Today was a normal day like any. Gilgamesh sat on his golden throne as he listened to the complaints and concerns of the Sumerians in Uruk with you rested on his lap, sleeping like a child.

This was an oddly common situation for you to be; Gilgamesh’s hand absentmindedly running through your hair, with the occasional twirl around his finger. It was surprisingly a peaceful motion for him. He hummed contentedly as you napped peacefully in the warmth of his lap.

To those who woke or startled you from your rest, he would happily remove them with a simple flick of his wrist or swing of his axe. After all, the King of Heroes doesn’t take lightly to those who disturb what’s his.