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.
Previous Chapters: 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.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hagane no Renkinjutsushi (FMA) in any form. I am only a fan.
Author's Note: Many thanks go out to Karly, Rio, and all my viewers for helping me continue this fic! It’s amazing, but this is the only fanfiction that I actually had the motivation to continue. ^^; I was expecting a bunch of flames, but you guys have been so supportive.
I heard that the FMA movie raw is out now! Finally, people will stop thinking I‘m crazy connecting FMA with Nazis. XD Wait until you see the freakiness of…*shuts mouth*
Schadenfreude (Def.) ~ [ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schadenfreude ]
As he woke up to unfamiliar surroundings of riches and elegance, Alphonse confirmed that the events of the previous night had not been just a delusional dream. He dragged himself up slowly, wincing from the now blistering burn upon his neck. Roy’s abrupt action had shocked the young boy, but the insensible attitude Roy displayed as he walked off stunned Alphonse even more. He was beginning to think that Mustang had some sort of psychological problem--bipolar disorder, or something of the sort.
Alphonse glanced around the room as he waited for the remainder of sleep to clear from his eyes. He noticed that he was still situated on the chair from the night prior, but with a thick woolen blanket covering the lower portion of his body.
Well, would you look at that? Roy Mustang actually had a heart.
A sudden sound of a gunshot brought Alphonse’s contemplation to a halt.
Take back that last thought.
The projection of the sound identified it as coming from outside, while the sharp female scream that followed revealed that the victim was a woman. His fingers grabbed the dark red wool, wringing the fabric in apprehension as he waited for the outside situation to settle. Even after living so long in conditions of violence and terror, Alphonse was still not use to the cold dread that followed the sudden realization of death. His grip tightened as the steady clunking of leather boots echoed through the hallway, making the entrance of Roy Mustang soon apparent.
The dark-haired man sauntered into the study, his uniform jacket discarded and the shirt underneath ruffled with sleep. A large rifle was slung over his shoulder lazily, evidence proving that he was the murderer. Indifferent eyes peered from dark slants as he gazed over Alphonse before opening his mouth to speak.
“It seems you are awake,” he lowered his eyes to glance over the wound he inflicted upon the mischling boy, “Does it still hurt, Alphonse?”
“As it is eight-thirty in the morning, I believe I will have breakfast,” he spoke, turning around to walk away from the room, “You may join me if you wish.”
Alphonse tossed the blanket off and helped himself up onto his feet. He was still frightened of Mustang, and it would be a hell of a long time before Alphonse would ever be comfortable being within even a yard of the man, yet he followed. It was best not to question nor disobey the one who held your life within their hands.
The blonde-haired boy rubbed his sweat-drenched palms against his pants as he followed the Nazi down the long hallway. He found himself in another elaborate room that seemed to be the kitchen. Alphonse stood quietly against the counter, his head down as he decided whether to gamble his life when he had just made it a point to remind himself of what Roy was to him.
Roy turned his head slightly during mid-reach for a bottle of rum, picking up the slight sound of Al’s voice.
“I what?” he questioned.
“You killed a girl this morning. Why did you do it? Why did you have to take another life, Roy?”
Roy laughed darkly, obviously amused at Alphonse’s sudden audacity.
“You dare question me? I always thought you to be a smart boy, Alphonse, but it seems I may have been wrong.”
He began walking closer to the boy, his pale hand reaching to grasp Alphonse’s chin unsympathetically. The blonde-haired boy released a suppressed whimper as he was pulled closer toward the Nazi’s unshaven face, the distance between them so short that he could smell the alcohol on Roy’s breath.
“Who ever gave you permission to call me by my name first name? You are to address me as Mustang, Sir, or even better--Master.”
The palm of Roy’s hand made solid contact against the soft skin of Alphonse’s face, the sound remaining in the room after several seconds. A second slap followed, then another, until a distinct red mark shone brightly against Alphonse’s tanned cheek.
“Most of all, you must learn the rules I have set for you. If you don’t, I may have to administer several punishments which you may find…discontenting,” he smirked, “No one likes a naughty boy, Alphonse.”
“… but you killed her! What did she do to you, Roy? What she do to make you end her life?”
“She was an incompetent maid--woke me up two hours early just because she could not remember what time she was supposed to arrive. She had a job, but she fucked it up, and now she’s dead,” he ranted, “… but what does it matter, she was just a Jew. There are a million of them out there in the ghetto that I could have clean my house.”
By now tears streamed down Alphonse’s cheeks, stinging the red mark on his face as he struggled to speak without sobbing aloud.
“Why do you hate my people so much? We never did anything to deserve this ghastly treatment,” he choked, “…and why… why are you such a bastard?”
Roy Mustang did not like being insulted in front of his face, especially not by a little half-Jewish rat.
The Nazi lifted a boot-enclosed foot, planting the rigid rubber sole against Alphonse’s chest. With relentless force, the boy’s body collapsed, connecting with the cold marble floor. He released a shrill scream as Roy held him roughly against where he fell, a vicious and crazed look etched upon his features.
“You dare speak to me like that, Elric? You believe you can curse in my face,” he shoved his knee callously into Alphonse’s stomach, “…without certain penalties.”
He pushed back Alphonse’s head, smashing it once again on the marble beneath them.
“It seems you do not know the rules after all. I believe I will have to educate you, won’t I, Alphonse?” he smirked, positioning his hands against the boy’s shoulders.
“Rule one; you are not to question me.”
He dug his fingers deeply into the flesh of Alphonse’s shoulders.
“Rule two; you are not to leave this house without my permission.”
A fist cuffed Alphonse’s face, striking the central point of his visage.
“Rule three; you are to never mention your heritage to me or anybody ever again.”
