[fic] Kezhiya's Story (Arcanum Paterfamilias 'verse)
Title: Kezhiya's Story (Arcanum ‘verse)
Authors: mfelizandy & fractured_chaos
Genre: Drama. Futurefic, Genfic, Plotfic. No Sex.
Rating: Teen, for themes of child abuse.
Chapter Word Count: 2500
Main Canon Characters: Scar, Ling Yao, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc. Appearances by other canon characters.
Warnings: Spoilers for the end of the Manga/Brotherhood. Futurefic set primarily in the Manga/Brotherhood universe. Some past incidents have been changed to render this story “Divergent”. Elements from the first anime have also been woven in.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist (Hagane no Renkinjutsushi) was created by Arakawa Hiromu and is serialized monthly in Shonen Gangan (Square Enix). Both 'Fullmetal Alchemist' and 'Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood' are produced by Funimation. Copyright for this property is held by Arakawa Hiromu, Square Enix and Funimation. All Rights Reserved
Summary: Thirteen year-old Kezhiya only knows Amestrians and alchemists as monsters -- and then the Elders decide that she is going to live with the most frightening Amestrian of all.
Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist.
A/N: Story takes place approximately three years prior to “Arcanum Paterfamilias”, and is a part of that ‘verse. The story can be read on its own.
Part One 1927
The Emperor burst into the kitchen, startling the four teenaged girls in the midst of cleaning up for the night. He spread his arms wide and said, “My advisors have informed me that I must take yet another wife, so I’ve decided that I’ll choose one of you lovely ladies!” Two of the girls tittered. The new girl kept her head down; her face shadowed by her scarf. Thirteen year-old Kezhiya continued to scrub the dishes in the sink, which were piled higher than she was tall.
“Is it Tuesday already?” seventeen year-old Zarabet asked as she tossed an orange at him. “You try to propose to us every week.”
Ling deftly caught the orange and set it down on the chopping block. “Oh, you wound me, my beauty! I was so hoping you would be the first to volunteer.” He glided up to Zarabet, and relieved her of the basket of fruit, then wrapped an arm about her waist and took her hand.
He led her around the kitchen in a waltz, his brightly colored silk robes clashing with the more subdued earth tones of the girls’ simple dresses. He spun Zarabet, then moved on to fifteen year-old Sana. “What about you, lovely? Would you like to marry an Emperor?”
She blushed and giggled, then tripped over her feet, stumbling as Ling twirled her and gathered sixteen year-old Haneena in his arm. “Maybe I should marry all of you! You’re all so beautiful, it’s hard to decide!”
He kept up a string of cheerful prattle, all the while watching the girl at the sink. She glanced up at him once as he danced near, then quickly ducked her head. Ling caught an impression of a deeper shadow on her cheek.
“Like our fathers would let you turn their daughters into concubines.” Zarabet sniffed. “You wouldn’t know what to do with an Ishvarun girl, anyway.”
Ling laughed. “Ah, Zarabet, that’s why you’re my favorite. You’re such a challenge.”
Zarabet balled a fist into her hip, and snapped her dishrag at him. “Go! Before one of your vassals comes looking for you. We have a kitchen to clean.”
The Emperor of Xing laughed and danced through the doors into the darkened dining room. As they swung shut, his smile disappeared. “Keep an eye on her,” he said to a shadow in the corner. ~`~`~`~ As soon as the lights went out and the back door slammed shut, the shadow peeled itself from the dining room wall. It soundlessly slipped into the kitchen, keeping to the darkened areas as it searched the corners and hiding places. The pad-footed shadow reached for the pantry door, hesitated, then melted into a nearby corner. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a small ghost emerged. The pale specter tip-toed toward the back door, her apron bulging with stolen food. One corner of her apron slipped out of her fingers, and an orange dropped to the floor with a soft thump. The fruit rolled gently across the floor and into the shadows. She took a step toward the corner and the orange, then froze, peering into the darkness with wide eyes. She wavered, then lunged and snatched up the orange, stuffing it among the others, then slipped quietly out the back door.
