AN: Because a certain Aussie gave me the idea, this is dedicated to her. The prompt: an AU where Lan Fan took in Greed instead of Ling. So this is set in Brotherhood, but deviates from canon after Gluttony swallows Ed and in this case, Lan Fan. No pairings, only nakamaship with suggestive undertones (because this is still Greed, female vessel notwithstanding).

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and its characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa; I own nothing.

Lady of Avarice, Queen of the World

by Miss Mungoe

Part 1

She awoke to pain.

Of course, what with having just lost an arm she hadn't expected anything else, but it was a different kind of pain than what she'd felt before – an incessant throbbing that seemed to reverberate throughout her entire being, from the top of her skull and to the very tips of her five remaining fingers.

Her waking was a slow process, too, like being dragged out of a pit of mud, and with her head clearing, so came the memories, brief flashes of jumbled imagery and sensations. She remembered the battle – the man who'd nearly taken off her arm, and her following decision to finish the job. Her field-amputation had been sloppy, made in a hurry because circumstances had demanded it. She'd endured the pain for the sake of the Young Lord, but it was a flicker at the edge of her memory. Now she longed for that pain, which seemed petty compared to the state of her shoulder at present.

She'd had surgery – she remembered that much. A bumpy car-ride and a cabin at the edge of a forest, and a doctor, whose only defining characteristic she could remember were hands cold as death, and who'd had to make new cuts to make sure the wound healed properly. And in-between all the images were murmurs of keep still and it won't be long now and that's a brave girl you've got here.

It was all a little fuzzy after that, but some things stood out amongst the blanks – a loud crash, the entire structure of the building rocking, warm hands on her shoulders lifting her up, urging voices and angry shouts and a feeling like a whirlwind, a suction, and the Young Lord calling her name, Lan Fan! La–

"–n Fan! Lan Fan!"

Hands were on her shoulders now, one warm and one metallic-cold, and it was all she could do to channel enough strength to focus through the haze that covered her vision like a film. The lids of her eyes felt heavy like lead, but she lifted them to meet a pair of distressed, golden eyes set in a face wrought with alarm. She recognized that face, she found, but the thought was slow in coming.

"Ed...ward?"

Her response seemed to chase some of the panic off his face, but there was a worried crease between his brows, and she wondered a moment at the odd way his hair seemed to glow in the all-encompassing dark at his back – not a forest, the thought struck her. Somewhere else. Somewhere too quiet to be a forest; there were no animals here. In fact, all she could pick out were the two of them and that can't be right. There had been more of them. The doctor and Lieutenant Hawkeye and the Young Lord–

"Where–" the word lodged itself in her parched throat, and she coughed. There was a hand on her back, and she tried to focus on that, and not the pain that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Her head spun and it was difficult to tell whether she was sitting down or lying flat on her back.

She hadn't been able to ask her question, but he must have realized what it was, because his answer was a low mutter in the eerie silence. "I don't know for sure, but...I think we might have been swallowed."

Her mind worked to wrap around his words, and the implications. "Swallowed...?"

He shifted, and from the way she felt the movement she concluded he was holding on to her. "Yeah. There's all sorts of messed up crap down here. Part of the house–" she thought he might have gestured in some direction, but she couldn't follow the movement with her eyes, "–and some other things. It's insane, but it's the only explanation I've got." He sighed, the long-suffering sound of someone not used to being without answers.

She'd have liked to tell him it was insane, but she remembered the whirlwind-like feeling – the sensation of being sucked in – and forced a breath out through her nose. They were in the fat Homunculus' belly? A vague memory brushed against her mind – an eye in the darkness, and sharp teeth like a great maw opening up–

She sucked in a breath, then let it out. "That's...not good."

He snorted, but didn't call her out on her gross understatement, and she felt him shift again. "I dunno if there are any more of us down here," he said then, and hesitated. "Al and Ling–" he stopped, as though realizing following that line of thought might not be the best course of action. "Anyway, we need to find a way out."

There was clear intent in his voice, and a determination that she'd come to associate with the Elric boys in the short time they'd been acquainted, but along with the conviction there was a wariness he couldn't quite mask. Because no matter how much confidence he threw around, it didn't dispel the fact that she was gravely injured and more a hindrance than help in their already precarious predicament.

A feeling of uselessness shivered across her fever-hot skin, and she felt stubborn tears press at the lids of her eyes. In the past twenty-four hours she'd not only endangered the Young Lord's life, but now she was reduced to being dead weight again, to be carried around at the risk of another's health.

