dale cooper (ignipotent) wrote in fm_alchemist,
dale cooper

Schadenfreude -- RoyxAl fic [Set in WWII Germany]

Title: Schadenfreude
Author: Shadow
Pairing: RoyxAl
Warnings: AU, Nazis, Sadistic!Roy, ANGST.
Rating: R (For now)
Summary: Alphonse Elric, a half-jewish boy living in the Warsaw ghetto is offered the chance to be "saved" by the high-ranking Nazi soldier Roy Mustang. With the desire to live and locate his brother, he accepts, not knowing what lies as his payment.
Chapter: 1/?

Warning: This fan fiction features many controversial issues that may be offensive to certain people. Please be aware that this piece of writing is a Hagaren AU based in World War II Nazi Germany. There will be death, sadism, and Nazis in the future. This does not mean that I like or condone Nazis and their beliefs in anyways. I find them to be disgusting and ignorant monsters like most people. All curses toward people of Jewish heritage are not to be taken seriously for they are just used to give the fanfiction a sense of realism. This fic also features slash relationship between Roy Mustang and Alphonse Elric. Please heed this warning before you start reading. I really do not want to receive flames for what I have explained above.

- Shadow

Disclaimer: I do not own Hagane no Renkinjutsushi (FMA) in any form, I am only a fan.

Author’s Note: If you’ve seen the FMA movie, I believe you know where I based this idea off of.

Schadenfreude (Def.) ~ [ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schadenfreude ]



Chapter 1

He adjusted the yellow band upon his shoulder, allowing the faded triangle to reveal itself. A constant reminder to what he was and the life he was forced to live. Those eyes, their words, the pain he felt from these times were nothing that he could ever forget.

He was a mischling--a half-jew, observed as something vile and half-human only because of the ancestry of the blood that flowed through his veins. Blood like anyone else’s blood, neither different nor special from the ruby liquid that drifted through the veins of Nazi soldiers. There was nothing that could ever deem him as repulsive in the eyes of a person not influenced by the lies and farce stories spun by the devil. With a face retaining the childish features of rounded cheeks and soft expressions, he was a boy to behold. His dark-honey hued hair and brown nearly bordering on green eyes nearly made the “vile” part of him unnoticeable. Not that Alphonse wanted it overlooked, he was proud of the long-line of ancestry that had produced him. It was something wonderful that he never wished to conceal, even during hard times like this where being Jewish meant whether you would live or not.

Even so, Alphonse Elric did not want to die. He wanted to live, explore the world, and most importantly-- to find his brother.

He would do anything to find his brother.

They had been separated as German soldiers had rushed to send people of Jewish blood off to different ghettos, ignorant to whatever family or emotional ties the people had.

Here he was in Poland, forced into the Warsaw Ghetto, lonely, yet not alone. Alphonse did allow the German soldiers the satisfaction of suppressing another Jewish life. Even in such a dilapidated community haunted by shadows of death, disease, and misery, he allowed himself to thrive as a teacher to young children in a quickly put together school.

Before The Second World War was brought upon the world, he had been a young boy interested in every aspect of scientific knowledge. Al had wanted to know everything --how birds flew, if chemistry played into love, and why people had died. Even at this time, he was open to everything around, despite how terrible some of this knowledge was.


Alphonse glanced up through the dirt-streaked window, noticing the sun finally making its entrance past the rows of factory smokestacks. He stumbled through the small room, making sure not to wake its many occupants that lay sleeping across the floor. Slowly opening the door, he allowed himself a breath before starting for the wooden lean-to that was used as a school.

Outside was not much better than the condition within their hovels. The sky seemed eternally gray and smoggy--- Al suspected that it was from the ever-drifting smoke that came from the smokestacks of close lying factories. All the buildings and people around him seemed old and tired, as if they only survived for the sake of living on. Even in their own community, the Jewish people still lived with the harsh treatment and insults that had occurred before they were transferred. There were German people to deal with anymore, but Nazi soldiers were no better.

