GILGAMESH
THE ATMOSPHERE OF THE FAMILY'S EVENING MEAL WAS PEACEFUL, almost too peaceful. Arthur thought. He glanced nervously at Artizea, who was savoring her soup as if she had no care in the world. He had a sinking feeling in his gut. The same feeling he got when he was grounded for two moons. And it only worsened as the conversation between His father and Eugene went on. Something was off…
"Son, I hear from Arkadia that your spells have improved drastically, so much so, they wish to make you a scholar this cycle, am I correct?"
Arthuria piped up, "Really!" she exclaimed, smiling brightly
Eugene blushed, "Yes, they may have suggested something like that…"
"My son… the realm's youngest scholar." She beamed with joy. "Merlin would be proud…"
"Second son—ow!" Arthur chimed in before being swatted on the nose by his mother.
"Have you accepted?" she countered.
"Not yet, Mother," Eugene replied shyly.
"Unacceptable, what is the delay?" his father fumed.
"I simply wish to be judged the same as anyone else, and not… because of who I am."
Gilgamesh sighed, You bleed so your children may walk an easier path, and still they choose the longest road imaginable.He thought. A faint smile crossed his mind, because this child in particular would always take the longest road there was, no matter how futile or ridiculous. He almost laughed, though Eugene seemed cut from another cloth; it was he who mirrored the king most truly…more than the heir who had been his reflection. "Very well, tell me of the defense project you have been working on," he said.
Eugene's gaze flicked to his mother, who tilted her head to his father, Now's your chance. He smiled brightly, "I-I am almost finished reconstructing the links to all one score instead of manual operation…"
"Impressive." His father smiled.
Elaine grinned, "All that library time finally paid off!"
Arthur, pinching the bridge of his nose against the start of a headache, muttered, "Yes, well… they had to use it for something."
Artizea rolled her eyes. "Surely you can do better than that."
Arthur sighed, giving in. "You're right. I am proud of you, Baby brother. Truly."
Eugene blinked, never feeling more accepted. His heart swelled."To be honest, it was not just the library; Rhys' spells are impressive," he rattled off. "He even helped me with a warding spell in the forest—"
The table fell silent. All eyes around the table turned to their Father, who had been quietly listening up to that point. His gaze sharpened in slow motion, a cold weight falling over the table.
Arthur cursed under his breath, Here it comes.
"Rhys…?" Gilgamesh slurred out in a low voice.
Eugene froze, quickly realizing his mistake too late. His gaze darted to Artizea for support, but her expression had shifted to a mixture of alarm and frustration.
"There's no point," She said quickly.
Their father's jaw tightened with a crack."I am glad that is known," he said, his tone leaving no room for excuses.
Eugene continued cautiously, "Yes, Father. He… Well, he saved me in the forest. And he gave me advice on refining my spells. Without him, we might not have succeeded in shutting down the corrupted rune…"
"fUCK ME…" Arthur mouthed.
Gilgamesh stilled, then ever so slowly placed his goblet down, something unheard of in history. "We?" he asked, dangerously calm.
Artizea sighed, exchanging a glance with Arthur, who shook his head subtly, as if to say I told you so. She steeled herself and began to speak. "Elaine wandered off into the woods, and we—"
"She, What!" He interrupted, his voice rising. His gaze swept toward his youngest, who shrank in her chair.
"There was a commotion during the masquerade ball." Artizea continued quickly. "We handled it, Father. Rhyssand merely helped. It was under control."
Gilgamesh's face darkened, "It is clear None of you listen to a word I say as your god given father," he said coldly, "So hear it from your king."
The entire table tensed.
"You. Are. All. Grounded," Gilgamesh declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Until when!" Elaine cried out.
"—Until your father says otherwise!—" he roared.
The words hung in the air. Elaine whimpered quietly; her father had never used that tone of voice with her before, with any of them, not even in the throne room.
Artizea stayed silent.
