"She's here at last. Quick everyone, our sister Amue has arrived!" The sound of a blubbering wail accompanied that last sentence as Alex was heard rushing out the door, no doubt with his arms wide open for a hug. Olivier heaved a sigh. She had seen the limousine rolling up the long driveway from her bedroom window upstairs and had felt the knot of dread in her chest tighten. She gazed out the window and watched Amue squeeze out of the car- she barely fit- and meet her brother in a trademark Armstrong embrace. She was sparkling even more than usual, a sure sign she was happy to be home.
Olivier knew she would have to confront her sister eventually, but was putting it off as long as possible. She still didn't quite understand why. She didn't understand anything when it came to Amue.
"Sister," Strongine called from behind her locked door. "Come on, you can't hide in there forever. No doubt Alex has already told her you're here." She knocked on the door. "Come on, open up."
Olivier slid off her bed and glanced at herself in the three-way mirror. After barking at a servant to crank up the A/C, she'd slipped on a pair of her good pants and one of her nicer black shirts, the one with thin white sleeves that extended from the shoulders. She hated how much it showed off her bust, but then there wasn't much to be done about that since Olivier was the kind of woman who could wear a turtleneck and still look like she was showing off. The pants she'd chosen for Amue's sake; her sister would never be able to wear them a day in her life but for some reason she loved seeing them on other people. Olivier walked to the door in her bare feet and unlocked it.
Strongine's massive hands came down on her shoulders. "I know it's hard, but please try your absolute best to be nice and tolerate her at least for a little while. After she's gotten over her homesickness and the excitement has worn off you can go back to being your old nasty self."
"I wasn't exactly planning on biting her head off the minute she walked through the door; you don't need to be so protective," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I plan to give her a two-day grace period to make up for the fact that I never contacted her. After that all bets are off."
Strongine nodded. "Fair enough." She grinned. "Who knows? Maybe you'll even warm up to her love."
"Please. I doubt all that 'honey' and 'sweetheart' stuff will ever grow on me." Olivier followed Strongine down the long, winding, red-carpeted staircase of the mansion and steeled herself. Don't shout, snap, or be sarcastic. Stay calm and be patient. The rest of the family was already at the door, crowded around the biggest Armstrong of them all.
"What's this? Is my daughter actually getting a tan?" Josephine said with delight. "That's unheard of for an Armstrong!"
"Never underestimate the desert sun, my dear!" Philip reminded her. "Why I remember back when I was a soldier, I-"
"Oh Father, I'm sure that story is interesting, but please let me get my bags to my room first," Amue stopped him quickly. Olivier was grateful. It was dangerous to let their father start his flashbacks. They often didn't stop for hours.
"Right, right!" Philip snapped his fingers, and two butlers appeared in an instant. "Take my daughter's bags up to her room please. Alex, would you mind the heavier ones?"
"Of course, Father." Alex gripped the handles of two suitcases that were roughly half the height of a standard doorframe and the two Armstrong parents moved aside for the poor butlers, who nearly broke their arms trying to lift the bags. Amue suddenly came into view (not that she had entirely been hidden before) and Olivier ducked behind a potted palm before she could be spotted. Amue looked happy. Dangerously happy.
Strongine gave Olivier a dirty look and strode over to her older sister. "I've missed you so much. Oh honey, you look marvelous…" Olivier could actually hear their muscles flexing and contracting as the two enormous girls threw their arms around each other and complimented their clothing and hairdos.
"And Catherine, sweetheart!" Olivier smirked and stifled her laughter as she heard Catherine let out a short scream. To anyone else it would look as though Amue was simply giving her an extremely affectionate hug, but Olivier knew she was intentionally squeezing the breath out of their snotty little sister. A hug like that from Amue Armstrong didn't stop hugging for a week. Take that, brat, Olivier thought with satisfaction.
"Oh and Amue, guess who's here?" Olivier groaned internally at her father's happy announcement. Now it was her turn.
