Perfect.

  The notes fall soft, deliberate.

  "Now, I've heard there was a secret chord..."

  She sings like she's remembering something instead of reciting it. Her voice doesn't break-it bends. Weathered but deliberate. She's not showing sorrow. She's sharing it. And in that moment, she's not Prinz Eugen, the mask or the legend. She's the girl beneath the iron smile.

  By the time she hits the lines:

  "Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya..."

  "She tied you to a kitchen chair..."

  -you can almost hear Roon's boots echo through the hall. She's not there, but her presence presses against the lyrics like a ghost who knows she's being summoned.

  And Eugen doesn't stop playing. Doesn't even blink. Just shifts into that next verse like it's a road she's walked a thousand times.

  Flashback: Nightfall on the Upper Deck, Months Earlier

  The storm had passed but left behind a wet, reeking cold. Rain pooled in the seams of the deck. The searchlights were off. There was no threat. Just mist.

  Eugen leaned on the railing, sleeves rolled up, a cigarette cupped between her fingers. The ship rocked beneath her. Her stomach didn't. She'd long stopped feeling the sway. What churned inside her had nothing to do with the sea.

  Bootsteps behind her. Slow. Deliberate.

  "You're not supposed to smoke that here," Roon said.

  Eugen exhaled smoke, slow and lazy. "You're not supposed to kill people in a diplomatic port either, but here we are."

  Roon stepped beside her, silent for a while. The mist clung to her like silk. Smoke left her nostrils.

  "You didn't have to cover for me," she said, voice too flat for guilt and too soft for pride.

  "I didn't do it for you."

  That stopped Roon. Her eyes narrowed. "Then for who?"

  Eugen turned her head. "For the girl they'll never let you be."

  Roon looked away-first time in months she didn't meet Eugen's eyes when they sparred.

  Eugen crushed the cigarette into the rail.

  "You think you're protecting something," Roon said.

  "I know I am."

  Roon took a breath, then touched Eugen's arm. Not rough. Not possessive. Just contact.

  "Why?" she asked.

  Eugen's answer was nearly drowned by the sea.

  "Because I saw you fall apart and still keep walking."

  Roon didn't reply. She just stayed. Minutes passed like centuries.

  And beneath it all, Eugen could still hear the rhythm of that song-minor fall, major lift-etched into her bones.

  ---

  Coda: The Morning After

  Eugen awoke still in her chair. The guitar rested across her knees like a slumbering beast. Her fingers had long since gone still.

  The door was ajar.

  She stood. Her muscles ached. Her throat burned.

  On her desk, where the photograph once lay face-down, someone had turned it upright.

  Two women stood in the frame-one smiling like sin, the other watching like a hawk. A moment stolen from time.

  Underneath it now lay a piece of paper. One torn corner from a chart, scribbled in strong, deliberate pen.

  "I remember your tune too.

  - R."

  Eugen stared for a long moment.

  Then picked up her guitar.

  And played one note.

  Just one.

  But it was enough.

  Flashback (continued):

  Roon didn't leave that night.

  She stayed beside Eugen as the wind hissed over the bow and the sea forgot how to rest.

  They didn't speak. They didn't need to.

  After a time, Roon leaned her back to the railing, arms crossed. Watching Eugen-not hostile, not hungry-just present. Like a blade in its sheath.

  Eugen glanced sideways. "What happens when they send you out again?"

  Roon answered without hesitation. "I go."

  "And when you come back?"

  Another pause.

  "Depends if I'm still me."

  Eugen's lips twisted. Not quite a smile. Not quite a grimace. "If you come back half-mad again, I'm not dragging you off another corpse pile."

  Roon tilted her head. "Would you drag me out of the fire?"

  "No," Eugen said, voice clipped. Then, quieter-too quiet-"I'd go in with you."

  Roon blinked. Just once. The sea roared beneath them.

  That was the moment. The one that mattered. No kiss, no confessions, just two war-worn souls understanding that whatever tether tied them together, it wasn't breaking tonight.

