Prompt 166, "I Need to Let You Go", Adonis Burned
Title: Adonis Burned
Author: gretchen8642
Series: manga post series
Word Count: 1934 (O_O)
Rating: R
Characters: Roy, Riza, OC
Summary: it's not Maes, but... holy hell.
Note: yo, back from the grave. finals and a trip to iceland and stuff happened.
as a side note, I would looooove to see a bit of this shooped and sonjajade you are so perfect for it i don't even. if you wouldn't mind giving it a go, i'd happily repay you with a fic about anything of your choosing.
“There’s just one applicant left, sir.” Riza said cautiously. “But... you should know he’s...”
Roy took the young man’s file from her hands and glanced it over quickly. Half Ishballan. Fine, he could handle that. It’d been 20 years since the war had ended, things were better. Besides, they did background checks on all applicants.
“It’s fine, send him in,”
“Sir...” She frowned. “Roy...”
He looked up, she didn’t often use his name at work.
“What is it?” He asked gently, touching his wife’s hand.
She couldn’t put it into words. “Just... I’ll be right here the whole time.”
He gave her fingers a squeeze. “I know, babe. You’re the best.”
Roy had assumed he’d never need another bodyguard again in his whole life. Riza Hawkeye was absolutely perfect in looking after him and keeping him in line. And even as they’d aged, that hadn’t changed one bit, not even after they got married.
She was still his armor, his right hand, his conscience, and that would never change.
What had changed, however, was what in his life needed protecting. His eyes roamed to the small photograph of their little girl he kept on his desk. Sharp dark eyes, silky black hair, a smirk that could kill at the tender age of 7. Roy Mustang had managed to fall in love once more, and as always (he supposed) love made him weaker.
Recent threats from Aerugo had targeted the little princess, and as such, one bodyguard was no longer enough as there were now two bodies Roy needed intact at the end of the day (well, three, but Hawkeye was very good at keeping herself out of death plots in a way he had never quite mastered).
So. New bodyguard. Stay at the mansion with the squirt and Madame and ensure no harm befalls Spawn of Mustang. And just one more applicant today. Even if he was part Ishballan.
“Let him in, please.”
Roy stood up, characteristic charming smile on his lips. “Thanks for applying to protect my daughter Mr.--” His eyes locked with the sharp green eyes of the applicant and words failed him.
“Artalla.” The young man said with a smile. “James Artalla. My mother is Ishballan, and I have a great respect for the man who reformed defamation laws and created equal rights for all men in this nation.” He grinned, his teeth were white and beautiful.
Roy was at a loss for words, just staring at Ma... James Artalla with his mouth slightly open.
James, for his part, smiled awkwardly, confused and concerned that this interview wasn’t going very well.
“Of course it’s a great honor to meet with the Fuhrer. My mother has a crush on you, I think. She will be very jealous.”
Roy swallowed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep, deep breath. No. His mind was playing tricks on him. It couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence. The hair (a bit lighter, styled differently, no beard), the eyes (maybe flecks of red, but the same soft mossy green, the same sparkle of life), the smile (oh hell that smile, that smile that broke him and rebuilt him and broke him again and again when they were in school and at work and in bed and, oh hell, oh hell that smile)... fuck, even his voice was the same as Maes. He stood the same way, he walked the same way, he even played his fingers when things felt awkward the same way. He could hardly bear to look at this man.
So, so beautiful.
“Sir? Is everything alright?”
Roy took a sip of water and sat down at his desk. He needed a drink. He needed some time alone (with his hand-- what was he thinking, this kid was half his age-- with his thoughts, with trying to figure out why the hell he was still in love with a dead man when he had a wife and a child and where the fuck did this kid even come from??)
“Sit, Mr. Artalla.” Roy said softly, and James obliged. “I’m a bit distracted due to the threats on my daughter’s life, that’s all. You’ll see if you have a child.”
James nodded gravely. “A threat on a little girl is the threat of a coward. I will destroy your enemies. I will show no mercy on someone who attacks a child.”
Roy thought of Elysia. How he’d had to walk her down the aisle since her father wasn’t there.
“Tell me about your training.”
“I was trained from a young age by the warrior priests in my temple. Since then I have taken an interest in Xingese explosives and the Ishballan alchemy technique developed by that nameless man in the north. I have just graduated from military school in Central, and had a specialist degree in Aerugan terror cells. I am highly skilled, and uniquely qualified to protect the daughter of my king.”
Roy frowned. “Why do you care about Lily? Surely you could get a job that allowed you more influence on a national scale. What’s my daughter to you?”
