Who knows what Envy was like before he became Envy. My guess is he was a kind and caring individual who became tainted by the hands of fate. I could be wrong, but that is what the beauty of fanfiction is, just a guess...
Although Envy's origional appearence is Blonde. For the sake of this story, I will just say he dyes his hair black.
Ambrose Immortal (meaning looked up on the internet)
I have been thinking of this story and I thought I would redo it. This time it isn't a crossover. I had gotten new and better ideas to put him through, but it will
DISCLAIMER If I owned Full Metal Alchemist I would not be posting here. SO, I don't own anything...
Chapter One Storms
"Why do you treat me like this father!" a black haired deep blue eyed teenager shouts as he was upset with his father, "You treat me as if I am some hired hand, but I'm not!"
"You should be glad that you are alive you good for nothing son!"
Ambrose Elric whipped around the corner of the living room and looked Hohemhiem in the eyes and quipps, "If that is the case then why don't you just kill me now?Do the world and me a favor!"
The father figure growls as he looks at the accadent that happened 17 years ago. This is a normal scene in the Elric Household, father and son arguing with eachother.
"You know very well why I can not kill you!" the father retaliates, "What would everybody say if the son of Hohemhiem of Light were to suddenly die? Even if he is a failure of a son."
Ambrose mouths the relaliation word for word. He was heard it all before.
Scenes like this is unknown to the following Dante and Hohemhiem have. They are the leaders of the religion that introduced Alchemy to the world. For the people, they work hard keeping a facade of a happy family. Ambrose had to work hard each Sunday to keep a forced smile on his face and do nothing to suggest the abuse that goes on in the house when he attends the religious ceremonies and other places.
He believes that what is important is that you believe in something. The young son of Hohemhiem does what he believes in because no matter what he does he is the scapegoat of the family.
Ambrose had enough arguing for a while and storms off towards his room while his father is yelling at him. His door slams shut.
"Go to your room!" Hohemhiem shouts at him as Ambrose opens it to shout in retaliation.
"I'M ALREADY IN MY ROOM!"
Ambrose slams his door shut and locks the door. There were bars on the windows and another lock outside his door for when Hohemhiem wants to keep him in his room. If he isn't wanted outside of his room why should he let his father in his.
"I can't wait till I am eighteen," he grumbles as he places his ear against the door waiting for the clicking sound of the lock.
"Well I didn't want to smell you either!" he retorts as he hears the lock's click trap him inside his room.
He has a small room with a small bathroom. His room was designed with anti alchemy block in it to keep him in there. His room is his prizon, he has been kept here for weeks at a time.
He sits on his bed and sighs picking up a book. Books are really the only escape he has from his wretched life. Loving to get sweppped away in a book, he forgets the troubles of his world and lives another life.
"Ambrose?" his mother's voice came from the doorway opening up a small slit on the door, used to give him food when his father deems it nessesary to lock him up and forget about him, "You hungry?"
"No," he says dryly, "Not right now, but I might be when I unwind."
"Well I was going to push some food in for you anyways," she said, "Hohemhiem is going to the post office with that key again. You know what that means."
Ambrose sighs as he heard that news. She wasn't supposed to tell him what he does with the Anti- Alchemy Padlock Key when he gets locked in, but she feels it would be merciful to give him an idea how long his confinement is going to last.
His father is going to mail the key to himself, to be delivered in about two weeks time.
He knows his parents do not love him, nor do they love eachother. They are just there. Dante at least is civil towards him.
Dante returns in five minutes with some bread, butter and some meat. The meat will go bad, so that is meant to be eaten soon, the bread and butter is for when Dante and Hohemhiem aren't home when he is hungry. .
He dives back into his book again. He was miserable at this time and needed his escape. Lightning flashes outside and that meant a thunderstorm is coming their way. Ambrose looks up and watches the lightning. He has a knack for summoning a thunderstorm when he is really upset. It is a way for him to express the storming emotions inside him, and hopes that a lighning bolt strikes his father. He doubts it will, he isn't that lucky.
He sighs as he wishes his eighteenth birthday would hurry up and arrive, he wants his freedom badly.
