Thank you all for your lovely comments! I've largely planned out the entire series so hopefully I can update this at least twice a month. Fingers crossed real life doesn't get in the way lmao. Comments are always encouraged and I hope you enjoy this next instalment!
Guest: ty for the review!
He watches her carefully for the next few weeks – and she does a very good job of appearing not to notice. He knows she does though. There's a line in between her shoulders that hasn't disappeared since she started working for him, and the faint purple bags under her eyes belies a different story from the one she is presenting. They are very small details, but they are details nonetheless – and it pleases Bradley that she isn't coping as well as he originally thought.
Riza Hawkeye might be a good actor, but King Bradley is better.
It's amusing to watch her scurry around him like a timid mouse – he knows that she has teeth but rarely does she bare them – even around him; even when he considers killing her openly, to her face.
It makes him wonder what could spark a proper reaction from her. Every human has their breaking point and while Colonel Mustang's could be seen a mile off, the Lieutenant's appears to be more complicated. Mustang is involved – of that he has no doubt, those two are so intertwined by this point it is ridiculous – but the Lieutenant does not wear her heart openly for others to examine at their leisure.
She is not quite as moronic as her beloved, and Bradley reassures himself that this is the reason why she has been at the forefront of his thoughts recently. She is very quiet, and without proper surveillance it would be too easy for her to slip back into obscurity, become another nameless soldier in his detail, expendable, disposable, nonessential.
Lieutenant Hawkeye is an efficient soldier, he'll acknowledge that much. She never complains, never speaks out of turn, and never brings attention to herself for personal gain. Others would call her the perfect soldier, but King Bradley has seen perfect soldiers come and go throughout the years. Perfect soldiers are loyal to the country they serve – Lieutenant Hawkeye is most certainly not loyal to her country. She is loyal to a man who dares to have the audacity to presume his rightful position is at the top of this country.
It is her only flaw. It is the worst type of flaw she could possibly have, and he hates her for it.
It is late afternoon when she knocks on his office door and enters, arms filled with papers and folders. He is quiet as she approaches his desk, eyes down and a blank expression on her face as she briefly pauses to salute before placing the folders and paperwork on the corner of his desk.
"These are due by the end of next week," she murmurs, sorting it into two piles. "These ones concern some changes to policy that your council has suggested-" she taps a finger to the smaller pile, "-and these are regarding requests from the districts. I would recommend looking at those first, sir."
It is certainly a large pile. Bradley leans back in his chair, regarding her carefully while she waits for further orders. "Why would you say that, Lieutenant Hawkeye?" he asks.
She doesn't even shift where she is standing – a lesser soldier would have adjusted their position, to give themselves more time to think. She is still – unnaturally so. He smiles benignly.
"Your council is just reporting different variations of the same thing; the districts all have individual requests, sir."
Bradley nods slowly. "So you think that I should not listen to the big issue – of which many people agree on – and instead, focus on a small issue that may only pertain to a small amount of individuals?"
The Lieutenant nods without hesitation. "Of course. The problem with a big issue is that people are lost amongst the politics. In the end, the individuals will not matter – and then the issue has lost any meaning."
The smile slides off his face abruptly and he stands, moving from behind his desk to face her. Her face remains impassive as he nears her – her eyes narrow only slightly as he moves into her personal space. A muscle twitches slightly above her lip.
"Sir?" she asks, no trace of hesitance in her tone. Her hands are clasped behind her back and she meets his gaze firmly.
She isn't afraid of him. Why isn't she afraid of him? He could cut her down right where she stands, he could force the breath out of her with a single hand, he could make her scream in a thousand different ways for mercy if he so chose – why isn't she afraid?
Against his better judgment, his hand reaches up and unclasps her hair from her clip swiftly, watching with interest as she pulls back slightly, her eyes narrowing slightly. There is a battle waging in her face for the briefest moment before it vanishes, and then it is like nothing happened; like this is a completely normal occurrence in her life.
Her hair is longer than he anticipated, and it curls slightly around her shoulders. He takes a lock of hair between his fingers carefully, noting the soft texture and how the sun glints off it – her hair is not just blonde, but a whole spectrum of colours. He can hear her breathing – faster than normal, and her eyes are darting around the room, never focusing.
But still, she remains quiet, obedient, and still. Humans are so strange he thinks, carefully tucking the errant lock behind her ear. She is warm, and he can almost feel her pulse jolting erratically beneath her skin. It is the most alive he has ever seen her.
Bradley pulls back, and places her comb on the larger pile of paperwork. She waits, staring at something beyond him in the room. Her face has lost all colour and there is a rigidness to how she holds herself – her elbows look too sharp, her jaw is jutting out a little too much and he can see now that she is trembling – just barely, but it is there.
He nods at her, regarding her coolly, before leaving the room. The paperwork can wait.