The Vacuous Heart of Blood

Author: MoonStarDutchess

Chapter 1: Heavy Dress, Tight Shoes, and a Conceited Man

Disclaimer: Full Metal Alchemist and all its characters are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. No profit was made from this fanfiction. The only things that I do own are the OC’s. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of original characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to the overall course of the plot. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

AN: The first part of this chapter about the dressing may seem unnecessary but I included it to show you exactly what the simplest things mean to a society unwilling to accept differences.

Heavy Dress, Tight Shoes, and a Conceited Man

Without so much as a word of permission to enter her room, Riza's maid, Marianna, pushed the doors open, the knobs clicking as they were turned and the doors creaking, an indication that the hinges were in desperate need of a good oiling.

"Lady Riza! Come inside, quickly!" the middle-aged woman yelped in the familiar tone that Riza knew quite well; she even knew the face that accompanied that tone. She knew that the woman's brows were furrowed in concern, her jaws were sucked in slightly, like a fish, and that she was resting her hands on her hips.

"Why?" Riza questioned, without turning around. She was going to speak about how the cold didn't cause one to get sick but decided against it. It wouldn't do any good to do so anyway. Talking to a woman like Marianna about anything like that was like sitting down and having tea with someone that didn't speak your language. You could talk all you wanted but you'd never get a valid response back that meant something to what you were saying.

"Because you are going to catch the death of cold standing out there in your current state of dress. More importantly, Lord Archer is here for breakfast. If you make a good impression he may decide to take you as a wife."

Riza leaned further against the railing of her balcony, making no motion to enter her room, blatantly disobeying Marianna's orders but not quite disregarding her word usage. They were much too interesting to be tossed aside, especially when they spoke such volumes of women's worth when they weren't conforming.

She quirked the right side of her lips in amusement as she processed Marianna's statements. Lord Archer was there and of course, Lord Archer being greeted and entertained was a much more important reason for her to come in and get dressed than that of her catching a cold and dying.

Riza heard footsteps approaching, Marianna's cheap brown heels clicking on the hardwood floor, then muffled by the rug in front of the door, before they were then clacking on the marble balcony, growing louder and louder the closer they came. She finally glanced to her left to see the woman standing there with a scathing look.

"Your father hired me to make sure you stayed presentable. This is less than acceptable under his standards." She grabbed Riza's arm. "I know you don't like how things are but there's nothing you can do about it. Lady Riza, just conform and deal with it the best you can. Don't bring more shame upon your father."

Riza stared at Marianna, studying the lines on the older woman's face, taking in the creases that fit together like the engraved maps that she saw on the walls of an archeological exhibit she once saw.

Riza turned her head back out at the view. "Shame." She didn't speak any other word that would make the single syllable word have more of a meaning; never formed it into anything resembling a sentence. She spoke the word three more times before turning and going into her room, leaving Marianna in the cool morning air with a bewildered look on her face.

Riza walked over to her closet and removed a simple red dress from the hundreds of other dresses that hung there. She rested it over a chair as she walked over to her dresser to retrieve her under things.

"No no, this won't do! Lord Archer is here," Marianna said.

Riza turned around to see the woman hanging the red dress back up and taking down layers upon layers of clothing, things that Riza despised wearing. "You have to look proper. If you can dress yourself then you aren't going to look like a proper lady."

"I'm sorry Marianna but four layers of clothing are ridiculous for average days and I won't wear all of that junk."

Marianna turned toward her and frowned. "Lady Riza, don't be difficult. At least be willing to compromise, please."

Riza sighed and sat down on the cushioned chair in front of her dresser. "No hoop skirt," Riza said. "That thing is too heavy, and I am wearing my everyday undergarments. I don't' need three petticoats or those expensive stockings."

Marianna looked at her strangely and opened her mouth, then closed it back, no words coming from her.

"What, I know you want to say something so out with it!"

"I figured you'd argue about the corset."

