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Technically speaking, the King of Heroes doesn’t need to sleep. Even with his physical body, he is still a Heroic Spirit--a being that fuels itself with mana, not food and rest. But, being the self-indulgent person he is, he does it anyways, if only to stave off boredom.
He dreams of many things, memories and fantasies. The good dreams rarely depict the same thing twice, but share common threads. On good nights, the king dreams of home; of a bustling city, a magnificent palace, an extravagant treasury with all the riches of the world; of long silken hair, wide eyes bright with enjoyment, smooth skin bearing the scent of earth, bare feet tapping the ground in an improvised dance.
The bad dreams are always the same. On those nights he dreams of a voice telling him it’ll be okay, telling him that it’s fine because they’re replaceable but they’re not, why don’t they understand that, he dreams of a body melting into mud, of anguished cries and desperation--
On those nights, he wakes up in a cold sweat, and raids the wine cellar until he forgets the reason.
---
Kotomine intends to take part in the upcoming Grail War. Gilgamesh knows this--they have shared plans that they’ve discussed many times over the years. He also knows that he, now incarnated into the world once more, will not be the priest’s Servant, that he will have to summon someone else.
Thus, it would be for the best if the third member of their team was somebody who the ever-arrogant king could actually get along with.
Gilgamesh has toyed with the idea countless times. Surely, he has a catalyst suitable for summoning them somewhere among his treasures, assuming he himself would not suffice. There are very few people that he can say with certainty he can get along with, and, if he’s being honest with himself, he misses them desperately. A chance to see them again, to hold them, to hear their laughter…
But would it be worth it? Would bringing them into the world under Kotomine’s command work out? Sadist he is, would the priest not relish at the chance to simultaneously bring one person to harm and upset another, especially with the latter being Gilgamesh of all people?
In the end, the king decides not to. As desperately as he wants to see them again, he’s not willing to risk making them suffer. He will tolerate his loneliness.
---
Unfortunately, it seems Kotomine has other plans.
Gilgamesh derides himself for not seeing this coming. Of course, the priest would be aware of the impact they--their presence, their death--had on the king’s life, whether through the dreams of their Servants’ pasts that Masters are prone to having, or by reading the epic detailing his adventures.
In contrast to the king’s relaxed stance, leaning against the wall opposite Kotomine, there’s a lump in his throat when he sees bright green hair, hears a familiar--nostalgic--voice say, “I ask of you, are you my Master?”
There is no need to let Kotomine have them any longer than necessary, Gilgamesh decides. Once the contract is sealed, he pointedly clears his throat, drawing attention to himself.
The figure before him turns around. Eyes like jade meet eyes like ruby, then widen in recognition, a broad grin spreading over their face. The king gives an easy smile of his own in return--far softer, warmer, than any smile he’s given in years. He unfolds his arms from over his chest, reaching out one hand to intertwine his fingers with the other’s.
“It is wonderful to see you again, Enkidu. My beloved friend.”