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Chapter Text

1910, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

Viktoria and Anastasia were still best friends a year later. Nestled in the comfy Mauve room of the Alexander Palace, they played cards with Maria and Nicholas while Olga was playing the piano, Alexandra and Tatiana wrote in their diaries, and Alexei was playing with his little toy soldiers. Anastasia was winning as always, but Nicholas knew she wasn’t playing fair. 

“Nastya, are you hiding cards under your legs?” he asked with a knowingly playful look at her, but Anastasia was ready with her expert poker face. 

“Why would I ever do that, dear Papa?” she asked, almost incredulously. 

“Kota, did you see Nastya hiding cards?” Nicholas inquired. 

Viktoria was sitting next to Anastasia and had seen her hide them. She didn’t want to speak up about it because she was scared Anastasia would throw her out and never talk to her again, she had every right, she was a princess and Viktoria was just a poor village girl. She also didn’t want to lie to the Emperor of all of Russia, he could exile her from Russia forever with the swish of a pen. 

“Yes,” she whispered. “She hid some cards under her leg.” Her stomach twisted… would he send her away?

“Nastya! You always cheat! I don’t want to play with you anymore.” Maria said as she got up and went to go play with Olga. 

“Anastasia, your mama and I have told you many times not to cheat like that, come, let’s talk privately. Viktoria it’s getting late, Nicholas Vladimirovich would you have your son walk our friend Viktoria home?” Nicholas said, 

“Of course, sir.” Nicholas Spassky said and then he went to fetch his son. 

“I’m sorry Anastasia, I didn’t want to get in trouble for lying, and I’m sorry your majesty, I didn’t mean to not tell you. Please don’t be too upset with me.” Viktoria rushed out, she hid her hands behind her back, lowered her shoulders, and shook her head so her hair would cover her reddening cheeks. 

Nicholas and Anastasia giggled until Nicholas noticed Viktoria wasn’t laughing as well. 

“Viktoria, I’m not mad at you for telling the truth. You’re our friend Kota, we’ll always be here for you.” he explained, and Viktoria smiled, she knew he was telling the truth. 

So, she hugged Anya and Nicholas goodbye as well as Olga, Maria, Alexei, Alexandra, and Tatiana and by the time she was done with her goodbyes Aleksander Nikolaevich was ready to walk her home.

The walk was nice, it was only a 10 minute walk from the Alexander Palace to her house on Leont’yevskaya unitsa. 

“So, we haven’t talked in a while, how are you Vika?” Alek asked. 

“I’m doing well, and you?” she replied. 

“I’m good, working on guard training.” he said as they walked along the quiet streets of Tsarskoye Selo. "I see all sorts of people when I go with my father,"he continued quietly. "Some bow, some spit. I don't think I want people to fear me when I'm older. I want to be a guard people can trust."

“I had never thought that much about it, I suppose.”

“I’m also taking care of my mom, she has been getting over scarlet fever.” Viktoria raised her eyebrows and started to move further away from Alek. 

“No it’s ok, my dad and I have already had it a long time ago, and my mom hasn’t had it in 2 months, it just took a toll on her body.” he explained, Viktoria moved closer in the chilly night. 

“Well that’s good to know, what is your mom’s name, I’ll be praying for her… and for you.” 

“Her name is Natalya Lvovna Spasskaya.” Alek said after a pause. His gaze softened. "Thank you Viktoria."

“Of course.” she smiled faintly, rubbing her gloved hands together.

He hesitated. "And your family? Are things any better?"

Viktoria sighed. “They’re alright. My mother has been at my step-father’s beck and call and it annoys me so much. She used to be so fun before Nikolai came. He is terrible to Dimitri and I, but that’s a whole different story, now they both get drunk almost every night while I either hide in my room or at the Romanovs. Dimitri is nice though, we aren’t too close yet, but I hope to get closer to him.” she ranted, Alek listened intently to every word. 

“I’m sorry Nikolai is so terrible, I’ll be praying for you too, Vika.” he said sincerely, and leaned in to hug her rubbing circles into her back. 

“Thank you Aleksander. Oh, we’re getting close to my house, we’ll need to say goodbye at the gate, and address me with my full name, Nikolai doesn't like that I’m friends with the Romanovs and am not trying to get more money. If he hears us talking so informally, it would not go over well for me.” She said, 

“That’s terrible, but I understand.” Alek replied. 

As they got to the gate Viktoria saw Nikolai peak through the window. 

“Goodbye Viktoria Alexandrovna Kotova.” Alek said, stoically. 

“Goodbye Aleksander Nikolaevich Spassky.” she responded. 

Alek walked off and Viktoria spared just a moment to watch her friend go before heading inside.

As soon as she got inside she was cornered by Nikolai. 

“It’s late Veronika” he slurred, Viktoria smelled the vodka on his breath. 

“My name is Viktoria, and I’m sorry Nikolai, I got caught up.” she explained. 

Nikolai raised one bushy brow and said “Watch your tone, Viktoria. I’d better not hear you’ve been keeping company with that scrawny little palace boy. I have my eye on my Comrade Stepan Vaganov’s son for you.” 

“Oh that would be lovely Kolya! A strong future officer for my daughter!” Valentina cried and hung off of Nikolai. 

“Yes, someone with real power. Not some worthless palace guard.”

Viktoria didn’t know what to say. She did not want to marry any time soon! She was terrified. 

“Dad she’s only nine, she has a long way to go, and I’m sure she would want to marry someone she actually loves.” Dimitri argued. 

Nikolai turned towards him and smacked him right across his cheek. Viktoria screamed, jumped, and looked to see if her mother was going to defend her son, but Valentina Sudayev had turned her back to the scene, taking another sip of her drink to numb the guilt Viktoria knew must be swirling inside. Viktoria’s stomach dropped as she watched Dimitri fall to the ground, the sharp sound of the slap reverberating around the room.

“How dare you talk back to me! Go to your room Dimitri, and don’t come out until school tomorrow! And don’t even think about eating breakfast!” Nikolai screamed.

Dimitri slowly picked himself up off the ground and walked to his room. His fingers twitched against the doorknob, itching to slam it, but he stopped himself. He wouldn't give Nikolai the satisfaction.

“May I go to bed Nikolai?” Viktoria asked quietly with tears in her eyes. 

“Yes, only I wish you would call me papa.” he said. 

Viktoria walked to her room and timidly closed the door. A few minutes later she heard Nikolai and Valentina go to their room, Viktoria quietly groaned and, as quietly as she could, went to Dimitri’s door and slightly knocked. Dimitri came to the door and Viktoria said 

“Can I sleep in here? I don’t want to hear Nikolai and my mother all night.” Dimitri nodded and let her in. 

“Are you alright? He hit you very hard.” Viktoria asked.

“I’m alright, I’ve gotten used to it.” Dimitri said as he slipped into bed. He patted the other side for Viktoria to come as well.

“You shouldn’t have to get used to it.” Viktoria stated sadly.

“I know.” Dimitri whispered, “One day, we’ll be far away from here.”

The two siblings slept through the night wishing they were anywhere but there. As Viktoria looked out through Dimitri’s window at the dark street, she imagined the palace lights, still shining far away. For a moment, she imagined that was what paradise must be like: close enough to see, but too far to touch.

Chapter Text

1913, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

The years flowed on and Viktoria was growing into a more confident young woman, but the darkness at home remained. Her stepfather still drank, her mother still looked away; but at the palace, none of that mattered. The Romanovs’ world was full of sparkling balls and warm conversation, Viktoria’s was filled with harsh arguments and cold glares. But, in the Alexander Palace, that was drowned out. There, she was simply Vichka, their friend.

Viktoria was 12 years old and was still Anastasia's best friend, they played together every day. While Olga celebrated her coming-out ball, Viktoria sat in the crimson room with the three younger Romanov sisters. Maria was drawing, Tatiana was writing in her diary, and Anastasia and Viktoria were playing cards, when Alek came in. 

“Hello Alek” Viktoria smiled, “I’ve missed you today.” 

“I’m sorry dear Vika, I was busy helping set up Olga Nikolaevna’s ball.” He explained. 

“I forgive you.” She laughed. “Oh no!” she exclaimed after Anastasia beat her, “Well, good game Anya, I’m afraid I must go home now, my mother will be needing me.” Viktoria hugged each of the girls. 

“Let me take you.” Alek insisted. 

“Ok, goodbye Anya, Masha, Tatya!” she said. 

“Goodbye!” the girls yelled in unison.

The years continued to flow by, and the seasons with them, winters of snowball fights and summers by the lake. By 1915 Viktoria was 14 years old. She was in the four sister’s room talking to Maria and Anastasia. Tatiana’s coming-out ball was happening down stairs, but you could hear the music, see the glow of candle light, and smell the scent of perfume drifting up the stairs.

“Afternoon Princesses, Viktoria.” Alek remarked as he knocked and entered the room, he smiled at Viktoria as he said this. Alek had grown over those three years, he was now 17 and he was tall and broadly built, his blonde hair was shaggy, but his striking blue eyes were the same. 

“Hello Alek.” Viktoria greeted. 

“What are you girls doing?” he asked. 

“We’re talking about Vichka’s new baby brother!” Maria said. 

“A new baby brother? What’s his name Vika? When was he born?” Alek asked, smiling ear to ear. 

When Alek smiled at her, she felt something strange and fluttering in her chest… not fear, not friendship, but something she didn’t yet understand. “His name is Nikolai Nikolaevich Sudayev, and he was born last month on the 22nd of May.”

“Congratulations to your family!” Alek exclaimed. 

“Thank you!” Viktoria smiled. “He’s a kind new friend. He’s so pure in a world of harshness.”

“Actually we were talking about who Maria has a cru-” 

“Shush Shvibzik!” Maria cut Anastasia off by slapping a hand over her mouth while Viktoria giggled. 

“Hm, sounds like you girls are having a good time, I’ll leave you alone then. Good night Princesses, Viktoria.” Alek said while moving towards the door. 

“Goodbye Aleksander Nikolaevich.” the sisters said. 

“I need to go to the restroom, I’ll be right back!” Viktoria said to Anastasia and Maria while walking towards the door.

Viktoria shut the door and turned around to face Alek. “Oh, I thought you had gone already.”

“I was about you, where are you off to?” he asked

“The restroom, you can walk with me if you want.” she offered, blushing slightly as she said it. She and Alek walked beside each other.

“I got you something.” Alek began.

“Why? It’s not my birthday.”

“I know… but I missed it because I didn’t have enough money then, but now I was able to buy it.”

“Alek, you do not need to buy anything for me, especially not something expensive!” Viktoria was taken aback.

“But I did. So, here. For being such a good friend.” Alek pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her, “don’t try to refuse, I’m very serious about this, just be thankful.”

Viktoria took the box from his hands and carefully opened it. Inside was a necklace with a silver chain, and hanging from the chain was a purple gemstone, it had a beautifully swirled pattern on it and it shimmered in the soft candle light. “Alek… You really shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, I should. You deserve it.”

“This is one of the nicest presents I have ever received.” she said, looking up at him in awe, small tears welled in her eyes.

“Now, don’t cry. It’s a charoite gem, it is supposed to bring courage to the wearer and help them overcome fear. Apparently it takes away negativity and encourages positivity.” Viktoria didn’t have words, she just smiled up at him, “Let me put it on you.” Alek began to take the ends when Viktoria flinched back.

“No, it's ok, I’ll put it on in the bathroom.” Viktoria rushed out.

“Viktoria? What’s wrong?” Alek was concerned now. She didn’t mean to scare him.

“I-I’m sorry… you can put it on.”

“Ok… I’ll be gentle.” Alek gingerly took the ends of the necklace and walked behind Viktoria, “can you lift up your hair, please?”

Viktoria did as he asked and he pulled the necklace across her collarbone and fastened it. As he did he saw something dark on Viktoria’s neck, he brushed it softly and Viktoria flinched again.

“Don’t tell me he did this to you.” Alek said with so much anger rising in his gut it almost hurt.

Viktoria just turned and looked at him sadly. Alek turned on his heel and started off toward the stairs, “Alek! No, you can’t!” Viktoria grabbed his arm to try and stop him.

“I can’t let him do this to you, Viktoria!” As Alek said this he noticed Viktoria start to retreat into herself. He took a deep breath and calmed himself down, “I’m sorry, I never want to be harsh with you, please hear me.”

Viktoria’s tears started to flow, she only nodded.

Alek took her into his arms, one wrapped around her shoulders, the other hand caressing her hair. “I just can’t let this keep happening to you.”

“It’s ok, I’m almost used to it; like Dimitri.”

“You and Dimitri shouldn’t have to be used to it.” Alek said firmly, not harshly.

“I know.” Viktoria whispered, remembering the time she had said the same thing to Dimitri.

Viktoria had calmed down and gone to the restroom to clean herself up, she examined the necklace Alek had given her in the mirror one more time, she couldn’t believe he would spend that much money on her.

She started to walk out of the restroom when she heard two male voices outside; it was Tsar Nicholas and his advisor and head of his military cabinet, Vladimir Orlov. Viktoria listened to what they were speaking of in hushed voices.

“Nicholas, the soldiers are losing morale, something needs to be done.” Orlov was saying.

“I know, Orlov, I know. The unrest is growing and we need to find a way to stop it.”

“There’s shortages of food and people are calling for your abdication.”

Viktoria shouldn’t be listening to this. She walked out of the restroom and made herself seen to the two men.

Nicholas composed himself, “Viktoria, how has your night been?”

“It’s been good, Mashka, Anya, and I have been playing cards and such.” Viktoria said, trying not to show that she had overheard a conversation she definitely shouldn’t have.

“Alright, well, enjoy the rest of it, sweet Kota.” Nicholas said while patting Viktoria on the shoulder.

“Thank you. Good night, good night Orlov.” Viktoria said, Orlov nodded at her as she walked away, back towards Anastasia and Maria.

Viktoria felt some fear creeping in, was their country really falling into such disarray? She gripped her necklace for comfort and remembered Alek’s words, “it is supposed to bring courage to the wearer and help them overcome fear”

She had confidence that Nicholas would overcome these trials and that Russia would be fine. She settled in with her friends and had a night of peace and warmth.

That same night, Alek returned home through the quiet streets of Tsarskoye Selo, the cold air burning his lungs with each breath. When he stepped inside, the warmth of the hearth lingered in the air. His mother, Natalya Lvovna, was sewing by the fire, Nicholas Vladimirovich, sat nearby reading the newspaper. For a moment, Alek simply stood there; watching the peace of it, feeling its weight against the memory of Viktoria’s bruised skin.

“You’re home late, son.” his father said without looking up. It wasn’t said in an accusatory or harsh way, Alek knew the same question wouldn’t go over well at Viktoria’s.

“I was walking Miss Kotova home,” Alek replied.

Nicholas nodded once. “A good girl. Brave eyes.”

Alek hesitated before answering. “Yes sir… but she’s not safe there.”

Natalya’s hands stilled mid-stitch, and she looked up at her son. “What do you mean, Alyosha?” she asked softly.

Alek swallowed, his voice low. “Her stepfather. He hurts her.”

The room fell silent except for the ticking of the clock. Nicholas folded his paper slowly, the lines on his face deepening.

“Some battles,” he said finally, “we cannot fight until the time is right. But we remember them, and when that time comes; we act.”

Alek nodded, jaw tight. He walked to his room, but before closing the door he glanced once more at his parents, at their warmth, calm, and safety. It struck him how fragile it all was. As he lay in bed, the image of Viktoria’s tearful eyes would not leave him.

And so, for the first time, he prayed not for courage to become a soldier; but for the courage to protect someone he loved.

Chapter Text

1916, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

“Vira, please take your brother to bed.” Valentina yelled across the house. 

“Yes mama.” 15-year-old Viktoria obeyed as she took her 1-year-old brother, Nikolai, and put him to bed. 

The year was 1916, little did they know it was the last year of the Tsar. Viktoria walked back to the kitchen to her mama, 

“Now, please set the table.” Her mother said. 

“Yes mama.” 

“Hello Viki” 17-year-old Dimitri said upon entering the house, she and Dimitri had become great friends over time. 

“Hello Dima.” She answered. 

“I’m back!” shouted Nikolai. 

“Welcome home Kolya!” Valentina greeted him. 

“Hello Nikolai” Viktoria almost whispered. 

“You know you could call me father or papa.” Nikolai whined. 

“Why would I call you that when you’re not my father, if you want a silly pet name like that, I suppose I could call you step-father or step-papa, but you’re not my real father.” Viktoria said, annoyed. 

“I’ve had enough of your attitude, little girl!” Nikolai yelled and then he slapped her. 

“Papa!” Dimitri yelled. 

“Stay out of this Dimitri.” Nikolai said. 

Viktoria looked to her mother for help, but she stood with her back to them, ignoring them, ‘not wanting to contradict her dear Kolya’ Viktoria thought. Viktoria looked at Nikolai with tears in her eyes, this wasn’t the first time Nikolai had hit her, but the sting still lingers every time. Viktoria sat for just a moment, holding her aching cheek, and then ran out of the house and down the road. 

“Why papa?” Dimitri asked. 

“She’ll learn not to contradict me, just like you did son.” He said.

1908, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

“Papachka you’re home early!” 7-year-old Viktoria yelled as her papa came through the door after a rather short day of work. 

“My Kiska! I’ve missed you!” Alexander Kotov scooped his daughter up in a big hug. 

“What are you doing home so early?” Viktoria asked her papa. 

“Well, your mama and I have decided to do something special for your birthday.” he replied. 

“Really?” Viktoria asked, confused. 

“Yes! What is today?” 

“The Romanovs are having a parade today!” Viktoria exclaimed. 

“Exactly right Vira!” Valentina said. 

“Your Mama and I are taking you to Catherine Palace to see the parade, and then we will get on a train and go to Laskoviy beach for a vacation!” Alexander said, bouncing his giggling daughter on his hip. 

“Oh thank you Papa, thank you Mama!” Viktoria said while hugging both of her parents. 

Alexander and Valentina looked at eachother with sad, knowing eyes, they knew this will likely be Viktoria’s last birthday with her father. Of course, she didn't know that yet, and they didn’t plan on telling her any time soon.

Viktoria was on her papa’s shoulders looking down the street, she, her papa and her mama were waiting for the royal family to come down the street at the end of the parade. 

“I see the carriage! I see it!” she yelled, the family of three looked down the road and surely enough there was the carriage! 

As it came closer Viktoria started waving, she was awestruck, she could see them all! Tsar Nicholas II, Tsarina Alexandra, Tsesarevich Alexei, and the Grand Duchesses Olga, Tatiana, Maria and even Anastasia! 

