#he's a filthy Uruk that's his excuse

[feraltracker]

The woman's response is of fire and ice all at once, setting the Uruk's desire ablaze and chilling his spine as his bright eyes do what his teeth cannot, devouring every inch of her with intense delight. Her threats incite a broad smile, while her insults draw out a deep chuckle. Feigning hurt when likened to substandard dog scraps, he purses his lips and lets out a low, wounded sound that rumbles in his chest before smiling again.

He takes a step closer to the first step before her throne, testing her, before replying, "Oooh, I meant it not as a threat, Lady Thane... I would not sink my teeth so deeply as to scar or wound your fine flesh... only enough to taste." He raises a mischievous brow and looks her over, "But... you seem excited by the prospect of seeing me inflict true wrath upon this... associate's husband you make mention of. If it would please you to see me do battle, then I should fight any manner of man or beast in service of your pleasure..." The urge to reach out when the woman is so close is a difficult one to fight, his hand twitching at his side.

@feraltracker said: ❛ i want to sink my teeth into every inch of you. ❜

          darker vibes

               "And I would love to see you try." There was almost a snarl that pressed pass the lips of elegant mage, standing right in front of the throne she'd schemed her way into claiming for herself. The throne atop a few stairs being the only thing that gave her any real height in comparison to the bestial other. "Then I might need to feed you to my dogs... but with much refined palettes, I don't think you're quite up to their standards." Dark, though strangely calm smile danced across features. "My associate's husband on the other hand... that would be a fight I'd put coin on to see." Smile widened at thought, then faded completely. "Think twice before threatening me again, Uruk."

[fuwafuwamedb]

What would happen if in F/Z, Gil was declaring that Saber will be his and then out of nowhere, Hakuno (who is the now the Moon Cell administrator) literally fell from a crack in the sky and straight into his arm right then and there? And in a slight variation of this scenario, what'd happen if Extra!Gil poked out and dragged his waifu back by the neck into the crack right in front F/Z!Gil?

First of all, Gilgamesh has questions. Some plain as day run-of-the-mill girl falls into his arms and just thanks him for catching her? Like excuse you, who do you think you are? You think you can just fall into solid gold armored arms when he’s in the middle of a declaration and just treat him like a common mongrel? You think to have the audacity to pass off such a once in a lifetime opportunity like you just were given a free sample at the market? 

Ab-so-lutely not.

Then you have this other him- Audacious as all foolishness- climbing on out of that same crack of straight insanity, actually touching this filthy and wild card mongrel and dragging her back into the ether- without showing him the proper respect and courtesy that is required of his renown? 

Does anyone else see the absolute malarkey at work here?

In conclusion- no one just falls into the king of Uruk’s arms and treat’s him like a landing pad.

Oh no. 

Gilgamesh (f/z) is climbing right into that gods forsaken crack of straight up absurdity and dragging that plain doll of a human being back into this war and his master is going to see a perfect example of why no one treats the king of heroes with anything less than pure respect and adoration.

(He can’t remember what he was doing before. This tomfoolery must be addressed as soon as possible. War is on hold.)

[travistee34]

The Blade of Galadriel (pt. 1)

Somewhere deep in Gorgoroth, a hunched and crooked figure in a loincloth was toiling alone. His dark grey skin was covered by scars and bruises, beneath a layer of soot and dust, and the black, stringy hair was slick with grease and sweat. A crooked nose rested beneath a pair of beady, yellow eyes, and the thin and cracked lips covered a mismatched set of teeth.

Flauk wasn’t sure for how long he had been swinging the pickaxe in his hands. His muscles were screaming for rest, his throat was dry as a bone, and every loud clang as he hit the rock sent jolts of pain up his arms, rattled his teeth and shook his spine.

He paused for a moment, staring at the massive rock he had been ordered to remove or, failing that, hack off as much as he could before his legs and back gave out and he keeled over dead, his corpse fed to the caragors and someone else was sent to swing the damn pickaxe.

