THE AMESTRIS TIMES

"If that was all it took for that boy to actually make a move, I would have resigned from the office a long time ago": Former Fuhrer General Grumman (Ret.) on his granddaughter's and Fuhrer Mustang's Wedding

His Excellency Fuhrer Roy Mustang and Major Riza Mustang née Hawkeye (Ret.), now the First Lady of Amestris, have been married at Newport Plaza in Central City.

Tens of thousands of people lined the streets of Central to catch a glimpse of the couple and millions of people were estimated to stay tuned to the proceedings worldwide on television and radio.

Fuhrer Mustang wore the formal uniform of the State Military of Amestris and the First Lady wore a dress designed by couture designer Alicia Morand, whose family has been in charge of the Armstrong family's wardrobe for generations.

As the Fuhrer and his bride were getting ready to walk down the aisle, The Amestris Times took time to get some insight on the highs and lows of their tens of years of relationship.

"It's about time, really. Having seen both of them through thick and thin, I suppose none of us would say we didn't see this coming," commented Captain Heymans Breda, in lieu of the Fuhrer himself as he was unavailable for interviews at the moment.

When asked regarding the nature of their relationship during their times serving together under the Amestrian Military, the Captain said, "It was rather complicated. They had known each others for years before His Excellency enlisted, and she remained under his command ever since the Civil War ended. Their reciprocal devotion rooted in the similarity of their visions; that is, to make Amestris a better country for its people and the next generations. Both of them are married to Amestris first and each others second, and nothing can change that. Rest assured, as far as I was concerned, their relationship didn't cross any lines of propriety drawn by the military regulations."

He refused to clarify any of the now-retired General Grumman's ambiguous words, which strangely contradicted Captain Breda's statement just then, concerning his granddaughter's wedding.

"The fact that they are related by blood itself was classified with only a handful of people knowing before the engagement made it to the news," he disclosed instead. Captain Breda excused himself before the crews could inquire him any further.

The Amestris Times managed to get some words from General Olivier Mira Armstrong at some point after the groom and bride had been officially announced as husband and wife.

"She had been cleaning his mess for as far as I can remember. Alas, now she will also have to be there to catch him when that sorry excuse of a Fuhrer trips his useless arse and falls from his bed," the Ice Queen remarked before walking away—but not before asking the crews not to censor any of her words.

Alphonse Elric, on the other hand, said nothing but good deeds for the newlyweds.

"They are very protective of each others. I know this is hardly the end, and that new challenges will keep coming up, but I do wish both of them a merry future ahead," he said while flashing the crews a warm smile.

When asked whether he would hold another large-scale wedding with the Xingese princess he had in tow in near future, they turned red and excused themselves.

First Lady of Amestris?

"Mrs. Mustang had been a model soldier both in the office and battlefield. She is diligent, effective, strict, and organized, but despite those traits that gained her the reputation of being 'cold-hearted' or 'stoic', she is a no less compassionate woman, taking care of her comrades every now and then," First Lieutenant Vato Falman, also one of the groomsmen, declared.

"I can assure you that she will be able to carry on with her new duties and keep up with the utmost expectation," he added.

Another military officer nearby, Major Maria Ross, gladly agreed to give the crews her one-cent.

"I understand the people are thrilled with the idea of a new First Lady and since we didn't have one during Fuhrer Grumman's administration, the former First Lady Mrs. Bradley would be the most feasible comparison. Although sudden changes concerning the role would be considered unfavorable as they can disrupt a handful of affairs, it would be unwise not to expect any difference. With the same good intentions Mrs. Bradley had, Mrs. Mustang will have her own way to fulfill her new role, and I hope we can give her our best support despite it all."

R. Mustang and R. Mustang

Little is known regarding their personal information aside that they had been working together for years.

Fuhrer Roy Mustang proposed to Riza Mustang née Hawkeye on his inauguration night as the Fuhrer of Amestris and made it an official announcement ten days later. The following week Mrs. Riza Mustang resigned from her position as his aide and subsequently, the next month, from the military.

The proposal itself didn't come as shock to anyone. Neither the Fuhrer nor his then-fiancée were available for interviews to provide any information regarding anything during their wedding preparation period. (AW)

"What is this?"

His obisidian eyes fluttered open. Roy shuffled lazily inside the blanket and stretched, silently questioning himself why is she here in my room before the memory from last night made it to the surface of his half-conscious mind—

Oh. Wow. How awesome. He smirked.

"Good morning to you, too," he said sleepily. Yawning, Roy pulled down the thick fabric just enough for him to peek outside.

She was there, standing in front of their bed's end table, her face slightly pulled into a frown clearly showing her dismay. Her hazel eyes were already focused, scrutinizing every letters on a newspaper she was holding. An oversized shirt—his uniform shirt, he realized—clung onto her figure, the buttons were done haphazardly the way a pre-schooler on sugar rush did it. The shirt length ended right at the middle of her thigh.