“Hiiiii!!!!” Viktoria screamed as loud as she could. 

“Hello!” the Grand Duchess Anastasia screamed back making everyone else in the carriage slightly jump and Tsarina Alexandra put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder to scold her. 

“She said hi to me! Mamachka, Papachka, did you see that!!” Viktoria yelled to her parents as the carriage rounded the corner. 

“I did Kiska!” her papa said back to her. 

“That was amazing Vira!” her mama said as well, Alexander lifted Viktoria from his shoulders and hugged her tightly. 

Valentina smiled sadly while looking at her husband and daughter, “Come on you two, we’ll miss the train to Repino.” 

“Coming Mama!” Viktoria said. 

“Yeah, coming Mama.” Alexander smirked while following his wife and daughter, never wanting to leave them.

1916, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

Viktoria was running, running from everyone and everything, when she ran into something hard, or rather someone. 

“Hey! Vika, are you ok? You’re crying!”  an 18-year-old Aleksander Spassky said. 

“I’m fine.” Viktoria said. 

“Viktoria Kotov I know you’re not fine, look at me.” he said. 

He gently cupped her chin in his hand and made her face him, he moved her dark hair away from her face and gasped, there on her right cheek were the beginnings of a bruise. 

“Viktoria! Who did this to you?” he asked, Viktoria shook her head. 

“It was Nikolai wasn’t it!” he said, getting angry. 

Viktoria didn’t say anything, another tear slid down her cheek, that was enough confirmation for him. He took Viktoria into his arms as she started sobbing. 

“Shh, I’ll get him for hurting you.” He said. 

“I just want to leave there” she sobbed. 

“In three years when you’re 18 I’ll take you away.” He whispered to her, Viktoria looked at him. 

“Promise?” she asked. 

“Promise.” He said. “Let’s get you inside, the princesses were asking about you earlier.” Viktoria wiped her tears and straightened her back, Alek gently grasped her hand and led her into the palace. 

Viktoria looked into the empress’ mauve room and saw Nicholas and Tatiana sitting together, Olga playing the piano, Alexandra and Maria playing cards, and Anastasia and Alexei dancing. 

“Surprise!” she yelled walking into the room, a chorus of “Kota!” from Nicholas, Alexandra, and Alexei and “Vichka!” from OTMA followed. The girls ran up and hugged her, then she went to Alexei and Alexandra and hugged them individually. When she hugged Nicholas, she held on a little longer and tighter than the others. His kind, warm presence reminded her of her own father. She closed her eyes and pretended for a moment that everything was fine. There were no wars at home or in the country, no Nikolais’ and no revolutionaries. And men like her father and Nicholas II still ruled the world with kindness.

“I thought your family needed you tonight!” Nicholas questioned. 

“I decided to come here instead.” Viktoria said. 

“I’m glad you did.” Nicholas smiled warmly. 

“So am I.” she laughed, and so she spent the night with Maria and Anastasia in their room that night.

Chapter Text

1917, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

In March of 1917 all of the Romanov children got the measles, and when Viktoria heard she was at the Alexander palace in minutes. 

“I’m sorry Ms. Kotov, the children have the measles and cannot take visitors right now.” stated Nicholas Spassky. 

“May I talk to the Tsarina please?” she asked. 

“Come with me.” He replied. He led her to the Alexandra’s reception room where Alexandra and Maria (who wasn’t sick yet) were. 

“Your Majesty, Ms. Kotov is here.” He said. 

“Let her in sir.” Alexandra Romanov said. 

“Yes Your Majesty.”, Nicholas Spassky said, letting Viktoria in. 

“Alix, I want to help your children until they are better.” she said. 

“Viktoria it’s not safe, you’re young and in no fit position to be caring for four sick people.” Alexandra said. 

“Please your majesty, forgive me, but you are in no fit position to care for them either. Let me help you, please.” Viktoria said. 

Alexandra thought about it for a moment and then said “Ok Viktoria, you may.” 

“Thank you Alix.” Viktoria said. 

“Go on.”

Viktoria walked into the little pairs room and saw Anastasia in her bed, Tatiana had her bed brought into the little pair’s room and Maria’s bed was brought to the Mauve room to try to keep her healthy. 

“Hello, Tatya and Anya.” Viktoria said. 

“Vichka!” The girls said and Viktoria moved to Anastasia. 

“How are you darling Anya?” she asked. 

“Oh, I’m dying!” Anastasia said as she mock died and stuck her tongue out, Viktoria laughed and went to Tatiana, 

“How are you beautiful Tatya?” Viktoria asked. 

“Fairly well.” She said. 

“W-where is Olenka?” Viktoria asked worriedly. 

“She’s in our room, she’s not doing very well Vichka.” Tatiana said. 

“Mashka is with mama right now, she isn’t sick yet.” 

“I saw her just before I came to you two. You two rest while I check on Olenka, I’ll be back.” Viktoria said. 

She walked across the hallway to the big pair’s room and when she saw Olga, she audibly gasped. 

“Oh, dear, sweet Olenka!” she said going to her.

“I’m ok Vichka, really.” Olga said. 

Viktoria talked with Olga for a while before she stood and said, “I need to talk to Alix and Masha, goodbye sweet Olenka, sleep well.” 

“Thank you.” Olga said. 

Viktoria went to Alexandra’s reception room, “Your Highness I don’t thi-“ she was cut off by a knocking at the door. 

Nicholas Spassky walked in, “Your Majesty, a man is here he-“ he was cut off by a man coming in and saying 

“Alexandra Feodorovna, you and your family are on house arrest.”

Tsar Nicholas II returned on March 20th 1917 as Colonial Nicholas Romanov. By then all of the children were sick, and were trying to heal and Viktoria had her own room set up in the crimson room. In August after everyone was healed the Bolsheviks were taking the Romanovs to Tobolsk, Siberia. 

“I’m going with you.” Viktoria said. 

“No, you need to stay here with your family.” Nicholas had said, but Viktoria refused and went with them. 

When Viktoria was leaving her house, Dimitri stopped her. “Viki, you shouldn’t go, this is dangerous. You don’t know what they could do to you.”

“Dima, I’ll be careful. But I need to be with my friends. I will support them and help them. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay safe, and protect Nicky.”

She sat in a car with Anastasia, Maria, Alek, and one of the Bolshevik officers. He looked so mean. Anastasia snuggled into Viktoria’s shoulder, and Alek placed the tip of his boot on the tip of Viktoria’s shoe, a small gesture to show his protection. He was upset that she was coming, he wanted her to be safe, but at least he could keep her safe with the family.

She stayed with them until May of 1918 when they were moving the family to Ekaterinburg 

“They're taking Alix, Maria, and I” Nicholas had told her, “The rest are staying here, they can’t be moved because of Alexei’s Hemorrhage, you may stay here with Olga, Tatiana, Anastasia, and Alexei, but as soon as they take them to us you are to go home. Do you understand?”, this time Nicholas wouldn’t let her say no. “We will be fine Viktoria, you need to stay safe as well. While we are apart, remember, I’ll always love you as if you were my own.”

That night she hugged Nicholas, Alexandra, and Maria unknowingly for the last time. Nicholas hugged her a little tighter.

“Goodbye Nicky, Alix, and Masha'' Viktoria said. 

Viktoria stayed with the other children until they were moved. Then she hugged them goodbye. 

“Goodbye Tatya, Alyosha, Olenka, and Anya.” Viktoria said, 

“Goodbye, don’t forget us, don’t forget me.” Anastasia had said. 

Viktoria thought it was silly, she was going to see them again, after this was over, she knew she would.

On the 20th of July 1918, Dimitri read the newspaper to Viktoria. 

“Nicholas, Ex-Tsar of Russia, shot on 17 July.” he whispered to her. 

Viktoria felt almost the same amount of grief she felt when her own papa had died. “Was there- was there anything about… the rest of them?” she struggled to get out around the grief of Nicholas, whom she saw as a second father.

“It doesn’t say anything about them, just Tsar Nicholas. They could still be ok Viki.” Dimitri reassured. Viktoria stepped into Dimitri’s arms and wept. She wanted to be loud and scream the grief she felt, another father to her, gone. But she had to keep quiet, so Nikolai wouldn’t come in and take out his rage on her. She slept with Dimitri that night, cuddling with a brown bear her Papa had given her, staring at one of the small faberge eggs with Nicholas’ face on it he had gifted to her one Easter, along with the rest of his children.

On the 24th of July newspapers reported that Alexei Romanov died from exposure shortly after his fathers death. When Viktoria heard the news she didn’t eat for days.

On the 27th of July, Dimitri read the newspaper to Viktoria as she laid in bed, grieving Nicholas and Alexei.

“It says, ‘The family of Nicholas Romanov, the former Russian Emperor, is safe in a Siberian monastery at Abalak.’”

“Praise God they’re alright." Viktoria rasped, her voice was tired after crying and not talking for three days straight, “I pray that the Lord will bless and keep them, and hopefully we will be reunited soon. But Nicholas and Alexei are still dead.”

On the 2nd of August 1918, Viktoria got a letter in the mail. 

“Who is it from?” Dimitri asked.

“It’s from Tatiana Evgenievna Botkin, the daughter of the Romanov’s physician.” Viktoria said. 

She opened the letter and read it… Dimitri watched as Viktoria’s face fell and she looked scared, suddenly she dropped the letter and screamed, she started to fall but he caught her. 

“Viki, what’s wrong, what happened?” he asked. 

She couldn’t say anything she was crying too hard, harder than she had when his dad smacked her, he picked up the paper and started reading, his heart dropped when he got to the part that said ‘…the Romanov family, Demidova, Trupp, Kharitonov, and my Papa were shot and killed by a firing squad on 17 July 1918… they’re all dead… None of them made it out…’ . Dimitri just held his sobbing sister in his arms all night, until her tears were all gone and all she could do was let out dry and strained sobs.

On the 17th of August a month after the Romanovs death, Dimitri, Viktoria, and a family friend Vladimir Popov moved to St. Petersburg to live. 

Every night Viktoria had the same nightmare, a little basement with Eugene Botkin, Ivan Kharitonov, Alexei Trupp, Anna Demidova, Nicholas, Alexandra, sweet Olga, beautiful Tatiana, dear Maria, darling Anastasia, and little Alexei, face to face with a bunch of drunk men with guns. She could smell the alcohol and gunpowder, and see the haze of the room. She would hear a barrage shots and screams, all screaming her name before she would shoot out of bed screaming. Anastasia’s last words to her echoing around her head all the time. 

“Goodbye, don’t forget us, don’t forget me.” Don’t forget us.

Chapter Text

27 October, 1918, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

The rain had not stopped for three days. It poured over the cobblestones and washed the colors from the city until everything looked gray. Inside the modest Spassky home, the smell of damp earth clung to the air.

Natalya Lvovna sat by the radio, her embroidery forgotten in her lap. Nicholas Vladimirovich stood by the window, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as the faint static filled the silence. Alek leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, waiting for the words they had all dreaded to hear.

“...the former Tsar, Nicholas Alexandrovich Romanov, his wife, and their children… executed in Ekaterinburg.”

The voice on the radio was flat, emotionless. It did not tremble, though every soul in that room did.

Natalya’s hand flew to her mouth. “Mo,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, not the children…”

Nicholas closed his eyes. For a long time he said nothing. The rain outside grew heavier, matching the quiet weight in the room. “God forgive us,” he murmured finally, his voice breaking. “I swore to protect them.”

Alek stepped forward. “Papa, there was nothing you could’ve done. The guards at the house were changed, you were ordered away-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nicholas said sharply, then softly, almost to himself, “It doesn’t matter. I failed them.”

Natalya rose and crossed the room, placing a trembling hand on her husband’s arm. “You didn’t fail,” she whispered. “You served faithfully. You kept your son safe. That’s what the Tsar and Tsarina would have wanted.”

Alek’s throat ached, his heart pounding in his chest. He remembered Anastasia's laughter, the way Alexei had once tugged on his sleeve asking about the sabers in his father’s study, Viktoria’s joy whenever she was among them. The thought of all that light being snuffed out in a dark basement was unbearable.

“What will we do now?” Alek asked quietly.

Nicholas’ eyes lingered on the rain-smeared window. “We leave Russia,” he said. “There’s nothing left for us here but ghosts.”

Natalya nodded, but her knowing eyes drifted toward her son. “And you, Alyosha?”

Alek hesitated. “I’ll stay for now. There are families still searching for answers, and I need to see their safety. I’ll join you later, I promise.”

Nicholas places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Be careful, my boy. Promise me you won’t let vengeance take root in your heart. The world will need men who remember kindness.”

Alek nodded. “I’ll remember, Papa.”

When the radio went silent, the three of them stood together in the flickering lamplight, listening to the sound of the storm; the sky weeping for an empire that was no more.

Autumn 1918

The gates of the Alexander Palace hung open, unguarded and beginning to rust. Wind whispered through the birch trees, scattered yellow leaves across the courtyard like fallen letters never sent. Alek stood for a long time, staring at the building that had once been filled with laughter, candlelight, and the scent of lilacs from the Empress’s garden.

Now it was silent.

He pushed open the heavy door; it groaned in protest. The air inside was stale and cold. His boots echoed against the marble floors. Every portrait seemed to watch him.

Alek passed the crimson room where the girls had played cards with Viktoria. The memory hit him so vividly that for a moment he almost heard their voices; Anastasia’s laughter, Maria’s shy giggle, Viktoria’s soft hum as she shuffled the deck.

He walked further down the corridor until he reached Alexei’s old room. A broken toy sword laid on the floor. He bent to pick it up, running his thumb along the wooden hilt.

“You were just a boy,” he whispered. “You should’ve had a chance to grow up.”

He looked around one last time before leaving. In the stillness, his own voice sounded strange; too alive for a place that had forgotten the sound of breath.

When he stepped outside he removed his cap and crossed himself. “God rest your souls. I’ll carry you with me.”

Spring 1919

The street was quiet beneath a heavy quilt of snow, the world muted as if it was holding its breath. Alek walked up the narrow lane toward the Sudayev house, his breath a pale cloud in the freezing air. The last few weeks had blurred together: rumors, mourning, hunger… but one thought had stayed sharp and steady in his mind: Viktoria.

It was her 18th birthday. Though the city had changed beyond recognition, Alek’s promise had not.

He stopped in front of the gate, brushing frost from the latch before lifting it. In his gloved hand he held a small box; a simple gift wrapped in brown paper, tied with a violet ribbon. Inside was a small book of poetry, the kind she’d once said made her “feel like she belonged to some other world – one that was softer than this one.”

He knocked gently at first. The second felt strange in the stillness.

A few moments passed before the door opened, it wasn’t Viktoria… it was Nikolai Sudayev. His once powerful frame had gone heavy with drink; his shirt was half-buttoned, his eyes rimmed red. Behind him, Valentina appeared, her expression weary but cautious.

Nikolai squinted. “What do you want, boy?”

Alek removed his cap. “Good evening, sir. I came to see Viktoria Alexandrovna. I brought her something for her birthday.”

At the mention of her name, Valentina’s gaze flickered to her husband's. Nikolai’s lips curled into something between a sneer and a smirk. “Viktoria Alexandrovna,” he repeated mockingly, “you palace people and your pretty names. She’s not here.”

Alek’s brow furrowed. “Not here?” When will she return?”

Valentina stepped forward quickly, her voice low and careful. “She won’t be here, Aleksander. She left weeks ago. She and her brother.”

“Left? Where?”

Nikolai gave a short, sharp laugh. “Somewhere far enough she won’t come crawling back here. Thought she was too good for us, always running to that palace, pretending she was one of them.” He leaned against the doorframe, his words slurred but sharp. “Maybe she’ll find herself a prince now that the Tsar’s gone and done for.”

“Nikolai,” Valentina whispered, touching his arm, “enough.”

But Alek didn’t answer the insult. She simply straightened, jaw tight, and turned to Valentina. “Do you know where she went?”

Valentina hesitated, then shook her head. “She didn’t tell me much. Only that she couldn’t stay. That she needed to start over… somewhere no one knew her name.”

Alek looked down at the box in his hands. “Would you… give this to her? If she ever writes, or sends a word.”

Valentina’s eyes softened. “I will, Aleksander. I promise.”

Nikolai scoffed but said nothing. He turned and stumbled back into the shadows of the house, the scent of vodka lingering in his wake.

Alek set the small box gently to Valentina. “Please tell her… happy birthday.” His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “And that I’ll find her again.”

Valentina nodded faintly. “She’ll be happy to hear that.”

Alek gave her a small, respectful bow, then stepped back into the falling snow. He looked once more at the quiet, aging house and then he turned toward the street.

The cold bit at his hands, but he hardly felt it. “Happy birthday, Vika,” he murmured into the wind, the snow swallowing his voice as he disappeared into the dark.

The fire had long since gone out in the Spassky home. The scent of ash lingering in the hearth as Alek stepped inside, shaking the snow from his shoulders. His boots left wet prints across the wooden floors.

In the sitting room, Natalya sat by a small lamp, a half-packed trunk beside her. Her fingers trembled as she folded one of Alek’s fathers wool coats, the sound of her quiet humming barely audible above the storm outside.

“Alyosha,” she said without looking up, “you’re late again.”

“I know, Mama.” His voice was soft, tired. “I went to see the Sudayevs

That made her glance up immediately. “Viktoria’s family? Oh, Alek…” her face fell, her eyes full of pity. “You heard about…”

“She’s gone.” He unbuttoned his coat, set his cap down, and sank onto the wooden chair across from her. “Weeks ago, her brother too. No one knows where.”

Natalya’s eyes softened. “Then perhaps that’s for the best. If she escaped this county before it devours itself…”

He stared at the floor. “She didn’t even tell me goodbye.”

She reached out and took his hand, her touch cool and thin. “Maybe she couldn’t, my son. Sometimes love and safety don’t walk hand in hand.”

The sound of boots on the stairs drew both their attention. Nicholas entered the room, his overcoat slung over one shoulder. His face was lined, more from worry than age.

“Natalya, the train leaves at dawn. The Swedes are still allowing entry for civilians through Haparanda. We’ll head for Stockholm first, then find work.” He paused when he saw Alek. “You should get some rest. We have a long journey ahead.:

Alek didn’t answer. He only stared at the fire’s dead embers.

Nicholas frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re still set on staying.”

Alek looked up. “Someone needs to stay. The regiment is dissolving; they’re calling back old guards to protect the remaining families. I can’t just leave everything behind.”