The boulder had been formed when a great spout of molten rock had broken through to the surface and blocked a passage the inhabitants of Mordor used. Flauk had been sent there to break it up, in case there was any valuable ore to be found. But so far, he hadn't found a single trace of value in this giant pile of shrakh.

But this was his lot in life. He was a just a lowly maggot serving Sauron. He knew this. But that didn’t mean he was happy about it. In fact, Flauk had lost track of how many times he had cursed whatever fates had decided that he be a worker. Other uruks, when they emerged from the vats, had been chosen to be warriors or marksmen or scouts. Most of them had gained fame and glory, aiding the captains of Mordor or made a name for themselves in the fight pits.

But not Flauk. Him, they had given a pickaxe and told to hit rocks, and beat him when he talked back. Or when he worked too slowly. Or when they were bored. Even his name was just another reminder of how worthless he was.

Some uruks were given names that were powerful or intimidating. In rare cases, they were even named after great uruks from the past, like the commander Bolg or his father, the legendary Azog, all to inspire them to greatness. Flauks name, he had found out from a laughing Olog-Hai, was not one of those names. Flauk was black speech for “Dirt”.

He raised the pickaxe once again, with every strike cursing the fates, cursing the captains that named him, cursing the laughing Olog, cursing the pickaxe and cursing whatever had caused the rivers of molten stone beneath his feet to spew up the boulder he had been ordered to destroy.

But as he chipped off a particularly large piece from the boulder, something caught Flauks eye. Within the reddish brown mass, he saw something. A very faint glow. But this wasn't from fire or embers. This glow was blue, a pale, otherwordly light unlike anything Flauk had ever seen before. Was it from a tiny vein of molten silver or perhaps even mithril? Or maybe some precious gemstone?

His fatigue at once forgotten, he raised the pickaxe again and brought it down, sending a shower of gravel into the air. The glow became brighter as more rock was removed, and with a final swing of the pickaxe, Flauk finally reached its source.

To his amazement, he found himself staring, not at gems or silver, but at a ring of a black metal, with glowing blue runes adorning it. He reached forward to grab it, but upon touching it immediately drew back his hand, thinking he had burned himself. Then he realized that no, it wasn't heat he felt from it. Confused, he reached out his hand once more, this time inching it slowly towards the ring, before carefully poking it.

He was right. Despite being stuck inside a mass of molten rock, the ring was as cold as ice!

He picked up the ring and, placing it in his palm, carefully inspected it. He had heard stories of magic rings before, but this was nothing like the rings he had heard described. They were always described as intricate bands of gold or silver, with rubies and sapphires, but this had no gemstones or adornments at all. When he ran his blackened and cracked nail across the runes, he couldn't feel the slightest trace of an engraving.

As he sat hunched, inspecting his find, a sudden shout rang out behind him.

“YOU! MAGGOT!”

Flauk jolted to his feet and turned around to see a massive uruk glaring at him from the back of a growling Caragor. The uruk was holding a jagged sword in his hand, and both he and his mount was covered in heavy armor. His name was Tûhorn, the captain in charge of the region.

“When I heard you had stopped, I thought you had either finished or had the good sense to die. But instead, what do I find? A filthy little glob who decided he wanted a rest!” Tûhorn growled, slowly approaching Flauk.

“Is that it, maggot? You want to have a little nap? Perhaps you'd like some help falling asleep? A jug of grog, maybe? Or maybe you want me to CAVE IN YOUR USELESS SKULL AND GET SOMEONE ELSE TO DO THIS?”

Flauk snarled back, but didn't say anything. He knew that Tûhorn was just aching for any excuse to punish him. He was known by most Uruks simply as the Chain Driver, after his favored method of metting out punishment: beating slaves to death with the massive chain he always carried.

So Flauk only shook his head, and quickly picked up the pickaxe.

“Well, would you look at that.” the captain said with feigned surprise. “looks like you just needed some encouragement! But just to be certain...” Tûhorn shifted his large frame to one side and, with a loud thud, dismounted the Caragor. He grabbed the length of chain slung over his shoulder and let it drop to the ground.

