Work Text:
“Well?”
Riza attempts to push down the frustration rising in her throat as her eyes dart between the two fabrics. Two velvets, apparently slightly different shades of blue, one of which she must pick for the castle’s new curtains. To her they look the exact same, although the castle’s hired decorator is extremely insistent to the contrary.
As Riza has recently discovered, choice of drapery color and tasks of a similar nature are evidently ‘queenly duties’- the decorator and his assistants have been hovering around Riza all morning asking her question after pointless question.
Try as she might to be helpful, every suggestion she makes seems to be wrong. The decorator– Raven, was his name? –has consistently met all of her inputs with thinly veiled disgust. One time he even outright scoffed at her. Scoffed! Over tablecloth beading! Ridiculous.
A grimace crosses her features and she resists the urge to massage her temples. She’s not sure how much more of this she can take.
A creak of the large door to the hall alerts Riza of a new presence. “Your majesty? Lunch is ready,” a voice cuts in through her cloud of annoyance from across the room.
“Ah! Ah. Lunch!” she rises just a touch too quickly to be proper, smiling brightly at Decorator Raven. “My most sincere apologies, Raven. I would love nothing more than to continue to assist you here, but we don’t want the chef’s hard work getting cold!” Before Raven can protest, she quickly spins to hurry towards the door.
“Thank you,” she whispers to her savior. “I don’t know how much longer I would have lasted in there.”
Al laughs, a light sound. “No problem. I thought you might need an escape, so I asked the cook to start lunch a little early today.”
That’s Alphonse, always thinking ahead for others. He was one of Riza’s first real friends in the castle since her arrival two weeks ago. Al and his brother Edward both serve as knights in Roy’s circle, so she sees them around the grounds a decent amount. Riza gives him an appreciative but tired smile.
They walk through the castle towards the banquet hall past a large painting depicting one of Roy’s many majestic battles. He’s atop his white horse, mid gallop and swinging a long sword towards an enemy on foot. Riza glances over it, her brow furrowing.
Since their wedding two weeks ago, he hasn’t touched her. Not even really the next morning, even after sharing a bed naked. He hadn’t been cold to her, but was clearly a little off. He hadn’t kissed her- just wished her a polite good morning, excused himself to get dressed, and left the quarters to go about his duties. She sat there, confused and a little hurt, until a maid came with fresh clothes and dressed her.
That afternoon, servants showed her to what she was informed were her separate quarters. Considering the emotional distance that morning, she was only mildly surprised at the addition of physical distance as well.
Since then, Roy has not been any easier to figure out. He eats with her, talks to her and gives her anything she asks for, but he still seems… far. It’s not that he doesn’t care, at least she doesn’t think so- he seems genuinely engaged during all their conversations. Something isn’t right, though. In all honesty, she feels a little abandoned- especially after the intense vulnerability of their wedding night.
Riza’s run through the possible explanations a hundred times in her head by now, and most of them just spark insecurity and more confusion. Did he regret sleeping with her? Was he just caught up in the moment and not actually attracted to her? He’d seemed enthusiastic enough at the time, although it’s not like she has a lot of experience in the area of sex.
Regardless of the reason, she is not thrilled with their current dynamic. She felt a connection that night, she knows she did- so what happened?
Riza chews on her lip as she walks, lost in thought. “Hey, are you alright?” Al asks.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, just thinking,” Riza replies with a small ingenuine laugh. Al glances at her with a knowing look. She’s sure he’d listen to her concerns if he asked, but she still has some of her walls up around Amestrians.
They arrive at the hall, entering to see the rest of the company already arrived. For lunches and dinners the hall is usually host to at least a couple of Roy’s knights, and today they are joined by Alphonse and Sir Jean Havoc. Roy’s closest advisor, Maes Hughes, has a seat at the table as well. Eating with so many strangers was uncomfortable for Riza at first, but she’s quickly adapted. Now, she’s even usually able to fire back clever quips to their jokes, much to their delight.
Riza offers a slight smile to the table guests as Alphonse pulls out her chair. “Good afternoon, everyone.”
“Afternoon, majesty,” Havoc responds, spitting out crumbs from his mouthful of dinner roll.
“Havoc,” Roy snaps. “Show some respect.”
Havoc rolls his eyes and swallows. “Yeah yeah, sorry.” Roy continues to glare, clearly not believing his apology.
Hughes clears his throat, changing the subject. “So, Queen Riza, heard you were helping with the decorator this morning.”
Riza winces. “Ah, yes. I’ve been trying, anyway.”
“I’m sure you’re doing fine,” Roy adds, reaching for an orange.
Her smile tightens. “I don’t know. It’s a little out of my depth, to be honest.”
