Chapter Text
Roy’s marriage was a quiet affair.
Oh, he could’ve had the fanfare; if that had been what his fiancé had wanted, then Roy would’ve been more than happy to oblige to secure a peaceful relationship. But even now, when the deal was being done, his fiancé was still stiff-backed and tense in his ceremonial garb as the required words were recited by both parties to bind them together, tension threaded like stiff wire along his jaw. Refraining from a public parade had probably been a wise move on Roy’s part.
“A prince from Xerxes,” Riza had told Roy, months ago when he had finally relented to the idea of using a marriage to further his status in court. “A valuable asset, if you want to look at it that way.” And it was precisely because he didn’t want to look at it that way that Roy had been so reluctant in the first place.
But Roy needed friends, needed to build allies, and ties to the royal family of one of the oldest regions of their world would help him dearly. It had come as a surprise that the Elrics had even written to him, even more so once he actually met Edward. The other man was cold, expression always impassionate, shoulders tense and all the more so whenever Roy approached. But their need soon became clear, even if Edward spoke very little. He had coolly detailed the current economic troubles that his people had fallen into, which had been accompanied by clearly well-rehearsed words of gratitude and appreciation for Roy’s help. But the ice had hidden rage, and a hint of desperation.
Indeed, the Elrics must have been truly desperate to come to the Mustangs for help. Roy’s house wasn’t an old one. In fact, it barely had an age—he’d been granted his noble station for his services in the war. No lineage, or history, still building reputation and name brick by stubborn brick. But they had money, and if Roy hadn’t needed something from Edward just as much as it was apparent that Edward needed him, then he would gladly have thrown all his finances to his soon-to-be-husband’s cause.
But, reality was that he did need Edward’s help. So here they were, standing over a length of parchment, Roy looping his name across the bottom before Riza handed him his seal. Roy pressed it to the wax, the tiny block with the carving of his crest feeling heavier than it had ever done.
Then it was Edward’s turn to sign, and he did so carefully, printing his name along the bottom of the document beneath Roy’s own. When it came to the seal, years of court life kept the surprise from Roy’s face when Edward simply pressed the thumb of his metal hand to the wax, leaving an imprint of the Elrics’ winged cross.
And with that, Edward Elric became his husband.
Their first night together was awkward.
Much as he tried not to let it, Edward’s tension affected Roy. He’d tried, through easy words and gentle questions, to get Edward to open up a little. But questions about Edward’s brother were met with single-worded answers—in fact, all other questions elicited a similar response, and the longest sentence Edward had uttered all night had been “yes, that would be nice” when offered pepper to sprinkle over his food when they had dined.
The one thing that Edward did seem have put effort into was his appearance. His hair was immaculately smooth, spilling down across his back from a high ponytail, several intricate braids weaving circles like a crown through the gold. Black traced his eyes in the finest lines, highlighting the bright gold, and, really, the man was quite stunning.
But he didn’t smile. Throughout the night—after the ceremony, through dinner, and then being shown to their shared chambers—he didn’t relax once. He was ever-polite, of course, as he had been throughout negotiations for their union, responding quietly whenever Roy posed a question, but never anything beyond that. One of those questions had been whether or not Edward would prefer his own quarters, but Edward had deferred his opinion to Roy’s own, lowering his gaze when Roy tried to look him in the eye.
In the end, Roy decided that Edward could stay in his rooms, for the time being. Although he trusted his staff, he knew that inevitably there would be talk, and talk of him sleeping in a room separate to that of his husband was something which could be used against him. He could have adjoining rooms constructed, he realised belatedly, so as not to arouse suspicions—though that would, of course, have to wait.
And so it was that the pair found themselves in Roy’s room, Edward sitting stiffly on the edge of Roy’s bed whilst Roy fiddled with the lamps.
