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“Would you stand still? You're so fidgety.”
Riza glues her arms to her sides and straightens her back, glaring at her best friend’s reflection in the full-length mirror.
“I don't fidget," she says stiffly, even though she knows perfectly well that Rebecca has just caught her doing exactly that.
“Tell that to your scalp when I jab you with this hairpin," Rebecca snarks back.
Despite the sarcasm, she smiles fondly as she pins a blonde ringlet into place, perfectly framing Riza's cheek. She reaches for a long length of white lace sewn to a lacquered hair comb with pink cherry blossoms on it.
“Just the finishing touch," Rebecca says softly. She places the comb in the middle of the elegant half-up hairstyle and arranges the lace so that it tumbles down with the waterfall of golden curls around Riza's shoulders. "Perfect,” Rebecca murmurs.
Riza reaches up and lightly touches her own cheek, then brushes her finger against her lips. It's hard to believe that the reflection in the mirror is actually her—awkward, mannish, broad-shouldered Hawkeye draped in yards of white silk and satin. She never could have imagined.
“Don't!" Rebecca exclaims, smacking her hand away. “You'll ruin your makeup before you even get down the aisle!” She gives Riza a wicked grin. "You're not supposed to smear the lipstick until after—"
“Rebecca!" Riza admonishes her, glancing over towards the wingback chair where her grandfather sits in his dress blues, sipping a glass of whiskey.
“Don't mind me," he says serenely. “I only want to see you happy, dear, and if that means—"
“Don't finish that sentence," Riza begs. She doesn't need him constantly pleading for great-grandchildren today. She's anxious enough as it is.
Grumman only chuckles and takes another sip of his whiskey. Rebecca comes up behind her with a can of hairspray and Riza attempts to wave her off.
"Just a little more,” she insists, "so the comb stays in place.”
Riza relents with a sigh that ends in her breathing a mouthful of hairspray and doubling over, hacking and coughing.
"Oh, come on. Toughen up, soldier,” Rebecca teases, patting her back.
“Leave the poor girl alone," a musical voice says from the other side of the room. “Give her at least a moment’s peace before everything really starts."
Riza turns and smiles gratefully at Gracia as she fixes a lavender bow in Elicia’s hair. The shade is a perfect match to Gracia and Rebecca's twin bridesmaid dresses, while Elicia wears a cream colored dress with a skirt that's perfect for twirling.
"She's right,” Winry Elric calls from Gracia’s other side. She's got a squirmy toddler in her lap who is absolutely insistent that he doesn't want to wear his little suit jacket and keeps pulling it off.
“Just let him be,” Riza says, wincing as Winry takes an accidental chubby-handed smack to the face. "If you can get him to put it on right at the end, great. If not, he still looks sweet in the vest."
Hair now securely fastened and sprayed down by Rebecca, nine-year-old Elicia kneels down in front of little Teddy and picks up his jacket.
"I'm sure I can get him to wear it,” she says in her most grown-up voice. “Don't worry, Capt—" She stops and holds her hand over the mouth with a giggle. “I mean, Aunt Riza!"
Riza’s heart aches with fondness as she meets the smiling girl’s bright green eyes. Being addressed as “Aunt”, having an entire family—it’s going to take some getting used to.
There’s a quiet knock at the door and it opens a crack.
“Havoc!” Rebecca shrieks as he pokes his head inside. “Get out! We’re getting dressed!” He opens the door a little further, frowning as he glances around the room.
“You all look like you’re dressed to me,” he says, shrugging.
“Actually, come in, Havoc,” Riza says, clenching her fists at her sides. “Listen have you gone over—”
“Stop,” he says as he walks over to her. He places his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not supposed to worry about anything today, remember? You're not on duty,” he says. “That’s what I’m here for.”
She bites her lower lip. Havoc is forgoing the chance to be a groomsman in order to run security for the event, which she deeply appreciates, but all the same…
“Alright, I know,” she says. “I only wanted to ask if—”
“Stand down, Hawkeye,” he says, squeezing her shoulders. “That’s a direct order from the Chief. He told me so just five minutes ago.”
Her pulse flutters, and Riza suddenly wishes she had a place to sit down.
“He did?” she murmurs. Havoc grins and nods.
“I just came to tell you all that everything is about to start. You’ve got about five minutes.”
