Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air was fresh and crisp, clearer than it had been in a while. There wasn’t a single cloud in sight in the sky above the restored kingdom. The woman sighed from where she was perched in a tree overlooking the town. She didn’t know if it was a sigh of relief or something else.

Her friend had recently returned from Beast Yeast, more sparkly and light, yet there was that unmistakable heaviness that he carried. He’d gotten like that after retaking the kingdom from his old childhood friend, where nothing really changed, but she could see the bags beneath his eyes, could see the invisible weight he carried bowing his shoulders. She could see that now. He’d be alright, she knew. He’d bounce back after a while, when she’d had enough of letting him wallow in self pity and decided to beat the sadness out of him with a metaphorical stick. (By that, she meant that she was going to force him to talk about his feelings. She wouldn’t push farther than he was comfortable with, but she’d have to push a little bit just to get him to open up. Stubborn thing, he was.)

The woman frowned as the scent of ozone- yet lacking that distinctive sweetness that made up their world- filled the air. The sky darkened as blue lightning shot up from somewhere in the ground. It was intense and nearly shook her from her tree. Her crows flew off, spooked by this unnatural force just as much as she was, yet more flighty.

Just as quickly as this earth shaking blue lightning that brought a weird smell arrived, it dissipated. The lightning died down and then stopped, the darkness of the sky easing back into a peaceful blue.

She jumped down from her perch, darting and weaving through the town’s streets, determined to see just what on Earthbread that was.

---

The cold stone of the ground rested against Edward’s cheek, slowly easing him into consciousness. His nose wrinkled as he stirred, lashes fluttering until he finally forced his heavy eyes open. 

His head throbbed with the force of ten very angry trains with baseball bats. Ten very angry trains with baseball bats that despised light, he found as he made the mistake of looking somewhere brighter than where he was lying. He screwed his eyes shut with a hiss of pain, forcing himself to lurch into a sitting position.

His stomach lurched with him, and it was all he could do to not lose whatever meal he’d had last onto the alleyway’s ground. He ground the heel of his flesh hand into his eye sockets, trying to wake himself up more.

He groaned, trying to figure out what had happened through the fog that shrouded his brain and made thinking difficult. He needed to figure out what had happened and where he was if he was going to reverse whatever had been done to him and get back to Al and everyone else safely.

He could remember what his last interaction with his brother was.

“Be careful brother,” Al had said over the telephone, after Ed had explained the situation to him. The worry was palpable, even without his face there. The brothers could read each other easier than the textbooks both read like it was breathing. Several years spent glued at the hip would do that, Ed supposed. Sometimes the two of them could speak just with their expressions and miniscule body language. Havoc called it Elric Brother Telepathy. Edward called it Knowing His Sibling Very Well.

Besides, Edward was careful. He was extremely careful. (Many people would disagree with this statement.) He’d get back in one piece and tell Al just how careful he was.

He took a deep breath and tried to organize himself once more. The brain fog was needlessly annoying.

He’d been working on a case with Team Mustang, he remembered that much. There was a criminal and they’d been trying to apprehend them. He groaned as he tried to recall specifics. What had happened in the confrontation? How had he ended up here? It sure wasn’t Amestris. Nothing in his home country smelled nearly as sweet as it did here. 

In fact, the sweet scent permeated the area he was in. It was like being in a bakery and smelling the goods the baker had just pulled out of the oven a minute ago, but far more overwhelming. It invaded his nostrils with every inhale and sent pangs of pain through his head.

Ed breathed deeply, in and out, trying his best to ignore the onslaught of sensations. The ground felt off somehow, less solid. The air was full of sweetness. The light was too bright, even behind his closed eyelids. His mouth felt dry. He shook his head. Focus!

He could work through this. He’d worked through head injuries before (as well as other kinds of injuries, but that wasn’t the point). He sucked in a breath of trepidation as he forced himself to his feet. He stumbled, his balance off. He used the wall to hold himself upright, breathing through the vertigo that came with standing.

