Chapter Text
Their horses were tired by the time they reached Xerxes.
Winry, Mustang, and Hawkeye stopped at the nearest cistern. As they watered their horses, a tall woman with gold eyes and long, braided black hair under a white scarf offered them glasses of some drink that was a brilliant scarlet color. It turned out to be a faintly fruity, tangy, refreshing cold tea.
“What brings you to Xerxes?” the woman asked with a welcoming smile.
“We’re headed to the palace,” Roy said, in halting Xerxian.
“Seeking sanctuary?” the woman asked.
Roy gave a tired, ironic laugh. “Of a sort.”
“Follow this road. It twists and turns a bit, but it leads straight to the heart of the oasis. That’s where you’ll find the palace.”
“Thank you.”
Winry mounted again, even though she was sore and exhausted from the long ride through the desert. She watched the people going back and forth about their business through the city with mild interest.
Xerxes was a bustling city, open and welcoming. Several people shouted greetings to the Amestrians and Winry dredged up the energy to smile and wave back. She was just too tired to translate.
Food stalls sent up enticing aromas matched by the piles of spices in the marketplace. A variety of colorful fruits and vegetables, some of which were completely unfamiliar to Winry, were on display between carts of clothing and pottery and household goods. A table of brightly woven shawls caught her eye; it stood in between two jewelry stands. Still, Winry kept moving, just wanting to rest. She could, maybe, explore the city later.
The palace was built at the far end of the promenade, a series of intricate fountains casting fine cooling spray into the air leading up to it. Even from this distance, the palace appeared to be just as busy and full of people as the market.
Closer, it looked even more full of life, people of all ages and stations constantly coming and going, chatting and laughing with each other. Winry thought of the Central estate, how it stood empty most of the time, except when parties filled a select few rooms, and felt a sudden pang that wasn’t homesickness.
A smallish, elderly woman with an eyepatch and wearing an Ishvalan sash came forward to meet them. “You are the Amestrian delegation, correct?” She spoke with a soft twist to her words that spoke of another language to which she had once been accustomed.
Roy nodded. “Yes. I’m Roy Mustang, this is Riza Hawkeye, and Winry Rockbell.”
“My name is Shan. You seem tired. We decided it was best to let you rest before the formal presentation.” Shan turned to a young Ishvalan boy next to her. “Leo! Is the prince still playing at his nonsense?”
“He is, Lady Shan.”
Shan sighed. “Very well. We can at least introduce you to Hohenheim.”
“The prince’s nonsense?” Winry asked, half-hesitant.
“He vanishes for hours on end at the most inconvenient times,” Leo informed her. “Alphonse doesn’t know where he is, either.”
“…Oh.”
“I hope he’s only forgotten,” Shan sighed. “It happens often enough.”
Shan led them quickly through the palace to a less-crowded area, then through a guarded door to a hallway that was much quieter, then into a study lined with books. A kindly-looking middle-aged man with long hair pulled back from his face and glasses looked up from his desk as they came in. He stood up and came to greet them. “The Amestrian delegation, correct? Welcome to Xerxes. My name is Hohenheim.”
As Hohenheim chatted with Winry’s escorts, she tuned it out in order to take in the study. Tall windows let in the light, curtains ready to cut off any excess brightness. The whole room looked drenched in warm sun and smelled golden, a faint undertone of incense and tea hanging under the almost honey-like fragrance. The books were huge and old, not unlike the restricted area of the National Library back in Central, but this study had a completely different feel to it—welcoming, cozy, almost dreamy. An old-fashioned chair sat behind the desk, a large, low table housed an astrolabe, globe, armillary sphere and several chemical apparatuses, a high-backed armchair with dark maroon velvet upholstery sat in one corner, and the areas of the walls that weren’t windows were covered floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves.
Winry caught herself yawning and stopped mid-stretch.
“I’m so sorry,” Hohenheim said, cutting him off. “Chattering away and you all must be exhausted. We’ve set up living quarters for you in the family area. If you’d like I can show you the way now.”
“I’m fine,” Winry said, somewhat embarrassed. “Is there a garden or something I can take a walk in? If I go to sleep now I’ll just wake up in the middle of the night.”
“Of course.”
They left the study, heading down another hallway lined with windows.
“How is Pinako?” Hohenheim asked.
Winry started. “You know Granny?”
“We used to be drinking buddies, but that was a while ago,” Hohenheim said.
“She’s doing… pretty well. After my parents were murdered, she went quiet with her political beliefs, but she’s provoking change from behind the scenes.”
Hohenheim laughed. “That sounds like Pinako.” He paused, grimacing slightly. “I’m sorry about Edward. He’s…” He shook his head. “He defies explanation,” Hohenheim said at last. “I don’t think he meant any slight with his absence. He’s just thoughtless some—all of the time.”