"That's fighting a losing battle," she muttered. "And get something less fancy. It's breakfast, not a party."

"From what I hear, Lord Archer likes-"

"I think we need to establish that I have no concern about what Lord Archer likes. Especially not when he's in my home. If he doesn't like the way I come down to breakfast in my own home then he can just leave. There will be no tears lost on my part if he does so. The only reason I'm compromising with you is because I don't feel like arguing."

"Must you always be so hostile," Marianna questioned, putting back the fancy dress in favor of something a bit simpler, though not by much. "At least this already has a piece attached to make the dress flare out respectably. Is this alright or do you have other needs to fulfill that will likely get points counted off on your family?"

"That's fine," Riza said and stood from her seat. "Marianna, I'm not trying to be difficult, I'm trying to be myself."

"And in turn that makes you difficult Riza. Let's just get that blasted corset on you and then get you dressed. We can't leave Lord Archer waiting long," Marianna said, lifting the corset and walking over to Riza.

Riza eyed the whalebone corset distastefully but put up no fight as Marianna helped her get dressed.

"Now, let's fix your hair," Marianna said, satisfied that Riza looked remotely presentable.

"I'll do it, go take care of Archer," Riza said. "I'll be downstairs in a moment."

"Riza, please don't pin it up so messily like you normally do," Marianna said.

"Fine, go. I'll put it in the morning bun," she said, mentioning the atrocious and typical hairstyle that all ladies wore in the morning. To Riza it look like they had a giant cinnamon roll pinned to the back of their head and a flower stuck in the middle.

Riza ushered Marianna out of the room before shutting the door and locking it. She grimaced in pain as she turned around. Her foot instantly cramped up in the heels that Marianna insisted she wear to make herself taller and make the pink frock she wore barely tip the ground, creating the illusion that she was floating. Wearing the heels themselves wasn't even the exact problem; it was wearing them in a seven when she was a size eight. Of course, as so many other things deemed wrong with her, a size eight in a shoe for a woman was unspeakable to her stepmother and sisters. As a result, all of her shoes, except her flats, were in that size. She had to wrinkle her toes up uncomfortably to even get her foot inside the shoes. Eight was a common size among society's standards, but it wasn't good enough for her family. Nothing was every good enough for them.

She slowly made her way to her dresser and did up her hair in the proper style, adding a small pink flower to the hairstyle. She chuckled as she saw the way it made her head look. It made her look like she had no hair, it pulled tightly against her skull giving her a light headache. Even though the style was truly hideous, she didn't feel horrible by any means for looking the way she did. The hairstyle made even the most beautiful women repulsive.

Riza moved over to stand in front of the full-length mirror to take in her entire appearance. She blinked once as she stared at her reflection then cackled out laughing, holding her stomach tightly as the sound erupted from her. She looked like one of the pink fluffy roses that typically decorated birthday cakes. She sat down, not taking her eyes off her reflection. She couldn't help but wonder what the person who originally came up with that sort of fashion was thinking. A better hypothesis was that they weren't thinking at all and just got around the wrong kind of burning weeds.

After getting over her laughing spell, she heaved a huge sigh and stood, her feet throbbing as her weight applied pressure upon them. She steeled the features on her face so that the pain she felt wasn't showing, and made her way out of her room and down the stairs. All she had to do was get through the next hour and a half long breakfast with Archer and then she could change into a much more comfortable dress and shoes.

Riza walked down the stairs, dreading every single step as pain shot from her feet up her legs. When she saw Archer come in from the entryway, she plastered on the best smile she could muster. It wasn't easy smiling at someone when you had the overwhelming desire to rip out their throat. If her schooling taught her anything, it was to mask her emotions and she took pride in having the perfect poker face.

She wasn't fond of most of the men she met but Lord Frank Archer was the worst of the worst. He thought himself God's gift to mankind and gloated his greatness and accomplishments every chance he got. He'd had many during the war with Creta and was proud over all the blood he had on his hands. He craved the praise and recognition that his title afforded him. He was everything she hated.

