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When the fight is over, when the Red Ape is dead and the Ice Titan is free, his allies return to the world below, and he returns to the sea.
The dark water rushes around him, its coolness soothing the heat of power still coursing through him. The burn of energy doesn't bother him, but he's always felt more at peace in the endless sea.
Even so, he is tired.
He makes his way slowly north, following the faint energy of the lair in the distant Arctic, rightfully his after his victory against the Sea Serpent. It is merely a hollow in the ice now, energy nearly depleted after he absorbed its power in preparation for the fight against the apes, but it will serve. All he needs is a place to rest, to sleep while his own energy replenishes.
Yet the cold quiet doesn't seem as appealing as it should.
He is no stranger to loneliness; he was lived with it for so long that it is as familiar and faithful as his own shadow. After all, there must be some distance between himself and the other titans if he is to keep his control over them.
Only his Queen is his equal, but she is fragile and her lives are short and infrequent. When she is free to, she roams the skies, spreading light and song throughout the world, helping him to keep the peace in her own way.
And he traverses the land and seas alone.
It has never bothered him before.
That it bothers him now rankles, like an itch he cannot reach to scratch, and he slows to a drift. The frozen lair has no appeal, but the place he really longs for no longer exists, destroyed by the Small Ones' offering that saved his life not long ago.
Irritably, he lashes his tail through the water.
Sentiment is not foreign to him, though he is much less attatched to things and places than his Queen. Where she has favored islands and creatures, he generally does not allow himself such attachments. He has lived so long that such things seem so fleeting and pointless.
But his temple, carved by the Small Ones from long ago, sunken beneath the waves and flooded with fire from within the Earth itself, was the one place he allowed himself to truly keep as his over the centuries.
And now, with it gone, he feels strangely adrift.
Without letting himself consider for too long, he changes course.
Out here, the ocean is empty. There is life far below, and the occasional passing creature, and he can sense the other titans in the distance. But it is mostly just him and the endless sky above and the depthless fathoms below.
All of that changes as he approaches his new destination, gliding into warmer and shallower waters. As the ocean narrows, a pod of black and white whales approaches him. For a short while, they swim alongside him, keeping just on the edge of his vision. Then one darts forward, ramming its head into his gills.
He twists in the water, dorsal plates glowing, and roars a warning. The water churns around the muffled sound, and the whales flee. A small part of him wants to give chase - even with his exhaustion, there is still energy rippling under his skin. But another part of him is almost amused by their audacity, so he lets them go and continues on into the shallower waters.
As the sea warms around him, he begins to sense tiny lives above him, up on the surface of the water. They are clustered together on their floating vessels, and even from here he can hear the sounds they make, loud and lively.
Normally, they put him on edge. Until a short while ago, they were little more than a nuisance, tiny beings who swarmed the planet and tried to mold it to their will. Always in the way, too many to avoid, and with few enough preservation skills that they have actually challenged titans to fight.
But he is not so uncaring that he could forget the ones who built him the temple that he called his home for some time, nor the one who sacrificed itself to bring him the offering that pulled him back from the edge of death and gave him the power to defeat the False King once and for all.
If a few of them have proven themselves, then perhaps they are worth more than just apathy. The Small Ones are, after all, a part of the world he is bound to protect.
As he nears his destination, he rises, letting his dorsal plates break through the surface of the water and into the warm sunlight. He can hear little noises - the voices of Small Ones, raised in panic, and the buzz of their little vessels as they move out of his way.
His feet touch the sandy seafloor, and he slowly stands, careful not to disturb the waves more than he needs to. Water cascades from him as he gets to his feet and slowly makes his way from the sea to the river that leads into the Small Ones' sprawling city.
The structures that had spanned the river are still crumbled, so his path back to the round structure where he had slept mere days before is clear. As he makes his way towards it, one of the Small Ones' flying machine buzzes over to him and hovers beside his head. He can sense the little lives inside it, so he roars softly in its direction, a quiet warning to leave him alone. It puts a little more distance between them.