“Five minutes?!” Rebecca cries, digging in her makeup bag. “God, I spent so much time on your hair, I haven’t even—” She’s cut off as Havoc grabs her forearm and pulls her around, giving her a quick, firm kiss.
“You look great, Bex. Don’t worry so much,” he says, winking at her as he leaves the room.
Riza stands before the mirror again, taking in her appearance.
Her wedding gown is made of a light, white silk with lace detailing in a pattern of soft pink cherry blossoms that match the comb in her hair—a family heirloom given to her as an engagement gift. The bodice is fitted but not overly tight with a square neckline and high back. Lacy little cap sleeves adorn her shoulders, and the full skirt swishes and flows as she sways slightly back and forth.
The lace of her veil is made in the same design of her dress, and Rebecca has worked a few little cherry blossoms through her hair as well. She did a beautiful job with the hairstyle, framing Riza's face and matching her accessories perfectly. Her makeup is light and natural—she may have trouble recognizing herself with the hair and the dress, but it’s clearly her own face that stares back at her. She worries she looks pale beneath the layers, that her anxiety is showing through.
“You look lovely, my dear.” She hadn’t noticed Grumman coming to stand beside her, and she flinches slightly. “You’re a little on edge,” he observes with a kindly smile.
“Just a little,” she grumbles. She’s not even sure why—apart from the seven-hundred or so faces that are waiting to watch her make a fool of herself, not to mention the representatives of the press who are ready to splash any blunder she might make across the front page of every newspaper in the country.
“You needn’t be nervous,” Grumman says gently. “You’ve made a wise decision. I-I’m very proud of you, Elizabeth.”
She swallows hard and takes in a deep breath, nodding.
“Gracia, reach into my bag there for me,” she requests. “And grab the folded piece of paper?”
“Sure.” Her friend passes it over, and Riza hands it to Grumman.
“Could you hold this for me until we get to the front?” she asks. “It’s…my vows. I-I wrote some things down.”
"I'll keep it right here, so it'll hardly be out of your sight," he assures her, taking the paper and tucking it into his breast pocket. Riza nods and tries to take a deep breath. "You're wearing your mother's necklace."
Riza wears only the gold and emerald pendant, a pair of small gold hoop earrings, and her engagement ring—a gold band with a modestly sized, round-cut diamond.
"I thought—" She swallows and licks her lips, unable to continue as she meets his sparkling blue eyes.
"She would be proud of you, too," Grumman says confidently. "She'd be proud of the woman you've become. She'd be overjoyed to see this day."
"I wish she were here," Riza whispers, gripping tight to the necklace. It's the only thing she owns of her mother's, and she treasures it, wearing it only for the most special occasions.
"So do I," Grumman murmurs. "But I think she would be glad to see us standing here together."
It took a long while for them to find their way to one another in the midst of the stormy chaos of life lived in service to the Amestrian military. Riza never even knew that she had a grandfather before the day he called her into his office to confess. Slowly, they started to get to know each other, taking long walks in the park near her apartment.
At first, she blamed him for his estrangement with her mother, for not knowing that she existed, for not swooping in to save her from her father when she was alone and helpless. It was hard, but in time she began to know the caring man beneath the politician and soldier's veneer. Eventually, he earned her trust, and she let herself forgive him. She's certain it's taken even longer for him to forgive himself for neglecting her.
But none of that matters today.
"I think she would, too," she says softly. He squeezes her hand and nods. They share an identical smile.
"Are you ready? It's time!" Rebecca squeals, effectively crashing the moment between grandfather and granddaughter.
"I think we are," Grumman says, holding out his arm to her.
"Okay," Riza agrees as her heart hammers frantically inside her chest. She's handed a big bouquet of flowers like a garden in and of itself. There's vibrant, brightly colored roses and stargazer lilies, delicate baby's breath and Queen Anne's lace, fragrant sprigs of lavender and freesia. It's a cacophony of sensation, things so different from one another that they really shouldn't combine into anything pleasing or lovely, but somehow, they do.
She holds the flowers to her face and breathes them in as Rebecca holds the train of her gown and Gracia gives her veil a final fluff.
Breda and Fuery are in the hallway just outside, waiting to escort Rebecca and Gracia down the aisle. Havoc hovers nearby, holding a small radio in the palm of his hand, and Riza glances at him sharply as she passes. He grins at her and gives her a thumb's up.
She tries to let go of the worry.
"Come on, Teddy," Elicia coaxes, holding onto the little boy's hand. "Just wear it for a minute!"