The silent figure in black shed the shadows of the darkened kitchen and padded after the young thief. ~`~`~`~ Kezhiya took the long way home, stopping at the fountain in the market promenade. She removed her apron and tied it around the bundle of rolls and fruit, then she slipped off her sandals, hiked up her long skirt and waded in. Varisti were always tossing coins into the fountain and making wishes. She didn’t know if they came true, but she hoped they didn’t mind their money going to a more practical purpose. The cold water numbed her toes and she shivered a little in the night air, but she kept feeling around the bottom of the fountain with her bare feet. The pickings were slim tonight, and by the time she climbed out her teeth were chattering. She stared at the four small coins in dismay. It wasn’t even enough to buy a lamp’s worth of oil.
Kezhiya slowly climbed the stairs leading to the small apartment she shared with Grandpapa. She hesitated on the sixth step from the top. A weak line of yellow light flickered under the door. Her stomach rolled. A scrape on the floor and muttered cursing inside warned her he was still awake. Kezhiya licked her suddenly-dry lips, then hunched her shoulders and climbed the rest of the way.
Grandpapa leaned against the table, one hand holding him up, the other over his face. On the table was a nearly empty bottle of brandy and a glass on its side. It rolled back and forth with the table’s wobbling, spilling the contents onto the floor. Grandpapa wore only trousers. Weak light from the oil lamp danced across his chest and arms, limning the scars and melted skin marring his body in shadows that made them appear even more horrible than they were.
“P-papa?” Kezhiya murmured, and took a hesitant step closer. She held up the bundled apron. “I brought you something to eat.”
He lowered his hand and peered at her through bleary eyes. His face was wet, and Kezhiya’s stomach flopped.
“You look just like your mother.”
Her insides fluttered, but she set the apron on the table and fumbled to untie it. “See? I brought oranges for you... and rolls with dates and honey.” She glanced down, and her heart sank. The weight of the oranges had smashed the rolls and covered the skins of the fruit with a sticky mess. She frantically dug in the pocket of her skirt and pulled out the coins. “I-it’s okay, Papa, I got some money, too. See?” she dropped the coins on the table.
Grandpapa swayed as he glared at the stolen food, then picked up the coins. “Where did you get these?” He shoved his open palm under her nose. “Where did you get these?”
“I... I found them in the fountain,” she said as she took a step back.
He pitched the coins at her. The cold metal flipped against her face and arm. “Liar!”
“I swear, Papa!” Kezhiya backed away with her hands up. Grandpapa stalked her. “I swear,” she sobbed, tears springing to her eyes.
“The Amestrian varisti are nothing but sivar who kill our men and rape our women. Then they try to buy our little girls for a few coins. I know why you came home late. You’re just like her.” Grandpapa kept coming toward her, his face twisted in rage.
“I don’t clean for the Amestrians, Papa, remember?” The backs of her thighs hit the wooden frame at the bottom of the open window, and she glanced back. Something darker flicked between her and the cobblestones below even as Kezhiya scrambled aside from Grandpapa’s first swing. She dove for the corner, raising her arms to cover her head as best she could.
A cool breeze blew through the open window, making the lamp gutter. Grandpapa made a strange choking sound, and Kezhiya cautiously peeked out from behind her hands. Her mouth fell open and she fell back against the wall.
The Emperor of Xing held a sword under Grandpapa’s chin, slowly backing him across the room. “I think I’ve heard enough,” he said. The hard expression on his face made Kezhiya shiver. That voice wasn’t the sing-song, jovial tone of the blithe clown who danced with the kitchen girls.
The door creaked open and a heavy step followed. “So have I,” said the senior yevarshedaht with the scarred face.
Hands lightly grasped her shoulders, one warm, one cold, and Kezhiya startled. The touch was gentle, as the Emperor’s shadow guard helped her to her feet.
“Ishvarun protect their children,” the yevarshedaht said.
“And Ishvarun don’t let varisti interfere with family matters,” Grandpapa countered.
The yevarshedaht’s eyes narrowed. “Had it not been for the Emperor’s interference, you would have beaten your granddaughter.”
