Chapter 2

It was not until he saw the green swards and low red walls of the Dallimore estate that Noah began to relax.

Everything was just as he remembered, at least on the outside. The manor rose proudly on the little estate, three storey worth of memories, both pleasant and horrible. He glanced upward, trying to see past the car window. The roof was already repaired, unlike the last time he had seen it. Elisa had not been idle, after all.

He scanned the area, his training kicking in. They were a 20-minute drive from the main proper of Basingstoke, and though there were few people here, this part wasn't entirely secluded. Opposite the estate was the same ranch that Noah often snuck in to watch the horses grazing on its field. But the house was almost a half a kilometer away; no one would bother spying on the manor.

No, he was just being paranoid. The Talbots were nice people. They even hired him during summer break back then. And they weren't nosy. His mind was just overworking on the worst case scenarios—a habit born from experience. A habit that grew worse after what happened earlier. Whatever that was.

He looked at Elizabeth. The girl stared outside the window, her golden tresses cascading down her back. She hadn't said more than two dozen words during the long drive. Noah didn't bother. Even he was still shaken. But he managed to placate everyone at Devonport, and left clear instructions to fix the damn cable wires.

No one mentioned anything to him about Elizabeth surviving. He didn't, either.

Neither had the girl brought it up. Noah wanted to press her on the matter, but he refrained after seeing the frightened expression she wore when he got back to the car. Even Brian remained silent as he drove, only starting to speak again an hour after setting off from Devonport.

But now they were here. "Elizabeth," Noah said gently, touching her shoulder. "We've arrived."

The girl stirred at his words. She turned to him, and her expression—subdued, worried, and weary. It reminded him of Isabel when…

"It's big," Elizabeth noted, looking past him. Noah smiled.

"Grandpa Connor bought it a decade after his retirement. He ran a successful fishing business." He stared fondly at the manor. He never thought he'd return here after just five years, but perhaps it was for the best.

"Where do I park, Commander?" Brian asked as he stopped the car outside the rusty wrought iron gate. Beyond them lay a blanket of unkempt lawn.

Elisa hadn't been thorough, then. Noah squinted, watching as his sister's portly figure strode crisply along the white stone pathway. She unlocked the gate and left it wide open for the car.

Brian glanced over his shoulder, a silent inquiry on his face. Noah nodded. "Just follow the path on the right. There's a garage at the end."

The ensign drove inside. Noah watched Elisa lock the gate then disappear back into the manor.

Within minutes they were inside the garage. Nox's eyes scanned the walls. It was just as he remembered before leaving; the oil cans arranged in neat rows with their brand names facing forward, the tools scattered on the large shelf by the door, covered in a fine blanket of dust, the tires he had brought seven years ago.

And then there was the pink bicycle, leaning on the wall, orange with rust, the front wheel missing and the frame bent in half. Noah stared at it without speaking, the thundering of his own heart loud in his ears. He assumed that Elisa had already thrown it away. Why hadn't she?

"Commander?"

Averting his gaze, Noah smiled at Elizabeth. "It's nothing." He frowned slightly. "I told you to call me Noah."

"Oh. My apologies." She looked away, her cheeks dusted red.

Noah chuckled as they exited the car. Brian coughed. "No offense, Commander, but your sister doesn't seem to have the foresight to clean up," he said.

"She doesn't like cleaning," Noah replied with a shake of his head. Elisa probably just took care of her own room and the kitchen.

He grimaced. While he didn't expect her to clean the entire house, he had expected her to at least tidy up the first floor. But perhaps that was too much to ask. At least he had brought Brian; it would make cleaning easier with additional hands.

They entered the hallway joining the garage and the living room. Noah dreaded what he would find. The last time he had been here, it was the end of summer. He and Isabel were supposed to clean the first floor that week; they had decided to throw away the decades-old couch Grandpa Connor was fond of. But…

As he stepped inside, Noah's eyebrows nearly merged with his hairline.

Everything was spotlessly clean. The vases shone strikingly white, the aged floor freshly varnished. Even the couch and the sofa chairs were newly upholstered, with none of the tears and beer stains marring them. He inhaled. Cinnamon perfume, just like before.

