Relaxing my shoulders, I step off my stool to get a better view of my painting. Wet droplets of paint ooze downward. Craning my head to see the wet consistency making the water I depicted real. According to the book, brush strokes can change how an observer sees a painting and control the quality. A master I am not, into the future, I like to think I become skilled.

The doorbell rings, surprising me out of my reverie. I set down the paints, looking momentarily for a clean rag bundled on the table. Picking one quickly, I carefully wipe away the colors from my fingers. Leaving stained mixes of blue, black, and purple, I flatten out my apron and check to see who chose to visit me at this hour.

"Come in, mind the sheets on the floor."

"I hope I'm not intruding..." Friedrich smiles apologetically. Shaking my head and shrugging, I back up, raising an eyebrow.

"No, you're not. " I lean over the door at my painting 'studio', "Come in."

"Mhm, I won't stay for long if you don't want me too. I only need a moment to recollect myself."

I nodded slowly, understanding her mood, "You can take a seat on the couch…the kitchen is open…stay as long as you need."

This time she gives me her real genuine grin, tired as she may be. I stepped aside and went back to my work. Preoccupying myself with getting more paint mixed.

Meanwhile, Friedrich goes to the kitchen and comes back with tea and snacks. Busy with finishing the painting, I hear the click of the kitchen's oven. Rarely does she visit me, only to check on my wellbeing or talk, since normally it is the other way around. Engrossed in the details, my brush strokes across the unblemished half of the painting.

Setting out cookies alongside two glasses of milk. Warm, chocolate chip cookies. Where she learned how to make this, I still wonder, and how she's developed the time is a marvel in times like these. I dip the remaining piece into the cup of warm milk, deliciously consuming it.

"What do you recommend we do?" Friedrich questions, "Between us, I know you're insistent on pairing the two as lovers."

Preparing a response to this conversation, I slow my pace of applying strokes.

"I know you don't approve of my opinion on the state of their relationship, we both recommended we transfer Graf Zeppelin from the main fleet to here."

"True," the motherly battleship makes herself more comfortable, "If I had known Graf Zeppelin had her own issues to solve, I wouldn't have been so agreeable to your proposition."

"I am at fault as well," a bitter pang of regret ebbs and flows before I brush it away, "Nevertheless, I still stand by what I said before. If we want to help Weber move on from his grief, I thought it best to start a new chapter in his life."

"Chess was a good start. Yet, you must see what I see. He needs more to fill the hole in his life, whether that be Roon or his inability to serve his perceived purposed. Besides, they're perfect for each other, " I hum, quietly reveling in the cookie melting in my mouth, "Very alike in their personalities."

"Both are quite headstrong, stubborn even, and very self-conscious of their histories - he loathes the past and seeks to change it and she hates the world and the past she arose from."

"Counterpoint, my dear Odin," Friedrich waves a cookie in the air, "Compatibility isn't enough. He's self-destructive to the point of neglecting himself, tied too deeply to his past. She's deeply hurt in ways she hasn't fully realized or denies understanding."

Fair argument. Unstable minds don't always produce the healthiest of relationships…Still, I entertain the thought with a point of my own, "Maybe. They have us. Graf Zeppelin has Strasser."

"So, a pragmatic romantic then?" She skeptically asks, "I question how logical and detached you can be, Odin."

"I have been told," I click my tongue, "I guess, maybe. After starting this painting 'hobby' of mine and getting to know Graf Zeppelin…I have been moody."

Emotions are tiresome and attachments are too much work. Shaking these thoughts away I ponder on, "Still…For Weber's situation. It just makes sense to me. Why not have those two be together? Weren't Roon and the Kommadant an item?"

Friedrich sighs, trying to find the proper words, "An 'item' is not how I would describe it. One day perhaps it would've been. She wasn't the best at articulating her feelings, but if Roon ever did, she truly loved him. But it was not returned the same way. An unrequited love to Weber so to say."

I don't understand. I believe her, sure, she would have no reason to lie about sensitive information. But-

"All those times they were together. The way they were around each other…"

"She slept with him to soothe his nightmares." Friedrich explains, "Roon and Weber were very alike. He- you weren't created when the prototypes once dominated the oceans. What you've seen is the bare remnants from such times."

A light gasp comes from her lips, "Imagine a sheep herd and sheepdogs led to protect it. The shepherd's 'hounds'."

I nod my head leaning forward, "Go on."

"Larger, stronger, and proud. The one who stood above and favored by his shepherd. He was loyal and so were his hounds, " she pauses, obviously rethinking details to this tale of hers, "One day, one of his hounds came to him, the Infected. So rabid and violent was he, the hound ripped apart several of his own kin before the Alpha fought him off, wounding him. But before they could be sent away, the Alpha was bit. Strong as he was, and unaware of what had occurred, he spread the infection to the herd and the hounds."

"Strength was not enough. One day the shepherd sees there's something wrong with his Alpha and tries to put him down. But the Alpha overpowers him, and the shepherd is killed. Soon the hounds, infected and rabid, tore the herd and each other apart. The damage was so terrible, none of the herd survived. Thus, ends the tale of the Alpha, the shepherd, and the hounds."

