Suddenly, there was a clash between two things that should never have met. Enuma Elish against Enuma Elish had once made glass of a desert, but Enuma Elish against the light of Excalibur seemed to erase the very atmosphere for just a moment. Had he been a bit more serious, and Artoria been without the restrictions applied to her weapon, perhaps all of Mesopotamia and beyond would have suffered. Instead though, only Artoria suffered heavily from the collision. She deserved a great deal of credit for even surviving, though he expected that much. Surprising however, was the fact that she was still holding onto that sword when the struggle came to an end... as well as the vulgarity passing her lips the moment she lost consciousness. When would she fall? It seemed she wouldn't. Bleeding, beaten and armorless, an unconscious Artoria Pendragon still upheld the visage of a knight ready for the last stand that would never come. How noble, yet how foolish. How unsightly, yet how absolutely stunning. Ea vanished, and Gilgamesh stepped forward to reach for the queen. His hand first went out to her face simply to touch its cheek, and soon enough, he was lifting her into his arms and walking to the Citadel of Uruk once more.
Sir Tristan had not been completely idle all this time. He'd listened to the commotion, and he'd observed the ensuing battle. He was there to meet King Gilgamesh while Artoria was being carried off. His bow was at the ready, though it seemed Gilgamesh expected this interjection. "Arrogant king, release my queen immediately. This battle is over," he insisted. Gilgamesh, however, continued moving forward. "H'oh? And what will you do? Loose your paltry little arrows and risk killing the queen you serve before dying yourself? I will forgive your empty threat just once, but hear this. This queen is mine, whether she has come to realize this or not. You are in her charge, are you not? Stand aside as I tend to this sleepless girl," Gilgamesh demanded. By the look in his eye alone, Tristan... could not stand against him. There was something in there, something beyond the pomposity of an old king... something even beyond the fury with which he spoke.
Gilgamesh would not halt once on his way inside. He did hesitate just briefly upon entering the throne room though, choosing to address... "Siduri." That word was the only one he spoke, meaning to have her follow along to his personal chambers. Within was all the lavishness expected of the hedonist king, including but not limited to a bed large enough to accept a full harem, velvet and lions fur adorning it. That bed was where he placed Artoria, gently upon her back. Just as gently, he aimed to wrest the sword from her hands. His free hand took the time to sweep hair from her glorious face, which once done, freed the king to press his lips upon her forehead as a doting parent would do upon tucking the child in for the night. With that out of the way, he spoke his order to Siduri at last. "The queen has been taken by the filth of combat. Have the murk stripped from her body, and the sands washed from this magnificent flesh. Three days, you have. In three days, this beautiful woman shall wake in Uruk's finest dress, to consume only the freshest meat and bread, and the sweetest wine made by your own hand. In three days, she shall want for nothing but the next bowl or cup to fill her hand. Care for her as you once did for me, at journey's end."