Alphonse could remember the countless times where he woke up during the night to the sound of a cracking gunshot. He did not need to hear the scream that followed to know what had happened. A soldier had murdered someone, probably just for his own entertainment.

The soldiers usually laughed in spite after murdering someone.

He wasn’t strong like his brother. Al couldn’t keep in the tears that threatened to fall every night.

Tears were common in the ghetto.

The Nazi soldiers that guarded their camp were ruthless and nasty creatures who deserved the title “inhuman.” They spent their time drinking, raping women, and flaunting their power of the people of the ghetto---usually by killing people as sport. The soldier that terrified Alphonse the most was the head of them all.

Roy Mustang.

Alphonse noticed that Mustang had a constant eye on him whenever they encountered each other. He didn’t know the reason for it though. It wasn’t as if he behaved differently or “badly” compared to the rest of the community.

Alphonse suspected that Roy was just biding his time before killing him, probably because of a craving to shatter the life of someone who was so young.

Alphonse didn’t want to die.


Even after their transfer to the ghetto, their six ‘o clock curfew still remained as another reminder of their status. The school Alphonse taught at ended their day at four, leaving the boy with two hours to spare. Usually he spent the next hour helping the children make it “home” safely by using side streets that the soldiers were not accustomed. The last hour was when he returned home. Though the ghetto was not so big at all, Alphonse gave himself plenty of time to return before the clock struck six ‘o clock. He shuddered at the thought of being caught out past six o’ clock.

It was the same everyday, nothing differed in his schedule.

Until tonight.

Alphonse rubbed his hands together roughly, hoping the catch a bit of warmth to the counter the cold chill that seemed to take over the ghetto towards late afternoon. He wished he had a scarf--something warm, soft, and furry, just like his Mother used to make for him. Their mother had died from cholera when they were eight, after which they were shipped then to some distant aunt who he suspected was shot when the soldiers broke through their door.

He cried over his aunt for days, but he would never stop crying for Mother.

Mother had been their world. Now she was gone along with Auntie, and now brother.

Al had no one.

Alphonse bit his lip fiercely to curb the fresh tears. The soldiers had a penchant for terrorizing and killing anyone who cried, especially boys around his age.

Lost among his thoughts while walking, he cried loudly as he crashed roughly into an oncoming a person. He could tell this person was taller and much larger than he was, and at the sound of his voice, Alphonse knew it was a Nazi soldier.

God, help him. He could already imagine the cold butt of the gun shoved harshly against his skull, pieces of his shattered skull flying everywhere as the bullet connected.

“Alphonse Elric. I have been looking for you.”

His throat tightened as his voice refused to form the words he wanted say.

“I’m here to offer you a rare chance, Alphonse, one that you would be fool to reject.”


The trip to Roy Mustang’s villa had not taken long despite its distance from the Ghetto’s borders. They had taken one of those new car models that only a high ranking Nazi official could afford, something he would have marveled at if he was not in such a tight situation. Alphonse had watched in amazement at how the soldiers easily submitted to Roy at the ghetto‘s gate, no question at all to the unusual passenger that sat beside.

It was then that Alphonse confirmed his fate. Mustang was the leader, anger him the slightest bit and you’re dead. There would be no one willing to challenge his authority to save you.

As the Nazi led him through the door, Alphonse could not help but be slightly perturbed at the way Mustang was regarding him. He had allowed him to enter the house first and even offered a seat on a beautifully upholstered chair, courtesies that Alphonse had long forgotten.

The dark haired soldier withdrew a cigarette from his uniform as he entered the room, lighting it quickly as he snapped open a silver lighter that was probably worth more than the ghetto itself. He wandered through the room which appeared to be a study, throwing his jacket down across one of dark couches that decorated the room. Reaching over to a rich-oak table, he lifted a heavy amber-filled bottle and a short glass from a tray. Alphonse kept his mouth sealed, nervous enough to notice his legs shaking as Roy collapsed elegantly on the chair across from him.

