'By the Twelve, what madness is this?'
'A child rejected by the Twelve, yet they take no action against him? They wash their hands of him? What could that even mean?'
'What manner of name can Gilgamesh be? A name that did not come from the Twelve must surely be cursed? Is it not?'
'I must keep this matter a secret from my sisters. If the Eye of the Twelve has been turned off of him, then Their church must also wash its hands of him.'
'Angelica, Logan, my dear friends, I am sorry that this fate is yours to bear. I am most regretful that you must also bear it alone. Perhaps, if this were a few years ago, before I had given my life to the Twelve, I would have braved this fortune at your side. I hope your child does not bring about your end.'
'I am truly sorry.'
Sidha Galal's Thoughts As Logan and Angelica Leave the Temple|
"My Lord! Lord Logan! Are you both alright!?"
Their carriage driver, following that terrible earthquake, left the horses after ensuring they were safe to go search for them. The temple itself was mostly unchanged, aside from a large number of cracks that raised questions about its structural integrity.
The landscape was minimally damaged; it did not appear as though a world-shaking earthquake had occurred at all. Even so, he and all the others had experienced it firsthand. He himself had been wrestling with the horses in a desperate attempt to keep them calm and alive- himself included.
When he found Logan and Angelica, their expressions had darkened. Angelica held the young boy, whose name they told to him, and shrugged at his questions. They did not have the slightest idea of what could have caused such a mighty quake.
Of course, they lied. They even emboldened that lie by saying that Sister Sidha had no idea either.
They asked the driver to bring the carriage, and waited for him in front of the church.
Once he was out of earshot, Angelica straightened up and stared directly into the eyes of the bored baby in her arms. He was looking out at the world around them, but was clearly not interested.
"Tell me, Gilgamesh. Did you kill our son and take control of his body?"
Gilgamesh was surprised by this question, and looked up at Angelica with interest. He saw, behind her stony expression, increasing waves of sadness that she did not even bother trying to hide. She wanted to understand- no- she needed to understand everything. If Gilgamesh was not her son, her world would surely fall apart.
This question was on Logan's mind as well, but he had been too scared to ask. He leaned close, ears perked up and waiting for Gilgamesh's answer.
The young boy looked at both of them with his silver eyes and sighed.
Gilgamesh came from a world where many strange and inexplicable things existed and occurred, but he was still at a loss.
His clearest and earliest memories were of his deterioration as an aged man, having spent himself in his quest to defy the Gods. With every attempt he made rendered fruitless by their machinations, he had no choice but to succumb to mortality. Moreover, the Gods themselves appeared unto him, cursing him.
His spirit, unlike all others, would be doomed to eternity in nether-earth, never losing its sense of self. He would persevere and suffer for all eternity. So, he drifted off into the endless night of nether-earth, losing count of how long he had been there.
Then, that moment came.
Gilgamesh found the words that might pacify this young couple, and he spoke them slow and clear.
"The name that accompanies my spirit is Gilgamesh. It has been so for much longer than I can remember. My earlier memories are still foggy and distant to me, but I know that I once lived a life, long ago. I know that I died, and I know that I was trapped in Nether-Earth's darkness."
"I came here through you. My spirit may belong to Gilgamesh, but that does not alter this reality: You gave birth to me. I embody your combined bloodlines. The child you see before you now is your son, if you will accept him. If not, then he is nothing to you. The decision is yours."
After saying this, Gilgamesh fell into silent thought. Logan and Angelica were also silent.
Up until the driver pulled up with the carriage, and even during the ride home. They ruminated on their own private matters, not speaking a word.
They expected the quake to have affected more than just the temple, but there were no signs of there being a quake anywhere else. Once they arrived at the manor, they saw that it was just the way they left it, and none of the staff seemed to know anything about an earthquake.
Things progressed as normal; there was a small celebration waiting for them at home, but Logan and Angelica weren't exactly in the mood for it. Even so, they did their best to put up with it, sharing strained smiles and telling all the house of the name the Twelve had 'chosen' for their son.
They cut the celebration short, ending it a few minutes before sunset by using exhaustion as an excuse. In a way, they were exhausted, but mentally. The events of the day weighed heavily on them all.
Logan and Angelica thought about it for a while, then Logan took Gilgamesh to the bath and gave him a wash, then put little pajamas on him. His movements and mannerism toward the child were now quite awkward, and he even apologized for not having anything but pajamas for Gilgamesh to wear.
