Drogon

He hadn't noticed the fresh wounds when he'd approached but paired with the bitterness in her voice and the tears on her cheeks, it wasn't hard to fill in the blanks of her story. A young girl goes out, gets claimed, and ends up bitter because her prince charming was neither a prince nor charming. Still, it presented him with a unique opportunity he'd be an idiot to pass up. There was nothing quite so vulnerable as a jilted filly.

"I see that," he responded more soberly, hoping that his sincerity would help her to feel seen. His gaze slipped from her tear-stained face back over the rest of her body appraisingly. It didn't look like she'd been chronically abused, although Drogon had little experience with which to judge. She just looked like she'd been in a serious scuffle and had been on the losing side in the end. Certainly not life-threatening, even if it had seemingly done a number on her pride.

He almost repeats his offer: to fight beside her against this nameless oppressor, but she offers a different option and he is eager to take it. Why settle for physical violence when he could instead cuddle a pretty girl and then get his helping of physical violence when her claimer figured out who had gotten to her first?

"Of course," he answers, his lips curling into a sober smile. There were waterfalls nearby with quiet, secluded pools. Places that lent an intimacy to any interaction, and offered an opportunity to soothe the pretty girl's pain. "Come with me," he stepped back from her, allowing her to move into his space rather than the other way around. Considering her situation, he doubted that she would take kindly to him pressing too hard or too fast, no matter how tempting he found the idea.

"There's a waterfall up here that's quieter," he explained, favoring her with a smile. "It's where I go when I don't want to be bothered." Which wasn't exactly a lie, but wasn't really the whole truth either. He'd found the spot only a few weeks ago and had intended to show Svenja in the hopes of seeing her smile again, but he knew now that that ship had sailed. She hadn't left him, but she'd betrayed him all the same, and now the thought of having to talk to her about what had happened made his stomach churn angrily.

The pool that he lead the pretty monochrome mare to was only chest-deep beneath the trickling waterfall, but the entry to the pool was comparatively steep and lined with moss-covered rocks. It was cooler than the river, shaded as it was by the canopy overhead, but Drogon assumed this would only work further in his favor. "Here," he murmured as he took a few steps in, "you can lean on me so you don't slip." He curled his neck back to watch as she approached, ostensibly offering to help as he'd claimed. However, as she entered the water, he shifted his weight a half step away, hoping that the draw of the current from his movement would off-balance her enough to lean against him rather than remain stubbornly upright on her own. "Easy now," he offered with a smile, nodding toward the waterfall. "I don't think it's possible to drown in here, but you don't need to prove me wrong."

Can you feel it?