May 31, 1916

Albert loved the seas. Unfortunately the seas did not love him.

One would think after spending three years aboard a Royal Navy vessel that he would have overcome his seasickness. But here he was, middle of the afternoon, retching over the port side of the HMS Collingwood like an inexperienced sailor. Albert had experienced illness like this for much of his short life, and somehow he still never quite got used to it.

He felt a chill run down his spine; Albert was well-acquainted with the cold of the North Sea by this point. The Grand Fleet had been heading in an easterly course for some time. Though he was a mere Sub-Lieutenant and not privvy to the decisions of Jellicoe and the others, he figured with the full deployment that something important was in the works.

At least, that's what he could figure. There had been reports of German naval activity in this area, but for whatever reason it seemed as if the long-range wireless operating systems on the ships just simultaneously decided to stop functioning since the morning. The engineers were busy trying to figure out why. Fortunately it didn't seem like reason to panic as the short-range radio systems still worked, as well as signal flags in the event the radios went dark.

Albert pulled another cigarette from his case and lit it, inhaling the fumes of the tobacco. Exhaling the smoke, he tried to let calm overtake him as opposed to the underlying dread he felt.

The Grand Fleet was coming to support Vice-Admiral Beatty's battlecruisers in engagement with the enemy. Due to the lack of long-range communication there was no way to properly assess the situation, so Admiral Jellicoe was essentially blind of what was going on both with Beatty and any new information from home. The uncertainty of it all made Albert shiver more than the cold ever could.

After finishing with his cigarette, Albert was in the process of trying to light up another one when he heard the sound of footsteps from behind. Albert quickly turned on the spot and saw Captain Ley approaching him with one of his subordinates. He quickly stood to attention and saluted the Captain.

"Sir!" Albert said as firm as he could, then Ley saluted him back. Albert continued to stand at attention, to which Ley said, "At ease, Your Highness."

Albert relaxed his stance, but his expression looked just a tad annoyed at being addressed by his royal title. It had been a point of bother with him ever since he had joined the Navy.

"W-With respect, Captain," Albert spoke up, stammering a bit as he did so, "I am a Midshipman. I am s-subordinate to your command and those of m-my superior officers, sir."

Ley could not resist the urge to smile. Not because he found the situation humorous, but because he respected the sentiment of the man before him. As a subject of His Majesty the King, he knew in a general sense that he was to be seen as secondary to the Royal Family, but Prince Albert refused to be seen as such and insisted on being treated as an officer of his rank.

"Very well," Ley said, his expression quickly turning back to focus, "We should be approaching the position of our battlecruisers soon. Make sure your men are ready on A-Turret, we don't know what to expect."

"Any word from Command?" Albert asked.

"None since the last radio transmission from 0500 this morning," Ley explained, "No telegraph communications either, engineers are still working on bringing it back up."

Ley looked over port at the other ships within the Grand Fleet, comprised of twenty-four dreadnoughts and three battlecruisers. The rest of the battlecruisers were presently engaged.

"Beatty's a brave sailor. I just hope he doesn't let that craven Hipper slip through his fingers," Ley commented, "Lieutenant, check back on deck. See about any further communiques or if the engineers fixed our wireless yet."

"Aye, Captain," the Lieutenant at his side saluted before making his way to the deck, leaving Ley alone with Albert.

"Captain?" Albert asked, wondering why Ley had not gone back to the command deck.

"You are indeed my subordinate, Midshipman," Ley addressed him firmly, "but I am also charged with Your Highness' safety. This situation we're sailing into... we have to be prepared for the unexpected. Personally I would prefer if you would occupy the command deck, but I understand your responsibilities and loyalty to your men. But I want you to promise me this: if we come under such ferocious attack that would require you to abandon your post or to abandon ship, you do so without hesitation and without stopping for anyone else. You are too important."

"But-" Albert began to protest before being cut off.

"That is an order," Ley told him, "Please."

Albert said nothing further, but nodded after a moment of silence and said, "Aye, Captain."

Ley walked off back to the command deck, and Albert hurried back to his station at A-Turret, one of the forward turrets on the bow.

At 1630 hours, Beatty's battlecruisers came into the field of vision of the Grand Fleet. Jellicoe made his orders known through flag signals, and then the alarm was raised throughout the ship to assume Action Stations. Sailors and officers scurried throughout the Collingwood to assume formation.