Then he looked at the wall and the tables. The sculptures and other trinkets Grandpa Connor had collected were still there, but the picture frames were missing. He didn't know whether to be sad or relieved.

"Are you just going to stand there all night long and gawk? Or are you joining me for dinner?"

She was leaning on the doorway that led to the dining room and kitchen, arms crossed, her expression neutral. Noah felt his throat tightening. He took a deep breath, then approached her and wrapped his younger sister in a tight embrace.

"It's good to see you, Eli," he said in a voice thick with emotion.

Elisa didn't speak. But when Noah detached himself, her expression was gentle and her eyes shone. Her lips quirked upward. It was the best welcome he could get, but he was just glad to be back that it didn't matter.

Her chin jerked toward the two individuals behind Noah. "Who's the other one? Your driver?"

Noah glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile. "That's my aide Brian."

The lad immediately went rigid at the mention of his name and stood at attention. He saluted. "Ensign Brian Walker, ma'am! At your service!"

"Right," Elisa said dryly, unimpressed. As Brian lowered his hand with a look of embarrassment, her gaze shifted to the girl next to him.

Noah beckoned to her. Elizabeth approached slowly, a nervous air around her. When she stood next to Noah, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at his sister. "Elisa, meet Elizabeth. Soon to be Elizabeth Dallimore, our little sister."

The two studied each other. Elizabeth with silent curiosity, Elisa with an impassive yet critical eye. After a moment, she nodded in approval and smiled.

"I'm calling you Beth."

###

Elisa was highly skilled at two things: detecting lies and being an excellent chef.

As Noah took a seat at the head of the long table, he hoped that the former wouldn't happen. Elizabeth's real identity wasn't a topic he was ready to discuss anytime soon. There was still too much to be done, documents that needed signing before Elizabeth was fully adopted as a Dallimore.

Only then would he try to reveal the truth. But he was also thinking of keeping it hidden for as long as he could. Elisa didn't need that kind of complication in her life.

Of her skills as a chef, however, Noah was willing to discuss. Excited, even. "Excellent fish fingers as always, Eli," he said after swallowing a bite. It was already his fourth fish finger and he was still hungry.

"Flattery won't still make me forget what you did, Noah," she said, not too harshly. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction at his praise.

He chuckled. Elisa often prided her skills as a chef, and it showed in tonight's dinner. Crispy fish fingers whose skin was just the right golden color, moist lasagne swimming in seas of red and white sauce, roast chicken on a bed of tomatoes and greens, a porcelain kettle steaming with black tea. And his favorite: a bottle of Cháteau Margaux freezing in a pail of ice.

"How's your work at the restaurant, what was it again? Perry's?"

She snorted. "I resigned three years ago after they refused my request for a wage raise. I'm working at a bistro five blocks from here. Better wage, and the management isn't stingy." She frowned at Elizabeth, concerned. "Don't you like the food, sweetie?"

It took the girl half a second to respond. She had been staring at her food, her eyes unfocused until Elisa's voice broke her reverie. "Oh, um, it's delicious," she said with a smile.

The smile was forced, that much Noah knew. He glanced at her food. Elizabeth had barely touched her fish fingers, and there was a distant look in her eyes. "Are you feeling well, Elizabeth?" he asked gently.

She nodded. "I'm just… tired."

Elisa sent Noah a questioning look. He murmured, "Later." Louder, he said, "Do you want to rest?" Another nod. "All right. Eli?"

"She can sleep in the room next to mine. For now."

Noah frowned. "Aunt Marissa's? That's too big for her." It could fit three beds, and he had actually been planning on letting out some of the rooms before he left five years ago.

His sister cast him a disapproving glare. "She's a growing girl, Noah. She needs a big room. We have 15 bedrooms in this house." She smiled at Elizabeth. "It's only for tonight, sweetie. You can choose where you want to sleep tomorrow after you toured the house. Would you like that?"

Elizabeth looked uncertain at first. Noah stared at her with sympathy. All of this was new to her, he could tell, and she didn't know how to respond. But she was smart. So he wasn't surprised when Elizabeth smiled back.