"Hey!" his bark drew her out of her own mind, and she blinked heavy eyes to focus better on the glare directed at her. "Don't you dare look at me like that – it's not your fault you were dragged into this mess."

She shook her head. "The Young Lord–"

"The idiot prince can take care of himself," he cut her off, and muttered under his breath, but he didn't sound as sure as he'd no doubt liked to. "Ling will be fine. I'm pretty sure hunger's the only thing that'll kill him." He glared at her. "And if you're going to try to out-stubborn me, you've got another thing coming."

She breathed out through her nose. "Edward Elric–"

"Ed," he interrupted, and she felt him shift again, this time to hoist her up. "If we're going to be stuck in this hell-hole together, you might as well drop the formalities. Ling would've."

She didn't have the strength to protest and tell him that she didn't have her Lord's mind and manners, and allowed herself to be lifted with a weak grunt. "'Sides," he said, as he set off at a slow pace, and she wondered at the sensation of wading through something. Is there water here? "I'm not that polite, so you're better off doing the same."

She snorted weakly. "The Young Lord...would no doubt agree." She couldn't see his grin, but could imagine it well enough, and he shifted his grip, mindful of her shoulder. Metallic fingers tugged her loose shift around her when she shivered, although it felt like she was burning up from within.

"Don't pass out," came the brusque order when her eyes threatened to slip closed, and she started. She hadn't been given much chance to recover, not from her own field-amputation or the operation, and her body was slowly catching up with her exhausted mind, and it was a struggle to stay awake. Flickering lights in the darkness passed at the edges of her vision, and the jarring motion of being carried had her shoulder throbbing like murder, but she resolutely clenched her teeth against the pain.

"Where are we going...?"

He hummed, the sound low under his breath. "No way to tell directions in this place, so I picked straight ahead." He snorted softly. "Something tells me waiting around won't get us out of here. I doubt there's an actual door somewhere, but it's better than sitting down to die."

She didn't answer, only rested her head against his shoulder and wondered if she hadn't been better off dying in battle for her Young Lord than in this dark Hell that smelled of sulphur and the persistent, metallic tang of blood. Her companion didn't seem to be thinking along the same lines, however, and true to his somewhat awkward nature, attempted a morbid sort of humour that really only served to underline the severity of their situation.

"Besides, it can't get much worse than this."

Remarks of that nature shouldn't be allowed to be spoken under such conditions, Lan Fan decided, because it did get worse, and it did so at such a sluggish pace she began to wonder if this was perhaps the Hereafter because surely one could not be cursed to die so slowly in life. But Ed was persistent and pushed on, half-carrying, half-dragging her weight through the damp darkness. The only thing that kept her believing they were still alive was the fever slowly burning its way through her skin to her bones, until she was too delirious to see straight let alone think clearly. The metallic scent of blood had seared a permanent brand in her nose, and the fabric of her pants was soaked through, but she tried not to let her mind linger on the implications. It wasn't water, but she didn't really want to think about what options that left them with. An eternal Hell of blood and fire, and no way out.

His voice was a steady drum at the edge of her hearing, but she could only catch bits and pieces of what he was saying. It felt like she was submerged, her head under water and his voice somewhere she couldn't quite reach. The little she did register was about the loss of his own arm and leg, that it was imperative that she stayed awake and that they should get her back to a doctor as soon as possible and how fucking big could one damn Homunculus be, anyway?

She tried to get him to leave her behind on several occasions, but he wouldn't hear of it, or he couldn't hear what she was saying through the slurring. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth and she couldn't get the words out, but her intention must somehow have been conveyed because he glared at her with such ferocity she wondered what she'd said wrong. It wasn't unusual for a vassal to demand to be left to save another.

Then she remembered, he wasn't the Young Lord, and somewhere at the back of her mind nagged the thought of where is the Young Lord? But her question remained unanswered, and for hours they walked without encountering a single living soul. She didn't know whether to take it as a good sign; their other companions could very well be lost somewhere in the seemingly endless space of the Homunculus' belly. They could walk an eternity and cross paths without even knowing. The thought sat like a rock beneath her ribcage, and she tried not to think about it too much, although the only thing she seemed to be able to do in her current state was think.

Then they encountered another Homunculus, and Lan Fan wondered, in a fit of uncharacteristic hilarity, if their luck had well and truly run out.