“My father was an Amestrician man, like you. I was a half breed in my community, rejected by my people, and yours as well for my blood. My eyes were too green for my classmates. My skin was too dark for the academy. Your laws have always meant positive change for my and my mother. You allowed her to get a job where she got equal pay and promotions. You desegregated schools and allowed children to see that skin color and race do not define value. You ended the wars in our regions, you sent aid and food and money for development and universities and libraries... it is a golden age now, for Ishbal, Fuhrer. You allowed my mother to survive with no partner and a mutt child. You allowed her to work hard and raise me well. You gave me my education and every opportunity. I owe you at least this much. To protect your family, and keep you safe to keep doing good in the world.”
The cynical part of Roy wondered if it was bullshit designed to earn his trust so it’d be easier to slit Lily’s throat. The romantic part wondered if Maes was proud of him for changing the world so much.
“You... is your father alive?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Artalla smiled awkwardly again. “I only know what my mother told me.” He fumbled with his fingernails. “A soldier in the war bedded her once. He did not see her again. Perhaps he was killed, I never met him.”
“Did she tell you his name?”
James frowned. “She said he was kind. She said they were trapped by an explosion. She said his eyes were like mine. She never resented him. His name... it has been a long time since I thought about it. Hugh.. maybe. Sam Hugh? I will ask her tonight, if you wish.”
Realization dawned.
“You served in Ishbal! I am quite certain you are not my father, sir.” He laughed. “Do not be alarmed. Your wife has nothing to fear from my mother.”
Roy wasn’t listening. When had this happened? Maes had almost been killed and never told him? Never mentioned this affair? Did Gracia know? How could he... he loved her so much and...
Memories came pouring back, the first time he introduced Gracia to Maes, the first time he took her home, the last time he allowed Roy into his bed. ‘I can’t, Roy. I love you, you know I do, but I can’t. I need to let you go, I’m sorry. I’ll always love you but... but she...’
Roy wondered why he couldn’t remember the excuse. He wondered why this whore in the desert had been different. Enough to tarnish their love, engagement, marriage. Enough to lie to his friend for a decade. Did he even know? Did he even know he’d left a bastard behind?
James was smiling awkwardly again. “Or... perhaps you served with my father.” He said softly. “Perhaps I am troubling news.”
Well, he was smart like Maes.
Roy didn’t allow himself to think before he passed a photograph from his desk across to Artalla. One where he and Maes were arm in arm, grinning like idiots, unaware that Maes would bleed to death alone in a phone booth and Roy would never ever recover.
James was silent. For a moment he had thought it was a picture of him. There was no denying the resemblance, the connection, and the obvious love that the Fuhrer had held for this man.
“Your friend?” James said after a time.
“Yeah.” Roy wanted the picture back. He wanted it on his desk where it belonged, away from the eyes of strangers. “Maes Hughes.”
“Maes Hughes... that was it. Strange name, I thought.”
Roy bit back a snarl. It wasn’t like him to be so angry. “So is James, for an Ishballan.”
James laughed, and Roy’s heart fluttered. “My mother wanted to honor both halves of my heritage.”
A pause.
“Is... where is he? Do you think he would want to meet me? I... I mean... Oh, sir, I am so sorry, this is not appropriate interview conduct.”
Roy allowed himself to smile. He touched James’ shoulder and deftly reclaimed the fading photograph. “He would want to meet you, I am sure of that. But he... was killed in action many years ago now...” Roy was surprised at how much it still hurt to break that news. “He would have been very proud to have a son like you, though. You remind me of him so much.”
James smiled sadly. “You honor me, sir.” He said softly. “And... I would be very grateful if I might be allowed to continue my father’s tradition of standing by your side. My king.”
A god knelt before him, olive skin and moss colored eyes; the curve of his neck, the line of his jaw, the way his lips felt as they graced Roy’s knuckles... Adonis, Narcissus, Maes, Maes Maes... He transcended the mortal realm in that moment, and kissed heaven’s gate- kissed Maes Hughes through the bars.
His heart was pounding, his mind racing. Kiss him. Kiss him and take him here on the floor, make him yours, take him back, never lose him again, never, never.
James looked up at his Fuhrer with that velvet gaze Roy had grown accustomed to seeing through glass. He was aching. His whole body was aching.
“Stand up, James.” Roy said, pulling his hand away. “You don’t need to do that. I’m just... just a man. I’ll let you know my decision in a week or so. Thanks for your time.”
James stood and bowed, smiling with Maes Hughes’ smile as he walked out of the office.
Roy gently replaced the photograph of him and Maes on the desk and let his fingers linger for one moment on Maes’ chest. “I need to let you go.” He said softly, eyes drifting towards the photo of Mr. and Mrs. Mustang on their wedding day... of Lily in her mother’s arms just after she’d been born...
“I need to let you go, Maes. I’m sorry, I’ll always love you... but...”
He collected James Artalla’s application and hesitated for one moment before he snapped his fingers. Adonis burned- hope burned- a chance for redemption burned and he watched the embers kiss that name goodbye.
There were tears on his cheeks when Riza returned. Just smoke, he told her, just the smoke.
