A long time ago, in ages long past, an ancient kingdom grew from the shifting sands of the Eastern Desert. No one knows how it came to be, or where it's inhabitants had even come from, but with eyes and hair like spun gold, they could have been easily mistaken for Children of the Sun God. To some, the Kingdom of Xerxes was regarded as a place of legend, a holy kingdom to some.

The Desert is a harsh place, there is no doubt about it. Venture in unprepared, and you risk the chances of dying from either heatstroke or dehydration. Even prepared, to cross such and unforgiving place is an arduous task that only the brave would undertake. Xerxes, to be able to withstand such unloveable conditions and become a flourishing Kingdom, was a testament to their resilience.

In another world, there would have been a young man known only as Slave 23 who served a prominent Alchemist in the King's court. He would have had his blood taken for an experiment, from which a being known as the Dwarf in the Flask would be born. A Homunculus, an artificial creature that God did not have a hand in creating.

In another world, the Dwarf would have tricked the foolish king who feared death. It would have destroyed the Kingdom of Xerxes in a single night with the creation of two Philosopher Stones, one for it, and the other for its blood brother.

This is not that world.

Slave 23 never exists to become Van Hohenheim, the Philosopher's Stone in the form of a man.

There is however, a man who always stands beside the King in the court. No matter how many years pass, no matter how many ages past, he is always there, unchanging. Forever trapped in a body that does not betray his true nature to any prying eyes.

Xerxes is not just the name of a country or a kingdom. It is also the name of the man who isn't a man, the combined essences of what makes a country a country, the representation of all of the citizens of Xerxes' hopes, dreams, feelings, and pain.

In this life, he isn't a slave to a master.

(But he is, and always will be a slave to the whims of the people who are the reason for his existence. They all are.)

In this life, he still longs for companions.

(They all look at him and either treat him like a God or boss him around like he's a pushover. He's not a God, nor is he a carpet to be walked over. He just wants someone to treat him like he's a real person.)

In this life, he still desires a family.

(He knows it'll never happen. What human could ever love him? He's going to be all alone for the rest of his lonely existence in the desert.)

The King's Alchemist asks to take some of his blood to use in an experiment, after several failures with other samples of blood.

He agrees. What's the worst that could happen?

(Years later, he damns Murphy and his law.)

(Damn Murphy)

(His people are dead... And it's his fault.)

0o0

You know how this story ends. With a foolish king who feared death too much, and man's creation that grew to desire more. All that remains of the once flourishing Kingdom of Xerxes are crumbling ruins of sun-bleached buildings that have long since been emptied of their antiques, and mountains of corpses whose bones have been swallowed by the sands of the Eastern Desert.

What was that saying? The higher you go, the harder you fall? Perhaps that could be said of the foolish king who greedily sought after immortality and got close enough to it, only to have the tables turned on him, becoming an ingredient to the immortality of another.

In a way, it is rather fitting punishment for a fool. He'll live forever now, suffering alongside the people he intended to power his own life.

When will humans learn?

Humans aren't the only prideful creatures, oh no. The Homunculus are a fine example of that, but they are hardly the only ones.

Definitely not.

0o0

In his life, Edward Elric had performed Human Transmutation a total of three times, three more than anyone in their right mind would have done.

The first time Edward performed Human Transmutation, he hadn't understood the true ramifications of his actions. He had gone in with his brother, wide eyed and hopeful at the thought of seeing their mother again. He hadn't anticipated the pain that would have come following his foolish actions. He hadn't thought it would go so horribly wrong. When those dark hands had reached out of the circle, when the eye of Truth had snapped open and revealed itself in all its terrifying glory, all Edward felt was fear and pain as he struggled against the hands all the while his brother's screams echoed in his ears.

The second time was more of a necessity than anything else. How else was he supposed to get out of Gluttony's stomach? He hardly wanted to waste away in there and die of starvation. When those black hands reached out of the circle, pulling at him piece by piece, Edward just closed his eyes and resigned himself to the pull of the Gate. It was only consolation that some good had come out of it, other than getting out of Gluttony's stomach. After all, he had found Alphonse's body. At the point, he had long since resigned himself to the idea that his and Alphonse's body were lost forever, and they'd have to make new ones through some other means. So when he saw his little brother's body, albeit emaciated and malnourished, he felt hope for the first time since he discovered Philosopher Stones were made out of human souls.

The third time he opened the Gate, which was happening in present time, he grinned as he found his answer for the Truth and let himself disappear into the Gate once more for the last time. Not even the uncomfortable sensation of being pulled to the Gate, or even the prospect that he was about to lose something that was important to him was enough to dampen his spirits.

After all, nothing in the world was more important than his little brother.

("This is my Gate of Truth. Which means I can to whatever I want with it. Correct?")

