Friendship is Magic; Damnation is Alchemy
By Anonymous Card Captor
My Little Pony-Friendship is Magic is created by Lauren Faust and owned by Hasbro Studios. Fullmetal Alchemist is created by Hiromu Arakawa. All other characters are the creation of the author. All thoughts or anything read by a character is in italics.
Special Note:
The following events takes just before Sinclair makes it to Equestria, specifically, the chapter ends right about the time Sinclair is wandering around the Everfree Forest suffering from his nearly fatal bout of pneumonia. I apologize for the disjointed time frame of the story. Future chapters will be more in synch with each other chronologically.
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Chapter 5: The Price of Ambition
General Roy Mustang took on the duty of giving the final interview to the newly certified state alchemists. Back in the day of King Bradley, if an alchemist or, for that matter, any military man wanted to get ahead, they needed to be driven by uncompromising ambition and quite a bit of callousness. Only those who were literally willing to slaughter their entire nation ever got ahead, but times have changed. Under the leadership of Fuehrer Grumman, the old motto of ‘alchemist, be thou for the people’ was dusted off, and it was Mustang’s job to instill that semi-antiquated virtue on the new batch of recruits. But today, he was giving his pep talk to someone who’s been in the military and a state alchemist before but was still in desperate need a reminder as to why one becomes a state alchemist. Riza Hawkeye stepped in Mustang’s office with an old war buddy.
“Long time, no see, Lodestone,” Mustang said. “Take a seat.” He made a gesture at the chair in front of his desk. “So, how’s life been treating you, Colonel Sinclair?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Wind Racer said nonchalantly. “It’s been rather uneventful. And how are you doing, sir?”
“I can’t complain. Life’s been better to me than I deserve.”
“Not worried about your future huh?”
“Not exactly. I do feel a bit uneasy about the future. One concern is our servicemen having misplaced priorities."
Wind Racer raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?”
“You remember the old alchemist motto?”
Wind Racer averted his eyes from Mustang’s. “Oh that? It’s been so long since I...”
“‘Alchemist, be thou for the people’?”
“Oh yeah!” Wind Racer gave a fake chuckle. “How did I forget that?”
“No alchemist should ever forget.” Mustang got out of his chair and walked over to the window. The sun shined above with nary a cloud in the sky to steal away its warm, embracing glow. Mustang watched the civilians in their day-to-day routine blissfully ignorant of the events that nearly robbed them of their lives nearly a year and a half ago. “We wear the uniform to shoulder the burdens too heavy for them to bear, to serve their best interests and not our own.”
Wind Racer rolled his eyes while Mustang was turned away from him. “I believe that wholeheartedly. It’s why I helped you back during the coup. I’m a loyal Amestrian, after all.”
“I’d like to believe that, Lodestone.” Then Roy looked over his shoulder at Wind Racer. “But you toot your own horn a little too much for my taste even after that lackluster performance at your re-certification.” Wind Racer glared at Roy for a moment before remembering to give his superior some leeway and ignored that personal jab. “You filed paperwork for self-nomination to take over Major General Apache’s position guarding the border with Aerugo. Seriously, you really think you’d be promoted two ranks *and* given command of our southern border?”
“I wouldn’t be the first to get two ranks up in a single promotion.”
Mustang tightened his grip as his face became distorted by rage. “Better men than you had to die for that privilege!”
Wind Racer held his hands out. “Wait a sec. I didn’t mean any disrespect to Brigadier General Hughes, but after the coup, we’ve had openings spring up left and right, and they had to be filled. All I’m asking is that you don’t forget me come promotion time?”
“Didn’t you hear a word I said? Check your ambitions at the door and worry about tending to your own men.”
“May I speak freely, sir?”
Roy huffed. “Go ahead.”
“Soldiers are people, too, and why is serving our country and being a little ambitious mutually exclusive? Ambition is great motivation for achievement. You don’t want someone with no ambition in a position of authority.” Wind Racer then smirked. “Besides, Fuehrer Grumman thought my talents were wasted in Central.”