  Roon finally straightened and walked away.

  She didn't say goodbye.

  She didn't have to.

  Salt and Steel

  The sound of engines woke Eugen before the intercom did.

  She was already pulling on her coat when the first bell rang-General Quarters. The ship lurched slightly beneath her, but not from impact. From power. Acceleration.

  Battle stations. North Sea. No warning.

  She stepped onto the deck into blistering wind. Overhead, the sky was gunmetal gray, shot through with veins of light. Thunderclouds. Maybe worse.

  She didn't need orders. She felt it in her bones.

  Something was coming.

  And then she saw her.

  Roon-standing on the far side of the flight deck like a sentinel from some forgotten myth. Her rigging was already shifting into place, the black sheen of her armor catching the pale light like oil on water. Her eyes were locked on the horizon, dead calm.

  Eugen crossed the deck.

  "Who's out there?" she asked.

  Roon didn't look at her. "You wouldn't believe me if I said."

  Eugen frowned. "Try me."

  Roon's jaw flexed. Then: "Grim's out. So is Regulus."

  That hit Eugen like a backhand.

  "You're serious."

  Roon finally turned. "I told you. It depends if I come back whole."

  Eugen stepped closer. "Are you whole now?"

  Roon smiled-sharp, but not cruel. "I remember the chords."

  Then she turned back to the sea.

  A black streak crossed the clouds. Something vast. Something winged.

  Roon raised a hand. Her rigging groaned into final alignment. "You wanted the next verse?" she said.

  Eugen stood beside her.

  "I want the end of the song."

  "Then stay close."

  And with that, Roon stepped off the deck-descending into the maelstrom below like the echo of a final note played on broken strings.

  The Baffled Queen

  The moment Roon dropped, Eugen's body moved before thought caught up. Her guitar-still slung across her back-bounced as her rigging activated in one clean burst. She followed over the side without waiting for clearance, without permission, without anything but instinct and fury and-

  -loyalty.

  The air screamed around her. Her heels kissed the waves just once before propulsion kicked in. Water curved under her like a bowstring drawn tight. Roon was already ahead, a dark flash in the storm's throat, but Eugen had eyes only for her. Always had.

  Static crackled in her ear. Comms alive.

  "You're off the chain, Prinz. What the hell's your vector?"

  She didn't answer. The only voice she listened for now was the one that could sing broken chords through a burning ship.

  Twenty minutes later.

  The sea was red. She'd seen that before. But this wasn't battle, not yet-it was invocation. Like something ancient had stirred and left a trail of blood to be followed.

  The storm parted like a veil, and there she was-Roon, standing on a slanted reef of half-submerged wreckage, arms outstretched like a sacrificial idol.

  Something huge loomed behind her. Eugen blinked-and then she saw it clearly:

  A carrier, but wrong. All wrong. Angled, bent, its hull blackened with runes that shouldn't exist. And from its deck: nothing but smoke. Not planes. Not men. Just drifting, oily shapes.

  Roon hadn't moved.

  "Roon!" Eugen yelled over the wind.

  Roon didn't turn. Her lips moved, slow and deliberate.

  A hymn.

  One Eugen recognized.

  "It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth..."

  The broken Hallelujah. Sung again on cursed ground.

  Eugen stepped forward. The reef groaned underfoot.

  "You're not doing this alone."

  Roon's voice wavered, just a little. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

  "I told you," Eugen said, drawing her rigging tight. "I go in with you."

  "Even now?"

  "Especially now."

  Roon's hands fell to her sides. "Then pick your verse."

  Eugen stepped beside her, mouth set. "I pick us."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Somewhere beyond them, guns began to thunder.

  But for a moment, they stood at the edge of the world-two sins, two saints, two war-forged souls about to meet the impossible.

  And Eugen whispered, almost to herself:

  "There's a blaze of light in every word..."

  The Broken Hallelujah

  Then steel sings, and what's holy burns.

  The first shell screamed overhead, missing by meters. Not a warning shot-this wasn't a duel. This was annihilation waiting to unfold.

