I'm backing up here for a bit chronologically. This story takes place between The Day The Circus Came To Town and For Better Or For Worse in the year 1917, FMA reckoning. It was suggested by a post on my Tumblr page. Many thanks, O Anonymous One!

I will get back to The Little Prince soon, but this story will have a slight effect, character-wise, on that one, so I figured I'd get this out.

"It doesn't matter what people call you unless they call you pigeon pie and eat you up."

Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited

Chapter One

"I really am of two minds about this, dear," Sophia Armstrong said. "I truly understand if you can't bring yourself to come. After all, your Aunt Boudicca is certainly not everyone's cup of tea."

Truer words were never spoken.

Major General Olivier Armstrong could face gunfire, cannon fire, blood, cold steel, and certain death, but the thought of spending the weekend with her more loathsome relatives all grouped together was beyond her limit of what could be endured.

"I suppose Ham and Cheese will be there, too," Olivier remarked as a question.

Sophia let a snicker slip out. "Of course. Your uncle Hamilcar and Aunt Filetta love an audience, each in their own way."

"What about Bella and Seb?"

Sophia sighed. "Unfortunately, your Uncle Sebastian is just getting over pneumonia, and Isabella won't leave him."

Olivier frowned. Her father's youngest sister and her archeologist husband were among the small minority of relatives that she actually liked.

"So as you can imagine," Sophia went on, "since the reunion is on Boudicca's turf this year, she'll have the home court advantage, and I won't have Isabella there to help balance the odds."

Olivier groaned. "And that's why you're calling me," she grumbled.

"Well, dear, as I said, I am of two minds. Yes, of course I want you to come. It's Shua that I'm concerned about."

Olivier bridled. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "He was good enough to get invited to Catherine's debut, wasn't he? He's damn well good enough to show up at Boudicca's dump."

"Olivier, really!" Sophia countered indignantly. "Of course he is! I would love for him to come! He's a darling man and I'm so very fond of him! But Hamalcar and his set could be very unpleasant to him! Some of them were at Catherine's debut and were overheard saying some dreadful things!"

Growing angrier, Olivier stared at the telephone on her desk. "I don't remember anything like that!"

"I'm not surprised. You weren't exactly paying attention that evening. It was your cousin Rupert, actually, and I will not repeat his remark. I believe he came a bit late, after you had surrendered your post as hostess, and he did not stay for long."

Olivier gave a snort. "Then he's lucky I didn't catch him."

"Yes, I rather echo that sentiment. It would have ruined Catherine's evening. As it happens, I was the one who took him quietly aside and told him that if he could not treat my guests with respect he was welcome to find some entertainment elsewhere."

Olivier's eyes widened. "Mother! I'm impressed!"

"Oh, tut, Olivier," Sophia replied dismissively. "I do that sort of thing all the time. The trick is to not let anyone else notice."

"Well, old Rupe was lucky, then. I would have not so quietly taken him aside and not so quietly booted his ass downstairs."

"Which rather validates my point. Suffice to say," Sophia continued, "He and his father and his stepmother will be at the reunion, as well as some of their friends, so dear Shua could easily become a target of some rather nasty remarks. He shouldn't be subjected to that sort of thing."

Olivier glumly sat back in her chair. "So, let me get this straight. You're trying to talk me into going, and you're trying to talk me out of it. Which is it?"

She could hear a rush of air as her mother heaved a sigh. It wasn't the usual mother-inflicted-guilt sort of sigh. It was a genuine dilemma sort of sigh. "I've given you the facts, Olivier, and I've given my views on them. If you can manage it, I would love to see you there, but I truly understand if you refuse. If I could avoid it, I wouldn't go either, but your father's feelings would be hurt. He looks up to his older sister—"

"Literally," Olivier remarked. Boudicca was one of the tall Armstrongs.

Sophia cleared her throat. "And as you know, his family is terribly important to him. Plus," she added, and Olivier could picture her gathering herself up in determination, "I will not be cowed by that…" She struggled for a moment to find an appropriate, yet tasteful epithet.

