ARTIZEA
ARTIZEA FOUND HERSELF SITTING ON HER BALCONY ONCE MORE. She stared at the blank canvas before her. Brushes lay scattered across the floor, none of them seemed to have been touched. Then came a soft creak of her chamber door. There was no knock.
"What do you want, Father?" Artizea asked coldly, her voice sharp but tinged with exhaustion. She did not even look up when he entered. She could instantly sense who was who now…and she hated it.
Gilgamesh closed the door softly behind him. "I came to see how you were doing." He stood just a few feet away.
Her eyes narrowed, the bitterness in her voice cutting deeper than any blade. "You promised."
Gilgamesh let out a heavy sigh, "I know," he said quietly, his voice, walking to her slowly. "People were getting hurt, Artizea. I did not know what else to do."
"I know—" Artizea clenched her jaw, her gaze dropping to her hands, now clenched into fists. "I do not blame you entirely," she admitted after a long pause. "But it still… hurt."
Gilgamesh did not know what to say. Then, he let out a long breath and leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. "Secret for secret," he said at last, "You go first."
Artizea hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she whispered, "I-i… care for Rhyssand."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Gilgamesh's mouth. He nodded slowly. "I know," he said simply. Artizea's eyes widened in surprise before she could press, "My name… is not Gilgamesh," he stated.
She shot upright. "What?"
"All… high rank celestials are blessed with a divine name along with a singular purpose. As a half-breed…" he smirked, "I was given two names, one by my mother's people and my father's. And when I disregarded my purpose, so did I the name." he exhaled, "Would you like to hear it?"
She instantly thought of another question to ask Rhysssand later, while still being unsure if he was jesting. But when he leaned forward and whispered it into her ear, her face contorted with shock. "What?! Why would you change it?"
Her father chuckled, "It is a long story. One that began with your grandfather's death and…the parting of my celestial ties." His tone shifted, quieter now, darker. "I was not born out of love, but of a purpose. I thought… if I erased the name I was given, along with his, I would finally feel free, that I would finally know peace, but it did not. I tried to give you peace in the same way…and in that I failed as well."
"The fire was not an accident, was it? I did it."
"No." He shook his head, then stood up and placed a hand gently on the desk beside her, grounding himself. "It was me."
"What?"
"When you were born, I could not help but wish to ask him what it was like, being a father," he said, voice softer than she had ever heard it. "I did not know much about children. But the moment I held you in my arms… I knew…I would do anything to keep you safe and happy. And though that wish remains, it did not, however, change my mind about kids. Truth be told, I still do not fancy them, at least the toddler part…" He said with a sigh of exhaustion.
Artizea raised a brow.
"My children are different, of course." He quickly added, "As your mother says, 'Better seasonings make the feast worth enduring'…" he chuckled.
Artizea crossed her arms, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile.
Gilgamesh clears his throat and tries again, "The point I am trying to make is, I will never be the perfect father. I was not a good king back in the day. Not by a long shot. And I am still trying to figure out how to be the husband your mother deserves and more. But I try, Artizea. I try because I love my family." His gaze softened as it locked onto hers. "Truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, I was never going to chain you to that prison. The whole truth…I would burn the four kingdoms myself if I had to, just so they would take me instead…nothing but the truth, I tried."
Artizea listened wholeheartedly.
"The day we nearly lost you, I set fire to the library in every kingdom, I erased everything… with no remorse. At first, it was a distraction…" he admitted. "Your mother and I believed it the wisest course to sweep history. No one who came after would know of the pendragons…or the prophecy. We had planned to take our children, abandon the crown, and live quietly on a cliff above the sea. It was a beautiful spot. For a few blissful moments, I felt at peace, knowing that whenthey came for me, your mother would remain behind with you and your siblings, safe. Yet when the hour of judgment arrived… it was never passed." He turned to face her. the faint sheen of tears threatening to fall. "You ask if you were my punishment," he said quietly. "I tell you now, you could never be. My punishment has always been, and will always be, uncertainty. For that is what I fear most."