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Excellent! But first, get change into your pyjamas. You don't want to sleep in that pretty dress." She narrowed her eyes at Noah. "You did buy pyjamas, right?"

Noah snorted, and it was only then that he realized how similar to his sister he sounded. "I took care of Isabel on my own, Eli. For ten years. I know what clothes to buy for a girl."

"Of course." Elisa stood and beckoned to Elizabeth with thick fingers. "Come along now, I'll show you to your room."

Elizabeth hesitantly rose from her chair, glancing at Noah worriedly. He gave her a reassuring nod. "I'll have Brian bring your clothes to the room."

The two left. After telling Brian to bring the shopping bags from the car and deliver them to the room, Noah ate alone in silence. Everything was going well as he hoped, though he was already preparing himself for Elisa's unavoidable questions.

He knew she wouldn't stop until he revealed the truth, and it would take all his skills and experience leading a naval base to ease her suspicion. But he was willing to endure that storm if it meant Elizabeth's safety.

He didn't have to wait long. No sooner had he extended his hand to grab the bottle of Cháteau Margaux, Elisa spoke. "No. I want you to have a clear mind when we talk."

Noah sighed and retracted his arm, arranging his fork and knife neatly on his empty plate as Elisa went back to her seat, her expression serious. Noah folded his hands on his lap, waiting.

They stared at each other for several moments, unmoving. Finally, Elisa spoke again. "I need the truth, Noah. And don't think you can lie to me. I will know if you do."

He nodded. "I will try my best, Eli. I always do."

"Do you?" She arched a thin eyebrow. "Then tell me, is Elizabeth your real daughter? Did you sleep with someone after Maribel left?"

"No. I've never loved another woman." He paused, then added softly, "Other than Isabel."

"Then tell me what Elizabeth is to you. It's been five years since I last saw you, but I've never seen you act like this."

"Elizabeth is…" He knew what she meant, and he had already rehearsed the story inside his head a dozen times on the way here. But it was different when confronted with the actual situation. And knowing his sister, Noah had to be extremely careful with his words.

In the end, he chose to mix truth with the lie. He met her gaze and said, "I want to give her a proper life, for a friend."

"Who's this friend? You seem so close to him if you're willing to go this far."

Noah allowed himself the faintest of smile. "He taught me a lot of things and helped me become a better person." It wasn't a lie; he owed Grandpa Connor a lot of his principles today.

Elisa didn't seem convinced, but she nodded in acceptance. "But why adopt Elizabeth as our little sister? Why not as your daughter?"

"Because I don't want anyone replacing Isabel."

She fell silent, regarding him with a contemplative gaze. Elisa was usually easy to read; she didn't hide her thoughts, and she would even say them out loud. But in this instance, Noah couldn't get a glimpse of her past the neutral mask she wore right now.

But he waited. After a minute, she shifted in her seat, clasped her pudgy hands on the table, and sighed. "And what's your plan for our little sister?"

Noah let his shoulders relaxed. "So you're not opposed to my decision?"

She shrugged. "Why would I? You own this house."

"What about Daddy?" He said it slowly, a word that almost felt unfamiliar to his lips. When was the last time he had said it?

His sister scoffed. "That man no longer cared about us the moment Mommy died. I don't see why we should even bother telling him about what's going on with our lives."

"You didn't, ah, spoke to him while I was gone?"

"No. Why should I?" A pause. "Did you?"

Noah shook his head. "There was no time after… everything."

"Well, good. He wouldn't care anyway."

"We'd still need his consent."

Elisa waved her hand irritably. "He cut off all his ties with us, remember? Legally. We don't need his consent anymore."

Another brief silence passed between them. Talking about their father was always a delicate subject for them. Noah didn't want to bring him up, but it was only right to still acknowledge him, even if it mattered little with how they live their lives.

It seemed the topic was close. Elisa asked, "What's your plan now?"

He was glad for the change of subject. "For now, I want to rest. It's been a long drive. But I want to hire a tutor for Elizabeth, prepare her for school before she officially carries the Dallimore name."

"Which school are you planning to enroll her in?"