“I see,” Winry said, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.
“He’s a good kid,” Hohenheim said. “He has a kind heart. He just doesn’t like to be reminded of that.”
The exchange only left Winry feeling more confused.
Hohenheim left Riza and Winry in the garden. Winry found a bench and sat down, enjoying the late-afternoon sun. Riza gave her some space; Winry knew, however, that her bodyguard was still nearby. The garden was lush and beautifully maintained; arbors, trees and sweeping vines providing shade while a fountain played at its center. A delicious fragrance pervaded the air.
A very slight sound from the walls surrounding the garden made Winry look up. Someone slid out of a window a few stories up and began to proceed toward the ground, moving with surprising speed and sure-footedness, something tucked under one arm. Winry watched for a long while—whoever it was didn’t seem to notice her. Finally, she cleared her throat.
The climber jumped, lost his grip on the stonework, windmilled in an attempt to overcorrect, and tumbled the last six feet or so to the ground. He lay there, stunned. Winry moved closer. “Are you all right?”
The climber pushed himself up and spat out the hair that had made its way into his mouth. He was a boy about Winry’s age, dark-skinned, with long, golden hair braided in the back and the same amber eyes that many of the citizens of Xerxes had. He rubbed the back of his head. “Ow. What the hell were you doing in here!? There’s never anyone in the garden at this hour!” he demanded, scowling at her.
“What were you climbing like that for, then?” Winry retorted. “You looked like an idiot spider.”
“Idiot spider yourself,” the boy growled, casting about. He picked up a large, heavy tome off the grass and cradled it in his lap.
“Um… you’ve got some leaves… in your hair,” Winry pointed out. The boy ran a gloved hand through his bangs, then picked out the leaves with his other hand. He was only wearing one glove. “Did you lose a glove?”
Unamused, the boy pulled the second glove out of his pocket and showed it to her. “Makes climbing easier.”
“What were you climbing for? Doesn’t this place have stairs?”
“It’s too noisy.” The boy wrinkled his nose. His Amestrian carried the same softening twist that the Ishvalan woman’s had. “Who are you, anyway?”
“…Winry Rockbell,” Winry said.
The boy collapsed, dropping his forehead onto his knees. “Oh… damn. I am so sorry.”
“What? Why?”
The boy straightened up, offering the gloved hand. “I’m Edward Elric Van Hohenheim… your fiancé. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize that was today.”
“Do you often—” Winry made a vague gesture.
Edward peered at her through his bangs. “Do I often…?”
“Lose track of time like that,” Winry completed.
Edward stared at the ground. “I started an experiment to pass the time. Then I forgot about everything else but the experiment. Hohenheim keeps threatening to find me my own staff so they can be the ones to bother me about my schedule.”
“I thought Hohenheim was your father?”
Edward looked at her like she was crazy. “He is.”
“Oh.” Winry didn’t know what to say to that. Hohenheim had seemed open and welcoming enough, but she had no knowledge of what his relationship with his sons was like.
Edward shuffled the book in his hands. “I suppose you know why you’re here,” he said.
Winry frowned. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Edward made a face. “Not just the whole marriage thing. Amestris is militaristic; you spoke up about it. Your prime minister has something to gain by moving you conveniently out of the way. I just want to know if I’m going to have to knock out assassins, or something.”
Winry blinked. Well, at least she knew now that her fiancé wasn’t an idiot—or at least, he was a selective idiot. “I don’t think so? I mean, if that was a concern, wouldn’t they have tried to kill me before I left Amestris?”
“Not necessarily. They might want to pin this on Xerxes. If the princess dies in suspicious circumstances at home, they can’t really hush it up, but here we’ve got the filter of distance distorting information.”
“It doesn’t seem likely,” Winry said.
“But I wouldn’t put anything past Earl Bradley.” Edward shifted his weight. “Right. We’ll be on guard, then.”
“What’s going to happen to Amestris now I’m not there?” Winry bit her lip.
Edward set the book down on the carved stone bench and cupped her hands in his. “I don’t know yet, but I’m not going to stand idly by while people suffer. Also, Hohenheim always said your grandmother is a smart woman. She’s also not an idealist—she won’t be open with her pacifist stance. She’ll work behind the scenes—she’s exactly what a man like Bradley won’t expect.”
The gloved hand was cold and hard; the cuff of his sleeve shifted, exposing metal. Winry bit back her curiosity. She didn’t want to scare him off.
Edward broke the contact off suddenly. “Would you like some tea or something?” His cheeks looked flushed under his tan.
“Yes, that sounds nice,” Winry said, bewildered.
“Right. I’ll go get it.”
With that, he was gone. Winry stared after him in confusion.