Chapter Text
St. Petersburg, 1916
It was the golden age of imperial Russia. In a glittering ballroom located in the palace at the heart of St. Petersburg, the Tsar Nicholas II sat on a glowing throne with wine induced red cheeks, his eyes alight as he watched the court celebrate before him.
His wife Alexandra sat beside him, her perfect curls bouncing around her face as she laughed. Throughout the room their children were weaving in and out of the hues of orange and purple fabric, dancing to the jovial music. The warmth within the room made the piercing cold night just outside the glass windows seem a distant dream. Snow was softly falling, melting as soon as it hit the panes. The whole scene seemed perfect; picturesque. Nothing could ruin this night.
The Dowager Empress Marie sat in a chair adjacent to her son’s. She watched all of her grandchildren dancing, having a wonderful time. Even little Alexei had found a partner, he was jumping around the feet of one of the members of their court. But she couldn’t help but notice one girl seemed to shine brighter than even the heaven-like glow of the room. Gabriela, the second youngest, was spinning in a circle with her sister, Olga. Her brilliant smile lit up her entire face, her brown hair escaping the royal fold of fabric nestled on her head like a crown.
Once she was tired, she ran to her grandmother, out of breath.
“Hello Grandmamma!” she laughed, a contagious thing. The empress tucked a bit of hair behind Gabriela’s ear.
“I love to see your beautiful face, child,” she said. Gabriela beamed at her.
“I have something for you!” she reached into the folds of her glittering robe and pulled out a drawing. She handed it to her grandmother proudly.
“Olga said it looks like a pig but she’s wrong, isn’t she, Grandmamma?”
The empress couldn’t help but laugh at her granddaughter’s spirit.
Behind the throne, a young blonde boy stood, watching the two of them. Illya Kuryakin was tall for his age, his forehead smudged from working the fire in the kitchen. He knew he was sure to get a lashing for sneaking away but the music and the colors had been too much a temptation for him. His mouth open in awe, he watched the spinning colorful fabric, listened to the clink of the glasses, and enjoyed the warmth of the room that was so different than the stuffy heat of the kitchen.
Illya watched the Dowager Empress hand the princess a small gold and green oval. She beamed at her grandmother and Illya could just hear them over the dull roar of laughter and conversation in the room.
“What is it?” the princess asked.
“A music box. It plays our lullaby---”
“To sing me to sleep when you’re away!” The princess embraced the empress, who slipped a necklace over her granddaughter’s neck. The princess held it in her hand, it glinted in the light as she read the inscription aloud.
“Together in Paris. Oh grandmamma!”
As Illya watched the two embrace he felt an ache in his chest. He’d never known any of his grandparents. He’d hardly even known his actual parents and even then, he never remembered them ever embracing him as the Grand Duchess embraced her granddaughter. He was torn from his thoughts by the sound of someone shouting his name.
“Illya! You belong in the kitchen!” With a jolt he realized it was Pietro, the head server and personal servant to the throne. When Illya didn’t respond immediately, Pietro sent one of the older server boys out to drag him away from the festivities.
Gabriela was still laughing with her grandmother when the room went cold.
The laugher and conversation stopped as a freezing wind swept through and blew out all of the candles, leaving the previously glowing room doused in a chilled darkness. All conversation had stopped, many were still holding wine glasses and glancing around in an uncomfortable silence. Gabriela held to her grandmother’s arm, looking over at her parents for reassurance. Alexei had run to his mother’s lap. Nicholas II stood up, looking across the room at a stranger who had entered.
The man walked into the room slowly, the click of his shoes the only sound in the room. He wore a dark, ratted robe, something that might have belonged to a holy man had it not been so degraded. His face was gaunt and sunken, his long dark greasy hair in one braid down his back. His sharp, rotting teeth were exposed when he smiled, an empty, terrifying thing. Gabriela did not recognize him at first, not until her father spoke.
“Grigori Rasputin.”
The Tsar spat the words out, echoing through the ballroom. A wave of whispers went through the crowd, someone dropping their wine glass in shock. Rasputin crushed it with his foot as he walked past, straight toward the Tsar. Nicholas stood tall, his eyes on fire.
“You are a traitor. Get out!”
Gabriella held tighter to her grandmother’s arm.
Rasputin responded with a crooked smile.
Nicholas stepped forward. “You have been banished. Leave at once.”
“No!” Rasputin’s smile turned murderous. “I banish you with a curse. You and your family will die within the fortnight!” He grabbed his robe and spun, whipping it around him. Just then the giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling loosened.
“I will not rest until I see the end of the Romanov line forever!”
Rasputin disappeared in a pillar of ominous green smoke as the ceiling fixture came crashing down, people screaming. Alexandra stood from her throne.