“Don't worry. I won't beat you to death...” he said, with a vicious smile. “You'll just WISH I had.”

He raised the chain over his head, and Flauk instinctively threw up his hands to shield himself.

In doing so, he dropped the black ring, which fell to the ground, hitting it with a loud ping.

Both pair of eyes instantly fell on the ring, and Tûhorn lowered his hand.

“What is that?” the captain asked, and to Flauks surprise, there was genuine surprise and confusion in his voice. Flauk quickly reached down and picked up the ring, and noticed that the runes had disappeared, and all that remained was the black metal.

“Give it here!” Tûhorn said, holding out his hand. Back in the days of the Shadow War, when the orcs of Mordor were divided in tribes, Tûhorn had been a member of the Marauder tribe. All the tribes had disbanded many, many years previously, but some habits die hard, and the Marauders had always had a love for jewelry.

He should hand the ring over. Tûhorn would probably be too pleased with the trinket to care about punishing him. But as he looked at the ring in his hand, the thought of giving it away made Flauk feel uneasy.

“Didn't you hear me, worm? Give it to me!” Tûhorn repeated, angrier this time.

Flauk stood silent for a moment, then looked Tûhorn right in the eye.

“No.” he whispered.

Tûhorn stared at him like he had been hit in the face. “What did you say?”

“I said no. It's mine.” Flauk said, not breaking eye contact with the brute in front of him and, grabbed by a sudden impulse, placed the ring on his finger. At once, it was as if a flame had been lit inside his head, and when he opened his eyes again, his fatigue and fear were gone, like smoke in a breeze.

Tûhorn blinked, and just for a second, he looked uncertain. And then it was replaced by a grimace of rage.

“Very well, glob! Guess I get to beat you to death after all!” he roared, swinging the chain above his head again.

Flauk didn't move at the fury of the captain, didn't flinch of the sound of the chain flying through the air. He was filled with a strange sense of confidence he’d never felt before, and where he previously would have cowered in fear, now he just watched the chain carefully, searching for his opportunity.

Then Tûhorn swung the chain at his head. In an instant, Flauk took a step backwards, before reaching out his hand. And somehow, he managed to grab the chain, wrapped the end around his hand and gave it a strong tug, ripping it out of the captains grip.

The captains face was a study in disbelief, and Flauk almost dropped the chain, surprised at what he had just done. But instead, he raised it the same way he had seen Tûhorn do a hundred times over, took a step forward and swung it at the Chain Drivers head.

The chain wrapped around Tûhorns neck and the impact knocked him over, as he struggled frenetically to free himself.

In an instant, Flauk was on him, wrapping the chain two more laps around his neck, before stepping backwards, the chain now taut. Tûhorn, realizing what was about to happen, gave him a look of burning hatred.

“You... MAGGOT!” the captain shrieked.

Flauk grabbed the chain with two hands and pulled with all his might. The chain dragged across Tûhorns neck, forcing his head to turn around further and further while he gave out a guttural scream. Finally, with a sickening crack, the captains neck snapped and the large uruk went quiet. Flauk, however, didn’t stop pulling, and with one last tug, the neck split open and the head flew off the body.

Flauk let go of the chain and stared at the corpse of the captain before him. He struggled to believe what had just happened. This uruk had tormented him for years, and he had killed him in only a few minutes.

Suddenly, he heard a loud growl behind him, and he turned to see the caragor baring its teeth. One hour earlier, he would have tried to outrun the beast. But now? Now he had defeated a survivor of the Shadow War!

Flauk turned to face the caragor, and raised the chain again. The caragor stopped growling, and in fact seemed to shrink at the sight of Flauk. He approached the beast and grabbed it by one of the spines on its head.

“You belong to me now. Do you understand, staz?”

The caragor looked at him, before lowering its head and dropping to the ground, as if inviting him to straddle it.

First he had defeated the Chain Driver, and now he had claimed his mount for himself! And all this, just because he had found this strange ring?