He heard a deep feminine voice nearby, but he ignored it. People didn’t usually snoop around in alleyways, and he hadn’t made any noises worth investigating. Sometimes it paid off to have a ridiculously high pain tolerance.

He jumped at the hand on his shoulder, reacting before he thought about it. The woman stared at him in confusion, hostility beginning to darken her face, he winced internally as he thought about it a few seconds too late. She’d probably just been checking on him and he reacted like a total ass. Stupid head injuries. (He knew it was probably something else too. He’d seen this reaction to being startled in people like Mustang and Hawkeye before, where they got a little too trigger happy and snappy when startled. There was a reason he kicked open Bastard’s office door instead of sneaking in to scare him.)

He moved away from the woman, trying to keep his focus on her. His headache spiked right behind his eyes. He growled at the dumb sensation, rubbing at his eyelids in an attempt to abate the pain.

When he refocused on the woman, she seemed both worried and on edge. Edward seemed to have that effect on people no matter where he went. At least she hadn’t attacked him for decking her for startling him, and at least he’d used his flesh arm instead of his automail one. He was sure she’d have taken far less kindly to being hit in the face with a metal limb than a flesh and blood one.

Either way, he was sure he’d accidentally gotten himself classified as a threat and not a silly guy with a head ouchie. With the way she was looking at him, he got into a defensive stance, his limbs feeling as if they were moving through water. This was probably a bad idea, but currently, he had a head injury so he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

Be careful brother, Alphonse’s words rang in his battered head.

Behave, Fullmetal, Mustang’s exasperated sigh joined in.

He knew he should back down, should try to explain. What was he supposed to say though? ‘Sorry for attacking you on accident, you just spooked me and I attacked out of instinct before I thought about it’? That was crazy and would probably just make him look like even more of an asshole. He’d fight and then see if he could get the hell out of Dodge.

He readied himself, eyeing the stranger’s movements with distrust. Head Al and Head Mustang both sighed at his stupidity. 

Time seemed to skip forward and then they were trading blows. The woman had the advantage of knowing the area and not currently having a concussion. She swiped at him with a small dagger he hadn’t seen before, moving almost too quickly for him to move his automail arm to block it. She frowned as metal hit metal- though his arm felt more solid than her dagger oddly enough. Usually when people hit his arm with metal weapons, they both felt equally solid. 

Confusion flickered on her face before she was attacking again, driving him backwards. He blocked strike after strike, trying to work his fuzzy brain to find an opening. He leaped back, quickly transmuting his arm into a blade, something he’d done thousands of times. He could probably do it in his sleep at this point.

The woman didn’t hesitate to get close and start attacking again. She reminded him of Lan Fan, the same intense gaze of charcoal, the stubborn determination, the missing arm. Lan Fan had an automail replacement unlike this stranger, but she could probably beat his ass with just one arm anyways. He’d only won against her that first time because he tricked her.

He spotted an opening and jabbed forward with his blade, slicing the woman’s cheek like butter. Had he hit her too hard? It shouldn’t have been that easy to break skin with the half force he’d put behind his hit. He frowned as something that looked more pink in hue, thicker, and somewhat sticky oozed from the wound instead of blood. Maybe his concussion was worse than he thought. Or he was just hallucinating.

She took advantage of his confusion, and nailed him in the chest with her foot. He stumbled backwards, trying to regain his bearings and the breath she’d knocked out of him. 

They rushed each other afterwards, their blades meeting midair. They bounced back and struck again and again. He was doing a bit better now that his adrenaline was flowing, but she was still winning. He darted back, clapping his hands together and slamming the floor, frowning as nothing happened. Then he was flung back from the rebound of a failed alchemical reaction.

That should have worked! He’d had the arrays he used for cobblestone ready! He thought back to his observations earlier. The ground wasn’t right here. 

The woman was on him again before he could even think to do a quick analysis of the ground so he could use alchemy.

She managed to nail his cheek with her dagger, breaking the skin there. His blood- normal when he checked- streamed down his cheek from the wound. The woman looked startled at the sight of his blood. 

He rushed at her, taking advantage of her confusion.

Then he stopped, rooted in place by an unnatural calmness.

