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“Bismarck…” You say quietly, your tone warning and dangerous. “Don’t. I know what you’re thinking. Just… don’t.”
“And?” She says, not even bothering to look towards you now. Are you not even worth that much to her now, so much so that she can’t even deign to look you in the f- “Continue to fight this war, as the Sirens only get stronger and stronger, their technology advancing faster than we can match? No. I’m sorry, but… no. No longer. We must adapt.”
“And dirty our hands with the tech of our enemy?” You spit, not even bothering to hide the hostility in your tone anymore. “You’ve seen what the Sirens did to humanity. Bisk- Bismarck. Entire fucking cities, levelled! And you… you would willingly touch that garbage?!”
“I’ll have a hand in it, because there is no other choice,” Bismarck says, her voice cold and levelled. “Because the war we are fighting, is no war at all. No. This a slow, agonizingly painful death.”
“There has to be a better way, god damn it!” You shout, slamming your hand down onto the wooden table in a fit of anger. “We’re sinking ourselves to their level! You wanna start modding yourself with tech that’s killed thousands of our soldiers? Our COMRADES?!”
“Then, pray tell, do you have another solution? If you have something that could turn the tides in this war… I’d love to see it.” She says, crossing her arms. “Go on. Show me.”
“...You know I can’t do that.” You snarl. “Don’t bait me into answering a question you know is too complex for a yes or no answer!”
“Then you are throwing a tantrum without proving that there’s a better option. If you cannot provide a solution to the problem at hand… then Step. Aside.”
Bismarck, the individual you’ve sat down and laughed with, the one who’s been by your side since day one of this entire shitshow, who’s comforted you when you lost comrade after comrade...
...brushes past you. Not even giving you a single look of acknowledgment in return. The brusque sunlight cast from the windows sets the scene in an almost morbid fashion.
Your fists clench. Anger courses through your veins like white hot fire, clouding your mind and your judgement.
“If you walk out that door…” You trail off, your chair scraping against the metal floor backwards as you stand up. “...Then the next time we meet, will be as enemies.”
Bismarck, to her credit, stops in her tracks, her hand just barely touching the door handle.
The words she says next snap your heart in half.
“So be it.”
Your head hangs.
“So… just like that, huh?” You laugh hollowly, slumping back into your chair. “...Get out.”
She hesitates, just for a singular brief moment. “Commander... I-”
She turns to face you one last time, her tone and facial features looking almost regretful.
You’ve made up your mind, however. Anger courses through your mind with nearly murderous intent, for now you know exactly what she’s become.
A traitor.
She chose.
And now, so will you.
“From now on, you’re nothing to me.” Your fingers clench so hard, you feel as if they’re about to snap right then and there. “You’re not an ally, you’re not a friend. You’re nothing. I don’t ever want to see you near my crew, I don't want to know you, or what you do. Ever. I refuse associate with traitors.”
You slump back down onto your chair, pointing directly at the door.
“...Sie werden entlassen. Geh mir aus den Augen.” You spit, venom lacing every single word. The anger you feel causes your blood to boil, your head feeling almost light from the pure frustration welling underneath.
(You’re dismissed. Get out of my sight.)
For a brief, tiny moment, you can see Bismarck stiffen and her eyes widen in shock for just a brief moment, before settling down into her usual blank, stoic expression. Her fingers twitch, as if wanting to move forward… wanting to say something more.
She doesn’t. She steps out of the meeting room without a single sound, the only evidence of her departure being the wooden door shutting closed.
As soon as you’re sure that absolutely nobody is nearby… you bury your face into your hands and weep.
Being the commander of the Azur Lane alliance was a rocky, rocky slope. As the ‘face’ and ‘brains’ of the nation, you’re expected to be 100% at all times. If you faltered, the entire alliance faltered.
Never show weakness, not a single hint of negative emotion could grace your visage. Nothing.
A cold, unfeeling face. Confident. Bringer of pyhrric victory, no matter the cost. Humanity could suffer nothing less.
The one who brings promised victory.
Right now, however?
You don’t feel like a leader. Not in the slightest. As you sit in your office, the only thing you can truly “hear” is the sound of the slowly ticking clock hanging on your wall, and the deafening silence with the same amount of weight of a guillotine poised right over your neck.
The sound is ominous enough to make you think it’s a doomsday clock.
Tick tock, tick tock.
You’ve given up your entire being, the things that make you human in order to be commander this godforsaken alliance deserves.
You don’t pray, though. Not to anything, or anyone. Not anymore. What kind of sick, demented higher power would ever allow something like this to run rampant without a care in the world?
Sleep continues to elude you. The most you can do is muster up the will to stare up at the pale beige ceiling, the only thing you can technically hear being the deafening silence.
It’s been a hell of a couple years. You’re not even that old, just barely into your late twenties, and you’ve recently sported a set of gray hairs unfitting of a young man your age.
Your limbs ache with fatigue, and the weight of responsibility presses down on you like an anchor, dragging you down to the murky abyss. The relentless demands of command echo in your head, drowning out any attempt of peaceful slumber. The soft glow of the digital clock continues to taunt you, ticking away the precious moments you should be spending in elusive rest.
You continue to toss and turn, the sheets tangled around you as you struggle to find a comfortable position. Sleep remains elusive, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The weariness settles deep into your bones, and the frustration lingers deep in your mind.
Logistics. Battle planning. Whether or not humanity will see the light of day tomorrow.
If you fail, the alliance crumbles. If that happens, everyone you know and love is dead.
You feel your fists clench up harder than they should be. Every missed hour of sleep catches up with you during the day, affecting your focus and decision-making. But even as exhaustion creeps into your bones, your mind remains stubbornly awake. The constant battles, the endless responsibilities- they replay in your mind like a never-ending loop.
Fuck. You can't afford to be tired during the day – not when the safety of your fleet depends on your decisions.
