#Gilkingu

[falsegrailwar]

[not-shamhat]

Go for it!! Kingu-chan!!

[mercuryartes]

There was one thing... but that wish belonged to Enkidu.

[eddymimi]

Fate/GO. Babylonia Gilgamesh & Enkidu AMV Prover.

I’ve been playing a little...

[fraink5-writes]

Blue Ceiling - Tablet III

Anyone else crying in the club about today’s Babylonia episode? Read this chapter to see good things happen to Kingu.

Of course, thanks a whole lot to my fantastic editor, @leio13

Summary: Expecting to become king of the merpeople as son of Tiamat, Kingu is suddenly forced to give up his tail and to go the surface to restore humanity’s disregarded respect for the Goddess of the Sea. However, he severely underestimates the Uruks’ willpower, especially that of their stubborn king, Gilgamesh.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Kingu woke up to an unfamiliar ceiling. There was neither the privacy of Gorgon’s home nor the warmth of Shamhat’s. Once again, Kingu was without a home. The room was nearly empty save an overbearing silence.

Kingu’s legs cried out in pain as they did on the first day. They had brought him nothing but suffering. He wanted to cut them off. 

Even then, he could not be a merman again. He was stuck in a useless human body, but even the humans wouldn’t accept him. He had always been an outsider. Maybe he would live as a monster like Gorgon. Gorgon was strange company, but he found himself missing her in his isolation. They had been outcasts together, but now they were just alone.

At least, Kingu thought staring at the apathetic ceiling, he had Tiamat. He hazily recalled her sorrowful song; was she lonely like him? Certainly, she understood him better than anyone else, and that’s why she chose him. Tiamat trusted him with this mission, so he would carry it out for her. Whether he was a merman, a human, or neither, he was Tiamat’s son. That knowledge warmed his cold loneliness.

Kingu watched the shadow cast by the window as it moved across the floor until his meditation was interrupted by footsteps. A woman’s voice appeared in the doorway, “Oh good! He’s awake.”

Two people entered the room: the distraught brunette woman from the other day and Gilgamesh. Kingu closed his eyes and turned away; he had no business with Gilgamesh, but curiosity forced him to peak and see what they were up to.

The intruders had approached Kingu’s bed, and then the woman elbowed the king, an action certainly warranting the death penalty.

But Gilgamesh just grumbled to himself then spoke aloud, “Siduri requested that I apologize for yesterday.” The king seemed to struggle between his lack of desire to apologize and the appearance of his authority. 

“Ahem.” Siduri forced a cough. 

“Yesterday, I invited you to my home, but you were met with hostility instead of hospitality. That was unacceptable.” Gilgamesh’s curt “apology” was accompanied by rolled eyes.

Siduri sighed then turned her attention to Kingu. “I hope you are feeling better today.”

“No,” Kingu mumbled, not in the mood for playing at courtesy.

Gilgamesh opened his mouth, but he was preemptively silenced by a sharp glare from Siduri.

“We’re truly, deeply sorry for what happened yesterday,” Siduri continued, bowing her head. “And, we also are here to inform you that you’ll be living here from now on.”

“Huh?” Kingu snapped out of his fake sleep.

“We’re sorry it’s not much,” Siduri bowed her head again, “but Shamhat is busy with her work, and so it would be more convenient for you to live here. We hope you understand.”

Shamhat’s job… Shamhat had been so generous with Kingu; it never occurred to him that he was inconveniencing her. Shame floated up to his cheeks.

“If there’s anything you need, King Gilgamesh would be more than willing to provide. It’s the least he could do after what happened yesterday.”

If the glower on Gilgamesh’s face was any indicator, he was not ‘more than willing,’ but Siduri seemed to have some influence over him, so maybe it wasn’t out of the question. 

“Let’s see…” Kingu shot Gilgamesh a smug look while running through the possibilities. He wanted to ask for something outrageous.

“Oh yes, one last thing,” Siduri interrupted. “To make up for yesterday, King Gilgamesh has offered to show you around Uruk, since you are still new here.”

Somehow Siduri’s offer was more outrageous than anything Kingu had come up with himself, yet he definitely wasn’t interested. Unfortunately, it did not seem like declining was an option. 

“We will be back in a few days when you are feeling better.” Siduri spared Kingu, if only temporarily.

“Don’t make me wait too long, mongrel.” Gilgamesh muttered and left.

“Please rest well!” Siduri called before chasing Gilgamesh with a look of embarrassment.

***

After a few days, Kingu was capable of walking around his barren home although not without pain. But there was not much else to do besides wander in circles—“pacing,” as the humans would call it. So when an unfamiliar knock sounded against the door, he bounded to answer it. Finally free from his boredom. “Hel—… lo.” 

Gilgamesh stared silently at him.

“Where’s Siduri?” Kingu demanded.

“She’s busy—is that a proper way to greet a king?”

“You didn’t even say ‘hello,’” Kingu grumbled. “Anyway, what do you want?”

“I’m going to give you a tour of Uruk.”

He meant that? Kingu studied the king for any tells. Surely, this was a joke.

“Don’t be ungrateful, mongrel. Who do you think has been providing your food and medicine every day?”

Well, the one who had been checking up on him, bringing food and medicine, was “Sidu… ri?”

“IDIOT! She’s only been delivering them!”

Kingu paled. To think he had fallen so low as to depend on the arrogant, human king!

“What’s wrong? Has your brain finally stopped working entirely?” Gilgamesh wore a surprising grin. “Hurry up. I don’t have that much time to waste.”

Kingu took Gilgamesh’s cue and turned back into the house to match his presentation to the king’s standards, taking the opportunity to regain his scattered composure. 

“Oh? I didn’t think you could do it,” Gilgamesh remarked as Kingu stepped out the door.

“Do what?”

“Put together a look that’s worthy of standing by my side.”

The king continued on, but the rest was lost on Kingu, who was shocked by the double-edged compliment. His face flushed a deep red.

“Anyway, let us begin.” Gilgamesh paid Kingu’s embarrassment no heed as he started his tour. “This house is on the outskirts of town, so we will head inwards, towards the center, and then back out.”

Kingu had not once left his home, so everything was new to him. It did not matter what direction they went in.

“That,” Gilgamesh pointed down the road, “is one of Uruk’s greatest prides.”

A brick wall. But it didn’t suffice to call it simply a wall. The wall was thick enough for tiny people to patrol on top. It was tall enough to cast a shadow over the nearby buildings. And it was long enough to extend indefinitely past Kingu’s field of vision.

“It is the great wall which protects all of Uruk.”

“Protects?” The giant wall was an enigma to Kingu. There was no wall which surrounded Atargata, only the endless sea. To Kingu, the wall was just a cage.

“Yes, protects. From beasts and enemy peoples.”

So the humans weren’t united? This was another shock for Kingu. To think they would fight and kill each other… How savage. Kingu could not hide his displeasure from his face.

“What’s with that face? We haven’t had a war in years. So long as that wall exists, the people of Uruk can live in peace.”

Then the wall was anything but a cage; it really was a shelter.

“Anyway, we’re heading in the other direction. There’s no point in leaving the city so soon. Come on.” Gilgamesh called Kingu and led him towards the center of Uruk.

