Queen Elizabeth buried her face in her hands.

"I can't do this anymore, Warspite! Day after day it's just patrols after patrols, parade after parade, and none of us can do anything remotely interesting!"

After the end of the Second Great War nine years ago, the Royal Empire chose not to disarm its navy like most other countries. Instead it maintained a peacetime garrison of KAN-SEN, with the aim of dissuading other powers like the Ironblood from provocative moves.

Nothing had happened, however, with the exception of the Navy being the muse for all sorts of pro-Royal propaganda. And the Royal KAN-SEN, cooped up on a cold, wet island off the coast of the mainland, were understandably tired, bored and grumpy.

The main thing that allowed the Royal Navy to continue functioning unimpeded was the fact that they did not have a human commander, even in wartime. The task of leadership fell to Queen Elizabeth and her retinue, including Belfast and the King George V class. These illustrious ships, with the acumen and brilliance of their namesakes imbued within their cores, led from the front as goddesses of war incarnate. Such it was that when other countries had relieved their human staff, Queen Elizabeth and her consorts were still able to act as a leader, since they didn't have much else to do.

Of course, she was more of a figurehead and diplomat than an actual leader. Gone were the days when she sailed at the front of the Royal Fleet with Warspite at her heel. Right now the closest things that came to battle were naval demonstrations and exercises, and the closest thing that approximated fear was the feeling she got when she saw her paperwork for the day.

The old Queen Elizabeth would have dumped all of this boring administrative work on Warspite's lap and then headed out to have fun, but the Elizabeth now, tempered by war but changed by years of peace, knew how to finish her duties before enjoying herself, or else she would bring nothing but tiredness and inconvenience to those in her wake.

And in this change was also brought about in no small part by that time.

A scant two months after the Royal Navy had switched into peacetime mode, Elizabeth still possessed the carefree attitude of those who had risked their lives so much that they simply accepted that every day could be their last. She had been born as a weapon; she knew no other reality. From the Siren War to the two Great Wars, nearly every waking hour of her life was spent fighting, save for a scant couple years of peace.

That day, Elizabeth walked into her office to see Warspite sitting there already, stacking papers. One look at the volume of paperwork put her heart straight into her belly.

"Eh… I just remembered that I have something on with Belfast today."

"Your majesty, these papers are from two weeks ago."

"All of them?" asked Elizabeth in a small voice.

Warspite nodded exhaustedly. "I'm sorry, I could not get the backlog finished in time."

"Well...I'm sure you can handle it, Warspite. I'll be back in...uh...fifteen minutes, just have to do something really quick…"

Of course she didn't return after fifteen minutes, choosing to conveniently "forget" and to return to the dormitory after night had fallen. Normally Warspite would have been sleeping and Elizabeth would have slipped carefully into their shared living room and tiptoed to her bedroom, but this time, she noticed the lights in their window were on.

Elizabeth opened the door to find Warspite in her pyjamas and a shawl over her shoulders, with a stack of papers on her left and one on her right.

"Warspite…?"

Her sister turned to regard her with dark-rimmed eyes and smiled tiredly.

"Welcome home, majesty."

"W-Warspite?"

"I'm sorry, we couldn't get all the paperwork in time. Belfast chased me out of our office, and I was able to beg off the deadline for these requisitions for one more week, but we're going to have to work overtime," she yawned, "to finish all this."

Elizabeth still couldn't fathom why Warspite devoted herself so selflessly to her Queen. I...wasn't a good sister. A good queen. The only thing I was good at was tearing Ironbloods apart, and invoking others to do the same.

Warspite got to her feet to welcome Elizabeth, swaying dangerously on her heels.

"Careful!"

Elizabeth caught Warspite as she stumbled, the taller ship slumping over her queen's more diminutive form. Fortunately, the leader of the Royal Navy had carried things heavier than a human by orders of magnitude, and supported Warspite as if she was a paper cutout.

"Warspite...you are trembling."

"Cold tonight...no, your majesty?" Warspite chuckled faintly and wrapped the shawl tighter around herself, while simultaneously trying to pull away.

Elizabeth held on tightly, carefully feeling Warspite's neck, forehead and under her arms. They were warm, and although the night was hotter than most, there was not a single drop of sweat to be found.

"Warspite, you're running a fever."

"So I am…"

Her sisterly instincts instantly kicked in, and Warspite would later recount that her behaviour made her question if this really was her sister.

"Bath. Now."

Later that night, Elizabeth gently dried Warspite's body with a towel while mentally berating herself. Every stroke with the flannel, every squeeze of the warm water into the pail, seemed to whisper, you did this.

Look at this mess. A right fine queen you are, when your subjects-when your kin-suffer because of you.

It was never this real to Elizabeth. Warspite was never this vulnerable. But here she was, and the Queen had to face the truth.

She spent the night wrapped up with Warspite under the covers, one hand draped protectively over her sister, watching the small battleship's chest rise steadily and slowly. Now and then Warspite would stir in her sleep, shaking, or rolling from side to side and mumbling names of friends with dead faces, whimpering incoherently. Eventually Warspite opened her eyes, and they were watery. Elizabeth didn't know why then-she did now-but all she saw was her little sister at the mercy of something that she couldn't see or control.

It was not a good feeling. And Elizabeth knew there and then she would have to fix something with herself, or put Warspite through this again.

Warspite quickly collected herself without uttering so much as a squeak, assembling her facade quickly in the way only children of royalty are gifted with. But her body, weakened and feverish, continued to tremble like a leaf, betraying her inner feelings.

So for the first time in God knows how long, the first of the great warrior girls of the Royal Navy pulled her sister into her arms and pressed her body to hers. She rocked, and rocked, and rocked, until Warspite stopped shivering and her breath fell evenly on Elizabeth's cheek. As she stroked Warspite's hair, she hummed a song that had been passed down in the sea from time immemorial, father to son, mother to daughter, a song they heard sung by their sailor-friends from the moment they were born.

Eternal Father, strong to save,

Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,

Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep

Its own appointed limits keep,

O hear us when we cry to thee

For those in peril on the sea...

"Your majesty?"

"Ah...nothing. I was just...reminiscing. Remembering an older and better time."

"Tea?"

"Ah...yes, thank you. Come here…"

"Y-your majesty! I told you not to do that...it's unbecoming…"

Elizabeth smiled and retracted her hand from Warspite's head. "Hehe, but you enjoy it, don't you?"

Silence reigned as Warspite pouted.

"And...you know, the war is over. I am no longer your queen...just Elizabeth is fine."

An awkward silence reigned before she quickly added, "It's not an order; it's just that I thought it would be nicer if we weren't so formal now...we are sister-ships, after all."

"You will always be my queen, your majesty. But if you wish it, I shall accord this... request. From now on I will call you that...Elizabeth."