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It’s wrong, not like killing hasn’t always been wrong, it’s wrong in the sense that something just isn’t right. It’s wrong because when she twists her body the weight of the rifle sits strangely against her chest. It’s wrong because when she sets into a sprint, chasing after her target she wobbles just the slightest bit.
There are things that she has, admittedly, been ignoring recently. An exhaustion she’s never known, a constantly shifting appetite from ravenous to nauseated, and sure, she even ignored the way that her body was changing. Something about getting older and weight settling differently throughout her body - some excuse that had made sense at the time.
It doesn’t matter that she manages to catch her target and get him into custody, it doesn’t matter that with this quiet arrest election night can go off without a hitch.
What matters is the little thumping she feels against her ribs as she climbs into her vehicle, it’s almost like a whisper within her. Someone is telling her a secret, someone very small and very new who’s trying to announce their presence.
Hi mama , it says, that knocking on her ribs brings the whole world grinding to a halt. She waits, breathes, and stays completely perfectly still. Minutes tick by in a harrowing silent slog. Then it happens again, lighter and less like a proclamation. A confirmation, a gentle nudge against her insides that shatters her world in an instant.
It can’t… this can’t… absolutely not… right?
But there it is again, that undeniable movement within her that could be any number of things if she was truly delusional. And perhaps she is at least a little delusional because there is no way in hell she’s pregnant. Because even if she was pregnant, which she is not, she would have known much sooner than this - right?
“Hawkeye?” Riza glances over to Breda with a nod for his report.
She doesn’t have time for this, she has to finish this up and get ready for the election night ball. It’s the first free and fair election in the history of this country - and her superior will finally take the role he’s worked so hard for. They’re supposed to be changing the world, not… not having their world changed.
“You alright?” Breda asks, noticing her faraway look.
“I’m fine, make sure those reports are filed properly before tonight,” she instructs, returning to the wheel and momentarily looking for her keys before realizing they’re already in the ignition.
“Sure, you take care of yourself, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.” He salutes her before walking away from her window.
She starts to drive but her mind is absolutely racing; this cannot be happening, and even if it is, which it’s not, there has to be something she can do about this. It’s not the right time, in fact there isn’t a single less opportune time considering now is the time for Roy to be leading the charge into a better world.
She considers dragging her sorry ass to a hospital to be sure - but that would raise so many red flags she'd be unable to hide from the scrutiny.
Roy may be allowed to wear his wedding ring in public - even if he felt backed into a corner by Grumman asserting that ‘Amestris will want a softer man, a family man to take over the country’. Grumman never said that she had to wear her ring, nor did he mention the scandal it would cause to announce their marriage; really, she thinks her grandfather was just trying to bully them into admitting their relationship.
Sure, they had been one of the first to take advantage of lifted fraternization laws (not to mention Riza is half convinced Grumman overturned that law specifically for them), and yes, if anyone went looking long enough they'd find their marriage certificate. That is all beside the point; it’s one thing to be married to your subordinate while she’s still working for you - it’s another thing entirely to get her knocked up.
Maybe that’s a limp excuse… maybe people have actually been shocked they haven’t started a family yet. Maybe she’s the only one who thinks that this is a scandal in the making.
She tries to get ready for the ball but she can’t focus long enough to complete a single task. She scrutinizes her face too intently, suddenly wondering if she’s puffier than usual, if her face really is rounder or if she’s imagining it.
She shifts trying to get a better angle of her body with her gown in hand, even in her underwear she can’t see a damn thing. No bump, no physical signs of a human growing inside of her, and just as she has deluded herself into thinking that she was most definitely hallucinating before, she sees the tiniest ripple beneath her skin. So faint and so inconspicuous she could say it was just her breathing but she knows better.
The phone rings and she nearly screams, truly startled out of her skin. She throws on the dress before answering the call:
“Hawkeye,”
“Still using that name, hm?”
