ARTHUR
ON THE OUTSIDE, the city was alive with the sound of music and laughter while the people gathered in anticipation of the evening's festivities, the annual Rite of a Thousand Dawns being one of the most cherished traditions in the southern kingdom, but inside?
"What in the name of the gods do you think you are doing!" hissed the older servant, snatching the goblet from the younger one's trembling hands. "The queen drinks jasmine tea, always jasmine. The Princesses take the same or water. The king and the first Prince drink wine, no water, no tea. The second Prince drinks nothing at all, but we place a goblet regardless, out of respect."
"I-I'm sorry," the younger servant whimpred.
"You should be! Shall we have the Crown Princess pour her drink next? Or perhaps you would like to rearrange the table entirely and have the queen drink from the same cup as the king?"
The younger servant bowed her head in mortification. "It will not happen again."
"You bet your head it won't," the elder muttered under her breath, adjusting the cutlery with quick, practiced fingers. Silverware clinked, and goblets were carefully being placed, at least until a sharp voice cut through the stillness.
"I could drink jasmine, you know, it is not poisonous."
Both servants jumped at the source of the voice across the room.
Arthur was lounging in one of the chairs, his foot propped lazily on the edge of the polished table, rocking back and forth in silence while watching the exchange. His hair was still damp from a fresh shower, and his shirt was unlaced slightly at the collar. "I just would not wish my father to feel left out," He shrugged, lowering his foot before pushing himself upright and strolling over to them.
The older servant paled. "I am so sorry, Your Highness, we did not know you were here—"
"Yes, I can see that," Arthur cut her off gently, shifting his gaze to the younger servant. "To be honest… I do think I would prefer tea this time of the cycle." He said, while plucking the teacup of jasmine off her tray, sniffed it with mild curiosity, then took a sip, bobbing his head thoughtfully. "You know what this needs? Honey, could I trouble you for some?"
"At once, Your Highness," the older servant said quickly.
"No, stay," Arthur said smoothly, resting the cup on the table with an inimitable sharp thud that almost chipped it. "We'll have a little chat."
The younger servant bowed and rushed off. As soon as the door closed, the older woman's composure crumbled. "I am fired, aren't I?" she quivered out. Her hands were wrapped around each other. "I knew I should have trained her better. She knows nothing but what the brothel drilled into her. I have had to start over from scratch, Your Highness. It has been exhausting—"
"You are not fired."
"What…?"
"I am not saying work is as peachy as it is exhausting, I mean. It is a palace for Gods sake.. But still, everyone deserves some mercy." Arthur added, "Would you not agree?"
"I most certainly do, Your Highness. But would it be merciful to let her start as a maid, out of the way of the king and queen and delicate protocol such as this? I cannot phantom how she got approved for the application process alone—"
"My mother sent me for her," Arthur interrupted, "And I made it my business to look out for her, in case of… a discriminating elder such as yourself." he smiled, but there was no humor in it.
That made her pause.
"The staff reflects the family, and our family treats others with respect regardless of their past. One mistake does not make someone disposable. If that were the case—" he tilted his head. "You would have been gone a long time ago. Your attitude when you think no one is watching or paying attention pisses me off. I am pissed off just thinking about it," he continued, "So pissed off, I might find it necessary to personally take you to the dungeons, so you might then have the opportunity to find out for yourself what happens to disposable people, should you continue to piss me off even further.Would you like to experience such a thing, Madam Natalia?"
A whimper escaped the servant, quickly clasping her hands around her mouth while shaking her head frantically.
"I am choosing mercy this time around, but if I hear anything that makes my brow twitch with your name attached to it, I would only ask one last thing of you." his eyes narrowed. "Have you a strong stomach?"
"I will do better, I swear it on the queen's garden, My Prince." The maid said, shaking her head as the tears began to fall on the very floor she would have to clean, then bowed her head.
Just then, the doors creaked open again, and Artizea entered, showing no hint of exhaustion despite the ache that likely lingered in her muscles.