The city of Uruk was organized very simply. Its residents were sorted into districts by occupation, which surrounded the central districts. Most remarkably, the city was crisscrossed with artificial waterways. Kingu scoffed at the sight; the humans had left the sea only to bring it right to their doorsteps. The other merfolk would have been offended by the canals—“how dare the insolent humans try to control the blessings of Tiamat!”—but Kingu was a bit grateful. He missed the sea.

Kingu would have been content to study at the man-made flow of water throughout the entire tour, but circumstances wouldn’t allow it.

“Oh, is that King Gilgamesh?”

“Your majesty!”

“What an honor!”

As Gilgamesh passed through each district, he created a commotion each time. Laborers stopped working, housewives and children appeared in the doorways of their homes, and people from anywhere and everywhere poured into the streets to greet their king. Kingu expected Gilgamesh to swat them all away, but instead, he turned towards Kingu, grinning, and proclaimed, "Look at all the diligent, loyal citizens of Uruk!" He turned back to the crowd, occasionally calling out to one person or another by name (and not the expected "mongrel")  and asking about business. By the time they reached the central districts, Kingu, as much as he learned about Uruk, was even less certain of the king's character.

While surely big enough to qualify as districts, the central districts would be more aptly called monuments. One was an enormous, terraced pyramid built from clay. At the top of the sky-reaching steps sat a white, stone building. The other was a bigger mystery, for all Kingu could see were the stone walls. The white face of the wall was covered in imagery and statues, suggesting something even grander lay inside. Simple but tall, ostentatious but flat; the two structures balanced each other.

"Are those temples?" Kingu wondered aloud.

"Relics," Gilgamesh snapped. "Relics of when people cowered before mere fantasies.” He inspected them with irritation. “They serve no purpose in my Uruk. They would be more useful torn down and rebuilt as new districts for the working population."

If these temples were really built for Tiamat, it would only advance her rage to tear them down. Then, she would mercilessly re-establish her authority. "I wouldn't do that—"

"Would you shut up about that?” Gilgamesh turned his contemptuous gaze to Kingu. “It's annoying. What were you—a priest?—before you hit your head?"

Why did Kingu even bother? The man next to him epitomized human arrogance, the reason Kingu was sent to the surface in the first place. He doubted humanity could ever get saved. 

Kingu didn’t say anything; he didn’t want to entertain Gilgamesh’s hubris anymore. It was annoying enough that he predicted what Kingu was going to say. He’s aware of the voice of reason, but he willfully chooses to ignore it—how foolish. 

“Stop gawking and come with me. Let me show you something more impressive.” After demanding Kingu to follow him, Gilgamesh headed outwards once again. They marched in silence until they had reached the base of the wall. “We’re going up.”

Although there was no practical value to this part of the tour, so long as Gilgamesh was his guide, Kingu could make no objections, so he followed the king up the stairs. Instead of looking outward, Gilgamesh pointed Kingu to the city which they had spent all day walking through. The sun, still high in the sky, was now shining down from the west. The sprawl of brick buildings radiated under its light. From above, Kingu could make out hundreds of tiny gardens which had been hidden from the street. He identified each district by their unique characteristics. With Gilgamesh out of the way, the people had returned to their work, but there were plenty on the streets: vendors, errand-runners, playing children. Tiny, swift, and graceful, the busy Uruks reminded Kingu of the fish in Atargata. 

Gilgamesh beamed as he watched his city. Without sparing even a glance for Kingu, he declared with exaggerated gestures, as though giving a speech to the people down below, "Look at the great city of Uruk! Its protective walls, its sturdy buildings! Its prosperity and its peace! Did any goddess build that? No, it was the Uruks who built this marvelous city. Look at how the little people work, content and undeterred. They don't need any goddess. They are working towards the future. Don't you see? Trembling in fear of the Goddess is the past; the future is the path upon which humanity walks, and Uruk is at the forefront.”

So that was the nature of the golden king Gilgamesh—a man overflowing with pride. His pride exceeded himself, stretching even beyond the walls of Uruk to its fertile plains, and, from it, his authority as king was born. Kingu had mistaken his remarks for selfish hubris, but it was the pride of his people. 

Kingu stared in awe at the golden king besides him. His radiance seemed to eclipse the sun. 

Finally, Gilgamesh acknowledged Kingu. "To suggest otherwise is an insult to the hardworking citizens, past and present. Don't do it again."

Kingu could only nod.

***

Something about Uruk changed for the remaining duration of the tour; the wall seemed grander, the people working harder, the farms more bountiful. Gilgamesh and Kingu had left the walled city, explored the farmland which surrounded it, and were drifting along the river which gave Uruk its vitality: the Euphrates. The water’s surface was remarkably different than its depths. The small ripples glistened under the sun’s rays. On top of it all floated an image of Kingu’s face. His reflection wore a small grin, which was unfamiliar to even Kingu. How he had missed the water. He reached his hand, stroked the waves, then dipped his fingers into the cool current. His fingers seemed to bend—Kingu recoiled his hand. He was sure he held them straight in the water (which was confirmed when he pulled them out), so why did they appear to bend under the water?

Gilgamesh threw back his head with laughter. “What happened? Afraid of your own reflection?!”

“No-no way!” Unable to directly fight the accusation, Kingu turned away and stared back into the water. Gilgamesh couldn’t call him a coward like this. He plunged his fingers back into the water and watched them bend again. He was determined to figure out the mystery. He repeated this several times, but while the phenomenon continued, there was no suggestion as to why. 

“Now what? Are you fighting?”

“N-no! I’m just studying it.” Kingu did not look up from his “study;” instead, he just leaned closer to the water, trying to ignore Gilgamesh’s ridicule. From such a close distance, maybe he could see the river’s contents. 

Kingu hit the water with a splash before he could realize what had happened. His body had completely submerged, and for a moment, it was tranquil, surrounded by the sea’s nostalgic embrace.

Then Kingu opened his mouth, and the scorching water flooded in. It weighed in his lungs like a bunch of bricks, smothering them.

Why? Why?! Why?! He was a merman. He was the son of Tiamat.

No, he was just a human.

The water, cold and unforgiving, crushed him like a pest to be disposed of.

Kingu needed to be free. On land. He thrashed, again, again, again. 

Then a wave of darkness.

***

Something warm wrapped around Kingu’s wrist, jolting energy into him, and yanked him out of the water. "I didn't permit you to die yet." Kingu knew that voice. Golden hair. Red eyes. ...Gil…?

Before he could fully make sense of his surroundings, Kingu doubled over, retching out the water which sat in the bottomless well of his lungs. Each draw of water was more painful than the last. 

When the coughing fit finally subsided, he fully registered Gilgamesh sitting across from him, a slight scowl on his face.

"… Why did you save me?" Kingu croaked.

"You're too entertaining to let die yet," Gilgamesh responded offhandedly, then muttered. "...besides, now you can't say that you saved my life."

"Huh?” Kingu gaped. “Are you really that petty?!"

"A king can't be in a mongrel's debt."

"But you do admit that I saved you.” Kingu would not live this down. “You know, normal people say 'thank you.'"