He looked at the smooth black ring again. He didn't know if it was truly magic, or if it was just a hardy piece of jewelry. But in any case, finding it had been the best thing to ever happen to him.

He could claim Tûhorns place and become a captain! But first, he would need something better than a loincloth to wear. His eyes fell on the decapitated body of Tûhorn in front of him...

Not long after, Flauk was inspecting his new armor. It was a bit bigger than he would have wanted, but he could always find a new one. Or order someone to make him a new one, even!

He was ready to return to the camp and declare himself a captain. All he needed was a title. Flauk looked at the caragor, which was still lying on the ground waiting for him, at Tûhorns head hanging from a loop on the saddle. He finally approached the beast and got onto its back.

“Today, I have felled the mighty Chain Driver! Look at your new captain, maggots! Behold Flauk the Beheader!” he shouted, holding Tûhorns head in his gauntleted fist, as he rode towards the camp.

And many miles away, in the woods of Lothlorien, Eltariel awoke with a start.

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Cursed G Pt 11 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh)

Previous Part: One - Haku POV / Gil POV, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

_____

The moment he had hands, the second his body changed from that of a feline to that of a human, and he was pulling the woman in. He was picking her up, placing her on his lap and pressing himself against her. His face was buried in her hair, pressed against her neck.

He could smell the scent of her soaps as he held her. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the softness without any hair or nonsense between them. He could run his hands along her body.

She was so small.

She was so frail.

He’d known he would become human again. He’d known that he would become a human again on this night in particular… But there was something about thinking it and actually having it happen. There was something astounding about being suddenly so much taller and stronger again.

“Gilgamesh.”

Those brown eyes were looking up into his.

He pressed his forehead to hers, watching her simply live right there in his arms.

She had come so close to dying before.

He hadn’t known for sure whether or not she would die. He’d only known that nothing would awaken the woman. There’d been blood all over the floors and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about it. The smell had permeated the air. The hunger in his gut had begun to gnaw at him as he had lay next to her unconscious body.

He’d meowed at her.

He’d scratched at her.

He’d bit her, although she didn’t seem to have ever been aware of that fact.

Days. Perhaps an eternity had forced him to forage through the cabinets and the cold box. He’d found the food she normally fed him and had forced himself to make it last, despite the growing hunger.

He’d guarded her body, waiting for something to come to try to take her.

His fur had become filthy.

He’d begun to smell more and more of death.

And he hadn’t been able to even hold her in his arms.

Her passing off that time had been even more of an insult. She’d simply cleaned herself up, cleaning the house and resting more.

“You damn fool,” he breathed.

She stared at him, only able to do so for a moment.

She was truly the fool.

Only a fool would find themselves the most unworthy soul to feel that they had to save and would run out into the night after such an ungodly sound. Only she would sit there and press her hands to his body, forcing all of her mana to go into healing the man. A magician without the proper knowledge of how to use her talents, Hakuno had decided to roll the dice of fate again.

Any god could have noticed her power emanated through the cosmos.

Any rogue magician or mage could have sensed her mana being used in such a manner.

His hands felt so good on her face. Holding her on his lap, holding her face in his hands, he could feel the warmth of her person. He could see the traces of confusion forming in the appearance of the faintest of frowns.

He needed to focus on talking to her.

The thought in his head and the movement of his body were out of synchronicity apparently. He was no more able to control himself than he was able to turn straight back into a cat in that very moment.

His lips pressed to hers.

His hands tangled in her hair and behind her back.

In that moment, he kissed like that of a starving man. He craved whatever air he could steal from her lungs and then he craved more. He needed this more than he could scream to the gods right now.

Her hands were moving as well though.

Her lips pressed back against his own, deepening what he had started. He could see those eyes look up at him after a moment.

“Gil…”

He had to pick her up.

Even that was something else.

Once more, he was on two legs without it being a feat. He was standing on his own two feet and he was holding someone in his arms. He could carry things. He could use these hands.

Tossing her onto the table, he delved his hands into her hair and tilted her head, forcing her to kiss him again.

He had so much more capability. He was able to do so much more.