"Cow?" suggested Olivier, who leaned more on the side of calling it as she saw it.

Her mother snickered. "Really, Olivier!"

Of course we'll go! Just try to stop me!

With those fateful words still ringing in her ears, Olivier found herself on the train heading to West City. She gazed morosely out the window at the fall foliage, which was probably very pretty, but which was lost on her. Too much color. She liked more stark landscapes.

Her mood was not lost on her traveling companion, and Shua leaned closer to her, brushing her hair away from her ear and bringing his lips close to it.

"Where's my warrior queen, eh?"

Warm little fingers tickled up and down her spine and a smile pulled at her lips. "She's trying to come up with a strategy for infiltrating the enemy's territory."

Shua chuckled. "Infiltrate? Bugger that. I intend to make an entrance." He put his arm around her and gave her shoulders an encouraging squeeze. "Oh, Ollie! Ollie-laleh! Don't let 'em scare you!"

"I'm not scared!" Olivier snapped back defensively. "I just—" She had to pause. She had never admitted this to anyone else, but Shua wasn't just anyone else. He wasn't one of those society people and he wasn't military. He was in a class by himself. He was her husband, lover, and friend, and he was the first real confidant that she'd ever had. Her voice quieted, almost as if she didn't want to be overheard. "I don't know how to play their games."

"What? Bridge? Well, you need four people, and a table and some cards. But I wouldn't bother. It's boring as hell."

"No, you idiot!" Olivier growled in exasperation. "I'm trying to be serious! I'm talking about all the gossiping and the backstabbing and the insults underneath this…" She scowled as she struggled for the right word. "…this veneer of politeness and…and etiquette! It's so pointless! But they're my family so I can't run them through with my saber or beat the crap out of them!"

"You've beaten up Alex before."

Olivier waved her hand impatiently. "Just keeping him on his toes. And he can give as good as he gets, most of the time." She breathed out a gloomy huff of air. "I know combat. I know rules of engagement. I know which ones to stick to and I know which ones to break. But that bunch, they…they make me freeze up. I never know what to say to them to get them to shut up. Needless to say, I haven't been to one of these things in several years."

"Eh-h!" Shua squeezed her shoulders and kissed her soundly on the cheek. "Listen here, love. I've had to fight my way out of my share of tight corners, but there are quite a few others that I've talked my way out of." He gave another chuckle, warm with mischievous purpose. "You and I are going to roll into this shindy like the shiniest, brassiest pair of balls these folks have ever seen! Come on now!" he cajoled. "It'll be fun!"

Olivier sighed. "Shua, you don't know these people. I tried to warn you when we talked on the phone, but you got so excited that I never got the chance."

"Ha!" Shua smirked. "I didn't just come in on the last caravan, you know. Your ma has told me about her in-laws before. Usually over a cup of Xingese tea." He stretched his long legs out comfortably. "Right. Top of the list is your Auntie Boudicca, your pa's older sister, the first born. Married some rich fellow, a steel magnate, and set up her own little empire out west. Had a couple of lethally boring daughters, your cousins, Agrippina and Lucretia. Husband had a heart attack and left her stinking rich. The worst snob I could possibly imagine, according to your ma. Spends so much time looking down her nose at people that she's cross-eyed."

Olivier raised her eyebrows. "I'm impressed. Mother told you all that?"

"Not in so many words. I…uh…extrapolated." Shua nudged her. "There's a two-cenz word for you there."

"Yes, you're very erudite. Boudicca will treat you like dirt."

"Look, my own people treated me like dirt, once upon a time," Shua replied easily. "Then they voted me into Parliament. You know why?"

"My understanding was that your beloved khorovar made them do it."

Shua looked indignant. "My auntie's goat, he did! That's an ugly rumor and a burning untruth! Shame on you! I made them all love me, is what I did!"

Olivier let out a quiet snicker. "Oh, yeah. I forgot."

"Anyway, up next is your Uncle Hamalcar, your pa's younger brother. In charge of Western Command. A simple soldier, so he claims, although he's a full general and full of himself. Head's so firmly rammed up his ass it's a wonder they were able to find his shoulders to give him those extra stars."