Winry swoops in and grabs the jacket away just in time to avoid a temper-tantrum.
"Never try to reason with an Elric boy," she tells Elicia. "They're stubborn as the day is long, and you just have to let them do what they're going to do…. See?"
Elicia looks around to see that Teddy has taken off down the aisle without her, and she rushes to catch up as Winry and Gracia catch one another's eye, giggling.
"Miss Gracia," Fuery says, gallantly offering his arm. All the men wear their dress blues and white gloves. It's certainly a military wedding. Riza almost wishes she could have worn her own uniform. Somehow despite the heavy fabric, she feels almost naked.
The double doors are held open by two attendants, and Gracia and Fuery disappear. The doors close again, and Rebecca turns to Riza with tears in her big brown eyes.
"Are you happy?" she asks. "I want you to be so, so happy, Riza."
Riza tries to swallow, but her mouth feels too dry.
"I-I will be," she says in a trembling voice.
Rebecca's smile is understanding in a way that makes Riza feel just a little bit too seen, which reminds her that in only a few short moments she'll be even more seen by all of Amestris.
"Be brave," Rebecca says, then turns and grabs Breda by the arm as they take their turn to walk through the double doors and down the aisle.
Riza's heart beats faster still. Brave. That's something she's never doubted her ability to be before now. In truth, the thought of the press and the eyes upon her for the length of the wedding—even the idea of their eyes on her for the rest of her life as she remains in the public interest—makes her anxious, but it doesn't frighten her.
What frightens her is how close it is now—so close that she can nearly taste it, even as it flutters and dances just out of her reach, and she's born up on the breeze, reaching out, grasping….
Joy.
It's just at the edges of her fingertips, but she's so afraid to fall short.
Because she knows that she doesn't deserve the life that waits for her beyond those double doors. She deserves a life of silently bearing punishment, atoning for her sins with the sweat of her brow, alone with the agony of knowing all that she's done.
"Are you ready, dear?"
Grumman takes her hand in his and kisses the back of it, looking at her expectantly. She takes a shuddering breath and wills her feet to cooperate as she nods her head.
The attendants open the doors. She looks down at the white runner to avoid the eyes of the crowd, focusing on the tiny sprinkling of rose petals that Elicia left behind for her.
"One step at a time," Grumman says softly.
She nearly stumbles. The rose petals disappear beneath a layer of quicksand, and she's stuck there, under the burning desert sun, surrounded by—
Riza opens her eyes.
He stands alone at the far end of the aisle. Waiting for her.
Roy Mustang.
Their eyes lock, and all of her doubt suddenly goes away somehow as she glides towards him.
One step closer.
She ignores the crowds on each side of the aisle. She ignores the cameras practically shoved in her face. She takes one step closer. And another. And another.
She walks towards her future with confidence, and he beams at her. His raven hair gleams, and despite his attempt to slick it back, one stubborn strand falls across his forehead—just the way she likes it. His black eyes glimmer with hope and happiness that threaten to spill over.
As though he can't bear to wait for her, he takes a step closer, then another, and they meet at the end of the aisle. Her grandfather chuckles and kisses her cheek, placing her hand in Roy's. He slips the piece of paper into her other hand, alongside her bouquet, and Roy leads her up the steps at the front of the hall.
"Hi," he says breathlessly, squeezing her fingers as Rebecca arranges the train of her dress.
"Hi," Riza says with a grin, taking a tiny step closer to him. Rebecca takes her flowers, and Riza holds onto the slip of paper. Roy tilts his head quizzically when he sees it, but Riza just smiles and focuses her attention on the justice of the peace who begins their marriage ceremony by welcoming the crowd.
"It's a day for the entire country to celebrate," he proclaims. "Our country has put aside its old ways and is looking forward to being led into the future with youth and vitality, guided by the hands of our first democratically elected leader, President Mustang."
The crowd applauds, and—ever the politician—Roy gives them a smile and a nod before turning his attention fully back to Riza. She almost wishes he wouldn't. His dark gaze is too intense, making her feel vulnerable all over again. But his face shifts, and the smile he gives just to her is soft and reassuring in a way that feels like the relief of coming home and shedding her layers at the end of a long day.
Yes, she is vulnerable. Yes, she is laid bare. But she's safe, because she's always been safe with him.
