The throne sat high above the city, as it always had. Under his rule Uruk flourished, the people were happy and this prosperity seemed like it could go on forever. The people never starved, the children enjoyed their time playing, the old could afford to rest.
But not everyone was as happy. The once cheerful king wasn't as cheerful anymore.
He was growing, he was not just a child anymore, he was now a young man. But growing did not make him any happier. The people were still there, the priests still offered their chants, the temples had rich offerings.
But he sat alone.
Because no one understood him.
Because none of them saw him for who he was.
The people saw him as a god and treated him as such, they revered him and worshiped him, to them he was unreachable and untouchable.
The gods saw him as nothing more than a mortal and a tool to survive the fall of the age of gods.
That's all he was to them. 9000 years prior to his birth a calamity struck the planet. Before then the world was governed by other civilizations than the current ones but they were still led by the various gods of the many 'pantheons'.
But suddenly one day a threat arrived from the stars to strike the earth.
The White Titan Sefar.
It originated from an extraterrestrial entity whose purpose is to purge intelligent life.
The battle was ferocious and many divine spirits perished without even being able to fight back. And the destruction It caused went as far as to raze 80% of the planet's surface.
Eventually Sefar was defeated by a human who wielded the holy sword of the planet, a weapon forged from the hopes and aspirations of the humans and the stars themselves, the ultimate weapon.
But even if the enemy was vanquished the damage couldn't just be undone. The Greater Source of the World that produced a great density of magical energy called True Ether was damaged.
The problem being that phantasmal species and divine spirits could not survive in a world deprived of such dense magical energy, meaning that the age of gods was destined to eventually come to end when the collective consciousness of the world called Gaia decided it was time to seal away what remained and whatever remained on the world surface would be inevitably destined to meet its end.
That's the reason why he was born. To prevent the end of the gods so that they could preserve their existence on the surface of the world without the assistance of the True Ether by using the worship of the humans by planting a ruler sharing their blood but also the blood of the humans so he could act as a perfect 'wedge' to connect the two.
Of that He had always been aware of… but he could never bring himself to face it. Deep down he searched for a form of 'love' or companionship with the gods he had seen as his parents. But the more he grew up the less he could avert his 'gaze' from the actual truth.
He was born for 2 / 3 god and 1 / 3 human, and because he was born as both and neither of them his view far surpassed the reach of both humans and gods.
He who saw the deep(everything). Sha Naqba Imuru.
That's what his subject called his wisdom as they saw with their own eyes how he could see the true nature of everything and could find the solution to every problem before they even happened.
And it was true. His eyes could indeed see the true nature of all things and countless futures. But that just made it all the more apparent to him.
He was alone.
He could see many futures but ended up getting more and more despaired the more he watched. There exists countless possible futures and he might just have looked at could be barely called a fraction of it in the grand scheme of things… but that did not mean the number of futures he saw was low.
He saw many outcomes and many possibilities but the answers remained unchanged.
He and the gods will never see eye to eye no matter what.
And so only he remained, his only company was his duty as a king.
Raising from the throne he looked over the city from the top of the ziggurat. He looked at the people going back and forth, at times some directed their attention to the ziggurat offering prayers… but the young king hardly felt any compassion from seeing the gesture, he was nearly disgusted seeing it.
It frustrated him. The prayers, the songs, the offerings, they weren't gestures of love. They were his cages.
The gods had made him to be a bridge, but bridges are trampled from both sides. They had never loved him, they just feared the end of their dominion and were not interested in him apart from the job he was created for.
And the people? They praised him, yes. They sang his name and built him statues, but even they looked at him with the same eyes the gods did. He was not a person, he was a symbol.
And he had tried. He had tried.
To walk among them. To rule fairly and show he was more than what he was made for.
But in the end it will be all for naught.
No matter what road he followed, what words he spoke, what battles he fought, it would always end in disillusionment. The gods would never return his love. The people would never understand his loneliness.
There was only one truth left. He was the King.
So he would do his best to achieve the best result for these people… for these mongrels clinging to his rule.
Thus they must be separated. Forever.
Humanity would never be free while they bowed to the divine.
And the gods had no right to rule a world they themselve had no intention to work hard for.
So if he must be a wedge, let him split the heavens from the earth.
Let the gods rot in their unreachable sky.
Meanwhile he would keep humanity alive. He would let them see the dawn of the new day reaching the horizon. He would stop being the perfect ruler he once was, for there is no need for him anymore, he need not hold himself back. The world belonged to him so he will enjoy all its riches and pleasure without holding back. After all, what use would it serve anyway?
And so the young king decided to leave the top of the ziggurat to retire for the night as tomorrow he will embark on his new rule.
But there was something he failed to realise. Maybe because he was more godly than any demigod that came before and will come after him he ended up becoming and acting like the gods he despised. And that might as well have been both his curse and blessing.
