Games Between a King and Queen
Chapter 2.

It was the sun which awoke Roy from his slumber. Sighing heavily, he rolled onto his back, and opened his eyes. Not to his surprise, the bed was empty beside him. Never once had Olivier been there when he woke up. Maybe this was out of pride, but Mustang had a hunch she felt waking up next to a lover was too familiar. In many ways, it was, and he understood why she would prefer to remain distant.

However, he knew where she was. There was a café a couple of metres away, one she frequently visited when in Central City. It was probably the only place she liked. Uninvited or not, Roy wanted to meet her. After last night, he wasn't the type to just brush the event off and continue how things went. Before, when they had sex, Roy tried to have some sort of decent conversation with her afterwards. It comforted him to know they were still "okay".

Of course Olivier wasn't the type to fall in love with him, just because they had slept together. She was ridiculously cold when it came to lovemaking, far less emotional than Roy was. In all honesty, he considered nights with her to be special. Generally, he considered sex as something special, something he wouldn't abuse. To make love with someone he cared deeply about, though, it only made the occasion more important to him.

Roy was due for work very soon, but he had time to socialise. After a quick shower, he pulled on his military uniform before escaping his apartment. The City was busy this morning, children running off to school, parents following after or heading to work. Approaching the café, Roy spotted Olivier sitting at one of the tables outside. A cup of tea in her hand, eyes fixed on a piece of paper.

'Good morning!' Roy greeted, sitting down opposite her.

No response. Either Olivier was ignoring him, or that piece of paper had her transfixed. Roy leaned back, admiring her slightly. Olivier was interesting to study while she worked, completely isolated from the world, and utterly fascinated. Nothing could disturb her. The early rays of sunshine made her appear more youthful, he was able to see her face better.

Roy was unaware of his gazing until a waiter had to speak three times to grab his attention.

'Ah,' clearing his throat, Roy fumbled around, wondering what to order. 'A cup of tea, what the lady is having.'

'Very good, Sir.' The waiter left.

'What the lady is having...?' Olivier murmured from behind her sheet of paper.

Roy smiled, glad she was showing signs of life. 'You are a lady. I hope.'

Yet she had lost interest once again, placing the sheet of paper down onto the table. Mustang frowned, trying to read the words upside down, but noticed it was in a different language. When his tea arrived, Roy thanked the waiter, had a sip and then spoke.

'What's that?'

No answer.

He squinted his eyes at her. 'Do I have to guess?' Silence. 'Okay, I'll guess!'

'Mustang, is it possible for you to stop talking?'

Closing his mouth, Roy said nothing for the next few minutes. His eyes remained on her, glaring almost, waiting impatiently. By the time ten minutes had gone, Roy had had enough. Snatching the piece of paper from her, he began to read.

'Get off that!' Olivier scolded, trying to reach over and snatch it off him.

Roy grinned and only leaned further away. True enough, everything was in a different language, or, at least, in some sort of code. Olivier growled and returned to her seat, folding her arms. There were times when she hated him, and this was one of those times.

'What is this?' Roy queried, dangling the paper before her.

Olivier quickly claimed it. 'None of your business. Anyway, you don't possess the intellect for this sort of thing.'

'If I'm so stupid, then why did you sleep with me? Or are you secretly attracted to idiots?'

She rolled her eyes. 'I was delayed last night because I was attacked, or, more, I was inconvenienced by some Drachman spies. They followed me here. For some odd reason, they believe getting rid of me will weaken defences at Briggs.'

'You should report this.'

'Who? To the authorities? Oh wait, we are the authorities, Mustang.'

'What did you do with the bodies?'

Picking up her mug, she narrowed her brows. 'How do you know I killed them?'

'I know you.'

She had to give him that. 'Left them be. I'm sure they've been discovered already, but that really isn't an issue right now. I got what I needed from them. This piece of paper was being carried by one of the Drachman. You probably realised it's written in code. I'm trying to decipher it.'

'Have you been able to translate anything?'

'No,' she said, voice low, as if embarrassed. 'And I don't like it when I can't figure something out.'

'Maybe someone at headquarters can help you. I'm heading there in just a moment. There's an officer called Sheska, who's pretty good at researching anything. However, I doubt Drachman code can be discovered nearby.'

'I do have to meet Grumman about this, anyway. While I hate to cause a stir, this ambush might be dangerous for the country. Not that I believe the Drachman are capable of such, but better safe than sorry.' Olivier stood to her feet. 'Enjoy your tea.'