“You can go to sleep,” Roy said, tidying up the mounds of documents on his desk that would need attention later—the marriage had taken up much of his time lately, and certain other matters had gone neglected. “Oh, we’ll need another pillow. I apologise for not having thought of it earlier,” Roy said, smiling over his shoulder at Edward as he approached his wardrobe, which had been intricately carved as a present from a friend. “Things have been…busy, and I’ve never really had all that much household staff.” Just enough to keep the place running, and clean, but Roy liked his private chambers to be private.
“Of course,” Edward murmured softly, and Roy wondered what exactly he’d have to do to get the other man to relax. Pulling a pillow out from the wardrobe, he thought briefly about hurling it at his husband, just to see what kind of reaction he’d get.
But it was precisely because he didn’t know what reaction would come that Roy just removed the pillow, one of his spare blankets, and shut the wardrobe.
“You can have the bed,” he said, setting his items on his plush couch. He promptly decided that there weren’t enough blankets, and went to fetch another. But to do so, he had to turn back to Edward, and when he did, he found that the other man was staring at him, watching his every move intently. Golden brows were slightly furrowed, and Roy couldn’t pick his expression entirely, not in the dim light thrown by the lamp.
“I can have the bed…and you’ll…?” The rest of the sentence trailed off into a question.
“I’ll take the couch.”
The frown deepened. “The couch.”
“Yes.” Roy shrugged. “I’ve slept in far more uncomfortable places; it doesn’t bother me.” At least there wouldn’t be any sand in his mouth when he woke, nor rocks digging painfully into his spine.
“I…I would’ve thought you’d wish to share.” The tone was almost accusatory, but when Roy glanced back over at Edward, the frown had gone, and Edward’s face was now impassive. Blank, back to being withdrawn and shy, and Roy mourned the fact that he’d almost coaxed Edward out of his shell.
“You were uncomfortable whenever I so much as got within a foot’s distance of you,” Roy said, voice muffled as he tried to yank another blanket out from his cupboard. “So I think this arrangement suits everyone best.”
Carrying his load back to his station, he arranged his mass of blankets to his satisfaction, before glancing back over to Edward.
The other man was still standing, eyes on Roy.
A little unnerving, to be honest.
“Prince Edward?” Roy tried, cautious.
Edward cleared his throat, and his stance relaxed a little. “What do you want of me?”
It wasn’t…fear, that Roy heard, or at least not much. Not as much as Roy would have expected, Edward being far from home, and somewhere entirely unfamiliar. Instead, there was curiosity, a genuine desire to know.
“I would like to learn more about you,” Roy said slowly. Anything to get him to relax—much as Roy would appreciate a quieter companion to take to court, someone with whom he could impress his fellow nobles, he didn’t want Edward to become a point of vulnerability. “If that’s something you would want.”
Edward was silent for a long moment, sitting—movements controlled, efficient—on the bed, back straight and posture impeccable, even now. Roy watched him curiously, and Edward looked back at him for a moment.
Then he blinked, as though remembering something, and his eyes slid from Roy’s to stare at his hands entwined in his lap, the silver and the tan.
“Will your servants not talk?” he asked quietly.
“Whatever about?”
“The two of us not…sharing the bed.”
Roy shrugged, and started to settle into his pile of blankets, the warmth and softness drawing him in after the exhaustion of the day. “They won’t come in here. And regardless, I can always just put everything back.”
Another long silence stretched on, and Roy finally decided that if Edward didn’t wish to sleep, then that wasn’t going to stop Roy. But then, there was a rustle of blankets, and Roy looked over to see a bundle curled up on his bed, Edward facing away from him.
“Thank you, my lord.”
Roy grimaced. “Please, Roy will be more than fine.”
The sheets rustled once more, and when nothing more was spoken, Roy deemed it safe to tuck himself into his own blankets, settling into the couch. It would be…interesting, to see how this union progressed. Roy would need a companion for court; that much was sure. But whether or not Edward was up to the task…
Roy began to wonder whether or not he’d made a mistake.
The candlelight flickered gently in the room, dying down as the wax melted away.