Arthur stepped in front of Nataliah, "Fix yourself," he muttered.
She obeyed, wiping her tears and composing herself before resuming her tasks.
Artizea's gaze flicked briefly over the scene: the tray still being arranged, the untouched plates, and her brother lounging far too comfortably.
"You sure took your sweet time—" he teased. "It is almost as if you wish me to win."
"Are you not yet tired of your only victory being who gets to the table first?"
"Ha—" he pointed a finger at her, triumphant, "That is where you are wrong, Dear Sister. A victory against you, however small it may be, is a victory nonetheless… and I will take it, with the utmost pride and prejudice."
Artizea rolled her eyes but could not quite suppress the smile tugging at her lips while reaching for the pitcher.
"Your Highness—" The servant shrieked.
But Artizea simply waved a hand, silencing the protest while she poured herself a glass of water. "Easy victories are hardly something to boast about, especially when you surrender so quickly," she continued with a lazy grin. "Perhaps you should ask Mother for pointers."
"I do not require pointers." Arthur shot back. "I just need you to stop cheating!" He pointed at her once more with his index finger, then flicked it upward to give her the bird.
Artizea arched a brow. "Using superior skill is not cheating; It is called 'being better than you'," she said, giving him a bird back.
Arthur rolled his eyes.
Behind them came the younger servant, breathless, with a jar in hand, "For your tea… Your Highness." Struggling to curtsy with the tray, she almost fell over, making the older servants nearly faint.
Artizea raised an eyebrow. "You? Tea? Who are you and what have you done to my brother?" She teased, crossing her arms.
"What can I say, I am ending off the year, sweetly," Arthur said defensively, lifting the cup again.
"Your Royal Highness," the two servants murmured in unison, bowing low, then excited, but the moment they disappeared, Arthur grimaced while leaning over to spit the tea back into the goblet, then immediately reached for a nearby wine bottle, skillfully uncorking it with a satisfying pop. He threw his head back, downing a generous gulp.
"Eugh! Fuck me, that was salt!" He hissed, dramatically rubbing his chest with one hand while dropping back into his seat. This is what I get for inserting myself in shit, he thought.
Artizea chuckled faintly, rolling her eyes upon easing into her assigned seat with an ease of familiarity. As the sibling rivalry dialed down, she looked around, realizing it was quieter than usual. "Where is Eugene?" She asked.
Arthur groaned, "In that dusty ass library, most likely," he said hoarsely, reaching for a cherry to take away the growing migraine.
As if summoned, the youngest Prince appeared in the doorway, the same heavy book tucked under his arm, making his way to the table.
"Hello to you, too," Arthur said dryly.
"We just saw each other," Eugene replied, "Why do you look like you have been poisoned during that time?" He flicked his hand to turn to a bookmarked page, still not looking up.
"Apparently, Arthur prefers salt in his tea and Honey in his wine," Artizea remarked.
Arthur let out a long-suffering groan.
Eugene took a bottle from mid-air. "Here, the sooner you take it, the better," he said, while he threw it at Arthur.
"What is this?" Arthur said while catching it.
"You can read… correct?"
Arthur scoffed while turning the bottle until he found the inked word 'medicine'. He grimaced, watching as the color fluctuated between blue and purple, then something in between. "Yeah, right." he lowered it onto he table, sliding it back to the assassin in disguise.
Eugene caught it, then finally looked up with raised brow, "You would question your brother and the bottle label. No wonder you poisoned yourself."
"I am not poisoned," Arthur replied, shoving a cherry into his mouth like it was a coping mechanism. Pop. "I am skeptical because every time you open your mouth, I cannot tell whether you are being sarcastic or serious."
"Very well," Eugene said calmly, pushing the bottle back toward him. "Take it or do not take it, however, by my estimate with the heat as it is… You should be dead by its prime."
