EUGENE
EUGENE SLID A BOOK BACK INTO ITS RIGHTFUL PLACE ON THE SHELF. He had only returned from Egypt scarcely a few hours ago, and already the library was in disarray—a curious phenomenon, considering he was the only one who ever truly claimed it. Still, as his mother liked to remind him, sharing was caring. He only wished those who cared enough to use the books also cared enough to return them. And that they'd care, perhaps, to leave the shelves as meticulously arranged as he did. He exhaled a low, weary sigh. 1, 2, 3, so no one—
"Hello? Is anyone here?" a soft, tentative voice echoed.
He froze, then frowned. No one was in the library. He convinced his person. Slowly, he pushed another book into its spot.
"Hellooo?"
He winced, then carefully slid the last book into place, determined he had not heard anything. A second later, a loud thuderupted from the other side of the aisle, followed by a pained voice.
"Ow!"
"Hello?" Eugene finally murmured.
"Hey! Uh… I think I am stuck."
Eugene sighed painfully with a scowl in preparation for human interaction while descending the ladder. Sure enough, when he found the isle, a girl lay sprawled on the floor, buried under an absurd pile of books. He tilted his head. By all logic, the angle of the fall and the estimated weight should have snapped her spine and done the trick. Conclusion: She was an idiot who tried to carry everything at once.
"Hello…?"
"Sorry. Dazed." He extended his hand.
She waved around to find it, quickly emerging from the pile, cheeks flushed. "Thank you… Oh—Your Highness."
He nodded curtly. "Be careful next time." Already turning away, he calculated his schedule. He had five minutes left to reach the mandatory breakfast.
"Excuse me—"
Minus sixty seconds.
"Yes?"
"I am training to be a scholar… hoping to go to Arkadia. This week's topic is history. I was wondering if you might have any suggestions? I do not think any of these seem to be it…" she said, looking around helplessly.
"Isle four-N. Seven-oh-four-L. And A-two."
She blinked. "What?"
"The aisles for history," he clarified.
"Oh! Right." She laughed nervously. "Thank you, Your Highness."
He pressed his lips into a thin line, nodded stiffly, and started to walk away.
"I was wondering what time you will be—"
SLAM.
"Back…"
GILGAMESH
The king sat at the head of the table, his eyes sharp as ever despite the true tiredness that lay beneath them. Beside him was a missing seat; his wife had not been present since the rite of challenge.
"The knights on the south border are changing their head of captain next lunar, and opposed to the ships' harvest," said the Arkadian councilman.
The door opened.
"Good morrow…" Artizea said cautiously.
"Are you sure you are well-rested?" Gilgamesh watched his daughter with a heavy heart, his tone more curious than critical. "The healers requested a week after the strain—"
Artizea sighed in relief, then gave a polite smile, "I am Fine, thank you, Father." She walked to her father and kissed him on the cheek, taking her seat and glancing down at her plate.
"Very well." He said.
"Where's my kiss!" Arthur grinned.
"Would you like to kiss the floor of the training grounds, dear brother—"
Arthur winced in memories, "I take it back, keep your love."
"No training, until next four moons, I mean it," Gilgamesh sternly said.
"Yes, Father," they both said with a mirrored smirk.
The door to the hall creaked open, and Elaine entered. "Good marrow! Sorry to be late, again—and guess who I found!" she bounced while tugging Eugene in.
"We are not late…" he muttered, shuffling in. Two more seconds and he would have been. Unacceptable, surely a trap set by a higher power. His gaze darted to Arthur, stuffing his face.
"Even better." Elaine quipped, while running to her seat, her cheeks flushed from her morning strolls, while moving effortlessly around the table, she kissed her father on the cheek as well, before taking her seat with a radiant smile as if she had nothing to hide.
Gilgamesh looked up from his plate, one eyebrow arching when he noticed the faint scent of the forest clinging to her. "And where could you be coming from, smelling like a forest? and bugs..?"
Arthur whistled, "Somebody's gonna get grounded…"
Elaine rolled her eyes, grabbing a pastry from the spread. "Daddy, they are called blue light fireflies, and yes, they wereamazing, magical, and completely in the safe zone."
"You would think she discovered the hidden realm by now," Arthur remarked.
Elaine shot him a glare, then continued, "Besides… they only appear in the early hours before dawn every 10 years."
"It is impressive how you manage to find them then," Eugene added with a pointed gaze, "without help..."
Artizea sipped her tea, glancing between her father and siblings, "You really should try joining her sometime, Father. It might improve your appreciation for the forest."
Gilgamesh gave his eldest a wry look. "I appreciate the forest just fine… from a distance," he grimaced, then shifted to his youngest. "And you—"
Arthur perked up, waiting for the verdict.