“The celebrations are over,” she announced, sounding strong instead of fearful. She walked to her husband and put her hand on his arm. “Come, Nicholas. He has no power here. Let’s put the children to bed.”
And so they did. Gabriela was tucked into bed that night by her grandmother, still feeling unsettled. The dowager empress noticed the uncertainty on Gabriela’s face and sat down on her bed.
“Grandmamma, Rasputin wants to kill us, doesn’t he? That’s what he meant when he said he wanted to see the end of the Romanov line forever.”
Instead of responding, the Dowager Empress picked up the music box from the bedside table. Gabriela was still wearing the necklace and she held it up to her grandmother to twist into the intricate music box, setting the tiny cogs whirring, plucking out the simple haunting melody. The Empress sang along, the familiar lullaby calming Gabriela. She squeezed her grandmother’s hand, looking earnestly up into her warm, worn face. “Goodnight Grandmamma.”
But the Romanov family would get no sleep that night. For outside the palace an angry mob was waiting and Rasputin had made a deal with the devil. The front gates were broken down, glowing torches and angry shouts followed the giant mob into the once glowing hallways. Gabriela was awoken with a jolt as she heard the crashing of windows and screams throughout the palace. In her pink nightdress she grabbed her coat and ran from her room, trying to avoid being trampled by the hysterical servants. She found her grandmother, who grabbed her hand. “Gabriela, we must go!” she shouted.
“Wait, my music box!” Gabriela remembered with a start. The dowager empress running after her she ran back to her room, diving over her bed to grab the small, round object that was so dear to her. A loud gunshot rang through the room as the dowager empress grabbed her heart. They were right outside the door. Gabriela held onto her grandmother, unable to breathe. Where were her parents? Her sisters? Little Alexei?
The two heard pounding on the door, men shouting, trying to get in.
A hand that was not her grandmother’s clasped her shoulder. Startled, Gabriela turned to face a tall blonde boy with bright blue eyes. His face was paled as he said, “This way, out through the servant’s quarters!”
He led them through Gabriela’s playroom and shoved aside her dollhouse, pushing on the wall. To their surprise it opened to a passageway. Just as the dowager empress stepped through, the door to Gabriela’s room broke down, the splintering wood sending a blast of fear through Gabriela, the music box slipping through her fingers as she stumbled toward the door.
“My music box---” She tried to say, but the boy pushed her into the servants quarters, shutting the door behind her. Just as he pulled the dollhouse in front to block the way, the men burst into the play room.
“Where did they go, boy?” A gruff man demanded. Illya grabbed a block from the top of the dollhouse and threw it at him, ready to fight. The impatient man didn’t want to waste any more time with this servant boy and hit his temple with the base of his gun, knocking Illya out cold, sprawled on the ground. They left the boy there as they searched the next room.
The dowager empress and Gabriela ran through the snow over the frozen lake near the palace. They had escaped the palace but the mob was still searching for the royal family and they knew they had to get further, further away, to the train station that was just past the lake. Gabriela could barely keep up, her feet stumbling through the snow. Her nose was numb, her fingers were numb, the cold night air seemed to pierce her right to her bones. That was nothing compared to the icy fear that came when Gabriela heard her name, shouted from a bridge above them. It was Rasputin.
He jumped off the bridge, breaking the icy surface of the lake and grabbing for her legs, pulling her down into the icy cold lake.
“Gabriela, Gabriela,” he muttered, suddenly realizing he was losing the surface. The empress grabbed Gabriela’s arms and pulled her out of his grip, leaving Rasputin to disappear into the black water.
As they reached the chaotic train station, Gabriela felt a shooting pain in her legs from the ice water, mixed with the frozen air. People were running all around, they reached the overcrowded train and two people pulled the dowager empress up onto the moving platform. Gabriela tried to run but the pain in her legs was stopping her as she watched the train pick up speed.
“Grab my hand!” The dowager empress shouted, tears in her eyes, desperately reaching for her granddaughter. “Take hold of my hand!”
“Grandmamma!” The snow was stinging her face as she tried to run, unable to force her legs to move fast enough. She felt her grandmother’s warm soft hands slip through her fingers as she got caught between two large figures, knocking her to the ground. Gabriela’s world went dark.
Hours later, Illya awoke in the palace. It was eerily calm, the scent of smoke and winter drifting through the air. He sat up, dazed, letting the blurry room come into focus. The royal family was gone. It wouldn’t be till later that the news of their deaths would circulate faster through St. Petersburg by word of mouth than by the quickest paper. All of them killed. With a sinking feeling he remembered the princess Gabriela, her frightened face, her messy brown hair. Glancing at the ground, Illya spotted an object shining in the early morning sun. It was the small, round object he’d seen the empress give her granddaughter. Gabriela’s voice echoed in his head, ‘My music box!’. Scooping it up, he held it tight in his palm.
The Romanovs were gone.