He was exhausted.
Down in the depths, far from the din of the surface world and its dissipating storm clouds, Godzilla could again hear his own thoughts. Feel the ache of his worn out, battered body, as he willed it to move through the murky, icy waters. The coolness provided some modicum of comfort, like a balm gently spread across his great bulk. Yet it only wrapped around him, teasing against skin, unable to reach deeper and soothe the dull, eon-old pain that had taken root in his chest and mind an untold amount of time ago.
For so long he had managed to contain it. For so long he had kept it buried underneath all the rage and tenacity that never failed him in all the millennia of fights he had lived through. For so long he had passed it off, explained it to himself as the natural order of things, the way the world worked. For so long…
Mothra's final cry as she charged down the Golden Demise, laying down her life so he could live, echoed through his thoughts. A fresh wave of grief and guilt crashed down on him, feeding the soul-piercing pain that stabbed through his heart. His jaws parted involuntarily, releasing a low keen, teeming with misery, before he could stop himself. Geysers of bubbles he released carved through the uniform dark canvas of the ocean. Nothing responded. No living thing had been near to witness the King's moment of weakness.
Godzilla chastised himself mentally for the brief lapse. No doubt if one of his "loyal subjects" had been there to witness it, he would be in the middle of a succession fight right now. Titan hierarchy was unforgiving, those below ever vigilantly preying on those above to improve their standing. Yet a wholly different predator stalked Godzilla, one he could not fight off in his current state. And that was doubt.
Treacherous thoughts, emboldened by exhaustion, overtook his mind.
Mothra died, for nothing. Simply because mankind had seen it fit to unleash the Planet Razer. Another piece seamlessly slotting into the ever-turning cycle of war and loss. The only Titan he could ever hazard calling a friend. Dead. Because of the locust swarming this planet. Because… of him. She would eventually return to this world, full of radiance and hope like always, however long the process took. Just as he was stuck in a cycle, so was she. Death and rebirth, and on, and on. Was she also plagued by doubts? He did not know. They had never spoken of such things.
He was so tired. It seeped into his bones, weighed down limbs. His chin bounced off the armored breastplate, eyes fluttering. For how much longer could this continue. After millennia of stalwart guardianship, the King's unwavering façade was at last beginning to crack. From birth he had been raised with duty in mind: live, fight and die for this world. That was all he knew, all his existence had ever revolved around. And what did that bring him? Pain and loss and the crushing weight of loneliness that tore his breath away.
Godzilla did not want to be the King of scheming Titans, did not want to be the Protector of a world that no longer wanted him. Yet if he denounced those titles, what would that leave him? Nothing at all.
Shaking his head aggressively to dislodge the dark thoughts clinging to him like a miasma, he growled at himself, tail slashing in agitation. Such thoughts were unbecoming of someone in his position. His mind had to be sharp, his focus trained. Anything less meant death. Self-pity was weakness. He could not allow himself to be weak.
The familiar hum of heady radiation and churning magma drifted towards him from the darkness ahead. Driven by instinct he had gone to the only place he had ever felt even remotely at peace. That feeling remained, despite the shattered walls lining the temple's floor and debris-addled waters. Lava, disrupted by the explosion and now frozen into cobalt-black chunks, bobbed along the surface.
Never considering himself to be the sentimental type, Godzilla hummed strangely when the sight of his destroyed home sent an unpleasant pang jolting through his heart. Except this place was not his home. Not truly. Had he ever had one?
Unbidden, hazy images flashed before his eyes as if his subconsciousness was making an attempt to answer the question. An earth-sky; swirling vortexes of ancient energy painting the night blue; power thrumming through every surface, primal and nutritious. Memories, he realized with a start, so old he struggled to accept them as his own, blurry and out of focus like he was viewing them through a thick blanket of fog. Godzilla had been but a hatchling back then; everything appeared bigger, more imposing.
Terra Prima. The Primal Earth. The Cradle of Titans.