“And not for the first time, from how she cringes,” the Emperor added in flat, impassive tones.
“I knew you were a drunk, Sharif. I didn’t know you’d turned your back on God enough to strike a child.” The senior took a step closer, and Grandpapa flinched. “How many more beatings would she have suffered before she chose to debase herself to escape your brutality? How many more times would you soak yourself in brandy--” he swept the bottle off the table with enough force to shatter it against the wall “--before you went too far and beat her to death? Be grateful the Emperor chose to interfere before you did. Else your fate would be the cruelty of the desert or the mercy of my sword.”
“I hope you’ll tell your Elders that I want to speak at this worm’s trial, Mishyael,” the Emperor said in that strange cool tone. “I don’t like people who mistreat what is mine."
The shadow guard snapped something in Xingese, and Kezhiya was taken aback again. This was the first time she’d ever heard the voice behind the mask. It was a little flattened by the painted wood, but it was clearly that of a woman.
Ling grinned, and responded in the same language. He tapped Grandpapa’s chin with the tip of his sword, and said, “We’ll bring this up to the Elders in the morning.” He sheathed the weapon and turned toward Kezhiya. “But tonight, she’s coming with us.” ~`~`~`~ “I’m sorry you had to see that, richu kaiwa,” the Emperor said gently as he led her through the dark streets. “But I have children of my own, back home in my country.”
Kezhiya swallowed the lump in her throat. It popped right back up again and made her choke around the words. “You followed me.”
“Yes, we did.”
The lump rose higher, and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” The Emperor of Xing turned to her with a frown.
“The oranges,” the woman in black said in a soft, unruffled tone.
“Oranges?” the Emperor said blankly. “Oh, the oranges! Of course.” He draped an arm around Kezhiya. She stiffened, and Ling instantly pulled his arm away. Something hard flickered across his face, then the playful smile returned and his tone lightened to something closer to the silly, empty-headed twitter he used to tease the kitchen girls. “I’m the Emperor of Xing, you know. I’m extremely rich. If you’d asked, I’d have given you a whole orange grove to show my appreciation for your doing the dishes for me.”
“Her people are proud,” the woman said.
“And I like to give nice gifts to my friends,” the Emperor said cheerfully. “After all, the richer I make them the more I can tax them. Everybody wins.”
“The accountants would feel differently about it.”
“Yes, but they’re not the Emperor!” The Emperor of all Xing, the unimaginably huge country far to the east, danced across the cobbles, pirouetting with his arms thrown wide. “I’m the happiest man in the world. I have eight beautiful wives to dance and sing for me, palaces and fine horses and the best clothes to wear, and best of all, I can do whatever I want! Including,” he bounced back to Kezhiya and crouched in front of her with his hands on his knees and his face in a wide playful smile, “hiring a local girl to teach me to write my name in her language.”
It was too much. She couldn’t hold back anymore. She broke down in tears.
“You fool, you’ve frightened her.” The shadow guard reproached the Emperor without a trace of fear. She glided up beside Kezhiya, but didn't touch her. “She needs a bath and a warm bed. You can talk to the other silly birds in the morning.”
“Yes, I suppose I can.” The Emperor’s voice was again that measured, low stillness. He nodded to the gate guards standing outside the imperial embassy, and swept through even as they startled and hastily dropped to their knees. He strode through the lamplit gardens on his way to his quarters, then paused to give orders in Xingese to a man who hurried to bow deeply. Emperor Ling Yao turned back toward Kezhiya, and beckoned to her. “This is Cho Yung, my steward. He’ll see you to the ladies’ house, and tell the women there you’re to have a bath and a good warm bed. If there’s anything you want, a meal or a minstrel to sing you to sleep or a guard to defend you, ask for Cho Yung and tell him what would please you. I’ve given orders you’re to have whatever it takes to make you comfortable.” He smiled, and patted her head. “Rest well, and wake with bright eyes, Kezhiya.”