With a frustrated sigh, you resign yourself to yet another sleepless night. Closing your eyes, you try to push away the worries and stress, focusing instead on the rhythmic sound of your own breathing.
You hate closing your eyes, nowadays.
Every time you close them, you see her again. Her cold, unfeeling eyes. She used to gaze towards you with what you hope was at least affection. A part of you wished everything that’s happened was just one bad dream, and that one day you’d wake up, and everything wasn’t a complete shitshow. That Azur Lane wasn’t a broken, dysfunctional mess held together with bits of string, and fading hope.
Having to fight a civil war, against people you thought were your allies… it makes you sick. Sick to to your stomach.
No, not just allies. Comrades.
All of you, each and every individual are supposed to be fighting the fucking Sirens. Not each other.
Alas, here you are, stuck fighting a war on two fronts.
You’re tired. So, so tired. Exhaustion is nearly bone deep every waking day, and being conscious feels like absolute torture, now.
But you can’t stop. You won’t stop. Because stopping like this is a surefire way to get the rest of you, and all of humanity killed.
“Remarkable. You truly haven’t been sleeping well, haven’t you?” A familiar voice chimes in from beside you. “I was hoping my eyes were deceiving me, but…”
“...Belfast?” You mutter, rubbing your eyes. “Shit. What time is it?”
“Just barely 6AM. I’ve already handled your schedules and triple checked our Siren sighting reports and seismic activity.”
“What? Bu-,” you say, before Belfast puts a finger on your lips.
She looks at you with an unamused expression. “No. Master, you look like you’re going to keel over and die. You need to stay in bed while I fetch medical, hopefully so that we can at least make sure you’re not wildly out of touch in terms of your health.”
You sigh, rubbing your ears blearily as you ask, “...Is it really that bad, Bel?”
Belfast looks like she’s just aged 5 years older in the span of 5 seconds. “I’ve had multiple crewmembers come to me and worriedly ask if you’ve been injured without telling anyone. Which, to be fair, is something you would absolutely do.”
You take a deep breath, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. "I... I didn't realize it was affecting everyone like this," you admit, guilt tugging at your conscience.
Belfast's expression softens slightly, and she reaches out to gently grasp your hand. "Master, we're all here to support you. But that support means very little, should you fail to take care of yourself too," she says, her voice filled with concern.
You nod, knowing she's right. "Okay, okay. I’ll wait for the medical team, okay?" you promise, forcing yourself to stand up despite the fatigue weighing you down.
The medical team arrives, though it’s not exactly much of a ‘team’ per-se, consisting of just Vestal herself. You sit down on a nearby chair as she sets up her equipment. She starts by checking your vital signs - blood pressure, heart rate, and temperature. Then, she moves on to a physical examination, listening to your heart and lungs with a stethoscope and checking your reflexes. All the while, Belfast looks on with a protective gaze, both her arms crossed. You can sense her disapproval from across the room as Vestal lists out the abnormalities with your checkup.
Yeah, she isn’t amused.
Next, she asks you a series of questions about your sleep patterns, diet, and any symptoms you've been experiencing. You answer to the best of your ability, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
After the questioning, she conducts a few simple tests to assess your overall health. After that, she checks your eyesight with an eye chart, tests your coordination and balance by having you perform a few movements, and finally, draws a small blood sample for laboratory analysis.
Vestal sighs quietly, shaking her head. “Yup, classic case of anemia from a poor diet, insomnia, and general exhaustion. Not exactly terrible individually, but all these things combined is quite the triple threat. I’m surprised you haven’t fainted by now.”
“You’re gonna need to stick to a strict diet regimen, your nutrients are solely lacking.” She mutters, jabbing a pen into your chest. “Frankly, if you don’t eat properly, you really will keel over and die. We’ll go ahead and forward a list of required nutrients for this. Should we address this to you, ma’am?”
Belfast immediately nods. “Submit it to me at your leisure. I’ll see to it that our stubborn Commander here will eat properly. I’ll jam it down his throat if he doesn’t comply.”
“Good. Well, all you need is to stay in bed. Don’t exert yourself any longer, seriously. It’s a miracle you haven’t fainted by now.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble under your breath, sighing as you slump back into bed. “I’ll just… be lazy all day, I guess.“
“Good. Now sit there and rest.”
It takes a monumental effort to not just get up and begin going through the motions of your days, supply runs, logistics planning, drills, but the firmness in Bel’s voice prompts you to do literally anything else except work.
As soon as you’re finally alone in your quarters however, you reach into your nearby cabinet and rummage through it, finding your trusty flask of alcohol.
There isn’t much you can do, being this far away from the mainland… but a little bit of whiskey never really hurt.
You take a quick swig, feeling the bitter and burning sensation pleasantly course down your throat.
You sit there… and begin to stare into nothing.
Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again. Again. And again. And again.
You flop back down onto your bed, the liquor taking full effect on you, your entire guard finally being let down as the full weight of your situation finally hits you like a truck.
You are fucking exhausted.
One woman holds a Shashka. Her glaringly red eyes are filled with amusement.
One woman holds a katana. Her eyes are focused, serious. The seriousness of this meeting is not beyond her.
One woman holds out an arming sword, forged pure and true. Her small stature betrays her true power to lead- to inspire. There is no mistaking the royal blood within her.
One woman holds a zweihander. Her tendency to slack off betrays her intent to defend her country- but more importantly, her comrade in arms.
One woman holds a falchion. She believes this meeting today will finally be the answer to all her prayers.
One woman holds a cinquedea. She’s been waiting for a day like this; to prove that the Empire wasn’t on the sidelines of this conflict any longer.
One woman holds a bayonet. A small blade, meant to be affixed to rifles- a tactic that has decades worth of history… and also sacrifice.
