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Chapter Text

As Captain Will Laurence stood on the deck of the Reliant beneath the brilliant warmth and light of the sun, watching an egg beginning to crack open, he could scarcely keep himself awake. Ever since the capture of the Amitie, ever since the capture of the dragon egg, his sleep had been fitful and sparse. That French ship had been plagued by a string of exceedingly bad luck, from fevers to storms, and Laurence aimed to keep the superstitious souls aboard his own ship from believing that this egg bore a curse that might now fall upon them. But perhaps belief in such a fictitious curse would yet be preferable to any revelation about the very real one that their captain bore. He would not let his control slip; he would not fall asleep.

Laurence did not know from whence his curse came, but it was clear when it first manifested. He was a young man of seventeen, a freshly made lieutenant aboard the Shorewise under Captain Barstowe. From the first moment, that captain resented the well-mannered Laurence in particular, and placed under his charge perhaps the worst and most ill-disposed gun-crew aboard. During their first major action, an enemy broadside splintered the hull beside them, and he had managed to react with enough swiftness to turn what might have been a fatal blow into a mere scouring across his back. However, as he staggered from the injury, none of the surviving members of the gun-crew attended to him, but instead fled. He struggled to make his way to the surgeon's quarters unaided, and had lost enough blood in the process that he collapsed and fell unconscious after crossing the threshold. What he did not know at the time was that the deep cuts in his back had sliced through the twin marks upon the ridges of his shoulder-blades, near fractal patterns of dark lines present seemingly from birth. So it was that during his convalescence that the dreams that had haunted him his entire adult life began. 

He was walking through woods, or upon hillsides, wandering towards...something. In dreams that might have spanned days, he never found what he was searching for, until at long last, he found a cave, and when he stared within, a dragon of dull yellow scales stared back at him. He blinked, and the beast blinked its blue eyes the same. He stepped forward, and the dragon did likewise. He ought to have turned and fled, but instead he kept staring at this creature who inhaled and exhaled in perfect time with his own breath. Then, a flash of light, and he awoke. Or perhaps he did not. Yet, the immediate splash of salt water was as real as anything, and he floundered, seeming to have fallen into the sea beside the Shorewise. But, as his awareness dawned, he realized that he was floating with great buoyancy, and need not fear drowning. It was the dead of night, and the ship was at harbor, so his returning aboard ought to have been a simple affair. Yet, as one of the men on watch looked over the rail, a man who looked strangely small to Laurence's sight, he saw a look of abject horror come across his face.

"Dragon! A feral dragon!" the man shouted.

Laurence had half a mind to simply inquire back, "Where?", but before he did so, he spun his head around...fully around, as his neck was long enough that he could look directly behind him. Though there was too little light to make out details of color, the silhouette was unmistakable—the long back of a dragon, a wicked scar between shoulder joints of wings tucked in, and a tail twitching upon the water's surface. As a great alarum went up on the ship, some animal instinct caused him to flare out his wings and begin flapping them wildly. With difficulty, he took off in flight from the water's surface, fleeing inland with hardly a thought. Then hunger set in, again strangely real in what by now he could only assume was some visceral dream. But luck went his way, as he then spotted a flock of sheep resting in a pasture across the way. He took wing and easily snatched up two, while all the others fled, before he retreated to a grove of trees to both hide and eat. The raw mutton was shocking delicious, and he devoured his catch near entire—the thought that it was stolen never crossing his mind. As he licked the last of the blood from his chops, he found himself drowsy, and so found a nice patch of underbrush to lay down in. As he drifted off, he did indeed ponder how queer it seemed to decide to go to sleep while within a dream.

The next Laurence knew it was mid-day, and he was in the same grove, and still a dragon. Whatever this was had gone on quite long enough, and he was beginning to grow suspicious at his inability to wake and return to his proper human self. He was further suspicious that, for a dream, the landscape was remarkably consistent with what he could intuit from the prior night. But, perhaps that was an opportunity—it might mean he could return to the ship where it was moored. So, he took off in flight once more. Now, in the full light of day, and not flying out of some instinct of fear or hunger, he was taken aback at how wondrous it was to soar through the air, and circle upward upon the thermals invisibly rising from below. The wind across his scales felt like the most natural thing in the world, despite how illogical its was for a young man to dream as such. In no great hurry, he made his way towards the harbor, and sure enough, there still rested the Shorewise, as odd as it was to see the ship at this angle from above. Much of the crew seemed to have been set at liberty, though the carpenter and his hands were hard at work upon repairs. Still, as he glided down closer, one of the marines on deck fired a rifle shot in his direction. He had been spotted, and was not welcome.

It only made sense as the fitting response to an approaching feral dragon, even if this was his dream, so he ought not have been surprised at it. Yet he was indeed both surprised and saddened. He had a rising intuition that he needed to return to the ship, as if something was tethering him there, but it seemed he could not safely do so...at least while he could be spotted. So he hatched a plan to return once more at night, landing quietly in the water some distance off, then swimming in the rest of the way. After some napping, feeding, and flying, the time passed, and it was at last dark again. He called off his first attempt, as he spotted a lantern-lit boat passing nearby. But on the second, he glided down carefully and paddled with all four legs to the very side of the ship he came from the prior night. He kept himself as bent low into the water as a dragon's buoyancy seemed able to allow, and let out a quiet sigh of relief once he had arrived, unspotted. He felt as if he could actually sense that tether now, leading through a window to something just within. He had to lean ever so gently against the hull—which tilted the ship by just a slight degree—and then crane his neck upward to peer within. What he saw were several injured men, sprawled out and sleeping, and one of them, the one to whom the tether led, was himself. His human self. He gingerly let his present draconic form back down into the water as his mind struggled to make sense of what was happening. He no longer had any confidence as to what was real and what was a dream. But, even without it making sense, there was another instinct—if only he could reach out and touch his human form, he might return to it and awake, whatever that might mean. For a moment he considered options and strategies about how he might accomplish this carefully, but instead he found himself exasperated and frustrated. He took one more glance within, memorizing the location of his human body, then lunged upward, reaching his foreleg blindly through the porthole. His weight pulling down on the side of the hull rocked the ship more severely, causing a few shouts to go up, but it served well enough. As his talon reached out to touch his wounded form, he felt a wash of light come over himself, and in the next moment, he was laying awake on a sickbed, his back covered in bandages, and he was staring up at the ceiling, while the ship still swayed back and forth.

When he managed to rise from bed the next morn, he learned that he had been unconscious for days, both preceding and following their arrival at port. He also heard tales of the feral dragon who had been spotted at least twice in the prior days. Upon expressing his doubts, another lieutenant showed him the side of the ship that still bore the tell-tale gouges of talons upon wood. When Laurence slept again that night, he dreamed that he saw the dragon in its cave once more. This time, he averted his gaze at once, and fled. When he awoke, he was relieved to find himself still a man and not some other creature. Nearly every time he slept while under Barstowe's command—which was nowhere near a healthy amount given the double and triple watches he was assigned—he dreamed of the dragon again, and yearned for that freedom he had felt in flight. But every time, he willed the beast back, and remained unchanged.

Up until a week ago, when he placed his hand upon that dragon egg, it had scarcely been a struggle over the years since the Shorewise to turn away from his draconic side while he slept. As if in allegory for how he held the dragon at a distance, whenever a cave appeared in his natural dreaming, it was nearly always walled off, despite the ethereal tether that so often connected to the other side. Only twice did he give himself over to fly as he slept. The first, out of loneliness and boredom, when he was on leave in India for months, he decided to spend a week without returning to his unconscious human self. Nobody seemed to have taken notice—except for his own body, which was sore and stiff for days afterwards. Then, when the Normandy had wrecked in the West Indies, and Captain Yarrow could not decide upon a course of action, he pretended to be some feral dragon of the nearby isles, and promised to take a message for them in exchange for some of the cocoa-nuts they carried. It was a rather absurd ploy, and he struggled through the duplicity it required, but even with the many hours of flying it took each way, they were rescued much sooner than they would have if they sent off the cutter or waited for a signal fire to be spotted.

But these past several nights there was no metaphorical walled-off cave in his minds' eye. Whatever he dreamed, wherever he was, the dragon was not far behind. Several times those somnolescent representations of who he was inside locked eyes and he felt the rush of light that preceded an awakening in draconic form, and he instead shocked himself awake, arising with a start still human, but not at all rested. He in turn avoided sleep entirely to whatever extent he felt possible, to further reduce the risk. But this avoidance was coming at an increasingly steep cost, as he struggled to maintain alertness and focus in his duties of command. He only hoped that whatever this shift was would be temporary, that once the dragonet had hatched and Mr. Carver either succeeded or failed in the harnessing, he might return to the way his mind used to be.

So, as the hatchling emerged from the shell, Laurence stared with wonder and heavy eyelids both as wings were unfurled and the pure black scales glistened in the sunlight. The dragonet proceeded to examine himself and pick off bits of shell. It was only upon Riley giving a pointed cough that Laurence shook his head and called out,

"Mr. Carver, when you are ready."

Carver went even more pale, if it could be said, and held out a trembling hand, saying in a most uncertain voice,

"Good dragon? Nice dragon?"

Said dragon ignored him entirely and proceeded to climb down from his cushioned pedestal, causing most of the other officers to back away in alarm.

"Hold your positions," Laurence managed to get out, though without his usual authoritativeness. "Mr. Riley, look to the hold."

Riley then took position to block the hatchling from making his way below, but that proved unnecessary, as the deck seemed more than sufficient to occupy his curiosity. He proceeded to walk about, flicking out his narrow forked tongue to both taste and smell his surroundings. Continuing to ignore Carver, he peered over various faces, and batted at anything that looked like it ought to move.

For his part, Laurence recalled in the moment a fact he had learned previously about dragons and language, having been confused about his own nature of speech those few times he had been a dragon himself. They—proper dragons, at least—learned language in the shell, and perhaps the single week this one had been aboard a vessel with an English-speaking crew had been an insufficient duration of time.

"Perhaps he does not comprehend English, having only been with us a mere week," Laurence offered. "We might try French instead."

This caused him to receive several dumbfounded stares, the most confused of which came from Carver. Whether it was from the insight, or seeming to have already identified the hatchling's gender, or something else besides, Laurence could not discern amidst his lethargic mind. When the appointed young gentleman remained frozen, Laurence decided to ask of the dragonet directly, offering something he presumed might override his present curiosity—food.

"Jeune dragon, nous avons de la nourriture, si tu veux?"

This at last did get the hatchling's attention, and he spun around to look towards Laurence. With a tilt of the head, he seemed to ponder the captain for a few moments, before responding, with indeed a masculine voice,

"J'aimerais ça, oui. However, I believe I can comprehend English properly? Where is this food you speak of? I am very hungry."

At once, murmurs of shock and fear both went around the deck. Despite such a civilized and clearly-spoken response, many were naturally fearful of a dragon complaining of hunger. For those who were more well-disposed in the moment, they likely realized what their captain having been the singular individual to get a response out of the hatchling implied. Laurence himself was not unaware, either. If the hatchling accepted the offer he was about to make, his life as he knew it would be undone.

"That is very good to hear; I will have them bring out the goat shortly. First, however, would you be so good as to let us put this harness on you? Then we can make you fast to the deck here."

Rabson had been holding the makeshift harness beside Carver, and looked anxiously between him, Laurence, and the dragonet, having at least for his part remained uncertain as to how matters would proceed. The hatchling turned back around to approach, to which Laurence gestured to Rabson to offer it for his inspection. The hatchling seemed satisfied, and twisted back to look at Laurence directly, before taking two steps towards him and standing expectantly.

"Very well, you may do so."

It was as directed of a remark as could be made, and the point was settled—Laurence would be the one to put him into harness. As he took it up from Rabson, and began to carefully pass the buckles and straps about the hatchling's body, he found himself, of all things, relieved. Yes, there was that part of him that was horrified—that his father would not approve, that his standing would diminish, that he could almost certainly not keep the understanding he had with Edith—but the hatchling had made the choice, and now duty offered him no other course. He would henceforth be an aviator. And if anyone in Britain might have knowledge of his curse...

"Sir," Mr. Pollitt interjected quietly from behind him, "the name?"

The absurdity of it all, combined with his sleep-deprived state, made Laurence laugh at this, before he asked of the hatching,

"My apologies, young one. It seems I have forgotten to make an introduction. My name is Will Laurence; and yours?"

"I do not have a name," he replied, dissatisfied, after having puzzled over the question for a few moments.

"May I give you one?"

"If you please."

Despite the question coming to his mind at once, no name did, as he had not given any thought to the matter. Some vague fragment of memory reminded him that most English dragons were given Roman names, but having spoken to this one in French, those were the only ones that began to come to mind in this moment—and at that, they were all of them ships. Impetueux, Pegase, Genereux, Foudroyant, Courageux...

"Temeraire," he at last said, finding a match for this dragonet, recalling not just a name but the memory of the dreadnaught itself being launched, and seeing in them both the same elegant gliding motion.

"Temeraire? Yes; my name shall be Temeraire. Now may I eat?"

"I must beg your pardon, Temeraire, not yet, as I have not finished with your harness." Then, he took note of the hatchling's surprisingly soft scales, far softer than his own had been those few times he had awoken as a dragon. He became concerned that these might in turn bruise once the metal edges of the harness were drawn in close. It was woefully insufficient compared to what he hoped the Corps would provide...what the Corps ought to provide...but he would make due with what the ship had at hand. "Mr. Rabson, be so good as to bring me some extra sailcloth; we shall wrap these buckles."

In short order were the buckles wrapped and the harness made secure, with a chain then linked to the nearest stanchion. The moment it was brought within his reach Temeraire began to devour the freshly-butchered goat in its tub. Laurence smiled at this, though with a bit of sadness—fresh cattle probably would have been tastier for a first meal, if only they had more than just a single ox remaining in their stores. Hopefully Temeraire would not mind fish going forward, otherwise he feared they would be a sorry state in regards to food rather soon.

"Sir?" Riley called out, uncertain. "Shall I dismiss the officers?"

From pondering the Reliant's stores of food, and how much he wished to eat and then sleep himself, Laurence turned about to ponder the crew. He supposed he could remain in command until they reached shore, as there were no regulations for any situation resembling this one. But it would not do—not for Temeraire, not for the crew, and not for Riley. If his friend were to get his step up, there would be but one course to take.

"Mr. Riley, the circumstances are unusual, but for the sake of the ship and her crew, I must put her in your hands at once. I will need to devote a great deal of my attention to Temeraire now, and I cannot divide it so."

"Oh, sir!" Riley replied with an air of regret, but not protest—he was likely pondering the same course. Laurence supposed that Riley was sympathetic towards the misery that he ought to have felt. And he was saddened, but more over the impending loss of his comrades and the way of life he had known, rather than everything else a Navy man stood to lose by becoming an aviator. But the prospect of a dragon's wing-borne freedom shined too brightly for his weary mind and heart to feel anything close to misery in this moment. 

So, with drowsy eyes and perhaps too wide a smile—a countenance far too suggestive of madness, if only he was aware of himself—he shook his head slightly, and replied,

"I am most confident that you will manage her admirably, Captain."

Operating more on subconscious memory of old habits than any deliberate thought, he removed his gold epaulettes as he used to do in his earlier, less-wealthy days as Captain. The left—of a senior captain—he slipped into his pockets, and the right he fixed on Riley's shoulder, to mark the change of command.

"Mr. Wells," Laurence hinted towards his third lieutenant, who with the very same gesture had become acting first for Riley.

"Huzzah for Captain Riley!"

The cheer went up, ragged at first, but strong and clear by the third repetition. Riley, having been flushed with embarrassment and an inability to find the words he wished to speak, at last mastered himself, and added,

"And huzzah for—for Temeraire!"

Laurence managed to convince Temeraire that it would be unwise to go flying at present, being at sea so far from land...yet still keeping the harness held fast for now as an extra assurance. He had one of the idle hands nearby bring him a bucket of water and rags, and he set to work cleaning away the traces of the hatchling's meal and whatever still remained of shell and egg-slime. This seemed to please Temeraire greatly, and once complete, he appreciatively rubbed the side of his head against Laurence's arm. They settled down on the deck together, and Laurence found himself beginning to fall asleep nearly as quick as the hatchling. Just barely catching himself, for he dare not risk slumbering in sight of the crew, he saw Riley nearby, and inquired,

"I do not mean to impose, but may I yet retain the cabin, for the both of us?"

"Of course, sir," Riley replied, before seeing Temeraire doze off even as they spoke. "Shall I have someone help you carry him below?"

Looking down and seeing likewise, Laurence chuckled softly, before saying,

"Thank you, Tom. I had hoped to guide him there, but it seems I was not swift enough. Yes, we ought to take our leave, and another set of hands or two would be most beneficial in bringing him there gently."

Temeraire did not fully rouse as Laurence carried him to the cabin, one of the midshipmen guiding his steps down the ladder and moving aside any obstacles, last of all the door, and another carrying a fresh pillow of straw and sailcloth to be laid out on a double-wide hanging cot. Laurence whispered out his thanks to the young officers as Temeraire, half-conscious, settled himself into his new perch. A gentle breeze might be nice, Laurence thought to himself as he propped open one of the stern windows, before making ready his own cot beside the dragonet's. As he began to drift off to sleep once more, now welcoming it in the seclusion of the cabin, he gave a quick prayer, with more hope than sense, that at least now he might no longer fear encountering the dragon in his dreams, having accepted this one in the waking world.

In one way, his prayer was answered—he did not dream of that yellow-and-grey scaled beast that was his draconic self. There was no time to dream as such. For as soon as his mind slipped from wakefulness, the light washed over and left him, and the cabin too small for such a form, it glided out behind the ship, and became real. With a splash into Reliant's wake, Laurence awakened into his other self, coughing up the salt water he nearly inhaled. The ship, making a good eight knots in a westerly wind, began to leave him behind. Looking up in dawning horror, meanwhile bobbing all too serenely in the water, he saw that one of the stern lookouts indeed spotted him.

"Man overbo—" the young man began to shout out, before correcting, with increasing bafflement, "Dragon overboard!?"

Chapter Text

As Temeraire slept, he dreamed for the first time of a world beyond that of mere sound. Not that there was anything wrong, precisely, with imaginings of the purely auditory variety, but it was most wondrous to now have experienced the new senses of sight and taste-smell, so it was only natural that they filled his mind. Now it was not just the great rhythm of life aboard a ship—the voices and footsteps of men, the whistling and buffeting of wind, the churning and splashing of water—but it was also seeing the men of all different heights and the fabrics they wore and tasting the salty air with its sea-spray. He could even begin to imagine the sounds that various objects he had seen would make when interacting with others, like just how different the metal round shot he had spotted on the deck would sound against wood, or glass, or water...

But then a sound came to his mind that he could not place, on at least one side of the interaction. It was the sound of something splashing into the water, making at first a great thwoop and then a pair of smaller thwips shortly thereafter. As his dreaming mind puzzled over this, there was another sound, like the snapping of sails but far more graceful and rhythmic. His instincts left no doubt as to this one—it was the wings of a dragon in flight. So, in turn, did he dream of flying, soaring above ship and sea together, and he could hear there with him his Captain, his Laurence...but he was saying queer things, and his voice was oddly resonant...

"Pray let me land astern, Tom!"

Temeraire flew further in his dreams, to the rhythm of wingbeats and the sound of his Captain's voice fading in and out.

"—strike the spanker; that should serve—"

There were only a few more blissful moments of flight before a loud thud and the crack of timber startled Temeraire awake. The sudden jerking of his movement caused the hammock to tip over and spin, and as he scrambled to try and right himself, throwing out his wings for balance, the cloth and cord only served to entangle him into a misshapen bundle. He hissed and clawed in indignation, heedless to the sounds above him, trying to break free from something that encased him for now the second time today. At last, he broke through, squirming with head and forelegs out of the shredded remnants of the hammock and pillow, leaning against the angled stern windows as a first point of balance. But then the window gave way, and for a terrifying moment he was slipping and scrambling once more, talons clawing upon wood and metal and glass. His instincts were just about to switch from finding some purchase to steadying an imminent fall when his view of the water below was replaced by the scales of a dragon's forehand. He was thusly caught and cradled and lifted up, before being gently set back down on the deck of the ship. As his ire was replaced by awe, Temeraire looked up at this yellowish dragon with grayish stripes whose length covered roughly the width of the ship, with the end of his tail hanging a bit over the rail.

"Temeraire, are you alright?" the larger dragon asked, sounding much as his Captain had in his dreams, but rather less muffled.

"I am, but that was very unpleasant," Temeraire said, shaking himself a bit in emphasis. "I do not care for hammocks."

The dragon tilted his head in momentary confusion, likely trying to envision the scene, before giving a brief chuckle that was stifled immediately—through Temeraire could hardly see anything funny about the matter at all.

"I am most sorry, young one; we will be sure to find more agreeable arrangements, that do not risk your falling into the sea."

"I...I beg your pardon, at interrupting and being so brief with one just arrived," the man called Riley stuttered urgently as he approached, with something like an attempt at confidence and resolve, "but how did a dragon such as yourself come upon a frigate in the middle of the ocean, unseen, in broad daylight? And have I not seen you before, in the West Indies?"

The dragon closed his eyes and let out a measured yet still exasperated sigh before dipping his head down. Then, shaking it back and forth, he said,

"It is a right mess, but I suppose there is no other way about it now, and I must be swift in my explanation so that you can get to setting the ship to rights. Though it is assuredly difficult to believe, I am the same Will Laurence you know; this is but an altered form that I have found myself in on rare occasion, including that time on the Normandy."

"So you are my Captain," Temeraire interjected before Riley could say anything, "I thought I recognized your voice."

This stunned both Laurence and Riley, and seemingly all the onlookers as well, as if they did not recognize the same...unless they were startled for some other reason that Temeraire did not know. Then, blinking his slit-pupiled eyes in a pondering sort of way, this "altered form" of Laurence grinned softly as he looked upon Temeraire, but did not say anything. Riley proceeded to speak up,

"I cannot make sense of it, not in the least; but regardless, whoever you are, you are quite right, the Reliant is now heavy in the stern and without her spanker sail. I would appreciate a word, however, once she is set to rights, as odd as it seems to request as such from a dragon directly."

"Of course, sir," Laurence replied, "and I cannot tell you just how dearly sorry I am for the trouble and for landing upon the boom in my clumsiness."

A still-baffled look and a courteous nod was all Riley gave in reply, before turning to begin calling out orders. Laurence looked about their surroundings, before deciding to curl in on himself part way, trying to make himself as unobtrusive as a 40-ft long dragon on the deck of a frigate might be. Temeraire took this chance to sidle up beside him, feeling strangely caught between the lethargy that lulled him to sleep not too long ago and the alertness from having been so startled awake. Laurence then spoke, as softly as he might,

"Temeraire, I am sure this must be startling to witness..." before trailing off, uncertain.

"How so? Is it uncommon for someone to be a man at some times and a dragon at others?"

"To my knowledge, it is most uncommon. I have never heard or seen of such a cur—such a trait anywhere except in my own person."

"Oh! So you are special then?," Temeraire said joyfully. "It will be splendid to have such a Captain!"

Laurence, having rested his head down on the deck, looked at Temeraire with an expression of some deep unnamable emotion. He held his gaze for some moments, before letting out a long breath, the muscles all throughout his neck and shoulders releasing their tension.

"The true rarity of what I am, whatever that may be, has yet to be seen. But I am sure you will be a most remarkable dragon yourself, and it will be an honor to serve as your captain."

They rested upon the deck together in silence for a while, looking at all the hands at work. The sleepiness not yet strong enough to overtake him again, Temeraire's curiosity won out.

"Laurence, what are they all doing? How do all those sails and ropes work?"

Laurence's eyes brightened at this, and he began to quietly yet enthusastically go on in great detail about the numerous sails of a fully-rigged ship and how they are trimmed for various situations and maneuvers. Several times he seemed about to point out something, be it with talon, wing tip, or snout, but then kept back in concern over shifting his weight about. So Laurence instead stuck to verbose descriptions, with Temeraire's attention at first rapt but then waning, until eventually he fell asleep once more against Laurence's side, to the gentle rumbling sound of a dragon's voice.

When Temeraire awoke again, he found himself tucked in serenely, with a wing mantled over him and holding him close. This made it rather dark, but even as he stirred and the wing was lifted, the sky was much altered and nowhere near as bright, and Temeraire being in long shadow of Laurence's draconic form, he could no longer spot the sun. As Temeraire yawned wide, letting out an unexpectedly high yelp in doing so, Laurence tilted his head and asked warmly,

"Did you sleep well? Are you hungry at all?"

"Yes, that was much nicer than the hammock, and I am quite hungry again."

"Would you mind fish? Not that I have a great deal of experience of draconic taste to speak of, but I have found it to be satisfactory enough, even if it is not fresh lamb or beef."