Albert had closed the hatch down on A-Turret, then gave orders to make sure that the guns were ready for action. He took out his telescope and peered through the small opening at what was ahead. He could make out Beatty's battlecruiser, the HMS Lion, leading the others in their opposition to the German naval attack. He can see fire on the port-side forecastle of the Lion, but it doesn't look immensely serious. In fact, it looked as if the Lion was continuing to push forward while the other battlecruisers followed closely.

But then Albert realized something that made his heart sink. There were only three battlecruisers in sight, including the Lion. So where were the other two?

He could not get a good look from his angle in the turret, so he opened up the hatch in the top and observed around him. At the time he did not recognize the ships, but he did see the fiery wreckage of the battlecruisers Indefatigable and Queen Mary.

"My God..." Albert was in shock, seeing the fiery wrecks of the ships still sitting afloat. Thousands of lives lost...

But wait, if the Germans had attacked them, how were the ships still afloat? Why had they not sunk to the bottom of the sea yet? Had it been recent?

Albert took out his telescope, looking closely at the ships in the distance. They were consumed with fire and smoke, but on further observation it did not look like the ships had been struck with naval guns. Not to say that the ships had gone untouched by the German guns, but in the sections that looked the most devastated the ship itself was structurally intact.

This made no sense. It was almost like the ships were covered in oil and set ablaze, but why would the Germans do such a thing?

Albert supposed it mattered little other than that the Germans had done it. And now, he'd resolve to do his part to make things right.

At 1700 hours, the whole of the Grand Fleet was deployed in battle, but by then the situation had drastically changed: they were no longer in pursuit of a few German battlecruisers, but were now contending with the full might of the High Seas Fleet with the German Admiral Scheer in command of the dreadnoughts.

This whole engagement had been a setup. The battlecruisers were just bait to draw the British out into the open. Now, for the first time since Trafalgar, a fleet of the Royal Navy were fully engaged with an enemy fleet.

At 1815 hours, Jellicoe had restructured the fleet's positioning to cross the very front of formations. Instructions were radioed down from the bridge to make ready for a general broadside against the German dreadnoughts.

"Rotate ninety degrees to starboard!" Albert ordered the men manning his turret section; not a trace of his natural stutter could be detected when he was focused. The men acted with haste to turn the massive Mark XI guns to starboard, and Albert looked through his telescope to see the line of German ships in the distance. He could see Jellicoe's plan in action; they were "Crossing the T" and were due to unleash a massive salvo against the Germans who could do little to repel such a force.

Fifteen minutes later, Captain Ley himself radioed in and gave the order to fire.

"FIRE!" Albert bellowed, and the two guns within his turret unleashed the 305mm shells. The sound was nearly deafening, especially coupled with the rest of the ship (and most of the fleet) having unleashed their guns at precisely the same moment. The force of the guns caused the listing of the Collingwood to violently increase.

"RELOAD!" Albert commanded, and the men made haste to load the guns with the heavy ammunition. The order to fire came again from the top. More deafening noise, more smoke.

The guns were reloaded again and fired just as quickly. This process continued until the eighth salvo had finished, and by then it looked as if the German fleet was in retreat.

"HA! Look at the buggers run!" one of the crew operating the turret exclaimed jovially at the sight of the Germans fleeing into the smoke of the battle.

"I don't think we're finished yet," Albert reminded his men. They loaded the guns again and awaited for further orders.

About another twenty minutes passed without movement. It seemed as if the Germans had really turned tail and made it back to port. Albert was just about to let his own guard down when he feels the ship moving again.

At 1910 hours, Jellicoe had once again had the Grand Fleet cross the T of the High Seas Fleet. By then, the sun was beginning to set, which (at the position they were in) helped limit the range of vision of the Germans. In front of the Collingwood's field of view was a German battlecruiser. Acting quickly, Albert ordered his men to swap out their regular ammunition for the High Explosive variety as that would be the only thing capable of breaching the battlecruiser's armor.

This battlecruiser was getting particularly close to the point that the order from the command deck was independent fire. The first HE salvo left a such a ringing in Albert's ears to the point that he couldn't even hear himself give the order to reload. The guns were ready to fire a second salvo when the German battlecruiser suddenly and deliberately launched an entire salvo on the Collingwood alone.

The force of the battlecruiser's cannons knocked Albert to the ground, who ended up hitting his head against the side of the turret and caused him to start bleeding. One of his men rushed to his side and checked to see if he was alright. Albert was so disoriented he could not think straight. The man at his side helped to ease him up, and then everyone inside the turret saw smoke billowing in. The men started coughing for a moment, and then Albert suddenly regained his clarity and opened the top-hatch to the turret. He coughed extensively as the smoke poured out of the turret into the evening air, and he was able to get a good look at the chaos around him.

