proud and arrogant, he'd been reduced to this. it was what he deserved in the long run, wasn't it? someone as prideful and seemingly misconstrued as gilgamesh was, it was why the gods had seen fit to punish him as they had. but they'd created him, they had made him this. perhaps they couldn't have known that gil would wind up being as influential as he was or, if they had, they hadn't anticipated how self-sufficient he would grow to be. some part of him was human, but the part that was ethereal had taken over and given him life, had been immortal—he had been immortal and, therefore, he couldn't suffer. such was the fate of a god, wasn't it? all powerful, in control, a being that could make and twist their own string of fate in whatever direction they saw fit. gilgamesh had wanted to run a kingdom, even when he was younger and still growing, he had been certain he would one day rule over everything. he wanted to rule everything, he wanted to own the world. at first his desires were purely selfish, and he knew he would remain selfish, no matter what direction his life took. however, running a kingdom, being responsible for the actions that would shape an empire, while not humbling, was important. having to look out for the lives and wellbeing of others was new and gil hadn't done well at first; were the gods angry about this? is that part of the reason why he'd been cast out? gilgamesh knew that he'd become too strong for their liking, that challenging the way the gods thought and did things in the world was dangerous; that some new, young god could come in and change the very fabric of their carefully balanced universe. perhaps it had needed to be changed, though, and they just hadn't been able to see that. uruk was a thriving kingdom, and he ruled with a terrible iron grip, but all the same, crime was low, death rates were low…he may not have been beloved by all, but they were safe, weren't they? he cared so little for human beings, but they were his
to not care about. they belonged to him, the same as all the treasures inside the gates belonged to him, the same way as enkidu had come to be his. perhaps not initially as a gift from the gods he tried to cast from his life; they should have known better than to pit one creation against another, and they should have considered gilgamesh's vast charisma and ability to collect the natural treasures of the world for his own. this was their fault, it wasn't his. (he thought, maybe, the more he repeated that to himself he might actually come to believe it one day.)
if he did one good thing in his entire life, one entirely selfless and altruistic thing, it was this. perhaps he felt good about it, perhaps he didn't; the more time he spent with ishtar, the more he realized she was draining him. was this how she remained young and youthful? he'd heard all the rumors about what kind of goddess she was, but he was more god than human, and he should not have been as affected by this as he was. he would not fall victim to the trace of her fingertips, or the sweetness of her breath. she would have to kill him before he ever laid with her, that was for sure, and then his job would have been done anyway. he would have given enkidu back his life and ended his own reign of terror, and he didn't worry about the people of uruk without him. he couldn't bring himself to really care about anything, in hindsight. but gilgamesh had more strength than this, that he knew, and if anything, giving into this whore goddess right now was just buying him time. ishtar and her father had perpetrated all of this and if there was one thing gilgamesh could not tolerate, it was betrayal. the gods had already turned their backs on him and he was alone in this, they no longer cared for the plight of a rogue such as himself, for a child they couldn't keep in control, who had grown more golden than even the sun. there was much that ishtar had already taken from him, but not even she knew the full depth of what he was capable of—he'd caught the bull of heaven, tangled it in his chains of fate, he could do the very same to her. he would suffer for it, yes, but there would come a time where he would show anu, would show ishtar, would show the entire congregation of foul gods that created him that they could not hold him down. they had created this monster from the very gold and stardust of the universe and should they see him as that, nothing but a terrible creation, than by nammu, he was going to become as such. if it was by some chance the gods wanted to teach him humility via suffering, he would suffer, but he would not relent; no one, god, human, or beast, was going to force gilgamesh to become something he was not. this? this was just a little hitch in the road, something he had to overcome, and would overcome. he could not be held down. by ishtar or any other deity out there.
with his senses waning in and out, mostly from the touch the goddess provided, nothing could stop gilgamesh from feeling the tug on his soul. bonds were important in his life and he'd never formed any, not until a fuzzy vision of white and green came to him, standing in the doorway of the room. at first, he could have mistaken it for a mirage, something to further break his heroic spirit and cast him further into the goddess' grip. however, a mirage would not speak to him in soft tones, a mirage would not touch his skin with gentle hands, and a mirage would not weep for him. for a moment, he was dull, not a single sign of anything that denoted he was in any way conscious or still coherent; then, recognition fluttered across his face, and he blinked cat-like eyes at the being now crouched and crying before him. it would be the second time he has caused his friend to cry, a second time that guilt tore him apart from the inside out. he knew that, should enkidu find out, he would be upset, as anyone would, seeing their best friend who was usually so proud and tall, sunk to their knees at the feet of someone else. it was degrading, and he knew ishtar would eventually grow tired of him, his complacency, would want to see the fire in him once more; perhaps she would release him and start the process all over again. perhaps she would break him first, to a point she saw fit, would drag him down bit by bit and leave him to put himself back together again. she would leave him with pieces missing, he knew, but it all felt like it was worth it. he had done something truly good in his life and no one could take that from him. shutting his eyes, he pressed back into enkidu, just a little, sharing his breathing room, wanting to nuzzle against him in the manner he would have, were they not in this predicament. his chest ached in a manner he liked to ignore—he did not want to see his greatest treasure as upset as he was now, knowing that it was his fault in the first place. he had caused enkidu nothing but grief and he was, simply, not worthy of the golem's friendship or love.
reaching up, slowly and lethargically, gil wrapped his hands around enkidu's wrists, took a deep breath that he let out slowly. ishtar, having grown temporarily bored with the spectacle, got up to go tend to her lion across the room. opening his eyes, gil regarded enkidu for a long moment, long lashes stuck together with tears, pretty face contorted in sorrow. gil sighed, reached over, wiping haphazardly at the other's cheeks, clucking his tongue. in that moment, he felt more awake and alive than he had under the careful ministrations of ishtar's control. her control was a fine, thin thread, he could feel where it was weakest, where it was sure to break if he applied just the right amount of pressure and heat. if anything, gil had always been a silent observer of others, as it helped him get into their heads, into their mindsets. he considered himself a very good judge of character, mostly because he could see into a person's very core. what he saw in ishtar was a girl that wanted to be in control, but a child, a spoiled little goddess that had her father wrapped around her finger. but she was weak on her own and she was unprepared for the hell that she had brought upon herself. [s]"shhhh,"[/b] he silenced, tone soft but tired. "stop being so foolish, you clod of mud." it was gil's attempt at humor, that sarcastic notion that he always held, even now, despite being a living doll for a goddess that liked to bleed men dry of everything that made them. "do you truly think this whore queen can hold me?" he asked, tilting his head a little, his voice lower still so that ishtar wouldn't hear him from where she was on the other side of the room. "she can take many things from me, but my divinity she cannot. all she has taken from is my time and temporary freedom," he purred, this time pushing himself back into enkidu a little harder, his lips quirking into that fiery grin he was known for. "she cannot take the gates from me and i hold the chains of heaven. how long do you think she can keep me, truly?"