“Führer Grumman,” she groans as she pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Not after tonight, dear, I expect you to start calling me grandpa in my retirement!” he insists with a chortle.
“Why are you calling, sir?”
“I’m checking in to see how my dear granddaughter is doing now that her husband is so close to the finish line. How are you holding up, love?”
She groans again, but this time she answers honestly. “I’ve been better.”
“It’ll be over soon and then you’ll have a whole new host of problems.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she scoffs, cringing to herself as she realizes she’s letting him in a bit too close.
“Hm? I guess I don’t; I didn’t have a first lady, after all.”
“Right…” she takes in a deep breath. “Well, sir, I’ll see you tonight.”
“You don’t sound well, dear.”
“I’m well, I promise, just stress.” She swallows thickly, looking at the clock to entice herself to hang up. “I need to go, I will see you tonight.”
“Yes I will, save a dance for me.”
She hangs up as Hayate trots up to her, his nose pressing into her palm. She’s got a headache now, dull and low in the back of her neck. Her stomach squeezes painfully while her mind stumbles through an endless spiral of worry.
She sucks in a hard breath; this is about to be a very long night.
~
When she and Roy arrive at the grand hall she falls back into the old habit of quiet stoicism, even if she stands beside him now instead of two steps behind. Military balls were usually hosted here in the Führer’s Estate, though now it’s being rebranded as the Presidential Palace. She thinks that sounds worse in just about every way but no one had asked for her opinion.
At least the old guard and Führer loyalists have been weeded out of most social circles. There aren’t entirely new faces, but there are more people - better people even - who are taking up positions that were long held by tyrants. That’s something to celebrate.
The twisting in Riza’s gut comes back again; it makes her take more measured breaths. It almost reminds her of just after her back was burned, how she hid her injuries so that no one would look. No one would ever have to know.
But Roy did know, he knew then and he knows now that something is up; though blessedly he keeps his mouth shut until their first dance.
He doesn’t ask if she’s alright, he gives her a pointed look that has her sighing in response.
“I’m alright,” she attempts to assure him.
“Mhm,” he nods, disbelieving. “You’d be more convincing if you smiled.”
She fixes him with a sour look and he laughs in response.
“I’m just saying the future first lady could be a bit less withdrawn, beyond that I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t need to worry.”
“But I do worry.”
“Everyone keeps saying I look unwell or I sound tired, honestly, it’s irritating. We’re all tired, we’re all on edge, it isn’t just me,” she responds with a huff.
Roy nods and squeezes her a bit closer, “It isn’t just you, but I’m your husband; worrying about you is part of my job.”
In a rare display of public affection, Riza leans her head on his shoulder, mostly to conceal the grimace she makes as another wash of painful anxiety swirls within her.
“We need to focus, Roy, you’re so close to the end.”
“ We are so close to the end,” he tells her, leaning his cheek on her temple.
She savors him briefly, in moments like these she can pretend that they’re just them; no world ending plots, no overthrowing the government, no trying to change the world from the inside out. Just Roy and Riza, two young people holding onto each other like a lifeboat clings to the turbulent waves of a storm.
Her gut’s painful twisting ceases before the song ends and she is grateful to be back to normal for a moment.
Then of course, an announcer proclaims that all of the Eastern ballots have been counted - with Roy coming out successful over the opposition. An expected result; Roy is admired in the East after years of hard work rebuilding both the structures and the relationships with Ishval. Riza wonders momentarily if Ed voted for Roy or if he wrote in someone else to avoid putting his faith in the General.
Those painful nerves come back again; really it’s more often than she wants to admit. In some ways, the waiting for votes to come trickling in is more unsettling than fighting on the frontlines. In a fight you always know what’s coming next, acting on pure instinct. Here, Riza is powerless and she hates feeling powerless. She feels just as powerless as when she realized she might be-
Her thoughts drift back to the baby that might currently be sitting inside of her and there’s a thought - brief as it may be - that maybe just maybe that isn’t anxiety pooling in her gut. Maybe it hurts more than nerves ever do… maybe it actually hurts and isn’t just a throbbing ache like she’s convinced herself it is…
Shit…
“Riza, there you are.” Riza and Roy both salute to the Führer but he waves them off dismissively. “How are my two favorite people?”
