A/N: So, General Hatred of Rankin… Much agreement there from me, but we must move on, my lovelies! So please, enjoy the chapter, and please

R&R

Eleven

After the Rankin Incident, Temeraire joined Lily's formation in training, and Daemon found himself training in maneuvers mostly by himself and with random dragons, only occasionally joining the seven dragons. It made him sad, and a little lonely, but he understood. He was an Independent, a relief flyer, and Temeraire was a Formation Flyer. They couldn't train together forever. Outside of work, he sometimes went and visited with his friend, though he refrained from joining him, Maximus, and Lily in their rambunctious games of aerial tag, as the thought of three large dragons chasing him about was, quite frankly, terrifying. He spent time, instead, watching them from the ground beside the Yellow Reapers Messoria and Immortalis, or next to agile Dulcia (a Grey Copper), or even the nervous Pascal's Blue Nitidus. All of them were older and all of them had previous battle experience, something he and his three friends lacked, and none of them had the energy to play…

And not any of them were nearly so large, and therefore not nearly as likely to set off his instincts.

Laurence was adapting well, too. He had gotten used to the idea of female officers, at least enough that he no longer unconsciously hesitated that split seconded before saying "Captain" before Captain Harcourt's name. He was a gentleman, born and raised, and it was illegal for women to dress in men's clothing (something which did not make any legitimate sense to Daemon). But Laurence was getting used to it, just as Temeraire was getting along with the other dragons now. Joshua had made a friend in a young ensign only a year older then himself on Maximus, named David, and the two were nigh inseparable when not working or eating. While Daemon was happy to see his hatchling happy and making friends, he couldn't help the jealous pang that went through him every time he saw David, but he could ignore it for his hatchling.

After all, as long as Joshua was happy, he was happy.

His acid-water spray had developed a little more, enough that he could spit a bucket's worth at a time, with accuracy, while flying. It had taken a week to learn how to aim while in the air, though, and Celeritas had consoled him when he was down that, when he reached full-growth and shot sprays instead of these stuttering little bursts, then his aim and accuracy, as well as the damage done, would greatly improve. They had also taken to training him to aim his tail-spikes when he fired them, which was difficult, because he had never tried to control how many he shot before. Now he could try and shoot three, and only shoot one or two extra, and mostly hit the targets, which were small, so hitting dragons would be good, at least.

"Not that they're likely to hold still," he told Joshua one day after being told this; the boy had just patted his neck consolingly.

"Then you'll just have to get as close as possible," he'd replied, and Daemon had nodded and simply gotten back to work.

The work was continuous, and days passed quickly. His wings grew another foot or so, and his tail grew a good half a foot longer. It wasn't until the strange tickling on his chin registered that Daemon realized what was happening. A week after it started, the itching stopped, and a small beard, just on the front of his lower jaw and only a few inches long of dark purple, wiry hair had sprouted, and the Steelwing found himself eying his reflection with a mixture of curiosity and dismay.

He had finally reached his full growth.

And he wasn't the only one, it seemed. Temeraire had sprouted his own oddity. Thin tendrils sprouted round his jaws, and a ruff, with delicate webbing stretched between flexible horns, grew out around his face, like a frill. He was very anxious about this, and stared at his reflection many times after it grew, making Daemon shake his head in amusement. He though it gave his friend a rather oriental look, something that was ironic seeing as how he was a Chinese breed.

It was shortly after this that he found himself hungry again, almost exactly three months after his last meal, and a month after he'd reached full growth (During which he was constantly terrified, waiting for the Heat to hit, but it didn't), and so he went to the feeding grounds along with the other dragons for the first time, Joshua following along. He waited up on the hill with his hatchling, as opposed to going to wait with the other dragons (of which he could see Orianna, who continued to pursue him though he'd made it clear he was not interested). So he was present and able to witness what happened when the newcomer arrived.

