Svenja had never felt so conflicted before.

In the day following her meeting with Nuka, her mind had been a swirling mess of anxiety and guilt. Anxiety, because she didn't know if Nuka was going to leave her again. He'd stuck around so far, but she knew from their history that he was wont to disappear at any given moment. And guilt, because she felt a sense of loyalty to Drogon, and felt as if she'd betrayed him by inviting Nuka into her bed.

But she and Drogon had never been anything, right? Not explicitly at least. The changing of the seasons had brought them together more than once, each coupling fueled by hormones and nothing more. Or so she'd thought. Maybe, just maybe, there had been some budding feelings on her end, as small and tender as a cherry blossom in springtime. She'd thought they might wilt beneath the burning flame she held for Nuka, but as time went on her fondness for the seal stallion only grew. And grew and grew until she could not deny that she felt a certain affection for him that went beyond simple companionship.

But if Drogon had ever held any sort of love for her, he'd either done a remarkable job at hiding it or she was the most oblivious person in the world. Either way, it didn't much matter now, did it?

Still Svenja couldn't help but wonder if she'd made a terrible, terrible mistake. Had she been wrong to so willingly and easily forget about the one steady man in her life? She'd just been so relieved to see Nuka safe and to simply have him near after so long apart. And then he'd said to her what she'd longed to hear since they'd met on that rocky outcropping so long ago. 'Ah love ya, Svenja.'

There was no way to put into words the flood of emotions that overcame her from hearing him make that confession, so tender and timid. She hadn't heard those words from anyone but her children since the day Valka's queendom fell, leaving her family scattered to the wind and her trapped in the Bay. Maybe she wasn't as grown as she thought she was, if she'd fallen so easily for mere words with little action to back them up. But it was too late for regrets or second thoughts now. It's time to face the music.

Svenja finds Drogon tucked away in isolation near the heart of the territory. She's not seen hide nor hair of him since Nuka arrived, and had grown concerned with his absence. She wondered if he was avoiding her, and couldn't bring herself to blame him if he was. She wasn't foolish enough to think that he was completely oblivious to Nuka's ongoing presence in the Ridge, or that he hadn't possibly overheard their... encounter. But a small part of her, a part she was ashamed of, hoped that he was blissfully unaware of what had transpired. If only so they - she - didn't have to deal with the potential fallout, at least until the evidence of what ha happened showed itself in the swelling of her belly. It was a coward's wish.

"Drogon?" Svenja called out as she approached, pushing leaves and vines aside so she could enter the small clearing. Relief flooded her at the sight of him - he looked unharmed, at least physically, with no visible wounds on his body. But when she drew closer she realized she could smell something - someone - foreign on his skin. A feminine perfume clung faintly to his dark coat, unrecognizable to her. For a moment Svenja's heart seized inside her chest before resuming its beating with a lurch. 'You have no claim on him,' she reminded herself, forcing a warm smile onto her dark lips. "I've been wondering where you are. What are you doing out here all alone?"