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batsutousaiTitle: Dreaming in Red and Gold
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Warnings: Ed's potty mouth, canon-typical violence, pile 'o OCs, minor battering of female OC, female-specific slurs, off-screen torture of prisoners, suggestion of past abusive sexual encounters, sexual discussions (including consent-related)
Summary: When Drachma agrees to meet for peace talks at Briggs Fortress, General Roy Mustang is the one sent to represent Amestris. It just so happens that the Drachmans have their own Amestrisan, who is far too skilled at turning the most tedious of discussions into an exciting time.
A/N: Rehashing a bit of last chapter, since it was cut the middle of a scene. :/
This chapter ends at an actual scene break, on the other hand. Small victories.
Our minor female battering, slurs, and off-screen prisoner torture are all in this chapter. I'd like to say I'll mark it, but it all sort of serves as important plot points – except for the torture, which is why I didn't write that :P – so...sorry? I promise none of these ladies take anything laying down.
The woman inclined her head in understanding, glanced between Roy and Francine twice, then settled on Roy to explain, "I am Tsesarevna Anastasia Petrova."
Roy recognised her last name as belonging to the royal family, but it was Andrea who, after letting out a gasp, explained, "She's the crown princess!"
Roy blinked, surprised, and said, "Your Royal Highness."
Anastasia smiled at him, her eyes glinting with amusement, and said something in Drachman.
Ed snapped out a sharp response, and Roy couldn't quite hide a smile at the show that Edward was as disrespectful towards royalty as he was to everyone else. (Which he sort of knew; he'd seen Ed with Emperor Ling, but the Xingan man hadn't been the next in line for a throne, then.) "Shut up, bastard."
Anastasia snorted, bringing Roy's wandering attention back to her. "You are clearly familiar with Ed," she commented.
"Some of us," Roy agreed drily, before looking around at the Kozlovas and Vickers. "Edward Elric, formerly the Fullmetal Alchemist."
"Yes," Ed interrupted. "Formerly. Prezhde," he added, looking over the Drachmans. He said something else in their language, too, and his tone was as rude as ever.
" 'As in, not any longer, so you can all just shut up and fuck off'," Andrea translated for Roy, and he had to rub a hand over his mouth to hide a fond smirk.
Anastasia snapped her fingers and Ed let out an irritated noise, but shut up. Anastasia was quiet as her party formed up around her, then she set about introducing everyone: "To my right is my sister, Tsarevna Natalia Petrova Vorobyova; to her right is Innokenti Kuznetsov, Drachma's formal ambassador to Amestris, should these talks go well; just behind Natalia is Fedor Orlov; and just behind Innokenti is Vadik Lagunov."
A moment of silence followed as they considered each other across the cold flooring of Briggs. Roy used the time to mark the man with the crooked nose who had suggested having Ed shot as Orlov, and the man with the one eye who had suggested making him fight for his honour as Lagunov. The two men were clearly fighters and, Roy assumed by their positions, were acting as bodyguards for Natalia and the ambassador. Given his knowledge of Ed, he could only assume that the blond was acting as the bodyguard for the crown princess.
Natalia stepped forward and boldly met Roy's eyes, her own the same dark shade as her sister's, set into a younger, far less weatherworn, face. She said something in Drachman, which Ed quickly translated: " 'I apologise for the behaviour of my countrymen on our arrival. Please don't let their rudeness set the tone for these negotiations.' Even though they're all utter dicks and should be–"
Roy cleared his throat and chanced rudeness to throw a knowing look at Ed, because he could tell when the blond started adding his own commentary. Ed flashed him an unapologetic smile in response. Roy turned back to Natalia and drily offered, "Edward has that effect on people; we won't hold it against any of you."
Anastasia laughed.
"Fuck. Off," Ed snapped, before quickly translating Roy's response.
Natalia smiled and said, very slowly and with a particularly heavy accent, "Yes. It problem for him."
Ed said something that sounded very much like an insult in Drachman, and Natalia's smile widened; clearly, Ed was a regular feature in the Imperial Court, and no amount of royal titles could curb his familiar defiance.
Anastasia cleared her throat. "Is there a place where we may sit?" she suggested, looking to Olivier for a response.
Olivier inclined her head. "We've set up an area in the mess hall for our negotiations, and we have a few floors set aside for your use on the eastern side of the fortress, should you prefer to freshen up first."
Anastasia turned back to her party and there followed a quick, hushed conversation. Ed received some distrustful looks from the two bodyguards, but Anastasia snapped something at them and they both looked at the ground. Anastasia turned back to Olivier. "We would like a chance to leave our things and, as you say, 'freshen up'. Ed requests that he be allowed to...what is your phrase?" She looked back towards him.
"Catch up," Ed supplied.
Anastasia nodded and looked at Olivier again. " 'Catch up' with those among you he is familiar with."
Olivier nodded. "That's fine. I'll have Major Kozlova show you to the east wing." She motioned Francine forward, and the woman gave a stiff bow before motioning for the Drachmans to follow her. To Ed, Olivier said, "You'll have to ask for an escort if you decide to join them, Elric; I don't trust you to be able to find your way safely in my fort."
"You know," Ed was quick to retort, "if you hadn't kept us locked up the entire time–"
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Olivier interrupted, staring him down. "It sounded suspiciously like you were just thanking me for helping you protect the life of your mechanic by letting Raven and Kimblee believe you hadn't filled me in on Father's plans."
"Yeah, thanks for the manacle burn."
Roy managed to hold his tongue until the Drachmans were out of sight down the hallway that led to the lift, but once they were gone, he said, "If I'd known you were coming, I would have called Alphonse up from Rush Valley to join us." Ed winced and Roy felt a victorious smirk curl his mouth. "You haven't told him where you are."
