epidemiology | [closed] you're not alone.

[And, as promised, Gilgamesh visits each and every day.

He comes to her, just before breakfast, always eager to hear what she has to say. They eat together. They smile together, and laugh together... or rather, Gilgamesh tries to do so. Mostly he comes across as distant and stilted. The smiles aren't true smiles. The laughter rings hollow at best. He swore to shut himself away, and so in a sense, he has. This is a forced happiness, a false happiness, a routine Gilgamesn endures just so he doesn't fade into depression entirely.

One day, Gilgamesh pats the spot beside him and tells Sieglinde he has a surprise for her. He reaches into his Gate, which he now must be ever wary of due to prana consumption, and pulls out a stack of what appears to be books covered in wrapping paper. Of course, it could be anything, knowing Gilgamesh, and his faint smirk gives nothing away.]

These came into my possession recently, but I believe they were meant for you. Go on; open them up.

[If nothing else, seeing the look on her face may serve to lift his spirits, however slightly.]

[Gilgamesh's visits have been a blessing.

Even though she knew it would be difficult, even though she knew it would make her even more of a burden for the time being, (the reason she was doing it in the first place, not to be that any longer), even though she knew the wait would be excruciating... Two days after she returned from Nalawi, Sieglinde had asked Masamune to help her rebreak her feet.

The pain had been excruciating, and it hadn't dulled much since, each day having to unbandage the now normal sized feet and make sure the bones hadn't moved, retighten the splints, massage the heel to encourage bloodflow to return as best it could. Maybe she could make it easier with magic... But it had been done to her without, and she wished to fix it like that... Like she would have had to if she remained in her own world. It's worst in the morning, before she can take medicines and apply a numbing balm, but Gilgamesh helps her forget. She had a feeling she was helping him do the same... But both didn't bear addressing.

They could smile and laugh and maybe gradually they would return to their full potential.]

- for me?

[She was surprised by the sudden offer, watching in quiet excitement as Gilgamesh reached into the Gate, the magic that had first fascinated her so many months ago now, pulling out... Books? She was tearing through books Masamune brought her from the Oska castle library as if they were nothing with as much time as she was spending in bed, so she gratefully took the bundle in her hands, placing them in her lap and looking at Gilgamesh to try and read what they might be on his face. She failed- the smirk told her little though it did make her smile, biting into her bottom lip eager to find out what it was, trying to open the wrapping carefully and not give in to the desire to rip.]

[A strong child, he's noted each time he's come to see her, stalwart as he's grown to expect. The pain must be excruciating, but she bears it. She bears it because she knows she must no longer run away from herself, or from others. In a sense, he admires her for that, because it had been something he's always been guilty of deep down. Running away from responsibility and from reaching out to those he was supposed to protect.

Gilgamesh watches her tiny hands make slow, careful work of the paper. In time, she reveals a rustic tome, with beakers and flasks pictured on the front of a dusty cover. Inside are pages detailing all sorts of concoctions and recipes, herbs from worlds over, and in general a plethora of knowledge for any young alchemist, botanist, or magus to absorb. He knows it will occupy her for hours, and for this reason, he's grateful for ALASTAIR's "anoymous" gift.

On top of the tome rests a romance novel that someone seemingly selected just for her. Out of curiosity, Gilgamesh had paged through it, only to discover the steamiest portions had been censored... but perhaps that was for the best with an imaginative mind such as hers. Another thoughtful gift, if a bit more questionable than the last.

Gilgamesh may have been in a sour mood, but if he could like anything right now, it was gift-giving. He leans forward, eager to gauge her response.]

Well? Will these do, for my favorite royalty?

[People often spoke of a glow that suffused people at certain times- a woman when she was newly expecting, a man at his proudest, a child when surprised with a gift... But those things didn't quite hold a candle to the expressions that so blatantly flicker across Sieglinde's face. Enthusiasm and excited curiosity move quickly into a joyful surprise to find the books within, small fingers reverently tracing the large tome's cover before she opened it, eyes widening in excitement to see such things written within. Potions and concoctions both magical, alchemical, and scientific... Mixes and in between...]

