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According to a book Roy read once in his childhood, the name Riza means "guardian". The same book also says that his name means "king" in old French. These names would later shape their lives: Roy trying to be the leader of his country while Riza acted at the guardian of both her father's secrets and of Roy himself. However, there was a time when Roy thought it was his lot in life to protect Riza and that it was her lot to be akin to the precious royalty that deserved such divine protection.

When they were younger, Roy wanted to be her guardian. He wanted to shield her from the world's dark side and only show her its beauty. Let her see the world's miracles and sweet nature but blind her to its shortfalls and bitterness. He had, in his mind, already appointed himself the protector of Riza's smile, her unbridled joy and that beautiful light that made her tawny eyes nearly glow when she laughed. It was his job alone to maintain those things, as valuable to him (and, honestly, sometimes more so) as his own life.

Now, they were older and the reality of their situation was different from the want that he had held on to. Now, she was his guardian, the only protector of his body and soul. What she was protecting wasn't just one action, one emotion. She protected his life.

There were times when Roy wanted nothing more than to stop her. When she was about to leave to put herself in harm's way, all and only for him, he sometimes wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around her and plead with her not to go or to at the very least be careful. He wanted to tell her that if she left and returned to him dead, he would surely destroy himself. After all, without the queen, the king can't make any moves.

He couldn't do that, though. To do that would be a selfish thing (although he never said he wasn't just a bit selfish when it came to his lieutenant). Instead, he offered up a silent wish (the more religious would call it a prayer), hoping that some intangible force could, would, hear it.

'Please, if there really is a god that can hear me, please let Riza Hawkeye come back alive. If this is the one thing you can do for me, let it be that.'

That was what he had prayed, had wished, on that day. So, when he heard her scream, he felt as though whatever deity had blessed him with Riza's survival all this time had forsaken him. That all those prayers, all those damn wishes, had been for nothing. He thought that she was dying or already dead and that his fealty to the unseen had been a foolish kind of it.

Now, she was OK, probably asleep in her own house, safely tucked away in the realm of her dreams. She was fine and Roy didn't know who to hold responsible for it. Had it been that deity from before, its invisible yet omnipresent force healing her just as it had allowed her to be hurt or had it been by Riza's own volition that her eyes had opened and the battle won? Roy decided that philosophical questions like that shouldn't be dealt with at a quarter to midnight. He would wait until the morning's light came before he tried to answer it. Before he let himself sleep, however, Roy had some unfinished business to attend to first.

'OK, if you can hear me, do one thing for me: If it was you that made her OK and kept her safe all this time, please have her stay that way. If I have to go through unmitigated hell, then fine. Just keep her safe.'