“When did you get an audience with the Fuehrer? We have a chain of command for a reason.”
“If you think I went over your head and spoke with him, you’re mistaken. I just happened to bump into him at the farmer’s market.”
Mustang’s voice dripped with derision. “Of course you did.”
“As I was saying, he was impressed by the way I handle my men and saw a field command in my future. All I did was to suggest that future could come a little sooner.”
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“You have some reservations about Colonel Sinclair?” Fuehrer Grumman spoke as he stopped to admire a patch of sunflowers. They towered over the other flora and gazed eye to eye with its admirer.
“First off, his alchemy skills have become subpar. He only got back in because his prior service record. Secondly, his attitude is a complete 180. His latest psych exam is completely different from the first. It’s like two separate people took that test. He’s changed, sir, and I don’t think it’s for the best.”
“But what about his leadership skills?”
“To be honest,” Mustang admitted hesitantly, “he’s charismatic and has a take-charge attitude. His men look up to him. When I first met Lodestone in Ishval, he came off as timid and lacking in social skills. I thought of him as a pushover. The man was too meek for his good. But now, his ego’s as big as the Briggs Fortress.”
“So, there isn’t any reason not to promote him?”
Mustang took a deep breath. “Just this gut feeling I have.”
Fuehrer Grumman stroked his long white mustache. “Well then, I’ll have to take that into consideration. I’ll speak to him again about the opening, but unless he makes a good argument, I’ll go with your suggestion and promote someone else.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Hawkeye spoke up, “but where are your body guards?”
“Hopefully, they’re still looking for me on the east side of town.” Before Mustang and Riza could say a word, Grumman interjected. “I know, it’s not safe to ditch your own bodyguards, but even I need my privacy. And how can I talk frank with you if they're hovering over my shoulder easedropping?” Mustang and Hawkeye gave out a collective sigh. “Don’t worry; I don’t make a habit of it, and we’re in the presidential palace. No one that isn’t supposed to be here is getting in. Now General Mustang, you have anything else on your mind?”
“There’s been talk about holding war crime tribunals for what happened in Ishval.”
“You want to know how that’s coming along.”
Mustang nodded. “Not that I’m in any hurry to be put on trial, but if it comes down to that, finishing the transition from military rule to civilian takes precedence over our lives.” Mustang tightened his fist and braced himself for the worst.
“You shouldn’t take these parliament types too seriously. They’ll rant and rave and call for all of our heads, but nothing will come to it. The power shift will go along smoothly regardless of whether or not you’re put on trial. So, don’t be so quick to martyr yourself for democracy, Mustang. If anything, Parliament wants the Ishvalan conflict to be forgotten. A nation that turns on its own protectors will come to a bad end, and the politicians know it. It’s all a dog and pony show to impress the voters. Anything else?”
“No sir, that’s it.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow after I made my decision on Apache’s replacement.” Mustang and Hawkeye saluted Fuehrer Grumman and left him to his stroll, but this would prove fatal for the elderly leader. While watching a hummingbird dart from one daffodil to another, a hooded figure slipped in the garden. The black hood overshadowed her face. Only her freckled chin was visible. She slipped on a white glove with a transmutation circle etched on the palm. The hooded figure slapped Fuehrer Grumman on the back, and red sparks flowed between him and the glove. He arched back and cried out in pain before he was forever silenced. The assassin examined the glove. On it was a blood red stone the size of a bread crumb. She slipped it in her coat pocket and pulled out an envelope that she placed in her victim’s coat.
Two hours later, security found Fuehrer Grumman dead in the presidential palace garden.