The words hung in the air as her eyes glistened; she could not believe what she had just heard. The lengths that her family had gone through…for her.
"Here," he said, pulling something from his pocket. He stepped around her and placed a delicate necklace over her head. The gem shimmered faintly as it settled against her chest, the faint hum of magic calming the storm of energy within her.
She touched the pendant lightly."What is this?"
"A stabilizer, Eugene made it with… his help." Struggling not to roll his eyes. "It will help you control your energy, give you time to breathe, until we discuss it at council…" The rest of the words ceased to exist.
"Why did you hide it from me for so long?" She whispered.
After a long moment to think he finally spoke, "I wished to protect my daughter from the mistakes and burdens of the man I was… before he became your father—" He stiffened for a moment, "I wished for you to be more than my daughter, i wanted you to be so much more than my legacy, more than…a prophecy…" glancing down at Artizea, wrapping her arms around him. He was unused to such open displays of affection, but quickly relaxed, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"I-i—" she whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she buried her face in his chest. "I want to be your legacy, Father." Then, the tears she had been holding back spilled over, streaking her cheeks. "I want to be your daughter…"
"Do not cry, my treasure. If it brings you comfort, I am but two-thirds. Thank the gods for your mother—she claimed the other third. And thank her gardens, for your siblings carry her humanity as their own," he chukled.
"Is it just us…?" she asked weakly.
"Just us, fortunately and unfortunately," he replied, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then pulled her into his arms, holding her close in the safety of his embrace. "I promise I will do better," He vowed while holding her tightly. When they finally pulled apart, his gaze fell to the blank canvas beside her.
They both blink frog-like at the same time.
"Is this meant to be some new way of art…?" he asked.
Artizea shrugged weakly, "I do not know how to start."
Gilgamesh glanced at the scattered paint jars on her desk. Without hesitation, he grabbed one, uncapped it, and splattered a streak of vivid blue across the canvas."How about now?"
Artizea blinked, then grabbed a jar of red paint and followed his lead, splashing it in a different direction. They went back and forth, laughing as the canvas turned into a chaotic mess of colors. When she glanced up, she noticed his once-pristine attire was now covered in splotches of paint.
"Dad, you are full of spots," she gasped.
"And so I am…" but he did not care. He dipped his hands in paint from the canvas, then pressed them against his tunic, "Help me out?"
Artizea chuckled, dipping her own fingers into the colors and smearing them across his sleeve.
"Ah-ha! Treason!" he declared.
"Dad!" she giggled, her fingers covering her face with a smile identical to her mother's.
Right then and there, they started a war of paint,and their laughter filled the room.
There was a knock, and the door creaked open. Speak of the Queen herself, Arthuria stepped inside, her eyes widening at the sight of her husband and daughter covered in paint, their hands and faces streaked with vibrant colors. For a moment, she simply stared. "Well," she said finally, her voice laced with amusement, "I see you two have been pretty…busy."
Gilgamesh turned to her, his eyes gleaming with warmth."Our daughter is quite the artist," he said, his voice filled with pride.
Artizea smiled shyly, wiping her paint-covered hands on her cloak. "I had a good apprentice."
Arthuria's gaze softened, "Must be from my side of the family," walking toward him, brushing a streak of paint from her husband's cheek. "You have a little something here.." she teased, then kissed him on the cheek.
He wrapped an arm around her waist."Hazard of the job, my love."
Arthuria laughed, leaning into his embrace while he planted a quick peck of kisses on her now painted cheeks. "Enough!You are a mess—" she murmured.
Artizea watched her parents with amusement. Before she could step back to give them space, her father reached out and pulled her into a hug. She hesitated for only a moment before wrapping her arms around both of them, her cheek pressed against her father's chest. Her mother's hand rested gently on her back, the three of them standing there in a quiet, shared moment of warmth.
"I promise." Gilgamesh said firmly, "That we will have more of this. A few hours every week, just us."
Artizea tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes wide. "You promise?" she asked softly.
"I do,"
"I need that in writing this time." Artizea pouted.
Her father raised a brow the exact moment her mother burst out into a fit of giggles, the irony. He rolled his eyes, his mind drifting back to a memory etched deep in his heart.