"Are you really that petty?” Gilgamesh gibed. “And I haven't heard you say 'thank you' yet either."

Kingu was not going to say that—not until Gilgamesh owned up to his own gratitude. 

Gilgamesh just sighed. “You got a closer look at Euphrates than expected,” he snickered, “But it can’t be helped. We should head back now.”

Kingu nodded. He couldn’t wait to be free. But then a group of men on boats caught his eye. “Wait. Are those fishermen?”

“Oh, we didn’t see them before.” Gilgamesh remarked, uninterested.

“Can I try?”

“What?” Gilgamesh stared at Kingu. “Do you want to go for another ‘swim?’”

“No. I want to try.”

“Fine.” Gilgamesh waved his hands apathetically. “But if you fall in again, you better hope one of those men is going to rescue you.” Despite his griping, Gilgamesh talked to the nearby fisherman and procured a spear for Kingu. “Show me what you can do, mongrel.”

Although incensed, Kingu pretended to ignore Gilgamesh’s provokation. He dipped the spear into the water, and as he expected, it seemed to bend upon entering the water. Nothing he couldn’t work with. He watched a decently sized fish, a barbel, swim towards him, closer, closer, closer, and then, he skewered it. 

“Aha!” Pulling the spear from the water, he beamed (somewhat maliciously) at Gilgamesh. “Hungry?”

For a few seconds, the king’s chin hung agape, and that was enough to transform Kingu’s ordinary feat into a great triumph.

“You got lucky,” Gilgamesh mumbled.

But within minutes, Kingu had pulled another barbel from the river. Then another, and another, and another. 

“Alright, enough!” Gilgamesh groaned. “I get it.”

Content with the king’s surrender, Kingu sat back down. “Here, you can give it back.”

Gilgamesh rolled his eyes. “Keep it.”

“Huh?”

“From now on, you’re going to join them.”

Kingu’s face lit up. Then he smirked. “So, I’m good, right?” Gilgamesh would have no choice but to acknowledge Kingu’s talents.

“As long as you’re living in Uruk, you need to be a productive member of society.”

Gilgamesh’s disregard of Kingu’s showing off was more crushing than Kingu wanted it to be. Not wanting to linger on it, he hastily moved on. “Man, these look good. I could eat one right now.” 

And he would have if Gilgamesh hadn’t raised an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Why?” Kingu was bewildered.

“You don’t want to smoke them at least?”

“Oh.” So that’s what the humans did. Kingu’s face went red with the realization. “Yes, of course, I do!” He bluffed. “It was just an exaggeration.”

“Well, if you don’t know how to cook them, ask someone.” Gilgamesh muttered. “You should also learn how to swim soon.” Without another word, he began rowing back towards the city. They continued in a peaceful silence all the way to Kingu’s door. 

“Mongrel,” Gilgamesh called out before leaving.

Oh, how Kingu wished he didn’t respond to that. But it was too late. “What?”

“You weren’t half bad today.”

Kingu’s heart stopped for several endless moments.

“If you want to learn how to use that spear, I will teach you.”

Kingu only half-processed the words, but they threw him into a greater panic. 

“Don’t just stand there like an idiot!” Gilgamesh barked. “Or I’ll take the offer back.”

“Yes! I would like to!” Kingu blurted out.

“Excellent. Then I will send for you when I have time.” With that, Gilgamesh left.

...What? Did Gilgamesh just praise Kingu? And did Kingu just agree to meet him again? Kingu was undeniably an idiot—an idiot for making plans with Gilgamesh of all people, and an even bigger one for getting so worked up in the first place. 

No, Kingu tried to reassure himself, he needed to be on the king’s good side to carry out his mission. But before he worried about Gilgamesh, he needed to shape up.

***

Kingu did not find the idea of raw fish to be so objectionable (he ate them all the time in Atargata), but, in an effort to blend in, he tried smoking them as Gilgamesh had suggested. They usually ended up charred. Fortunately for him, Shamhat paid Kingu a visit one evening, volunteering to cook dinner: a one-night reprieve. As expected, Shamhat’s cooking was leagues above Kingu’s. The savory flavor brought back memories of Kingu’s first few days in Uruk, staying in Shamhat’s home. 

“Um, Shamhat,” Kingu began, confidence disappearing by the millisecond. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Oh, you’re welcome!” Shamhat smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

“I’ve been an interruption to your job and routine, so… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Shamhat replied as though the words Kingu had struggled to say were a simple matter. “I can take days off sometimes, you know? Besides, I have something I should be apologizing about.”

“Huh? Why?”

“About the other day…” Shamhat maintained eye contact as she spoke. “While I really appreciate you standing up for me, you were put in danger because of me. I’m sorry to have—”

“Don’t apologize!” Why did she have to apologize for what that pompous egoist did? “Someone had to stand up to that narcissist!”

“I see.” Shamhat laughed. “If you feel that way, I’m glad. Thank you.”

“Besides, I’m better now. Nothing to worry about!”

“You know, I’m glad that you and King Gilgamesh are getting along now.”

Kingu blinked. “We are?”

“Yes, he said good things about you.”

“He did?”

“Let’s see.” Shamhat tilted her head. “That you can’t swim… that you have an absurd fear of fantasies… that you have a serious attitude problem…”

“Which of those are good things?”

“Well, he said them all smiling.” Shamhat conveyed no doubt in her theory. “I think he likes you.”

“Great.”

Shamhat would have certainly known more about Gilgamesh than Kingu, but perhaps, just this once, she was wrong.

“Besides, he invited you to see him again, didn’t he?”

“...Yeah…” Kingu didn’t want to think about that incident again. 

“See? I’m sure he’s fond of you! Oh, come on! Don’t be like that. It’s a rare honor to make acquaintances with the king like this.”

Shamhat had a point. Kingu should have appreciated that the circumstances were now in his favor, but, at the moment, his mind was caught up with other things. “About Tiamat,” Kingu posed the question hesitantly, “Do you believe in the goddess?”

“Tiamat?” Shamhat pondered over the question. “I guess she could exist. It’s possible that a goddess created us people and put us on land. But you see, even if she does exist, she hasn’t done anything for us in a long time. Our ancestors built this city, and we work hard to keep advancing under the guidance of our king. We built our fortunes ourselves. So, it’s hard for me to believe.”

Gilgamesh had said the same thing the other day. The Uruks had long been independent. It was no surprise then that they couldn’t remember anything Tiamat had done for them. More than that, the Uruks were proud. They believed in their capabilities as humans and that they could advance through those abilities and willpower alone. There was no room for a distant entity like Tiamat in their tale of success.

“You’re a believer, right?” Shamhat continued. “I don’t think it’s wrong to believe. But just, maybe don’t mention it in front of Gilgamesh.” She winked.

That was for certain. The king took pride to a whole new level. 

“But King Gilgamesh is right. There’s something weird about you.”

“What do you mean?” Kingu demanded.

“Well, you appeared suddenly without memories and without basic knowledge. You couldn’t even walk. But nevertheless, you have strangely specific beliefs, skills, and knowledge. Just who were you before?”

