Drogon

Drogon's dark gaze roved quietly over the multi-hued back's of his father's herd while he grazed, his thoughts a thousand miles away. He knew that he should be happy that his mother had returned to Paradise, and thrilled that she had been appointed as their Co-Drappa. After all, she had wanted that position for a very long time, and it meant that his father would not have to worry over her any longer… well, any more than normal.

But he wasn't.

Vanya's return put him on edge, and he'd taken to spending nearly all of his time away from her and his sister. The two of them were far too alike for his preferences, and he had long ago grown tired of dealing with their petty manipulations. It was one thing to anticipate his mother twisting her words and inflections to guilt him into doing things, and another to tolerate Vivienne practicing the same thing. It was enough to drive him mad, if he wasn't already on edge and irritated by watching his brothers' success throughout the fall season.

Drogon had tried, but it seemed that he did not yet have the machismo that his father and brothers did. Or the land, or the bravado, or the something. Maybe it was because he was a single drab color, unadorned by white markings or a fancy mane and tail. He didn't yet know what it was, but having spent the entirety of the season on the edge of sexual frustration left him irritable and snappish.

When Valka's challenge had rung out across Paradise, Drogon had not been particularly worried. The tiny mare had only managed to escape (from Drogon's perspective) because of being underhanded and petulant. Typical mareish behavior. Even if his father managed to lose somehow, Drogon knew that her challenge was not the end of the world. Children were traded all of the time to bolster alliances or to punish enemies. His gaze flitted across the field to where the pretty tobiano filly from the Cove had last been spotted, his teeth clenching in jealousy. It was obvious to them all that her belly was beginning to swell with his brother's child, and the thought made him painfully jealous.

It wasn't even that the boy wanted children necessarily. He just wanted to be seen as his brother's equal... or even to outdistance them at something… even if it was something as mediocre as siring a child.

A movement to the side drew his attention and he pulled himself upright as Rougaru emerged. The outcome was written on his face, but still, Drogon did not shy away. "Of course," he replied to his father's summons, falling into step at his side with a flush of pride. Still, he does not believe that Rougaru had singled him out as the object to be traded. Surely, this was just his sire recognizing the fact that it was he, not his mother, that had returned Vivienne to her rightful place in the Jungle. And therefore he, not his mother, that should be responsible for making decisions about her welfare.

It wasn't that Drogon felt himself not up to the task of living in an enemy's herd. He would do whatever he could to make his father proud, but he also knew that while his brothers had been off cavorting with random fillies, he had been the one to stay behind and watch the herd. It may not count for much, given Monster's eternal, protective presence, but surely it would count for something.

"Vivienne won't be happy to go," he mused, his gaze flicking back up to his father's. "But I could make her see reason."

Can you feel it?