Author: gretchen8642
Series: manga post series
Word Count: 1934 (O_O)
Rating: R
Characters: Roy, Riza, OC
Summary: it's not Maes, but... holy hell.
Note: yo, back from the grave. finals and a trip to iceland and stuff happened.
as a side note, I would looooove to see a bit of this shooped and sonjajade you are so perfect for it i don't even. if you wouldn't mind giving it a go, i'd happily repay you with a fic about anything of your choosing.
“There’s just one applicant left, sir.” Riza said cautiously. “But... you should know he’s...”
Roy took the young man’s file from her hands and glanced it over quickly. Half Ishballan. Fine, he could handle that. It’d been 20 years since the war had ended, things were better. Besides, they did background checks on all applicants.
“It’s fine, send him in,”
“Sir...” She frowned. “Roy...”
He looked up, she didn’t often use his name at work.
“What is it?” He asked gently, touching his wife’s hand.
She couldn’t put it into words. “Just... I’ll be right here the whole time.”
He gave her fingers a squeeze. “I know, babe. You’re the best.”
Roy had assumed he’d never need another bodyguard again in his whole life. Riza Hawkeye was absolutely perfect in looking after him and keeping him in line. And even as they’d aged, that hadn’t changed one bit, not even after they got married.
She was still his armor, his right hand, his conscience, and that would never change.
What had changed, however, was what in his life needed protecting. His eyes roamed to the small photograph of their little girl he kept on his desk. Sharp dark eyes, silky black hair, a smirk that could kill at the tender age of 7. Roy Mustang had managed to fall in love once more, and as always (he supposed) love made him weaker.
Recent threats from Aerugo had targeted the little princess, and as such, one bodyguard was no longer enough as there were now two bodies Roy needed intact at the end of the day (well, three, but Hawkeye was very good at keeping herself out of death plots in a way he had never quite mastered).
So. New bodyguard. Stay at the mansion with the squirt and Madame and ensure no harm befalls Spawn of Mustang. And just one more applicant today. Even if he was part Ishballan.
“Let him in, please.”
Roy stood up, characteristic charming smile on his lips. “Thanks for applying to protect my daughter Mr.--” His eyes locked with the sharp green eyes of the applicant and words failed him.
“Artalla.” The young man said with a smile. “James Artalla. My mother is Ishballan, and I have a great respect for the man who reformed defamation laws and created equal rights for all men in this nation.” He grinned, his teeth were white and beautiful.
Roy was at a loss for words, just staring at Ma... James Artalla with his mouth slightly open.
James, for his part, smiled awkwardly, confused and concerned that this interview wasn’t going very well.
“Of course it’s a great honor to meet with the Fuhrer. My mother has a crush on you, I think. She will be very jealous.”
Roy swallowed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep, deep breath. No. His mind was playing tricks on him. It couldn’t be. It had to be a coincidence. The hair (a bit lighter, styled differently, no beard), the eyes (maybe flecks of red, but the same soft mossy green, the same sparkle of life), the smile (oh hell that smile, that smile that broke him and rebuilt him and broke him again and again when they were in school and at work and in bed and, oh hell, oh hell that smile)... fuck, even his voice was the same as Maes. He stood the same way, he walked the same way, he even played his fingers when things felt awkward the same way. He could hardly bear to look at this man.
So, so beautiful.
“Sir? Is everything alright?”
Roy took a sip of water and sat down at his desk. He needed a drink. He needed some time alone (with his hand-- what was he thinking, this kid was half his age-- with his thoughts, with trying to figure out why the hell he was still in love with a dead man when he had a wife and a child and where the fuck did this kid even come from??)
“Sit, Mr. Artalla.” Roy said softly, and James obliged. “I’m a bit distracted due to the threats on my daughter’s life, that’s all. You’ll see if you have a child.”
James nodded gravely. “A threat on a little girl is the threat of a coward. I will destroy your enemies. I will show no mercy on someone who attacks a child.”
Roy thought of Elysia. How he’d had to walk her down the aisle since her father wasn’t there.
“Tell me about your training.”
“I was trained from a young age by the warrior priests in my temple. Since then I have taken an interest in Xingese explosives and the Ishballan alchemy technique developed by that nameless man in the north. I have just graduated from military school in Central, and had a specialist degree in Aerugan terror cells. I am highly skilled, and uniquely qualified to protect the daughter of my king.”
Roy frowned. “Why do you care about Lily? Surely you could get a job that allowed you more influence on a national scale. What’s my daughter to you?”