Her mind worked a mile a minute, thinking of their options, their available weapons save his automail. She'd been stripped for her impromptu shoulder surgery, and felt a sudden, violent sense of nakedness without even so much as a kunai within reach, quite disregarding the fact that she was clad in a thin shift that barely covered her chest. But naked flesh had never been an issue – the loss of her weapons was another matter entirely.

Ed spoke, and there was a sharp reply, but it seemed too far out of her reach, somehow, delirious as she was. The conversation that followed was a muffled series of brusque sentences and half-shouts, but neither party moved to attack. She didn't know whether it was because of her half-dead shape, or the uselessness of the venture in this shared, bloody Hell that seemed not to discriminate between human and Homunculus.

They must have reached some sort of accord, because she became aware of being put down onto something hard and cold, and Ed's muffled voice talking, something about human transmutation and circles and murals and Xerxes and sacrifice. The shrill lilt of the voice she recognized as Envy's cut through the fog, but the nature of the conversation was still lost on her – her tired body and mind dragging her down like weights. The thrum of the ground shaking beneath her lulled her into unconsciousness – the sensation like the steady tread of heavy footfalls, and she closed her eyes just for a moment–

A hand shook her good shoulder then, and she started back into consciousness to find two faces looking down at her. Ed's was set with a grim determination that reminded her, startlingly, of the Young Lord, and that told her he was about to try something harebrained. "I think I've found a way out," he said matter-of-factly, but something told her he wasn't talking about an actual, physical door.

He told her then, of his plan. To re-transmute himself, followed by an explanation that didn't make a lick of sense, but he seemed adamant on trying, and Envy not at all inclined to stop him. Lan Fan wanted to tell him something about not trusting a Homunculus, that there was a thousand things that could go wrong and hadn't he learned not to take risks with Alchemy already, but she was too tired, and she doubted she could have stopped him even if she hadn't been missing an arm and been half-dead from fever.

But she made a grab for his shirt regardless, her remaining fingers curling around the fabric as she tried to put on her best warning look. "Don't...trust it..." she wheezed out. "Bad...idea."

He pressed his lips together in a smile that didn't seem at all comforting, and detached himself, placing her head gently down on the slab, and she watched from her new position as he meticulously drew out a circle in the rock. Her head rested heavy against the rock surface, and her shoulder burned like fire, drawing her attention away from what was going on around her. Bile rose in her throat and she felt dizzy even lying on her side, but she pushed the sensation down, piling stubbornness and hard-learned fortitude atop it like a physical lid. She refused to perish here in this nameless Hell, a burden in her very last hours. Unacceptable. Her grandfather would never forgive her.

She heard him speak, but could only make out certain words, and her gaze followed the trek of his feet across the length of her vision, before he came to stand before the circle he'd drawn earlier. Then she watched as he went through the motions she recognized from their duel on the rooftop, before he pressed his hands against the rock slab. The ground beneath them rumbled to life, and she started as the lines of the circle came to life, the bright light an onslaught after hours spent in the dark, and she had to shut her eyes against the glare. When she cracked one eye open, she sucked in a startled breath at the sight of winding, black hands stretching heavenward from the circle.

Ed was kneeling before her then, automail-hand a firm weight on her ribcage and golden eyes aglow in the unnatural light. "Trust me?"

It only took a moment – she considered their sulphurous Hell, the Homunculus at Ed's back, and the glowing alchemical circle that beckoned with grasping hands. And she considered the Young Lord, her vow and her duty unfulfilled, her grandfather's disappointment–

She breathed, "Okay."

He didn't attempt a comforting smile this time as he helped her to her feet, and she leaned against him as he took a tentative step towards the circle. "You ready?"

She wasn't, but she didn't tell him that, and settled for nodding her head. Detaching herself with care, Lan Fan took another step towards the circle, and the eerie eye regarding her from its centre. Another step saw her walking at her own strength, and she spared only a thought for luck as she plunged herself into the light.

There was the sensation of suction again, and of coming apart at the seams, her entire being scattering like a puzzle, and she clenched her eyes shut, forfeiting her life on the trust he'd asked for, letting herself come undone–

–and a surge of light was the last she saw, dragging her away from the darkness.

When she came to, it wasn't to fire and blood but a blinding light like a beacon, shining even through the lids of her eyes, and her mind was conjuring images of another afterlife when a voice cut through the thick cotton in her ears, breaking the spell–

"– ou okay? Lan Fan!"