“Everything?” Nicholas echoed, his voice echoing slightly. “There is nothing left here but ghosts. The Romanovs are gone, your friends scattered, and this country…” he gestured toward the window where snow beat against the glass. “This country is bleeding itself dry.”

Natalya stood, stepping between them. “Kolya, please-”

“No.” Nicholas’s tone softened but remained firm. “He needs to understand what he’s risking.”

“I do understand.” Alek rose to his feet. “But I can’t leave without knowing she’s safe. You taught me to protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

“That lesson wasn’t meant to break you.” Nicholas rubbed his temples. “You’re my son, not some martyr for a lost world.”

A long silence followed. The wind howled through the cracks in the shutters.

Finally, Natalya placed a gentle hand on Alek’s cheek. “If you stay, promise me you’ll be careful. Write to us as soon as you can.”

“I will,” he said. “And when it’s safe… I’ll find you.”

Nicholas exhaled heavily, nodding once, the fight gone from his voice. “Then may God protect you, Aleksander Nikolaevich Spassky.” he reached out and clasped his son’s shoulder; firm and proud, but full of sorrow.

Alek managed a faint smile. “And you, Papa. Both of you.”

Natalya brushed a tear from her eye. “Take the silver cross from my dresser. It’s small, but it’s blessed. Keep it close.”

He nodded and turned toward the stairs, his hand already tightening around the small violet ribbon still in his coat pocket; the one he had wrapped around Viktoria’s gift.

As he climbed the steps, Natalya whispered into the silence: “First the Romanovs, now our own children. The world has lost its light.”

And Nicholas, staring into the dying glow of the hearth, murmured back: “Then God help those who remain to find it again.”

Chapter Text

1927 St. Petersburg, now Leningrad, Russia.

Two men were holding auditions in the theater of the Yusupov Palace, but they weren’t just any auditions, they were auditions for Anastasia Romanov. 

“I am the Grand Duchess Anastasia!” the woman shouted. 

“I don’t think you are.” An annoyed Vladimir Popov whispered to his companion. 

“Thank you, that’s all.” 28-year-old Dimitri Sudayev rolled his eyes. 

“That means no Martha. Let’s go.” Another woman stated. 

“What you’re doing is illegal,” said Martha, “if you weren’t so handsome Dimitri, I’d report you.” 

“Out.” He said, now very annoyed, and then he ran them out. 

“Anastasia’s don’t grow on trees, friend.” Vlad said. 

“What you’re doing is stupid and reckless Dimitri, and I don’t like it at all.” Said a woman sitting in the corner of the room, her raven hair hiding her face. 

“Come on Viki, I’m just trying to get a little money.” He said. 

“By lying to an old woman about my best friend who was murdered?!” she yelled. 

“Shh, someone will hear you, the walls have ears you know.” 

Viktoria Kotov didn’t say anything, her sharp blue eyes were blazing now, “I’m leaving I’ll be back later.”

Viktoria was on a walk trying to calm down, she was so annoyed with Dimitri, Anastasia was her best friend, of course she wanted to believe she escaped, her mind told her there was no way Anastasia got out, but a voice in the back of her mind said “What if”. 

Viktoria was plagued with the last words of her friends to her, swirling around her head. 

“I can’t wait until this is all over Vichka, then we can all be together again.” her dear Maria had said. 

“We’ll see each other again somewhere Vichka, I know it.” sweet Olga had said, Viktoria often thought Olga knew a little of their fate. 

“God will grant us to meet again, Vichka.” Beautiful Tatiana had said. 

“Goodbye Kota, I will miss you'' little Alexei had said. 

The most haunting “Goodbye, don’t forget us.” from her darling Anastasia, she thought it was silly at the time. She could never forget them, she promised to never forget. 

All of those words accompanied by the family screaming her name and gunshots, were always present, somewhere in her mind. Caught up in her thoughts Viktoria wasn’t looking where she was going and bumped into something, or someone. 

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She said backing up, most of the people in Leningrad didn’t like it at all when you bumped into them. 

“Hey it's ok.” A man’s voice said, the voice sounded oddly familiar, Viktoria looked up into the icy blue eyes of Aleksander Nikolaevich Spassky. 

“Vika? Is that you?” Alek asked, in reply she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, he hesitated for only a moment then wrapped his arms around her too. 

“Oh, Vika, I've been looking everywhere for you! Why didn’t you tell me where you were?” he asked. 

“Alek, come to my house and I’ll explain everything.” She said, and so they went to Viktoria’s ‘house’.

Viktoria’s ‘house’ was the old Yusupov palace. As soon as they got into the house Dimitri was there. 

“Viki! Look who we found-, whoa who is this?” Dimitri cut himself off, getting a protective older brother look on his face. 

“Calm down Dima, this is Alek, he used to work for the Romanov’s. He’s my friend.” Viktoria said, but Dimitri still looked suspicious as he walked away. 

“Who was that?” Alek whispered to her. 

“That’s my brother Dimitri, he’s a little over-protective.” Viktoria laughed; Alek seemed to calm down now. 

“Hey Dima, where is Vlad?” she inquired. 

“Oh he took A- um… Viki can I talk to you, privately.” He asked. 

“Uh, sure?” Viktoria said hesitantly, “I’ll be right back Alek.” 

So they went into the ballroom and left Alek in the entry. 

“What is it Dimitri?” Viktoria asked. 

“Viki, I think we found her.” He said. 

“Oh, Dimitri, not this again, Anastasia is-” Viktoria started, but Dimitri cut her off. 

“Viktoria, the girl looks exactly like Anastasia, she has amnesia, the first thing she remembers is waking up in a hospital at 17-years-old, she’s walked half way across Russia, and says she needs to meet someone in Paris. Vlad and I think that’s her grandma, Vlad’s talking to her right now. She says she doesn’t remember her name but the people at the hospital called her Anya.” Dimitri said, Viktoria gasped. 

“C-can I see her?” she said, she hadn’t stuttered in years. 

“Yeah, but your guy friend,” Dimitri said this with obvious disgust, “needs to leave.” 

“O-okay.” She said

She walked back into the entry to Alek, “Alek, we have some problems, maybe you could come back later?” Viktoria asked. 

“Yeah, of course, I work down at the old Kirov factory.” Alek said. 

“Perfect, I’ll most likely be here.” She said, and then Alek left.

After an hour of walking and talking with Vlad, Anya was exhausted, but finally they arrived back at the palace. 

“Anya! Welcome back I have someone you might like to meet, or uh, re-meet.” Dimitri said. 

“Oh, okay.” She walked into a room and saw a girl. 

The girl seemed familiar, the girl had blue eyes just like her own, she was slim and around the same height as Anya, really, she looked just like Anya except for her black hair. 

“A-Anastasia?!” the girl said, she seemed confused. 

“That’s who these men say I am. What’s your name?” Anya said, but the girl didn’t move, she was in shock.

Viktoria was in shock. This woman standing in front of her, she just had to be her darling Anastasia. No, she couldn’t be. But she looked exactly like her, blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair, short, the only difference is that she’s grown… and she’s skinnier, which makes sense since she has been living on the streets of Russia for eight years. Just when Viktoria was letting the doubt set in, Anya furrowed her brows and then slightly raised her right eyebrow while thinking. Viktoria knew that look all too well, and she knew this had to be her best friend.

“A-Anastasia?!” she said. 

“That’s who these men say I am.” the girl said, “What’s your name?” the girl, Anya, asked but Viktoria couldn’t move. 

Suddenly like a radio being tuned from static to clarity, Viktoria could move again, she ran to Anya and held her in a huge hug, Anya gasped and was extremely confused. Viktoria didn't need any other proof, this was her best friend standing in front of her; she just knew it.

“Sorry, I-I just haven’t seen you in eight years a-and I thought you were dead! I-I’m Viktoria Alexandrovna Kotov.” Viktoria said. 

“Can I call you Vichka?” Anya asked, and Viktoria promptly burst into tears and hugged Anya again, “Of course!”

Chapter Text

1909 Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

The wind blew through the city on a brisk September day, and 8 year-old Viktoria walked in front of the Alexander Palace. As she was walking she saw two girls playing in the front yard, and she walked up to the gate, when all of the sudden she was swept off her feet, she looked up into the icy blue eyes of Nicholas Vladimirovich Spassky, the head guard of the Romanovs. 

“Put her down Nicholas!”, the shorter girl cried. 

“I was just taking her away Princess, she doesn’t belong here, she’s just a street rat.” he stated curtly. 

“Put her down! That’s not nice!” the girl yelled. 

Viktoria looked at her, and then realized she was Princess Anastasia, with her blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair she didn’t know how she didn’t notice sooner! Nicholas did as the princess said and walked away; keeping an eye on the Princesses. 

“Hi! I’m sorry about him. I’m Anastasia Nikolaevna.” The little girl apologized. 

“And I’m Maria Nikolaevna.” Said the taller girl, she had big beautiful blue eyes and light brown hair. 

“What is your name?” asked Anastasia. 

“I-I’m Viktoria A-alexandrovna Kotova'' the little girl stuttered, trying to make her black hair go in front of her cheeks, which were getting redder by the second; it’s not every day you meet the two youngest Romanov daughters. 

“Let’s be friends, I don’t have any common friends!” Anastasia shrieked. 

“O-okay.” Viktoria said, then she saw something she never thought she would see, the Tsar and Tsarina, of all of Russia, walking towards her. 

“Anastasia, who is this?” Alexandra asked. 

“She’s my friend mama! Her name is Viktoria Alexandrovna Kotova!” Anastasia said. 

“Well, it's dinner time, Anastasia , Maria, let’s go,” said Alexandra. 

“Can my friend join us for dinner? Please?" Anastasia asked.

“Anastasia, you just met this girl, she's not even supposed to be here." Alexandra whispered to her daughter.

"Mama, she seems kind, we can have the guards look her over, and if they say she is alright... maybe it would be ok?" Maria suggested.

Alexandra and Nicholas shared a look.

"Come on Mama, Papa, I want my friend to join us." Anastasia pleaded.

"Alright, we'll have the guards over look her. Viktoria Alexandrovna, we would be pleased to have you join us for dinner." Nicholas formally asked her.

“W-well, I would love to, b-but my mama would get worried.” Viktoria hesitated.

“We can send a guard to tell them. Come, Viktoria Alexandrovna.” Anastasia said.

Viktoria followed the family into the Palace, hardly believing her eyes, ears, or life.

Dining Room of the Alexander Palace

Viktoria walked into the dining room, guided by one of the servants to the dinner table. The table, filled with more food than Viktoria had seen in her whole life, was almost the size of Viktoria’s kitchen and living room! She looked up from the table, which was beautifully polished, and saw the Romanov daughters; 13-year-old Olga, 12-year-old Tatiana, 10-year-old Maria, and 8-year-old Anastasia, come into the room they were all wearing matching dresses. One of those dresses cost more than all the money Viktoria had in her house. Then she saw Tsar Nicholas II, Tsarina Alexandra, and the 5-year-old Tsesarevich Alexei. 

“Wow” was all she could say. 

“Who is this mama?” asked Tatiana Nikolaevna. 

“She’s my friend V-” Anastasia started. 

“Our guest can introduce herself, Anastasia.” Alexandra disciplined. 

“I-I’m V-Viktoria Alexandrovna Kotova your highness.” she muttered.

“Any friend of Anastasia’s, is a friend of ours. I’m Olga Nikolaevna.” Said the kind blonde. 

“O-okay, th-thank you Olga.” Viktoria smiled. 

“Can I call you Kota?” asked little Alexei. 

“Of course!” Viktoria smiled. 

“So, Viktoria, how old are you?” Maria asked. 

“I’m eight-years-old.” Viktoria stated. 

“So am I!” Anastasia yelled. 

“Anastasia, mind your manners, eat.” Alexandra called. 

“My birthday is 17 May, one month before Anastasia’s” 

“That’s very interesting!” said Maria. 

“What did you get for your birthday Kota?” Alexei asked. 

“Well…” Viktoria trailed off. 

“What’s wrong Viktoria?” Tatiana asked. 

“Well, I didn’t get anything for my birthday.” Viktoria whispered, looking down, the children gasped and the Tsar and Tsarina looked at the girl with pity. 

“Why not?” asked Olga. 

“My mama doesn’t have enough money, we barely have enough money for food.” Viktoria answered. 

“That’s so sad” Anastasia acknowledged.

The room fell to silence, and Viktoria worried that she had ruined the dinner. She sneaked a glance to the Tsar and Tsarina. The Tsar was looking at his dinner, deep in thought. The Tsarina, however, was looking at Viktoria sadly, she then gave her a comforting smile. It was strange. Viktoria’s mama and the Tsarina were very different people, but somehow they both knew that a little smile could easily cheer her up. It must be a Mama thing.

The Sister’s Room

After dinner was finished the children took Viktoria to the room the four sisters shared while at their vacation home. Nicholas Spassky stayed by the door to watch them.

“We should have nicknames we only use for each other.” Anastasia shouted. 

“Okay!” Viktoria excitedly agreed. 

“Hmm… We’ll call you Vichka!” Anastasia squealed. 

Viktoria took a moment to think, she looked at each person in front of her and considered their special nicknames. “And I’ll call you, Olenka, Tatya, Masha, Anya, and Alyosha!” 

“Yay!”

After the girls had been playing and talking for what seemed like hours Viktoria gasped. 

“What is it Vichka?” asked Tatiana. 

“What time is it?” Viktoria worried. 

“Half past 10, why?” Olga asked. 

“My mama is going to be so mad; I have to get home!” Viktoria exclaimed. 

“Nicholas Vladimirovich can drive you!” Maria offered. 

“Thank you Masha!” Viktoria said, and with that Viktoria and Nicholas were off.

Viktoria’s home

Viktoria stepped out of the car, thanked Mr. Spassky, and started walking to her door step. She looked at the house she loved so much. It’s orange brick with the ivy gently creeping up the walls and shutters. She loved looking at her little house on warm summer nights, when the light turned golden; sitting in her Papa’s lap with her Mama’s arms wrapped around her. She was taken from her memories when she opened the door and heard her Mama’s tired voice.

“Viktoria! Where have you been!? I was worried sick! Some men came by and said you were eating dinner with the Romanovs! How preposterous!” Viktoria’s Mother, Valentina, exclaimed. 

“Well I was eating dinner with the Romanovs mama! Anastasia is my friend; Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Alexei too!” Viktoria explained. 

Then, a loud chuckle came from the kitchen, Viktoria looked up and saw a man, with a big black beard, and a boy, who seemed to be a little older than her. 

“Who are these people mama?” Viktoria inquired. 

“Oh, Vira, this is Nikolai Aleksevich Sudayev, and Dimitri Nikolayevich. Nikolai was my first husband, before your father, and Dimitri is your step brother. We’ll be moving with them to Leont’yevskaya unitsa, it’s only a ten minute walk from here.” Valentina replied. 

“I-I, I.” Viktoria couldn’t get her words out, she didn’t want to leave her house on Malaya unitsa, that would take away nearly everything she had of her papa. 

“Hi Viktoria, do you really know the Romanovs?” Dimitri asked. 

“Dimitri! I’m sorry dear Viktoria, how are you? I’m going to be your new papa” Nikolai asked, then Viktoria did something no one expected. 

“You’re not my papa!” she screamed then she ran out of the house and into the chilly night air. 

“I’m so sorry Nikolai, I don’t know what got into her.” Valentina apologized, rubbing the side of his arm. 

“She’ll learn.” Nikolai grumbled; Dimitri flinched.

Alexander Palace

11-year-old Aleksander Nikolaevich Spassky, son of Nicholas Vladimirovich, was at the window at one of the ends of the large ornate, wooden, hallways in the Alexander palace looking at the cold, snowy, night outside. All of the sudden he saw a girl, not much younger than him, run and fall in front of the palace, he ran out to make sure she was ok. 

Alek walked up to the girl, she had raven hair and was around the same height as the grand duchess Anastasia, the girl was crying. 

“Excuse me, miss, are you ok? I saw you fall.” He asked. 

The girl looked up and when he finally saw her face he almost forgot how to breath, she had soft rosy cheeks, a small delicate nose spotty freckles sprinkling her nose and cheeks, and her eyes, they were so blue, he could swear she was a Romanov right then and there if it weren’t for her dark black hair. 

“I-I’m s-sorry, I’ll be going. Ouch.” She apologized. 

“Are you alright?” Aleksander asked. 

“Y-yes, I’m alright.” She brushed it off while trying to stand up, she fell, but Alek caught her before she fell. 

Alek brushed the snow from her arms calmly, “Let’s get you inside.” He whispered.

“So, what is your name?” the boy asked Viktoria, he was so kind, he got her a blanket and sat her in the kitchen where it was nice and warm. He had even given her a bowl of warm soup, the same soup she had with the Romanovs hours before. 

“Viktoria Alexandrovna Kotova, you?” she replied. 

“Aleksander Nikolaevich Spassky, but you can call me Alek.” The boy, Alek introduced himself, Viktoria smiled “So, Viktoria, can I call you Vika?” Alek asked, his frosty blue eyes shone. 

“Of course!” Viktoria giggled. 

“What were you running from Vika?” Alek asked her. 

“More like who was I running from.” She said, Alek raised an eyebrow, Viktoria laughed, then sobered up, “Well I got home tonight and found out I have a step-father and step-brother, which is crazy. I had no idea either of them existed, but now my step-father, Nikolai, the first thing he said to me was that he wanted me to call him papa, but I can’t, he’s not my papa. My papa was an amazing man, my best friend, he was my papachka and I was his Kiska… Well, yeah, sorry for talking so much.” 

Viktoria was embarrassed about spilling her guts as the third sentence she’d ever spoken to this boy, but Alek nodded and listened intently the whole time. 

“Don’t apologize, it was nice hearing you talk.” he responded. “I want to be a soldier like my papa. Not one that scares people, one that helps them.”

“That is very brave.” Viktoria replied, looking at him reverently.

They talked all night and were found by the head-cook Ivan Kharitonov, cuddled up in the corner the next morning; Alek between Viktoria and the door, keeping her safe even in sleep.

Chapter Text

Leningrad, Russia

After many days of teaching Anya how to become Anastasia, Viktoria finally met up with Alek again. 

“So, you have some explaining to do.” He said. 

