Excitable
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Naomi Novik and her publishers. I'm not making any money off either this site or the story itself.

This is set . . . oh, four or five years after Empire of Ivory, let's say. Thanks to Kivrin for the beta. It was written as a pinch hit in the Temeraire ficathon. 

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Iskierka thought Madeira was certainly much nicer than Dover. Dover was always chilly, save in the height of summer, and even then it was windy. She had not thought much of it when she was younger, since of course she'd never known anything else, but then the Admiralty had sent her here, with her Granby, and Temeraire and his Laurence as well, to guard their ships, and she had realized that she did not much care for the cold.

The morning was mild but not yet warm as they flew the length of the island. Iskierka wished to see more of it, as so far she'd not seen more than the harbor and the town. It was a lush, green island, she saw as they flew, not so very different from England, save for the lack of bite to the breeze. Roads for carriages wound their way from settlement to settlement, and now and then she glimpsed a small herd of cattle or a few horses, bolting for safety as her shadow passed over them.

She thought she could have flown forever this way, but eventually Granby suggested they land. She did so on the side of a great, sloping meadow, with sheep that bleated in alarm and ran away from her. Iskierka hissed at them and let off a gust of steam, simply to see them panic. They were such stupid creatures - tasty, but stupid, and she was forced to admit that a life with nothing more exciting to look forward to than frightening sheep should soon grow wearisome. Theirs was in truth a lazy life at the moment and would have been quite dull if there were not so much else to do, and if the French did not keep trying to come close enough to attack.

"It is much nicer to fly when it is warm," she said, settling herself on the grass of the meadow, which was pleasantly cool in contrast to the sun beating down overhead. "I would like to stay here forever, I believe."

"But, my dear," Granby said, mopping his forehead and sitting down on the grass in her shadow, leaning against her, "you know quite well we must go where the Admiralty sends us. For now that is here, but next month they may send us back to Dover or up to Scotland, and we must obey our orders."

"Well, then," she said, curving her neck around to look at him, "I should like it very much if you might arrange that our orders are to remain here. And also perhaps to bring some of the others over - I miss Lily and Arkady and Maximus."

"I'm afraid such arrangements are not within my power," Granby said, smiling at her. His face was oddly red and covered with sweat; he did not appear nearly as comfortable as she herself was. "And any wise that sounds more like a holiday than a tour of duty."

Iskierka considered this. "Yes, I suppose so. But why not, then? Men go on holiday quite often."

"Not aviators, my dear. Not in war time."

"Temeraire said Martin went home for a fortnight, just before we came here," she said indignantly.

"Martin's mother was ill, and you mustn't go getting ideas from Temeraire."

She grumbled and turned her head away. She understood that she could not do as she pleased all the time, but certainly some of the time it could not cause so very much harm. This morning, for instance; why could they not have more mornings like this, with just the two of them aloft in the soft breezes, before the heat of the day? It only wanted Temeraire and Laurence beside them, but as they must take turns patrolling, that did not happen very often.

She did not say this however. Rather, she lowered her head to lay on the grass and said, "I quite like Temeraire's ideas."

"Hmm," said Granby. "You and Temeraire have spent a great deal of time together recently."

This was true. They had been for two weeks together on the transport and then every day for two months since. They shared a very large clearing just above the town, with a view of the harbor, out of sight of the townspeople, who were skittish about them for no reason Iskierka could discern. Temeraire had said the people were afraid they might eat them. What stuff. Humans were entirely too small and bony to be of any interest at allas food.

Granby was looking at her, awaiting an answer. Iskierka did not know what answer he expected her to give, save, "Yes, we have."

He cleared his throat. "Er, indeed. And you find him agreeable, do you not?"

Bemused, she lifted her head once more and craned it around to see him. "Yes, of course. He is much less boring than he used to be."

Granby laughed. "I think, my dear, that is because you are much less excitable than you used to be."

"I was never excitable!" He eyed her with obvious skepticism, and she felt compelled to add, "And if I was ever excitable, then I am quite sure that it was never without reason!"