Roy smiled shortly at her and watched the General leave. Turning back around, he couldn't help feel a little giddy. Last night was still on his mind, and he wondered if Olivier had given their moment a thought. Without a doubt, Olivier would continue on with life as if nothing had happened. Or, at least, seem to.

Pondering over the matter was useless right now. Roy finished his cup of tea, paid and made his way to headquarters. It was already busy with life, and he reached his office. Hawkeye was at her desk, writing away, Havoc possibly outside having a cigarette. Fuery and Falman greeted him on the way in, alongside a couple other soldiers.

The paperwork was waiting for him, and he groaned. Hawkeye ignored his complaint.

Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. It was a cliché duty for an officer, but a very true one at that. Roy propped himself on one elbow and busied himself, the office silent, only hearing the sound of pen scratching against paper. Whilst he wrote, he let his mind drift over to Olivier and what code she was trying to translate.

Did he know anyone who could be of service? Roy believed if Olivier didn't find out what was on that paper, it might place the entire country in jeopardy. The door opened, and Havoc stepped in, filling the room with the scent of tobacco. Roy lifted his head when Havoc spoke. 'Hey, Chief. You disappeared without telling me last night.'

Roy flicked his gaze to Hawkeye who didn't seem to be listening. 'Sorry.' He shrugged, smirking. 'I didn't know you were my babysitter.'

'Nah, I'm just wondering where you went, seeing as I saw you leave with General Armstrong.'

That turned the heads of quite a few officers in the office. Roy would have hit Havoc in the jaw for speaking such things in public, but, unfortunately, they were in public so he didn't have the pleasure of using his fist. Instead, Mustang chuckled. 'Nothing happened, if that's what you want to ask. I escorted General Armstrong home.'

'I'm just saying, Chief, but she doesn't seem like the type who needs an escort.'

'Fine,' Roy dropped his gaze to the paperwork, 'I needed an escort home.'

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Riza twitch a smile. Havoc stood there for a moment, before curling his lips and nodding. When he went to his desk, Roy mentally sighed in relief. The gossip about him and women was bad enough, and he had no desire for his best friend to be dragged into it. Not only would it ruin his career, but hers as well.

They hadn't been discovered before. Maybe they should be more careful next time, if Olivier allowed a "next time". Sex wasn't that frequent between them. It had just been such a long time since the two had been with someone last night. Roy, at least, felt that way.

Oh, why did it matter? Roy shouldn't worry. He shouldn't think over such little things.

It was when he was on break did Hawkeye finally approach him. Pouring himself a mug of coffee, he threw a smile at her which she half-heartily returned. Roy hoped she wasn't going to tell her off.

'I bumped into General Armstrong this morning, Sir.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'How nice.'

Deep inside, he knew Riza wasn't taking any of his bullshit. She leaned closer, and lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. 'Your private life is none of my business, Sir. It is, however, becoming more obvious the relationship you share with General Armstrong.'

'What?' Roy asked, accidentally pouring coffee on the table. 'Ah shit...'

Riza continued: 'It shouldn't be an issue legally, or in general, but...' She dropped her gaze, 'You know as well as I how the world likes to gossip.'

Placing his mug of coffee down, Roy looked to her. 'Thanks, and don't worry: I know. I also know how it can ruin General Armstrong's reputation.'

'It's not just her I'm worried about.'

Roy smiled.

'How was last night anyway? I'm very pleased for Major Armstrong, and I'm sorry to not have attended his celebration.'

'There wasn't much you missed, Hawkeye. His fiancée is lovely; I'm sure you'd both get on well. The marriage is tomorrow, and I understand you're invited?'

'Yes.'

'I'll pick you up on the way.'

At first Riza was going to refuse the offer, but she nodded. 'Thank you. I do hope General Armstrong shall attend. It has been a while since we last had a proper conversation.'

'I think she's very keen to meet you as well,' Roy muttered, remembering the little fight Olivier and he had over Riza. If only the Lieutenant knew how wanted she was.

For the remainder of the day, Roy was only half-focussed on his work. Knowing Olivier was still in Central City bugged him; she was available, and if she was available, then Roy preferred to be with her. This had been the case ever since they were young children. Enduring a rough childhood, Olivier was probably the only friend he possessed.