"I will try it; though, is there not more of that goat from earlier?"

"I am sorry, Temeraire. I ate what you did not, to not have it spoil any, and to eat at least a small bit of something to settle my stomach before I could return to my human body and have a proper meal. But, they managed to catch a nice forty-pound tunny, which you should be able to have as much of as you may like."

When it was brought out, filleted roughly in two, Temeraire was at first a bit suspicious...it looked and smelt nothing like the red meat he had earlier. But then, after a first few nibbles, he found it indeed satisfactory, even if the scales and bones were strangely crunchy. After eating the entire first half, he nibbled a bit more at the second, before finding himself satisfied.

"Did you like it?" Laurence asked, seemingly encouraged.

As Temeraire was about to reply, he instead belched loudly, startling himself, so instead nodded affirmatively.

"Very good," Laurence said, before picking up a nearby rag, which looked awfully dainty being held between two talons. "Would you prefer to clean yourself, or wait to have me do so once I am back to my human self?"

"It was quite nice when you did so earlier, so I would prefer that—but, wait, might we go flying now? How soon could you return to being a dragon after being human again? If it is not immediate, I could try cleaning myself, if only we could go fly together."

"It is only possible when I am sleeping as a human, so it would only be as soon as I could fall asleep again. But I am sorry to disappoint, Temeraire; no, we cannot go flying now, as it is too late in the day, and we dare not risk losing sight of each other or the ship in the dark." Then, in response to the immediate dejected look in Temeraire's eyes, "However, let us plan to fly together tomorrow during the day; then we might try hunting for fish as well, seeing as you seem to like them."

"Oh, very well then," Temeraire said, disappointed, yet trying to convince himself to be patient, "we can wait."

"Mr. Battersea?" Laurence called out to the boy, who was one of the only officers to be seen anymore at the stern of the ship where they were, "Be so good as to inform Captain Riley that I am ready to shift back, whenever he wishes."

"Yes, sir!" he replied with unusual excitement, whether it was from taking orders from a dragon or in anticipation of whatever the shifting back might be like, Temeraire could not tell.

As they waited, Temeraire noticed that his harness had shifted and grown tight and uncomfortable, even with the wrapped buckles. He further noticed that Laurence was not wearing anything like.

"Laurence?" he thusly asked, "Why must I wear a harness and you do not?"

Many emotions flashed across Laurence's draconic countenance, what might have been hesitation, shame, uncertainty, wonder...until at last he managed to reply, effecting a rather instructional tone,

"For one, this present form of mine does not come into existence wearing anything, and it happening today was quite unanticipated, so it would have been rather difficult to manage a harness for myself. But, as for you, we were following the recommendations for new hatchlings, as the accepted knowledge was that hatchlings such as yourself would fly off into the wilds after their first meal without it, and with it, you would be more amenable to accept a handler and so join the service." Then, continuing with a good deal more gravity, "But, you seem to have a great deal of understanding for one so young, so if you will give me your word that you will not go flying off out of sight or show any hostility to the crew, I do not see the need to impose upon you, if it displeases you to wear it."

"I do promise, Laurence; I could never wish to fly off without you," which seemed to relieve Laurence greatly. "It is only that this harness is not very comfortable; perhaps with a better fitting one I would not mind it so much, or if I only had to put it on when it was necessary."

Laurence pondered a bit, before saying,

"Perhaps it would be useful to request of Mr. Rabson a harness to fit my proportions, that I might advise him towards a more suitable design that can be put on and taken off on one's own. Then, a variation upon it might be scaled or adjusted to fit you...or you might simply have use of the very same during the time you are near enough to my size. We may even be fortunate enough to have that suffice on its own, if you were not to grow beyond my size before we can report to the Aerial Corps..."

"Do you mean to imply that I will outgrow you?" Laurence's remark had throughly surprised Temeraire, as his dragon form substantially dwarfed his own stature as a hatchling. "But you are so large! What size will I be when I am grown?"

"You will almost certainly outgrow me, Temeraire! Based on the size of your egg, Mr. Pollitt anticipates that you are a heavy-weight dragon, though we do not know of what breed, and therefore cannot anticipate an exact size. I do not know exactly what cross of breeds I resemble, beyond at least some part being Yellow Reaper, but I do know that I am of generally middling size, perhaps on the small side of middle-weight or large side of light-weight. You might reach two to three times my length, perhaps as long as the Reliant herself."

As Temeraire sat in awe of this fact, he realized that he actually was just a bit more hungry. So, he decided to finish off the rest of the fleshy portion of the tunny, leaving the bony portions and outsides this time, all the while Laurence looking down upon him warmly. It was not long until Riley could be seen approaching the stern with Battersea and Wells, which caught his attention at once. Riley seemed to be in a somewhat better humor than he was earlier, and spoke to Laurence,

"Well, I suppose we must get this over with; needing supper for two dragons would be far from ideal. So, Will," this said with still some amount of lingering disbelief, "how do you transform back? Do you need anything at the ready here on deck?"

"It is less transforming back than re-entering my human self; my body as a dragon is its own separate, though linked, form. It is as simple as," at this, he shifted about, to reach one of his forearms over the stern rail, and began to open one of the windows below, "touching my human body with my talon, and I shall wake up again. Are you ready, that I might do so now?"

"Go ahead, sir," Riley replied.

And at that, after a moment of blind reaching about to find his own hammock through the window, Temeraire and all the crew above deck saw Laurence's body turn at once to ethereal light, before spiraling in upon itself about his outstretched talon below, and thusly disappearing. The moment the physical form was no more, the stern of the ship lifted with the weight now removed—a strange sensation for Temeraire, who was sitting upon it. The windows of the cabin below could then be heard closing from the inside, and Wells shouted below deck to order the allotted stores shifted back towards the stern to rebalance the ship. Laurence—human Laurence—climbed up the ladder shortly thereafter, carrying a book. He stopped as he walked by the mizzenmast, placing his hand upon it and shaking his head with dejected frustration as he looked up to where the spanker boom used to attach; the broken one appeared to have been removed at some point when Temeraire was sleeping. But then he turned to look at Temeraire, and his face brightened. He clapped a still stunned Riley on the shoulder, speaking low, 

"I am sorry Tom, once again, for all the trouble. I wish I could have kept my secret and not raised such a stir, but I suppose Providence must have seen otherwise. We will find a way to manage until Madeira."

There was no reply but a nod, and Laurence closed the rest of the way to Temeraire. He grabbed the bucket and rag, which was now closer to the length of his forearm, and set to work cleaning. As he did so, he loosened every buckle of the harness, beginning to remove it, and Temeraire felt himself beginning to rumble softly with contentment and gratitude. Once Laurence had finished, he folded up the straps neatly and set the harness aside. He then sat back down, and Temeraire shuffled about to tuck his head into Laurence's lap, and at last drifted off to sleep once more, as Laurence petted his hide.

Temeraire awoke the next morning to the sound of Laurence's terse voice; he had been dreaming of flying alongside him, in both sight and sound. In the dream, they were the same size, as Temeraire could not yet quite picture himself being as large as Laurence had said, even if it would be quite splendid to have such a grand stature.

"I mean no disrespect whatsoever towards your command of this ship, sir, but Temeraire is my charge, and I will not permit him to be ordered to wear a harness when he does not choose to merely to placate others."

"Captain Laurence, pray be reasonable. We have a couple hundred men aboard, and they rightly fear having an unharnessed dragon set loose in their midst."

"He is not set loose any more than I am. Do they fear me the same now, after yesterday? Ought I go about in harness, in either or both of my forms, as if that were proof of my obedience and lack of danger? No, my word ought to be sufficient, and so should his."

As Temeraire yawned—no embarrassing yelp this time—and lifted his head off the pillow on which it rested, Laurence's and Riley's conversation that had been taking place behind him by the starboard rail abruptly came to a close. They both turned to look at him in the morning light, though with the former smiling and the latter uneasy.

"Temeraire," Laurence called out, "Do you still want to go flying, that we might catch your morning meal?"

"Most certainly!" he cheerfully replied. "You will be joining me as a dragon though, no? I do not seem to be large enough to carry you yet...and as you were just discussing the matter of a harness..."

"Pray do not concern yourself with that, young one," Laurence replied, though with a slightly ashamed tone, "I will of course be joining you as a dragon; I simply need to head down to the cabin to sleep. Would you be so good as to wait for me before taking off?"

"I will," Temeraire said, straightening his posture.

"Very good," this said with the slightest glance towards Riley, before returning to speak to Temeraire directly, "Now, as a forewarning, I have not yet had the chance to train you in how to use a compass, and I would be unable to use one at my size, so we must stay within sight of the Reliant." Then, turning to Riley, "Captain Riley? When would you be ready to shift stores that I might land aboard?"

"Any time in the next hour, sir, so long as I have five minutes of advance notice."

"That should do nicely; I am much obliged, sir."

At that, Laurence walked over to pet Temeraire, only having to lean down slightly as he was standing now, before walking down below. It was an agonizingly long four minutes as Temeraire paced the deck waiting for Laurence, paying no mind to the nervous stares from the crew, until at last he saw an ethereal dragon of light begin to drift out behind the ship. He leaped up to watch over the stern railing, tail lashing back and forth, as Laurence's dragon shape took physical form, wings already stretching out as it did so. Still, there was nowhere near enough height for him to catch his fall and begin flying direct, so he still landed in the water, but this time with a skidding sound rather than the thwoop of a direct plummet. He swam a bit to turn part way around, meeting Temeraire's sight.

"Go ahead Temeraire, when you are ready," he shouted up as the distance from the ship increased, "I will follow you to start, for as long as you wish to fly before you are ready for something to eat, and then I will catch some fish for you."

That was all Temeraire needed to hear. He settled back down to the deck, took two steps back, and then launched himself into the air with a great leap. Not a dream; he was flying for real, and he swooped over where Laurence was still waiting in the water. He pitched up a bit to both slow and give Laurence some distance, before switching the direction of his wingbeats, to now bob up and down more or less in place. Laurence was already making ready to take off when Temeraire had passed overhead, and with sharp half-wingbeats, the far tips just barely tapping the water's surface at the lowest point, he gradually got himself moving forward and upward, free from the water and now airborne as well.

He turned about, looking towards the direction that Temeraire would have been heading if he had not paused above Laurence's taking-off point. A bit of startled scanning later, he was at last spotted, and Laurence flew back in his direction, eventually calling out,

"I did not know dragons could do that!"

Laurence slowed on the approach, and once he was nearby, but positioned that his wings were well clear of the comparatively tiny hatchling, he tried to mimic the motion. This resulted in a nearly immediate grunt of pain and worrying drop in altitude.

"Laurence!?" Temeraire cried out, not knowing what went wrong.

Thankfully, Laurence had recovered quickly, swooping beneath Temeraire and coming up on the other side, beginning a gentle upward then downward spiral about Temeraire's position.

"My apologies for my over-eagerness; it seems that I do not possess that same trait."

"Are you hurt?" Temeraire asked anxiously, spinning in flight or twisting his head to try to keep Laurence in view as he circled about.

"I appreciate your concern, young one; but no, not any longer, it faded quickly," Laurence said, with a hint of what might have been embarrassment, if Temeraire had to guess. "I am ready to follow after you."

With this, Temeraire dived to pick up an initial burst of speed, before gradually climbing in altitude while heading back in the direction of the ship. He did not yet have any basis for a proper comparison, of course, but still, from far above, the Reliant looked particularly majestic in the morning light with the dappled rays cast upon and between the unfurled sails. He could now see why his Captain and so many of those voices he had overheard seemed to have such a passion for sailing, if ships could be so splendid. Then, as he scanned across the ocean expanse, he saw another, far off in the distance. It being the only other point of interest he could see, Temeraire began to fly in that direction, after having looped about the Reliant a few times. It was not long, however, until he heard Laurence calling out from behind him,

"Temeraire! Are you trying to fly towards that ship?"

"Yes, what sort of ship is it?" he asked, slowing to a glide.

"That is the Amitié, another frigate, though built by the French. She was the prize we took in a skirmish just over a week ago, and your egg was aboard her."

"Oh? Does that mean you won me in a battle?"

"It does, but pray turn about, Temeraire, and let us not get any closer. We cannot have them see me, or at least not let them spot that there are two of us flying. I apologize for forgetting to mention so earlier," and adding on in response to Temeraire's disappointment, "but, when we are back aboard the Reliant, I can tell you all about the Amitié and the battle, if you would like."

"I would like that very much."

Temeraire and Laurence quickly settled into a routine together that first week. There was hardly a moment where Temeraire was not eating or sleeping, and those few spans of time were either spent flying about when dragon Laurence was catching fish for him and the ship's crew, or laying beside human Laurence on deck and listening to him tell stories of past battles he was a part of. Though Temeraire's sleep could not be said to be entirely regular, the timing of when Laurence was in what form and where appeared to be dictated by Captain Riley, which seemed strange to him. When he had asked, Laurence explained that his size as a dragon had "a significant impact on the workings of the ship," and it was his "duty to cause as little disruption as possible." This, along with supplying a significant surplus of fresh seafood for the crew, was apparently the only reason there was not something called a mutiny, which certainly sounded dreadful enough to be avoided however possible.

Temeraire also no longer doubted Laurence's prediction as to what size he would be. Only a week after hatching, he was around half Laurence's length as a dragon, and steadily growing further, so that his size also had a "significant impact." When Temeraire asked if this meant that he too now needed to catch fish for the crew, Laurence gave his usual soft laugh of amusement, and said,

"No, Temeraire, I do believe I have been catching enough for them." But then he seemed to have been struck by an idea, and continued by saying, "However, you have been growing shockingly quickly, and I doubt that you would be in much danger anymore of being dragged under by a shark. Would you like to try hunting for yourself when we go flying?"

This rather exciting proposal was carried out the very next time they went flying together, even if Temeraire quickly learned it was not a very sporting activity in the end—as soon as either of them caught something and started eating, the scattered bits that fell attracted a great many other fish which could then be caught with ease. Temeraire did not mind, as his appitite was always able to be kept satisfied, and Laurence seemed contented as well, particularly when Temeraire did happen to catch some extra tunnys to bring back for the crew, despite what he had previously said. No matter what form he was in, Laurence always seemed to be glad for Temeraire's company, even if few of the men ever talked with him anymore except for Riley, Wells, and Battersea, and they were never apart for long.

One day when Temeraire awoke, about midway through the second week, he had a peculiar feeling throughout his body—something almost like the opposite of being squeezed, perhaps, or it was as if he was all of a sudden higher in the air without having flown to get there. Laurence, who was resting beside him in human form, must have picked up on his confusion, for he asked,

"Do you feel the change in pressure as well?"

"Is that what that is? Yes, I do. What does it mean?"

"Lower pressure tends to come along with inclement weather; I believe we are in for a gale. No flying today, Temeraire, I am sorry to say, but now that you are awake we can go bring up the ox for you to eat instead of the usual fish."

The ox proved to be a rather good meal, and despite his anticipation for this gale, Temeraire found himself dozing off to sleep as Laurence was cleaning him. When he awoke again, the world was much changed—the sky was covered in dark clouds, and drops of water were falling from it upon him and everything else on the ship. This was the rain he had heard so much about, and it was most fascinating, especially when he stretched out his wings to feel more of the drops at a time. Laurence kindly asked him to refrain from this, however, as it might interfere with the crew at work, and there would be plenty more chances for rain when they were no longer aboard a ship.

After not too much more time, the thick grey mass to their west—that Temeraire thought at first was just a different type of cloud, but which Laurence said was a downpour of rain—caught up with them. The sound of it almost startled him as much as being soaked did; after a snort, he shook himself out before mantling his wings to cover himself and Laurence—not spread out to get in the way of the crew, or too high to interfere with the boom, but just enough to shelter them. Although, not entirely, as he could not restrain his curiosity enough to keep from looking about. This let him spot that a man had been swept overboard, and was presently struggling in the waves. Temeraire pointed this out to Laurence, who proceeded to shout almost as loudly as he did as a dragon,

"Man overboard!"

A few ropes were thrown towards that man with a red-and-white shirt, but they could not reach him. If anything were to be done, it would have to be from the air.

"He is too far from those ropes," Temeraire said to Laurence. "I will go and get him."

Not a moment to lose, he leapt aloft and took to the sky. He heard Laurence shouting from behind him, "Temeraire!" with an almost draconic roar and a degree of concern that nearly made him turn back at once. But this was followed only a wingbeat later with a distant cry of "You must tack like a ship!"

Oh, so that was why it seemed so difficult to fly towards that man, Temeraire thought to himself even as he began to fly as instructed. There was something satisfyingly rhythmic to it—four wingbeats, turn, four wingbeats, turn. He eventually arrived above the sailor, and was for a moment about to dive down like he had these past days when catching fish when he recalled just what his talons did to those fish. The man would have to grab onto him, rather than the reverse. Thankfully, the sailor still seemed to be waving about, and thusly ought to be able to do so, though he did scream as Temeraire drew close.

"There is no need to yell; I am here to rescue you! You will need to grab on and hold fast!"

The response was indiscernible, but Temeraire hoped that he had understood well enough regardless. So, fighting the variable gusts the whole time, with quick half-strokes like he had seen Laurence use to avoid catching his wings in the water, he let the hands of his forelegs brush into the crests of waves, right by where the man was floating up and down. Once he clasped on, there was a terrifying moment when Temeraire felt himself become unbalanced and about to tip over into the waves himself, but he managed to right himself before hovering back upward. Disliking both the imbalance and precariousness extremely, he cupped his unburdened forehand around the man, and brought him up sideways, that he might be carried with both forelegs. The man retched, which was rather unpleasant, but at least he was rescued now.

The flight back to the Reliant was an easy one, given the circumstances, as he was both flying with the wind and guided back by Laurence's steady shouts of "Temeraire!" sounding out like a beacon. Landing astern was a bit more tricky, but thankfully some men quickly gathered to catch the rescued sailor so that Temeraire did not have to land while still holding him. Once he was back aboard, he immediately looked to Laurence, who was standing there soaked by the rain, his hand tightly gripping the rail, with water streaming down his face—though some of it seemed to be coming from his eyes rather than the sky. As soon as their gazes met, Laurence darted across the few paces that separated them, reaching out to pet Temeraire's neck. He lowered his head in turn, and felt Laurence rest his head against his own—the rain, sea-spray, and tears all mingling together on his scales.

"That was well done, my dear," came Laurence's hoarse and unsteady voice at last. "Very bravely done."

They slept curled against each other the rest of the day of the gale, Temeraire only realizing upon awaking that it was odd that Laurence had not become a dragon this time when he slept. Upon questioning him about this, Laurence explained that he needed to resist that part of himself while he dreamed for the sake of not burdening the ship with another dragon amidst the storm. Though he said he was glad that he managed to do so, there was a deep regret in his voice all the same.

"We can go flying together again tomorrow, though?" Temeraire asked, trying to console him, "Once the gale has passed?"

"Yes, it should be fully cleared by then. However…" Laurence sighed before continuing, "I have been giving the matter some thought; if I am to be your Captain in the Aerial Corps, I need to learn to ride with you as a human, not just fly alongside you as a dragon. I also need to know just how many nights I can go without taking draconic form, now that I am no longer fully suppressing that side of myself. That is to say—while I will be glad to fly with you again tomorrow, as soon as the new harness is ready, I will need to try staying human for as long as possible until we reach Madeira."

"If that is what you think is best," Temeraire said, doubtfully. "So, how long will it be until we reach this Madeira?"

"Likely another week and a half; we were set back by all the shifting about and the temporary loss of the spanker, but we were in all likelihood sped along by this gale. And do not worry, Temeraire, I am sure there will be plenty of time to go flying together on the island while we wait for orders from the Corps."

As it was, the new harness took several more days to be completed to Laurence's specifications, and all that time Laurence continued to sleep during the daytime so that they could fly and catch fish together just as they had done prior to the storm. But then Laurence declared himself satisfied with this new design, it consisting of a leather backplate seated entirely forward of the wings, with straps that crossed each other along the torso between the forelegs and ended in open hooks, which could be attached to metal rings on the opposite side. To fit Temeraire, who despite his ever-increasing length was still much leaner around the torso than was Laurence in dragon form, the straps had to be shortened substantially and the hooks attached to higher rings. It was not the sort of thing he would wish to wear all the time, but it was more comfortable than the previous one, and it seemed like it would serve well enough for when Laurence needed to ride upon his back in human form.

They tested it the next day, and it indeed performed admirably, though Laurence said it was rather disorienting at first to ride dragonback, having been used to being aloft in a far different form. So their new habit for that next week aboard the Reliant became Temeraire catching his fish with Laurence aboard his back as a human. This had the benefit of letting them fly further afield from the Reliant, as Laurence could now use a compass and navigate for him…a skill which Laurence never had the chance to teach him before he grew too large to use such a device. Still, Temeraire would have preferred if Laurence could fly with him as a dragon instead, which meant that, on the third night into the week when the familiar splash of Laurence's draconic form landing in the water behind the Reliant woke him a few hours after sunset, he cried out in joy upon seeing him there in the moonlit ocean and took off in flight to join him. Laurence was not likewise joyful, however, but instead disappointed to have only been able to go two full nights remaining human. "If this is all I can manage, it will be most difficult to keep this a secret for any length of time," he had said. Still, the sky was clear and the moon was bright, so Laurence's spirits were soon lifted by some nighttime flying about the ship. Sure enough, this pattern repeated three nights later, though the moon had waned since then, so they could not go flying about until later in the night, and they just barely managed to fit both of themselves astern until then. This time Temeraire was too sleepy to stay aloft for long, so Laurence continued flying about the ship even after Temeraire had landed back on deck. He was awoken perhaps a few hours later by Battersea tapping his side; apparently he needed to move aside so that Laurence could land.

"I spotted Madeira on the horizon," Laurence said upon his return. "I expect we shall make it to port sometime this morning."

Chapter Text

The port at Funchal was a rather wondrous sight to behold, Temeraire only having witnessed ships and open ocean thus far in his three weeks outside the shell. He seemed to be eliciting likewise wonder in the people of the island, as a crowd of spectators had gathered on the dock as the Reliant came in. However, once Laurence and Riley had left to go speak with Admiral Croft, and Wells brought him some fresh veal and lamb—both of which were just as splendidly delicious as Laurence had said—the onlookers had dispersed. Temeraire feared it was because of his appearance, having so recently eaten, so he requested of the crew a bucket and rags to attempt to clean himself as Laurence did, a request which was carried out at first with confusion, and then amusement. It turned out to be a frustrating endeavor, however, as they were both rather small, and the rags had a nasty habit of tearing upon his talons no matter how he tried to hold them. If only Laurence had not asked him to stay aboard the ship, he might have gone splashing about in the water to clean himself off…

Thankfully, he spotted Laurence returning not too long after he abandoned the pursuit. Though, in contrast to his mood when he departed, he seemed strangely downcast as he walked along the docks and up the gangplank.

"Temeraire? Did you enjoy your meal? Would you still…" Laurence had said, before beginning to laugh tremendously, though it sounded a bit odd breaking past his otherwise dour mood. "I am sorry to have made you wait so long that you felt the need to clean yourself off! Here, here, I will have some new rags fetched."

So Laurence finished the cleaning that Temeraire had unsuccessfully begun, all the while talking about how he would be going next to speak with the governor to arrange for regular food and a suitable place to stay, and asking if Temeraire wished to wait aboard the ship or at the landing grounds for courier dragons. He did not say anything about his conversation with Admiral Croft or why it had left him in such a mood.

"I am curious about what these landing grounds are like, so might we go there? When will you be able to sleep, so that we could—"

"Temeraire," Laurence cut in, speaking to him with unusual terseness, before exhaling, and continuing in a mellower tone. "When the arrangements have been made and we are out of sight of the public, we may do so. We have been ordered to keep this matter a secret; we cannot give the people here any reason to believe that the stories the sailors might tell about me are anything other than old wives' tales." Then, after a pause in which Laurence wistfully looked out over the port, "It will be good to go direct to the landing grounds; the sooner I may depart from the Reliant, the better. Well then, if you would be so kind as to put on the harness, I will grab my remaining unpacked items from the cabin, and be back up shortly."

Temeraire did so, still worried about Laurence's mood, but without knowing what to say or do to help except being as punctilious as possible so that they could go flying together sooner—Laurence always seemed to be in higher spirits when they did so. They took the short flight from where the Reliant was anchored to the landing grounds, which were disappointingly not much of anything at all—only a flat stretch of plain grass with a shed and some empty pens at the side. Still, the day was warm and the sun was shining brightly, so this was as fine of a place as any to take a mid-day nap while waiting for Laurence. Temeraire awoke an hour or two later, Laurence not yet having returned, and though he was a bit hungry, Laurence had made very clear that the animals he saw on the land were property, and thereby had to be purchased rather than hunted freely, like the animals in the ocean could be. This was a rather odd notion to him, but he was learning that men were indeed odd in many ways, which made him ever more glad to have a Captain who seemed to understand both men and dragons, being in some ways both himself. So, not wishing to cause Laurence any additional anxiety should he not find him waiting here, Temeraire refrained from flying out to sea to try catching some fish, and instead went back to sleep.

