Drogon’s words fell on decidedly deaf ears. Fell had long ago gotten used to being taunted, and had found absolutely no way in which he could fight back against a verbal attack. Becoming enraged often only proved his opponent’s point. Still, not becoming enraged was an enormous task all on its own. Ignoring someone hell bent on setting your temper aflame was far easier said than done. It was only recently that Fell had started actually getting good at deflecting such comments. It still was not easy, but once he learned that failure to react often hit a certain button, it became… doable.

Drogon pressed forward, his words venomous even as they bounced off the thick armor of Fell’s practiced ignorance. The black stallion smirked knowingly, a chuckle bubbling from him as he struggled ferociously with himself to contain his temper. He looked at Drogon with an expression that implied he knew something delicious that Drogon did not; an act, of course, but one that he was determined to play thoroughly. He did not want his brother to get the idea that his words had any purchase on the mute stallion, but he did not try to hide his rage entirely. He was still thoroughly pissed off at the mere presence of another stallion in his territory, let alone one trying to take something of his. His muscles still trembled with adrenaline, and his tail still snapped threateningly at his flanks, but he was under control for once.

As Drogon took another step toward him, Fell advanced as well until their chests nearly met. His ears were buried in the thick tumble of mane, and he watched Drogon with one smoldering eye, his lips curled upward in a cruel sneer.

Then he caught Svenja’s gaze, and her soft voice broke through the tense atmosphere. I’m sorry.

She was gone.

Fell’s carefully maintained self-control shattered. He was aware of several things: firstly, he could not catch Svenja while Drogon was here to hinder his chase, though he might be able to catch Kazimir if he took Drogon out first. Secondly, he realized that he did not want to chase Svenja. Of course he did not want her to leave; he had tried not to push her away, tried to dispel her fear of him so that she might not be so tempted to run off. But he knew that any possibility of a relationship between them had been obliterated the moment Fell had driven her and her young son down the mountain, and her leaving was only a matter of time. She was gone, and he was not going to chase after her.

This did not mean Fell had simply given up, however. His anger at Drogon mixed with a strange cocktail of guilt and self-loathing to form an explosive combination, and explode it certainly did. As Svenja’s tail and Kazimir’s lanky hind end disappeared into the woods, Fell threw himself at his brother with careless abandon. Nothing else mattered beyond needing to expel the fury within. Drogon needed to be punished, and someone, anyone needed to die before Fell was pacified. He was determined to drag his brother’s body to the ocean, and dump him on the cold grey Tinuvel sands.

Fell threw blow after blow against Drogon, going for quantity over quality. He shoved himself forward, thrusting his body weight against his brother, lunging with teeth and hooves again and again and again, too filled with hatred to dodge Drogon’s own blows. He took any hit his brother might throw at him, and did not slow down until Drogon was either dead or gone, or managed to land such a blow as to snap Fell out of his trance.

FELL

stallion. 16hh. black. marwari x. Rougaru x visurix.