You honor me muchly... They will more than do, this is perfect-

[She completely forgot about the pain in her feet for the moment, bursting with a combination of desire both to thank Gilgamesh and also just to throw herself into studying the book this very instant, but she forced herself to look at the second... A novel, this one, and... One quite of the same genre Loki had recently introduced her to.

Her expression growing a bit lewd, a bit ah, so that's how it is (at least, she thought that's how it was), Sieglinde held the romance novel up with a twitch in the corner of her smile and a slight pink tinge in her cheeks.]

If this is some sort of proposal...

[... Probably best for all of Oska the steamiest bits were censored, yeah.]

I accept.

[He accepts. On her behalf, without ever thinking about it. Perhaps this is the surest sign that some part of Gilgamesh yet lives.]

When you are of age, become my bride. Then we will have a most magnificent wedding, a wedding all would envy.

[Of course it's just a joke, just said to sate that unrelentingly, and quite shockingly enormous appetite of hers, which could surprise even the lewd King of Heroes... but there's a certain coyness to his expression now which might suggest it isn't entirely a possibility out of left field. Gilgamesh did take many brides once, after all, and many weren't much older than Sieglinde herself. A different time, and truly, a different culture, where women became such much, much sooner.

But mostly it's said to get a rise out of her and give her all the more reason to forget her aching limbs.]

Though you must promise to grow up beautiful, or I will surely lose interest in you. I've no use for an ugly wife.

[...that part may actually be true.]

And when will that be?

[Maybe it is something said in jest on Gilgamesh's part, but Sieglinde seemed... A little bit too serious about pinning down that age. According to her own standards, she would be ready for marriage in a few years, maximum... But some people had said that in their worlds people did not come of age until eighteen, or even twenty... Which seemed a lifetime away.]

I warn you that it is a most heinous crime to toy with a maiden's heart. I shan't forgive such a thing.

[She even used her Green Witch voice for that one... Though she couldn't seem the mysterious atmosphere going in front of him with such a topic, tossing her dark hair behind a shoulder with a slight hmmph as if the very idea she wouldn't grow up beautiful was offensive.]

In fact, I do not even need to make such a promise, it is practically guaranteed. Many have praised my beauty, I shall have you know.

[The word usually used was "cute", but she knew the true meaning!!]

Thirteen.

[Shock of all shocks, someone had given Sieglinde a straight answer for once rather than beat around the bush. It had taken Gilgamesh a moment to remember, but his youngest wives—or rather, his youngest acquisitions—had been around that age, and no younger. Gilgamesh had no interest in the prepubescent and in fact would be quite offended by any assumptions that any of his interactions with Sieglinde held a crude element.

So, because Sieglinde was serious, she got a serious response. And it also certainly confirms Gilgamesh was keeping an eye on her, as does his mischievous smile.]

One year. Let us fulfill such a promise then, little beauty.

[Of course, a lot could happen in one year... so he may very well be banking on finding a way out of honoring that.]

Hmmm...

[A straight answer, for once. For such a simple thing, it was quite satisfying to Sieglinde, and she beamed a bit despite herself, to not be treated like a child who didn't know what she was speaking of. An all too common thing, since her recruitment.]

Perhaps I shall agree to this proposal, but you must promise me one thing.

[But as girlishly pleased as she was, she couldn't just agree too eagerly. She tapped her cheek thoughtfully with a finger, appraising him and trying not to let her smile turn too conniving.]

Once my body has deemed itself ready, you must go along with my efforts for an heir.

[She hadn't forgotten what he'd said to her the first time they'd spoken about his situation in that area, but she also wasn't one to just accept it without attempts.

Or pass on the chance, because an heir with those genes... now that would be something.]

[Oh, my... so it's turned to this sort of discussion after all. At any other time, he would've dismissed her outright, really and truly would've called her some silly child to even think of such things so soon, but it serves as a convenient distraction from his own issues. He indulges, because it serves as a means to everything he doesn't want to talk about—namely, himself.]

Such outstanding enthusiasm. I'd almost applaud that sense of urgency, but...

[Gilgamesh leans forward, towards, conspiratorially.]

