Moonspear and the dogs again, again —

There was one time where Drogon’s immediate reaction to her nip, playful or not, would have been overly aggressive; but he’s learned and he’s matured. He is not the same violate boy he’d once been. The man that Drogon Ansbjørn has become is a kaleidoscope of things and hardly any of them “good” — but then again he will always see himself as the villain in his own story because for one so young as him his record is far from clean. It’s filled with a lot of tragedy and a lot of heartbreak and a lot of bad decisions; but he’s learned from it all; and it particularly shows to him right here and now as her teeth make contact with the flesh of his muzzle and though he flinches in surprise he does not, otherwise react aside from a gruff ( albeit teasing ) “I’ll let you have that one, ruhtinatar.” in his deep, whiskey steeped in smoke timbre, favoring the Tundrian word for princess over the common tongue one.

Most of Drogon’s fighting skills is directly from the ‘streets’, so to speak. It’s from picking fights with wolves older and more skilled then him, it’s from gritty experience. He hadn’t had any ‘formal’ training until Hydra took him on with a pupil and even then it’s far too late for him to change his fighting style. He fights dirty, he doesn’t play by the rules, and Drogon knows deep in his bones that he’ll kill without batting an eye. He won’t hesitate and he won’t ask questions. Maybe her sisters, mother and father wouldn’t like him telling her to play dirty, to take advantage of whatever she can because it’s not honorable and in the end if she wanted to pursue mercenary it was probably better that Hydra took over her training but Drogon didn’t personally think it hurt to have a few tricks up one’s sleeve. As she affirmed that she could play dirty Drogon let out a snort. “I don’t doubt it.” and he genuinely didn’t.

He held still for her as she mimicked him, pressing her shoulder betwixt his ribs; he offers her a swift nod of approval. “Easy, ruhtinatar, easy,” He chides her as he notices the dominate rise of her tail. “Your pride and arrogance have no place in the arena,” He reminds her, stressing his words in the hopes that she listens. “Your daddy’s name won’t save you in a real fight. They aren’t going to care what your title is, what rank you hold. They’re not going to fear your arrogance. They’re going to take advantage of it. It’ll get you killed.” She could scream that she was a princess of Moonspear until she was blue in the face and Drogon knows they won’t care other than it might encourage ill-boding actions.

“I usually bite their legs, try to sweep it out from under them but then again size probably matters in that,” He is contemplative. He’s not sure he’s ever seen someone try to shove themselves into their legs and ‘hope’ it works. “That might give them the upper hand if you don’t succeed in toppling them over. I’ve never seen anyone try that …” His sentence trails off. “Try it. Right here and right now. Try to knock me off me off balance that way.” There was no better way to see if it could actually work or not then by actually following through with it.