A/N - Enter my first FMAB fanfic! This is just a quick oneshot going a little bit more in-depth as far as Mrs. Bradley's story in Episode 32 about how she met our beloved King. Basically a big bundle of fluff, as well as a birthday present for one of my good friends and fellow roleplayers on Tumblr, bradleythefurious (also known as theburningsins and vengefulgreed)!
I know that Mrs. Bradley's first name is never announced, so I just went with the name used by one of my favorite Mrs. B roleplayers (wifeofthefuhrer). As for her maiden name, I decided to continue the trend of naming some the characters after military vehicles, aircraft, etc. Her last name, Chamond, comes from the Char D'Assault St. Chamond combat tank, which was developed by the French in 1916 during World War I.
Everything has been arranged for you to assume your position as leader of this country. Your name will be King Bradley.
Arranged. That had been his entire life. Planned out, experimented, calculated to the smallest pieces of knowledge he carried within his vast mind. He had always had everything arranged for him, everything from his name to his rank. Everything except his First Lady.
The young man's aimless strolls down the busy streets of Central had proven to be rather uneventful more often than not. He would not be able to pass of as a regular human without being able to properly interact with them, and social skills were something that simply could not be assigned to him. Nor were they something he had really thought about in his twenty-three years. The more he attempted to identify or socialize with humans, the more confused and bored he became. It's not like there was really much to discuss that they would be able to comprehend. After a while, he stopped trying to mingle entirely and merely spent his time wandering the streets, observing his somewhat dull surroundings. That day was no different, until his uncovered sea green eye caught a flash of dirty blonde.
Able to somewhat maintain his balance, or at least prevent his rear from colliding with concrete, he approached the young woman cautiously to ensure that she was unscathed. A slight ache on his forehead, he gathered that his mind had drifted off to anything but what was in front of him, resulting in him crashing into her. He smoothed out the wrinkles on his white dress shirt and adjusted his crooked eyepatch, while his wobbly vision refocused on the woman on the ground.
"I-I'm very sorry, Miss. I should have been watching where I was going," fumbling with his words he offered his hand to her as she quickly fixed her hair. Politely accepting his gesture, she caught hold of his hand and steadily rose to her feet.
"It's quite alright, really. I wasn't paying attention either. And it appears that you are not hurt, so there's no need to worry," she assured, brushing any debris from the sidewalk off of her apricot sundress. Her voice was soothing and warm, unlike anything he could have ever been assigned to hear.
His vision now focused, he tilted his head closer for a better look at her face. Leafy green eyes bathed him in a comforting gaze, and her pink lips curled into a smile as she continued to fix the long, wavy blonde hair spilling over her white shoulders. And that one gaze was all it took.
His handsome features sporting a flabbergasted expression, he introduced himself clumsily.
"I do apologize. My name is Nu- I mean Bradley. King Bradley." It's been three years. You should know that you're not Number Twelve anymore.
She shook his much larger hand and replied sweetly, "I'm Michelle Rose Chamond, although just Michelle is fine. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bradley."
"Likewise, Michelle. And King is fine as well. Again, I apologize for bumping into you," he tilted his head forward slightly and bowed.
"It's nothing, Mi- King, I mean. As you can see, I am not hurt, so there's no need to apologize," she reassured before politely returning the gesture.
"You mean . . . you're not hurt?"
"No, why would I be? You just bumped into me, it was nothing major."
"Well, I just thought . . . you'd be pretty fragile and hurt easily. Women tend to be very weak, especially when it comes to physical strength," not realizing the offense in his words, he rubbed the red spot on his forehead from where he collided with her.
Suddenly, another stinging red spot formed on his cheek from her hand, and a loud "THWACK!" resonated down the street. Her normally pale, rosy face was red with anger, and her breath was staggered.
"Am I physically weak now? Being a woman has nothing to do with how strong I am, and I suggest you refrain from making such pompous assumptions," she huffed before stomping past him. As she walked by, she muttered, "Sexist moron."
I knew I shouldn't have listened to Envy about this kind of stuff, he mentally scolded himself, clutching his tender cheek. I must have sounded like such an asshole.
As he slowly released his cheek, he noticed a small white pouch on the concrete from where Miss Chamond had fallen. Picking it up, he noticed a picture of her with a woman who mirrored her every feature in a few more years, as well as a considerable number of cenz. This must be her wallet.