Dozens of ships were in wrecks, dozens more were on fire from the sustained damage. The evening sun was partially obscured by the smoke of the battle around them. Amidst all this chaos, it was hard to distinguish who was friend from foe.

The German battlecruiser that struck them had disappeared, and the Collingwood had to veer off due to the extensive damage done to it. Several of the guns had been disabled in the barrage, particularly in the rear. Somehow, A-Turret was still intact despite extensive damage.

As the ship was veering off behind the position of the fleet, Albert saw another ship close by in similar dire straits, the HMS Tipperary. It too had its guns disabled, which Albert found strange since the Tipperary was supposed to be part of the rear guard. Had there been a force that attacked them from behind? Submarines perhaps?

But there was no time to ponder this question, for the moment Albert looked upon the Tipperary he saw a sight that he would never forget.

He could see fluttering beyond the smoke that lay in the air. It could have been birds, but the movement appeared too large and too coordinated. Then, as the fluttering continued, Albert heard very audible flapping noises, like a canvas made of leather. It was rhythmic, like a bird in flight, but he had never heard a bird's wings sound this heavy before.

And then, that's when he heard the noise. A loud and foul noise, almost reptilian. It echoed through the air and sent chills so severe that the cold North Sea could not compare.

The flapping and the roars seemed to get closer and closer with every passing moment. Albert's heart began to race as he scanned through the smoke and the clouds. Was it perhaps some new type of aeroplane? Were the Germans coming to bomb them and finish them off?

And at that moment, that's when it came.

It flew right through the smoke and was directly in Albert's line of sight.

He had never seen a creature this large before. In fact, he had never even known such a creature had ever existed.

Right before his eyes, a massive, scaly, and menacing black dragon with glowing red eyes flew through the smoke as it let out a mighty roar, its wings flapping fiercely and with a tail coiling like a serpent's.

A dragon.

Albert thought he was losing his mind at this moment and began panicking. Maybe he had hit his head too hard on the turret. Dragons were not real, they were the figments of medieval fantasies. He was delusional, the battle having done a number on his head. He had to be imagining this, he had to be.

But whatever thought's Albert had about this being a mere illusion were crushed when he saw the dragon rear its head and a stream of fire shot out of its mouth and consumed the Tipperary right before his eyes. Albert could hear the sounds of screaming coming from the ship as it was engulfed in flames.

And that's when he remembered.

The sights of the burning battlecruisers.

This... dragon... had been the one to do it.

This couldn't be real.

It couldn't be.

After the dragon's fire had consumed the Tipperary, the dragon then swerved upward and overhead the other ships of the Grand Fleet. Albert panicked, thinking they were next, but what happened next surprised him even more. The dragon had let out another breath of fire, but this time it struck no ships and instead created a great wall of flame on the ocean. This wall had the effect of creating a barrier between the British and German fleets. Moments later, the remaining German dreadnoughts and battlecruisers began to turn tail back the way they came, and the wall of fire made it impossible for the Royal Navy to pursue them.

Was the dragon... helping the Germans?

Albert then saw the black dragon fly in a loop high above the fleet. The sailors and officers aboard the ships looked into the skies with disbelief over what they saw. Jellicoe himself practically went catatonic and would not speak for the following two days afterwards.

"W-What sorcery is this!?" Albert called aloud.

The black dragon stopped flying in circles above them, and then it started to dive down.

Albert realized a second later it was diving straight for the Collingwood.

They were next.

Albert did not waste a second in going back down into his turret where he saw his men were in a trance of sorts trying to comprehend what was going on.

"ANGLE UP SEVENTY DEGREES! NOW! NOW!" Albert practically screamed, which seemed to shake his men to the point they instinctively obeyed. The men turned the handles to adjust the turret's direction from horizontal to practically vertical. The HE shells were still loaded in both of the guns.

Albert checked to make sure the guns were properly aligned with the dragon's course.

"ADJUST THIRTY TO STARBOARD!" Albert ordered, shouting himself hoarse. He had never been more terrified in all his life.

"I HAVE A SHOT!" the gunner said, and by then the dragon had begun to open its mouth.

"FIRE!" bellowed Albert, and both of the HE shells exited the turret and traveled through the air towards the dragon.

There was a tremendous explosion in midair. Black smoke filled the sky. It was several long moments before the smoke dissipated.

The dragon was gone. The remains of it now stained the bow of the Collingwood in a bright crimson.

