Hi everyone!

This little fic is my secret santa gift for Norwidki/Brewka. I've been thinking about this for months and I can't believe I'm finally publishing it ^.^'
I'm sorry this is so lame, I'm not very at ease with English yet... if someone more talented than me want to toy with that idea, please please please go ahead and let me know ^^
Still, I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy coming up with it (I should have given it more thought but then, it would take me years before posting it ahah)

Disclaimer: As you all know it, I own nothing, everything is the rightful property of Hiromu Arakawa etc. etc.

Playing House

She was, well… angry. The day had just begun and she already was in a bad mood. Nothing surprising though. Why would she feel anything besides anger? She had not been created for that after all. On the contrary, she had been made to contain anger. Was this messed up? Maybe. She did not care. Welcoming her Father's wrath was an honour.
Wrath.
That was her name. Nothing else. This emotion was enough to describe her entirely. No joy, no pride, no jealousy, no sadness. No love. Just that one word. Wrath.
With time, she became satisfied, feeling that anger run through her veins. It was proof that she had become what her Father wanted her to be. She was not human after all. Not anymore. She could not even remember how it felt. She did remember the pain though. When the philosopher stone was given to her – she had been burning ever since then.

Everything was infuriating to her. The fact that she had been raised to become First Lady and nothing else for example. Of course, she would do her Father will. But being First Lady seemed very boring compared to what her brothers and sisters would do. Speaking of siblings, adopting Pride in a few years was another thing that bothered her a lot. Pretending to be her older brother's mother was something very disturbing and Pride was not someone who'd happily play the role of the perfect, obedient child.
The most infuriating part, however, was the idea of an arranged marriage. There were not many ways for her to access the position of First Lady. She had to marry the general Father had choose to become next Führer. Someone with whom she'll have to play perfect family and happy couple, when their life would be built on lie and political manipulation.
Sometimes, she could not tell who was angry: Wrath, the homunculus, or the human that used to be her and knew that marriage could not be pretended. She did not wonder for long though. Both were the same and the anger would stay.

.

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She was supposed to meet King Bradley in a few hours – her soon-to-be husband. His name sure was fitting and she wondered with a smirk if this was why Father had chosen him in the first place. Not that it mattered in any way: she might have to marry him but she did not care about the reasons behind it. Him or another one, what difference could it make?

She was supposed to meet King Bradley in a few hours but first she had decided to go out on the streets for a bit. Breath fresh air and enjoy the life of the city before returning to political shenanigans. She met her reflection through a window and thought she had to grow her hair a bit more to hide her eyepatch, too odd for a woman. 'Fashion is stupid'. That's what she remembered thinking right before a man suddenly bumped into her. How she did not notice him sooner was still a mystery to her. But the choc was very real and she would have fallen if he hadn't hastily catch her.

— Are you alright miss? But really, you should look where you're going more… well, I guess the eyepatch doesn't really help…

He was more awkward than mean, sure. She still slapped him in the face before she could think about it.

.

King Bradley was stunned for a moment by the sudden slap. His first instinct was to riposte but he contained himself. The lady in front of me was not a soldier, things would only turn ugly. And to be fair, he was in the wrong too. He did not have much time to apologise however, he had to be back in time for the meeting.

— I'm sorry if I offended you miss, I didn't mean to, he replied a bit sharply. Unfortunately, I'm heading to an important meeting so I can't stay to debate over this with you. If you wish to fill in a complaint of some sort, go to the military office. My name is King Bradley.

He did not know what to think of the face the lady suddenly made. Her right eye widened and her lips twitched into an upset rictus.

— King Bradley you said? Well, I am the one you're supposed to meet.

— Oh.

He was so taken aback that this was the only thing he managed to say. A look at her and he understood that he'd have to say something else if he did not want to get another slap in the face.

— Well, in that case… I just bought melons. Do you like them?

.

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— Why always melons?

She was on a date with King Bradley and he had brought melons with his usual bright and enthusiast smile, as if playing a prank of some kind. She had refused to eat some the day they first met but he was apparently to make her taste those.

— Well, their taste is very refreshing don't you think so? Besides, choosing the right melon is always a challenge and you can never be sure you picked a fresh one until you eat it. You're in for the surprise. And if someone else choose them, instead of a challenge, it instead becomes a proof of trust. A leap of faith for every bite.

— Just liking their taste is enough you know, she grumbled. you don't need to make up an entire meta for melons.