Arthur stared at him while he flipped another page, absentmindedly, then down to the bottle once more. He hesitated only a second before downing it in one go. Only to gag immediately at its unsurprisingly disgusting taste. "Ugh," he scowled, "This tastes like boiled onions."
"Odd, that was not on the label." Eugene frowned.
Artizea chuckled.
Arthur wiped his mouth again with his good linen, then shifted his gaze to his lovely baby brother. "Just so you know, being the first Prince does not help your odds in the line of succession," he said, while coughing.
Eugene rolled his eyes, returning his attention to much more important matters.
Moments later, the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, with a powerful rhythm that sent anticipation through the corridors. To some, it might have been the last thing they would ever hear. But to the royal siblings, they were a symphony.
The grand doors opened to present "His Majesty, King—"
A sharp tsk cut through the chamber like a blade. "If anyone in this room requires my name to be spoken, they are either too new to life… or about to leave it. Which are you?" The king said irritably upon striding into the hall, with his sharp, awakened crimson eyes on the trainee guard, who paled instantly. At five and forty, the king did not look a day over thirty. The once proud Tyrant was now a ruler tamed by wisdom and love, yet every now and then, his alter ego takes over. "Where is my wife?"
"I-i do not know, Your Majesty."
"Why not—"
A calm voice rang across the hall, "Gilgamesh Pendragon," soft but firm. All eyes in the chamber darted to the entrance, where The Queen had entered, Arthuria Pendragon, six and thirty, her sharp sapphire eyes darting behind her blonde bangs sweeping over her braided hair. She was the Beloved mother to the nation, and the only living soul who could silence the king.
"The man is simply doing his job," Arthuria said, while shifting her gaze to the shivering trainee guard. "Would you mind terribly overseeing from outside? I am sure we have further need of your services on the inside, with the king at present."
The trainee guard bowed so fast his helmet nearly fell off and scurried out.
Gilgamesh muttered something under his breath and turned away, pretending to study the columns like they were the most fascinating stonework he had ever seen, as if it were not his childhood home.
Arthuria folded her arms. "You are taking your frustration out on those who do not deserve it."
"Forgive me, my love," he grumbled. "I have yet to receive my morrow wine."
Arthuria narrowed her eyes. "And you better have been talking about executions."
Gilgamesh blinked, confused at first, then smirked. "Arthuria, you wound me. I would never."
"Good," Arthuria said, taking a step closer. "Because if you had…" She paused in front of him, smiling sweetly. "…the only one leaving this world would be you, My lion."
Gilgamesh chuckled, slipping an arm around her waist. She yelped when he pulled her flush against him, tilting her chin up with a thumb. "It would only be fair, my lioness," he murmured.
"Gross," Arthur groaned from the other end of the room.
"What was that!" His father's gaze sharpened, cutting sideways without a single tilt of his head.
Arthur cleared his throat, "I meant—Good morrow!" he exclaimed, then stood up quickly, putting aside both his near-death experiences.
Artizea and Eugene stood with him, "Good morrow, Father, Mother," they chimed in.
After casting a proud and satisfied smirk at his children, he gave a swift kiss to his wife's cheek, then spoke. "Good morrow, My Treasures," taking his seat as head, followed by the rest of the table.
Their mother smiled gently, taking her seat beside her husband. "I trust you all had a pleasant morrow?"
Artizea nodded. "I did, though I cannot say the same for Arthur."
Arthur groaned once more, leaning back in his chair uncomfortably.
"And where is Elaine?" their Father said.
"Here!" Elaine shouted while skidding through the door, then skipped in, her cheeks flushed from the morrow chill. "Sorry to be late, Daddy!" she chirped, planting a quick kiss on her father's cheek before darting for her seat.
"And why are you late?" he asked firmly. "You know—"
"Demons, Fairies, Beasts, I know—," Elaine droned, plopping into her seat, brushing a bang behind her ear. "So here's what happened—When I got back from the falls, I could not find my bow anywhere," she sighed dramatically. "So I had to retrace all my steps. But luckily, I had my chaperon with me the entire time!" She beamed.