He laughed. "Oh, my dear." He patted her side. "You gave me such fits as a hatchling. I would not trade you for anything, of course, nothing at all, but you drove me to distraction."

"Well," she said, after a moment's thought, which included particular contemplation of one or two instances of misadventure that had made Temeraire look at her askance, "perhaps I might have been a little excitable."

Granby chuckled. "I only ask about Temeraire, my dear, because before we departed Dover, I spoke to Admiral Roland. She seemed to think it quite likely that you might have your first egg while we were here, and if so then it makes a great deal of sense for you to have it from Temeraire, if you are amenable."

"Oh, that," she said, replacing her head on the flattened grass. "Why did you not simply say? Yes, of course, Temeraire and I have already spoken of it."

"You have? Do you - that is, is the egg already -"

"No, no," Iskierka said. "Nothing like that. But the evenings are long here, after you and Laurence and the crews are gone, and it is often too warm to sleep until quite late."

There was a brief moment of silence. "I see," Granby said at last, and then laughed until she turned her head to eye him reproachfully. She did not see what was so very funny. He ceased at once and patted her side soothingly. "I'm sorry, my dear, I beg your pardon. I did not mean to imply anything about you and Temeraire, only I was thinking of Laurence - does he know what you and Temeraire have been doing to fill these long, warm evenings?"

"I do not think so," she said thoughtfully. "It is really quite recent."

"Ah." Granby smiled widely, with a bit of a wicked gleam in his eye. "Then do you think Temeraire might mind terribly much if I told him? Or at least was there when he did? Laurence is so very proper; it would give him a right turn, I believe."

"I think Temeraire would wish to tell him," she said, "but I see no reason you cannot be there. I don't understand why it should upset him. It is perfectly natural between dragons, and I cannot think that it is so different among men."

"Not so different, no." Granby stretched himself out beside her. "But we have fashioned a great many rules about it, and those like Captain Laurence who were raised in polite society put quite a lot of store by them. Do not trouble yourself about it, my dear, but I do hope I am there when Temeraire breaks the news."

They passed the rest of the morning in idle, pleasant conversation on the hillside. Just before midmorning she found herself quite hungry, and so they went aloft again and out to sea, past the small fishing boats, away from where Temeraire was to fly his patrol pattern that morning. Iskierka dove, skimming the tops of the waves with her talons, and then swooping down to catch herself a leaping porpoise. She had not Temeraire's very useful trick of hovering, and so flew in distracted circles while she ate, and then dove again to rinse off the gore.

"My dear," Granby said, just as she came aloft once more, "north by northwest. Do you see a -"

"Oh, a ship!" she said at once. "Oh, I am certain it is the French, and of course Temeraire will not see it. His patrol does not come anywhere near here. We must investigate."

"Well, I think perhaps -"

She did not give him time to object. She beat up into the air, attempting to catch a smooth air current that would carry her there without so much useless flapping. She need only threaten to set alight their sails and they would quickly surrender, but it would not do to be exhausted while shepherding them into port.

It was indeed a French frigate, she saw as they drew closer. She reported this to Granby, who said, "Pray be cautious, Iskierka. We are alone, without our crew and without our guns. I truly think it might be best if we -"

"That is strange," she interrupted. "It is not moving."

"It isn't?" Granby paused. "You're quite right. I wonder - well, a bit closer, my dear, if you please."

Of course it pleased her. She'd not really intended to obey him if he told her to turn aside, but was just as happy now that she need not directly disobey him either. She dropped lower and stayed her course, until she could make out the ship more clearly: the men scrambling on the deck, the guns protruding from its sides, and the great yawning gash down its bow, rapidly filling with seawater.

She let off a burst of steam in distress. A damaged ship would bring much less capital. But then she saw, rising up beyond the ship, a great head with an evil eye and she backwinged in startlement. "Granby -"

"It is a sea serpent," he said. "My dear, we must alert the fleet. Pray make for home at once."

"But the ship will sink!" she protested; Temeraire had told her of his own encounter with a sea serpent on his journey to China, and even if he had not, she could see quite clearly how low in the water it was, lower and lower with every wasted moment. "I could run her off in a trice, I'm quite sure of it."