A golden yellow array formed on the ground, weird sparks coming from it. There were no details that illustrated what the array did, other than the circle. This shouldn’t be possible. There was no way for a normal circle to work.

A man with pale blonde hair and a stupid pointy cone hat spoke to the woman. Analyzing the flow of energy, Ed was quick to realize that he was the one who’d activated the array.

As panic flooded him, his thoughts forcibly turned to when he’d finally gotten Alphonse’s body back, Winry’s reaction to them coming home whole again- or mostly whole in Edward’s case. He thought about how Ling liked to smile softly at him when he thought he wasn’t looking, only for that irritating smug smile to take its place when Edward looked back. He thought about the joy he felt at Alphonse being able to bury himself in kittens and feel the soft fur he hadn’t been able to for years. 

Ed shook himself free from that before it could pry any deeper. This irrational calm was making him anxious. He could feel both, but the calm was trying to overpower his natural emotions. How was this even possible? Was this the effect of the weird array? He’d never heard of alchemy being able to do something like this to someone. Would it be considered Human Transmutation? Or was it just affecting the chemicals his brain was producing and attempting to change it into something else?

Pointy Hat walked over to him and Ed stumbled back. He decided he liked the woman far more than this weird guy. He put his hands up placatingly, pity oozing from his expression. Ed hated it. He pointed his blade forward in what he hoped communicated ‘stay back’. He didn’t trust himself to speak without stumbling over his words, and if he did slur his words, it would give ‘wounded puppy’ instead of the ‘dangerous and will bite’ that he was going for.

Pointy Hat unclasped his cloak, then threw it over Ed’s shoulders before backing off. That irrational calm intensified to the point where Edward couldn’t fight it anymore.

Adrenaline faded and his legs buckled beneath him, the fight fleeing him unwillingly. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, another thing he tried to fight futilely. Edward hated the way Pointy Hat looked at him, those mismatched eyes full of what could only be described as pity. He wanted him to stop looking at him like that, to stop looking at him like he was nothing more than a wounded puppy.

“Don’t...” he mumbled, wanting to get him to stop.

His eyes shut and sleep overtook him before he could finish.

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla’s heart ached for the child that lay asleep in front of him, wrapped snugly in his cloak. Small, gloved fingers fisted in the fabric, subconsciously drawing it tighter around himself. Pierced through the fabric on his right hand was the blade he’d been using as a weapon.

The fact that such a small kid had managed to not only fight Black Raisin, but managed to hurt her was a feat. It made pity curl in his chest. Children shouldn’t have to learn to fight like that. He held the same sentiment towards GingerBrave and his friends, as well as Strawberry Crepe. There were circumstances that led to their lifestyles, and he wished those circumstances had never come to pass.

He wondered what had befallen this kid to lead to him learning to fight so young.

Pure Vanilla leaned down and scooped the child into his arms, almost dropping him from how heavy he was. How was he that heavy with a body type and height that should make him light? He was planning on bringing him back to the castle to check on him in privacy, and he decided to perform a general checkup once the kid awoke again. Besides, leaving him to sleep on the ground wouldn’t be nice of him to do. 

Black Raisin trailed behind him, wiping the jam from her cheek. Pure Vanilla frowned at the matching wound on the kid’s face, with a substance that was definitely not jam leaking from the broken dough. It smelled like metal, yet didn’t have any sweetness to it. Even Dark Cacao and Licorice had some sweetness to them. The only things that lacked sweetness…

Pure Vanilla shook his head. He’d ask White Lily about it later. She always knew more than him, after all.

The healer adjusted the kid and his staff, trying to return the feeling to his arms without jostling his vision. He was far heavier than he expected, and his arms grew tired. Pure Vanilla may have seen war in his long life, but he was a healer and a spell caster. He’d never been a heavy hitter. Of course, being a healer meant that he had some strength, since he’d had to wrestle patients and carry boxes of supplies, but it was nowhere near the strength of his friends who had actually fought with weapons.