The sun was getting low in the sky by the time he was awoken by the gust of wind from another dragon landing nearby.

"Apologies, my dear, for having taken so long," Laurence said as he tucked in his wings and walked over. "I find I am most unaccustomed to going about with neither servant nor hands which might be relied upon for assistance."

"It is alright; I had a pleasant rest," Temeraire replied after a yawn. "Though I am most hungry now. Might I have something to eat before we go flying about the island?"

"We might not have much time for flying left here today, but you most certainly can have something to eat. There is a bullock set aside in the pen by the cottage where we will be staying," then with a smirk he added, "as well as a large trough for cleaning. Come, follow me; it is not far as the dragon flies."

So, in the evening's golden light, Temeraire followed behind Laurence as they flew away from Funchal over a few ridges towards an open field. Like Temeraire had dreamed weeks ago, they were close to the same length now, but he could not have imagined then all the interesting things upon the ground now sweeping beneath them. If only he wasn't so hungry, he would have stopped to ask Laurence about them all. Just as Laurence had said, there was a bullock waiting there at the field-side cottage, which began lowing anxiously upon the two dragons' approach. This was not without cause, as Temeraire descended upon it direct, not waiting to begin his ravenous feasting. As he ate, Laurence began to explain,

"I having been thinking how we might manage an explanation for my presence here as a dragon, in case it is noted or inquired after, or even if we have to interact with someone while I am in this form. There is regrettably no truthful approach to be had, not without disobeying direct orders, so I believe our only option will be to play-act. So, for the time being, in the company of others my draconic self should be referred to as Gallant, a dragon from the West Indies hatched from a British egg that was lost there. This was the fabrication I used years ago when the Normandy went ashore. Then, without going into any great detail, we might imply that I was recently recognized once more by then-Captain Laurence and then-Lieutenant Riley of the Reliant, and persuaded to join the service; it being mere coincidence that the Reliant encountered the Amitié and your soon-to-hatch egg on the very same return journey."

"Gallant, as in topgallant sails?" Temeraire said between bites. "It seems a great deal of nonsense to act out all that. What are these orders, and why are they so important, that we cannot just say that you are Laurence?"

Laurence pulled his head back in a gesture of startlement, his neck curling upon itself, before blinking a few times, then shaking his head a bit, and at last replying,

"Admiral Croft has ordered us to keep secret the existence of my dual natures and the events pertaining to the manifestation of my draconic form aboard the Reliant. Every other officer of the Reliant has been ordered to likewise secrecy and instructed to dismiss any story about such matters as fictitious—just the sort of tale that sailors are want to tell in response to unusual circumstances. As to their importance…I suppose you have not had the chance to be educated in such matters, so permit me the chance to explain, at least in part. Though I have been set ashore within Navy, as it were, I nevertheless remain a King's officer—I have sworn an oath of service. To disobey such orders would be insubordination and conduct of a most dishonorable sort, even without accounting for the punishments entailed for such a deed. And though you have sworn no likewise oath as of yet—and whether or not dragons do so upon entering the service, I do not know—and thus are not bound as I am, I beg of you to act in accord with them all the same. Pray consider the risks as they present themselves now. If the truth of what I am becomes publicly known, I can only imagine that I shall be regarded not as a man nor a beast, but some monstrous creature in between, and likely be killed or exiled in response."

"What?!" Temeraire exclaimed, his eating momentarily forgotten. "I would never let anyone do any such thing to you!"

Laurence looked to be about to protest at once, but then stopped himself. After a sigh, he replied instead,

"I am heartened by your dedication to my protection, but let us simply avoid any such possibility. I know it is distasteful to prevaricate so, but I do still believe it would be best to simply pretend before others that this form of mine," here flicking out his wings, "is a separate individual from that one," gesturing his head towards the cottage window.

"If you say so," came the disconsolate reply, before Temeraire went back to eating.

They did not end up managing a sight-seeing flight that evening before sundown, but instead did so the next morning, which soon became the habit for the days that followed. Temeraire would sleep at night and during the heat of the day, they would fly together as dragons in the morning, and Laurence, having awoken and went to town in the afternoons to inquire after booksellers and naturalists for any leads in regards to Temeraire's breed, would return in the evening with an ever increasing collection of books to read. One of these evenings, Laurence returned with not just a new book, but a magnificent golden chain bedecked with pearls. Up until then, Temeraire did not have any proper treasure yet (and the very pretty rock they had found on one of their flights was only pyrite, according to Laurence, so that didn't count), and to have Laurence give him such, apparently obtained from some exchange of treasure of his own, made him rumble with delight and gratitude. He marveled over it as Laurence read from a book on mineralogy, trying to appreciate fully every glimmer and sheen in the candlelight. He slept with it clutched in his talons, and upon awakening, he at first tried to think of where he might put it for safekeeping while they were away on their morning flight, but he sadly could not think of anywhere sufficiently safe. He asked Laurence if there might be any possible way he could wear it, to which the harness was offered as a suggestion. As this was better than leaving it behind, and neither of them felt confident with what modifications might be improvised from the supplies Laurence had among his belongings, Temeraire acquiesced even though he only preferred to wear the harness when Laurence was going to ride. Laurence was groggily affixing the chain to the harness (needing to have briefly returned to his human form to do so) when Temeraire spotted a young navy officer walking quickly towards the cottage—it was Battersea.

"Captain Laurence! Temeraire!" the young midshipman called out. "Sir—the dispatch-rider arrived yesterday evening, and said to send word both that he was going to fly direct to Gibraltar with the dispatches, and that a dragon-transport from Halifax is expected to be arriving in port any day now. He anticipates that a senior captain of the Corps…oh, what was the name…Portland, yes, Captain Portland would be sure to fly here at once from Gibraltar, having been waiting for news of the transport, but is likely to attend to the news of Temeraire with even more haste, sir!"

"Thank you, Mr. Battersea," Laurence replied, stifling a yawn. "When might we expect Captain Portland's arrival?"

"My apologies, sir; that would be either late tomorrow evening or sometime the day after that. He said a courier should make it there at full speed in more or less twelve hours, but that Portland's dragon would likely take two days' flying, with a barge stop in between. And—I also have a letter here from a Sir Edward Howe in Porto Moniz?"

"Very good," he said, accepting the letter. "Is there anything else?"

"No sir, that is all."

"Thank you again, Mr. Battersea. Pray give Riley and Wells my best regards."

With a formal nod, Laurence dismissed him, and turning back to Temeraire, opened the letter.

"Ah, Sir Edward will receive us whenever we would like to come. Would you care to fly there this afternoon after your mid-day rest?"

"Could we not go now?"

"My dear, I am afraid not, as I am far too tired at the moment; I feel as though I had scarcely slept before needing to return to my human self just now."

"But why can we not visit him with you as a dragon? You were uncertain as to your breed as well, if I recall correctly. And did you not make mention of Porto Moniz having better shores than the ones we tried to go swimming at previously?"

"You are not incorrect, Temeraire," Laurence replied with an exasperated sigh. "But it is one thing to have a story we might fall back upon if necessary; it is quite another to deliberately seek out a meeting under that name when I requested it under another." But then Laurence saw the intensely pleading look on Temeraire's face, and in his lethargic state, relented. "Very well, I suppose that we might tell Sir Edward that Captain Laurence is troubled by a sleep ailment and so sends his regrets, and that Gallant is accompanying you instead in your eagerness to meet him."

Temeraire nuzzled him in appreciation, before letting Laurence walk into the cottage to return to sleep. It was scarcely a minute later when the light left from the window and Laurence's dragon form took shape again beside the cottage. He yawned, though as one recently awakening rather than one about to fall asleep, and stretched out his wings.

"Are you ready?" Laurence asked. Then, seeing Temeraire's nod, continued, "Very good; would you mind setting the pace? Our heading is generally to the northwest, and I can direct more precisely once we draw nearer."

With that, Temeraire leapt off in flight, and he heard "Gallant" follow close behind. Having a destination in mind rather than flying to enjoy the landscape and other sights, he flew as swiftly as he could without sprinting. Laurence called out "In a hurry, Temeraire?" in a light-hearted tone, and when Temeraire took a quick look back, he could see that Laurence was likewise pushing himself beyond his casual speed, but neither was he straining to do so. They maintained the pace together for the whole flight, and made it to Porto Moniz in close to half an hour. Laurence had them spiral down and land upon a large rocky outcropping jutting out from the seashore, rather than upon the shoreline itself, in a vain attempt to not scare off bathers and vendors. Still, they waited until they saw Sir Edward approaching—the only person not fleeing—before they made the quick hop over to the shoreline proper. As Howe got close enough to see that Temeraire bore a harness but no rider, he halted, a baffled expression coming to his face. Still, the two dragons quickly closed the distance, and Sir Edward inquired of them,

"Are one of you Temeraire? And I do beg your pardon, but where is Captain Laurence?"

Temeraire saw that Laurence was hesitant to respond, even though the play-acting was his idea, so he went ahead to introduce himself.

"You are Sir Edward, yes? I am Temeraire, and I am very pleased to meet you. Laurence needed to sleep, but he said I might come along with Gallant here instead since I was so eager to meet with you."

"Is that so?" Howe replied, bemused. "Well then, it is a pleasure to make both of your acquaintances, Temeraire and Gallant."

"And yours as well, Sir Edward," Laurence began awkwardly, before continuing with something a bit closer to his usual confidence. "Captain Laurence wished to express his regrets that he could not meet with you this morning, but he had told us of your great expertise in the subject of draconic breeds. We have all been quite clueless in regards to Temeraire's, and while I have been content to simply regard myself as being of mixed-breed with some portion as Yellow Reaper, Temeraire insists on obtaining an expert's opinion in my case as well."

"I would be glad to be of assistance, and I greatly hope I might give you both a satisfactory answer. Knowing your particular eagerness, I will do my best to focus upon the matter at hand, and set aside my many other curiosities for now. Still, I do have questions directly relevant to the assessment, so, if I may—first, how old are each of you?"

"Temeraire hatched just about four weeks ago, and I am just shy of thirty years of age."

"Hmm…that would put you rather on the small end for a Yellow Reaper at full growth, Gallant; and Temeraire, you will end up a heavy-weight, that much is certain. Now, my next question: do you know where your egg originated from, Temeraire? Laurence had mentioned something about Rio in his letters, though you do not bear resemblance to any of the South American breeds I know."

"I do not, I am sorry."

"No, no, pray do not worry! Perhaps we might go about the question another way…what languages could you speak upon hatching?"

"I found myself to be fluent in both English and French," Temeraire replied proudly. "Then there are two others I feel like I know, at least in part, though I cannot name them."

"Could you by chance at least attempt to speak something from each of those latter tongues; anything you might remember from within the shell?"

"Hmm…for the first, I believe I can recall someone saying something like 'pater noster, qui es in caelis—'"

"That is the Lord's Prayer, Temeraire!" Laurence interrupted, both surprised and bemused. "In Latin."

"Oh, interesting, so that one is called Latin," Temeraire said in response. "Then the other…'huangdi bixia?'"

"Huángdì bìxià?" Howe asked in shock, though he seemed very particular about the shifts in tone in each of his syllables as he did so. "That is a proper form of reference to the Emperor of China in Mandarin—His Majesty the Emperor. If you have partial knowledge of Mandarin…" He then glanced down at Temeraire's talons, before looking back up and meeting his eyes and inquiring with a great deal of forced restraint, "Temeraire, pray open your wing, if you please?"

He stretched out his left wing, so that he did not hit Laurence with his right one. As soon as the finger-spines had splayed out, Sir Edward's eyes went wide, and he exclaimed,

"Temeraire, by God! You are a Chinese Imperial, a Qīn-Lóng! Simply incredible!"

"A Qin-Long? Long means dragon, does it not?"

"Lóng," Howe replied, emphasizing the rising pitch. "Many words in Mandarin differ only by the changes in pitch, but yes, that is the word for dragon."

"Oh! I must not have heard much of it to have not recognized that, or it was too early on…I would very much like to relearn it properly." Temeraire then felt a wave of sadness as he made a recollection, giving a bit of a glance towards Laurence as he did so. "Though Laurence said that dragons learn language while in the shell; does this mean it is too late for me to do so?"

"Not for one such as yourself! The Imperials and Celestials of the Orient are known to retain that faculty throughout adulthood; le Comte de la Pérouse wrote that an Imperial dragon at the Korean court had requested of him lessons in the French language, and by the time of his departure a month later, the dragon was able to speak it fluently."

"That might be a very helpful ability, would you not say so Lau—Gallant?"

Laurence, who since his interjection about the Latin prayer had been staring in wide-eyed wonder over the identification, managed to stammer out,

"Yes…yes it would; to swiftly be able to speak with our allies of other nations in their native tongues would be of great benefit whenever participating in a joint action."

"Ah, my apologies Gallant!" Sir Edward said. "I have been so taken aback by the magnificence of meeting an Imperial, as few men of Europe have ever done, that I have neglected the request to identify you as well." He took a deep breath to settle his excitement, before he began to ponder Laurence's draconic conformation, the torso and the wing-shoulder joints in particular, "There are several aspects of your conformation that are unusual for a Reaper. Might I ask you to make a short flight, looping about?"

"Certainly, sir," Laurence said with a nod, before taking a few steps back, flaring out his wings, and taking off in flight. He flew in a gradual upward arc, before turning so sharply that it almost looked like he had spun upon an axis, and then glided in descent, returning to exactly where he took off.

"Interesting…" Sir Edward said upon his return, "There is one other aspect I would wish to check—would you permit me to examine the conformity of your air sacs via palpation?"

"You may do so," Laurence replied, though with a somewhat uncertain air.

Howe walked beneath him, and pressed upward over his head against a few locations along the torso of Laurence's draconic form, before nodding his head and stepping back again, seemingly satisfied with his brief examinations.

"I believe I have it. Your smaller size indicates a likely cross with a lightweight breed, which I am reasonably confident is Grey Copper given the scale color variation, breastbone structure, and conformity of air sacs. Several aspects of your wings and the resulting flight characteristics resemble neither of those two, however, but are instead more in line with those of an Anglewing. I would thereby say that you are most likely a cross of Yellow Reaper, Grey Copper, and Anglewing, and with such a mix, perhaps the result of one or more generations of unguided matings in the British breeding grounds."

"Thank you, sir," Laurence replied, with a nod that nearly became a bow, with what appeared to be an attempt to cover for the fact that he well knew his origins were nothing of the sort. "I am much obliged for your insight upon the matter."

"I am most glad to have aided you both! Now, I by no means wish to be rude and impose further upon either the two of you or your captain, Temeraire, but might I ask how long were you planning on visiting?"

"We had hoped to go swimming here afterwards," Temeraire began, "but otherwise did not have other plans for the day?" with an uncertain glance towards Laurence, who only nodded.

"Swimming…" Howe spoke slowly, as if the notion seemed strange to him. "I suppose I should not be surprised on your part, Temeraire, as Chinese dragons are regarded to have an affinity for water. But Gallant, I have never heard of a British beast doing so?"

"That is odd," Temeraire said at once, before Laurence had a chance to speak up. "I have seen him swim many times, and take off in flight from the water's surface from behind the Reliant."

Howe went from curiously surprised to completely shocked at this remark, which Laurence recognized, as he proceeded to ask,

"Is that not a common ability?"

"No…no it is not, Gallant," Sir Edward replied, still stunned. "Anyone I have spoken to from the Corps regards falling to the sea away from shore a death sentence for a dragon, unless a rescue with a transport can be managed despite the difficulties involved. It is not as though dragons will sink and drown—you all would be naturally buoyant due to the air sacs which enable your flight—it is the necessary leaping aloft and downstroke of the wings that cannot be achieved while afloat."

"If this is so unusual…would you care for me to make a demonstration, in case it may aid your scholarly efforts?" Laurence offered.

"Yes! Please do, by all means!" came the enthusiastic response.

So Laurence took off in flight once more, landing in the water not too far out, but enough that it was sufficiently deep that he could not stand upon the bottom. He then swam just enough to now face the shore, and took off with the same series of sharp half-wingbeats he had used so many times before. Once he returned, Howe began speaking quickly, half to himself,

"Oh, oh! Disproportionately larger air sacs to float higher in the water, then the combination of keel and wing joint conformation permitting greater thrust earlier in the stroke…marvelous! I doubt any breeder would have sought it out, but it is quite the fascinating emergent trait. I find that my brief acquaintance with you two has likely provided me with enough material for several addresses to the Royal Society!"

"May I ask you another question, Sir Edward?" Temeraire inquired as soon as Howe finished his exclamation, not wanting to miss his chance to ask about a very important matter unrelated to their breeds.

"Certainly, Temeraire."

"I wanted to know if you have ever heard of men who could become dragons, or dragons who could become men?"

Laurence froze in a panic as Temeraire asked this, and he felt a great pang of anxiety in response, as if he should not have mentioned anything about such a subject, even though he was quite sure that he was only talking about it in general, and not about Laurence's case in particular at all. Sir Edward pondered Temeraire for a moment, and thankfully not noticing Laurence's reaction, replied with a sympathetic smile,

"Do you ask this because you wish to read for yourself, or even make of yourself a scholar? Imperial dragons are highly regarded for their intelligence, and this is quite in accord with Captain Laurence's mention of your great interest in books. Unfortunately, dear creature, despite such abilities of transformation existing in myth, particularly in the legends of the Orient, such a feat is quite impossible given all the discoveries of natural philosophy. In particular, Lavoisier has demonstrated that mass cannot be gained or lost in any physical process, and as you can clearly see, men and dragons are of quite different masses. I am terribly sorry to dash your hopes so, but pray take comfort that your handler seems most willing to support you in your scholarly interests regardless, based on our correspondence."

"He is, of what I know of him," Laurence interjected urgently, having had the chance to recover, before Temeraire could ask anything further of Howe—he was going to ask about those legends. "You have done the both of us a great service; we are indebted to you. I have heard that natural philosophers value detailed observations, so might we repay you by furnishing such, in some manner?"

"Ah, the debt is entirely on my side, to have met with a young Imperial in such a manner. But I would be a poor scholar if I rejected such an offer! If you are planning on engaging here in leisure for some time, I will go at once to my hotel and retrieve my notebooks and texts, that I might make sketches and other observations while you are here, and then I might also supply you with some notes to deliver to Captain Laurence, if you would oblige me, as well as a letter with the humble request that he might report back to me with periodic updates on your growth as you mature, Temeraire."

"I am sure he would be glad to do so," Laurence replied, with a courteous nod and perhaps a bit of nervous eagerness to bring the conversation to a close. "I thank you once again, Sir Edward, on behalf of us all. Let us not keep you any further."

"Of course; thank you, Gallant, Temeraire," Howe said, with a bow to each of the dragons, before departing with great energy in his strides.

They stood there together, watching Howe disappear into the village, before Laurence turned and took a couple paces to step into the shallows of the water, and then he plopped himself down sullenly. As Temeraire set himself down beside him, Laurence spoke up quietly,

"I fear I was rude to Sir Edward, just now, and to you too, Temeraire. I let my anxiety get the better of myself, over fear of what I am becoming known to him, though after his first response it ought to have been clear he would dismiss it as an impossibility. I suppose we might have that in our favor, going forward, how difficult it is to believe and all. That all said…I must ask, my dear…was his supposition correct; do you wish that you could take the form of a man, as I do that of a dragon?"

"It would certainly be nice, to be able to write, and to read for myself when I liked, and it seems much easier for a man to do those things than a dragon. So I think I would like that, if it could be done. But I also understand that it might not be possible, even if not for the reason Sir Edward described, as your second form quite contradicts that. Besides, it is very pleasant when you read to me, so it is no great loss, to only have my one form."

Laurence appeared to be much consoled, as he looked into Temeraire's eyes. He then closed his own, dipped his head down, and stretched out his wing, up, then over, then down, embracing Temeraire beside him. Temeraire nuzzled him in return, his wings fixed beneath Laurence's outstretched one. They remained together so for quite some time, before Laurence at last lifted his head up slowly to gaze out upon the ocean. He then looked down again, beginning to move his forearm back and forth beneath the clear water's surface, seeming to be deeply pondering what he saw. Temeraire tilted his head in curiosity, as regardless of whether or not it was the same thing that caught Laurence's interest, the water flowed in quite an interesting way, the surface rising and falling in the direction of his movement, and not just that of the gentle incoming waves. Temeraire began experimenting himself, first side-to-side like Laurence did, but then up and down, with more and more force each time, until he pushed his talons down quick enough that the water crashed back from each side with enough force to collide and splash directly upward into his nose. He snorted and shook his head, and then heard Laurence chuckling beside him. Temeraire narrowed his eyes at this, before cocking his head ever so slightly, then, with a great rush, swept his foreleg over the water to splash Laurence. Caught off-guard, Laurence got up and took a step or two back, snorting likewise. Then he splashed Temeraire back. So they splashed and played and swam until Temeraire at last grew tired and wanted to take a nap. He found a nice warm spot on another rocky outcropping far off the shoreline, and there he rested. He found himself dozing off quickly, enough so that he did not notice Laurence flying further out to sea and returning with a shark until it was set before him. Temeraire proceeded to eat it with delight, before falling into a deep and pleasant mid-day sleep.

They so enjoyed their morning and early afternoon in Porto Moniz that they returned there the next day. Even though there were a few bathers or vendors that did not scatter this time, after Sir Edward had been left completely unharmed the prior day, there was still a rather angry set of missives delivered to them that following evening, about Laurence letting his dragon (or even dragons) wander about freely where people were. They were not planning on returning anyway, as Captain Portland was expected tonight or tomorrow, and Temeraire was rather looking forward to meeting servicemen who specialized in working with dragons, and also Portland's dragon, whoever that might be. Sure enough, late in the evening, as Temeraire felt himself drifting to sleep as Laurence read to him, there was a messenger running up to the cottage. Laurence went to grab the delivered note, and then walked back to Temeraire to read it.

"It says I am to report to the Commendable without loss of a moment, but that you are to remain behind and not join me. Hmm…very well…I must be off then. I will be back as soon as I able, Temeraire."

He mumbled in acknowledgment, already feeling himself dozing, despite the anticipation he had felt earlier. He was awakened by the unusual sound of the footsteps of a group of men, not just one or two. A couple hours had passed, by the turning of the stars. Laurence was walking beside a tall, thin man in a uniform that looked to be green in the scant light, with gold bars upon his shoulders, and they were trailed by four young men in similarly colored uniforms.

"Oh, Laurence, are these the aviators? Is that Captain Portland with you, with the gold bars?"

By the time Laurence replied, they had walked close enough to where Temeraire was lounging outside the cottage that he could see that Laurence had a hollow, vacant look on his face, which rather concerned Temeraire.

"Temeraire," Laurence said flatly. "I am going to provide refreshments for these gentlemen, and then attempt to turn in for the night. When I return, pray call for Captain Portland to join us outside, but do not say anything beyond that."

Temeraire nodded affirmatively yet anxiously at this strange request, one that was clearly at cause of orders and not any of Laurence's own good sense, and watched as the men headed inside the cottage. Even though it was almost an hour before the light of Laurence's second form manifesting could be seen, Temeraire was too anxious to fall back asleep. Still, once Laurence stepped over to Temeraire, only silently nodding himself, Temeraire did as he was told, and called for Captain Portland. The gentleman walked out alone, closing the door behind him, but once he rounded the corner and saw Laurence as a dragon, he halted immediately, his brows furrowing more sharply than had any man's Temeraire had seen before.

"Who are you?" Portland asked slowly.

"I thought, sir, that you would have gathered that by now," Laurence replied, with just the slightest bit of melancholy creeping past his otherwise flat affect. "If you wish to speak frankly, we should walk; us dragons can only speak so quietly."

Temeraire watched as Portland's countenance shifted, slowly making sense of who he was talking to. Temeraire still puzzled over why recognizing Laurence in his dragon form seemed so difficult to all the men, but perhaps that was just one of the odd things about men, along with all the others. Temeraire could not hear what Portland said next, if he was even saying anything, but his mouth seemed to be forming "Laurence?"

"We should walk, sir," Laurence repeated, before taking off in a direction away from the main path.

As Temeraire kept looking back to Portland as he followed after Laurence, the aviator remained stunned in place for a few more moments, before taking a deep breath and following after the two dragons. Laurence paused once he reached a small grove of trees, and sat down on his hindlegs with tail curled about himself to wait. Portland took a bit, given his relative stature, but eventually caught up, and asked more loudly, but still clearly shook,

"You are the very same Captain William Laurence I met aboard the Commendable, and walked alongside to this cottage?"