Your footsteps might as well be gunshots in this revered, hollow chamber. Your ceremonial cloak makes you feel like a gaudy supervillain, but this was more than just a meeting.
This was the full, honest to god beginning of a true alliance.
No more fighting. No more bullshit. No more civil wars.
Finally.
“The time has finally come.” Has your voice always sounded this resolute? So firm?
Musashi.
Sovetsky Soyuz.
Friedrich.
Enterprise.
Queen Elizabeth.
Vittorio Veneto.
They stare at you with varying levels of shock and awe, their postures becoming just a little bit straighter, a bit more firm.
This was it. This was everything you’ve dreamed about since becoming the head of Azur Lane.
“No more petty squabbles. No more will we waste resources fighting amongst ourselves.” You say, your eyes steely and resolute. “That era of humanity is now a distant memory; a nightmare long gone.”
You reach for the sword sheathed onto your hip. It was a painstakingly brutal effort to even think having this thing forged. After years of pushing against the Siren’s, nearly all forms of metal alloys were reserved solely for the war effort.
It took you a long, long time. Metal sourced from every girls respective nation, smelted into one singular sword. A blade forged with the purest of metals and the highest caliber of skill.
The Azur Blade.
A symbol of peace. Honor. Respect. Unity.
It’s perfect, more perfect than anything you’ve ever held in your entire life. You stare at yourself in the reflection, watching your tired, bitter eyes within that blue metal.
If only she were here to see it.
“I solemnly swear, as the commander and head of Azur Lane, that no matter what, I shall uphold the oath sworn here today.”
You extend the blade, hovering it just in the middle of the round table before you all.
“I swear, with all my heart and soul, until I breathe my last breath, I dedicate my entire being to this alliance. The oath we swear to day, is thicker than water shared within the womb.” You mutter, your voice gravely thick. “So this, I swear.”
With that final word, you hear each woman swear their oaths.
"I solemnly swear, I shall uphold the Azur Lane oath with all my heart and soul, until my very last breath."
"Solenne giuro, manterrò il giuramento di Azur Lane con tutto il mio cuore e anima, fino all'ultimo respiro."
"我郑重发誓，我将全心全意地遵守碧蓝航线的誓言，直至我最后一口气。"
"Я торжественно клянусь, что буду соблюдать клятву Azur Lane всем сердцем и душой, до самого последнего вздоха."
"Ich schwöre feierlich, dass ich den Eid von Azur Lane mit all meiner Kraft und Seele bis zu meinem letzten Atemzug halten werde."
"Je jure solennellement de respecter le serment de Azur Lane de tout mon cœur et de toute mon âme, jusqu'à mon dernier souffle."
"私は厳粛に誓います、私は全力を挙げてアズールレーンの誓いを守り通すことを、最後の一息まで。"
You give a nod towards the group. This is it. Finally… progress.
It was on this day, the Azur Lane Oath was finally sworn, and humanity was bolstered even further against the Siren threat.
But even then…
Why did your heart feel so heavy, that day?
You snap out of your daydreaming, shaking your head as you slump back down.
Yet again, your thoughts are filled with her.
You miss her. You really, really miss Bismarck. God, even thinking it in our mind was enough to depress you even further.
You regret having the last word, most of all. You’ve often had heart to heart talks with your crew- talking about how the past is the past, and that it has to be left behind.
There was no glory or meaning to be had when dealing with past regrets, but you find yourself thinking back on it quite often.
You just wish deep down, with all your heart, that those callous words you said weren’t the last words you said to her. That day she left… did you truly mean to be so cruel?
That’s the nature of arguments like this… in the heat of the moment, cruel and hateful words roll off the tongue easily.
Fighting against loved ones was always the worst. They always know exactly what to say to really make it hurt.
Then again, the same thing applies vice versa.
Blood slowly spills from the side of your face. Siren artilery rocked your station of command, enough to rock your entire area.
You would not, and could not ever delegate yourself to sit in the comfy confines of your homebase office, while your crew was out there fighting for their lives.
“There really is no other way, is there?” You whisper hoarsely into your communication radio, ignoring the panicked cries of your personal guard.
“...I’m afraid so, Commander.” King George replies back. “If there were any other way, I would offer it. Alas, I cannot.”
It takes you all your mental strength not to crush the radio in your hands, tears streaming down your face as your your entire body trembles. You’re wounded all over, a product of the sheer destructiveness of a single Arbiter.
And yet, even then, not even these wounds are enough to even match the words you’re about to say.
You raise the transmitter one more time, before you finally utter,
“Sink her.”
As soon as you snap out of it, you feel your chest lurching into your stomach, memories you wish were dead and buried making you vomit.
It’s a damn good thing Belfast wasn’t here to see you like this. Hell, you’re glad nobody was here to see you like this.
Fuck, you murdered her you gave the order to murder her you KILLED HER-
That’s all you can say to yourself, finally getting up and walking to your bathroom. You find yourself just barely recognizing the reflection in the mirror.
The bags in your eyes are getting worse and even more in depth, and your eyes looking even more weary. You rub your eyes for a quick moment, before finally turning on the faucet and washing your face.
It’s a damn shame that your one singular moment of serenity is disturbed, with the entire HQ shaking at its very core with enough force to shove you down onto the ground.
Your personal transmitter immediately goes off as soon as the base-wide alarms begin to blare. Three rapid beeps, followed by a deeper alarm sound.
Siren attack.
“COMMANDER!” The voice of Enterprise immediately comes from your transmitter. “We’re under attack; multiple Siren fleets with… with an Arbiter!”
Your heart sinks into your stomach as you feel like you’re about to puke up your entire morning’s breakfast.
No. No.
Why now?! Why-
No.
Could… could she have sensed that you weren’t fit to lead?! She sensed your weakness this quickly?!