The women flocked to him, praised his greatness, and worshipped his valor in battle. They all found him incredibly attractive and longed to be the woman he would pick to be his wife. All of the men, including her father, respected him greatly.

Her opinion of him couldn't be more different from that of the others. She often compared him to the huge dark, poisonous Borok lizards that only came out at night in the forests. They were both dangerous, hostile when provoked, and something Riza really wanted to avoid. Both had those reddish evil eyes that looked like they wanted to devour her and suck out any spirit she had within her body, and if she didn't know better, she would swear Archer had a forked tongue just like the nocturnal reptiles.

"Lady Riza, you look lovely this morning," Archer spoke, bringing her out of her thoughts. He extended his hand to her, helping her step down the last few stairs. "I hope I am not imposing on you."

Riza removed her hand from his and resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his fake gentlemanly actions. The man didn't care whom he imposed on and where he did it.

"No, no imposition. Please, come have breakfast," she said in as normal a way as she could muster. What she really wanted to say was get the hell out of this house and I never want to see you again.

--

Riza made sure to sit on the opposite end of the long dining table. When she was a child, she despised the length of the tables that seemed so large and empty. Now she was very thankful that she could validly put a far distance between herself and Archer.

Riza began eating as soon as the maid brought in the food, not bothering to start any small talk. She knew it would come soon anyway.

"Lady Riza, I received a message from your mother the other day. She will be coming by here with your father tomorrow," Archer stated as he picked up his fork.

Riza looked up from her plate in surprise. "I never got any message."

"I … assume she thought we might be courting so she sent me the message," he said, his smile gracing his lips.

Riza's stomach flopped and she instantly lost her appetite at the thought of Archer courting her. Her stepmother was going to be sorely disappointed when she found out that was far from the case. She lifted her orange juice to her lips to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth and to quench the thirst that had instantly came to her.

"If you would permit me, I would like to begin courting you properly. I find you to be a wonderful woman that I would be please to take as a wife. I think you would be a perfect add to my estate."

Riza choked on her orange juice upon hearing his words and coughed profusely. She grabbed a napkin to cover her mouth and felt some of the orange juice drift past her lips and onto the cloth. Though she'd been expecting something along the lines of him offering to court her, she hadn't expected such a simple segue into it.

He looked at her oddly, making no move to check to see if she was all right. Finally, she laid her napkin on the table and stared at him pointedly. "Lord Archer, as," she paused to think of the proper word. "As flattered" as I am about your offer," she lied. "I do not carry any feelings for you beyond that of a simple … friend." She knew that she raised the bar for the fake usage of the word friend in describing her relationship with Archer.

"My dear, what do feelings have to do with anything?" It was the typical question she heard from people when she mentioned feelings needing to be involved when she married. Obviously, it didn't surprise her that Archer felt the same way as all of them.

"For me, Lord Archer, they mean much."

Archer laughed, "My dear you…"

"My name is Riza. Decorum dictates you call me Lady Riza unless I give you permission to address me as something different."

Archer narrowed his eyes for a moment before returning to his normal facial expression. She could tell he was angry and trying to hide it. "Forgive me Lady Riza, my manners ran away with me. You must know however, that you are getting older and society dictates that you should already be married. A beautiful woman like you, married to me, would bring greater status to yourself and your family. I am a war hero and well respected after all."

"Yes, I'm aware of my age, what society dictates I should be, and that marrying you would bring even more great status to my family. And heaven forbid I forget that you are a war hero. Forgive me Lord Archer but I have no desire to be any of the things that society thinks I should be. The rumors you have heard about me being a stubborn, hard-headed, nonconformist are true."

"Which makes me want you more," he said, standing and going over to sit beside her. He took her hand in his and grinned at her. His hands were extremely cold and clammy, as if she was resting her hand in cold seaweed. "Lady Riza, your spirit is admirable but how long do you think your father will put up with your disobedience.