“I guess I do. Well, I’ll start on the night I got the letter from Tatiana Botkin of the Romanovs death,” she winced, “Well, Dimitri wanted to get me away from the palace, but Nikolai wouldn’t let us, so we ran away with a family friend, Vladimir Popov. I would’ve told you but we had to leave fast and the boys thought it would’ve been better not to tell anyone so Nikolai couldn’t find us. And we’ve been living here ever since.” Viktoria told Alek. 

“Wow… Well I came to your house on your 18th birthday, and your mother said you had been gone for almost a year. I was coming to take you away, but I guess you had already gone away.” He explained with a sad look in his eyes. 

“Well, now we're together.” She added. 

They looked out at the river in front of them. They sat there for a while, just looking at the Neva that flowed below them. 

“Excuse me comrades.” A man said behind them. They turned to look at him, he was tall and had brown eyes, and brown hair, but he was wearing a Bolshevik’s jacket. 

“You two can’t sit here, go along.” The man commanded. 

“Yes Comrade.” Viktoria complied. 

As they were walking away Alek bent down and whispered to Viktoria “Глупый большевик”, but the Bolshevik in question heard. 

“Excuse me comrade, what was that?” the man inquired. 

“I said,” Alek raised his voice “Глупый большевик” 

The Bolshevik glared at him, then he came closer and punched Alek in the face, and then the fight started. Alek and the Bolshevik wrestled to the ground, punching and kicking each other. 

“Stop!” Viktoria yelled, but they didn’t hear, she tried to get them off of each other, but that just ended up getting her a kick to the shin. 

“Somebody help!” she yelled but everyone turned away, not wanting to get involved with a Bolshevik. 

Then with a sudden burst of strength, and perhaps stupidity, Viktoria pushed the Bolshevik harshly off the wounded Alek. The Bolshevik pulled out his gun and shot it off, the bullet hit Alek in the stomach.

Viktoria jumped out of her skin when the shot went off. All of her dreams coming true in front of her, someone else that she cares for, dying in front of her. She wasn’t going to let it become a reality. Viktoria hit the gun out of his hand before he could reload it, and then she half dragged Alek back to the Yusupov palace.

“Dima! Help!” Dimitri heard Viktoria yell from the entrance of the palace. 

Dimitri ran like lightning to help his sister. He had become protective of her ever since his father had hit her, he didn’t want to see her hurt like that again. As soon as he got into the entry hall, he saw Viktoria hauling an unconscious man through the hall, he was bloody all over. The man had blonde hair and he recognized him as Alek, the man Viktoria brought over a few weeks ago. 

“What happened?” he exclaimed. 

“He got into a fight with a Bolshevik.” She explained. 

“What?!” Dimitri was astounded.

“Can you please help him Dima?” Viktoria pleaded.

“Here I’ll take him to the cot we have in the library, maybe Anya can help him, she used to work in a hospital.” Dimitri snapped. “Thank you Dimitri!” she expressed.

Anya had bandaged Alek up and put some ice on his bruised ribs. The bullet had been removed by Anya, luckily it wasn’t too deep and hadn’t hit any vital organs. Viktoria sat beside him day and night to make sure he was breathing and doing alright, she was still waiting for Alek to wake up. She checked on his bandages, he winced and moved around, Viktoria gasped and helped him get elevated without hurting him too badly. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

“You got in a fight with a Bolshevik officer, and he shot you.” Viktoria explained, “I was so worried.” 

“I don’t remember being shot.” Alek said. 

“Maybe that’s for the best.” She replied. 

“I guess. I’m sorry you had to worry about me.” He apologized. 

“Well, you’re safe and awake now.” She said as she brushed his hair off of his forehead. The touch calmed Alek as he leaned into it, “You can go back to sleep if you want, you should get your rest.” 

“Sing to me.” He said, “I’ve never heard you sing before.” 

Viktoria sighed and started singing. As she sang, she played with his hair, he was so glad she was here, her sweet care was everything he had missed all this time. Once everyone else was asleep she got a thin blanket and laid down next to Alek, so she could make sure he was okay, and went to sleep.

Dimitri was sitting in the corner of the library thinking, he did that a lot these days. He was looking at Viktoria, she was sitting beside that guy, Alek, she looked worried. She hadn’t left his side in days; he had just woken up and Dimitri had watched the whole interaction. He didn’t know why his sister seemed to like this guy, he had just gotten into a fight with a Bolshevik, was he stupid?

Dimitri turned his gaze to Anya, she was amazing. As soon as she saw Alek was wounded, she started helping immediately, she got the vodka off the shelf for disinfectant and got to work. She also didn’t look too bad either.

Never mind. He would have to keep an eye on this Alek guy, and make sure he didn’t hurt his sister.

The next day Viktoria woke up to Alek coughing. 

“Alek, are you ok?” she asked, snapping her eyes open and panicking. 

“Alek?!” he was coughing up blood. “Anya help!” Viktoria screamed. 

“What is it?” she said, still laying down and half asleep. 

“It’s Alek, he’s coughing up blood! C’mon Alek wake up!” Now everyone is up. 

“Here let me help. Out of my way.” Anya said, jumping into action. 

Dimitri pulled Viktoria out of the way so Anya could work on Alek. Viktoria was crying, almost hyperventilating while Dimitri was holding her. Vlad and Anya were working on Alek, his coughing started to slow down, but it didn’t stop. Viktoria just kept crying and whispering “Wake up, please.”

“Wake up! Wake up please!” Viktoria sobbed.

7-year-old Viktoria had heard her father coughing hard from outside, he had been doing that a lot lately so she didn’t think too much of it. She went to the kitchen of the house on Malaya unitsa, and got her papa a glass of water. She opened the door and walked to the side yard where she had heard his coughing come from. 

“Papachka?” When she turned the corner of the house she saw him lying face down in the yard. She dropped the glass, it shattered at her feet, and ran to her papa, turning him over and shaking him, screaming at him to wake up. 

“Papachka please! Wake up!”. 

Her mama wasn’t home, she had gone to the Cathedral of St.Catherine to pray for her husband’s health. One of Viktoria’s neighbors, Maria Belyaev, had heard her screaming and came out to see what was going on. She saw Viktoria with bloody feet from the glass, kneeling over her father, who was lying on his side, surely dead, shaking him screaming at him to wake up. 

“Viktoria what happened?” she asked, frightened. 

“I don’t know, I heard him coughing and I decided to bring him a glass of water, but when I came out he was like this.” she stuttered out quickly. 

“Viktoria, where is your mother?” Maria asked. 

“She went to the Cathedral of St. Catherine to pray, and she said she would be back soon.” Viktoria just kept crying over her father. 

Just then Maria looked up and saw Valentina Kotov turn the corner, she took in the sight before her, her husband was laying on the ground on his side not breathing, and her daughter was laying over him sobbing her heart out. 

“No.” She said softly, she almost couldn’t believe it. She started running towards her little broken family, she fumbled with the gate and threw it open once she finally unlocked the latch. “Shura no no no!” 

Maria didn’t know what to do, she just stood there as this mother and daughter grieved their husband and father.

Almost an hour later Anya sat back on her heels and sighed. 

“He’s asleep, his pulse and breathing are normal. I’m not sure what started the coughing up blood though.” 

“Will he be ok?” Viktoria asked with tears still streaming down her face. 

“He should be, we’ll just have to keep an eye on him.” Vlad said, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

Viktoria got up from her spot with Dimitri and sat next to Alek, keeping a watchful eye on him, never wanting to look away. “I’ll stay with him.” 

“Ok Viki.” Dimitri said, and gave her head a small pet. 

“Well, we do need to begin with your lessons for today, Anya. We don’t want to waste time” Vlad said, Anya sighed, 

“Now, close your eyes and imagine another time, another world” Vlad began, “You were born in a palace by the sea…”

“You can learn to do it too!” Vlad said in unison, as the three started laughing. 

“Très bien Mademoiselle très bien!” Vlad exclaimed. 

“Merci monsieur merci” Anya replied in perfect French. 

“Vous parlez Français?” Viktoria questioned. 

“Un pue” Anya replied. 

“What was she saying?” Dimitri asked Viktoria. 

“The aristocrats all spoke French Dimitri. They thought Russian was for the common folk like you.” Viktoria said, Dimitri just rolled his eyes. 

“Well, I have to go to work.” Anya said she went to hug Viktoria goodbye. “Keep an eye on,” she leaned down to whisper to Viktoria, “Votre amour” 

“Il n'est pas mon amour!” Viktoria said while blushing. 

“Keep telling yourself that Vichka.” Anya said while walking away. 

“What’d she say?” Dimitri asked Vlad. 

“Sometimes people say things in ‘code’ so others won’t know.” Vlad said with a knowing smile, watching Viktoria watch Alek’s every breath. Dimitri sighed. 

“We’ll start again tomorrow Anya!” Vlad called after her. 

“In Russian this time!” Dimitri yelled, “For the ‘common folk’”, and everyone started laughing.

Chapter Text

1915, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

“Then he took me to the garden where we talked for a whole hour!” Tatiana says. Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia, and Viktoria were all in the crimson room listening to the oldest three tell stories of the men they had crushes on. 

“Tanya your Malama is so darling!” Viktoria said she was fantasized with her stories. 

“My Mitya is doing better and better. He can leave soon. Which is happy because he can leave, but sad because he must go.” Olga said sadly. 

“Don’t worry Olya, he’ll always come back for you!” Maria said, forever the romantic. 

“Maria, what about your Demenkov?” Anastasia asked. 

“Now Shvibzik, we’ve heard plenty about my Kolya. We should talk about who you have a crush on, hm?”  Maria replied slyly. 

“Oh yes, do tell us Nastya!” Olga said. 

“I don’t have a crush on anyone!” Anastasia said while blushing. 

“Your cheeks tell otherwise Nastya.” Tatiana said. 

“Tell us, tell us!” Maria said, Anastasia stood up and ran out of the room with Olga and Maria right on her heels. Tatiana and Viktoria laughed, but made no move to get up. 

“Vichka, do you have anyone in mind?” Tatiana asked. 

“Well…” Viktoria started blushing almost as much as Anastasia had. 

“Who is it?” Tatiana asked excitedly. 

“You can’t tell anyone else, this must stay between us.” Viktoria said, moving to sit beside her on the couch. 

“I promise.” Tatiana replied. 

“It’s Aleksander Nikolaevich.” Viktoria said, only slightly embarrassed. 

“Oh Kota, that is so sweet!.” Tatiana gushed. 

“But he’s so much older than me… what if he thinks I’m just a baby?” Viktoria worried. 

“Fourteen is not a baby, how old is Aleksander?” 

“Seventeen.” Viktoria replied slightly guilty. 

“Well that’s only three years. Once you’re older it will hardly make a difference. Aleksander Nikolaevich is a good man Vichka, I think you two would be wonderful together!” Tatiana said. 

“You really think so, Tanya?” 

“I know so, Vichka.” 

“Thank you Tatiana, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Viktoria.” 

As the two girls, from two very different places in life hugged, they heard the sound of 3 pairs of feet running back down the hallway and giggled as they heard Maria shout “It’s Anatoly Novikov! Shvibzik likes Anatoly Novikov!” 

“No I don’t!!!!”

1927, Leningrad, Russia

Anya was walking down the street when a man grabbed her and started walking away with her. 

“Where are you taking me?!” she asked him. 

“To the boss.” He said. Anya tried to get more out of him, but he wouldn’t say a word.

“She’s here sir.” A man said. 

“I have to go, our little trouble maker has been found.” said the man on the phone. He was wearing a Bolshevik jacket and had a black eye, from a fight he had gotten into in the streets because some man wouldn’t comply. He heard people stumbling in. 

“It’s a lovely city, our Leningrad. All those people down there coming and going, creating a future for themselves. I stand at this window for hours admiring them, and wondering why a few bad apples are getting up to mischief instead. I can see all the way to the old Yusupov Palace, funny business going on there. Counter revolutionary business, some may say!” he said, without looking back at the people now in his office.

“Why was I brought here?” the girl asked. 

“I thought you could tell me, comrade-! You? The frightened little street sweeper? I’d almost-,” he cut himself off. 

He looked to his men and dismissed them. 

“I’d almost stopped looking for you on the Nevsky Prospect. Anya, am I right?” he asked. 

“Yes.” Anya said. 

“I’m deputy commissioner Gleb Vagonov.” He said while holding his hand out for her to shake, she didn’t move to shake it. “It’s the uniform, and office, that gives the bad impression, I’m really not so bad… See? I have a sense of humor...” He said, and they shook hands. “You’re shivering again. A friendly cup of tea will warm us both up.” He said. 

“What’s the charge?” Anya asked. 

“There is none. Why should there be? You have a job, food on the table, your own place in the new order of things.” He said. 

“I’m very thankful.” She responded. 

“Which is why I’m warning you to leave your world of make-believe before it’s too late.” He warned. 

“I don’t understand.” She said, confused. 

“If you really were who you're pretending to be, they would kill you without hesitation.” 

“Everyone imagines being someone else, I’m no different. It’s an innocent enough fantasy.” She defended. 

“No Anya, a dangerous one. The Romanovs are gone, every last one of them, they no longer exist. My father was one of the guards.” Gleb explained. 

“I don’t want to hear this," Anya stood up from the place at his desk. 

“When he was told to fire, he obeyed orders.” Gleb explains how he lived across the street from the house they were murdered in, and there was no way anyone could have escaped. 

“Thank you for your warning comrade.” Anya said. 

“It’s Gleb.” 

“Gleb.” She corrected, and they shook hands. Gleb didn’t let go for a while, he was looking at her 

“Your eyes, a man can look right into them.” Gleb said. 

“I’m late for work.” Anya said. 

“As your new friend, be careful Anya.” She moved to walk away, he grabbed her arm to stop her, “As deputy commissioner Gleb Vagonov, be very careful.” He said, and Anya ran out.

Yusupov Palace, Leningrad, Russia

When Alek woke up, he was surprised by the pain in his abdomen, he started to sit up but there was suddenly a hand on his shoulder, he looked up and saw Viktoria. 

“Lay back down, you’re still healing.” She said, he did as she said. Alek was so thankful for Viktoria, she had barely left his side for his entire healing process. He looked at her for a moment, she wasn’t the shy little girl he had met a long time ago, she was confident, caring, and beautiful… he didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it fully before.

“How do you feel?” she asked, she looked really worried, he was mad at himself for making her so worried. 

“I feel ok, my ribs are still a little sore, and of course the bullet hole.” He laughed, he saw Viktoria wasn’t in a laughing mood, she looked mad now. 

“Why would you pick a fight with a Bolshevik?!” she asked. 

“I wasn’t trying to.” Alek said, still calm. 

“Well, calling a Bolshevik stupid is a good way to do that!” she said, exasperated. 

“Hey I’m sorry, I’ll try not to do it again. But if someone is being rude to you, I can’t make any promises.” he said, her glare slowly turned to a smile. 

“Ok.” She laughed.

Moyka River, Leningrad, Russia

Anya met up with Dimitri and was telling him about what happened with Gleb, when some men came up to them. 

“He knows where we’re living, his name is Gleb.” Anya was telling Dimitri, when they heard another voice. 

“Well look who’s here, the prince of Petersburg!” one man said. 

“We thought you were in Paris.” another said. 

“He missed his old partners in crime.” Said yet another. 

“Looks like he got himself a new girlfriend instead.” Said the last one. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Dimitri said. 

“It’s Anastasia herself! I bet he’s got you bowing for him like a regular little tsarina.” Said one man, with a scar over his right eye. 

“Are you going to Paris, mon chéri?” the first one said. “Have a drink with us Dimitri!” 

“Come on Dimitri, I don’t like these people.” Anya said, while walking away. 

“Too good for us sweetheart?” the scarred man said while grabbing Anya’s arms. 

“If you don’t want her Dimitri, I’ll take her! You wanna dance sweetheart?” a man said, taking her from the other. 

“Leave her alone!” Dimitri yelled. 

Anya poked the eyes of the man holding her, he screamed and so the fight ensued. Eventually Anya chased all the men away with a burning hot stick from a burn bucket people had been making food in. 

“Next time I won’t go so easy!” she yelled after their retreating forms. 

“Where'd you learn that?” Dimitri asked “You’re good.” 

“Wanna see what else I can do?” she said while chasing after a man who hadn’t left, Dimitri caught her before she got too far. “Come at me I won’t hurt you.” She said to Dimitri. 

“I believe you.” He said with a smile. 

“I didn’t walk halfway across Russia without learning how to take care of myself. You had it easy.” She said, 

“Not so easy.” He responded, “My uncle, Feodor, who took care of me before my dad, was an anarchist. He died in a labor camp for his convictions. My mother, Viktoria’s mom as well, was gone. I don’t really like her, at least not when she’s around my dad.” 

“Who raised you then?” Anya asked. 

“My dad, not the nicest guy. He used to hit me if I disobeyed or did anything wrong. When he rejoined Valentina, Viktoria and my mom, he moved from hitting me to hitting Viki. I tried to help her get out of it as much as I could, but couldn’t do much. That’s why I took her here, to escape him, and the memory of the Romanovs.” 

“Wow.” Anya said. 

“Here let me show you something.” Dimitri told her, they walked to a bridge over a river. The sunset was beautiful that night. “My uncle used to bring me here. He’d put me on his shoulders so I could get a better view, ‘Bet you could see all the way to Finland from up there Dima!’” he reminisced. 

“Dima?” Anya implored. 

“That’s what he called me. There isn’t a day I don’t miss him.” Dimitri said with a far off look in his eyes. 

“So, neither of us has a family.” Anya said. 

“You don’t know that yet. The answer is in Paris.” Dimitri responded. 

“Now, tell me about your little dog.” He said. 

“His name was Jimmy,” Anya said, then she had a look in her eyes, like she was remembering something, “I loved him so much.” She said sadly. 

“Don’t stop.” Dimitri said, Anya blinked and looked at him. 

“I’m not as strong as you think I am.” She said, they stood in silence for a while. 

“Close your eyes.” Dimitri said. 

“Why?” Anya asked defensively. 

“Just do it. Put your hand out.” Dimitri put his hand in his bag and took something out, he placed it in Anya’s hand. “Now open.” He said. Anya looked at it. 

“You’ve worked hard, you earned it.” Dimitri said. 

“What is it?” Anya asked him. 

“A music box.”

“It’s beautiful!” 

“It’s broken… I can’t even open it.” He said, Anya looked at it for a second, turned the knob on the bottom, flipped a switch and it opened and started playing. 

“How’d you do that?” Dimitri asked, Anya didn’t answer. “Anya? Anya?” Dimitri said her name but she didn’t respond, she just looked at the music box, it looked like she was remembering something from long ago. Anya was stuck in a dream-like memory, of a ball, a royal ball.

