He listens intently; she has his full attention. She tells him of Gaucho, and the behemoth's eyes flash once at the mention of the man. Volterra has never truly forgiven him for stealing his mother and essentially rendering him an orphan when he was barely weaned, and in his mind's eye he has always visualised revenge in the form of a dominance battle. He had been so tempted to do it the moment he was old enough to fight, but his small sense of self-preservation had told him to wait, to grow more experienced on the battlefield himself before challenging the Wildfire. Gaucho's skills as a warlord were well-known across Helovia; Volterra saw it almost as a barometer of success, to take such a battle-hardened man down.

Now he is dead, and selfishly the leviathan is irritated that he will now be unable to gain the revenge he'd promised his mother that he would, in her name.

But this selfish, childish thought only lasts a handful of seconds, because his gaze travels back to Sikeax and he sees her....broken. Not fully broken, but falling; crashing like a star to the earth, still glowing, still burning, but fading. He has never seen her like this before. She's not crying, but he's willing to bet that her eyes are burning with unshed tears, that her throat is aching with the force of biting it back.

He has never really been around upset women before, and he doesn't entirely know what to do. But he has to do something.

His treetrunk-like legs move as though independent from his body; before he's quite aware what he's doing, he's closed the distance between them and he's moving his muzzle to try and touch it reassuringly to her shoulder. There is nothing sexual about the touch, no ulterior motives, no burning craving or starving lust; it is simply an attempt at reassuring, an attempt at friendship.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Sikeax," he says, his voice a murmur instead of its usual growling baritone. The words sound odd coming from his lips, and his muscles clench at this perceived weakness. But is sympathy truly a weakness? Is it so wrong for him to try and help out a woman who he owes so much to, who he is beginning to see not as an object but as a living, breathing creature with emotions and feelings? A creature who embodies goodness, a stark contrast to the darkness he possesses?

Is this newfound layer of his psyche not a strength in itself?

He doesn't know. He is not used to this kind of emotion; he is used to anger, lust and battle-glory, and nothing deeper.

She continues. The Sun God made me fucking Sultana instead. The behemoth's head jerks upwards and his ears ram forwards as the shock of this statement truly hits him. "You are queen?" A whole tidal wave of emotions smack into him. First, and as much as he'd like to ignore it, there's a little smattering of jealousy - jealousy that Sikeax, who has never wanted a throne to his knowledge, has been given one by the Sun God whilst Volterra, who craves it more than anything, must walk the long path to glory. But this is just a momentary stab of vice, and it is quickly smothered beneath everything else he's feeling. "You have my congratulations. To be deemed worthy of leadership by a God - it is a high honour." He has always dreamed that he would take his crown by force, yet he can't stop the thrill of pleasure down his spine at the idea of being lifted to power by a God. What a blessing that must be!

And yet the mare does not seem happy with the news. Volterra can understand, to an extent. Leadership is not for everybody, and if she is only used to following then it will certainly be a shock to the system. "I can understand you must be afraid, Sikeax, and scared of failure. But you said it yourself, you taught those below you when you were a healer. That is all you need to do now, essentially. You have the Sun God's blessing, and from what I gather most of the herd already know you as their dedicated healer. You should already have their respect, which is half of the battle already won." But the fact she is not a warrior is...worrying. What if someone tries to take advantage by challenging her to battle? Come to think of it, would she even know how to marshal soldiers, to train them to protect the herd in times of invasion?

An idea comes to him; an offer, bursting its way into his head. First he dismisses it, thinking it stupid. He remembers the Throat, he remembers the heat, the uncomfortable heat, and he thinks of the smothering captivity of being part of a herd. He thinks of his plans for the Falls, his machinations, his carefully-calculated plots for his future. The Throat is not part of those plans, save for his ill-though-out notion of revenge against Gaucho that he will now have to abandon.

It's a stupid idea. He cannot live in a herd, not unless he's leading it. He certainly cannot live in that herd, with its desert heat.

So why is he even contemplating this?

Because he feels like he owes it to her after everything he's done. Because he would hate to see her usurped because she hasn't got a loyal warrior to her name. Because his children are there, and it would be good to spend more time with them. Because he's a fucking idiot.

Whatever the reason, his lips form words before he can fully decide whether he should actually be saying them. "If you ever have need of a warrior, you know where I am." It is not an outright offer to join, because that would be presumptous - what if she doesn't like him enough to want him in her herd? What if she's afraid his presence will suddenly result in a batch of pregnancies in the Throat? Perhaps she might just wish to 'hire' him in the future, which suits him just fine. Or perhaps he could have just offered himself for something he'd never planned for.