I stopped painting entirely and absorbed the meaning of this story, "I've heard this before, from Weber."

"Mmm," Friedrich prepares another dessert for herself, pouring another glass of milk, "Did he ever tell you exactly who he was in this story?"

Her story is still fresh in my mind, I still couldn't piece together a full picture. One detail I can think of comes to mind. He mentioned his brothers and how he was the only one.

"We never really did get the full truth did we." I pause, the choices I have are narrow, "I think I know now, if my assumptions are correct."

"The only other person who could give you the real answer would've been my dear Roon," Friedrich shrugs, "I think we drew the same conclusions. Please, if you will, I want to admire the paintings you made. You created quite the piece."

Distracting me from my analysis, I forget that I have finished my project while we talked. Stepping back from my work, I gaze expectedly at it. Dried during the course of our discussion, I show a scene coming straight from memory.

Sitting at a bench overlooking the twinkling white and dimmed yellow stars, are two people. A man with a hat and a woman with long hair. Both watching the lights above and the darkened waters below, sitting above the ocean in a world of their own. A not so humble opinion to admit, this came out in a breathtaking scene.

"You really think they can help each other," She murmurs, "I fear he's nowhere near ready to let someone in his life who can. I've tried, we've tried."

"There is merit to what we both have to say," I reach for a rag, wiping my hands again, "Synthesis of both, I propose? Involve her in his life and make him feel safe to tell his story. At the same time, we are there for him."

She didn't answer me or do anything for a while. Probably still reading into the details and weighing the facts. Remaining quiet until an idea pops into my head, finally, "Weser."

"Hmm?"

"We can talk to Weser and Mainz," I whisper to her, spilling out my thoughts, "Mainz and I can reassure and help keep Weber from falling back into his hole. Weser can be the catalyst to get Strasser and Zeppelin reconciled. With pieces falling into place, then maybe, his nightmares can finally stop hurting him and he can move on. It is painful seeing him like this."

She laughs, surprising me and making me almost drop the last cookie I've been nibbling on. The way she laughs this time is not usual for her.

"I'm glad we are in agreement, dear." She pats my head, "Yes, this sounds like the plan. I will continue on with my duties and I'll bring this up to Mainz. Although I wished I knew what I could do with Rene, when we last spoke, it left a bit of a sting."

I know what I need to do. With a heavy weight on my pride and fighting the nervousness in my legs, I turn and hug Friedrich. Our height difference made it where I was just around her bosom. Such an oversight is abhorrent to my strategic mind. The warmth and touch are worth it however.

Turning my head to the side to breathe a little, I try to encourage her, "He'll be okay. He's strong isn't he?"

Letting her own arms down, she places her arms around my back. Her embrace is quite warm. Happily taking my action to heart, I stand there and listen to a brief hum. Whatever tune it is, I wished I knew. My knowledge of the classics is vastly vacant.

Another stray thought enters my mind.

"…I do want to apologize in advance for the paint I got on you. I forgot I'm still wearing my apron."

She giggles at my admittance to tarnishing her clothes, "It is fine. I can wash them. You still have my sleeping gown from when I used to stay over?"

"I put it in the closet at the end of the hallway. You're staying the night?"

"Yes," She lifts her head from me, peering off to somewhere distant, "As long as you don't mind."

"Not at all. It's cold tonight."

Scrunching her nose, I refuse to believe what Mainz said. Squinting hard at my mug, her face, and the bright lights of the office. I did not get enough sleep and it's a damper on my mood. Luckily, her damnable caffeine whiffing up to my nose, the familiar smell brightens a sliver of my sluggish mind. No longer hesitating, I grab the handle and take a sip, relishing in my favorite drink, a dash of creamer and heavy taste of almond.

"You have the next best rapport with Strasser," Mainz sighs, after taking a sip of probably her third mug, "I would ask Heinrich. But her relationship is more akin to student and teacher than close confidants. She's not apt to deal with this."

"Drama, you mean drama," Propping my head on my arm. "I'm going to look like such a hypocrite to the Kommdant if I get involved in this."

"He doesn't have to know. This is between them."

Right, she doesn't know, "Mainz, I told him to stay out of the sisters and their business. I was trying to look out for him."

Mainz stops drinking and lowers her mug, "Oh."

"Yeah, kind of like how he 'tried' to help you," I fight to hide the heat on my own cheeks, "I still can't believe you two did it."

Clearly looking more embarrassed, by how she tugs her sash and plays with the handle of her sheathed sword, I sadly got the reaction I expected.

"I-I-I wanted to p-prove myself! I didn't think he would go this far!"

"You shattered half his rib cage and gave him a concussion." I shake a little, both from the caffeine shooting through my veins and the memory of holding a bloody yet eerily smiling man up on his feet, "You're lucky he actually enjoyed it. "

Masochistic bastard.

"He asked for it!" There's the Mainz I know, defensive yet redder than a cut of salmon, "I-I, erm."

"Relax, I'm joking. Okay, half joking." I scoot back, folding my arms, completely ignoring my work. Smiling a little at her flustered exposure. She does need to let up every so often.