Artizea smirked faintly behind her cup.
Gilgamesh gave a simple nod. "Very well."
Arthur blinked, "What?" setting his cup down with a deliberate clink. "No consequences? Is not tardiness punishable by punishment?"
Eugene's face crunched. "That sentence is grammatically incorrect and makes no sense. It could only be a miracle you passed our basic tongue, let alone comprehend it."
Arthur smirked, tilting his chin, "With a face like this, I could pass the gates of hell unharmed."
Eugene rolled his eyes, "Unnoticed, you mean," he mumbled.
Arthur's grin slipped into a scowl. "Nevertheless, I was punished for being five minutes late last moon and was sentenced to bed without tarts," jabbing a finger toward Elaine, who was innocently smiling. "And she ate all the rose jam ones in my absence," his eyes narrowing.
Elaine clasped her hands under her chin, "They were going stale."
"Rosetta's Tarts do not go stale—" Arthur replied in a dangerously low tone, almost protective.
"Those ones did…" Elaine sang.
"You take that back!"
Artizea leaned back in her chair with a look of amusement, "The simplest explanation would be, it is just an Elaine thing. She's the favorite, after all."
Arthur scoffed, "There's no need to be self-righteous; everyone knows you are the favorite."
Artizea raised her hands in surrender. "I can assure you, brother, I am not. I am the pride, Elaine is the joy."
Arthur tilted his head, frowning, "And what am I, then?"
"The idiot," Eugene said snappily.
A loud ahem came from the head of the table, where their Mother's gaze held warning over amusement.
Elaine covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Artizea's gaze shifted between her gaze, sifting between her sister and Mother, and the power they had over their father. It was in that moment she had a sudden realization, "Maybe it is because Elaine looks the most like Mother—."
In that moment, Arthuria's composure was briefly shattered by the aftermath of her tea going down the wrong hole, earning a chuckle from her husband.
Arthur's gaze shifted back and forth. He then shot up as the dots connected, his mouth slowly gaping open. "But I too, look like Mother!"
Artizea tilted her head, "Yes, but you are a boy."
"And?"
"Everyone knows Father only wished for girls." Elaine declared dramatically, fluttering her eyelashes.
Artizea quickly mimicked her, tilting her head in exaggerated innocence.
Arthur chuckled. "Surely youjest—" He then turned to their father and was met with no rebuttal. His mouth flung open once more. "Father, is this true?!"
The King, who had been indulging his long-awaited morrow wine in peace, sighed as if he were in pain, then ever so slowly fixed his gaze upon his first son. He waited a beat before responding. "Cease pestering me, boy," he mumbled at last.
Arthur threw his hands up in exasperation, while His sisters burst into a fresh fit of giggles.
Their father slightly smirked while his gaze swept over them. "I have no favorites. I love all my children equally," he assured them, though his voice was firm, it still tinged with joviality.
Crickets. No one was convinced.
"Father," Elaine said with her chin up high, "On a scale of one to ten, how beautiful am I?" determined to claim her birthright.
Her father's gaze warmed upon looking at her. "There will never be an answer to infinity, my dear," he said with a small smile.
"And Arthur?" she giggled.
"What's an Arthur?" he asked with a smirk.
"Unbelievable…" Arthur muttered under his breath, "One day I will sail off into the sunset, and then you lot will miss me," he pouted. His mother flicked his nose, and they giggled together.
"Enough," Gilgamesh enjoined, "It is good to see all of my children in high spirits. A king's blood must be strong in all forms, mind, body, and spirit."
Eugene looked up from his book, seizing the opportunity. "Speaking of strength, I have been researching the defense wards protecting the city walls. I believe they could be reinforced with—"
"Son." Gilgamesh interrupted, holding up a hand. "We are here to eat, not discuss magic theory."
