A/N: Olivier expects a lot of her soldiers, but she expects most of herself. Warning: self harm. triggering.

A new day

Olivier doesn't remember how it all started.

Of course, coming from Armstrong family, she is gifted with amazing strength that is passed down through generations, but that is just strength. All her sisters, as well as her silly brother, are just the same. Besides, the family is proud to produce generals and play an important role in the country, but no one expects Olivier to do such a manly job. Just like her sisters she is supposed to stay in the house, spoiled and pampered, until she finds herself a proper suitor and marries happily and splendidly. The sole thought of that makes her rebel since she is old enough to understand how society works.

When she realizes that what she really wants is to join the military, she decides to train to be sure that she will be ready to be one of the best. She cannot disappoint her family – or not really. She cannot disappoint herself.

Her everyday routine consists of classes, many of which she considers useless – who cares about dancing? music? manners? but she obeys, being a diligent and quick student, finishing assignments before due time just to use the leftover minutes to review geography or politics notes. After that there is a big deal of a family dinner that she has to sit through, biting the exquisite food mechanically and wishing she could be anywhere else. When the meal is over comes her favourite time. Sword fighting lessons with the finest tutor available, of course, for a good few hours. It is something her parents apprehensively approve of and seeing her amazing talent, encourage her to be a champion. Sensei is an elderly man who never lets her show less than 110% of her capability, so the sessions she usually ends sweating, panting, covered with bruises and scratches, but she feels like she couldn't be happier. After a few years she is able to take down sensei so he tells her off and they only meet occasionally for some sparring. He tells her that she would win any tournament, but she refuses to take part in that petty games. She doesn't like to show off when it's not necessary. And besides, the element of surprise could save her life as a soldier. That is one of her big advantages, that she is often underestimated. It usually ends bad for her opponent.

Sword fighting is the only official training she gets. That doesn't seem enough so she decides to learn martial arts, pretending to go to library three times a week. That improves her accuracy and speed, but after short time it still feels like too little. She gets a feeling that if she wants to be at the top, she needs something more than just that. One day when she wakes up her body suddenly, for no reason, feels uncomfortably sloppy and mushy, so she puts on her training clothes and sneaks out of the mansion and runs. It is early in the morning, just after sunrise, so the streets are blissfully empty. She runs frantically until her legs give up and she nearly collapses. It takes her an hour to get back, slowly moving sore muscles, gritting teeth and thinking about an excuse for her absence. When she comes back, no one is home but maids hidden somewhere, enjoying time off, and she remembers that her family was supposed to go for a few days to see some awful horse races that she hated. A lucky coincidence. Her body craves energy, food and drink, but she grins to herself and goes to take a long shower first, letting the hot water make her muscles relax and engulf her slender body. After dressing up she goes to kitchen and drinks a few glasses of water. She can feel pounding in her head and slight dizziness, weakness that she is mostly unfamiliar with. What if i am in a battle and something worse than that happens? It was just a run in the ends, she thinks and throwing a long look at the food prepared for her lunch, she snickers and walks away. She is better than satisfying simple animal instincts, physical needs.

Next day she starts sneaking out at sunrise, easily adjusting her waking up time, and runs as fast and as far as she can, always back by breakfast, cleaned up and ready, as if nothing happened. Everything would be prefect if it weren't for the fact that one day, her father says, curling his beard lazily:

'Olivier. You look like such a small thing. Have you lost some weight, perhaps?'

She stiffens and blinks quickly, trying to find a response, but the only thing that comes to her mind is compared to my sisters, I was that always and it is not a good idea to say it aloud, so she just frowns and looks at him.

'No, father' she manages to reply finally, her voice is strong and assured like always 'I have been peaky for a few days, so it is probably only that I am a bit pale' she adds, stating a half-truth. She is extra careful for some time but they forget fast enough. While she does lose some weight, running endless miles and never supplying her body with as much nutrient as it needed, she is also feeling a bit down, but that doesn't stop her from any of her daily activities. There is no break from real life, she tells herself in her mind. The military rations are awfully tasting and small, usually hardly enough to sustain, so she tries to teach her body how to operate on low energy levels and with little food. It is a painful process, at times, she is careful not to let herself slip too often but whenever she eats too much or too well, she goes to the bathroom and makes herself sick. It feels crazy and strange, but she knows it is just to reach her goals, she knows that it is all under control. Her body does as ordered, starting to operate easily with about one third food less than she used to consume and it makes her laugh happily when she is all alone.

'I can do it!' she wants to shout, and a self-satisfied smile appears on her face. 'I can do it.'

