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“Hm…” Gilgamesh turned over on the bed, grimacing slightly. His hair was still a bit wet from his bath.
It was late. They’d only barely made it back to the ziggurat by nightfall after spending the day slaughtering some wandering monsters on the outskirts of the city. Just an hour ago they’d been completely covered in the creatures’ blood.
“Are you alright?” Enkidu asked, brushing a few damp blond strands from Gilgamesh’s forehead.
He grabbed a hold of their hand, tracing the lines of their palm with his thumb. “Merely a headache,” he said, his eyelashes trying their best to flutter closed despite his best attempts. "It is nothing worth worrying over."
"We did have quite a day," they said. "And your clairvoyance can’t seem to let you get a good night's sleep lately. You are quite a busy king. Duties, tyranny, and heroism during the day, and at night, a forecasting service for disasters.” Though teasing, their voice was soft.
“If only I were able to see whether that damned cook’s new recipes would be any good,” he said. “But alas, it is merely disasters of a much grander scale. What shall it be tonight, a new great flood, fire to the fields, or perhaps another tantrum of that whore goddess?”
Enkidu gave a small laugh. “Either way, you do need to sleep,” they said, then sat up and pulled him closer so his head was in their lap. “But maybe if you were to lie like this, and drift off like so, I might be able to protect you.”
He looked up at them, a bit of amusement in his drowsy eyes. “From what, the future?”
“If only I could do such a thing.” Enkidu’s face fell as they remembered their trip to defeat Humbaba. The terror on Gilgamesh’s face, the stains of tears on his cheeks as he awoke every night; it was the memory that stuck with them more than anything else in their artificial life. And then they held him, bringing him closer and cursing the gods that they’d put so much responsibility upon one person. A person who was inhuman in ways his subjects couldn’t understand, a person who was inhuman enough that he had difficulty understanding humans. But that person was still so very human, at least, to them.
Despite their best effort, they were the one who could not at all understand humans. They were merely a weapon. And yet, they could understand him. In fact, they were probably the only—
“…Gil…” they whispered. “Will you… If I were ever to…?”
His eyes had already closed; his quiet breathing lighter than the wings of a butterfly.
They smiled again. Well, they could ask him later. After all, they had all the time in the world.