Something relaxed, at least a little, in Edward following that. He greeted Roy good morning, but the pattern of their days usually consisted of Edward staying shut up in Roy’s expansive library.
They talked, sometimes, about the books he was reading, but there still remained that guardedness in Edward that frustrated Roy. He prided himself in being able to earn the trust of others readily and easily, and it was endlessly frustrating that Edward never so much as smiled. He was so shy it was almost painful, skittish in how he tiptoed around Roy as though one wrong move would upset him.
One day, Roy stepped back into his study to find Edward curled up with a tome on his couch. Edward’s golden eyes flickered up to look at Roy, before dropping back to the book in his hands.
“It’s more comfortable here,” was the only explanation forthcoming.
Roy’s heart warmed a little at the thought. “Of course.”
Yet nothing more was said after that. And Roy knew that he had wanted this, had planned it meticulously—and undoubtedly, it would work wonders for his reputation, if he played his hand right. But still, he couldn’t help the slight disappointment when he realised that this quiet might be how they’d live out the rest of their days.
A month later, Roy was pulled from sleep by a horrendous crash against his bedroom door.
“Damn it, it’s locked!”
“Why didn’t you check first? Now you’ve woken up the whole household!”
Attack.
Riza.
Maes.
If there were intruders at his bedroom door, then his friends—
Edward.
Roy whirled to look up at the bed when he remembered who shared his room—but Edward wasn’t in bed. Instead, he was on his feet, moonlight casting a white sheen across his face, brows furrowed in concentration and eyes trained on the door.
“C’mon then, quick, before someone comes!”
Roy got to his feet, striding to Edward’s side quickly. “It’s all right,” he assured the other man in a low murmur. “You don’t need to worry. If it’s anyone they’re after, they’re after me; you’ll be safe.”
Edward frowned further. “I don’t care about that. I just want to sleep,” he said, voice equally quiet.
Now it was Roy’s turn to frown.
Sleep? That didn’t sound right.
Maybe this was some strange reaction to fear?
Another almighty crash against the door, but the wood held strong.
“Hide behind the bed,” Roy tried again. “They’ll probably miss you if I distract them.”
“I’m not that small, they’re going to see me.”
Again, not the right reaction. Roy blinked, and looked down at the man next to him. Really looked at him. Took in how Edward’s weight was resting lightly on the balls of his feet, how—oddly enough—that tension that always seemed to sit heavy on his shoulders just wasn’t there right now. Instead, he was open, arms relaxed by his sides, and just looking…mildly irritated.
Mild irritation was not what Roy expected of someone who he had pegged as shy and sheltered to exhibit in the face of intruders in the middle of the night.
“Edward, I wasn’t saying that you were small, just—”
“We should probably stand by the door,” Edward interrupted quietly, when the door was rammed again. “Surprise them.”
“With what?”
The expression on Edward’s face was incredibly close to a sneer. “An attack? Or what, you just going to wait while they kidnap or kill you?”
Roy stared, then pulled himself out of the reverie. There were more pressing matters at hand. “Right. Good idea.” Quietly, the two of them moved toward the door, Roy picking up his knife from where it rested on his desk.
Edward had positioned himself beside the door. Silently, Edward motioned for Roy to pass him the other knife which rested on the table, and, without thinking, Roy tossed it to him.
Then he realised what he’d done.
There was a moment where he was ready to cry out a warning, an apology. It had been a reaction to Edward’s easy action, but who in their right mind threw a knife at a prince who had barely any combat traini—
Edward caught it, hand wrapping easily around the hilt.
Roy’s panicking brain screeched to a halt. That was—what was that?
But there was no further time to consider, because the door crashed open, and five figures stormed the room, dashing for the bed—when they realised it was empty.
The intruders had barely turned around when Roy and Edward both went on the attack.
