Ishbal dreams ch3

[okami_hu]

Disclaimer: World & characters are the property of Arakawa Hiromu & Square-ENIX. However, the fic itself belongs to us (kira_k & okami_hu). We have to stress that – sadly – we’re not making any money from this.
Beta: midorigirl
Rating: PG for a little m/m smut and some violence
Pairings: err… none, aside of Scar pulling rank on Roy
Note: OMG, a PLOT!! A plot! Shoo, shoo, you disgusting creature! Seriously, this story began to write itself and will presumably result in peace negotiations between Ishbal and Central.
Note 2: In this chapter, you’ll see some healing Ishbal alchemy. We’re fully aware, that originally, alchemy was banned in Ishbal, so try this: imagine, that this story takes place about one hundred years before the series.


Ishbal Dreams - Red


After they both regain their strength and finish bathing and dressing, Maes leads Roy into the big dining room. The table is already set with various meals - it's a truly majestic breakfast. The prince takes a seat and beckons to Roy to sit with him, with a smile.

Roy accepts the invitation, and settles down. Seeing the food, his hunger returns, but he has manners. He isn't sure if there is a need to pray, thanking Ishbala for the food, and he doesn't want to be rude if it's not necessary. So he waits until Maes reaches for the food first.

The prince wonders about the same thing concerning the Amestrisian though. And he decides to voice his question. "In Ishbal, we say a blessing before the meals. Do you do the same in Central?"

"We're not really religious people, but we respect other cultures." Roy shakes his head and cringes inside at the lie of the second half of the sentence. So he quietly adds: "At least, I do."

Maes has a certain uneasy feeling about the answer but he also senses the true honesty in Roy's voice. So he clasps his hands and recites the ancient prayer to Ishbala, God of the Sun and Moon. He gives thanks for the food then smiles and takes a slice of bread for himself. "Enjoy," he winks to Roy.

"Thank you," Roy nods. He digs in, and the food is delicious, probably the tastiest he has ever eaten, but it's foreign, and a wave of home-sickness washes through him. He needs to avert his mind, so he turns to the prince. "Prince Maes, I have wished to know and learn about the Ishbalite culture for some time, but I haven't yet had the opportunity to do so..." He leaves the end of the sentence open, giving them both an easy exit.

"Ask me anything," Maes nods. "I'll try to answer or satisfy your thirst for knowledge in any other possible way."

Something flashes in his eyes as he smiles. ‘Dangerous offer,’ Roy thinks, ‘but I won't take advantage of it. Not really...’ "Teach me your language. Please, your Highness," Roy adds, to be polite, and then adds some explanation too. "I'm sure you've many wonderful authors in every aspect of science and literature."

The prince seems to be surprised but delighted too. "That caught me by surprise but of course, I'll gladly do that. I'm happy that you’ve decided to learn the language. I'm sure it'll help you in the future." Somehow, the cheese he just bit into tastes twice as good.

"Thank you, your Highness." Roy feels a little bad about it - how is it that the prince doesn't search for second or third reasons? But he snaps out of it quickly, and reaches for another slice of bread to eat.

The rest of the breakfast passes in relative silence. When Roy finishes, the prince stands up and takes his hand again. "Let me take you to your room now." His heart feels heavy, because the fair general can't reside in his own chamber, and on top of that, he'll be like a prisoner; like a bird in a golden cage.

Roy just stands up and follows the other man, now actually noting the hidden guards and thick walls. He's grateful for the care and food and mind-blowing sex, but he won't make a fool out of himself by saying something. The prince has had his fun and can now let him be questioned with a clear conscience. Reality sucks. This last thought makes Roy smile at Prince Maes. "When do you wish to start teaching me your language?"

"Ah, if you're up to it, I'll begin with it today, after I have a discussion with my advisors. I'm free for most of the morning." Maes stops in front of a door, nods to the two well-built Ishbalite soldiers keeping watch on both sides and steps in.

The room is bright and looks quite comfortable. White walls, white rugs on the floor, white grating on the windows. Some light-colored garments are laid out on the bed, simple but comfortable, loose clothes.

Roy enters the room as well, and looks around. He's impressed - his last place was more like a cell back in Central, but this... this is luxurious. But it's still just a cell. He feels the urge to make a sarcastic remark, but changes his mind and uses his humorous tone. "I think there's nothing important in my calendar, so I'm up to it. Goodbye, your Highness."

Maes flashes a faint smile at the other man and exits. He walks back to the Conference Room, where his advisors and Warlords are waiting. His whole being is objecting to the idea of causing any discomfort for this man but Scar surely wants information and that appetite isn't easy to satisfy.

