Chapter Text
Small bubbles floated past Kingu’s vision towards the distant, blue ceiling. He didn’t bother to follow them once they left his vision. How foolish, he scoffed. What’s so good up there? Before they would disappear beyond the water’s surface, they would undoubtedly disappear from Kingu’s memory. So insignificant, they weren’t worth even his pity. Of course, Kingu had so much unused pity that he could afford to give them a brief farewell as they left his world.
Kingu hadn’t the slightest idea what would happen to the bubbles when they reached the top. Would they drift along the waves like the boats he had heard about? Would they grow in size, filled with the outside air? Regardless, like all things that went up, they would never come back down.
However, Kingu’s curiosity quickly returned to the expanse of blue which stretched limitlessly in almost every direction. The unreachable haze was the nebula of his imagination, and often he would sit at the outskirts of his city and think about dissolving into the current and leaving behind his boring, everyday life.
Unlike the surrounding ocean, the city Atargata was completely stagnant. The population had hardly changed since its foundation. Because merpeople could not die of natural causes, most of the civilization’s founders still lived in the city and occupied the same civil positions they had from the beginning. Without fear of extinction, reproduction was completely unnecessary.
For that reason, the news of the king’s passing by a human hunting incident came as a huge surprise, and the news that Kingu would replace him, an even bigger one. The population did not hesitate to make their discomfort known to Kingu, constantly arguing over who would “actually” become the sovereign. Kingu laughed at this useless activity, for none of those contentious fossils could ever be king. Kingu, on the other hand, was born to be king. He had been created by the mother goddess Tiamat to freshen the stale waters and guide them away from their old-fashioned ways.
Kingu threw one more glance at his unreachable, endless horizon, sighed, and trudged into the city.
Atargata was a grid of searock. Due to the currents, the buildings lay flat at only one story. Instead the city slowly stretched across the sandy floor. Despite its boring foundation, the city was bustling with color and life; every wall was decorated with a coral mosaic, which had grown into an entirely separate community of fish. Far from an invasion, the mercommunity had accepted their right to live there and simply left them be. Kingu admired the way they swam peacefully in their large communities—no fighting, no competition. They were undoubtedly the best inhabitants of the city.
Kingu was thoughtlessly watching the school which passed through the market, blissfully aware of the carnage of fish for sale, when his imagination was interrupted.
“Oh, if it isn't Kingu. How strange seeing you here.” The snooty voice belonged to Atargata’s no. 1 diva, Ishtar. Her lips curled, excited by the storm of insults that brewed between them. “Shouldn't your mommy being doing the groceries?”
“She isn't my ‘mommy,’ and I'm not a kid. In fact—”
“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You're going to be king. You know, a king shouldn't throw a temper tantrum because of a little teasing.” With her hand waiting impatiently on her ruby-scaled hip, Ishtar’s eyes danced; Kingu’s resentment fueled them like oxygen to a flame.
Kingu wanted to smother them. He said nothing.
“Huh? Are you going to ignore me?” Ishtar folded her arms. “I’m giving you good advice, you know. That was like elementary school teasing. If you can’t even take that…”
“Aren’t you too old for child’s play?” Kingu returned his disappointment with his gaze.
“Excuse me! I am not that old.”
“And I’m not a child.” Kingu turned away, hoping to return to his business with the fish.
“Jeez… it's all because of that witch…” A muttered comment, only half-intended for Kingu to hear.
“She's not a witch. She was a mermaid too.”
“She's a traitor , flirting with humans.”
That's not— Kingu didn't know enough to say it wasn't true. But Gorgon, the supposed sea monster, hated humans. She would have never flirted with them, Kingu was certain.
Ishtar sighed. “You may be a brat, but you're still a merman. You should be on our side, not that monster's.”
“It's because you’re irresponsible..” Kingu had been holding that comment back longer than he had even realized. “All of you are too self-centered. Only Gorgon tried to take care of me.”
“Well.” Ishtar's face scrunched with displeasure. “If you're insistent on being on her side in spite of everything, then I assume you're prepared to take responsibility for her, ‘future king?’ What do you plan to do about the human issue?”
Kingu couldn't care less about the humans. As long as they remained on land, they were outside of his little world. Completely irrelevant. “What issue?” he asked, feigning the vaguest interest.