Roy lifted one of the glasses, swirling it so that the amber liquid splashed against its sides, not allowing a single drop to mar the outside surface. He smirked ever so slightly as he drew the cigarette to his mouth, breathing in the shadowy fumes deeply as if it was air. The Nazi observed the trembling boy in front of him, enjoying the effect of his mere presence.

“Alphonse, have you ever tried cognac?” he smirked, lifting the glass to his mouth so that the amber fluid flowed down his throat, “It leaves quite a wonderful flavor dried fruit with a hint of leather after it settles on your palette. The burning aftertaste is what’s most enjoyable, personally.”

“Sir, I don’t drink, and I doubt you’ve taken me all the way here just to speak to me about alcohol.”

“Quite a lot of sass you have in your voice, boy. You know, I could kill you right now and no one would care. I believe people would rather thank me instead, give me a medal for the extermination of pestilence.”

A lump had gathered in Alphonse’s throat as these chilling threats reached his ears, once again making it difficult for him to respond.

“I n-never meant to be d-disrespectful, I-I swear.”

“Don’t worry, Alphonse, my purpose of calling you here is not to kill you, but rather as I said before, to give you a rare chance,” he responded, his right hand moving down to land on the handle of his pistol, “…though, if you don’t accept I’m afraid that I might have to go back on my word.”

Roy stood up from his position on the couch to face Alphonse head on, as if wanting to make his dominance even more apparent.

“Do you want me to save you, Elric? Save you from the cold, bare walls that shall become your death? I have the ability, Elric. My connections within the army and government stretch deeply. I can give you a new life, a life where you no longer have to worry about death tapping upon your door. I can save you, Elric. All I ask is for you to give me everything--your body, mind, soul.”

The dark-haired Nazi smiled smoothly as he stared acutely into Alphonse’s eyes, waiting for his reaction to his offer.


Alphonse had the profound sensation of head rush, as if everything that had occurred was just some twisted scene his brain had fashioned after finally cracking mentally, but he knew this was real. Had this ever been offered to another Jew during the hellish years of World War II?

Roy was right, he would be a fool to reject it, but for some reason saying “yes” did not content him. He felt as if he would become a traitor to his people for willingly giving in to a new life, and what did Roy mean by “giving” him everything? Was he suggesting that he would have to become a servant?

“I can’t abandon my people…” he whispered.

“Your people, Alphonse? Do you think that they care so much about you?” Roy scoffed, withdrawing the cigarette once again from his mouth, “You’re only half-scum, Alphonse.”

“My people are not scum.” Alphonse replied rather boldly for the position he was in.

“Alphonse, do you remember what I said earlier, “ Roy snapped harshly, the dark grin set upon his face making him seem like a different person altogether, “It is not a matter of “yes” or “no”, it is a matter of whether you die or not. I could kill you right here, set my pistol against your head and watch the matter within your skull spray across my rug, or I could sink my knife into your skin and watch as I drag it through your flesh.”

Alphonse’s bright eyes lay agape at what could become of him if he refused to accept. He noticed that his whole body was shaking now as the weak control over his emotions crumbled. Tears dripped steadily from his eyes now, streaking across his pale skin and landing upon the carpeted floor of the study.

“Save me, Roy.”

Mustang dropped to his knees to get a better position on the boy, a satisfied expression displayed obviously on his visage.

“Now, that’s what I wanted to hear.” His body leaned closer towards Al’s smaller form, as if attempting a hug. Moving his head, he settled his lips against Alphonse’s ear, whispering softly.

“I’ll save you, Alphonse,”

He raised his cigarette, setting the burning tip sharply against the tender skin of Alphonse’s neck.

“But that doesn’t mean that I’ll save you from your tears.”


Comments are appreciated muchly. <3 Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes that I have missed. (Yes, I know there's tons of passive voice errors.)

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