He was of a breed Daemon had yet to see (not all that surprising as he didn't have much knowledge on breeds in the first place, excepting those from his own world and not this one). His wings were patterned like marble, veins of orange and yellow and brown shot through with nearly translucent ivory, and he was very large, though not larger then Temeraire. As he was allowed down to eat with Maximus and Lily, Temeraire (who had yet to try such a thing, uncertain as to his place in the hierarchy) let out a low rumbling noise deep in his chest, sounding surprisingly like an angry bullfrog, and leapt down immediately to join the three, startling the poor herders who, after a few moments of milling about, quickly released more animals.

"Took him long enough to step up," Daemon murmured; Joshua chuckled and stroked his neck lovingly, smiling up at him fondly as they waited for the smaller dragons turns to feed. A man, a stranger, in thick woolen trousers and a civilian's coat, whose scent was of the new dragon, spoke with Laurence, another man Daemon recognized as Sutton standing beside him.

"Chanson-de-Guerre," Joshua said abruptly, snapping his fingers and looking pleased as Daemon glanced down at him, bemused. "That is that dragons breed! It took me a moment to remember." He smiled easily. "He's one of the most common of the French heavyweights." Daemon cast the dragon a fascinated look. He remembered Fleur, and her little sister, from that damned TriWizard Tournament, and smiled slightly.

He had fond memories of French people.

A few minutes later, it was time for the rest of the dragons to eat, Daemon taking to the air and lunging down to scoop up two cows. When the herders set eyes on him, they scrambled about a bit, waited until he'd finished his two sheep, and released a cow for him, which he ate. He also ate the next one, and seven more sheep, plus a goat that had somehow gotten into the mix. Thoroughly glutted, the Steelwing took to the air lazily, swooping over towards where Temeraire was sitting near the new dragon, Praecursoris.

"Bonjour," he greeted the French dragon cheerfully. "Je m'appelle Daemon. Comment êtes-vous?" He smiled at the dragon, glad that he had gotten Fleur to teach him enough French to at least begin a polite conversation. Praecursoris looked mildly surprised.

"Bonjour," he replied cautiously, eying the smaller dragon carefully, which made Daemon nervously shift back. Then his golden eyes softened, and he smiled. "C'est agréable de vous recountrer, Daemon. Je m'appelle Praecursoris, et je suis tres bien, merci demander. Et tu?"

"Bien, bien," he replied, then smiled sheepishly. "Je suis désolé, mais se n'est tous les Français je sais comment parler, outre un peu de ceci et cela." Praecursoris chuckled, leaned down, and nuzzled the Steelwing under the chin, making him purr as he hit that spot, even as he staggered slightly.

"Ce n'est pas grave. Merci d'essayer." Daemon laughed and nodded, then turned to see Temeraire, Joshua, and Laurence staring at him, startled.

"What?" he asked, and then took to the air with a shake of his head. "I am going to go take a bath, now. I shall see you later, Joshua, Temeraire, Laurence!" He said to his friends warmly. "Au revoir, Praecursoris!" he said cheerfully, and zoomed away at full speed, so that he slammed into the lake with a magnificent splash. Spiraling through the lake depths as his momentum gradually slowed, the Steelwing sucked in massive amounts of water, feeling his water-sacs fill. He didn't know exactly how much they could actually hold, but it was always a good idea to keep them filled, especially since he was using his acid-water streams in training constantly now.

Swimming swiftly, he sucked in more and more water, placidly circling around the lake, his beard tickling his throat just below his jaw. Damn but that thing had gotten annoying since it had grown in, since the scales under his chin were so much more sensitive then elsewhere. No less hard, but just more…alive? Active, perhaps, or flexible. He blew out a burst of bubbles in a snort, amused at his thoughts, and rose towards the surface easily. Time to rejoin the community.

Climbing out of the water, he stilled completely, silver eyes narrowing as he saw someone he had dearly hoped he would never set eyes on again without the cushioning support of others.

Rankin.

Alone.

Unprotected.

On a cliff.