It was just as well he had decided to peek in the library, for it was there he spotted her. Roy initially came to search for a book on code, or Drachman language. Allegedly, Olivier also had the same idea. She was currently turned away from him, three books stacked under her arm, another in her hand which she was reading from.

Roy stealthily tiptoed behind her. 'Hello,' he whispered.

'You weren't looking for me, were you?'

'Don't flatter yourself. I actually came because I wanted to find a book on Drachman language, in the hopes of helping you.'

Olivier cocked a brow and faced him. 'What makes you think I need help? Actually, what makes you think you can help me?'

Roy didn't answer. 'Did you speak to the Führer then?'

'Yes. Grumman is hard to receive a response from, he's so laid back. After attempting to read the letter, he recommended I research into it, while he has his best men looking into the motives of those soldiers.' She scowled. 'Best men. What a load of bullocks. I am far more superior than any of them; I could have this mystery solved within days if he let me.'

'I wouldn't take it personally––'

'Thank you for your wisdom, Mustang, but I shall interpret his words however I like. Honestly, I need to return to Briggs and sort this out from there.'

If there was one thing Roy disliked about Olivier, it was how much she loved the Fort. He knew she hated Central, and she had her reasons, but he did miss her when she was away. Even though Olivier might not acknowledge this, he was always happy to see her. Just Olivier's company alone managed to bring a smile to his face, no matter what mood she was in.

No one else could have this amount of power over how he felt. Briggs, to Roy, was what kept Olivier away from him. Yet he had to remember that they were no longer children anymore. Both were adults, and lives in Amestris depended on them. Roy could imagine the days they used to play, but those days were gone, never to be repeated.

Trying to hide his disappointment Mustang said, 'When do you intend to leave?'

'After the wedding tomorrow.'

'Ah.'

'I don't intend to stay long for the wedding, either. God forbid,' Olivier shivered. 'No thank you.'

'You have a place to sleep this evening?'

Olivier looked up from the book she was reading. Although Mustang tried to maintain a stoic expression, she could tell what was on his mind. 'My family owns many homes in Amestris, so I have a variety to pick from.'

'I, too, have a home.'

'Oh, I see. You want me to sleep with you again?'

Roy cringed when she walked away. 'No, that's not right at all!'

'Your bed is very uncomfortable, did you know that? The beds at my Manor are nicer. Which reminds me: my Father contacted me not long ago, hoping we could speak. I can only guess what that's about,' Olivier said, placing her books onto a table and sitting down. Roy sat opposite. 'That's all he thinks about: me with a husband. Imagine the look on his face when I tell him what we did last night.'

Roy almost choked. 'Please don't. It's not your old man who I'm scared of, it's your Mother. She saw us leaving together, you know? I thought she was going to rip off my face, she looked really angry.'

Olivier was laughing at him. 'She's not even that scary. You were hilarious when we were younger. Swearing and everything in front of me, but as soon as my Mother showed up, you acted like a completely different person. It used to annoy me so much.'

'She is scary. I know where you get your fierce personality from.' Roy exhaled slowly. 'She was judging me last night. Her eyes. Like death. Do you think she knows?'

'My Mother knows a lot of things, Mustang, and I couldn't care less.' Olivier widened her eyes when she spotted something in one of her books. Pointing at a paragraph, she told Roy to read it.

A common ways soldiers communicate of foreign ethnicity is through coded language, either with shapes, numbers or symbols. Their meaning is only understandable to few, as their interpretation can change from person-to-person..

'The Drachman used numbers and shapes to communicate,' Olivier revealed the slip of paper. 'If only I could figure out what they're saying.'

Roy leaned forwards and scanned his eyes past the first line. 'Well, some numbers are repeated. Look.. And shapes too. They must be the same word or letter.'

'Maybe,' Olivier said.

'I think it'd be dangerous if you travelled back to the North alone. You managed to get past three Drachman soldiers, but I'm.. I'm scared more may be after you. Obviously you've become their prime target at the moment.'

'You underestimate me, Mustang. I managed to defeat a homunculus by myself.'

'Alex helped a lot.'

Olivier sneered slightly. 'Yeah, he helped. Not everyone can perform Alchemy, though.' It was well-known that Olivier loathed the use of Alchemy, but only Roy knew why. Folding the sheet of paper she shoved it into her pocket. 'I retrieved some ID from the Drachman, and it's currently being looked into. For some reason, Grumman wants my hands clean on this.'