His hands ripped the heinous attire from his way, his hands wrapping around her body underneath the fabrics to find a belt around her chest, holding down more fabric hiding her.

Fine.

He didn’t need those right now. He needed contact. He needed skin to skin.

His focus became the defilement of those lips, the task of dragging her into the depths of temptation. He simply lost himself in the feeling of her body melting away under his own.

That fool had gotten herself nearly killed saving someone unworthy.

Gilgamesh closed his eyes, letting his kiss become almost punishing.

She had nearly left him alone in this world. She’d almost died and made him lose that which was most precious.

Everything depended on this one, small woman.

He pulled her closer, feeling her tremble.

Mine.

He’d decided before that he would take her back with him. Make her a wife or a handmaiden in his world. That was ill suited.

She would be in his bed. He’d decide from there what was best.

His lips pulled back, feeling her follow after him a bit with her mouth.

The smirk was unavoidable. She was chasing after his affections, whether by choice or by an unknowing need for his attentions. She had her hands on his hips, her head tilted back.

A knock came at the door.

“Don’t let him-“

“It’s food. I ordered food to be delivered, remember?”

The woman glanced down at herself a moment before groaning. “Can you grab my robe from the bathroom door?”

Bathing room robes.

Right.

It was a chance to walk. It was a chance to be at the proper height again. That was why he went, returning with her robe and letting her belt it over her clothes. She motioned him into the other room before opening the door and talking to the person there.

The smell of steak met his senses.

His eyes fell to the bag in the woman’s hands, his stomach already twisting into knots from hunger.

“Alright.”

Hakuno moved to the seat beside him, handing him the strange platter with his meal on it, handing him a couple of utensils to rip apart his food with.

Odd, but he would dine first.

“You’ve been trying to figure out the method of breaking this curse.”

Hakuno laughed a little, her smile half hidden by her hand.

“What?”

“It’s strange to hear you speak. I’m used to your cards.”

The cards were more for her benefit. They served as a method of communication and as practice now. Since he would end up taking her back with him in the end, she would need to become accustomed to his language.

“I haven’t found much of anything. There was the joke Cu Chulainn made the other day about true love or finding a source, but…”

He shook his head. “The only way we would find a source is to inquire with the woman who cursed me to begin with. Since we are outside of my time, the practice of going around Ishtar would be remarkably difficult.”

“Or impossible.”

He nodded, his eyes watering at the taste of the greens on his platter.

He wasn’t sure what kind of spices and seasonings these mongrels had used, but the taste was like a blanket of warmth against the fiercest chill. It was like every bit of his personal desires and interests had been accessed and catered to, without him needing to speak a word.

It beat the diet of meat only that he had been privy to under Hakuno’s care.

The true love bit…

Utter nonsense, he was sure. No doubt the fool had been obsessing about the woman that continued to behave as Ishtar would have. Had he seen her weep for her father, he would have assumed the woman was Ishtar herself.

“Do you know of any myths or stories or anything about people turning into animals?”

“It’s not… entirely unusual.”

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t possibly talk until the greens were gone from his plate. He licked at his pronged utensil a moment before setting the platter down and moving to the ‘papers’ that Hakuno was so fond of scribbling upon. He scribbled easily enough on the sheet, finding it exceedingly easy to write on.

“Shepherd?”

“Ishtar is known as the goddess of love,” he explained, using Cuneiform and watching the woman review his writing. The fact she was recognizing words he didn’t typically use when communicating with her was good. “She’s done this kind of thing before, but the transformations were not reversible.”

“What do you mean?”

He had a timeline of the goddess’ lovers written out.

“The shepherd is the only case that my priests were able to confirm, but I’ve heard other tales. Ishtar uses the men, drains them of every bit of joy and power, then takes them and changes them. The shepherd into the very beast that ventured after his flock. Supposedly the priest into one of the seven spirits, a demon that travels with Ishkur’s creations.”

“Why would she do that?”

He grunted.

There’d been… thoughts as to why she did that.