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The newly christened fuehrer sat at his new desk and poured himself a glass of scotch. He took a sip and held it in his hand gazing at the office once occupied by his predecessor. The memory of the late Fuehrer Grumman lingered in this room. Pictures of the Fuehrer cheerfully playing with his grandchildren lined the walls along side even older sepia photos of the Fuehrer as a young man. Even then, decades ago, his hairline receded to the point that he had only a tad more hair than present. A picture of him sat on the shelf between rows of regulations and military technical manuals. In one photo, Grumman and his sons beamed with pride as they held up a tiny trout as though it was a record-shattering behemoth. Mustang was eased out of his moment of solemnity by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” said Mustang staring at his glass.
Old familiar faces greeted the Flame Alchemist: Riza Hawkeye, Kain Fuery, Jean Havoc, Alex Armstrong, Heymans Breda, and Vato Falman. They all saluted Mustang.
Roy returned their salute. “Quite the reunion we’re having today.”
“I came to make the final arrangements for Fuehrer Grumman’s state funeral, sir,” said Riza Hawkeye, “as well as relay Mrs. Bradley’s condolences.” She then glanced back at the others. “They followed me here.”
“We weren’t going to let you sulk by yourself, sir,” said Jean.
Mustang looked up at the ceiling. “Now why would I do that?” He said with bitter irony in his voice. “I’m finally Fuehrer, barring a last minute change by Parliament. That’s been my goal all this time, and it looks like I finally made it.”
Kain Fuery stepped forward. “We understand what you’re going through. You and I both served under Fuehrer Grumman. He has a way of getting you to warm up to him even though he outranked you by about seven or eight pay grades.”
“Everyone tells me how much of a likable man he was and that rank was never an issue with him. But he was more to me than that.” Mustang straightened up in his chair and rested his elbows on the desk. “He was my mentor and, next to my alchemy teacher, the closest I had to a father. I knew this day would come, but not so soon and not like this.”
“Take as much time to mourn the lost of your dearly departed father figure as you need, sir,” said Armstrong. “We’ll make sure Parliament isn’t nipping at your heels if I have to pull the full weight of the Armstrong family’s influence.”
“That won’t be necessary. The funeral is all the time I need.” Mustang stood up and looked his subordinates straight in the eyes. “I plan to honor Fuehrer Grumman’s memory by finishing the work he started when King Bradley was overthrown. Amestris will be a democracy and no longer under military control, and I don’t want any of you to think that you’ll be martyred for the sake of the new government. Grumman’s last words to me were that a country that betrays its protectors will come to a bad end, and I believe him. No good will come from putting our soldiers on trial.”
“You said ‘soldiers’, sir. What about officers?” Falman asked.
“I said none of you have anything to fear,” Mustang said sternly.
“We’re talking about you, sir,” said Fuery.
Mustang looked down. “If it comes down to choosing between reforming the government and my life, you know what choice I’ll make.”
Hawkeye spoke up. “Permission to speak freely sir.”
“You may.”
“If it comes down to that, I’ll kidnap you and drag you all the way to Xing with my bare hands.”
Mustang glared at Hawkeye. “That’s insubordination, lieutenant! Do you need some time in the stockade to straighten you out?!?”
“It’s not insubordination if you’ve been stripped of rank and put on trial.”
“And she won’t be along, I’ll help her carry you there,” Jean Havoc said defiantly. The others nodded in agreement.
Mustang’s demeanor softened in the face of his subordinates’ solidarity. “You guys are too loyal for your own good,” Mustang chuckled. “As soldiers, we’re sworn to protect Amestris even at the cost of our lives.”
“True, but,” Hawkeye countered, “you seem a bit too quick to fall on your own sword.”
“In that case,” Mustang smiled, “I guess I have no other choice but to save my own skin.”
“You wouldn’t be Fuehrer long enough to be effective if you didn’t, sir,” said Hawkeye.
“Oh one more thing, Fuehrer Mustang sir,” Havoc said gleefully. “Don’t forget your other promise.”
“And what would that be?” Mustang smirked mischievously.
Havoc had a lecherous look on his face. “You know, sir, the mandatory mini-skirts.”
Just then, Riza upholstered her sidearm and fed a round into the chamber. “Don’t go there, Havoc.”