“ ‘What issue?’ Ugh! Does anything matter to you outside of your moody internal monologue?! It's the lack of respect! The humans have forgotten their origins and parading around like they're kings of the world!”
“Does it matter? The opinions of something so insignificant such as humanity shouldn't mean anything to our civilization. Let them think what they want. They are just fools.”
“Hah, so you're not on the side of humans either.” Ishtar looked surprisingly delighted. “You really are naive. If you want to be treated seriously, you should find out where you want to be.”
“You can just ignore her,” Gorgon spat, baring her fangs at an enemy who wasn't there. “Her head's just inflated because of her little cult. Even her fellow council members know she's just an idiot. So, you don't need to worry about her becoming king.”
“Of course I don't.” Kingu hastily dismissed the idea, which had never once crossed his mind. “The only one who will become king is me. It's my destiny.”
“Yes, that too.” Gorgon's sharp, purple eyes stared King up and down then drifted in the direction of the city. She grimaced. “Say, Kingu, why do want to be the king of those people, anyway?”
That should have been such a simple question—it was his duty to lead the people—yet it brought him to a halt. Indeed, he had no desire to rule those people; he hated them. But he had never questioned his own resolve to rule over them, and he wouldn't start then.
“I know what you're thinking, Gorgon. They're stupid and selfish, cruel and jealous. But that's why they need someone like me. I will mercilessly teach them how to behave.”
“That's quite a forgiving offer for such a despicable bunch,” Gorgon muttered, bloodlust seeping from every scale which covered her body.
That bloodlust was Gorgon's greatest flaw, Kingu thought. It'd really do her some good to let some of it go, or at least conceal it better. The rumors about Gorgon which had been circling around town since the previous king's death were not completely implausible, he had to admit. For his part, Kingu was certain that his suffering would be repaid in due time without needless acts of violence. Tiamat was on his side after all.
“Right?” He grinned. “They should try to be more like me!”
When Kingu next returned to the city, he had already forgotten about Ishtar and any other annoying face which plagued his usual visits. He ignored even the schools of fish as he swam through them, for his eyes were set on only one thing: the grand temple at the center of Atargata. The temple of Tiamat stood taller and more colorful than anywhere else, and because no person dared enter it, it was a bustling haven for fish. This time, however, Kingu had an invitation, so it could hardly be called intruding.
Inside, the corridors of the temple echoed with a doleful song. Although unfamiliar, the voice filled Kingu with an unplaceable nostalgia and an unfathomable sorrow. Without knowing the cause of her grieving, Kingu vowed to resolve it.
The still figure of Tiamat was the eye of the storm of fish which, driven by her music, raced around the hall. Yet she was blind to her surroundings. Her song had wrapped her protectively, sheltering her from the saddening world outside.
“Mother, I’ve come as you requested,” Kingu barely whispered, awed by the scene before him.
“It is a truly grievous situation.” Tiamat’s eyes stared into a world beyond Kingu’s small one. He could see nothing in their nebulous purple. But her wordless song he clearly understood; it spoke directly to his heart. It ached with loneliness as it pleaded. Who could allow such sorrow? Kingu scorned the apathy of people and fish alike. But Kingu was different from those ungrateful people; he would do his utmost to heal her grieving heart.
“What can I do to help? Please tell me.”
Kingu’s heart stopped with Tiamat’s melody. She spoke with a soft voice. “The humans have forgotten me, their mother. They continue without thinking of the sea, of their roots.”
...The humans? As Tiamat’s singing vacated his mind, confusion seeped in. Of course, the humans are the most ungrateful of them all—above all, completely unaware of their insignificance. If Kingu’s enemy was humans, it would undoubtedly be an easy task.
“How arrogant—those pathetic humans. They will no doubt rue their pride.”
“You must go up there and amend their ways, teach them reverence for their mother. Their young king, Gilgamesh, is especially insolent; you must correct him.”
The words repeated ad infinitum in Kingu’s head, blurring into meaningless but maddening sounds. He exhaled to clear all the clutter. “How should I do that?” The question floated in his vicinity, afraid to get an answer from Tiamat.
“You must join them. Become human. They won’t listen to anyone else.”
The words knocked Kingu like a strong current, and he struggled to regain himself. He could not imagine being a human. To become human was to abandon his home, his aspirations, his pride. Kingu was a merman; to discard that was to discard his identity altogether. The possibility of becoming human had never crossed Kingu’s mind, yet suddenly, it was his reality. Even if he still had his emerald tail, Tiamat’s words had stripped him of his mermanhood on the spot.