Then there was the matter of the cracks running through his body. He hadn’t had those before and during the Dark Flour War. His patients had been limited to the Raisin Villagers since then, and most of them were cooperative and certainly none of them were this heavy. Black Raisin and a few others also insisted on helping him carry supplies, so he wasn’t doing it alone. He hadn’t strained himself in a while, and the cracks in his body from the use of Dark Moon Magic weren’t helping.

“Would you like me to carry him?” Black Raisin asked.

“I wouldn’t ask such a thing of you, Black Raisin,” Pure Vanilla said. He knew that she could easily carry the unconscious kid, despite having only one arm. She could do it effortlessly. She was a fighter and often sparred against Strawberry Crepe’s wafflebots to keep in shape and help with testing their fighting capabilities, after all.

But Pure Vanilla felt as if this was something he had to do on his own.

“Why were you two fighting?” he asked.

“I saw a flash of blue lightning and went to investigate,” Black Raisin said. “I found him, looking to be in poor shape. I tried announcing my approach and asking if he was okay. I had to touch his shoulder to gain his attention and he attacked. I waited to see if he would back down after lashing out, and he did not. So we fought.”

She’d come a long way from being the cookie that attacked any intruder to their little village, Pure Vanilla thought with pride.

“I think something might be off with his right arm,” she added. “But he kept blocking with it, so it may be normal. It felt hard when I hit it, and my daggers bounced off as if they had hit metal. Then there’s that blade. He clapped and it came out of nowhere, with some of that blue lightning I saw earlier.”

Pure Vanilla hummed. “I will examine it when we get him into the castle.”

“Hea- I mean Pure Vanilla Cookie,” Black Raisin said, “I don’t think the infirmary would be a good idea.”

“I agree,” he nodded. “His reaction that you spoke of, as well as what I have seen myself… I think a private guest bedroom would help ease him when he wakes far better than the infirmary.”

Black Raisin nodded. 

Cobblestone turned to plush carpet beneath Pure Vanilla’s bare feet as he and his trusted friend entered the castle. He didn’t need his staff to know where he was going, but it never hurt to be able to see his surroundings. Especially when other people were involved.

The kid was warm, as if he was freshly baked. But it was obvious that he was not freshly baked. Freshly baked cookies were small blobs that started to cool as soon as they began to take a solid shape, and this kid had a solid shape. Pure Vanilla would check for a fever after he got the kid settled.

The walk up to the guest bedrooms was uneventful, other than greeting a few raisin villagers here and there as they went about their business in the castle. Black Raisin followed him like a reassuring shadow, jam still trickling from the cut on her cheek. He’d heal it as soon as his arms were free.

Technically, he could heal it now. Though long ranged healing spells weren’t good for small injuries. It could accidentally target something else too, no matter how much intent he poured into the spell. It was easier to do it with minimal distance between the wound and his hands.

He decided to put the child in the guest bedroom closest to his own room. It was getting late, and it put him at ease to know that he’d be close if needed. He hoped he wouldn’t be needed.

Pure Vanilla settled the child into the soft bed, watching as his small body almost disappeared into the mattress and blankets. He cast a simple healing spell to take care of the concussion he’d observed earlier as well as the kid’s own cut, then checked for any illness. The child seemed fine- aside from the temperature- so perhaps he was merely a cookie that ran hotter than what he was used to. Like how cookies from the Dark Cacao Kingdom ran cooler and often got sluggish in hot temperatures.

With another spell, he healed Black Raisin’s cheek.

“Thank you, my friend,” Pure Vanilla smiled gently. “Let us retire for the night.”

---

Edward jerked awake, scrambling around in the sheets like a cornered dog, a scream stuck in the back of his throat until he was upright. His breaths came in shaky gasps and unsteady exhales, his frantic mind rushing to make sense of why he was so scared. 

He forced himself to take deeper breaths, rubbing his left hand on his face in an attempt to ground himself. It was only a nightmare. He was lucky that he hadn’t actually screamed. Ed didn’t exactly want attention drawn to himself right now. In fact, he wanted out of wherever he’d been taken. But to do that, he needed to take stock of his situation.