It mattered not that he had not seen it in millennia. Godzilla still remembered its name with a sort of ill-placed sense of longing. Why would he miss something he knew so little about? The landscapes, viewed by a hatchling's eyes, felt as surreal to him as the thought that he had not always been a giant. Yet still, it called to him. Tempting, beseeching the Titan to come to the place of his hatching. His true home.
The temple had been built in eons past, in an age forgotten by modern men, upon a locus of power the humans of then used to call a leyline. Like a vein pumping blood, it connected the Primal Earth with the surface world, breathing life into it. A tether between the world of mortals and the birthplace of gods, joint yet separate, together yet apart.
Perhaps Godzilla had always been drawn to that power, choosing this very place as his resting ground. Men had come here, their tiny frames crumpled upon cold stone, worshipping him. A child of another world, destined to walk this one. A miracle. Godzilla had never considered himself one.
Even now Godzilla could sense the primal energy permeating through the debris-coated bottom of the submerged temple when he swam deeper. The wall of rock was deceptively thin, the Titan's attuned senses picking up on the vast hollow area right beyond it. He hesitated only briefly, his sense of duty waging a tenacious war against his pressing desires.
These uncharacteristic dark thoughts concerned him greatly. If this trip would prove to be beneficial for his mental health, something he had never even imagined struggling with, then surely it was all right to go. His body and mind craved rest, more than ever before, the kind that sleep alone could not provide. His reasoning did not stop a hot, shameful feeling of selfishness washing over him when he dug his claws into the rocky surface, the temple's flooring yielding easily under his powerful forelimbs.
Coward, a small, growling voice in the back of his mind whispered; its cadence like venom seeping into his veins.
The second Godzilla swam through the newly formed opening and into the submerged tunnel, all the noise abruptly cut off. The sudden eerie silence pressed uncomfortably against his eardrums, filling his head with a strange ringing, interspersed with a resonating hum that travelled along the length of the tunnel at regular intervals. The water surrounding Godzilla was oddly still, as if time here had halted its ebb and flow, rendering it a motionless constant that he could still maneuver through without trouble. Despite that, the absence of ocean's currents teasing along his gills unnerved him.
Something primal resided in these depths, dormant until the hum returned and spurred the frozen waters into motion for a brief moment. Miniscule particles suspended in the liquid flared to life, bathing the unnaturally smooth walls around Godzilla in a soft, azure-white glow. The hue was so similar to his own inner flame that he wondered briefly whether the illumination had begun as a response to his presence.
Slowly, warily he began to swim forward. Water lapped at his flanks, his movements momentarily disturbing the complete serenity of the underwater pathway, only for it to return to how it had been previously as soon as he passed. It almost felt like he was swimming through time itself, a barrier of eons separating the two worlds. The thought made him feel small. For all their awe-inspiring power and miraculous abilities, not even the Titans could fight against such an invisible adversary.
Having subconsciously chosen the direction from which the pulses, almost like heartbeats, were originating, Godzilla soon found the hitherto flat floor of the tunnel angling downward in a gentle slope. The walls were spread out far enough to comfortably fit his massive bulk. Hardly a surprise. These pathways were meant for Titans after all.
The silence was omnipresent, pressing against him from all directions. Yet the initial sense of unease it had brought soon faded and Godzilla found himself washed over with a dearly missed feeling of tranquility. The only audible sounds were his own heartbeat and the rhythmic hum of oxygen flowing through his gills, resonating through the sheet of water in an almost lullaby.
He was not sure for how long he had been swimming with half-closed eyes, allowing the gentle sounds to lull him into a pleasant near-sleep state. Nothing dared to disturb the blissful serenity. No distant warbling of roaming Titans, no water-churning human contraptions filling his watery domain with their incessant noise, no crumpling ice-mountains disturbing the ocean's harmony.
Through his half-lucid state, Godzilla was dimly aware that the periodical thrums reverberating along the pathway increased in both their strength and frequency. Their low tones permeated his body, arcing like lighting across weary bones and aching muscles, leaving a pleasantly tingling, rejuvenating sensation in their wake, one he had not felt in so long that he had all but forgotten it. Young, his mind supplied. He felt young.