Considering that he had been carelessly thrown into the future to be a cat in a foreign land, he had his doubts as to whether she went after ‘threats’ to Uruk.

It was no doubt more of an excuse the priests of her temple had fabricated to make her actions acceptable.

“Alright. So Ishtar’s the goddess of love who morphs people from time to time into beasts and things. There has to be a way that you reverse it. What happened to the shepherd?”

“Slaughtered by his neighbor.”

She winced.

He resumed eating as the woman continued to think and eat.

She was crossing her legs, but her robes were loosening a little as she shifted a little bit here and there. His eyes drifted to her person, drinking in the sight and knowing his body was back for now.

He knew exactly how it felt to lay beside her at night. He knew the way her face looked when the sun rose over the horizon and crept through her windows.

It was tempting to pull her back into his arms and-

But that could wait.

He had only so long.

It had been so long since he had used his voice.

“Ishtar is a useless goddess, careless and self-centered in every manner. I have no doubt that she thought herself amusing doing this to me.”

“I’m glad I managed to save you.”

Was she?

“Well,” she laughed a little, flashing him a grin. “Other than the fact that I can’t tell anyone without them thinking I’m either insane or goofing around. You saw my lunch group when I said that you were an ancient king that had been cursed into being a cat.”

A fair point.

He looked around a moment as he finished his food, finding Hakuno holding her hand out for the platter and tossing the strange thing into the waste bin.

“This time must have its own myths and legends.”

“We have fairy tales and things. There’s nothing like magic or what I can do in those stories… nothing that would be considered information rather than a great bedtime tale.”

That wasn’t good.

The fact that these humans were abandoning their knowledge in such useless ways… How did they explain the travel of the moon and the sun? How did they explain to themselves the strange way that the world was known to revolve like that of people around their leaders?

“Nothing about curses?”

She shrugged. “If you were cursed to an eternal sleep, I’d say I could kiss you. Or if you lost your shoe, we could chop up your siblings’ feet and realize you were the one I was looking for the whole time.”

His thoughts drifted to the woman’s friend again.

How many sibling’s feet had been chopped up due to his pissing on the man’s shoes?

What a brutal society.

“And animal transformations?”

“Werewolves, I guess, but they turn into the beast for a night.”

“And their cure?”

“It’s lifelong.”

Great.

So, for one night each month, he would become human and be able to interact, living a strange and shortened life as this woman’s pet. Then, becoming too old to move anymore, he would be taken out of his misery or simply die in his sleep.

“There has to be something.”

Something?

He watched her head over to the cabinets, pulling out that wine he’d spied in her cabinets the other week.

The sweet taste was opposite in preference to his beloved liquor from Uruk, but he could drink. He was permitted alcohol once more and the taste, however sweet, was a welcomed change. He drained his glass and half a second one before looking to her.

“What other myths?”

She stared at him a moment before shaking her head.

“What?”

“We’ve already tried kissing.”

“What does that have to do with your myths?”

She sat back on the couch, yanking her ripped attire carefully from beneath her robes without undressing, tossing them aside a moment before she shook her head.

Her face was already reddened.

A light drinker.

“There are a bunch of stories about cursed people being freed because of love. True love’s kiss and all that. But that can’t be the case because you and I have kissed a couple times before.”

“What happens in these stories?”

The woman drank more of her wine, pouring another glass and taking a moment to think. Or- he assumed it was thinking that was going on, since she was blushing further and shaking her head.

“They’re kids’ tales.”

“Did I ask if they were kids’ tales?” He moved onto the couch, enjoying every moment of this. His body could actually function properly like this. He could feel his strength again, the magic and divinity, strangely enough, were proudly flowing through his veins.

It felt good.

“You and I have tried kissing. True love’s kiss is a load of shit,” she told him simply, allowing her face to be tilted upwards.

What was a kiss, though, than the exchange of affections?

The prevalence of these romantic stories, however absurd, had to have something of truth in them. There had to be a reason that they persisted.

“Kiss me with your magic active.”

The thought came out before he could think about it, the woman’s eyes looking up at his.

