Title: La Rencontre
Fandom: Temeraire
Pairing: None.
Rating: G.
Warnings: Utterly cracktastic. Also, I haven’t written fic in over a year, so please bear with me. .
Summary: First Lieutenant John Granby meets the captain of the Pêcheur-Rayé. Set near the end of His Majesty's Dragon. Double drabble, crossover with Les Misérables.
Disclaimer: Not mine. D:

“The French had lost their chance, and the Pêcheur was crying out in alarm, twisting her head around: Granby was standing at the French dragon’s neck with a pistol aimed at a man’s head - they had taken the captain.

“At Granby’s order, the chains were flung off the Pêcheur, and they turned the captured French dragon’s head towards Dover.”

- His Majesty’s Dragon

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Granby bids the Pêcheur land beyond Dover's famed cliffs, away from the worst of the fight. His pistol never moves from the side of the captain's head, but he allows the man to speak to his dragon; there is, after all, etiquette even on the battlefield.

The quiet exchange is one Granby cannot understand, having never learned French - at least not properly. The captain's sentences are terse; the dragon's border on eloquence. Granby loses interest after a short while, and turns his attention to the man at the other end of the pistol barrel.

The Pêcheur's captain is dark, tall, about Granby's age; his uniform is second-hand but pristine, and there is something about the sharp grey eyes that puts Granby uncomfortably in mind of a wolf. The man unbuckles the sword at his side as the conversation comes to a close and presents it to Granby with a bow.

"Now, monsieur," he says, a wry smile hovering about his thin lips, tone of voice reserved and perfectly respectful, "if you are finished with your observations, Canonica and I would like to see more of this famed country of yours."

Granby gets the feeling that he is being subtly mocked.

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Yes. Yes, it was Javert. I feel like I ought to be ashamed. ;-;

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