“SECURE THE PERIMETER!” You nearly scream into the transmitter, immediately suiting up and getting ready to blitz your way to your command post. “Defend the base at all costs, do NOT let our repair yards be destroyed! If I see a single crew member abandon their post, I’ll put a bullet in them myself!”
“Understood! Your protection detail is on the way- we’ve lost sight of the Arbiter!”
“What?! Route all available functional power to the radar and defense systems, NOW!” You yell, feeling your heart pound in your chest, feeling the area shake yet again. “ACTIVATE THE DEFENSE SHIELDS!”
What the hell is going on?!
The entire base echoes with the thunderous roar of explosions, each blast sending shockwaves through the air and making the very ground around you shake and quiver. Metallic groaning comes from the building itself; a telltale sign that god knows what is battering against its defenses. It’ll hold… for now.
You flip the red switch on your transmitter, immediately enabling Emergency Transmission mode. After a lightning quick diagnostics check and boot up time, the entire bases PA system is now under your direct control.
“Alert, personnel on base, there is currently an active Arbiter threat attacking! This is NOT a drill, I repeat, this is NOT A DRILL!” You damn near scream into your transmitter, dodging falling debris and stone. “All combat-ready personnel are required to rendezvous to your battle stations, we cannot lose HQ!”
“Found you.”
Your heart sinks all the way down into your stomach as a horrible, gnawing sensation crawls down your spine. It’s as if you’re a roach about to be stepped on, an insect beneath someones boot heel, a micro-organism barely given a modicrum of attention.
The wall next to crumbles and crashes down, a dark blue mechanical gauntlet immediately snatching you off your feet and squeezing the oxygen out of you. You’re then ripped through the broken hole in the hallway, most likely breaking an arm and leg in the process as you’re forced through.
You’ve remembered this face. You remember it very well.
“Strength…” You choke out, her firm grip still having its chokehold on you. “W-What a lovely surprise, you fucking- ARGH!”
“Indeed. Unfortunately… the plans have changed. You, Commander, are an outlier. An anomaly. A threat to our experiment that we cannot tolerate any longer.” She says, her voice blank and emotionless. “What a shame. All you had to do was stay in your place, be just barely competent enough to perform your duties. However, you’re too good at your job. This cannot suffice. At this rate… things will change, and not neessarily for the better.”
“K-Killing me,” You grit out, your hands straining against her nigh-unbreakable grip, angry defiance flashing in your eyes. “W-Will not… stop Azur Lane!”
The siren, this insufferable being of destruction and hatred, stares back into your eyes, her mouth just barely moving as she says, “Perhaps. But with your death? The rest shall crumble. It’ll be easy to clean up the rest. Truthfully, directly attacking like this isn’t exactly the way we do things , but outliers like you must be exterminated. ”
The pressure around your neck feels unbearable now, your eyes flashing with white hot anger. But even then, you know deep down that there’s nothing you can really do against her sheer strength alone. The gap between Humanity and its KAN-SEN counterparts has always been monumental.
So. This is it, huh?
In the corner of your eyes, you can see several frantic members of your personal guard frantically making a beeline towards you, their rigging ready to open fire. You wonder for a moment as to why they haven’t unloaded their entire arsenal into the being crushing your throat, but you realize that you’d most likely be caught in the crossfire as well.
Ah, hell. Such a pathetic way to go. Crushed like a bug...
You see New Jersey practically frothing at the mouth, her eyes wide and burning with chaotic anger, her arm stretched out and ready to kill.
“COMMANDER!” You hear her shriek, desperation clear in her voice. You hear the telltale signs of her rigging whirring to life, ready to obliterate Siren flesh at the drop of a hat.
Darkness. Your rapidly depleting oxygen is causing you to go delirious, even as you try with all your might to just get away.
The constrictive feeling around your neck continues to grow and grow, the pain growing agonizingly more intense with each passing second.
Your vision goes darker…
and darker…
and your strength begins to leave you.
Your struggles grow weaker and weaker, your thoughts leaving you as the life is quite literally slowly gripped out of you. You can still hear the sounds of your home, your lifeline , slowly be bombarded, each explosion rocking the ground beneath you.
...Fuck.
At the very least, nobody alive can ever say you never tried.
God. What will your crew think of this?
“Unhand him, you disgusting wretch.”
You feel the sweet, sweet sensation of blissful unconsciousness begin to take you, as you crumple to the ground in a messy heap.
Beep… beep… beep…
When you wake up, the aching sensation in your head nearly making you vomit. About a thousand different tubes and wires are stuck in your body, most of them leading to your throat.
Once your eyes shift to the side however, you finally get a proper look at your surroundings, and you see her lying next to your hospital bed.
Bismarck.
Her long, golden strands of hair are splayed out onto your hospital bed, her body slumped over yours, her hand just barely holding onto yours.
She looks… different.
The most jarring difference being her alive and breathing, and not a sunken wreck at the bottom of the sea.
Was this some sort of sick joke? No, it has to be. You saw it, saw the images of her wreck.
She was dead. You were inconsolable for weeks after that operation.
You gave the order to kill her.
That day, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you should have ordered them to simply capture her.
But you had to weigh the benefits versus the consequences.
An entire nations fleet… or one lone KANSEN.
You had to make a decision. A decision without any regards for your own feelings, for a commander of your status had to think of the fleet as a whole.
Even then, that reminder did little to soothe your absolutely broken heart. You could never quite get over the sight of Bismarck’s broken, shattered wreck.
You spent many, many nights crying. Dreading the day you ever decided to open your heart like that; only for her to decide to turn her back on everyone.
So… how in the hell is she here?
“...Commander?” You hear Bismarck mutter, her body immediately shooting up, her eyes darting towards you in an almost desperate manner. “Mein gott. You’re… you’re really awake…”
“Bismarck?” You mutter, your voice hoarse and bone dry.
