests and staff are in town. We're a small community, and right now, everyone's preparing for our summer harvest festival. They're setting up stalls for the celebration, and some guests are curious about the preparations."
Edward felt a knot form in his stomach. He glanced at Winry, hoping she wouldn't be too disappointed by the less-than-luxurious start to their honeymoon. He'd promised her an unforgettable getaway, but so far, this felt... strange. Winry's eyes met his, a flicker of uncertainty passing between them.
"Edward, did you know about this festival?" she asked, her tone hinting at a quiet frustration.
He shook his head. "No. This whole trip was a wedding gift. Team Mustang handled all the arrangements."
Catalina quickly stepped in, sensing Winry's growing unease. "Please don't worry," she said, her voice smooth and reassuring. "You are treasured guests here, and we have a special honeymoon package prepared just for you. A private dinner tonight, overlooking the vineyard. It will be magical, I promise. Our chef is working hard to prepare everything."
Edward wasn't buying it. He crossed his arms, his patience wearing thin. He wanted this to be perfect for Winry, but something felt off about all of this. The lack of staff, the cryptic comments, the eerie quiet—it gnawed at him. He opened his mouth to press further, but Catalina cut him off, her smile widening.
"I know it's not what you expected right away, but we're a bit short-handed today," she said, her voice almost too cheerful. "Why don't you two take a trip into town? Grab some coffee, maybe enjoy a pastry while we finish setting up. By the time you return, everything will be ready for your romantic evening."
Edward hesitated. He wasn't thrilled about the idea of wandering around town when all he wanted was to settle into their villa and start their honeymoon properly. But Winry's resigned look told him she didn't want to make a fuss. He sighed inwardly.
"Fine," he said, giving in. "We'll check out the town."
Catalina clapped her hands, her eyes crinkling with satisfaction. "¡Favoloso! You won't regret it!" She gestured toward the road. "Just follow this path, and you'll reach the town in about ten minutes. I'll have everything ready by the time you're back."
Edward gave a tight smile, his discomfort still lingering. He took Winry's hand, leading her toward the car. As they walked away, Catalina's voice called out after them.
"Enjoy your afternoon, *Signor and Signora* Rockbell!"
Edward glanced over his shoulder and waved, though something about Catalina's overly enthusiastic farewell made his skin prickle. He turned back to Winry, who squeezed his hand gently.
"Coffee sounds nice, right?" she said, trying to sound optimistic.
"Yeah," Edward muttered, though his mind was elsewhere. There was something about this place that didn't sit right with him. But for now, he pushed the feeling aside. This was supposed to be their honeymoon—time to relax, not to question everything. Even if his gut told him there was more to this place than they were being told.
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The town of Benévolo seemed to have stepped straight out of a travel brochure, the kind that used words like "charming" and "quaint" to describe places you only believed existed in fairytales. Cobblestone streets wound between pastel-colored buildings, their wooden shutters flung open to let in the warm, late afternoon sun. Small shops and bistros lined the narrow roads, each with their own distinct character, while the chatter of tourists filled the air, mingling with the local accents of shopkeepers haggling or greeting patrons. Just as Catalina had promised, it was lively—almost too lively for Edward's taste.
As they strolled through the busy streets, Edward couldn't help but notice how many of the townspeople seemed to be preparing for the festival Catalina had mentioned. A group of men worked together to erect a wooden panel, hammering it into place with the ease of practiced hands. Edward glanced at them, wondering if any of them were part of the crew from *The Red Harvest*. They looked rugged enough, but then again, anyone who worked in agriculture had a certain toughness about them.
"Oh! That shop has cannolis!" Winry's sudden exclamation yanked Edward from his thoughts.
She was already halfway toward the window of a nearby pastry shop, her eyes alight with excitement. Edward smiled to himself, charmed by her enthusiasm. She'd been talking about cannolis ever since she read about them in some travel magazine before the trip—apparently, it was *the* Auregian dessert to try.