Havoc backed away while holding out his palms in a defensive posture. “I was only joking, Riza.”
“That’s what I thought.” Riza put back her gun.
For the next couple of hours, late into the night, Mustang and his men reminisced about old times from their post-Ishvalian days at Central to the time of the uprising against Bradley and Father. They drank to fallen comrades and to those that went on with their lives, in particular, a hot-blooded, rebellious former state alchemist and his younger disembodied brother. Talk of those two took up much of the conversation. But like all get-togethers, time crept up on them.
“Two in the morning already?” Mustang said looking at the grandfather clock in the corner.
“Now that you mentioned it,” Fuery replied, “it’s time that I head home, sir.”
“Nonsense,” said Mustang, “the presidential palace has plenty of guest rooms.”
“Are you sure about that, sir?” Falman asked.
“Absolutely, I have to make sure you’re up bright and early after staying up all night drinking.”
The others sighed in dread of a rude awakening with only a few hours of sleep and a hangover. Everyone piled out the room except for Hawkeye and Mustang.
“There was one more thing I had to talk to you about.”
“Why did you wait so long to ask?”
“It’s about that letter we found in Fuehrer Grumman’s pocket, the one promoting Colonel Sinclair to Major General. When we spoke with Fuehrer Grumman, he said he would talk to Sinclair first and even then he implied Colonel Sinclair wouldn’t be promoted.”
“The order was dated yesterday. He might not have had the chance to discharge the letter.”
“So, now that you’re Fuehrer, are you going to resend the order?”
Mustang shook his head. “No, I don’t intend to. Sinclair will take over Apache’s command.”
“Even though you knew Grumman was reconsidering the promotion, you going ahead with it anyway?”
“I didn’t want to make an issue of it. So, I’ll make Sinclair a two-star general, but Apache will stay in command a little longer. He wasn’t too happy about postponing retirement. He’s turned into a doting grandfather and wants to spend his golden days with his daughter’s new sets of twins. As much as Apache wants to step down, I’m not ready yet to trust Lodestone with protecting the border, yet. We’ll give him time to make the transition.”
“You don’t find it odd, sir, that Fuehrer Grumman’s death was so convenient for Colonel Sinclair?”
“If Grumman was murdered or died under suspicious circumstances, I wouldn’t give Sinclair a promotion. Instead, he would have been under 24/7 surveillance. Nothing suspicious was found in the autopsy. Grumman was getting on in years, had the burden of being fuehrer, and his heart finally gave out.” Mustang yawned loudly. “It’s getting to where I might oversleep myself. Look, until some new evidence shows up, there will no discussions about a conspiracy. Is that understood, lieutenant.”
“Yes sir,” Hawkeye frowned.
“Look, I don’t like Sinclair either, but that doesn’t mean he assassinated our leader just so that he can get a promotion.”
“Sir, do you remember April Ferguson?”
“Of course I do. It was a shame that Red Lightning resigned. Talent like that isn't drop on my doorstep everyday. Why would you bring her up?”
“It’s just that...,” Riza thought for a second and then shook her head, “It’s nothing. I might have just caught them at a bad moment. Good night, sir.” Hawkeye left the office and headed to the bedroom reserved for the Fuehrer’s security detail.
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Two months later
Wind Racer marched, with head held high, between two rows of soldiers, standing at attention, saluting him. In the background, a band was playing the Amestris anthem. He stopped in front of Roy Mustang who was also standing at attention. Wind Racer saluted Mustang and who then saluted back.
“As Fuehrer, I, Roy Mustang,” he said “bestow the rank of Major General to Douglas Hawthorne Sinclair,” Mustang pinned the twin stars on Wind Racer’s shoulders, “with all of its duties, rights, and privileges thereof.” Wind Racer saluted Mustang, did an about-face, and marched off. As the ceremonies were wrapping up, a red-haired woman ran to Wind Racer’s side and embraced him only to have Wind Racer shove her to the side and then scolded her for disturbing the ceremony. Mustang didn’t get a good look at her face but thought she looked familiar.