"It's super hard to keep contact with people when you're staying in a hostile nation," Ed tried.
"Your brother managed to find people to bring his letters through the desert," Roy pointed out. "And 'hostile' isn't really how I'd describe our relations with Drachma."
"Can you not be a smug bastard?" Ed complained. "Fuck off, you're not my father, Mustang."
"Praise be," Roy muttered, and Riza let out a snort as she passed him.
"Edward," she offered, holding out a hand. "It's good to see you looking well."
Ed broke out a fond smile and shook Riza's hand. "Thanks, Hawkeye. You too."
Roy could tell the moment Riza's grip tightened and the smile he knew she was wearing went frosty. "You will be calling your brother and Miss Rockbell before the end of the day."
Ed winced. "Yes, ma'am," he whispered, cowed.
Olivier let out a sharp noise and Roy looked towards her, finding her casting her eyes over the nearly empty hallway. "Where the hell did that slimeball go?" she snarled.
" 'Slimeball'?" Ed repeated, even as Roy realised what Olivier already had: Vickers was missing.
He cast a quick look down towards the doors at the Amestrisan end, but they were barred shut from the inside with a heavy wooden bar, same as the doors out to Drachma. "The delegation," he realised, looking towards the only other possible way that Vickers could have gone.
"Kozlova, Hawkeye, run down to the lift and see if Vickers is still down there," Olivier ordered, clearly having reached the same conclusion, and the two women ran for the hallway. "Mustang, Elric, with me."
"Someone explain, right fucking now," Ed ordered even as he fell in next to Roy to follow Olivier through a hidden panel in the wall, which led to a much closer lift that was clearly meant to serve as a way to move artillery and vehicles through the base, for it was massive and didn't have the polite little box around it that lifts intended for use by people had.
"Major General Vickers," Roy said as they joined Olivier on the lift. "He talked his way into the negotiations and doesn't have permission to be wandering Briggs on his own."
"And he's missing," Ed finished for him, his eyes hard and his body a line of tension. "If he hurts Anya, I swear I'll rip out his fucking spleen and shove it up his arse."
Roy blinked at that as the lift jerked into movement, going far faster than could possibly be safe and leaving Roy's stomach somewhere far below them; as least now he knew what Olivier had been doing with the controls. "Is there something between you and the crown princess, Ed?"
"Yeah," Ed snapped, "she's my best fucking friend and her father will have my head on a pike if I don't keep her fucking safe."
Strangely, Roy's stomach settled back into place before the lift stopped, but he didn't have any time to puzzle over that before they were stepping off into a new grey hallway, which split in three directions a short way down. "Mustang, go right, take the first left and follow that all the way down; Elric, go left and take the first right then follow that all the way down," Olivier ordered.
Roy didn't wait to see the other two move, instead starting down his designated direction at a quick pace; he didn't actually know why Vickers had vanished, but his mind had jumped first to the worst possible conclusion, and the last thing any of them needed was all-out-war because of whatever agenda a bitter soldier had in mind.
He knew when he'd passed through into the east wing because there was a sign up declaring the area out-of-bounds to anyone without permission, which Roy only half-saw as he hurried past.
He almost missed the Drachmans, as they'd all filtered into rooms along the hall he'd been hurrying down. He'd probably have skipped right past them, but he heard Francine – her voice so very like Andrea's – responding to something in halting Drachman, and he nearly skidded, he stopped so fast. He stepped back to the door he'd heard her from and gently knocked before quietly calling, "Major Kozlova."
The door cracked open and Francine peered out at him, her expression cold. "General," she replied, and it was clear there was a very rude 'What do you want?' tacked silently onto the end.
"Major General Vickers has vanished," Roy reported, keeping his voice down, and her face darkened; clearly, she was also inclined to think the worst of the missing officer. "Did you see him at all when you brought the delegation up here?"
"No." Francine looked back into the room and ordered, "Stay in here and don't open this door until I give the all clear, your Royal Highness." Then she stepped out into the hallway, unsheathing her sword as she moved.
"Princess Anastasia, or Princess Natalia?" Roy requested.
"Tsesarevna Anastasia," Francine replied tightly. "Kuznetsov and his guard are there–" she pointed at the two doors across the hall "–and Tsarevna Natalia and her guard are further down."
"Let Kuznetsov and his guard know what's going on," Roy ordered before starting down the hall again, keeping his eyes peeled for signs of habitation under the doors he passed, as well as Vickers.
He was nearly to a cross hall – he'd passed a few along the way, often catching brief glimpses of Olivier or Ed as they made their ways down the hallways that ran parallel to his – when he heard a woman let out a scream from around the corner. He barely slowed down enough to take the corner safely, hearing Francine's loud boot steps behind him, and took in the scene in a heartbeat: Vickers had grabbed Natalia's upper arm with one hand, while his other was holding his handgun, which was pointed just over the top of her head.
Roy snapped his fingers, activating his alchemy, aiming to get the gun out of Vickers' hand without discharging it, and the man dropped it with a howl as the skin on the back of his hand blistered. "Let her go," he ordered.
Rather than letting her go, Vickers yanked Natalia against his chest, wrapping his unburnt hand around her throat, and Roy found himself staring into the terrified brown eyes of the princess while Vickers shouted, "No! You don't know what harlots like this are like, what they do when they come down the mountain passes and flash their pretty little smiles until a man takes them into their tent! Do you have any idea how many of these harlots I cleaned up after?!"
Roy held out his arm, stopping Francine as she rounded the corner, because her running towards Vickers with her sword was not going to help matters. "Major General Vickers," he warned, "you are holding one of the princesses of Drachma, a guest to our country. Let her go."
Vickers' hand tightened around Natalia's throat and she let out a quiet choked noise as he raved, "They were guests too! Harlots and murderers, every one of them!"