I would hope you aware of just what that entails. In blunt terms, the children of my time were almost exclusively cared for by the mother.

[Translation: I'm going to be a deadbeat dad and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. He even grins, completely unashamed.]

Are you prepared for that sort of responsibility, Sieglinde? Especially being so young yourself.

I would not call it urgent... It is simply mathematics. I may even be near my second decade depending on how things progress.

[After all, she's done her homework. Even if she married young, little could be done in the way of heirs until she began her cycle, and some women did not until sixteen or so. And even once a cycle was begun one had to then get pregnant, and with Gilgamesh's situation that might involve potentially a good deal of experimentation, magical and physical both, and then even if that succeeded there was the gestation period, and that was assuming the pregnancy took the first time-

Goddess, she might even be past her second decade for all she could know- magic was hardly something you just created and succeeded at the first try. But. She'd managed to synthesize a deadly poison gas in five or so years, so surely a way to create life rather than take it would only take a bit longer than that? As with all things, Sieglinde may have overthought this particular possibility.

When Gilgamesh leans forward, though, Sieglinde blinks somewhat owlishly, drawn from her calculations by the words and the smile, somewhat confused before she shook her head, waving a hand dismissively at the very idea.]

Of course I am. I could not speak for the outside world, but I have always expected to raise my heir with only my servants to attend. The Green Witch has no need for a father beyond the seed he provides.

[Something she'd assumed had always been the case, and would always continue to be. But she couldn't help clear her throat a bit, cheeks red as she found the corner of the room particularly interesting to gaze at.]

- if we were married I would expect continued company on occasion, of course, but.

[But despite the fact she'd always assumed she would one day bead a child, marriage even wasn't something she'd ever really imagined, so. She bluffed her way through.]

If we were married, I think I would love you all the time.

[And that is simply that.]

[The corner suddenly became intensely more interesting, as Sieglinde's cheeks became even more red. For all she acted and spoke like an adult, for all that she'd expected she would seduce herself a man and bear a child that would be her heir... Romance, love, and marriage...

They were never things she'd actually imagined were realistic in her life. Not in her village, not in the life of the Green Witch. It was a completely different beast, one she couldn't bluff her way through like she did debatably worse topics like sex and bearing children.]

W- well-

[She groped about, touching book (nope), knee (close), until she could pat his hand (good).]

If that is the offer I shall consider it seriously.

[Even if her heart fluttered a bit in her chest, she had a bit too much smarts in her head to just go along with such foolish emotional responses and just agree, biting her lip to try and regain her cool, even though she was still blushing up a storm. Though she'd only meant to pat his hand, she ended up curling her fingers, holding on.

Not just for her own comfort, either.]

[Had he even meant it seriously? It's hard to say. His smile looks a little wispy, and he's already glancing away, turning distant.]

Were my heart not so sick, that I would hold you now, but...

[He doesn't want to touch anyone. He doesn't want to be touched by anyone, which is why his hand pulls fast away from hers even if he knows she'd meant well by it. It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy spending time with Sieglinde, even in this state of mind, but it was becoming harder and harder to pretend he wasn't still broken after losing two of his beloved people in one fell swoop. To plaster on smiles when his inner self only felt like shrinking away.

He doesn't want to tell her, doesn't want her to know, but that same sick heart has started to feel cold again. And after their respite in Oska, when their next mission begins... he may very well return to the likeness of that tyrant, shutting out the world and focused only on his own duties.

Duties beyond ALASTAIR. Duties owed to the planet left behind, nearly forgotten about. What a shame that had been.]

[She had known for a while now, that they were both pretending. He had lost the one he called Master and the one who was a truest friend in a single moment. She had crippled herself further in the hopes that when everything healed she might be less of a burden on those around her, but she was plagued with doubts as to whether she should have allowed herself to do such a thing. If she deserved such a thing, to try and fix the symbols of her past and the proof of her ignorance and sin.

But there wasn't anything wrong with that kind of pretending. Sometimes you needed to make yourself smile, and laugh, and go through the motions... Lest you forget how. Lest you simply collapse. She didn't react negatively when Gilgamesh pulled his hand away quick enough to bring offense to someone who didn't know, when he spoke of his sick heart. Instead, her expression softened, nodding.]