When Olivier goes to the military academy, she isn't the only female, there are several more, surrounded by a sea of men. Unlike most girls who are trying to avoid taunting and vulgar comments, she keeps her hair long, although there is no rational explanation of such behavior. She cannot give in, though, complying would be giving them victory. She cannot let them win. She is better in many ways, never complains about studies, since it all comes naturally to her and most of those things she was able to study before, sneaking around the house to read her father's military books. She enjoys training immensely, even complaining that it is not enough. It all seems like a walk in a park to her and she tries to keep up with running as much as possible, slipping it into every free moment she can find, instead of playing card games or flirting or just lazing around like most people prefer. She never complains about food, either. She just snickers every time she hears whispers about herself, usually silly gossip, but with a hint of truth: how determined she is, how uninterested in getting to know people, how good with weapons and physical combat, how great her grades are, how she always gets praises from other officers. Of course there is a big dose of 'it is all because she is the Armstrong but everyone knows it is not true. She enjoys their envy, even though everything comes with a price, but they know nothing of that, and they will never know.

Then, one day during her second year, it just happens. Later she is unable to recall why she decides on it, but when she does, it is a simple, cool-headed act of bringing a sharp knife to her arm and watching with fascination and a slight twinge of pain how it easily slices though her milky skin, letting a lazy stream of blood slide down her flesh. She bites her lip and frowns, somehow disappointed with the outcome, as if she expected somehow spectacular. She cleans the knife methodically and then wipes the blood off her arm. The cut is long but shallow and blood still keeps leaking slowly, so she puts a gauze over it and waits. She does not have to worry about someone coming in since it is Sunday and every normal cadet goes out to meet with their family, but she refuses, vowing to tell them that she was doing some voluntary job at school since it was well-received and an advantage when it came to being promoted, something they should easily accept. It takes only a quarter of an hour for the cut to seal itself with thin brown-red scab that feels itchy but good. She reminds herself that she has to be careful not to let anyone see it if not necessary, even though it could easily pass as an injury received in training.

She grows used to the stinging feeling when she moves, somewhere on her body, stiff fabric touching her flamed skin. It only makes her feel better, more comfortable, more self-assured, more real. Whenever she does it her fighting improves until the cut is healed, as if it was a power amplifier, as if the additional stimulus made her something more than she was. She also grows used to a routine that repeats itself every so often, letting herself gain some weight for a week or two before health evaluations: that is an easy task, it is enough to cut down running a bit and eat just normal rations instead of her usual. She cannot risk any questions from the doctors, so she grits her teeth and leaves her body alone for enough time to have all the cuts healed, too. They are hidden, of course, and after not a long time she learns that cutting her old scars open, utilizing those marred places for a few times instead of just one is very efficient. Leaving the academy, she has dozens of scars, those self-made mixed with the ones that were a part of every soldiers life.

She goes north and climbs up the rank ladder fast, as fast as possible. By the time the war in Ishval breaks out, she is already in Briggs, going through her first years of command as a Colonel. Her first impression is awe, hidden well behind her usual cold mask, but more than anything she learns to respect that place. She meets great soldiers who turn out to be trained easily and eagerly and becomes, slowly, one of them. She meets Buccaneer and Miles, her two most prized officers. She meets someone within herself that she did not quite expect, growing attached to the place: they start calling her Ice Queen and she starts calling the fort her castle. Within long years of the Ishvalan conflict, many soldiers and officers are taken away and moved to the south, but she remains.

It is where she can show her abilities, leading battles and ordering around, putting her brilliant plans into action, and it is where within short years she manages to get as high as Major General, two years after Ishval, and to be completely entrusted with protecting northern border of the country. She learns to hate all those eastern career-pursuers, especially despising state alchemists for the sole easiness of becoming a major straight away. If I were an alchemist, I would be on the very top already, she often muses. Nevertheless, it all seems glorious, from the outside, especially to those pigs from Central who know nothing about real life, but just as well to her own men, to anyone aside from herself. It is a hard work, surviving there, fitting in, constantly battling coldness, snow, skirmished with enemy, lack of proper supplies and military support, but in the end everyone who manages to adapt can only be proud of themselves.

Oliver is proud, but she cannot help her ambiguous feelings about Northern Wall. She comes there prepared: nothing like awful food, weather conditions or constant, at first, chatting and whispers behind her back can move her. She shows those males their places and teaches them than calling her feminine or treating her any different because of her sex is not tolerated, they learn fast. Nevertheless, her old habits kick in quickly. It takes her some time to balance how much food she can eat not to make herself weak, but to have absolute control over it, since her body needs much more energy to keep warm. She notices quickly that there is no possibility of morning runs, especially since she cannot avoid curious eyes, but she just schedules additional training for everyone and uses it as an excuse, informing them:

'I want to see each of you fighting so that I can evaluate you skill' and, after a second of thought, she adds 'Nothing other people reported to me about any of you is of value. I must see it myself.'

She uses those words again when she meets Elric brothers.