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The Blue Oyster was a small but prestigious dining establishment frequented by state-certified alchemists and high-ranking officers. The restaurant was designed to offer patrons an exquisite dining experience. Dinner was presented on hand-crafted silver platters while guests ate at an antique oak table and sat on oak chairs with red cushioning. In the background, an orchestra played live classical music. The walls were covered with majestic scenery captured on canvas; the finest oil paintings money could buy.
“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you, General Mus...I meant Fuehrer Mustang,” a waiter greeted the Flame Alchemist. “I sincerely apologize for addressing you as ‘general’, good sir.”
“No problem Wilson,” Mustang smiled. “I’m still getting used to the idea myself.”
“I’ll escort you to General Sinclair’s table right away.” The waiter showed Mustang and Hawkeye to the party of high-ranking officers in uniform. At the head of the table was Wind Racer. The officers rose and saluted their fuehrer.
“I’m glad you could make it, sir,” said Wind Racer. Just as Mustang started to sit down, he caught site of a familiar face sitting next to Wind Racer.
“Red Thunder, what are you doing here?” Mustang was shocked to see his old subordinate, April Ferguson.
“Haven’t you forgotten, sir, I’m no longer a State Alchemist,” April said. She lost weight since enlisting, but April still had that same freckled-face and red hair that gave her the appearance of a teenager even though she was 25.
“When you left the military, I thought it would be the last that I’d see of you.”
“Oh no sir, in fact you may see a lot of me now that Douglas and I...”
“That’s enough April.” Wind Racer admonished her.
“Sorry,” April looked down at her glass of water and stirred the ice around with her straw.
“What April was trying to say is that we’re living together, no formal engagement, mind you, but we are still a couple.”
“I take this is why she resigned from the military,” Mustang frowned.
“I wouldn’t want to get Douglas in trouble by fraternizing with him as an officer,” she said with a slight blush.
Then Mustang came to the realization that the red-head that glomped Sinclair during the promotion was April. “Were you at the promotion ceremony for Lodestone, Red Lightning?”
She enthusiastically nodded her head. “That was me, and I am so sorry I messed it up, but I was so happy for Douglas. He’d talk about the promotion all the time after meeting Fuehrer Grumman at the market.”
“Shouldn’t you be ordering your drink, April?” Wind Racer said with a scowl on his face.
“Oh right,” April picked up her wine menu and skimmed over it.
Just then, Mustang felt a tap on the shoulder. “Hey, congrats on becoming Fuehrer, sir.” It was a burly officer in his early forties and with a cru cut. A cigar rested between his fingers in one hand while the other held a shot glass.
“Lieutenant Colonel Claymore, didn’t expect to see you here. Are you still with the 5th?”
“Of course, I am,” he stated proudly. “Once an artilleryman, always an artilleryman.”
“I’m surprised you showed up.”
“And why’s that?” Claymore looked perplexed. He then took a drag from his cigar.
“The day the Ishvalan operation ended, you broke Lodestone’s nose. At your court-martial, you say you did it because he was a loser and deserved to get decked one good time.”
“And General Hopkins agreed, which is why I only got a slap on the wrist,” Claymore chuckled as smoke drifted out of his mouth and nostrils. “But then I heard he manned up in the last few years. So I went to see it for myself. And sure enough, he turned into a pretty swell guy. He didn’t even hold that bloodied nose I gave him against me. He also knows how to handle a woman. You saw that for yourself,” he smirked.
Mustang didn’t take kindly to Lt. Colonel Claymore’s words. He leaned over to Hawkeye who was sitting next to him. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
“Yes sir,” Hawkeye whispered. “The day that April resigned, she moved in with Major General Sinclair. The day after, she called me on the phone crying over some crude things the Major General said to her. I wanted to believe it was some minor lover’s spat, but it’s only gotten worse in the last few weeks. He’s never hit her as far as I can tell, but he talks to her like a dog.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do about it. Unless he physically assaults her, I can’t tell the man how to deal with his significant other.” Then Mustang and Hawkeye heard a commotion at the head of the table. Wind Racer was standing over April who was in tears. Standing right next to Wind Racer was the waiter holding a notepad.