“Sir, that’s not an appropriate thing to say while you’re still in office,” Riza points out humorlessly.
“I’m old, what are they going to do? Fire me?”
She rolls her eyes, “Hopefully no one thinks you’re impeding on the integrity of the election.”
“I would never! Even if I wanted to. Besides, I would much prefer it if my granddaughter wasn’t saddled with the responsibility of being the First Lady for the next decade. Then you might relax a bit,” he nudges her playfully.
“Captain Hawkeye doesn’t relax, sir, it’s part of her charm,” Roy teases.
“But what about Mrs. Mustang?” Grumman laughs.
“Mrs. Mustang is trying to keep herself from committing the very serious crime of slapping the Head of State,” Riza chuckles.
“And she will continue to do so for the next ten years,” Grumman insists with a wink.
“You’re very confident in his ability to withstand two terms in office,” she laughs as she says it, but she knows it’s true. She knows that Roy can win a second term - blind confidence as a wife aside, there’s no one better to push Amestris forward.
“In any case, I came to collect a dance with my granddaughter, if you don’t mind, General.”
“Not at all, sir.” Roy pecks the side of her head before she takes Grumman to the floor.
“You look lovely this evening,” Grumman tells her.
“We all have to clean up at least a little bit,” she chuckles.
“I have to admit, I was a bit more than worried when we spoke earlier. I hope whatever was troubling you has been resolved.”
She nods, even as that horrible cramping pain grips her again. “It has… I have every confidence in Roy, but that doesn’t stop me from being unsettled.”
“You’re well within your right to be.” He looks at her with a discerning, calculating eye. “Is that all that’s troubling you?”
Riza nods curtly. She can’t tell Grumman about the possibility of a baby - he’d never shut up about it. She thinks she doesn’t want to tell anyone, she’s embarrassed it took her so long to realize there’s a baby at all; not to mention the terror of having a baby is enough to choke her.
She’s never thought of herself as particularly maternal. She likes kids, she likes how sweet and silly they are. She had once thought she would be a young mother like most of the girls in her village, not because she fancied the idea of motherhood but because that’s what girls did then.
She doesn’t think she’ll make a good mom, after everything she’d done and seen - and now add onto that the reality that she completely missed the beginning stages of her own fucking pregnancy. The thought makes her heart ache, the guilt of already failing at the first hurdle twists her gut more painfully this time. The realization that if she can’t even manage this, how is she going to handle being the first lady, is a truly upsetting thought.
She is returned to her husband and she finds that he is surrounded by his unit - their unit really. Havoc is trying to come up with a good toast but the others are ribbing him, laughing at his ineloquence.
She takes Roy’s arm in the midst of it all, sneaking in between him and Fuery. They’re talking about old times in East City, something about how Falman called from Briggs to extend his well wishes to the General, and how General Armstrong said nothing on the matter.
The baby kicks again, at least, that’s what Riza tells herself is happening. It hurts and she has to fight not to betray herself, just a shaking inhale and nothing more. The next one is stronger and more pointed towards her spine and she shifts her weight, passing it off as a laugh.
Roy is looking at her intently now, worry and unease clearly splayed over his features.
She smiles at him in return and squeezes his bicep, trying to convey a sincere assurance.
He doesn’t believe her and just as he opens his mouth to ask about it, the announcer returns with the news that the Northern votes have come in Roy’s favor. The election isn’t won yet, but the team congratulates their leader with cheers and a round of drinks.
Riza realizes her hands are shaking just the slightest bit, the ripples in her wine give her pause. Is that why Roy is so worried? Can he feel her shaking?