A slow snarl curled his lips and Daemon slid back into the water to slide around the back of the cliff and out of sight of the covert, his mind filled with the images of miserable Levitas. He knew the little dragon would grieve horrible after what he was about to do, but at least he would live to do so.

"Good God!" Laurence exclaimed hours later in horror when one of his men came and told him and Joshua the news. Rankin's body had been found, shattered and broken from a long, deadly fall off the top of a cliff he was well-known to go sit on when the mood struck him for some solitude. While the Captain wasn't very mournful of the man's passing, it was still a horrible way to die. Temeraire and Daemon shared a look over their Captains' heads.

"What will happen to Levitas?" the Silverwing asked anxiously; Joshua murmured to him and stroked his face comfortingly while Laurence hesitated.

"I suppose they will put him to another Captain," he said hesitantly, "but, if he does not wish for one, they may just send him to the Breeding Grounds. I am uncertain." The Silverwing rumbled slightly at the answer, but settled as Joshua rubbed his horns. Temeraire sniffed.

"Well, I think Levitas should be much better now that that man is gone," he said simply, "though he may not be happy now, he will be later, with a proper Captain. Pray, Laurence, come closer," he said plaintively, and the blond man obeyed, climbing up onto the black dragon's forearm and getting comfortable, soothingly petting him when he nuzzled close. Though he did not care for Rankin, it was clear the proof of a Captain's mortality had shaken Temeraire, if only a little, something he proved in the following days by remaining closer than normal and much more possessive. Although, he also became rather competitive when it came to Praecursoris when the French dragon joined his formation as a Relief Flyer with Daemon, and focused on his formation's maneuvers with great intensity, where as before he was bored and apathetic with the repetitive movements.

"He is not bigger than I am like Maximus," Temeraire told Daemon peevishly as they swam together, his ruff pinning back as he huffed. "And he cannot spit acid like Lily, or water like you. I do not see why I should treat him any different than the other dragons!" Daemon agreed wholeheartedly, though he privately mused that that was exactly what the Imperial was doing, treating the dragon differently, but he didn't say it, as it proved a good motivator for his friend's training.

After a few days, Laurence and Temeraire began discussing creating their own moves, which interested Daemon as an Independent, and when the blond Captain salvaged an old flight-table ad used bits of colored wood held by string to create a vast diorama, the Silverwing got his Captain and Lieutenant Rogers in on the discussions to talk about some moves for himself, which they did with great relish. Joshua had a boy's imagination, Daemon had his Quidditch memories, and Rogers had her military expertise to let them know what would be helpful and what wouldn't. Temeraire helped every once and a while with a suggestion here and there. Then the crew found out, and got into it, and soon they were flying the maneuvers, and Temeraire was as well, using sacks filled with ash to replace bombs.

More often then not, he ended up wearing the ash, as his men, while used to his abrupt twists and flips, weren't used to having to aim while it was happening. If nothing else, Daemon mused, should they master some of the more acrobatic moves, then he would be deadly in his unpredictability in the field, which seemed to be the point of the most favorable of the maneuvers chosen, moves even Temeraire had difficulty following, with his flexibility only a few degrees less then Daemon's own, and his ability to hover. Both Rogers and Joshua agreed, though, that they would wait until the men had at least an eighty percent success rate before showing any of the maneuvers to Celeritas, despite the fact that Daemon, as an Independent, didn't need the Training Master's approval for his moves outside of a formation. He didn't complain though, because he knew it was prudent to get the other dragon's opinion on the moves. After all, he had two hundred years of battle experience compared to Daemon, and would know if anything was useful or not.

They settled into a steady routine of working the new maneuvers during their free time, none of his men ever complaining once about the loss of their resting periods, and Temeraire did the same with his crew. It made Daemon quite proud, and he told his crew so quietly every day as the maneuvers improved quickly. It was not three weeks into the training, though, when it happened.

The Heat hit.

It woke him from a restless, memory-filled sleep with a pulsing ache in his lower regions, and he whimpered, blinking as a hot flushed flashed through his body. Daemon shuddered and quickly got to his feet, staggering away from Temeraire as the Imperial sleepily lifted his head.

