Gilgamesh the Betrayer
(Yes, I changed the title because the other one was codswallop.)
I finished it!!
As a preface: This story is voilent, it contains violence against children, religious prosecution, elements of genocide and character death. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read it. Take care of yourself.
Okay, so here’s a Link to AO3 for the story.
Come, come closer to the fire and let me tell you a story. Listen well, for this is a story told to me by my mother and father, who were told by their mother and father back to a time when the Clans were at variance and the sea serpents still swam close to the surface.
At the end of the Wandering Years, when memory of Solheim was still fresh and our people were still hunted all the more for it, a child was born into the arms of the Ostium Clan. It was a boy with strong lungs and flailing arms, screaming his fury into the world. He was the first child born to Thermis and Querello Ostium and the only boy out of four.
The first sister was Tisiphone, who entered the world no two years after her brother had. Brown of hair and brown of eyes she was, with skin coloured like that of the Solheimr used to be. She was of the earth, steadfast and dependable.
Second came Apollaia with hair the colour of the moon and eyes the colour of the sun. Blessed by both heavenly bodies, her fate was to be a great one. Great, but also cruel, for greatness and the protection of sun and moon doesn't mean one remains unscathed on their journey.
And when the boy was seven and the sisters were six and three, their last sibling was born. Their parents named her Danaia, and her smile was the prettiest of them all.
The boy loved all of his sisters dearly, but the one he held most dear was Apollaia, for she had hair as pale as his own and even at her young age readily indulged him in his play-fighting. However this was not the only reason he was closest to her.
“You must help her become strong,” his mother whispered to him at dusk when the Clan would rest from its day of wandering the marshes and hills. “Out of all four of you she will be in the most danger.”
“Apollaia is blessed by the sun and the moon, just like you are also moon-blessed,” his father explained patiently when the boy asked why this was so. “But those who bow to the Six think your sister cursed.”
“Why would they think her cursed?” the boy asked and his parents smiled at his curiosity.
Their only son had always been curious and Thermis and Querello indulged him readily in his thirst for knowledge, not knowing that it would play its part for what was to come.
Remember: a curious mind is a great gift, something to be cherished and nourished as long as it isn't taken too far.
“They believe the Pyreburner, he who was goaded into betrayal, can see through the sun coloured eyes of a human. To them the sun-blessed are agents to his will; to spread the all consuming fire into all corners of the world,” his parents answered.
“That's stupid,” the boy protested then. “Sun coloured eyes are a sign of Eos, of Healers and Protectors. Everybody knows this.”
“They chose to forget. A fear has taken hold of those who chose to kneel: the fear of what the Six would do to them should they remember.”
“Kneelers are stupid,” the boy declared.
His mother would laugh a laugh sounding like wind chimes and his father would nod while his pale moustache twitched in amusement, every time they had this conversation.
Years past and the siblings grew safely in the arms of the Ostium Clan. Tisiphone, steadfast and dependable, started to grow as strong in body as she had always been in character. Danaia, with her bright smile, loved to dance and sing when the flowers bloomed and by the firelight. And Apollaia and her brother were scarcely seen apart, always trying to learn something new, or daring each other into yet another adventure.
Years past and they were as safe and happy as they could be. But when the boy entered his twelfth year, when the last summer rains fell, it was decided that the Clan had grown too big to travel safely. Many contested this decision, for there is safety in numbers, true, but a big Clan during the Wandering Years also made a big target, made it difficult to stay hidden.
So split they did.
Five groups they were. One wandered north and west into the great grass plains of Duscae, one made their way to the south of Cleigne, the third stayed where they were and the forth wandered as far west as the land would let them. Thermis and Querello Ostium, along with all of their children and three others were the fifth group and the only one who wandered east into Leide.
Of those three two were the brothers of Querello and their names were Clades Drautos and Kaeso Khara. The third was Diasos Ostium, a distant cousin Thermis had taken in when his direct family had fallen to the hardships of their wandering.
Neither of the siblings took well to the split, least of all the only brother who clung all the fiercer to his sun-eyed sister. Many a night he raged against his parents and his father's brothers and brought his sisters to tears with his words.
