Invictus
Part 1

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

The night sky had pried upon the two lovers, the moon and the creatures surrounding them, illuminating and bearing witness to their vows. The fallen one bearing a river of tears down upon his cheeks as he held his most beloved, uttering words of false hope and melancholic whimpers. The blessed cradled the fallen and consoled him, biting back tears of longing and regret. His vivid and bright eyes, gleaming with hints of hope yet they were cast in utter sadness. Gently he cupped the fallen's cheeks, pressing their foreheads together, the fallen's hands grasping onto his lover's wrist as his lips shook with fear but nonetheless he uttered the words, "Slowly but surely we will be the captains and masters of our own fate and souls.." The blessed nodded in agreement, moving his arms to wrap around the fallen one and embrace him completely. A gust of wind swirled around them, time had run out. The howling, the whispers slowly became louder and louder. Darkness rang upon them, the moon blinded by the clouds overhead, not wanting to bear witness to the cruelty that would be done to the fallen. The darkness had stripped away the lovers from one another and held onto the fallen, squeezing him tightly. His screams ringing throughout the midnight forest, they had seized him, humiliated him, and robbed him of his freedom, his will. Forced upon the dirt, forced to take the image of a child, forced to grow up and be torn down from his throne. Forced to be immortal and alone for his entirety, they who had never judged had cast the first stone and wrought out a war. A war in the fallen's soul, broken and beaten his eyes gleamed with determination, yes, they had done this to him and yes a war had started and yes, Arthur Kirkland, would stand and take back what had been robbed of him. He would be the master of his fate and the captain of his soul.

Lain onto the dirt, Arthur Kirkland groaned and whimpered, stinging pain covering his back as he sat onto his knees. He sniffled, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he wiped away the tears from his swelled up eyes. With weak sniffles and whimpers Arthur looked around the forest, looking to see if there was anyone out there or a path that would lead him to a warmer place. With darkness glazing over the woods there was nothing to be found, just darkness. Not a light from any corner. Arthur shivered, pulling the cloak closer, wondering if this was it for him. Here he sat in utter darkness, alone and afraid. Holding onto no memories but his name he was sure he would meet his end here. Unknown to him, someone up above had made it his mission to protect him and had guided the moon to make a path for Arthur. The man whispered words into the night sky and with the help of the wind it carried his words towards Arthur's ears, "Walk forward, Arthur." Arthur blinked at the sudden whisper, looking around the young boy found not a trace of a being, only a lightened path lit by the moon. With weak knees and bruised arms he pulled himself up onto his feet, breathing heavily he wrapped the cloak closer to him. The cold winter winds biting at his bare flesh as he began to walk, unknown in what direction the path lead he simply walked forward, his mind in haze as his feet led him deeper and deeper into the woods.

Shivering cold, a pallid complexion, Arthur stopped and looked upon a small wooden cabin. Light flickered and jumped around the walls, welcoming Arthur and beckoning him to come inside. With bruised and sore legs the poor boy managed to find his way onto the porch. With a deep breath he mustered his strength and knocked as hard as he could, waiting for steps to be heard. Yet nothing came, nothing but the dreadful silence and Arthur knew with it came darkness. His battered body began to tremble, utterly afraid of being in death's cold grasp. He clutched his arms tightly, trembling teeth stopping. Gritting his teeth Arthur raised his arm, his balled fist knocking, pounding onto the door. He would not die here.

With sheer force and strength Arthur had managed to save his own life, the hard knocking echoed throughout the walls of the cabin, waking up its master. Brianna was a young widow. She bore no children and was deemed an ice queen. Everyone had questioned her marriage to her husband, who seemed full of life, a man much opposite to her. With his passing every bitter rumor of theirs was made true in Brianna's eyes. She shed not a tear at the funeral nor uttered a word but quickly came and left. Packing up all her belongings and moving back to where her deceased husband had first encountered her. The snowy woods of the Sherwood Forest welcomed Brianna since her birth, she had grown up to be an odd child in the eyes of her parents but nonetheless they gave all their love to her. The sound of crumpling snow beneath her feet gave her the support to move on but when whisked away from the forest by her beloved husband she felt not empty but complete. Now that he had passed she felt stranded. Stranded in an unknown and frightful place, in such she returned back to the snowy woodlands, alone and unafraid she would continue her life here. When hearing the loud banging on her door Brianna groggily awakened from her slumber, quietly but quickly slipping on her nearly worn out robe and slipping her sudden cold feet into a pair of fluffed boots, making her way towards the door. Deciding to be cautious she retrieved her hunting knife to guard her from the fear of the unknown. Slowly turning the handle, opening the door to her utter surprise she blinked and cast her weapon away, leaning forward to catch the small and frail body in her arms. Arthur clutched onto Brianna tightly. He had made it. He had taken a step and lived for another day. With the taste of relief Arthur had passed out in Brianna's arms, wanting to receive his reward of a good night's rest and of pleasant dreams before coming back into the world of reality to face the harsh demons in his life.

Alfred caught his breath, sighing ever so much with relief as a hand clutched his heart. Somehow he had managed what seemed impossible and saved his lover from death's grasp once again. This time however, in consequence of his actions he would be put under punishment. He had betrayed the one of above, betrayed his brothers and sisters for the one he saw no relation to but of a lover. Alfred had always considered himself a savior among the others, the best of them all and he had lived up to his name. Putting himself in harm's way and doing what he could to live for the people he cherished. Up above everyone loved him, no flaws but his association with Arthur. He cared not of what the others thought and whatever Arthur did he was there by his side. Unbeknownst to him, the day the two had met would be the undoing of them both and yet given the signs and warnings their bond flourished. Now that the deed was done Alfred knew of the consequence that came with it and he was fully prepared for it. Though they would strip him of his title, his crown and of his wings, Alfred would carry on with his own goal to find Arthur. Alfred had perceived all the details of being a fallen, stories had taught him all that he knew but it did not teach him of all what came of being a fallen. As judgment entered his room he stood high and mighty as an angel clad in gold and white ripped his silken garment and the crown upon his head, forcing him onto his knees. Staring straight ahead he focused his gaze upon a crystal flower, kept inside a glass case, the last reminder he had of Arthur. Truly he would cherish the delicate flower in his mind. Slowly he began to close his eyes, waiting for the warmth of pain to run through his body. Yet nothing came of it, confused he pried his eyes open and stared at the angels around him, speaking up in a hushed and worried tone, "Aren't I going to be exiled…?" The angel with eyes of violet and stepped up brushing his thumb over Alfred's cheek, "Yes, but before this we truly wish for you to be purged of all of Arthur's madness. And you shall be." Wide eyes and mouth agape, Alfred feverishly shook his head. If he had not the memories of Arthur then everything he had planned, everything he had constructed would fail and never again would he by his beloved side. He would have none of it but before being able to flee he had been held down and in a heartbeat he had heard a terrifying crunch. Before his mind registered what had happened a blood curdling scream had escaped his mouth. He screamed not because of the pain but screamed because of the memories being torn away whilst the pain subsided. The memories he so carefully tried to keep and treasure where fading, trying as he could to keep awake he had fallen unconscious. His eyelids heavy with sleep slowly closed as he began the descent to madness…to the pits of hell.

...To Be Continued...

Author's Note: Hi, thank you for reading part 1 of Invictus, a USUK Fic that I've written and am in the process of finishing. I really hope you all like it! There will be approximately 3-4 or more parts of it! There are a lot of details I need to work on and tamper with but I hope you continue to follow this story! And yes, this story revolves around the poem, Invictus by William Ernest Henly. Um... any questions please go ahead and ask .u.