One; he was somewhere he didn’t know. He appeared to be in an ordinary guest bedroom, but he had gone and attacked someone for no reason, so it could very well be a deceiving prison cell. His captors(?) had left his automail on and his hands freed from restraints, so he reasoned that it was safe to assume that they didn’t know what he was capable of, nor that he needed to clap to perform alchemy. 

Speaking of that, Edward clapped and retracted the blade on his automail, then clapped again and fixed the fabric of his glove.

Two; his concussion and the wound on his cheek were gone. The cut could be explained by alkahestry, but as far as he knew, concussions couldn’t be healed the same way. He wished Al were here- but he also didn’t, his little brother should stay safe in Amestris or Xing, not be in danger wherever this was- since he knew more about alkahestry than Ed did. He was starting to slightly regret not traveling around Xing as extensively as Al did. 

Sure, he visited Ling and Mei, but he never took a research trip around the country. Those visits were just to see his friends. The closest he got to learning alkahestry- apart from reading- was when Lan Fan had tried to teach him how to read the Dragon’s Pulse. 

He failed spectacularly. Unlike alchemy, where he could draw the energy from the tectonic plates as easily as breathing, trying to read the Dragon’s Pulse was- to him- as easy as swimming midair.

Anyways, minimal knowledge didn’t draw any conclusions on whether things were possible or not. It gave him a baseline and nothing more.

Three; he still had Pointy Hat’s cloak. Whatever alchemy had been on it wasn’t active anymore. He opted to take it with him to study it. He was determined to figure out how and why it worked. 

Edward sighed and slid out of the bed. He wasn’t going to stick around here any longer, no thank you.

He crossed the vanilla scented chambers to the door and pressed his ear against the wood. Was it wood? It smelled too sweet to be wood. Either way, it was either too thick to hear anything through, or the area outside it was silent. 

Edward peeled the door open, cautiously poking his head out into the hallway. It was dark and both ends seemed to stretch on forever. He stepped outside, sticking near the walls. The carpet under his boots seemed to be resting atop some sort of stone, but he wouldn’t know. Nothing in this place made any sense. Edward wasn’t about to risk it though; Teacher didn’t teach him and Al how to sneak around for no reason, after all.

Moonlight filtered through the many, many stained glass windows that lined the walls. There were a lot of depictions of Pointy Hat, as well as a good number of statues too. How self centered was this guy? It seemed like everywhere he turned, Pointy Hat was there. Not even Colonel Bastard was this vain.

Edward scoffed quietly and continued along the hallway until he came upon a massive set of stairs. Was this a castle or something? Why did everything have to be ten times his very normal size?

He descended the stairs and found himself in another hallway. He groaned, his patience having run out ten stair steps ago. He wanted out of this weird place. Edward made his way down the hallway, trying to spot the exit. Why did this place have such long and confusing hallways? At least the doors in the military bases were labeled, all the doors were the same here and they had no markings that told them apart.

He finally got to the end of the ridiculously long hallway only to find…

Yet another hallway.

Edward was going to beat up whoever designed this place.

He didn’t know how long he’d been wandering around this place, but his foot ached. He had half a mind to return to the room he’d woken up in, but he was so turned around he doubted he’d be able to find it again at this point. Then he finally found something different. 

Two massive double doors were held open, leading from the dastardly hallway into a library. Edward darted into the haven of books, glee fluttering uncontrollably in his chest. He probably should continue searching for the exit, but his foot hurt and there were books right in front of him, calling to him like a siren song. A little break wouldn’t hurt, right? Besides, maybe he could figure out what was wrong with the buildings here. He’d be able to use alchemy again once he learned what these people made their buildings and roads out of. It was a win-win solution!

Puttering about the library, Edward snagged books left and right. The History of the Vanilla Kingdom, History of Earthbread: The Dark Flour War, and a few other books he didn’t really look at more than a glance joined the pile. He grabbed a book on magic theory, hoping that the probably bogus book would offer insight to just what was wrong with this place and how Pointy Hat had made that array. A book about ancient runes joined its predecessor for the same reason.