And so their childhood happiness died with the warmth of the sun as winter began to make its march across the land.
For many seasons they wandered across Leide, hunted the wildlife, gathered what greens they could find and traded with those willing to let them near their settlements. These were nearly two years full of privations, for the plains of Leide were much harsher than the marshes and hills of Duscae they had wandered before.
During those near on two years Clades Drautos fell to the poisoned shadows when the Clan was driven out of yet another settlement. The Clan mourned and again the boy raged.
“Why do they have to hunt us like we are animals? Why can't we just make piece?” the boy cried out in grief as Apollaia with the sun coloured eyes, tried to console him.
No answer came for the boy that night or those that followed.
It was at the end of their second summer in the plains that the message reached them: A home had been found! A home where they could grow roots and be safe of prosecution.
But they weren't the only ones to hear that call and those who had knelt and bowed their heads towards the Six, renewed their efforts to hunt and kill the Free People.
An argument sparked between the adults of the eastern Ostium Clan. Between Kaeso Khara who wanted to stay and Thermis and Querello Ostium who wanted to leave.
“Think of the children!” Thermis cried when she thought her son and daughters asleep.
“Then leave and I will stay,” Kaeso argued.
“At least accompany us to the border, brother,” Querello pleaded. “We will need your strength against the poisoned shadows. Our children are strong, but I don't want them coming too close to those creatures ere they get sick.”
“Raiders and zealots have grown to such a number in the plains, we fear what they would do, should they catch sight of us. You are as strong with your blades as you are with your words. These skills would be invaluable for us until we reach the marches,” the mother entreated in tears and Kaeso's hardened heart softened.
He agreed, for it was his brother in all but blood who asked him and the family of his family that was in danger.
Never did they make it over the border into Duscae, however. Only half a day's travel away from the marshes and hills, they were captured and taken to a town whose name has been lost. All but one of them were captured and thrown into the dungeons where they dwellt not in darkness, but in an ever shining light to keep the poisoned shadows away.
It was Diasos, who had been lucky enough to have been in search for a safe place to rest for the Clan, when they had been captured. And again the boy's temper reared as he cursed his cousin as the dungeon's doors closed behind him. Only did he stop when Apollaia begged him to cease with trembling hands that gripped his arm.
There were no windows to tell how many days they waited for their prosecutor to come. Sometimes food and water were brought by silent guards, but never enough and so the boy and his sisters saw their parents and their father's brother begin to waste away.
During this time the boy's mother would tell stories to distract the children from their fate. They were old stories her grandmother had told her, who herself had heard them from her own mother, who had seen Solheim with her own eyes when she had been barely more than a teenager.
Stories about the eternal flame that burned in the highest tower of the now sunken capital they were, of the songs of the sun priests and the fiery glimmer of the Emperor's crown, as he paraded through the streets.
Never did she tell the boy and his sisters of the war the Six had waged between themselves, or the day the earth shook and the sky burnt and everything that did not burn was drowned by the sea. Those were not tales for the hearts of children.
“Tell us the story about the blind woman that got locked away into the shadows by her own son,” the sun eyed daughter would demanded every time her hunger was at its worst, and every time her mother would do as asked.
So their days went with hunger and thirst and stories as their companions, until finally someone came to talk to them. It wasn't a judge or a prosecutor or even an inquisitor, who came down to the dungeons, where the light was everlasting, but a girl.
Her name was Istar, daughter of the lord who reigned over the town the eastern Ostium Clan had been imprisoned in, and she came when all but the boy were asleep in their cells. What neither of them knew was that his sun eyed sister was also awake and listened to every word they said.
Apollaia, unable to sleep from worry and hunger, was startled out of her reverie of happier days, of laughter and sunshine and roughhousing in the mud, when she first heard the girl's voice.
“I think I finally managed to convince him,” Istar said, her voice pitched in a whisper that carried well trough the cells.