  Roon and Eugen scattered.

  The reef shattered under their departure, and behind them, the black carrier groaned. Not in mechanical protest-no, this was organic. Like it resented their escape. Like it knew their names.

  Eugen hit open water hard and fast, turbines screaming at full thrust. Her rigging flared, turrets rotating into firing position. Her first salvo slammed into the carrier's starboard bow.

  Direct hit.

  No smoke. No reaction. Just... absorption.

  Like the metal wasn't metal at all.

  Roon came in from the flank, faster, angrier. She didn't hesitate-just loosed a spread of torpedoes like a barrage of sharpened regrets. They hit, and this time the carrier responded. The deck rippled, and for a breathless second, Eugen swore she saw faces in the steel.

  Screaming. Then gone.

  "That's not Siren tech," Eugen growled into comms.

  "It's older," Roon replied, her voice tight, teeth bared. "It's wrong."

  From the carrier's launch deck, the shapes began to rise.

  At first, they looked like planes.

  But as they climbed higher, the illusion fell away. Wings too ragged. Hulls stitched together with bone and iron. Engines that pulsed like hearts, beating to a rhythm no mortal should know.

  And behind them... a scream. Not sound, not entirely. Memory.

  Eugen's knees almost buckled.

  She remembered Freyja dying. She remembered Fritzi crying at night when she thought no one could hear. She remembered-

  -Roon beside her, steady, grounded. "Don't listen."

  Eugen snapped back, breath ragged. "We can't take this alone."

  "We don't have to."

  And then, above them, another shape broke through the clouds.

  Grim.

  And behind him, Regulus-a blaze of gold in the gloom.

  Reinforcements.

  Eugen smirked. "That's our cue."

  Roon already had her next torpedo spread prepped.

  The carrier opened its mouth-yes, its mouth-and from within spilled a new wave. These weren't planes. These were figures. Drowned sailors with no skin, wielding rusted blades and empty eyes.

  They ran across the water like it was stone.

  Eugen bared her teeth.

  "Let's baptize them."

  She opened fire.

  Into the Abyss

  Eugen's heart thundered in her chest as she fought to stay grounded amidst the chaos. The ship beneath her-a warped reflection of something once whole-pulsed like a wounded animal, unwilling to die without taking them all down with it.

  Her hands gripped the controls, her body bracing for impact, but it wasn't just the battle she was locked in. No, it was the presence of the thing before her. It felt alive, like it was watching her, waiting for her to falter. The carrier's gaping maw seemed to stare up at her as though it could consume everything.

  Yet she stood firm.

  "Eugen, hold the line."

  Roon's voice was a calm anchor through the storm, but even that couldn't suppress the rage that was building in her. She gripped the controls tighter, her fingers practically biting into them as the enemy shapes-those twisted husks of men and women, bound together in eternal suffering-began to pour from the wreckage. Her cannon fire cut through them like a blade through silk, the twisted bodies evaporating into black clouds of smoke. But they were endless. Every time one was taken down, two more appeared.

  "This isn't enough," she growled under her breath, her teeth clenched.

  Eugen didn't even hear Grim's shriek, though she knew the eagle's talons were about to tear through the sky above. Regulus had made his strike, and now it was her turn to end this. She couldn't afford to let up. The beast was staggering, but it wasn't defeated.

  She accelerated.

  The air screamed as her ship sliced through it, her rigging alight and her engines roaring in response. The deck of the carrier stretched out before her like an open wound. She could feel the pulse of it-the shuddering of its hull, the reverberations deep within the metal.

  Roon was down there, somewhere, her ship a reflection of the storm itself. They were fighting together, but still, the beast remained unyielding.

  "Time to end this," Eugen muttered, and there was nothing but the hum of the guitar strings in her memory. The quiet that preceded the storm. The first spark.

  Eugen knew what she had to do. No more calculations. No more holding back.

  With a surge of power, she broke toward the ship's exposed spine-where Regulus had struck-and dropped her guns into their last available configuration. It wasn't just the firepower she needed now; it was the blaze of the chaos itself.