"Make sure to take a thicker shawl. Gods know why you insist on wearing just the one."
Arthur sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair unsatisfied. He twirled a fork between his fingers with practiced ease before flicking it toward Eugene. Eugene caught it mid-spin, arching a brow.
"Baby brother," Arthur said, "what are your probabilities of this story being true?"
"Ninety-five percent," Eugene replied casually, tossing it back, but with magic.
Arthur caught it and smirked. "How so?" lobbing it toward his left.
Artizea snatched it cleanly, swapped it for a knife, and sent it flying back to him. Arthur caught it and threw it to Eugene.
"Because," Eugene said, catching it again and sending it spinning back, "that is how favoritism works."
The exchange kept going, laughter building with each toss until somehow the utensil ended up sailing toward their father. He caught it effortlessly, his eyes narrowing while inspecting it. "Would your mother approve of this?" he inquired.
"Yes, actually," Arthur said without hesitation.
Their father frowned, then conceded with a nod. "Proceed," tossing it back to Arthur, and the utensil triangle resumed.
"I wanna play—" Elaine beamed.
"No," the table said in unison.
"My King, the hour is neigh." The Arkadian councilman bowed.
Gilgamesh turned his attention to Artizea. "Finish up, the council is expecting us," he spat.
She nodded, flinging the knife to Arthur's direction before setting her cup down and rising gracefully from her seat. "I am ready."
Elaine looked up from her plate, her curiosity piqued. "What is the council discussing today?"
"The usual," Artizea replied, adjusting her cloak. "Trade routes' safety and a few disputes between the tribes." Behind her, her brothers were locked in. Eugene's power held the knife suspended, its point hovering dangerously close to Arthur's eye. Arthur's wrist jerked and twisted, veins standing out as he fought against himself… "Nothing particularly thrilling."
Gilgamesh smirked. "Unless you have decided to bring your butterflies to liven up the proceedings."
"Fireflies!" Elaine stuck out her tongue, earning a chuckle from her father. While he and her sister prepared to leave. She called after them, "Tell the council not to bore Artizea to death, Daddy!"
The king raised a hand in acknowledgment.
Artizea glanced at him as they walked. "You are in a good mood this marrow."
His lips curved into a faint smile."Your sister has a way of making a dead soul arise with that spirit of hers."
"Certainly," Artizea chuckled, shaking her head. After a moment of silence, she decided to speak on the elephant in the room. "Is Mother still upset?"
A flicker of hurt passed through his eyes. "She just needs some time," he said softly. Trying to convince himself in the process.
ARTIZEA
"And then—"
Artizea stirred awake at the foreign voice. Her body was present, but her thoughts were elsewhere, weighed down by a strange emptiness she could not explain. There were no voices. Strange.
The Arkadian councilman continued, his voice cutting through the monotony, "There is the matter of Unusual fluctuations in magic that have still not been linked together. The monarch of Celestia suggests a celestial ambassador as an act of… goodwill, that we may find its source."
The mention of the word celestial brought Artizea's attention sharply into focus. Her eyes snapped to the advisor, completely oblivious to the effect his words had.
"The document provided suggests that they intend to issue the role to one, Rhyssand Rimat, the Prince of heaven, your grace," the advisor said, his tone cautious, as if speaking the name itself carried weight.
"Princess." A fleeting image of golden eyes and the soft brush of wings crossed her mind.
"Rhyssand?" she muttered under her breath.
The councilor paused, "Your grace?"
Artizea quickly composed herself. "Why him?" She inquired.
The councilor faltered for the right words, "Well.. I would dare assume Her Highness favors her son to do such things on her behalf, Your Highness."
Artizea shook her head, dismissing their concern. But the name lingered on her tongue like a long-lost secret. She blinked, forcing herself to focus.
The Egyptian councilwoman looked startled but quickly recovered. "Should we accept the proposal, my king?"
"A deal is a deal," Gilgamesh said affirmatively. "I am no liar."
As the day wore on, Artizea threw herself into her duties, but the hollow feeling lingered. The court meetings felt routine, her conversations with her family and advisors perfunctory.
The palace buzzed with activity as servants scurried through the halls, carrying bolts of rich fabric, trays of polished silverware, and baskets of fresh flowers. Chandeliers were polished until they sparkled like the stars, and the great ballroom was transformed into a vision of opulence.
She stood in the center of the chaos, overseeing the arrangements with a critical eye, inspecting the towering arrangements of golden lilies and roses.
All for the upcoming Masquerade ball.
"That needs more gold," she said, gesturing to one of the floral displays. "And make sure the lanterns are adjusted to enhance the shine. It is a masquerade, not a funeral."