Kingu frowned. Maybe Shamhat would believe him. No, he couldn’t tell her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you!” Shamhat rapidly changed tones. “Don’t worry about it, okay? There’s no use in fretting over what you can’t remember. What’s important is that you’re here now and what you do with that. You know, people don’t have a lot of time on this land, so we must make the most of it!”

Kingu had not given a single thought to the human lifespan, but it truly was short—lamentably so. Nevertheless, they were undeterred. The humans must have done more work in their lives than any of the complacent merpeople had done in the past two hundred years. They built Uruk, which must have taken generations to reach its current state (the founders were certainly dead). In fact, they were still working on it, even if they would die so soon. So that was the future they worked for, not only for themselves, but for their offspring too. It all seemed so foreign to Kingu, yet he felt deeply ashamed for not having realized it.

“Kingu?” Shamhat had inched forward to inspect Kingu’s hidden face.

“I’m sorry,” Kingu mumbled.

“Huh? No, no, I am the one who’s sorry. I really didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Kingu curbed his regret before looking up. “No, it’s fine. You’re right, Shamhat. It’s good to keep moving forward.”

[not-shamhat]

dreams of patchouli

(I wanna try that new CasGil parfum too...)

[not-shamhat]

He’s touch-starved

[mercuryartes]

[mercuryartes]

[not-shamhat]

KinguLio

I haven’t watched Promare yet but Lio reminds me enough of a certain chuuni claychild that I’d already die for him

P.S. NEXUS by Laco fuckin slaps

[mercuryartes]

[not-shamhat]

Don’t forget to validate ur Kingu-chan daily, he’s a growing mudboy

[fraink5-writes]

Blue Ceiling - Tablet I

I’m back--again! This time I present to you an Epic of Gilgamesh/Little Mermaid fusion AU, featuring Gilgamesh (as himself) and Kingu (because he needs love)!

Thanks to @leio13 for editing!

Summary: Expecting to become king of the merpeople as son of Tiamat, Kingu is suddenly forced to give up his tail and to go the surface to restore humanity's disregarded respect for the Goddess of the Sea. However, he severely underestimates the Uruks' willpower, especially that of their stubborn king, Gilgamesh.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Small bubbles floated past Kingu’s vision towards the distant, blue ceiling. He didn’t bother to follow them once they left his vision. How foolish, he scoffed. What’s so good up there? Before they would disappear beyond the water’s surface, they would undoubtedly disappear from Kingu’s memory. So insignificant, they weren’t worth even his pity. Of course, Kingu had so much unused pity that he could afford to give them a brief farewell as they left his world.

Kingu hadn’t the slightest idea what would happen to the bubbles when they reached the top. Would they drift along the waves like the boats he had heard about? Would they grow in size, filled with the outside air? Regardless, like all things that went up, they would never come back down.

However, Kingu’s curiosity quickly returned to the expanse of blue which stretched limitlessly in almost every direction. The unreachable haze was the nebula of his imagination, and often he would sit at the outskirts of his city and think about dissolving into the current and leaving behind his boring, everyday life. 

Unlike the surrounding ocean, the city Atargata was completely stagnant. The population had hardly changed since its foundation. Because merpeople could not die of natural causes, most of the civilization’s founders still lived in the city and occupied the same civil positions they had from the beginning. Without fear of extinction, reproduction was completely unnecessary. 

For that reason, the news of the king’s passing by a human hunting incident came as a huge surprise, and the news that Kingu would replace him, an even bigger one. The population did not hesitate to make their discomfort known to Kingu, constantly arguing over who would “actually” become the sovereign. Kingu laughed at this useless activity, for none of those contentious fossils could ever be king. Kingu, on the other hand, was born to be king. He had been created by the mother goddess Tiamat to freshen the stale waters and guide them away from their old-fashioned ways. 

Kingu threw one more glance at his unreachable, endless horizon, sighed, and trudged into the city.

***

Atargata was a grid of searock. Due to the currents, the buildings lay flat at only one story. Instead the city slowly stretched across the sandy floor. Despite its boring foundation, the city was bustling with color and life; every wall was decorated with a coral mosaic, which had grown into an entirely separate community of fish. Far from an invasion, the mercommunity had accepted their right to live there and simply left them be. Kingu admired the way they swam peacefully in their large communities—no fighting, no competition. They were undoubtedly the best inhabitants of the city.

Kingu was thoughtlessly watching the school which passed through the market, blissfully aware of the carnage of fish for sale, when his imagination was interrupted.

“Oh, if it isn't Kingu. How strange seeing you here.” The snooty voice belonged to Atargata’s no. 1 diva, Ishtar. Her lips curled, excited by the storm of insults that brewed between them. “Shouldn't your mommy being doing the groceries?”

“She isn't my ‘mommy,’ and I'm not a kid. In fact—”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You're going to be king. You know, a king shouldn't throw a temper tantrum because of a little teasing.” With her hand waiting impatiently on her ruby-scaled hip, Ishtar’s eyes danced; Kingu’s resentment fueled them like oxygen to a flame.

Kingu wanted to smother them. He said nothing.

“Huh? Are you going to ignore me?” Ishtar folded her arms. “I’m giving you good advice, you know. That was like elementary school teasing. If you can’t even take that…”

“Aren’t you too old for child’s play?” Kingu returned his disappointment with his gaze.

“Excuse me! I am not that old.”

“And I’m not a child.” Kingu turned away, hoping to return to his business with the fish.

“Jeez… it's all because of that witch…” A muttered comment, only half-intended for Kingu to hear.

“She's not a witch. She was a mermaid too.”

“She's a traitor, flirting with humans.”

That's not—Kingu didn't know enough to say it wasn't true. But Gorgon, the supposed sea monster, hated humans. She would have never flirted with them, Kingu was certain.

Ishtar sighed. “You may be a brat, but you're still a merman. You should be on our side, not that monster's.”

“It's because you’re irresponsible..” Kingu had been holding that comment back longer than he had even realized. “All of you are too self-centered. Only Gorgon tried to take care of me.”

“Well.” Ishtar's face scrunched with displeasure. “If you're insistent on being on her side in spite of everything, then I assume you're prepared to take responsibility for her, ‘future king?’ What do you plan to do about the human issue?”

Kingu couldn't care less about the humans. As long as they remained on land, they were outside of his little world. Completely irrelevant. “What issue?” he asked, feigning the vaguest interest.

“‘What issue?’ Ugh! Does anything matter to you outside of your moody internal monologue?! It's the lack of respect! The humans have forgotten their origins and parading around like they're kings of the world!”

“Does it matter? The opinions of something so insignificant such as humanity shouldn't mean anything to our civilization. Let them think what they want. They are just fools.”

“Hah, so you're not on the side of humans either.” Ishtar looked surprisingly delighted. “You really are naive. If you want to be treated seriously, you should find out where you want to be.”

***

“You can just ignore her,” Gorgon spat, baring her fangs at an enemy who wasn't there. “Her head's just inflated because of her little cult. Even her fellow council members know she's just an idiot. So, you don't need to worry about her becoming king.”

“Of course I don't.” Kingu hastily dismissed the idea, which had never once crossed his mind. “The only one who will become king is me. It's my destiny.”

