Moonspear and the dogs again, again —

Exactly she says in a very matter-of-fact tone that clues Drogon on in the fact that she didn’t understand his sarcasm. He lets out a huff and puffs up his chest again in another swell of indignation. Drogon considers explaining his sarcasm to her but striping it down would take the punch out of it …although it going over her head originally took the punch out of it. “I was being sarcastic.” He clarifies simply in a rumble. He takes a moment longer to consider whether he wants to clarify that he does not think of her as a queen in any shape or form but rather something much closer to a little spoiled brat though he suspects that her and her siblings are not too much younger than him. “I know it could.” She could bother Charon then and whine about his urine being stronger than her’s instead of bothering Drogon while he does his job. He does not have it easy as she does. He is not the Alpha’s precious child and therefore his path is not paved in shining gold for him. He has to earn his place here and he was to work to maintain it: it’s not just handed to him for free.

Drogon doesn’t really want her tagging along but since he refuses to abandon his patrol just because she yells at him to and he couldn’t just leave her on the borders by herself so oblivious to the very real dangers that lurk outside and are not hindered by borders and so very eager to throw her status around like it’s going to mean anything to Blackfeather Woods other than a way to take a second strike at Moonspear and hit home given who she is, Drogon concludes that having her tag along with him is the only real option he has. “Have you been living under a rock?” The Ansbjørn cannot help but ask, sharper than he intended to. “A Blackfeather Woods wolf attacked Rannoch, almost killed him but he was saved by your older sisters. This same wolf has been causing all sorts of unrest among our area of the Wilds. They kidnapped one wolf and tortured her. There’s a war brewing, queenie and your status as the alpha's daughter makes you a big target.” And her naivety would make it easy. It’s easy for Drogon to draw this deduction because the strategist in him has already decided that if he was going to make a strategical play that would hit deep and hurt the most he would take someone important that moved along the borders like she had no care in the world aside from earning daddy’s praise.

“You can patrol with me,” Drogon declares leaving no room for negotiation having already made up his mind. “You can do the rest of the border marking where it needs refreshed if that’ll make you happy.” He can’t help the slight roll of his eyes but he supposes he’s still technically patrolling if he escorts her along the borders.