Edward followed her to the window, though his mind was on a different treat. "Baklava," he muttered under his breath, spotting the layered pastry stacked in neat piles behind the glass. The dessert wasn't local to Aurego, which made it all the more tempting.
"Let's go in," he said, taking Winry's hand and leading her toward the shop.
The coffee was strong, and the pastries... well, they weren't bad. Winry looked satisfied as she took her final bite of cannoli, her face lighting up with that look of simple joy that Edward loved so much. And really, that was all that mattered to him—her happiness. His own mild indifference to the local desserts was a small price to pay for seeing that smile.
After their coffee break, they decided to check out the art walk the locals had mentioned. Apparently, an art market was set up at the far end of Main Street. Winry's pace quickened when they arrived, her eyes immediately locking onto a display of automail sculptures. She hurried over, completely engrossed.
Edward blinked, tilting his head in mild disbelief. How automail—the mechanical prosthetics Winry worked with back in Resembool—could be considered "art" was beyond him. Sure, he appreciated the craftsmanship, but he couldn't quite see the appeal of paying to stare at something he built for function, not beauty.
Winry, though, had a fascination that bordered on obsession. Edward had long since accepted it, though he still found it a little freakish. He glanced at her, already lost in the details of the metalwork, and figured he had time to wander on his own.
He walked through the market, casually glancing at the stalls as he went, but something odd began to nag at him. Nearly every stand he passed had trinkets bearing the same motif—a man and a woman, sometimes painted in white, other times in red. The figures were always surrounded by strange, red flowers. Grapevines and stalks of wheat wove in and out of the designs, creating a recurring theme that felt... unsettling. It was as if the entire town was fixated on this one particular image. He paused in front of a stall, studying the trinkets more closely. The couple, painted red, appeared almost ghostly in the art. Something about it gnawed at the back of his mind.
*What does it mean?* He wondered if this had something to do with the festival Catalina mentioned. Maybe some kind of folk legend? His instincts told him there was more to it, but the few vendors he spoke with offered only vague answers, brushing off his questions with smiles and platitudes about "local traditions."
At the far end of the market, something caught his eye—an old, weathered bookstall. Unlike the bustling stands selling trinkets and food, this one was almost deserted. No tourists flocked here, and the attendant was nowhere in sight. Edward's natural curiosity led him over, his fingers already twitching to pick up the nearest book.
The stall had nothing but dry volumes on crop techniques and the town's history—hardly riveting reading material. Edward flipped through a few pages of one book before sighing and placing it back. He was about to move on when something caught his eye. In one of the books, a painting had been reproduced—a striking image that stopped him cold.
The painting depicted a man, dressed in fine, regal clothing, standing tall in the center of the composition. His posture was commanding, but what drew Edward's attention was the man's eyes—*golden eyes.* Edward stared, his heart skipping a beat. The golden hue was identical to his own. His throat tightened as he leaned closer, his fingers tracing the edge of the page as if touching it could bring him some clarity.
The man in the painting was no ordinary figure. He looked almost divine, the way the artist had painted him, surrounded by an aura of power. But the scene behind him was anything but divine. In the background, a river of blood flowed, winding through the landscape like a grotesque ribbon. Two figures—a man and a woman—hung upside down above the river, their necks slit, blood dripping from their wounds into the crimson current below.
Edward set the book down, a tightness forming in his chest. The image of the golden-eyed man lingered, unsettling in a way he couldn't quite explain. Something about the man's face, the river of blood, the two figures suspended like offerings above it… it gnawed at him.
He took a breath, trying to steady his nerves. *It's just an old painting,* he told himself. Probably nothing more than some eerie local folklore. But the man's golden eyes, so much like his own, tugged at a deep part of him—a connection to the lost Xersian lineage he carried. It shouldn't have bothered him this much, but it did. And now, the excitement he'd felt earlier, that lightness of finally being on their honeymoon, was clouded over by this weird feeling he couldn't shake.