"I am. I hope you see now, sir, why both Croft and myself were so resolved upon my inability to continue my service in the Navy, even if a more trained officer ought to take my place as Temeraire's captain."

Temeraire whipped his head back and forth between Laurence and Portland, before stepping protectively and possessively in front of Laurence, even if the effect was somewhat diminished by them being of roughly similar size.

"I am not going to let anyone take Laurence's place, even if they can turn into a dragon like he can," Temeraire spat out venomously. "He. Is. Mine."

Portland looked to be about the say something, but Laurence must not have noticed, as he spoke up once more, nearly pleading to Temeraire,

"Temeraire, my dear, pray listen. Captain Portland, as is his right as a senior officer of the Aerial Corps, has assigned Lieutenant Dayes to relieve me, and so are our orders; no matter how unpleasant, it is my duty to obey. Admiral Croft cannot ever assign me back to the Reliant or her crew given what has transpired, and given what I am and my inability to suppress it like I once did, neither can he assign me to any other ship. Thus, in lieu of resignation from the service upon being relieved as your captain, I had hoped to convince Portland that I might still be of useful service in the Aerial Corps, even if I must do so as a dragon rather than a man."

"But, Laurence, if you were not to remain as my Captain, then would they not be able to order us separately, or even order us to separate?"

"I would do everything in my power to remain alongside you; but, yes, they might give us assignments apart from each other."

"Then I refuse. If we are to follow orders, even though I have yet to see what good they do anybody, then we must do so together as dragon and Captain."

This time, Portland spoke up before Laurence managed to.

"Stop! There is no use; it is no good to continue distressing a dragon—dragons—so. That quite settles it. Captain Laurence," Portland said with a forceful formality of command, before losing his composure upon looking up at a dragon in order to speak as such, and so settled back into a more neutral tone, "you are to remain as Temeraire's captain; you are hereby to be regarded as part of His Majesty's Service within the Aerial Corps. But I will be damned if I have to be the one to deal with all this—a Chinese Imperial won as a prize at sea and a fairy tale brought to life besides. We have to get you both to Aerial Command as swiftly as possible."

Temeraire relaxed tremendously from the mounting rage; it was as if his breaths had been reverberating inside him with the fury he felt. He nuzzled his snout against Laurence's neck, for both comfort and in relief. He thusly both felt and heard Laurence speak in reply to Portland.

"I must presume, then, in absence of any safe overland route, that we are to be sent on the Dominion on her return to England?"

That must be the dragon-transport, Temeraire thought to himself as he settled down by Laurence's side…they might be aboard a ship together once again sometime soon…

"There are, at times, when formations are on the move from the Channel to the Med or back, dragon transports and barges stationed a day's flying from each other well off the coast. But, even if there were any of these in place other than the 36-30 barge between Madeira and Gibraltar, we wouldn't risk a dragonet nor a fresh captain on such a route. That is to say, yes, you will be sent aboard the Dominion, a roughly two week's trip."

"I beg your pardon, sir," Laurence said, quite measured in his tone, "but this…condition of mine means that I take the form of a dragon every time I sleep and then dream, unless I will myself to hold it back. However, I have found that, ever since bonding with Temeraire as his Captain, I can only do so for at most two consecutive nights, by the third, I can no longer effectively resist it."

"Then how long after that until you can transform back to a human…or must transform back?"

"It could be immediately, but that does no good. I could re-enter my human body right away after my second form manifests—"

"Pardon, your second form? Re-enter? What do you mean by that?"

"My apologies, Captain, if you were under the impression that it was a transformation of a single body; it is not. Instead, my dragon form is a second body that appears and disappears from light that exits and re-enters my original human self. If you were to go back to the cottage right now, you would find my human body lying sound asleep on the bed, scarcely any different from any other sleeping man, except that it is impossible to awake me unless I return in this form to it."

"Hmm…so that is quite different from the fairy tales of weredragons the lads and lasses like to scare each other with so much, or some of them secretly long for…" Portland said, and for the first time with a bit of a grin.

Temeraire caught but a moment's confusion in Laurence's face from what Portland had said, before he blinked it away and focused back upon what he was saying prior to the digression, rather than asking about what confused him.

"In any case—I can re-enter my human body right away, but then I reawake as if I had only been asleep for moments; I would then fall right back asleep and end up back in dragon form again. On the other hand, the only limit I am aware of for how long I might stay as a dragon is how long I am willing to leave my human body still and sleeping. If I do not return in order to move about, stiffness sets in to my muscles, and I would not dare risk the types of sores that the bedridden sometimes develop. I have previously stayed as long as one week, and I was terribly sore for a good while afterwards."

"Still…" Portland said, pondering, "I think that might be our only way forward. We can minimize the number of people with knowledge of your condition by having you return from here to England as a dragon." At this, he shook his head a few times before continuing, as if he momentarily was unable to quite accept the reality of the situation, even as he was trying to resolve the problem of how it ought to be handled. "If we have a dedicated surgeon, who has full awareness of the situation, they can attend to your sleeping body as if you were ill and bedridden, and then we send one of my lieutenants along with you to have at least an aviator present. Can't be Dayes—a fine aviator, but far too hot-tempered, and he just spent the past two days thinking that he would be made captain for a heavyweight of a rare and unknown breed, and the past hours thinking that in regards to an Imperial. I'll send Andrews—a bit young for what is at least outwardly an acting-captain role, but he's got a good temper and can keep a matter in confidence when necessary. Very well; would you have a suitable surgeon in mind, or will I need to find one?"

"I am sure, sir, that you would be able to convince Admiral Croft to assign Mr. Pollitt of the Reliant, as he already knows of me. I do not like taking him from Riley, but under the circumstances, there is unlikely to be a better option."

"Very good. That seems enough of a plan for now; it is far too late in the evening, and I still have my officers to deal with. We shall speak again on the morrow, either in regards to the Dominion's arrival if she does so by then, or upon provisions for my dear Laetificat, if we are to wait here for more than a day."

"Very good, sir," Laurence replied, before waiting for Portland to walk away and return to the cottage, and then sprawling out upon the ground.

"That was nearly very dreadful," Temeraire said, when Laurence did not say anything, "but I am glad that he saw that you were my Captain and I did not wish to have another. And now, we have a name for what you are too—a weredragon—even if it is from a 'fairy tale.' Those are like myths and legends, like Sir Edward talked about?"

"In some ways, yes, though not entirely…I think it would be best to just demonstrate, as I am uncertain as to how well I might explain. I will find books with examples that we might read."

"That would be splendid," Temeraire replied, before letting out a great yawn, "but for tomorrow, or once we are in England. I would like to go back to sleep now. Would you stay with me here, though, even if your present self seems quite awake?"

"Of course, my dear. I could not wish to be anywhere else."

Chapter Text

Laurence continued to sit outside Admiral Powys's office at Aerial Command as he had been for over an hour, and he was not looking forward to when he would have to stand again. He and Temeraire had arrived that prior evening at the covert outside Chatham after a long flight from Plymouth with a harness that was designed much more for the dragon's comfort than that of the rider. This had only added to the aches of having left his human body sleeping for two weeks, though Mr. Pollitt had done well enough at staving off the worst side effects. Despite how sorry of a state it had left him in, he could not help but look back fondly upon spending so much time with Temeraire as a dragon.

He once again pulled out from his coat pocket the letter he had received from Sir Edward before their departure from Madeira, the last thing he had read before packing away all his effects and making ready for a weeks-long sleep. Beyond the many declarations of scholarly gratitude, there were his observations and reports on the two dragons, written to him as if he had not been there. And yet, Howe might very well have observed them more keenly than he did himself…

…I hope you will permit me a brief aside of a more sentimental nature. While dragons—based on observations made in the wild, in breeding grounds, or in the Service—are commonly known to brood over eggs in their keeping, paternal or maternal behaviors towards dragonets once they have hatched are seldom reported. However, I cannot envision Gallant's behaviors towards your Temeraire as anything but. I found myself moved by the displays of affection the elder dragon had for the younger and the younger for the elder, as well as the free-spirited joy they had in each other's company. If only more of the fathers and sons of Man, by birth or adoption, possessed such a bond…

Included with the pages of the letters were two sketches, one of a dragon with wing outstretched over his longer and more lithe companion, and another of a dragon in flight with a shark in his foretalons. Laurence brushed his fingers over the sheets…

Not even two months ago, Laurence had stood upon the deck of the Reliant beneath the starry night sky, warm with all that he imbibed during the Christmas celebrations at sea, and staring out over the ocean resolved to propose to Edith. He would request leave at the end of the cruise, set himself ashore for a brief while, and return to Nottinghamshire. Only a few days later they had met the Amitié, and everything changed. Where he once saw a home of his own, he now saw open sky; the warmth of a hearth, now the rising of thermals; a family, now Temeraire. He was not the same man he was before—how could he be, when he now knew his heart to be just as much that of a dragon? He thought for so many years he bore a curse, and that any slip in holding it back would be his undoing. But now? He had been undone, and so set free; he was no longer cursed to only live as half of himself.

Yet, even if Temeraire accepted him for who and what he was, Laurence did not know if anyone else would. He had already seen how the men of the Navy had reacted; he no longer had any place there. But even now ashore, he did not know what he would say to Edith, he did not know what he could say to his mother and father, and he did not know what those admirals on the other side of the door would say of him. He would be an aviator, if for no other reason than the necessity of Temeraire's service, but little else could be said, at least for now. And so, he waited, and listened to the rise and fall of loud arguing voices, their words indistinct.

At last he was beckoned inside, and he rose carefully and slowly. He grimaced as he put weight upon his legs once again, but he walked forward with intent and brought himself past the doors to see both Admiral Powys and Admiral Bowden waiting there for him, the latter gentleman still flushed with temper.

"Captain Laurence, do come in," Powys said. "How splendid Temeraire looks; I saw him eating this morning: already a fair ten tons, I should say, or even eleven. You are to be most highly commended. And you fed him solely on fish while aboard the Reliant and the Dominion?"

"Not solely, sir," Laurence replied, with a warmth in his tone, "but he had a tremendous appetite, and I endeavored to keep it satisfied to the best of my ability. Stores on board were limited, so fish was what was most readily at hand, and we had it in abundance as I could fly and catch it even when he could not."

This brought an immediate look of confusion to both Powys and Bowden. While Bowden remained with a frown and furrowed brows, Powys, upon seeing the other admiral as puzzled as himself, asked of Laurence,

"I beg your pardon, Captain; what do you mean when you say that you could fly and catch fish for him?"

Now it was Laurence's turn to be confused.

"Admiral, sir—did Captain Portland not inform you of my nature in his reports?"

"Your nature? No, but he did make a most peculiar statement, that what you were required the attention of Aerial Command, and that it was a matter he could not trust even to enciphered communication, but was relying upon you and his lieutenant to inform us of direct. I now fear I did not give such words the attention they deserved. So, I must ask, despite the bluntness of the inquiry: what are you, that so concerned Captain Portland?"

"Oh dear," Laurence said under his breath, before answering Powys. "If that is the case, then I can only imagine that what I am about to say will be met with the highest incredulity, but I give you my word that I am answering truthfully. The term Captain Portland used for what I am is a weredragon—a man with the ability to become a dragon. In my particular case, it is a secondary form that can exit ethereally from my sleeping human body, becoming physically real and to my knowledge fully indistinguishable from a proper dragon. This was how I was able to hunt for fish for myself, Temeraire, and the ships' crews."

Seeing that they both were still stunned into silence, he continued,

"Based upon the reaction of Captain Portland and both of you, sirs, I must gather that such a capability is indeed unknown to the Corps, at least outside of pure fiction?"

"Of course it is unknown," Bowden said sharply, at last speaking up. "It is the stuff of fairy tales. And if it were not in perfect accord with what Portland had alluded to, and the circumstances around two dragons being sent aboard the transport, yet only one arriving here yesterday, I would have called you mad to have made such patently absurd claims to us. But as it is…" and he sighed heavily before continuing, "we must take you at your word. Who knows of this, or has witnessed such a transformation?"

"The crew of the Reliant, though Admiral Croft at Funchal ordered all the officers to secrecy, Croft and Portland themselves, Lieutenant Andrews, the surgeon Mr. Pollitt, and of course, Temeraire. I know of no others. I remained in draconic form the entire time aboard the Dominion under the false name of Gallant, so that no such transformations would be witnessed, and my sleeping human body was escorted under Mr. Pollitt's supervision."

"And here we were concerned over the details of your training, and how you might react to the secrets that must be kept in their regard," Powys said wryly. "You being an actual, living weredragon will certainly require further consideration on our part, but I suppose that you holding such a secret will make the others seem inconsequential in comparison. And," he gave a sudden snort of laughter before continuing, "perhaps if you are indeed part dragon yourself, you might find them entirely natural and unremarkable!"

Laurence was a bit hesitant over the mention of such additional secrets, but still acknowledged Powys with a "Very well?"

"First, it is clear that the most suitable place for you to be sent for training is Loch Laggan, and the training master there, Celeritas, is himself a dragon, of almost two centuries' experience."

When Laurence only nodded, but Powys was clearly expecting more of a response, there was a moment's awkward silence before Laurence replied,

"Indeed, it seems only natural that a dragon would train dragons and their crews, especially one of such great experience, but I do also see how that might not be taken well by the public, if it were to become widely known."

Powys seemed satisfied by this, nodding approvingly before continuing,

"Then, second, there is a young Longwing in training there, Lily, to whose formation Temeraire is most likely to be assigned. Now, certain breeds are rather particular in their choice of handlers, and Longwings…well, Longwings completely refuse male handlers."

Another pause, but this from Laurence waiting for further clarification. Not receiving it, he prompted instead,

"So, am I to presume that Longwings report directly to their superior officers, without the mediation of a handler? Or…" and here he was suddenly recalled to Portland mentioning lads and lasses, a remark he had dismissed as referring to the children of insular aviator families, "do you mean to say that they have handlers who are not male?"

"It is the latter," Powys replied. Then with a laugh quite in contrast to Laurence's slowly increasing horror continued, "Could you imagine though? Unharnessed dragons, in the order of command, leading formations? Oh, what the Admiralty would say to such a notion! No, no, the fact that there must be captains who are women already vexes their Lordships most severely."

"I see," Laurence replied slowly, forcing back every instinctive protest to the notion that the Aerial Corps should subject women—and beyond that, even young ladies and girls who must then presumably be trained up all the same—to all the horrors of war. He could hardly see how it would not be better to just let the dragons serve without handlers than to force such service of women and girls. And yet…and yet…he had studied history and literature as a young boy at his parents' insistence, and learned of such individuals as Boadicea and Joan of Arc, or figures of myth like the Amazons and Valkyries. They would not—they could not—be the sort of ladies of polite society he was accustomed to, but such exceptional heroics might still be found amongst women, and with a burst of patriotic fervor, Laurence imagined that if any nation might be capable of inspiring such, it would be Britain.

Still, Laurence was half-lost to his own musings for the rest of his meeting with the two admirals, in which his and Temeraire's assignment to Loch Laggan in Inverness-shire was confirmed, and he was permitted to take their overnight stop at the Allendale Estate in Nottinghamshire rather than the Middlesbrough covert. He was to continue to keep his identity as a weredragon secret for now, but that he should both consult with Celeritas about it and await further dispatches from Aerial Command. And, of course, the existence of dragon training masters and female officers were to be kept likewise secret.

Even if it would make the following day's flight a rather long one, Laurence was glad to have only needed to go as far north as Nottinghamshire; it was already past noon by the time they were able to take off from Chatham. During the flight, Laurence described to Temeraire all that he had been told in his morning's meeting, and Temeraire only objected to the notion that these things must be kept secret; he could not understand why they could not simply be known and accepted. Laurence did not have the heart nor the mind to explain such things properly in the moment, so he instead latched onto the interest Temeraire expressed in the Greek and Norse myths he had referenced in passing. He did his best to recount such tales from his boyhood memory, but in the process he had been talked into promising to obtain even more books, now on folklore and mythology.

They were enumerating their tally of portions of books read and yet to read when they came upon Wollaton Hall. Temeraire in his great curiosity circled over the house several times, which let Laurence spot that there were far too many windows lit for the house to be empty—his parents must be here. He directed Temeraire to land by the barns to the southeast, and before parting, Temeraire asked if he would be joining in dragon form tonight, even if he was far too sleepy for them to do any flying together.

"I suppose since I refrained from such last night, I should try for it, if it could be managed," Laurence replied. "It might take some time, so do not be startled if I return in a few hours and not right away."

"They do not know, do they?" Temeraire asked, eyes drooping and nearly half-asleep already.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your family, they do not know you are a weredragon?"

"I do not believe so; they never made mention of any such thing to me."

"So you cannot…" Temeraire yawned, before continuing, "you cannot sleep inside where it is warm then? It is colder here in England than at sea or on Madeira, after all. Do you have warm attire you could wear when you return?"

"My dear, I will have a care, do not fret," Laurence said as he petted Temeraire's snout.

Temeraire settled into sleep as Laurence left his side to walk to the house. It was indeed occupied, with the lights of the drawing room and many bedrooms lit—a house party. With great reluctance he sent a servant to let his father know of his arrival, then went to his room in the back of the house to make himself a degree more presentable. With fresh bottle-green coat donned, he carefully walked to the drawing room at last, hoping that the lingering stiffness of his muscles might not be too obvious. More than a dozen people beyond his parents were assembled there, Edith and Lord and Lady Galman among them. His mother greeted him fondly, but with a great deal of tension beneath her deliberate composure. His father looked at him disapprovingly and said nothing at all.

After paying his respects to the entirety of the company, which included a short word from Edith that she was glad to see him, a brief address that conveyed nothing as to her sentiments, Laurence was invited to make up a fourth at a card table far from his father's. The game was accompanied by polite conversation, but nothing involved, as the cards took precedence. At no point before supper did he have the chance to make further conversation with Edith, not that he truly wished to do so in so public a setting, as another gentleman, Bertram Woolvey, was quite occupying her attention. Then, at the meal, he was seated at the far side, beside individuals disinterested in his company, and thus forced to sit in silence and bear witness to only the conversations of others—including Woolvey's highly inaccurate talk upon the state of the war. The supper seemed interminable, and once it had concluded and they returned to the drawing room, Laurence took the first polite opportunity to escape. However, he was stopped by one of the servants before he could make it to his room, and thereby informed that his father wished to see him in the library. So, he returned downstairs, unable to delay any further.

"I wonder at you coming here," Lord Allendale said crisply from where he sat behind a writing desk, without any pleasantry, as soon as the door was shut. "I wonder at it indeed. What do you mean by it?"

"I meant only to break my journey," Laurence replied, after a breath to steady himself. "I am on my way to my next posting. I had no notion of your being here, sir, or having guests, and I am very sorry to have burst in upon you."

"I see; I suppose you imagined we would remain in London, with this news making a nine days' wonder and spectacle of us? Next posting, indeed. I thought I made it abundantly clear that no son of mine was to ever enter the Aerial Corps, yet this did not weigh with you. Very well; before I send you off, you will answer me: have the seals upon your back remained fully intact throughout your years in the Navy?"

A great coldness ran down his spine. He had never heard of any such seals, yet Laurence knew they could only refer to one thing: the marks that had been cut through on the Shorewise, the injury that first caused him to awaken as a dragon. Somehow, his father knew, and knew more than he did.

"Sir, do you refer to the fractal markings upon my shoulder blades? If so, no, they have not remained intact."

"What?!" his father shouted as he slammed his hands down upon desk and rose to his feet. "When were they severed?"

"At the age of seventeen, sir, when I took injury during battle," Laurence said with a nearly growling undertone. Despite being wide awake, his draconic self felt very near, just as it had when Temeraire took off into the storm, though now from fury rather than panic. "Have you known of the curse I bore all along, and told me nothing?!"

Lord Allendale grimaced and pulled his shoulders back, as if something upon his own back had suddenly grown painful. Yet he did not delay for an instant, as he replied with great anger,

"The curse you bear? No, that we bear, and that my father did, and his mother before him; that which our family has kept secret and sealed away for generations. No matter how long you have foolishly left them broken, we must get you to the monks without delay to repair the seals, before any further risk can be brought about by proximity to dragons. Tell me you have at least managed to have never awoken in altered form and given yourself over to the beast within?"

Laurence knew that he was speaking to his father; he knew how propriety demanded of him to speak. But he was now far beyond any of that.

"I cannot tell you so," he said with a venomous grin, "These past seven weeks I have spent near equal time as a dragon as I have as a man, and I regret none of it. I will not have that sealed away; I will not be cursed to never spread my wings again."

Lord Allendale winced even more severely in pain as he flew into an even greater rage; whatever likewise yet still intact seals he possessed must have been straining to hold back his draconic self.

"How dare you, you impudent—this will be the ruin of our family, if you have not already brought it about by your witless deeds. You will—"

Yet even as his father raged, Laurence felt himself brought to a cool stillness. He had already been turned out, so he need not continue to argue—he need only depart.

"—I will leave at once, sir," Laurence said sharply. "I am sorry to have ever troubled you so."

As he turned to leave, he saw that Lord Allendale was about to say something, but it was taken up in a groan of pain. Before he walked out the door, Laurence almost thought that he tasted singed cloth upon the air.

As Laurence stamped along the path back to the paddock where Temeraire was, he felt himself on a knife's edge. The profound anger over his father's withholding of any and all knowledge about his nature as a weredragon had not diminished. Somehow, perhaps by that same intuition that told him how to return to his human body that first time, he knew that he only had to lean into this anger a bit more, uniting it with the growling fury that roiled inside his chest, and he would take draconic form, rendering his current self unconscious and left behind. He now realized that particularly strong emotion might very well be another route by which his second self could be manifested, and it was perhaps the weight of that realization that made him will it back.

Temeraire had already been curled in upon himself asleep, though too late did Laurence realize the noise he was making on his approach; a pang of guilt struck him as Temeraire twitched awake and looked towards him with concern.

"What has happened?" Temeraire asked. "What has so upset you?"

The words caught in his throat as Laurence tried to reply, the disparate anger, hurt, guilt, and comfort all rending his heart. It was enough, even beyond his force of will; the light left him, his human body collapsed, and he took shape as a dragon above it.

His shoulders barely had the chance to slouch before Temeraire was up and at his side, anxiously flicking out his tongue towards both of Laurence's forms as if trying to sense what was wrong. Apparently not sensing anything physically unusual, he asked,

"Laurence, that has not happened before, has it? What is wrong? Will you be able to go back?"

Laurence turned his head and looked eye to eye with his dragon, who was hunched in a worried posture, and felt all the other emotions dim except for the immense comfort of Temeraire's care for him.

"No, it has not happened before, my dear; though I feel I could re-enter my human self, I am not sure that I want to yet. Temeraire, pray do not let yourself be upset by what I am about to say, but…my father knew. Up until I met you, I believed this part of me was a curse, something monstrous to be spurned and repressed and avoided, and I believed I bore it alone. But apparently the trait has been passed down within my family, and I was never told anything of it. Instead, it was sealed away by markings on my back that I do not understand, markings that were cut through by debris during a battle and thus broken. My father is a weredragon as well, but with what I can only assume are fully intact seals…though they appeared to cause him much pain as they strained to hold back his draconic side from manifesting in his anger towards me and my embracing of this side of myself."

Temeraire was now clawing into the soil, staring in the direction of the house where lights had slowly begun to go out, breathing heavily as he apparently did battle with his own emotions. For a moment, his breathing began to quicken and a reverberating growl began to form. Laurence, in fear that Temeraire was about to do something rash, was about to protest, when Temeraire gave a curious tilt of his head and the growl faded.

"That is not your father? Only women wear those sorts of clothes, no?"

Laurence turned about, careful not to step upon his unconscious human form beneath him, and saw in the moonlight his mother departing from the house in their direction. The movement must have been enough to spot them, for he heard her cry out,

"Will?"

He froze, paralyzed by what he did not know and by what he feared. Temeraire wordlessly looked out at Lady Allendale, then back to Laurence, then down to his unconscious human body. Given that Laurence did not stir in response, Temeraire took it upon himself to caressingly pick up Laurence's human body and lean it in a comfortable posture against the side of the barn by which they stood. Laurence had a distant awareness of this happening to his other body, feeling vague echoes of the sensation transmitted back to him. Yet, he remained standing still, even as Lady Allendale drew close and looked directly up at his draconic face instead of his sleeping human self, and proceeded to ask through tears,

"Will? Are you alright?"

He could not find any words to say, but only kept looking down at his mother.

"You…you are so much larger than you were as a babe, when I last saw you with scales," Lady Allendale said, a bit of warmth entering her otherwise mournful tone. "You and Henry were so sweet as baby dragons, only wanting to snuggle tight, never wailing or crying like your true human selves did. But your father said it was unnatural, that it was a curse that his grandmother had brought into the family line, but which need not burden you, if only it were sealed away like it had been for him. We counted it a blessing that George did not inherit the curse, and even more so as the years went by and neither you nor Henry wed and had children who might have received it from you. Your father hoped it might simply fade away, and that none of his descendants even needed to be burdened with the knowledge of it. That is all to say, my dear Will—pray do not be upset with your father, he only intended the best."