"I will kill you, little man," Francine snarled at Roy's side.
He caught sight of a flash of blond hair just behind Vickers, and he couldn't tell whether it was Ed or Olivier, but he would take either one. He met Natalia's panicked eyes and hoped she could read the promise of safety he was holding within them, even as he coldly stated, "Vickers, let her go now, or I will burn you where you stand."
"Then burn me!" Vickers shouted. "Burn me and burn her too, Mustang! There's no way you could only hit one of–!" Vickers cut himself off with an anguished shout just before the arm holding Natalia went slack.
Natalia stumbled away from him, towards Roy, coughing and grabbing for her throat. Roy caught her gently by the shoulders as Francine brushed past them, intent on Vickers. "Princess?" he asked quietly, ducking down to try and catch her eyes. "Tsarevna?" he added, recalling the word Anastasia and Francine had both used to refer to her.
She let out a choked sob and pushed forward, huddling against his chest. He caught a whispered, "Spasibo" – 'thank you', one of the few Drachman words he knew – and then a murmur of more Drachman as he folded his arms around her in a hug; he'd been around troubled women long enough to know what that particular body language meant, and he could never be so cold as to refuse comfort to someone who had just had her life threatened.
He glanced past Natalia's dark head to find that Ed had shoved Vickers up against the wall, burnt arm twisted up behind him, blood dripping from a fresh wound in the armpit of his other arm. Olivier, both Kozlovas, and Riza had fanned out around them, and Roy imagined it was Vickers' worst nightmare come to life. By the way Vickers was actively paling, Roy assumed that one of them – he'd guess Olivier – was promising a most horrific future.
"Tsarevna," Roy murmured, assured that others had the problem contained, and hoping Natalia understood enough Amestrisan for them to communicate a bit, "let's find your sister."
Natalia gave a rough nod. "Anya," she agreed, using the nickname Ed had used earlier, and allowed Roy to lead her around the hall and...almost directly into Anastasia, who looked to have been standing there for a bit, relief painted across her face, and Roy assumed she'd disregarded Francine's order and come running at her sister's scream.
"Natalia," Anastasia breathed, reaching out for her sister. Natalia let her fold her into a hug, both of them whispering to each other in Drachman.
Roy left them to it, stepping smoothly back around the corner and barking, "Colonel, take Vickers so Edward can see to his charges."
"I am not about to–!" Ed started, turning angry eyes on Roy.
"This is a matter for the Amestrisan military, of which you are no longer a member, Mr Elric," Roy interrupted. "You are here as–"
"He attacked a Tsarevna of Drachma!" Ed snarled, leaving Vickers for Riza so he could stalk towards Roy. "That makes this an–"
"Do you really want to turn this into an international incident right now?" Roy demanded, and Ed was so close that his words stirred his bangs, and Roy could feel the flare of his anger, like the white-hot heart of a flame standing directly in front of him. "Go. See. To. Your. Charges."
"Fuck you! I'm not about to let you sweep this–!"
"Ed!" Anastasia called.
Ed's jaw clenched and he glared at Roy, clearly torn between listening to the princess and continuing his argument with Roy.
Roy gentled his voice to say, "I am not sweeping anything under the rug, Ed. If Princesses Anastasia and Natalia want to pursue this, that is their right, but this is not the time to be arguing national jurisdiction. You need to trust me to handle Vickers and see to your friend."
Ed let out a wordless snarl and pushed past Roy, shouting a response in Drachman to the princesses.
Roy bit back a sigh as he stepped up to where someone had cuffed Vickers and pulled him away from the wall Ed had been shoving him against. "Cells?" he requested of Olivier.
She nodded, her eyes dark with fury. "Stardust, remain with the Drachmans. Kozlova, Hawkeye, go to the mess and collect Blenheim, then bring him down to the west block prison; have the rest of Mustang's team report to the rooms they've been leant for the moment. Mustang." She jerked her head, motioning that he should take Vickers' other arm so they could march him down to the cells together, while the other three disbanded to follow her orders.
Olivier waited until Vickers had been tossed into a particularly chilly cell and they'd paced away a bit, before murmuring, "This is not a good way to start peace talks."
Roy sighed and rubbed at his eyes, finding a twisted sort of comfort in the sparks the motion set across the blackness behind his eyelids. "We can only hope the princesses are willing to consider this an isolated incident. That it was Amestrisans who subdued him should help, I hope."
"Elric was the one to subdue him, ultimately," Olivier pointed out. "He may be native to Amestris, but his loyalty is clearly to Drachma."
Roy nodded and allowed a twisted sort of smile. "I always knew he hated the military, but I never expected he'd settle in with one of our greatest enemies as a form of teenage rebellion."
Olivier glanced at him, one eyebrow raised disbelievingly, but there was a dark humour in her eyes, chasing away the lingering grasp of fury and the faint suggestion of fear. "Teenage rebellion," she repeated flatly. "When you return to Central, I strongly suggest submitting to a mental exam."
"I'll have Hawkeye put it on my calendar."
Olivier scoffed, but the tension in her frame was easing back to a more normal level. They heard the sound of the lift at the far end of the hallway, and she asked, "How do you want to handle this?"
Roy sighed. Interrogation had never been a speciality of his, but he'd received the same training in it as did all officers once they reached colonel, under Bradley's regime. "Vickers has issues with women; we can use that, if you're willing to get in there with him."
Olivier's expression hardened. "He has nothing to say that I haven't heard a thousand times before."
Roy could believe that, and he hated that the military was such an unfriendly place towards women, that the whole of Amestris was unfriendly towards women who dared step out of the demure mould it had left for them. "Do you want me as backup, or should I tackle Blenheim?"
"Blenheim," Olivier said without pause as the man in question, Riza, and Francine came into view down the long hallway.