Now with his arms significantly weighed down by books, Edward scuttled towards a table sequestered in the corner of the library. Hopefully nobody would find or bother him here.

Chapter Text

Edward often forgot the passage of time when he was focused on something, the rest of the world unintentionally tuned out in favor of whatever was taking up all aspects of his attention. Usually, Alphonse was there to shake him from his research frenzy, reminding him that he still had to take care of himself.

Alphonse was not here, however.

Edward didn’t know how long he’d spent lost inside the realm of books, devouring pages of knowledge without stopping, but he knew it had been far too long when he resurfaced. His stomach howled in protest at his delay in noticing his own needs, his non metal joints aching in protest of sitting in the same position for what had to be several hours on end.

Edward had found that nearly every book in this library was bogus in one way or another. Living cookies, magic, Gods known as Witches, Edward didn’t believe any of it. But, he did reason that it would explain the sweet smell that permeated everywhere in this strange place. Maybe it was code of some sort, or they really did use sweets to build this place.

Apparently, Pointy Hat’s name was Pure Vanilla Cookie- weird name, in Edward’s humble opinion. That would be like naming Edward something like Carbon Ammonia Human. Which would be weird. Anyways, Pointy Hat was a war hero of sorts and a famous healer proficient in light magic. He fought against someone called Dark Enchantress Cookie- (okay, at least this one wasn’t her ‘ingredients’, but still; Dark Enchantress Cookie? Cringe.)- and sealed her away. He supposedly vanished for several years and made his return when she did.

Edward could work with that. Equivalent Exchange; Pointy Hat wanted to seal her, and in exchange he most likely sealed himself too in one way or another. There was no coincidence that they both dropped off the face of “Earthbread” (what the books called this place) and then reappeared at the same time. 

Then there was the most laughable or most concerning part of all this; there were five Ancient Heroes (who was coming up with these names?), each carrying something called a Soul Jam. The name instantly made his skin crawl, memories of the Philosopher’s Stone surfacing tauntingly. Each Hero had one that represented one of five traits: Freedom, Passion, Abundance, Resolution, and Truth. Pointy Hat had the last one. 

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Did Pointy Hat merely proclaim he wielded the Truth’s Soul Jam, or was it some fragment of the very same Truth that Edward knew? He refused to entertain that it could be the whole. If it was the entirety of Truth, Pointy Hat would be insane depending on if he could See it or not.

Besides, Truth wouldn’t be able to judge those who broke the Laws if it was trapped in a toast spread, right? Or perhaps the Portal of Truth led into the confines of the Soul Jam. Did Pointy Hat benefit from the Tolls of the sinners that were judged? People like him? 

Edward ended that train of thought right then and there.

He stood up and stretched, back cracking as it was relieved from the position it had been in for hours. 

At least the Ancient Runes book had been somewhat helpful, he thought as he shelved the books he’d read through. Pointy Hat’s cloak was inscribed with runes to help calm and ease people. It made sense, he supposed, since Pointy Hat was a healer. But why sacrifice your own cloak? It might have just been easier to carry around. Or maybe the runes were as much for Pointy Hat as they were for his patients. Edward didn’t really know. He did know that he was irritated at the book for not going into how the runes worked. Were they another form of alchemy? What was their power source? How did they activate?

Questions floated around his head, searching for the answers he did not yet have.

Edward was rudely interrupted from his scavenger hunt for more books by the growling of his stomach. He couldn’t stay in the library forever, and he’d already established that a good chunk of the books were nonsense.

He left the safe haven, wandering back into the hallway that went on forever. He drew the cloak around himself as the sunlight began to trickle through the stained glass windows that were spaced across the hallway. Pink, yellow, blue, green, purple, repeat. He assumed the colors corresponded to the Ancient Heroes he’d read about. 

He doubted he’d like most of them; Pointy Hat was so saccharinely sweet and kind, to the point where Edward felt he was going to choke on it; Hollyberry- holder of Passion- seemed like she’d just be another Alex Louis Armstrong, just with added alcoholic tendencies; Dark Cacao- Resolution- would probably get along with Olivier Mira Armstrong, he could see the two respecting each other’s walls- or maybe they’d just have a contest of who’s wall was better. A wall off? Wall challenge. Wall didn’t sound like a real word anymore.