"Who? Did the family come? Or the Fuhrer?"
"Even better, sweetie!" Strongine crossed the threshold in one stride and snatched Olivier by the arm, dragging her into view. Olivier started to glare daggers at Strongine, but then quickly replaced it with a smile that she hoped looked sincere enough.
"Your big sister has returned from Briggs."
Olivier didn't even get a chance to say hello before she was barreled into by a mass of flesh. Amue picked her up, just like Olivier knew she would, and slammed her into a crushing hug. Olivier shut her eyes and focused on attempting to hug back. She willed herself not to dwell on the fact that her face was now smashed in between Amue's breasts. Or that Amue was showering the top of her head with kisses and that painfully aggravating mwah sound. Or that her feet were dangling a good two feet off the ground, which always made her nervous. Olivier didn't like heights. She could handle them (she wouldn't have lasted long at Briggs otherwise), but didn't like them. They made her feel vulnerable and open to attack.
"Olivier, I can't believe you're here! It's been ages since I've seen you. How have you been, darling?" Olivier would have answered, but all speech capabilities had left her. At the moment she was seeing more of her younger sister's cleavage than she had ever wanted to see. Why did Amue always insist on wearing these low-cut dresses? For a moment she actually felt sorry for Catherine; she had gotten it ten times worse.
"I'm sorry, I'm probably smothering you, aren't I?" Amue finally relaxed her hold and lowered her. Olivier's hair was mussed and her face looked a little grim, but she managed to shake it off.
"And you look so cute! That T-shirt flatters you so well," she squealed. With some effort, Olivier managed a tight-lipped smile in thanks.
"We'll leave you two alone so you can catch up," Strongine grinned, leading her parents away. Catherine lingered in the corner, much to Olivier's chagrin.
Amue clasped her hands together. "Sister, how are you?"
Olivier focused on fixing her hair. That flicker of adoration in Amue's eyes made her uneasy. "I'm fine. How is Ishval progressing?"
"Much better. They've almost completely gotten back on their feet. Major Miles is working wonders."
That made Olivier smile for real. "Of course he is." She felt a warmth in her chest, remembering her cherished subordinate. Briggs wasn't the same without him, and though she made sure no one knew it, she missed him terribly.
"Most of the Ishvalan women loved my clothing designs. I did try my hardest to make them look good while still staying true to their culture. Although the Ishvalan men weren't fond of me." Amue's eyes darkened a bit and she bowed her head. Olivier touched her arm.
"I'm sure they appreciated it. You did a true service to their country and ours by proving that not all Amestrians want to hurt them." She kept her voice as soft as possible, a tone no one outside her family would ever hear.
Amue was one of the few people on Earth that Olivier felt genuine sympathy for. She had amazing talent, but rarely had any luck finding a job even with the Armstrong name attached to her. It made Olivier's blood boil to know that people took one look at her and immediately shot her down without even giving her a chance. Strongine had learned to shrug it off, not care, and accept that it would always be that way, but Amue was sensitive. Amue tried desperately to make herself nicer to look at by covering herself in makeup and wearing only the finest clothes, but she was still mistaken for a man and was crushed by it. If Olivier could have traded bodies with her, she would have in a second. Having muscle mass like her sister's would make crushing Drachman armies as simple as crushing toothpicks, and in the military having people think you were a man was an advantage.
"Thank you." Amue held Olivier to her again, more gently this time. "That means so much coming from you." Olivier frowned at that last part. There was no reason why her opinion should mean more than anyone else's.
"Hey Amue!" Catherine smiled, having recovered from the traumatizing hug. Now that they were alone, her expression and tone were nothing short of sinister. "Did Olivier tell you she's having a baby?"
"Oof!" Olivier let out a yelp as Amue suddenly dropped her. She fell backward and landed on her back. Catherine grinned smugly and placed her hands on her hips.
"I just thought she should know," she said, fluttering her eyelashes and pretending to blush, cupping her hands. "I'm sorry, was it supposed to be a secret?"
