Hymn From the High Seas (Azur Lane x Commander Male Reader)

Torn Loyalty

Prince of Wales sends Odin skipping over the waves with a kick backed by the might of her rigging. At the same time, Bismarck catches Friedrich's rigging by the jaws before it can rip Wales in half, not budging an inch as she holds fast against the wyrm-like rigging. The Iron Mettle leaves me swimming in the water after the ship is ultimately taken by the sea.

"Commander!" Wales fishes me out of the water with one hand, "Those wounds... Jervis! Get over here! The commander's hurt!"

"Bismarck," Friedrich backs away from her, "I did not expect to see you on the battlefield. Not as my enemy. The Sirens will not let this go unpunished. You cannot ignore them forever."

Standing between Friedrich and I, Bismarck commands, "I do not care what the Sirens want. If they wish to punish me, then let them try. I will return them to the depths from which they came. It is about time I find my own purpose. Not as the Sirens' pawn, the Iron Blood's flagship, nor even Kommandant's subordinate, but as Bismarck," she grips her nation's flag with both hands as her main guns take aim at Friedrich, "Cut those strings. It is not too late for you."

Friedrich puts more and more waves between us as she slides back, "I am the one who puppeteers the Sirens, not vice versa. None exist whose twine can keep me suspended. Farewell, Bismarck, my child."

Her draconic eyes pass over me before she retreats with the rest of her kansen across the blue. My fleet congregates around Wales and I as Jervis studies the shrapnel in my lower stomach. All the while, I stare at Bismarck, her golden hair obscuring her face below an equally brilliant, clear sky.

Jervis clicks her tongue, hesitant to touch the metal in my body, "His wounds are manageable for now, but I need surgical tools from the port to remove this. Someone give us solid ground!"

Foxhound's destroyer forms under us, being one of the fastest ships in our fleet apart from Jervis. The hull beams with blue light around us until we're consumed by the guts of her warship. Wales lays me down on a table as Jervis searches through a few cabinets of the medical ward.

Hood sits in a chair beside Enty – who's shocked beyond words at my wounds – and lays her hand on my arm, "Stay strong, Commander. We're going home."

* * *

Resting in Vestal's clinic, I stare up at the fluorescent lights buzzing in the ceiling like a hive of bees. The anesthetics used to sedate me for surgery still numb my senses, suspending me in a limbo of sleepiness and wakefulness following the numerous stitches required to keep my guts inside.

Enty lays beside my bed, her head leant against my hand. Monarch sits beside me with Drake, gently stroking the back of my hand with her thumb.

Enty's other arm is wrapped in bandages and a cast, having been gnawed on by Friedrich's rigging. The others suffered minor injuries, although their rigging will need repairs done over a long period of time; the damage from Iron Blood tech is too complex to fix in a week's time.

What I can't fathom are the hundreds of Manjuu that died with the Iron Mettle at sea. They may not have been human lives, but they were conscious lives nonetheless; lives ended by my incompetent leadership. Bismarck eyes me from the corner of the room in a chair, a book in her hand as she waits for me to interrogate her.

"Are you ready to speak, Kommandant?" she murmurs in German, disturbing the monotonous buzzing and making Enty lift her head.

I shake my head and look away from them both. Staring up at the dripping IV bag, I hope to spare myself from Bismarck's gaze. I failed them yesterday. I let fear take hold of me. I hadn't even considered the possibility of a trap. In the end, I'm no Admiral, am I? All I am is a clueless boy who doesn't know what he's doing here, and I ignored the weight of the lives that I carry with me.