“Once you’re human, you must never mention your origins to anyone. You must live completely as a human.”
It was so lonely. He had been alone for most of his life, but never had he felt true loneliness, the kind that caused Tiamat to sing. It filled his heart with solid lead. “And when I’ve finished my mission…?” He choked out.
“I have arranged your meeting with the human king. There will be a storm on the waves; you must meet him then.” Tiamat’s song started again with the swirl of fish, signalling the end of their conversation.
As Kingu left the temple, the sorrowful melody chased after his tail.
Kingu held his breath before breaking through the water’s surface. The outside world was just gray. Gloomy, voluminous gases hung in the air as far as he could see, and water poured from the sky. Even the ocean was, from the top, a shifting surface of darkness, wave after wave trying to topple Kingu and throw him back underneath. He had never imagined water could be this unpleasant.
But the air was worse. Each breath was an inhalation of poison, scorching his throat. Yet, he kept inhaling—faster and faster. His lungs heaved, quickly moving the toxin in and out. But something wasn’t enough. Faster and faster. His heart raced to keep up.
“King Gilgamesh!” The sound of a voice stopped Kingu’s breathing entirely. It came from a medium-sized vessel which swayed drunkenly atop the angry seas. Standing proudly at one of the curved ends was the only color in the depressing scene: a golden human. His short hair shone as golden as his armor. That man could only be the king.
The lustrous man disappeared under the waves along with his vessel.
Oh . Kingu had to rescue him. As a mere human, the golden man could not breath underwater and would quickly die. How pathetic. Such weak lungs. It was probably more convenient to just let the human die. He was the source of their problems, after all. If the humans lost their insolent leader, maybe they would relearn their respect. What value did this human have which was worth saving?
Despite himself, Kingu dived back below the surface of the waves and sped after the human king. But the sinking human had already lost consciousness by the time Kingu had caught up to him. Hoping he was still alive somehow, Kingu grabbed him and raced to the surface. No response. Kingu needed to find land somehow. In the distance, he made out a faint moving light. Maybe it was the sun. In any case, it meant calmer water, so he pulled the body towards it.
As the storm began clearing, Kingu realized the light was actually from a peculiar tower on the beach. But his surprise was drowned out by his relief at finding land. He threw the human on the ground and waited for him to wake.
Maybe it was better if the human didn’t wake up. He was the greatest obstacle to Kingu’s objective. Instilling fear in the other humans would be easier if this one wasn’t around. And, at least, Kingu could say that he tried to save him. But then Kingu’s rescue attempt would have been in vain...
In any case, it was out of Kingu’s hands. He decided to study the surrounding area to take his mind off the stress of waiting. So this was the land where he was forced to live. The sand, or so he figured, was a grainy substance the color of the human’s hair that stuck grossly to his wet skin. Beyond the beach, far in the distance, there seemed to be a stone wall.
Before he could get a better look, Kingu’s attention was grabbed by the human next to him, who had begun to cough. Seriously? You’re on land now. If you humans can’t even breathe on land, what good are you? Kingu scoffed at the human as water sputtered from his lips. But if there was water still inside the human, then, Kingu realized, it was up to him to draw it out somehow. Reluctantly, he leaned in for a closer inspection. He had no idea how to deal with humans—much less a drowning person.. If he turned him over, would the water come out?
During his increasingly panicked contemplation, Kingu was startled by two ruby-colored eyes which stared at him. His heart skipped a beat upon realizing he had never been so close to a human before. He couldn’t move; the bright eyes, which had locked their gaze after a final coughing fit, commanded him to be still.
“Who…” The human began. His eyes drifted down from Kingu’s face. “...Are you?”
Kingu felt he had no choice but to follow that stare. There. Long, fleshy, and undeniably human. Legs? Since when? Kingu’s mind went white.
When Kingu came to his senses, the man, who had slithered out from underneath him, was scowling. Nevertheless, he extended a hand in Kingu’s direction.
Kingu could only stare blankly at the strangely amical gesture before he was ripped from the ground and placed on his feet.
It hurt. Kingu’s new feet were brittle; they could break just from the weight of his own body. He immediately toppled over. The human grabbed him with another groan and started to drag him towards the wall. Kingu, unsure of what to do with his new legs, tried to imitate his helper, but it was too painful. One foot in front of the other. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.