"No Catherine, we know you can't keep anything secret," Olivier snarled. She turned to Amue, whose mouth was agape and who appeared absolutely shell-shocked.
"You're…what?"
Olivier's eyes rolled skyward. "Look, it's not what you're thinking. See, the child's not actually-"
"Then you are having a baby? Catherine's telling the truth?"
"Well yes, I'm expecting, but-"
"Oh Olivier, that's so wonderful!" And just like that, the oldest Armstrong was airborne yet again and in her little sister's clutches. "You're going to be a mother and I'm going to be an auntie! Our very first Armstrong baby of the next generation! Oh, I'm so excited for you!" Olivier grimaced as Amue jumped up and down while speaking in a high voice, shaking the house and revealing even more cleavage. Olivier groaned as she began to feel dizzy from asphyxiation.
"You have to tell me everything. What are you going to name it? Is it a boy or a girl? How far along are you? You must have just found out, you're still so thin. Are you having it here in Central? Are you planning on quitting your job to raise it?" Upon hearing no answer, Amue set her down and gripped her shoulders. "Come on, baby mama! Details, details!"
Olivier waited for the spots to clear from her vision before replying, as patiently as she could. "Amue, listen. The baby isn't-"
"Oh, but first, you have to tell me who the father is. My goodness, you didn't get married while I was away, did you?"
Olivier almost shuddered at the word marriage. "Of course not."
"The father is none other than Roy Mustang," Catherine sneered. It was taking everything Olivier had not to hold her sister at swordpoint.
"No!" Amue gasped. "Is that true, Olivier?"
Olivier clenched her fists. "Riza Hawkeye didn't inform me of that little detail until afterwards, so unfortunately it is." She quickly explained the rest before Catherine could say anything else.
Amue was flabbergasted. "You're a surrogate? You?"
"Hardly by choice. Fuhrer Grumman dragged me into it."
Amue began to sparkle, a sure sign she was getting emotional. She reached into her pocket for a handkerchief as long as Olivier's arm and dabbed at her eyes. "That is so sweet. You're such an angel to do that for them."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Catherine said, hands behind her back as innocent as you please. "After all, I highly doubt it's the first time Olivier's rented out her body to a higher-up."
Amue would say afterwards that she never saw Olivier move, but the next second had Catherine against the wall with Olivier's face contorted in rage, ready to wring her neck. "How dare you imply- I work day and night to protect your Central City asses and you-" She couldn't even seem to speak she was so angry. Amue backed away cautiously. Catherine matched Olivier's deadly glare and started to grab hold of her sister's hair to fling her off, but then quickly stopped and cried out.
"Mother, Father, Alex, help me!" she whined piteously. "Olivier's trying to hurt me."
Olivier didn't even have to turn around to know that of course her family had chosen to return at just that moment and probably had no idea what Catherine had said. Nor would they believe her if she told them, not that she was going to. She certainly didn't need them to fight her battles for her.
"Olivier, what are you doing?" Josephine cried. Alex and Philip started toward her, but Olivier gave a hard yank on Catherine's hair and stepped away before they could touch her. Catherine ran to Alex's open arms and wept. Well not really- she hadn't actually cried in years, but all it took was a few fake sobs to make everybody buy into her lies.
"My dear, why must you be so cruel to Catherine? She's only a baby after all," Philip said, shaking his head. Catherine shot her a snarky smile from under Alex's arms.
"Just teaching her a lesson, that's all," she said while maintaining her death glare with Catherine. "But I suppose I can finish that later." She hardened her tone to make Catherine know she meant it.
Amue put a huge hand on Olivier's shoulder. "Come on. Let's go out into the yard for a bit and you and I can talk without any interruptions." And by the emphasis she put on "interruptions," Olivier knew what she really wanted to say was "snobby little sisters." She wasn't exactly itching to spend time alone with Amue either, but at the moment it was more appealing than standing there with her parents and brother looking at her as though she were a monster.
This was going to be a long eight months.