“Yes, that too.” Gorgon's sharp, purple eyes stared King up and down then drifted in the direction of the city. She grimaced. “Say, Kingu, why do want to be the king of those people, anyway?”

That should have been such a simple question—it was his duty to lead the people—yet it brought him to a halt. Indeed, he had no desire to rule those people; he hated them. But he had never questioned his own resolve to rule over them, and he wouldn't start then.

“I know what you're thinking, Gorgon. They're stupid and selfish, cruel and jealous. But that's why they need someone like me. I will mercilessly teach them how to behave.”

“That's quite a forgiving offer for such a despicable bunch,” Gorgon muttered, bloodlust seeping from every scale which covered her body.

That bloodlust was Gorgon's greatest flaw, Kingu thought. It'd really do her some good to let some of it go, or at least conceal it better. The rumors about Gorgon which had been circling around town since the previous king's death were not completely implausible, he had to admit. For his part, Kingu was certain that his suffering would be repaid in due time without needless acts of violence. Tiamat was on his side after all.

“Right?” He grinned. “They should try to be more like me!”

***

When Kingu next returned to the city, he had already forgotten about Ishtar and any other annoying face which plagued his usual visits. He ignored even the schools of fish as he swam through them, for his eyes were set on only one thing: the grand temple at the center of Atargata. The temple of Tiamat stood taller and more colorful than anywhere else, and because no person dared enter it, it was a bustling haven for fish. This time, however, Kingu had an invitation, so it could hardly be called intruding.

Inside, the corridors of the temple echoed with a doleful song. Although unfamiliar, the voice filled Kingu with an unplaceable nostalgia and an unfathomable sorrow. Without knowing the cause of her grieving, Kingu vowed to resolve it. 

The still figure of Tiamat was the eye of the storm of fish which, driven by her music, raced around the hall. Yet she was blind to her surroundings. Her song had wrapped her protectively, sheltering her from the saddening world outside. 

“Mother, I’ve come as you requested,” Kingu barely whispered, awed by the scene before him. 

“It is a truly grievous situation.” Tiamat’s eyes stared into a world beyond Kingu’s small one. He could see nothing in their nebulous purple. But her wordless song he clearly understood; it spoke directly to his heart. It ached with loneliness as it pleaded. Who could allow such sorrow? Kingu scorned the apathy of people and fish alike. But Kingu was different from those ungrateful people; he would do his utmost to heal her grieving heart.

“What can I do to help? Please tell me.”

Kingu’s heart stopped with Tiamat’s melody. She spoke with a soft voice. “The humans have forgotten me, their mother. They continue without thinking of the sea, of their roots.”

...The humans? As Tiamat’s singing vacated his mind, confusion seeped in. Of course, the humans are the most ungrateful of them all—above all, completely unaware of their insignificance. If Kingu’s enemy was humans, it would undoubtedly be an easy task. 

“How arrogant—those pathetic humans. They will no doubt rue their pride.”

“You must go up there and amend their ways, teach them reverence for their mother. Their young king, Gilgamesh, is especially insolent; you must correct him.”

The words repeated ad infinitum in Kingu’s head, blurring into meaningless but maddening sounds. He exhaled to clear all the clutter. “How should I do that?” The question floated in his vicinity, afraid to get an answer from Tiamat.

“You must join them. Become human. They won’t listen to anyone else.” 

The words knocked Kingu like a strong current, and he struggled to regain himself. He could not imagine being a human. To become human was to abandon his home, his aspirations, his pride. Kingu was a merman; to discard that was to discard his identity altogether. The possibility of becoming human had never crossed Kingu’s mind, yet suddenly, it was his reality. Even if he still had his emerald tail, Tiamat’s words had stripped him of his mermanhood on the spot. 

“Once you’re human, you must never mention your origins to anyone. You must live completely as a human.”

It was so lonely. He had been alone for most of his life, but never had he felt true loneliness, the kind that caused Tiamat to sing. It filled his heart with solid lead. “And when I’ve finished my mission…?” He choked out.

“I have arranged your meeting with the human king. There will be a storm on the waves; you must meet him then.” Tiamat’s song started again with the swirl of fish, signalling the end of their conversation.

As Kingu left the temple, the sorrowful melody chased after his tail.

***

Kingu held his breath before breaking through the water’s surface. The outside world was just gray. Gloomy, voluminous gases hung in the air as far as he could see, and water poured from the sky. Even the ocean was, from the top, a shifting surface of darkness, wave after wave trying to topple Kingu and throw him back underneath. He had never imagined water could be this unpleasant.

But the air was worse. Each breath was an inhalation of poison, scorching his throat. Yet, he kept inhaling—faster and faster. His lungs heaved, quickly moving the toxin in and out. But something wasn’t enough. Faster and faster. His heart raced to keep up. 

“King Gilgamesh!” The sound of a voice stopped Kingu’s breathing entirely. It came from a medium-sized vessel which swayed drunkenly atop the angry seas. Standing proudly at one of the curved ends was the only color in the depressing scene: a golden human. His short hair shone as golden as his armor. That man could only be the king.

The lustrous man disappeared under the waves along with his vessel. 

Oh. Kingu had to rescue him. As a mere human, the golden man could not breath underwater and would quickly die. How pathetic. Such weak lungs. It was probably more convenient to just let the human die. He was the source of their problems, after all. If the humans lost their insolent leader, maybe they would relearn their respect. What value did this human have which was worth saving?

Despite himself, Kingu dived back below the surface of the waves and sped after the human king. But the sinking human had already lost consciousness by the time Kingu had caught up to him. Hoping he was still alive somehow, Kingu grabbed him and raced to the surface. No response. Kingu needed to find land somehow. In the distance, he made out a faint moving light. Maybe it was the sun. In any case, it meant calmer water, so he pulled the body towards it. 

As the storm began clearing, Kingu realized the light was actually from a peculiar tower on the beach. But his surprise was drowned out by his relief at finding land. He threw the human on the ground and waited for him to wake. 

Maybe it was better if the human didn’t wake up. He was the greatest obstacle to Kingu’s objective. Instilling fear in the other humans would be easier if this one wasn’t around. And, at least, Kingu could say that he tried to save him. But then Kingu’s rescue attempt would have been in vain... 

In any case, it was out of Kingu’s hands. He decided to study the surrounding area to take his mind off the stress of waiting. So this was the land where he was forced to live. The sand, or so he figured, was a grainy substance the color of the human’s hair that stuck grossly to his wet skin. Beyond the beach, far in the distance, there seemed to be a stone wall. 

Before he could get a better look, Kingu’s attention was grabbed by the human next to him, who had begun to cough. Seriously? You’re on land now. If you humans can’t even breathe on land, what good are you? Kingu scoffed at the human as water sputtered from his lips. But if there was water still inside the human, then, Kingu realized, it was up to him to draw it out somehow. Reluctantly, he leaned in for a closer inspection. He had no idea how to deal with humans—much less a drowning person.. If he turned him over, would the water come out?

During his increasingly panicked contemplation, Kingu was startled by two ruby-colored eyes which stared at him. His heart skipped a beat upon realizing he had never been so close to a human before. He couldn’t move; the bright eyes, which had locked their gaze after a final coughing fit, commanded him to be still.