Roy nodded, having expected that. "I'd rather not waste medical aid on him, but I would like him capable of walking to the firing line or whatever punishment the Drachmans have in mind for him, should they chose to take him." Because he knew that Olivier was used to interrogating Drachman spies that no one would notice vanishing, and he wasn't fool enough to think he could tell her flat-out no torture, but he could hopefully get her to see it was better if Vickers came out of this alive.
Olivier cracked her knuckles, her expression turning feral. "I'll see what I can do," she promised, and Roy resigned himself to needing to call the Briggs doctor down by the end of things.
"Put him in there," Roy ordered once Francine and Riza got close enough, pointing to a cell four down from Vickers. Once Blenheim's cell door was locked, he ordered, "Major, you're with General Armstrong," and the two women walked together down to Vickers' cell, leaving Riza and Roy staring at a shaking Blenheim.
Roy waited in silence until Vickers let out his first scream, then calmly offered, "Major General Vickers just committed treason. You have two choices, Colonel Blenheim."
Blenheim turned terrified eyes on him. "I don't know much, but I'll tell you what I do know and my suspicions," he promised, before flinching as Vickers let out a sob that echoed down the hall.
Roy offered him a smile that wasn't even a little friendly. "Start talking," he ordered, and Blenheim did.
"His border camp was attacked by a group of Drachman women," Olivier said when she and Francine joined Roy and Riza. Roy had already called down Briggs' doctor, and she brushed past them all with a wordless nod.
"His second week out there," Roy agreed, having got the same story from Blenheim. "They won the camp's trust by saying they were a travelling show. Drugged those men they could, killed everyone they couldn't, then robbed the camp and fled back over the border. Vickers spent two months recovering from wounds that almost killed him."
Olivier gave a too sharp nod, but it was Francine who quietly stated, "He came to distrust women after that. Trauma." She shrugged, her expression showing very well how little she thought of that excuse. "Drachman women he abhors, thinks we're all whores and murderers."
Roy felt his jaw clench, and it was a force of will to unclench it enough to say, "Blenheim wasn't aware of any plots on Vickers' part to sabotage the negotiations, though he was aware that your–" he nodded to Olivier "–involvement would result in some tension, due to your gender."
"If the princesses hadn't come, it's likely everything would have gone as planned," Riza murmured.
"Yes," Olivier agreed, her words as cold and sharp as shattered ice. "I got the impression that he wanted a peace treaty as much as any of us. He wants the camps at the border passes to not have to be constantly on guard."
Francine shook her head. "Tsesarevna Anastasia is next in line for the Imperial Chair; his mistrust of women would have resulted in a similar incident eventually."
Olivier let out a disgusted sound and caught Roy's gaze. "You're the one in charge of negotiations; how do you intend to handle this?"
"We'll tell them the truth," Roy said without having to really think about it. And he knew a large part of his decision was because Edward was sitting on the other side of this incident and would never forgive him if he caught Roy in a lie, but he'd like to think that he would have insisted on telling the princesses the truth even without Ed there. "No sugar-coating it, no trying to make it seem like this wouldn't have caused a problem eventually." He shook his head. "Relations have been poor between our nations for centuries; we'd do no one any favours by pretending an incident like this wasn't a possibility, is still a possibility."
Something like approval, dark and cruel, glinted in Olivier's eyes. "Kozlova, collect the Drachmans and bring them to the mess; we'll collect Mustang's team on our way up."
"Yes, sir!" Francine saluted, then hurried away down the hall.
Roy looked after her for a moment, his mind making some interesting connections about how deferential Francine was to Olivier who, by all reports, was the one to order her transfer to Major General Welrod's command in North City, and idly asked, "Welrod doing anything interesting?"
Olivier shot him a narrow-eyed look. "Why should I care what Welrod is doing so long as I get my supplies in a timely fashion?"
Roy smiled as he started down the hall, saying over his shoulder, "I don't know. Why do you?"
Olivier caught him up after a few steps, Riza falling in politely behind them. "Don't ask how I deploy my troops and I won't ask about yours."
"I'm sure I've no idea what you're talking about," Roy said, glancing towards Olivier.
"Let's keep it that way," she replied, returning his gaze.
The military was a complicated beast, rife with corruption and backstabbing; it was strangely reassuring to know that Olivier was keeping tabs on one of the heads of the monster that Roy couldn't quite keep in his sights from Central. For all that Olivier had never made it a secret that she found him weak, due to his dislike of taking a human life, their alliance during the Promised Day hadn't ended when Edward had struck the final blow against Father, and Olivier – who had no interest in the Führership, had made it clear she much preferred her command at Briggs, where politics never played a part – was a powerful supporter in Roy's own bid for absolute power. (Given, she'd probably try pushing demands through once he took the seat – Grumman had made a couple comments that suggested she was already doing so to him – but Roy was willing to bend to some of her demands in future, in trade for her support now.)
Collecting Havoc and Falman didn't take long, and they made it to the mess before the Drachmans.
Falman's original reports of Briggs' mess hall had suggested a massive room, but the place Olivier led them into featured only a table with seats for up to twenty people and a thinner table against the right wall, set with inactive warming plates and empty serving stands; a buffet table, sensible for the uncertain numbers and personal tastes they'd been facing. There was a door built into the far wall – to the kitchen, Roy suspected – and the door they'd entered through, but the room was otherwise as featureless as the rest of Briggs.
"A new addition," Falman whispered to Roy. "Temporary; we could hear the chatter from the mess earlier." He nodded in the direction of the walls the buffet table and the door were on, suggesting they were new construction.
