Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It all belongs to Naomi Novik.
Here it is: my first fic on this site. A short little one-shot about Laurence and Temeraire, just before Victory of Eagles. This is a scene I would have liked to see in the book. Enjoy, and please review!
Prologue: No Other Way
The September air over the Channel was brisk and cool, with a hint of the saltiness Laurence knew so well, from his many years at sea. As he flew over the waters he had once sailed, he tried to ignore the fact that this would be the last time he would enjoy the sensation, the last time he would feel the strong muscles of his beloved dragon Temeraire working beneath him. He attempted to savor every moment, and Temeraire seemed to be doing the same. He was flying with his head craned around to watch Laurence, and was taking only the most cursory glances at Accendare's formation, which was escorting them to Britain under flag of truce.
The French dragons were flying slightly below and ahead of Temeraire, in a perfect and rather intimidating La Crabe Grande formation, Accendare herself in the lead. A vile old creature who was blind in one eye and missing a talon due to a beating received on the Glorious First, the Flamme-de-Gloire was nevertheless an impressive sight when she wasn't coughing fit to make her lurch backwards in the air. Most of the other dragons in the formation were having similar difficulties.
As soon as Laurence had discovered what the Admiralty had done, in sending the dragon plague to France, he had known what he had to do. Or rather, Temeraire had known, and Laurence had come to agree. After all, there was nowhere French couriers did not go; the plague would have been all over the world within a year. Despite their loyalty to the Crown and their enmity with the French, Laurence and Temeraire had decided that they could not allow the Admiralty's shortsightedness to destroy the world's dragon population. So they had brought the cure to France, where it would soon be ready for distribution to the sick dragons. Now, Laurence was going home to face the consequences of his actions. De Guignes, Temeraire, and even Bonaparte himself had all implored him not to return; Bonaparte had in fact offered him a comfortable retirement. But, for all that it had been the right thing to do, it had still been treason, and Laurence did not mean to add cowardice to that crime. Of course, where Laurence went, Temeraire was not to be dissuaded from following.
Laurence noted from Temeraire's back that the British coastline was getting uncomfortably close. He forcibly quelled the uneasiness rising inside him; this was his choice, and he was going to see it through.
As they drew nearer, Laurence could make out what he believed to be the British reception committee waiting for them. He could not identify individual dragons at this distance, but he suspected that Jane Roland would be there with her Longwing, Excidium. As Admiral of Dover covert and Laurence's superior officer, he could scarcely imagine that she would not be present.
His suspicions were confirmed as they came ever closer. Roland was indeed there, standing beside her newly healthy dragon, with an expression of sternness on her face. Laurence knew that she understood why, but she had her duty to consider, and his treason must have left her in a very difficult position indeed.
Also present was Laurence's own former first lieutenant, John Granby, and the formation that had been built around his young dragon Iskierka. Granby was doing his best to hide his confusion; Iskierka was making no such pretense. Both were good friends of theirs, and both, Laurence was sure, had been shocked to hear of what had happened.
Accendare's shadow finally fell on solid ground, and she began her descent, her crew flying the white flag of truce. Once she landed, the rest of the formation settled to the earth after her. Temeraire seemed to hesitate for the tiniest of moments, then he too dropped to the ground.
As the French dragons arranged themselves, De Guignes, who had been riding with Accendare, climbed down from the rigging. With decorum befitting his status as France's foremost diplomat, he read a prepared statement from a roll of paper he produced from his coat.
"His Imperial Majesty Napoleon I, Emperor of France, King of Italy, Mediator of the Swiss Confederation, and Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine, hereby submits Captain William Laurence, commander of the dragon Temeraire, to the justice which the British authorities shall see fit to carry out upon him. It is in accordance with Captain Laurence's wishes that he is now being turned over to the British authorities. His Majesty wishes it understood that Captain Laurence has performed a great and noble service not only for France but for the world, and that Captain Laurence carries with him the gratitude of the French nation."
With that, De Guignes withdrew. Much as Laurence appreciated the sentiment, he could not help but feel that it had only served to draw the noose even tighter around his neck. Having already dismounted to stand by Temeraire's head, he turned to face his dragon, and say a final farewell.
"Remember, do not stay in the breeding grounds past New Year's, unless you see me in person. I expect they will hang me before month's end."
"I won't forget, Laurence," Temeraire responded. "But are you sure you have to do this? We can still go back to China."
"I only wish you would, my dear. There is no other choice for me; I must do this," Laurence said.
"It was as much my idea as yours. I don't understand why they're going to hang you, but only put me in the breeding grounds," Temeraire retorted. "It's those Admiralty idiots who should be hanged for this whole mess."
Laurence could not bring himself to voice such acerbic sentiments, and said instead, "We must be content with having done the right thing."
Temeraire was silent for a moment, then said very quietly, "And you're going to die for it?"
Laurence simply nodded, and laid his cheek against the scaly hide. "I love you, Temeraire."
After a few seconds, Laurence stepped back, took one last look at his dragon, then turned around and began his slow march through the ranks of French dragons towards the British party. He caught a sympathetic gleam in Granby's eye, and it was almost more than he could bear. He focused instead on the Admiralty Lord who was to arrest him. As he drew nearer, he recognized Mulgrave, standing in the center of the mass of British dragons, and looking not at all comfortable with his proximity to such a large group of beasts.
And there, Laurence thought bitterly, was the source of the whole problem: the Admiralty's refusal to see dragons as anything more than elevated livestock. No matter how many times they were told otherwise, no matter how many times a dragon failed to cause any harm, the entire British populace remained woefully afraid of the great beasts. This ignorance had allowed the Admiralty to perpetrate the crime of sending the plague to France without any qualms whatsoever, and now, Laurence was going to pay the ultimate price for their lack of scruples.
Laurence finally came to a stop in front of Mulgrave and the company of Marines which surrounded him. The man had a stern and businesslike air about him, and there was cold disgust and contempt in the glance he threw Laurence before turning to issue orders to one of the Marines.
The Marine in question came forward with a set of irons and a key. Without being prompted to do so, Laurence turned and placed his hands behind his back. This, at least, afforded him one last look at Temeraire, the glossy black hide, the elegant ruff and tendrils adorning his head; all the hallmarks of a Chinese Celestial in his prime.
As he felt the shackles close around his wrists, Laurence was suddenly gripped by the conviction, more powerfully than he had yet felt it, that there really had been no other way.