10 years later
The day Artizea was declared Crown Princess, she was barely alive —too young to understand the weight placed upon her tiny shoulders, too small to know the world had already begun shaping her future.
At least that's what the world thought.
The council chambers had been filled with murmurs, reluctant nods, and silent, begrudging acceptance.
The king had made it clear:
His firstborn would inherit his throne.
Not Arthur.
Not Eugene.
Not Elaine.
Artizea.
Some called it madness. Others called it arrogance. In screech, of course. But the King had never doubted her. He would fight for her with every breath and authority. That came with The matter of suitors. It was a conversation Gil had avoided for years. Potential matches. Proposals from kings and princes alike. And each time, his answer had been the same.
"No."
No discussion. No debate.
"No."
He had been rejecting offers since she was born. And now, at Thirteen, Artizea was strong, sharp, and defiant. She had spent her childhood training with knights, sparring with Arthur, learning from Arthuria, and watching him.
Still, the council persisted. "If the princess will not marry by our suggestion," she declared, "then she must prove herself worthy to sit on the throne."
His daughter was strong. She was a Pendragon.
She would win. No—She will win.
He found her in the royal gardens, seated beside Arthuria.
A brush in her hand, a half-finished painting before her, the queen and young princess were lost in a world of color and form.
Arthuria glanced up first, sensing him.
She knew that look. Something had to be done.
Rising and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, she ran a hand through Artizea's hair before departing.
And then they were two.
Gilgamesh sat beside his daughter, watching as she dipped the brush into red paint, matching her crimson irises.
"The council wants me to prove myself, don't they?"
There was no anger in her voice. No fear. Only understanding.
He exhaled. "A Rite of Challenge. Every year. Until you wed."
A small pause.
Then—she smirked. " Sounds fun."
He chuckled. She was every bit her mother.
"They seem to think you'll need a suitor. Even Ishtar offered up her precious prince; she's desperate, scared, and unknowingly showing her cards."
"Who is her son, anyway?" she mused, swirling her brush lazily. "If he looks anything like her, he would scare me into marriage. "
He barked a laugh.
"Don't you worry—no one is worthy enough to stand beside you anyway." He leaned back, his red eyes gleaming with pride. "Take the crown for yourself if you like."
Her hand stilled.
She looked at him, her crimson gaze clear and determined.
"Then how will I pass on your legacy?"
He studied her for a long moment. Then, he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over her head.
"You are my legacy." His voice was firm. Certain. "You all are. That's good enough for me."
Artizea set her brush down.
Then, without hesitation, she hugged him. For a moment, Gil allowed himself to feel something rare. Something his father never showed him.
Love.
The training courtyard, usually alive with the clanging of swords and shouts of sparring knights, had fallen silent. All eyes were on the crown princess, who stood trembling in the center of the arena.
Her first rite of Challenge was days away, and her Crowing was following.
When she won.
Her small hands gripped her bow tightly, her crimson eyes fixed on the target in front of her.
Gilgamesh, standing a few feet away, watched his daughter intently, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Focus, Artizea," he instructed, his voice steady and authoritative. "You must channel your inner flame into the arrow. It's the key to completing the ceremony ."
Her jaw tightened. She'd been trying for hours to ignite the arrow with her fire, and every attempt had ended in frustration.
Her siblings watched from the sidelines—Arthur with a look of concern, Eugene buried in a book but glancing up every so often, and Elaine fidgeting with eh ruffles on her dress..
Artizea nocked another arrow, her breath shaky as she drew the bowstring back. Her arms ached from the effort, her mind racing. But as she tried to summon her power, nothing happened. The arrow flew, but it was just an ordinary arrow. No flame, no magic.
"Ugh!" she cried out, throwing the bow to the ground. "It's impossible!"
"You can," Gilgamesh said, his tone firm but encouraging. He walked toward her, his golden eyes filled with understanding. "Take a breath. Try again."
She shook her head, her hands balling into fists. "I can't, I'm not strong enough—"
Her words cut off abruptly. Her breathing hitched, her eyes dilating into slits.
A wave of heat radiated from her small frame, the air around her shimmering as the temperature rose. The stones beneath her feet began to glow faintly, cracks forming in the earth.
"Father…" she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. "What's happening to me?"
His expression shifted, his usual calm replaced by alarm. He moved quickly, dropping to one knee and pulling her into his arms. Her body was hot to the touch, but he held her tightly, his voice low and soothing.
"It's okay, I've got you. Breathe."
The heat intensified, and her small body shook uncontrollably as sparks danced around her.
From the sidelines, Arthuria clutched her chest, her expression filled with anguish. She wanted to run to her daughter, but she knew He was the only one who could reach her in this moment.
Arthur stood frozen, his hands clenched at his sides as he watched his sister struggle. Eugene had dropped his book, his usually calm demeanor replaced with wide-eyed panic. Even little Elaine, who rarely stopped smiling, was now clutching Arthur's hand tightly, her face pale.
Gilgamesh tightened his grip, whispering to her. " Listen to me, Artizea. You're my daughter, you're a Pendragon. Nothing controls a dragon."
Her breathing slowed, the heat gradually subsiding. Her pupils returned to normal, and the glow beneath her feet faded. She let out a shaky sob, burying her face in her father's shoulder. "I… I couldn't stop it on my own."
"It's okay," he murmured, stroking her hair. "I will help you, until you can."
She clung to him, her small frame trembling as she tried to calm down.
He looked up, his eyes meeting Arthuria's across the courtyard.
The anguish in her gaze was mirrored in his, but he gave her a small nod, silently reassuring her that their daughter would be fine.
But in his heart, he knew what he had to do.
The letter had been urgent, the handwriting firm yet strangely uneven. By the time Alexander arrived, he didn't even bother to remove his cloak before stepping inside.
"Gilgamesh," he said, catching his breath, "what's the matter? I came as fast as I could."
Gilgamesh stood by the window, his profile half-lit by the fading sun. He didn't turn immediately, only spoke in a voice that carried an unfamiliar heaviness.
"I have an order for you," he said slowly. "A selfish one. A cruel one… one that may demand your whole life, if need be."
Alexander dropped to one knee without hesitation. "Name it."
Gil's mouth opened—then closed. His breath caught, and to Alexander's shock, a tear slid down his cheek. He turned away abruptly, sinking into the nearest chair, his head in his hands.
"Gil," Alexander pressed, rising to his feet, "name it."
"I need—" Gil said at last, his voice breaking before he forced it steady. "I need you to search the entire human realm for an answer… for a solution to my daughter's fate."
Alexander's brow furrowed.
"I've had dreams," Gil continued, his eyes distant. "Dreams where I lose her… where the light fades from her eyes, and her last breath… lingers. Like my brother…And I won't have it. I won't let that day come."He drew a deep, steadying breath, composing himself before meeting Alexander's gaze."And so I ask you not as your king, but as a friend, help me."
Alexander didn't hesitate. "I have only one request."
Gil's eyes narrowed slightly. "Name it."
"That they call me 'uncle.'" Alexander's voice softened. "I won't presume to call myself your brother… but if I am to leave my own children fatherless for this, then I want to help raise her too."
For the first time that day, Gilgamesh's lips curved into a faint, genuine smile. A low chuckle escaped him. "Thank you… Alex."
Alexander smiled back, stepping forward to clasp him in a firm embrace. Gil returned it, holding tightly for a long moment before either of them let go.