It was love in one way and one thousand ways. It was love between the blinding proud sun and the meek pearl-smiles of the moon. It was love among the infinite-mass stars, a flicker, a light-year away. It was love imaginable; it was love not imaginable.
An indistinct whisper that travelled through the serpentine sea of souls that occupied Ling’s body deafened him despite his indomitability. Back then, when he was once immortal and his flesh was brazen and cold-dead iron and carbon, he would feel it. He felt it through their broken bones and burnt-matchstick words; it manifested in his body, it was demented, it was glorious! Ling was of greed; it was inflicted on him, marked to the ivory of his bones
. But she took it all away from him. He was elusive, an indestructible and evasive wall, with the voice of a homunculus as avaricious as him echoed. But Lan Fan was the only one who tore them down. Humble ashes were they now.
It was love selfless and love selfish; defined by pursed lips and discreet and lingering stares and smiles. She was masked and hidden. Lan Fan was like venom, poison from the tip of her mere dagger. But she was once helpless, and incomplete, but it was love out of duty, responsibility and honor, so she came back. How Ling wished it was more than loyalty and frank camaraderie.
-
He twirled the vial of rich crimson liquid with his fingers, his nails brown and black from dust and dirt. ‘Goal achieved,’ But there Fu was: without breath, without pulse. He felt empty. Empathy gushed over him; a certain form of love took him by waves, and he wanted to cry.
"Master?"
Ling looked up at her. Lan Fan was bandaged and injured and tired and soul-eyes. He took a deep breath. “Yes, Lan Fan?”
"I have a request." She knelt down before him and her grandfather. Her bones probably still ached, but she shoved off the pain. "Once you’re seated on the throne and king, please grant it all to each clan."
He studied her through his unkempt hair. It was a selfish request out of selfless intentions. He stood up as he placed his arms on his hips. “Alright,”
Lan Fan blinked. She looked up from the frail lifeless hand of Fu up to her young master. “You accept my request?”
"Yeah, it’s a promise. Come on, we need a good start. Now where’s my little sister?"
Hot tears prickled the corner of Lan Fan’s eyes. She watched her young master, how he beamed at Mei and promised her that her clan would be saved. He would be a good king, she knew it.
"Come on," Ling playfully scooped up Mei and carried her as if she was luggage. "We’re going home."
"Home? Already?" Edward looked up, his eyes widening at Ling’s words.
"Yep, we’re illegal immigrants after all." he chuckled as Mei constantly squirmed to break free from Ling.
"Don’t you want to stay? Just for a week or so?"
"Nah, we’ve got a long way to go. We need to get back home."
"Home," Lan Fan nodded and held unto Fu’s hand. "Yes, home. We’re going home, Grandfather."
She silently cried, and Ling thought how many more sealed tears Lan Fan kept. Probably a million, or ten more of millions. She loved him more than ten million sealed tears.
His promise, his throne, his service to Xing and heavens, were all out of love. Once, it was for himself, but those years of pain and sacrifice and torn-spirits and Fu’s presence and Edward’s sun-mirrored eyes, and Alphonse’s flesh and Mei’s blood and each and every part of Greed made Ling thought otherwise. It was the star-cluster of Cepheus’ love for Cassiopeia, and the rain in the depth of the night in the desert, and the nocturnes of the songbirds offered to the night. Ling loved her, he loved Lan Fan, and nothing, in the whole entirety of the universe, could ever change that.
-
Happy Lingfan Day, everyone! Putting this one on queue because it's my first day at uni, and I couldn't check out the lovely works right now. I'll check it out whenever I have the time.
You are barely six when you meet her. She is a tiny girl with large dark eyes she uses to peek out from under her bangs. She is the first person you’ve met that is close to your age. This is Lan Fan, you are told. One day she will be your protector.
The little girl bows her head, and you smile.
***
Lan Fan is small. She is also strong and quick and always fetches you water from the well when you feel faint.
Lan Fan is your first friend, and much more fun to cuddle with at night than a pillow. She is warm and smells good and sometimes she sneezes in her sleep and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing and waking her up.
Also she shares her shāobǐng with you when Fu’s not looking. Even if it tastes extra-yummy.
***
You have decided that Lan Fan is better than you at everything, and it’s annoying. Like really annoying. And it’s not her fault but you are the prince so it would have made more sense for the gods to give you the talent instead of her.
One night after you have been to lessons you sit together on the floor instead of sleeping in your adjoining bed rolls. You tell her you have learned to write your name. Can she write? No, she shakes her head. You trace the characters into her palm, and promise to learn her name next.
After the first time when you spill calligraphy ink everywhere, you aren’t allowed to use the fancy paper and pens anymore. So instead you sit with her on the dirt patch outside and use a stick and the ground to form words.
At some point Lan Fan begins accompanying you to lessons. And she is better than you. Again.
***
You are nine and so is she on the day you are almost poisoned. You consider yourself an observant person, but are not enough so today. Lan Fan catches the details you miss and has the man at her mercy in less than a minute, but not without receiving a gash on her cheek.
Who sent you? she growls, her little fingers digging into the flesh of his scalp. How many more are there? Blood drips onto the man’s face from her own, but she does not falter. The people of the marketplace watch in astonishment.
Later you watch as Fu bandages her cheek, and for the first time you can feel the weight of your people on your shoulders.
***
You will be living at the palace for a few years, under the care of your mother and her many servants and guards. Lan Fan and Fu will not be coming along.
The days go by and you learn of etiquette and politics and you have an instructor to help you continue your sword fighting, but you yearn for the green hills and trees and creek that you have grown to call home. You miss your aunt and Fu and most of all Lan Fan who is your first and only true friend.
You would write to her, but your mother would disapprove, and even if you tried you wouldn’t know what to say. So you don’t.
Sometimes you wake and still expect her to be at your side.
***
You have returned to find Lan Fan has grown even prettier in your absence, as well as even stronger. Lan Fan can throw knives with near perfect accuracy, and she has taken to wearing kunai on her person. She can scale a wall with her bare hands, and can do a triple handspring on one hand.
Your reunion is awkward; you mistake her as swimming in the stream and nearly join her before you notice the pile of clothes and a towel folded neatly on a nearby tree’s roots. You apologize to her red face and dart away before you can do something stupid like stare.
Even so, that night, (alone, you have your own room now) you cannot shake the image of her bare shoulders and long hair pooling around her.
Two days later she cuts her hair and ties it up. You do not see it loose again for almost a year.
***
On the night of her thirteenth birthday she writes you an oath in her blood and dons a mask that you will later grow to despise.
But right now you tie it around her head and thank her for her service.
***
You have decided to go west to Amestris, the largest alchemical power in the world. The trip will be unpleasant and the desert hellish, but you are prepared to take any means necessary in your search for the Philosopher’s stone. (At least you believe you are, later there will come a choice you are unable to make, and Lan Fan will decide for you.)
All preparations have been made; you will leave at dawn. You are supposed to be sleeping, but you are restless with the thoughts of what is to come.
Young Master? Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice her appear in your doorway. You gesture for her to sit beside your bed, and roll onto your side so that you face her.
Your qi is rattling, my Lord.
You are silent.
Grandfather and I will protect you, and you will save our clan.
Still, you say nothing. She meets your gaze.
I will be with you Master Ling. You need only call for me, and I will be at your side.
You find comfort in her words. After several moments she looks away, and you reach out to stop her. Your hand brushes against her cheek.
Thank you, you mean to say, but instead, you fall asleep.