Edward glanced around, trying to focus on the sounds of the market—the chatter of tourists, the smell of roasting chestnuts from a nearby stall, the clanging of metal from the automail sculptures Winry was admiring. He spotted her across the market, completely absorbed, as usual, in the intricate designs.
"Winry," he called out as he approached her, slipping his hand into hers. She turned to him, her face lighting up with that soft smile he loved. "What do you say we head back to the villa? I'm ready to start relaxing," he said, keeping his tone light, hoping she wouldn't pick up on the tension he was trying to hide.
"Already?" she asked, tilting her head. "We've barely explored. You sure?"
"Yeah," he nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I just... think we should get settled, you know? Start things off with a nice, quiet evening." He smiled, trying to keep things casual.
Winry studied him for a second, her expression thoughtful, but she didn't press him. "Okay," she said, squeezing his hand back. "We can come back tomorrow if you want."
"Yeah, tomorrow," Edward agreed quickly, though he had no intention of coming back to town. All he wanted was to put some distance between them and that unsettling image. The villa would be their safe haven—the place where they could forget everything but each other.
As they walked back through the town, hand in hand, Edward kept quiet, trying to shake off the lingering unease. He didn't look back at the market or the stalls selling the same eerie symbols. He just focused on Winry beside him, on the idea of their honeymoon finally starting, far away from whatever strange history Benévolo had.
By the time they reached the car, Edward's thoughts had settled, though the image of the golden-eyed man still hovered in the back of his mind. He pushed it down, deciding not to let it ruin anything. This was their time together, and nothing was going to take that away.
As they pulled away from the town and headed back toward *The Red Harvest*, Edward exhaled, feeling a little lighter with every mile they put between them and the strange feeling that had weighed him down. Winry rested her head against his shoulder, and in that moment, it was all that mattered.
Whatever the painting was, it didn't belong here. Not with them. Not now.
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Catalina greeted them with a beaming smile, her enthusiasm almost over the top. "Everything is ready for our *special* guests!" she said, motioning for them to follow.
*Special guests,* Edward thought, the words grinding against his nerves. He'd heard that phrase so many times now it felt scripted, like something Catalina had been trained to say. *Why do they keep calling us that?* He glanced at Winry, hoping she hadn't noticed how tense he was. But the way she looked at him—steady and knowing—told him she had.
Forcing a smile, Edward tried to shake off the irritation. "Lead the way, Catalina," he said, squeezing Winry's hand. He needed to let it go. They were supposed to be here to enjoy their honeymoon, not get worked up over meaningless words. But in truth, it wasn't just Catalina or the "special guests" thing that was bothering him. He still couldn't shake the unease from the painting he'd seen back in town, the one with the golden-eyed figure that looked unsettlingly like him. It left a sour feeling in his gut, a weight he couldn't quite push aside.
As they followed Catalina down the path, Edward tried to focus on the beauty around them. The sun was dipping low over the vineyards, casting everything in a soft, golden light. The air was warm, and the distant hum of cicadas should have been calming. Winry seemed to be soaking it all in, her eyes wide with quiet excitement, but Edward felt distant, distracted by the lingering discomfort the painting had stirred in him.
*Just relax,* he told himself, though the tension in his chest hadn't fully loosened. *You're here with Winry. That's what matters.*
They soon reached the villa, a stunning white building perched on a small hill, its ivy-covered walls glowing in the fading sunlight. The place was undeniably beautiful, like something out of a dream. Edward whistled softly, impressed despite himself.
Winry gasped, her face lighting up as she admired the building. "It's incredible," she said, her voice breathless with awe.
Catalina puffed up with pride, gesturing to the villa like she was unveiling a masterpiece. "This is only for our most *special* guests," she repeated.
Edward couldn't hold back anymore. *Special guests*—again. He didn't know why, but it kept gnawing at him, feeding into the unease he'd felt since Benévolo. "Why are we so special?" The question came out sharper than he intended.
Catalina blinked, clearly not expecting him to press her on it. Her smile faltered for a second. "Only special guests stay at this villa," she repeated, offering no new explanation.