Roy nodded. "Thank you, Major." Thin walls meant no secrets, not that he'd expected to be able to keep anything secret in Briggs long; like the military outpost they'd built outside the Ishval capitol's limits with the permission of the elders, the distance from Amestrisan civilisation left little to do with your days but share your life story with your fellow soldiers. It resulted in a close-knit group, which treated newcomers and any attempt by a commanding officer to keep a secret as little better than desert scorpions: fodder for knife games and likely to be chased away with sand and scorn, if not cracked open and exposed to sizzle in the cruel heat of the sun.
"Falman," Olivier called, "go have the cooks bring through food."
"Yes, sir," Falman agreed with a stiff salute, before hurrying off to do as he was told.
Havoc let out a snort of amusement, only to flinch and duck behind Riza when Olivier turned icy eyes on him. "Where are we sitting, Chief?" he requested.
Roy eyed the room. The conference table bisected the room, with the buffet table running perpendicular. Both walls behind the seats had doors, one to the hallways of Briggs, the other to the mess or the kitchen. Strategically, both sides of the table were equally good for the Amestrisan party, but the side closer to the door that led out to the hallway had the best chance for retreat, for the Drachmans. The nature of the talks suggested Roy give the Drachmans the easy escape route, but familiarity with Edward suggested that wouldn't be an issue, because he never backed down from a fight, and Roy couldn't see him calling someone who would do so herself his best friend.
Roy settled on the one possibility that all his training screamed at him to avoid: "We let the Drachmans pick."
Olivier snorted and turned to watch as a line of soldiers in stained aprons and hairnets hurried in through the door to the kitchen, all carrying various serving platters and utensils. Falman brought up the rear, carrying a stack of plates topped with flatware. "Don't dawdle," Olivier ordered, and the Briggs soldiers quickened their pace.
"Lieutenant General Armstrong and I will sit at the centre," Roy decided, pulling Olivier's attention away from verbally abusing her men. "Majors Kozlova will sit to either side of us, to serve as translators, take some of the strain off Crown Princess Anastasia and Edward–"
"The boss is here?" Havoc whispered, reminding Roy that he and Falman hadn't been there to greet the Drachmans, and the ensuing chaos had kept them out of the loop.
Roy glanced towards Falman, who was watching with sharp eyes, then Havoc, who was clearly shocked. "Ed is serving as the Drachman party's translator. We'll make time for catching up," he promised, and Havoc and Falman both nodded their understanding. "Colonel Hawkeye, you'll sit next to Stardust, and Lieutenant Colonel Havoc, you'll sit on her other side." He turned to Olivier as his team let out sounds of acknowledgement. "Was your adjunct going to attend?"
Olivier snorted. "No. Major Kozlova is sufficient."
Which said a lot about how much Olivier trusted Francine. "Do you object to Major Falman sitting next to Major Kozlova, to balance the table?"
Olivier glanced towards Falman, who met her stare without flinching, then she turned back to Roy and nodded. "Fine."
Roy glanced between Falman and Riza. "Did you bring enough supplies for two sets of notes?"
Riza gave a sharp nod and stepped over to where her papers suitcase had been shoved into a corner, out of the way, and Falman came over to join her.
"Havoc," Roy murmured as the door to the hallway opened, and the man hurried to his side, "two guards, one with only one eye, the other with a crooked nose; there's tension between them and Ed."
Havoc's expression, when he straightened, was hard, and he gave a sharp nod of understanding before stepping back behind Roy.
The Kozlovas led the way in, stepping to either side of the door to allow the Drachman party to pass them. Anastasia was in the lead, Natalia, Ed, Kuznetsov, and then the two bodyguards following in that order. Ed's eyes zeroed in on Havoc, and he flashed a bright grin, but he was the only member of the party who looked anything other than tense.
"General Mustang, Lieutenant General Armstrong," Anastasia greeted, a tightness to her voice that hadn't been there before making her accent sound clipped.
"Your Royal Highnesses," Roy replied, because he wasn't secure enough with their titles to try mangling them, not as tense as things had turned out. "Your party may pick which side of the table to sit on, and Briggs has supplied us with food, at your leisure."
And, surprising absolutely no one, Ed's stomach took that cue to let out a particularly angry noise. Amusement glinted in Anastasia's eyes while a smile broke through Natalia's shuttered mask, and Roy let his own smile curl his mouth.
Havoc barked out a laugh. "Hey, Boss. Good to see some things never change."
"Fuck you, Havoc," Ed shot back, but he was still grinning, and the exchange cut nicely through the tension that had started taking up all the space in the room.
"We will take this side," Anastasia decided, motioning towards the table. "And, in deference to Ed's stomach, food before negotiations."
Ed said something in Drachman which, by the expression on the ambassador and bodyguards' faces, was expectedly obscene, and everyone moved to lay claim to their seats before turning to the food.
Roy caught the Kozlovas as they rounded the table, Olivier quick to join him. "Are you both willing to continue playing translators for Lieutenant General Armstrong and myself?"
The sisters traded looks and Andrea admitted, "We understand Drachman fine, but we are not practised in speaking it."
"That's sufficient," Olivier said. "If you translate for us, that leaves Elric to translate for the Drachmans."
"We are happy to serve as translators," Francine decided. "We'll be seated at your sides?"
"Yes," Olivier agreed, and the sisters both nodded.
"One last thing," Roy requested before any of them could step away. "Refresh me on the titles for the princesses."
Francine looked honestly surprised for a moment, leaving it to Andrea to explain, "Tsesarevna is the title for the crown princess; Tsarevna is the title for a daughter or granddaughter of the Tsar who is not next in line for the Imperial Chair." Her mouth twitched with a mischievous smile. "I'll correct you when you mess it up," she promised.
"Appreciated," Roy returned as drily as he could, and Andrea laughed. "Thank you for your continued assistance, Majors."