  The shockwave slammed into her ship as the carrier let loose its final scream, and Eugen's ship responded with all the fury she could muster.

  Her rigging whipped into place, cannons opening fire, striking the weakened vessel with every ounce of firepower left. Her electric guitar hummed beneath her fingers, unseen but ever-present-just like the way they all moved through this world, not quite alive, not quite dead.

  She didn't hesitate.

  Her turrets exploded with the force of unbridled fury, their rounds finding purchase with terrifying precision. The beast shuddered, its form distorting, warping like a shadow at the edge of the light. Her vision blurred momentarily as everything in the distance-Regulus, Roon, Grim-seemed to fade, her mind centering only on this one final task.

  "Roon, back off!" she called through the comms, but Roon was already too deep in the fight. Eugen could feel the weight of the decision settling within her chest. This wasn't about winning. It was about ending it. They had all seen the destruction that had torn their lives asunder. They had all watched the darkness take the people they loved.

  And now, they were taking it back.

  The ship's spine cracked, metal groaning as the massive structure twisted beneath the barrage of fire. The hulking beast began to scream-a sound like a dying animal, suffocating beneath the weight of its own sins.

  She poured everything into that final strike-into the fire that would burn this monster away, piece by piece. She could feel the moment it happened.

  The snap.

  Her heart echoed.

  The beast fell. A final, sickening groan filled the air as the carrier crumpled, collapsing in on itself. What had once been a terror on the seas was now a twisted heap of broken hulls and metal-the lifeblood drained from it, the vessel finally dead.

  "It's done," Eugen said, voice hoarse, breath ragged.

  The carrier's wake stretched behind her, a trail of blood-red ruin in the waters. She didn't need to look around to know Roon was still out there, her silhouette cut against the storm, her own fury now subdued. Regulus was already rising, his wings outstretched, and Grim circled high above, making the final sweep of the battlefield.

  She had done it.

  But at what cost?

  The silence stretched long between them. She turned her ship toward the horizon, where the storm was already starting to clear.

  "We'll rebuild," she whispered. "But only if we remember what we fight for."

  Eugen's Song

  The storm had finally begun to recede, the black clouds parting to reveal a sliver of the moon. Her ship, battered but still standing, cut through the waters like a dagger. The weight of the battle was still fresh on her mind, her hands still trembling from the sheer force of it all. But even now, in the quiet aftermath, she knew that the song within her had not finished.

  Her electric guitar lay propped against the cockpit. She reached out, the tremors in her fingers now more controlled, but the raw emotion was still there. Without a word, she began to tune the strings, the gentle hum of the guitar grounding her. She could still hear the battle's echoes in her head, the screams of the twisted husks, the roar of her ship's guns.

  And then, she began to play.

  At first, it was soft-a simple strum, the sound reverberating through the cabin. The chords felt like they were born of the storm itself, a lullaby in the middle of destruction.

  "Now, I've heard there was a secret chord

  That Eugen played, and it pleased the Lord.

  But you don't really care for music, do ya?"

  Her fingers found their way to the familiar rhythm, the same melody that had been buried within her for so long. She remembered the times when it was only her and the music, when nothing else mattered. But now, after everything she had been through, it felt different.

  The guitar hummed as her voice slipped into the next verse, rough but powerful, a reflection of the tension and exhaustion that weighed on her.

  "It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,

  The minor fall, the major lift.

  The baffled queen composing Hallelujah!"

  Her heart was raw, the words spilling out as though the battle's toll had taken something from her-something deep. She couldn't hold back the pain that lingered, nor the sense of triumph that followed.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the strings vibrate under her fingertips. There, in the distance, she knew Roon was still out there, her figure lost to the darkness, just as Regulus had taken flight to survey the wreckage. Eugen was alone, but she wasn't.

  "Hallelujah,

  Hallelujah,

  Hallelujah,

  Hallelujah!"