The poor girl looks to be on the verge of tears, a stark contrast to how she usually is. You’ve rarely ever seen her perpetually frosty visage with anything but cold rigity. She gently caresses your face, saying, “ Bitte , save your strength. Your injuries were very, very severe. They’ve managed to fix the worst of it, and your throat will be relatively healed in time, but you must stay in bed.”
“How are you here?”
“...Pardon?”
“I saw you get shot down,” You choke out, your voice hoarse with unshed tears. “I… I was the one who gave the order to do it.”
‘I killed you’
You feel her hand slowly squeeze yours, her piercing blue eyes never leaving yours for a single moment. You remember those eyes, staring at you when she left, and consequently betrayed the Azur Lane alliance as she did so.
Those eyes, the ones you remember, were steely and cold.
The Bismarck’s eyes that stare at you now are red and puffy from tears, and it’s only now you notice that your blanket is slightly wet from tears, specifically from where her head was lying on.
She… was crying? Over you?
“I know, Commander. But… one of my comrades couldn’t leave well enough alone.” Bismarck says, smiling morosely.
“Son of a bitch,” You whisper, feeling stressed out and tired. “Fuck. Fuck, Bismarck, I…”
She immediately places a finger on your lip, shaking her head. “Somehow, I feel like I know what you’re going to say, Commander. Please… we can speak later. For now, rest.”
It took a tremendous amount of sleep and rest to get you back up to par. You still feel like absolute garbage, but at the very least you’re able to get by with a wheelchair for the time being. As for the individual hauling you around…
“Ridiculous. I should be in crutches,” You grumble, slumping in your wheelchair.
“Enough of that, Commander. You and I both you know can barely muster up the strength you use crutches.” Bismarck says, her voice stern. “...Besides, it’s quite nice to be around you again.”
You chuckle. “Right. It’s been a while, huh? I’m… glad. I’m glad you’re back with Azur Lane, Bismarck.”
You can’t exactly see her, but with the way she stops in her tracks for a moment, you can almost smell the singular tear drop that trails down her face.
“I’m… glad to be back as well, Commander.”
With the recent defense against the invasion brought forth by the Arbiter of Strength, the entire HQ has been working overtime to repair the damages.
You’ve spent your time calming down the rest of your crew, specifically New Jersey, who’s been eyeing Bismarck with a very nasty gaze.
“The fuck are you doing here?” She snarls, her rigging just barely inches away from being fully activated. “Commander, I get she saved your life, but don’t forget she’s given us a ton of shit to deal with!”
You sigh, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “Listen. I get your concern, NJ… but please, leave it be for now. We all have a lot to discuss.”
New Jersey practically gnashes her teeth together. “...Fine. Fucking fine, let’s leave alone the bitch who nearly wrecked Azur Lane altogether, right?! Fuck it! Have her haul around the person she nearly got fucking killed too, that’s the icing on the shit cake!” She very quickly begins to storm off, damn near red in the face from pure anger.
“NJ, wai-”
“No, Commander,” You feel Bismarck’s hand placatingly place itself onto yours, pushing it down quietly. “Just leave it. I fully expected this. My reputation isn’t exactly the best here, of course.”
“I know. I just... didn’t expect such a visceral reaction.”
The two of you finally make your way to a much more comfortable area; your private quarters. Bismarck receives the equivalent of 50 death glares straight to her face, specifically from the Royal Navy girls.
Belfast in particular has a cold, almost analytical gaze in her eyes, her arms folded as she watches the both of you slowly enter your private quarters.
“Your room has been altered to better allow hospital instruments, so that Vestal can perform her duties within your quarters.” Belfast says, crossing her arms as she stands in front of your doors. “...Bismarck. As you are the individual who saved the Commander before his imminent death, I will tolerate your presence for the time being.”
“That is all I shall ask of you.” Bismarck says, nodding towards her respectfully. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
With another moment of staring, Belfast finally acquiesces and moves out of the way, the Ironblood Representative slowly pushing your wheelchair inside.
The two of you finally situate yourselves for a proper conversation, with Bismarck taking a seat on the edge of your bed. Her eyes look conflicted… guilty.
“I imagine you must have many words for me.”
“That I do, Bismarck. That I do.”
You let out a deep, troubled sigh filled with nothing but stress and frustration. “Bismarck. Please… tell me something.”
“…”
“Was it real?” You say, your fingers clenching the armrests on your wheelchair. You feel like you’re going to be sick. “Was anything of what we shared real? Or just some elaborate ploy to get into my good graces? Were you just us-”
“NEIN!” Bismark shouts, momentarily catching you off guard. She grabs both your hands with a shaky grip, her expression looking positively horrified.
“No. Never. Not once.” She says, her voice resolute… yet somehow afraid at the same time “I loved you, I still love you! I never wanted to be apar- I… ah.”
You stare back at her, your jaw damn near dropping all the way to the floor as you process those very words in your mind, the same phrase repeating in your head.
Bismarck said she loved you back then, and she still loves you.
She loves you.
"O-Oh mein Gott, was zum Teufel habe ich gerade laut gesagt?!" Bismarck mutters hastily under her breath, backing away with a single step.
“C-Commander, that… that was…!”
Although it makes you want to curl up in the fetal position and nearly cry, you stand up on your own two feet, ignoring the sharp feeling of pain and agony resonating from your two busted legs.
You pull Bismarck into a deep, gentle, and loving kiss, pressing your lips against her. Fireworks goes off in your mind, and you can feel her body go slightly limp in your grip. Her eyes flutter back in surprised pleasure, a quiet moan escaping her throat.
There are no grandiose displays of passion, no extravagant gestures—just the raw, unfiltered connection between two weary, tired souls. In that fleeting moment, you sense her body yield ever so slightly to your touch.
