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"Tiné. What did I say about bowing your head to anyone other than your king? To see you lower your head to that mongrel offends me."
Tiné looks. There, bathed in a shaft of light, her king stands on the golden chariot, wisps of blond hair stirring in the wind. At the canyon's surface below, the great black horse bellows, and Hippolyta gallops off, a darting flash of purple and smoke, before Alcides leaps out into the distance.
Neither of them looked upon her as a threat, and it made Tiné anxious. But Gilgamesh looks at her, his red eyes narrowed in disapproval. Tiné lifts her head.
"My apologies, my king. I regret my actions were offensive."
"They were offensive, fool, because you stand above all those who presume to lord over you! Are you not the Master to your Great King? I am the only one you should lift your eyes to! They are merely worms to be trampled beneath your feet. Tiné. Remember this: they are beneath you."
Tiné's eyes widen. Gilgamesh smirks, then turns, his back toward her. A little pep talk for his young master.
*****
They spend the rest of the day glorying in the treasures of Gilgamesh's garden.
"Behold!" Gilgamesh says. They walk down the street, Tiné blushing and holding an ice cream cone, while Gilgamesh moves with a flourish, armed guards carrying a small mountain of stuffed animals won from claw machines and arcade games following silently behind them. "If you are a child, you must entertain yourself like a child. Tiné. I see there another so-called 'box' hoarding what should be more of my treasures."
It is another claw machine, this time with stuffed plushies that are in the shape of inanimate objects, cute smiling rainbows and boba tea with embroidered faces. Gilgamesh flicks his wrist, producing a handful of coins as if from thin air ("From my treasury," he sniffs), then graciously allows Tiné the indulgence. "For me, my king?"
"For you." His red eyes glitter. Tiné blushes, then steps toward the claw machine. The coin plinks, and the claw moves. Tiné blushes again, then fixes her eyes on a small stuffed cloud in the corner.
"I don't think I can reach that."
"Insolent fool! I am allowing you access to my treasures and you question your ability to reach it?"
"Forgive me, my king," Tiné says, and she maneuvers the claw around it.
It grabs hold. Tiné's eyes widen, a blush painting her cheeks, as she gets a hold of herself and drops the little plushie down the chute. It tumbles, and one of the guards steps in front of them to pull the stuffed toy out to hand it to her.
"Thank you, my king," Tiné says, her eyes shining.
Gilgamesh smirks.
"It is but a trifle, Tiné."
*****
She is too young to taste wine, but Gilgamesh deigns to let her sip from his goblet, bemoaning the fact that the children of this age are woefully ignorant. Tiné steps forward and takes a sip, then makes a face after tasting the bitter liquid. Quickly she looks up, afraid to have offended her king, but Gilgamesh laughs and assures her to worry not, mongrels and fools would debase themselves to take but a sip of this swill, but clearly she is a mongrel of discerning taste, and he is not offended.
"Thank you, my king," Tiné says, bowing, as he reaches his hand into thin air and pulls out a goblet of the sweetest nectar from his cellar, an ambrosial liquid fit for a mighty king.
Tiné drinks. Her eyes grow wide and she is rapturous. It is the most delicious fruit juice she has ever tasted. It is sunlight and sweet grass and ripened peach flesh. It is like biting into the freshest apple, the juiciest orange, the sweetest mango. It is like the sparkling warmth of a sun-filled orchard, thick like honey and coating her mouth and tongue as she swallows.
"When you are old enough, I shall allow you to taste proper wine," Gilgamesh says, and he proffers himself another bottle.
*****
He teaches her the ways to rule, to smash her enemies beneath her feet, to sneer at her rivals and to fiercely protect her people. He protects her because she is his vassal, his follower and his loyal retainer.
"Stand upon my chariot. I cannot ensure your safety if I leave you here; you are my master. If you were to die, I would be greatly troubled."
Tiné looks. Her king is silhouetted by the bright wash of afternoon light. His eyes are focused somewhere in the distance, where more powerful enemies await them. She feels safe under his guidance and protection.
"Thank you, my king, for taking care of me."
Gilgamesh smirks.
"You are as one of my treasures, a loyal subject I allow to live within my garden."
*****
Tiné screams. Then screams louder, then sobs and cries and pulls Gilgamesh's body against her. He is heavy and cold and his skin is smudged and almost grayish, the plate metal of his golden armor scuffed from the battle earlier.
It was her fault. Her fault. Her fault for letting it come to this, for not supporting her king as his master. Fat tears roll down the sides of her face as she sobs, her little body quaking as she holds him closer.
The voice is weak, thin and strained as if choked by gravel.
"How unsightly."
Tiné blinks in shock, then straightens. Her eyes are puffy and her little face is streaked with tears. Her voice is an unsure whimper. "My king?"
Gilgamesh's eyes crack open, his face scratched and his skin covered in a layer of blood and dirt. "A child who is a master is an unsightly thing," he says, and Tiné sobs.
"My king!" she says, and she throws her little arms around him.
Gilgamesh looks up at the dark sky with slow, painful blinks. There is the sound of fire crackling in the distance, the quiet whoosh of wind blowing along the tower. Carefully, he moves his arm out from under the child who is weeping atop him so brokenly.
"Fear not, Tiné." His voice is soft. The golden gauntlet rests upon her head gently. "It is only expected to weep for your exalted king."
Tiné sobs harder. She presses her face into the hard metal of Gilgamesh's battered chest plate, sobbing into his golden armor.