Olivier keeps going on, moving up, moving forward, not letting any obstacles come in her way. Only sometimes, when she is sure no one is around, she likes to wander and observe, thinking about her past and future, and about her dreams. It is difficult to distinguish what she wants and what the world wants from her. Some strange old memories keep coming back at that times and she marvels at how such unimportant things could still be hidden somewhere within her mind. She often dreams about the first time she killed, even if it was an enemy and she was not moved by it, positively persuaded and rationally understanding that it is necessary, that this is for good. She assures herself that no one forgets their first kills, even though she never really asked anyone because that would mean admitting that she does. It is a sentiment she would not want anyone to know about. She keeps changing her Castle into something much more than it was before, caring for it and its residents in a harsh but honest way, ordering technologist to work and invent, ordering soldiers, from the lowest ranks to the highest, to work as much as possible to become better and better.

Simultaneously, Olivier keeps changing herself. She hates some of those changes, her body ages, the feeling that all the training she is doing is not enough, that she is getting worse instead of better, that it starts to feel more difficult to keep up – all of what is ridiculous, and she realizes that, but those fears are difficult to get away from. That is why what she tells General Raven is not entirely a lie. All letters from family with requests to meet for an reunion, to settle down, to start a family she throws away, often unopened, sighing heavily. She never wanted that, or maybe she never had enough time to even consider. She likes that new personality, detached, alien, better, stronger, enduring. She enjoys seeing how masterfully her fort works and how well they can do against the enemy, be it from the inside or from the outside. There are no check-ups now, so she does not have to play that silly games of hide and seek. She still craves elegant thin lines onto her skin, sometimes, not as often as before, at the same time disgusted and fascinated with her own inability to stop, with her own childish envy and need to prove herself, not for her soldiers or upper generals but only for her own sake. She develops a habit to brush her skin with a knife every time there is a planned attack, as it still gives her exactly the same rush and extra energy, her subordinated like to call it 'murderous rage' and she laughs internally at the thought of what would they do if they knew the real reason. But of course they never learn.

When she meets Elric brothers and the Sloth incident happens, she is tempted to use pain as a payment for the failure, resulting in losing some of her very good man in such a silly way. She never does that, obeying her old vow to do it only to get stronger, better, higher, and never for any other reasons. It is all just a psychological game after all, and she need to win this one too.

Before he meets with Bradley, she manages to hurt herself nicely on the train and the cut still stings refreshingly when they talk. She feels strong, even in such difficult and vulnerable position, and the tiny detail of a pained, self-inducted feeling makes her feel invincible. It is just like her own fleeting immorality.

In the morning of the promised day she does it again and throws herself in the whirlpool of fights and threats, the strange power rushing quickly in her veins, twinges of pain coming forward with every beat of her heart. As she starts fighting with Sloth, she is almost overexcited as it is the last and ultimate test of everything she worked for all those years. She is not showing it on the outside, of course, adrenaline and fear pulsating in her temples like a migraine. The moment when he manages to grab her she is truly scared, for the first time in years, and even her insane eagerness to fight multiplied with a faint pain of self-inducted scratches is overshadowed by fear, and then she feels her arm break. It hurts, but not as much as she would expect, and she almost wants to laugh, but there is no time, like a sentimental schoolgirl she quickly runs through her frantic thoughts, expecting it to end soon – and then Alex comes and the fight continues. She finds out that, even though her body was not enough to take the homunculus on her own, they might have a chance together so she decides to forget her distaste with younger brother. She lands on the floor more times than she cares to count, feeling rising hatred towards herself for being this weak, after all years of training, for letting other see it, not only her brother but also soldiers, for not being able to do what Mustang, or even Fullmetal, were able to do. It makes her blood rush yet quicker, her vision red and focused and her blows irrationally stronger. She brings the soldier's gun to her own head and although she is sure he won't fire, she is somehow surprised at the lack of any feelings when it happens. She might have thought it was almost scary if she had time to think.

A few moments later Izumi arrives and casually throws the monster as if it was a child's play and she humiliates herself, unable to control her emotions, to hide her surprise and fascination. They continue fighting and talking, explaining things and hoping, even if it was left unsaid, that they will be still alive by the end of the day. She is busy with commanding and taking care of capturing the fortes and lets herself slip into a full battle mode, without any sentiments or unnecessary musings, and even the words of Greed who tells her that she is useless mean nothing as she steps from the platform.