The day Artizea was born, when it had just been them, three. painting, which she often liked to do as a child. "Daddy—," a young baby Artizea gurgled out, as Arthuria turned to him, pregnant with Arthur.
Now, as Arthuria and Artizea smiled up at him, he felt that same fierce love swell in his chest.
ARTHUR
Arthur crept silently through the corridors, following the sharp chirps of the bird he now recognized as no ordinary creature. After the events of that day replayed in his mind, the sight of His sister, in pain, the desperation in her eyes. It was then that he realized why she placed immense trust in the celestial Prince. He had come to recognize the mistakes he had made in his judgment. He needed to extend an olive branch, to apologize. For his sister's sake and his.
Earlier, he had overheard Eugene muttering to a bird—no ordinary bird. The way He spoke, with familiarity and an almost casual respect, left little doubt in Arthur's mind. The bird was one of Rhyssand's doing, likely sent to watch over Artizea. Fueled by equal parts curiosity and guilt, He had decided to follow the creature, winding his way through the castle corridors until it led him here.
When the bird landed on Rhyssand's shoulder near the top of the palace, Arthur rehearsed apology lines in his head one more time, then was about to step forward—until he saw her.Ishtar. Materializing into reality, her robes, white as silk, shimmered like molten light. He froze, pressing himself against the shadows of the stone wall as her honeyed voice rang out.
"You look troubled, my Son."
Rhyssand did not turn, but his eyes returned their glow.
"Is it because you have finally succumbed to the truth?" She approached gracefully, her divine presence radiating power and allure. "You know how this story ends…you knew a long time ago."
"There's still—" he said quietly, his voice laced with frustration
"Time?" she chuckled. "My dear boy, if it is one thing even us gods do not have, it is time."
Rhyssand's fists clenched at his side. "What are you doing here?"
"You called me, whether you intended to or not," She replied, stopping a few steps away from him. "Your thoughts are loud. Guilt does not suit you."
"It was not supposed to go this far," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow.
"I warned you, did I not? You should have dealt with her from the start—like I told you to." Her smile was hollow. "You let yourself become attached. A foolish mistake, but one we can still rectify and take advantage of. For the greater—"
"This stopped being for the greater good the night you asked me to do the unthinkable."
His mother scoffed, "She's a pawn, Rhys—a tool to bring about the necessary change we need. Nothing more—"
"Is everyone just a pawn to you?" he snapped, his voice rising. "She…—" He paused, swallowing hard. "…trusts me."
Her expression hardened. "And what has that trust bought her? Has it shielded her from the coming judgment? Has it changed her cursed biology overnight? Tell the audience, Rhys—" she spread her arms wide. "What has the Crown Princess's trust done for her except pave the road to her ruin?" She taunted while stepping closer, "Hm?"
He said nothing.
"Tell me, what is it that blinds you so? What do you hope to gain?" Just then, her lips stretched a knowing smile."Ah… is this about what is between her legs?" She smirked. "How does human taste? Gosh, it's been so long…"
"Stop it." He hissed.
But she did not. She pressed on, "I heard a rumor once, you know I try not to gossip, but—I will not fault you, she seems like a good lay—"
Arthur's anger was bubbling to the surface. Word after word. But he held back, his mind racing through the many different ways to kill a man. He took a deep breath, 1, 2, 3, so no one bleeds.
"Watch yourself," Rhyssand growled. Ishtar turned her head slightly, sensing a presence in the dark, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
"On the contrary, I am watching myself. You are turning out to be just like me, Rhys."
Rhyssand turned away from her, shaking his head. "I do not wish any part of this anymore. Do you hear me? I am done."
"—Wrong—" she said sharply, "You forget it was you who came up with the plan. A brilliant scheme, really—prolonging her death sentence, one lie at a time." She lightly chuckled.
Arthur's heart raced while piecing it all together. It was not the fact that Rhyssand's alliance with Ishtar that gutted him so, nor his betrayal of Artizea—it was a bitter truth that twisted like a dagger in his chest. No matter how close his sister came to happiness, it was always taken away.