Eugene closed his book reluctantly, "Of course, Father," he murmured.
Sensing the shift in mood, Elaine leaned toward her mother with a bright smile. With great power comes great responsibility, "Mother, the healers say your roses will be more beautiful than last year. Can we go see them after breakfast, like we used to?"
Arthuria 's expression softened. Understanding what her daughter was trying to achieve. "Of course we can." She shifted towards Eugene. "Perhaps you should accompany us as well, Dearest, get some fresh air."
"The air works just fine in the library, Mother," he replied, though there was no malice in his tone.
"Indeed, but you shall get even more where there are actual trees, is that not in one of your books?" Elaine shot back.
Eugene sighed, "I will surely ponder on it, Sister."
Elaine pouted. She needed more Pendragon power. Unwilling to accept defeat, her head snapped toward her sister, "Tizea, help me convince Eugene to paint the roses with us."
Artizea's head shot up, well, now or never, she thought. "I was hoping to do something a little different this year…" she said cautiously.
"Oh?' Gilgamesh looked up.
Artizea sat up straighter, "Yes, I have been working on a painting and wish to finish it before the year is over." She said with a small smile.
The table fell silent. Artizea was not merely asking for permission to be absent. She was asking to change the rules. All eyes within the room shifted from the heir to the king as they took turns speaking.
"You plan to miss a tradition with your family for a painting?" her father said, arching a brow.
"It is not just a painting," she countered smoothly. "It is a new… personal tradition. Besides, I will be done in time to watch them with all of you."
Arthuria gently put her hand on her husband's arm. "Let her have her moment, Gil. It could be her way of connecting with the festival."
Which really meant, Compromise.
For a moment, Gilgamesh regarded his daughter for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. But do not keep us waiting long,or(There it is )I shall send your mother's royal knightguard…"
The siblings shivered.
"I won't," Artizea promised, relief washing over her as the conversation shifted to other topics.
Elaine's eyes sparkled with amusement from across the table, "A new personal tradition, hmm?" she said softly, earning a smirk from Artizea. "And when did you come up with this? Early this cycle? Last moon?" She leaned in slightly. "Last week..?"
"That reminds me—" Artizea responded quickly, "Where exactly did you find your bow?"
"The falls, as I said," Elaine replied smoothly.
"Strange. It is not like you to misplace a gift from Uncle Alexander; you must have been very distracted, little sister."
Elaine waved a hand dismissively. "Hardly. I was admiring the duck water lilies in bloom. I even brought back a bunch, hey—maybe you can use them for your painting…?"
"Water lilies?"
"Yes."
"At the falls?"
"Mhm."
Artizea's brow arched. "Are those only found in Marina Lake? Right in the center of—"
Elaine's eyes widened, "I meant, Beaver- lilies," she stammered. "Apologies, it must have slipped my mind."
"Yeah," Artizea murmured, "I know the feeling."
Elaine snorted softly. "Touché." She raised her goblet to her lips, not breaking eye contact with her sister.
A satisfied hum escaped Artizea's lips, mirroring the motion.
Their father glanced between the two of them, then shook his head with quiet amusement.
"Speaking of traditions and paintings," Arthuria began, "As you all know, today is the day for our family portrait. Is everyone ready?"
Groans rippled around the table like a chain reaction.
"Do we have to?" Artizea asked.
"I was planning to ride today," Elaine said, lazily stabbing her boiled egg with her spoon.
Arthur chimed in, his mouth half-full of cherries. "I have strategy drills to run…" He muffled
Immediately, three heads turned to the last sibling at the table, Eugene. The only one who might have a plausible excuse.
"I-i have studies to do—A test in fact—" he stuttered.
The siblings nodded slowly, almost thoughtfully, turning to their mother once more with the same hopeful expression.
Arthuria elegantly took a biscuit, dipping it in her tea, utterly unfazed. "Surely, this could be postponed, could it not?" picking up her teacup gently.