Laurence still did not know how to respond; there were too many things he wished to say…or did he not wish to say anything at all? So, it was instead Temeraire who spoke.

"Why would it be a curse, to become a dragon?"

Lady Allendale turned to regard him, his black hide glossy in the moonlight and his stature taller than that of her son's even at his young age.

"I suppose it would not seem so, to one who was born as such…" she began, before trailing off in realization. She drew a sharp breath, then, keeping herself from fully weeping, she looked back towards her son, "You…you see it as a blessing instead?"

"I do. I count myself very fortunate to have bonded with Temeraire, Mother, and it is the greatest joy to be able to fly alongside him."

As he had said this, he had gazed affectionately up at Temeraire beside him, who in turn had stepped close, and nuzzled him affectionately against his neck. Laurence closed his eyes and leaned against him, and when he opened them once more, he saw his mother with one hand over her chest and the other wiping away tears with a handkerchief.

"I never imagined…I ought to have…" she said, stumbling over her words, before taking a deep breath, and declaring, "Temeraire, I want you to know that you will always have a place here. Will has taken you into his care; you are family."

"But have I not been disowned?" Laurence said, nearly breathlessly. But in that same moment, Temeraire had bowed his head down to Lady Allendale, and ever so gently nudged her shoulder with his snout. She sniffled, then reached out her hand to pet him.

"So very soft, just as your scales were," she said absently, before looking up at Laurence, her hand still on Temeraire's snout. "No, my dear son, your father has not disowned you; he made that very clear to me even in his tempered state. He does not wish to make a melodrama of it, any more than it has already become. Though, after you depart on the morrow, you should still take care to not visit for a time, to give him a chance to settle his anger. While I might have some hope of talking some sense into him in time, to at least reconcile him to your chosen path, and your bond to the young dragon I see you hold so dear, neither can I reproach his central fear over how this all might reflect upon the family name if the full truth were ever to become known. I have not seen him that upset before; the markings had grown so hot as to have scorched through to his coat."

"Pray convey my apologies for having upset him so," Laurence said, automatically, as his thoughts were still elsewhere.

"I shall," Lady Allendale replied, before going quiet for a few moments. "Do you have everything you might need for the night? I apologize that I cannot offer better hospitality to creatures of your size."

This brought Laurence back to himself; he looked towards his unconscious human body, the evening dress quite in contrast to the surrounding turf and barn. He huffed a bit, before saying,

"I ought to exchange my attire and fetch a blanket. Temeraire, I should be back shortly."

He turned and reached out with a foretalon, letting his present self disappear into light. Awake as a man once more, he stood up and brushed himself off, before walking back towards his mother, her face still filled with both sorrow and joy. Temeraire rumbled softly, before lowering himself back down to return to sleep. Lady Allendale took Laurence's arm, and they walked back to the house together. Once inside, Laurence paused a moment, before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out two sheets of paper, and giving them to his mother.

"These were drawn by a naturalist, Sir Edward Howe, when we were on Madeira. He was unaware that the dragon and myself were one and the same…but perhaps you might appreciate having these, knowing of both sides of me."

"I will," she said quietly, as she beheld them. "You will still be able to keep correspondence though, while in the Corps?"

"Of course, you may write to me care of the Corps at Loch Laggan covert, in Inverness-shire; that is where we are to train."

They made their farewells for the night and parted, and Laurence, mindful to not pass by where any of the company was staying, went to his room to don instead an old frock coat and worn pair of trousers. He fetched a blanket from the stables on his way back to Temeraire, and as he approached, the dragon stirred once more to welcome him close. He stretched out upon Temeraire's foreleg, and thusly settled against the warm hide, he quickly drifted off to sleep. As soon as his mind went to dreaming, he welcomed once more that second half of himself, and took shape as a dragon. Wordlessly, he turned about and tucked himself against Temeraire's other side, who then swept his wings forward to encircle both of Laurence's forms and hold them close.

"Oh, I am hungry," Laurence heard Temeraire say as he startled awake at the sound of his belly rumbling. He tucked back his wings, and Laurence got up to return to his human form, then having done so, climbed down from Temeraire's foreleg.

"I will leave you to your breakfast, and go to have my own." Then, taking note of the hour, with the light of dawn on the horizon but the sun not yet risen, "We have a full day of flying ahead of us, so it will be good to get an early start."

The early hour was also fortunate in that it let him return to the house once more without being seen. He washed and put on his flying dress, and went downstairs to the breakfast table, where the first dishes were still being laid out. Against every expectation that none of the party would yet be awake, he found Edith already there, with only an untouched cup of tea before her.

"Good morning," she said, outwardly calm and bright, but with a tension that could not be hidden. "May I pour for you?"

"Thank you," Laurence said in reply, as his mind raced. He had some idle hope that he could offer an excuse for his early departure, compose in his mind what he wished to say to her while on today's flight, then write and send the letter from Loch Laggan at the earliest opportunity. But it would not be—whatever he had to say, he would have to say now.

It was not until the servants had finished the preparations and left the room that either of them spoke again.

"I hoped I might have a chance to speak with you before you left," Edith said quietly. "I am so very sorry, Will; I suppose there was no other alternative?"

"No, Temeraire had taken to me, then I to him. Pray do not be sorry for my sake; I have put you in wretched enough of a position as it is."

"I cannot say I understand, but from what little I have heard of dragons and of aviators, I suppose I ought to have expected as such, when I heard of you."

For the briefest of moments, a wild thought fluttered in his mind, quite unlike any he could ever have expected to have. What if she could understand? What if he could take her into the sky with him, what if she could know of the great love that dragon might have for man and man for dragon, what if…she might feel what it was like to soar on wings of one's own? But it could not be—he was bound by duty, now from both family and service, to keep his true nature secret, and she was still bound by every aspect of the sort of society he was flying away from. All he could do was set her free.

"I find myself changed, Edith; I am not the man you knew. The only regret I have upon setting out on this new course is that I have caused you such pain by my inability to keep the understanding we had. In this have I failed you; I have not been true to my word. I dare not even ask for your forgiveness, so I only beg of you: pray accept all my best wishes for your happiness."

Edith stared at him, glossy-eyed and still, and for a moment not even a breath could be heard. Seconds passed before she bowed her head and inhaled with shuddering breaths. "Oh, Will…" she tried to say, but it was clear that whatever other words she wished to speak would not come. Her eyes then darted upward and scanned the room. She rose from the table, and spoke quickly, "Pray excuse me," before she rushed out to find what privacy she might have.

After a few shuddering breaths of his own, Laurence steeled himself, and filled his plate. He had no appetite, not after this, but he did not want to stop along the way, and so he forced himself to eat. But there was some other hunger inside him, in that strange space where each of his natures lingered and bled into each other, and so having begun, he found himself eating as ravenously as a dragon who had not eaten since the prior day. No other company had arrived while he was there, except for Miss Montagu who came down just as he was making ready to leave. He gave the barest of polite greetings before departing. He would not see his father, who always rose late, nor his mother, as he could only imagine how late she had retired after their conversation. But that was just as well; it would be all the sooner he could return to Temeraire's side.

As Laurence approached with the bucket and rags he had fetched from the stables, he saw that Temeraire's chops were covered with the gore left behind from his feasting—a good three or four deer, by the looks of the antlers that laid upon the ground. At least they had both eaten well before the long flight.

"I tried to bathe in that pond," Temeraire said, half in apology and half in complaint, as Laurence began cleaning him, "but it is too shallow, and the mud came into my nose!"

Laurence laughed softly and light-heartedly, as he found he did often these days, and looked back upon Wollaton Hall to the northwest, its windows glistening in the golden morning light. His home looked different, now that he knew what was held within. A weredragon father, believing himself cursed, had two sons who inherited the trait. He set them both on a path to the Church, but one of them ran from home, seaward. And now that same son flew from home, skyward.

Chapter Text

The sun dipped below the horizon as they made their final descent towards the covert north of the shores of Loch Laggan. With this having been his longest flight so far, Temeraire had set a comfortable pace with a great deal of gliding, and he flew as such for ten hours, with but two stops for water. Laurence had spent nearly that entire time ruminating over all that had transpired the prior evening and that morning—all that he now knew and all that he had done. There was a brief interruption when Temeraire tried to offer encouragement—that they had the training to look forward to, and that there would be a great many dragons to meet at the covert. Yet Laurence's pensive mood was swift to return. He had been untrue to his word to Edith, he had gone beyond the pale before his father—these were not things that he could let go of easily, even if they had come easily in the moment. But at the heart of it, neither could he regret the decisions so entailed; he could not have forced Edith to have been the one to put an end to their understanding, and he could never have acceded to his father's demands to seal away his draconic side.

But the demands of duty were many, so the flight now drawing to a close as Temeraire landed in the courtyard, he forced himself to turn away from such musings and focus instead on the immediate tasks at hand. Report to Celeritas, find how food was to be arranged for Temeraire, and ensure that his quarters might be sufficient for his own particular needs. At least a place for Temeraire to rest was immediately apparent—the flagstones of the courtyard were heated, and a fair number of dragons were sprawled out upon them, or even in the case of a few Winchesters, upon the dragons so sprawled out. A few servants came out in haste to meet him, to take away his baggage and point him through the corridors of the complex in the direction of Celeritas.

As he exited onto another courtyard, he was met with the sight of six dragons gathered there in the diminishing twilight and steady lantern light. Five of them— a Longwing, two Yellow Reapers, a Grey Copper, and a lightweight dragon of silver-grey, blue, and black he could not place—bore harness and full crews, but the sixth and by far oldest—a Malachite Reaper, though on the smaller side—did not. The elder training master was giving his observations and critiques on this formation's performance in a drill they had just concluded. Laurence held himself at a distance so as to not interrupt the proceedings—or at least that had been his intent. The Grey Copper met his gaze first, and when she tilted her head in curiosity, the other lightweight whipped his head about to see what had drawn her attention. This in turn made the young Lily—Laurence had heard the Longwing's name referenced in Celeritas's remarks enough to have confirmed who this was—curious, and soon after that the whole formation of five was now staring at him. Celeritas finished the point he had been making, took note of the trainees' distraction, and turned to consider the newly arrived human, his eyes reflecting the lanterns' glow as he did so. He nodded, to which Laurence gave a bow, before turning back pointedly to the formation and continuing on as if there was no interruption at all. One by one the dragons, and, Laurence noted, their captains aboard their backs, returned their attention to Celeritas.

Once the training master had finished his instruction, but before he dismissed the formation, he turned once more and called out,

"Captain Laurence, I presume?"

At this, Laurence gave an acknowledging nod and walked across the distance from where he had been standing. Even as he still approached, Celeritas continued,

"Admiral Powys said you would be arriving, and as you are here when Lily's formation is gathered, we might as well make introductions. Formation, this is Captain William Laurence of Temeraire, who, as you were recently informed, we hope to have join you alongside Maximus. Captain Laurence, this here is Lily, with her Captain Harcourt," and as Celeritas said this, the Longwing at the center gave a brief nod, as did the slim aviator with long red hair standing at the base of her neck, "Messoria, with her Captain Sutton," then one of the Yellow Reapers and her captain did likewise, "Immortalis, with his Captain Little," the other Yellow Reaper, "Dulcia, with her Captain Chenery," the Grey Copper, "and Nitidus, with his Captain Warren," the lightweight of unknown breed.

"Thank you for the introduction, sir, and a pleasure to make the acquaintance of you all," Laurence said, with a bow in their direction.

Celeritas gave another nod towards Laurence, before turning and addressing the formation once more.

"Remember that you will have in-flight signal training with Captain Wexler tomorrow morning, as I will be otherwise occupied with assessments. That will be all."

Laurence waited at attention as the dragons turned to take off, the lightweights, then the Reapers, and finally Lily. The dragons seemed to regard him well enough, with mostly curiosity if anything, but the light was too dim to read much of any of the humans' expressions where they were dragonback. Once the trainees had departed, Celeritas turned to Laurence, with a more appraising eye than he had previously.

"Hmm…you are a good deal older than most handlers; but that is often all to the good when we must hurry along a young dragon, as in Temeraire's case we certainly must. Now, he has no special offensive capabilities showing, as I understand it?"

"No, sir; no directly offensive capabilities in particular, however, he possesses the ability to remain near-stationary in flight, with a certain forward-and-back sweeping of his wings, which is a trait of maneuverability I understand few dragons possess."

"Few?" Celeritas said, followed by something between a snort and a scoff. "If it is indeed as you say, it very well might be unique to his breed. I have never heard of such an ability myself. Temeraire will have to demonstrate tomorrow morning. To have a heavyweight with such maneuverability…he is expected to be of heavy-combat weight, correct?"

"Yes, sir; he is at present near eleven tons in weight, and it is nearly seven weeks since he was hatched."

"Good, that is very good, he will likely be at least twenty tons at full growth then, and we might expect as such by the end of the summer, or at least nearly so. So, all is as I had heard in his regard. Now in your regard—" At this, Laurence gulped a bit, but maintained his composure, and Celeritas continued without pause, "Powys made several strange remarks in his latest dispatch. We were indeed able to grant the request for quarters with a window facing away from any other occupied portion of the covert and at no more than 25 feet in height from any ground or elevated platform beneath…"

Laurence hoped that he was not interrupting as Celeritas trailed off in his speech, but this had taken him quite by surprise, particularly in its specificity.

"Sir, I was unaware that Admiral Powys made such an exacting request on my behalf, but I must indeed express my gratitude for these arrangements, as they will aid in maintaining secrecy as I have been ordered. Did he give explanation as to why?"

"No, he did not," Celeritas replied with a shaking of his head back and forth. "But as I understand it, from what he implied, it is indeed a confidential matter, so I am not surprised that he chose to rely upon you to convey it, as I must have any written correspondence read to me by an intermediary. Hmm…as much as I had hoped to have my curiosity sated at once, it has now grown too dark to fly off to a location where we might ensure a more private word. Return before dawn at seven o'clock tomorrow morning, that we might discuss, then you shall have a brief interlude to prepare for assessments, which will commence at half past eight. As for now, ask Lieutenant Granby to show you about, as best as he is able before the officers' supper, and in particular the feeding grounds. At the present hour, you will find him in the officers' club."

"Very good, sir," Laurence said in formal acknowledgement of the command, though he would have greatly preferred to have had such a meeting before going to sleep tonight, so that he might not be left in uncertainty as to how the covert's commander would have him manage his weredragon nature.

Still, as Celeritas took wing over to what presumably must have been his private quarters elsewhere along the cliff face, Laurence turned about to step inside and find a servant to direct him to the officers' club. It did not take long to find one, nor to follow his directions, so shortly he was crossing beneath the archway and was greeted by the raucous sound of many loud conversations. Small tables were spread about, though not even half of them were occupied, and not an officer in sight had their coat on. As he stood just within, momentarily taken aback by such seemingly good-natured yet unrefined surrounds, a young man with bright yellow hair who sat at the nearest table spun out of his chair, and shouted in a voice that swiftly drew the attention of the entire room,

"Hullo there, Captain! You just arrived? If you don't mind my saying so, you look a bit lost."

Blinking away his startlement over such informality—he ought to have expected as such, it was the reputation of aviators after all—he replied with as neutral of a tone as he could muster,

"Yes, I have just arrived; Captain Will Laurence, of Temeraire."

And before he could continue with any other pleasantries of greeting, a near general cry went up from the assembled officers: "the Imperial!" Many of the younger fellows began getting up and rushing past him out of the room, in a near race for the courtyard. But at a table farther back, one where none of the officers got up, a tall lanky man with dark hair cocked his head and so caught Laurence's attention. While Laurence could not hear what he said amidst the din of moving chairs and shuffling steps, from the movement of his lips Laurence thought he might have said instead: "the enigma."

Once the crowd had cleared, the young man put out his hand for a handshake, saying,

"Midwingman Ezekiah Martin, and you can forget my first name now that you have it, if you please."

"A pleasure," Laurence replied, caught between the polite formality that was his expectation in the service and the politeness of instead matching the manner in which he was addressed. "Would you happen to know of one Lieutenant Granby? Celeritas directed me to ask him to show me about before supper."

Martin turned to scan the room, but did not even get the chance to give an indication before that dark-haired man at the far table waved and nodded in their direction. For a moment Laurence stood still, expecting that the lieutenant, having given acknowledgement, would approach him, but Martin began walking towards the table at once, clearly expecting Laurence to follow. So he followed in turn, and only then did Laurence notice that one of the officers seated there was a young woman, having been more or less facing away from the entrance, and she wore clothing no different than any of the young men. This startled him for a moment, even though it ought not have done so—if women within the ranks were to be kept secret outside of them, of course they would have to wear the same attire, and Captain Harcourt from earlier had been wearing an aviator captain's uniform just the same as the others. Though, in the case of this young officer, the informality of the Corps meant that Laurence only made out her rank of lieutenant by the coat slung over the back of her chair.

At least these officers had the decorum to stand to make introductions, and so Laurence shook the hands of Lieutenants Nevitt, Ainley, and Bennet, the last of whom was the young woman, and learned that they were all prospective captains here waiting for their assigned dragons' eggs to hatch—Yellow Reaper, Malachite Reaper, and Longwing, respectively. Despite his company, Lieutenant John Granby was unassigned. Granby excused himself from the table and the card game they were engaged in, and bid Laurence onward for an abbreviated tour, with Martin cheerfully tagging along. Once they were out in the hallway and proceeding towards the stairs, Granby began shaking his head, and said to Laurence,

"So you're the naval fellow that got all of Laet's crew worked up and confused to no end?"

"I beg your pardon," Laurence replied hesitantly, "Laet?"

"Laetificat," and once Granby saw recognition dawn for Laurence, he continued, "I was assigned to her until grounded by injury and sent up here, given all the young dragons coming up. Never have I received more letters at once: most of them perplexed at how odd Portland was acting on Madeira around you, Temeraire, and some feral Yellow Reaper cross that was supposedly following Temeraire around; then Dayes fuming about the 'untrained Navy clodpole'—his words, not mine, mind you—who stole his step without a word of explanation from Portland as to why; and finally Andrews, who said he was sworn to secrecy and could not explain why, but nevertheless encouraged me to 'endeavor however possible' to get assigned to yours and Temeraire's crew. And Andrews's was sent from Plymouth, not Funchal or Gibraltar, so he clearly must have come up with you on the transport. I don't suppose you care to enlighten us, or even can?"

"I am most sorry; I cannot. I have been ordered to secrecy just as Lieutenant Andrews has."

"The enigma…" Granby muttered under his breath, all the while continuing to lead them onward.

Martin was just starting to ask about the capture of Temeraire's egg when they reached the end of a hallway and Granby opened the door to a rather spacious circular room, clearly in one of the towers of the stone fortifications.

"I'll get the lamps," Martin offered, as it seems the servants had simply deposited his baggage then left. "But, my, they put you at the corner? You will have the wind howling at all hours."

As the room became lit, he saw more clearly the large curved windows—generally towards the east, where a portion of the reflective surface of the lake below could be seen even now through the gap of a cirque. He walked over to the leftmost window, seeing through it to the northeast only the darkness of night, and opened it to stick out his head to look around. The room looked to be on an elevated second floor—easy enough to reach in dragon form from the ground below if he reared up, but probably a bit too much of a stretch to reach down from the stone wall above. Mapping this corner tower to what he had seen from aloft, he knew there was indeed no portion of the covert beyond the wall in this direction, only the raised terrain of a spar beyond that just so happened to also block the line of sight between this part of the covert and the village at the easternmost point of the lake, some six miles distant.

"It seems perfectly good to me; though, if I may ask, are the floors above and below also used for quarters?"

"Why, you looking to sneak out in the middle of the night?" Martin asked in jest. "Below is just storage, and above I think is another room, though I don't know if anyone's there?"

"No, it's unoccupied at the moment," Granby filled in, while he began scrutinizing Laurence once more, "though it's one of the few private quarters left open, so I would hardly be surprised if it gets claimed by a new captain if one of the eggs hatch before Lily's formation is done training."

"Very good, thank you," Laurence said, as he took off his sword and set it on the writing desk, to leave it behind and so reduce the formality of his attire by at least some amount…he still did not wish to forgo the coat. He had half a mind to ask where he might find a servant to aid in the rearrangement of furniture, but stopped himself—he had already raised far too much suspicion and did not want to have to explain to these individuals why he wished to have the bed moved alongside that particular window.

"So, the feeding grounds next, Captain?" Granby inquired, once it was clear that Laurence was done surveying the room. "I presume you'd wish to see your dragon fed before you yourself head to supper?"

There was something probing in the tone of Granby's remark, as if he meant to test Laurence's attitudes towards Temeraire's needs. This made him pause for a moment, during which Martin interjected, seemingly innocent of Granby's ploy,

"Oh, we ought to show him the baths first, and the dining hall along the way. The baths are something to see; they were built by the Romans, you know, and they are why we are all here at all."

"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Martin, but unless these baths are also used by dragons to clean themselves after their feeding, then I must decline, as I was under the impression that the officers' supper was soon and that my tour must be brief. Therefore, Mr. Granby, I would indeed appreciate you directing me to the feeding grounds, that I might instruct Temeraire how to utilize them, and perhaps you might tell me more about of these baths along the way, Mr. Martin."

Granby blinked in confusion as if something he had said puzzled him, but still nodded and gestured to follow. As Laurence left in turn, Martin stumbled after, saying in all curiosity,

"I beg your pardon, sir, but am I to gather from what you said that Temeraire bathes after eating? Is that some quirk of him being a Chinese dragon?"

Granby did not turn, but clearly his attention had been caught by the question, and was listening intently for how Laurence responded.

"Indeed, he bathes, or I wipe him down, or both." The thought that he himself also did his best to at least rinse off after eating in dragon form, even if there was no one to likewise wipe him down, could of course not be mentioned. "I mean no disrespect in saying this, but I am startled to learn that this might be considered a quirk. Do British dragons not typically mind their hygiene so?"

"Oh, they still clean themselves," Martin replied with a nonchalant but still somewhat dismissive air, "but like a cat does, licking their chops and talons. As far as I know, none of them have ever asked for anything different. But, I suppose as long as you take him down to the loch proper and not any of the pools up in the valleys nobody should complain. Hopefully it's not too cold for him, or does he also have a human's preference for warm baths?" this last said with amusement, but fondly rather than mockingly.

"He certainly enjoyed the waters of Madeira, but neither did he make any complaint over the wintertime coolness of the waters here. It should suffice," Laurence said with a resolute tone of considering the matter closed; yet again he felt he was treading too close to his perspectives as a weredragon.

Thankfully Martin went right to his recounting of the origins of the Roman baths and their layout and features, with a particular emphasis on trying to paint a picture with words of the creches in which the dragon eggs were housed. This lasted the full span of time it took for them to make their way towards a ledge on the side of the training valley that overlooked the feeding grounds at the far end. Here Granby explained, pointing towards a brazier or bonfire in the distance where even now a herdsman or two could be vaguely made out, how the appropriate number of beasts would be selected and sent out into the valley for the dragon to hunt down. Laurence had been caught, however, upon the statement that they only did so when signaled from the ledge, which was clearly only meant for human use.

"Mr. Granby, how then might a dragon signal for themself when they need to obtain a meal?"

Granby looked completely baffled by such a question, but still replied,

"They are not expected to do so; they either join in the common feeding times, or their captain does so, or if their captain is indisposed, then one of their crew might act on the captain's behalf."

"So, am I to gather that dragons without captains are not commonly found at this covert?"

Granby shifted to yet another look of confusion as he responded,

"No, unharnessed dragons are kept in the breeding grounds, and while there are a fair number of wild ferals that are known to live throughout the Highlands, they are not given provender here. I suppose Celeritas does not have a captain anymore, not since I was a cadet, but he is a rather exceptional case, and he still has what amounts to a small crew in any regard. Do you ask for any particular reason?"

Laurence bit his tongue as yet again an aviator seemed to make little distinction between without captain, unharnessed, and uncooperative or feral. If his draconic self were to be seen beside Temeraire, he feared that this was how he was going to be regarded, no matter how he conducted himself. And yet, there was nothing to be done; he could only keep the secret and rely upon Celeritas's management of the situation, whatever that would end up being. So, he simply replied, despite it having too much of the taste of a lie,

"No, Mr. Granby, merely curious."

Despite the evening hour, with clouds overhead and the moon not yet risen, Temeraire still managed to get his meal followed by a quick bathing at the lake. Once they had returned to the courtyard and Temeraire began taking off his own harness, it became immediately apparent from the curious stares of those dragons still awake that this was something rather out of the ordinary. It nearly made Temeraire put it back on, but Laurence encouraged him and said that he should be free to do as he preferred. So, Temeraire indeed kept it off, though he held onto it in his forehands rather than handing it over to any of the ground crewmen, that he might fiddle with the gold-and-pearl chain still affixed to it.