She did not await further arguments, but rather swooped low, roaring with a just a hint of flame. The serpent hissed; she was wrapped around the ship and that hindered her, but she dove below before Iskierka had the chance to do anything at all. She growled and flamed a patch of sparkling, sunlight water in pure frustration. The surface of the sea steamed and boiled, and the men on the ship shouted in alarm, drawing her attention back to them.

The ship was listing dangerously now. The crew was lowering small boats, but the serpent overturned three of them instantly with a twitch of her tail and they did not try again. Iskierka considered the problem; if they were allowed to launch their boats, they must make for the island, where Granby might report them to the Admiralty. They would most certainly be taken prisoner and perhaps she would receive a reward, even if the ship was lost. This would be a satisfactory conclusion - and even if there was no reward, she would at least have had an exciting morning.

"If I set the sails alight," she said to Granby, "the heat would certainly discourage her, would it not?"

"I think so," he said, "or at least she would be forced to relinquish her hold on the ship."

She turned and flew back towards the ship, for her second pass. She drew a deep breath, but did not have the chance to release it - the sea serpent surfaced again, this time surging up just below her. Granby barely had time for a cry of alarm; Iskierka would not have thought it possible that something might startle her from below, especially a creature bound to the sea, with no wings at all, but the serpent's jaws opened wide and scraped against her exposed belly. She roared, startled, and in her shock instinctively turned her flame upon the serpent.

The serpent let out a hissing sort of cry, very high; it echoed in Iskierka's ears long after it had faded. Iskierka saw a large, ugly patch of blistered skin running from the serpent's head down her neck as she collapsed back into the water. Her coiled length about the ship, gleaming in the morning sun, slipped back below the surface as well, knocking a few men loose. Iskierka beat upwards, out of any possible range of attack, and circled the ship. She felt quite strange, and it was only after a moment that she realized Granby was shouting her name, again and again, asking her if she was badly hurt.

"No, no!" she said, still scanning the surface for some sign of the serpent, beating in circles and paying her own injury no mind. "I did not mean to hurt her! Oh Granby, do you think her wound is grave?"

Granby did not answer at first, and when he did, he evaded her question. "I'm more concerned for your own, my dear."

"Oh, it is nothing, nothing," she said. But it continued to bleed nevertheless, dripping thick drops of blood down into the sea, where sharks gathered hungrily. She made certain to fly high overhead, some ways off from the rapidly sinking ship, while she watched the men launch their small boats. A shark could not harm her, but she found their appearance quite unpleasant all the same. She could not help thinking of the sea serpent, alone in the depths with such beasts, badly injured and perhaps unable to defend herself. Iskierka had not meant to harm her; if the creature had not attacked her with such force, she would never have turned her flame on her as she had.

Was this what Granby had meant by excitable? she wondered suddenly. Temeraire would never have been so careless with his divine wind, she was sure; he would never have been startled into turning it upon some unsuspecting creature - especially not another dragon. There had been no time to think, but it seemed to her that should not matter. She breathed fire; she could not afford to be as impulsive as other dragons, much less more so. The serpent had suffered - the serpent would very likely die - because she had acted without thought.

She continued to look for any sign of the creature, but there was not so much as a ripple in the surface of the water. At last the boats were launched, the ship slipped below the surface of the water, and it was clear that the men were making for the island. At a touch from Granby and one last lingering look, she flew away, ahead of the boats, over the sea, the white sand of the bathing area, and the meadow where they had passed that morning.

Half an hour's flying saw her to their clearing on the other side of the island, where Temeraire seemed to be making a mid-afternoon meal of a grand tunny dressed raw. He looked up as her shadow fell over the clearing, then sat up in alarm, along with most of her crew, who were lying idle in the shade at the edge of the clearing. She landed, smearing black blood on the grass; Granby slid off of her back, calling for Dorset, and hurried inside the barracks.

Temeraire was beside her at once. "You are injured! Does it pain you? Was it the French? Where are they? I shall have at them this very moment!" His tail lashed angrily.

