You see the way a petal moves through the wind and expect it to fall with grace. You see the rose it belonged to bloom and expect it to bloom again. You see a child prince seated upon a throne and expect, in time, a broken kingdom. A life of uncertainty, yet filled with unexpected end, for not all who dwell in darkness are bound by its shade, and not all things born in light grow toward it. Between them walks the one called fate, and around it? Balance.
--ASF
The grand hall of Albion's palace shimmered with gold. At the center, Lugabana Albion, Gilgamesh's father, stood tall on his, robes flowing like liquid red, like the blood of his enemies, as one says victims. His hands rested lightly on the newly polished throne, his finger tapping imperceptibly.
Across from him, Ninsun, a middle-class girl from the celestial realm, knelt with quiet dignity, her silver hair falling like moonlight. Though of lower station, her aura pulsed with an otherworldly radiance—soft, yet undeniable.
Albion's gaze swept the gathered council and nobles, lingering on Ninsun. Then, without preamble, he spoke.
"Do you accept, Lugabana Albion?"
The words echoed in the vaulted hall. A hush fell. Every courtier, every celestial envoy, leaned in, as if the universe itself were holding its breath. Fear flickered in Ninsun's eyes, then resignation. She did not speak. She knew what she was, her purpose, the contract. She would bear the burden of being a wife and a dead mother to a child before he opened his eyes. In exchange, Albion would gain power no mortal had ever wielded, the power to spread his dominion beyond the reach of kings and emperors in history. And the world would have an heir—a child of both celestial and mortal, a bridge between realms.
"I accept." His voice was steady.
The ragged breaths of Ninsun swept the chamber. Sweat clung to her skin, hair plastered to her forehead. Her hands gripped the sheets as she pushed, over and over. The pain was immense, beyond any she had known, and yet, in the darkness of the chamber, she felt only the weight of expectation, of duty. Time blurred. Hours stretched into eternity. And finally… a cry. A sound so pure it sliced through the haze of agony and despair. Her child was placed into her arms.
Ninsun's lips trembled as she tried to lift him to her chest. She had dreamed of this moment, of holding him, of loving him, yet the universe had no mercy. Before she could even speak his name, before she could trace the curve of his cheek, the glow around her flickered. Dust gathered in the corners of her vision. Her limbs felt as though they had never existed.
The only sound in the chamber was the soft cooing of the newborn. From the doorway, Albion's shadow loomed. His expression unreadable,
"Your name is Gilgammesiah," was all he said.
The contract is sealed.
37 YEARS LATER
The banners of Babaloniyah hung stiffly in the air that night, no longer bearing blood red, but purple, the marble walls that once held nothing but coldness , felt lived in with wrath, the hollow replaced with laughter, the soft crackling of the fireplace. Nestled together on the lavish carpet before the hearth, the young Pendragon siblings waited eagerly, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Daddy! I demand another story!" Elaine declared.
Gilgamesh, seated in his grand chair, smirked, swirling the wine in his goblet. "What kind of story?"
"A love story!" she beamed
Arthur groaned, dropping his head against the back of the couch. "Oh, for the love of the gods—"
Eugene, without even looking up from the time he was reading, muttered, "How frivolous."
Artizea, perched on the armrest beside their father, "If there even is such a thing."
The king laughed. A deep, knowing laugh that rumbled in his chest. His children… were exactly like him. "You know," he sighed dramatically, "without love, none of you would be here."
Artizea raised a brow, tilting her head. "That's different. Love is a choice, isn't it? Not a requirement."
From the doorway, a voice cut through the room, smooth yet firm. "Everyone has a choice." The siblings turned as their mother, Queen Arthuria, entered, her long golden hair illuminated by the fire's glow.
Eugene straightened, frowning. "Mother, I thought it was said you and Father had an arranged political marriage."
She gave a small, amused nod as she took her seat beside her husband. "That is true."
"But the arranged marriages I've seen are—" He gestured vaguely.
Arthur didn't bother to look up as he finished his brother's thought. "Unsettling—"
Elaine grumbled, "Unhappy…"
Artizea added her two cents, "Forced."
Gilgamesh cleared his throat. "Well, what matters, my treasures, is that your mother and I…" he pulled Arthuria closer, "Love each other very much. And that will never change."