However, having taken such time, Laurence walked into the dining hall to find the meal well underway and nearly every seat at the senior officers' table already taken. He spotted a vacant one beside a tall, blond man who, quite in contrast to nearly every other aviator's hastily put-together appearance, wore a neckcloth that was neatly folded and a coat that was recently pressed.

"I beg your pardon, sir," Laurence spoke carefully as he approached, to not interrupt any nearby conversation. This having caught the man's attention, he offered a hand and said, "Captain William Laurence, of Temeraire, at your service. I am newly arrived this evening; might I join you?"

"Captain Jeremy Rankin, at yours," came the courteous reply. "And you are most welcome to join."

Having made the acquaintance, Laurence found himself rather delighted by the fortune of meeting a gentleman of such refinement, as uncommon among aviators as it seemed to be, at his very first meal at the covert. This naturally led to him learning that Rankin was of likewise station—the third son of an earl—though of a family long connected to the Corps and the keeping of dragons. Throughout the cordial meal, they discussed matters such as their favorite pastimes and the happenings of London society. Though Laurence could not help but notice that as he kept himself engaged in conversation with this gentleman, that many of the other aviators around the table began to look at him askance—it nearly seemed as if he was making some unknown misstep with respect to whatever standards of propriety they held. In particular, he saw Captain Harcourt with Lieutenant Bennet and another woman of likewise rank on the opposite side of the table regard the two of them with suspicion before fixing back on their own conversation. However, having no clue as to what merited such judgment, he set the concern aside in his mind for now.

As they stood upon the conclusion of the meal, Rankin invited him to chess the following evening, not wishing to impose upon him tonight after such a long day, but still with great eagerness to play. Laurence happily accepted the invitation, so long as it was for an after-supper engagement, as he suspected he would either be occupied with training duties or keeping company with Temeraire between the dinner and supper hours. Rankin seemed understanding of this, though he encouraged Laurence that dragons were for the most part capable of managing on their own, and that he need not sacrifice the pleasure of human company to spend all his free time with his beast. Laurence had to stifle a chuckle at the irony of such a remark being directed towards him, but he still managed to politely dismiss such concerns as misplaced, without giving any hint towards his nature.

He had indeed grown weary after the long day, so he made his way back to his room, and was glad to see that the word he passed to the servants before arranging for Temeraire's feeding had been answered—the bed had been moved right up against the northeast window. He tested the window a few times, to ensure that it might also be opened and closed from the outside via talon, and then proceeded to wash up and dress for sleep. He drifted off mere moments after laying down upon the bed, and having resolved that it would by far be easiest to explain himself if he met with Celeritas in dragon form come morning, he welcomed his winged self as soon as he found himself dreaming. However, he forgot to anticipate that, just like when his second form appeared aboard the Reliant, it would take up the nearest unoccupied space sufficient for the form, even if not supported from below. So, the ten to twenty foot drop caught him quite off guard, and after a stumbling landing, his forehand wrists and hindfoot ankles stung. He clenched his jaw, and hoping that he did not make enough of a noise to alert anyone, he stood in place and simply scanned for any sign of movement or unexpected light. With the waning gibbous moon not yet risen, it was still rather dark on this side of the wall. Thankfully, there was no signs of stirring.

He would need to keep himself awake as a dragon this whole night, to not accidentally oversleep the appointed meeting time were he to let himself nap, but neither did he wish to not be with Temeraire. So, muttering a quick prayer that he was not inadvertently making some egregious mistake having not yet received any guidance, he made a quick loop of a flight up and over the stone wall to find Temeraire in the courtyard. This was easy enough even in the scant lantern light; Temeraire's sleek black hide was quite unique amongst the dragons here. To Laurence's surprise, however, Temeraire was not asleep, but was instead conversing quietly—to a dragon's standard—with a little Winchester, off to the side apart from the others.

"Oh, Lau – Ga – hello!" Temeraire stuttered as Laurence landed and walked over, clearly also uncertain as to how his Captain should be referred to here when a dragon. "Levitas here was asking about my harness, and how the wearer can put it on and take it off themself. This one is clearly ours, so he may not take it, and he is much too small for it besides, but do you know if the crews here can make a similar one, as Mr. Rabson did on the Reliant? His present one looks rather…dismal."

The polite disgust on Temeraire's face as he made this remark nearly made Laurence chuckle, until he saw what Temeraire had been referring to. This Winchester's harness was in appalling condition—it was poorly-kept and bore stains and rough patches—and even worse than that, both hide and harness were marred with streaks of dried blood, and Laurence could not tell whether the blood was that of prey or of Levitas's own. Laurence bent down in heart-wrenched sympathy, and said,

"Levitas, is it? I am sure that the ground crews here would oblige such a request, though from what I have heard about how affairs are managed here, you may need to have your handler do so for you. Do you think you could ask of such from him?"

"No, I do not think he would be very happy with me if I did so," Levitas replied sadly, ending with a glum sigh.

Laurence pondered what could be done to help him, as it was now clear that this was a case of mistreatment by a handler…no other dragon he saw in the courtyard was in such a state. He suspected that anything he would try to do as a human would be taken as interference, and as a dragon, simply disregarded. He might speak to Celeritas, as both a report to his commanding officer and one who would know of both his natures, but then with a cold dread, he recalled just how perceptive Celeritas was even in his advanced years, so the training master must already know…which meant he at least condoned if not approved of such treatment. A flash of memory brought him back to the Shorewise, and he forced it from his mind at once.

"Perhaps…" Laurence began, now in a dismal mood himself, "even if they would not craft a new harness solely at your request, I cannot imagine the ground crews would deny a polite request to have the one currently assigned to you tended to, at least. You should ask them tomorrow direct."

"Okay…I will try."

"And," with a slight burst of inspiration, "has Temeraire told you about how he likes to bathe and swim?"

"No?" Levitas replied with a curious tilt of his head.

"Oh, it is most wonderful!" Temeraire said, "Though the water here is colder than Madeira, it is still rather nice to splash about, to both clean oneself and for the enjoyment of it. It will likely be even better in the daytime! Levitas might join us tomorrow, no?"

Laurence hoped that Temeraire's slip in saying us might have gone by unnoticed.

"Of course, if he is at liberty from his duties, I see no reason he may not join you when you go. Perhaps a couple of the cadets might be recruited to join and wash him, so that your Captain can focus on washing you?"

"That would be splendid," Temeraire replied.

But then Levitas looked up at Laurence and inquired,

"Where will you be? You seem to be good friends with Temeraire; do you not like swimming like he does?"

It took a great deal of willpower for Laurence to not keen in response to this meekly delivered inquiry, but he managed to reply instead,

"Oh, no, I do enjoy swimming with him, it is only that I find myself otherwise engaged during the daytime."

"I see," Levitas said. "Is that part of why you do not have a harness at all?"

"Yes." And it was not even a lie.

The sky was obscured with light clouds throughout the night, so Laurence could not even pass the time stargazing while Temeraire and every other dragon of the covert slept. He went flying for a bit by the dim moonlight later in the night, but quickly grew tired of this, as he did not wish to venture out of sight of the lights of the covert lest he get lost. So he eventually just found himself waiting in the darkness of the training courtyard, for at least if he drifted off here, he would be awoken by Celeritas's arrival. Yet sleep did not come to him in this form this night, but the idleness instead let his mind drift towards woolgathering. Instead of ruminating over the events in Nottinghamshire, he began to ponder what could have been. What if his father had embraced being a weredragon—viewed it as a secret blessing rather than a secret curse? Laurence would not have had his draconic side sealed away as a infant, and he might have grown up with it instead. He could have understood it better, or even learned greater control over when the second form would or would not manifest. He could have known the joy of flight even as a child. Would he have still run away to the Navy? Might he have gone to the Aerial Corps instead? Would he have still met Temeraire?

Would he have still met Temeraire?

Perhaps, but if he did, it seemed rather more likely that it would have been as an enemy. Temeraire, whatever other name he would have had, would have been a French dragon, if the Amitié had not been captured and had instead made it back to her intended port. He could not tolerate the thought—it was difficult enough to imagine his life now without Temeraire in it, let alone consider himself arrayed against him. Though it was perhaps interesting to imagine the French aviator the Imperial egg had been intended for…oh, how he must now be gnashing his teeth at the misfortune. He could not feel pity for this hypothetical man, not in the least; Temeraire was his, and he was Temeraire's…this had become an immutable fact. So perhaps such musings over what might have been were of no benefit, even if a part of his heart still lamented those lost years he might have had as his whole self.

Once Laurence saw the sky beginning to lighten in the east, and now knew that he need not worry about drifting off before the meeting, he took a short flight past the courtyard to stretch his wings, before settling back in to wait. He reclined at the very edge, with forehands crossed in front of him, that he might not only look out on the valley but down over the cliff face. So was he seated when he heard not the approach of a dragon, but human footsteps across the flagstones, though they seemed rather light…

When he turned his neck to look behind him, he saw a young sandy-haired cadet suddenly freeze; they had clearly been approaching, perhaps egged on by the two other cadets standing some distance back.

"Gentlemen," Laurence said, with mock severity, "what might you all be doing wandering about at this hour of the morning?"

"Oh, we didn't mean anything by it, sir, dragon," the leading cadet replied rapidly, and Laurence was suddenly uncertain as to whether this was a boy or a girl. "It is only that Andrew was on early morning rounds today, and spotted a dragon in the courtyard who wasn't Celeritas, but was about the same size, and didn't have a harness either, and so he went and got us up, and we came out to investigate, and—"

"It is most alright," Laurence said as he stood up briefly, but only to turn about to face the cadets, before laying back down, with tail curled around casually. "There are circumstances, after all, in which it is helpful to have more complete observations before making a report to your superiors."

The sandy-haired one blinked for a few moments before replying,

"I beg your pardon, sir, but I have never heard a dragon speak in such a manner and tone except Celeritas; even Excidium didn't…" they trailed off, before suddenly sounding worried. "Did something happen to Celeritas?"

"I should hope not; I am here to meet with him after all." Then, realizing that there was no proper way about this now without some manner of introductions, he did his best to suppress a sigh, all while hoping that he was not making a mistake by proceeding in such a fashion…he was getting rather tired of the false name his early-twenties self came up with in a panic when he had been asked those years ago. "You may call me Gallant; I am a friend of Temeraire's, the recently arrived Imperial. Who might you be?"

"Cadet Emily Roland, at your service, sir." She then gestured behind her, seeming to both point out the other two and prompt them to come closer. "And these are Andrew Morgan and Peter Dyer; we are all in our third year here."

"An honor to meet you, Gallant," Morgan added, and Dyer nodded in silent concurrence.

"If you do not mind my asking," Roland inquired, with an eager curiosity, "but should we expect to see you around the covert going forward, given Temeraire's arrival yesterday?"

"You very well might, though only in the nighttime, as I expect my duties will call me elsewhere most days. This is largely what I am here to discuss with Celeritas; I am to be a fellow student, in some ways."

"I bet dragons don't have to do so much writing practice and mathematics," Roland grumbled.

"Now, now, let us not be complainers. We each of us must attend to our duties of training, whatever they may be. Such diligence is often considered the making of an officer, Cadet."

"Very well, sir," came the disappointed reply. "Though I would be lying if I said I was not jealous of what I imagine a dragon's training must be like…"

At this, a dragon departing in flight from the nearby cliff face caught Laurence's attention, and as he quite visibly turned his neck upon doing so, the three cadets looked as well. Celeritas landed a few moments later, with an undeniable look of confusion as he beheld the single dragon and three young humans gathered on the courtyard.

"Roland, Dyer, Morgan?" Laurence began after briefly meeting Celeritas's gaze, doing his utmost to not let his earlier suspicions interfere with proper manners. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but if I understand correctly, I believe you have duties to attend to, just as I now need to meet with the training master."

All three cadets looked towards Celeritas for confirmation, and he nodded, though his saying "Indeed…" came out perhaps a bit hesitantly. Once the cadets had departed, and it was only the two dragons looking eye-to-eye left upon the courtyard, Celeritas prompted,

"I was expecting to meet with Temeraire and Captain Laurence at the present hour…"

"Pray do not take my saying so as a rudeness, sir," Laurence said, in apologetic tones, "but I believe you did not make mention of Temeraire in your request to meet with me at seven o'clock, only that we were to fly to another location where we might have a private word." Then, with perhaps too sly of a grin, "I find myself presently capable of doing so without the need to wake Temeraire from his slumber."

Comprehension seemed to slowly dawn for Celeritas as Laurence spoke, his expression shifting from one of puzzlement to complete and total awe, a nearly more youthful visage, if it could be said, for a dragon of such great age. He then began blinking, as if many thoughts were coming to him at once, before closing his eyes meditatively.

"Hmm…most fascinating, most fascinating indeed." Then nodding and looking once more to Laurence, "Pray follow me."

They flew to a ridge not quite a mile distant, where they might clearly see in the morning twilight anyone else who would attempt to draw near. The moment Laurence tucked in his wings after landing, Celeritas began,

"Captain Laurence…howsoever did a weredragon end up in the Royal Navy rather than the Aerial Corps?"

"In short, sir, the expectations of relative social standing from a noble family to their third son, who was completely unaware of being a weredragon at the time. But, if I may be so bold—you know of weredragons?"

"Not in the sense of ever having met one, or even having definitive proof of their existence—until this very moment, that is. But when one has been alive as many years as I have been, you hear many, many stories and experience many, many events, and I have thusly come to an awareness that some legends might bear closer to the truth than most others would expect. Too many times to be mere happenstance have I heard of dragons appearing or disappearing without a trace, with only men to be found in any proximity…and even a rational thinker might be forced to admit to the possibility of the supernatural taking place. And here? Here I can only imagine that I have incontrovertible proof."

"I see," Laurence said in acknowledgement, though Celeritas swiftly continued.

"And the ordered secrecy now makes perfect sense. Hmm…now we must consider how it is to be managed going forward and how the capability might be used to advantage. Two essential questions, Captain: first, how do you transform into or manifest this draconic form of yours?"

Laurence explained, as he had to several other superior officers over the past weeks, the details of his awakenings as a dragon, though he was able to make additional mention here of what he had just learned two nights before, that certain overwhelming emotions might also cause such a manifestation. Celeritas continued,

"Hmm…certainly some of the legends follow in that pattern, particularly some of the Irish ones, but that is besides the point. My second question: do you know how the trait is spread? I cannot imagine it is a direct blessing or curse from some powerful supernatural entity as some stories have it, but perhaps is it inherited by offspring from one parent or the other…or are there still other ways it might be spread, such as a bite?"

"I do not know of any methods beyond inconsistent familial inheritance, sir, as I only know that one of my brothers and I received the trait from my father, but my other brother did not. But neither can I dispute any other possible method, as I never had reason to observe such…I cannot say I have ever bitten any other person, man or dragon, before?"

"Then I believe we must experiment. If you prove capable of rendering other men into weredragons like yourself, the strategic benefits to the Aerial Corps would be extraordinary…I might be finding myself far more occupied these next years than I had anticipated on the basis of eggs yet to be hatched. Of course, that is in the general, rather than your specific case. Yes…it is clear that Temeraire will not accept a handler other than yourself, so we will not expect you to fight in your draconic form, but neither can we waste the time this ability grants us. I will find a suitable officer, who might keep themself awake and alert overnight, to instruct you in flag and flare signals while you are a dragon. Then we need not allocate any time to such during the day."

"Very well, sir."

"Hmm…I believe this will also modify how I expected to start with yours and Temeraire's training. Initial assessments will still take place this morning, but after that, I will defer the others to next week, once he has a proper full-crew harness outfitted. Instead, Temeraire will begin intensive work on signals himself, while you work separately on climbing and carabiner training. Is this amenable to you, Captain?"

"Yes, sir. Though, if there is to be a slight delay in proper flight training where we must be engaged together, might I make a humble request for a day or part-day of liberty, that I might visit Edinburgh to arrange my financial affairs and make purchases for Temeraire, given that I expect to have no such opportunity in the months to follow? Of course, if such an absence would cause any difficulty, I beg you to have no hesitation in refusing the request."

"Hmm…I see the reason in that, and I believe it can be managed. Though, how do you propose to fly to Edinburgh? I do not suppose you can fly your own human body there and back while also maintaining the secrecy of your weredragon nature?"

"Ah; no, sir," Laurence replied, with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Would there by chance be a courier at liberty on whatever day would be suitable?"

Laurence had meant the inquiry in regards to a courier dragon themself, as he fully believed such a dragon could take on such an assignment independently from their handler. But even Celeritas, captainless though he was, did not take it that way, but instead replied,

"It is a bit much, Captain, for me to dispatch a courier and his dragon for merely another captain's leisure. However, there are indeed couriers stationed here on assignments of rather light duty, that you might request such of them directly, on a personal basis. Saturday is by far the most suitable date, which means…" and here Celeritas became strangely hesitant, "…which means I might direct you to Captain Jeremy Rankin, of Levitas."

Laurence froze as his mind made the connection; the pleasant gentleman he had met the prior night, and would be meeting again tonight, was the very man responsible for Levitas's mistreatment. And Celeritas seemed to have an odd response, it coming from their commanding officer: both aware and ashamed. As Laurence merely stood there, no words coming to mind in his horrified confusion, Celeritas bowed his head with a sigh, and then said,

"I must presume from your reaction that you have already made an unfavorable acquaintance with Captain Rankin?"

Laurence mastered himself as best he could, and replied,

"Celeritas, sir—I had made the acquaintance yesterday of both Captain Rankin and Levitas separately, with no awareness of their connection. I found Captain Rankin to be of pleasing company at the time, and had promised to meet with him this evening for chess following supper. I met Levitas after I awoke as a dragon this night, and found myself brought to great pity in regards to the neglected state he was in."

All the while, Celeritas kept looking towards Laurence with that same ashamed expression. Once he had stopped speaking, Celeritas then began,

"I see…I find myself at fault as much as anyone for Levitas's tragic state. For much of my life, I had served with men of the Rankin family and the Kensington line, and Jeremy was intended to be my next Captain after his uncle. But at his mother's insistence he was raised at their estate rather than here in the Corps, and this gave him strange notions…and so I could not tolerate him myself. He ought never have been an aviator, but at cause of his family's long history in the Corps and their connections to Government, Aerial Command would not turn him out, but instead thought to make of him a courier. For the sake of his ancestors, many of whom were the dearest companions of my life, I could not bring myself to speak against his being put to a Winchester, though I knew better…and I ought to have done better. But as it is now, he is Levitas's captain, and as long as Levitas obeys him, so he will remain. And of course meddling cannot be permitted; it would be the undoing of what order there is in the Corps. Do you see, Captain, why this sorry state of affairs must at least be tolerated?"

"I believe I do, sir," Laurence said, exasperated despite his attempts otherwise. "I promise I will not interfere in any basis of Rankin's command, and thusly I will restrict myself in Levitas's case to only giving what comfort and consolation might be had through the society of a fellow serving-officer."

"Hmm…that should do well enough. This all said, do you still wish to request liberty for this Saturday for a trip to Edinburgh?"

Laurence expected that he would have been more troubled over such a decision than he found himself to be in the moment; the answer was somehow immediately clear.

"Yes, I still do; obtaining books and other treasures for Temeraire's benefit will be the greater good compared to extricating myself completely from Rankin's acquaintance…I ought to be able to maintain a neutral civility with another captain even if I disagree with his stances most severely."

The rest of the day, and in fact the rest of the week, passed rather in a blur for Laurence. Following his return to his human body, he had a hurried breakfast in the dining hall over which he spoke with Captain Berkley of Maximus, who seemed a stolid fellow, though clearly dedicated and competent. Then, rejoining with Temeraire, they flew to the training courtyard for assessments, and when they met with Celeritas there, the training master did not suppress a sly grin in Laurence's direction. Their first trials were circuits around the training valley, first to judge conformation in flight and then speed. But, on their way back to the courtyard after this second circuit, they were both startled by a shadow and a great roaring descending upon them from above. Laurence felt his shoulders jerk sharply, as if his body wanted to instinctively bank off to the side, but Temeraire twisted his wing-shoulders instead, braking their forward momentum suddenly, before switching to his hovering forward-and-back strokes. His fury towards Maximus and Berkley was short-lived, however, as Celeritas quickly clarified that this too was an assessment, though of instinct. Celeritas seemed pleased with the results, not just at the confirmation of Temeraire's hovering, but also Laurence's mention of how he felt himself react.

Temeraire was disappointed that their initial course of training would see them separated, but at least their time together at the lake and their reading would not be interfered with. Laurence was pleasantly surprised to run across Levitas at the ground crew shed politely requesting to have his harness attended to while he visited the lake, though it was somewhat disconcerting that this received no answer until a younger man by the name of Hollin offered his service. Laurence found himself uncharacteristically cold in his manners that evening when meeting Rankin for chess, but he still somehow managed to make the request for transport to and from Edinburgh on Saturday, which was granted. He was also somewhat glad for the excuse that arose naturally from their games to not meet for further matches—Rankin was pitifully underskilled. Though perhaps that was not a fair assessment, as Laurence knew himself to be uncommonly deft in games where his acumen in strategy and mathematics might be brought to bear…most individuals who knew only preferred to face him in games of chance. This did not seem to go by unnoticed by the other aviators, either. Granby, in particular, was in the officers' club at the same time, and while he first looked upon his meeting with Rankin with thinly-veiled distaste, by the conclusion, Granby had only a confused form of an impressed expression.

At night, he began training on the Corps' extended signal protocols, that, even though they were roughly based on the same foundations as the Navy's, were much more complex. His tutor, Midwingman Burke, seemed to have been selected more for her insomnia and enthusiasm rather than skill as an instructor, but at least they had a great deal more time than was available for the training exercises of the daytime. Laurence had no great trouble with the climbing exercises at first given his naval experience, but with the introduction of carabineers and harness loops, he indeed saw why such training would be necessary to adjust his habits, and the repetitions and durations that Celeritas set were grueling all the same.

By the time Saturday morning came around, he was already finding that he was carrying over exhaustion between his forms, even after what was ostensibly the full nights of sleep his human body was receiving. He regretted having to part from Temeraire for the full day, but at least he felt he could fully trust his newly assigned ground-crew master, Hollin, who had showed great initiative in attending to both Levitas's and Temeraire's needs at their own behests. Still, it took most of the energy he had to remain civil when he had walked up to where Levitas was being put under gear by a small crew while Rankin stood by, reading a newspaper and paying little mind.

"Hello, Laurence," Levitas said, in the happiest greeting he had received from him yet, even with all the days they had gone to the lake this week. "Look, this is my captain, he is here again! Are you here to join us on our flight to Edinburgh today?"

This, at least, caught Rankin's attention, and he looked up from his newspaper towards Laurence, saying,

"Have you been talking with him? I ought to have taken you at your word when you expressed your enjoyment of dragon society!" Then, turning to Levitas, his tone became rather more severe as he said, "You will indeed be taking Laurence along with myself today; you must make an effort to show him a good pace."

"Oh, I will, I promise," came the anxious reply, with a nodding of his head.

Even after having interacted with Levitas the times that he had, Laurence was still taken aback by the degree of obsequence the Winchester showed to his neglectful captain. It was not even the strictures of obedience towards a cruel commander, like Laurence had known himself in the past, but a paradoxical fawning that he could not make sense of. Celeritas had implied that all it would take would be Levitas refusing to obey Rankin to set him free, as it were, but that did not seem like something Levitas would ever consider, now having witnessed such interactions. So Laurence was left to pondering through the whole flight, which was thankfully brief given Levitas's swift pace. They landed at the castle-side covert in Edinburgh not even two hours after departing.

"Stay here quietly; I do not want to hear that you have been pestering the crew when I return," Rankin ordered Levitas upon dismounting. "You can eat when we return to Loch Laggan."

"Very well, Captain; though I hope it is not a bother if I might ask them for a drink? I tried to fly as fast as I could."

Rankin hesitated for but a moment as Levitas asked him this, as he seemed to have been slightly startled by the inquiry. Laurence could thusly not help himself from interjecting,

"Of course they ought to provide you with water if you should ask; no one could consider such a matter of necessity to be pestering. And, may I say, Levitas—I am very grateful to you, it was a most swift flight indeed."

A look of offense quickly flashed across Rankin's face, but it was swiftly covered by a polite smile. Rankin beckoned for Laurence to follow, and he guided them out from the covert up the stairs that led to the streets of the city itself. As they neared the top, Rankin said,

"I see you have a certain tenderheartedness towards the beasts, which is understandable and is quite the common mode among aviators, but I would be remiss if I did not caution you over promoting such willfulness. I only say this as encouragement to a new aviator, but I have certainly found that discipline answers far better than the sort of coddling more often seen, let alone any deeds that might inspire recalcitrance in them. Levitas, for instance, must always be ready for a long and dangerous flight; it is good for him to be used to going without."