For once, their mother did not intervene. She nodded solemnly, "Your Father is right, wandering into the forest at the hour of neigh without precaution was reckless, and not telling us these things leads to worse facts than you know of. You have put yourselves at risk." Her gaze fell on her oldest. "Artizea, I expected better from you."
Eugene opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it when Gilgamesh's sharp gaze fell on him, then on to the rest of his brood. No one dared speak. "Dinner is over," Gilgamesh said curtly, rising to his feet. "You are all dismissed."
The siblings exchanged glances, none of them daring to argue; they pushed back their chairs and filed out of the dining hall, the weight of their father's anger pressing down on them. When the doors of the dining hall closed, Gilgamesh sat back down, rubbing his temples.
Arthuria placed a hand on his arm, her expression softening. "You did not have to ground all of them," she said gently.
He let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, I did," he replied. "I never trust them working together. If we do not stop this now, next time it won't just be past the forest safe zone—it'll be the gates of Celestia."
Arthuria 's lips twitched, suppressing a small smile. "My, how the apple does not fall far from the tree."
Gilgamesh leaned back. Back then, he thought four versions of him alone would balance the scales of karma for this lifetime; that is, until his wife had learned his entire vocabulary and taught it to their brood, his expression torn between exasperation and reluctant pride, he rubbed his temples, muttering under his breath, "My blood pressure."
ARTIZEA
When the siblings reached the hallway, Elaine was draped over Arthur's back, sobbing as he carried her to her room.
"H-he used the voice on me! H-he did not even say when!" she wailed.
"Probably two moons for us. One for you," Arthur muttered.
"A moon?!" She cried harder, face buried in his shoulder.
Arthur rolled his eyes.
Artizea pulled Eugene aside. "You shouldn't have mentioned him," she hissed.
Eugene sighed, "I was not trying to make things worse. I just… I thought he would understand."
"Father does not understand compromise," Artizea said, her expression dark. "And the Prince of Celestia is not our ally. He has his motives, and we cannot forget that. Trust no one—"
"What?" He frowned.
"Forget it…" Artizea interrupted, her voice low. "Let's just survive being grounded first."
He nodded.
When they both parted ways for the evening.
That night, Artizea's body refused sleep. She physically could not leave Eugene, thinking his feelings were unappreciated, even if Rhyssand was distant with her; she shouldn't let her brother feel what she felt, she thought, walking past the occasional sound of royal knightguards patrolling the hallways. Rolling her eyes at the fact that their father actually had the ones sworn to him on watch.
She stood outside Eugene's chamber, knocking softly on the door. "Eugene?" she called, her voice calm but insistent. "I know you are upset, I just wanted to…"
When there was no response, she frowned and opened the door, only to find the room empty. Her stomach dropped the moment her gaze scanned the space. His books were scattered across the desk, a faint glow of magic lingering in the air.
"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. Of all her siblings. Eugene was the only one who could slip past their father's defenses. His recent mastery of magic made him nearly impossible to track now—unless you knew exactly how to think like him.
Artizea clenched her fists. If she could not follow him, there was only one person who could. She had to go straight to the source. She stood by her window, her arms crossed, and she breathed in.
"Rhyssand Rimat, I require your assistance," she muttered, "Please…," she added softly, but to her surprise, she was met with nothing but silence. She opened one eye and stared at the sky, then frowned, "Hellooo?" she whispered, still nothing. "Are you fucking serious?!" she huffed. "RHY—"
Just when she was about to scream at the top of her lungs, Fin dropped on the sill, tilting his head, his feathers ruffling slightly as if in irritation. "Your screaming is unfortunate for me, your highness. His wave is off."
"Did he turn it off?"
"How would I know I am just a bird who cannot sing, remember?" he snapped
"Is he with her?" she blurted before she could stop herself.
Fin tilted his head. "Highly doubt it. She got married last marrow—definitely not to him. And she hates his guts for making her the laughingstock of Celestia."
"To whom?"
"Queens' right hand."