“Who…” The human began. His eyes drifted down from Kingu’s face. “...Are you?”

Kingu felt he had no choice but to follow that stare. There. Long, fleshy, and undeniably human. Legs? Since when? Kingu’s mind went white. 

When Kingu came to his senses, the man, who had slithered out from underneath him, was scowling. Nevertheless, he extended a hand in Kingu’s direction. 

Kingu could only stare blankly at the strangely amical gesture before he was ripped from the ground and placed on his feet. 

It hurt. Kingu’s new feet were brittle; they could break just from the weight of his own body. He immediately toppled over. The human grabbed him with another groan and started to drag him towards the wall. Kingu, unsure of what to do with his new legs, tried to imitate his helper, but it was too painful. One foot in front of the other. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. 

Water droplets began welling up in the corners of Kingu’s eyes. Was this what it meant to cry? The tears which rolled down Kingu’s cheeks and met his lips were warm and salty. It was a miserable taste.

***

The walk through the city was lost on Kingu, whose consciousness was largely suppressed by the pain. But somehow he and the man he had rescued ended up in front of a decently sized brick building. It was someone’s home, Kingu guessed.

“Shamhat!” The blonde man barked.

After a minute or two of shuffling sounds, a human woman appeared at the doorway. “I’m sorry for the indecency, your majesty. I was with a customer.”

Kingu found nothing indecent about the woman. Wearing a plain, white dress, she had a simple but radiant beauty. Her brown hair shimmered green in the reappearing sunlight.

“Not anymore,” the man quickly dismissed. “I’m leaving this man to you.”

The woman, Shamhat presumably, eyed Kingu up and down then smiled coyly at him before turning back to the human king. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Also, fetch me a fresh pair of clothing before I go.”

“Of course.” Shamhat’s inspection had completely moved to the man’s sopping garments. “... What happened?”

“I’ll explain later. Just hurry up. Take him with you.” 

Having no control in the manner, Kingu was thrown harshly at Shamhat, who caught him surprisingly gently and eased him into the home and onto a bed. She quickly hurried off after that, giving Kingu a few minutes to reflect on what happened. 

He had rescued the human king, Gil… Gil-something and was taken to a mysterious woman’s home. He couldn’t make much sense of anything beyond that. 

He had legs now. Although the bed was a significant relief compared to standing, just the thought of his new legs sent him a painful shock. He never wanted to walk again. How could the humans do it every day, all day? They were undeterred to the point of foolishness. 

Shamhat returned and sat near the head of the bed. “Here you go.” Taking a cloth, she wiped Kingu’s cheeks. Apparently, tears still lingered. How embarrassing. To hide or at least avoid looking at Shamhat, Kingu turned his cheek. This action only made Shamhat giggle, so Kingu gave up and turned to face her. With a small smile, Shamhat seemed to be more than a human. Her unparallelled kindness and beauty could not be attributed to the selfish and arrogant humans.

“How are you feeling?” Shamhat asked. “Do you have a name?”

Shamhat’s gentleness had caused Kingu to drop his guard and he blurted out his name.

“So you can talk!”

Kingu nodded, aware of the irony, but he was too busy planning his next responses to the questions which would inevitably follow. He couldn’t slip up again.

“I’m relieved to know that. So then, Kingu, where are you from?”

“I don’t remember…” Kingu’s voice faded away with feigned shame. 

“You don’t remember?” Shamhat questioned him. “That’s troubling… What do you remember?”

“When I came to, I could only remember my name, Kingu.”

“Oh my!” Shamhat pursed her lips but quickly went back to smiling. “Well, that’s a good place to start!” Then she added, “Are you hungry? What foods do you like?” 

The question troubled Kingu, who hadn’t the slightest knowledge of the human diet. As he racked his brain, Shamhat chimed in again, “How about bread?” With a nod from Kingu (what did he know about bread?), Shamhat disappeared into a different room.

“Anyway.” Shamhat quickly returned with the strange food, apparently called bread. “I heard you can't walk; is this true?”

“Yes.” Kingu's voice was tinged with bitterness leftover from his miserable experience.

Shamhat blinked as though surprised Kingu confirmed her beliefs. “Then, how did you rescue King Gilgamesh?”

Even Kingu couldn't adequately explain that one. “I don't know. By chance?”

Shamhat inspected him. “Well, I'm very grateful, as is all of Uruk, I'm sure.”

“What kind of person is uh Gilguhh…”

“King Gilgamesh? He is an awe-inspiring person. Uruk's greatest king. He is responsible for the city's grandeur, its prosperity, and its safety. We owe our calm and happy everyday lives to him. And to you. If you had not saved him earlier, we would have been in trouble. So thank you. Thank you from every citizen of Uruk."

Kingu was ashamed to admit he understood her reasoning. When Atargata's previous king died unexpectedly, the city was taken over by chaos. They were disturbingly similar to humans in that regard. Kingu scoffed at himself. Why was he saving the human kingdom? He had to hurry back home and fix things in his own city.

[fraink5-writes]

Blue Ceiling - Tablet IV

No more Kingu in the anime, but at least he’s still here.

I’d like to thank @leio13 for being my wonderful editor!

Summary: Expecting to become king of the merpeople as son of Tiamat, Kingu is suddenly forced to give up his tail and to go the surface to restore humanity’s disregarded respect for the Goddess of the Sea. However, he severely underestimates the Uruks’ willpower, especially that of their stubborn king, Gilgamesh.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

“Are you sure you want to fight me now? I can easily beat you like this, you know.” Kingu twirled his spear in his hand for added effect.

“Impudent,” Gilgamesh growled. “Besides, you won’t be attacking me anyway.”

“Why not?” Kingu was itching to one-up Gilgamesh, who had yet to acknowledge him. Gilgamesh’s eyes flared, but he responded levelly, “Because I’m going to teach you defense. Your skills are completely useless as they are now.”

Kingu did not see how his skills were useless. If anything, learning defensive measures seemed silly for something like fishing, Kingu’s primary use for his spear. But Kingu decided not to say anything to avoid inciting his partner’s precarious temper. Instead, he just shrugged.

“You may have a knack for spearing fish, but certainly you haven’t forgotten what happened last time we fought?”

It was now Kingu’s turn to be annoyed. “No. I. have. not.” 

“Good.” Gilgamesh smirked. “Now, let’s begin!” He armed himself with a spear, pointing the blunt end towards Kingu.

Kingu waited for an attack, but not one came. Instead, Gilgamesh spoke again. “Do you want to get beaten?”

“No, but you haven’t even moved yet.”

“Idiot! I’ve already begun my move. You’re supposed to anticipate my attacks. Otherwise, you’re going to be defeated again.”

“You’re using the blunt end of the spear...” Kingu was tired of Gilgamesh’s commentary and wanted to move onto the main fight.

“Do you want to test out the other end?” Gilgamesh’s glare sharpened with dangerous intent, forcing Kingu into a defensive position. “Good.” Gilgamesh returned briefly to his leisurely smile before launching his first jab at Kingu.

