Drogon

Drogon had been forced to learn how to control his emotions from a young age. Life with Vanya demanded that he not only be aware of everything that he was feeling, but also that he be able to control it himself, lest she take that power from him. Things as simple as a crinkled nostril in response to a command, or a long blink when she made some comment were enough for her to divine his mood and twist it to her advantage. Being around her was exhausting, which was why the dark colt had fled from her side the moment she was unable to stop him.

Rougaru had never forced him to be careful. He never took his words and twisted them into weapons, nor put him into positions that required him to bend over backwards to make him happy. At least, not until now. Something growled in the back of Drogon's mind, but it echoed the growl that was reverberating in the front as well.

The Wolf King seemed to understand his son's hesitation, and hastened to offer reassurances that left Drogon feeling more like a kid with a participation ribbon than a true chosen child. Still, what choice did he have? His fate rested squarely with Rougaru, and if he had chosen to send him away, there was little else that Drogon could do except go. Again, that growl, rumbling from somewhere beyond conscious thought.

I trust this task to no one but you, Rougaru murmurs, and Drogon quiets some of the doubts that snarl in defiance to this statement. Such assurances are the same thing that Vanya would utter if she were ever in a position to send him away. I trust you to make this happen when I cannot. My faith in your abilities is absolute. The fact that Rougaru does not often sugarcoat things for the dark colt is a mark in his favor, lending credibility to the praises he offers, but Drogon cannot shake the doubt that plagues him.

The success of this mission will see you as one of my heirs. They both know that Drogon can barely resist the lure of Rougaru's praise, let alone his official seal of approval. The prospect of rising to the top of his father's list of heirs is lucrative, and he knows he cannot resist it. He does not want his father to step down, not yet, but he would not lie that the image of watching the realization dawn on his brothers' faces would be a sweet one.

"Then I have no choice but to succeed," Drogon answered simply. On the surface, the words were in the same vein in his previous answer, but the young stallion had softened toward his father, and inclined the proud arch of his head in acquiescence. He would not enjoy his time away from the familiar jungles of home, but he refused to let Rougaru down. He would succeed because he saw no other option for himself. He shifts back half of a step, indicating he was ready to go now, but hesitates before turning fully away, a wicked grin curling across his lips. "Do you have a message I should take to the pony queen?"

Can you feel it?