From the way the girl talked to Apollaia's brother, this wasn't the first time she had visited. The sun-eyed girl did not dare move, and dread filled her with every word her brother exchanged with the girl. He treated her, an outsider, a member of the people who hunted the Free People, like a friend.
“Are you sure?” the boy asked eagerly. “I would do near anything.”
“My father did not tell me what he plans to do, but he invited the priest and the judge to lunch this day and afterwards they spent hours in his study. It means that there is going to be an interrogation soon, and since you are the only people imprisoned right now, that would warrant a full questioning, he must have finally listened.”
The girl sounded so pleased with herself, and for a moment Apollaia would have loved to turn around to see what this girl looked like, but her brother spoke up again.
“Istar, that's great! I do not know how to thank you for this. Do you think if I – how did you call it? - testify, they won't harm my sister?”
“Why would my father want to do that? He's not the monster your parents try to convince you he is, you know?”
“Because she has golden eyes,” the boy whispered quietly, as if he feared the air itself could hear and betray him.
The girl gasped in shock and Apollaia did her very best not to give herself away. Her Clan had been so careful to not have those outside of their people learn of this. And now her own brother had given her greatest secret away, to people who thought her a bad omen and cursed.
The girl with the sun coloured eyes heard Kaeso, family of her family, shift in his sleep and all conversation ceased. There was only the rustling of cloth and silent footsteps on naked stone, followed by the sound of a door falling closed.
The boy came over to his favoured sister he thought sleeping, and stroke her moon coloured hair before he lay down to sleep. That night Apollaia did not sleep and when morning came everything changed.
When morning came it started with her mother's pleading as two of her children were dragged away. Apollaia did not look at her brother as they were taken out of the dungeon, for he had dealt her the worst of betrayals.
Remember: For the Ostium Clan, nothing is more important than their Clan and family, and should you be lucky enough to be counted amongst their most precious people, they will move the very earth to protect you. Steadfast, strong, dependable and true those of Clan Ostium are.
And the boy had betrayed his sister.
Both children were separated from each other and the girl with the sun coloured eyes was locked into a tiny cell, bare except for a window, and for the first time in what could have been days or weeks or months, she saw true sunlight again. She held her hands into the warm beam of light and cried in relief. Her skin had paled to the colour of the dry plains of Leide.
A sun-blessed should never be taken from the light, it is a folly that invites tragedy and fates worse than death.
She did not know for how long she was held there. Hours for certain. Sunlight wandered down the wall and over the floor and distracted her from her continuous worry over her Clan. The light had turned an afternoon bronze when the door was opened again and a man so heavily dressed in black, he could be mistaken for a shadow, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards a richly decorated room.
Carpets lay on the floor and tapestries hung from the wall, but Apollaia could not look closer, for she was pushed in front of a large table where four men sat.
Everything about them was the colour of wet sand, like it is common for those native to Leide; their hair, their eyes and their skin. Everything but their clothes.
“So this is her. Show me your eyes girl,” the one dressed as a priest of one of the Six demanded, and Apollaia was forced by the man dressed in shadows, to look at them.
Hungry and thirsty, tired and full of fear as she was, she did not struggle. For she was still nothing but a child of nine years and these were men grown.
“My daughter and the boy spoke truth,” one man wearing the necklace of a lord said.
And then Apollaia knew what had happened. Her brother had sold her out for his own safety and life. But she did not cry. Here she stood in the sun and as long as the sun touched her she was protected, her mother had told her every time she had been afraid. And because the moon had also given its blessing, the night could not truly harm her either.
Thus were her thoughts as she was brought back into the tiny cell where water and bread awaited her.
And that night Apollaia slept safely enclosed in the arms of the moonlight and protected by the Guardian of Dreams.
The girl with the golden eyes rose with the sun, as she always did. She had no one to pray to, neither the Six nor ancestors or spirits, but she did not know, if she would survive the day and so she thanked sun and moon for their blessing and protection before the man dressed in shadows came again to take her away.
This time she did not return to the dungeon or the decorated room, but was taken to a large town's square where four stakes had been erected around a large pyre. Her Clan was also there, pent-up in a cage on a wagon and wrought in chains. In the sun Apollaia could see that her father's pale hair had turned grey.