The Kozlovas saluted both him and Olivier, then they separated to collect food.
It didn't take everyone long to settle around the table with their food. Roy found himself seated across from Anastasia, while Natalia sat across from Olivier, and her bodyguard sat across from Francine. Ed was across from Andrea, Kuznetsov across from Riza, and his bodyguard sat across from Havoc. No one spoke while they ate, though Havoc made the occasional noise like he wanted to, only to be silenced by Riza.
Once most of them were done – save Ed, who was steadily making his way through his second helping and studiously ignoring the amused glances from Anastasia and Havoc – and their plates had been pushed forward, into the empty space between their parties, Roy cleared his throat and, upon catching Anastasia's gaze, said, "On behalf of Amestris, I would like to apologise for the violence forced upon Tsarevna Natalia at the hands of Major General Vickers."
Anastasia held his gaze for a long moment, while Ed hurriedly swallowed and translated for the other Drachmans, before she replied, "I would hear this man's reasonings."
"Vickers is currently confined to a prison cell, as ordered by my fort doctor," Olivier announced, a brace of steel in her voice. She waited until she had Anastasia's gaze before adding, "General Mustang and I questioned him and can give you his excuses."
Anastasia looked between them, then gave a sharp nod. "I will hear them."
Olivier motioned to Roy, so he laid out Vickers' reasons as had been given to them. He made a point to hold Anastasia's gaze the whole time, even when he would have looked away to hide the anger he couldn't repress as he recounted Vickers' beliefs in regards to Drachman women. He ended with, "As much as I would prefer to say otherwise, there is a very good chance that similar attacks will occur; our nations have been enemies for too long for a piece of paper to hold sway over tempers, but I do not believe that sufficient reason to hold off on a treaty, should your Royal Highness agree."
Anastasia waited for Ed to finish translating before letting out a short nod and turning to her sister, Ed, and the ambassador, to have a quiet conference in Drachman.
Roy glanced at Andrea and she offered him a faint shrug. "I can't hear enough," she murmured, "but I think the only one who wants to walk out the door is the ambassador."
"Sounds like we're going to have a wonderful time with this ambassador," Roy murmured in response. "Especially if he doesn't speak Amestrisan."
Andrea's lips twitched with a suppressed smile. "They all understand more than they're letting on," she offered. "You can't see it, because you're too focussed on the Tsesarevna, but both Tsarevna Natalia and Ambassador Kuznetsov show signs of understanding what you're saying before Elric can translate it."
Roy nodded, filing that fact away, as Anastasia barked out a sharp word in Drachman.
" 'Enough'," Andrea translated.
Roy returned his attention to the crown princess, and she said, "We would take this man, this Vickers, back to Drachma to face Imperial punishment."
"Agreed," Roy returned without missing a beat, and he heard the ambassador draw in a sharp breath; Andrea was right, he understood more Amestrisan than he was letting on.
Anastasia's eyes narrowed. "You would have the ability to declare the future of another man?"
Roy folded his hands flat on the table before him, let the familiar sensation of the fabric of his gloves rubbing together soothe his nerves. "While it is true that current Amestrisan military law grants Major General Vickers the right to present his defence before a tribunal of his peers, and Lieutenant General Armstrong and I hardly qualify by ourselves, there is a stipulation put in place for future crimes against those native to Ishval. This stipulation states that, should a crime be committed upon an Ishvalan by a member of the military, and should the victim request the perpetrator be punished in accordance with Ishvalan law, the soldier's commanding officer has the right to grant that request. While you and Tsarevna Natalia are not Ishvalan, the circumstances are similar enough to declare precedent."
"Who wrote that law?" Ed demanded.
Roy looked at him, and he could see the knowledge in the gold eyes even as he firmly replied, "I did."
Approval flashed in Ed's eyes, because he knew, just as Riza had, that Roy had written that law and forced it up through the chain of command to Grumman's desk as part of his attempt to atone for his crimes. It had taken him six months, and the honest appreciation of the elders when he'd explained that addendum to them had been worth every second of frustration; a tribunal of peers might well forgive a soldier his racism, but the Ishvalans never would.
Anastasia cleared her throat and Roy forced his gaze away from Ed, back to her. She offered him an honest smile. "On behalf of Tsarevna Natalia and Drachma, I accept your apology, and I agree that we must not let small attacks stop us from forming a peace." Then she sighed, her shoulders drooping, and tiredly admitted, "Those bandits who attacked your military camp were tried and imprisoned four years ago for committing similar attacks on Drachman villages along the mountains. We were not aware they ever crossed the border, or we would have given word to Amestris."
"You wish," Ed muttered.
Anastasia's mouth tightened. "The last of those women and men died in prison last year."
"Men?" Francine repeated, surprise in her voice. "Apologies," she added as most of the table turned towards her, "but Major General Vickers reported only women."
Anastasia nodded. "When we had caught them, they counted three men among their number, who disguised themselves as women." She snorted. "They believed that women were faster trusted than men."
"They weren't wrong," Roy pointed out, because his information network was made up of women who sold their bodies and received far more than cash in repayment.
Anastasia seemed to consider that. "And you, General Roy Mustang? You think the same?"
"In my experience, the most beautiful women are also the most dangerous," he said, and then he put on his most charming smile.
Ed muttered something under his breath.
"Rather like," Roy couldn't stop himself from saying, "particularly short alchemists."
Ed jumped to his feet and shouted, "Say that to my face, you smug bastard!"
Roy put on an innocent face. "I wasn't aware you qualified, Edward."
"Edward, sit down," Riza ordered while Havoc started laughing. As Ed settled back in his seat, Riza leant forward, around Andrea, and pinned Roy with a cold look. "Sir," was all she said.
Roy cleared his throat to get his heart to return to where it belonged. "Understood, Colonel," he replied politely, and Riza sat back in her chair.
