ELAINE STRAIGHTENED, then smoothed her dress, skipping over the lanterns that were being prepared for release back at the palace, all the way to her father with exaggerated enthusiasm.
"So, Daddy!" she sang.
Gilgamesh's muscle memory immediately commanded him to turn his head to her,
"Yes, my joy?" he replied, his eyes softening.
Elaine clasped her hands behind her back, bouncing on her toes. "I was just thinking about the story of you and mother again…" she said with a sly smile.
"You have heard that story a thousand times, Elaine," her father huffed.
"But the way you tell it makes it so exciting! Please? Just one more time?" She pleaded.
Arthuria raised an eyebrow but said nothing, her lips twitching in a faint smile, while continuing to stitch her and her husband's lantern design.
Eugene, who had been immersed in his book, perked up slightly. "If it matters at all, it is my turn to request," he mumbled.
Elaine's mouth fell open in dramatic offense. "You dare to challenge me?" She said in a playful tone.
"Oh, give our dear brother a chance." Arthur cooed, "He always leaves his poor, loving family behind for that dustylibrary," poking Eugene's cheek with one finger.
Eugene grumbled under his breath. "I cannot imagine why…"
Gilgamesh leaned forward; his youngest son asking something of him was not on his lantern list. He never does. "Go on then, son. Make your request."
"Really?" Eugene said, flicking his nuisance of a brother's finger away.
Arthur hissed, instantly shoved the offended finger into his mouth with a glare.
Eugene ignored him, then looked up to meet his father's kind eyes, clearing his throat, closing his book shut, "We know all the stories start from when you met Mother, but you never talk about the time before."
The room fell quiet.
"My adolescent past is not something I often look back on with remembrance."
"But- it is not just your past, but ours, too." Eugene's brow furrowed, "Why do we pretend like the history does not exist, ever since that day of the fire—"
"Eugene—" Arthur warned.
Gilgamesh raised a hand to silence him.
Arthuria turned slightly toward Eugene. "What is troubling you, dearest?"
Eugene hesitated, then said, "I was reading the surviving archives. They spoke of a brother to the king… Where is he? Why do we not know about the rest of our family? Or anyone from the generation before us."
Gilgamesh's grip on his goblet tightened. "Is this the story you wish to request?"
Eugene nodded. "I just… would have liked to hear it from you. As Elaine always says, You make everything sound ten times greater."
Gilgamesh's expression softened, "I must warn you," he said at last. "This story carries as much sadness as it does knowledge."
Elaine straightened. Accepting defeat with a pout.
Gilgamesh sighed, leaning forward slightly. "Very well," he said. "Once upon a time." He began. "I had a brother," his voice low, resonant with memory. "His name… was Enkidu."
A long silence stretched.
"We were not born from the same womb. I was born in flesh and blood, whereas he was forged by soil and water. He came from the gods' own hands, with a task and the will to see it through. And yet… when he walked into the city for the first time, with his golden eyes, he looked at me like I was no king at all. Just a boy playing god." He chuckled softly. "And I hated him, for the simple fact he was beneath me, yet somehow… looking down on me." His eyes were fixed on the fire as it cracked. "He was the first to call me out on my tyranny. The only soul other than your mother who dared to challenge me."
"What happened next?"Eugene's brow furrowed.
"The first Rite of Challenge," Gilgamesh said. "I told him, 'Choose the weapon you wish to die by,'
'No. A true king does not rely on steel to do what he alone can accomplish with his bare hands, unless he is no king at all.' Enkidu replied.
Gilgamesh huffed."I was blinded by rage, so much so that I agreed without thinking. We fought for days, and at the end of it… We laughed. He became my friend that day. My Brother." He smiled faintly, his voice trailed off, lost in the weight of memory.
"Wait!" Elaine exclaimed, tilting her head. "We can adopt?"
Gilgamesh blinked. "Only by acknowledgment of the king…"
"Shh..." Arthur hissed.
"You shh—" Elaine hissed back.
"No, you shh!" He snapped.
"How about both of you shh," Eugene muttered. His intervention brought them to a standstill of pure shock and disbelief.
"Why did he die?" Eugene asked.
Gilgamesh blinked, as if pulled from somewhere far away, then smiled. The bickering had always reminded him of what he still had.He then swallowed hard. "He did not fulfill his purpose; in fact, he did the opposite. The gods do not like seeing their creations rebel, and so they demanded his return him back. I said, 'over my corpse.' He smirked, "I was ready to start a war, but… he chose peace. So, naturally, I did too. We negotiated his soul, I already knew what the price would be, and so I broke my very first degree, I made as king. I extend an olive branch to the celestial realm to keep him safe from their wrath. Until A certain ambitious low-classed goddess slithered through that very crack in the sky, wanting everything the light touched and said, Marry me, and the branch will surely grow into a fruitful tree. He recited the poem with mocking disgust.
"And what did you say, Daddy?" Elaine giggled.
He smiled, "I said, 'Piss off.' You are not my wife."
Elaine laughed, nearly snorting. "Mother was not your wife then."
Gilgamesh feigned a gasp, "Treason, from my own blood!" placing a hand to his chest as if wounded. Making his children laugh. "Are you hearing this blasphemy, Arthuria? Your daughter thinks we were not married!"
Arthuria rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. "For your father's sanity, children, we have been married since the moment 'marriage license' was invented." She turned to her husband with a raised brow. "Happy?"