“My father was an Amestrician man, like you. I was a half breed in my community, rejected by my people, and yours as well for my blood. My eyes were too green for my classmates. My skin was too dark for the academy. Your laws have always meant positive change for my and my mother. You allowed her to get a job where she got equal pay and promotions. You desegregated schools and allowed children to see that skin color and race do not define value. You ended the wars in our regions, you sent aid and food and money for development and universities and libraries... it is a golden age now, for Ishbal, Fuhrer. You allowed my mother to survive with no partner and a mutt child. You allowed her to work hard and raise me well. You gave me my education and every opportunity. I owe you at least this much. To protect your family, and keep you safe to keep doing good in the world.”
The cynical part of Roy wondered if it was bullshit designed to earn his trust so it’d be easier to slit Lily’s throat. The romantic part wondered if Maes was proud of him for changing the world so much.
“You... is your father alive?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Artalla smiled awkwardly again. “I only know what my mother told me.” He fumbled with his fingernails. “A soldier in the war bedded her once. He did not see her again. Perhaps he was killed, I never met him.”
“Did she tell you his name?”
James frowned. “She said he was kind. She said they were trapped by an explosion. She said his eyes were like mine. She never resented him. His name... it has been a long time since I thought about it. Hugh.. maybe. Sam Hugh? I will ask her tonight, if you wish.”
Realization dawned.
“You served in Ishbal! I am quite certain you are not my father, sir.” He laughed. “Do not be alarmed. Your wife has nothing to fear from my mother.”
Roy wasn’t listening. When had this happened? Maes had almost been killed and never told him? Never mentioned this affair? Did Gracia know? How could he... he loved her so much and...
Memories came pouring back, the first time he introduced Gracia to Maes, the first time he took her home, the last time he allowed Roy into his bed. ‘I can’t, Roy. I love you, you know I do, but I can’t. I need to let you go, I’m sorry. I’ll always love you but... but she...’
Roy wondered why he couldn’t remember the excuse. He wondered why this whore in the desert had been different. Enough to tarnish their love, engagement, marriage. Enough to lie to his friend for a decade. Did he even know? Did he even know he’d left a bastard behind?
James was smiling awkwardly again. “Or... perhaps you served with my father.” He said softly. “Perhaps I am troubling news.”
Well, he was smart like Maes.
Roy didn’t allow himself to think before he passed a photograph from his desk across to Artalla. One where he and Maes were arm in arm, grinning like idiots, unaware that Maes would bleed to death alone in a phone booth and Roy would never ever recover.
James was silent. For a moment he had thought it was a picture of him. There was no denying the resemblance, the connection, and the obvious love that the Fuhrer had held for this man.
“Your friend?” James said after a time.
“Yeah.” Roy wanted the picture back. He wanted it on his desk where it belonged, away from the eyes of strangers. “Maes Hughes.”
“Maes Hughes... that was it. Strange name, I thought.”
Roy bit back a snarl. It wasn’t like him to be so angry. “So is James, for an Ishballan.”
James laughed, and Roy’s heart fluttered. “My mother wanted to honor both halves of my heritage.”
A pause.
“Is... where is he? Do you think he would want to meet me? I... I mean... Oh, sir, I am so sorry, this is not appropriate interview conduct.”
Roy allowed himself to smile. He touched James’ shoulder and deftly reclaimed the fading photograph. “He would want to meet you, I am sure of that. But he... was killed in action many years ago now...” Roy was surprised at how much it still hurt to break that news. “He would have been very proud to have a son like you, though. You remind me of him so much.”
James smiled sadly. “You honor me, sir.” He said softly. “And... I would be very grateful if I might be allowed to continue my father’s tradition of standing by your side. My king.”
A god knelt before him, olive skin and moss colored eyes; the curve of his neck, the line of his jaw, the way his lips felt as they graced Roy’s knuckles... Adonis, Narcissus, Maes, Maes Maes... He transcended the mortal realm in that moment, and kissed heaven’s gate- kissed Maes Hughes through the bars.
His heart was pounding, his mind racing. Kiss him. Kiss him and take him here on the floor, make him yours, take him back, never lose him again, never, never.
James looked up at his Fuhrer with that velvet gaze Roy had grown accustomed to seeing through glass. He was aching. His whole body was aching.
“Stand up, James.” Roy said, pulling his hand away. “You don’t need to do that. I’m just... just a man. I’ll let you know my decision in a week or so. Thanks for your time.”
James stood and bowed, smiling with Maes Hughes’ smile as he walked out of the office.
Roy gently replaced the photograph of him and Maes on the desk and let his fingers linger for one moment on Maes’ chest. “I need to let you go.” He said softly, eyes drifting towards the photo of Mr. and Mrs. Mustang on their wedding day... of Lily in her mother’s arms just after she’d been born...
“I need to let you go, Maes. I’m sorry, I’ll always love you... but...”
He collected James Artalla’s application and hesitated for one moment before he snapped his fingers. Adonis burned- hope burned- a chance for redemption burned and he watched the embers kiss that name goodbye.
There were tears on his cheeks when Riza returned. Just smoke, he told her, just the smoke.