“Didn’t I tell you exactly what to order?” Wind Racer yelled.
“I was only adding a potato to...”
“NO! You don’t add a damn thing to it!” Wind Racer shouted while waving his finger in April’s face. “You want to go back being fat again! Do you want to be a pig, April? You want to be fat and disgusting? Maybe I should get you a pig pen with a mud hole for you to wallow in?”
“But I skipped breakfast, so I thought...”
“That was your first mistake. I do that for you. You’re not capable of thinking for yourself.”
“Major General Sinclair!” Mustang shouted. “I’d like to have a word with you, outside.”
“Yes sir,” said Wind Racer. He started to walk outside but stopped. “Aren’t you coming, sir?”
“In a minute; just wait for me.” Mustang tapped Hawkeye on the shoulder. “I know I said I couldn’t do anything about Lodestone, but I can’t put up with it any longer.”
“I understand, sir,” Hawkeye replied.
“Just try to talk some sense into Red Lightning while I’m having a word with Lodestone.”
Mustang stomped his way out of the restaurant. Just outside, Wind Racer leaned against one of the steam-powered cars parked outside. When he caught site of Mustang, he straightened up.
“What’s your problem, Lodestone?”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, sir.”
“The way you spoke to my subordinate.”
Wind Racer looked surprised. “But I haven’t said a word to Lt. Hawkeye since she got here.”
“I mean Red Lightning.”
“She isn’t in the military any...”
“I don’t care! She’ll always be one of mine. I don’t normally butt into other people’s love lives, but I make an exception when someone mistreats one of my men.”
“You may feel that way, sir, but I doubt April would agree. She wants to be treated like a woman, not a soldier. And I’m only scolding her for her own good. Did you know she barely passed her physical when she joined the military? But I kept on her case, and she’s been slimming down ever since.”
“I’m keeping an eye on your relationship. If you lay so much as a finger on her, I’ll bust you down to private and have you digging latrines till you’re an old man. Got it, Lodestone?”
“As if I would do such a thing? A real man doesn’t need to beat his woman to keep her under control.”
“What is Red Lightning to you-your lover or your pet?”
“Both, and if you think that’s offensive,” Wind Racer gloated, “tell her what I said. She’ll think being called my pet is cute. Try it.”
Just as two years before when the chimera from Lab 2 was found in his possession, Mustang was fighting back the urge to punch the chauvinistic punk in the face, and Wind Racer knew it, which is why he enjoyed goading Mustang.
“Face it, sir, she’s hopeless without me, and she knows it.”
“That’s funny,” Mustang sneered, “considering she’s the better alchemist. She aced her certification, unlike you.”
This time, it was Wind Racer who was trying to resist the urge to punch Mustang. “There’s more to the military than alchemy skills. That’s why an idiot savant like April doesn’t belong, sir.”
“So you say, Lodestone,” Mustang smirked with satisfaction that he at least returned the favor and got under Wind Racer’s skin.
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“April, why are you staying with Major General Sinclair?” Lt. Hawkeye took April to the women’s restroom where they wouldn’t be disturbed.
“Riza,” April said defensively, “Douglas isn’t like that all the time. Most of the time, he’s quite sweet. He even spoils me every now and then.”
“That doesn’t make up for the verbal abuse.”
“But he only does it for my own good. Without him, I’d still be the chubby ginger alchemist.”
“That’s my point: he makes you feel as though you’re nothing without him. Before I was in the military, I had a friend that was also in an emotional abusive relationship. He never laid a hand on her, but it still lead to her death. She committed suicide. That man made her feel so worthless she saw no value in her own life.”
“That is not true. Douglas isn’t like that at all. Why can’t you support our relationship the way I support yours?”
“Fuehrer Mustang is my superior officer. Our relationship is purely professional.”