After Olivier had gone through the last few pages of her remaining books, she left the library in order to meet her Father. Roy insisted on going with her, seeing as he had nothing better to do. While they walked, he felt more confident. There was something about Olivier which spiked his ego. They looked good together. Possibly intimidating, maybe a little frightening, but they looked like ones who possessed power.

And Roy liked that. He liked how she managed to create such an image without even having to try. Roy had always liked that about her.

The Manor, as always, was towering but beautiful. It was the garden which Mustang had always been fond of, flourishing with life and colour. Yet, ever since Olivier inherited the estate, the Manor was empty, occupied by her family only occasionally. This Manor was now Olivier's. Her family had many other homes to choose from.

Knocking on the large doors, Olivier waited for the butler to answer. Roy remembered him from so long ago, he couldn't believe he still worked here.

'I shall go inform Lord Armstrong of your arrival, madam.'

Both officers stepped inside the glistening Manor and waited. Roy was smiling to himself: 'He always used to give me orange juice, Mister Smith, your butler. Every time I came and had to wait for you, he'd serve me orange juice.'

'For me it was always warm milk.'

'You still like that?'

Olivier didn't answer, but Roy knew. Seconds passed and Lord Armstrong appeared from the top of the staircase. His booming voice greeted the two, and he joyfully proceeded down the steps until reaching them both.

'How lovely of you both to come! Mister Mustang, what brings you here?'

'My shift had ended, and I decided to say hello. Last night was a success, Mister Armstrong. I'm very happy for Alex. Hopefully he and Miss Hailey also enjoyed the previous evening.'

'Oh yes, very much so. They are a wonderful match, wouldn't you agree?'

'Definitely,' Roy said, glancing over at Olivier, who didn't seem interested.

Philip followed her gaze and beamed at his daughter. 'My dear, would it be all right if I spoke to you in private?'

'Yes,' Olivier said. 'But I don't think Mustang is going to tell the whole City about what you have to say.'

'Indeed,' Philip replied, sarcasm strong in his tone.

It was clear he was angry with her for some unknown reason. Roy swallowed, hoping he hadn't somehow discovered Olivier's sleeping arrangements. Well, if he would scold her for that, then Roy would make sure to support her case.

Either way, he had to mind his own business. 'I'll wait outside, Olivier.'

'You really don't have to,' Olivier muttered.

If Philip wasn't there, Roy would have thrown some sort of smart comment at her. Yet when he did leave, Olivier did feel a bit irritated. If Roy was around, then Philip would always restrict what he truly wanted to say.

'Mister Ashby has been in contact.'

'Oh God.. Father, isn't it clear that we didn't get on?' Olivier couldn't believe Philip was still obsessing over him.

'Your Mother tells me you left the party with Mister Mustang.'

'You don't possibly think anything happened, do you?'

'I have no comment on the matter,' Philip said, his usually happy tone turning steely. 'That doesn't mean everyone else doesn't. I already had a paparazzi asking questions this morning, about you and Mister Mustang. Imagine what this is causing for our family. I want you to start meeting eye-to-eye with Mister Ashby, otherwise there shall be undesirable consequences.'

'You clearly have a comment on the matter. I didn't like him.'

The last time Olivier had witnessed her Father so angry was years ago, when she was a little girl. It was a scary sight, a sight she automatically associated with punishment. The whipping of hands, the smack on the cheek, the night without dinner. It shocked her that, even as an adult, he still managed to frighten her.

And he was the only being on earth who was capable of such.

'Your feelings for him are irrelevant. You have poisoned the Armstrong name enough, and the least you can do is try and save it from the negativity you're now drowning it in.'

'I don't want to be some man's wife. That's not who I am. By now, I would expect you to be aware of this.'

'I respect who you wish to be, Olivier. I always have, but I don't want you causing problems. The fact you continue to spend a lot of your time with Mister Mustang only makes things worse.'

The words "but he's my friend" almost slipped out. Olivier wasn't a kid anymore, and she understood why her Father felt this way. To him, the Armstrong bloodline was everything. More important than work. Olivier could advise him to retire, criticise his behaviour, but the one thing he did not permit was her refusal to do her duty as an Armstrong.

It was a very popular name in Amestris, and even beyond its borders. Many saw the family as something of an icon.
One child could ruin that.

Philip didn't want that child to be Olivier, especially since she was now heiress to the estate.