"I'm relieved he's a prototype and not some sort of squishy human. Events would not have played out the same way if I was absent."

She's covering her face, "Hrnnn, I was scared, Weser! I thought I killed him!"

Firing a full salvo into someone's gut usually does that to a normal human, "He said it himself, prototypes are tough. I don't know how they were able to hold off the Sirens for ten years. But judging by how few of them are left now, it makes some sense."

"I'll agree…" Mainz gulps, her pink cheeks fading by the second, "…I only wanted to prove myself."

"I think I can speak for everyone we're glad he was able to recover from it so quickly, even if he isn't fully kansen, two weeks is fast for someone who's lung collapsed. Whatever those experiments they put them through, I don't think I want to know how exactly they made them resilient to these injuries."

I blink, remembering what she came here to do, "Anyways, Mainz, I don't know…I can try talking to Strasser, but I can't say she will do it."

"At least try, Strasser seems resolute in her handling of the situation," she rubs her temples a little, clearly the coffee is the only barrier between her and the realm of sleep. "She refuses to go near Graf Zeppelin's door."

"Drama, drama, drama. I put up with enough of it with Hipper and the others, ugh."

I gently prop my head onto my shoulder. Sure, it cranes my neck to an uncomfortable degree matching the topic I've been graced with this early in the morning. The caffeine high finally lowered itself, in time for me to chug more since this topic requires more than the average amount of my awareness.

"Okay, I'll ask her out to a game of chess. Don't think I'm making promises here."

Mainz curls her lips, "Thank you, sis."

"Yeah, yeah," I wave her way, hoping she can scoot off, "Let me work before the Kommadant comes back from his rounds. Open up more free time to find Strasser and get this little plan of yours started."

Speaking of him, she quickly checks the door. Leaning forward to whisper to me, "How is he?"

"Quiet this morning. Very. He keeps busying himself before I can talk to him. I don't think he's gotten enough sleep again."

A look of disappointment flashes over her, ladened with worry, "Noted, have you tried challenging him to chess?"

I gulp, my shoulders feel stiff from sitting down all morning, "I don't know if he would say yes, it's hard to even get small talk out of him. The thought did cross my mind in hopes of cheering him up. Eh, right now isn't a good time."

Frustration simmers and levels out, "Seriously, why doesn't he do anything besides chess and fighting."

"I know," she seemed as put out as me, "My situation with our little 'spar' was just a fluke. We made a promise with him to never do the latter."

The Promise. I always hear about this 'agreement' between him and the PR's. One brief schedule check, the clock ticks forward. He still has another hour or two before getting back here. This would be a perfect moment for Heinrich or another extroverted personality to keep him busy a little longer.

I want answers.

"This 'promise'," whispering and licking my lips, "I've heard this from Friedrich before. Care to elaborate with me?"

Mainz stares at the door behind us again, then mimics me, "Seeing as you are part of a growing cadre of people who shouldn't know, I think I can at least make hints to it."

"Beating around the bush, as they say," I dryly state, folding my arms, "Lovely."

She softens her gaze, shaking her head, "The agreement was made between us PR ships and him alone. You would need to ask the other two when we are all present. Or at least him. As we now know, with our schedules and his bad habits-"

"Working beyond his limit despite trying to get him to chill out. Yeah, I noticed."

"Yes," Mainz pulls a chair, "I don't feel comfortable telling you myself. Friedrich is better at handling hard truths like this. I can tell you, prototypes didn't get wiped out by the Sirens."

Huh?

I scratch my chin. Half-believing her words, "Reports m said they all died valiantly in a battle during the Oslo Evacuation. Under the Bundeswehr, they tried to save the last holdout of the Scandinavian Alliance. Official records said Sirens destroyed the fleet and burned the city. No survivors."

Mainz grimaces, as if swallowing a bitter cup of coffee, "You should know as much as I that Weber was the one that made those reports. If there were no survivors, then why is it that Admiral Winkler and Weber survived?"

"...oh. Oh."

Grabbing my mug, one sitting for a long time the heat dissipated. I take one long look and down the whole mug, holding the mug back out to her, "Another one please."

"Of course," smattering a smile, "Connected the dots?"

I held my finger up and downed this serving faster than the previous mug of Arabian produce. Not scalding hot thankfully.

"Not really, I have guesses," I lowered it from my lips, "I don't want to know."

Mainz leaned in, glossing over today's batch of pencil pushing paperwork, "Better ask Weber or Friedrich. Perhaps, Eugen may know more than she lets on."

Doubt creeps in, questioning the claim. My other sister, as strange as it is to admit, always holds a hand of cards to her chest. Her close connection to Bismarck, not to mention her seniority in being a kansen reborn in the fleet, the first honor held by the retired KMS Seydlitz , her experience is leagues ahead of mine. I mean, I wasn't ever really completed or fully realized in my original life.

I have decided on my course of action.

"No need," I extend my empty mug again, "Please, I think I'm going to need another kick after receiving this dump of reality, thank you."

I'm done with this topic, I want to get to work and be done for the day.

She pours me another one with a happy relieved grin, "It's my pleasure."