When the prince steps into the hall, the Warlords, nobles and priests are already there, waiting for him patiently. They all stand up as he walks to the end of the long table and they bow their heads as a sign of respect. Maes sits down and steels himself. The whole country is depending on him, he can't allow himself to let his emotions blind him. He turns to his First Warlord, Scar.

"What news do you have, noble Warlord of mine?"

"My lord prince, my good lords." Scar addresses the sitting people as he stands up to answer. He has an aura of command around him, but he has a short patience for words. "Nothing good. The enemy's troops are pushing back our men on the western border. We'll need more men or we'll have to call them back, because they almost fell out of the supply chain. Our spies couldn't bring any important news, and without information we won't be able to turn the tables this time."

Maes' ears begin to burn slightly. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

"We captured a highly-ranked soldier yesterday," some lesser Warlord mentions. "He was brought to our Lord for questioning."

'Sometimes, it'd be nice to become invisible,' Maes thinks absent-mindedly.

"Did he speak to you, my prince? Did he tell you anything useful?" Scar asks immediately; he sees an opportunity to balance out this war.

"N-no, I'm afraid..." Maes clears his throat. "I merely did what my soldiers failed to do - tended to his injuries, fed him, offered him a bath. He's a general in the Western army, he deserves better treatment. I let him rest, since it wasn't such a delay. He's in his assigned room now." He takes a deep breath. "You can question him, Warlord Scar." Oh Ishbala, he feels so dirty.

"Thank you, my prince." Scar bows his head, without emotions. Because he has nothing left to say, and the advisors don’t concern him, he asks for permission to leave, and carry out his duty.

The prince gives him that, knowing fully that today's lessons are dead for good. He can barely pay attention to the other problems.

Scar sets out to the mentioned room with firm steps. On his way, the soldiers salute to him. He nods to the two guards shortly and opens the door without knocking.

Roy is laying on one of the white rugs, his left hand is over his eyes, and his right is next to his body. He isn't asleep, merely relaxing his body and blanking his mind. He glances at the door when he hears it open, and as soon as he registers that the newcomer is not the prince he starts to stand up. He's wary but tries to remain calm in the outside. "Welcome."

His visitor is a tall and broad-shouldered Ishbalite; probably some high-ranked soldier, judging from his outfit and the sword hanging on his waist. His eyes burn in a bright red, his short hair is strangely white and there's a cross scar on his forehead. He looks down on the Amestrisian with a face set in stone and nicks his head. "Good day. What is your name and rank?"

‘So the questioning begins,’ he thinks to himself. He already gave out these bits of information once, so there’s no need to act stubborn. Yet. "I'm General Roy Mustang." He smiles his "pleased-to-meet-you", pleasant smile.

Scar's eyes flash and he bows. "I'm First Warlord Scar. Please, general, come with me now. I have a few questions for you."

"If you have questions, why can't you ask them here?" He stays where he is. Going somewhere else means they don't want blood on this nice white cell, and Roy doesn't fancy another beating, which eventually will come.

Scar steps further into the room and glances down on the other man with a menacing, yet calm look. "Please, don't resist. Just come with me of your own free will, answer my questions and you will not be harmed." He lightly rubs his right arm and by doing so, his sleeve slides up a little, revealing some strange black marks on his dark skin.

Oh shit! He can't tear away his eyes from the marks - alchemical arrays. He's in deep trouble - the first warlord is bigger, stronger and an alchemy-user, and Roy doesn't think the guards in front of his door would mind helping him. So he considers his options, to resist now or later, and with a small nod he agrees. "Where are we going?"

"Merely to another side of the palace," Scar shrugs the question off and politely gestures to Roy to step forward. He walks on Mustang's right then, while the guards follow them three steps behind.

They walk for some ten minutes and the road leads downwards, on stairs and passages. It's darker and colder here, and definitely more threatening.

Roy's danger sense is screaming, and he knows that he should make a run for it, but where to? Even if he was able to outmaneuver the three men, he can't hide among these people. But he watches for opportunities as they go, and he's too aware of the cold. He dreads the moment when they arrive, and wants to bolt before the last door is closed.

Scar stops in front of a dark door and places a casual, almost friendly hand on Roy's shoulder. It weighs a ton at least.

"We're here, General Mustang." He pushes the door in and gives the Amestrisian a gentle push. "Take a seat."

The room is quite barren; it has a table with two chairs and no windows.

‘There goes my chance,’ Roy thinks bitterly as he steps into the interrogation room. He walks around the table, seeking anything, but there is nothing to help him. He takes a deep breath to relax and as he sits down, gone is the nervous prisoner; its place is taken by the smug bastard.