"Now you wish to protect her? Ha—How noble. But you cannot protect her from the council, Rhys. And if you are not careful, she will drag you down to the void with her."
Rhyssand closed his eyes. "Enough, Mother," he said quietly.
"—She's an abomination!"
Ba-dum.
"—A mistake!"
Ba-dum.
"She never should have existed! You know this—"
Arthur's hand went to the hilt of his sword.
Rhyssand took a step closer to her, "What I know is that you need to leave. Now…"
"Or what, you will tell daddy dearest, my secret? What is your weak ass father going to do anyway? Huh?" she laughed at the silence. "With what power and authority? What has he ever done for you besides Nothing! A flutter of feathers cut her off.
Fin perched on Rhyssand's shoulder, his black feathers ruffling in irritation as the goddess's eyes flicked to him."You heard him! shoo—shoo!"
"You really should learn to control that little nuisance," Ishtar said coldly, her lips curling. "Perhaps I should deal with it for you."
Fin let out an indignant squawk, puffing up his feathers. "Oh, please. You wouldn't dare—"
Ishtar's hand moved closer, but before she could grab him, Rhyssand's hand shot out, gripping her wrist with enough force to stop her in her tracks. His eyes burned, "Do not touch Him." his voice was dangerously calm. For a moment, their eyes locked. Divine fury clashing with silent defiance. "Leave." Finally, she released her wrist.
His mother took a step back, rubbing her hand with a look of faint annoyance and irritation. "Fine," she said smoothly, her composure slipping back into place. "I will go. You will come to see reason soon enough. My coin is on when it is too late…" Turning her heels to leave.
Fin hopped from Rhyssand's shoulder onto a nearby ledge, shaking his feathers in the direction she vanished. "Yeah, you better run—!" he called after her, "Don't let the gates of hell hit you on your way in—"
"Fin," Rhyssand said with a sharper edge.
Fin ignored him, sticking out its tongue in the spot where she once stood.
Rhyssand pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and disgust. "What am I to do with you?"
"Feed me, love me, pay me," Fin replied, hopping back onto the ledge. "On second thought, can my pay be food?"
Rhyssand shook his hand and sighed. He could no longer feel her presence, but he felt another nearby. He knew the moment of consequences was upon him."I suppose you are going to ask me why?" He called from his shoulder. Then, to see steel at his throat and Arthur's expression of a mixture of fury and disbelief.
"I think we have long passed that bridge, don't you think?"
Rhyssand fully turned to him, his eyes filled with guilt. "I offer it nonetheless."
"Oh, Fuck you." Arthur mumbled, "You used my sister—plotted against her realm. And now you stand here pretending to be what? her righteous savior?" his voice rose.
"Well, when you put it like that…" Rhyssand admitted, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his confession. "In a nutshell."
Arthur pressed the blade against his neck, twisting it just enough for the edge to kiss the vein."You betrayed her trust, and you think I will just let that slide?"
Rhyssand did not flinch. "Have you still not learned that chopping heads off does not solve the problem?" his gaze was steady.
Arthur's hand tightened on the hilt, knuckles white."Have you no shame? Have you not a soul?! A Conscious? Cannot you see she's been through enough already?For fuck sake!"
"I do not expect forgiveness."
"Forgiveness?" Arthur spat. "You think this is about forgiveness?" he roared. "I was thirteen when my father sat me down and told me about the prophecy. That there might come a day when I might lose my sister forever!" His voice trembled in memory.
We were training. She teased me about my footwork, and I, the fool, teased her about her powers. I was joking…"His eyes darkened with memory, but he pushed on."She transformed."
There was a moment of silence.
"She was gone for seven days, my sister was a dragon for a week. Lost to us and herself. We thought we lost her. Never to hear her voice again. Never to see her smile…" He exhaled slowly. "We had to tell Eugene and Elaine, so they could say goodbye…we placed the burden of truth on seven and nine-year-old Babies—They were just children." His voice cracked."We just wanted to be children."
Rhyssand listened attentively.