She blinked her eyes open, her skull throbbing in tandem with her shoulder, to find herself looking up at an odd chamber with thick, winding wires running along the walls and the ceiling above her. She tried to shift, but found something holding her down, and hissed as the motion jarred her shoulder, and pained tears sprang to her eyes.

"Oye!" There were hands on her good shoulder then, tugging her away from whatever was holding her down, and through the glare of the light she spotted a familiar armoured shape looming at Ed's back.

...Alphonse?

"Where–" she hissed, teeth grinding together, "are we?"

Ed cast a glance towards his brother, brows furrowed. "I was just wondering that myself."

"My, but this is a surprise," a new voice spoke up then – drawing the boys' attention. "People, and right out of his belly. How peculiar." A tall figure in a white robe stepped out of the shadows, and Lan Fan had to shield her eyes to look up at him.

Then she felt it – like the slither of clammy fingers across her skin, and her breath hitched in her throat. What...what is wrong with this person? From beside her, Ed started, but not from the reason she had, and she watched his eyes widen almost comically, mouth dropping agape as the figure approached.

"Hohenheim...?"

What followed was an exchange so at odds with their previously grave situation she didn't know quite what to make of it, and neither did she know what to make of the feeling of wrongness that seemed to come from within the stranger – like something roiling beneath the surface of his skin; a mass of energies as though he was carrying around too many souls. This man isn't human.

She was shivering now, and couldn't seem to control her breathing, but the three standing above her didn't seem to so much as make note of her presence. For his imposing height and grave expression, the stranger's behaviour bordered on the ridiculous, and they were all repeating the same name as though speaking of a shared acquaintance, though by the glare on Ed's face it didn't appear to be a fond one. In the shadows behind them, Lan Fan caught the eerie glow of a pair of round, beady eyes, and above it, a looming shape she vaguely remembered from Gluttony's belly, though at the time she'd thought she'd imagined the whole thing. But the shifting of many faces in the darkness and the restless swaying of a great tail was impossible to ignore now.

"What's this?"

She startled, and realized the question had been directed at her just as three different expressions came to land on her where she sat, awkward at their feet. The stranger regarded her a moment, before casting a glance towards the shadows. "You can have this one, Gluttony."

"Hey–!" Ever the type to put himself in the middle of a confrontation, Ed got between her and the now approaching Homunculus, ambling out of the darkness with a deceptively playful grin. "You've had your fill today, fatty, so back off!" But the rotund Homunculus didn't seem overly concerned with his warning, and merely licked his lips as he waddled closer.

"Hey, pipsqueak – eyes over here." The loud crash of an enormous green appendage coming down in the space between them had the ground heaving, and Lan Fan toppled over with a yell, but she took the fall in an awkward roll, pushing herself to her feet just in time to avoid the swipe of a pair of fat, grasping hands.

"Lan Fan!"

"I can manage!" she snapped as she fell back, throwing herself out of the way. Despite her disorientation, she managed to land on her feet. Blood surged to her head and she swayed, but resolutely kept her balance. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of a tail sweeping across the length of the chamber, and Ed's attention focused in her direction–

"Ed, look out–!"

The ground heaved again, and she grunted as she fell hard on her hip, and before she'd had a chance to get back up, the fat Homunculus was in front of her, eerie grin stretched wide across a pudgy face. "Gotcha!"

She growled low in her throat, and aimed a kick to the side of its head, shifting her weight to make a stronger impact. But despite her efforts, it seemed to bounce right off, and she tumbled down onto her back, her breath knocked out of her in a whoosh just as a sudden blast of red light lit up the entire chamber.

She wheezed, trying and failing to force air back into her lungs as she stared up at the ceiling, and the looming Homunculus who seemed to have momentarily abandoned his previous objective of devouring her. When the light flickered away to nothing and the dust cleared around them, a moment of utter silence followed, before the surprised intakes of breath alerted her to the Elrics' predicament, and she turned her head in their direction. She didn't know much about their powers, but had seen them utilised enough to realize something wasn't right. The robed man watched the spectacle with a detached look, as the two boys futilely slapped their hands against the unyielding ground.

He...cancelled out their alchemy?