The fights began with many comments from Gilgamesh, to Kingu’s dismay, but they were slowly replaced by the sound of clashing spears. Gilgamesh seemed to be enjoying himself, smirking when he passed through Kingu’s defenses and landed a blow, and grinning when he did not—when Kingu succeeded. Kingu also let himself be absorbed by the excitement: the swift movements, the coursing blood, the accelerating heartbeats. Time was too slow, too insufficient, and it fell by the wayside. The sparring pair only stopped when Kingu could no longer ignore the cumulation of tiny aches.

“Well done. You learn quickly.” Gilgamesh smiled with complete ease. He hadn’t a single scratch. “Do you have any injuries?”

“No.” Kingu decided to overlook the numerous little bruises. He could deal with them at home.

“No need to be vain,” Gilgamesh exhaled. “You won’t impress me by ignoring your injuries. That’s only foolery.” He beckoned a man into the room. “He will take care of whatever you need.”

Without the chance to retort, Kingu was led into another room. He sat tensely as the man inspected and treated his wounds. 

Kingu had not been trying to impress Gilgamesh. He only did not want to appear weaker than Gilgamesh. He only wanted to prove his strength to Gilgamesh, after having been humiliated. He only wanted Gilgamesh to acknowledge it, to admit to it.

When Kingu returned from the other room, he was greeted by an odd demand from Gilgamesh. “Come back the same time next weekend.” Perhaps it could have been called an invitation, yet there was no possibility of turning it down.

Nevertheless, Kingu hesitated. "Why are you training me, anyway?"

"I was in need of a sparring partner," Gilgamesh replied nonchalantly. As far as possible answers went, Kingu found the provided one to be unsatisfactory.

"But why me?"

"I've tested all the suitable men in Uruk.” Gilgamesh sighed. “But they don't have the right attitude."

Was Gilgamesh admitting he was wrong about Kingu’s attitude? Kingu decided to test it. "I thought I had an attitude problem."

Gilgamesh gave Kingu a brief, menacing look. "You do," he uttered. "But you're the only one so arrogant and so eager to fight me." As he finished his assessment of Kingu’s character, he grinned.

"That doesn't bother you?"

"No. You can't win. But your unyielding determination is a sight to behold.” Gilgamesh’s lips curled to a greater extent. “Don't stop fighting. I look forward to seeing what will become of you."

"Then I have permission to beat you."

"Don't get so ahead of yourself."

***

The sun was still high when Kingu packed up for the day. He threw the fish into his sack and prepared to head into town as usual. Rather than set up at the market, Kingu found it more useful to wander through the streets himself, trading his catches for whatever he needed. Through this method, he obtained food, furniture, and so many little trinkets that his brick house had begun to feel like a real home. His first stop was always the farms outside the walls. It was more convenient to pick up fresh items from the farms themselves, rather than the markets, on his way back into the city. 

On that day, however, Kingu was stopped unexpectedly. “Kingu!” It was a shepherd with whom Kingu frequently traded. “Can you help?” His nasal voice rose desperately.

“What is it?”

“There’s a lion terrorizing the herd! My wife is at the market. I do not think I can take on the beast alone…!”

Kingu had never seen a lion before, but he had heard about them a number of times—namely in horror stories of people getting eaten. Kingu wasn’t overly eager to take on such an opponent, but he wasn’t going to turn down a challenge. He wasn’t unfamiliar with fighting huge animals, after all. 

“Has the lion been terrorizing your herd repeatedly?” Kingu posed the question to get a picture of the situation.

“Yes, but my wife and I have been able to fend it off. But alone...”

It was decided. “Alright, then we kill it.”

“H-huh? No, no, we don’t need to do that! We just need to keep it from the sheep.”

“But it keeps coming back, right? Better to just get rid of the problem.” Kingu would not budge on the issue. Killing the lion would be quite an accomplishment, that even Gilgamesh couldn’t deny. He marched forward, spear in hand, in search of the lion. The shepherd followed nervously behind him. Kingu wasn’t sure how helpful the man was going to be; perhaps it would be better for him to keep out of the way.

The lion was unlike anything Kingu could have imagined. A giant animal which prowled on four legs. It was covered in sand-colored fur and darker, longer hair splayed around its triangular face. At the end of each paw were pointed claws. It seemed to breathe thunder.

Kingu’s heart thudded against his halted body. Blood ran from his face to his legs, tethering his feet to the ground. 

But Kingu steeled himself, glancing at the trembling (but still moving) shepherd beside him. He had to kill the lion.

Kingu realized that in order to land an attack on the beast, he couldn’t let it pounce first. Of course, it would also be foolish to charge at it head on, so he crept forward. He hoped the sheep were a good distraction. 

Finally, Kingu, the shepherd still right behind him, reached as good a distance as he would get. He charged at the beast and drove his spear into its hairy neck.

The lion pivoted and swiped at Kingu with a giant paw. The claws raked through Kingu’s skin like leaves. 

Kingu staggered backwards, barely clutching his spear in his right hand, but the lion wouldn’t let him go. It clamped on his left arm with its fangs. 

Kingu thought he had known pain. He thought he had adjusted to pain when he learned how to walk, yet this pain—this shock—completely overwhelmed him. It invaded his body, killing off all other senses. 

Somehow he was freed. He fell to the ground. But he didn’t feel anything. He saw the blurring silhouette of the lion thrash above him. 

He was going to die.

He couldn’t let the beast get on top of him.

He would be crushed. 

His usable hand clenched something. 

He was going to die.

He thrust the object at the lion. 

Blood splattered above him. 

Was that Kingu’s blood? He couldn’t tell.

Sensing a great relief (death?), his mind went blank.

“You’re an idiot.” A nasal voice was the last thing he heard.

[fraink5-writes]

Hidden Eyes

Heyyy, I’m back from the dead—a new me! A new fandom too. But please enjoy!

I’d like to thank Leio13 for beta-reading!

Summary: Kingu is surprised by Gilgamesh's affectionate advances, but he knows they are not really meant for him.

This drabble can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

A pair of bare arms wrapped around Kingu’s waist as someone’s warmth pressed up from behind him. He recognized the hands, with their short, undecorated fingernails immediately. “Gil?”

“Mmm.” The response was barely more than a heated breath against Kingu’s right shoulder. 

Kingu turned his head. “What are you—”

“Don’t turn around,” Gilgamesh demanded. “Please,” he added, as though it would soften the peculiarity of his request.

Kingu stared straight ahead. A horrible blush had covered his face, so maybe it was better that Gilgamesh couldn’t see it. Yet the thudding in his chest was not just from excitement. He didn’t understand Gilgamesh’s demand—no, he understood it, but he anxiously hoped he was wrong.

Gilgamesh’s arms slid gently up to Kingu’s chest, massaging his skin. Their light touches made him shudder—he craved the sensation.

“Gil…” Kingu sighed, in spite of his desires. “You’re going to regret this.” I’m not the one you love.

Gilgamesh’s lips never lifted from Kingu’s shoulder despite the pause. “Do you regret this?”

Kingu gulped. His heart pounded against his skull. He wanted Gilgamesh to love him. Even if only for a little bit. Even if it was only pretend.

“No.”

That was one lie they both could understand.