"And when the time came to witness our sister be hauled to that dreadful place, chained to thatprison, that same Prison, our father was forced to build because your kind decided she was too dangerous to be born…" A tear slipped from his cheek, unhidden and unashamed."She was barely a fetus in our mother's womb, and still,they wanted her dead. But before the last chain was bound, before the final click that would seal her fate, she came back to us. Right then and there, our father decreed that the tablets be destroyed, along with the records, the scrolls, every last word tracing back to the beginning of history. To be Burned. Buried. Erased in every kingdom.
"History could not repeat itself. If it no longer existed in the first place…But that was not enough for me." Arthur whispered, then took a shaky breath, his gaze burning into Rhyssand's. "I made a vow that day—to protect her. With my Life. I may have been wrong to behead Eric, but I will live with that shame for the rest of my life." He stepped closer now, the tip of his blade pressing firmly against Rhyssand's chest. "So if removing you from the equation, with the risk of facing her wrath and fire for damn near eternity in hell, if it means I get to see her live and grow old, be happy. I can assure you, consequences be dammed, you will die by my hand." he paused, his chest heaving. "Forgiveness is not the priority. Not anymore." His voice was cold. "She deserves peace. And I intend to make sure she gets it. Dead or Alive,she will have it!"
Rhyssand stood silent beneath the weight of it all. But when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "There is nothing I want more than to see her grow old and live happily."
Silence fell between them.
Slowly, reluctantly, Arthur lowered his sword, his eyes filled with disdain. The weight of their words hangs heavy in the air."You do not deserve her," he said quietly.
Rhyssand nodded, "I know." his expression was pained. "At least, let me be the one to tell her, let her direct her wrath towards me. I deserve it." Truthfully, only the woman they both loved could decide his fate. And this time, Rhyssand knew—he would not put up a fight.
Arthur sheathed his sword; the sound of steel rang like a warning as it slid into its scabbard. He turned his back. At first, it seemed like he said all that needed to be said, but the words that came next made the cold air burn.
"I do not know if gods pray to other gods, but I think you should—Rhyssand Rimat." The name fell from his lips like a slur. "Pray that whatever love you claim to have for my sister is enough for her to spare your life. Because if it's not—" he looked over his shoulder. "May your kin help you from her wrath." Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Once he was out of sight, he stopped. A trembling hand pressed flat against the cold wall, breath escaping in shallow bursts. He was fighting the vow with everything he had. Worse, the fury he had buried for years surged up like wildfire behind his ribs, threatening to break loose. Rage, grief, madness—it all boiled just beneath the surface. He did not know why he had told Rhyssand the truth. Why had he handed the enemy the one thing their family never spoke of? Maybe it was because, deep down, he, too, had begun to trust him. No, that was not it. It was because his father looked at Rhyssand like he was the son he had always wanted Arthur to be. The son Arthur had never quite measured up to,no matter how hard he tried to be the one who protects the family from within.
The truth was… Arthur blamed himself. For all of it. If only he had not teased her that day. If only he had not pushed her too far. If only he had been the one she trusted enough to come back for, maybe the burden would not have fallen on his younger siblings, and they would not have had to carry the pain and guilt for so long…with him.
On the outside, the Pendragons were a united front. A grace upon the realm. But behind those velvet curtains and castle doors? They were hurting. Fractured. Still healing from wounds the realm should never see. And they had done a damn good job hiding it, until now.
Arthur shut his eyes and drew a breath through clenched teeth, gathering himself. 1, 2, 3, so no one bleeds.
Fin fluttered back down onto Rhyssand's shoulder. "Well," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We're fucked."
Rhyssand simply stared at the retreating figure of Arthur. "Don't say it—"
"I told you so," Fin chirped, his tone entirely too cheerful. "Though it went better than I thought it would."
Rhyssand let out a longer sigh, his eyes narrowing while staring into the distance. The weight of his choices pressed down on him more than ever.
Fin fluffed his feathers and gave him a sidelong glance. "Well," he added, "At least you've got me!"
Rhyssand stared at the bird. "That is not in any way reassuring…"