Noah had long pondered that dilemma. Elizabeth's intelligence far surpassed a human's if her reading speed was anything to judge by. She wouldn't do well in a regular high school, and he didn't think a place like that would be appropriate for her level of intellect.

No, it had to be a school that would bring out her fullest potential.

"King's College," he decided. It had a lot of different courses she could take. From there she could decide what to do with her life, and hopefully, find friends who could help her find the reason she was reborn.

As he had expected, Elisa's eyebrows nearly disappeared within her hairline. "Have you been smoking pot, Noah? She's barely old enough for college!"

"She may not be, but her intellect is." Briefly he told her how quickly Elizabeth had finished the books he had bought for the girl, embellishing the truth slightly. "She's a genius, Eli. We have to nurture that."

There was that suspicious gaze again, but thankfully his sister didn't press on. She huffed and crossed her arms. "All right. As long as you will pay for everything. I'm not spending a dime on this."

"Of course."

She frowned. "Still, I still think she's too young. Can't you wait until next year? How old is she anyway?"

"16. But that's why I'll have to hire a tutor first." And decide on Elizabeth's birthday, he thought. He would ask her tomorrow.

"Mmm. And you'll be leaving next week?"

"Yes, unfortunately. But I'll visit every weekends. And send money every week. So…"

Elisa shook her head, sighing. "Yes, yes, I'll take care of her while you're away." She paused. "Something happened on your way here, I take it?"

"Ah, that." He hesitated, then gestured at the wine bottle. "May I?" When Elisa waved her hand, he smiled and reached for it. He uncorked the bottle, inhaling the familiar aroma before standing up to grab a pair of wine glass. He returned to his seat, handing one of the wine glasses to Elisa, then filled both with Cháteau Margaux.

He drank first, savoring the taste. "There was an accident at Devonport. A steel block fell and nearly hit Elizabeth."

"Oh my God." Elisa placed a palm on her heart. She stared at him incredulously. "And you took her here immediately after that? Noah, that girl is in shock!"

"I know. But I couldn't take her anywhere else." He would have taken her to a psychologist, but he dreaded the questions and Elizabeth's responses to them. "It's going to be fine. I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"That's what you said last time too."

He froze, his lips hovering over the rim of his wine glass. Slowly he took a sip. It tasted bitter this time. He stared at Elisa, and he saw that accusing gaze again. He looked away.

"Things will be different now," he murmured, almost to himself.

He knew it would be.

###

I am the strongest in the Royal Navy.

My main guns fired, and kept firing. Though the enemy's stalwart fortresses were deemed impenetrable, though shells rained down upon me and my allies, nothing could withstand the might of British battleships—my might—and the salvo we gave to our foes.

Day and night the operation continued. Through rain and clear skies our fleet, and that of our French allies, bombarded enemy positions. They were untrained, the Admiralty had said. Their ammunitions scant, their guns too few.

It should be an easy battle

And yet war was unpredictable.

Bouvet was the first one to sink, falling to a mine our seaplanes failed to detect. An unexpected loss, but not detrimental to the operation. The British fleet was still intact. We could still fight.

So we did. So I did. Until Irresistible withdrew and exploded near Bouvet's site of demise. Ocean was ordered to rescue her, and she was the last one to enter the void, suffering from the same fate that sank the others.

By then the outcome was clear: we wouldn't take the Ottoman fortresses. And we sailed away, leaving the wrecks of my comrades behind. We had lost despite our might. Despite my might.

But a warship's duty was to fulfill orders. Though I had been disgraced from the failed campaign at Derdanelles, I am still the Queen Elizabeth. Other battleships came after me—stronger, faster, better—but I am still one of the oldest. I, and my crew, still had a long experience.

The second great war came, and I was recalled to protect my nation once more. I was thrilled to be of use again after decades of inactivity, to fight for British interest and show the world the might of the Royal Navy.

And we did show the world. Malta, Crete, Trincomalee. From the Mediterranean to the Pacific I sailed, my guns aflame with barrages, the flag of England waving proudly in the sea wind.

When the war was over, I went home. And I knew then that my service was at an end. England, and the rest of Europe, was finally safe. I'm no longer needed.