“Riza-”
“I think I forgot to eat today,” she chuckles. “Must have slipped my mind.”
It’s a weak excuse; honestly she isn’t sure she can eat given the circumstances, but Roy acknowledges that with an attentive nod.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be drinking.” He slips the wine glass out of her hand and flags down a waiter for hors d'oeuvres.
“You’re right,” she agrees, glancing around the room for a distraction. Any distraction to keep her from eating.
Her mind is rapidly swirling with nerves and possibilities; she keeps oscillating between thoughts of presidency and pregnancy. Then she realizes that she is still a bodyguard - technically - and she has been neglecting that duty thoroughly. The pain is getting worse as the anxiety builds… she’s trying not to face the possibility of some terrible thing happening to either her or the baby.
Colonel Armstrong approaches their entourage with all his usual bluster. He excitedly crushes Roy to his chest and swings him around like a ragdoll. Riza laughs, and while it sounds nervous in her throat she thinks she’s coming off as paranoid.
“Just the South left, General! I hope your speech is prepared,” Armstrong laughs.
“Are you kidding? It’s been ready for months,” Breda smiles smugly.
“Always helps to be prepared,” Roy chuckles, placing a hand on Riza’s lower back.
“Indeed it does!”
“We can’t entirely rely on the South for the last stretch of votes, it could come down to Central or even the West,” Fuery reminds them tentatively.
“Won’t be the West. Central, however, could be what pushes him into the hot seat,” Havoc concedes.
“Regardless of the outcome tonight, I’m proud to have made it as far as I have,” Roy says.
“Spoken like a true politician.” Somehow, Havoc sounds disappointed by that, as if politics hasn’t been the goal this whole time.
That pain comes back again, sharper and more intense than before, and Riza finds herself gripping Roy’s coat as she sees stars.
“Riza?”
“Hm?” she forces herself to look at Roy with a confused look in her eye.
“Let’s get you some air.” Roy isn’t asking as he guides her towards the hall.
“Roy-”
“What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Roy is practically begging her with the thickness of emotion in his throat.
“I don’t-” She feels her voice die in her throat. “I don’t know, honestly.”
“You don’t?”
She shakes her head. “I think it’s the nerves, the anxiety of all of this… it’s weighing on me more than I thought.”
It’s not a total lie, but it’s not the truth either.
“What has you so shaken about it? I don’t feel like you would just… you look like you’re in pain.”
“I am,” she admits. “But I can handle it, I-”
“Riza-”
“I think I’m pregnant.” His face drains of all color and she reaches out to steady him. “Roy?”
“You-... you think-”
“I’m not sure, I was planning to go to a doctor in the morning but-”
“Now, Riza, we have to get you seen now ,” he insists, suddenly snapping back into the General she knows so well. While he is neither calm nor collected, he is determined and fierce as he tries to march off to start barking orders. She keeps him anchored with a tighter grip on his chest.
“We’re not going anywhere,” she insists.
“Like hell, we’re not going anywhere! If you really think-”
“You cannot leave this party, sir.” She uses his title emphatically and gets a tiny bit of joy at seeing him bristle. “We’re staying. It’s fine, I will handle it.”
“If something is wrong… if you’re in pain we need to know why.”
“I will be fine. I know myself, and we have to stay.”
He stares at her, a combination of terror and confusion in his eyes. “What do you… why can’t… how can you expect… We have to find out if-”
“I know and we will, but right now you are General Roy Mustang, and just about to win the first election in our country’s history. You are not going anywhere, sir, do I make myself clear?”
They have a bit of a stalemate then, her stubbornly holding onto his coat and him fixing her with a glare that conveys just how disdainful he finds this whole situation.
“Fine. As soon as the election is called, I’m taking you to the nearest hospital and we are figuring this out,” Roy compromises sternly.
