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In corridor, Chaldea
Charles walking through the quiet corridor of Chaldea, found himself momentarily lost in thought. His footsteps echoed softly, the halls empty as most of the other Servants and staff were likely preoccupied with their own duties or resting. He had just separated from Nero and Jeanne, craving a little space for himself to clear his head as he made his way to the battle simulation.
"Charles!"
The sudden voice made him pause, jolting him out of his thoughts.
He blinked and looked around, trying to locate the source of the voice. Standing a short distance away, a small blonde boy was energetically waving at him.
Charles squinted, quickly recognizing the familiar golden hair, radiant red eyes, and regal aura—though in this case, much smaller and far less overbearing.
It was none other than him—a younger version of Gilgamesh. A Child Gilgamesh, who looked far more approachable and playful than his adult counterpart, dressed in simpler clothing befitting a boy his age.
Charles scratched his head, confused.
"What... you?"
he muttered under his breath, a mixture of surprise and curiosity playing across his features.
He wasn't quite used to seeing child Gilgamesh like this, let alone interacting with someone his own age—though admittedly, it was rare enough for him to interact with anyone his age at all.
(Author:eh no.. I'm thinking that you're also has talk to Alexander. He is around your age, but maybe he is more older?)
(Author:I don't really know the age of Alexander and child Gil. Since this is not explained in the game or on the Wiki. the Wiki only says that they are servants with a youth appearance)
(Author: I'm thinking if Alexander and child gil is has the same height but maybe I'm can be wrong Soo tell me if you're know something)
Gilgamesh grinned as Charles approached, his smile far softer and far more mischievous than the haughty smirk the King of Heroes typically wore.
"Hello, Charles,"
Gilgamesh greeted with a light, almost playful tone. He tilted his head with a small chuckle.
"Hehehe... I just wanted to greet you since I haven't had a chance before. Quite rude of me, wouldn't you agree?"
Charles, rubbing the back of his neck, gave the younger Gilgamesh an awkward look.
"Um... I see? Well then... where were you headed?"
Gilgamesh crossed his arms, his posture relaxed but confident in a way that still screamed kingly, even in his smaller form.
"Hmm, I was planning to head to the battle simulation. I have something I want to test out."
Charles tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his blue eyes.
"Something to test out? Like what?"
The young Gilgamesh's grin widened, his red eyes glinting with amusement.
"Oh? Curious, are you?"
he teased, his tone dripping with lighthearted mischief.
"Well, if you really want to know, why don't we head there together? Two kings should accompany one another, don't you think?"
Charles blinked, unsure of how to respond to Gilgamesh's playful manner. He considered it for a moment, rolling the idea around in his head. He had been headed to the battle simulation anyway, and truth be told, he was kind of bored. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.
"Fine, fine,"
Charles said with a shrug, though a small smirk tugged at his lips.
"Let's go, then. Just don't slow me down, Goldie."
Gilgamesh's grin didn't falter at the nickname. If anything, it seemed to amuse him further.
"Hah! As if I could slow you down, Charles."
And so, side by side, the two kings—both appearing as young boys—began walking together toward the battle simulation.
As they strolled down the corridor, the air between them held an odd energy. It wasn't tense, nor was it overly familiar. Instead, it was the shared silence of two children who, in their own way, were still figuring each other out.
Charles cast a sidelong glance at Gilgamesh, still finding it strange to see the King of Heroes in this form—smiling, calm, and playful.
It was a far cry from the arrogant and sometimes overbearing adult version he'd heard about.
"So..."
Charles finally broke the silence, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"What's this thing you're testing, anyway?"
Gilgamesh turned his head, the faintest of smirks still dancing on his lips.
"Ah-ah! You'll just have to wait and see. Patience is a virtue, Charles. I'd think a fellow king would understand that."
Charles frowned slightly, puffing his cheeks in mild irritation.
"I am patient... sometimes. Just not when people keep secrets from me!"
Gilgamesh let out a light laugh, clearly entertained by Charles' reaction.
"Then let this be a lesson in anticipation. You'll understand soon enough."
With Charles grumbling under his breath and Gilgamesh humming cheerfully to himself, the two made their way toward the battle simulation. Though neither of them would say it aloud, the prospect of training together—two kings side by side—carried a quiet excitement.
---
In battle simulation. Chaldea
Charles blinked, his hand still resting gently on one of the soft petals of the flowers. The vibrant garden around him was filled with colorful blooms that swayed slightly in the simulated breeze. The scent was faint yet soothing, as if this battlefield wasn't a battlefield at all.
