Disclaimer: I don’t own FMA, get off my back.
Trisha sighed, waddling down the stairs to Hohenheim’s work room. She could hardly believe she was pregnant again, the small five month bulge hindering her balance as she bent to get the polish from the cabinet. She had had Edward, her first child, only four months before she was with child again, and while she was overjoyed to have another child, she wished it would have given her a bit of recovery time before coming along.
She sighed happily, picking up a rag and popping off the top to the tin canister. At least she wasn’t at this alone. Her neighbors the Rockbells were going to have their baby girl soon, and despite them being much younger then she was, she knew they were more then capable of taking care of her child when she was busy.
She started on the task at hand, humming to herself as she polished the old armor. After Hohenheim returned three years ago, he was wearing another suit that he had bought on his travels, but she didn’t like that one nearly as much. The simplicity of the first appealed to her more, and it almost seemed more human then the other one.
The baby gave a small kick to snap her out of her daze. She hadn’t even realized she had finished the armor, and instead of polishing, her fingers were tracing the features of the helmet. She laughed and grabbed the rag from the floor, patting her belly.
“Alright dear, mummy’s finished. You need to be more patient.” Trisha put away the polish and rag, glancing back at the suit. It was glowing in the candlelight, the polish lighting the semi-circular eyes with odd warmth.
“Trisha dearest, I can’t seem to find my spectacles. Can you help me?” His shuffling could be heard from the top floor, followed by a crash that made the young mother wince. “Oh my…”
“Coming, love. Try not to move around too much though, you might fall down the stairs.” Trisha blew out the candles, scaling the wooden stairs to the kitchen.
“You make it sound as if I’m the pregnant one…” He complained, Trisha could just imagine the pout on his lips. She laughed again, closing the basement door carefully.
She passed her room on the way to the stairs, causing her to pause for a moment.
They started there, didn’t they?
She ridiculed herself for getting distracted and rushed up the stairs, to her awaiting lover.
Eighteen years ago
The shopkeeper turned to the large man, somewhat surprised at the comment he just made.
“Oh, that old thing? Some weirdo from the city brought it in, says its genuine knight’s armor. It isn’t selling here at all, though. S’pose country folks like us don’t take too kindly to a scary piece of armor in the corner of a house.”
The young man looked at the shopkeeper, then back at the piece that had caught his attention. He almost could look it square in the eye, the ornate helmet tassel and horn peaking above the blonde’s frame.
“Pinako, come here. Do you think I could fit into this?” He called over his shoulder, distracting the woman from the shop’s collection of tools.
“Good Lord, Hohenheim! This thing could house a small child! A teenager even! You better be thankful you’re so big Ho-ho. I swear, you giant.” Pinako muttered darkly, shifting the straps to her Kiddy Pack, her own personal invention to deal with her troublesome son. “You would fit fine, but why in the world would you want a contraption like this?”
Hohenheim just sighed and smiled, tugging on the corner of his beard. “How much, Jack?”
The older shop keeper grunted, giving a cold glare. “That’s Mr. Henderson when we’re not drinking, Hohenheim. Since no one wants it, I’ll give it to you for 3500 sens.”
Hohenheim glanced at the armor, then back to the shop keeper. “Could I get it for 2000 instead?”
The shopkeeper glared at him, and set a higher price. Hohenheim continued to haggle with the shopkeeper for some time until the price was settled, and both Pinako and Hohenheim set off down the road.
After a short silence, or as silent as the clank of metal could be, Pinako spoke, stroking the head of the small three year old that was sleeping on her shoulder.
“Why did you get that, Hohenheim? It doesn’t seem at all practical. Are you making something with the metal or something?”
Hohenhiem laughed and shook his head. “It’s a surprise for Trisha. Don’t mind if I borrow your garage, do you?
Pinako looked up at the man towering over her, hardly believing he was indeed twenty five years younger then she was. ‘Seventeen and that tall, it’s inhuman.’
“You buy drinks tonight.” She said shortly, marching off ahead.
“Thank you.” He said quietly, grinning to himself. Trisha was going to love this.
Thirteen-year old Trisha was up in her room, reading another one of her books. History and love stories fascinated her, and she spent most of her free time reading books her father brought back from the city when he went to sell his wares.
She shifted in her chair and sighed, closing her book. Unfortunately such stories gave little variety, but she always loved how the knight in shining armor would ride to his love no matter what the obstacle. She found it so romantic, and the thought made her sigh happily as she stared out at the sunset. For a while she was lost in her own thoughts, but she noticed a shadow approaching on the horizon eventually. She sat up straighter, squinting to see who the odd figure might be. The silhouette didn’t even look human, but something was clanking through her gate on a horse.
She swung open the window to her room, staring at the now definable armor that was dismounting his ‘steed’ (which happened to be Farmer McCartney’s plow horse).
“Who are you?” She shouted out, bending as far as she could without falling on the yard.
The figure was now outside her window, standing a few feet from her. She was almost afraid of the, well, whatever it was, pulling away a little.
“I,” The armor vibrated, “, am your knight in shining armor my dear princess.” Two leather hands reached up to the helmet, but were stopped by a firm order from Trisha.
“Remember, knight. It is the princess who takes off the champion’s helmet. Come over here, sir.” The figure obliged, and thin delicate hands wrapped around the rim, lifting up the helmet by the large jaw. She smiled when she felt the rough fuzz of a beard on her knuckles, completely removing the helmet and setting it on the sill.
“Hohenheim, you really shouldn’t have.” She said softly, tracing her fingers over the armor.
“Sir Hohenheim, my lady.” He chided, nervously looking out of the corner of his eye towards the front door. “And if Sir Hohenheim must get his kiss soon or the evil king might just kill him.”
Trisha giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Well, I won’t keep you long.”
She kissed him softly on the lips, and Hohenheim was more then happy to deepen it, and if he wasn’t terrified of Mr. Elric barging out of the house with a shotgun, he would have stayed longer.
He pulled away and smiled, before dashing off to ‘his’ horse and riding off just as he came.
Authors Note: I had the idea for this a while ago, so I decided to get off my lazy butt and write. Believe it or not, the beginning originally was at the end, but I couldn’t find a way to end it right. So, I made a few edits and pasted it to the beginning. Also, for those of you who think Trisha and Hoho-papa are married, you are wrong. They never registered in the family registry, so they only live together. Well, hope you like it.
Wearer of the viking hat,
Gabby the Great