If it meant Alphonse would get his body back, he'd sacrifice his Alchemy twice over.

("Is that your final answer? Think carefully now!)

("Who needs Alchemy? I'll still have my friends!")

If you asked Edward what he thought of if someone mentioned the Truth (assuming he'd answer and not punch you for bringing up something so traumatic), he might have said that all he sees is the Truth's mocking grin as it took his leg as punishment for his arrogance.

Now though, all that mockery was gone from the Truth's grin and if anything, it seemed genuinely pleased that finally, finally, someone had understood and found the true answer to everything.

"You've done it! That's the right answer!"

Edward grinned, almost dizzy with happiness as he began to turn around and give up his Alchemy for good. Or at least he was, until the Truth's next words caught as off guard as a brick to the head in which case his smile slid off his face like water.

"But, I won't take your Alchemy."

"W-what?' Edward stammered, involuntarily taking a step back as though the Truth's words were an actual physical force that pushed him backwards. With the weight of those words, they might as well have been a physical blow.

Why? Was his Alchemy not good enough as a toll for Alphonse's body and soul? His mind raced with all the other possible tolls he could give up, anything at all.

(Take my arm...! My leg...! Or even my heart...! Anything! You can have it! Just give him back! He's all I have left!)

"Y-you bastard! You said I-!"

"Oh, no, no." The Truth had no qualms with interrupting the enraged Alchemist who looked like he would have liked to throw his Gate at the Truth quite literally. It didn't seemed phased by Edward's angry words, if anything it seemed quite amused.

"That's not what I meant at all. I never said you won't be getting your brother back. Your toll, was always meant to be quite different. After all, the ramifications would be quite severe for everyone."

"What are you talking about?!" Edward finally snapped impatiently, sick and utterly tired from the day's events while all he wanted to do was bring his brother back home.

The Truth seemed to pause for a moment, before it once again grinned, almost maliciously but not quite yet there as it spoke, the Gate opening up behind Edward. "That would be telling, Edward Elric. You'll know what your toll is soon enough. Yours, and your brother's."

For a moment, time seemed to slow down as the blood drained from his face. His heart pounded loudly in his ears, the sudden horror bursting forth as a whirlwind of thoughts, far more ferocious than it had been only minutes prior, roared to life because 'What was the Truth extracting as a toll?' and 'Not Al, please not Al!'. Then, time resumed its normal pace and the Gate's black tendrils yanked him back as the young man yelled angrily.

"Truth, you bastard! What did you do?!" Edward howled as Gate slammed shut, the last thing he saw of the Truth was that all to familiar grin as the it raised a hand as if to say to goodbye.

Then, to the silent void, the Truth gave its answer to the question that Edward would never hear.

"I've only given back that which I took. The source of your original arrogance."

0o0

He must have passed out when he passed through the Gate, because the next thing he knows is that he's lying on the rubble covered ground where he had previously beaten Father into the ground, a particularly sharp rock is digging into his back, and Hohenheim is leaning over him with a concerned expression on his face.

It's really more instinct than actual anger when Edward swings his fist up to punch his father in the face, sending the older man tumbling back with a pained yelp even though there was far less strength in it than when he punched him in Kanama. He could have snorted. They just fought a creature that had stolen the powers of God and that is what took Hohenheim down? A punch? Wimp.

Ignoring the near silent voice in his head that was trying to reason with him (oddly enough, it sounded like Alphonse), Edward sat up with a wince. He had not noticed it earlier, but he was in quite a rough shape and his wounds were really beginning to sting, especially on his arms. The adrenaline from the battle must have worn off a while ago, leaving him to feel the full brunt of his injuries.

Arms?

Vaguely, Edward thought he heard someone talking to him, but he just was unable to hear what they were saying as he frantically looked around for his brother, the Truth's words coming back to him and hitting him like freight train. Where was he? Where was Alphonse?

There! Next to his (former) teacher, Blond hair that was identical to his own peeked out from under a blanket and Edward could see a pale, thin arm. It was definitely Alphonse. There was no one else in the world, save for him and Hohenheim, who had that particular shade of blond. That, and who else would look so severely malnourished?

(He still feels guilty that he hadn't found Alphonse sooner)

"Alphonse!" The panic dispersed, the weight of his worries lightening significantly. No seemed to be in a panic, no one was screaming bloody murder, so that had to be a good sign, right? Edward hurriedly got up, ignoring all of his aches and pains, and he barely makes it two steps before his left leg gives out on him and sends him sprawling. Fortunate that his automail decided to give out now, and not in the middle of battle. The only reason why he does not add a broken nose to his list of injuries is because Hohenheim (who has recovered being punched) manages to catch him before he hits the ground.

"Edward, don't push yourself." Hohenheim said softly, a steady hand gripping his arm.