The children looked to their father now, wide-eyed, beady with desperation.
Gilgamesh cleared his throat, "Arthuria, surely we have done enough of these. How many portraits does one family truly need?" he said, muttering under his breath.
Arthuria stopped mid-sip. Her children straightened in unison the instant she lowered her cup with terrifying calm. Clink.Her gaze drifted around the table ever so slowly. The table braced for what all children, royal or not, must inevitably endure. "Fifty-three hours…"Their mother recited. The Labor Card.
"That is how long I was in labor across all four of you." She raised an eyebrow. "All I wish for this festivalis a simple portrait every four years. Is that so… unreasonable?" She reached for the butter knife beside her plate. Her grip was elegant, delicate even, but the children flinched as if she had just drawn Excalibur.
Gilgamesh's eyes flicked to the blade. His shoulders subtly tensed. "Of course not, dearest," he mumbled.
With disarming grace, she slowly buttered her toast, then took a bite. Chewed. She swallowed and gave a pleasant nod. "Precisely," she said, smiling sweetly, "So I ask again… is everyone ready for the family portrait?"
"Of course," Artizea said, nudging Arthur's foot to speak up.
"Born ready, you could say—" Arthur said quickly.
"Wouldn't miss it…" Eugene muttered.
"Looking forward to it!" Elaine exclaimed.
Arthuria's gaze settled on her husband, "Gil?"
The siblings turned to their father once more.
Gilgamesh cleared his throat. "Yes, listen to your mother," he said firmly, daring to look in the direction of his wife, "But Perhaps, dearest… You could put the knife down?" he almost pleaded, gesturing faintly toward the blade.
Arthuria blinked, confused at first, then looked down and saw she was still holding it, ever so calmly, in her hand. "Ah," she said. "These things can be quite sharp." Her returned soft gaze swept across the table.
"Yes…" he agreed, taking a long, steady sip of his wine. "Yes, they can be…"
GILGAMESH
While the siblings braced themselves for the ordeal ahead,their father watched his children with kind eyes. Then, he shifted to the woman who had blessed him with such gifts, filling his once never-ending void of unhappiness. His gaze drifted further ahead, to the painting at the far end of the chamber. Framed in gold, eternal in its stillness: The first portrait of him and Arthuria, on their wedding day.
The king and soon-to-be queen stood before the large family portrait. However, there was no family.
The scene depicted a young Gilgamesh alone, seated on his throne. His eyes were distant, as if he carried the essence of nothing but pain and suffering.
Arthuria pursed her lips upon gazing upon the painting with an artist's eye, hoping to understand the true picture. "How long has it been this way?" she murmured.
Gilgamesh's gaze followed hers subconsciously. "What do you mean?"
"Always just the king," She replied, "Never the queen or the children, it is as if the people who carry the legacy itself do not matter, only who sits on the throne in the end."
His jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing.
She turned to him then, "I am taking to you—" she shoved his hand.
He chuckled in response, "I suppose always."
Arthuria huffed, "We are to be married tomorrow, and I need to know that the man I am marrying knows our reign is not just about one person, but the legacy built together."
Gilgamesh finally met her gaze; her words were always full of layers and meaning, and most importantly, always carried the weight of the truth in her heart. Finally, he spoke, "What do you suggest, My Love?"
Tell me what to fix.
"We change it," she said, stepping closer to him. "Let us have one every four years… a real family, the one we never had."
He studied her for a moment. The idea of changing such a deep-rooted tradition was not something to take lightly, but the thought of Arthuria not being beside him was something he could never let stand. There was no need to ponder any further, "Four years," he finally said softly, "Our first Tradition."
"One of many," she replied with a smile, her hand brushing against his before clasping. "And perhaps, in the future, when our kids have their own, they will be looking back at those portraits when we are gone, and tell stories about how much they adored their grandfather."
Gilgamesh barked a laugh, "Are you calling me old? You speak as if you will not be on that wall beside me, my lioness," he mocked.