“Ah. Well, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”
Riza’s not sure why her patience feels so thin at the moment- maybe it was the two weeks of nothing from Roy, maybe it was her excruciatingly long morning with the decorator. In any case, her verbal filter is beginning to fail.
“Oh, you’re sure , are you?” Riza’s expression hardens, staring down at her plate. “How exactly would you know?”
Roy freezes, orange in hand. The table falls deathly silent, three pairs of eyes shifting uneasily from Riza to Roy.
“Huh?” Roy manages.
She can hear her father screaming at her in her head to hold her tongue, but the dam’s already broken.
“How would you know what I’m good at? What I’m bad at? You barely know me.” She stares at him now, face flat.
“Well boys, we better get training!” Havoc scrambles to rise from his chair, eager to abandon ship. “Right Al? Training?”
“Yes! Now!” Al nods furiously.
“I better, uh… oversee,” Hughes mutters.
The three are gone in the blink of an eye, leaving the King and Queen of Amestris alone. They stare at each other, tension thick as syrup.
“I- I was just trying to be nice,” Roy says quietly. His eyes are wide.
Riza feels deflated, the momentum from earlier quickly gone. She puts her elbows on the table, leaning her head in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “It’s been a long day.”
Roy’s eyes flit over her sagging form, unsure of what to do, how to help.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I can… leave you be,” he offers finally.
She peeks up at him, fighting the lump in her throat. She cannot and will not allow herself to cry. She’s shown enough weakness for one day.
“Please don’t,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be alone. I’m tired of being alone.”
Roy’s expression shifts from bewilderment to concern as he processes what she said. Alone? He’d thought he was giving her space to adjust, to get situated. She’s the strong princess from Astya, afraid of nothing. In need of nothing but her own wits. That’s what he’d heard she was, at least. He had thought he was doing her a favor.
After that first night, he’d drowned in guilt from the fear he’d allowed himself to take advantage. They were married, yes, but their situation was anything but equal. Before he met her, Roy told himself he’d maintain a distance at first, give her a chance to settle. He hadn’t expected her to be so… magnetic. Her clear analytical eyes, searching to understand him. Her quiet vulnerability, her offer of connection.
After their wedding night he promised himself he’d stay away, let her put down roots of her own. He tried to convince himself the emotional distance was for her own good, but really it was just as much for him as it was for her- he wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to be drawn to her.
But now, to hear she felt alone? Roy experiences a creeping wave of regret- he could have just asked her what would help. Why didn’t he ask? Has he really messed up this badly already?
“I’m sorry,” Roy says softly.
“Did I do something wrong?” Riza asks, trying to keep the edge of desperation out of her voice. She was exhausted.
“No! No no no, nothing. I just… I didn’t want to suffocate you. I’m sorry.” He grimaces. Talking about his feelings has never been his strong suit.
They sit for a moment, quietly. Roy rolls the orange between his hands.
“So,” he starts slowly, giving a pause. “What are you good at?”
He wants to know her, of course he does. The past two weeks have been filled mostly with wondering about Riza Hawkeye. Even though he probably should have done this to begin with, he supposes now is as good a time as any to start.
Riza’s eyebrows raise minutely. She takes a deep breath.
“Archery. I’m good at archery.”
“Really? They teach the princesses that?”
She shoots him a glare that lacks venom. “Yes. It’s a proper enough sport. Real fighting and hunting was frowned upon, though.”
Roy’s lip quirks up to one side. “I get the impression that didn’t stop you.”
She breathes a laugh, feeling the earlier tension leech away. “Not usually, no.”
“What did you shoot?”
She glances at him, choosing to be forthcoming. To offer a connection.
“Deer, squirrels, rabbits. Whatever I happened upon. I’d give whatever I caught to villagers around the castle.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I wore a scarf over my face so they wouldn’t recognize me, but wouldn’t you know it, they started calling me Hawkeye anyway.”
Roy leans in, clearly intrigued by the story. “Why’s that? Did they recognize you somehow?”
“No.” She smiles to herself, a little lost in the memory. “I hit them in the eye every time.”
He whistles, long and low, clearly impressed. Although he’d already become entranced by the enigma of Riza Hawkeye, he wasn’t expecting such a story. Astya’s strong princess, indeed.
“Well, what are you bad at then?”
She glances at him, pausing a moment before speaking. “Asking for help.”
He barks a laugh, and her face goes pink, hurt.
“Well, that’s ironic. I’m terrible at that too.”
She starts in surprise, then relaxes into a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She laughs a little harder. “Nothing, just makes sense.”
Roy crosses his arms, but feels no real anger. How could he? All he can think of is getting more of the privilege that is knowing Riza Hawkeye.