Artizea perked up, studying her father with the sharp perceptiveness she had inherited from him. "But it wasn't always like that… was it, Father?"
His smirk softened. His firstborn—the most like him in nearly every way, always perceptive.
"Correct," she admitted with no hesitation whatsoever. "I despised your father."
The siblings gasped in unison.
"Hated the Man."
More gasps.
Elaine's jaw dropped. "Lies! Father, tell us that mother is lying!"
He chuckled, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "All true, I'm afraid. Your mother even tried to kill me," he pouted
Arthur's eyes widened in delight. "Wait, wait—you tried to kill Father?"
"Countless times."
The siblings turned—Their Mother, arms crossed.
Arthuria exhaled deeply, crossing her own arms. "You exaggerate the story," she said.
His Gilgamesh's smirk widened. "Do I?"
She sighed upon rising to her feet, walking past him, and lightly smacking the back of his head, causing Elaine to giggle."You always make it sound like I was helpless against you," she muttered. "I very well could have assassinated you in your sleep. I had backup plans, and still do."
He rubbed the back of his head lazily, entirely unbothered.
Elaine's eyes shook in betrayal. "How could you hate Daddy?" Her hands took her father's face and squashed it for her mother to see. "He's Daddy!"
Arthuria sighed, rubbing her temple. "It's… a long story." before taking a seat beside the fire. She reached for a teacup on the table, lifting it to her lips.
"Well?" Artizea finally asked, tilting her head toward her mother. "What happened next?"
Gilgamesh's eyes flickered with something deeper, something possessive as he watched her, as he always did, with that infuriatingly indulgent expression—like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at. He set his goblet down as he leaned forward.
"Fine…" She looked at his children as they settled in. She sat back down this time planting a kiss on her husband's cheek, before finally speaking. "Two kings. Two lands. One fate. The two rulers who should have never met. And it all started with a kingdom called Britannia —
Elaine swelled excitedly.
The first home of humankind and fae alike. In those early days, peace was a fragile thread spun between mortal hands and immortal grace. The fae walked among humans, teaching them the secret tongues of stars and rivers, and for a time, both called each other friend.
From the depths of the mountains, the first clan was born — the Dwarves, infused through ancient magic that granted them strength beyond mortal measure. Yet every gift carries a price. Their bodies hardened like stone, their lifespans shortened, and envy crept into the hearts of men.
Centuries had long passed.
Uther Pendragon, King of Britannia, learned of rumors spreading like wildfire. Whispers that women for their kingdom had begun disappearing, women and children vanishing without a trace.
There was one member of the clan who never accepted what his people were doing. He made the journey to the human realm as fast as his childlike feet could carry him. It was he who confessed the truth, that his people had been born of a forbidden craft, flesh and magic woven together by ancient hands.
His name was Merlin.
They were not meant to exist, he said. Their creation had fractured the balance between realms. and confessed to the true origins of their coming about in the world.
The king's court exploded in horror and grief.
"Serve me," the king said, "and live."
Merlin bowed.
It was in that moment that he gathered his armies and led a massacre that erased the clan from the surface of the world, sparing all but one. The war took months, but ended at last in victory.
When the surviving women were found, among them was a woman of great beauty, Morguna's mother, Avangeline, as Uther took her as his queen almost immediately after his return, blind to the truth of her blood. Though when he discovered her true origin, rage consumed him. She was executed in secret, and her daughter, Morguna, was cast into captivity. Due to extreme experiments, she was declared magicless and secretly married off while incapacitated. In the darkness of her prison, she bore a son, Mordred.
During her captivity, Uther remarried. His second wife, Elainore, bore him too a son, who was named Arthur Pendragon, though tragedy shadowed the birth as the queen took her own life not long after.
19 years had passed, and so it was that when Uther died in his sleep, the two siblings met at last upon Morguna's prison door had at last groaned open, she looked up to meet the new king who was chosen. Her brother.
"Sister…" he said, offering his hand.
"Brother…" she cried out, flying into his embrace.
They vowed to restore the line of the Pendragons, and that nothing, crown nor curse, would ever part them again. They both knew the truth. This lie would not last forever, and should it make the light of day… may the Gods have mercy on the Pendragon Dynasty.