'You can put these rumours about you and Mister Mustang to rest. Just this once, do as I say. Please.'

Roy was waiting for her, and Olivier had half a mind to disobey her Father's wishes. However, she knew he had a point: their careers were dependant on their reputation. The last thing she would want would be for Roy to lose his job. Excusing herself from his presence, Olivier decided she would give this Mister Ashby one last chance, not that she expected anything to come out of it.

The home he owned was not as large as Olivier's, but still bragged with wealth. Olivier hurried up the few steps towards the door and knocked. Hopefully this short meeting would last a couple of seconds, Philip would be convinced she had no interest, and then that would be all. A typical phase of Philip's was to obsess Olivier over with another man, and then forget the matter a few days afterwards.

Unfortunately Mister Ashby was one of his targets at the moment.

The butler told her to wait at the entrance. Olivier shoved a hand into her pocket, eyeing the hallway. Carpet covered the floor, and staircase, large lights hanging from the rooftops. She spotted a portrait of a man, dressed smartly, and looking stern and cold. He had a slight goatee, eyes black and piercing, slightly tanned skin. Staring at her, almost frowning.

'Hello, Miss Armstrong.'

Turning to Jim Ashby's voice, Olivier had to refrain herself from groaning. Though she had to admit, he looked better in his jumper and trousers than the suit he wore last night. 'My Father insists I take up some of your time.'

'The butler shall serve us tea. Please, this way.'

Olivier reluctantly followed, wishing more than anything that she was back at Briggs. 'May I ask, who is that man? The portrait?'

'My grandfather,' Jim said, peering over his shoulder to look at her. 'He was a bit of an adventurer, liked to travel the world and write about his findings. Became quite a popular author.'

Olivier soon entered what must have been the living room. Three sofas were available for them to sit at, a small television in the corner. She was surprised to see one of those square-shaped things; they were so rare and expensive. Her family had one, but it was never used. Jim gestured his hand to one of the settees for her to sit, but Olivier decided to sit elsewhere. She didn't like to be told what to do by a man.

Raising his eyebrows, Jim sat down by himself.

'How is your friend Mister Mustang?'

'Fine,' Olivier said shortly. 'Look, I didn't come here to talk about him.'

'Oh? What did you come here to talk about?'

It was then she noticed the sharpness in his tone. She couldn't help but smile crookedly. 'I imagine you're still sour about last night. I think what my Father wants is for me to apologise. I can also apologise for Mustang's behaviour too.' Damn it! It was impossible for Olivier to have a conversation without that idiot becoming an element.

'Please, my night did not revolve around me thinking about you and him.'

The butler arrived with a tray of tea, and placed them on the table between the two. Jim was about to pour Olivier a cup, but she beat him to it.

'It was obvious that your Father hoped we'd get along. I did give the wrong impression at first, what with my awkward comments––'

'You do know I'm not interested, right?' Olivier said, leaning back in her seat. 'I'm only here because it'll make my Father happy.'

'That's kind. You must care about him.'

Olivier didn't like to hear anyone say that. Family could be a huge target if the enemy was aware. Knowing that Olivier cared about them would be fantastic for the Drachman. Anything to ruin her life, like she had done for them.

Pft, I'd like to see those assholes try.

'My grandfather was much too distant, what with his travels. I remember him telling me all of these stories about journeying into Xing. Have you been there?'

'No.'

'Well, he has. There are thousands of pictures he took, many journal entries. Drachma was also a favourite of his, despite how dangerous it was for him.'

'Drachma...?' Now Olivier was interested.

'Yeah, that's right. Apparently up in the North you're having a little bother with them.'

She sipped at her tea, eyes cold, voice low. 'Hardly.'

'My grandfather was brilliant at masking himself. He learnt so much there: the type of artillery they use, what religion they worship, how they communicate––'

'Wait,' Olivier placed her cup down. 'Do you know how the Drachman communicate?'

Jim stared at her for a second, amazed she was asking for his thoughts. Then he nodded, 'Yes, my grandfather passed on his knowledge to me.'

'How about code?'

'Code...? Yes, I know the code Drachman use.'

Olivier could barely contain her excitement, but she refused to show it. Not to this man. It was risky, but she decided to show Jim the slip of paper she retrieved from one of the soldiers. 'Can you translate this for me?'

