__________________________________________________________
It was raining again.
The lake turned black — ripples devouring the reflection of Huis ten Bosch behind them.
Selene sat — soaked, scratched, dirt on her knees.
She failed today.
Again.
The Admiral leaned on the railing — arms crossed — watching her like one watches a puzzle missing pieces.
Silence.
Except for the rain.
Except for breathing.
__________________________________________________________
"You still don't get it, do you?"
His voice — rough like gravel.
Selene didn't answer.
Didn't move.
__________________________________________________________
"You think you're special because of your mother?"
Selene's red eyes twitched — barely.
He smiled — like drawing a knife across old wounds.
"Tatiana Romanov..."
"The People's Queen."
"The Saint of Den Haag."
He spat on the ground.
"She died like a fool."
__________________________________________________________
Selene's small hands clenched — mud under her nails.
But the Admiral didn't stop.
He never stopped.
__________________________________________________________
"You know how many enemies your mother had?"
"You know how many knives she kissed while smiling for the cameras?"
"You know how many nights she cried in that garden — like a peasant girl begging for mercy from ghosts?"
Selene's throat burned — but no sound came.
__________________________________________________________
"You want to be like her?"
"Then die like her."
"Naïve."
"Kind."
"Useful."
"Disposable."
__________________________________________________________
The rain poured harder — thunder in the distance like the growl of a buried war.
The Admiral knelt — eye-level with Selene — face inches from hers.
His voice — a knife wrapped in rusted cloth.
__________________________________________________________
"Or..."
"You learn."
"You sharpen."
"You bury your mother in your heart — not in your shadow."
"You stop loving the dead — and start killing the living."
__________________________________________________________
Selene breathed — shallow, shaking — but still alive.
Still here.
The Admiral stood — walking away without waiting.
But his last words hung like iron chains around her small frame.
__________________________________________________________
"Your mother didn't die because she was weak."
He paused.
Turned his head — sharp eyes like broken glass.
"She died because she believed enemies like me wouldn't exist."
__________________________________________________________
Selene sat there.
Alone.
Rain hiding the tears she didn't know were falling.
Her tiny hands moved — reaching for the wooden dagger buried in the mud beside her.
Not because it was a weapon.
But because it was hers.
__________________________________________________________
Winter's Last Lesson
__________________________________________________________
Winter swallowed Huis ten Bosch whole.
The lake froze at its edges — black water choked by snow.
Selene stood in the gazebo — breath like smoke — tiny frame wrapped in her torn military coat.
The wooden dagger — still rough, still ugly — rested in her hand.
Tonight was different.
The Admiral waited — older, colder, coat untouched by snow — leaning against the railing like a judge awaiting a verdict.
__________________________________________________________
"It is Cold, Go Inside"
Selene stand still, she know he come again at this hour
"You've grown."
His voice — flat.
Dead.
"But growing is useless if you stay soft."
He stepped forward — eyes burning like coals.
"This is your final lesson."
__________________________________________________________
"Stab me with your dagger"
Selene didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
She knew.
Deep down.
Tonight — he wanted her to kill him.
__________________________________________________________
He spread his arms — unarmed.
Mocking.
Defiant.
"You hate me, don't you?"
"You dream of driving that knife into my throat every time I made you bleed."
__________________________________________________________
Selene's small hand tightened around the hilt.
Her heart — a war without generals.
A battlefield without flags.
__________________________________________________________
But instead —
She turned.
Slow.
Cold.
And threw the dagger —
Hard.
Far.
Into the frozen lake.
Splash.
Swallowed.
Gone.
__________________________________________________________
Silence.
The Admiral's grin was slow — crueler than any blade.
"Hah..."
"You're not your mother."
He turned — without anger.
Without care.
Just disappointment sharp enough to cut bone.
__________________________________________________________
"You think mercy will save you?"
"You think love means victory?"
He kept walking — boots crunching on the frost-bitten path.
Without looking back — his words stabbed deeper than steel.
__________________________________________________________
"That knife..."
"Was a gift."
"From Emperor Eldrich himself."
"A blade carved from the Black Forest trees — given only to heirs of war."
__________________________________________________________
He stopped at the edge of the garden —
Didn't even glance back.
"You want it?"
"Dive."
"Fetch it."
"Like a starving mutt in the gutter."
__________________________________________________________
Then —
His final words.
Cold.
Final.
Branded into her bones.
__________________________________________________________
"You are failed."
__________________________________________________________
And he left.
No warmth.
No praise.
Just winter.
And Selene — alone in the dying garden — staring at the lake where her pride drowned.
__________________________________________________________
The Next Morning
Den Haag — Breaking News
Imperial Navy Admiral — Deceased.
Carriage crash.
Black ice.
Driver dead.
Body burned in the wreckage.
__________________________________________________________
Selene continue her diner
Only a single sentence in her small, hollow mind.
__________________________________________________________
"Men like him... die without graves."