She started as the two boys were caught off guard by a set of unnaturally large hands pressing them into the floor, and a split second later saw a pair of grubby fingers flipping her over on her stomach to hold her down. She stifled her scream by pressing her lips shut, but the pain of having her shoulder shoved into the ground was an onslaught that made her wonder for a second if she wasn't about to pass out. In her agonized delirium she heard voices – Ed and Alphonse, and the shrill, inhuman rumble that was Envy. And–

"You might be of some use to me yet," the robed man spoke – the one they called Father, her exhausted mind supplied, and she realized he'd directed the remark at her. Cold, golden eyes entered her line of vision, and he regarded her closely, seeming to assess her somehow, and she looked up through the hair clinging to her sweat-slicked brow. He tilted his head. "Now that I think about it, I might be able to increase my number of pawns. And," he took a step forward, then mused almost to himself, "There has been a missing element of...femininity since we lost Lust. But yes, you will do nicely."

She watched with wide eyes as he touched the pad of one finger against his forehead, and the opening of an eerie, unseeing eye above his brows, before a red liquid-but-not-quite substance trickled down to land in his open palm.

She heard Alphonse draw in a startled breath. "A Philosopher's Stone!"

Her head snapped up at that, and she momentarily forgot about her injuries, and the man looking at her like a particularly fascinating experiment. A Philosopher's Stone? The object the Young Lord has been searching for all this time?

She heard Envy speaking – about the prospect of a human-based Homunculus, and heard Ed's protest and futile attempt to wiggle out from the grip holding him in place. But she had no mind to heed his voice calling her name, her gaze set on the robe-clad man approaching her with calm, even steps, before crouching down before her. She was aware of Ed raising his voice to scream a series of obscenities, and the weight of the Homunculus on her back pressing down, but she didn't take her eyes off the man, and made no effort to struggle as a firm but insistent tug had the bandage wrapped around her torso unravelling around her.

"Lan Fan! Lan Fan–damn you, Envy, let me g–"

"Edward," she cut him off, calmly, and his gaze flew to hers. She saw his cheeks colour, but paid no mind to her own state of undress, and offered what she hoped to be a confident smile. "It's okay. This is what the Young Lord has been searching for. If this is a way of obtaining a Philosopher's Stone, I will take it."

He visibly balked. "W-what are you saying?! Are you crazy?! Lan Fan, you–"

"Ho, this is interesting." She glanced up at the stranger looking down at her, his head tilted as though regarding a particularly intriguing creature. "But if that is indeed what you wish–"

And that was all the warning she got, before he pressed his palm against the still-healing wound where her left arm should be, and she jerked at the sensation of something invading, a force seeming to push its way through the partly re-opened stitches and into her bloodstream.

The scream tore from her throat quite without her permission, drowning out the voices calling her name in alarm and she thrashed, curling in on herself as a surge of white-hot energy raced along her veins. Her vision swam with red and she clenched her teeth against the new, foreign pain. It felt distinctly like her bones were breaking and healing and breaking again, as though to make room for something – to accommodate for the well of power she felt swelling within her. She wanted to cry out again, but violently shoved the urge down. This is for the Young Lord. This is for the Young Lord. This is for the man who'll become the Emperor of Xing. I'm doing this for the You–

A feeling like falling in on herself drew another scream, this time seemingly from somewhere within her own head, and she fell and fell and continued falling, tumbling down into a darkness bleeding through with red until she couldn't distinguish up from down. She couldn't hear the others – couldn't hear anything but the surge of her own blood in her ears, and thrashed around in a futile attempt at finding something to hold on to–

–when she came to a sudden stop, and she drew in a startled breath as she toppled forward, catching herself on what appeared to be nothing, though it felt firm and secure beneath her. What...?

"The hell is this? A girl?"

She looked up with a start, eyes growing wide as she regarded the entity that had manifested before her – a set of vicious, pale eyes and a feral, inhuman grin, but detached from any physical shape. A spirit?

The creature's eyes furrowed – an almost human-like gesture. "What? Cat got your tongue?" The grin widened, and she knew, the Father's words coming back to her. Not a spirit – a Homunculus.

"Hey–"

"I have a tongue," she spoke then, voice sharper than she'd intended, and it cut the voice off mid-sentence. She avoided looking into the nothingness plummeting down beneath her as she rose to her feet, and despite her missing arm, squared her shoulders.

The creature seemed amused, if such an emotion could be ascribed to a disembodied being. "Oho? A woman who stands up for herself, whaddaya know." The grin stretched wide again, curving up at the corners in mockery of a smile. "Mah, I could care less – a body's a body. Now, time to give yours up, girly."

Lan Fan hesitated only a moment. "Fine."