  Eugen breathed in slowly as the chords began to intensify, her fingers pressing harder against the strings. This wasn't just a song. This was the song of everything she had lost, and everything she had fought for. The war, the trials, the camaraderie, and the silent promise that they would keep moving forward.

  Her mind drifted back to that moment-the first spark of recognition when she met Roon, their shared strength, and the burning connection that had shaped them. Roon had always been there, in the moments of quiet and in the roar of battle.

  "Your faith was strong, but you needed proof.

  You saw Roon bathing on the roof.

  Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya.

  She tied you to a kitchen chair,

  She broke your throne, and she cut your hair,

  And from your bloody lips, she drew a Hallelujah!"

  The words slipped through her lips, and for a moment, she could almost hear Roon's voice, steady and true, like the calm before the storm. Eugen's heart beat in time with the song, a rhythm only she could understand.

  Her gaze lifted from the guitar, staring out at the remnants of the battlefield. The sea had begun to calm, the waters now eerily quiet after the chaos.

  "You say I took her name in vain,

  I don't even know her name.

  But if I did, well really, what's it to ya?

  There's a blaze of light in every word!

  So it doesn't matter which you heard!

  The Holy or the broken Hallelujah!"

  It wasn't just about the battle. It was about the journey they had taken, all of them, and the sacrifices they had made. It was about Roon's unyielding spirit and the way they had come together to face the darkness. It was about the truth that lived within every action, every word, every note.

  Eugen strummed harder, her voice growing louder, the emotion swelling in her chest until it threatened to burst.

  "I did my best, but it wasn't much.

  I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch.

  I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya!

  And even though it all went wrong,

  I'll stand before the Lord of Song

  With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!"

  The guitar's resonance filled the cabin, the sound vibrating through her very bones. Her mind danced through the memories-the battles won, the losses, the silent moments shared with Roon and Regulus. The bond they all shared was stronger than any enemy they had ever faced. Even in the darkest of times, they had each other.

  And that was enough.

  Her fingers eased from the strings, allowing the last, lingering note to echo out into the air. The song was done, but the journey-their journey-was far from over.

  She set the guitar down, eyes closing as she took a deep breath. She felt the weight of the battle lifting, the tension melting away into something quieter, more resolute. There was a stillness in her now, a peace that she hadn't felt before.

  Eugen was ready for whatever came next.

  With a final glance at the horizon, she whispered into the night, just before the comms crackled again, voices of the crew filtering through.

  "Hallelujah," she murmured to herself. "Hallelujah, we keep going."

  Roon's Reflection

  The sea was calm now, but Roon still felt the pulse of battle in her veins. She stood on the deck of her ship, watching the moon rise higher into the sky, casting its silver light over the water. The night was eerily quiet-almost too still after the ferocity of the conflict. It had been another hard-fought victory, but the price was heavy, as it always was.

  But in the quiet aftermath, her thoughts turned not to the battle but to Eugen.

  Roon had always respected her, of course. Eugen was a force unto herself, commanding the respect of all who crossed her path. It wasn't just the way she wielded her power, though-there was a fire in Eugen's soul, an intensity that Roon had never seen in anyone else. It had drawn Roon in from the start, like gravity, and she found herself constantly orbiting around that force.

  But there was something else, something deeper that she hadn't fully realized until now.

  Eugen's music.

  Roon closed her eyes, her fingers resting on the cool metal of the railing as she let the memory of Eugen's song wash over her. She could almost still hear the notes, the rawness in her voice. Hallelujah. It had been a declaration, a story of struggle and survival, a testament to everything they had endured. Roon had heard it, and something within her had shifted.

  The words had resonated with Roon on a level that was almost too personal, too raw. She had heard the beauty in them, the pain and the release. That was Eugen's way. She could be fiercely independent, always in control, but when the storm raged within her, it had to be released somehow. Music had become her release.

  Her faith was strong, but she needed proof.

  Roon smirked softly to herself. Eugen had always been certain, always unshaken. But there was a vulnerability there, a need to prove herself-not just to the world, but to herself. Roon could see that now, perhaps more clearly than ever before.