Once Gilgamesh was laid down in his crib, in a room all by himself, Logan left him to be with Angelica. They likely wanted to give voice to all the thoughts swimming in their heads. They knew, now, that Gilgamesh could understand whatever it was that they said. They weren't exactly comfortable with that knowledge, and decided to speak somewhere the child could not hear.
Gilgamesh did not mind it. He could understand. Instead, he focused on what he could not understand. That was what occupied his mind, though he could find answers to none of the questions on his mind by himself.
In their own bedchamber, Logan and Angelica sat with each other on the bed.
"This is madness, Logan! How can that- that cursed thing be our son!?"
Logan's already darkened expression turned bitter, and ever darker. His lips were sealed shut, but as his wife continued her rant, they quivered.
"Why? Why!? Couldn't things have gone right for us, just this once? Why does everything that's supposed to be good in our life have to turn out like this? Why, Logan... why?"
Logan could only hold his wife in his arms. The words that were in his mind to say would not help. They would only serve to make her feel worse about everything. He knew all too well why their lives had been on a steady decline for years now, and she did too.
Even so, Angelica had held on to hope, something Logan was beginning to abandon. It was her hope that caused her to feel this way, and wish that things could be different for once.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" Angelica asked this, despite not wanting Logan to speak. Perhaps all she wanted was to hear those words, and to abandon the feelings inside her. Nonetheless, Logan spoke them out loud.
"Have you already forgotten that day? Was our lives' greatest shame not memorable enough?"
Angelica sniffled, burying herself in Logan's chest.
"When our families were sought out, we had to escape or face extermination alongside them. When we were denied our wishes by the State, we fled the Northlands and chose to live in this Kingdom. When our identities were discovered, we were alienated, becoming the sole inhabitants of the Eastern Province."
"Fuck, Angelica, we were tasked with protecting the country from an enemy that would never come. You know, as well as I, that nothing borders the East but the Wasteland."
"Yet, you ask why our lives have gone in every direction but the one we want them to go. I can tell you why, if you need to be reminded."
"It is because we- you and I- were cursed that day. Just like that child out there. That 'Gilgamesh.' Do not be surprised that the fruit of our union is just as cursed as we are."
Nothing was said that Angelica did not already know, but still she wept. Her tears soaked into Logan's shirt, and Logan's arms found themselves tightening around her, forcing her as close to him as she could get.
Her muffled voice soon broke their silent moment of warmth, and Logan smiled when he heard her words.
"Gilgamesh ...is our son."
She rose, face still wet and covered in a dewy layer of sweat. She saw Logan's smile and gave him one of her own, as enthusiastic as she could manage. He bent over a little and kissed her on the forehead, not caring about the salty taste of sweat and sadness that lingered.
"I thought life could not be kind to us anymore. I believed that... up until the moment I saw him. Such a precious thing. I knew it wouldn't matter what horrid things our fate would throw his way. It seemed like as long as I was allowed protect him and keep him close, life could never be kinder to me."
Angelica's smile brightened, and she nodded. "It's strange, isn't it? And his voice? I did think it was kind of... cute."
"Those expressions on his little face are so funny, too."
"Aren't they," Angelica giggled, but she froze and suddenly seemed a little uneasy.
"Does that mean he was aware of me breastfeeding him...?"
Logan gave a wry chuckle and answered, under his breath, "...yeah I think so..."
The two, still having their own reservations, were luckily well aware of their own fates. Despite having lost much of the favor of the Twelve themselves, they could not compare in that aspect to Gilgamesh.
Thinking similarly, Gilgamesh stirred in his crib as the night air filled his room and his curtains flapped weakly. A servant had come in to light candles- and also to ignite some odd crystal contraption on the ceiling that mesmerized him for a while.
Hunger came to him eventually, but a warm bottle of milk from another servant's hands soon fixed that. For the rest of that night, he was alone. Though Logan and Angelica spent much of their days with him, discouraging him from speaking around the staff, Gilgamesh spent the nights that followed alone. In his crib, with nothing but the wind and the coming and going of servants for company, he thought about his situation.
Ever so often, his mind would revisit his first waking moments in this new world. He would remember the words of the Twelve, and look back upon his life. His memories were still no more than a haze. He knew that, after spending all those years in nether-earth as a spirit, never being able to lose his sense of self and pass into the afterlife, he would have a hard time remembering things.
However, it was far too difficult.
Bits and pieces came back to him, and most of the things regarding himself were just lingering at the back of his mind for him to grasp. However, many of the things he had done and experienced, learned and felt, even people he had met were a task to recall.
Gilgamesh did not wish to forget. He was unsure of his reasons for this, of course. Nothing more than a gut feeling, but even so he did not disregard it.
Something in him did not want those memories to fade.