Artizea tried to hide her smirk, propping her hands on her hips as her foot tapped the floor. "Is she pretty?"
"Not the fairest of the realm, I am afraid—Now, what does any of this have to do with me?"
Artizea cleared her throat, "Fin," she said, her tone firm. "I need you to deliver a message."
The sparrow hopped closer, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "And who are you to tell me what to do?" he replied in his familiar, high-pitched but distinctly sassy voice. "I answer to no one but Lord Rhyssand."
Artizea raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "I know how Rhyssand saved you from being eaten by timber wolves, remember that? And, I am sleeping with him." She leaned in slightly, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Which makes me your mistress, does it not?"
Fin pretended to gag, fluttering his wings dramatically. "Oh, gods, spare me the details! I am not your therapist! If you two are so close, why does he not answer you himself? Hm?"
"I may have told him to go screw himself," Artizea muttered, gaze fixed elsewhere.
Fin arched a brow. "And what has anything of that got to do with me?"
"Nothing." She tilted her head, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Oh—speaking of nothing," she slid a bag from her chest of drawers every so slowly to his eyesight, "these seeds… just arrived from Arkadia. I hear the mages there grow the most beautiful gardens, special bees, they call…"
"Baby Lamos?" Fin asked warily.
"That is the one!" She sighed, almost wistfully. "Shame… no one will get to taste them…"
Fin's eyes narrowed. "Fine, I will do it," he said with a dramatic sigh of an overworked servant. "But I demanded payment upfront."
"Good," Artizea shot back, giving him a few seeds, then crossing her arms again. "Now go."
Fin snapped out of his euphoria, then clicked his beak, his head tilting as though considering her words. "Fine," he said, drawing the word out with mock reluctance. "But only because I owe him. Not because of your ridiculous 'mistress' claim." He spread his wings to take off.
"Wait!" Artizea exclaimed, calling him closer,
He sighed, hopping closer as she whispered her question. When she finished, he gave a long-suffering chirp. "Not by a long shot, Princess."
With a sharp beat of his wings, he vanished into the night.
As soon as he was gone, Artizea spun in a circle, grinning in silent triumph. Her smirk faded into a more serious expression, turning her thoughts to Eugene.
Trust no one.
"I know—" she screamed in her head, but he had no choice but to rely on Rhyssand now. He was her last hope, and for Eugene's sake, she hoped Fin wouldn't take his time.
RHYSSAND
The air around Eugene shimmered with magic, the runes of his book pulsating with light. He always felt out of place, even among his blood. And just when he thought he had finally caught their eye. He sighed, His jaw clenched as his frustration bubbled beneath the surface. He was so tired…trying. But he would not give up."I will show them, one day…'he muttered to himself, his fingers etching another rune. "One day."So he slipped away quietly, heading back to the outskirts of the palace grounds. He traced his way through the forest and approached the ruins. He knelt in the dense woods, his hands glowing faintly while tracing the soft earth. Then, He felt a familiar energy nearby. Alarmed that it may be a beast nearby or worse, the demon. He prepared to defend himself this time, only to see Rhyssand leaning casually against a tree, his arms crossed with a smirk on his face.
"Let me guess, you plan to blast me away with an unfinished spell, hoping I would sit and correct it long enough to escape? Correct?"
"Funny, I did not think you were the 'sarcastic' type," Eugene said.
"Funny, I did not peg you as the 'runaway Prince,'" Rhyssand replied.
"What are you doing here?" Eugene asked defensively.
Rhyssand shrugged, stepping closer. "A little birdie told me"
Eugene frowned, looking away. "I do not need a babysitter."
Rhyssand crouched beside him, "No, you do not." studying the runes with interest. "But it never hurts to have someone to talk to."