“You can still use that magic, can’t you?”

“You advised against it. Remember? Magic limits?”

That was because the woman had possessed absolutely no talent for control and had been throwing her magic around like it was wealth.

“Besides, I have to use commands when I use my magic. When I healed Emiya, I-“

He leaned in further, pressing her down against the cushioned seating. He slipped a hand between them, letting his fingers nudge open her robes a bit more.

“Then command your magic to stop the curse.”

“Stop… Would that work?”

He had no idea.

The idea of kissing her was prevalent in his thoughts right now though. That, fighting, setting up proper protections for Hakuno around this building, and stealing her away from this world and back to his own; his mind was a running cycle of thoughts.

She was looking up at him though.

They had time.

The moment her lips met his again, he felt it.

The surge of power was pushing through his veins. The warmth of her mana mingled with his own, making him feel more and more like he could run through the entire kingdom here before returning to this meager home.

He wasn’t sure how long they simply drank from one another’s lips.

He wasn’t sure how long they lost themselves in simply stroking one another and brushing their hands through one another’s hair.

All he knew was that Hakuno was beginning to tire.

Her eyes were drooping a little, her hands falling from his hair to land on his chest.

“Hakuno?”

“I’m okay… I tried to use as much as I could without pushing myself as far as last time.”

That was uselessly worded.

“I just… What time is it?”

“Hakuno, it’s no doubt the early morning at some point.”

Her eyes drifted else where to the room, to the strange green light that varied its design over time. “It’s five in the morning… We’ve been kissing for hours.”

She hadn’t complained.

Even now, she simply leaned against him, closing her eyes and holding his chest.

“I’ll miss brushing you out, but I don’t think I’ll miss your shedding.”

He snorted, watching her begin to fall asleep.

“You need to sleep in your bed, woman.”

“I’m so tired, Gil.”

She was lucky she was so vital to his wellbeing. He wouldn’t have been doing this had she merely been some random woman.

His hands slipped underneath her legs and back, pulling her up against his chest. He could feel her arms wrapping around him, holding him tight as he carried her back to her bedroom. The woman was looking up at him as he pulled her robes off, tossing them aside.

“Gil?”

There was no stopping him, so if that was her intent then she needed to cease now. Gilgamesh climbed into her bed, slipping beneath the covers and pulling her body against his own.

“Gil?”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I just wanted to see your face for a while longer.” Her eyes drifted to his. “Maybe listen to you a little longer. It’s hard to communicate without words.”

His body pressed against hers.

He moved his forehead to rest against her own.

“If you keep being my cat, I’ll have to get you a collar so that people know you’re mine.”

A collar?

He snorted.

At this point, he probably could attempt to use his Gates again, bringing valuables back to this woman. Whatever kind of collar she wanted in return, or perhaps he could choose a suitable collar for her. She would look best draped with various gold necklaces. Perhaps some earrings as well.

He brushed a hand through her hair, almost sensing the impending dawn.

The light was beginning to lighten the sky.

Another month and then he would be able to do this again.

He’d end their time together next time with furthering their embrace passed the mere satisfaction of kisses. She would learn more about carnal pleasures when he came around again.

The light was coming in further.

He waited, closing his eyes.

The sun poured over him, warming him with its light.

There was no flash of light. There was no change, no shrinking; he was-

She broke it.

His eyes were transfixed on the slumbering woman. His ears ringing with her words from earlier.

“True love’s kiss…”

That and magic…

The feeling bubbled through him, he stood up on his knees, looking himself over and finding that feeling continuing on.

Freed!

FREED!

His laugh rang throughout the room, his excitement burst forth in grabbing the slumbering woman from her bed and spinning her around.

She didn’t even slightly wake from her rest.

He would find her a suitable collar! Drag her back to Uruk!

If they could conquer a curse from the goddess Ishtar, then they could find their way back to Uruk. They would fix what time and fate had done to him.

He held his woman close and amused himself with the way she cuddled against him for his warmth.

She would be doing that a lot more from this point on.