Anyways, Golden Cheese- Abundance- was known as the ‘Greediest Cookie in all of Earthbread’, and honestly seemed full of herself. But then again, Greed had seemed full of himself at the beginning too. He decided he’d give her the benefit of the doubt. Probably.

Then there was White Lily, the holder of Freedom. The books didn’t have much on her, stating she was quiet and reclusive. She didn’t have her own kingdom, and was said to wander Earthbread. He knew what it felt like to be rooted in place, unable to wander and learn. He just hoped she wasn’t a bad person in the end.

He’d met a different quiet and reclusive person who he thought was good once. A frown tugged at Edward’s face, the memory unbidden and unwelcomed. He’d never get over it, would he? Nina would always haunt his memories, the guilt at her death, at what happened to her, at not being able to save her, accompanying her frolicking ghost.

He drew in a shaky breath, shaking his head clear. Focus.

His boots sunk in the carpet, the soft texture weird through the hard soles. He hated this place. It was like a maze that just didn’t end. He’d never get out of here if he kept going like this. He was hungry and tired and he just wanted to go home. 

He’d never take Al’s cat rants for granted ever again.

Once he got back, he’d let him talk his ear off about different cat breeds for however long he wanted, just so he could hear his little brother’s voice again. Okay- maybe not too long, but the point still stood. He wondered if this was going to make his attachment issues worse. He’d never felt antsy like this just from being away from Al other than when they first went their separate ways to travel the world. Maybe it was worse now because he didn’t know if he could even call Al. Even while traveling, they’d call each other regularly.

Was this how Winry felt when he didn’t call? Maybe he should be better about that…

Edward froze, his nose picking up a sweet scent that smelled like food- rather than the saccharine one that permeated the entire place. He followed it, hoping to snag at least something for himself.

The kitchens were large, chefs bustling from place to place. Steam wafted out of pots and off of pans, sizzling filling the air. It was loud, but not in a way that grated against Edward’s ears. A few looked over at him, but didn’t say anything and continued to work. He glanced around, looking to see if there was anything that wouldn’t be missed, his stomach grumbling with more fervor at the smell and sight of food.

“Breakfast plates are over there, grab what you like,” one of the chefs stopped to tell him, their hair fashioned in a braid that resembled green grapes.

“Thanks,” Edward said, snagging a plate and getting a decent amount of food for himself. While he had stopped needing to eat for Alphonse, his body still decided it needed more than the average person. Who knew that eating for two for years on end and having the nutrients sapped from him for his brother’s body would have lasting effects on him. He even found himself sleeping a bit more than what was needed because of this.

He didn’t grab as much as he’d like, trying to be courteous to the people who actually lived here. He didn’t want to take all of their food. He shoved a thing of french toast in his mouth as he left the kitchen into what looked like a massive dining room. Since it was so early, there weren’t a lot of people there yet. Edward coasted along until he found an unoccupied table tucked away in the corner. Cornering himself was a bad idea, but this spot gave him the best view of everyone in the room.

He could probably sneak away if he saw Pointy Hat or Not Exactly Lan Fan. He really needed a better mental name for her.

The reason for his decision of seating fell away as he stuffed his face with food. He’d been hungrier than he’d thought. The Alphonse that lived in his head chided him, he could almost hear the words that the real Al would say if he was here.

Of course you’re hungry, brother, he’d say with a sigh, you spent hours reading with no breaks.

Edward huffed at his brain’s betrayal. How dare it scold him in his brother’s place. The traitor. 

His attention was drawn by a swish of robes approaching him, looking up revealed that Pointy Hat- without the ridiculous hat this time- was here and making his way over to sit with Edward. He internally let loose a string of curses that would make Havoc proud. He was trying to get out of here, not get caught.

“Hello,” Pointy Hat smiled. “How are you feeling, little one?”

