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Trisha Elric is a simple woman who desired simple things. She was born on a farm in a small town, was raised in a small town, and knows from deep within her bones that she will die in the small town known as Resembool. She had the simple expectations of growing up to marry a man, have children, and live a long life happy live.
It was not enough for some, especially for those who thrived under the pressure of the world's scrutiny and were ambitious enough to take on all the mountains in their path. But for her, living on her farm with her family was all she ever wanted. It was more than enough.
As she lay on the birthing bed, clenching her jaw, blood coating her inner thighs, and Pinoco yelling over the rattling thunder to keep pushing, she knew that her daughter would not be.
She swallowed down a scream as another contraction clenched her lower abdomen, squeezing every muscle in her body trying to get through the birth. There’s a hiss to her left,, but Trisha was in too much pain to pay attention to the indents she’s leaving on the knuckles of Van Hohenheim’s hands.
“I can see the head,” Pinoco’s voice breaks through the haze over Trisha’s mind. It’s enough to keep pushing, and finally, the baby is born, announcing their arrival through high pitch cries, demanding to be heard.
Trisha joins with her own tears, thinking that those high pitch screams might be her new favourite sound. It was a sign of new life, a life she and her husband had created. Anxiously, she waits, watching as Pinocco clean and wrap the small crying body, the pain slowly fading away as a new feeling blossomed in her chest.
The thunder echoed through the house.
She lets go of Van Hohemhein’s hand, opening her arms to embrace her child when Pinocco brings her. With her guidance, Trisha finally gets to embrace the child she’s been waiting for. Afterwards, Pinocco left to give them some privacy, saying a soft congratulations as she went.
The baby was small; her entire frame could fit onto her forearm, strangely formed, breathing deeply as dull blue eyes fall shut, feeling warm and safe.
“Oh,” Trisha huffs playfully. “The birth was tiring for you, was it?” Her blue eyes shine down fondly as she watches the baby breath because she’s here and alive, and hers and she would have sobbed even more if she wasn’t high on the euphoria of finally greeting the child she’s been preparing for.
Lightning crashed outside, and thunder followed.
She looks to Van, whose golden eyes only seem to light up when he looked at her, were shining as he took in the child in her arms. He was smiling slightly, that small smile of his that almost seemed afraid of being set in an expression that might be happy. It suited him far better than the never-ending sadness he carried on his shoulders.
"Do you want to hold her?" she asked, shifting to give their daughter to him.
"No," he said and shook his head, his golden hair swaying behind him. His eyes dimmed, and there was that look again, the one he always had when he was afraid to touch her touch. He always had such misguided ideas that his hands could taint her with the evil he carried within him.
Selfishly, she was glad for the evil inside him, of those ghosts he carried with him. It kept him alive long enough for her to meet him. It was a feeling she would never share with him.
Another lighting strike kissed the ground. The thunder that followed rattled their bones.
Trisha wanted him to hold their child, but she knew not to push. "Ok," she said, snuggling the baby closer to her chest.
"She's beautiful, Trisha," Van whispered gruffly, hands hovering near her side.
Sweaty and exhausted, Trisha took another long look at her baby, examing her closer this time. She hums in disagreement. "She's kind of ugly."
Startled, Van laughs, a deep, growly sound that always sends shivers down her spine. She treasured the moment, smiling with him. It was very rare for him to laugh.
"What?" she shrugs, careful not to jostle the baby. "It's true." Indeed, it was. Her daughter's head was squished oddly, and she smelled like iron from the blood Trisha shed during the birth.
She wouldn't have it any different.
"But," she said. "I'm sure she'll be a pretty baby in a few days. The prettiest baby in all of Amestris." She cooed to the sleeping baby. While she saw the blue eyes, her daughter carried, but she knew that babies' eyes changed as they grow and couldn't help but hope she would take after her father with his golden complexion. There already was a few light strands of hair doting her head.
"She has you as a mother. How could she not be?" Van said, grazing his fingers down her arm, nearing their daughter yet careful not to touch her. Trisha blushed at his words and shoved the sadness she felt at his caution aside.
After all these years and he still managed to fluster her.
"Have you thought of a name?" she asked. "All the other's I had seem so silly now."
Her daughter didn't look like an Elizabeth or a Beatrice. The names didn't fit her.
"Maybe..." he trailed off, hesitating as his eyes lingered on their child. "I was thinking, maybe Eden?"
Thunder grumbled in the distance.
"Eden," Trisha murmured. The sound was foreign, and she had never even heard of such a name before. She didn't ask where he heard it from as she knew it probably originated from some or other myth or story he had heard on his many travels. He knew so many things, some of them being from a forgotten time and some from a time yet to come.
Trisha always struggled to keep up when he talked about his many interests. She liked listening to him, lived for seeing that spark in his eyes when he lost himself within the intricacies of alchemy, or any science really when he drew the oral stories of a fallen civilisation and shared them with her. The words flew over her head, but she never stopped him from talking.
He only ever told her about Xerxes once.
A smile graced her lips. "Eden," she said. "I like it."
Van mimicked her smile, and Trisha had to keep her tears at bay. It was the biggest smile she had ever seen from him, wide and shaky, crinkling the corner of his eyes. It was almost as beautiful as the baby in her arms.
"Eden Elric," he whispered thickly.
"A bit pretentious with the alliteration," she teased. "Not as much as Van Hohenheim, but still."
She returned her watery gaze to the now named baby in her arms. "Eden Elric."
A lightning strike's light flashed through the windows.
At that moment, she knew that her baby would take the world by storm. The feeling came from the bones as if it was nothing but a simple fact. The sun came up in the east, the winter was cold, Trisha loved Van, and Eden Elric was going to change the world.
On that stormy night, the Elric family celebrated the arrival of their newest member, unware that Eden Elric was born on the same bed her mother would exhale for the last time.