Once upon a time in a land far far away... That's how these stories always begin, isn't it? A fantastical land of myth and magic, with evil queens and kings and stepmothers and stepsisters; knights in shining armor, and mystery women who run at the toll of midnight.

This story however, was of a different kind of evil, a different fantasy, and a different reason to run. It's the story of a prince. From a young age, he grew used to stories of war. Knights told him of the men they'd defeated and the lands they'd conquered. They brought spoils of war to the young royal and his father, his mother long lost. He would be ordained in foreign cloth and jewels, gifted with horses and weaponry too large for a boy his size to wield with promises of future use as he grew.

Defeating his enemies, he learned, meant killing them. Spoils of war were stolen from those the knights killed or captured. The growing land under his father's control was soaked in blood. In his teens, as he was learning to use those weapons too large for his younger self, he began to imagine the steel dripping with blood, wondering whose hand the sword was torn from. The spoils of war no longer interested him.

He turned away each gift brought by his knights. None of those stolen from the dead appeased him. His disdain, however, turned against him. His father made it a challenge to his military to bring his son a gift he would accept. Soon the gifts changed from material items, to irreplaceable and undesirable human tributes.

One after another, a slave was pushed to the floor at his feet, the head of a nobleman laid bloody on the marble of the palace tiles, concubines were made from beautiful women from conquered lands, and each gift was once more turned away, more disdain in the prince's dark eyes than ever before. Each tribute to the young lord looked up at him, eyes filled with fear and grief, begging him to be kind and gentle, though not trusting anyone to be so.

Once more, his disdain backfired. It was soon discovered that each boy and girl he turned away, was enjoyed by the knights instead. They began choosing those of their own liking, instead of thinking of the prince, knowing that, in the end, they would be theirs to toy with. His stomach churned at the knowledge. He was damned either way, to own an unwilling slave, or to give another innocent life to the knights he once used to trust to protect his people.

His father would have no say in this matter, he knew. His father, though not inherently an evil man, saw no reason to forbade the enslavement of those of lesser class. It was a tradition long practiced, after all. Speaking up on the idea would only show weakness and a lack of pride in such traditions of their country. No future leader should have such a soft heart to the lowly peasants and peons of the small outer villages.

The only way to save the innocent captors, it seemed, would be taking their lives into his own hands.

Once more, a dirty form was brought before him, dressed in whatever loose clothing he or she had. The prince wasn't entirely sure the gender of the new "gift." The baggy clothing and short blonde hair gave nothing away. Eyes turned up as the stolen human was pushed to the ground. Brown eyes, narrowed in hatred, focused on the male.

The face, he gathered, was nothing less than female. The fire in her eyes, was different than he'd ever seen. There was no fear in them, no grief. There was only anger, stubbornness, and a sense of pride he'd never seen in any other that had been brought before him.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, the male tilted his chin proudly, looking on at the knights before him with a firm glance. "I'll keep this one. And I'll have no other."

The armored form before him stood still, eyes widening slightly, surprised at the sudden change in his future leader's taste. "Are you positive, my lord? This one and no other? Surely you can't be satisfied with just one."

Dark eyes settled on the noble before him. "You haven't brought me anything acceptable in years and yet now you think you know what will and will not satisfy me? How arrogant." He crossed his arms, frowning as he repeated. "This one. And no other. Do not bring any more before me, nor shall you enjoy any more yourselves. Unless you have forgotten your oath of chivalry when you donned that armor."

"No sir!" The answer was immediate. It was a new voice, hearing the prince order him so, but with the firmness in his command, the knight new it better than to argue.

A hearty laugh came from the prince's side. The King stood at his son's side, patting his back firmly. "You heard the boy. Get this girl to his room, cleaned up and presented like a gift should be." He glanced down at the blonde. "Don't look so angry, girl, you will be serve Prince Roy. There are women and men who would kill for the chance to be at his side."

Roy caught the woman's glance as his father spoke. She would kill if given the chance. Her eyes alone seemed to glare daggers into the prince's pale skin. As she was led away, to the baths and then to his room, it felt as though the room got cold with the absence of the fire inside her.

The conversation between his father and their military seemed to drag on, talks of the growing nation, the conflicts they could face, the taxes. None of it seemed to interest him, though he knew, as the future King, he should have paid attention.

All he could think of was the girl waiting, forcibly, in his room. It was only a matter of time before he'd set her free, allowing her to run away as his key to ending the suffering of those captured by his men. Nevertheless, he was intrigued by her. She wasn't afraid of him. It was a new sensation. He hadn't lied when he said they'd finally brought him something, or someone, of interest to him. It was bittersweet that her presence would be short-lived. He knew, however, that a woman like that should never be kept in a cage.