As you deepen the kiss, time seems to stand still, the world around you fading into insignificance. Every touch, every heartbeat, every breath shared between you feels like complete, utter bliss.
When you finally pull away, the air crackles with unspoken emotion, leaving a palpable tension in its wake. Bismarck's gaze meets yours, her eyes reflecting a mixture of vulnerability and longing. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air.
Then, with a soft exhale, Bismarck breaks the silence. "I... I don't know what to say," she admits, her voice barely audible above the sound of both of your pounding hearts. “I feel like I’m dreaming…”
“I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing right now,” You say, gripping her shoulders with both of your hands in a vain attempt to try and stay standing. “Just… p-please… please know, I… I’ve missed you. Dearly.”
Bismarck looks at you in shock for a brief moment, before finally pushing you back down onto your bed.
The two of you stare at each other in dead silence for what feels like hours, before she slowly begins to undress your dirty hospital clothing one by one.
She begins with your shoes, slowly removing them and placing them neatly on the floor. “I’ve missed you too, Commander.” She says, starting with your frankly, uncomfortable shirt.
With the finesse and grace of a newlywed wife, Bismarck begins to quietly unbutton each individual button. You’re not wearing an undershirt, leaving Bismarck to gasp upon seeing your skin.
Burns, cuts, gashes… you’ve sustained many, many scars from your time as the Commander of Azur Lane, brushed death more times than you’d like to admit. Everyone thinks that a Commander sits in a cushy office, waiting for his crew to kill on his behalf.
Oh, how wrong they were.
You feel a slight shudder roll down your spine as she slowly traces a finger over your scarred wounds. “There’s so many…” She whispers under her breath.
“I refuse to stay on the sidelines while my girl- crew puts their lives on the line. Simple as that.”
Bismarck sighs, taking off her cap and coat, hanging them on the rack near your door. After a moment of what seems like slight contemplation, she lies down right next to you, your breath leaving you for just a brief moment of surprise.
Her hand intertwines with yours, the two of you suddenly unable to speak as the clock on the wall continues to tick and tick.
“I know. And it’s that wonderfully scary aspect of you that shakes me to my core.”
“I know it’s not safe, but…”
“It’s not just safe, it’s downright suicidal.” She says, her embrace growing tighter. “I’m scared. Terrified. I… I don’t want to lose you. Not again.”
“Bismarck…”
“It took all my strength, all my willpower to walk away that day, you know.” She mutters, her voice weary and distant. “When... I abandoned Azur Lane.”
You grimace. “It was even harder to watch you leave. I dunno, I just… didn’t really know what to do with myself, after you left. I thought that things were looking up, and then...”
“I thought that we needed something more, something better. Regardless of our stance on the Siren threat, there is no dying it; their firepower and technological prowess was leagues above ours.” She says. “I… I just wish that the price to get an edge in battle wasn’t destroying our relationship entirely.”
“It wasn’t destroyed, Bisko.” You say, rubbing her hand gently. “I missed you. Dearly. Listen- it sounds hasty, and stupid, and foolish, but… just for a bit, I’m willing to put aside everything and just lie with you for a while. Okay?”
You can’t see Bismarck’s face at the moment, but you can feel a slight dampness slowly spread on the back of your t-shirt, her face buried into your chest.
“Thank you, Commander. May we never part again.”
With bleary eyes, you wake up. The pain has dulled from sharp, to a more dull form of aching pains all over. The sunlight from outdoors just barely illuminates the room; thankfully Bel remembers that she needed to keep the lights off.
However, nestled in your arms, is Bismarck, who looks completely at ease. Her head is resting on your chest, her sleeping form relaxed, a stark contrast to her usually rigid and stiff posture.
She almost looks… vulnerable here. You’ve never seen her like this before, even back then when she left the alliance.
You slowly run your fingers through her hair, smiling with pleasant delight at how soft and delicate her hair is. Golden locks like hers truly captivated you.
“Commander…” She whispers, your eyes widening as you see a lone tear slowly trail down her cheek. “Please don’t hate me… I’m sorry...”
You hesitate for a brief moment, before finally deciding to run your fingers through her hair. The sensation is at least soothing for her, the somewhat pained expression on her face slowly fading away into a more peaceful one.
Good. It’s much better seeing her like this.
You wrap your arms around her gently, making sure that you don’t wake her up. Her scent reminds you of vanilla and honey.
You can probably get away with sleeping in together… just a little bit longer. You close your eyes, barely fighting the drowsiness that takes you after.
It seemed that no matter where you went, there was some form of construction going on. You didn’t see most of the battle, but a review of the after-battle reports basically confirmed that the entire place is gonna be going through some serious renovations.
You sigh. Then again, nobody ever said this job was gonna be easy…
The first step is assessing the damage. You organize teams to survey the extent of the destruction, cataloging everything from collapsed buildings to damaged equipment. It's one hell of a daunting task, but necessary to form a plan of action. It’s somewhat demoralizing at first, but you manage to swallow down your anxiety and continue to get this done.
Next, you prioritize repairs based on urgency. Critical infrastructure like docks and cranes must be restored first to enable the shipyard to function again. Then, you address structural damage to buildings and facilities, ensuring they're safe for workers.
With the scope of work defined, you mobilize resources. This means securing materials, equipment, and skilled labor. Thankfully, most of the heavylifting can be done by the KAN-SEN crew on base. Anything that involves getting rid of debris is childs play, especially when you consider that a single kansen is capable of obliterating most modern forms of construction with a blink of an eye.
As repairs commence, you implement strict safety protocols. The last thing you need is accidents delaying progress further, especially after the base is still reeling from the attack.
As you continue to run through the recent events in your head, Bismarck enters your office, her hat and cloak missing. Instead of her usual Ironblood uniform, she wears a simple pair of dark blue denim jeans and a casual button-up shirt with a black tanktop underneath.