Iron manacles were clasped around her wrists, ere she was locked in with her Clan. All were there, but her brother. Her mother had cried many times in the dungeon, but now here eyes were dry and her face as grim as her father's and Kaeso Khara's. Her sisters crowded around her and she knew that this would be the last time she would see Tisiphone, steadfast and dependable like the earth, and Danaia, graceful and pretty like a desert flower.
A priest – the same she had seen before – stepped in front of the crowd that hushed in exited anticipation, and spoke: “Hear good people of what I have to say in the name of the Gods who have spared us in their mercy, and our good Lord. We have gathered here today to see justice done against great crimes commited against our Gods. Captured here, like the animals they are, we have the heretics that refuse to see the light granted to us.”
The people in the crowd roared their agreement and slurs that shall not be repeated here, began to fly until the priest held up his hand and it grew silent again.
“Since the Fall of the great Solheim they have been a bane to our people and now it is time for them to face the consequences for their actions. It has been decided by the Gods and the Lord of our good town that the men known as Querello Ostium and Kaeso Khara, along with the woman known as Thermis Ostium, be given the Infernian's justice and be burned at the stake.”
Apollaia could feel her mother shake, as she clutched all her daughters close to her, but her hands were steady as they carded through pale and brown hair. Thermis Ostium held her head high, for she was like all of her Clan, strong and immovable like a mountain, and no human could make her bend.
The priest continued: “The oldest among the children, the boy, has experienced the insight the Gods grant us and has renounced his name. He has sworn to follow the Astrals in all their decisions and to never stray from the path they have lain out for him. Henceforth he shall be known as Gilgamesh, servant to Bahamut the Draconian.”
Again the crowd screamed their approval, as they had with every sentence spoken. And the girl with the sun coloured eyes felt part of her heart die, as what she had feared became reality.
“The oldest girl, known as Tisiphone Ostium, shall be granted the mercy of the garotte before she, too, shall be given the Infernian's justice. The second girl, known as Apollaia Ostium, shall be freed of her curse, her eyes blinded, before she is to be given into the Hydraean's embrace. The youngest shall be given to the temple, where she is to be raised in the right ways, in the hope her tainted blood may be purged. Henceforth she shall be known as Samhat.”
Her parents, Kaeso and Apollaia's elder sister were dragged towards the pyre, and she forced herself to witness with her sun coloured eyes as the executioner stepped behind her sister, wound a cord around her neck and strangled her to death.
For the first and only time in her life Apollaia wished the Pyreburner, he who was goaded into betrayal, could truly see through her eyes, so that he may burn every last person in the crowd that cheered, as Tisiphone, steadfast and dependable, struggled and died. She wished they all burn as the executioner set fire to the wood of the pyre, she wished the town would turn to nothing but ashes as the heat grew unbearable and she had to avert her eyes, as her family started to scream.
She cursed the boy that had been her brother, Gilgamesh the Betrayer, as they ripped her younger sister from her arms. She prayed for the sun to rain fire as she heard her sister cry and beg, but she could do nothing.
Nothing but pray.
“Fire!” a voice suddenly called. “The town is burning!”
And as the crowd panicked, trampled the old and frail and young in their desire to flee, Apollaia knew her prayers had been answered. She stood in the cage upon the wagon and watched as thick, black smoke darkened the sky, listened as the people screamed and felt her Clan avenged.
Then she saw something strange out of the corner of her eyes. A person that did not run from the town's square, but towards her. Through the thick soot covering his face she nearly did not recognize him. It was her cousin Diasos Ostium.
It was him, who had lain fire to the town, when everybody had been out to see the execution like blood starved sabertusks. It was him, who had killed the guard that held the keys to her cage and the manacles, in the chaos and confusion, and it was him, who slung her over his shoulders and ran out into the plains.
They would not reach Galahd for many years to come, but that is a story for another time.
So ends the story of the boy who became Gilgamesh, told from the mouth of Apollaia Ostium herself with fire and sun as her witness.