Of course, much of the ceremony isn't for them, not really. The pomp and circumstance, the speeches, the political posturing, the spectacle—it's all about strengthening his position, endearing them to the heart of the nation while keeping the new ideals they're trying to weave into the fabric of the nation in the forefront.
Nearly everything about the ceremony is for Amestris; the vows, however, are not.
"I understand you've chosen to write your own wedding vows," the justice says, smiling genteelly and nodding at Riza to begin.
She takes in a sharp breath.
“I’m…not very good at this,” she mumbles. “Speaking in public or even saying what I think. So I-I wrote some things down.” She takes the piece of paper handed to her by Grumman and unfolds it, willing her hands not to tremble.
Writing their own vows was not her idea, but Roy had been taken with the romance of it. He persuaded her that it would be fun, and she's dreaded making a fool of herself, so she's prepared as well as she can.
She glances up at him for one more dose of that healing reassurance in his eyes before she takes a deep breath and starts to read.
“Some cultures believe that our souls are eternal, that when we die, we live on from one life to the next. If it’s possible to meet someone in another lifetime, if it’s possible for our souls to somehow recognize each other from those previous lives…then I’m certain that I have loved you for a thousand years. I have loved you in a hundred lifetimes.”
She glances up to find him staring at her with one corner of his mouth lifted in a wonder-filled smile. He squeezes her hand encouragingly, and Riza takes another deep breath before continuing.
“The years that we spent working together…working towards the future that we now have a chance to build…I'm not ashamed to say now that I died a little bit every day, waiting for a time where we could mean more to each other. You've always meant more to me. You've always been my future.”
Roy raises her hand to his lips and kisses it, holding it against his face. She can feel his ragged breath on her fingertips and knows he's fighting for control over his emotions.
“And all along, I believed I would find my way into your arms. I know that I-I never showed it, over the years, because I couldn't. I knew if I showed you even a part of what I really felt, you'd see it all. Our goals were more important than my feelings—”
He makes a protesting noise low in his throat, squeezing her hand again, and Riza pauses to smile at him.
"No, they were,” she insists. He purses his lips and shakes his head slightly. She can hear a few titters from the crowd, and she can see that his eyes are wet. She looks back down at her paper.
"I knew that we had a job to do. I knew that-that no matter how much good I tried to do, I'd never be able to earn the love I wanted from you. I'd never deserve it.”
He pulls her hand up to his face again, tears now openly falling down his cheeks, and Riza brushes one away with her thumb.
“Not in a thousand years could I do enough to earn the way you love me. So, all I can do is promise to keep loving you—for a thousand more years, in a hundred more lifetimes. Time has brought your heart to me, and I'll always protect it. You live in my skin. My soul knows yours. It knows the very best and the very worst of us both, and I still choose to love you. I always will."
She smiles again, and Roy releases her hand. She's not sure where she should put down the paper, but Roy gently takes it from her trembling hands. He carefully folds it, presses a kiss against it, and slides it into his left breast pocket, then pats his hand over his heart.
He starts to wipe his streaming eyes with one of his gloves, but Riza shakes her head, lightly scolding him not to let his ignition gloves get wet. He chuckles slightly, then turns his head and accepts a handkerchief from Breda.
"Thanks,” he mutters, mopping his face with it. He shoves it clumsily into his pants pocket and looks down at her, shaking his head ruefully. Riza takes a tiny step closer to him, and he takes both of her hands in his.
“I know you'll-you'll scold me later for not doing the paperwork, but I didn't write anything down," he says with a small chuckle. “Usually I'm the one who’s good with words so I figured I'd just say what I feel in the moment, but I-I don't know how I'm supposed to follow that."
Riza holds his hands tight in hers, rubbing her thumbs across the backs. Roy looks down and takes a deep, steadying breath. When he looks up at her again, the smile on his face is fond and tender. He lets go of one of her hands and reaches up to brush a curl back from her face.
“I adore you," he says simply. "When I saw you walking towards me today…I know it's a cliche, but time stood still. All that you are is beauty. Not only your lovely face but your heart. Being allowed to hold it, being trusted not to break it—" He breaks off, swallowing tears. “It's the greatest honor of my life. Because this world has never given you much reason to trust in love. I've never given you much reason to believe in me. I'll never fathom why you do, but I'm grateful for it, sweetheart. Unspeakably grateful."
He roughly clears his throat, unable to keep his tears at bay. Riza smiles at him. Her eyes are dry, but she tries to convey every happy, warm feeling she has for him in her gaze.