He makes his way through the city, careful not to crush more structures than necessary. It's more difficult here than in some of the other cities he's been in, where the structures are taller and easier to see, but he only feels a few of the stone buildings give beneath his feet.
There are Small Ones around the large round structure as he reaches it, but not nearly as many as there were the last time he was here. He steps past them, carefully climbing over the carved stone walls. His tail drags over the edge of it, and a few stones tumble loose, but it does not break, and he knows he chose his new den well.
He is not as sentimental as his Queen, but this place, with its stone steps and high walls, reminds him of the temple he long called home.
So, despite the quiet ruckus of the Small Ones around him, he curls up and goes to sleep.
-:-:-:-:-:-
Not much time passes before he wakes again.
The cacophony around him is louder now, not just voices but also the rumble of machinery and the vibration of sounds that remind him of his Queen's song.
He opens his eyes slowly, relishing in the feeling of waking with no urgency, of no threat to face, of letting the lingering exhaustion run off of him like seawater. Without uncurling all the way, he raises his head and rests his jaw along the rim of the structure he's claimed for himself.
The sounds of the Small Ones taper off.
He sniffs the air, breathing in the scent of stone dust and the foul smell of burnt fuel that itches under his skin. There is an undercurrent of saltwater on the wind, the warm breeze blowing in from the sea.
And fear.
For a long moment, the Small Ones are still and quiet. He can sense their terror, the way it hangs heavy in the air, and he understands it. They are so small and fragile compared to him. Even though he means then no harm, he could destroy them, if only by accident.
He huffs, content to simply watch them and see what they do. He has encountered their kind up close before, and many of them have more courage and audacity than he expects of creatures so small.
These ones are not so different. After a long pause, a few of them slowly begin to move, still watching him warily. More join them - it is interesting how they feed off each other's energy, where most titans keep to themselves - and soon the earlier ruckus of activity has resumed.
He watches them as they move stones around, repairing and rebuilding their structures. They still pause to cast wary glances at him, but each time is shorter and less frequent. Eventually, the vibrations of song rejoin the noise and tiny voices rise to join in.
He had not realized that he missed this.
Solitude is both a comfort and a curse. Peace and loneliness overlap like the edge of the sea, where the water laps over the land and slowly erodes the boundary between them.
The Ape has found his people. But his own kind are no more, the last of them long dead except for him. It is a lonely existence, one he has long made peace with.
Still, to be surrounded with life and sound and movement and song is a comfort he has not allowed himself for so long.
As the sun dips below the horizon, the work around his den stops, but the Small Ones remain. They sing and dance and eat and set off explosions in the sky of various colors and shapes and sounds. He watches quietly, unmoving even as he hears the gentle flap of massive wings behind him, as soft light falls over the night and a hush falls over the gathered Small Ones.
His Queen lands gently on the back of his neck, and he can sense her approval of his choice to stay here. She's always had a soft spot for these tiny creatures.
There is stillness below them, the Small Ones looking up at her, not in fear but in awe. She trills softly, a wordless benediction, and he is reminded that they have long viewed his Queen as a goddess.
Slowly, the reverent quiet gives way to the rise of joyous sound as the Small Ones return to their celebrations. His Queen settles among his dorsal plates, a gentle weight against the base of his skull, and mantles her wings around both of them as they watch the Small Ones mill about below them.
He has fought for this. Not just for the planet but for all the tiny creatures that live on it.
He gives a soft rumble of contentment and she croons back happily. As the night begins to drift by and the stars start to spiral overhead, the crowd below them dissipates. Their settlement is still a mess, shattered structures and scattered stones, but the Small Ones will return in the morning and will continue to piece their home back together. His Queen will leave to visit the rest of the world she so loves and he will stay here, enjoying the peace and the soft bustle of life around him.
But for tonight, he will rest, in the comfort of his new den, with the weight of his Queen on his back and the millions of fragile creatures sleeping peacefully around them.