  And she could also see what had happened between them-the way their paths had crossed, the undeniable connection they shared. It was strange, that moment, when she first saw Eugen on the deck. Bathing on the roof-how absurd it had seemed at the time, how ludicrous. But in that absurdity, Roon had seen it. She'd seen the woman underneath-the one who hid her emotions behind a facade, the one who carried the weight of so much responsibility but craved something more. It was a fleeting moment, and yet, it felt like an eternity.

  That was the night Roon knew she had to find a way into Eugen's heart, to see the woman who made the decisions, who led with such power, but who also had the capacity for tenderness.

  She wasn't blind to it. Roon knew the path wasn't easy. Eugen had walls, ones built high and strong, and they weren't coming down anytime soon. But Roon was patient. She knew it would take time. The same way they both had learned patience in battle, in strategy. The same way they had learned to read the smallest shifts in the tides, to predict the unseen dangers, and to wait for the right moment to strike.

  But there was something in Eugen's song that spoke to Roon-something deeper than the war, deeper than the chaos. It was the quiet spaces between the notes. The moments where the silence hung heavy, like a promise.

  Roon thought about the way Eugen had poured herself into the music, how she had expressed the pain, the doubts, the triumphs. And yet, there was always that final line, that ending note that held everything together.

  "I did my best, but it wasn't much.

  I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch.

  I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya!"

  Roon could hear it in those words. Eugen hadn't just been singing to herself. She was singing to her. And in those few notes, Roon had felt the vulnerability. The truth. The weight that Eugen carried in her chest. She wasn't trying to fool anyone. She was being raw. She was being honest in the only way she knew how.

  And Roon respected that.

  She let out a breath, her fingers curling around the railing. Hallelujah, she thought. Hallelujah, for all that they had been through. For everything that had led them here. For all the moments of silence and song between them.

  There was no need for grand gestures with Eugen. It was never about the flashy displays or the battles won. No, for Eugen, it was the quiet moments-the ones where they could share the silence and let it be enough. Where they could simply be themselves, without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

  Roon smiled softly, a warmth filling her chest as she looked up at the sky. The moonlight bathed everything in silver, but she felt it now, more than ever.

  Eugen wasn't perfect. No one was. But that didn't matter. They were in this together. For all the battles, all the storms, they would face them side by side.

  Roon straightened, turning away from the railing. She was ready. Ready for what would come next. Ready to share the quiet and the chaos. Ready to face it all with the one who had opened her heart more than anyone else could.

  And she knew that whatever happened, it would be another Hallelujah.

  That love, between Roon and Eugen, is undeniable, and it's woven deep into the fabric of their connection. Even if it diverges from the Azur Lane lore, in your world, it's clear that their bond is something rich and rare. Every touch, every glance, and every quiet exchange between them speaks volumes about their feelings-things unsaid yet deeply understood.

  The Heart Between Them

  The ship swayed gently in the night, its engines humming low beneath the deck. The world beyond the glass of Eugen's quarters was dark, the stars scattered like diamond dust across the sky. Inside, the soft glow of the lamp bathed everything in warm light. But it wasn't the light that kept the room warm.

  It was the closeness.

  Eugen, sitting by her guitar, strummed softly, her fingers gliding over the strings with practiced ease. The melody was familiar-Hallelujah again, that song of hers that spoke so much more than just the music. She closed her eyes, her voice low as she hummed the tune, a quiet hum of introspection.

  But she wasn't alone.

  Roon had entered silently, standing by the door for a moment, watching her. The sight of Eugen, always in control, her hands so deftly moving across the strings, was a sight she never grew tired of. There was something about this moment, in the soft shadows, where everything else seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them-no battles, no strategies, no weight of the world on their shoulders.

  "Is it always this beautiful?" Roon asked quietly, stepping into the room. Her voice was a soft murmur, as if she didn't want to disturb the magic of the moment, but her eyes spoke the truth.