He grinned, shifting his face closer towards Alphonse.
“Rule four; you must submit everything to me, for I am your Master.”
Warm lips forced themselves upon Alphonse’s own, the boy’s tender skin bruising as they were pressed against ruthlessly.
The two of them stood fixed in that position for several minutes, Roy enjoying his dominance too much to release the boy, and Alphonse too dazed to react. It was the Nazi that broke the contact, getting up as if the previous encounter had never occurred. Alphonse laid there on the icy marble, his body still recovering from the beating it had just received; blood trickled from his nose, combining with his salty tears.
“The restroom is down the hall to your right,” Roy directed, “You can stay in the study, kitchen, or living room while I am off the work. Remember, you are not to leave this house without my permission.”
He glanced at the bleeding boy, his lip curling slightly at the sight of the blood smearing across his polished marble flooring.
“I would prefer you not to spread your blood across my fine marble; it’s a bother to clean up.”
Once again, he shoved his boot onto Alphonse’s chest. With that, the dark-haired Nazi soldier walked off without a care, a similar scene to the previous night’s cigarette incident.
Alphonse lay there crying.
The sound of a lock clicking marked Roy Mustang’s departure from the villa. Alphonse had managed to force himself onto his legs despite all the injuries he had sustained. Limping to the restroom, he turned the knob of the sink, splashing the icy water upon his bruised and reddened face. Alphonse glanced at his hands, noticing that they were trembling once again.
“I can’t… I can’t handle him,” he sobbed.
Memories flashed of a golden-eyed boy telling him that they would be ok, and that they had to survive no matter what happened to them.
“Brother, I don’t know if I can live like this…” he sniffed, grabbing a linen towel to wipe his face, “…but I will, for you.”
Alphonse closed his eyes, allowing the last of his tears to drip down before drying his face once again. He peered into the spotless mirror before him, noticing that the bleeding had stopped. The bruises were still there though; he could see the shady marking upon his cheek and feel the numbing pain along his chest and head.
“I’ll stay strong for you, brother,” he smiled, “For when we meet, I want to show you a smile, not a broken frown.”
Alphonse’s day had been filled with tidying up the kitchen and contemplating. He had tried to eat something small to fill his stomach, but Alphonse found himself unable to digest anything. There was not much for him to do, but he did not complain because he was in no condition to do anything that required much effort either.
It was about 5’o clock in the evening when Roy returned.
The Nazi paid Alphonse no heed as he passed him in the kitchen, ignoring him as if he never existed. Alphonse was actually glad about Roy’s indifference, it was better to avoid any confrontation with the man that risk getting hurt again.
Alphonse had settled himself on an upholstered couch in the living room for an hour or so, fully engrossed in some book or another. His reading was interrupted by Roy’s voice calling him to come to his study.
He set down the book slowly, biting his lip in trepidation as he wandered down the hallway and into the familiar study. Roy sat behind a dark oak desk, a cigarette once again in his mouth and a pen in his hand. He glanced up from the pile of papers he was staring, focusing his attention on Alphonse. Roy withdrew the cigarette from his mouth before he began speaking.
“Hello, Alphonse,” he smirked at the dark bruise on the boy’s face.
“I’ve called you into this room to talk about your identity adjustment,” Roy set down his pen, “Please hand over your Jewish identity card and that band upon your shoulder.”
Alphonse blinked, and then fumbled into his back pocket to produce a wrinkled and folded card. Moving to his arm, he removed the yellow band before presenting both it and the card to the Nazi. Roy nodded as he took the items, opening his right desk drawer to place in the documents
“I cannot redraft your documents to give you a new identity, but I can create new documents to cover up your previous ones.” he spoke, “…but as I am making the documents, you must go along with whatever I decide.”
The blonde-haired boy nodded, gulping slightly at the thought of Roy controlling his identity.
“Your new name will be Alfons Heiderich,” he continued, “You are seventeen years old and of Aryan background. “
He glanced up at Alphonse to gauge his reaction. Alphonse remained still.
“You are the only child of Alberta and Emery Heiderich, both full-fledged German citizens. Dresden, Germany is your hometown, you’ve only recently moved to Poland on account of your… job.”
Alphonse sighed inwardly, happy that he was able to keep a reminder of his previous name, but the “only child” factor irked him.
“…Sir… may I have a brother? I have one in real life.”
Roy shook his head, “It will just make things more complicated.” he responded, “Now, and there is one more thing I must address.”
He raised his eyes to look the blonde boy directly in the eyes before speaking again.
“I don’t trust you, Alphonse,” he stated, “I must put you in a position where I can watch after you, and make sure that you don’t try to escape.”
That all too familiar smirk once again formed upon Roy’s pale face as he reached to hand Alphonse one of the papers; the boy looked over the papers quickly, a look of absolute revulsion crossing his face. The paper was quickly snatched from his hand before he could inflict any damage to it.
“You… how can…”
Alphonse was seething with anger, but he did not release it fully, afraid what harm would come to him if he angered the Nazi in front of him.
“Yes, as you have read, I have enlisted you into what you despise,” Roy spoke, ignoring Alphonse’s anger altogether, “You will be serving directly under me as I have requested, so I may keep a hold on you.”
“Brother… help me...” he whispered before collapsing onto his knees, unable to process what had just taken place.
He was no longer Alphonse Elric--he was now Alfons Heiderich, a German citizen and a member of the Nazi party.
*collapses* Please don’t bite me if you don’t like how the fiction is heading. I know everyone wants some Edo love, but remember that this story is more Al-centric. Personally, Al doesn’t get enough love compared to his older brother. Also, don’t be confused by the “Alfons Heiderich” thing. Alfons in the real FMA universe isn’t in this fanfiction, I just stole his name because I’m unoriginal.