Yusupov Palace, Leningrad, Russia

“So, you know what happened to me after I moved away,” Viktoria said, “but I don’t know what happened to you?” 

“Well, circumstances weren’t that bad for me in the beginning. I stayed with my father and mother. We had more money than most people had at the time, so we were doing good.” Alek started, “But a few months after the murder of the Romanovs, both my parents got sick and died, and left me, a 20-year-old, on my own in Tsarskoye Selo, with only a little bit of money left, I was fine up until 1925, when I was forced to move here to Petersburg, and then I found you.” 

“Oh Alek, that's terri-.” She was cut off by the sound of something crashing into the front door repeatedly. “I’ll go check it out.” 

Viktoria walked to the entry door and peaked in. What she saw scared her half to death. Five Bolsheviks busting open the door. She ran to Alek and got him up. “Bolsheviks, we have to leave right now, hurry grab whatever you can!” she whispered loud and quickly. 

She and Alek grabbed everyone's bags and left. Luckily none of them had unpacked, because they didn’t have much stuff to put out anyways. While they were running, they ran into Vlad. 

“Hey! What are you two doing, and why do you have our bags?” he asked. 

“They’re raiding the Yusupov palace!” Viktoria yelled. 

“What?!” Vlad yelled back. 

“We have to find Anya and Dimitri and get out of Petersburg!” Viktoria worried. 

“It’s ok, we’ll find them, but where will we go?” Alek asked. 

“I don’t know, somewhere away from the Bolsheviks!” Viktoria said. 

“So out of Russia?” Alek asked. 

“I guess so.” Vlad said. 

“Let’s go find Anya and Dimitri.” Viktoria said. 

“Let’s go.”

Moyka River, Leningrad, Russia

What seemed like an hour later the music box played its final notes, as Anya shut the music box. 

“How soon do you think we can go? They’re canceling trains left and right. Here!” she handed him a small bag of money, “I worked an extra shift this week. It’s not much, but every little bit helps.” She said, 

“We’re not even close, Anya.” Dimitri said. 

“What are you saying?” she asked. 

“I thought I could get us out of Russia before they closed the borders for good.” He explained. 

“You were the only hope I had.” Anya said, her voice rising. 

“There must be someone who can help you. I’m sorry.” He said, handing her back her money. 

“I don’t want your money.” She said, shoving it away. 

“It’s your money.” 

“It’s our money! I trusted you!” 

“I said I’m sorry.” Dimitri walked away. 

“I didn’t trust you enough.” She said, then she had a thought. “Now, you close your eyes.” She said. 

Dimitri huffed, “What for?” 

“You’re the stubbornest person I’ve ever met. Almost as stubborn as me.” She said. 

Dimitri closed his eyes and held out his hand. Anya reached in her pocket, took something out, and placed it in his hand. 

“Alright, open.” She said and he did as he was told. 

He looked at it, and gasped, “It’s a diamond!” 

“The nurse in the hospital found it sewn in my underclothes. She hid it from me until I was ready to leave the hospital, she kept it a secret, although I don’t know why. She said don’t tell a soul until you absolutely have to, I had to make sure I found someone I trust.” She explained. 

“You had this all this time… without telling me?!” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?!” 

“It’s the only thing I have, without it I have nothing!” she yelled. 

“How do you know I won’t take it now and you’ll never see me again?” 

“I don’t think you will.” 

“If you weren’t a girl, I’d-.” he cut himself off, then he hugged her. 

Just then Vlad, Viktoria, and Alek came rushing toward them. 

“Disaster!” Alek yelled. 

“The Yusupov palace has been raided!” Viktoria said “We’re done for if we go back there!” 

Dimitri held up the diamond. 

“Mother of Moses!” Vlad yelled. 

“She had it all along!” Dimitri said. 

“I didn’t trust any of you with it!” Anya exclaimed

“I don’t blame you.” Alek said.

“But all is forgiven, I love you Anya!” Vlad said. 

“Vlad! I’m trusting you can get the exit papers; Viktoria go with him.” Dimitri said. 

“Done!” Vlad said, Vlad and Viktoria started to run off. 

“Hurry! There’s a train at midnight from the Finland station.” Anya said. 

“I’ll fence the diamond.” Dimitri said. 

“I’ll come with you.” Alek said, Dimitri didn’t look too happy about that, but nothing could spoil his excitement. 

“Where are you going?” he asked Anya. 

“They owe me a week’s wages. Every ruble counts.” Anya said. 

Anya, Vlad and Viktoria ran off. 

“We’re going to Paris on a train!” Alek said. 

“I’m going to sleep in a hotel and take a bath in a real bathtub!” Dimitri said. And then Dimitri and Alek went to fence the diamond.

Chapter Text

Finland Station, Leningrad, Russia

“It’s a special train. Aristocrats and Intellectuals, everyone the Bolsheviks want to be rid of.” Vlad said. 

“We’ll be traveling as members of the Diaghilev Ballet Russe. They’ve taken Paris by storm!” Viktoria smiled, she always wanted to be a ballet dancer, even just pretending to be one right now felt great. 

Just then a man came by and knelt in front of Anya, “God bless you.” He said, then he look around him and became slightly embarrassed. He stood up and left. 

“I recognize that man.” Viktoria said. 

“He’s Count Ipolitov.” Alek said. 

“He’s not just an aristocrat, but an intellectual as well. He’s a dead man on both counts.” Vlad said. The train whistle blew, indicating the fact that they were about to leave. “We should go.”

1906

“Bet you can see all the way to Finland from up there Dima!” Dimitri’s uncle, Feodor, yelled. 

Dimitri was on his shoulders looking over the Neva river, the sky was a beautiful purple-pink color, Feodor took Dimitri off of his shoulders, sat him back on the ground, and looked at him. 

“Dima, you are going to do amazing things. No matter where you go, always remember nights like this, sitting on my shoulders in Petersburg by the Neva. There’s nothing like this Dima.” 

“I will, I promise Uncle Fedya.” Dimitri said, “I want to stay with you here, forever.” 

Feodor smiled and they looked off into the Neva again, maybe they could stay here together forever.

1908

“Sasha, eat your carrots or you won’t grow big and strong like your papa.” Natalya Spassky told her son Aleksander. 

“Yes mama.” he replied and ate his cut up carrots his mama had given him, 

“Done!” he said. 

“Wonderful my Sasha! You may go play with your friend now, only for an hour, but give me a kiss first!” Alek ran to his mother and kissed her cheek before running out to play with his friend. 

“He’s getting too big, Nikolasha.” Natalya told her husband Nicholas. 

“He’s getting just big enough, Natochka, big enough for guard training.” Nicholas responded smirking, Natalya rolled her eyes and kissed her husband. 

An hour later Aleksander came back inside and saw his mother and father lying on the couch with the book Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, Aleksander’s grandfather, sitting on his fathers chest like he had been reading it to his mother. Anna Karenina was his mother’s favorite book by her father. Alek sat down between his mother and father and curled up between them, his father sleepily put his arm around him and his mother cuddled in and kissed his head. 

“I love you my Sasha, always.” she said, Alek just smiled and leaned into her touch even more. He knew their love would be like this, no matter where they were, forever.

1907

“Kiska, you know I love you with all of my heart right?” Alexander and Viktoria Kotov were laying in the grass in the side yard of their house on Malaya unitsa. 

“Of course Papachka! I love you with all of my heart as well!” she replied looking at him in the warm August afternoon, he looked at her intently. 

“And I’ll always love you, even if I’m not here. Even if you can’t see me, I’ll always protect you Viktoria, I promise.” he said, getting misty eyed. 

“Ok papa, thank you. I’ll always love you too, and I’ll try to protect you as well.” she said. 

Alexander was sure his daughter didn’t understand the severity of what he meant, how could she at only 6 years old? He hoped she would remember it forever. 

“What are you two doing out here?” Alexander’s beautiful wife Valentina came out and tickled their daughter’s sides making both of them giggle. 

Valentina layed on the opposite side of Alexander from Viktoria, both of his girls snuggled up in his arms, how he wished this could last forever.

1911

“Nastya come here!” Olga yelled after her youngest sister with a hint of laughter in her voice. 

“Never Olishka!” she yelled back to her. Olga was chasing Anastasia around Alexander Park. 

“I got you!” Olga said after she had tagged her youngest sister. 

“No fair you’re so much taller than me Olga!” Anastasia cried. 

“Girls, it’s time for dinner!” Anna Demidova called out to the girls. Maria and Tatiana, who were sitting close to the doors, stood up and walked in. 

“Race you!” Anastasia said as she had already started running. 

Olga beat her to the door, and Anastasia continued her pouting. They sat at the table, Anastasia between Maria and Alexei, and Olga between Tatiana and Alexei. 

“How were your studies?” Nicholas asked his children. 

“Good” from Olga 

“Interesting” from Tatiana 

“Alright” from Maria 

“Boring” from Anastasia 

“Confusing” from Alexei 

The Tsar laughed at his children’s wide range of responses. “Nastya, I thought nothing was boring for you?” Nicholas recalled what his daughter said to him a few months ago. 

“Nothing except for school…” she responded. 

The table laughed and continued their night together, just like every other night, just like they wanted to be forever.

1927, somewhere near the Finnish border, Russia

After saying a sad goodbye to their homeland, the group were on the train. A man with a cigar sat next to Anya. 

“How dare you smoke in front of me.” She asked, incredulously. 

“Who do you think you are?” the man said. 

“I am the Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanov!” she said. 

Vlad, Dimitri, Viktoria, and Alek were all trying to get her to stop, everyone in the compartment was looking at her. 

“I’m in a compartment with a crazy woman!” the man said as he walked away to a different seat, and everyone laughed.  

“Warn us next time before you do that!” Dimitri said, he was mad. 

“I wanted to see what it was like saying I’m her.” Anya said indignantly. 

“It’s a long trip, you'll have plenty of time,” Dimitri replied. 

“In Paris, your first challenge will be the Dowager Empress’s lady-in-waiting; Lily, the countess Malevsky-Malevitch.” Vlad said. 

“No one has access to her majesty without her.” Alek said. 

“She sounds like a dragon.” Dimitri said. 

“Oh, quite the opposite. Lily was beautiful, voluptuous, married; everything I look for in a woman.” Vlad reminiced. “She gave me a watch studded with diamonds.” 

“Did you love her?” Viktoria inquired. 

“Madly darling.” He said, Viktoria and Anya looked at each other and then back at Vlad, Vlad looked at Dimitri and Alek, “but I loved the watch more.” he said. The boys laughed, while Anya and Viktoria rolled their eyes, the girls got up and walked separate ways. 

“What happened to it?” Dimitri asked. 

“Gone with the old Russia, like everything else.” Vlad said, Dimitri walked away in the direction Viktoria went. 

“I hope Lily’s happy to see me.” Vlad said, Alek walked away, the same direction as Anya. “Be honest, Vlad Popov! How could she not be?” Vlad said, and he was left alone with his memories.

Alek stopped in the middle of the train and looked out the window. He sighed, ‘I’m still not quite sure what I’ve gotten myself into. Once we get to Paris, maybe I’ll tell Viktoria how I feel… or maybe I’ll start a new life in Paris.’ he mused to himself.

Anya was worrying, ‘My hands are shaking, and my heart is thundering, why did I said ‘yes’? I’ll find my nana, show her I’m the real Anastasia, and we’ll go from there.’

Viktoria was also worrying, ‘This chance is all we’ve got, get a grip and take a deep breath. Soon we’ll know what’s next.’

Dimitri was trying to reassure himself, ‘We’ll show the empress Anastasia is real and the money will flow, and we’ll go from there.’

Later they were all back in their seats together, and laughing and talking when the train came to a halt. Three officers came on and came up to the group. 

“Papers.” They said. 

“Good evening officers, is there a problem?” Vlad asked. 

“We’re looking for someone who’s illegally leaving the country.” One officer said. 

“Didn’t have the right papers, eh?” Viktoria asked. 

“He had the right papers. He had the wrong name. Count Ipolitov.” The officer said. 

Just then a gunshot went off. Anya and Viktoria screamed, Viktoria hid her face in Alek’s shoulder, while Anya hugged Dimitri. 

“I’ll go see what happened.” Vlad said. 

“We know what happened.” Said Alek. Vlad stood up to go. Anya sobbed. 

“Calm her down! Any tears will betray us.” Vlad said, and stocked off. 

“We’ll be safe soon.” Dimitri said to Anya. 

She looked up, “That’s what the soldiers said when they pointed their guns at us.” Anya said, Viktoria whipped her head up to look at Anya, nearly missing Aleks head. 

“What soldiers?” Alek asked. 

“They said they were taking us somewhere safe. Jimmy’s little heart was beating against mine, ‘They’re decent men,’ I told him, ‘they won’t hurt us.” She said, staring off at nothing. 

“No one’s pointing guns at you! You’re taking this too far Anya!” Dimitri said. 

“What if I really am her?” Anya yelled Dimitri quieted her before others would look at them. 

“We’re almost out of Russia. Once we cross the border, we’re safe.” Dimitri soothed. 

“You put these ideas in my head, and I’m beginning to think they might be true.” Anya said. The train started moving again and Vlad came running in. 

“I’m having a heart attack! Four Chekist officers just came aboard with orders to arrest three men and two young women.” Vlad said. 

“That could be anyone!” Viktoria deflected. 

“I don’t think so!” Vlad held up a wanted poster with a picture of the five of them on it. 

“What are we going to do?” Dimitri asked, the boys and Viktoria started thinking of ways to get away. 

“We’re getting off!” Anya said. 

“But the train is still moving!” Viktoria said. 

“Come on! Unless you want to end up like the Count Ipolitov!” Anya yelled, hanging on the outside of the train. 

The five of them went out of the train hanging onto the side. They all looked at each other, and chorused “Jump!”, and so they let go and jumped.

Although there was a thick layer of snow on the ground, their landing was far from soft. They rolled and struggled to regain the air in their lungs, brushing off bruises and cuts that would be tended to later. The group scrambled to grab their bags and ran for their lives, literally.

Leningrad, Russia

“The train crossed the Russian border, and they weren’t on it?!” Gleb’s boss yelled through the phone. 

“It’s a temporary setback. We’ll find them all, no fear. They think they can elude us, but they’re mistaken. A ragged little upstart engaging in a scheme, the princess Anastasia is running out of time.” Gleb reassured him.

Somewhere in Lithuania

“Dimitri, wait!” Vlad yelled from his place sprawled on the ground, “Anya can’t go any longer! She’s exhausted!” 

“The Polish border is just ten more kilometers down there!” Dimitri yelled “We’ll be safe there!”.

Leningrad, Russia

“Follow her to Paris. If she’s not Anastasia, bring her back. We’ll make an example out of her.” The boss said. 

“And if she is Anastasia?” Gleb asked. 

“Leave her floating in the Seine, finish the job for your father like a good son. It’s really very simple; you merely point the gun.” His boss said, 

“And then you pull the trigger and the job is done.” Gleb said. 

“Enjoy your new position, Gleb. Princess Anastasia, alive or dead, it’s up to you.” His boss said, and hung up. 

“‘Everyone imagines being someone else, it’s an innocent enough fantasy.’” Gleb said out loud, he was having an inner battle with his conscience. 

His mind was saying ‘She’s an underhanded girl, an act of desperation and to my disbelief, I let her go. She wants all she can get. Is that a fair depiction, does she believe this story? It’s hard to know.’ But his heart was saying ‘She’s nothing but a child, a waif who needs to be protected. I feel a strange connection, I can’t allow. She says it’s all a game, she trembles so easily.’ His mind ‘but in her there’s a power, I see that now.’ His heart ‘I am nothing but a man, with nothing but his orders to fulfill. “I’m innocent” she says.’ His mind, ‘But then you see her eyes, and something in them tells you that she absolutely lies.’ His heart replies ‘But still.’ . 

He took the gun and the ticket to Paris from the drawer in his desk, put them in his jacket pocket, and left for Paris.

Somewhere in France

“La belle France!” Vlad said, and plopped himself on the grass. 

“It looks like Russia!” Dimitri said, unsatisfied. 

“France looks nothing like Russia” Alek said. 

“Except Russia is more beautiful.” Anya said. 

“Russia is not the world! Open your hearts and minds to this! Learn something!” Vlad yelled. “The last time I was in Paris, I was a young man.” 

“Why have we stopped?” Viktoria asked. 

“I’m going to ask the driver what’s wrong.” Anya said. She ran off, with Dimitri’s eyes on her. 

“Look at her, rattling off in French with him. I’m starting to believe we can pull this off!” Dimitri said. 

“She’ll break your heart Dimitri.” Vlad said. 

“Be quiet. What do you know about anything?” Dimitri said getting defensive. 

“If they accept her as Anastasia, you’ll never see her again!” Viktoria said. 

“As usual, you don’t know what you’re talking about!” Dimitri said. Just then Anya came running back. 

“This is as far as he goes, but we’re almost there! He says from the top of that hill you can just see Paris!” she said. 

“Are you ready to be astonished?” Vlad asked, then he, Viktoria, and Alek ran off to see Paris. 

“We made it!” Dimitri yelled. 

“Even when I was mad at you, I never doubted we would! Thank you, Dimitri.” Anya said. 

“…thank Vlad.” Dimitri said. 

“I can see the Eiffel Tower from here!” they heard Vlad yell. 

“It’s true! It’s really there!” Viktoria yelled too; Dimitri ran off with them. 

“Anya come see!” he yelled 

“Anya!” Vlad yelled.  

Meanwhile, Anya was second guessing herself. She was scared, but excited at the same time. Scared for what lay ahead, what if Lily and the Dowager Empress didn’t believe it was really her? What if it all backfires and she really doesn’t have a family? But also excited, what if they do except her? What will it be like to have a real family? She was ready now; she ran off to join the others.

Chapter Text

1927 Paris, France

“Voila, mes amis! Here’s Paris!” Vlad said “Now that we’re here, follow me.” Vlad gave them a tour of downtown Paris pointing out places and telling funny, sometimes scandalous, stories. 

“Wow, Paris is so beautiful!” Viktoria said. 

“Almost makes you forget what we left behind,” Alek murmured. 

“I don’t know about anyone else, but it’s been a long day. I’ll be at the hotel.” Dimitri said and ran off. 

“Don’t use up all the hot water!” Vlad yelled after him 

“I’ve never seen him this happy before!” Viktoria said. 

“I’m going to go find Lily.” Vlad said, Anya stopped him and straightened his tie, “I’ll start at the Neva club.” He said and walked off. 