Riza wrenched her hand out of his grasp. "My father has not ordered me to accept your advances."

"No but he and your mother-"

"Stepmother!" Riza corrected.

"Very well, he and your stepmother, wish for us to be joined."

"And I do not wish it," she said, standing up. "Excuse me."

Archer stood and grabbed her, causing her to yelp in surprise. He pressed her body against his and growled in such a low threatening tone it made Riza question if his saliva wasn't turning venomous. She reached with one arm toward her back to get out a small knife she carried there and cursed herself for leaving her gun upstairs.

"You will do good to learn your place. I'll have you. Make no mistake of that. You are the best, a challenge, and I want to conquer that spirit of yours. I'll eradicate that insubordinate streak in you until you are a nice obedient wife that spreads her legs when I tell her and shuts up when I order it."

He then pressed his lips to hers tightly, shoving his tongue into her mouth and moving one of his hands under her low neckline to squeeze her breast. Riza struggled to reach for her knife, only to find it wasn't in the bow on the back of her dress where she put it. She tried to push him away and struggled to find something to get him away from her. If she hadn't been in the ridiculous clothing she was wearing, she would have been able to incapacitate him. She rested her hand on the table, feeling around until she found the handle of her fork resting against her plate.

She grabbed it and sliced his face with it, causing him to jerk away and throw her away from him. She fell on her side against her chair, breaking the wood and tumbling to the floor.

"You bitch!"

"Get out now!" Riza yelled, rising to her feet, holding her side, and holding in the expression of pain she felt. Upon hearing her yell, the servants from both the kitchen and the yard came running inside. "Lord Archer was just leaving Phillip," she said to the man in charge of the stables, "Get his horse."

She then rushed out of the room before her anger got the better of her judgment: before she killed him. When she arrived at the stairs, she kicked off the tight shoes she wore and picked them up. Her dress rustled as she lifted it slightly so she wouldn't trip and ascended the stairs, going straight to her room and into her large closet to discard her clothing.

She undressed and stood bare in front of the mirror, examining her side. She saw a very large patch of bruising forming on her pale skin.

"Lady Riza!" Marianna said, rushing into the closet. "What in heaven's name happen ... My god! What is that?" Marianna changed her initial question, when she noticed the bruising on Riza's side.

"Get out," Riza said, grabbing her robe off a hanger, and slipping it on.

"But we should call a doctor."

Riza turned to the woman, her eyes burning with every ounce of hatred she possessed for Frank Archer. "Please Marianna, leave now. I'll talk to you later." Her voice was low and extremely serious yet graced with such a pleading tone that the maid couldn't refuse. Marianna nodded and left the room, shutting the doors behind her.

Riza walked out of the closet and over to a brown trunk. Opening the lid, she removed a small bottle of liquor she kept there. She wasn't much of a drinker but occasionally she needed the whiskey for more than just consuming.

She rushed into the bathroom and took a huge drink, swishing the burning liquid in her mouth before spitting it out into the sink. Lifting the bottle to her lips once again, she took a long drink, swallowing every bit of the liquid that entered her mouth, not flinching in the slightest at the severe and constant burn. She was almost willing to cut out her tongue she was so disgusted.

That man had kissed her, pressed her body against his, and touched one of her intimate parts. Damn it! She wanted to kill him. If he set foot in that house again, if he made any more advances toward her, she would murder him and the consequences be damned. She slammed the bottle down on the counter next to the sink, the bottom shattering and the liquid pouring out and dripping down onto the floor.

"That bastard," she muttered. "That filthy bastard. I'll shoot him if he touches me again. No one will ever lay a hand on me without my permission again.”

AN: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. OTP gave me an excellent analysis on Riza’s character in this. I’d like to hear from all of you. Do you think she’s just a bitter person? Do you believe she has reason to be a bit hostile? Do you think she should just conform to society and give in? Do you think she’s a bit scared? I love hearing how people analyze things. Feedback is much appreciated.