  Eugen's fingers slowed, the music halting mid-note. Her gaze met Roon's, those deep, knowing eyes that seemed to hold a thousand stories. "Only when you're here," she replied, her voice steady but there was a slight catch in it. A hint of something more. Something unspoken, but understood.

  Roon moved toward her, every step deliberate, though not rushed. When she was close enough, she extended her hand. No words, just the silent invitation to close the distance that was never far between them. Eugen met her halfway, her hand finding Roon's, their fingers intertwining with a quiet intimacy that spoke louder than anything either of them could say.

  For a long moment, they just stood there, together, in the quiet. Eugen didn't need to keep playing. The melody wasn't just in her guitar-it was in the space between them, in the quiet beats of their shared heartbeats.

  Roon leaned in, gently brushing her cheek against Eugen's. The touch was soft, almost hesitant, but also certain in its need. She could feel Eugen's breath, the warmth of her presence. The tiny, almost imperceptible shudder that ran through her.

  Eugen's arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. Their lips met in a kiss-slow, tender, unhurried-filled with all the things neither of them had ever fully articulated. It wasn't about declarations. It was about the moments, the quiet spaces between words, the places where their souls intertwined and connected in a way that transcended the need for explanation.

  When they finally broke apart, the silence between them felt comfortable, even sacred. Eugen didn't speak right away. She didn't have to. She had always been the one to express things through her music, her actions, her gaze. But now, it was Roon's turn.

  "You know," Roon whispered, her forehead resting against Eugen's, "I never expected to find this. To find someone who..."

  "Who?" Eugen prompted softly, running her thumb over Roon's cheek, her touch tender and gentle.

  Roon smiled, her eyes closing for a brief moment. "Who makes the silence feel louder than any battle. You...you make everything make sense."

  Eugen's heart fluttered at those words, something warm and soft blooming inside her chest. She pulled Roon even closer, feeling the strength in her arms, in the quiet strength they both shared.

  The connection between them was something that went beyond words. It wasn't just the battles they fought, or the strategies they executed together. It was something more primal, something that filled the empty spaces between their lives. It was in the way Roon's touch made her feel whole. In the way Roon's presence was the answer to everything she hadn't known she was missing.

  "I don't need music to know what you mean," Eugen murmured, the words like a confession. "You're everything I never thought I'd find."

  And in that moment, Roon felt it. A certainty. An unspoken promise, like the notes of a song she hadn't yet learned but felt deep in her bones. Whatever came next, they would face it together. No more questions, no more doubts.

  The heart between them wasn't just a space between their chest-it was everything they had built, piece by piece, song by song, battle by battle.

  As the night wore on, they stayed there, wrapped in each other's arms. The music had stopped, but the feeling it created lingered between them, a melody that would play forever. The world outside may have been harsh and unforgiving, but in this moment, there was only them.

  Only the quiet, only the music of their hearts. And that was enough.

  The Unspoken Bond

  The soft glow of the dim lights in Eugen's quarters felt like a world apart from the chaos of battle. Her guitar, now almost an extension of herself, lay comfortably in her hands. She was calm, the tension of the day faded into the gentle rhythm of her fingers across the strings. The chords were familiar, the melody soothing. But there was one thing-one person-that made all the difference.

  Roon stood quietly in the doorway, watching, her silhouette framed by the faint light that filtered through the glass. No one else had the privilege of witnessing this moment. Not many knew, but the truth was clear to those who paid attention: Roon and Eugen. They had both loved him. Together. And outlived him, though the years after were never easy. The battles with their own hearts, the quiet war against the memories of a man they had once shared.

  It had always been different with Eugen. While he was alive, none of it could show-couldn't dare to. Too many secrets between them. Too much at stake. But now, with him gone, with the weight of that past fading into memory, their unspoken bond had a space to breathe. And it was here, now, in this quiet room, that it came to life.

  Eugen stopped playing, her fingers poised over the strings, like she was waiting for something. She tilted her head, the dark strands of her hair falling to one side as she cast a glance toward Roon.