Eugene's shoulders sagged, the reawakened fighting spirit draining from him. "My family does not take me seriously. None of them do." His gaze dropped to the floor, voice low. "My father banned the mages of Arkadia from teaching. Said he did not trust them." He hesitated, jaw tightening. "What he really meant was… he did not trust me." A breath caught in his throat before he forced himself to continue. "My aunt was a mage, too. They say she hurt my mother. For a time, I understood the why, but now I cannot help but wish to know how, so that I may use my gifts for good," he paused, "Just because I do not carry a sword does not mean I am not a true Pendragon… right?"
Rhyssand's expression softened. "Think of magic as a different kind of weapon," he said quietly, "In the wrong hands, it could be exploited."
Eugene let out a bitter laugh. "Great. Another lecture about responsibility, then?"
Rhyssand tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "I am the last person who would give that kind of speech. But…"
"Here it comes."
"—Running away does not solve anything, kid."
"I am not a kid, and I am not running away. I am just—"
"Tired." Rhyssand finished, while sitting beside him, his tone more serious now. "And you are angry. Whether you wish to admit it or not, you wish for someone to give a shit enough to come find you to give a shit about what you do. Trust me, I get it. But you are also too smart enough to know that this isn't how you win his gaze."
Eugene's eyes narrowed at the lonely pebble across from him.
Rhyssand nodded, thinking thoughtfully. "It is not easy being in the shadow of giants. I know a bit about that."
Eugene finally raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "You are a Prince of heaven. What would you know about being overlooked?"
Rhyssand chuckled softly. "Being a Prince does not mean you are automatically respected. I had to prove myself, too, and even then…" he paused, almost as if pushing a memory back to the debts from where it came, "Not everyone believed in me. I learned then, respect was not something you earn, but taken, not with strength but with conviction."
Eugene hesitated, "I have tried. I have studied, I have practiced, to show them I can do it, but it is as if they are blind to it all. Even Arthur…" He trailed off, then sat down on a log. "I look up to him, and now I know why. He's everything I wish to be, the perfect brother, warrior, and everything that matters. I can't top that, let alone hope to reach my father's level."
"Then don't," Rhyssand said flatly, while crouching beside him, meeting his gaze directly. "Never envy your blood, I carry within me years of consequences for a sin I did not commit. But I will not let it define me or the decisions I make in the life I only live, and neither will you. You do not need the approval of strangers, your family, let alone your long-dead ancestors. You alone must know your worth if you are to have any chance of proving it to the rest of the world in the present. But if you wish them to see it…start with what you can control, and in the blink of your eye, you will cease asking yourself if this is something I can do, but what fate has in store for me next."
Eugene sighed, "That is a really…great speech, Rhyssan'dsnezhniyah, but it is also easier said than done."
Rhyssand smirked. Of course, this one would get it right, he thought. "Not if you have the right tools." He extended a hand, a soft golden glow emanating from his palm. "Let me teach you something. A spell that will let you communicate with me, no matter where I am."
Eugene's eyes widened in surprise. "A communication spell?"
"Something like that, only those with magic circuits can use this," Rhyssand explained. "The one I hold is a bubble-like orb to convey your message. Discreet, fast, and difficult to intercept. It is something I have used in my battles to stay connected with my allies."
Eugene hesitated for a moment, then nodded, intrigued.
Rhyssand began demonstrating the spell, his hands weaving intricate patterns in the air as he explained the mechanics.
Eugene followed along, his brow furrowing in concentration.
"Like this?" Eugene asked, forming an unstable, shimmering orb.
"Almost…" Rhyssand said, adjusting the boy's hand slightly. "Try using your book for now as a catalyst, focus on the intent of your message."
He tried again, opening the book beneath him, and this time, the orb solidified, a faint golden hue swirling within. His face lit up with a rare smile. "I did it!"
Rhyssand clapped him on the shoulder. "Well done. Now you have a way to reach me if you need advice—or just need someone to talk to."
Eugene stared at the orb for a moment before looking back at Rhyssand. "Thank you. For this… and for listening."
Rhyssand stood, stretching slightly. "Anytime, kid."
Eugene hesitated for a moment before smirking slightly. "I saw you and Artizea at the lake."