If Edward didn’t like him before, he sure didn’t like him now.

“Who are you callin’ little?” he grumbled, trying his best to be civil and not fly into a blind rage just because this guy had the audacity to call him little-

“My apologies, I suppose it’s just a habit,” Pointy Hat said, looking slightly remorseful. He looked odd, in Edward’s opinion. His hair was blonde, but it was a touch too blonde- a shade he’d place in between the Armstrongs and Father. His eyelashes were white, and had a longer one on the bottom, and he kept them closed. He wore white robes that looked like they were topped with syrup. His Soul Jam- he recognized it because it was plastered everywhere Pointy Hat was not- sat on his chest. 

And then there was the freaky human sized flower that had an eye that was staring at him.

“Yeah, well, don’t do it again,” Edward huffed, shoving more toast into his mouth, pointedly looking away from the weird eyeball flower.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” he asked, still far too polite for Edward’s tastes.

“You’re already here,” Edward grouched. He was familiar with people who just invaded his personal space without asking. 

Pointy Hat took that as an invitation and sat down, setting his own plate down. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Ed grumbled, wanting this guy to leave already.

“No physical complications?” Pointy Hat asked.

Was this guy seriously giving him a checkup during breakfast? Not even Winry would do something this evil to him.

“I’m fine,” Ed growled, trying to focus on his food.

Sensing that Edward was about to start punching people and things if this continued, Pointy Hat wisely backed off. “Ah, I forgot to ask your name. That was rude of me, my apologies.”

“Edward,” he huffed. “Edward Elric.”

“I’m Pure Vanilla Cookie,” Pointy Hat smiled.

Yeah, Edward wasn’t going to be calling him that. Pointy Hat was much better.

“Where’s your big ass hat?” Edward asked.

“I don’t like to wear it around the castle,” Pointy Hat said. 

Edward wouldn’t want to wear that thing around the castle either. He wouldn’t want to wear it at all.

“I see you have enjoyed my cloak,” Pointy Hat observed.

“Not really,” Edward snorted. “I wanted to know how it was messin’ with my head. Wearing it was easier than carrying it.”

“I suppose that’s fair. Not everyone enjoys being forcefully calmed,” Pointy Hat said. “I myself don’t like using mind altering spells like that, but sometimes it’s necessary. I’ve had to use that plenty of times to deescalate a situation.”

“Spells?” Edward’s eyebrows furrowed. Magic wasn’t real, he knew it wasn’t. It went against the Laws of the universe. Hell, if Edward ever attempted to perform magic, he’d get his ass sent straight to Truth.

“You don’t know magic?” Pointy Hat looked genuinely shocked.

“‘Course I know magic,” Ed rolled his eyes, “it just ain’t real though.”

“Then how would you explain how my spells worked?” Pointy Hat asked, as if he’d dealt with people like him before.

“I dunno yet,” Edward huffed. “I was lookin’ through your library, but nothin’ made sense. What’s the power source? Where did it come from? How does it work?” he gestured wildly with his hands.

“From my understanding, cookies all have a mana pool we draw from to power the spell, as well as the natural mana surrounding us,” Pointy Hat said. 

“Kinda like the Dragon’s Pulse they use in Xing,” Edward mused. “But a mana pool? Never heard of that before. Xing doesn’t have anything similar, I think.”

“Cookies from the Flower City refer to natural mana similarly,” Pointy Hat nodded. “Maybe I could introduce you to a few friends of mine. I was never any good in Magic Origins.”

Edward froze, feeling conflicted. On one hand, his scientist brain was screaming at him to get answers and accept Pointy Hat’s offer. On the other hand, his survival brain was telling him to get out of here. He bit his lip as he thought it over.

Pointy Hat was nice- too nice- but he was able to somewhat keep up with Edward. He hadn’t taken anything from him nor had he tied him up.

“The friend I’m thinking of lives a while away,” Pointy Hat said. “I was thinking about going to her, but maybe we could have a trial run while you’re here?”

Trial runs were good. It was an experiment to see if something stuck. If it didn’t, then there was usually no harm done.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”