***
A violent shiver coursed through the boy's spine as his eyes flew open. The cold clung to his skin like a second layer, his nightwear damped with sweat. His breath came in short, panicked pants, sucking air as if he had just nearly drowned. There was a tight knot in his stomach that made him feel extremely uncomfortable and he felt his core twisting.
He sat up with a start as his heart hammered against his ribs, his vision swimming in the early morning light of the chamber coming from the windows.
"Oi." Came a voice, smooth and far too amused for the hour. "You look like someone who just saw the end of the world."
The kid haggardly turned his head to see Gilgamesh lying next to him some distance away on the bed with his hands behind his head. The golden king raised a single eyebrow, smirking. "Did you have a nightmare, little brat?"
His tone was mocking, but not cruel, it was more jokingly as if to break the ice from tension the boy was in. Still, for some reason, just hearing his voice grated against the rawness inside the boy, who couldn't yet form words. His stomach lurched violently as if it had been turned inside out.
BLEEERRGGGHHHHH
".."
"..."
For a moment all sound seemed to vanish.
Gilgamesh sat up and slowly looked down at his ruined trousers. The once pristine pair of trousers that used to be a nightwear was now stained in the child gastric fluids.
He looked at the boy.
Then intently back at his trousers.
Then back at the boy.
"..."
"..."
His jaw twitched as a vein became more and more visible on his forehead.
"... Good morning to you as well, you…retching little mongrel." He said finally breaking the silence, voice was low and strained with the maximum effort of keeping himself in check.
But after a moment of silence he just ended up losing this battle against his own nerves. "OF ALL DAMN PLACES IN YOUR SURROUNDINGS YOU JUST HAD TO THROW UP ON ME YOU BRAT?"
The boy still recovering from his turmoil looked up to him. After thinking for a moment and analysing the situation he was able to give him a flat reply. "... I'm sorry, I just couldn't hold it back."
Gilgamesh exhaled through his nose, he was very irritated to start the morning like this but knew that the boy wouldn't feel 'sorry' anyway as he was incapable to. "...Never mind you wouldn't understand either way. But be warned next time something like this happens I'll be disciplining you."
Then he angrily tossed his trousers on the ground before setting them on fire (somehow not triggering the fire prevention system) using a strange object that resembled a flint and steel.
After making sure the contaminated object was purified by the flames (reduced to ashes to never return to the world) he turned back to the kid. "I'll go take a shower to wash away your filth. Try not to dirty the entire room."
The boy responded with a nod and remained seated on the edge of the bed, still breathing unevenly. The sheets beneath him were a tangled mess, sweat clinging to his back, making him shiver.
His hands still trembled and he felt his entire core contract.
'What was that? I feel like I'm getting crushed. Why do I feel like this?'
He clenched the covers tightly. This was the second time he had a dream like that. The first was yesterday before he woke up from his attempted suicide and the second is now. Both dreams had been taxing on him and this last one seemed worse than the first.
He rubbed at his sternum with small, uncertain motions as though he could massage out the discomfort lingering behind his ribs. The pain gradually started settling down, though probably not thanks to his massage.
He glanced toward the bathroom, hearing the faint sound of splashing and murmuring of curses. Gilgamesh was clearly having a different kind of meltdown.
Turning his attention away the boy pulled his knees to his chest and curled himself up as he waited for him to finish his shower.
"...I feel cold."
***
At that moment, the door swung open and Gilgamesh stepped out in a new robe, water still dripping from the ends of his hair.
He glanced at the boy curled up on the bed and paused. The haughty scowl on his face softened. After all, he had half an idea of what was happening.
"Nightmares aren't real, you know." Gilgamesh said, toweling his hair with more aggression than necessary.
The boy looked up slowly.
"Is that what it was?" he asked, voice barely audible. "A nightmare?"
Gilgamesh studied him, towel pausing mid motion. "Yes, even if I don't know what you've dreamed of, I don't need to know it to tell you this. It's not real so don't let it shake you."
Getting closer he brought a chair near the bed where the kid was. "Even if you dreamed a moment of the past or one of the future or something else entirely it does not matter. They are all not real. You can at times learn from your dreams and better yourself looking at them but you mustn't let yourself be swept away from them."
Removing the towel from the top of his head he looked straight in the boy's eyes. "It might have happened in the dream but it's not happening to you in this moment. That's why it's not real."
"...I see." The boy blinked.
That… made sense. Sort of.
Gilgamesh shook his head in the bathroom's direction. "Now go wash yourself and get dressed. I'm not spending the rest of the day brooding with you while reeking of bile. I have plans for today so be prepared."
Getting up from the bed the boy nodded and made his way to the bathroom.
Looking at him, Gilgamesh had a faint smile on his lips. After all, if dreams could hurt him like that… did that not mean he just took his very first step forward even if it was thanks to an external help.