Picking up speed slightly, he caught up to her and hesitantly tapped her shoulder, hoping that she would allow his hand to remain attached to his body. "E-excuse me, Michelle-"
"That's Miss Chamond to you. I believe you have lost the privilege of addressing me as a friend," she snapped, her face still a bit red.
"Very well. I just wanted to return you wallet. I think you dropped it back there," he handed the white pouch to her sheepishly, immediately whipping his hand to his side to ensure his fingers would stay intact.
"O-oh. Well, thank you, I suppose. This almost got stolen once," she traced the picture of her mother with her fingers tenderly. "It's very important to me. Thank you."
"I would like to apologize for before. Well, for what I said. It was uncalled for, and I shouldn't have misjudged you because you are a woman. In fact, you're the last person I would consider weak," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a pink tint returning to his cheeks.
She smiled and giggled to herself quietly. What an oaf. Albeit a cute one. "Apology accepted. And thanks for my wallet."
"Don't mention it. She's beautiful, by the way."
She raised an eyebrow in confusion, stuffing her wallet in the side-pocket of her dress.
"The photo in your wallet is your mother, I assume? She looks exactly like you."
The subject of mothers, maternal figures, and women in general was a sore one. Having been raised by men, well, mindless pawns, and having Father as his only parental figure, King Bradley was quite the stranger to family. Humans seemed to value their families so much. He almost wondered what it was like to have one.
Although her green eyes grew misty, her smile widened. "Thank you. This was the last picture that was taken of her."
What do I say? "I'm sorry to hear it. She . . . she must have been a wonderful lady." Like I would know.
"She certainly was. I only hope that someday I can be as good of a mother as she was," she scoffed. "I'm sorry for being so dull. It's not really best to talk about this to someone I just met. I wouldn't want to bore you."
"No, it's alright," he noticed her glazed eyes. "You look like you could use some cheering up." Shaking off his fear, he reached out to hold her dainty, but strong hand in his own large one. "How about we go get some tea? I'd still like to make up for earlier."
Her cheeks began to sport a similar pink blush as she gently rest her free hand on his. Maybe he's not that much of a moron after all. "It's a date."
"He's always been devoted to his work. That's what he's good at. But then where women are concerned, I'm afraid he's a bit of an oaf. The first time we met, he made me so angry, I actually slapped him!"
Ed and Al sat in awe, their jaws dropped.
"But it worked out for the best. He asked me out after that, and our first date was amazing!"
"Those boys seem wise beyond their years. Although something tells me it has nothing to do with State certification," the middle-aged woman set two cups of tea on the glossy mahogany table, smoothing out the wrinkles of her skirt and sitting beside her husband.
"Yes, you're probably right. They have had their share of tragic experiences, but they live their lives without regret," the Fuhrer set his sword against the leg of the couch.
"Well you're certainly poetic tonight," she teased. "But, they're nice boys. Good role models for Selim," her lips curved into an amused smile. "They seemed quite entertained when I told them about how we met."
"Oh, did they? I assume you didn't leave out any details," he brought his free hand to his cheek, still holding her powerful hand with his other.
"Of course not! What's a story if you don't tell the whole thing?" she giggled, planting a kiss on the hand holding his cheek. "Besides, it was the best day of my life. I like to relive it sometimes."
A life without regret, huh. He turned to face Michelle, finding the same comforting warmth in her eyes as he had during their first meeting. Yeah, I suppose this life has been one worth living for. Allowing her to rest her head on his star-laced shoulder, he smiled into her familiar mop of silky, dirty blonde hair. I think I too can say that I have no regrets. He had always had everything assigned to him. Everything except his First Lady.
"She is the woman that I chose. We didn't need such meaningless words to understand each other. Such is the way between a king and his companion."
A/N – I hope you guys enjoyed it! King Bradley is one of my favorite FMAB villains, and characters in general, and his relationship with Mrs. Bradley is one of the highlighting aspects of his character for me. I really tried to show that in this piece, and I think it was a lot of fun do my own take on how one of my favorite ships set sail.
Happy birthday, Jesse! I love you so much, and I hope that you enjoy your present and have the greatest day ever. Much love, boo! xoxo – Vanisha