Lately, she’s been much more casual in terms of her appearance. You would’ve thought that she’d be relatively unchanged after being… changed, but that doesn’t really seem to be the case.
She’s a lot more lighter on herself now, more casual and less uptight and quiet. Back then, you could never really get more than a sentence out of her when you two were mostly just strangers.
It’s refreshing. Very refreshing. You give her a bright smile as she comes in, stacking some paperwork away.
“Hey there, Bisko. Did you need something?”
She gives you a smile right back. “Hello, Kommandant. I’ve just returned from a routine patrol mission; nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. It seems we sent the Siren’s running with their tails between their legs.”
“Calm before the storm, maybe?”
Bismarck shakes her head. “No, I don’t believe so. It’s as if they’re really gone. Usually, you’re able to sense whether there’s any lingering remnants of a battered Siren fleet, but I haven’t been able to detect anything. It’s quite odd.”
“Well, far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth,” You say, stretching your legs. They’re healed up a bit now, but the aching soreness in them still hasn’t quite gone away. “We’ll need all we can get in terms of peace, if only for the construction effort.”
Bismarck walks over to your desk quietly, feeling her long, warm hands slowly wrap around your neck and back. Her long, blonde hair slowly drapes over your face, enveloping your sight in that sea of velvety smooth locks. She’s started to smile more often now, something you’re very happy with.
“You look stressed, Kommandant.”
“Of course I am, nobody said this job was easy,” You sigh, shaking your head. “There’s too many people counting on me; people who need my help. Can’t just leave, wouldn’t be right.”
She chuckles, trailing lazy circles over your chest. “You’re much too serious. But I suppose such a statement is woefully hypocritical from someone like me, hm?”
You pull her head down just enough so that you can leave a chaste kiss on her lips, feeling her innate trust in you as she allows herself to be pulled to your whims yet again. Her guard has been perpetually down as of late, slowly becoming more and more accustomed to physical contact. The stimulation is exhilarating, with such a beautiful woman like Bismarck always willing to be on your side.
It’s… nice, having her around often.
“How scandalous,” Bismarck practically purrs, her voice low and seductive. “If you were to be caught doing such things, what would my sisters-in-arms say about this, hmmm?”
“I think they’d be just fine and understanding of it,” You say, her body sitting comfortably on your lap now, facing towards you.
You feel her let out a gasp of slight surprise as you gently grab her by the hips, her lips instantly pressing against yours. Soon after, you feel her tongue invade your mouth hastily, her low, breathy moans coming out in gasps of pleasure.
“Commander…!” She breaths out, her voice shaky and wracked with pleasure.
“Look at you… it’s lovely, seeing you like this,” You whisper into her ear, enjoying just how lovely and sweet her voie sounds when she’s embarrassed. “So cute. So honest.”
“Is that so? Take responsibility then, you stupid bastard,” She whimpers. “You make me melt~”
It feels almost criminal how deliciously sexy and curvy Bismarck is, watching in muted delight as those bright blue orbs stare at you with completely unabashed lust.
Fuck, you missed her so much.
It felt like a blur, the two of you rushing to your private quarters, ignoring the burning gazes of several KANSEN on site. Lots of them tittered as they stared at the two of you, most likely gossiping about their commanders new “conquest’.
You almost vomited, hearing such a term be referred to your relationships.
With the door to your room being shut and locked behind you, you’re instantly met with Bisko’s slender arms wrapping around your neck, pulling you in as she continues to kiss you voraciously, her clothes coming off as easily as she breathed.
You watch her shirt slip off… and then her jeans.
“You… you’re not wearing any panties?!”
“Why would I?” She whispers, shooting a wink in your direction. “They would simply get in the way...~”
Bismarck lets out a small squeal as you throw her playfully onto your bed, ripping off your shirt and pants as you take in her beautiful naked form. Her skin is a milky smooth white, her muscles chiseled and toned, as expected of the flagship for the notorious Ironblood.
Everything feels like it’s in fast forward, your cock suddenly enveloped in something slick and warm, Bismarck letting out a sharp cry of surprise as she feels your cock pierce her entrance slowly.
Her eyes stare back at you with an almost predatorial gaze, those normally cool and collected azure eyes burning a hole through your very soul.
This is a gaze of a woman who wants you, badly.
Your thrusting is initially slow, wanting the both of you to get used to this pleasurable sensation. The look in her eyes makes you want to treat her like an absolute princess; someone of her caliber deserves nothing less.
You feel her hand slowly cup your cheek, her breasts rocking with every thrust. The affection and love in her eyes is almost enough to make you tear up, knowing that she wants you, and nothing but you.
“Ah…” She moans, trying so desperately to keep her voice down. “M-Mmmmngg…”
It’s almost unbelievable how tight Bismarck is, finding yourself watching with pure satisfaction with how needy she looks. She desperately tries to cover her face with her hands, a bright red blush tinging her visage.
“T-This… a-ah…!” Bismarck whimpers. “I-I thought first times were supposed to hurt!”
“Then it’s a damn good thing I got to you first, hmm?” You whisper, slowly increasing the intensity of your thrusts. “Fuck, you’re so tight…”
“AH! F-Fuck! It’s just like how I’ve always imagined it!” She says, not quite realizing the implications of what she’s just said.
“Hoh… so you’ve imagined it, huh?”
“Yesssssssss…!” She moans, her teeth grit with pleasure. “A-All the time, t-those lonely nights, I… I always dreamed about you t-taking me like this!”
“Uh-huh. What did I do to you in those dreams, hm?”
“You… grabbed my hair, and pulled it, while f-fucking me from behind…!” She gasps out, sweat glistening off her skin. You take that as a cue to grip her by the hips, ignoring her squeal of surprise as her ass now sticks towards you.