Albert had opened the hatch of the turret again. The air was now still. The guns of all the ships had gone silent. Albert peered around, looking to see if there was any trace of the dragon or if any part of the German fleet remained in the area. In the chaos, it seemed as if Scheer and Hipper had slipped away. Apart from the blood that now stained the deck of the Collingwood, there was no sign of any dragons either.

There couldn't be more of them... could there?

Albert climbed out of the turret and immediately darted towards the command deck. When he got there, he saw Captain Ley and his subordinates just standing in numb silence to what had just happened.

"C-Captain?" Albert stammered. Ley had no reply to give him. He was still trying to process what he had just witnessed. Th

One of the ship's officer's emerged from another entryway holding a piece of paper in his hand. He shoved the paper into Ley's hand, and said "Captain, engineers got the telegraphs working again. It's from London."

Ley's hand shook as he eventually looked down on the telegram and read its content. After finishing, the paper slid through his fingers onto the floor, and then he stared at Albert, and a tear slid down his face.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Ley said calmly, leaving Albert distressed and confused.

"Men," Ley addressed everyone in the room, "The King is Dead. Long Live the King."

It was well past eleven in the evening in Paris. David's uniform lay strewn across an empty chair in his hotel room. He had poured himself another glass of champagne before emptying it just as fast. Pouring another for himself, he walked back over to the bed where the raven-haired French girl lie still, her bare back visible while she slept.

David smirked to himself. He really ought to go on leave more often, especially when all the charms of Paris were at his fingertips. Besides, it was unlikely his unit was ever going to see combat anyway. So far they had been fortunate enough never to be engaged in any "real" combat, so David felt no guilt about spending the time he did away from them. Their time would come soon enough.

He drained his second glass and set it on his nightstand, then went to close the curtains of his hotel room. He took a look out his window to get one last view of the Eiffel Tower before heading to sleep. But just before he closed the curtains, he saw a number of official-looking staff cars pull up in front of the hotel. He saw several people in army uniforms rush out, and David audibly groaned.

"Dammit, they found me," David grumbled, before sauntering over to the chair where his uniform was and putting it on rather sloppily. He had just finished buttoning his coat when he heard knocking at his door.

"Coming!" David replied, fitting his cap into place. He doesn't see what could be the bother at this time of night, especially since he was on leave. So what if he neglected to mention what hotel he would be staying at.

He opened the door hoping to find some haggard-looking officer berating him, but instead he was greeted with the familiar (and unpleasant) sight of the Earl Kitchener, the Secretary of State for War himself.

"Look," David spoke before Kitchener could begin, "You were the one who insisted - nay, ordered - I stay away from the frontlines. So if you've come to berate me for doing exactly what you told me to, then-"

"This is not the time nor the place for this!" Kitchener said in almost a harsh whisper.

"Oooookay..." David responded, and Kitchener and two of his subordinates pushed their way into the hotel room. Kitchener had a look of disgust in his eyes as he saw the sleeping French girl in an indecent state.

"Good God, we're doomed..." Kitchener rolled his eyes. One of his men closed the door behind him.

"So what's this all about then?" David asked.

"You've been ordered to return to London immediately," Kitchener explained, "My men will be escorting you personally."

"And what, pray tell, am I needed in London for?" David responded, pouring himself yet another glass of champagne. He did not offer any to Kitchener, and Kitchener would not have accepted if offered.

"The request came directly from the Prime Minister-"

"See, the both of you have had it out for me since day one," David interrupted, "Never wanted me to come over here to-"

"Your Majesty!" Kitchener finished sternly.

David paused, then set his glass of champagne down. He looked Kitchener straight in the eyes.

"Pull the other one," David replied. He was no longer in a joking mood.

"His Majesty the King passed at six o'clock this morning at Buckingham Palace," Kitchener explained, "We have been trying to locate you all day. We feared the worst when we heard the Grenadier Guards had been decimated in an artillery strike at three o'clock, Colonel Streatfeild among the fallen."

David stood in stunned silence. He backed up a few steps then let himself fall into the empty chair in the room. He placed a hand to his head, trying to digest what he had just heard.

His father was dead. As his eldest son, this now made him King.

And how during all of this, his unit bad been decimated while he was here, safe in Paris.

"Your Majesty, we must hurry," Kitchener implored, taking David's arm and escorting him out. David himself was still numb from this news that he did not resist, "My men will have the rest of your things brought shortly.

When Kitchener's men closed the door, the sleeping raven-haired girl continued to rest on the bed. But soon afterward, a grin formed on her face.

A few moments later when Kitchener's men came in to retrieve the new King's possessions, the girl had vanished without a trace.

The bells struck at midnight.

The true war was only just beginning.