She hesitated, then bowed, like the Xingese women did. “G-good night, Your Majesty.” ~`~`~`~
NOTE: For the definitions of Ishvarun words used in this chapter, please go to our Ishvaran Glossary
Authors: mfelizandy & fractured_chaos
Genre: Drama. Futurefic, Genfic, Plotfic. No Sex.
Rating: Teen, for themes of child abuse.
Chapter Word Count: 2500
Main Canon Characters: Scar, Ling Yao, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc. Appearances by other canon characters.
Warnings: Spoilers for the end of the Manga/Brotherhood. Futurefic set primarily in the Manga/Brotherhood universe. Some past incidents have been changed to render this story “Divergent”. Elements from the first anime have also been woven in.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist (Hagane no Renkinjutsushi) was created by Arakawa Hiromu and is serialized monthly in Shonen Gangan (Square Enix). Both 'Fullmetal Alchemist' and 'Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood' are produced by Funimation. Copyright for this property is held by Arakawa Hiromu, Square Enix and Funimation. All Rights Reserved
Summary: Thirteen year-old Kezhiya only knows Amestrians and alchemists as monsters -- and then the Elders decide that she is going to live with the most frightening Amestrian of all.
Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist.
A/N: Story takes place approximately three years prior to “Arcanum Paterfamilias”, and is a part of that ‘verse. The story can be read on its own.
Part One 1927
The Emperor burst into the kitchen, startling the four teenaged girls in the midst of cleaning up for the night. He spread his arms wide and said, “My advisors have informed me that I must take yet another wife, so I’ve decided that I’ll choose one of you lovely ladies!” Two of the girls tittered. The new girl kept her head down; her face shadowed by her scarf. Thirteen year-old Kezhiya continued to scrub the dishes in the sink, which were piled higher than she was tall.
“Is it Tuesday already?” seventeen year-old Zarabet asked as she tossed an orange at him. “You try to propose to us every week.”
Ling deftly caught the orange and set it down on the chopping block. “Oh, you wound me, my beauty! I was so hoping you would be the first to volunteer.” He glided up to Zarabet, and relieved her of the basket of fruit, then wrapped an arm about her waist and took her hand.
He led her around the kitchen in a waltz, his brightly colored silk robes clashing with the more subdued earth tones of the girls’ simple dresses. He spun Zarabet, then moved on to fifteen year-old Sana. “What about you, lovely? Would you like to marry an Emperor?”
She blushed and giggled, then tripped over her feet, stumbling as Ling twirled her and gathered sixteen year-old Haneena in his arm. “Maybe I should marry all of you! You’re all so beautiful, it’s hard to decide!”
He kept up a string of cheerful prattle, all the while watching the girl at the sink. She glanced up at him once as he danced near, then quickly ducked her head. Ling caught an impression of a deeper shadow on her cheek.
“Like our fathers would let you turn their daughters into concubines.” Zarabet sniffed. “You wouldn’t know what to do with an Ishvarun girl, anyway.”
Ling laughed. “Ah, Zarabet, that’s why you’re my favorite. You’re such a challenge.”
Zarabet balled a fist into her hip, and snapped her dishrag at him. “Go! Before one of your vassals comes looking for you. We have a kitchen to clean.”
The Emperor of Xing laughed and danced through the doors into the darkened dining room. As they swung shut, his smile disappeared. “Keep an eye on her,” he said to a shadow in the corner. ~`~`~`~ As soon as the lights went out and the back door slammed shut, the shadow peeled itself from the dining room wall. It soundlessly slipped into the kitchen, keeping to the darkened areas as it searched the corners and hiding places. The pad-footed shadow reached for the pantry door, hesitated, then melted into a nearby corner. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a small ghost emerged. The pale specter tip-toed toward the back door, her apron bulging with stolen food. One corner of her apron slipped out of her fingers, and an orange dropped to the floor with a soft thump. The fruit rolled gently across the floor and into the shadows. She took a step toward the corner and the orange, then froze, peering into the darkness with wide eyes. She wavered, then lunged and snatched up the orange, stuffing it among the others, then slipped quietly out the back door.