Cresting another sharper decline, his eyes were greeted by the sight of a shimmering pool several body-lengths away. Golden-lit ripples danced across its surface, the motion strikingly out of place in the otherwise perfectly still tunnel. Overcome with a wholly unbecoming feeling of giddiness, Godzilla launched himself towards the surface with a mighty stroke of his tail, gaining even more speed by eagerly paddling with his stout arms.
Memories of his first swim flooded Godzilla's head, as stark and clear as the light shining through the water above his head. That same hatchling-like excitement, the rush and freedom of an act as simple as swimming, coursed through his veins, bidding limbs and body to move faster. Just before his snout breached the surface, his eyelids slipped shut, savoring the immeasurable volume of sheer happiness that warmed his chest in a way his inner flame never could.
The scent of sunbathed rock, lush forests and fresh breeze wafted over him, teasing the senses. Water cascaded down Godzilla's neck and head in thick rivulets, washing away with it a millennia worth of pain and weariness, leaving him gloriously unencumbered for what felt like the first time in his long life. Like he had hatched anew in that moment.
Godzilla caught himself projecting a low, rumbling vocalization from the deepest confines of his cavernous chest, akin to what humans would categorize as purring. An audible attestation to his contentment he was glad no other Titan was around to hear. He could only imagine the ridiculing rumors that would spread if anyone had caught him like this…
Something to his right snapped loudly, breaking him out of his little reverie.
The all-encompassing warmth petered out in an instant, leaving behind naught but a cold afterimage. He opened his eyes, fully alert once more. A sprawling mass of land made up the canopy of the Primal Earth, a mirror image of the one it hung above. If Godzilla squinted enough he could vaguely make out his own infinitesimal reflection in the rippling pool of water suspended far above his head, defying any laws of gravity known to the amphibious Titan. Yet that was not what he was focusing on.
Dorsal plates emitting a soft, steady hum and flashing azure blue in an unbidden intimidation display, Godzilla swiveled his head towards the source of the sound, instinctively preparing for a fight before his mind could properly reign itself in. How he loathed being taken by surprise, to think one of his standing had been caught off guard was beyond shameful. But the impromptu light show and any further self-deprecating thoughts were promptly snuffed out by the sight of what he was now facing.
To the strange creature, a fellow Titan by all accounts, Godzilla's indignation did not appear to be shameful in the slightest, though its body did tense at the universally recognizable display. It was perched atop a rocky outcropping overlooking the basin, sat back on the haunches of muscular legs that balanced a lithe frame with practiced ease, around which a long, powerful tail curled. Monotone charcoal-grey scales, a few shades lighter than Godzilla's own, twinkled subtly in the native light when the unknown Titan cocked its angular head sideways, illuminated by golden rays cascading through uneven rows of jagged, blade-like scutes that adorned the creature's back. A lone golden-hued orb regarded him with an inquisitive gaze from above a fish roughly the size of Godzilla's head, limp in the clutches of two long, deft arms.
For a moment they stared at each other in complete silence. Godzilla's mind found itself thrown into a state of complete disarray. He had lived for an unquantifiable amount of time, tens of millions of years spent bearing the title of King, meeting and fighting countless other Titans that had attempted to overtake him, yet he had never seen one like this before. And for all the uncanny resemblance this creature bore to him, he was entirely confident he would have remembered a meeting between them. Godzilla had believed for so long that he was almost as old as time itself. Was it possible that an entire Titan species had somehow slipped his attention?
A low chirp interrupted his musings, drawn out and ending with a higher-pitched, questioning trill and with an embarrassed chuff he realized he had been staring a hole in the other Titan for longer than was considered acceptable. Despite the oddly melodic tone of the Titan's vocalization, it was still audibly a male. Or so Godzilla assumed with his very limited knowledge.