Elaine breezed past her, juggling a scroll of guest lists. "Remind me why it needs to be ten times bigger than last year?"
"Because Father and Mother decided the entire kingdom needs a reminder of their unity," Artizea replied dryly. "Apparently, no one believes it unless they see it with their own eyes."
Arthur appeared, snatching an apple from a passing servant's tray. "And because the entire kingdom saw that slap mother gave him."
Eugene chuckled from where he stood by the door, flipping through a book on courtly etiquette. "I think it is a well-strategic move. A public display of strength and harmony goes a long way in quelling rumors, etc."
Artizea sighed, rubbing her temples. "Rumors that would cease to exist had they not been arguing so loudly that half the kingdom could hear them."
Elaine smirked, nudging her sister. "At least we know the castle walls are sturdy."
As the siblings bantered, a shadow slipped into the palace grounds unnoticed. His face obscured by the brim of a hood while pausing near the entrance to the ballroom, taking in every detail—the positioning of the knightguards, the layout of the space, the exits. His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile.
Soon.
GILGAMESH
The sun descended as quickly as it rose. It was yet again the hour of the mandatory evening meal, though they ate in a heavy silence.
The king's usual confidence seemed diminished. He tried his very best to ignore the gnawing unease that settled in his chest in front of his children, but his mind was clouded with worry about the distance growing between him and his wife, who usually sat beside him, and was notably absent. The seat next to him remained empty since the argument from many nights ago lingered in his thoughts.. Instead, she had taken breakfast in her cottage alone, and so went the odd and even cycle of here, there, everywhere but near… away from him. And he allowed it. Because she had wished it.
Artizea glanced at her father, then at her mother's empty seat, but neither she nor the rest of her siblings said a word. The quiet stretched on, punctuated only by the clink of silverware on fine china.
Their father cleared his throat and pushed his plate aside, unable to stomach another bite. The room seemed to hold its breath until he finally spoke, his voice cutting through the stillness. "It seems your mother will be absent again tonight," he said, his tone measured but betraying a hint of frustration. "You may retire—"
"Could it be possible, Mother is unwell, Father?" Arthur cut in.
The entire table exchanged a quick look with Arthur, but neither spoke.
Gilgamesh pondered the possibility, then looked over his shoulder to a nearby servant, "See that a healer is sent to the queen's cottage—"
Just then, the door groaned open upon the Queen entering the room. She moved to her seat with a grace that could almost fool one into thinking nothing was amiss, but Gilgamesh could see the guarded expression in her eyes. She sat down without acknowledging him, the space between them as wide as ever.
"Goodneigh, Children," she said sweetly.
"Goodneigh," they said hesitantly in union.
Gilgamesh leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on his wife, watching her methodically cut her meat, ignoring him completely. If he did not exist to her. With every second that passed, there was another second he lost his patience.
No.
"You are not going to speak to me?" he finally asked in irritation.
She looked up at him for the briefest moment, but she did not speak. Instead, she picked up her cup of tea, taking a long sip, her eyes avoiding his.
"Arthruia—" his voice rose, slamming his hand on he table with restraint.
Though the children stiffened upon their father's voice vibrating from the table.
"Do not you dare raise your voice at me, Gilgamesh Albion Pendragon…" She spat. "There's nothing to say—"
"Nothing to say?" His voice lowered slightly, "You have avoided me for weeks. At the council, breakfast. What exactly do you expect to achieve with this treatment, Arthuria?"
The Queen set her fork down with deliberate precision and finally met his gaze, her eyes like ice. "I do not wish to fight with you, Gil."
"Well, I do," he shot back, slamming his goblet down. The metallic ring echoed through the hall. Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like she would hold her composure.
Then Arthuria stood, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. Her voice was sharp and commanding: "Arena. Now. Children, go to bed."
The siblings sat frozen in their seats, processing what had just happened.
Arthur cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "I thought she said—"
Gis mother's voice rang back from the doorway, sharp and commanding, even though she was out of sight. "Arthur Pendragon! "
"Okay, okay…Bloody hell." He muttered upon shrank back into his chair.
Gilgamesh stood as well to follow her. He cast a stern glance at the children before following her. "Go to bed," he echoed, his tone firm.
As soon as their parents were out of sight, the children exchanged a look.
Elaine stifled a laugh. "See, Sturdy walls."
Eugene leaned forward, "Still, Mother versus Father?" his eyes alight with curiosity and many possibilities of the results.
Arthur hesitated, glancing at Artizea, the more level-headed of the group. "What do you think?" was also attempting to earn back her favor.
She sighed, already resigned to the inevitable. "There's no way we are missing this," she said, standing up.