Hearing Gilgamesh's chuckle behind him, Charles jolted out of his quiet reverie and turned on his heel to face the younger King of Heroes.
"Wh-what?!"
Charles stammered, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and indignation.
"I wasn't—! I mean—!"
Gilgamesh, standing there with his usual smirk, crossed his arms over his small chest. His red eyes gleamed with amusement, and his tone carried that familiar teasing edge.
"Come now."
he said smoothly,
"you don't need to hide it. It's obvious, Charles. You like flowers, don't you?"
Charles' face flushed slightly as he averted his gaze, his long white hair swaying as he shifted awkwardly.
"It's not... it's not like I love them or anything!"
he muttered defensively, kicking at a patch of grass near his feet.
"I just think they're... y'know... nice."
Gilgamesh chuckled softly again, clearly finding Charles' behavior far too amusing. He tilted his head slightly, his playful smile never wavering.
"Hah! You don't need to be so flustered about it. A king appreciating beauty is nothing to be ashamed of. After all, flowers bloom and flourish, just as kingdoms do under their ruler's care."
Charles shot Gilgamesh a wary glance, still fidgeting.
"Why do you sound like you're trying to give me some kind of life lesson?"
Gilgamesh's grin widened.
"Because I am, Charles. Unlike most, I possess wisdom even at this youthful stage."
He walked forward and crouched down beside a cluster of golden flowers, brushing his fingers across them with a calm, regal air.
"Flowers hold a quiet strength. Their roots grow deep, and even when trampled, they often bloom again. Kings could stand to learn a thing or two from such things."
Charles stared at him for a moment, surprised by the genuine words coming from Gilgamesh. He wasn't sure if it was the serene garden setting or the smaller version of the King of Heroes talking, but something about it felt... well, different.
"Huh."
Charles muttered, crossing his arms with a small frown.
"Never thought I'd hear you say something like that."
Gilgamesh stood back up, brushing his hands together before turning to face Charles with an almost mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Don't misunderstand me, Charles. I simply know how to appreciate what is worthy. Now, enough of this sentimentality,"
The simulated flower garden was bathed in soft light, the petals of vibrant blooms rustling gently as a breeze swept through the field. Charles stood awkwardly in place, still reeling from Gilgamesh's earlier words, his embarrassment lingering like a stubborn stain.
Gilgamesh, in his younger form, still retained his air of playful superiority as he crossed his arms, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
"We came here to test something, not to admire the garden,"
Gilgamesh said sharply, his crimson eyes fixed on Charles.
Charles turned, finally snapping out of his flustered state, and shot the golden boy a suspicious look. His white eyebrows furrowed as his curiosity got the better of him.
"Ah, right! What do you want to test, actually?"
he asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and guarded interest.
Gilgamesh's smirk widened into a self-satisfied grin as he stretched out his arms lazily, his calm demeanor betraying the gravity of what he was about to say.
"Hmm, I want to test my Noble Phantasm,"
Gilgamesh declared smoothly.
"Since I've yet to find a proper sparring partner."
At those words, Charles' face shifted into a mix of understanding and mild suspicion. The realization settled in quickly, and his lips twisted into a wry grimace as he spoke again.
"I see. So, you brought me all the way here just so I could be your punching bag or something?"
Gilgamesh chuckled softly, a small, amused laugh that somehow still managed to carry that same regal edge.
"Oh no, Charles,"
he said with a glimmer of playfulness.
"I don't need a punching bag. What I want is for you to use your Noble Phantasm to defend against mine."
At that, Charles stiffened slightly, his earlier confusion now replaced with a sharper, more guarded expression. His blue eyes narrowed as he eyed Gilgamesh warily.
"I see,"
Charles replied slowly.
"But how'd you even know about my Noble Phantasm?"
Gilgamesh's youthful face adopted a more composed expression as he answered, his voice dropping into a calmer, almost nonchalant tone.
"That's because I asked Nero before."
Charles' expression immediately soured, and he let out a long, dramatic sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Ugh. Nero... That big mouth of hers. Figures she'd just spill the details if you asked nicely."
Gilgamesh chuckled again, clearly amused by Charles' exasperation.
"I merely had to express curiosity. She was more than willing to share."
"Yeah, yeah,"
Charles grumbled, shaking his head.
"Guess I can't blame her too much."
He then let his arms fall to his sides, resigning himself to the situation with a sigh.
"Fine... I'm seeing no problem with being your punching bag for once. But only once, got it?"
Gilgamesh's smirk never faltered as he gave a satisfied nod.
"Understood. Once is all I need."
Charles stepped back slightly, putting some distance between the two of them. His expression grew more serious as he extended his hand forward. The flower petals around them seemed to ripple, as though responding to the sudden shift in the air.