King Bradley laughed brightly and she couldn't help but smile in return. That did not last though. She grimaced at her quarter of melon, wondering how she was even supposed to it to begin with. She did not feel like debating over this for hours so she just bit into her quarter of melon and immediately regretted it. The taste was certainly nice, King Bradley had made a good choice – what were his words again? A leap of faith. Seemed like a successful one – but melon juice was now all over her months and fingers, sticky and certainly not appropriate. King Bradley did not seem to mind however and his smile only got wider.

— Actually, you can also say a lot about someone by the way they eat melons, he gently mocked her.

— Is this why you brought melons? So you could analyse me?

She was not mad. Not exactly at least. But it felt nice to tease him. And a bit odd. Was it really alright for her to feel that way? She did not wonder for long.
His lips tasted like melons.

.

.

The Promise Day was getting closer. It only a few years now, Amestris would be destroyed and a new world would be created by their Father. She had played a part in this, by discreetly ruling over the country through King Bradley. He knew many parts of their plan of course. It was essential if they wanted to succeed. But she hadn't told him the most crucial part. About the philosopher stone and what they were planning on doing to the country.
She convinced Father there were no use in telling him all that: as long as he would do as they wished, why bother informing more people and risking for everything to be discovered?
The truth was that she was afraid. Afraid that, if he were to learn everything, he would consider her – all of them, a monster and reject her. He would probably rebel against the extermination of his people and abandon her. Somehow, that idea made her tremble; not of anger. Was it sadness perhaps? She was not sure, she did not remember much about emotions. But the idea of being alone again, without him, left her with mixed feelings she couldn't name.
So, she lied to her Father. Not to protect King Bradley. But to make sure he would always stay hers.

Selim – no, Pride said nothing that day. One word from him and everything could be ruined. But he stayed silent and kept the secret going, kept pretending to be a little boy, kept pretending to be the happy son of happy couple. Perhaps he did not want to lose that other father either. Perhaps he was afraid too at the idea of a life without him. Him and his wide, bright smile, him and his loud laugh, him and his calloused hands, a bit rough but very warm, him and his comforting presence. Him that was everything their Father was not.

.

.

It was a quiet day, she was busy doing the work of an ordinary First Lady – that is to say, not much. King Bradley was doing a fine job as Führer and plans were working out nicely, there were not many things for her to do. She was not much angered by that though, less that she'd thought. Sure, she was angry; but she could not say exactly why. It was… odd.
Lost in her thoughts, she did not notice Selim crossing the road. But when she was the car rushing at him – her heart missed a beat.

Having the ultimate eye came with its advantages, despite the ugly eyepatch. Before she knew it, Pride was safe in her arms and the car ready to be forgotten. She felt overwhelmed with relief. Relief, not anger. What she had done was stupid, of course. Pride could have avoided the car easily (well, it would have been problematic for him to reveal himself. But it would be a lie to say this was why she had jumped in to save him.) and yet, she had rushed towards him in fear. Suddenly, it was not Pride she was holding tightly against her, that annoying older brother. It was Selim Bradley, her child, the child she had raised together with her husband. Their child, a member of their family. No, she was not angry.

Safely nested in her arms, Selim wasn't either, she could feel it. She had just saved her kid.

.

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'Playing house'.
Those were Lieutenant Hawkeye's words. Just a little comedy, something to amuse the public with and distract them from the backstage darkness. So, that was how she viewed it… Upon learning that his wife and son were homunculi, she only pitied him. That angered him.

— You think my wife was appointed to me, don't you? That I had to marry her so she could rule over the country through me?

He halted. Yes, this was exactly what she thought, he could see it in her eyes.

— It is true that I was not given much choice. But know that I willingly married her and choose to stay with her later on. Now tell me: does that make me a monster?

He had figured out many things, of course, even some the homunculi were actively hiding from him. He was the head of the country after all and not stupid. He stayed besides her nevertheless.
Did loving a monster turned you into one? This was not the kind of question Riza Hawkeye could easily answer. But he had shaken her.

.

.

It had been years since the war was over but not the wound it had opened. Many families were still grieving loved ones, soldiers who died not knowing the truth behind their fight.

Grumman became Führer after King Bradley choose to abdicate. The country was slowly trying to forget this sudden and brief civil war to build a new era. Slowly forgetting those who came before, letting them turn into fading memories.

He did not go to the cemetery everyday: what was the point? But he still went from times to times, he knew how she hated to be lonely. With a smile, maybe not as bright, not as wide as before, he kneeled before the grave.

— Look dear, I brought you melons. I know how much you love them…

Flowers were so cliché.

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That last scene is heavily inspired by holioc/koklico fantastic art 'Anniversary'. Thanks to her for letting me use it here :)

I don't even know what to think of this anymore but I really really hope some of you like it. (Please let me know of any mistakes so I can fix them)