...and then there were Seven Kingdoms. (Gilgamesh; Enkidu; AU!verse)

[bolide]

[He's lived in the forests of Uruk for years. More of his childhood spent here among the animals than where he came from - a desolate place he barely remembers, but with the warmth of his family. His family who was slaughtered for coming here, just for coming here, and had done nothing to wrong those who considered this land their own.

Now, almost a man grown, Enkidu is strong and fierce as any trained in the arts of combat. So when people enter his forest, if they bear Uruk's gold and red, they rarely leave again, or they leave without so many of their belongings, or their mounts, or as much of their limbs and blood where it ought to be.

It stands to reason, if they can claim to own land and defend it, so can he.]

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[effulge]

[ He had been a trouble to them all.

No matter the men he had sent, his bravest had returned as though dogs (or never at all). No matter the search he had led through the flurry of falcons or the flurry of hawks, there had never been hide nor hair of him. He knew when to come, he knew when to go - and that much was evident even from the familiar hold of his throne room, his mother the voice to his left.

Whether it dream or whether it portent, she had spoken to him with the warmth of her hands on his arm. Had told him, without hesitation of her own deep wisdom and knowledge, that it was not a man he should send, but his own. A truth, she had decided, when he had laid a vision bare. (It had been many a night since then, but there has been many nights that could not be answered. Whether it by those to his North or his East. A war cast against those of House Pendragon, in the deep of morning. A usual affair, to come home in the thick of blood in the evening.)

Yet, it is eventually her advice he will take. It is eventually her advice he will follow, with those to guard him yards and yards back. An unnecessary precaution, but they had insisted. They knew the tales of him. They knew he was of the strongest men of this Earth. Stories spoke of him clawed and fanged, but Gilgamesh has doubt of them.

After all, a man is a man. A man, though trouble for others, is barely trouble for him.

It was not the first he needed tend to, himself. ]

[bolide]

[He did not expect it, though perhaps he should have. Did not prepare any more than he was ever prepared, even for this. But he knew, of course, when men entered his forest, knew it from the song and flight of birds, the rustling of leaves, the symphony of living things that he'd had years to memorize, to adapt to. The song that had raised him as much as his family had.

He is a man, for sure. With long, thick, black, matted hair, though he moves too carefully and too gracefully to collect leaves and twigs in its tangles anymore. His skin dark, but his eyes bright and grey and knowing.

Enkidu followed, silent as the whisper of wind within the forest, and could barely believe what he saw - a man who held himself aloof, carried himself as though above all he saw. A man who challenged, confident in his strength, without relying on the strength of those who followed him, at a distance.

So do they presume to hunt him, then? Come into his lair and expect him to be prey? Enkidu shifts in the shadows, and moves on ahead. Perhaps this man will sense as much, even, or perhaps not. Perhaps he will pick up his trail and follow in his footsteps, or perhaps it would be time alone that would bring him, but Enkidu, on swift, silent bare feet made his way to the clearing by the watering hole. He waited, in the shade, though in plain sight, listening. Let them come. Let him come. A hunter who so fancies himself able will need to be put in his place accordingly, leaving no excuse of ambush, surprise and deception.

So he waited.]