Rhyssand stiffened slightly, his expression unreadable. "When?"
Eugene shrugged, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "A while ago. You two did not look like enemies."
Finally, a small smile tugged at the corner of Rhyssand's lips. "And what exactly did it look like?"
Eugene tilted his head, pretending to think. "Let's just say… it did not look like you were plotting each other's downfall. Whatever you do, it makes her less…warrior, I like her better that way, less…angry."
Rhyssand chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I thought you were the sibling who did not notice these things."
"Quite frankly, I am the one who does; they just do not listen," Eugene said, flatly. "So it is true, then?" he pressed,
Rhyssand sighed, his smirk widening, running a hand through his hair. "You caught me, kid."
"I knew it!" Eugene said triumphantly, then his voice softened. "What is it like? Loving someone you are not supposed to, the celestial version?"
Rhyssand blinked, caught off guard by the series of questions. Love? After a moment, he finally said, "It is unimaginably maddening. It is as if nothing else in the world matters until there's only the two of you in it. You start to feel insane when you see no one but them. Again and again, you want them close every waking moment, then every night, dream of them when you mean to be at rest. And when you touch—" he glanced down at his hands, as if Artizea's face lingered there "you never want to let go. You wish to see them happy… more than anything. You pray for that happiness, but you are selfish enough to pray it is only with you."
"Deep stuff," Eugene nodded, satisfied. "Good. She deserves it after everything, you know, the happiness part—' He trailed off, his magic orb sparking slightly in his hands. "Just don't hurt her, then you will really see our true colors."
Rhyssand tilted his head. "Your sister says this one line, I swear upon… roses?"
Eugene's gaze softened, "Our mother keeps a garden of roses, scattered across many places. Each one was planted for every life she took before she laid Excalibur to rest. Some wither, some endure, some bloom again—but they live, all the while experiencing life beside us. And every petal that falls is a life forgiven. A hope that they find eternal rest."
"That is deep, too." Rhyssand nodded.
"I may not understand my family at times, but I do love them; that will never change," Eugene said softly.
"Duly noted." Rhyssand chuckled. "About your… solitude problem,"
Eugene raised a brow, "Your sister tells me how much you value your privacy, A trait we both share. What if I told you there is a place where no one can get in without your permission?"
Eugene blinked. "You jest."
"I never jest about magic."
"What kind of place?" Eugene asked slowly.
"One of your own making. It will take time to master. Effort. Focus. But when you do…" Rhyssand's eyes glinted. "You will never again be followed, unless you wish to be. Not even by your beloved brother. My only request is that you call me by the name I am to you… not the title trusted apon me."
Eugene did not speak for a long moment as he reflected on their common traits. Then he murmured, almost cautiously, "Thank you, Rhys."
"Anytime, kid."
"I am not a kid…" Eugene mumbled in vain.
Artizea was pacing near the gate, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. The moonlight cast long shadows across the courtyard, but she barely noticed. Her mind was a whirlwind of worry and frustration. When she saw Rhyssand and Eugene approaching, her heart leapt with relief, but her expression remained stern.
Eugene opened his mouth to speak, but Artizea cut him off, her voice sharp and unyielding. "Get inside. Now."
Eugene lowered his head and obeyed, slipping past her without another word.
Artizea turned her attention to Rhyssand, her expression softening slightly. "Thank you," she said quietly, though her voice still carried a trace of tension.
Rhyssand nodded, his gaze lingering on her. "He's just trying to find his place. Do not be too hard on him."
She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "I know."
Rhyssand leaned casually against a pillar, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I am curious as to why you trusted me with this, after…"
"Oh, please, you are the one—" she quickly composed herself, taking a breath. We are grounded." Her eyes narrowed, "It is mostly your fault."
Rhyssand raised an eyebrow. "My fault? How exactly?"
"Eugene looks up to you," she said, taking a step closer. "You are the one who inspires him to think he can bend the rules and sneak out like this."
Rhyssand chuckled softly, shaking his head. "So now I am the bad influence?"