Then it is is a good thing I am very skilled at treating sickness.

[She stared down at her feet beneath the sheet, now the proper size and basic shape of feet, but held together by splints and injections. She tried to wriggle a toe and only dredged up a dull echo of pain, and so instead she flopped back onto her pillow, gathering up the spell book to clutch in her arms across her check, keeping the new treasure close.]

... Will you tell me a story?

[It was an open invitation. It could be an anything, and so if there was any tale he wished to speak of, for his own sake, even one in his image... It would be fine. But if he wished to hide from that, then he could tell her something completely unrelated and she would not speak up against it at all.]

[Ah, that's right. She's hurting, too, just in a different sort of way. Though Gilgamesh had denied her contact but moments ago, he initiates it again by resting fingers on the vague shape of a leg. As if to say it will be alright, because I am King, and I have deemed it so. Physical deformities could be repaired and recovered from, but the loss of a person, the loss of one's very heart and soul...

Well, he shouldn't wallow. It's inappropriate for one of his distinction. So he sits up, thinks a moment, then nods his agreement.]

Very well.

[It will serve as a distraction, if nothing else, and that's exactly what he needs right now. He settles back and begins his tale, shutting his eyes as if to transport him off to a time and a place far, far away. To the ancient sands of Sumeria, where he ruled as a man rather than as a slave to a higher power.]

As King, I kept many kinds of pets. Birds, and reptiles, and all manner of exotic beasts. But my favorite pet of all was the lion. Golden and noble with a shaggy mane, they reminded me much of myself. I would allow them to wander freely about the palace, as kings in their own right, representing me.

[Speaking of, Shishi comes wandering in from the halls. Gilgamesh chuckles, gives him a pat, and ever so gently directs him to keep Sieglinde company on the bed, curled beside her tiny body and rumbling softly in contentment.]

My favorite among favorites was Sharur, "supreme hunter", majestic even among his own kind. Even Shishi could not begin to compare to his beauty.

[Sieglinde found herself pleased that he indulged her- and not simply because she liked the timber of his voice or to hear grand tales. It was good for sicknessss of the heart. To speak, and spend time in company. So she listened obediently, thumb sliding along the cover of the book she had folded over her chest, hiding a bit of childish delight when Shishi arrived. Truly a magnificent creature, lions, much better in person than in her books or on family crests across from rearing unicorns.

She winced in anticipation for the animals weight shifting the mattress, (and by consequence her feet), but she'd medicated recently and it wasn't so noticeable, pulling a hand from her latest treasure to tentatively reach to place a hand on Shishi's mane, torn between staring reverently at the king of beasts or the king of kings.]

Did Sharur accompany you on your adventures?

[Gilgamesh keeps close watch on Shishi while he tells the story, to make certain he doesn't hurt or otherwise rustle Sieglinde too much. But the animal was truly good-hearted; it seems to know that Sieglinde has suffered injury, and so seeks to settle in just the right place for her to remain comfortable, rubbing affectionately at her stroking hand. At least Shishi could endure the physicality where Gilgamesh could not.]

Indeed. He was often at my side, along with Enkidu, braving the wilds or facing down our various foes. He was vicious, and he was tough, but never unduly so. He would spend much of his time in the city, as well, lounging with the children, and enjoying the baths, his greatest luxury.

[He laughs a little to think of it. To remember, and what a rarity that was, pleasant nostalgia as opposed to bitterness.]

I truly believed that animal would outlive us all. And he did live, for quite some time, until one day he fell ill.

[Shishi was quite the different creature from her own familiar, out at the moment for his morning prowl around the castle. The skull-faced canine was sharp edged, with smooth exposed bone that offered no warmth and eyes that seemed somewhat dangerous to meet directly if you didn't know any better, almost eerily silent, never giving a bark or growl. Of course she cared for Isengrim... But Shishi was much more pleasant to pet, warm and soft and nuzzly.