He would have snapped at his father, but the sight of a flesh and blood leg replacing cold, hard, metal was enough to nearly send him reeling, all the words dying in his throat. He had been so caught up in his worry for his brother that he hadn't realised his leg was back as though it had never been gone. For a moment, the desire to marvel at what he had regained was strong, before he quickly smothered it, his concern for Alphonse overpowering everything else as he stumbled over to his brother who was beginning to stir.

He grudgingly let his father support him as he made his way over to his little brother, deciding that if it meant getting to Alphonse sooner, he'd tolerate Hohenheim for a few moments.

"Al! Alphonse!" The moment he was close enough, Edward scrambled to his brother's side, careful to to trip and fall on his currently very fragile brother. It was like Alphonse was made of glass in comparison to the suit of armor that was his body for the last five or so years. If he fell on his brother, it was very likely that he'd break something.

"B...brother?" Eyes fluttered to reveal gold irises (gold! Not the bright red soul fire he had seen in the empty armour's eyes for so long), the same ones he had seen when he had been escaping from Gluttony's faulty portal. Edward quickly scanned his brother for injuries. Nothing. Nothing to suggest what the toll the Truth extracted from them even was. Both relief and fear bloomed in him.

Alphonse wasn't missing any limbs, that was good. There was the lingering issue, however, if what the Truth took was something unseen. What if the toll was something like Teacher's? What if...?

He was interrupted from inner thoughts when he felt a bony hand grasp his own hand, clutching him almost desperately.

Their eyes met, the worry and fear Edward felt reflected in Alphonse's own eyes as he whispered, "Brother... what did you give up?!"

Almost instantly, he felt eyes on him, drilling holes into him. What did he give up?

For the first time in a very, very long time, Edward was completely at a loss. Squeezing his brother's hand for comfort, he dipped his hand and told Alphonse the only thing he knew.

"I don't know."

0o0

Later, much later, Edward found himself in a hospital bed beside Alphonse's, bandages wrapped around his arm and torso. Alphonse had curled up on the hospital bed, fast asleep for the first time in years, leaving Edward to his own thoughts. After the events of the Promised Day, the hospital was chock full of injured military personnel, as well as a few civilians who had been caught in the voices were loud, and the footsteps walking up and down the corridor outside the door was keeping Edward wide awake. How Alphonse managed to sleep through the racket was beyond him.

Unable to take it anymore, he got up from the hospital bed, ignoring the aches and pains that protested at each movement he made. There was a dull ache that never went in his chest that made him wince, but he figured it'd leave him alone eventually. Grabbing the crutches he had been provided, he slowly hobbled his way through the hospital corridors, no one taking notice of him, and he eventually found his way to the roof of the hospital.

There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and yet the stars were missing from the night sky. Yet another difference from Resembool, that separated it from being home. The light pollution really killed the stars.

He closed his eyes, feeling the wind ruffle his hair. It was peaceful now, wasn't it? The Homunculi were gone, he and Alphonse had gotten their bodies back... so why wouldn't that horrid feeling in the pit of his gut disappear?

He looked down at his hands, his flesh hands, and wondered if he had imagined the whole thing with Truth up. It wasn't likely, since the mystery of what he sacrificed was still up for debate, but why else would it feel like nothing was missing? In fact, he felt much more... whole, than he had ever felt before. After the failed transmutation, he had gone around with a deep sense of emptiness, as if something was missing, until it faded to a dull twinge at the back of his mind. He had barely noticed it, but when he realised that the empty feeling had vanished...

He clapped his hands together, his mouth set into a thin line as he formed a transmutation circle in his mind and set his palms flat against the tiled floor.

The crackle of Alchemic energy and sparks of blue told him everything.

0o0

A/N Hello, and welcome back to an episode of 'Gwntan12 tries to write a story before she usually ends up losing steam'. You can tell I'm very optimistic. Regardless, I actually do have a plan of how this story is going to go, unlike my last attempt, and you can tell that this story is going to be quite different from my last one. I'm not very good at characterising Hetalia characters though, so please don't kill me once I bring them in (which, also won't be for another few chapters because c'mon, Amestris needs to recover from the Promised Day aftermath. The Fuhrer is also dead, and there's going to be a lot of political shuffling going around since quite a few Generals died or were arrested. As per common sense, out of country affairs will have to be sorted through at later date. For now, we're focusing on Edward and Alphonse.).

What Hetalia characters would you like to see? And while I'm at it, I need filler scenes to put in. Any ideas?

Next time, on Redux; Edward struggles to find out what the toll the Truth took, Alphonse worries about his brother, Hohenheim is still around and concerned, Mustang is still blind, and Central City begins to rebuild.

Thank you.

- Gwntan12