“Oh baloney, Riza,” April retorted. “You stayed with him all these years because you love him. It took a year of badgering just to get you to admit to it.”
“Because I do love him, I kept our relationship professional. I wouldn’t be of any use to him, otherwise.”
“Is that what you really want, Riza? I can tell by the look in your eyes you wish you could be closer to him.”
“There’s more to love than romance. Being there for him is more important than my own wants. I’d do anything for him even if it meant putting aside my immediate happiness. And why am I discussing this with you?!? We’re talking about your relationship with Major General Sinclair.” Hawkeye wanted to change the subject. It was starting to hit dangerously close to home.
“There’s nothing to discuss. I love Douglas just like you love Roy, and I’m as devoted to him as well.”
“And he feels the same as you?”
April hesitated. “Well yeah, I mean he says we’re unofficially engaged, but I’m sure he’s waiting to get secure in his new position before he formally proposes.”
“You’re not so sure about Major General Sinclair, are you?”
April sighed. “Times like this make me wish I was still in the military. I used to outrank you.”
“I would still question your relationship with the Major General.”
“In that case, I question Roy letting you stay in the military. If he cared about you, he’d make you quit. He shouldn’t string you along like that.”
Hawkeye gave April a crossed look. “Don’t you dare say such a thing about the Fuehrer!”
“Now you know how I feel when you badmouth Douglas.” April turned and made her way out the door. “Just think about what I said, Riza. You don’t want to waste the rest of your life just being Roy’s personal bodyguard. I know it hurts to see the man you love so close but still out of reach. Don’t feel like you’re duty bound not to be his lover.”
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Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye excused themselves from the formal dinner party and headed back the presidential palace. Mustang led Hawkeye to his office. “So, how did the talk with Red Lightning go?”
Riza looked downhearted. “It was even worse than I thought, sir. I wasn’t able to convince her to leave Major General Sinclair.” April’s words kept running through Hawkeye’s mind. She was right. The man that she loved was worlds away yet standing just a few feet in front of her.
“How far did your talk go?”
“Nowhere, she kept changing the subject, sir.”
Roy leaned over till he was face-to-face with Riza. “Did she say anything about Lodestone hitting her?”
He's just inches away. His lips are so close. I’d only need to lean over a bit. Would it be such a terrible offense? Would Amestris collapse just because a woman stole a kiss from the man she loved?
“Lieutenant, is there something wrong?” Roy asked. And what would have been an otherwise tame show of affection if not for their chosen lots in life, Riza did the unthinkable. She took hold of Roy by the wrists, leaned over, and pressed her lips up against his. “Lieutenant!” Roy backed away in shock.
“Oh my God, what have I...” Riza was trembling in terror over the realization that she crossed the line. “I...I sincerely apologize for my inappropriate behavior, sir.” Tears rolled down Riza’s face. “I will accept any punishment that you deem necessary, sir.” She instinctively covered up her face in shame; shame for fraternizing with her superior officer and, worse, shame for endangering Roy’s goal of becoming fuehrer and leading Amestris to a brighter future, all for her own selfish desires.
Roy was still stunned. He’d never imagined someone as stoic as Riza doing something so spontaneous. It was too much for him to take in.
“We’ll discuss this in the morning, Lieutenant.”
Riza wiped the tears from her moist cheeks. “Yes sir,” she sniffed. “Am I dismissed?” Roy nodded. When Riza stepped out, Roy touched his lips that still tingled from that bittersweet kiss.
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I hope you enjoyed this chapter of Friendship is Magic-Damnation is Alchemy. I had originally planned to a single chapter and alternate back and forth between Sinclair and Wind Racer, but it wouldn’t work out that way, so I split up chapter 5 into two separate chapters. Also, I never intended to write about Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang’s relationship, but it just came out that way. So, I’m going with it. Next chapter will show what Sinclair’s been doing in Equestria and how well he’s been adjusting to life amongst the ponies of Ponyville.