"You extrapolated that, too?"

"Uh-huh. He was stationed in Ishval once upon a time." Shua thought for a moment. "Maybe we rubbed shoulders." He grinned. "Maybe he ended up at Vashto's tavern once or twice."

"Do you think so?" Olivier asked, intrigued.

"It's entirely possible. Ishval was, and is, a dry, hot place, and it was a lot lonelier for your average bluecoat back then. I should ask him."

That was daring, even to Olivier. But she'd love to be there when it happened. Maybe. "He hates Ishvalans, you know. Did Mother tell you that?"

Shua nodded. "Oh, sure. She told me that I would not find him an agreeable acquaintance, which is your ma's nice way of saying he's a yaakhtai."

"You won't care much for his son, either."

"Rupert?"

"Uh-huh." Olivier scowled. "I hate that man! I always have. He used to pick on Alex when we were little. I told him I was the only one allowed to do that, and then I punched him in the mouth." Her frown turned to a grim smile and she tapped her cheek. "Knocked out one of his baby teeth."

"You rascal."

Olivier chuckled. "Getting sent to my room with no supper was a small price to pay, especially since my mother came up later with a sandwich." She looked out at the passing scenery, but was contemplating her memory. "She told me that what I had done was wrong and unladylike"—she gave a brief roll of her eyes—"but she was proud of me for defending Alex."

"Even though you've probably popped your brother in the kisser once or twice."

"Yeah, well…" Olivier shrugged. "I don't think that was really Mother's motive. She can't stand Hamalcar or his family, either, but she probably didn't want to send me the wrong message."

"She's a very wise woman, your ma," Shua observed.

"She's fond of you, too."

"Of course she is. Now, that leaves your pa's baby sister, Isabella."

"Who won't be there," Olivier said. "Which is tough luck because she's all right. Her husband, who is also a decent sort, is sick."

"Or she says he is so she has an excuse not to come."

"No, she wouldn't do that. Normally she and Mother team up to keep each other from going crazy at these affairs."

"She's got a couple of kids, too, doesn't she?"

"Simonedes and Dorothea. They're—"

"What is it with these names?" Shua remarked suddenly.

Olivier rolled her eyes. "A tradition that's been handed down through generations of the Armstrong family," she droned.

"Oh. Right. Stupid question. Go on."

"Anyway, I haven't seen Sim and Dot for several years. They were just goofy teenagers," Olivier said dismissively. "Catherine's closer to them. They'll probably be somewhere else, being goofy."

Shua nodded and put on a thoughtful look. "Let's see now. Am I forgetting anybody?"

"Aunt Filetta," Olivier replied in a slightly ominous tone.

"Oh, right! Your uncle's second wife."

"I call 'em Ham and Cheese because Filetta's maiden name was Wensleydale," Olivier said, then added, "Only to my mother, though. Father would be offended."

"He has a real soft spot for his siblings."

"More like a blind spot."

"Your pa's a fine old fellow, Ishvala bless him." Shua shook his head fondly. "That's the most amazing beard I've ever seen. So," he went on. "Filetta. A bored socialite."

"A most dangerous creature, as my mother would say," Olivier added.

"Takes all kinds," Shua observed. "Since Ham wore out his first wife, he plucked his second strictly for youth and looks. She accepted strictly for money. A pretty convenient arrangement, I suppose."

"Hm." Olivier nodded thoughtfully. "Sort of an unknown quantity. I met her once and that was just in passing."

"She doesn't say much, according to your ma. Sits there looking stunningly glamorous and bored. Makes your ma nervous, which takes some doing. Uncle Ham likes to show her off, but that seems to be as far as his regard for her goes." He frowned a little, turning somber for a moment. "There's no love there at all. How can anybody live like that?"

"Because they have a twisted idea of what's important."

"You have to keep it simple." Shua drew her into his arms. "Love, good food, a roof over your head, and an all-wise Creator to keep an eye on your sorry ass," he declared.

Olivier chuckled softly. "I suppose so."