“It can wait until the morning.”Though the cresting pain fills her again in such a way that she isn’t sure she can wait that long.
“No,” he says and that’s the end of that.
“You’ll cause a scene-”
“Yes, I will… if I… if we are…” he looks down at her stomach and she swears that in the midst of all the aching she can feel another nudge against her ribs. “If anything is worth causing a scene over, it’s this.”
She nods once to him, sliping her arm into the crook of his elbow and taking him back to the hall. Roy is an exceptional liar, he always has been, but his skill at weaving in and out of this crowd is unparalleled. No one would ever know they just had a spat in the hall, no one would be able to guess that he’s got a death grip on her hand. He keeps her close, watching her every move out of the corner of his eye; he’s not about to let her leave his side all night if he can help it.
There’s an announcement that the Southern ballots are being recounted; Roy tenses at her side and it makes her laugh a bit.
She thought telling Roy might have alleviated some of the pain crashing inside of her; if anything it’s gotten worse. She feels guilty dividing Roy’s attention between her and the election. She feels even worse for causing him to worry and hover instead of talking up the crowd. He should be sharing his ideas, he should be celebrating - not panicking. And he is panicking, she can feel it in the slight tremors in his muscles and in the way his eyes dart towards her every time she takes a measured breath.
She loves this man so much but sometimes she just wants to slap him.
“I’ll be back.” She tries to slip her hand out from his but he is suddenly gripping her.
“Riza-”
“I’m okay, I just need to use the restroom,” she says with a laugh. Though the way she digs her nails into him is pointed enough to get the point across. “You have plenty of people to talk to, go make a good impression, sir.”
He is about to protest but it dies in his throat when she walks purposefully out of the hall and into the washroom. For the first time all night she can curl in on herself and groan when the pain strikes. She isn’t certain what’s happening, but she is fairly sure she’s losing her mind. Losing some grip on reality that until now she’d had an iron clasp on.
There’s blood, not a lot but some, and it’s starting to make her panic - it’s starting to become real that this whole pregnancy thing might be more fragile than she was willing to admit. There’s an image in her head that torments her; an Ishvalan woman heavily pregnant, dead on the ground, bullet wounds littering her body. Riza remembers seeing the bullet holes in her stomach and wondering how much shrapnel was in that child’s body before they breathed their first breath-
She shuts her eyes and braces herself to return to the party - she simply doesn’t have the time or wherewithal to have a breakdown. What’s done is done, if the baby (if there was a baby to begin with) is fine or not isn’t something she can fix now. She has a brief moment of clarity thinking about how somehow, someway, even the worst of things turn out alright.
She returns just in time to hear the announcement; Roy Mustang has won the vote in Central. His opponent cannot possibly overcome his lead and there is elation in the hall. Riza feels that deep joy too, a sense of accomplishment and relief that yes it was worth it. All of it was worth it for this moment.
She finds her husband and lets him sweep her into a kiss. She is so swept up in the emotion of it all that she can forget, however briefly, how uncertain all of this is. She can forget the daunting task of setting a precedent and that sinking suspicion that the work has only just begun. She loves him and she is so damn proud of all their hard work.
The pains return with a vengeance as he gives his acceptance speech. Out on the steps of the Presidential Palace he promises to protect this country; he is sure to remind the world that this step is only the first - that he won’t rest on his laurels - and he looks forward to building a future to be proud of.
If she weren’t blinded by pain she’s sure she’d commit the image to memory. Instead she smiles brightly and claps when she can hear others doing so.
He pulls her into another kiss for all to see before they go back inside. This house is theirs now… what an odd thing.
“Alright, boss, seems we’re going to be partying the night away!” Havoc laughs.
“Everyone’s itching to see you, sir,” Fuery beams at him with reverent innocence.
“Time to celebrate, you’ve earned it!” Breda claps his shoulder.
