Rating: G
Summary: A two-hundred year old Temeraire reflects on his past.
Disclaimer: I don't own Temeraire, Naomi Novik does. If I did, I'd have ruined this series.
Warnings: None that I can think of.
Beneath the roof of a comfortably warm dragon pavilion at Wollaton Hall, a two-hundred year-old dragon stared out at the rain with large blue eyes that twinkled like a wise old sage's: calm, yet filled with an amusement at having lived this long.
Since his settlement here after the fifties, Temeraire had the opportunity to meet many different people, both humans and dragons, and he was just as eager to learn their opinions on things as he was learning mathematics all those years ago with his dear Laurence.
For once in his life, he thanked England's government for allowing Laurence to be pardoned after his death of old age in New South Wales - or Australia now, as they called it, and have his body brought back to England to be buried at his family home.
William Laurence died with no children, so Temeraire was left without a suitable captain, but that was just fine when he entered Parliament to represent the dragons of England, what with all the boring paperwork that fell upon his assistants. It was a noble cause, although there were many times that Temeraire wished that he could see his dear Laurence's face again, so that he could reassure him like he used to.
He was not left entirely alone though, as many of his old friends (which included Iskierka too, he supposed) along with their captains had come to visit him, as well as Lady Allendale, who often brought along Laurence's nieces and nephews.
But that was all a century and a half ago, and his old friends had since moved onto the various breeding grounds, Temeraire thought with a snort and a flick of his tail. Besides, there was another matter at the moment.
"Temeraire." A voice said, and the great black head turned to see a man in a pinstriped black business suit, with blue eyes oh so like his dear Laurence's, but Laurence's hair was blonde while the man in front of him was dark-haired. "Let's be off now."
Temeraire nodded his head as he rose slightly unsteadily on his limbs, now semi-translucent with age. He was grateful that he could still move on his own, without the need of assistants like his Grandfather, that he could still be able to do this.
Following the great-grandnephew of William Laurence, they took the short walk to a large clearing, where a weathered old gravestone sat on the far edge. Though the epigraph had long since faded away, Temeraire could still picture the words in their bold font with his mind's eye.
"Here lies William Laurence, Captain to Temeraire, and Savior to all of Dragon-kind."
Temeraire felt tears run down his face, distinct from the tiny raindrops that glistened on his scales, and William Laurence Jr. simply nodded as he took Temeraire's head into his arms, resting his head on his snout.
They could've stood there for all eternity if the rain hadn't stopped, but when it did, Will let go of him, running a hand over his snout with a poignant face. "Let's go home, Temeraire."
Temeraire simply nodded, and they walked slowly side by side back to the pavilion, leaving behind the grave of William Laurence.