"That's not what I asked," Edward muttered, his irritation bubbling up again. "Why us? Why do you keep saying that?"
Catalina let out a nervous laugh, clearly flustered by his persistence. "I-I don't understand, signor. What is it that you're asking?"
Before Edward could push any further, Winry stepped in, her tone firm but gentle. "Ed, let it go," she said softly, her hand resting on his arm. "Just look at this place. This isn't something just anyone gets to stay in."
Catalina quickly nodded, her relief obvious. "The signora is correct!" she said, clasping her hands together as if Winry had saved her from the awkwardness.
Edward grumbled under his breath. He wasn't convinced. Something still felt off, like he was missing something important, and it wasn't just the overly enthusiastic host. His mind kept drifting back to that painting—the one with the golden-eyed man who looked eerily similar to him, standing in a scene filled with blood and violence. The image had disturbed him more than he wanted to admit, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't push it out of his head.
He shot Catalina one last glance, but before he could dwell on it any longer, Winry gave him a nudge, signaling it was time to drop it. Edward sighed, knowing she was right. This was supposed to be their time, and the last thing he wanted was to sour the mood by dragging out his frustrations. But the unsettled feeling stayed with him, like a dull weight in the back of his mind.
Without another word, he turned and started up the stone path toward the villa, leaving the women behind. His steps were quick, his thoughts still buzzing with irritation and the strange unease from that painting. He wanted to focus on the night ahead, on Winry, on their honeymoon—but the lingering discomfort from what he'd seen in town refused to let go.
As they approached the villa, Edward forced himself to push the thoughts aside. *Whatever it is, I'll deal with it later,* he told himself. What mattered now was Winry and making sure their first night was perfect. He'd let the unsettling feeling stay in the past, where it belonged. Or at least, he'd try to.
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As Edward and Winry approached the villa, he couldn't help but notice the red flower bushes encircling the pristine white building. The deep crimson petals stood out vividly against the pale stone, reminding him of the trinkets he'd seen back in Benévolo—the same strange flowers. They weren't like any he'd ever seen before: a cross between a rose and a spider lily, their unusual shape catching his attention immediately. As he neared one of the bushes, a sweet, intoxicating scent filled the air, subtly tugging at his senses. It was pleasant at first, almost soothing, but as he inhaled more deeply, his head began to spin.
Edward stumbled slightly, his vision wavering, as the sweetness seemed to wrap around his mind like a fog. Before he could fully lose his balance, Winry was at his side, her hand steadying him.
"Ed, are you okay?" she asked, concern etched into her voice.
"I'm fine," Edward muttered, blinking to clear his head. He forced himself upright, trying to shake off the dizziness. His body felt heavy for a moment, as though the scent had seeped into his very bones.
Catalina was suddenly there too, her ever-present smile replaced by something more serious. "Signor, are you alright?" she asked, her voice quick and anxious.
Edward waved her off but couldn't hide his irritation. "What's with the flowers?" he snapped, backing away from the bushes to put some distance between himself and the source of the overpowering scent.
Catalina's eyes widened, and she quickly explained, "I should have warned you about the *sogni cremisi.*" She hesitated when Edward scowled, his expression demanding more details. "They're a local bloom, very rare. The name means 'crimson dreams.' Their scent can overwhelm people who aren't used to it."
Winry frowned, her protective instinct kicking in as she stayed close to Edward. "Why didn't you mention that earlier?"
Catalina's hands fluttered apologetically. "Most people are fine as long as they don't linger too close to them." Her eyes flicked nervously from Edward to Winry, then back to Edward. "I'm truly sorry, signor. You'll be fine indoors, I assure you."
Edward shot the bushes one last look, a nagging suspicion creeping in, but he pushed it aside for now. He couldn't shake the unsettling connection—those flowers, the trinkets in town, the painting—but right now, the only thing that mattered was shaking off the dizzying effect and focusing on the evening ahead.