Natalia said something, sounding awed, and Ed laughed before responding.
"The Tsarevna says that she wants to be like Riza when she grows up," Andrea translated, speaking loud enough that both Riza and Roy could hear, "and Elric says he would, too."
Roy glanced towards Anastasia and saw the same gleam of fond humour in her eyes that he could feel warming through his chest. He tipped his head towards her and she looked surprised for a moment before she glanced towards his right, at Andrea or Riza, he didn't really know. When she met his gaze again, there was a faint smile curling her mouth. "I believe," she said, "we were here to discuss a treaty?"
The sense of good humour vanished from the air, and Roy could see Ed straightening out of the corner of his eyes. "Indeed," he agreed.
The ambassador immediately said something, his tone sharp, and Andrea was quick to translate, " 'Drachma will not treat with a man who wears his greatest weapon to the peace table'."
"Ah." Roy pulled off his gloves, revealing the ugly scars from Bradley's attack, and slid them past Andrea to Riza, who put them away into her case. "Apologies."
Ed said something, his tone idle, and Andrea translated, " 'He's still armed, you realise'," and Roy could practically hear the question she wasn't asking.
Roy sighed. "Yes, thank you, Edward," he muttered before envisioning the array he wanted, clapping his hands together, and touching the fork he'd used, which was resting over the edge of his plate. The light of an active transmutation flared as the fork reshaped under his direction, and he tossed the result to Ed, who caught it with a surprised look. "Keep it."
Ed glanced down at the figure of Al's old armour, which was hardly perfect, but he offered Roy an honestly grateful smile, and something in Roy's chest did an odd little flip at the sight. "Thanks."
Roy cleared his throat and turned to the ambassador. "I don't require drawn arrays to use alchemy. Without my gloves I have rather more difficulty using flame alchemy, yes, but I am never defenceless. Is that a problem?"
Anastasia was the one who translated that. Before the ambassador could respond, she said, "There will be no problem," in Amestrisan, before adding something in Drachman.
" 'We do not demand the others to disarm'," Andrea murmured, " 'and they have not asked us to do so. You assured my father you could live among alchemists; if you're having a problem now, then you can go back to Drachma'." She took a quiet breath before translating Kuznetsov's response. " 'This is fine, Tsesarevna.' Why are they nervous of you, but not Elric? He can use alchemy by clapping too, right?" Andrea asked.
Roy blinked and glanced at her. "Edward can't use alchemy any more." He'd thought that was common knowledge, but perhaps Ed and Al vanishing after they were released from hospital had made rumours of the truth. After all, even knowing as much of the truth of that day's events as he did, it was hard to imagine that the Fullmetal Alchemist was literally incapable of performing alchemy.
"At all?" Andrea asked, sounding honestly horrified, and Roy became aware that the others had taken note of their conversation and were watching them. She turned to look at Ed. "But–"
Ed's mouth pressed into a thin line and he tightened his right hand into a fist, the head of the figure Roy had made just barely visible inside it. "There was something more important to me than alchemy," he said, his voice hard.
"Andrea," Roy interrupted, touching her shoulder. When she turned to him, he shook his head. "Leave it."
She closed her eyes, swallowed, and gave a jerky nod. "Yes, sir," she whispered.
Roy glanced at Ed, checking that he was okay, and the blond responded with a vague shrug; he'd resigned himself to the price he'd paid long before he'd activated his final array, but he would appreciate it if they could move on. Roy gave a faint nod, then turned to Anastasia. "As the guests to this table, your party may state your terms first, Tsesarevna."
Anastasia nodded and looked to her sister. "Natalia."
The younger princess quickly set about laying down Drachma's terms, the Kozlovas quietly translating, and Roy settled in for a long meeting.
It took them almost three hours to hash everything out, but when they settled back in their chairs, they had settled on a passable treaty.
It hadn't taken long for Roy to realise why the younger princess had come along: When she wasn't being attacked, she wore a quiet smile and spoke gently, but had a core of steel and the determination to agree to peace, but keep the terms fair for her country. She reminded Roy strongly of Al, and with Ed's constant translations as background audio, it was hard to keep from falling back into the familiar banter that he had shared with the brothers and his team.
Anastasia hadn't spoken much, other than to augment Ed's translations when more than one person on Roy's side of the table spoke up, or when Ed got up to raid the buffet table about halfway through, and Roy suspected she had come more to sign the treaty in her father's name, once they had copies written up, than to serve as his voice in the negotiations. Likewise, the two men Roy assumed were bodyguards had kept quiet, cementing his belief as to their duties for the party.
The ambassador, Kuznetsov, was clearly uncomfortable speaking to Roy, but when he thought he had a point that Natalia was either ignoring or not being sufficiently demanding about, he was quick to add his five cenz. He often defaulted to speaking to Olivier, and her tone when she responded made it clear that she was not impressed.
"Colonel Hawkeye, Major Falman, I'd like copies written up as quickly as possible," Roy requested as the two shuffled their stacks of paper into neat piles.
Riza cleared her throat. "Is a member of your party capable of translating the treaty into Drachman?" she asked Anastasia.
"I can do it," Ed offered, and Roy raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him. "Oh, go get fucked, Mustang."
Oh, Roy was absolutely powerless to resist that one. "Are you offering, Edward?"
And Ed, completely opposite from Roy's expectations, blushed. It was a very faint hint of colour, easily hidden against the tan that no Drachman winters could erase (apparently), but Roy had spent enough time watching him from across a desk, aiming to get him angry enough that he would flush that exact same way before storming out of his office without asking too many questions about his latest assignment.
Roy had no idea what Ed read from his expression, but he rushed to his feet and snapped, "Someone point me at a fucking phone so I can call Al."