Water droplets began welling up in the corners of Kingu’s eyes. Was this what it meant to cry? The tears which rolled down Kingu’s cheeks and met his lips were warm and salty. It was a miserable taste.
The walk through the city was lost on Kingu, whose consciousness was largely suppressed by the pain. But somehow he and the man he had rescued ended up in front of a decently sized brick building. It was someone’s home, Kingu guessed.
“Shamhat!” The blonde man barked.
After a minute or two of shuffling sounds, a human woman appeared at the doorway. “I’m sorry for the indecency, your majesty. I was with a customer.”
Kingu found nothing indecent about the woman. Wearing a plain, white dress, she had a simple but radiant beauty. Her brown hair shimmered green in the reappearing sunlight.
“Not anymore,” the man quickly dismissed. “I’m leaving this man to you.”
The woman, Shamhat presumably, eyed Kingu up and down then smiled coyly at him before turning back to the human king. “Yes, your majesty.”
“Also, fetch me a fresh pair of clothing before I go.”
“Of course.” Shamhat’s inspection had completely moved to the man’s sopping garments. “... What happened?”
“I’ll explain later. Just hurry up. Take him with you.”
Having no control in the manner, Kingu was thrown harshly at Shamhat, who caught him surprisingly gently and eased him into the home and onto a bed. She quickly hurried off after that, giving Kingu a few minutes to reflect on what happened.
He had rescued the human king, Gil… Gil-something and was taken to a mysterious woman’s home. He couldn’t make much sense of anything beyond that.
He had legs now. Although the bed was a significant relief compared to standing, just the thought of his new legs sent him a painful shock. He never wanted to walk again. How could the humans do it every day, all day? They were undeterred to the point of foolishness.
Shamhat returned and sat near the head of the bed. “Here you go.” Taking a cloth, she wiped Kingu’s cheeks. Apparently, tears still lingered. How embarrassing. To hide or at least avoid looking at Shamhat, Kingu turned his cheek. This action only made Shamhat giggle, so Kingu gave up and turned to face her. With a small smile, Shamhat seemed to be more than a human. Her unparallelled kindness and beauty could not be attributed to the selfish and arrogant humans.
“How are you feeling?” Shamhat asked. “Do you have a name?”
Shamhat’s gentleness had caused Kingu to drop his guard and he blurted out his name.
“So you can talk!”
Kingu nodded, aware of the irony, but he was too busy planning his next responses to the questions which would inevitably follow. He couldn’t slip up again.
“I’m relieved to know that. So then, Kingu, where are you from?”
“I don’t remember…” Kingu’s voice faded away with feigned shame.
“You don’t remember?” Shamhat questioned him. “That’s troubling… What do you remember?”
“When I came to, I could only remember my name, Kingu.”
“Oh my!” Shamhat pursed her lips but quickly went back to smiling. “Well, that’s a good place to start!” Then she added, “Are you hungry? What foods do you like?”
The question troubled Kingu, who hadn’t the slightest knowledge of the human diet. As he racked his brain, Shamhat chimed in again, “How about bread?” With a nod from Kingu (what did he know about bread?), Shamhat disappeared into a different room.
“Anyway.” Shamhat quickly returned with the strange food, apparently called bread. “I heard you can't walk; is this true?”
“Yes.” Kingu's voice was tinged with bitterness leftover from his miserable experience.
Shamhat blinked as though surprised Kingu confirmed her beliefs. “Then, how did you rescue King Gilgamesh?”
Even Kingu couldn't adequately explain that one. “I don't know. By chance?”
Shamhat inspected him. “Well, I'm very grateful, as is all of Uruk, I'm sure.”
“What kind of person is uh Gilguhh…”
“King Gilgamesh? He is an awe-inspiring person. Uruk's greatest king. He is responsible for the city's grandeur, its prosperity, and its safety. We owe our calm and happy everyday lives to him. And to you. If you had not saved him earlier, we would have been in trouble. So thank you. Thank you from every citizen of Uruk."
Kingu was ashamed to admit he understood her reasoning. When Atargata's previous king died unexpectedly, the city was taken over by chaos. They were disturbingly similar to humans in that regard. Kingu scoffed at himself. Why was he saving the human kingdom? He had to hurry back home and fix things in his own city.