The silent figure in black shed the shadows of the darkened kitchen and padded after the young thief. ~`~`~`~ Kezhiya took the long way home, stopping at the fountain in the market promenade. She removed her apron and tied it around the bundle of rolls and fruit, then she slipped off her sandals, hiked up her long skirt and waded in. Varisti were always tossing coins into the fountain and making wishes. She didn’t know if they came true, but she hoped they didn’t mind their money going to a more practical purpose. The cold water numbed her toes and she shivered a little in the night air, but she kept feeling around the bottom of the fountain with her bare feet. The pickings were slim tonight, and by the time she climbed out her teeth were chattering. She stared at the four small coins in dismay. It wasn’t even enough to buy a lamp’s worth of oil.
Kezhiya slowly climbed the stairs leading to the small apartment she shared with Grandpapa. She hesitated on the sixth step from the top. A weak line of yellow light flickered under the door. Her stomach rolled. A scrape on the floor and muttered cursing inside warned her he was still awake. Kezhiya licked her suddenly-dry lips, then hunched her shoulders and climbed the rest of the way.
Grandpapa leaned against the table, one hand holding him up, the other over his face. On the table was a nearly empty bottle of brandy and a glass on its side. It rolled back and forth with the table’s wobbling, spilling the contents onto the floor. Grandpapa wore only trousers. Weak light from the oil lamp danced across his chest and arms, limning the scars and melted skin marring his body in shadows that made them appear even more horrible than they were.
“P-papa?” Kezhiya murmured, and took a hesitant step closer. She held up the bundled apron. “I brought you something to eat.”
He lowered his hand and peered at her through bleary eyes. His face was wet, and Kezhiya’s stomach flopped.
“You look just like your mother.”
Her insides fluttered, but she set the apron on the table and fumbled to untie it. “See? I brought oranges for you... and rolls with dates and honey.” She glanced down, and her heart sank. The weight of the oranges had smashed the rolls and covered the skins of the fruit with a sticky mess. She frantically dug in the pocket of her skirt and pulled out the coins. “I-it’s okay, Papa, I got some money, too. See?” she dropped the coins on the table.
Grandpapa swayed as he glared at the stolen food, then picked up the coins. “Where did you get these?” He shoved his open palm under her nose. “Where did you get these?”
“I... I found them in the fountain,” she said as she took a step back.
He pitched the coins at her. The cold metal flipped against her face and arm. “Liar!”
“I swear, Papa!” Kezhiya backed away with her hands up. Grandpapa stalked her. “I swear,” she sobbed, tears springing to her eyes.
“The Amestrian varisti are nothing but sivar who kill our men and rape our women. Then they try to buy our little girls for a few coins. I know why you came home late. You’re just like her.” Grandpapa kept coming toward her, his face twisted in rage.
“I don’t clean for the Amestrians, Papa, remember?” The backs of her thighs hit the wooden frame at the bottom of the open window, and she glanced back. Something darker flicked between her and the cobblestones below even as Kezhiya scrambled aside from Grandpapa’s first swing. She dove for the corner, raising her arms to cover her head as best she could.
A cool breeze blew through the open window, making the lamp gutter. Grandpapa made a strange choking sound, and Kezhiya cautiously peeked out from behind her hands. Her mouth fell open and she fell back against the wall.
The Emperor of Xing held a sword under Grandpapa’s chin, slowly backing him across the room. “I think I’ve heard enough,” he said. The hard expression on his face made Kezhiya shiver. That voice wasn’t the sing-song, jovial tone of the blithe clown who danced with the kitchen girls.
The door creaked open and a heavy step followed. “So have I,” said the senior yevarshedaht with the scarred face.
Hands lightly grasped her shoulders, one warm, one cold, and Kezhiya startled. The touch was gentle, as the Emperor’s shadow guard helped her to her feet.
“Ishvarun protect their children,” the yevarshedaht said.
“And Ishvarun don’t let varisti interfere with family matters,” Grandpapa countered.
The yevarshedaht’s eyes narrowed. “Had it not been for the Emperor’s interference, you would have beaten your granddaughter.”
“And not for the first time, from how she cringes,” the Emperor added in flat, impassive tones.