Laurence only did not interrupt and check such offensive remarks at cause of being too perplexed to know what to say. The fact that he needed to maintain polite civility for at least a little while longer, as he was still Rankin's guest here, only barely entered his consideration.

"Sir, I must disagree with you very strongly that providing ordinary care and cultivating reasonable self-sufficiency in officers under your command in any way constitutes coddling or encouragement of disobedience," Laurence replied sharply. "For instance, I have always found that deprivation and hardship, when necessary, can be bettered endured by men who have not been subjected to them previously for no cause."

With the two of them now having arrived at the crossroads where they were to part, Rankin sighed dismissively in response, and merely said,

"Oh, dragons are not men, you know."

Too late did Laurence realize what he was doing, when he let an instinctive flash of malice rise as he replied,

"Some of us are."

And the flash was not merely metaphorical; some aspect of the light of his inner draconic self had swirled about his face, and for a moment an ethereal projection in golden light of the head he possessed as a dragon was overlaid atop his human one, and they both had the same snarling grin. At once, Rankin stumbled backwards in shock, putting his hand to his sword. Awareness then dawned for Laurence, and he swallowed his spite, leaving only weariness behind.

"Captain Rankin, pray do not—"

"No!" Rankin declared forcefully, now drawing his sword and pointing it towards Laurence, all the while with a panicked look across his face. "I will not cavort with monsters, especially ones who might disguise themselves as respectable gentlemen. The Corps must know that some sort of abomination, whatever you are, has infiltrated our ranks."

Even as he said this, Rankin began to step backwards towards the stairs once more, sword still held out and never taking his gaze from Laurence. For his part, Laurence simply stood there, horrified and ashamed that he had let his secret slip in such a fashion before such a man. He could not follow, nor could he run, and so with a grim irony did Laurence laugh as he realized that he might as well proceed with what he had come to Edinburgh to do. A dragon must attend to their treasure, after all.

Despite the events following his arrival in Edinburgh, Laurence could not help but be immensely pleased as he carried a rather absurd number of packages away from the booksellers and jewelry dealers he had visited. Upon visiting the Royal Bank, he had learned that his share of the prize money for the Amitié and Temeraire's egg had come out to nearly fourteen thousand pounds, a truly splendid sum. Allocating some to the Funds and taking away yet other portions in banknotes and gold, he then proceeded to find a great many books he thought Temeraire might enjoy—Plato's Republic, Ovid's Metamorphoses, the Poetic Edda and Prose Edda, a particularly fine gilt volume of Newton's Principia, and many others besides. But the true prize of the expedition was a broad platinum pendant set with sapphires around a single great pearl, a piece that seemed perfectly suited to compliment Temeraire's coloration. He bought enough chain of silver metal that it should fit even at Temeraire's expected adult size, though it would not all be used now, and he even bought a bit of extra gold chain, with links similar to that purchased in Madeira, that they might extend the previous piece to fit elsewhere, beyond just as an adornment to the harness.

But then came the decision of where he should go next, having made all his purchases. At present, he had no way of returning to Loch Laggan, and he doubted whether he could even have word sent there to explain his absence, with the regular courier having presumably now come and gone for the day. Part of him even wished to avoid the Edinburgh covert, not knowing what sort of reception he might receive in the aftermath of whatever Rankin had done. While he could find a hotel instead and send a message to the covert as to where he could be found, this felt a bit too much like being absent without leave. So, still with some reluctance, he made his way back to the covert.

Levitas was of course nowhere to be seen, the landing ground empty of all but a pair of crewmen, who looked upon Laurence with bewilderment, but no sign of fear or hostility. If that was the reaction, presumably at cause of all that he was laden with, then perhaps nothing would truly be amiss, at least here for tonight. And sure enough, once he had spoken with the commander on duty in the small headquarters building, he learned that was indeed the case. They all thought that Rankin had simply gone mad, yelling about monsters hiding among men, and simply let him depart after taking the packet of dispatches that he was supposed to have delivered to the military offices throughout the city. The commander welcomed a brief missive from Laurence to be added to the report on the incident, which would be sent to Loch Laggan with the next courier—who would presumably not be Rankin himself. But neither did he deign to assign one of the fighting dragons from the formation stationed there to convey Laurence back north still here today.

So he waited at the covert headquarters, a veritable hoard of books and jewelry strewn about him, wondering both when and how he might make it back to Loch Laggan, and what consequences might await him there. The previously appointed time for his intended departure with Levitas and Rankin came and went, and a runner even brought him a sandwich when it was clear he would not leave his packages behind to go to dinner. The sun was sinking low in the sky by the time a different runner came rushing inside, speaking through panting breaths,

"Captain Laurence, sir! Your dragon is here, and he is quite fretful, and he is demanding to see you."

Even as the cadet was saying this, Laurence was already standing up and beginning to gather together his packages. As fast as he could walk without risking dropping his load or tripping over himself, he made his way out to the landing grounds, where Temeraire was gulping down water. He was wearing his new harness, much more akin to that worn by all the other fighting dragons and with a design that would need a team of at least several men to put on and take off. Still, there were no men aboard that he could see. Once he was close enough that he would not fear Temeraire trampling over anything should he run to meet him, he shouted,

"Temeraire!"

He looked up at once, and indeed bolted across the length of the clearing to close with Laurence, and curled around him protectively.

"Oh Laurence, Celeritas said that Rankin had left you behind, and I was worried that something might have happened. You are well, I hope?"

"I am perfectly well, my dear, though we may have some matters to discuss with Celeritas when we return. Did all go well with your harness outfitting?"

"It did; Hollin was very nice, and said that I should be able to get enough harness men on my crew that I need not worry about having it taken off when not in need of it. Though Laurence," Temeraire then questioned, as if just now taking note of all the packages, "what is all of this?"

"This, Temeraire, is for you."

He was about to continue on, but was interrupted by the voice of an aviator coming from the other side of Temeraire's wing…it was Lieutenant Granby.

"Temeraire! Pray let me speak with Captain Laurence."

Laurence nodded in response to Temeraire's questioning look down at him, and then Temeraire uncurled himself to let Granby approach.

"Thank you, Mr. Granby, for coming along with Temeraire," Laurence said. "I presume you navigated for him, that he could make his way here?"

"Indeed, Celeritas had directed me to do so," Granby replied, with a look of pure exhaustion. He then sighed and shook his head, before asking, "Laurence…what the bloody hell are you?"

Chapter Text

Temeraire kept his eyes fixed on Laurence the entire time that he was walking over to the ground crew shed to arrange for cargo netting and straps. Though he had already begun the day with the expectation that they would be parted for much of its duration, it was an entirely different feeling—a most dreadful one—to have been told that his Captain had been left behind. He should never have let Laurence go with Levitas's handler—Temeraire could never think of Rankin as any sort of true Captain; he possessed nothing of that sort of bond. Yet that was exactly how Levitas saw him…when Temeraire had asked (over Laurence's subtle hinting to avoid the subject) why he did not turn Rankin away, he meekly answered, "Because he is my Captain," with all the same emotion that every other dragon put behind that word. Temeraire could not figure how the poor Winchester might be convinced otherwise.

But at least now Temeraire was reunited with his Captain, his Laurence. Yes, he was curious about that Parnassian-led formation over on the other side of the covert, he was curious about the layout of the castle complex, and he was particularly curious about what was in the packages that now rested beside his foreleg; but glancing away from Laurence's direction made him feel an anxiousness that was by far the less pleasant sensation compared to that of unmet curiosity. He needed to be sure he knew exactly where he was. He thankfully returned after not too much time with the gear, as well as a bucket and rags, and inquired as he approached,

"Did you get the chance to eat before you departed from Loch Laggan?"

Apparently such a reminder was all it took for Temeraire to feel suddenly hungry—or perhaps he had merely forgotten in his prior anxiety.

"No, I did not. Might I eat here?"

"Of course; I imagined as such, and already gave a tentative word to the crews here."

In short order were a couple sheep brought out for his meal, and as he was eating, he spotted Granby out of the corner of his eye returning from the covert headquarters, carrying a carafe, a couple metal mugs, and an oilskin packet. He had gone in to deliver a missive from Celeritas and Wexler, and was apparently departing with more than he had entered with. Once he had drawn near, he asked Laurence,

"Care for some coffee?"

Laurence, who was just then wringing out the rag to start wiping Temeraire down, looked to have one of his barely perceptible reflexive starts that he got whenever an aviator seemed to do something unexpectedly informal. But, he still replied calmly,

"Thank you, Mr. Granby—I would, but only once I have finished here."

Granby nodded, before clipping one of the mugs onto his harness belt, then pouring himself a cup into the other, which he proceeded to drink in near as much time as it took to pour. Taking a second cup, he proceeded to sip at it more slowly while he stood back and watched interestedly as Laurence cleaned up the post-meal gore. As soon as Laurence had finished, Temeraire asked,

"Laurence? Celeritas said that Mr. Granby would be assigned to help with the experiments, so if it became necessary to inform him early, we were free to do so. I know, when he asked, you said it should wait, but I was thinking…could you demonstrate, on our flight back?"

Temeraire hoped that he had phrased his question in a way that Laurence would understand that he wanted to have him fly alongside, for at least part of the trip back, even though he could not say so directly around others. He had promised he would be careful about such things. Laurence seemed to take a moment to ponder, then gave an initially disappointed look that quickly switched to one of having an idea.

"Would you be so kind as to lift me aboard, that I might inspect the rigging on your back?"

"Certainly!"

So Temeraire lifted him up, and after a few moments of him climbing about and inspecting not just Temeraire's harness but his own, Laurence declared,

"I think we could manage it." Then, with a shout down to Granby, "Mr. Granby, on second thought, I will pass on the coffee, thank you."

Granby was already pouring into that second mug, having seen Laurence finish with the cleaning. Upon hearing this, he simply shrugged, and downed the cup himself.

Temeraire had deliberately taken a more western heading off a direct route so that they would fly over terrain without any fields or houses sooner. Once they were aloft, Laurence was about to explain his weredragon nature to Granby ahead of time, but Temeraire interrupted before he could do so, insisting that it would be more impressive if he simply showed him first. Laurence chuckled at this, but acquiesced. So, in the evening twilight beneath wispy clouds, Temeraire flew with head turned part-way back to watch as Laurence laid on his back in front of the small cargo heap and buckled down with harness straps pulled taught. Granby still looked to be confused by all this as he stood beside the tripod that held the forward flight-lantern. Temeraire then tried to fly with as gentle and rhythmic of wingbeats as he could manage, but even so, it took a good many minutes before he heard Granby yell,

"What in God's name—"

In his excitement, Temeraire inadvertently pulled up and off to the right a bit in flight as he whipped his neck back to watch, and he felt Granby stumble—but only for the briefest of moments as it was clear that standing dragonback was second nature to him. Still, it was also abundantly clear that Granby was not expecting to see an ethereal dragon of light spiral out from Laurence's now sleeping body, then take solid shape with wings already outstretched. Hopefully it made the right impression—even if the draconic form so manifested was notably smaller than his own…it was strange how that had changed so quickly over these past weeks…

After a couple wingbeats to stabilize his flight and position himself at Temeraire's starboard quarter, Laurence called out,

"I hope this answers your question as to what I am, Mr. Granby?"

Granby managed to eventually get out a reply,

"They're real?! Damn, well that certainly explains all those letters. Wait—Laurence—are you part Anglewing?"

"Indeed; this form of mine was identified as being a cross of Yellow Reaper, Anglewing, and—"

"—Grey Copper, yes, the anterior air sacs of the Coppers and the keel of a Widowmaker made at least that part clear. But, Captain, how the hell did an actual, bona fide weredragon end up in the Navy?"

Temeraire, almost to the point of rumbling joyfully over how impressed this life-long aviator was in his Captain, realized that this conversation might go on for a while. So, to reduce the chance of being overheard below on land once they again passed over settled areas, he began increasing altitude, and Laurence followed suit.

"Celeritas asked the very same—" Laurence began, before Granby interrupted once more, still shouting over the wind of flight,

"Wait, let me guess, something about reputation and social standing and nobility and all that?"

Laurence laughed softly—his other reaction to the quirks of aviators, when he was in good spirits at least—before replying,

"Indeed, Mr. Granby. Though upon later consideration, I suppose there might also have been a certain predilection towards the greater prospect of prize money that could be won in the course of one's duties."

This caught Temeraire's attention.

"Oh! Laurence! You said you were going to find out what the prize was for the Amitié and my egg, did you not?"

"I did…though, Temeraire, I would not wish to be rude and boast of such in company."

"That sounds like one of your human notions, Laurence. Besides, I think we ought to claim Mr. Granby for our crew, and if he is ours, then I see no reason we could not discuss such a matter in his company."

"Huh?" Granby blurted out, his gaze darting between the two dragons.

Laurence must not have heard this, however, as he spoke up, saying in instructional tones as he continued to beat his wings casually,

"Now, now, Temeraire, we cannot go claiming individuals as if they were your possessions. But, if you have taken a liking to Mr. Granby we may certainly ask him if he were interested in such a role, then, if he is, we might request of Celeritas that he be so assigned."

"Very well; so, Mr. Granby, would you like to be on my crew?"

With his face still contorted in a confused expression, Granby did not say anything in reply at first. So instead Laurence added in a pondering voice,

"It would be good, after all, that our First Lieutenant be aware of what I am…"

Finally, Granby seemed to have mastered himself, to a degree at least, and replied,

"Yes; by God, yes! I would be deeply honored to be recommended for such a role. I cannot say I will ever be able to meet your expectations of propriety, Captain, but if you will have me, I certainly would not refuse."

"Very good," Laurence said succinctly and with satisfaction, before moving on. "Then, Temeraire, to return to your question: the prize was just shy of fourteen thousand pounds, though a rather substantial portion of it has been exchanged for what you now carry on your back. It is only your due, after all, most of that sum being from the bounty on your egg."

Temeraire had picked up a solid foundation for what various measures of currency represented; back on the Reliant, Laurence had gone on a particularly long description of the finances of managing a ship when Temeraire had asked one day what the purser did, and when flying over Funchal, he had asked about the likely costs of construction of the various ships in the harbor. Given Laurence's implication of the rough proportion, to think that what was in those packages might approach in value an entire frigate like the Reliant? It must be something truly remarkable…

Even without saying anything, Temeraire put on an unconscious burst of speed in his eagerness. He heard Laurence laugh behind him and pick up his pace to follow, before saying,

"To give such motivation had not been my intent in saying so, my dear, but I suppose it cannot hurt to get back to Loch Laggan sooner. We might even make it back in time for the officers' supper!"

The lantern- and fire-lit scene in the main courtyard of the covert as they came in to land was one of captains making their farewells for the night to their dragons before heading in to supper. As thrilling as the quick flight had been, and alongside Laurence for a good portion of the way at that, Temeraire was indeed feeling the exhaustion from having set such a pace. He would be glad for the chance to sleep…as soon as Laurence had shown him what he had bought, of course. Laurence, who had returned to his human body as soon as they spotted the lights of the covert on the far horizon, was already making his way back to the cargo netting as Temeraire glided down to the courtyard.

Granby and Laurence were unloading the packages when Temeraire saw Roland—one of the cadets who had been going with them to the lake this past week—walking quickly in their direction.

"Captain Laurence?" Roland shouted once she had drawn near, waving a packet. "I have orders here from Celeritas for you. And Lieutenant Granby? Celeritas says you are to report at once to the large cave just to the west of his own."

"At once?" Granby asked, with disappointment and perhaps a gurgling of his stomach.

"At once," Roland replied, after she had handed the packet to Laurence, but then added, "I could go fetch you a plate and bring it there, if you would like?"

"Yes, please and thank you—wait, Roland…are you just asking so that you can get into the back tunnels?"

"No," came the somewhat abashed reply, "I simply thought I could help."

Laurence coughed at this remark, or perhaps it was just coincidentally, as he was reading the orders at the same moment. Still, both Granby and Roland looked towards him.

"My apologies for interrupting, it is nothing," Laurence said.

Nevertheless, the two other officers took the moment of interruption to bid their farewells, and Laurence handed off all but the two largest of the packages to servants to be carried up to his quarters. Laurence watched them leave for a strangely long time, with his neck tightened into an odd posture…Temeraire imagined that perhaps he did not like seeing them go. But then he turned back to Temeraire and began to unwrap the large and flat bundle.

"I know you said you were fond of pearls, Temeraire, based on that gold chain from Funchal, so I thought you might appreciate this."

Once Laurence had finished saying this, he had taken off the last layer of wrapping to reveal an concave surface of gleaming platinum—it was no pearl, but it was tremendously nice all the same. But then he turned over the pendant and held it up for Temeraire, and…it was astonishing in every way. The wondrous pearl, the glittering sapphires, the resplendent metal…he slowly reached out a forehand to take it, but then hesitated.

"It is yours, my dear; go ahead. I will go—"

But then Laurence was cut off as he was embraced in Temeraire's forelegs and wings and held tight. Temeraire began rumbling softly, and felt too overjoyed for words.

"I take it you like it?" Laurence asked, his voice constrained a bit from the embrace, but content all the same.

Temeraire mumbled affirmatively and nodded rapidly, before giving one more gentle squeeze and letting Laurence go. A wide smile stuck on his face, Laurence then continued,

"I will go get a set of the large dragon-harness carabiners, so that the extra length of chain might be held fast for now, since I presume you would want to have it on without delay. I shall have the armorer adjust the chain to proper length tomorrow. For now, though, I will need to head in for the evening; to my great surprise, Celeritas has elected to move forward the first experiment to tonight, starting over the supper hour."

"Oh? Does that mean I ought to join you?"

"This states that you are free either to join and observe or to head to your night's rest given your flights today."

"I would like to join you; I am mightily curious about these experiments you had mentioned."

"Of course," Laurence said, still smiling. "Once I head in, you should then fly over to the training courtyard and wait there for me."

And so, after a short jaunt to a nearby supply shed and back, Laurence rigged up the metal chain from the other package that it might hold the pendant fast, almost like a breastplate. The metal was cool at first against his hide, but even where he could not turn and see it, it felt very pleasant to wear, and it did not rub uncomfortably against his scales at all. None of the other dragons had anything so nice, not in the slightest, and above all, it was a gift from Laurence. Now, if only Laurence had something so nice, or at least nearly so, to wear when he was a dragon…

Satisfaction and anticipation both were enough to keep Temeraire awake as he waited for Laurence, but his impatience meant that he could not keep himself grounded while he did so. Instead, he paced back and forth in flight over the elevated portion of the training valley that first jutted off from the courtyard and adjoining cliffs, and on his third or fourth such pass, he spotted that one of the openings in the cliff face—perhaps the largest one—seemed to have the orange glow of a fire lit within. Keeping the courtyard still within view, he approached and began to hover just outside it, attempting to peer within. He spotted at once a young man sitting on a rock just inside the cave, who stood up and shouted,

"Ah, Temeraire! My apologies, I was just watching you fly as I was passing the time until Captain Laurence arrived."

"Oh, is that so? I was waiting for him as well; he has not yet arrived to the training courtyard where we were to met. But, I beg your pardon, I believe we have not met?"

"I suppose not; Midwingman Dilly Challoner," he said with a slight bow.

Then Temeraire heard and shortly thereafter saw another person jogging out to the cave entrance—a young woman, younger than this midwingman, but still nowhere near as young as Roland was.

"They didn't say that Temeraire would be here too!" she shouted to the young man on her approach. Then, looking up at Temeraire, his new accoutrements seemed to catch her eye, and she continued, "Ensign Rebecca Challoner, at your service…and might I say that is a magnificent pendant you have there, Temeraire!"

"Oh, thank you! Laurence was ever so kind as to purchase it for me from the prize money he had won from my egg!"

Then, there was a speck of yellow in the corner of Temeraire's vision, and he turned to see Laurence cresting over the covert walls in flight. He gave a quick warbling call, and saw that Laurence had noticed, and so began heading directly over instead of stopping at the courtyard partway. Temeraire landed in the cave, and walked in so that Laurence might land as well, which he did a few moments later.

"Captain Laurence?" Rebecca called out, speaking rapidly. "I do not recall having yet met; I am Ensign Rebecca Challoner, and this is my brother Dilly, Midwingman in rank. I will go at once to let Celeritas know you have arrived."

Before Laurence could acknowledge, Rebecca was already darting back further into the cave. Laurence looked about in momentary confusion, before inquiring of Dilly,

"Mr. Challoner? I must beg your pardon, but I was informed of little more other than to arrive here. Would you be so good as to inform me how matters are to proceed for these experiments?"

"Of course, sir—though perhaps Celeritas ought to do so? In any case, we should head in to where they had things set up."

So, the three of them proceeded deeper into the cave, and once around a slight bend the cavern opened up just a bit to a chamber where a fire was lit. The walls were damp, but not at all frost covered, though it did seem that this abode, if that is what it was, was in disuse. Celeritas was reclining inside, looking small against the scale of the cave, which might have snugly yet comfortably accommodated a full-grown Regal Copper, and Granby was there as well, sitting up on a flat stone surface where bandages and bottles of various sizes looked to be laid out.

"Ah, Captain Laurence, do come in," Celeritas said, rising, "My apologies for the short notice, but given the incident with Captain Rankin earlier today, I thought it best to proceed without any further delay. While I do hope that nothing comes of his conduct, in case something were to arise, I would not want to risk even the temporary loss of our sole weredragon, if it can be avoided through spreading the condition to another."

"I see," Laurence replied, with a look that he was stifling a good many questions he had. "So that is the particular experiment for tonight, to see if one of these officers here might become a weredragon as well by some means?"

"Indeed, though hopefully not only one," Celeritas said. "Given the relative frequency of it arising in myth and legend, I propose first attempting a bite as the means of transmission. Having given the matter some thought over these past days, I have identified the Challoner siblings as the most suitable candidates, and they have both thankfully agreed to participate. Dilly has volunteered to go first, and should that be successful, we will test if he might then transmit the condition on to his sister, who has agreed to go second."

"And Mr. Granby?" Temeraire asked, highly curious.

"I am to play surgeon's assistant, I suppose," Granby replied, in good humor. "Bandage up the bite wound, give them laudanum if they can't fall asleep, that sort of thing."

"And both these young officers know what this would mean, to be made a weredragon?" Laurence inquired with concern, his wing-shoulders drawn in just a bit. "And they are fully willing to accept the risks should anything go wrong?"

"Well, yes, of course," Dilly replied, "How could I pass something like this up?"

"And for my part, sir," Rebecca then followed on, with a bit of smirk, "while I am glad to let my brother take on the greater risk of the first attempt, I do sincerely wish I might possess such a capability myself, with all its attendant risks, rewards, and consequences." Then after a sharp nod, she turned to Celeritas, saying, "And, if something were to go wrong with the first attempt, and I remain as I am now, am I to understand that I would return to my recent assignment on Maximus's crew?"

"No, Ensign, not quite. If you are not successfully made a weredragon, given your awareness of this matter, which as of yet needs to remain unknown to the Corps at large, you will be reassigned to Temeraire's crew instead. Same as your brother, should his attempt be unsuccessful."

Rebecca then looked up at Temeraire and gave a pleased nod, before turning back to Celeritas, saying happily,

"Very good, sir."

"Does this mean that everything is settled?" Dilly asked, pulling up his left sleeve. "Can we see if this works?"

"Captain Laurence?" Celeritas inquired.

Laurence let out a deep sigh, before stepping forward as he said,

"Very well, sir; I presume I am to simply bite Mr. Challoner's arm, with no more force than necessary for a slight puncture of the skin?"

"Indeed," Celeritas replied.

Laurence then awkwardly held his head down low, not too far off the floor of the cave, and Dilly stuck out his forearm and held it between two of Laurence's front teeth. Laurence then slowly—extremely slowly, so much so that it almost looked like nothing was moving at all—began to close his jaws. Dilly seemed too impatient for this, however, for he reached out his other hand to brace against the top tooth, then said "What if I just—" as he brought up the arm against the sharp tip. Laurence seemed about to flinch back when Dilly gave a short grunt of pain, and in that very moment, a swirl of light seemed to emanate from Laurence's tooth and spiral down into Dilly's forearm, which now began to seep with blood from the wound. Dilly drew in a sharp breath, and most of the observers went wide-eyed.

"Hmm…that appeared to have done at least something," Celeritas said, with an air of anticipation, "Lieutenant Granby, if you please?"

At once, Granby walked over with a bottle, some cloths, and a bundle of bandages. He poured some of the clear liquid from the bottle—from which Temeraire picked up the scent of alcohol on the air with his tongue—over the puncture wound, which caused Dilly to wince. He then tightly wrapped the bandage about the arm, with the well-practiced motions of one accustomed to tending to wounds on the battlefield. All the while, Laurence simply stood there motionless, with his head tilted slightly sideways and his jaw still open wide.

