# Fullmetal Alchemist
# fullmetal alchemist brotherhood
# roy mustang
# riza hawkeye
# royai
# fma
# amestris
# fmab
Many found the
colonel extremely arrogant; some hated him for it. But beneath the vanity and
narcissism hid a raging maelstrom of guilt they would never understand. It never
left him, and neither did the smell. God, what he wouldn’t do to escape that
horrific stench. An ever-present reminder, just as real as the pain itself. He
had joined the military to protect his nation and to serve its people, but it
was in killing that he had distinguished himself from his peers. Sold his soul,
they used to say. And he hadn’t the grounds to disagree, because there was
nothing in heaven or hell that could justify what he’d done. Burned them all.
Stood by as his comrades watered the desert sands with innocent blood. His own
victims: too charred to bleed.
The higher-ups had called it war, but that was too complex a descriptor for this situation. It was genocide, and he had willingly taken part. Time heals all wounds? Bullshit.
Naïve idealism goes to war to die. He had returned home a changed man, but the old ambition still remained. The idealism had emerged from the inferno against all odds; the youthful naïveté, on the other hand, had been buried alongside the slain children. How could this have happened? What demon could commit such atrocities? He knew the answers only too well: it took but a snap of the fingers to end a life, but a sidelong glance in the mirror to uncloak the devil.
Still, defecting wasn’t an option. The military controlled the government, so what hope did he have of changing the country if he quit? The higher-ups would pay for Ishval, for the genocide they had unleashed. Sitting at his desk, he found himself torn between his duty to his country and his love for a woman: not long after returning from Ishval, he had sworn to himself that he would make the country democratic once he became führer – and he would become führer. He would establish war tribunals and see justice done. But if ever the heroes of the Ishvalan campaign were brought to trial as war criminals, it would cost him not only his own life but quite possibly the life of the person most dear to him. He hated himself for his crimes, but he could never bring himself to hate her.
Years passed; friends drifted away. But not Riza. She was by his side until the bitter end. Democracy was new and foreign to Amestris, but he had made sure it was strong enough to outlive him before he faced the jury, führer at last. When he was handed the death sentence for his actions in Ishval, he took comfort in the knowledge that Riza had preceded him in the courtroom and been absolved of her crimes. What he didn’t know, however, was that she sneaked into the military graveyard a few nights later, found his tombstone, and passed judgment on herself using the same rifle that had struck fear into the hearts of her enemies. And so it was that the revolution devoured its own children.
It seems fitting that the Flame Alchemist’s meteoric rise to power was followed by such a devastating fall from grace. Still, he died content – satisfied that his lasting legacy would be not genocide, but democracy, and that Riza could go on living. He knew from the very beginning that the brightest stars burn hot and die young, but instead of heeding the cost of greatness, he took comfort in the fact that it is the supernova and not the white dwarf that captures the stargazer’s imagination. Yes, he thought to himself as he stood blindfolded before the firing squad, Amestris will be okay.
- ZM
(other than Kevin)
Composed by @dirty-brian and myself
- The Amethyst Anal Crumpet
- The Aubergine Asshole
- The Byzantium Bastard
- The Cyclamen Cunt
- The Eggplant Egomaniac
- The Fuchia Fuckwit
- The Ghastly Grape
- The Heliotrope Horror
- The Imperial Idiot
- The Lavendar Loser
- The Lilac Lameass
- The Magenta Monster
- The Mauve Menace
- The Mulberry Mofo
- The Periwinkle Putrescence
- The Plum Prick
- The Purple Poophead
- The Raisin Rapscallion
- The Sangria Shitstick
- The Violet Villain
- The Wisteria Wanker