The first two fell easily to their fists, crumpling silently to the ground, but Roy had no time to register their defeat before another grabbed his arm. He growled, bringing up the knife—only to release it with a sharp cry when someone grabbed his wrist and twisted viciously. Adrenaline—not yet turned to fear—raced up his veins, and he aimed a swift kick at one of his assailants, clipping bone and eliciting a curse, but not enough to do damage. He needed just one more hit, a little more leverage—
The moonlight reflected off something into Roy’s eyes, and then a dark shape—Edward—bowled into one of Roy’s attackers, and he was released with a grunt as the person crashed to the floor.
Not wasting any time, Roy grabbed the other who still clung to his arm, swept their feet out from other them, and pinned them to the floor. When his opponent went to buck, he grabbed the knife from where it had fallen, and pressed it to their neck. Instantly, they stilled.
“Edward,” he called. “Are you all right?”
The brief moment of silence made Roy’s heart skip a beat, and he glanced over his shoulder, expecting the worst.
But in the space of the past five minutes, Roy should have learnt that what he expected of Edward was no longer what would become reality.
Edward bent over his fallen opponent, had them pinned face-down on the ground with his knee—the metal one—digging into their spine, their arm twisted upwards. “I’m fine,” he replied easily, making a little warning noise when his captive tried to struggle.
There was a distant yell, and then Maes rushed into the room, sword draw, barefoot, and eyes wild. “Roy!”
“We’re fine,” Roy hurried to assure him. “Take care of the others.” He nodded his head towards the attackers who remained unconscious, and Maes stopped halfway in approaching Roy, turning instead to observe the scene.
Further hurried footsteps brought Hawkeye into the room. “We’re fine,” Roy repeated, before she could even ask. Eyes scanning the room, taking in everything, before she nodded once, and moved to Roy.
“I’ll secure them,” she said quietly, moving to help Roy drag his captive to their feet. “Are you—”
“Where do you want this one?”
Edward was behind them, marching his own captive towards them. It really was a bizarre sight: the man was a full head taller than Edward himself, and putting up what looked to be a decent struggle, but useless nonetheless.
If Maes’s brief silence was anything to go by, he was as confused as Roy, but gathered his composure quickly. “I called some of the staff, they should—”
At his words, people started pouring into the room, and Edward blinked at the sudden rush of people, before a wicked grin spread across his face.
“Well,” he said. “They can take care of him then.”
Before long, the intruders had been dealt with, and Roy was covering up a yawn.
“You sure the two of you are all right?”
“Maes, I’m fine.” He swatted at his friend, who was firmly turning him this way and that, making sure he was unhurt. But Roy’s action was half-hearted, knowing that Maes was acting out of concern. Seemingly satisfied, Maes ceased his inspection, and instead draped an arm around Roy’s shoulders. “And Prince Edward?” he asked, guiding Roy to where Edward was standing with Riza.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“You sure?” Maes wanted to know. “I know something like that can be…shocking.”
“Prince Edward helped me, actually,” Roy said, watching Edward curiously. “A great deal, in fact.”
Edward shrugged, and shuffled his feet a little, looking down. “They weren’t that good, so it was fine,” he muttered, but Roy could catch the lifting of the corner of his mouth. Interesting. Very, very interesting. Odd, yes, because of all things that would make Edward relax, intruders in the early hours of the morning were not what Roy had been expecting.
But interesting.
After his companions had been assured that the two of them would indeed be all right, and their night-time attackers were cleared away, Riza and Maes left the two of them alone. Watching Edward, Roy wondered about his husband, curious for an explanation. Observed him, because this was a different Edward, someone who Roy had not yet seen. Edward’s hair was messy, both from sleep and from the fight, straggling down across his back in a half-done braid. Despite the action, he was barely panting, just breathing a little heavily, the most animated Roy had ever seen him—bar the past couple of minutes in which Roy had witnessed him dispatch three people in the most efficient manner possible.
But what struck Roy most wasn’t the fact that Edward had been so capable in a fight (although, yes, that would require another few days to process—maybe weeks), but the grin that was spread across his face. Fire, and fierce satisfaction as he had watched Maes walk away, so real and alive, and far better than the stony expression he’d worn for the past few weeks since their marriage.