The next morning, Ambrose wakes up to the smell of hot food being pushed through the bottom of his door. That bastard must not have unlocked his door, the youth thought as he caught the scent of bisuits and gravy. He sighs as he climbs out of his bed.
"Is it morning already?"
Ambrose finishes eating when he hears the lock on the other side of the door come undone. This is a shock to the teen as Hohenhiem opens the door.
"This isn't going to be some father-son bonding time is it?" Ambrose remarks, knowing his father all to well to know he isn't going to be nice.
Using Alchemy to bring the family piano, Ambrose knew that something was fishy. Music was something else that he enjoyed, and for his father to bring it for him, he must want something.
"I need you to play Sunday," his father says, "Do this for me, and I will not lock you back in this room."
Hohemhiem locks the door again, leaving Ambrose to figure out what he was going to do with the ivory colored piano. He clears out a spot by the window and cleans up the mess he made.
Dante slips the music books through the door. In the front cover she left a note explaining things. The note explained to him that his father was expecting some important company Sunday. Please for the sake of what peace in this house, play well for us.
He crumbles the note up and throws it away. Mother was at least nice to him, but he knew that neither one of them loved him. He will consider how well of a performance he will give, but that depends on what happens during this week and how much they anger him.
Tuning the piano for a few hours, then cleans and polishes the surface. Sitting down in front of it, he begins to play. Reading the music, he begins to play automatically, passing the hours of the week.
Sunday arives on the Elric household. Ambrose woke up to the sight of a cracked door. Dante and Hohemhiem were awake using Alchemy to get the house presentable.
Going downstairs Ambrose goes to the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal.
"It's past noon you lazy slob."
"If you want my coperation," Ambrose comments, leaning on the table, "You might want to be a little nice to me. You know, somewhat act like a loving parent for once?"
Before Hohemhiem could retort with a hurtful comment Dante steps in, "Ambrose come with me."
Dante leads Ambrose into the parlor to show him the new piano.
"What do you think of it?" she asks, not really caring about his oppinion. Love to her was a petty emotion. She doesn't love her husband nor him.
"So this is the reason the piano was brought into my room." Ambrose was monkeying about the piano, making sure the tuning was right.
"Don't let what he said get to ya. You don't have to do this." Dante said, acting motherly for once.
Ambrose replies as he cracks his knuckles, up for this, "Oh, I will play, and shove those good for nothing comments back down Hohenhiem's throat. One, by one, bet they will taste sour."
Dante shakes her head, "I knew you were going to say something like that. Well, good luck."
"I don't need luck, I am good."
He takes his time to play and practice on the piano. He prepares for tonight, prefering the one in his room, but doesn't feel up to arguing about it. He plays and adjusts the piano to his specifications.
Hohenhiem walks to the door of the parlor and watches Ambrose.
"You want something Hohenhiem?" Ambrose asks, not even looking at his father, "You don't give me the blessing of your presence without wanting something."
"You play Bethoven? (SP?)" he asks.
"Depends," Ambrose answers, "Why the sudden intrest?"
"Our guests," he answers.
"Yes, I will think about playing his music." Ambrose says, "You made this didn't you? The things you make are usually crappy quality."
"You would know, you being an example of that."
"Just when I thought we would have a civil conversation," Ambrose threatens looking Hohenhiem in the eyes, "There goes a notch in the quality I play."
Hohenhiem quipps, "Sorry."
Ambrose was caught by surprize hearing his father say that word towards him. He blinked and shrugged it off. He would be an idiot if he believed his father meant the apology.
"Heh, whatever," Ambrose replies, hitting random keys on the piano sounding horrible, "This conversation is going downhill fast. Unless you wan't to listen to this, you might want to consider leaving me the hell alone. Getting locked up again for getting even would be worth every second I spend."
Hohenhiem knew Ambrose wasn't kidding. The guests arrive in the evening. Ambrose still thought the piano was a piece of crap, but he still used it after dinner. He could tell the lower quality of music, even though he done his best playing. Things went well with the buisness deal.
Ambrose moved onto a melody that could be considered a cry for help.
Remake of Chapter one Complete. Chapter Two will be up as soon as it is written...Thank you very much and I hope you like it better than the origional version of this.
Once more I will say this is no longer a cross over. The muse in my head told me to take this in another direction.
Tell me what you think...Review