  Roon smiled softly, her presence unspoken, yet everything was said in the way she moved toward her. Quiet steps that spoke volumes. And as Roon reached her, the music began again. A low hum, a gentle chord that vibrated between them. The song had never truly been just music-it was the language between their hearts, the words they couldn't speak out loud.

  Roon stepped closer, her hand reaching out to rest gently on Eugen's shoulder. The touch was light, almost as if she were unsure whether she had the right to be so close. Eugen met her gaze, and without a word, her fingers began to dance across the strings.

  A familiar tune. Hallelujah. But it was different this time. The weight of their history hung over every note, but so did the quiet understanding they shared. The world outside-the battles, the loss, the years of silence-mattered nothing here. All that was left was this melody, the one that only Roon knew how to answer. It wasn't just the music that stopped when someone else entered the room-it was the silence of their shared lives, the unvoiced recognition that they understood each other in a way no one else could.

  And then Roon sang, the voice carrying with it the weight of years, the weight of everything they had lived through.

  "Your faith was strong, but you needed proof. You saw me bathing on the roof. My beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya..."

  Her voice, like her touch, was soft, a melody that weaved seamlessly with Eugen's playing. For a brief moment, everything else disappeared. There was only Roon's voice, only the guitar, only the two of them. No past, no man to share. It was just them, in that space, together.

  Roon continued, her voice rising and falling with the song, each word carrying more than it appeared. She had never fully understood how or why, but there was something undeniable about the way they could fit together in this music. Even when their hearts were too burdened by the years of silence to speak, this music found a way to bring them closer.

  "I tied you to a kitchen chair, I broke your throne, and I cut your hair, And from your bloody lips I drew a Hallelujah..."

  The music wasn't about victory or conquest. It was about survival, about loss, about healing. It was about them-what they had been, what they had lost, and what they had found in each other in the quiet moments like this one.

  Roon's hand remained on Eugen's shoulder, her fingers gently curling into her skin. The touch was grounding, almost reassuring, as if she were reminding both of them that, despite everything they had been through, this was real. This moment was theirs.

  And when Eugen played on, her fingers lightly strumming the strings, it was as if time had stopped altogether. There was nothing but the music. No history, no man, just the two of them, together.

  The music played on, the silence around them deepening, but the bond between them only growing stronger. They never had to say it aloud. They didn't need to. Everyone around them knew. Everyone could feel it, whether they acknowledged it or not. Eugen and Roon had loved the same man, had shared him in a way no one else could understand. And now, in the quiet aftermath of it all, they shared each other.

  They had outlived him, but they had never really needed him. Not in the way that mattered. The love they shared-the unspoken understanding-was always meant to be just theirs. It had always been there, beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to surface.

  The moment was here, now, as the last notes of the song hung in the air, suspended between them. And as they stood there, lost in that quiet, unbroken bond, the music played on.

  Roon's Hallelujah.

  Now, I've heard there was a secret chord

  that Eugen played, and it pleased the Lord.

  But you don't really care for music, do ya?

  It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,

  the minor fall, the major lift.

  The baffled queen composing Hallelujah!

  ____________________________________

  Hallelujah,

  Hallelujah,

  Hallelujah.

  Hallelujah!

  Your faith was strong but you needed proof.

  You saw me bathing on the roof.

  My beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya.

  I tied you to a kitchen chair,

  I broke your throne, and I cut your hair.

  And from your bloody lips I drew a Hallelujah!

  _____________________________________

  Hallelujah,

  Hallelujah,

  Hallelujah.

  Hallelujah!

  ________

  You say I took your name in vain,

  I don't even know your name.

  But if I did, well really, what's it to ya?

  There's a blaze of light in every word!

  So it doesn't matter which you heard!

  The Holy or the broken Hallelujah!

  ________________________________

  Hallelujah,

  Hallelujah,

  Hallelujah.

  Hallelujah!

  ________

  I did my best, but it wasn't much.

  I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch.

  I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool ya!

  And even though it all went wrong,

  I'll stand before the Lord of Song

  With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!

  ________________________________

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah

  Hallelujah.