“I’m going to the Eiffel tower.” Viktoria said, heading off. “I think I’ll try out the Russian tea shop down the street.” Alek added, following where Vlad went. 

Anya opened her Paris guide book and started reading out loud. “Considered the most beautiful bridge in Paris, the Alexander bridge, as it is affectionately called by Parisians, was named for… Tsar Alexander III” Anya was mystified and continued looking at the bridge and remembering parts of her past.

Dimitri had just finished his bath, and he fell in love with it. He hoped he never had to go back to Petersburg and he could stay in this hotel for the rest of his life just so he could have a warm bath every night. He decided that even though he had just had a bath he wanted to go walk around Paris, and maybe go to the Eiffel tower or something. And so, he went on his walk.

Viktoria was looking up at the Eiffel tower from her place on her bench. A man came up and sat beside her, rather closely. 

“Hello there.” The man said. 

“Hello.” Viktoria said, scooting away slightly, the man just scooted closer. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. It seemed innocent enough, so she answered. 

“Viktoria. And you?” she asked, she didn’t really care, but she thought it would be nice to ask. 

“Gabriel.” He answered. They sat there for a while without saying anything, “Want to go to the tower bar, Viktoria? I’ll buy you a drink.” He asked. 

“No thank you. I should be going; my friends will be waiting for me.” She said, 

“Aw come on Viktoria, they’ll be fine to wait for a drink or two.” Gabriel said scooting even closer, if that's even possible. 

“No, I-I really think I should go.” Viktoria said and she stood up. Gabriel grabbed her arm and started pulling her down the street with Viktoria trying to get out of his hold.

Lily walked into the room, “I’m sorry Count Leopold!”. 

“She can’t always be resting! The Dowager Empress knows I have important papers for her to sign!” the Count in question said. 

“Papers designating you the heir of the Romanov fortune? Ha! She will never sign them.” she laughed. 

“She is an old woman who has outlived her place in history. Anastasia is a pathetic figment of her imagination! Eventually I will be recognized as the sole beneficiary of the Tsar’s estate, by an international court of law!” Count Leopold said. 

“I will tell her majesty you called.” Lily said. 

“You will be at the Neva club tonight, Lily?” he asked. 

“Along with every other white Russian in Paris.” Lily answered. 

“I will want the first Charleston.” Count Leopold said. 

“I’ve given up dancing for Lent.” Lily said. 

“Lent just ended?” the Count said. 

“Next Lent, I’m getting an early start.” Lily said, and Count Leopold left. 

“Is he gone?” the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna asked. 

“Your royal majesty.” Lily said. 

“He’s like a dog with a bone, that one.” Maria said. 

“Only four letters today.” Lily said. 

“If only I could lose hope entirely. I used to open each one with a beating heart; could this be my darling Anastasia?” Maria said with a sad look in her eyes, “but after so many disappointments I’ve come to dread the daily post. Another day, another imposter.” 

“I won’t let you give up.” Lily said. 

“Dearest Lily, I know I am a proud and difficult woman. You are the only one I’ve allowed to see what’s become of me.” Maria said, “I was Maria Feodorovna Romanova, Empress of all Russia! You can’t imagine what that means, Lily. No one can.” Maria sat down on the couch. 

“‘Your majesty, remember our happy summers by the sea of Livadia?’”  Lily read from a letter. 

“Livadia? They all do their research don’t they?” Maria remarked. 

Lily looked at another letter, “‘strange and unusual events have led me to Buenos Aires. Bring me to Paris, and I will show you I am Anastasia.’” 

“She wants me to pay her fair?! At least that little imposter from Cleveland paid her own way. What is Cleveland? I’ve never heard of such a place.” Maria re-counted. 

“‘Dearest Grandmama, if I may call you that-.’” 

Lily was cut off by Maria “I was never Grandmama, I was only Nana!” Maria exclaimed, “Grandmama, they play me for a fool! Give me those.” Maria snatched the letters from Lily, “No more letters, no more interviews.” She said, 

“There will be more women, what should I tell them?” Lily asked. 

“Tell them they’re too late, the Grand Duchess Anastasia is dead, and the Dowager Empress with her. Leave me.” Maria said. 

“I’ll light the lamps. Will you be alright this evening?” Lily asked. 

“My precious Anastasia.” Maria mumbled. 

“She doesn’t hear me.” Lily said as she left. Maria was stuck in a memory.

Dimitri was walking by the Eiffel tower when he saw a man dragging a woman away, the woman had hair as dark as night and a yellow simple dress on, she reminded him of Viktoria. Wait a second, that was Viktoria! Dimitri ran off to help his sister. 

“Hey! Let her go!” Dimitri yelled to the man. The man turned around and looked at Dimitri. 

“Why should I? She’s mine.” The man said, Dimitri was getting mad, Viktoria had a look on her face, a mix of terror and relief. 

“She’s a beauty isn’t she. Too bad I got to her first.” The man continued on. 

“Actually, she’s mine, she—” Dimitri started, but the man cut him off. “Oh really?” the man said walking up to him, he looked like he was about to punch Dimitri. 

“She’s my sister, and she’s coming with me.” Dimitri said, punctuating every word. 

Dimitri grabbed Viktoria’s arm and stalked off. Once they were far enough away Dimitri stopped and looked at Viktoria. 

“Are you ok?” he asked, Viktoria’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t say a word, just stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding on as though afraid to let go. Dimitri held her while she cried, “Did he hurt you?” Dimitri asked, Viktoria shook her head, but didn’t move from the hug. “Let’s go to the hotel and get you in bed.” Dimitri said, and they walked off towards the hotel. 

Vlad walked in the Neva club and automatically saw Lily, he went to her side, and she jumped when she saw him. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked “I thought you were put in front of a firing squad.” 

“I was! But when they gave the order to shoot, no one could pull the trigger!” Vlad said, this was a lie, Dimitri had saved him. 

“I couldn’t imagine why.” Lily said. And so, they went to catch up.

Gleb was outside the Neva club and the man that was showing people in stopped him. 

“Welcome to Paris, Comrade.” The man said. 

“I beg your pardon?” Gleb asked. 

“Only just off the train Russians wear that kind of shoe, I had the same ones.” The man answered “Try the Russian tea shop on the Rue du bac, number 17. Last I heard they were hiring.” 

Gleb sighed, “I’m not looking for a job, Comrade.” He said. Gleb stood back while the man introduced another person to the club. 

“Don’t loiter, they won’t like it. Go to the back door, Castro will give you something to eat.” The man said. 

“I’m not hungry.” Gleb said defensively. 

“Don’t be so proud, Comrade.” The man said. 

“I’d rather starve than eat their scrapes.” Gleb said, and then walked away.

Alek was sitting in the Russian tea shop that was just down the road from the hotel. He was enjoying his tea when a man walked in, Alek almost didn’t notice him without his Bolshevik jacket, but he did. It was the Bolshevik he had gotten into a fight with, the Bolshevik that had shot him. The Bolshevik hadn’t noticed him yet, if he just got out of the shop and got to the hotel, he would be ok. He got out and started walking in the direction of the hotel, when he heard something behind him, he turned around and saw the Bolshevik. 

“Hello comrade.” Alek said. 

“Hello. So, I believe we’ve met, but we’ve never had a formal introduction. I’m Deputy Commissioner Gleb Vaganov, and you are?” 

“Aleksander Spassky.” Alek said. 

“Nice to meet you Aleksander.”

“And you Comrade.”

“Have a nice night.” And with that Gleb was gone. 

Alek walked back to the hotel, and was confused by the interaction, why was that guy in Paris? He decided not to think about it too much. 

When he walked into the hotel, he saw Dimitri and Vlad sitting down, Dimitri looked stressed and worried. 

“What’s going on?” Alek asked. 

“That’s what I’m wondering.” Vlad said. 

“Come on, I’ll tell you.”. Alek sat down. “So, after my bath I went to the Eiffel tower, just to walk around. And then I saw a man dragging a girl away, I thought the girl looked familiar and I took a closer look and it was Viktoria.” Dimitri said, Alek and Vlad gasped. 

“Is she ok?! Where is she?!” Alek stood up. 

“She’s ok, she’s in her bed asleep right now. I went up and helped her get away, but she couldn’t say anything and she just hugged me and cried and wouldn’t let go.” Dimitri said. 

“Poor girl.” Vlad said. 

“We’ll have to keep an eye on her. And Anya for that matter.” Alek said. 

“Agreed.” Dimitri said. 

“Boys, we should be going to bed now; we have a big day tomorrow.” Vlad said. 

So, the three boys returned to their rooms for a peaceful night’s sleep. However, Anya and Viktoria’s nights weren’t going by quite as peacefully.

Anya had a recurring dream that she had nearly every night. She opened her eyes and saw people in her room, a family it seemed, a man, a woman, four girls, and a little boy, all dressed very fancy, and four other men, maybe guards. The family all gathered around her bed, the man, maybe the father, at her head, the woman, the mother, at the foot of the bed, the four girls and the boy on either side of her. 

“Who are you? Every night you come!” Anya asked. 

“And we will, until you remember us!” the father said, the father and mother switched places, the mother was at her head now. 

“Have you said your prayers? God is everything. Sleep well with this mother’s kiss.” She said and kissed her forehead. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” the little boy asked. 

“I’m going to die soon; we all are. Do you have any secrets?” 

“I don’t know who I am.” Anya replied. 

“That’s silly, everyone knows who they are!” the boy said. 

Then the room morphed into a small room, maybe a basement. Anya knew this room all too well, she saw it every night in her dreams. The family all rushed together and clung to each other, they all looked so scared, they all started yelling her name and screaming, next she heard gunshots.

Anya shot out of bed and screamed, “Papa! No!”, she ran to the corner of the room, and Dimitri came running in. 

“Anya?!” 

“The voices keep coming back.” She said terrified. 

“That’s all they are, voices.” Dimitri said going towards her and grabbing her arms so she wouldn’t harm herself. “You’re having a nightmare.” He coaxed. 

“Stay with me Dimitri, I’m frightened.” She said going to the bed, Dimitri still holding her arms, they sat together there. 

“Is that better?” he asked. 

“Who do you think I am Dimitri?” she asked him. 

“If I were the Dowager Empress, I would want you to be Anastasia.” He answered. 

“You would?” 

“I would want you to be a beautiful, strong, intelligent, young woman.” 

“Is that what you think I am?” 

“I do.” He said awkwardly 

“Thank you.” She said even more awkwardly, if that’s possible. He moved farther away from her. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I began to wonder if you were ever going to pay me a compliment.” Anya said stoically. Dimitri huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes slightly. 

“Do you really think I might be her?” Anya asked again. 

“I’d like to believe you’re the girl I saw once many years ago.” He said rather sadly. 

“I don’t understand.” Anya said. 

“It was June, I was ten. I still think of that day once and awhile. There was a parade and a crowd of thousands. She sat as straight as a queen, she was only eight but so proud. Everyone cheered, and I just stared. Then I started to run and to call out her name, as the crowd on the road grew. I reached out with my hand and looked up, and then she smiled! The parade kept going, but with the sun in my eyes she was gone. I was still there, in that crowd of thousands, I’d find her again.” He recounted. 

“You’re making me feel as if I was there too.” Anya said. 

“Maybe you were. Make it a part of your story.” He said, Anya started, 

“A parade, going past, it was hot, not a cloud in the sky. A parade and a crowd of thousands. There was a boy, he was thin and not the cleanest, there were guards but he dodged in between. He made himself seen, in that crowd of thousands. Then he called out my name and he started to run through the sun, and the heat, and the people; and I tried not to smile, but I smiled. And then… he bowed.” She said and gasped, Dimitri stood up. 

“I… didn’t tell you that!” he exclaimed. 

“You didn’t have to, I remember!” They rushed to each other and held each other. “The parade left, with the sun in my eyes you were gone!” he said. 

“But I knew even in a crowd of thousands, I’d find you again.” She finished. 

Dimitri leaned in to kiss her, then remembered Viktoria’s words, “If they recognize her as the Grand Duchess, you’ll never see her again!”, and now he knew she was for sure Anastasia. So, he jumped back. 

“Your majesty.” And for the second time in his life, eighteen years later, he bowed to her again.

Viktoria also had bad dreams, just about different things every night. Some nights it was the Romanovs in that basement, screaming her name with gunshots accompanying them. Some nights it was Dimitri getting caught by Bolsheviks for all of his cons and being shot along with Vlad in front of her. Some nights it was Alek fending off the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoye Selo, and he got shot in the chest. A common theme of loved ones, death, and guns. She was currently having a nightmare with a mix of all three of those. The Bolsheviks lined up the Romanov family and shot them all, then they put Vlad, Dimitri, and Alek up together and shot them, and finally put her up there and shot her, that’s when she would shoot out of bed like a bullet from a gun, and scream.

Dimitri was walking out of Anya’s room, when he heard Viktoria scream. He ran off towards her room now. 

“Viktoria?” she was standing in the corner of the room, just like Anya had, and she was crying. “Did you have another nightmare?” he asked, she nodded her head. 

“Come here.” He said and she ran to him and hugged him, he sat on the bed with Viktoria beside him. “Which one was it about this time?” he asked, every night after her nightmares she would tell him about them, so he knew about the three main nightmares she had. 

“It was all of them Dima. All three mixed up into one.” She said through tears. He was about to ask another question when Alek came rushing in. 

“What’s wrong? I heard Viktoria scream from my room! Are you alright?” he asked. 

“She’s fine, she just had a bad dream.” Dimitri said, with that older brother's protective face again. 

“Dima, it's fine, calm down. You can come in Shura.” Viktoria said. 

“New nickname?” Alek asked. 

“Oh, if you don’t like it, I won’t call you-.” 

She was cut off by Alek saying “No I like it, but only when you call me it.” He sat down on the opposite side of Viktoria, “and only as long as I can still call you Vika.” He smiled, she laughed. 

Dimitri didn’t know why, but he didn’t like Alek with his sister very much at all. 

“So, like I was saying, what happened in your nightmare?” Dimitri asked. 

“Well, what happened was, I was walking down the street of Petersburg and a Bolshevik grabbed me and threw me in the back of a truck, they took me out in the middle of the woods. You were there, and Vlad, and you Alek, and the Romanov family. The Family was put in front of a little wood wall they had put up, and they shot them all and made me watch the whole time, then they took both of you and Vlad up and shot you all.” she said and shivered. 

Alek started rubbing her arm in comfort. “I’m sorry Vika, that sounds terrible.” 

“It’s weird that they’re all combined now, I’m sorry Viki.” Dimitri said 

“Do you want me to sleep in here?” he asked. 

“No, I’m ok, really.” Viktoria said. 

“You and Anya both had a nightmare tonight, I just came from her room.” 

“That is terrible.” Alek said. 

“I’m tired and we have a big day tomorrow. I should be going back to sleep.” Viktoria said. 

“Ok Viki, you can come to my room if you need anything.” Dimitri said. 

“Ok thank you Dima… love you.” Viktoria said. “...Actually, will you two stay here until I fall asleep? I-I’m scared that if you leave… you might not come back.” Her voice breaking on the last words.

Alek’s hand froze where it rested on the bedspread; his eyes softened. “Of course Vika. I would never leave you.”

Dimitri swallowed hard – that same old guilt clawing its way back up his throat. “Yeah sure Viki. Neither would I.” 

The boys sat down on either side of her bed, the quiet hum of Paris outside the window. Alek glanced at Viktoria, her breathing still shaky but steadying now. Then he felt Dimitri’s eyes on him: sharp, protective, burning. He turned toward him.

“What?” Alek asked softly, trying not to wake her. 

“Stay away from her.” Dimitri’s voice was low, but there was steel in it. 

Alek frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Viktoria.” Dimitri leaned forward, keeping his voice just above a whisper.

Alek blinked, confused. “I’ve done nothing but protect her, same as you. Why would you even-”

“Because everyone I’ve ever trusted ends up dead or gone!” Dimitri snapped before he could stop himself. His voice cracked, and he immediately glanced at Viktoria to be sure she was still asleep. She stirred slightly, then settled again.

“I lost my parents, brother, and my friends-” his voice softened, “and I won’t lose her too. Not to something I don’t understand.”

“Dimitri…” Alek’s tone was quiet, almost pleading. “I would never hurt her. You know me. I’ve bled for her family, for yours.”

“Then don’t make me prove you wrong.” Dimitri said, his expression hardening again.

A moment of silence hung heavy in the air. Alek looked at Viktoria, then back at him.

“You’re not protecting her,” he said quietly. “You’re building a cage.”

“At least she’s safe in it.”

“Safe isn’t living, Dimitri.” Alek’s voice stayed calm but resolute. “And if you ever looked at her the way I do, you’d understand that.”

Dimitri’s jaw tightened, his chest aching with something he couldn’t name; fear, maybe guilt. “Get out,” he said, barely above a whisper.

Alek hesitated, then stood. “One day you will realize I was never your enemy.”

He walked to the door and left the room, closing it softly behind him.

Dimitri stood for a long moment, staring at the sleeping figure on the bed. The anger in him dissolved into something heavier, something hollow. 

“I can’t lose you too,” he murmured. He brushed a strand of hair from Viktoria’s forehead, then turned and walked to the door as quietly as he came. 

He paused there, his hand resting on the doorknob. Moonlight spilled across the floor, catching the silver glint of the necklace around her neck; the same one Alek had given her years ago.

Alek’s words echoed through his head: “Safe isn’t living.”

Dimitri exhaled, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a broken laugh. “Maybe not,” he whispered, “but at least you’re still breathing.” He turned away, closing the door softly behind him.

Inside, Viktoria stirred in her sleep. Her hand reached across the sheets as if searching for something – someone – and then fell still again, her fingers brushing against the cool imprint Alek had left beside her.

Out in the hallway, Dimitri leaned against the wall, pressing a hand over his face. He promised himself – again – that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. She was his responsibility. If he let some man whisk her away, he wouldn’t be keeping his promise.

But as he made his vow, a thought he couldn’t shake lingered in the back of his mind; unwelcome and unspoken. How long could he protect her before she no longer needed protecting? And when that day came… would she forgive him for holding on too tightly?

Dimitri pushed the thought away and walked toward his room, unaware that promises made in fear are the hardest ones to keep – and the first ones to break.

Alek lay in his room, staring at the ceiling. The faint hum of Paris seeped in through the window: laughter, music, the low rumble of carriage wheels on cobblestone. It should have been comforting. It wasn’t.

