"There is a house built out of stone;

wooden floors, walls and window sills.

Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust.

This is a place where I don't feel alone,

this is a place where I feel at home…

Cause, I built a home;

for you,

for me.

Until it disappeared,

from me,

from you."

Snow covered England like a white, downy blanket. It gave off the appearance of peace, of a false serenity. But then, who was she to call it otherwise? Vampires had either gone extinct or ceased to try and attack the area. Perhaps they had learned their lesson and stopped attempting to create legions of ghouls to do their bidding. Or maybe, just maybe, things were evening out. The knight highly doubted this, and still refused to believe things were alright. A single blue orb peered through the icy window and out at the grounds of her estate. England had risen once again, not nearly as strong and beautiful as before; but stable and capable. Surrounding countries that had been affected by the war were stabilizing as well, proud and determined. So many lives had been lost, so many countries devastated and families ruined. Even if they were still in the restoration process, it was a wonderful progress to see and meet. Progress…

Hellsing was falling apart. Dust collected in places it used to never touch, candles went unlit, and lights were either burnt out or flickered. Life was waning from the once lively and exquisite headquarters that housed the elite organization. Progress, had stopped years ago. At the mere age of twelve, the heir had lost her father. In her middle ages, she lost a great friend and the family's butler, Walter C. Dornez. To top it all off, both Seras and Integra dealt with Alucard's absence. In the thirty years that the Nosferatu had been gone, the knight and his Draculina had grown somewhat close. It could have been described as a friendship of sorts. But after some time, both the vampires had been – dealt with. It had been her duty to rid of the pair; but she couldn't do it. The Queen must have known because Integra had been taken and imprisoned after issuing orders she hadn't understood until it was too late. Alucard and Seras were forbidden to react, to fight back or harm anyone. Those were her orders, and she herself hadn't understood until she had received news of what was to be done. The Queen had very meticulously planned out their demise and how to work Integra around it. Much of England and surprisingly enough, Her Majesty herself had found it necessary. Now there was but one remaining in the decrepit manor. So many memories stained the walls, haunted the halls and lingered in every mirror, book, and picture. The blond couldn't stand to enter the basement where she housed the two vampires, nor her father's study or Walter's chamber. She had stopped making repairs on the place, and dismissed the soldiers. Every now and then a few of the survivors would return or pass by, to check on their leader. They hoped, some even prayed she would revert back to her usual commanding self and give them orders. Sometimes they even came with supplies to begin fixing the place themselves; but the iron gates never opened. The heir would perform the bare minimum and only tend to necessities. But what she did most was stand at the windows of her office and gaze beyond them; occasionally with a cup of tea in hand.

The woman's body wasn't the only thing that had aged. Her pride was fading and the spark of what once was a brilliant fire, was dimming into the soft and dying glow of embers. It was time to leave the memories behind. It was time, to move on. Turning away from the window Integra began to descend the main staircase where she would meet the doors leading outside. As usual, the knight was garbed in her suit, white gloves, an eye patch and this time, a jacket. The last article wasn't donned entirely and hung off her shoulders. Her clothes had already been packed and sent away to someplace far. As she quit the crumbling structure, she shut the door with care. One gloved hand pressed to the cool wood, lingering as if frozen not only by the frigid winter air but by her past as well. Images flooded the knight's mind, reminding her of the good and the bad. Her father's death, her first encounter with Alucard, Seras being brought back to headquarters, the run-in with Paladin Alexander Anderson, the attacks on Hellsing and the massive breakout between the Vatican, Millennium and Hellsing. From there, they only turned grayer until everything was black and nothing was pleasant. A gust of wind picked up and tugged at several strands of the nearly platinum blond hair that belonged to the maiden. Turning, she began to slowly trek through the snow that had built up as it continued to fall; merciless and quiet as though it were trying to comfort her. Doing so as if to freeze the pain and make her forget. Even as she began to depart, the persistence of the crystals began to fill in where her footsteps had imprinted upon the icy ground. Integra did not weep. She gave only a solid and determined frown, as if dissatisfied with something. Perhaps by how things had turned over, or how cowardly she found her final decisions. A game of chess at its best, once won, now lost in the long run. The queen was surrendering, and retreating to somewhere safe; somewhere away from the lingering loss of her efforts – from the victory that had left barely anything in her favor.

The iron gates creaked open for their final time, bidding their master farewell. Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing was no more as far as she was concerned. A new life, a blank slate with nothing to go off of awaited her as she ducked into a sleek black vehicle. Once the door was shut, it drove off. The only sign of her inhabiting the manor only moments before her leaving was the single candle left lit in her office. There was but one last stop to be made – at a cemetery of course. It paused, and she refused to be escorted by her chauffer. Making the walk to her father's grave, Integra carefully thrust her sword into the frozen, snow covered earth beside it. Only then did a single tear slide down her cheek, causing the winter air to bite at her as if in warning – to scold the woman. A small but bitter sound was made. It might have been a laugh and it might have been a sob. The difference was incomprehensible. A bouquet of lilies were placed upon the tomb and she bowed her head. "It's been a while, father. I am sorry, truly, I am. Rest well."

"And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust…"

Integra left England altogether, and started a new life; one void of peril, preternatural beings, and too much regret. It was time to wash her hands, even if it would do no good. There was no longer any time to repent; but the knight was more than satisfied and grateful to be spending her final years of her lifespan someplace warm and well away from Hellsing.

It was over.