Eventually she gives up clutching her newest book of spells and instead devotes both hands to Shishi as she listens, smiling a little to hear him able to speak of his past in a fond way... Even if it came to a natural end. Well, natural for those creatures of the earth and not the heavens or the hells.]

What happened then?

[But she prompted softly for the answer anyway, enraptured audience of one.]

What you might expect, of course.

[And Gilgamesh hardly sounds pained, or even the slightest bit troubled by it. Gilgamesh was as much a creature as that lion, a primal force more than anything; naturally, he understood the cycle of life, and naturally, he understood all things must come to an end. However...]

One morning, after much suffering and much malaise, Sharur would not awaken. I did my best to rouse him, but it was clear to my eyes that he had passed during the night. I went to dispose of the corpse, when I was stopped—and it was none other than Enkidu that stood in my way.

[If he looks up, if he draws upon his focus, he can almost see him. Almost hear his words, hear his shouting, hear his pleas.]

Enkidu threw himself upon the body, sobbing. And he wept, and he wept, and he wept so profusely, I thought he might never cease. He was devastated, as distressed as I'd ever seen him. I asked, "Why do you mourn? He is not the first; he will not be the last." What do you think he said?

[All life ends, it was true. She had known it for a long time, much longer than some might argue a girl child should be exposed to the harsher realties of life and death, but she had been raised a witch, and she knew it well. There were some things humans could not run from or heal themselves of, when the time came, and the same went for creatures of the air and see and land.

It could be sad, but it was true.

Her hands continued to strike Shishi's mane, but Sieglinde's gaze was wholly on Gilgamesh now, as if she did not know his story, or Enkidu's, judging it only proper to give him the full attention of a virgin listener if he did her the service of speaking so freely of his life and past, of a friend so newly parted from.]

I do not know- what?

"Even so," he said to me, "life is wonderful."

[Gilgamesh's voice cracks a little, towards the end, from the rawness of the moment. Which he can almost see, almost feel, almost sense, as if his brother were before him once again. As if he'd never been taken from him, then or now. As if he could just teach out and touch him, as real as could be, and know his warmth, as if it never left.

But that was not the case then, and that is not the case now.]

Life is wonderful. What did that even mean? It was a simple sentiment, so much so it shamed me that I could not understand it. I pondered over the matter for weeks. I grew distant. Frustrated. For what had my own life been, but one of apathy towards all around me? Of faraway righteousness?

[Of alienation, part of him whispers, but will never be given voice, so deeply it is buried.]

I did not understand, until I went out for a walk one evening. I happened upon an abandoned cub, a cub that reminded me strikingly of Sharur. It is as if the beast had been reborn. I could hardly believe it. It was so warm, Sieglinde, within my hands, so full of energy. Of that life. I loved it. I cherished it.

[Gilgamesh scoots over to Shishi. Leans down, burying his face in that luxurious mane. Had Gilgamesh really understood? It seemed unlikely. It seemed those words haunted him to this day, fluttering just out of reach. A tyrant was not meant to love; now, more than ever, that had been made apparent to him.]

From the time we enter this world, until we might depart, we must make the most of everything. We must live a beautiful life. Grand, and wonderful.

[Life is wonderful.

It was a beautiful sounding phrase, something that just hearing it, you wished to believe in. That life was wonderful. That it was a thing they were put on the earth to enjoy, to love and live... That it had value, some intrinsic weight no other could deny, or that if ever it were to be so denied while living that there might be some vindication or equalizing balance in some other after place.

Sieglinde's gaze fell to her feet again, and she felt a twinge of guilt, for what she had done with her wonderful life. For how conflicted she felt even now about it, about her masochistic desire to punish herself that made her doubt whether she'd made the right decision, unbinding the proof of her ignorance and sin. Curled slightly in the bed even though it pained her to do anything that moved them, bandaged tight and splinted, around the spellbook, against Shishi's other side, her strokes of the lion's mane just close enough to brush the lion's fur against Gilgamesh's cheek without touching directly herself. The last time she had set out to comfort him, he had been the one to comfort her. How unfair, when she ached largely physically, and he was pained so in the heart.]

... And is it? Wonderful?