Catalina stepped ahead and opened the door to the villa. "Please, come inside. The scent won't reach you in here."
As soon as they crossed the threshold, the heavy sweetness lifted, leaving only the crisp, cool air of the villa's interior. Edward could feel the tension in his muscles ease slightly as the dizziness faded.
Winry lingered by his side, still eyeing him with concern. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," Edward said, the last traces of the strange scent dissipating from his head. "I'm fine now."
They followed Catalina into the dining room, and Edward's mood lifted almost instantly as he took in the sight before him. A lavish spread covered the long table, the richness of the food drawing his attention away from the lingering oddities of the flowers and the town. All sorts of meats—roasted, grilled, and glazed—dominated the center of the table, surrounded by platters of pasta in different sauces. Bright, colorful salads were artfully arranged around the heavier dishes, and at the far end of the table, delicate pastries and desserts gleamed under the soft lighting.
Edward's stomach grumbled loudly, and both Winry and Catalina looked over, amused. The woman smiled, clearly pleased with his reaction. "I'm glad you find the meal to your liking," she said with a slight bow. "Breakfast will be brought to you at seven, and the official wine tour will begin at nine."
Edward couldn't help but notice the knowing grin she flashed them as she added, "We, at *The Red Harvest,* hope you two have a magical evening."
With that, Catalina left them alone, her departure so quiet that it felt almost like she had disappeared.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Edward felt the room settle into a comfortable silence. The scent of food filled the space now, rich and savory, replacing the dizzying sweetness of the flowers outside. The villa was peaceful, luxurious, and just the kind of place where they could start their honeymoon right.
But even as he moved to pull out a chair for Winry, the back of his mind remained restless. The flowers, the painting, the odd feeling in his chest—it all hovered like a distant storm cloud. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. *This is our time,* he reminded himself, pushing everything else aside. Whatever strange undercurrents ran through this place, they could wait. For now, all that mattered was Winry and the night ahead of them.
He turned to her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Let's eat," he said, letting the smell of the feast push away any lingering doubts, if only for tonight.
.
.
.
Edward stood on the veranda, staring up at the starry sky. The night sparkled with the same brilliance it had back home in Resembool, and despite the strange events of the day—the unsettling painting, the odd behavior of Catalina, and the dizzying flowers—he felt a sense of calm wash over him. Dinner had been perfect, the shower had been even better, and now the only thing left was the moment he'd been both anticipating and overthinking: making love to Winry for the first time.
His heart quickened at the thought. He leaned against the railing, letting the soft breeze brush against his face while he waited for Winry to finish her shower. His mind wandered, a mix of excitement and nervousness buzzing inside him. He hoped everything would go smoothly tonight. All this time, he'd worried about hurting her—about not knowing what he was doing—but Mustang, Breda, and Havoc had assured him that if he just followed their "advice," Winry would enjoy it just as much as he would.
Edward chuckled, shaking his head. *Why the hell did I let those idiots give me advice in the first place?* He could still picture the three of them, sitting around Mustang's apartment two nights before the wedding, offering unsolicited tips and making everything sound more complicated than it probably was. *Quite the night,* he mused with a smirk.
Realizing his thoughts were veering in the wrong direction, Edward forced himself to focus. The last thing he needed tonight was to be thinking about Mustang and his terrible "guidance."
He glanced down at the sogni cremisi bushes that surrounded the villa. *Crimson dreams,* as Catalina had called them. The name seemed fitting enough. Their overpowering sweetness had nearly knocked him out earlier, and now, as the breeze carried the scent back toward him, he wrinkled his nose, holding his breath for a moment. *Who thought it was a good idea to plant these things all around the building?* he wondered, though he already knew it was probably Catalina's doing.
He was about to head inside when something about the arrangement of the bushes caught his eye. Edward leaned over the railing, studying the pattern. His alchemist's instincts kicked in, and for a brief second, he could have sworn the bushes were arranged in a circular design—one that resembled an alchemical array. His frown deepened. *That can't be right, can it?* He made a mental note to check the back of the villa in the morning, just to confirm his suspicions.