"Agreed," Elaine said, grinning, and clapped her hands in excitement. "Let's go!"
The four of them snuck through the hidden passages that led to the upper balcony overlooking the ground field. What once stood as an eye-catching arena with a roaring audience on the day of the rite was now a quiet temple illuminated by moonlight, as its sand shimmered like silver under the the nigh sky. The king and Queen stood on opposite sides of the arena. It was as if it were a game of chess, only with Just Two Pieces, and those pieces had real swords.
The siblings huddled in the shadows of the observation balcony. From their vantage point in the shadows, they had a perfect view of the ground field.
"I thought we only used wooden swords in sparring," Elaine whispered, wide-eyed.
"This isn't sparring," Arthur replied, his tone reverent. "This is a real fight."
Eugene whispered. "Mother's faster."
"But Father's stronger," Artizea countered.
"Bullshit—" Arthur and Eugene replied, for once agreeing on something.
"Shh!" Artizea and Elaine hissed in unison, their eyes never leaving the fight.
"Do you truly wish this, Arthuria?" Gilgamesh asked.
"You wanted to fight," she said coldly. "Here it is."
He sighed. "It was metaphorical—"
"Save it." She said flatly.
They moved simultaneously in a circle. In a mere blink of an eye, Sparks flew with each clash, illuminating the field, as they exchanged blows with power that spoke of centuries of battle experience. This was the power of the Great Kings.
From their hiding spot, the children watched in awe as their mother charged forward, her sword strikes relentless.
"You are still angry about the Rite," Gilgamesh said, his voice strained while parrying her blows. "I understandyou are upset," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"You don't say!" Arthuria said sarcastically, slamming her sword into his.
"You think I do not listen to you," he countered, catching her next strike with his blade.
"I know you don't." She grunted, "Because you thinkVictory is more important than anything else, and that," she twisted away, striking toward his side, "Is what weswore never to teach our children. If I did not know any better, I would say my father were still alive." Her strikes grew fiercer, her frustration fueling her attacks.
"I'll tell you what, woman—" he said, blocking her strike with restraint. "I do not quite care for that comparison, considering he was the man who left you a shell of the woman I still fell in love with at first sight." He locked blades with her then pressed her back further, trying his best not to engage because the last thing he wanted was to be the reason she carried another scar that bore his name. "I fear seeing you become that again." His voice thickened, "You want to know why I seek victory? It is because, as much as we pretend everything is fine, the war is not over, it has not even yet begun."
She glared at him when he did not blink.
"It is not victory I seek, my love, it is peace…for every second we get a glimmer of hope of its permanence, somethinghappens, and I refuse to be the kind of father who lets his children grow up in the world, unprepared and unskilled enough to face the storm that is coming." His blade lowered slightly. "And I need my wife beside me to help me do that. Far away from that cursed sword—" he whispered.
Arthuria hesitated for a fraction of a second. It was that moment Gilgamesh seized the opportunity, disarming her swiftly. He flew the retrieved sword away from them, embedding it in the floor several feet away. Her hands twitched, but then she stopped himself. She exhaled. If only it were Excalibur, she could call it right back, but instead of conceding, she glared at him, "You may be the Monarch of the realm, Gil, but I am no longer sure you understand the balance between the weight of a realm and that of a Father's vows."
"I have not slept since you left. You know what keeps me awake?" He looked at her now, his expression softening. "Balancing those vows. Being King to a realm I could not give a damn about, if you are not in it." His blade dipped lower.before extending his hand, not in victory, but in a question, an offering.
She hesitated, then took it, yelping when he pulled her closer. The tension between them is easing. For a moment, all cease except for their heavy breathing. He bent, brushing her lips, another offering, one she did not refuse, either, in a tender kiss. "Hello, my love," he murmured. "I miss you every day. Tell me you miss me too."
Arthuria 's eyes softened for a brief moment before pulling away, "I cannot, Gil."
After a long moment, Arthuria turned to leave, her hand slipping from his. He watched her leave him once more and did not follow, tilting his head to the stars once more, then his gaze fell to the balcony where his children, who just like their mother, defied him. He sighed in exhaustion, then walked away.
The siblings exchanged wide-eyed glances and let out a collective breath they had not realized they were holding.
"For a second there, I swore he saw us—" Arthur huffed out.
"That was amazing!" Elaine exclaimed softly, though clearly not soft enough.
"Shh!" Arthur hissed, still in stealth mode.
"Your Highness's?" A voice questioned, stepping forward into the light. A guard spotted them.
The siblings froze, exchanging panicked glances. Then, as if by instinct, they all raised a hand to their lips. The guard stared at them, dumbfounded, as they scrambled back through the passageway, stifling laughter.