Notes From the Grandmaster

A collection of side stories from the Elemental Chess Trilogy

by Lady Norbert

A/N: This piece was written for the prompt "Silver and Gold" on the FMA Fic Contest community. It takes place in the far distant future, more than a dozen years past the end of The Game of Three Generals, and it should answer a very specific question I've received (more than once) about two characters who appear in the final chapter of that story.

I've decided that this will be the final installment of this volume. The FMA Fic Contest, where all of these stories originally appeared, has been discontinued, and it seems only reasonable (and necessary for my own sanity) to end the Notes alongside the community. Thank you all so much for your reviews!

The Game Begins Anew

On a very special wedding day, Fuhrer Roy Mustang doesn't know how to feel.

It is, the Fuhrer has decided, entirely Ed's fault.

After all, if he had not gotten married so young, he would not have had a son so early in life. Lucas Elric would not already have been in existence by the time Riana Mustang made her way into the world.

Because the two families are so closely allied, it was natural that the children would grow up knowing each other well, and in some roundabout way that is Ed's fault too. Thus, Fullmetal is entirely to blame for the fact that this day is here.

It's a silly thing to think, as Riza would no doubt tell him. But it makes him feel better, somehow, to pin the blame on Ed. Besides, blaming Fullmetal is an old habit, and one that he has never entirely lost. It's still very mutual, too.

He is pacing, in his impeccably polished dress shoes, formal sword clanking at his waist. The appointed hour is close at hand. "Brendan?" he calls absently.

A tawny head pokes itself into the room. Riana is pure Mustang, but her twin is more of a reflection of his Hawkeye lineage; only the sparkling black eyes betray his paternity. "Dad, for heaven's sake, will you drink some tea or something? You're going to wear a hole in the rug."

"Well, at least I can see that you're ready," Roy says, ignoring the suggestion. "What's keeping them?"

"Dad. It's a wedding dress. It takes time, and help."

Almost instinctively, Roy turns to look at the photograph on the mantel. It's been many years since it was taken, now; some of the faces in it can no longer be seen outside of photos anymore. "Your mother's dress wasn't that complicated," he says, eyes tracing the elegant simplicity of her figure in the shot.

"Yes, but the queen and the princess aren't the same." Brendan chuckles. "Were you this much of a wreck before your wedding?"

"I was not a wreck then, and I'm not one now."

"Sure, sure. Whatever lets you sleep at night."

"You are your mother's son," Roy retorts fondly. "Always too smart for me."

"She taught me well. Hey, here they come."

Roy turns to watch their descent, blinking rapidly at the sight of his not-so-little girl swathed in lace and taffeta. He's dreaded this day almost since the hour of her birth, but for the moment she is still his. "You look radiant," he manages, kissing her forehead. "Sure you want to go through with this?"

Riana laughs. "For the hundredth time, Dad, yes."

"Just checking." He puts up his gloved hands, yielding. Riza shakes her head, and for maybe the first time Roy notices that there's almost as much silver as there is gold in her hair. He has loved her for the better part of fifty years, after all, and perhaps it's this realization which prompts his next remark. "If Luke can make you even half as happy as your mother has made me, little queen, then I'm satisfied."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Well, then, prepare the board."