"You will surely outlive me, that is for certain," she teased.
"Wanna bet?"
"Fine. What is the wager?"
"That you'll stay with the kids, and wait until it is time for us to be together again," he replied.
She stilled, her chest tightening. "No."
"Too late," he murmured, with a. sly smile that did not know time nor place.
"Then forget what I said," she shot back.
"I can never forget a word you say,"
A single tear glimmered in her eye. "Fine," she whispered. "I'll wager—if you leave me, I will bring you back."
"I tried that—" He was cut off by the sound of crying. Instantly, he pulled her close. "Look at me… already a terrible husband."
"Promise you will try harder then. That you will defy fate, that you'll stay with me—that is the only bet I will ever wager."
He exhaled, "Have I not always been clear? It is you… Or it is nothing."
Arthuria leaned closer into him, while her gaze drifted to the painting of him alone on the throne. The following morrow, it was gone, replaced by a portrait of the king and queen. For there was indeed a wedding, and true to the king's word, many more would continue to fill the halls every four years with the children they would raise together.
As the memory faded, Gilgamesh watched them as they surrounded the same throne he sat upon, radiating authority as always, though his heart swelled with pride. They were his greatest treasures, born of the very love that defied every fiber of his past being, the cold man he once was. The gods were never kind to those who defied their will. But for now, he pushed the thought aside. Today, they were a family, and for once, that was all that mattered. Nothing would provoke his temper. Nothing. That is what he would have said had the only person competent been present.
The painter entrusted with this generational task had handed the title of De Pr' Calimaire, The Royal Painter, over to His successor. A wiry man with streaks of paint on his clothes and a nervous expression, fidgeting while he arranged his supplies. He reluctantly lifted his gaze upward, taking a deep breath before saying, "Your Majesty, if you could… perhaps smile just a touch?"
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed. There went his good intentions, his expression unchanging. "Are you suggesting your king is not already smiling?" he asked in a deadly tone.
The painter froze, his brush trembling slightly in his hand. "N—No, Sire, it is just that more… visible smile might be more pleasing to the human eye—"
"I —beg— your pardon?" Gilgamesh said sharply.
"Dearest." Arthuria interrupted gently, her gaze fixed when she looked up from her place at his feet. "Would you smile, please? For the sake of the portrait. I am sure Lord Lorenzo meant no disrespect." She said, glancing at the painter in question, shaking his head frantically, then back to her husband.
Gilgamesh huffed, annoyed at the fact that another man's name flew out of his wife's mouth so casually, his gaze drifted to this—Lorenzo. He was a young man, barely an adult, and he liked none of those things. His face threatened to decrease from its natural rest into a scowl. "You are dismissed. Bring me the old bastard, if he cannot stand, get him a chair," he said, waiting for his wife's intervention, though it would be in vain.
"I am afraid that would not be possible, You're Majesty," Lorenzo said.
The camber immediately ceased volume.
The glare from the king made him fumble for his next words. "A thousand apologies, Your Majesties. But… Sir Belatmore's dementia has worsened. There are days he cannot even recall his name, let alone your Graces, nor his work for the crown." He paused, "I beg you to allow him his final years of comfort, before his eternal rest." He lifted his chin and turned to Arthuria, "Allow me to fulfill the promise he swore to you instead."
Arthuria inhaled softly. She remembered that day. Baltimore had been teaching her the basics of painting in her cottage.
His hands shook, yet his brush never faltered. He had looked her in the eye and said, "Love? What a question indeed… In my lifetime, I have come to understand that it stems not from appearances but flourishes from within… I see it in every painting, my dear, when the day comes and you see for yourself, I hope you will allow me to paint it, that way you will never forget."
She smiled faintly now.
Gilgamesh's hard expression softened when he felt his wife's quiet gaze on him again. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back into the throne, slowly crossing his arms in stubborn protest. Then, curled his lips into the faintest suggestion of a smile.
