Figuring out the deal with the Admiral and Nelson classes was a real pain in the butt. No Washington Naval… Anson is the same class as Hood according to KR, but Nelson and Rodney are still Nelson?

AHHH.

My original idea for this was a grimmer story about UoB national defense, but the story ran off on its own. Maybe something men of Harlech inspired later?

This chapter also has significant use of an OC, specifically the Admiral class Anson the UoB has in Kaiserreich.

…They disturb my slumber deep

And I murmur in my sleep,

They go wild, simply wild over me.

-T-Bone Slim

Before anything else, there was a choice they had to make about how they defined themselves. Their pre-revolution names tended towards being those of nobility, dukes and barons who were inarguably skilled, but who got to their stations thanks to birth. Like many things, it was a question of what proud English traditions were to be kept and which had to be left behind.

In parades and when they showed the flag, the three of them were Birch, Yew, and Whitebeam. More significant changes than Oak, who simply dropped the prefix 'Royal', but not everything can be easy, can it? Well, adopting the name fully and living with it might have made the adaptation easier, but not all of them did that.

Anson took it easiest, or maybe it was better to say that she forced herself to take it as well as possible. She threw herself into the role of Birch just like she threw herself into Syndicalism and the new English culture that sprouted up in the wake of the revolution. Considering that the sister she was closest with, Hood, was currently on the other side of the ocean and the political spectrum, perhaps Birch felt she had to fit in.

It was a fitting name, though. Compared to Hood's golden mane, Birch was more of a platinum blonde, silver like her namesake tree with the occasional streak of something dark shooting through it. Like the hardy birch, she was the first to truly grow after the purifying fire of revolution. When others were content to simply let the flagship take the helm, Birch boldly argued that a leader should be elected, in Syndicalist fashion.

In contrast, there were Yew and Whitebeam, although they once went by Rodney and Nelson. Sure, they loved Birch, but they never shared her particular political enthusiasm for the revolution and whatnot. You didn't just say that, though, and definitely didn't boldly oppose your renaming in public spaces. In private and in their hearts, they were the same ships as they were before the revolution. Make no mistake, though: both were red, even if the latter occasionally flirted with totalism and other fringe movements. Outside of that, she was a notorious hardass, but her men usually grew to respect her- she worked like a fiend. Her greatest expectations were for herself.

Meanwhile, Yew was popular among the men for a different sort of reason. She was already charming, but an easygoing nature paired with a relative lack of social barriers (no perception of being high class, noble, or surrounded by women who were) meant she was a real catch. She liked the people and the people liked her.

Yew took a quick look around, to make sure they were alone. "Are you free tonight, Nelly?"

"Don't call me that." Nelson hissed, cheeks flushing, "And no, I'm not. I'm double checking plans for tomorrow's naval drill."

"Come on. Haven't you checked them already?"

"I have."

"Then you can take a night off and come dancing with us."

"I can't, Rodney, and you shouldn't either."

"Haven't you heard about the studies, Nelly? We're supposed to be forming bonds. It makes us stronger."

Nelson gulped. That was, from what the current research said, absolutely true. And what she could not suffer was being outperformed. At least, not if she could do anything to stop it.

(Bigger ships were coming. New dreadnoughts and the famed Rebecca, the so-called super-carrier under construction. Hopes regarding the carrier force were high in the Union of Britain.)

Still…

"If we run out of ammunition during training, I'm blaming you."

Rodney laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You agreed faster than I thought, is all. I had all these arguments lined up~"

Dancing turned out to be more fun than Nelson had initially expected. Part of it was probably the fact that it was all shipgirls. Fraternizing with the common sailor still seemed a bit odd to her- of course, she'd beat around the bush before saying anything as damning as them being beneath her dignity- so it was nice to be among friends.

There was a simple logistical reason for the lack of normal humans in the dance- the location. Rigging let you dance on the waves of Scapa Flow, but it left anyone without to be dragged along bodily. It was hard to keep from getting soaked, much less leading or following in a dance. The poor humans couldn't participate at all when it wasn't a ballroom piece.

Thankfully, since Nelson's mission here was to foster bonds, she didn't have to do those dances. She could stand by the side and watch the girls sway and bob to The Popular Wobbly or throw themselves in the fanatic circles of the French carmagnole. (Couldn't they have picked up something better from their allies? Fine cuisine, maybe?)

Nelson and Rodney ended up being teachers for the partner dances. While not the oldest ships on base, they were old enough to remember the days before the revolution and old-looking enough to actually get invited to dances by sailors. Well, Rodney was invited by blushing sailors. Nelson attended functions.