Her lips twitched, but she did not smile."You are," she said firmly, though her voice carried a faint edge of teasing. "Thank you," she muttered.
"Don't mention it. Though I have to say, grounding does not exactly feel like your father's style."
"Never judge a book by its cover…" though her eyes softened. "You did not answer me when I asked for help."
Rhyssand did not flinch, but his gaze shifted for the briefest moment, scanning the shadows behind him. "I am being watched on my side. From now on, anytime you require my help, do as you did and ask Fin, unless, of course, you should like to see me lose my wings for treason."
Artizea crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Telling me your weakness? My plan to deceive you must be working."
Rhyssand's lips curved into that slow, dangerous smile she knew too well. "Deceive me?"
Her eyes narrowed, but she did not look away. "What? You think I cannot?"
"I think it is adorable," he said, "In fact… I think I might even like to see you try."
The space between them was charged with unspoken tension.
She lifted her chin, defiance in the tilt, and crossed the space between them.
"We are out in the open," Rhyssand murmured, his voice a quiet warning.
"I lied," she said, stopping just close enough for him to feel her breath. "I just did not wish you to come inside. We do unspeakable things in my home, plus I am still angry after what you said to me."
A slow, almost predatory smile tugged at his lips. "Really… is that your grand deception? Deprivation?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "Only we humans like to call it blue balls."
He clicked his tongue softly. "Tsk." In one swift motion, he caught her leg and lifted it, his other hand sliding to her waist, pressing her back against the cold surface behind them.
"What about the walls of your home, then?" he asked. His gaze lingered on her. She was so close now. It was almostunbearable. He had tried his best to push her away, to keep her at arm's length so he wouldn't hurt her more than she had already been. But standing here, with the fire in her eyes and the faint scent of roses clinging to her, his restraint cracked. "Answer the question, Artizea," he growled.
"That depends…" she whispered, "On what you plan to do to me…" she dared say.
He leaned in, "You know exactly what you do to me—"
Before she could respond, his lips captured hers in a kiss that was both desperate and unyielding. She froze for a split second, startled, but then her hands gripped his collar, pulling him closer, kissing him back with equal fervor.
The moment was interrupted by the sharp clearing of a throat. "Crown Princess," Sir James' voice said hesitantly from behind them, "The king—"
Artizea abruptly broke the kiss and turned. "You are sworn to me," she said sharply, her tone laced with authority. "You speak to no one. Is that understood? not even Arthur."
Sir James straightened immediately, his face pale. "Crown Princess," he said quickly, bowing before retreating.
Rhyssand watched the exchange, slightly licking his bottom lip. "Well, that is one way to handle it."
She turned back to him, her expression half-annoyed, half-amused. "You should leave before my father does indeed hear of this."
He chuckled, stepping back with his arms in Surrender.
For a moment, their eyes met, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was weighted, charged with something unspoken.
"Thanks again," she said.
Her voice snapped him back to reality before nodding, "My pleasure."
"I suppose dates or postponed, then?" she inquired.
"For now." His gaze still lingering on her, "Though I swear upon your mother's roses…Not indefinitely…" he caught her surprise reaction before he stepped back into his portal.
Even in a completely different realm, He could not shake the image of Artizea pacing outside the castle gates, her worry etched into every line of her face. It was not part of the plan to care, yet somehow, he did. His mother's voice echoed in his mind:
"Gain their trust."
The plan was working perfectly. He had ingratiated himself into the family core. But while he sat alone on the palace threshold, a pang of guilt twisted in his chest. He shouldn't feel guilty. This was for the greater good—or so he told himself. And yet, he could not ignore Eugene's voice in the back of his mind that asked:
"Love?"
"Happiness?"
Rhyssand's carefully constructed plan began to falter when he realized he had deceived himself into thinking his feelings for Artizea were an act. When the time comes, will you be able to betray them? He strode forward with a strengthened resolve. He must. He must because He had to.
For her own good.