Olivier rose smoothly at Roy's side. "I'll show you to the one near your party's rooms. Kozlova, remain with the Drachman party; Falman, remain with Mustang's party," she ordered as she made her way around the table, and Francine and Falman both let out noises of affirmation. "This fort is dangerous; remain with your guides outside of the designated hallways set aside for your parties," she added before stepping from the room, Ed close on her heels.
They were all quiet for a moment, staring after the two.
"Right!" Havoc called, getting up. "Did Ed leave anything to eat?"
"Doubtful," Roy returned drily, and Havoc flashed him a grin as he stepped past him towards the buffet.
The Drachmans all got up, most of them talking amongst themselves, but Natalia stepped quickly around the table and reached Roy as he got to his feet, swinging his coat around his shoulders as he did so. She said something in Drachman, looking expectant, and all Roy got was Ed's name thrown into the mix.
"She wants to know what you made for Elric," Andrea translated, getting to her own feet.
Roy shrugged and picked up the closest piece of cutlery – Olivier's knife – to transmute into another figure of the armour. He held it out to her. "This."
Natalia took it and turned it over in her hands for a moment, then glanced up and asked another question.
"She wants to know what it is," Andrea said, before, very haltingly, offering a few words in Drachman.
Natalia waved a hand at that and offered in her careful Amestrisan, "I know more, also." She touched her ears, then held up the figure and asked, "Dospekhi?"
" 'Armour?' " Andrea offered.
Roy nodded. "Yes. His brother, Alphonse, travelled for a time in armour that looked like that."
" 'The brother he is going to call'," Andrea translated.
Roy let slip a faint smile. "The only one he has, yes. He doesn't talk about Al?"
Natalia frowned and glanced towards where Anastasia was talking to Francine and Riza at the end of the table. " 'Not to me'," Andrea translated for her, before stumbling at the same nickname Ed had used for the crown princess, "Ah, th-the Tsesarevna, she might know more."
Roy nodded. "Edward mentioned they were friends."
Natalia nodded. "Close," she agreed in Amestrisan, before adding more in Drachman.
Andrea let out a startled laugh, and when Roy turned to her with a raised eyebrow, she shook her head. "Sorry, Roy. It's–" She snorted, then straightened. "Apparently, Tsar Ivan has been trying to get Elric to marry Tsesarevna Anastasia–" Roy's chest unexpectedly tightened, and he frowned "–but neither of them are amiable." And the tightness vanished. "Roy?"
Roy shook his head. "I'm sorry," he offered, and his words came out clipped for some reason. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before trying again. "I'm sorry. I think the train ride is catching up to me." Because that was the only possible explanation for his body's weird moods. "Tsarevna, Andrea," he offered with a nod to them both, before stepping away to where Falman was shuffling through his papers. "Major."
Falman came to attention. "General." It only took him a moment to read whatever Roy hadn't managed to wipe from his expression and he nodded. "I'll see if any of the others are interested in heading for our rooms."
"Thank you, Major."
It didn't take long to get a negative from Riza and collect Havoc, who had found a couple of dinner rolls that Ed had missed. He offered one to Roy as they started towards the door out into the hall, and Roy took it with a quiet, "Thank you."
Havoc waited until they were well on their way to the hall his team had been leant before asking, "What's up?"
Roy sighed and shook his head. "Shouldn't have played so many games of poker."
Havoc snorted. "Yeah, okay. It had nothing to do with whatever that woman said, the Drachman."
"Tsarevna Natalia," Roy supplied, recalling again that Havoc and Falman hadn't, actually, been formerly introduced to their visitors. "She's a princess."
"Same as the older one?" Havoc guessed.
"Tsesarevna Anastasia, the crown princess."
Havoc made a face. "Can we just refer to them as Crown Princess Anastasia and Princess Natalia?" he requested.
"You're welcome to do so," Roy agreed. "Some of us are willing to use their native titles in the name of diplomacy."
Havoc sighed and shoved a roll in his mouth. Around it, he muttered, "I like you better when Ed's around."
Roy shot him a sharp look, but Havoc just responded with a shrug and stepped into the room with his name on the door.
"Sir," Falman called, motioning to the door across from Riza's, which had a plate with Roy's name written on it at chest height.
Roy sighed. "Thank you, Vato," he offered honestly, and Falman unwound enough to offer him a faint smile in response. "Please return to the mess to wait for Riza."
"Yes, sir. Did you want one of us to wake you for dinner in a couple hours?"
"No," Roy decided, pushing his door open. "If someone brings something back for me and leaves it inside my room, however, I would appreciate it."
"Sleep well, sir," Falman said by way of response, and left Roy to return to the mess.
Roy sighed again and waited until the door was closed behind him before looking around at the room. It was lit with the same clinical electric lights as the rest of Briggs, which did nothing for the dull grey of the military standard furniture. It was sufficiently warmed, at least, that he felt safe shucking off both his coat and his military jacket. He tossed them over the back of the sole chair, stopping there long enough to add his butt cape and belt to the top of the pile, before starting for where his suitcase had been left on his bed.
He hadn't bothered with packing pyjamas, feeling far more comfortable sleeping in part of his uniform while away from home, but he had brought a worn pair of uniform trousers that he could never have got away with at the office, but were comfortable enough to sleep in, and would allow him to keep his current pair from becoming any more rumpled than they'd got on the train.
He sat down next to the case long enough to pull off his boots, which he sat beside the bed, then he got back to his feet, grimacing at the icy touch of the concrete floor beneath his socked feet, and made quick work of changing into the other pair of trousers. The pair he'd been wearing were added to the pile on the back of the chair and the suitcase was set on the floor next to the bed, against the wall, then Roy climbed under the covers and settled in for whatever amount of sleep his body would allow him.
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