Lorenzo released a relieved breath. "Ah! Perfect, Your Majesty. Truly regal."
"Lose the arms," Arthuria gritted out.
Gilgamesh shot her a look of disbelief. In response, her brow twitched. Barely. But unmistakably. Then… he sighed again and uncrossed his arms.
Artizea, in her usual position, leaned slightly toward her father, smirking. "Father, if it helps, your attempt at smiling has improved over the years."
Elaine, perched casually on the left arm of the throne, snickered. "Remember last time? Mother had to bribe him with wine."
"Truth or Lie, Treasonous statements shall not go unpunished," he warned, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"I completely agree, Father," Arthur said, standing to Artizea's left, giving both his sister a look while folding his arms. "If anyone should smile, it is you, Artizea. You look like a client of the palace mortician."
"I am focused. There's a difference."
Eugene, standing to Elaine's right, adjusted his stance awkwardly. "Can we all focus on staying still? Last time, it took hours because someone would not cease fidgeting." He gave a pointed look at Elaine.
"You try standing still in a corset for four hours." Elaine quipped, swinging her already numb, propped foot lightly.
"Try gold-plated armor in 90-degree heat." Artizea chimed in,
Lorenzo cleared his throat. "Could we all hold still for just a moment? I need to capture this exact arrangement."
The family obediently settled into their positions, though small whispers and suppressed laughter broke out now and then as the painter struggled to work.
Gilgamesh leaned slightly toward his wife, "Every four years, you drag me into this madness."
She smiled, reaching up to lightly pat his hand. "And every four years, you sit through it for us, and not because I tell you to."
At the sound of her statement, His faint smile returned, this time genuine.
Elaine leaned closer to her father, "Psst—Daddy!" Her voice was a loud whisper, tapping his shoulder. "If I am your favorite, blink once for yes and two for no."
His children side-eye the king mid pose. His eyes glinted with amusement as his lips curved into a subtle smile, and after a moment, he gave Elaine a quick, deliberate wink.
The room erupted.
"I knew it!" She cheered, clapping her hands together in delight while she beamed at her siblings.
Arthuria shook her head. She just wanted a portrait.
"Unbelievable," Arthur muttered.
"I told you so," Artizea shrugged nonchalantly.
"Arthur is a visual learner," Eugene stated. "We must not interfere with his canon events."
Arthur scoffed while being patted on the back by Artizea.
Elaine stuck her tongue out at Arthur. "Do not be jealous, Big Brother. You have… other qualities."
Lorenzo coughed awkwardly, his brush hovering over the canvas. "If the royal family is ready… we may begin?"
"Begin?" Arthuria snapped, then quickly cleared her throat, easing back into her regal character. "… are we, Gil?" she peeked sideways, hoping for the barest hint of protest from her husband. Anything to escape this ordeal. But she received nothing short of obedience.
Gilgamesh raised a hand to silence the room. "Alright, enough," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Let us give the new painter a fighting chance, shall we?"
The siblings grudgingly apologized, though Elaine could not resist a soft, mocking giggle. The king's lips twitched with the faintest smirk while adjusting his posture on the throne.
"Is everyone ready?" lord Lorenzo asked caiscously.
"Ready!" the children sang in unison.
The king tilted his head at his wife. "… my love?"
Arthuria sighed in exasperation, "Ready…" though her eyes shone with affection, her breath catching while she watched her family, then turned forward with a small smile.
Finally free of the chaos, Lorenzo began his work; he did not know how his master did it all these years. Capturing the family's warmth, love, and undeniable mischief was no easy task, but the moment he closed his eyes, he remembered his master's teachings; every stroke had meaning, every mistake turned inward. When he opened them once more, he saw the love that filled the room, with every interaction, to the softest whisper and slightest touch.
He smiled, knowing exactly how to begin, determined to stay true to his own promise.
"Take care of them when I am gone, boy. Those Pendragons…They are special, that family. Very special."