Scar doesn't even give a hint of emotion as he sits down opposite of Mustang. He calmly places his hands on the table while the two other soldiers stay outside and close the door. Shadows dance on the Warlord's face, created by the burning torches.

"I'm sure, you know what I want to know," the dark man speaks up "So it’d be much easier if you'd just tell me everything, not wasting both of our precious time."

"I'm sorry, First Warlord," Roy shakes his head, "But I don't know.”

Scar almost smiles and doesn't make any comments. "Tell me about the situation of the Western front. How many soldiers are waiting to be ordered into battle? Which way do they receive their supplies? What is the next planned target of the army?"

"The Western front? Last I heard we were making a progress there." Roy says in a too casual way and ignores the rest of the questions. His whole body is tense, and there are goose bumps all over his back and arms; thank God the clothes are hiding that from this predator.

Scar stands up and starts to pace. Calmly, quietly and fearfully. "General, we won't make any progress like this. I need information. And you could give it to me. I'm sure you want to end this quickly, so please, tell me what I'd like to know."

Roy looks patiently at the bigger man and decides to give one real answer. "You're asking me to betray my country. I won't do it."

Scar stops in front of him and leans closer, pulling up the sleeve on his right arm completely. "Do you know what these are?"

Roy shakes his head. He won't give away his only trump card. "Some marks of your tribe? An ancient prayer to Ishbala? How would I know?"

"These are alchemical arrays even if they don't look like that," Scar explains patiently. "I'm sure you’ve seen alchemy in battles. These are special drawings - they were invented long ago to help my people. But I decided to use them differently. When I activate them and touch you, you'll have to endure all the pain Hell could offer. So please, reconsider."

Roy's nauseous, as his analytical mind agrees with the explanation. He needs something to draw his own array; the torches would provide him the much needed flame. He's not answering, but readies himself to dodge the other man.

However, the Ishbalite is faster than a cobra; he grabs Mustang’s shoulder and the marks on his arm flash up with bright, reddish-pink light. The muscles in Roy’s shoulder jump into a knot immediately.

It's painful, but Roy grits his teeth and doesn't cry out. He swings his other fist to hit the Ishbalite in the gut.

Maybe the Ishbalite is really related to a cobra, because he avoids the blow - although the pain could have affected Roy's skills as well.

"Nice try, Amestrisian. I didn't expect less from you."

"Go to Hell, Ishbalite," he grunts before kicking the first warlord in the shin and throwing back his whole body as he tries to escape his hold.

Scar yelps at the kick; that was painful... But he jumps up quickly and launches at Roy, to tackle him to the ground.

Roy is faster than the Ishbalite, and manages to step away first, but the room is small, the door is closed and he can't run away forever, so he chooses to fight. He kicks once again toward the first warlord's neck.

Scar didn't get his position for nothing; he avoids the kick and with a lightning-fast move, he kicks out Roy's legs in exchange.

Roy falls to the ground, and cries out as his ribs protest and his lungs burn, and he can't get up fast enough to avoid the first warlord.

Scar climbs on top of him, pinning his arms down and panting a little. "Quite spirited, aren't you? But no matter how you struggle, I'll get that information out of you."

Roy doesn't answer at first, because his bruised ribs are screaming and he needs all of his willpower to not repeat them, but his eyes are burning with hatred.

Scar rises, yanks Mustang up and pushes him down on the chair firmly. "Now, answer my questions. What is the Western army's next target? Xerxes? Pars? Believe me, I won't hesitate to get the reply out of you by force."

He endures the manhandling and smiles at Scar. "Yeah, I noticed you won't hesitate. Always this impatient?"

"Only with cocky Amestrisians," Scar sneers. "Answer me!"

Roy tilts his head and looks at the Ishbalite. He’s got over his fear, and he won't be a traitor. "Flattery will get you anywhere," he smirks at the bigger man.

"But you don't deserve it. I caught something about a nice trap you fell into... "General" Mustang."

"You know what it says about your country? That an army led by idiots can march in without difficulties," he smiles pleasantly at the bigger man.

Something blazes in Scar's bright red eyes and he gives Roy a powerful slap. "You're too smug, you bastard, but I'll wipe that grin off your face!"

Roy's smile still stays on. He was successful; they’ve moved from the questioning to insults. "Bigger men than you, who hit like real men, have tried it and failed, First Warlord.”

"Let your wish be granted then!" Scar hisses and slaps the prisoner again, with full force - and that's quite a lot.

It hurts! Roy brings up a hand to his mouth and looks at his blood with indifferent eyes. This bids nothing good - but he knew it from the start. "You know, I meant girls slapped me for kissing them... Now do I owe you two kisses?"

