"I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul."
-William Earnest Henley, "Invictus"
In case anyone was wondering Invictus is Latin for unconquerable and undefeated.
A/N: This is my first fanfic that I'm going to post on the site so yay! -. I believe it's quite good actually. This chapter is just a prologue of sorts to a hopefully great story to follow. Sephiroth contemplates his past and actions…
Could this be the redemption of Sephiroth?
As if…
Enjoy. And review. I feed off them. If you can, I don't really care much if it's anonymous or not, as long as I can get some feedback, constructive criticism is always welcomed, and if the needs arises…flame your heart out.
Falling…
He was falling. Through the wispy haze that ravaged his mind, he felt it.
Sephiroth, the legend, the general, the god…
…was falling.
And during this time, he had realized that perhaps…he had failed.
No.
It was he that had been used, betrayed, and beaten. He had been humiliated. He had been misunderstood.
No one would ever be able to understand his pain.
No one could ever understand him.
He hadn't failed anyone.
Everyone had failed him.
Jenova had failed him.
Cloud, his precious puppet, had failed him.
A somber though filled his head.
He had failed himself.
If it was possible, he had shut his eyes tighter.
He felt weightless, but there was no denying the gusts of air rushing over his body, or the gusts of air that sent his silver hair whipping itself against his face. And there was no denying the aching pain that throbbed slowly in his chest.
But even with the pain, he had felt numb.
Is this what its like to die? He thought softly. There was the aftertaste of blood in his mouth, and his mind was so cloudy.
Cloud…He had tried to laugh when he grasped the fact that he felt more apologetic towards Cloud than himself, but instead he felt a weak sob racking through his sore body. He tried to draw in a breath, but it hurt.
Sephiroth knew now, that to everyone…he was nothing more than the means to an end. He was someone's weapon. He was someone else's to command, and he had complied. He had been a blind, cold, and uncalculating dog that barked when he was told to do so, jumped the very second the command passed from Shinra's lips, and all the while he had delusional himself into believing that he had power.
He had gone along with it all, Shinra and Jenova, and he had never learned. He never understood that he was the chess piece being moved by Shinra, Jenova, or his own sadistic impulses that had led him astray.
Sephiroth had never been his own man.
He was the puppet. His mind cleared only to let thoughts and memories invade his vision. All those times he had ridiculed Cloud for being weak, for yielding to him, and him only. He was talking about himself more than anything.
Sephiroth realized that he was a hypocrite, that he was weak, and that he had been the one that needed meaning and self worth much more than Strife ever did. That's where the bond, that he was still reluctant to admit between then had began, and he feared that it went deeper than he could ever comprehend.
Whether the bond between them had been brotherhood or that of lovers.
Sephiroth had needed Cloud.
The thought that hurt more, the thought that instigated another pang of guilt, was the fact that Sephiroth knew he needed Cloud not just to feel complete as a person (if he ever was that in the first place), he needed Cloud to feel stronger.
He needed Cloud to feed his twisted and perverse sadistic impulses to feel superior. He had needed someone who revered him, and at once confided a subtle friendship in him, to feel pain on his account. Sephiroth needed to know, he had needed to feel some control in his life, and that control had been Cloud. He had reveled in the fact that he, and only he would be the one that could cause Cloud infinite amounts of pain, and he could have driven Cloud to insanity if he had willed.
He could have brought Cloud, once his little war buddy and companion, down with him.
If he could have, Sephiroth would have groaned at the fact that maybe, most of the dealings with Cloud could have been avoided…but it had been Sephiroth who had chased Cloud, he had instigated him.
And now, without Cloud, was there meaning in his life?
Sephiroth still was falling, and as awareness had started to drift in, he had tightly clenched his fists.
His eyes were still closed, but he knew that earth or the lifestream would be coming soon. Could he just keep on falling forever?
It didn't fit into logic…
…but then again, most of his recent dealings rarely had.
Sephiroth felt his lips twitch upwards, and he inhaled slowly…almost gasping as clean cool air invaded his lungs.
So…he thought grimly…the Promised Land had rejected me. Perhaps the lifestream also. Wouldn't it be fitting for me…an abandoned soul forced to wander through eternity?
All this had been in vain, he wasn't a Certa, he wasn't one of the ancients, and he wasn't and would never be superior.
Instead he was a multi-billion-gil science project that fucked up because of its instability. He had been a freak of nature since he was born, and he had been praised and used for it. Even with all of that…Sephiroth had been mortal.
With flaws, no less.
If he could have, he would have screamed. But his voice, just like anything that could have ever mattered, or could have become something important, or something that could have saved him…seemed to elude and abandon him.
He had been told that fate was what you make of it, but he was dealt the wrong hand in fate…and there really hadn't been any aspect of he controlled. Except Cloud…
Goddammit…Everything led back to a small and frail blonde headed boy…
Slowly, Sephiroth tilted his head back and dared to open his eyes. He was falling, strangely enough, into oblivion.
Nothing resembled the lifestream, the sky, or his vision of the Promised Land. It was darkness, and he found a somber peace in it.
There was solace in its lack of chaos, in its lack of life.
Sephiroth twitched. He turned his head, a feeble attempt to get away from his surroundings. This lack of life was exactly what he had been confined to as a child.
This is what drove him mad, this was what brought painfully churning memories to life, this silence was what brought him back to memories of desperateness and loneliness that he had never wanted to experience again.
And still, if he could have, Sephiroth would have screamed. He would have screamed until he had nothing left, until all his frustration had been relived, until he felt that he had been free from every little injustice that had been done to him.
Nothing about his life had ever been fair, he had no control, he had been used, and he had no fucking idea of anything around him. Even as the brilliant and deviously skilled swordsman, even with all the power a man could dream of, Sephiroth could have never escape the pain he was bound to.
And he hated it.
Even in death, he had no peace.
Couldn't the planet be merciful to him in that aspect?
Or was he so terrible that even a mother would reject her children?
Sephiroth took in a shaky breath as he tried to calm himself.
No…the planet had rejected him. It had abandoned him like it had in life only to drift in darkness and memories.
Another injustice that would never matter, because no one cared.
The thoughts rushed at Sephiroth again.
Everyone had failed him.
Everyone had deserted him.
And everyone had misjudged him.
And everyone would die.
A/N: Done. Next Chapter will be up by 2 weeks at the latest. Hmmm this only took me a bit less than an hour, I'm pretty proud of that, everything I write take forever…
And Review!
I'll give you a cookie…
No? Well it was worth a try.