sorry i've been gone for ten months. i had to reprioritise and then adjust accordingly. i left this dangling for far too long. please accept the rest, as well as my deepest apologies. ty for remaining with this fic until the bitter end.
mrs bradley is a deeply interesting character for me. i hope u enjoy my interpretation of her and her motivations.
The compartment they share in the train is well-furbished – as expected for the wife and child of the Führer. No expense has been spared for their comfort, nor has their safety.
First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye sits like a porcelain doll, perched on her seat and seemingly unable to relax the harsh line of her shoulders. She's not a tiny thing, but there is something in her posture that makes her seem smaller: like she wants to take up as little space as humanly possible.
Louisa feels sorry for the girl. She had been quiet and polite as they had made their way towards Central Grand to embark on a short holiday to the South. Louisa had told her husband that she wished to visit her younger sister.
In actuality, she wants to know more about this woman who has caused somewhat of a…disruption in her household. She doesn't suspect her husband of cheating on her – no, the Führer may just be a man but Louisa has more faith than that of her society-sisters', who dim their hearts and minds from whatever truth is skulking in their husband's hands and between their lips. He knows her better too, knows better than to flaunt his indiscretions right in front of her.
Louisa Bradley is a proud woman, confident in her standing. She doesn't understand why Riza Hawkeye isn't as well.
"Are you quite well, dear?" she asks kindly, tilting her head as she considers the woman sitting opposite her. The Lieutenant's eyes dart jerkily back to her from where they had been resting, at some unknown space out in the corridor. For a moment there's only the sound of steel on steel, and the vibrations of the wooden carriages. Hawkeye nods once, her lips drawn tight.
Selim snores a little in his sleep, and Louisa runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly, marvelling at how soft his hair always manages to be. "I didn't mean to make your life even more hectic with this trip," she begins slowly, noting how Hawkeye's shoulders never lose that taut line of tension. "If I may be honest with you, I've never had the luxury of a female bodyguard before."
The other woman nods. There's something holding her back. Louisa has a feeling she already knows what it is.
Selim snores once more.
"I apologise for Selim's tantrum at the station earlier. He's a good kid, most of the time," Louisa remarks, adjusting the silk scarf around her neck. "But he has his moments."
"I imagine most children are like that, ma'am."
"Selim's not like most children though." Louisa tries to school her expression into one of motherly pride rather than satisfaction as Riza Hawkeye finally gives her a reaction that is true and not rehearsed. For all her professionalism, her husband had been right: their family is apparently a sore spot for the woman. Louisa doesn't envy her position in the slightest – away from anything familiar, with people who would sooner cut her than try to help her escape the wolves that stalk Central Headquarters. Her own family – one forged through blood and the experiences that only soldiers understand – is a long way from here. She is right to be mistrustful. Louisa would sooner push the Lieutenant into oncoming traffic than have her son save her once more.
"He is very bright." Hawkeye replies, composing herself. Her hands are balled into fists and her knuckles are almost blanched white.
"Too much for his own good," Louisa admits freely, enjoying how easy it is to make her squirm. The other soldiers that protect her husband all come from the same stock: one that is ultimately self-serving and doesn't hold any kind of real deference for her spouse's position. They would serve the next Führer with the same clinical approach, with hardly an acknowledgement for what her husband has sacrificed for this country.
Riza Hawkeye isn't like that.
Riza Hawkeye has deference in spades, and suddenly Louisa realises exactly what has caused her beloved and her son to become so irate in these last few months.
There is no respect in her eyes, in her tone, in how she holds herself towards them. She serves them dutifully, and nothing more. Louisa is more than aware of the lengths this woman has gone to protect her own superior officer – and though her husband insists that is all they are, she is a wife and wives know these sorts of things. You cannot shed your skin overnight, nor can you shed years of loyalty and affection. It sinks into your bones, embeds into you at a molecular level. It makes no difference whether they are or not – though Louisa would call Mustang a fool if he hasn't taken advantage of everything and everyone laid out at his disposal.
Hesitancy does not belong with the crown.
Louisa knows that Hawkeye has no aspirations for their position, there is no hint of the jealousy that she often spies in the younger wives of general's – catty young things lured with the promise of prestige and gold. Hawkeye isn't like them. She simply understands implicitly that their days are numbered. She understands that she will be there to watch them fall.
Louisa feels the bitterness of truth settle on her tongue, and decides that if she is to be usurped, she will do everything in her power to see that her family survives whatever horror comes at the hands of Colonel Mustang and First Lieutenant Hawkeye.
"I should wake up Selim," Louisa says quietly. "Or he won't sleep at all tonight."
Hawkeye nods cautiously, and Louisa doesn't try to hide her smile this time.