Scar hauls him up and slams Roy onto the table. "Don't tell me the pale, fragile Central dogs get hard with some beating." He holds Mustang down with one hand and his other wanders along his spine and to his rear... to finally slip to his crotch.

Whatthefuck?! Roy miscalculated the other man's reaction, and he freezes for a moment. And panics. He's kicking backwards with both legs, aiming for knee or loins, and at the same moment he tries to push himself away.

But Scar expected this - he pushes Roy back with his lower arm and applies some pressure with the other. "I should switch my hands actually. I'm sure you'd like your love muscles all tense and worked up..." He leans down to take a look at Roy's rear. "You're a handsome guy, I'm sure that any soldier would be happy to break you..."

Oh shit, he's in deep trouble now! Roy's eyes catch a drop of blood and he brings up his fingers to his bleeding mouth. "It's really sad that you have to sink this low because no-one from your own kind wants you, sadistic son-of-a-bitch..." He speaks as he draws with his bloodied finger.

Scar starts to lose it. The rotten Central dog just questioned his maleness!! He really didn't want to go further but he can't take more insults! So he pulls back his hand from the Amestrisian's crotch to switch them indeed. Alchemy will help. This bastard will howl in pain soon...!

At last! Roy activates the array and lets the flame fly from the torches towards the bastard.

What the...? The attack clearly catches him by surprise and Scar only half-avoids the flames; his left side gets singed, the orange shirt and white pants catch fire. The Ishbalite cries out and quickly puts the flames out, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Roy rolls down from the table without pulling away his hand, and watches the Ishbalite. He didn't want to kill him, but well, they’ve definitely reached the "only one can survive" point, and he chooses himself to be the one. He reactivates the array, sending another blaze to the chair before the Ishbalite, and one against his chest.

Scar is more cautious this time; he throws himself away and rolls behind the table. Once there, he kicks the door and shouts. "Soldiers! Come here!"

The door bursts open almost immediately and the guards launch into the room, one jumping to the Warlord, the other towards Roy.

Oh shit, he thinks. The fire from the torch is clumsier than his own was, and he knows it won't be enough against the trio. But he tries the impossible, and wills the fire to burn, the heat and smoke to engulf them. It's better than doing nothing.

However, he gets a surprise attack by the warlord, who stayed below the smoke and managed to crawl under the table. He grabs Roy's ankle and activates his arrays. Full force.

The scream is more from the shock than from the pain, or that is what Roy wants to think as his concentration breaks and he falls.

Scar is really murderous. His side is burned and hurts like hell, he's angry with himself - he was stupid not to gather some information about this captured Amestrisian first - so he straddles Roy's waist and without any further comment, he punches the alchemist in the face mercilessly. He wants to hear the cracking of bones!

Roy blacks out as soon as the fist arrives at his jaw, from the pain.

Scar shuffles to his feet and leaves the cell. Outside, he leans against the wall and winces. "Call Rose," he moans to one of the soldiers, who has noticed that something's wrong. “Burns, a cracked jaw and those two inhaled some smoke." With that, he sinks to the cold floor, which feels almost nice. Ishbala, this General is dangerous.

Comments

[mukashi-mukashi.livejournal.com]

oooh, thankies! I enjoyed it much.

[lenihanfighter.livejournal.com]

Oh great goddess... That was wonderful.

"You know, I meant, girls slapped me for kissing them... Now do I owe you two kisses?" That was a truly masterly sentence. XD Roy has courage, I give him that.

Oh, I really can't wait to read the next chapter, but unfortunately, I have to go to do the cooking now. :S I so, SO want to know what happens to Roy now. *hugs the unconscious form of Roy* I think my heart nearly stopped towards the end. This is really good. My compliments to you both!

[okami-hu.livejournal.com]

A little tension then and now never hurt anybody... XD And Roy kind of deserved, what he got. The cocky bastard... *glomps Roy*

[lenihanfighter.livejournal.com]

It does to me. =P Sleepless nights, burnt food, no concentration at school... *dramatic pose* The tension is killing me.

*chuckles* Just kidding. I must say, now that I've read the rest, those first chapters were the best... probably because Roy got what he deserved with his superior bastard behaviour. *winks* I seem to have an unhealthy fascination for beaten-up Roys... Oo *decides not to pursue this thought further*

Good luck with commenting on the rest of the comments, I guess. Oo

[shin-sama-13.livejournal.com]

oh my god! i was so freaking out when scar was sorta touching roy. i thought he was going to rape roy-sama! thank god he didn;t