His skin felt on edge as he made each step closer to his bedroom, knowing what would await him behind that door. What did the proud girl look like beneath the grime? He relieved the guards from his doors, seeing them smirk as he left, believing to know why he wanted his privacy. Each time he brought a woman to his room, though a willing partner all other times, he relieved the guards, allowing the woman to leave before the men returned in the morning.

He knocked before entering, almost a foreign sensation seeing as though it was his own room. He waited, receiving no response before entering. There she sat, poised in the seat by his bed, firm glare still present on her pale face. Her mouth remained shut, hands in her lap, hidden in the frills of the dress that she looked so uncomfortable in, legs tucked beneath her, also unseen under the clothes she'd been presented in.

Roy approached gently, sitting at the edge of the bed, holding a hand out to her. "My name is Roy Mustang." He greeted, as if she wasn't already aware of the prince's identity. "May I know your name, miss?"

Her voice was rougher than her eyes. "You didn't need my name to claim me, why do you need it now?" She questioned, eyes firm on him.

He sighed, rubbing his neck as he diverted his eyes from her. "I know this might seem hard to believe, but I did this for your own good..."

"My own good?" She laughed, a cold laugh that doused the fire he'd felt inside him. "You had me stolen from my home, dragged around on a leash, presented in front of you like cattle for market, and it was for my own good?"

Roy winced, perhaps he wasn't as great with his words as a nobleman should have been. "I meant accepting you. I never requested them to do this, but it was better to accept you than to turn you away. So that they could have their way with you instead..."

"So I suppose being raped by the prince is supposed to be better than by a knight? I should be honored."

"No! That's not-" He groaned, losing his words before he could get them out. He was one of the most well taught men in the country, how was it that he could be so illiterate in this moment? "I never asked for them to capture any women or men. I hated that. I turned them all away but every time I did they would take it upon themselves to enjoy those I didn't want. I don't plan on doing anything to you."

"Then explain why you sent the guards away. Why you had your servants strip me dress me in this... this garbage..." She commented, tugging at the edge of her bodice.

He couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped his lips. For anyone to call what she wore "garbage" would be a shock. She was wearing finery that even noble women couldn't afford. "It was just to prepare you for me. No one knows of my stance but-" His focus turned to her hands, bound together with rope at the wrist. "Who did that?"

"I was a threat. I fought them when they stripped me and they figured you were safer if I couldn't fight back." She answered bluntly, eyes never looking away.

"Let me remove them." He spoke, reaching over to take hold of the bindings.

"I might hurt you." She warned.

"Then I probably deserve it. Just try not to damage my face, okay?" His smile was amused, still enjoying this new trait in a woman he'd never seen before. He fought a little with the knots, but unwound the rope from her wrists, frowning at the marks left behind. As quickly as the frown had settled, however, one of her hands disappeared from his sight. He had no time to react before a closed fist collided against his jaw.

Stunned momentarily, he slipped from the bed to the floor. Her legs lifted, barely slow enough for him to move out of the way as she brought them to her hands. More rope was wrapped around her ankles, causing a growl to slip past his lips. "Let me help you." He said, ignoring the pain in his jaw. The binding fell to the floor as quickly as he'd tried to reach out to her ankles. Another jab, this time her foot to his chest, shoved him to the floor, knocking the wind from his lungs. "Dammit... will you stop for a second..?"

She didn't speak, simply ran to the window, pushing it open before standing in the opening. A gasp was heard as she looked down. Perhaps she didn't realize just how high up they were, just how long the fall would be if she decided to take that leap. There were no ledges to climb down, not balconies to aim for for a smaller series of jumps, just a stone wall down to the hard ground. The blonde turned to him again, watching him gather his bearings as he went to his feet.

Roy watched the gears move in her mind, jump and die, stay and become his toy. His dark eyes widened, if that's what she thought, then her choice would be... "No!"

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back roughly. "What the hell are you thinking?!"

Her body went stiff as she was torn from the window. Her eyes widened, and fighting against him suddenly. "Me? What the hell were you thinking!?" Shoving him away she backed away to the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. "You could have killed me! Were you trying to make me fall?"

"What?" Hesitating, letting his mind process what she said, he ran his hand through his messy hair. "Weren't you trying to... weren't you going to jump?"

She looked as if he'd just asked her what color the sky was, a deadpan expression over her eyes. "Jump to my death to avoid being attacked by a man I can clearly handle on my own? What sense would that make? I don't trust you, but you're clearly not a man worth killing myself to avoid..."

There was almost a pout on the prince's lips. She was unlike any other woman, but she had the ability to wound him just the same. "You don't trust me?"

Her expression sharpened, furrowed brows pointed toward him from her corner. "What reason do I have to trust you?"

Roy gave her a cunning smile, the same that had most women's knees weakening throughout the kingdom. "What reason do you have not to?"

If possible, her eyes narrowed even moreso. That passion in her eyes changed to something much stronger. He read that look with certainty, unsure if it made him more interested or afraid of her. She passionately, vehemently, truly, hated him.