The dragon Sovereign of Space spits fire at each of the targets near the castle known as Bolthole, as she trains for battle. She’s already bigger than her parents, DuQuesne and Hempstead. DuQuesne had been a powerful dragon in her youth, but with the tales of legendary beasts on the battlefield, with a man’s head,a lion’s body, and a dragon’s tail, cutting through at least two of DuQuesne’s sisters like a sword cuts through paper, the dragon trainer’s higher-ups had felt it time to let DuQuesne breed the next generation. Hempstead had been a small male dragon, but he’d had a reputation as a warrior. He’d been badly wounded near the beginning of the war, and had also bred Nouveau Paris and Chevalier, two other strong warriors.

As the blonde haired dragon trainer calmly hangs on as her mount dives for another target, ready to set it afire, she mutters to her promising student, “Good girl, Sophie. Just be careful of your wings, you nearly caught one of them on fire last time.” Shannon teases, “That’d make you as bad as your mother, you know.”

Sovereign of Space (or as Shannon had quickly nicknamed her when Sovereign of Space had been a hatchling, Sophie) purrs in response.

“I know you like warming up your wings, and I know Conqueror flies tricks like that every day, but he’s smaller, and you do have that blanket.” Shannon tries to convince Sophie.

Sophie snorts fire out her nostrils, unconvinced.

“You’ve always made me feel free, you know. Especially up here, where it’s just us. Part of me still misses riding Count Tilly with the Admiral, but given that the President herself wanted me to step back, this is a pretty good second option. Especially as I’ve gotten to know you and Tammy,” Shannon says, calling Sophie’s sister by the nickname she’d given Temeraire around the same time.