The swans glided over the water.
voice — soft — fading.
| "Look at the couple of swans..."
A tired laugh from behind the camera.
| "Haha... couple..."
Then — static.The screen fractured.The swans rose — wings slicing against the last light of day.
| "Let us meet there..."| "Let us live again... not as royalty..."| "But as a family."
The camera fell.A quiet thud.The last sound.
_____________________________________________________________________________
[The Next Day — Huis ten Bosch]
Selene's voice — older — narrating quietly.
| "It was raining."
| "Everyone wore black."
| "Mama... she was there."
| "In the coffin."
| "Carried by Imperial Guards."
| "Lady Seraphina — she held my hand with her soft hand."
She paused.
Breathing.
| "Since that day..."| "I understood..."
| "The meaning of..."
DEATH.
_____________________________________________________________________________
The Funeral of Tatiana Romanov Aetherwald
"The People's Queen"
_____________________________________________________________________________
The city of Den Haag was silent.
Not from law.
Not from fear.
But from mourning.
Tatiana Romanov — the Healer of the World, The Noble Prize Doctor, Leader of the International Red Cross...
Gone.
_____________________________________________________________________________
They called her Mama Tatiana.
The People's Queen.
To the poor — she was a mother.
To the wounded — a doctor.
To the Empire — a smile in the dark corridors of politics.
Thousands lined the streets.
They cried.They threw white tulips.They whispered prayers.
But inside the marble halls of power...
The court was silent.
Too silent.
Eyes sharp.Smiles tight.Lips that did not pray.
To them — the death of a Romanov...
Was relief.
An end to an inconvenient bloodline.
_____________________________________________________________________________
[Somewhere Behind the Procession — The Imperial Navy]
Men stood in their formal coats.
Decorations bright.
But their voices?
Low.
Sharp.
Cold.
"Poison."
"Assassination."
"Political Dismissal."
Words that meant nothing to a little girl.
But everything to a history waiting to devour her.
Selene stood nearby.
Tiny.
Clutching Seraphina's hand.
She heard them.
Didn't understand.
But never forgot.
_____________________________________________________________________________
[Years Later — The Imperial Ball of Aetherland Unity Days]
Music echoed in the grand ballroom.
Gold reflected everywhere.
Selene — now a little older — her crimson eyes sharper, darker.
Watching.
Learning.
Eating pudding quietly near the banquet table.
Across the room — a loud Admiral laughed with other officers
"That's the Romanov child..."
Other officer mocking
"Careful, she might poison the wine — like her mother's whispers."
The court laughed.
Arrogant.
Ugly.
Selene blinked.
Lifted her pudding.
And with perfect, childish precision...
Threw it.
Right at prideful stars on the shoulder.
Silence fell.
_____________________________________________________________________________
The music stopped.
The Admiral froze — pudding sliding down his decorated uniform.
Evandra gasped in horror.
Alaric whispered:
"Oh no... she's dead."
The Emperor — across the ballroom — turned slightly.
His eyes...
Did not glare.
Did not shout.
But watched her.
And for the first time...
He saw a spark.
A war.
A daughter no crown could ever control.