His voice softened, calm but resolute, as he spoke the name of his Noble Phantasm.
"The Valor of Conquest."
In an instant, golden light coalesced around his arm, swirling like streams of radiant energy before solidifying into a large shield. The shield was majestic yet sturdy, its design intricate but practical. Though it bore some resemblance to Mash's famed shield, its structure seemed rawer, forged with the same resolve Charles embodied.
The light faded, and Charles gripped the shield firmly, planting his feet and lowering his stance defensively. The reflection of the garden gleamed across its polished surface as Charles lifted it slightly.
"Alright, I'm ready now."
he said, his voice steadier than before. A small, confident grin tugged at his lips as he glanced toward Gilgamesh.
"Go on, Goldie. Let's see what you've got."
Gilgamesh, who had been watching quietly, let out a hum of approval. He took a step back and extended one hand toward the empty space in front of him. The air around him began to distort and ripple like liquid gold, the unmistakable sound of Gate of Babylon ringing out softly as golden portals materialized behind him.
"I appreciate your cooperation, Charles,"
Gilgamesh said smoothly, though the glint in his eyes carried the unmistakable spark of competition.
"Try not to disappoint me, will you?"
Charles adjusted his grip on the shield, squaring his shoulders.
"Don't worry about me,"
he shot back, his grin turning cocky.
"I'll block whatever you throw at me!"
Gilgamesh smirked, lifting his hand slightly as one of the golden portals shimmered brighter. A single weapon—a finely crafted blade that glowed with faint energy—emerged, hovering in the air like a predator waiting to strike.
"Then brace yourself,"
Gilgamesh said, his tone carrying a subtle thrill. With a flick of his wrist, the blade shot forward at blinding speed, a streak of golden light cutting through the air.
Charles' eyes widened for a split second before he gritted his teeth and raised his shield. The moment the weapon collided with the surface of the shield, a loud, ringing clang echoed through the garden, the sheer force of the impact pushing Charles back slightly.
"Tch!"
Charles hissed, digging his boots into the ground to hold his position. The shield vibrated from the blow, but it held firm.
Gilgamesh tilted his head, amused.
"Not bad. You managed to block that one."
Charles grunted, steadying himself.
"Was that supposed to scare me? You'll have to do better than that!"
At that challenge, Gilgamesh's grin turned sharper, and more golden portals began to open behind him—three, then four, then five, each brimming with weapons.
"Very well."
Gilgamesh replied.
"Let us see just how strong your shield truly is, Charles!"
With a wave of his hand, the portals released their weapons in rapid succession. Swords, spears, and axes shot forward, each glowing with golden light as they tore through the air.
Charles narrowed his eyes, shifting his stance as he braced for impact. The first weapon slammed into the shield, followed quickly by the second and third. Sparks flew as the weapons collided, each hit forcing Charles to hold his ground harder.
"Hah...!"
Charles exhaled sharply, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as he blocked one weapon after another. The shield shuddered under the onslaught, but he refused to give ground.
"Not... gonna lose... to you, Goldie!"
he shouted defiantly.
Gilgamesh watched intently, his youthful face still calm but now carrying a spark of genuine interest.
"You're holding up better than I expected,"
he admitted.
"Perhaps your Noble Phantasm is more formidable than I gave it credit for."
Charles grinned despite the pressure.
"Told you... I'm not just some punching bag!"
The flower garden, now the site of a chaotic storm of weapons and defiance, filled with the sounds of clashing steel and Charles' resolute determination.
---
The flower garden simulation eventually fell silent, save for the sound of two exhausted boys catching their breath. The golden portals behind Gilgamesh flickered and disappeared, while Charles lowered his shield, which dissipated into soft golden light.
"Hah..."
Charles exhaled deeply, flopping to the ground as he sprawled out on the grassy floor.
"Okay... Okay, I'm done! You win, Goldie... That's enough for today."
Gilgamesh, though calmer, was also visibly tired. He crossed his arms, standing over Charles with his usual smirk, though his breath was slightly uneven.
"Hmph. I wouldn't call it a victory. You defended against my treasures quite admirably... Not bad, Charles."
Charles groaned dramatically, rolling onto his side to glare up at Gilgamesh.
"Yeah, well... next time you're my punching bag, got it? That was exhausting!"
Gilgamesh chuckled, brushing imaginary dust off his tunic.
"I'll consider it."
He then glanced toward the exit of the simulation chamber.
"Still... I suppose that's enough training for now. It's getting late."
Charles sat up, ruffling his white hair as he noticed how much time had passed.