"Daemon?" He rumbled sleepily; Daemon shuddered and nearly tripped.

"I," he managed. "I-I am going to th-the lake, Temeraire. Tell Joshua?" He whimpered, and threw himself into the air, his wings pumping sporadically in jerking, ungraceful spasms that barely got him to the water, where he unceremoniously dropped like a stone, keening out a burst of bubbles as the frigid water immediately soothed the horrible heat that was pulsing through him, quenching the fever down. He bobbed back to the surface, and floated, shuddering, pupils blown wide as he remained stubbornly in the middle of the lake.

Hours passed and the sun rose. Movement on the shore caught his attention, and he could make out Celeritas form, along with what had to be Joshua, as well as Laurence and Temeraire. The black dragon and the Training Master spoke for a moment, before the Imperial slid hesitantly into the water and swam out towards his shivering form. He whimpered, the other dragons much larger form making something in him quake and quiver with fearful excitement and another eager pulse of eat and aching spasmed through his lower half, making him jerk in the water and duck down for a moment to try and regain his composure. This is Temeraire, he scolded himself firmly, not that his Heat was listening. It was happily cheering back Potential mate! Very loudly in the back of his head as the black dragon stopped a good bit away, which Daemon was unbelievably grateful for.

"Are you alright?" Temeraire asked hesitantly; Daemon had to swallow as the other dragon's voice forced another shiver from him.

"Heat," he explained, voice hoarse and rough; Temeraire's ruff quivered at attention and his pupil's widened slightly, but he nodded and hesitantly moved back.

"I shall go and tell the others," he told the purple Silverwing, who nodded gratefully, even as the Heat mourned that he was leaving. "They were worried about you." He hesitated a few moments more, staring curiously at Daemon, fascinated, before shaking his head firmly and turning around to swim back towards the humans and Celeritas. Daemon sighed and sank a little lower in the water, and prayed that the Heat would end soon.

He didn't like the idea of hiding in the lake for more then a day or two, after all.

He opened his eyes when the sound of someone swimming towards him reached him, having not even realized they had closed, and lifted his head to watch Celeritas swim out to him, amused to see the older dragon looked slightly uncomfortable with the action. The Heat murmured about safe, experienced, and good teacher, but wasn't as enthusiastic as it had been for Temeraire, though the fact that the Training Master was the same size as Daemon settled some of his more defensive instincts and relaxed him some.

"You may stay here until your Heat abates," the older dragon told him, staying nearly the same distance away as Temeraire had, which vaguely amused Daemon. "Though, according to the book your Captain has, that could be anywhere between a day and a week." He cast his eyes over Daemon, and took a slow breath, his pupils widening slightly and a small growl leaving his throat. Daemon whimpered and ducked his head submissively into the water when his instincts and the Heat slammed into him at once, making his body go limp and pliant, bobbing in the water effortlessly with no help from him at all. Celeritas shook his head sharply and blinked several times, and then looked bemused. "Perhaps it is for the best that you remain here, Daemon. We do not want ever virile male and female fighting for the rights to gain your attention, and the water helps cover most of the scent unless you are near." Daemon nodded, and Celeritas shook his head. "I suppose we should be thankful you do not need to eat for long periods of time, yes?" He smiled faintly, bid him a good day, turned, and swam away, leaving Daemon to wallow in water and disappointment that belonged utterly to his libido.

He would have been a wonderful Sire, the Heat sighed wistfully as he watched the older dragon climb out of the water, but he merely sighed and shook his head, before taking a deep breath and submerging himself into the lakes depths. For the next several hours, he would spend a majority of his time at the bottom of the lake, surfacing only to get his next lungful of water before swimming back down to curl up on top of a large rock again.

His first Heat was not nearly as difficult as he thought it would be, all things considered.

A/N: And there you go! I killed Rankin (and yes, I didn't put too much emphasis on it) so YAY! And Daemon got his Heat! WHOOT! R&R~!