"Immensely." Gilgamesh beamed.
The room filled with laughter once more.
"Anyway," he cleared his throat, "She got angry and sent her pet cow to teach me a lesson. When we slew it… they punished us. I could not be harmed physically, so there was only one option left." He looked up then, his gaze dimmed by old pain. "It was a cruel fate."
Eugene's lips parted, but no words came.
"My brother… slowly withered away within seven days. I held him when he returned to the earth," he said, his voice rough. "I did not sleep during that time, I was too busy praying to the gods to spare him every. single. day. But they did not listen." He exhaled slowly. "I spent years chasing the power of immortality. Not for myself—but to defy the gods, to prove humanity could surpass any fate. To erase that moment. And I did find it," he paused. "Then when I lost it… I realized nothing would have ever worked. Nothing would have brought him back, at least in the way he would have wanted. In that moment, suddenly living forever in pain sounded morbid. It was then that I realized what my punishment was." He turned to Eugene. "Upon my return to the kingdom, it had suffered in my absence. That is why I never speak of the past. Because nothing good will come from following the footsteps of a blind man. Even if that man is me."
Arthuria 's hand reached out to tighten around his, offering a soft smile.
He returned it and sighed, "But, I am glad you asked," he added, his tone quiet. "Your uncle deserves to be remembered."
A thoughtful silence settled over the room.
"At least we still have Uncle Alex!" Elaine chirped.
Arthur snorted. "He shows up once every year, usually near the end of it."
Elaine giggled. "Yeah! And with a ton of presents for every birthday he missed, we should call him Uncle Treasure!"
"No," her father said flatly.
She pouted. "Fine… Uncle Giftbag?"
"Santa?" Eugene suggested
Arthur frowned. "Why Santa?"
He shrugged, "It sounds cool. And it is short for his last name."
Gilgamesh let out a long breath and sank back, propping his elbow on the armrest as if the conversation itself were wearing him down, if that were not enough—
"Have you heard from Alexander, Gil?" his wife inquired.
"Last I checked, he was somewhere in the Atlantic," he grumbled out, rolling his eyes. "Said he was hunting mermaids."
"To kill?" Arthur asked.
"To f—"
Wack!
Arthuria smacked her husband's chest with the back of her hand. "To take as a wife," she finished for him.
"He has twenty-five," Arthur muttered.
"That you know of," Eugene added.
The siblings snickered, the weight of the story settling over them. thought it was promised to be of sadness, what followed carried a strange warmth, almost comforting, as if another long-hidden piece of the puzzle had finally been revealed.
Then, the first lantern rose slowly, glowing like a drifting star against the dark velvet sky.
Elaine gasped. "Look! They're here!" Taking up her lantern from the table, "Thank you, mother—" darting toward the balcony, with her soft pink petals painted along its edges. "Come on!" she called, bouncing in place with barely contained excitement, then turned back to kiss her mother on he cheek, then sprang off again.
The rest of the family followed, each of them took their lantern in hand in exchange for giving their mother a kiss. Arthur held one decorated with desserts, mostly tarts, Eugene's was filled with books, go figure, and the king and queen held one shared between them, decorated with blue Roses and one single red rose. Dozens of lanterns were rising then hundreds from the city below, flickering in shades of gold and orange, blue and violet, filled with wishes and prayers.
Elaine held her lantern tightly to her chest, whispered something only the stars could hear, and then let it go. It floated upward, weightless. "Happy Dawn Rite, everyone!" she shouted while giggling, her voice echoed down into the city streets.
From below, the kingdom was alive, true to its name of the city of gold, as a thousand dawns rose all at once, along with the sea voices.
"Happy Dawn Rite! Princess!"
Gilgamesh stood beside Arthuria, watching the flood of flights challenge the stars in the sky like a sea of drifting fireflies. He looked at her, the glow from the lanterns reflecting in his eyes. "Happy Dawn Rite," he said softly.
"Happy Dawn Rite," she replied. Her fingers brushed his, then entwined.
He turned toward her then, his voice softer now."What did you wish for?"
Her gaze was still skyward. "Whatever you wished for," she replied, brushing her fingers lightly along his. "You know… to give yours a fighting chance."
Gilgamesh chuckled under his breath, "Really?"
"Mhm." She did not look at him, but the smile tugging at her lips said enough. "You know, since the whole degree—
"Look at me, my love."
And so she did, without hesitation.
He cupped her face with one hand, firm, reverent, thumb brushing her cheekbone like he was memorizing her anew. The other hand slipped around her waist, steadying her as if she might drift away with the lanterns. "I did not get to say thank you." He leaned in, but before their lips could meet, a chorus of voices rang out behind them:
"Happy Dawn Rite, Father! Mother!"
They turned, startled from their moment by the sound of their children, their faces lit by lantern light and laughter.
Gilgamesh exhaled through a chuckle, then smiled, "Happy—" he began, then paused. He scanned the balcony. Something was missing; or rather someone, his brows knit. His gaze swept beyond the city. Artizea had promised she would be there. And yet, she was not. "Where is Artizea?" he asked no one in particular.
Arthur scanned the area with mild alarm.
"She said she would join us later, did she not?" Eugene added.
"it is midnight." Their father said, his voice low, "Later was yesterday."
Elaine shifted slightly, and Arthur saw it. Sensing the tension rising, he shot to his feet,
"I will find her, Father. No need to send Mother's knightguard."
His father's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he nodded. "Straight to me."