Suddenly, the indisputable Roy Mustang couldn't make up his mind—whether he liked his shirt better on her, or tossed aside to the floor, he didn't know.

Hence he decided to indulge in the sight presented in front of him only.

"Have you read this?" she held up the newspaper she had been clutching before for him to read.

The Amestris Times

Evening Edition: The Fuhrer's Wedding Special

"I have," Roy propped up on one elbow, "After you fell asleep, which is right after, you know…" there were hints in his words as he flashed a lopsided grin, wiggling his eyebrows while doing so.

"After we fucked for three consecutive rounds last night. Please, Roy. We're both adults here," she deadpanned, "besides, it was hardly my fault. The day was exhausting. I was exhausted. We were exhausted. I didn't know how you still managed to have that much stamina left."

His laughter was a pleasant sound for Riza's ears.

"You seemed to enjoy it, Lieutenant,"

"I recall you enjoyed it too, Sir,"

"Nope. I enjoyed you,"

She sat down on the bed and smacked the newspaper playfully onto his bare chest in response. "Didn't they ask for your permission before proceeding with these articles?"

"Yesterday was a hassle. I let the team to deal with that, so I just read it after this was published," Roy lay down, his back against the soft fabric of the white sheet, one hand holding the newspaper as he skimmed through the words while his other hand pulled his wife into a cuddle. "Besides, I don't see anything wrong with them,"

Riza pointed at a section of the front page, "this," she said.

Roy read the text written on it;

First Lady of Amestris?

He quirked a brow. "How is this a problem?" the man inquired.

She let out a long, audible sigh. "First Lady this. First Lady that. We are married for barely a day, and they're already attributing it to me as if I had been one for the first half of my life,"

Tossing aside the wrinkled newspaper, Roy turned to his side. He squeezed her into a tight embrace and buried his face in her blonde hair, inhaling the lavender scent it casted.

"Just another one to add to the long list of titles they gave us," he said in reassurance, stroking her back. His fingers traced where the snake carved onto her back in red, the lines, the writings—they hovered on where her skin became prominent beneath the white shirt, disrupting the perfect array he had known like the back of his hand. "I've dragged you along to face worse. Much worse. You will manage," he whispered.

"I know. How foolish I was… letting something as trivial as this gave me D-day jitters, made me nearly losing my mind prior to the procession," her voice was muffled as she buried her face into his chest, arms wrapped firmly around him.

Roy pulled back and gave her a funny look. "D-day jitters?"

"That anxious feeling you get on the big day and not the days before."

"You've got some unique naming sense,"

"Please come back when yours is better than mine," she replied. Riza took a quick glance to the clock on the wall—fifteen minutes to seven, she noted—and wiggled herself free from his arms.

Really, it was hard not to laugh at his child-like pouty face, she thought.

"Wake up, Sir," she commanded, pulling the blanket from—oh. How could she forgot that he was wearing practically nothing.

There he was, the mighty Fuhrer Roy Mustang, sprawled indignantly on the sheets without even a single thread on him.

It was the reflex that forced her to look up.

…only to meet that smirk, that damnable smirk of his…

Riza turned away and tried her best not to turn red.

"Ready for round four already, hm, Lieutenant?" he breathed, voice dripping with innuendo. "I don't see the point of turning away when you've seen and felt every inches of it for the whole night—"

He was cut in by a pillow smacked right onto his face.

…and then another one onto his manhood. Hard.

"Round four can wait. You have work in eight-hundred hours, Sir. Now please excuse me as I relish another hours of sleep I deserve," Laying on her stomach, Riza covered her head with another pillow and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.

"How could you get to rest and I have to work right the day after the wedding?"

"I already prepared the uniform for you to wear. They are hanged in the closet, you'll just have to put it on. Your boots are polished. Breakfast can be served starting seven hundred hours—bless the Fuhrer's residence and its facilities,"

Diligent, effective, strict, and organized.

"You haven't even told me about your schedule!"

"My first ceremonial task will be held the day after tomorrow, Roy. After all, I have to take care of the clean-up works—paying off the fees and all—and the vendors won't start coming till eleven," she said from beneath the pillows—the soft, comfortable pillows.

"Slavedriver," he muttered.

"Several things don't change just because I stopped being your adjutant, Sir,"

Riza couldn't comprehend whatever witty remarks he said in response, since she was too busy, too engaged in enjoying her soft, warm pillows on her bed. Their bed.

The last thing she vaguely remembered before drifting into deep sleep were a kiss placed on her forehead, and the sound of the door clicked shut.

'Sup. As I promised—the third, and the last, chapter of this fic.

I experimented in writing in a news-like style… I hope I didn't jinx it and the scene after it!

Thanks for everyone reviewing, your words are always the highlight of my days ;w;

Aaaand lastly, thanks for dropping by and reading my fic!