Riza is silent, that anxiety creeping back up her spine as she wonders how she’s going to get through the rest of the night. In fact, she’s not sure she can, it hurts so much; in fact-
“Roy,” she feels breathless as she looks at him.
His gaze snaps over to her, instantly pulling her into his arms.
“I-... I think I’m in labor.”
She’s sure she can hear the cogs turning in her unit’s heads as they stare at her. Blankly at first, and then panic .
“Havoc, get my car now . Breda, find Grumman and tell him to make some excuses for us - Fuery call the hospital.” Roy is talking fast and Riza cannot keep up with it. Especially as the pains come crashing down again and she is all but hanging off of her husband.
“Roy-”
“Let’s get you lying down first, dear,” he sweetly pecks her forehead and guides her to one of the many dark sitting rooms.
She swears she can hear Havoc shouting at someone but she’s in too much of a state to say anything about it.
Laying down is worse in just about every way; she can suddenly feel how hot she is, sweat sticking her back firmly to her dress. She’s uncomfortable and sore and this is an absolute nightmare.
Roy is petting her hair and squeezing her hand as he looks over his shoulder to bark at someone.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers when her voice is her own again.
“Don’t be sorry, just try to relax,” he encourages her.
“I feel so stupid, I didn’t-... How did I miss it? I didn’t think-”
“You’re not stupid, not even a little, you’ve focused too long on others. Let’s focus on you now, okay?”
She sobs, a desperate choking sob, “I didn’t know- I guess I still don’t know but I- fuck! ”
“I know, sweetheart, I know you’re scared and confused. We’re going to get to the hospital and everything will be okay. You will be fine.” He clutches her hand and kisses her forehead as the next swell of agony overtakes her. She cannot believe she didn’t recognize them as contractions sooner. She cannot believe she’s in labor when she doesn’t know how far along she is.
Somewhere between five minutes and an eternity later, the pain leaks away though it does linger in her spine. She’s able to realize she’s being carried and she hopes that no one will be able to see her like this. What would the people think if they saw their first lady being carried out of the election night ball in her state? Would they think she’d been attacked? Honestly, she wishes it were so simple.
All she knows for certain is that Roy is holding her and her body is actively betraying her… Havoc might be there too.
She wants to walk into the hospital but Roy is having none of it. They’re at some covert back entrance too, probably on the Führer’s- no scratch that the President’s - orders to keep this quiet. Just until they know what the fuck is happening.
She is in a room for all of two minutes when the doctor tells her that not only is she full term but the damn baby is crowning and if Riza weren’t freaking out before she is now. She’s not ready, they’re not ready to be parents, they don’t have so much as a diaper for the kid; how is it here already?
But she is pushing because that’s what her body is telling her to do. Still dressed in a gown with her hair falling out of its style she brings a new life into the world.
“It’s a boy!” The doctor looks just as shocked as the new set of parents do.
He is the tiniest creature she has ever beheld - tiny and pink and new. He gurgles as his lungs take in their first bout of air and Riza is nothing short of besotted. The doctor lays the baby on her chest, a gentle wave of congratulations fills the room.
Riza can only see him, this little boy who weighs almost nothing against her and looks downright confused at his new surroundings. She doesn’t know what to do but the rush of adrenaline and instinct cajoles her into squeezing him. He’s got dark, thick hair and a firm grip on the neckline of her dress - she doesn’t know what to do with him. She doesn’t know what to do at all but she thinks she’s whispering to him.
Roy is laughing and she is finally able to tear her gaze away from the baby to meet her husband’s eyes, “What?”
“You are incredible… Riza, you’re incredible, look what you did!” He’s laughing and crying, beaming at her like she is the beginning and end of the universe.
She looks back at the baby, his too-big eyes gazing back up at her and she could almost swear she sees a glint of recognition in his eyes. Like he knows who she is.
“Hi,” she manages to say, her voice is unstable at best but this is her son and she feels like she has to say something.