[He hasn't actually said it- not clearly in words. He loved things, and had cherished a thing, and determined one must make the most of one's life... But it seems a subtly different thing.

Was it? Rather... Did he find the answer. Could he understand.]

[And Gilgamesh just shakes his head.

He has nothing else to offer her. Nothing else to say. The upper half of his body sinks into the sheets, until he's half in the chair and half in the bed. He hides himself in Shishi's fur. His frame shakes as if to sob, but no sound comes out. Life is wonderful, life is wonderful. But how can it be when you are not there?

He wants to go back. He wants to forget his time in ALASTAIR, everything and everyone he'd met. He wants to return to that cold throne, from which he looked down upon the world. He wants to return to the war that he at least knew and understood, to the servitude he'd made his peace with as a king among slaves. He wants to go back and he wants to escape this wretched world where his most beloved things could be seized from in an instant.

Remember when you had everything? he asks himself, but he was the man who had nothing.

He wants to go back, and he wants to sleep, he wants to never, ever wake up. An endless dream from which he'll never leave, but his own words haunt him: every dreamer awakens eventually. He can't escape this madness and he can't escape himself, who laughs, who tells him he deserves this for ever daring to feel at all.

So Gilgamesh breaks, piece by piece, and leaves himself at the mercy of a child he could destroy without a second thought.]

[She had once told him that she could not run away from anything, even if she wanted to. It's true even now with her feet unbound. Sieglinde doesn't have it in her to turn or back or deny him, anyway, to shun the weakness in him or judge him for it. He was a man even as he was a king as he was semi-divine... And any being had times when they were broken.

It was simply a matter of if anyone was there when they broke or not.

But she was there.

She gave him privacy at first, silence, observing softly the lines of his tormented form, listening the sound where sobs perhaps ought to be. Had it only been months ago now that she'd reached a breaking point, marooned on the island of the Dakal, fighting with Kidagakesh, with Koltira, struggling with her own weakness that she couldn't take it any longer, tears spilling out hot and damning on her cheeks, burying her face in the side of who was closest (Loki), even though he'd seemed completely unsure of what to do with someone in that state.

Did she even know what to do?]

... I do believe it is my turn, then. You likely know all the tales I do, so.

[He hadn't wanted her touch and she doesn't press it on him- he has Shishi's warm side, and Sieglinde merely curls up close, ready if needed but in the wings, so to speak, finding a small voice, petting at the lions mane as she began to hum, and the hum became a small song, tentative and inexperienced.].

How the world stands still in twilight's veil, so sweet and snug as a still room...

[He could just listen- or not, but she simply began, low and quiet, having never really sung to anyone before- but it was done in his time, yes? All she knew were the German lullabies she'd grown up with, in the few short years she'd had before she was an adult all too soon and her handmaidens had stopped singing... But perhaps it would do.]

Where the day’s misery you will sleep off and forget.

[It would be generous to call her gifted, but she had the heart for it. At least, for this one, for now.

Sleeping and forgetting, for a little while, didn't sound bad at all.]

[And he remembers something, faintly.

He remembers a voice, soft and soothing, distant in his memories but just close enough that he might replay it in his mind, the sound of a lullaby from the lips of a goddess. His mother, Ninsun, whom he would come to hate on principle for her divine blood, for giving him what he never wanted and never asked for. But even so, even so, there's just something about it... the shape of her face, which he can just barely recall, smiling over him...

His eyes feel heavy all of a sudden. His grip loosens on the sheets. His breathing slows. No, Sieglinde was no expert songstress, but she didn't have to be. She comforts him with nostalgia alone. Takes him to a faraway time and place, that he'd spoken of just now, yet could never imagine, not truly, ever again. He mutters something; it is lost against the bedspread. Shishi, as perceptive as always, tugs him flat with his teeth, so that they make one great pile of warm bodies.

Gilgamesh instinctively curls in on himself, and in this moment, appears more childlike than Sieglinde could ever be.]

I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home—

[But there was no home any longer. Not in his memories, nor in reality, as Earth had been his station but never a place of belonging. And that makes him saddest of all.]

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