“That was rather an impressive display,” Roy said quietly.
Which, apparently, was the wrong thing to say.
Just as quickly as the change had come about in the first place, the smile dropped as soon as Edward looked at Roy, and his eyes widened in alarm.
“I—” One hand went up to tug at his braid, and he swallowed visibly. “I’m sorry.”
Roy blinked. “Whatever for?”
“That—that wasn’t…very…becoming.”
What on earth…? What—becoming?
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“It won’t happen again,” Edward said hurriedly and—ah, there was the tension again, the hard-set line of his jaw and the curling of fists around the hem of his shirt. Except now there was also distress in wide eyes and hunched shoulders. “I promise, you needn’t worry, I’ll be—it won’t happen.”
Ever confused, Roy tilted his head in question. “Why not? As far as I’m concerned, you saved my life. That is a good thing, although some might say otherwise,” Roy said with a smile. So that he would appear potentially less threatening, Roy sat down on the bed, so that he wasn’t staring down at the other man at least.
Now it was Edward’s turn to stare in confusion. “But you—you wanted a—you need…someone who’s not like that, not…” The protest trailed away, and Roy frowned as he processed—or attempted to—the confusing jumble of half-finished sentences.
“Edward,” he said slowly. “I’m not sure I understand.”
The moonlight glinted off Edward’s metal fist as he clenched it. “You married me for a reason.”
“What reason do you think that is? You’ve been acting…well, I can’t figure out how you’ve been acting,” Roy admitted. “At first, I thought you were shy. But…that’s not the case, is it…?”
The question trailed off into nothingness, because Roy still couldn’t read Edward. The other man’s posture was still stiff, though now there was a furrow between his brows that hinted at something far more intelligent than Roy had possibly thought. The way those golden eyes—silver from the moonlight—looked at Roy was calculating. Scrutinising. Watching, Waiting, Roy realised, and Edward’s quiet observation of everything around him was something Roy had mistaken for fear, and nervousness. It was only now that he realised how wrong he had been.
Still no answer was forthcoming, so Roy changed tack. “I didn’t know you could fight.”
Edward shrugged. “I’ve been training since I was young,” he said. “I—you—” He let out a breath, and it was one of the most casual acts that Roy had seen from him. “You don’t mind?”
“Why would I?”
“You…you wanted a prince.”
Roy raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you were.”
Ed glared, and funnily enough, it made Roy a little glad to see it. “I am, but I’m just—you wanted something pretty, didn’t you?” he asked quietly. “Something to take to court.”
The way that Edward referred to himself as ‘something’ was…uncomfortable, to say the least. “Well, I can’t deny that I did—do—want a companion that would reflect well on me. But,” he rushed on, “what does that have to do with fighting?”
Fiddling with his braid again, Edward muttered something.
“Pardon?”
“Uncivilised,” Edward said, clearer. “It’s not what a noble would want.”
At that, Roy snorted. “Amestris has been waging war against most of her neighbours for decades, and I was in the army. I don’t think that there’s much room for civility left where I’m concerned.”
Edward sighed, and sat down on the bed beside Roy, though he still kept his distance. “That’s what we thought, but we didn’t know if you…wanted something different.”
“Well, let me make it clear that I don’t. Or, well, I don’t want for you to have to be anything for me.”
It was fanciful for Roy to think that mere words might suddenly cause Edward to trust him. He knew that. But the way that Edward’s eyes settled on him, with his head tilted to the side and chewing his lip, had Roy hoping that maybe something had changed. What exactly, he didn’t know, but maybe something.
And when Edward smiled, Roy was certain of it.
“Hope you don’t regret that,” Edward said. Then he shuffled closer—and how different the movement was, fluid as compare to the jerky actions that Roy had seen until then—and extended an automail hand. His teeth were a flash of white in the dim of their room.
“Call me Ed.”