He could still hear Dimitri’s words. “Stay away from her.” The tone was sharp, protective; but underneath it, Alek had heard something else too. Fear.

He turned on his side, facing the window. The moonlight caught the thin scar along his abdomen, a faded reminder of the bullet that should have ended his story weeks ago. He smiled bitterly. “Seems like I’ve made a habit of surviving for her,” he whispered into the dark.

His gaze drifted toward the wall that separated his room from Viktoria’s. He imagined her there – asleep, safe for now – and felt a familiar ache bloom in his chest. He’d spent half his life keeping his distance when all he wanted was to stay close.

Safe isn’t living. He’d meant it when he said it. But now, alone, he understood Dimitri’s side too. The fear of losing someone you love isn’t just fear; it’s a kind of quiet madness.

He sighed, closing his eyes. “One day,” he murmured, “she’ll have peace. She deserves that much.”

He didn’t know if that peace would include him.

Outside, the moon slipped behind a cloud, and Paris dimmed for a heartbeat. Alek finally drifted to sleep, the ghost of Viktoria’s laughter lingering somewhere between his dreams: soft, distant, and just out of reach.

Chapter Text

Paris, France

Anya and Viktoria were in Anya’s room together getting ready for the ballet. Anya came up to show Viktoria her dress, it was a beautiful blue gown covered in jewels and sequins, lace and straps were everywhere, she really did look like a princess. Her hair was up in a bun with finger waves going back, as did many French women of the time. 

“Anya… you look so beautiful! You could say you were the Tsarina herself and I would believe you!”  Viktoria praised. 

“Oh hush, now it's your turn!” Anya said. Viktoria went to change into her dress. It was a purple dress; not quite as fancy as Anya’s but it’s what she picked. The dress was a dark lavender made from a soft velvet material and it laced up in the back, and it had soft sleeves that went down around her elbows. She felt as though she were a girl from a fairytale village; like she should go run barefoot in a field. Her hair was also up in a bun with finger waves. 

“Viktoria you look beautiful!” Anya exclaimed. 

“Oh, I don’t think so, but thank you.” Viktoria said modestly. 

“Oh please, when Alek sees you tonight, he’s going to fall even more in love with you then he already is!” Anya said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

“Please he’s not in love with me.” Viktoria stated sadly. 

“Viktoria! You know when people are in love everyone seems to notice; except for the people in love.” Anya said. 

Viktoria laughed dryly, rolled her eyes playfully, and walked into the bathroom, shouting “Whatever you say Anya!” and closed the door.

Palais Garnier Theatre, Paris, France

Alek, Dimitri, and Vlad were in the lobby of the theater where the ballet was to be performed, waiting for Anya and Viktoria. Vlad was checking Dimitri over, Alek looked impeccable and needed no help fixing himself up since he had worked on the palace guard before the revolution, he knew how to fix himself up. Dimitri on the other hand did not know how to fix himself up, him being a conman living on the streets of Russia almost his whole life. Vlad fixed Dimitri’s tie and saw a smudge on his cheek, so he started to scrub at it, Dimitri squirmed away from Vlad said “I got it.” and scrubbed it off himself. 

“Make sure you tie that.” Alek said while pointing to Dimitri’s shoe, Dimitri rolled his eyes and bent down to tie it while Alek fiddled with his cufflinks. 

Just then Anya and Viktoria walked in, and when they did, everyone was looking at them, except Dimitri, he was still tying his shoe. Anya walked up to him and he looked up. For a second, he was stunned, then he shot up and offered her his arm, which she took and they walked off. Once they got to the door of the auditorium, they turned to look at Vlad, he shooed them away, and they walked in.

Alek was looking at Viktoria, she had momentarily taken his breath away. She was wearing a fairly simple dress, much less fancy than the dresses other women were wearing that night, but it was perfect for her. It brought attention to her slim cheeks, her semi defined jaw, her silky black hair, her light blue eyes – altogether he thought she was utterly beautiful. He walked up to her and slightly bowed. 

“Why are you bowing to me? Anya should be the one you’re bowing to.” She said, confused. He smirked, not a conniving smirk, it was as if he was trying not to smile, but failing, 

“Because anyone as beautiful as you must be bowed to, even if they’re not royalty.” He said and held out his arm to her, and she accepted. He bent down to whisper in her ear, “Although in my book you are the Empress of all.” He said, and steered her to their seats next to Anya and Dimitri as she blushed.

“I thought I told you to keep your distance.” Dimitri whispered venomously as Alek passed.

“And I thought you’d learned not to mistake me for one of your street boys.” Alek whispered back, calm and cold as he continued to his seat next to Viktoria.

Vlad was sitting next to Dimitri, who was sitting next to Anya, she was next to Viktoria, and she was next to Alek. Vlad wondered how he got to be playing accidental matchmaker. He saw the way Anya and Dimitri and Viktoria and Alek looked at each other, and Vlad knew they were in love. Vlad also knew he messed up. If Anya was accepted as Anastasia, she would never see Dimitri again, and since Viktoria was so close with the Romanovs, including Maria Feodorovna, Anya’s nana, she may very well go with them too; which means she and Alek may be separated too. Now the ballet was starting, Vlad looked over at the young couples every once and a while. He could see Anya getting nervous, she started tearing the program to shreds, Dimitri also noticed this and grabbed one of her hands and held it. Viktoria looked like she was about to fall asleep; she leaned her head on Alek’s shoulder, and Alek, although reluctantly, woke her up so she could watch the rest of the show. Vlad should never have let this happen.

Across the theater in a balcony box above the five, sat a Bolshevik soldier. He also noticed the signs of two couples in love. He also could not let that happen; he would have to find a way to end those budding relationships. He had strict orders to bring the Anastasia Romanov imposter back to Russia alive, if this girl isn’t Anastasia he was to leave the girl floating in the Seine. This could be tricky, but he would find a way to do it. To prove he was his father’s son, to officially end the Romanov dynasty, to kill the last Romanov, and for the good of Russia.

The Dowager Empress of Russia, Maria Feodorovna was sitting in a balcony box, unknowingly to her across from her estranged granddaughter. She was watching the ballet when something caught her eye and she looked across the theater. Sitting there was a girl dressed in a blue gown, she looked like her precious Anastasia. Could it be her? No. She’s told herself to give up hope, and so she hardens her heart and looks back at the ballet.

Viktoria was getting bored of this play. She had seen it once with the Romanovs long ago, and she thinks seeing it once was enough. The story was of Swan Lake, she never really cared about it, she flashed back to the first time she saw it. 

The year was 1913, she was 12. She sat in between Anastasia and Olga. The dancers were amazing and the children were mesmerized. The girls seemed to be floating in the air with their pointe shoes on, and the men must have been so strong to be able to do all those lifts. 

Anastasia looked over at her, she smiled at the princess and whispered “How are you liking the play?” Anastasia thought for a moment and then said. 

“I think I want to do ballet, when we get back home could you spend the night? We could learn the moves and do them ourselves! Maybe Olya, Tanya, and Mashka can join, and maybe even Baby!” Anastasia said, getting excited. 

“Sure! I can’t wait!”. The five girls and Alexei stayed up until 1 in the morning dancing that night, even Olga and Tatiana. 

Viktoria thought the Russian dancers were much better than these Parisians. Thinking back to those days with the Romanovs made her emotional. Alek could tell he reached his hand over to hers and squeezed it. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. 

“What’s wrong Vika?” he asked. 

“I was just seeing a memory for a moment, of the old Russia, with my friends. I miss them.” she said while tearing up more. 

“The Romanovs I assume?” he asked. 

“Yes.” She said, he didn’t say anything back, he just held her hand a little longer. 

“After the show, would you like to go dance?” Viktoria asked him. 

“What brought that to your mind?” he asked, confused. 

“When I went to the ballet with the Romanovs, we danced after, I danced with little Alexei, and the girls too. I thought it would be nice, unless you don’t want to, that’s fine.” She said she didn’t want to force him to dance. 

“No, I would love to dance with you.” He said, she smiled and looked back at the dancers twirling. 

She was so caught up in the dancer’s movements, she didn’t even realize she was still holding his hand, neither of them minded anyway.

Anya was watching too, but not the ballet in front of her. Vlad had pointed out the dowager empress across the way, her apparent grandma. She was sweating bullets, she had torn her whole program to shreds, that’s when Dimitri grabbed her hand, reassuring her. How could he be so sure? She turned her eyes back to the stage, when a vision came to her. She was watching a ballet, the same one she is watching now, she looked to her left and saw Viktoria, but younger. 

Viktoria looked back at her and smiled “How are you liking the play?” 

Anya heard a voice that sounded like hers but higher. 

“Sure! I can’t wait!” Viktoria said, and looked back at the stage of dancers. 

Anya looked to her right and saw a girl, she looked to be around 14 or 15, she was very pretty, Anya knew she must be a sister, she wondered which one.  

Suddenly the vision was gone. And she was looking at Dimitri beside her. 

“How are you liking the play?” he asked, Anya was taken aback, that was the same thing little Viktoria had said in her vision, flashback, memory, whatever it was, and he looked a lot like her, they were siblings, half siblings, but still siblings. 

“It’s beautiful. And you?” she asked. 

“It’s fine, but I can’t stop thinking about how soon enough you’ll be standing in a beautiful dress and crown.” She giggled. 

“I hope so.” She said, and he smiled. 

Anya looked at the dowager one last time before the show ended, and took a deep breath, this could be the moment when she found her home, her love, and her family.

Dimitri was also watching someone, but not the dowager empress, he was watching Anya. She looked so troubled. When she had been tearing her program, he knew she was nervous, so he grabbed her hand and held it to reassure her. She seemed to calm down a bit. She looked down at the stage, then she raised her eyebrows. She looked at Viktoria, she didn’t notice because she was talking to Alek. Dimitri thought he told Alek to stay away from his sister, he would have to have another talk with him. He was getting mad when Anya turned and looked at him, she looked confused and her eyes were unfocused. Then her eyes snapped back into focus and she looked even more confused. Dimitri decided to ignore it and talk to her. 

“How are you liking the play?” he asked, she raised her eyebrows and looked astonished. 

“It’s beautiful. And you?” she asked. 

“It’s fine, but I can’t stop thinking about how soon enough you’ll be standing in a beautiful dress and crown.” He said. 

She giggled and said “I hope so.”, she then turned her eyes back to the dowager empress, took a deep breath, and looked at the stage. 

Dimitri surely hoped the dowager empress believed their story, because he did with all his heart.

The Ballet was over, everyone had taken their bows and gotten a standing ovation. Everyone was standing up and heading out into the lobby. Viktoria and Alek were on their way, arm in arm, to the dance floor until Vlad caught Viktoria’s arm, stopping her and Alek in turn. 

“We have to go see Anya to the dowager! Come, come.” He said, dragging Dimitri, who was holding Anya’s hand so she didn’t get lost in the crowd of people, and Viktoria, who was holding Aleks arm. On the way the five started to fix themselves up to make the best appearance.

They got to a room right outside of the dowager’s private box when they saw a woman, Lily, step out. 

“The finest and driest champagne they have. Of course, your majesty.” She said Vlad, Dimitri, and Viktoria walked in the room outside of the box where Lily was. 

“Is she in a good mood?” Vlad asked. 

“She’s never in a good mood. What have you talked me into?!” she was worried. 

“Wait until you see her!” Vlad said. 

Then, Alek opened the door in his best guard stance, and ushered Anya in. Anya stood in front of Lily and Lily looked at her, for a few seconds the room was completely silent, then Lily dropped down in a deep bow. 

“Your highness.” 

Anya rushed toward her, said “No, you mustn’t.”, and raised her up gently. 

Vlad looked at Viktoria, Dimitri, and Alek and said “That composure!” clearly proud of his work, “We did a good job kids!”. 

Lily looked back up at Anya, conflicted, and said “I don’t want to get your hopes up, young lady.” 

Dimitri leaned in and said “We’ll celebrate after on your grandfather’s bridge.” 

Anya took a deep breath, her stomach twisting. This was it. The moment they had all been waiting for. “I’m ready.” Anya said. 

Alek stood straighter and said “You will announce the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov.” 

Lily turned around and said “You have a visitor, your majesty!” and Anya followed her into the box. 

Vlad, Viktoria, Alek, and Dimitri stayed in the room. Vlad and Dimitri sat down on the two chairs in the room, Alek stood leaning against the wall, and Viktoria paced around anxiously. 

“What are they saying?” Viktoria wondered. “I wonder how long they’ll be.” 

“Why should we worry? Everything will be fine.” Dimitri said. 

“There’s nothing to do but worry, pace, and wait until Anya comes back out.” Alek said. 

“Why panic now with everything to win?” Dimitri finished. 

Vlad got up and said “I can’t take this; tell Lily I needed a stiff glass of vodka.” And walked out. Alek walked up to Viktoria. 

“How about that dance while we wait?” she nodded and they walked out. 

Dimitri watched Alek and Viktoria go with a sour look, he decided not to make a scene while Viktoria was present and let them go. He sat and fiddled for a bit, then got up and walked to the door to listen in. 

‘Nothing but silence, this could be bad. But let’s assume it’s good.” Anya gets a family, Vlad, Viktoria, Alek and I get rich, and the fairytale gets a spin! How can we fail with everything to win?’ He started pacing ‘I wonder if our paths will ever cross again, the way they did when you were eight and I was ten. You never know.’ He thought for a moment, all about her. ‘I should be glad that we’re going to be done with this, but nothing is the same as it was. I didn’t know she mattered to me, but now I can see she does. Con-man and princess get their wish, the only thing I lose is you.’  

Right then Anya walked out and Dimitri turned to her. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

“She wouldn’t even look at me. ‘Tell this imposter Lily I know her kind too well, she wants money and will break an old woman’s heart to get it’” 

“I-I’ll tell her the truth!” Dimitri said, Anya stopped him. 

“That I was a pawn in this scheme of yours?! That you made me think I was someone I never was, or ever could be?! I was cold, and hungry when I met you Dimitri, but I wasn’t dishonest. I hate you for that!” and with that she stormed out. 

Dimitri started to go after her when Lily came out, “I’m sorry young man.” She said then he heard the dowager yell. 

“Is she gone?!” and she came out, Dimitri saw this as his chance to prove Anya was Anastasia. 

“Your royal highness.” Dimitri exclaimed. Maria was astonished. 

“How dare you address me!” 

“Anya doesn’t want your money! I take full responsibility for bringing her to Paris!” he walked to her yelling. 

The dowager tried calling for security but Dimitri cut her off. 

“But I believe with all my heart that she is the grand duchess Anastasia.” 

“I will not stay for this!” Maria said and walked past him to the door. Dimitri saw no other way to stop her. 

“She only wants what’s hers, your recognition, and your loving embrace!” he walked up to her and stepped on the train of her dress to stop her. “Try to imagine her life since her parents, sisters, little brother were murdered.” He begged. 

“I do not need reminding of what happened to my family. I lost everything I loved that day!” 

“So did she. Anya survived for a reason,” he said while walking closer to the dowager, “to heal what happened or Russia will be a wound that will never heal!” 

The dowager empress of Russia, Maria Feodorovna Romanova slapped him. 

“That is no longer a concern of mine. Russia has damned itself for all of eternity for what it has done!” she yelled at him. 

“God will judge you harshly, old woman. History already has.” He said calmly, and walked out. 

“He turned his back to you!” Lily said, astonished. Maria turned and started walking to the door. 

“Take me home Lily.”

Viktoria and Alek were having a wonderful evening. They were swaying to the music, Viktoria’s arms behind Alek’s neck, Alek’s arms around her waist; just enjoying each other's presence. Not a care in the world. No Bolsheviks, no escape from Russia, no wondering if Anya will be accepted, no death, no pain; just each other. Alek could look into the blue of Viktoria’s eyes forever if he wanted to, they just kept pulling him in and he couldn’t get enough. Viktoria was having very similar thoughts. She thought Alek was the most beautiful person she'd ever seen. His blue eyes and blond hair, his sharp jaw and soft cheek bones. She could look at him for hours and still find new things to admire about him. Time was getting away from them as they danced. It had been nearly 15 minutes already. They were leaning in closer and closer, inches apart when Anya came storming by. Viktoria knew she should check on Anya, so slowly, reluctantly, she moved away from Alek. 

“I should go check on her.” she said. 

“Yeah.” Alek said, disappointed. 

Viktoria started off after Anya, anxious about what she would find there and slightly annoyed she was torn from Alek.

Chapter Text

Paris, France

Anya was not happy. That was for sure. 

“Anya what happened?” Viktoria asked. 

Anya was storming around the room throwing her things in her bag angrily. Dimitri, Vlad, and Alek had come back, Viktoria couldn’t make eye contact with Alek, he noticed. 

“You all fooled me into thinking I could be someone I wasn’t, and never had been! I made a fool of myself in front of the Dowager Empress of Russia!” Anya ranted. 

As she continued on her angry rampage Lily came in and showed the boys and Viktoria that the Dowager Empress was here. She ushered Vlad, Dimitri, Alek, Viktoria, and herself out and left the Dowager and Anya alone. Anya turned and gasped when she saw the Dowager Empress in her hotel room. She bowed and then gestured to the bench in the middle of the room. 

“Please be seated.” Anya said.

“There’s no need. I shall be brief. Who are you?” 

“I believe I am the youngest daughter-” 

“Oh spare me my family history! It's in every book shop along the Seine, anyone could read it.” 

“I didn’t think you’d be so cruel.” Anya stated.

“I am old and impatient, kindness has become a luxury.” 

“My Nana was the most loving woman imaginable.” Anya said a dreamy lilt in her voice. 

“That was before they murdered everyone she loved!” 

“Her bosom smelled like oranges when she hugged me!” 

“It’s a common enough scent.” 

“Not hers. It came from Sicily made especially for her, in a box of polished olive wood.” Anya said while sitting down. 

“How dare you sit without my permission!” the Dowager exploded, Anya jumped to her feet. 

“Alright sit you have my permission.” and they both sat side by side on the bench. The Dowager looked at Anya intently. 

“Who was my favorite lady-in-waiting?” she asked. 

“You didn’t have one, you kept dismissing them.” Anya replied readily. 

“That was a trick question, you’re clever.” she looked at Anya again. “I’m trying to see the resemblance, I don’t trust my eyes.” 

“You should wear spectacles- I’m sorry!” 

“Name the three-” 

“Why don’t you want me to be her?” Anya interrupted. 

“I have found solace in my bitterness. It doesn’t disappoint me, you Anastasia's always do!” 