Still, she knew the steps, and danced the lead- which was, admittedly, more acceptable now than it was then- so she could show the little destroyers the ropes. (Despite some rumors, she could be perfectly patient! She just didn't accept mediocrity when it could get someone killed!)

"Thank you for the dance, Whitebeam." Amazon- who boldly persevered despite the height difference- dipped a curtsy after the dance ended and shot back to the other destroyers.

"She's quite like you, isn't she?" Nelson nearly jumped at the voice behind her, but she did recognize it. Turning around, she could see a familiar, willowy form in a lovely dress of shimmering silver…

"Why do you think so, Birch?"

"Blonde. Twintails. Attitude."

"Are you trying to say something?" Nelson snapped.

Birch sighed. "Sorry. Yeah. I am: would you like to dance with me, Whitebeam?" She held out a hand.

"Will you be lead or follower?"

"Big sis should take the lead, I think." Birch grinned.

"You know how?"

"I danced with more boys than you have, Whitebeam."

"Now wait just a second!"

Before she could kick up too much of a fuss, Birch pulled her into the center of their impromptu dance floor. The other girls- even Rodney- stepped back to watch as they moved across the waves. Fear of embarrassment quickly snuffed her indignation.

She heard the music building up… "Is this quickstep?" Nelson hissed.

"What? Afraid to try something a little different?"

"If you get my clothes wet…"

"I'll regret it, yeah yeah. Now come on!"

Nelson could say a lot about her sister's life choices, but it was inarguable that the woman could dance. They started slow, but once they got into the swing of things, they were practically running laps with how fast they whirled around.

There were murmurs and gasps from the watching shipgirls, but Nelson was too focused on not getting her heels entangled with Birch's to notice. It was almost enough to make her dizzy, the way they spun and whirled.

When the song finally came to a halt, there was some applause Nelson barely noticed as she let go of Birch's hands and balanced herself properly. Her sister laughed, but for some reason, Nelson didn't prickle in the way she usually did when she felt she was being mocked.

"You did better than I thought, Whitebeam. I didn't think you'd know the quickstep that well."

And there was the ire, bubbling up again. "What, was your plan to drag me out there and embarrass me?"

"No!" Birch paled until she looked like the bark of her namesake tree. "I was thinking something a little slower, but you were so good I sped it up."

Nelson narrowed her eyes at her sister.

"You're better with modern dance than I thought," Birch said. "I'm glad for it. Maybe we could do it again?"

"If I take the lead."

"Oh really?" Birch grinned.

Now, dancing was all well and good, but there was only so much a woman could take before she was exhausted, and Nelson made certain the fleet didn't reach that point. They had training to do tomorrow, after all! So they settled in for snacks and drinks that wouldn't leave them with hangovers. The base's canteen was useful for this purpose.

"I saw you dip Amazon so low her twintails touched the water," Birch 'accused' Nelson.

Fighting back the instinctive urge to make some defense of her actions, Nelson deflected. "I dipped her because she was doing well. It's a trickier move, you know."

"I mean, I didn't know you had the strength for it."

"It's not hard. You lean them on your leg."

Birch's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Birch. You didn't." Nelson sighed.

"I did."

Before Nelson could form a proper response to that, Rodney sat down next to them. "What did Birch do?"

Birch groaned. "Remember that time I dropped Grenade?"

Rodney snorted in a very unladylike fashion, and despite herself, Nelson felt curious. "What?"

"Oh, Birch tried to dip Grenade during one of the dances. Poor girl fell in facefirst."

"Because I wasn't using my leg." Birch sighed. Rodney snorted again, clearly amused. "Yewwww…"

"Have some rum and try to forget it happened."

"Hangover," Nelson warned.

"I know my limits, Nelly."

There were a few moments of almost unbreakable silence at the table- a silence that even the murmuring from other tables could not penetrate- and Birch flushed.

"I'm… I'm just so happy with the ways things are right now." Birch said. "I'm glad you came to dance with us." (Was Birch trying to deliberately avoid thoughts of their fourth sister, Hood? Did she even need to do it anymore?)

"I don't think there's a better time to be alive," Birch had a brilliant smile, Nelson thought, "I mean, isn't this is how England is supposed to be?"

"Supposed to be?" Nelson asked.

"I mean, I've been reading the histories and stuff. People have wanted this-" whatever this meant,"-for a long time. There was this poem…?" She thought for a moment, trying to recall something. "Ah, it went like…"

"Norman saw on English oak,

On English neck a Norman yoke;

Norman spoon to English dish,

And England ruled as Normans wish

Blithe world in England never will be more,

Till England's rid of all the four."

Technically speaking, England was rid of the problem… but of course, the fear was that they would come creeping back again.

This is based on a lot of digging through the Kaiserreich files regarding the Navy. Once again, probable inaccuracies to Sev's later work.