He took it from her, and read the first few lines. 'No problem, Miss Armstrong.' Then a smile stretched across his lips. 'However, I expect something in return.'

'Of course. My family literally sit on money.'

'No, no, not money,' Jim chuckled, standing up to meet her height. 'May I take you for dinner? Just you and I? No offence, but I don't want your friend coming along.'

Olivier wasn't sure what she was horrified at the most: the fact Jim had blackmailed her, or that he even considered Roy came on dates with her! I'm not around him that much, am I? Surely there was another way around this. Upon thinking about it, though, she realised having dinner with Jim would be beneficial for many people: her father, for one.

'If you can translate this, then I'll go to dinner with you. Only when this is translated, am I clear?'

Jim nodded once. 'Yes, absolutely. I'll have it delivered to you in person. I imagine you'll be staying at the Armstrong Manor for your brother's wedding?'

'Correct.' Olivier then made her leave. 'I expect it to be handed over very soon.'

As soon as she left the house, it felt like a pile of bricks had been lifted off her shoulders. Thank goodness someone was able to decode the letter; she just hoped Jim was telling the truth. Olivier was not looking forward to this date approaching, but if it could get her closer to the Drachman's ambitions, then surely it would be worth it.

The phone rang near six in the evening, and it was for her.

'Olivier Armstrong speaking.'

'Hello, General. It's Jim Ashby. I managed to translate the letter.'

'Don't tell me anymore on the phone. Will you be sending it my way, or shall I come to you?'

'I can come over quickly to drop it off.'

'Good.' Olivier quickly hung up, and informed the butler about Ashby's expected arrival. It was just when she was about to leave when the phone rang again. Olivier picked up, and placed the phone to her ear. 'Armstrong speaking.'

'Hey, Olive. It's Roy. I wanted to ask if you've progressed with the letter.'

Olivier was surprised Mustang was ringing her on this number, or ringing her at all. 'Yes, I have actually. Turns out that Ashby we met last night is of some use. He's just decoded the letter and sending it my way.'

'Wow. Just as well we did meet him. Tell him I send my love. Is he getting paid for this?'

'More or less. I have to suffer dinner with him.'

A pause. 'Oh...'

'Hopefully the dinner will taste revolting so I'll have to go home early. Anyway, what are you doing ringing me? It drives my Mother crazy when you keep hogging the phone like this.'

'Aw, can she really blame me for talking to a friend?'

'True. I mean, you don't actually have any friends to talk to anyway.'

'Nice.'

The doorbell rang, and the butler answered. Olivier turned her head and watched Jim Ashby walk in, smiling slightly, an envelope in his hand. 'I have to go. See you.' Before Roy could respond, she hung up and approached the other male. 'Do you have it?'

Ashby handed her the envelope. 'You'll find everything you desire in there, like the time of our date and where it is.' Olivier stared at him. 'I'm joking, Miss Armstrong!' He laughed. 'I promise everything you want has been provided. I'll see you very soon, then.'

'I suppose you will,' Olivier said, watching until Jim had left the Manor. This was probably the most humiliating situation she had placed herself in.

It was only when Olivier hung up the phone did Roy realise what was wrong. Jealousy was an emotion he usually tried to avoid. Once or twice he felt it with Riza, but that was merely because he felt so protective of her. Other times, they were typically associated with Olivier. As his rival, he was naturally envious of how she acclaimed such a powerful image.

This time, though, it had nothing to do with reputation.

The whiskey tasted sour in his mouth. Roy couldn't help hate himself a little more for wishing he was the one having dinner with her.

author's note: I am worried Olivier seems OOC in this story, but I hope that's just me being paranoid. Now, the relationship she has with her Father is purely headcanon. I know Olivier is very stern with him in the manga, but I always like to have a scenario in my head that beneath the mask, Olivier is still her Father's daughter. Considering her family's status and what she is, I think having Olivier for a daughter would be a pain.

After all, if you possess such wealth etc., you'd want your children to continue it. Olivier, his oldest, is refusing to do that and is, instead, doing something he doesn't approve of. Being in the military is something I think Philip sees a man doing, not a woman, and especially not his daughter. The punishment Olivier flashes back to is also headcanon, and actually related to real-life events. The acts of a Father can stay with you forever.

Thank you for reading. These chapters are being really long for some reason. The actual meat of this story still hasn't appeared yet, but shall very soon. I'm sure many of you have guessed what it is. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and see you next time.