It hits later, long hours later when it all ends, after they all lost and regained their souls, after homunculi were defeated and Father was deceased, after Alphonse got his body back and Fullmetal sacrificed his alchemy, after Mustang, the silly brat, was made a martyr. She simply goes away from the crowd when it's all finished, ordering her boys to look for Scar, and walks to Armstrong mansion. Her pace is getting quicker and quicker and suddenly she finds herself running down the same streets she run through for years as a teenager, at first surprised at the fact that she still has enough strength to move, but then letting the well-known feeling engulf her, she gives in and just runs. When she reaches the house it is empty, looking a bit demolished from long presence of soldiers and searches when Central Army realized that Briggs troops and their tank came from here. She does not mind though, leaving the sentimental heirloom matters to the rest of the family, and she walks straight to her room to find it just like it was when she left for north all those years ago. She throws herself on a huge bed, careful not to injure her right arm, hidden in a sling, and breaths deeply. The world seems to spin and her body feels incredibly heavy, impossible to move. All the images from last few months and especially last few days keep spinning inside her head, making her feel nauseous, but they are easily dispersed with a single sudden idea.

'Just this time' she mutters under her breath and sits up, a wave of dizziness filling her body for a moment, and takes a knife hidden in her night stand. 'Just this time' she repeats as if it was some kind of a good charm. Then she brings the blade with her left hand, a bit clumsily, to the skin of her right forearm and makes a deep cut that could easily pass as a battle wound, especially these days. It fills her with an euphoric feeling instantly, but before she submits to it, she wraps the arms with a cloth tightly and professionally, to avoid blood loss, and quickly falls asleep. Her slumber is not troubled at all and there are no nightmares.

When she wakes up, she is in a hospital, unable to recall how she got there. Alex, probably, if I know him, she tells herself in her mind, and before she can think, a doctor comes and greets her. She just nods, but then he says with a resigned all-knowing smirk:

'That is a nice collection of scars you have here.'

Olivier says nothing and discharges herself as soon as possible.

Promotions are given and she gets one, of course, still staying higher than Mustang. When it is done she returns north with all her soldiers, even Miles, who decides to stay there until Scar recovers in Central and until it's time to go to Ishval. She does not say it aloud, of course, but she appreciates this gesture.

The morning after they arrive home, she wakes up early after a mostly restless night and dresses in her usual uniform and considers a black fur-trimmed coat. It is sunrise time and everyone who arrived with her the previous afternoon is probably sleeping, as other residents have been appointed for all the duties. She sits at the edge of her bed and contemplates everything and nothing in particular when this idea crosses her mind. At the beginning it seems impossible and bold, almost foolishly, but then a smirk appears on her face and nods to herself. It is probably one of the best ideas that came to her mind these last few weeks, or maybe years. She walks slowly to her cabinet and finds a nice sharp knife and, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a lip bitten to blood, she makes a cut. The pain is dull and numbing so familiar that it seems almost strange to even consider losing something like that, but she asks herself: If not now, then when?

Done with the cut, she takes the knife and contemplates, throwing it away after a few moments and sighing. Then she puts on the coat and started to walk up the levels, not in hurry, staring at everything she passes as if she saw it for the first time in her life. It all seems so new, maybe because of her absence, but she was not sure. It feels as if she is walking into a new story, into a new world, leaving behind the old even though it was clinging to her desperately, but she is yet again more than that. Olivier is stronger.

She ends up sitting in her favourite spot at the top of the fort, observing the amazing black and white view, calm and untouched. Soon she hears someone coming quickly towards her and she is easily able to recognize this particular footsteps.

'You are hurt, Lieutenant General' he states, standing at attention a few steps away from her. She shakes her head and rises it slowly, meeting his eyes.

'I am not, Colonel' she responds in a strong voice bearing no trait of hesitation.

'Then pardon me, sir. You are bleeding, Lieutenant General' he says in the same manner as before. She notices that indeed, there are some small red stains on the edge of her sleeve and on white gloves that she did not notice.

'This is nothing, Colonel' she replies and turns her attention back to the landscape, brilliantly illuminated with early warm sun and long shadows of peaks and snow-covered trees. He follows her gaze, unmoving otherwise. They stay in silence for a few minutes and she almost forgets that he is there, still.

'Forgive me my boldness, but I am worried about you, Lieutenant General. You appear distracted and tired and now you are bleeding for no reason' he states and although his words are gentle and properly formal, she knows that what he wants to ask her is what the hell is wrong, words that any normal situation would call for.

'It is nothing' she responds, this time putting more force into her words. She tries to think of a nice excuse or anything that would satisfy Miles, but it have been a long time since she had to lie like that, and she is simply too worn out to think.

'Pardon my language, sir, but that is bullshit' he just spats with an angry voice and she starts wondering if he really, really cares about his Queen.

'It is' she admits in the end, only because of the respect he gained through years. And quite honestly, there are no more reasons to lie. But then he adds:

'You seem to have been like that since the promised day.'

She snickers and throws him a long mocking glare, staying silent, but what she really wants to say, what she just wants to state once and be done with, is: I have been like that all my life.

But today is a new day, so she gets up briskly and says:

'Let's go.'