The creature blinked. "Fine? That's it? No 'oh God, please no, please, anything but that'? Nothing?"

She met its gaze – or what she thought to be its gaze – squarely with her own. "No, that is all. I will take you in willingly, for the sake of my Lord."

She heard it snort. "For your Lord? The hell kind of lame-assed reason is that?"

She didn't so much as twitch, but stared it down resolutely, quite disregarding her missing arm and her half-naked state. She couldn't feel her fever anymore, and the throbbing in her shoulder was inexplicably gone, but she made use of the respite from her injuries to stand a little taller. As obedient as she was in her place at the Young Lord's back, she was not weak, and would not have cowered even if she'd been completely undressed. "I'm vassal to the man who will become the Emperor of Xing," she said. "My life has long been forfeit for the sake of his quest, and if I can bring him the object he searches for, then I will do so by any means necessary. That includes accepting you, Homunculus."

The eyes before her shifted in something akin to the raising of a brow. "Selflessness, huh?" the voice rumbled musingly, before the eyes furrowed sharply. "Nah, that ain't right. You crave power – don't think I can't feel it. Power to aid this Lord of yours." It laughed mockingly. "You can't disguise greed, girly, no matter how hard you try."

Lan Fan glared. "Call it whatever you like, creature. My decision stands. Or is this vessel not to your liking?" She stood a little straighter, and held out her remaining arm. If it required a display, she would not hide.

The creature burst out laughing, the sound reverberating through her entire being like a drum. "Not to my liking? Oh no, this is most definitely to my liking," it purred, and she glared back, and made no move to cover herself. But her defiance only seemed to please it. "In fact, I am liking you better and better, little lady."

She snarled. "I do not require your approval," she spat, then raised her chin. "Now, are you going to get this over with, or are we to stay here chatting? I do not have all day." She drew upon her life-long resolution to aid the Young Lord in order to mask the unease that simmered in the pit of her stomach, replacing her anxiousness with determination. She'd made her choice, and she would not back down now.

The creature's amusement was a trilling rumble along her skin. "Eager, aren't you?" It snorted. "Very well – don't let me keep you in suspense or anything."

A chasm seemed to open up before her, and there was the sensation of falling again, but this time she closed her eyes and allowed herself to plummet into a nothingness that seemed an endless drop further into her own mind. The sound of laughter followed her descent, and she felt the dark thrum wrap around her, seeming to burrow into every nook and cranny of her being until it wasn't just her but something else, something more – a dark power swelling up within her and enveloping her at the same time.

The drop came to a sudden stop, but once again there was no hard impact, and in her confusion it took her a moment to realize she was back in the chamber. But a feeling of wrongness persisted, like a nagging at the back of her mind, but she didn't realize what it was before she found her gaze drawn to her previously missing left arm – her whole, rounded shoulder curving into a familiar, slim appendage completely devoid of blemishes. There were none of the kunai-nicks of her trainee days, and no vicious, jagged scar running the length of her forearm from the time she'd fallen off the palace rooftop when she was ten. It was her arm, and it wasn't – a familiar but foreign length of pale skin and hard, sinewy muscle.

And on the smooth skin of her left hand, the image of a snake eating its own tail.

But it wasn't until the arm moved that Lan Fan became fully aware of the fact that she was not the one in command of her body, and she could only watch in detached fascination bordering on hysteria as the fingers of her hand clenched into a fist before her eyes.

"You've got spunk, girly," she heard her own voice speak – or a warped version of her voice, a full pitch deeper and with a dark undertone that seemed to slither along veins that felt like her own yet didn't. "A good thing, too, 'cause I wouldn't have the patience for a wet blanket. But this – this is good! We'll do well together, I wager."

Then there was a laugh, loud and trilling from the very depths of her gut, and echoing in the space of her new, hollow residence. A grin stretched wide across her vision in the strange darkness, and the voice reached out from the depths of her own subconscious, curling around her like a welcome. "In fact," came the purr, brushing along the curve of her ear, a man's or a woman's, she couldn't tell. Something in-between, at once masculine and feminine, familiar and foreign.

"I bet we'll be like two peas in a pod."

AN: So this will spawn more chapters as I go, in which case I won't religiously follow the events in the series, but rather keep them at the back of my mind as the focus will mainly be on Greed!Lan Fan (Granfan?). As it deviates somewhat from canon, there will be some artistic liberties taken, so keep that in mind. Hope you like it so far!