Chapter Text
The desert is a place many would call cruel.
With sand that would sink you in, the sun scorching down onto you without a care for your well-being, with no water or plant life to allow for survival; barely any animals. The desert is no place for the lighthearted.
For Edward, it was home. The sun beaming high in the sky, allowing for the heat to soak into his skin, into his very being with its warmth (finally taking away the cold that clings onto him that chills him to his veins), for the sand that felt grainy but also smooth when picked up, for the plant life that did grow despite the challenges it faced, becoming so resilient and beautiful at the same time.
He passes a tiny tillandsia growing at the edge of a sandy rock, underneath the shade it provides, right on the verge of flowering and showing its beauty behind the rough edges. He smiles, the tiny thing is resilient, growing without roots and lack of water but somehow still growing a flower and later other tillandsia’s to continue its line.
“Brother, we're almost at Liore.” Alphones voice calls out ahead, making Edward turn his attention towards his baby brother.
His baby brother who is stuck in a suit of armour due to his own negligence, due to his lack of resources, and lack of ability to go back to Truth and beg for his brother back-
“Brother?” Alphones voice calls out again, this time high pitched and slow. He’s worried, too used to the times he would space out for hours at a time, lost in his memories and unable to remember where he is, when he is, who he is.
“Fine Al.” He replies shortly, speeding his steps to keep pace with his brother, taller in his armour to his shorter self.
Ed stops.
“Brother?”
“I just called myself short.” Edward grumbled, shaking his head angrily. Even now he’s shorter than others but at least Before he had something to make up for it.
Alphones laughs, hollow in sound but somehow still warming Edwards heart. He misses his brother's laugh, not the one he hears now with its hollowness, but the one that sounded like bells jingling, the one that made the world brighter. However, Edward is still going to take this one over nothing, over the possibility that he could have never heard his brothers laugh again. So, he smiles.
“Laugh it up, you're lucky your amor is tall.” He replies, no real heat in his voice. Not for his brother, never for Al.
Liore is up ahead and when Edward sees the town, his heart breaks.
This area once held a tribe of people who worked with the land rather than against it. Who saw the desert sun as not its enemy but rather a friend and made endless memories in the sand during their time.
An area that had given him his Before name.
But that was well over a millennium ago and he is no longer their friend.
Now with tall buildings, electrical wires, cars and people everywhere, that tribe that once worked with the land is gone, replaced with people who look at the desert with annoyance.
“Woah, they really worked hard here.” Al comments, looking at the desert city with wonder.
Edward wants to scoff. Worked hard? Hard on nothing when they are working against the flow of the land rather than with it, he thinks.
“This place is bustling” Alphonse continues, looking around the city they continue to walk through. The sand is no longer their flooring but rather hardened concrete that smooth their feet.
Edward- no He hates it.
“It’s loud” He’s able to choke out, barely dodging passing bodies, he feels colder here.
Suddenly the setting has changed, his clothes are silk, his skin feels so warm, there are desert flowers in his hair, flowing freely down his back. Children are running in front of him, grasping at his hands as they pass. They are laughing in joy, begging him to settle down and let them touch the gold that is his hair, to put more flowers into it, for him to tell them more stories of the dragons that once flew in the sky. Of his first years of consciences
He laughs, letting the children pull on him as they walk together, letting them pull at his silk clothing, and golden hair with a smile.
How many times has the sun set? How long has it been since he walked through this land, since he flew down and used feet rather than wings. The children are happy to see him again, but some are much older, pushing into the coming-of-age ceremonies and there are younger ones that are stumbling with their newly found ability to run.
It must have been a decade at least, but time passes differently for him. A decade is nothing to his countless years of burning.
As sudden as before, he is back to the present. His hand is held by his brother as he's being guided to a place to sit and drink.
He doesn’t remember being thirsty, but his throat is dry.
He doesn't remember losing himself to another memory.
“Alphonse?” He calls, a question all on its own. It’s his own way of asking how long did he lose, how long he was stuck in another memory that should not be in his head but is there anyway.
“Only a few minutes, I think this is the shortest one yet.” Al replies, soft spoken in a way to ensure he doesn’t scare Edward back into another episode.
His hand is still being held by the bigger glove, but he doesn’t make any attempts to pull it away. He needs it, needs the harsh mesh to ground him back into this present.
His name is Edward, he is foure- no fifteenth, he is in Liore, in a country named Amestris. It is 1914, he’s the youngest state alchemist in history.
He repeats that sentence in his head repeatedly until it becomes fact.
“I’m good Al. Back” His response is short, soft spoken in a whisper that is only meant for his brother.
Their seated at an open bar being run by an older man with sun-tanned skin, no hair and a raspy voice.
His mustache is something though, Edward thinks.
The seats are harsh wood with little cushion, but he doesn’t mind, the drink the old man had given him more than made up for the seat.
Alphonse and the old man are chatting, with Alphonse asking about the town and people. Edward halfheartedly listens, not really paying much attention to the details the old man gives and rather focuses on his drink. It’s sweet and refreshing with a small hint of something he has never eaten in this life but has tasted Before. It’s probably made from prickly pears that grow on the cacti around the desert.
“Prickly pears are incredibly delicious!” He holds one in his hand, the thorns just scratching at his tan skin, but not digging into it. He shows it to the man sitting in front of him.
“But be careful, they have these thorns that can hurt if you squeeze it. So you must peel the skin of-”
"But I can eat it?"
"Why would I be showing this to you if you cannot eat it?"
"Have you forgotten the last time you spoke of something delicious?"
"... Quiet you."
Edward blinks, trying not to get lost in another memory just because this drink reminds him of something from Before. He is tired of getting lost in memories that should not be there, of memories that are older than the country itself. Sometimes he thinks that if he's going to be lost in his life, let it be one from this time rather than the last.
“Oh! I almost forgot, it's time for some soul food!” The old man suddenly exclaims, turning on the radio that sits on the roof of his bar.
That's an unsafe place for a radio, but who is he to judge.
Music starts to play, the type that would be heard during an important ceremony or celebration before a man starts to speak. His voice is old, confident and loud, speaking something of children, but Edward barely pays it much attention, too lost in his own mind to give the mans speech much care.
“- so does the sun god Leto-”
Edward freezes. His eyes widen; his heart starts to pound in his chest rapidly.
“Come on now! Just because you can fly does not mean you should not walk!”
"Why must I walk -
He’s too cold, too hot, the flames underneath his skin are burning, yet his fingers feel ice cold.
He can faintly hear Th- no, Alphonse's voice.
Because His name is Edward, and his brother is alive-
“You do not understand human emotions, yet you still feel pride when you watch them.”
“Of course I do! They have learned to grow with the gifts I have given them, it makes me prou-”
Where is he again? He’s lost, lost in memories that are not his but are his. That he has lived but did not live. Of his first beginning to his last end.
“Ishvala-”
“You mean teacher?”
“Teacher-”
His name is Edward, he is.., he is in Liore, in a country named Amestris. It is 1414, he’s the youngest state alchemist in history.
No, it's not 1414, but 1914.
Al is speaking to someone, because Al is here.
“Oh, my dear solaris, why are you distressed?”
“I have never realized how short human lives truly are...”
His name is Edward. That is his name, his name is Edward. He is, his is
"They sla...slaughtered them... I.. I could only watch as-
"That is despair, despair born from human greed."
His name is Edwa-
"You do not hold a name?"
His name is Edward.
"I have only awoken moments ago."
"Would you like one?"
He is fourteen-thirteen, no he can't remember his age because he has never had one Before.
“-Sun God-”
"Leto.”