It was strange. Even though the pain brought by the torches tearing through my hull was excruciating, I was not sad. I've already fulfilled my mission, and for that alone I am grateful.

I am HMS Queen Elizabeth, one of the strongest battleships to have fought in two wars. And I am—

Nothing. Darkness assailed it. The last thing it felt was that pain, that pain of its hull breaking apart, its engines wrenched away like the dying heart of a human at death's door. It couldn't move, it couldn't see, it couldn't hear.

An empty void just like the depths of the sea.

Awaken, Queen Elizabeth.

Queen Elizabeth? Yes, that was its—her— designation. She was a warship, wasn't she? And she was… She was in the waters, her slim frame being carried away on a gentle current, the heat of the sun on her cheeks.

And she was breathing.

She floated like a flotsam after a terrible storm, adrift in a sea of nothing. But the gentle waves carried her ever forward, slowly at first, then more urgently.

Awaken, Queen Elizabeth.

Until at last hands were pulling her up from the sands, and a multitude of voices rang in her ears.

Awaken, HMS Queen Elizabeth!

###

Her eyes snapped open.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was of Elizabeth's own breathing. Breathing. Such a strange word to say, even think about. She had been a human for a week now, but it felt as if it was longer than that, her body as familiar as her hull. And the warmth of the blanket touching her skin, she remembered it, even if she hadn't experienced something like it until recently.

Her eyes rove around. The ceiling above her was dark brown with age. She couldn't take a good look at it last night, too exhausted to do anything except change into her pyjamas before collapsing onto the soft mattress. But now with the sunlight filtering through the thin red curtains, her eyes tracked the pattern of thread-like cracks on the wooden beams, forming unusual shapes that didn't seem to have a cohesive order to them.

It was captivating, in a sort of mysterious way, and she would have stared longer if not for the grumble that emanated from her stomach. Hunger, she decided, was truly the bane of all things good.

Yawning, she sat up. Comfort was still a new concept to her, but it was a concept she was rapidly enjoying. It felt really good to lie on a soft bed, in an airy and expansive room, unlike the first one she had woken up in. She felt… secured, safe within the walls that accepted her despite her circumstances.

She slipped into her slippers and padded toward one of the windows. As she pulled back the curtains, she momentarily blinked at the bright sunlight. Had she slept that long? Once her eyes adjusted, a wide lawn greeted her, many times wider than her ship's deck. She saw a squat building next to a tree, and what looked like an open walled turret—a gazebo if she remembered the term correctly—its white paint falling off, a little ways to the right.

Her stomach growled again. With a sigh, she entered the adjoining bathroom large enough to hold a bath tub. Except there was no bath tub, but there was a toothbrush Elisa had prepared last night.

As she brushed her teeth, Elizabeth stared at her reflection in the mirror. She didn't know why her form was that of a young girl in her middle teens. Her eyes, as blue as the sea she was born to fight on, certainly didn't belong to someone with her appearance—eyes that had seen everything, with memories born out of the experiences of a weapon and her crew.

Why was she reborn? And as a human? She had fulfilled her purpose, her duty, even if her service record wasn't as impressive as her sisters. Her mission was done; England was safe and prosperous even after her scrapping. There was no use for her, certainly not as a human.

A human with, apparently, far too much strength.

She emerged from the bathroom moments later and shed her pyjamas, choosing a simple blue shirt and white knee-length skirt as her attire. She looked at her skater dress with longing, but it was already stained with sweat from… from that incident yesterday, and she didn't want to be reminded of that.

Elizabeth shivered, and banished the intruding thoughts from her mind. What happened already happened. It was futile feeling miserable over it.

The hallway outside her room was empty, but she could hear conversation coming from downstairs. And it was clear as day.

"You didn't even hire someone to mow the lawn?" Noah was saying, his tone disapproving.

"How would I?" his sister—and Elizabeth's sister soon—grumbled. "My income is barely enough to maintain the whole house. If anything, it's your fault for not sending money to keep this place running."

Noah made a comment that Elizabeth couldn't hear, and it got Elisa chuckling. Curious, Elizabeth followed their voices. The main hallway was mostly clean, but signs of neglect were still visible. A thin cobweb hung between the ceiling and the doorframe of another room. A painting of London at night, the city ablaze with the dazzling light of civilization, drooped at an awkward angle. An urge to right it came. She tilted it until the frame hung evenly and moved on.