"You talk about the years when you were my lieutenant. You loved me so well, even then. Even as we kept our distance, you were always my right hand. I could always rely on you. You kept me safe as my bodyguard. You kept me sane as my confidante and my second-in-command.”
His eyes are dark, and she knows he’s thinking of the things he can’t say aloud. The times she covered for him when he was too drunk to work after Ishbal; the way he nearly drowned in guilt and shame after all they did in the desert. And then the time he burned her back, how he sobbed in agony, watching her skin sear under his flame. Knowing that they shared equal weight, equal responsibility, for their sins as they carried the load across a river of blood, all these years.
Those things are a part of them. They always will be. Theirs is a love forged in blood and brimstone, but those things don't need to be said aloud, here and now. They both know.
"Now I get to have you by my side and in my arms for the rest of our lives," he says. He tries again to clear the tears from his throat, but his voice breaks. "A thousand years isn't enough. I could love you for a million lifetimes and never have enough." His shoulders shake, but he keeps his glistening eyes on hers. Riza reaches up to put her hand on his cheek, wiping the tears away as he leans into her palm. "I'll love you for all eternity."
The photographs seem to take an age to complete. There's a beautiful garden just outside the hall that they use for their backdrop. While the late-afternoon sun makes for beautiful lighting, everyone is hot and miserable. Teddy breaks down into hysterics after the second shot, so Edward immediately rushes him away, chasing him through the rose bushes to make him giggle.
Roy feels almost as impatient as the little boy. He longs to be alone with Riza for just a moment before they go inside and have to put aside their private selves in order to appear as the President and First Lady that the people expect to see.
Standing next to him as the photographer fusses with the positioning the attendants around them, Riza is so beautiful. Her hair curled in delicate waves. Her lips are painted a blushing shade of red that makes him want to kiss her again and again. He was already dissatisfied with the mere taste he allowed himself when told to kiss his bride.
His bride. It hardly feels real.
"I love you," he murmurs in her ear as they pose for yet another photograph. She smiles and glances up at him.
"Yes, hold that pose!" the photographer says excitedly, snapping away. "Just beautiful."
"You are," Roy says, smiling as her cheeks glow pink.
"Flatterer," she accuses to hide her embarrassment.
Finally, they're ushered back inside along with the rest of the bridal party. He can feel her shoulders grow tense as she prepares to cloak herself with professionalism once again, to hide all her vulnerabilities. He squeezes her hand.
"Don't worry about anyone else," he says. "Just look at me and enjoy the moment."
She squeezes back, relaxing only marginally. He can't blame her for it. She's an exceptionally private woman. He knows that marrying him is a sacrifice for her in many ways. Someday, he'll be able to give her the quiet life in the countryside that she longs for.
But for now, they still have work to do, and part of that work is keeping the people's trust and goodwill. So, parts of their lives will be performative, but he doesn't want this moment to feel that way.
"Please join me in welcoming for the first time, your President and First Lady, Mr. and Mrs. Mustang!"
The string quartet begins the soft notes of a waltz as they enter, and Roy sweeps his bride onto the dance floor, placing one hand at her waist and holding onto the other. Roy decides then that he's not going to let anything take away from the moment. They've earned this.
"Just breathe, love, and dance with me," he urges. Riza smiles and takes a tiny step closer to him as they begin to dance. "Thank you," he tells her earnestly.
"For what?" Riza asks.
He shakes his head slightly. He can't begin to list the things he's thankful for; there's an infinite number.
"For your vows," he says simply. He knows how frightening it must have been for her to share that much of her inner thoughts. She's rarely that vulnerable, even when they're alone together.
"I meant every word," Riza says steadily, meeting his eyes. Roy kisses her forehead and is surprised but pleased when she nuzzles against his chin.
"I know," he says softly. "And so did I."
The rest of the day falls away, colors and promises swirling around the room as he holds his world in his arms and dances with her, clutching her close.
"A thousand years," he murmurs as the end of the song draws near. "And then a thousand more."
Riza looks up at him with the softest smile on her features, and he knows that she, too, feels as though they're the only people in the room, for just this moment.
"For all eternity," she says quietly. For the first time, he can see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He cups her cheek in his hand as the song ends, then kisses her as the room around them erupts in applause.
"That might be enough," he says smiling against her lips. Riza smiles, too.
"Let's try it out and see. Together."
"Together, love," he agrees. "For always."