You give her ass a firm slap, relishing in how her fat milky ass jiggles from the impact. Your hands slither forward and grabs two fistfuls of her blonde, smooth locks, her cries growing even louder.
“Yesssssssss!” She grits out, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. “Fuck me, Kommandant! I’m yours- your personal toy, f-fuck me! Use me!”
You continue to pound into her from behind, watching with immense satisfaction as her pleasured cries mix in with the sight of her juicy ass jiggling with each and every thrust.
Having such a powerful and drop-dead gorgeous woman under your sway is enough to make you damn near go feral- feeling your cock harden even further. You give Bisko’s ass another hard slap, licking your lips as you see the bright red hand imprint.
“I’m gonna fucking cum inside you,” You say, your voice low and husky. “Beg for it.”
“Pleaseeeeee!” Bismarck cries out, both hands gripping the sheets of your bed so tight you’re afraid they might rip under her touch. “C-Cum inside me, I need to feel the warmth! Please! F-Fuck a baby into me, mein liebling!”
“Did you dream about this, huh? You’re such a wholesome little slut, it’s adorable.” You say, pulling her hair even harder, causing her to cry out yet again. “How many times have you gotten off thinking about this, huh?”
“D-Dozens! Nein, hundreds! I wanted you so fucking b-bad! AHN!”
“Gonna cum,” You grit out, your breathing growing increasingly labored as you continue to fuck this sexy little kansen for all she’s worth.
“Do it. Please.” She moans.
With a final cry, you shove your cock all the way inside, letting lose so many spurts of cum it makes your head spin from the sheer pleasure invading your brain, the euphoria of the situation making you go loopy.
Bismarck cries out loudly, her pleasured screams echoing in your room as her grip on your bedsheets finally causes it to rip, her body growing limp. She twitches over and over again on your bed, moaning as you finally slip your cock out of her needy cunt, a string of cum connecting you two.
You can hear Bismarck’s hitched breathing as her breaths come out shakily, her eyes glazed over and cloudy. She somehow has the strength to at least flip herself over onto her back, staring at you lazily.
“...Oh. You’re… still dirty,” She says, looking directly at your cum-covered cock. Without a single moment of hesitation, she moves herself forward and begins to lap up the remnants of cum on your cock. It’s clear she’s never really done this before, but her usually firm hands are surprisingly gentle as she grips your dick, her silky smooth and very long tongue licking you completely clean.
The sensation of her tongue on your already very sensitive dick is enough to send shivers down your spine, your toes curling and a loud, pleasured groan escaping your mouth. Your hand instantly goes to run your fingers through her hair, watching with rapt attention as she continues to service you needily.
“...Good girl.”
You see her visibly preen at such a compliment, sucking up all the last remnants of your cum from your shaft. When she’s finally done, she gives you a slimy, cum covered smile.
“A-All gone.”
...and then promptly falls down onto your bed, her body completely limp. You blink owlishly for several seconds, poking her body with a finger a couple times. After a moment, you hear her begin to snore, making you sigh as you look at the various wet patches on your bedsheets.
“...Shit. Bel’s gonna kill me.”
When Bismarck wakes up, she can barely manage to look you in the eye.
Hell, she can barely stand to think about you without blushing a storm.
“F… Forgive me, Commander, I… I do not know what came over me.” She says, dressed in her previous outfit. Her hair is still a bit ruffled, and her face is a very dark shade of red. “That must have been very unbecoming of me. I, um… apologize.”
You immediately wrap her into a hug, feeling her body slowly loosen up as she returns the embrace with gusto.
“Relax. It’s okay,” You mutter, slowly petting her head. “Just take a breather. Did I at least match up to your fantasies?”
Bismarck lets out a quiet chuckle, nodding her head as she buries her face into your chest. “You were even better than I could ever have dreamed of, Commander.”
During the autumn season, the weather was always pleasant chilly, just enough for it to be comfortable. It certainly wasn’t like the frigid wasteland of the Northern Parliament, that place is on a league of its own.
You’re currently seated at a nice cafe within Eagle Union territory. Despite the relative business of the establishment, everything still seems calm and collected. Thanks to the news blackout, there hasn’t been much news reported on the fact that the Azur Lane HQ was essentially almost bombed to total destruction. How the hell Counterintel worked against that, you’ll never know, and will never really question.
“Ah, mein liebling. Did I make you wait long?” You hear a familiar voice call out, making you turn to the right.
You’re immediately met with the sight of Bismarck, clad in a sleek black coat with a pair of loose-fit slacks. A very chic outfit, for a very chic woman. She gives you a cool smile, taking a seat right across from you.
The view from your area is perfect; you’re both met with a gorgeous view of the nearby beach, the crystal blue waves crashing against the sand. The sun is still up, but even then there’s a slight pleasant chill in your bones.
“Not at all. You feeling okay?”
“Indeed. It’s been quite some time since I’ve had a leisurely day off, so excuse me if I seem a bit more excited that usual,” She says, staring at the crashing waves. “...What a gorgeous view.”
You give a dramatic bow. “But not as gorgeous as you.”
Bismarck snorts, rolling her eyes. “A cheeky display of love, I see. An A for effort.”
“Of course. It’s nice sitting next to my resident arm candy.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I do hope you haven’t been calling the other girls on base that. If you have, consider it a miracle you haven’t had your skull caved in.”
You chuckle. “Of course not! Please, even I’m not that oblivious.”
“Mhmmm.” She says, giggling as she crosses her arms. “You know… I didn’t really want to point it out, but you’ve got a very wicked look in your eyes. Almost like you’re planning something. Cough it up, what is it?”
“Me? Plan something? Never.”
“Hmm. Sounds like a trottel trying to hide something much too devious.”
You try and stifle the smile that spreads on your face, your hands idly toying with a small ringbox underneath the table.
“Hm. You just might be right with that one, Bisko.”
- FIN -