Elizabeth descended the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the vast living room. She couldn't believe it was only the Dallimores who lived here. From what she had seen, the manor could house three families with rooms to spare. Did Connor really think his children and grandchildren would be that numerous?

The voices were coming from the kitchen. Her eyes lingered on the various sculptures and statues dominating the living room: snarling lions rearing on their hind legs, eagles with their wings unfurled and their talons extended, even Chinese dragons whose serpentine forms twisted in midair. Connor had traveled across the world before World War 2, she remembered. These were probably some of his collections.

Her gaze landed on a picture frame by a table, and she approached to take a look, smiling fondly when she saw who was in the photo.

It was Connor, the man grinning broadly while hoisting up a tuna he had caught that was almost as long as he was tall. He was standing on the deck of a fishing boat, his stance bearing that sense of familiarity that only those who had traveled for so long on a sea vessel possessed, the lines on his thin face barely visible. This must be taken several years after the war.

She lingered for a moment until her stomach reminded her of the weakness of a human body. Moving on, she found the two siblings eating breakfast together on the long polished mahogany table centered on the dining room, where a traditional English breakfast spread enticingly, the aroma of crispy fried bacon and poached eggs tickling her nostrils.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," Noah greeted at the head of the table with a warm smile. To his left Elisa raised her teacup.

Recognizing them as siblings wouldn't be too difficult. Their eyes were the same shade of brown-black like Connor's, the same hard set of jaws and brows. But that's where the similarities ended. For while Elisa was wide, Noah was tall and narrower. If Elizabeth would liken them to ships, Elisa would be a dreadnaught and Noah a fast and sleek heavy cruiser.

"Good morning," Elizabeth replied softly, taking the seat on Noah's right where a plate had already been set aside for her. As she helped herself to the eggs and tomatoes, she scanned the table. "Where's Brian?"

Noah pointed outside the backyard where Brian pushed a lawn mower, the whirring drowning out his off-tune whistling. "This place sorely needs a cleanup," Noah said.

"Can I help?" Elizabeth asked after swallowing a bite. If she was going to live here, it would be rude not to assist in any chores.

The two Dallimores exchanged looks. Then Noah smiled at her. "Of course. But first, breakfast. Cleaning this house without a full stomach is like going to battle without sufficient ammunition."

Breakfast was lively, and Elizabeth was just glad to listen to the siblings exchanging stories while they eat. She didn't want to intrude on them; she was still a stranger they barely knew, and a stranger in a body that she had only had for a week. Conversing with people was still something she was getting used to, among other things.

Eating wasn't one of them. A human body needed nutrients and energy, this much she knew. It was as instinctual as knowing how to fill her lungs with air, how she needed to sleep enough to have a clear mind, how brushing her teeth was necessary to keep them healthy and be able to chew food easily.

And food, she was starting to learn, was one of the most enjoyable things in life. Her crew had seen it as simply a means of sustenance during the course of her service history—particularly because supplies back then were rationed—but she knew they missed home-cooked meals. And now she could understand why. Even a simple breakfast like the one she was having was comforting, especially when eaten together with other people.

When they finished, Noah gave her a tour of the house while Elisa went to check on Brian. Almost each room and spot had Connor's presence on it, however minuscule it may be. From the way the furnitures and decorations were arranged to the significant events that had happened in and around them.

"Grandpa Connor wanted a house for his family and friends," Noah explained as he led her throughout the first floor, his smile one of sad nostalgia. "He was an only child, see, and he wanted a large family from Grandma Esther. He bought this house using the money he acquired from his fishing business and his salary as a sailor."

Elizabeth nodded. Connor was a senior officer aboard her, so his wage, while not as substantial as a captain or First Mate, was still more than what a regular crew earned. "So you have a large family?"

"Yes and no." Noah stepped inside a dark room, waving his hand in front of his nose as a cloud of dust swirled in front of him. It was a private library, the shelves towering almost to the ceiling. Books, old and caked with dust, filled the shelves. There was a small lounge in one corner, the chairs and couches draped with white linen to protect them from more dust.