Roy’s hand is on the little one’s back; it’s so big his hand covers their son’s whole torso. Only two stubby legs stick out from under his palm.
“He’s so small, Roy…” she whispers.
“He is, no wonder we didn’t know he was in there,” Roy gives a limp chuckle in response.
“Did-... did he really just come out of me? Are you sure?” she asks, dazed and exhausted.
“I’m sure,” he nuzzles into the side of her head. “I can’t believe it, you made a whole baby, you made him .”
Riza still doesn’t quite believe it; she can’t connect in her mind that this baby, this little boy isn’t just hers but that she made him from scratch. And she spent months not knowing he was coming at all.
The doctor comes by and tells them they need to conduct some tests, especially given that Riza had no prenatal care. She makes Roy go with the baby while she is changed and examined. Part of her wonders if when he returns he’ll tell her this is all a dream - that she had a psychotic break and there is no baby.
But he comes back holding the child just as tenderly as he holds her. Their little boy wrapped in white linens and grunting like he’s not so sure about this big wide world.
“I know, you miss Mama, I do too,” Roy coos sweetly at the baby.
“Mama?” she asks.
“Unless you want to jump straight to mother. Which I am also fine with,” Roy chuckles; he holds out the baby to her and she hesitates.
“Roy…”
“He’s perfectly healthy, no problems at all. Doctors are very impressed,” Roy tries to assure her.
“But… I-” her voice cracks. “Do I even deserve to have him? After everything I’ve done?”
Roy shakes his head, fondness etched all over his features. “After everything you’ve done you made a new life, for him and for us… for all of Amestris, Riza. For years you’ve been building a new and better world for all of us, thanklessly I might add. Maybe he’s a gift… or at least a symbol of all the good you’ve done.”
She has an expression like she wants to protest so Roy kisses her before she can speak.
“You deserve him, you do,” he says.
She looks at him and then she holds out her hands. Roy tenderly passes the baby to her; he has Roy’s eyes and the beginnings of her nose… he’s blinking up at her, that familiarity in his dark, unfocused gaze makes her eyes water.
“We don’t have a name for you… We don’t have anything for you… you couldn’t have waited a few days?” she finally chuckles, tears flowing down her cheeks while Roy kisses them away. “So impatient, just like Papa.”
The baby looks curiously between his parents and Riza wonders how much of them he can actually see.
“I know you’re worried… you want to know all the facts before heading into a mission… but somehow I think we’ll be okay.” Roy wraps an arm around her shoulders.
“We never talked about having children.”
“Seems a little late for that.”
“But do you want to be a father?” she asks.
He can see it in her eyes, she needs to hear him say it. “I think I like the idea of it, now that it’s here. More than anything, I want to see you be a mother.”
She hums quietly, “Even if now isn’t the best time?”
“Is there ever a best time? It’s here now, I’m starting to think you’re a worrier,” he teases.
“And as far as names go?” she asks with a small smile.
“I think I have an idea,” Roy swallows, looking at their son.
“Hm… I think you’re right.”
“I don’t give a shit! Where is my granddaughter!?”
Riza looks at Roy with humored eyes, “Go handle him?”
“On it, Captain.” He kisses her again before leaving to curtail whatever chaos has erupted in the waiting rooms.
The baby makes another sound and her eyes train back on him.
“Just you and me, huh?” She lifts him higher in her arms and presses a kiss to the top of his head. He’s warm as he squirms against her and something about all of this… it feels right.
~
A Hundred Firsts: A Promising Future for Amestris and its First Family!
Barely an hour after the very first election in Amestrian history was called the newly elected presidential family welcomed their first child. Maes Robin Mustang made his grand debut at 11:29 pm while the streets were filled with celebration and the election ball was still in full swing. The people of Amestris are hopeful that this auspicious birth is just the beginning of a bright fortuitous next five years. Good luck to the President’s family and good luck to a nation on the cusp of a new dawn.