"I don't recall ever seeing you before," he spoke in his usual low and gruff cadence, the telltale tremble of an Alpha Call reverberating through each syllable. Masking momentary shock with forceful authority usually did the trick. Few would dare comment on the King's lapse of composure after being reminded of his standing.
Yet the mysterious Titan looked decidedly unaffected by Godzilla's commanding tone, shrugging off the call for total submission like an annoying hellbat buzzing around his head. Instead of bowing, groveling before the Alpha like any sane Titan would, instead his slender snout morphed into a pensive expression, painfully reminiscent of how Mothra looked whenever she had had to explain anything to Rodan.
Finding himself dumbfounded for what was definitely one time too many today, Godzilla stared at the other saurian in ill-concealed bewilderment. A Titan he had never seen before that was not cowed by the force of an Alpha's Call? During his entire reign he had only ever met one… creature devoid of an inborn sense of obedience to the reigning King. Their remnants still simmered in the acidic pool within his stomach, the memory of golden scales and ozone-tinged air still fresh in his mind. He felt his inner flame roar to life with unexpected force at the thought of another invader, its burning taste teasing the roof of his mouth, yet he swallowed it back down just as fast. This Titan did not reek of the scentless void like the Pretender. Water and salt permeated his scent, betraying his very earthly origin.
Hear?
As shameful as it was to admit, Godzilla jolted at the unexpected voice echoing inside his head, the sudden movement causing water to spill over the pool's edges. The hasty, apologetic trill and a bashful downturn of the Titan's head further confirmed the identity of the voice's owner.
"So you're a telepath too," Godzilla murmured under his breath, the excess of shock making him practically numb to any further unexpected developments.
He himself was no telepath, but eons of fighting alongside Mothra had taught him how to properly organize his mind and maneuver certain thoughts to its forefront for her to pick up on. Her mental voice had born a striking resemblance to her physical appearance, radiant and warm, each word shining like one of her God Rays across the mindscape's vast tapestry. In complete opposite to that, the saurian's communication was simple and direct, almost to the point of crudeness. Instead of words to form sentences with, he compiled the meaning and emotions accompanying it into a readily translatable packet that he ferried right into Godzilla's mind. Hardly surprising; one could not think a language they did not know how to speak.
Godzilla could feel the presence of the saurian's mind, drifting along the edges of his conscious, either shy or simply respecting mental boundaries. Focusing on his intended message, he allowed it to emerge from the depths of his mental realm and bob at its very surface, like one of those strange human devices they had dotted oceans with:
Hear.
Evidently used to such methods of communication, the other Titan's mental presence deftly dove forward, their consciousness touching for the briefest of moments.
A satisfied rumble echoed in both Godzilla's mind and ears. Now they could understand each other.
Having attuned himself to telepathic signals, Godzilla could clearly feel the unabashed curiosity rolling off the saurian in waves, despite him keeping his distance both physically and mentally.
Name?
At face value, the question was a simple one, yet Godzilla found himself hesitating. The saurian's alien method of communication left no room for misunderstandings. Normally when someone asked him for his name, they meant his title and that was the answer he had always given. Yet here, in spite of his mind's translation, the posed question was what is it you call yourself, your soul-name. Though the concept of a "soul-name" was entirely foreign to him, the meaning of the query was clear.
Gojira.
Something deep, like the shifting of tectonic plates, resonated between them and the saurian's mental presence on the outskirts of Godzilla's psyche inexplicably strengthened.
Before he could consider the ramifications of that, he saw the other Titan's jaws moving and suddenly found himself unable to look away. It took the saurian a few tries, strange croaking sounds emitting from his throat all the while, with eyeridges furrowed in deep concentration, before he finally stuttered out:
"Gojira."
It was not perfect, the pronunciation was a little off and he emphasized the wrong syllable, but still the sound of his name being spoken aloud by a friendly, pleasantly melodic voice for the first time in – he could not even estimate how long it had been – caused something strangely warm and stifling to stir in his chest. He had only ever been "King" or "Alpha", never "Godzilla". Never himself.