"Mr. Granby?" Laurence asked in measured tones, his words clear even as he did not move his jaw. "Would you be so good as to wipe off my tooth; I am rather disinclined to taste human blood, if it can be avoided."

Both the Challoner siblings seemed to be startled by Laurence speaking in such a manner, but Granby was not, and as he saw their surprise, he informed them while he went to get another cloth,

"Oh, dragons don't really form their words with their mouths, even though we usually see them move them in imitation of human speech; it's actually all in the throat and vocal cords. That and their size are why it has that resonant quality that it does."

With wound bandaged and blood cleaned away, a hush fell, waiting for whatever came next. After a few moments of nothing else occurring, Celeritas broke the silence and asked,

"Midwingman, do you notice any changes or other effects?"

"Nothing in particular?" Dilly replied, his face scrunching up. "Just a vague sense of something more inside myself that wasn't there before? Well, and the bite still stinging a bit, but I don't think that is what you were asking about."

"Any and all observations should be noted," Celeritas said. "But, if that is all, then I will ask: do you feel as though you might soon fall asleep naturally, or will you require laudanum?"

"I honestly do not feel tired at all, so I believe I ought to take the dose."

Granby went to grab one of the smallest bottles, which must have been prepared ahead of time by a surgeon, while Dilly walked about and produced a bedroll from behind a corner that Temeraire had not noticed. He laid it out and made ready to bed down, and having done so, Granby popped off the stopper on the tiny bottle and handed it to the now-seated Dilly. He took it after a moment's hesitation, and then held it up as if answering a toast—Temeraire was still not quite sure he had understood the meaning of that ritual the times he had seen it—before drinking it. He stretched his arms cautiously, careful not to pull on the bandages too much, then asked Laurence,

"Captain, is there any trick to it, or anything I ought to do while falling asleep?"

"All I might say is that if or when you find yourself dreaming, and you see a dragon, focus on it…especially if the dragon's movement and breathing matches your own, for that is quite likely to be a representation of your other self."

"Very well, then that is what I shall do."

Dilly shook his head a bit while blinking, then laid down. He seemed to fall asleep a minute or two later, and nothing happened immediately. They all waited quietly for a few minutes, before Rebecca walked over to Celeritas and whispered, with a volume that Temeraire very well might have not been able to hear but for the confines of the cave,

"What do we do, sir, if he just…sleeps? How long ought we wait?"

"I would ask Captain Laurence at least to stay and watch the entire night, as he should be awake for it regardless, but if nothing else transpires after a half hour, then I will dismiss everyone else for the night."

Hearing this, Granby checked a pocketwatch amongst the supplies, and everyone returned to their silent waiting. Temeraire at last began to feel himself returning to his earlier tiredness, and wondered if he might soon fall asleep himself. He rested his head down and tucked in his wings and tail more neatly, as he might as well make himself more comfortable if they were to be waiting a while. Laurence noticed, and sidling over, asked in a dragon's whisper,

"Would you care to sleep here tonight?"

"If you are going to be here just waiting, then yes, I would."

"Is that permissible, Celeritas," Laurence asked, "or would it arouse suspicion for Temeraire to not be in the common area overnight?"

"He may stay here," Celeritas replied, with perhaps an air of indifference, then yawned himself.

There was about a minute more of quiet before the same sort of light Temeraire knew to associate with Laurence's awakenings as a dragon began to spiral out from Dilly's sleeping body. It swiftly floated in the direction of the space left open, increasing in size the entire time. It grew larger than Laurence and within a second it seemed about to surpass Temeraire's present size before it took shape and became real.

"An Anglewing?!" Granby exclaimed. "An honest-to-God—"

But he was then cut off by Dilly noisily colliding with the cave wall and complaining with a loud "Ow." He had tried to take a step, starting with his left foreleg, but immediately stumbled and listed off to that side. As he stumbled back right, clearly in some sort of stupor, he began bleeding from a spot on his foreleg and another on his wing.

"Did you scrape against the rocks?" Rebecca shouted up with concern.

Temeraire, being tucked up against the opposite edge, forced himself to stay put to stay out of the way, but Laurence right next to him had startled and stood up, swinging his head quickly between Dilly's two forms. A realization had clearly struck him, and he declared rapidly,

"That is the bite wound, duplicated onto both forelimbs that correspond to the arm, and he just reopened it."

"So…what am I to…" Dilly said, his silt-pupiled eyes wide and dazed, "I think I'll just lay down."

So he inelegantly plopped himself down, and Granby immediately began scrambling to find whatever materials were at hand to improvise bandages suitable for a large middleweight. As Rebecca darted over to help, Laurence shouted out resolutely,

"No, it would be much easier to just return to human form. Mr. Challoner, pray reach out one of your talons to your human body."

"Okay?" Dilly replied, confused.

But he did so, and as he tapped talon to skin, his draconic form went from matter to light and spiraled in upon his human body. The moment the light was gone, he woke up with a start. He gripped his own left arm and stared blankly at the wrapped bandage, which now had blood soaked through to the surface.

"Did that really just happen?" Dilly said to nobody in particular, with that same stupor.

"It did," Granby answered, as he knelt down to tie an additional wrapping over the current bandage.

"So it worked?" Dilly asked.

"Yes, though I think laudanum might not," the word emphasized as he pulled tight the knot, "be the best idea in any future attempts."

"But at least it doesn't hurt much at all…" Dilly said with a soft laugh, before yawning and laying down again.

"Try to imagine yourself already reclining as a dragon…" Laurence began to speak quickly, before trailing off, as it seemed that Dilly was already back asleep again.

Celeritas, who had been quiet but observing intently during the whole ordeal, spoke up again, saying,

"Let us hope he does not immediately re-injure himself likewise upon taking draconic form again, but yes, Lieutenant, based on this trial, I concur that we should avoid laudanum for inducing sleep for such a purpose. Otherwise, I would count this a tremendous—"

Once more, the light of Dilly's new draconic side left his human form and took shape as an Anglewing. He was standing at first, but with wide eyes and deep focused breaths, he managed to ease himself down to the cave floor. Having done so, he over-cautiously turned his head to one side then the other to get an idea of his appearance as a dragon. Then, likewise slow, he began to scan his surroundings.

"Everything is so much…smaller…"

"So, how do you like it?" Rebecca asked excitedly, with her head craned upward.

"Let's wait…let's wait til my head's a bit more clear?" he replied, before letting out a great yawn.

Temeraire noticed Rebecca cock her head just a bit, before turning sharply towards Celeritas, and inquiring,

"Celeritas, sir—if I may be so bold, might I propose a modification to tonight's experiment?"

"What do you propose?"

"Given my brother's present stupor, I believe it best to refrain from him being the one to bite me in the attempt to render me a likewise weredragon. May Captain Laurence now do so instead, that we might test an alternate location of the bite and refraining from laudanum use, then find another candidate, tonight or at a later juncture, to test if either Dilly or I are capable of also spreading the condition?"

"Hmm…your suggestion seems to come from a place of great eagerness, Ensign, but neither can I disagree. Very well, we will do as you propose, and if possible still here tonight. Lieutenant Granby, what say you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Granby turned and said with hesitation.

"Do you wish to be our third candidate?"

Granby drew in a sharp breath and stammered for a bit before replying,

"Celeritas, I…I am honored to be considered, but I just learned mere hours ago that this all was even real, and I…cannot decide. I do not know whether I would want it or not, so even on that basis, I suppose I ought to refrain, for now."

"Hmm…very well," Celeritas replied, not displeased, but pondering. Bobbing his head up and down a few times, he remained quiet, before speaking up once more, "Then, Lieutenant, pray go fetch Midwingman Burke and inquire…inquire if she would wish to become a dragon."

By the end of that weekend, there were seven new weredragons at the Loch Laggan covert. Rebecca's dragon form was an Anglewing like her older brother, though she was just a bit smaller than full adult proportions; Granby thought that she appeared as if she was a dragon of some six to eight months of age rather than fifteen years like she was as a human. With more careful consideration, neither did they think that Dilly looked his nineteen years, but closer to two to four. Such an indirect correspondence of maturity was born out as well with the two others, Burke and Hughes, who had close enough resemblance to a particular breed, Greyling and Grey Copper respectively. The remaining three all had dragon forms closer to that of the so-called ferals who dwelt throughout the Isles—though Temeraire had never meet such a dragon yet. And in every case tested, the new weredragons were just as capable of passing on the condition via bite as Laurence was.

Come Monday morning, Temeraire had his new harness put on by the ground crew and he made his way with Laurence to the training courtyard for the resumption of their assessments. Upon arriving, he saw that this new formation of sorts was already aloft over the training valley, having left the cave that was now set aside for them, with Celeritas putting them through initial flight trials. Celeritas took the chance to explain to Maximus and Berkley (and Temeraire and Laurence just the same as if they did not know the actual truth) that this was a new experimental formation of unharnessed dragons, who might specialize in patrolling routes that saw fewer actions, to free up crewed dragons to be deployed elsewhere in areas of greater need. He was sparse on other details regarding these new dragons, mostly stating that they were not here to take on captain or crew and that they were not expected to be interacting much with the other dragons of the covert. He quite particularly did not give any information as to where they had come from.

However, when the exhausting assessments for the day were through, and Berkley and Laurence had left to go to dinner, Dilly and Rebecca Challoner landed by him as all the dragons made ready for the common feeding time. Or rather, if anybody were to ask, Fulmineus and Audax, their made-up names, like Gallant for Laurence, since it was apparently still important to not divulge that they were weredragons. Temeraire took note of the marred scales of scars on Dilly's foreleg and wing, and on Rebecca's hindleg just above the ankle, but one had to know what to look for to spot them. Once the two weredragons had drawn near, Rebecca spoke up, in an unobtrusive voice,

"I presume us fast, agile fliers of presently similar weight class ought to stick together?"

He replied that that seemed reasonable, but did not quite understand the implication until they had taken off in flight as Maximus and Lily were finishing feeding. All the other days since arriving at the covert when he had not eaten alone, he was forced to wait with the rest of the dragons as everyone said those two had precedence; he was inclined to feel dismal about it even though Laurence had encouraged him that it was almost certainly a temporary state until he had grown to his full size and could thus be set apart from the middleweights. But today, as he flew in close ranks with the Anglewings, all the rest who were circling seemed to take notice, and none of them dove to begin hunting as Maximus and Lily took off from the field—they were waiting for the three of them to go next. Dilly gave a vigorous nod, and they descended together to take their meal.

Afterwards, they took wing generally back east, though in a wide arc to avoid the relative horde of the remainder of the covert's dragons, which did seem to include the other five new weredragons. As they flew, Rebecca inquired,

"I think the officers' dinner will not be out yet? Would it be rude if we," with a quick side-nod towards her brother, "went on to the lake ahead of you and Captain Laurence?"

"Oh, you planned to join us?"

"Of course! He had said…" and here she trailed off as she turned her head about to more carefully scan their surrounds, "…oh, probably best to wait to converse until at the lake. My apologies, Temeraire; I am still adjusting to how we are expected to proceed with all this."

"I find it a bit silly," Temeraire said, trying to work through what he might still say in case they were overheard, "but Laurence told me that it was important that we carefully followed the guidance of our superior officers in the matter, so I suppose I must put up with it. And I do not mind if you go on ahead; it will be nice to have the company, now that apparently Rankin has instructed Levitas to have nothing to do with Laurence and me."

"That's unfortunate," Dilly said, then turning towards his sister, "though I don't suppose one of our new formation-mates might not invite him instead?"

"That should do," she replied, "but it may have to wait until tomorrow, to avoid undue attention now."

This at last brought them over the main courtyard, so with mutual calls of "See you soon!" they parted and Temeraire spiraled down to the courtyard. It being nearly vacant of dragons, besides Maximus and Lily who were both at the moment licking their chops and talons, though the latter much more fastidiously than the former, Temeraire decided to land close to the entrance of the main building, so that Laurence and any cadets who would join might not have as far to walk. Though perhaps Rebecca had been implying that she wished to speak openly, so maybe the cadets should not join today?

But not too long after he had landed and the Anglewings had flown overhead, he saw a fair number of ground crewmen begin to stir. As the moments passed, this eventually became many heads turning to gaze skyward to the northwest in the direction of the feeding grounds. One particularly venturesome young man looked at Temeraire, and approaching, asked,

"Where are all the others?"

As primly as he might, Temeraire replied,

"Oh, they gave Audax, Fulmineus, and myself precedence; I presume they will be here once they have finished their usual hunting and eating."

This swiftly resulted in a great deal of muttering across the courtyard, and even a few scattered cadets running inside, as if it were the height of gossip. Temeraire contented himself to wait, and luckily it was not too long before he saw several of the senior officers beginning to make their way out. Laurence followed soon after, flanked by the usual trio of cadets.

"Laurence, I do not mean to be rude in asking this, but might the cadets stay behind today? It sounded like some of the new formation were to be joining us at the lake, and the Anglewings have already gone on ahead."

Laurence went wide-eyed for just a moment, before blinking away his startlement and saying to the cadets,

"Gentlemen, I believe I ought to follow Temeraire's guidance. Thank you once again for fetching the linens, and I hope you may join us instead tomorrow."

A rather dismal "Yes, sir," was the reply, before Temeraire took Laurence up and placed him on his back, and then he took off in flight southeast towards the lake. As he did so, a few of the Winchesters, having less to eat and being swifter in flight, were returning to the courtyard, though he did not spot Levitas among them in his quick glance. The two mile flight was a quick one, particularly since it included a more than two thousand foot drop in altitude. Part of him wished he might land in the water direct, but for Laurence's sake, as humans could not handle the cold water very well, he did not. So, he landed instead along the shore by where the weredragon siblings were splashing themselves off in the shallows, though, if he had to say, they were a bit awkward in their movements doing so. Rebecca gave a wary look about Temeraire's harness, but seeing only Laurence as Temeraire helped him down to the ground, she relaxed, and exclaimed cheerfully,

"Captain Laurence! I must say that the basics of moving about and flying have come quite by instinct, but perhaps not everything has."

"Well," Dilly cut in, before Laurence answered, "for my part, I was pleasantly surprised by how delicious the raw meat was; I really think I could get used to that."

"I suppose so, but I would argue that a nice roasted pig or side of beef would be even better," Rebecca mused in reply.

"I am most glad to hear that you seem to be enjoying yourselves, as you are now," Laurence at last said with amusement, setting the linens down neatly upon a rock at the ready for when Temeraire would be done swimming about.

Temeraire went for a quick arcing loop of flight to land out in the deeper water and begin swimming around. Dilly tilted his head in curiosity, and then lunged forward and tried paddling out to join him, which he did well enough, if a bit slowly. Rebecca looked back and forth between them and Laurence with indecision, before dipping her snout one more time in a vigorous splashing of water to clean off some final remnant of gore, stepping out and shaking herself off, then setting down next to Laurence. Though Temeraire could not make out the exact words at a distance, she seemed to be asking him a great many questions.

They swam for quite some time, and while they were doing so, Temeraire spotted the other weredragons head down to the lake as well, but they kept apart about a half-mile off. When he at last returned to the shore, with Dilly not too far behind him, Rebecca had apparently not yet ceased in her inquiries.

"Do you think we will really be able to keep all this secret, that nobody else will find out that we are weredragons?"

"We have our orders, and so we must make every effort to do so within the confines of our other orders and duties," Laurence answered. "Yet I have already failed in this regard once, in a moment of high temper and poor self-control, and it seemed to have been brushed aside as inconsequential. For all that I know of him—and pray do not take this as criticism of a superior officer—Celeritas does not seem to give a tuppence for keeping weredragons secret when compared to the military advantages that might be gained through their active service."

"I cannot say I disagree, sir," Rebecca said. "There was already word going around among the junior officers speculating over the Yellow Reaper cross that was doing signal training, of all things, throughout the night, with no trace of him during the day. And now to have seven unharnessed dragons show up as if out of nowhere to begin training? With the same number of officers having disappeared from the common life of the covert? It is hardly inconspicuous."

Laurence seemed to ponder this for a while, as he began wiping down Temeraire's hide. He then asked, in a tone suggesting that he was seeking to confirm a presumption he had already made,

"The very first time I heard the term 'weredragon' was Captain Portland referencing fairy tales told amongst the Corps' young folks. Are such stories as common as he seemed to make them?"

"Yes, I would say they are reasonably common, and certainly more popular than tales of were-wolves," she replied. "Not all of them cast weredragons in a positive light, mind you—tales of savagery and men becoming bloodthirsty feral beasts—but I suppose near every aviator is at least familiar with the general notion? I cannot say how many put any actual belief in it; I know I only did for a short while as a cadet, even if I might have wistfully hoped otherwise."

"And look at you now!" Dilly said with a snort.

At this, she held up a golden-scaled forehand to ponder more closely and flexed her talons for a moment or two. She laughed a bit, then said,

"Thank you, Captain Laurence, sincerely. I can only imagine that this new training is going to be the most exhausting thing I have ever done in the service…but it is a dream come true all the same."

The next day started out similarly, with ceaseless rounds of assessments, though these were rather more annoying than exhausting, as he was forced to keep in line with Maximus the entire time, and they had entirely different natural patterns of flight. It was slow and tedious, even in the speed trials, and he could not even divert his focus long to more interesting things—like watching the maneuverability trials the weredragons were doing, though there were only six of them today as they seemed to be missing their Greyling—lest he fall out of place and Laurence had to call him back to attention. At some point past noon, Celeritas was pulled away to converse with some human officers who had arrived at the courtyard, one of whom he recognized as Captain Wexler and the other who might have had four sets of gold bars on his shoulders. This meant they had to do another unnecessary repetition of the same flight course before they were called in…though not only were Maximus and him so summoned, but all the dragons in the training valley.

"I need to meet with Admiral Powys at present," Celeritas began, "so Captain Wexler will supervise Lily's formation in their ongoing drills, and all other dragons are to engage in endurance exercises at standard formation pace until my return or the usual concluding time of the day's session, whichever is earlier."

So now it would be both annoying and exhausting, Temeraire thought to himself as he grumbled quietly, while a loose chorus of voices from the captains and other dragons said "Yes, sir," and "Very good, sir." He would have been inclined to remain in such a mood if it were not for the clearly anxious glances the weredragons were beginning to look at each other and him with…or perhaps not him, but Laurence on his back. Oh…so this likely had something to do with all of them, or Celeritas's experiments, or the incident with Rankin…

Temeraire was in no mood to dissemble, so he simply said nothing at all rather than inquire, and let himself be directed by Laurence in monotonous loops of the valley at seventeen knots and one thousand feet over the covert's elevation. At least Laurence seemed to understand his dissatisfaction; many a time as he flew, he felt his Captain's hand held against his neck reassuringly. This having followed a morning's worth of trials, Maximus fell off the pace after the first hour and returned to the courtyard, then Rebecca and one of the smaller weredragons after that, before the flags were waved for the end of the session. As they landed in the courtyard, he heard a loud human voice shouting in his direction,

"Temeraire? Fulmineus? Audax?"

In short order, this man was introduced to them as the head quartermaster, and he went on to explain,

"If the others are going to insist on giving you three precedence and you taking it, then you better go along first with Lily and Maximus; we cannot have you holding up the common feeding time by there being three rounds rather than two."

Dilly shrugged his wings nonchalantly while Rebecca looked rather pleased. Even in his tiredness, Temeraire perked up at this, and was about to reiterate this exciting news to Laurence, but then he saw him taking and reading a small note from a runner. So his voice was a bit more hesitant than he was expecting when he said,

"See, Laurence? They are going to let me eat first after all!"

"Yes, that is good," Laurence said flatly.

"What is wrong?"

Letting out a sigh, Laurence replied,

"The senior officers of the covert are being called to a meeting with Admiral Powys and Captain Wexler following dinner. I am afraid I will not be able to join you for the usual after-meal bathing at the lake. Will you be able to manage on your own, or should I have the cadets join you in my stead?"

Temeraire looked to Rebecca instinctively, given her interest yesterday in not having other company along that they might converse freely, and she gave a slight shrug and shaking of her head in indifference.

"I do like being wiped down afterwards," Temeraire thusly replied, "and Roland, Dyer, and Morgan seemed sad to have not gone along yesterday, so could you ask them to join?"

"Certainly, my dear."

And so, Temeraire watched Laurence walk back inside, before waiting alongside the Challoner siblings to be called to the feeding grounds. They took off in flight behind Lily and Maximus, who seemed mildly surprised but not at all concerned about the three of them joining. They did not converse on the way out, as they were all quite tired and intent on their meals, but once they had all had their fill and took off back towards the main courtyard of the covert, Lily spoke up first,

"So you go to the lake, after eating?"

"Yes we do," Temeraire replied proudly. "It is quite splendid to swim and bathe, and then have whatever dirt and gore that does not come off in the water washed off by your Captain, or someone else."

"Though I did find," Rebecca offered, "that rinsing and splashing about served quite well on their own to feel sufficiently clean."

Temeraire quite disagreed with this notion, based on his now well-established habits, but as that also seemed to be Laurence's preference when he ate as a dragon, he did not feel like protesting. Perhaps it bothered them less, given the whole disappearing and reappearing of their draconic forms, so the grime did not linger indefinitely.

"Hmm…I think I would like to go see, at least, sometime," Lily said. "I will have to ask my Catherine if we cannot do so."

Maximus, who seemed to be squinting his eyes suspiciously at Rebecca ever since she had spoken, grumbled a bit in response to Lily, and said,

"I have been trying to ask Berkley for a bath ever since I saw that Temeraire takes them, but he only keeps muttering about it being absurd."

"Well, I think you ought to be free to join us," Temeraire said, "if you should wish to, of course. Our Captains will not be free until later, so it is not as if there will not be time."

"You know, I think I might," Maximus said, after one more pondering gaze at Rebecca.

"I will pass for today, thank you," Lily said politely, "but I do appreciate the offer."

They all landed together this time at the courtyard, after which Lily said farewell and walked over to her waiting ground crew. The trio of cadets had been eagerly waiting just outside the entrance, and they darted over as soon as Temeraire landed. He bent down so that they could easily reach the lowest harness loops even with their short stature, and once he heard them call "We're locked on!" from his back, the four dragons took off for the lake, before any of Maximus's crew realized what he was doing.

Dilly and Rebecca both tried to imitate Temeraire's trick from yesterday of landing out over the deep water rather than swimming out from shore, though the latter was much more careful than the former in doing so, and she in turn had the much more graceful landing of the two. Temeraire landed to drop off the cadets before heading into the water, this time from the shore for variety's sake. But then as he reached enough depth that he had to swim rather than walk, he turned about to see Maximus still hesitating in the shallows. Temeraire gave a curious tilt of his head, and was about to say something, before with a huff Maximus lunged forward, causing a great swell. It was nearly enough to surge over him, but as it was, he floated up and over the wave, his hindlegs briefly hitting the lake bottom on the down swell. The wave reached the Anglewings a moment later, and they likewise floated up and down. With a sly grin, Temeraire spun about and swung out a foreleg to splash Maximus, who snorted in turn, then struck his tail against the surface to splash Temeraire. Dilly then copied the motion to splash his sister, and soon enough it was all four of them engaged in a great aquatic battle. The cadets, for their part, had to move further back from the shoreline to not be caught in the resulting waves.

About the same time that they saw the other group of weredragons flying down to the lake farther along the shore—with Levitas in their company, Temeraire was pleased to note—they swam back to shore. Temeraire walked to the waiting cadets, Maximus undertook a bit of scrapping and licking at his chops and talons for any remnants, Rebecca washed herself down in the shallows a bit more, and Dilly sulked in disappointment over the late February Scottish weather that failed to provide the opportunity to laze about in the sun. Shortly thereafter, they regrouped around Temeraire, whose wiping down would clearly still take awhile, and as they did so, Maximus inquired in what might have been an attempt at a casual tone,

"Audax? Have you ever met an Ensign Rebecca Challoner?"

In an attempt at sounding unfazed, she replied,

"Hmm…why do you ask?"

"You sound a bit like her, and you showed up right after she was taken from my crew…that is all."

Roland, who was at that very moment standing by Temeraire's ear wiping down the side of his head, let out a loud and excited gasp. They all turned to look at her, so she perforce had to explain,

"I knew something was going on! If you are Rebecca," she said, pointing at said weredragon, before pointing at the other, "then you must be Dilly, since clearly you are siblings, and then," her voice rising even louder as she looked back at Temeraire, "Gallant must be your Captain Laurence! It lines up so well, if you are all weredragons!"

As Roland stood there expectantly, her face beaming with joy-filled triumph, Temeraire, Dilly, and Rebecca all looked at each other with rising horror, and none of them said a word. The silence itself spoke volumes…and Temeraire desperately wished that Laurence was here.