“I knew you were a drunk, Sharif. I didn’t know you’d turned your back on God enough to strike a child.” The senior took a step closer, and Grandpapa flinched. “How many more beatings would she have suffered before she chose to debase herself to escape your brutality? How many more times would you soak yourself in brandy--” he swept the bottle off the table with enough force to shatter it against the wall “--before you went too far and beat her to death? Be grateful the Emperor chose to interfere before you did. Else your fate would be the cruelty of the desert or the mercy of my sword.”
“I hope you’ll tell your Elders that I want to speak at this worm’s trial, Mishyael,” the Emperor said in that strange cool tone. “I don’t like people who mistreat what is mine."
The shadow guard snapped something in Xingese, and Kezhiya was taken aback again. This was the first time she’d ever heard the voice behind the mask. It was a little flattened by the painted wood, but it was clearly that of a woman.
Ling grinned, and responded in the same language. He tapped Grandpapa’s chin with the tip of his sword, and said, “We’ll bring this up to the Elders in the morning.” He sheathed the weapon and turned toward Kezhiya. “But tonight, she’s coming with us.” ~`~`~`~ “I’m sorry you had to see that, richu kaiwa,” the Emperor said gently as he led her through the dark streets. “But I have children of my own, back home in my country.”
Kezhiya swallowed the lump in her throat. It popped right back up again and made her choke around the words. “You followed me.”
“Yes, we did.”
The lump rose higher, and she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” The Emperor of Xing turned to her with a frown.
“The oranges,” the woman in black said in a soft, unruffled tone.
“Oranges?” the Emperor said blankly. “Oh, the oranges! Of course.” He draped an arm around Kezhiya. She stiffened, and Ling instantly pulled his arm away. Something hard flickered across his face, then the playful smile returned and his tone lightened to something closer to the silly, empty-headed twitter he used to tease the kitchen girls. “I’m the Emperor of Xing, you know. I’m extremely rich. If you’d asked, I’d have given you a whole orange grove to show my appreciation for your doing the dishes for me.”
“Her people are proud,” the woman said.
“And I like to give nice gifts to my friends,” the Emperor said cheerfully. “After all, the richer I make them the more I can tax them. Everybody wins.”
“The accountants would feel differently about it.”
“Yes, but they’re not the Emperor!” The Emperor of all Xing, the unimaginably huge country far to the east, danced across the cobbles, pirouetting with his arms thrown wide. “I’m the happiest man in the world. I have eight beautiful wives to dance and sing for me, palaces and fine horses and the best clothes to wear, and best of all, I can do whatever I want! Including,” he bounced back to Kezhiya and crouched in front of her with his hands on his knees and his face in a wide playful smile, “hiring a local girl to teach me to write my name in her language.”
It was too much. She couldn’t hold back anymore. She broke down in tears.
“You fool, you’ve frightened her.” The shadow guard reproached the Emperor without a trace of fear. She glided up beside Kezhiya, but didn't touch her. “She needs a bath and a warm bed. You can talk to the other silly birds in the morning.”
“Yes, I suppose I can.” The Emperor’s voice was again that measured, low stillness. He nodded to the gate guards standing outside the imperial embassy, and swept through even as they startled and hastily dropped to their knees. He strode through the lamplit gardens on his way to his quarters, then paused to give orders in Xingese to a man who hurried to bow deeply. Emperor Ling Yao turned back toward Kezhiya, and beckoned to her. “This is Cho Yung, my steward. He’ll see you to the ladies’ house, and tell the women there you’re to have a bath and a good warm bed. If there’s anything you want, a meal or a minstrel to sing you to sleep or a guard to defend you, ask for Cho Yung and tell him what would please you. I’ve given orders you’re to have whatever it takes to make you comfortable.” He smiled, and patted her head. “Rest well, and wake with bright eyes, Kezhiya.”
She hesitated, then bowed, like the Xingese women did. “G-good night, Your Majesty.” ~`~`~`~
NOTE: For the definitions of Ishvarun words used in this chapter, please go to our Ishvaran Glossary