"Pray do not be alarmed, Temeraire; it is nothing," she said, rolling carefully onto her side to allow Dorset access to her belly. Temeraire stood by protectively, obviously awaiting the story of whatever unexpected adventure had led to her current state, but she found herself oddly reluctant to tell it. What would he think of what she had done? She had not meant to harm the sea serpent so grievously, but in the end that did not signify.

Her reluctance did not matter, of course. Granby returned with Laurence, relating the tale for him and the rest of the crew - and Temeraire, who listened and then turned to eye her keenly. She avoided his gaze and lay her head down on the grass while Dorset ordered the wound cleaned and packed with gauze. Granby came and stood beside her head, stroking her nose soothingly, while he and Laurence discussed what the presence of a French frigate on the other side of the island might mean for their defenses and patrol patterns.

"I expect we'll know more within the next few days, once we lay hands on the ship's crew," Laurence said, at last, just as Dorset stepped away, muttering in satisfaction. "We will fly your patrols for you, of course, for at least three or four days."

"For the next week," Temeraire said firmly. The moment Iskierka's crew and Dorset had stepped aside, he had moved in to wrap himself about her with care, resting his head just behind hers and twining their tails together. Iskierka slitted one eye open to see Laurence staring at them with a very strange expression; beside him, Granby's own expression was not at all strange: he was struggling not to laugh.

"I think two or three days will be quite sufficient," Iskierka said, opening her eyes all the way now. "It barely twinges." She felt quite tired, though, and hungry, and anxious about what Temeraire would say to her once they were alone, and she was not sorry to give up her patrol for that evening.

Her hunger was shortly satisfied by two nice lambs, which Temeraire insisted on butchering for her. Once she had eaten and the bones had been hauled away, Granby and Laurence went inside for their own dinner, Laurence continuing to cast bemused glances back at them. Temeraire settled himself about her once more, urging her to try to sleep. "I'm really quite well," Iskierka said, and then sighed deeply. "Much better than the poor sea serpent. I did not mean to harm her, Temeraire, truly."

She felt him go quite still beside her. "I did not think you did. Iskierka, I hope - you did not think I would be angry with you?"

She pulled away from him. "I didn't know. You told me how terrible you felt when you had to help kill the one that had attacked the Allegiance, and that was to protect your captain and your crew. I could have left her alone; I needn't have interfered."

"But you saved all those men," Temeraire pointed out, "and possibly helped us in the war as well. She attacked you; you could not have done anything else. I am not angry, only relieved that you were not badly hurt."

"Oh," she said, looking away, "I know. But I thought - you have so very many ideas about - about dragons -"

"You are much more important to me than an idea," he said, quite fiercely, surprising her into silence. "Pray do not ever think otherwise."

"But I need not have - I did not think before I attacked her, and, and - do you think I am excitable, Temeraire?" She suddenly became aware that she was quivering with agitation, and he had got quite tense beside her in concern.

"I -" Temeraire began, and then fell momentarily silent. "That is, you have always been -"

"You think I am," she said miserably.

"You are much less so than you used to be," he said, very quickly. "Now, yes, you are perhaps a little, but in truth I -" He hesitated, but it was somehow different this time; she craned her neck around to look at him and saw that he was studying the grass as though he were embarrassed. "I rather like that in you," he finished at last, almost shyly.

"Oh," she said quietly.

They were both silent for a few moments. Then Temeraire said, "You will rest now?"

"Yes," she said, feeling rather humbled but no longer anxious. The sun was high overhead, and the air in their clearing was quite still. It was pleasant to drowse here together with Temeraire. But just before she fell asleep she roused herself to ask, "Pray tell me, what did you think of me when we were younger, Temeraire?"

He rumbled at her in faint amusement; she felt it where his belly touched her back. "My dear, I perhaps it is best we not dwell on the past. We have both changed, I believe, and I must think it is for the better if it has allowed us this." A twitch of his tail over hers somehow indicated the two of them, together in the sun.

"Yes," she said, closing her eyes. She decided she could live with excitable, she decided, so long as Temeraire could. "I think so, too."

Fin.
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