And now here was this Titan, lounging by some nameless pool in the planet's Core, calling him by his given name like it was the most natural thing in the world, their encounter entirely unblemished by Godzilla's rank and title. It felt like an invisible weight had been lifted off his heart. A boon above any other to be given a chance to form a bond unencumbered by the requirements imposed by Titan hierarchy.
Admittedly, the amused chuffs that almost immediately followed his name had him bristling in indignant annoyance. For a moment Godzilla thought the saurian had read his thoughts and was mocking him for the pathetic musings of a lonely Titan, yet the anger proved to be misplaced when the golden-eyed reptile spoke again.
"Jira."
This time his voice did not waver, used to this particular set of sounds passing through his lips. Just so there would be no misconceptions an image of the saurian's snout, distorted by undulating waves flashed before Godzilla's eyes.
Jira. Zilla. Gojira. Godzilla.
He would have assumed he was being made the target of some sort of joke, had he not already realized that this Titan, Zilla, was incapable of lying.
"Jira," Godzilla repeated, rolling the name along his tongue like a tasty morsel. The resemblance was uncanny and coincidence impossible. Were their species related somehow? How was it possible that he had never so much as heard about a potential cousin to his kind?
At the sound of his name spoken aloud, Zilla trilled happily, tail trailing excited haphazard circles behind him, the happiness both audible to Godzilla's ears and tangible in their shared mindscape. The ever-present sensation of Zilla's conscious rubbing against Godzilla's still felt alien, so unlike Mothra's thoughts: brilliant and bright, there and gone akin to shooting stars. Yet there was some strange comfort to be found in that steady presence, calm and murmuring softly like the ocean, at a distance to not seem overbearing but still close enough to be felt. Godzilla rather liked it, this easy, entirely-unknown-to-him familiarity that he had always been denied.
Doubts yet swirled in his mind, along with the pressing need to uphold an eon-old façade. Zilla might not have understood Godzilla's position in the hierarchy, but other Titans certainly did. Any connection Godzilla fostered meant a crack formed in his impenetrable armor. Unattended, those cracks would morph into wide fissures. Fissures that would allow rending talons and crackling bolts through. A part of him wanted so badly to give in, to allow his armor to erode for even a briefest of times. Still they stood iron-firm, upheld by an unwavering sense of duty.
Having sensed the sudden shift in the other Titan's mood, Zilla cocked his head sideways, one golden pool gazing at Godzilla with such unguarded, genuine concern that the King had no choice but to divert his eyes, lest he risk his resolve crumbling entirely. No one had ever looked at him like that.
Kindling flames of anger tempered the steel of Godzilla's resolve, stabbing through his heart painfully. Anger at himself for letting this parting impact him the way it did. It should not matter. He tried to convince himself that Zilla was just another Titan; at best another reluctant subject, at worst a scheming traitor. Yet, a treacherous part of his mind argued, that simply was not true, no matter what he told himself.
Before those swirling doubts could rot through the already weathered plate of his conviction and plunge him ever further into the depths of doubt, Godzilla heaved himself upward. Water cascaded down his great bulk in wide rivulets, wet charcoal grey scales glistening softly in the light. He caught the surprised jerk of Zilla's head in his peripheral, yet staunchly refused to acknowledge the fellow Titan with even the briefest glance. An array of emotions roiled at the edges of Godzilla's mind, mute confusion chief among them, so raw and unguarded that its intensity nearly made his head spin. With practiced ease, age-old walls rose to enclose the King's mind, in equal part to block off the worried probing and to stop Zilla from glimpsing the full extent of Godzilla's uncharacteristic dismay.
No sound followed after Godzilla, as he began his trek deeper into the Primal Earth's depths. No thought chased after his own, no presence lingered at the far reaches of his psyche. Silence enveloped him like it had done countless times prior, his ever stalwart companion. Yet its presence now, after millennia of ambivalence, proved to be unpleasantly unwelcome.