Elizabeth padded toward the shelves, trailing a finger along the leather-bound spines of the books. Even in the dark, she could read some of the lettering, faded as they were. They covered a variety of topics, from science to philosophy, and even mythology and fairy tales.

Light sudden blossomed within the room. She turned and saw Noah parting the thick red curtains, letting sunlight in. Elizabeth joined him. The expansive backyard spread before them, surrounded by a short brick wall. Brian was still mowing the lawn.

"My grandfather only ever had one child as well: Connor Junior, my father," Noah continued. "Grandma Esther, may she rest in peace, died early at childbirth. But she had several siblings, and their children and grandchildren stayed here on several occasions. Not as frequent now, though."

"Where is he now? Your father, I mean."

Elizabeth watched as Noah remained silent. A shadow of dismay flashed across his face, swiftly replaced by a rueful smile. "Last we heard of him, he married another woman after he and Mom went their separate ways when I was 10. Mom died 8 years later." He hesitated, almost uncertain, eyes seeing into the distance. When he spoke again, his voice was somber. "Dad was—is still is, perhaps—addicted to gambling and has legally abandoned I and Elisa. Mom was an alcoholic."

He didn't need to elaborate. Through Elizabeth's memories of some of her crews' worst habits, she could understand the resentment in Noah's voice. Alcohol and gambling, they were never a good pair, especially for parents.

"I'm sorry," she said. It must be painful for him to recall; she could deduce some of the events he had had to experience from his gaze alone, and she should have not asked about his parents.

He chuckled nonetheless. "It's all right. You'll be part of the family soon, so you have to know our history."

Elizabeth furrowed her brows. Family. An unfamiliar yet not-so-familiar word. She had sister ships; Warspite, Valiant, Barham, Malaya. But were they really considered a family if they were all steel vessels of war? What was even a family?

Her expression must have revealed some of her thoughts. Noah looked down at her, worried. "Are you all right, Elizabeth?"

She nodded, albeit reluctantly. She may have gained sentience, but human concepts such as this were still foreign to her. "I am. It's just…" She sighed. "I don't know what this means for me. For the reason I was reborn."

"Maybe that is the reason." His hand rose to brush her head gently. "For you to live life as a human. To experience life itself not as a weapon but as a person." He paused. "I'm planning to hire a tutor for you to prepare you for schooling."

"Schooling?"

He nodded, his smile still present. "Integrating into human society would be the best way for you to find purpose in life. Learn as much as you can, have friends who would support you, and find out what you love to do. You'll be surprised at the things you'll discover about yourself."

She accepted his words as best as she could, smiling at him despite her thoughts. It didn't fully alleviate this strange feeling in her chest, an emptiness she didn't know how to fill. But perhaps Noah's suggestion was the answer.

They resumed the tour. There was a music room on the east wing. The previous owners of the manor were musicians, or so Noah learned from Connor, but most of their prized instruments had already been sold off, leaving nothing but an ancient yet still working record player, a violin whose strings were missing, and several music sheets dating back during the late 1800s.

"We don't use these much, and neither did Grandpa Connor and Grandma Esther," Noah explained, "but see if you will find the music to your taste."

The second floor were just bedrooms, with a common area directly above the living room. The rooms varied in size, the smallest of which could hold two beds while the master's bedroom was dominated by a four-poster queen-sized bed. The mattress and curtains were missing.

Elizabeth found sleeping on such a bed highly enticing.

On the third floor were recreational and study rooms: a billiard room—the pool's green fading into grey—a private classroom with a chalkboard and aging chairs and tables, a playroom for the children. They entered one of the studies, and Elizabeth's gaze immediately fell on the chessboard resting snugly on a shelf.

Noah smiled. "Want to have a round or two?"

She wanted to. Connor had played against most of the crew almost every day, even winning against her captain, and she knew the basics. But she was not in any mood today. "Perhaps some other time."

He nodded. They checked some of the other rooms, but the rest didn't caught Elizabeth's interest. Their last stop was the attic, which Noah seemed hesitant to enter but nonetheless did after a brief contemplation.