"Ed?" Winry's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He turned around, catching a glimpse of her silhouette behind the thin curtain in the room. His breath hitched in his throat, his heart racing all over again. Every thought about alchemy or strange flowers vanished in an instant.
Pushing off the railing, Edward stepped inside, drawing the curtain open. Winry stood in the center of the room, her damp hair framing her face, her body wrapped in delicate white lingerie. She looked breathtaking. His eyes traced her form, his throat suddenly dry.
"Do you like it?" she asked, her voice soft, almost shy.
Edward nodded, unable to find his words. They stood there, frozen for a moment, just staring at each other. There was a magnetic pull between them, one that made his pulse pound harder in his chest.
Taking a deep breath, Edward closed the distance between them, gently taking her hand in his. His other hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as his lips found hers. Their kiss was slow, tender, as if both of them were setting the rhythm for what would come next.
Winry responded, her fingers lacing through his as she tugged him toward the bed. Edward followed her lead, his eyes never leaving hers, his hand sliding over her body. He felt her sharp intake of breath as his fingers brushed against her breast, her nipple hardening under his touch. She let out a quiet moan that sent a shiver through him.
"I love you," Edward whispered, his voice rough with emotion, as he gently laid her down on the bed.
"I love you too," Winry whispered back, her voice filled with affection and trust.
In that moment, the world around them faded. The worries of the day, the strange feelings that had crept into Edward's mind—all of it melted away as they lost themselves in each other. Their bodies moved together, slow and sure, wrapped in the intimacy they had both longed for, the night giving way to a rhythm as old as time.
Outside the window, a faint bluish glow appeared, subtle but unnatural. Neither Edward nor Winry noticed the light—they were far too wrapped up in one another, too lost in the moment to see anything but each other.
.
.
.
"Antonio, Antonio!" Isabella's voice rang out as she sprinted up the hill, her feet barely touching the ground.
"What is it?" Antonio groaned, rubbing his eyes. He'd been posted to keep watch, but the soft lull of the evening had gotten to him, and he had dozed off against the sturdy oak tree. Thankfully, his little sister hadn't.
"Look, look!" Isabella cried, pointing with wide-eyed excitement at the villa below. A bluish glow enveloped the white building, shimmering like the sky had spilled down to touch the earth. Antonio's eyes widened in awe, though he'd seen it many times before. Without thinking, he reached for Isabella's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. This was her first time witnessing *The Offering*. No wonder she had stayed alert, while he had slipped into a nap.
The blue light rippled, dancing over the villa's surface like liquid moonlight. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the light faded, leaving only faint trails of blue energy running along the edges of the transmutation circle embedded in the earth.
"Is it done?" Isabella asked, her voice tinged with disappointment. She had expected something more dramatic, something extraordinary.
Antonio smiled, remembering how he had asked their mother the same thing during his first Offering, hoping for fireworks or for the entire villa to vanish. But the real change was always quieter. "What do you notice?" he asked, gently nudging her in the same way their mother had nudged him all those years ago.
Isabella squinted at the villa, focusing on every detail. Slowly, her eyes grew wide with understanding. "The color! It's not white anymore!" she exclaimed, pointing eagerly.
Antonio smiled, feeling a wave of brotherly pride. "That's right," he said softly. The villa's once pristine white walls now had a deep, carmine hue, almost as if they had been dipped in the blood of the earth itself.
He knelt beside his sister, his voice reverent as he spoke. "Rejoice, my dear Bella, for the red harvest will soon bless our holy land."
Isabella's eyes sparkled with awe, staring at the transformed villa in silence, while Antonio's smile faded into a thoughtful expression. The Offering was complete, and soon, everything would change.
A/N: I'm busy, so new chapters will be uploaded slowly but steadily.
Check out my Tumblr page: hirstories dot tumblr dot com for artwork and other stories.
Thanks for reading!