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You are probably already reading this fic, but if you aren’t, you are really missing out.
Atlas ch5
Thank you Babs @b-griveros for drawing my commission! I love it so much you’ve permanently carved a smile on my face! :)
Historical/Espionage AU. After six years apart, intelligence agent Roy Mustang attempts to rebuild his relationship with a former partner. But when past and present intertwine, their reunion triggers one of life’s most difficult decisions: duty or family. Royai. Parental!Riza/Parental!Roy.
chapter 5: climb up from the walls
Read chapter 5 on ffnet // ao3
Read chapter 1 on ffnet // ao3
Paris, October 8, 1942
The glamour of Paris is a distant memory, tucked quietly in the alcove of Riza’s mind. The city before her has been painted with everything it dreads. There’s terror in the air, in the trembling breaths of the citizens, in the drawn-out muteness that was once filled with idle chatter. Hostility on the streets, in the parade of soldiers and the constant clunking of rolling tanks. There’s despair in the water, in the fabled romances on the Seine, now placid and a murky gray. Stationed men with rifles on their shoulders stand like tree trunks at arm’s lengths, their green uniforms a jungle of watchful eyes. It’s thrilling, Riza supposes, in its own terrible way. It keeps her on her toes, sustaining the rush of adrenaline in her limbs to complete what she has set out to do.
It is now thirty minutes to 2100 hour.
The telltale signs of curfew have already seeped itself into the city, fear of the repercussions dictating every movement, every action. At precisely 2100 hour, the whole of Paris goes dark. Behind leaden clouds, there is only the pale glow of the moon and the stars to pierce the City of Light. In the eerie silence, the pavements become a graveyard to murmuring leaves, empty chairs and abandoned cafewares, quick whispers of feet scrambling towards the safety of their homes. Stray animals cower under burgeoning hedges, balled up into a slumber as the last flicker of light perishes in the distance.
“Teresa, wait!”
Before Riza can heed his warning, Roy has grabbed her arm, herding her to his side. The rushing motorcyclist shoots her a menacing glare, chastising her in French before maneuvering past honking cars, “Hé, regarde où tu marches!” Hey, watch where you’re going!
Gradually releasing his protective grip, Roy asks, worry blanketing his timbre, “Are you alright?”
Riza collects her thoughts, thawing the shock on her face. She meets his furrowed brow and pointed gaze, as if demanding an answer. Finding an offer of his arm as she looks downward, she replies in a familiar German accent, “Sorry. I’m fine.” Reluctantly, she links an arm around his, dashing past the roundabout intersection together. They head towards the looming structure just beyond the chaotic lanes, a palace-like splendor fitting for a king and his queen.
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