"Huh... You're right. Man, all this sparring has made me hungry. I could eat a mountain of food right now."
Gilgamesh's expression softened into something almost playful, the childish side of him peeking through.
"Then let us head to the cafeteria. I wouldn't mind dinner after such effort."
Charles blinked in mild surprise, but then smirked as he pushed himself to his feet.
"Heh, didn't expect you to want dinner with me, Goldie. You're not gonna gloat about how 'perfect' you are the whole time, are you?"
Gilgamesh rolled his eyes, though there was no malice in his tone.
"Do not flatter yourself, Charles. I simply enjoy good food—and a quiet meal, if possible. Whether or not you can maintain that remains to be seen."
Charles snorted but didn't argue.
"Fine, fine. I'll take that as a compliment... kinda."
The two boys exited the simulation chamber, walking side by side down the long corridors of Chaldea.
Despite their earlier sparring, there was a strange sense of camaraderie lingering between them—two childish kings finding something to respect in one another, even if they'd never admit it out loud.
---
In cafeteria, Chaldea
The cafeteria was busier than earlier in the day, with Servants and staff scattered at tables, chatting quietly or enjoying their meals.
The hum of activity was familiar, yet not too overwhelming. Charles and Gilgamesh (Child) entered together, both clearly tired but masking it with their usual composure.
As they approached the counter, Emiya glanced up, already recognizing them. His sharp eyes lingered on the two of them walking together, which was an unusual sight.
"Well, this is new,"
Emiya remarked dryly.
"You two actually look like you worked hard today."
Charles crossed his arms and grinned smugly.
"Of course! Sparring with me isn't a joke, you know. Right, Goldie?"
Gilgamesh shot Charles a side glance but didn't deny it.
"He did hold his ground. For the most part."
Emiya raised an eyebrow at the pair, but he chose not to pry further.
"Fine, fine. So what will it be, then? I take it you're both starving after all that 'effort.'"
"Something huge, Archer."
Charles said enthusiastically, leaning over the counter slightly.
"I don't care what it is, as long as it fills me up!"
Gilgamesh, more reserved, gave a small nod.
"The same for me, but ensure it's something worthy of a king."
"Sure,"
Emiya replied flatly.
"I'll make something hearty. Go find a seat. It'll be ready soon."
Charles and Gilgamesh wandered to an empty table near the back of the cafeteria, far enough from the larger crowd. Charles plopped into his seat with an exaggerated groan, stretching out his arms.
"Man, that shield work takes more out of me than I thought. I'm telling you, tomorrow you're the one taking hits, Goldie."
Gilgamesh sat down more gracefully, his usual air of royalty still evident even in his smaller, youthful form.
"We'll see about that,"
he replied, though there was an unmistakable spark of amusement in his tone.
The two sat quietly for a moment, a rare pause in their usual bickering. Charles rested his chin on his hand, glancing toward Gilgamesh thoughtfully.
"You know?"
Charles said after a moment.
"you're... different like this. Less annoying than your older self."
Gilgamesh's red eyes flickered toward Charles, and for a brief moment, he looked genuinely curious.
"Is that so? Perhaps you simply have better taste in company than you realize."
Charles barked out a laugh, earning a few glances from nearby tables.
"Ha! You really can't go two minutes without praising yourself, huh?"
Gilgamesh's smirk returned, but it was softer this time.
"And you, Charles, cannot go two minutes without pointing it out. Perhaps we are more alike than you care to admit."
Charles blinked, surprised by the remark, but before he could respond, Emiya approached the table, setting down two steaming plates of food. The aroma was mouthwatering—piled high with rice, meat, and vegetables cooked to perfection.
"Eat up,"
Emiya said curtly, before turning away to tend to others.
Charles' eyes lit up.
"Yes! Archer, you're a lifesaver!"
He grabbed his utensils eagerly and dug in without hesitation.
Gilgamesh followed suit, albeit with more grace.
"Not bad,"
he muttered, clearly impressed despite himself.
The two ate quietly for a while, the fatigue from their earlier sparring making the meal even more satisfying.
Eventually, Charles leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach with a satisfied sigh.
"Now that's what I call a good meal."
Charles glanced at him and smirked.
"See? Dinner with me wasn't so bad, was it?"
Gilgamesh rolled his eyes, though his faint smile betrayed his true feelings.
"Don't let it go to your head, Charles."
The two continued to sit together in companionable silence, the hum of the cafeteria around them. Though neither of them would admit it, there was an unspoken sense of mutual respect that had grown between them—a small bond forged through sparring, shared exhaustion, and a simple meal.
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