She asks if she can join the Throat, and the colossus has no qualms about vigorously nodding his head in acceptance. "Of course. I want you here with me, Airlia." He might not have planned to join the Throat, but now he's here, there's no reason why he cannot start his harem here. He wants the mare and his child close to them, so he can ensure he is a firm presence in their lives.
The titan falls silent, then, content to watch the miracle of life. He cannot help but be fascinated by the ripples of pain that move like waves through the mare, by the blood and glorious agony. It is not beautiful, but it is practical. It is as though Nature is testing the woman's resolve to deem them worthy of motherhood - as stallions must battle to obtain mates, the mares must fight their bodies to earn the right to nurture their children.
Finally, a small figure slips free. It is a filly, which her mother promptly cleans, and the leviathan's eyes travel eagerly to her. Volterra looks her up and down, finding himself awestruck by the fragile beauty of this new life; she's dark in colour, with markings webbed across her body. She is beautiful. She will be great. "She is stunning," rumbles the mammoth, leaning forwards to try and touch his muzzle to Airlia's sweaty neck. He wants to touch the foal, too, assign her unique smell to memory, but he knows mares can be protective of their newborns.
To his delight, Airlia offers him the opportunity to name the foal. This is something he hasn't yet been able to do, and he seizes the chance with gusto. "Vezér," he says, scrutinising his daughter closely. "It means queen."
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