The horribly tender caresses started again. They melted Kingu’s insides into a puddle of delight. He wished they melt his consciousness too; then he could stop being Kingu.

For the first time, Kingu felt a kiss, planted deeply in his neck. Passion seeped from Gilgamesh’s lips into Kingu’s blood stream, overtaking his brain. Another, firmly against his collar bone, just as fervent as the previous one. Another. And another. Kiss after kiss, Gilgamesh moved across Kingu’s collarbone in a delicate frenzy. Each was like a drug, hijacking Kingu’s pleasure center, alleviating the guilt chained to reality. It was an unsustainable solution, but it was addicting, so Kingu indulged in this false happiness. 

Don’t stop.

“Mmm…” Gilgamesh moaned. “It’s not enough.” Of course it wasn’t enough. Kingu knew from the beginning he wasn’t enough. “Can I kiss you?”

Kingu’s heart stopped. He just barely managed to nod his head. Then, with the guide of Gilgamesh’s hands, he spun slowly around. He had hardly seen Gilgamesh, when his sight was interrupted.

“Please, don’t look at me.” Gil let out a pathetic whimper.

Kingu shut his eyes. It was better for both of them not to see such a sad sight. “I won’t look, so please.” Please love me. 

Kingu’s heart beat impatiently, waiting for Gilgamesh’s answer. Would he accept or spurn Kingu’s love?

But it was never about Kingu’s love. 

Finally, Gilgamesh’s soft hands embraced Kingu’s cheeks. His warm breath was superseded by melancholy lips. Their kisses mingled with the taste of salt. Were they Kingu’s or Gilgamesh’s tears?

[fraink5-writes]

Blue Ceiling - Tablet XI

Happy Mermay, y’all! It’s only appropriate that this fic comes to end during this month!

Thanks a bunch to the great @leio13 and her editing prowess!

Summary: Expecting to become king of the merpeople as son of Tiamat, Kingu is suddenly forced to give up his tail and to go the surface to restore humanity’s disregarded respect for the Goddess of the Sea. However, he severely underestimates the Uruks’ willpower, especially that of their stubborn king, Gilgamesh.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

A few days later, Kingu woke up with the sun. He longed for the sea, its warm embrace and caressing currents. For the first time, he didn’t feel heavy with illness; he felt light as though his soul was nearly detached from his body. For that reason, he decided to make the long journey to the beach. He had heard stories of Uruk funerals where the deceased were dressed up and put out to sea, so he decided to put on his best outfit, one Shamhat had given him that Gil had said looked good. But when he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see anything remotely beautiful. He was a corpse in clothing, skeletal and pale. But no one would send him off, so it didn’t matter how hideous he looked. 

In a short while, Uruk’s streets would fill with vendors and shoppers, but as he was leaving, they were empty. Kingu would miss them. He looked wistfully at Uruk’s grand wall before crossing through it. He couldn’t return to the inside again.

When Kingu arrived on the beach, the sun was already high overhead. Overcome with exhaustion, he collapsed onto the coarse sand, then pulled his body into the water. He lay half in the water, half on the sand, gasping for each breath, not unlike a dying fish. The frigid waves crept up his legs but recoiled each time. Even the sea had rejected him. It was neither warm nor gentle as he remembered. He laughed bitterly. 

Finding comfort in neither sand nor sea, he watched the slow parade of clouds, outlining their shapes in his mind.

“Somehow I knew I would find you here.” A golden figure towered above Kingu. “A lot has changed from that time, hm?”

“You were looking for me?”

“When Siduri went to your house this morning, she discovered you were no longer there, so she, Shamhat and I went searching for you. You must be glad that I found you.”

Siduri, Shamhat, and Gil? Kingu nodded weakly.

“Should I carry you back again?” Gil’s gaze drifted away with a slight glow of embarrassment. “Although, even if I rescue you, I don’t think we could ever be even.”

“No,” Kingu choked out. “It’s too late.”

Gil nodded solemnly before sitting on the sand. He picked up Kingu’s hand and eased its trembling with his fingers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“I haven’t been here that long.” Kingu tried to laugh to lighten the mood. “Besides, you’re injured.” Kingu could still see thick layers of bandages wrapped around Gil’s waist.

“Those are nothing.” Gil dismissed Kingu’s concerns. “It’s thanks to your actions that they weren’t that serious. Oh, I hate being in your debt.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Don’t start revering me now! Don’t you have something petty and unreasonable to demand?”

Kingu had many unreasonable desires, but he couldn’t ask Gil about them. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Gil’s eyes had the serious look which Kingu had admired countless times. “Thank you, Kingu. You have saved me so many times.”

Neither of them wanted to hear the end of that thought. “Perhaps I should have come up with something?” Kingu laughed.

“It’s not too late.” A lie.

“Well…” When Kingu searched his brain, he only found anxiety. “Actually, I have something to tell you. Will you listen?”

“That’s your request? For me to listen to you?” Gil’s attempts to alleviate Kingu’s nerves failed.

“Seriously and considerately?”

“Of course. I will hear anything you have to say.”

Kingu inhaled slowly. “Gil,” he hesitated. “I…” The words faltered in his chest.

Gil put a gentle finger to Kingu’s quivering lips. “If you don’t want to say it, you don’t have to. I already know.”

What could you possibly know?

Gil’s lips curled into a smirk. He leaned in and tenderly kissed Kingu. His lips had a hint of wine, and they reddened Kingu’s cheeks and numbed his mind. If Kingu tasted them for too long, he would surely become intoxicated.

A tear slipped from Kingu’s closed eyes, but it was softly wiped away by Gilgamesh’s thumb, which caressed his face as it slid toward his ear.

Kingu could still feel the warm mingling of their breaths after they parted. Gil’s eyes had lost their sharpness, but Kingu was enchanted by their crimson depths. Gil whispered, “Any other requests?”

Kingu shook his head ever so slightly to avoid breaking eye contact. Don’t leave.

Gil’s fingers traced light circles on Kingu’s skin, running through his hair. Their message lulled Kingu from a panic to peaceful near-sleep. Was it okay for him… to close… his… eyes…?

Kingu felt exceptionally light. If he let his mind slip for even a bit, he would lose unconsciousness forever. Anxious as he was, his heartbeat was almost non-existent. He desperately clutched Gil’s hand. There was a return squeeze. Gil was still there.

***

Kingu’s grip grew weaker with each squeeze. The sea was slowly taking him from Gilgamesh, dissolving his body. But Gilgamesh would not let go. He had refused to acknowledge the goddess Tiamat even after he nearly died, and he wouldn’t start now.

Of course, the sea would try to take back her child, but Kingu was an Uruk now. As Uruk’s king and as an individual, Gilgamesh could not lose him.

Kingu’s body had faded so only his hand and a few strands of hair remained in Gilgamesh’s hands. It was only a short matter of time before he was gone entirely. If Kingu could give up everything and save Uruk, why couldn’t Gilgamesh save him from a few waves?

The small, white bubbles, glittering in the sunlight, floated upon the waves where Kingu had just been. They flirted with the land before pulling away. Such pure beauty could never last. Their transience only made the memory more dazzling as they were scattered by the incoming waves.