Bradford opened the door to his study, allowing it to be dark as he entered. The moonlight eerily reflected off the wooden walls, the worksheets and graphs pinned on bulletin boards shining.
He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his work collar down to his upper chest, allowing some brown chestfeathers to escape from under his neckline. He pulled his jacket off with a tired sigh and threw it on his office chair. He opened his liquor stash and poured himself a small glass of bourbon.
He fell back into his chair with a relaxing yet tired breath. He took a sip of the drink and swirled it with a twist of the wrist. He rested his head in his hand, rubbing his aching mind with a hum.
The desk stared back at him with all his unfinished paperwork and framed photos. April celebrating her first birthday at McDuck Manor, a large cake, him and his brothers, Pepper, Beakley and an unamused Scrooge attending. Even now, he still couldn't believe how attached April had become to both the Mansion and the idea of Scrooge McDuck as a person. As much as it had been expected of Bradford for this occur, a needling feeling still rot in his gut when he thought about it.
Bradford teaching April how to ride a bike…him taking her to a carnival…her first day of school…even to that godforsaken Funso's both he and Scrooge hated. Everything to ensure April grew up as normal a child as possible. He remembered how Beakley would protest at first, telling him that he had to keep her safe from FOWL if they ever resurfaced to find her, to use her.
If only she knew who she was talking to.
Of course, he had refused. He cared for April's safety, more than Beakley would know. But to keep her from achieving what other children usually do at each stage of their childhoods, to keep her under house arrest and away from public eyes for the sake of her never encountering his own organization, that he'd make sure she'd never encounter in her life anyway, would be utter insanity.
April deserved to live a full, normal, safe childhood, one that he never had the chance to fully enjoy before it was snatched away from him. It was what she deserved…anything to make her happy before the Day comes.
Why did he do this? Why does he keep this up? Scrooge had been compliant to the board for years since April came into his life, with relative peace reigning over the city and in essence the world. The economy is up, the company is thriving. Why keep up the plan? Why couldn't he accept the role of father fully without feeling guilty? Why couldn't he fully embrace that parental love without risking hurting her…hurting himself along the way?
He took another swig of the drink. The box containing the letter loomed in his view on the desk. Something inside him squirmed and thumped, as if the child he held captive inside still hammered at his cell, unable to leave or be comforted.
Bradford gritted his teeth, a small groan leaving him. With a flick, he swiveled the chair around to face the back wall.
There, covering most of the space behind him was a fully pinned board bursting with pictures of April and him playing and laughing, her as a baby growing into an older child, scribbled drawings, pictures of her smiling at school with her classmates, enjoying life as a young girl.
The board started around the time April came with him home for the first time. He at first only pinned a photo of himself holding her in his arms, smiling lovingly at her. From there, more and more were eventually pinned, year after year, until the board now overflowed with mementos. A reminder of who he was doing this all for, of a love that has over ridden all his logical faculties, a love that wasn't meant to be but has grown to be so much for him.
His Master Plan wasn't only for him to find peace inside him, to bend others to his will for the sake of control. It was now to keep her safe from the dangers he was once exposed to. From an unpredictable world that will one day be made totally safe once and for all.
One day. He knew it in his bones, seeing Scrooge sneer at him daily. One day, Scrooge's old habits will be back. And one day, he'll know when to strike. One day, April will understand, will see what he meant, and she'll be happy for what he's done to ensure her safety.
But it didn't hurt him any less. Even thinking of what may be after the Day comes still pained him.
But why?
He was once confident about his plans, comforted by their surety and direction, knowing his pain would one day vanish once adventure itself is destroyed forever. But thinking about it now only brought more pain than before.
Why…?
Bradford looked down at his free hand and watched it uncontrollably twitch. He sneered, feeling the squirming inside him grow larger, the child inside unhappy.
No. Not tonight. Not on her birthday.
He clenched his fist tightly, trying to will himself, but the tremor became worse.
A frustrated groan escaped him. He turned his chair around again to face the opposite wall and there, hidden in plain sight on the highest bookshelf in a self-made leather sheath with a false hilt, was the Sword of Swanstantine.
Bradford narrowed his eyes at it. The urge filled in him for action. The Sword was almost like a drug for him: filling him with all the power and youth he ever wanted, but the hangover was always horrendous the morning after as his body desired to keep the form forever. He may have control over it, but the aftereffects never left him unneeding.
Bradford downed the last of the bourbon slowly, laid the cup down on a coaster with care, then stalked towards the Sword slowly, calculatingly.
As he stood below it, he looked up and glared at the ancient saber, his eyes radiating pure animosity and steeled will. It called to him like a siren's song on this cold, hazy night. He grasped its handle with a tentative jerk, then left the room silently.
Maybe tonight he'd be able to will his body to his desire.