It was a storage room, as Elizabeth had come to expect, extending across the manor's entire roof. Boxes rose like ship masts, most sealed with duct tapes, though some were just tied up with strings. Mops and cleaning paraphernalia were stacked on a corner next to a small armory of gardening tools. There were also furnitures, including a grand piano, and spare beds for the bedrooms on the second floor.

Noah went ahead inspecting some of the boxes that weren't sealed tight. Curious, Elizabeth opened the one nearest to her, coughing at the cloud of dusts that bloomed upwards. Waving a hand in front of her face, she peered inside.

It contained picture frames.

Elizabeth pulled out one, blowing away a thin layer of dust to reveal an old family photo.

She studied it intensely. The man on the right had the same outline of a hard jaw as the Dallimore siblings, but that's the only resemblance he had with them. His eyes were cold, his mouth twisted into a frown that matched the downward slant of his eyebrows. To his left was a woman, stern-faced, her expression equally hard and frosty. Their expressions were so unlike the two children between them.

Despite the lurch in her heart at seeing Noah and Elisa's parents with those expressions, Elizabeth managed a faint smile at the children's joyful faces. Their eyes shone with contentment, as if they never knew the hardships they were facing. Perhaps they didn't. Elizabeth hadn't interacted with enough people to accurately determine age based on appearances alone, but Noah in the photo was shorter than her, Elisa barely reaching his navel.

Her gaze lingered for a minute, then she put the frame aside and dug deeper into the box. There were dozens of pictures inside, a few of them featuring Noah and Elisa's parents, with or without them. But there were also pictures of a beautiful raven-haired woman with a radiant smile.

In all of her pictures, Noah was present.

Elizabeth didn't have to think hard about her identity; the woman was Noah's wife. She could tell how happy they were, how his smile reached his ears and his eyes sparkled with adoration and love. But as she continued rummaging, it was noticeable how the frames beneath showed less and less of her until Noah was the only one left.

Or rather, another person replaced the woman.

The last picture came into Elizabeth's view, and it was the only one with Noah and the new person—a young girl, to be exact. She couldn't be older than Elizabeth's human form, perhaps around 15 or 16 years old. Much like Noah's wife, her long flowing raven hair reached her waist. She sat on a picnic blanket at the edge of a clear lake, one arm slung around Noah's neck as they both smiled at the camera, their eyes brimming with happiness.

"That's Isabel."

Elizsbeth looked up. Noah stood by her side, his gaze fixed on the picture frame Elizabeth held, seeing it but not really seeing it.

"Who is she?" she asked, even though she had already deduced the girl's identity.

"My daughter." His answer was so swift Elizabeth knew he had been preparing for her to ask the question.

Elizabeth waited for him to continue. He didn't. She opened her mouth, intending to press him for more answers, but she closed it immediately upon seeing his eyes. They were… almost dead, blanketed by a thick fog of sorrow that she averted her gaze lest the fog enveloped her as well.

He ruffled her hair. "Come on. I'll show you outside."

As Noah left, Elizabeth couldn't help but glance at Isabel's picture again.

First update of the year!

Each chapter is released as soon as I finished them, so there may be some errors here and there. But I try to edit the chapters before hitting the publish button. Hopefully, you won't find much typos and misspelled words.

Now for the chapter itself, I know the plot is going really slow, and I intended it to be that way. As I've said in the first chapter, this story will focus more on characters, so there will be very few action scenes and we'll spend quite a long time digging into Elizabeth and Noah's stories. This is, after all, a slice of life. But hopefully it is an interesting slice of life.

Secondly, this won't feature any sort of romance between Elizabeth and Noah. During the planning stage of this fic, I initially wanted it to be that way. But as I wrote the outline, I realized it would be… weird to have them be in a romantic relationship considering the theme of this story: family.

So, there will be no Commander x Queen Elizabeth. We will definitely have romance here, just not involving Noah and Elizabeth.

Lastly, a lot of topics covered in this chapter may or not be accurate, especially the topic of adoption and all that. So as always, do let me know if there are inaccuracies and I'll do my best to fix them.

Thank you all so much and don't hesitate to leave a review! Until next time!