“If you give me a chance, maybe I won’t.” 

“I don’t believe Anastasia exists.” 

“You don’t want to believe it.” 

“What was your mothers full title as Empress of all Russia?” 

“Aren’t we beyond this?” 

“Her Imperial Majesty Empress of all Russia-” 

“She was Mama to me.” 

“Alexandra Feod-” 

“She was Mama to all of us!” Anya burst into tears. 

“You all cry at some point! Do you rehearse?” the Dowager said, astonished, “Tears will get you nowhere.” she added. 

“Why did you come here?” Anya asked. 

“Your young man told me you weren't a part of his scheme.” 

“He’s right. I wasn’t.” 

“He thinks that you may very well be my granddaughter. He says you’ve come to believe it yourself.” 

“I believe it with all my heart, but I can’t be her unless you recognise me.” 

“You can’t be anyone unless you first recognise yourself.” there was a pause before Anya’s response. 

“I know.” 

“Do you know what it means to lose everything, young woman, my son, his children! Everything I loved and held dear with all my heart, all lost and gone in one terrible moment and for what?! The good of Russia?! I’ll ask you one more time, young woman and be very careful what you answer. Who are you?!” 

“I don’t know anymore. Who are you?” Anya asked. 

Maria Feodorovna paused, thinking sorrowfully. 

“...An old woman who remembers everything as it should have been and nothing as it was. I am unreliable, I am a historian of the heart. I want this fearful journey to be over!” the Dowager started to tear up. 

“Do you remember the last time you saw Anastasia?” Anya suddenly asked. 

“I didn’t know it was the last time! You never do. We never know which goodbye is the last.” 

“You were leaving for Paris. You never came back. You gave her a music box.” Anya went to her bag and pulled out the music box Dimitri gave her, “I believe this is it.” she wound it up and sang with the tune. 

Soon enough the Dowager began singing too. 

“I told you I would visit you in Paris. We’d go to the ballet together and walk on grandpapa’s bridge!” Anya said. 

“You never knew him, I loved him very much.” 

“We’ll walk on it together Nana, for all of them.” 

“What took you so long?” 

“It doesn’t matter, I'm here now!” 

“Too late, you’ve come too late.” 

“It’s never too late to come home, Nana.”. The two women embraced. 

“My Anastasia!”

Anya sqeezed her Nana with all of her might. “Orange blossoms!” she whispered to herself as the familiar scent invaded the air around her. This was it, Anya had finally found her home, love, and family she'd been searching for. The only thing was... what now?

The Dowager Empress’ flat, Paris, France

The night air outside the Dowager’s flat was cold, heavy with the scent of rain and roses. Alek stood beneath the gaslight, his breath fogging in the chill. He had been thinking of Viktoria again; of her laugh, the way she had looked at him before turning away. They had almost kissed. Almost. And somehow, almost felt worse than never at all.

Footsteps echoed behind him. For one wild moment he thought it was her. It wasn’t.

“I thought I told you to stay away from my sister.” Dimitri said, his voice low and sharp. “And then I find you dancing with her as close as you could possibly get.”

Alek turned away slowly. “She offered, and I accepted. That’s all.” His tone was calm, but it was a fragile calm; the kind you wear before you break.

“I should’ve made you stay in Russia,” Dimitri spat. “Should’ve left you there to bleed in that alley. I should’ve never helped you, never told you our plans. You don’t belong here, Alek.”

“Dimitri, I-”

“No.” Dimitri’s eyes were fierce, but there was something else behind them, fear. “You’ll only hurt her. Leave. Go back to Russia for all I care.” He stormed back inside, the door slamming like a gunshot.

Alek stood there for a long time, staring at the cobblestones. He loved her. But maybe Dimitri was right. Maybe he didn’t belong anywhere anymore.

He was still trying to steady his breathing when another pair of footsteps approached, slower and heavier. He turned, expecting Dimitri’s fury again, and instead found himself face to face with a man in a dark coat and a Bolshevik pin gleaming at his collar.

“Evening, Comrade,” said the man. “What’s brought you out here?”

“Just needed to think.”

“A dangerous habit,” the stranger replied with a faint smile. “Thinking too much.”

Alek didn't smile back. “I came all this way from Russia, my parents are in Sweden. But I can’t leave her.”

“Can’t?” the man raised a brow. “Or won’t?” He reached into his coat and drew out enough money for a ticket. “I don’t need it, no sense in keeping what I don’t need.”

Alek hesitated. Viktoria’s face flashed before him; her soft laugh and bright eyes. Then Dimitri’s words following: You don’t belong here.

He took the money. “Thanks… Comrade. I’ll use it,”

They shook hands, and when they did Alek felt something too firm in the man’s grip, as if he were testing the strength of prey. Alek didn’t say anything else. He walked away, the paper burning like a brand in his pocket.

Behind him, Gleb Vaganov wiped his hand on his jacket and muttered, “One down. Three to go.”

By morning, Paris buzzed like a beehive. Cameras flashed, questions ricochetted through the Dowager’s halls, and Vlad was regretting his life choices. He and Lily were in the center of the room entertaining the reporters in question while Anya and the Dowager were having their pictures taken. 

They were trying to get their attention and yelling out questions such as “Has she been living far or near?” 

“What kind of letter did she send?” 

“Excuse me!” 

“You’ve had imposters, is it true?” 

“What sort of proof do you have?” 

“Over here!” and so on. Lily interrupted them all. 

“Good afternoon, I am the countess Lily Malevski-Malevitch, and this is the count Vladimir Popov.” 

“P-o-p-o-v.” Vlad interjected. Lily continued with her speech. 

“The Dowager is coming, I’m certain that her majesty will set the record straight, but royalty is royalty you will be held in here until she’s ready.” The reporters started bustling but Lily quieted them and continued. “I’m really not at liberty to gossip with the press, her majesty is coming until then you’ll have to wait.” 

“Suffice to say today you’ll meet the little lost princess!” Vlad said, the crowd roared with questions while Lily reprimanded him. 

“Did she arrive by train?” 

“I heard she may have gone crazy!” 

“A lie!” Lily interjected at the foolish gossip. 

“I’m from the Paris news, we do exclusive interviews!” a man said to Vlad. 

“Oh my.” he responded. 

The crowd jostled with more questions. 

“Is she a fake or is she real?” 

“How does she look?” 

“How is she?” 

“What has she been doing?” 

“Where has she been?” 

“How did she live?” 

“Did someone take her into their home?” 

“We’re nearly ready to begin!” Lily said becoming more and more tired of these paparazzi. 

Several more questions were asked, the one everyone, without a doubt asked was “Is she the princess Anastasia?” 

They all continued yelling out more and more questions while closing in on Lily and Vlad. 

“Enough! Now!” Lily yelled, “Her majesty is elderly and doesn’t suffer fools. She’s ready to receive you but you must obey us. No smoking and no joking.” 

“And no handling the jewels.” Vlad interrupted. 

“Members of the press, this way!” Lily said while leading them into a maze of hallways with no Dowager or Princess in them. The pair walked off toward the Dowager and her granddaughter.

Chapter Text

Paris, France

Anastasia and her Nana were finishing up with taking some photos for the press. Anastasia was wearing a beautiful big red gown and the Pearl Pendant Kokoshnik from the Romanov family collection. 

“Press and fellow Russians are all going to want to take a look at you and ask some questions.” Maria explained. 

“All that matters is that we found each other Nana.” Anya excitedly tells her. 

“Surely, your majesty, you don’t think this imposter is the Grand Duchess Anastasia!” A man shouted as he entered the room, he looked very pompous a stuck up.

“Count Leopold! With your dyed hair, powdered face, and Vodka breath! No wonder my parents laughed at you behind your back.” Anastasia countered. 

“You’re right Anastasia, they did.” the Dowager snickered, Count Leopold practically ran out of the room in embarrassment, his cane tapping along side him. 

“Everyone did your majesty!” Vlad added. 

“I remember you.” the Dowager recounted. 

“Quit while you’re ahead Vlad.” Lily murmured. 

“Yes your majesty, thank you your majesty, goodbye your majesty!” Vlad says, then scurries out the door. 

“I don’t like that man.” Maria says. 

“He’s not so bad!” Lily defends, Maria gives her a look and then, “Oh yes he is your majesty, he’s a terrible person!” and then Lily walked out as well. 

Maria looked at her granddaughter and said, “Get used to people agreeing with everything you say.” 

“That’s not right.” Anastasia laughs. 

“Now, where’s your young man?” the Dowager asks. 

“He’s not my young man.” Anastasia refuted, she was furious with Dimitri, she hoped she'd never see his dumb face again.

“Is it not plain to you that he loves you?” 

“He’s not my young man Nana.” 

“When he refused my reward for finding you I thought ‘Anastasia has found herself another kind of prince! One of character not birth.’” Maria said, Anastasia turned. 

“Dimitri refused the reward?” she asked incredulously. 

“You are Anastasia, he said that was his reward. You have made this the happiest day of my life Anastasia.” Maria Feodorovna kissed Anastasia on the forehead, and left the room.

Anastasia’s mind was swimming, ‘her heart pounded. Dimitri… refused the reward? That didn’t make sense. The conman who had spent his life chasing money had turned it down? For her? I didn’t know he mattered to me, but now I see he does! I get this home I’ve been searching for, but the only thing I lose is…’ she hears a sound by the door and she turns. “Gleb.” she said startled. 'What is he doing here?' 

“You’re an underhanded girl, this was clearly an act of desperation, and to my dismay I let you go. Not this time, Paris is no place for a good and loyal Russian.” Gleb says. 

“We are both good and loyal Russians.” she replies. 

“I’ve come to take you home.” Gleb insists.

“My home is here now.” 

“Stop playing this game Anya, I beg you!” He grabs her arm. 

“We both know it’s not a game, Gleb.” Anastasia says sternly.

“If you really are Anastasia do you think history wants you to have lived?” 

“Yes! Why don’t you?” 

“The Romanov's were given everything, and gave back nothing. Until the Russian people rose up and destroyed them!” Gleb cried.

“All but one! Finish it, I am my father’s daughter.” 

“And I am my fathers son!” Gleb pulls out his pistol, “Finish it I must.” 

Gleb stepped back from Anastasia, but never took his eyes from hers, “My father shook his head and told me not to ask, my mother said he killed himself out of shame!” He pointed his gun. 

“In me you see them! Look at their faces in mine, hear their screams, imagine their terror, see their blood!” Anya screamed. 

“But I believe he did a proud and vital task, and in my father’s name!” 

“Do it and I will be with my parents and my brother and sisters in that cellar in Yekaterinburg all over again!” 

Gleb almost flinched, “The children, their voices, a man makes painful choices. He does what’s necessary Anya! For Russia, what choice but simple duty, we have the past you bury! For the last time, who are you?!” Gleb almost screams. 

“I am! The Grand Duchess…" Anastasia took calculated steps towards Gleb, "Anastasia. Nikolaevna. Romanov!” she practically screams back, at her words Gleb cocks his gun. 

“Be careful what a dream may cause, a revolution is a simple thing!” Gleb rushes towards her and aims his gun at her heart, he hesitates. This woman, before he had known she was Anastasia, he had loved her. From the first day when she got scared by a truck back-firing, and he had helped her up. Gleb re-aimed for her head, and hesitates again. He remembered her shaky hands and her horrified eyes. He looked at her hands, they were not shaking anymore, they were balled into fists resolutely at her sides. His eyes traveled up to her eyes, Anya was looking him straight in the eyes, no more fear, he swore he could see the determination from every Romanov past in her clear blue eyes. Gleb takes a breath...

Finally his resolve breaks, he steps back and decocks his pistol. 

“I can’t.” Gleb has to undo his collar to be able to breath, he drops to a knee and puts his gun down. Anya goes to him. 

“I mean you no harm Gleb.” Anastasia remembered how kind he was to her, before he found out she was the one he was on a mission to kill.

He grabs her hand and says, “I believe you are Anastasia.” 

“What will you tell them?” she asks. 

Gleb closed his eyes. The revolution had asked for so many sacrifices, but had they all been necessary? He thought of the children in the cellar, of his father’s unwavering orders. Of the girl in front of him now, standing tall in defiance. “I can’t kill you,” he said, voice hoarse. “But if they know you’re alive, they’ll never stop hunting you. We have to make everyone believe you’re dead.”

“Everyone? I just got them all back!” she cried. 

“There is no other way, Anya.” he said solemnly. 

“Fine, what do you suppose we should do?” she asks. 

“Let’s make a plan.”

Alek was sitting in Viktoria’s room in the Dowager Empresses parisian flat when Viktoria walked in. She was in a pink Russian court dress just like he had seen the grand duchesses wear nearly 10 years ago now. How did the time go by so slow and so fast at the same time? 

“How do I look Shura?” Viktoria asked. 

“Beautiful.” He said sincerely, Viktoria smiled. 

“Isn’t it amazing that we’re here? Anya is with her grandmother and we’re together with the royal family again, just like it was always supposed to be..” she said, wistfully. 

Alek remembered Dimitri’s hard words ‘Leave. Go back to Russia for all I care.’ Alek practically felt the ticket in his pocket burning through his layers. 

“Viktoria I have something to tell you.” he said seriously, Viktoria sensed it and looked at him, confused. 

“Yes Alek?” 

“I’m leaving.” he said, short, quick, and to the point. 

“Oh. Where are you going? You should be back quickly, Anya is meeting the press soon.” she said. 

Alek had just told the girl he loves more than anything he’s leaving, but she doesn’t understand that he means forever. 

“No Vika, I’m leaving Paris, I’m going back to Russia.” he said stoically. 

“What? Russia? We just got out of Russia, and just barely! Why would you want to go back?” she asked incredulously. 

Alek clenched his fists. “Dimitri’s right—I don’t belong here. Not with you. Not with any of this.”

Viktoria stepped forward, desperate. “You do belong here!” 

But he shook his head. If she had to choose between him and her brother, he would make the choice for her. “I’m sorry Viktoria. There’s nothing for me here.”

“I’m here!” she shouted, he felt a pang in his chest, she was… that would be the only reason he could stay, but Dimitri would hate that. Alek couldn’t make Viktoria choose between her brother and him, he had to choose for her. 

“Goodbye Vika, I’ll miss you. You don’t need anyone to sneak you some soup from the kitchens anymore.” he said and started to walk away. 

“Alek wait! I love you!” 

If he had heard she didn’t know, he just kept walking and soon Viktoria heard a door close somewhere in the flat, she had no way to know if it was Alek or someone else. Viktoria didn't know what to do, she told him she loved him! She wanted to chase after him, kiss him, and make him stay, but if he wanted to leave Viktoria was going to respect that; that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be upset about it though. She picked up the necklace he had bought her and threw it at the door. She kicked the leg of the bed and ignored the pain in her foot afterward, nothing could stop the sadness she was feeling right now. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs but she refrained from doing so, she didn’t want someone to come in and see the sobbing mess she was right now. So she went to Anya’s room to tell her best friend and see if she could aid the hurt she was feeling right now.

Viktoria didn’t know what she was expecting to see when she walked into Anya’s room, but it certainly wasn’t Anya with her arm bleeding and a Bolshevik spreading her blood over the floor with his gloves on. 

“What on earth?!” she yelled. 

“Shush!! Close the door Vichka!” Anya said, Viktoria did as she was told. “Now, I know this looks a little strange but…” Anya didn’t know what to say. 

“Viktoria, there’s no way Anya will be safe, so we’re faking her death, and now yours too.” Gleb cut in. 

“What?! Mine? Why!” Viktoria asked incredulously. 

“Because we can’t have anyone who knows that Anya is really alive. I’ll take both of you somewhere safer. And then… We take back what is rightfully Anya’s.” he said. 

“But what about my brother? What about Vlad and Lily? What about your Grandmother Anya?” Viktoria asked, today was just getting crazier and crazier. 

“There’s nothing we can do, Vichka, this is the only way.” Anya pleaded with her longest friend. 

Viktoria pondered this for a few moments, but she knew there was nothing else that would end up with Anya alive. 

“Ok, let’s do this.” Viktoria made up her mind. 

After they had made a convincing scene they headed out. As they were passing the Alexander bridge they saw Dimitri with his suitcase looking over the water, he was leaving. Anya walked away from the group to him. As she walked up to him he looked up at her. 

“If you ever see me from a carriage again don’t smile, don't wave.” he said, “I don’t want to be in love with someone I can’t have for the rest of my life. Goodbye, your Majesty.” he bowed to her, for the third time in his life, and started to walk away. 

“I always dreamed my first kiss would be in Paris with a handsome prince!” she said, he turned to look at her, one last time. 

“I’m not your prince Anya.” 

She went up to him and kissed him, soft and sweet. He didn’t want to leave, but she deserved a prince and he was surely not that. 

“Again, I’m not your prince Anya. Keep my sister company, go back to the dowager empress where you’re supposed to be.” he said and walked off, he wanted to turn around, but he couldn’t. 

Anya turned and Viktoria was there in a second, the girls hugged tightly. 

“I guess we both lost the men we loved tonight.” Viktoria said. 

“What? Where’s Alek?” Anya asked with tears in her eyes, Viktoria started tearing up as well. 

“Probably on a train to Russia about now.” she said solemnly, they hugged again, mourning the lives they almost had. 

“Girls, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we really must be leaving, I have a cab to take us to the ship.” Gleb said. 

The girls stopped hugging, wiped their tears and followed Gleb to the cab.

After a taxi, train, and another taxi ride Anastasia, Viktoria, and Gleb arrived at Le Havre port. Gleb pulled out two tickets and handed each girl their own ticket. 

“Your new names are Aimee and Jeanette LeBlanc, you’re sisters who are migrating to Kristianstad, Sweden from Paris. I’ll release the news that Anastasia Romanov is dead and wait for things to calm down in Russia, then, I’ll come and get you and we’ll make a plan for taking back Russia.” he said. 

The girls were unsure and scared to leave. Cutting ties with everyone and everything they knew. 

“Ok, we understand. Thank you Gleb.” Viktoria said. 

The girls both hugged Gleb goodbye. They walked into the line to get on the ship to go to Sweden.

They had checked their tickets and walked onto the ship. As they were leaving the port Le Havre Anastasia and Viktoria, or Aimee and Jeanette, were standing on the stern of the ship, getting one last look at France. 

“Goodbye, don’t forget us.” Anastasia said. 

“Don’t forget me.” Viktoria added as they sailed into the English Channel. 

Chapter Text

Dowager Empress’ Flat, Paris, France

Vlad was sent to fetch Anya and Viktoria. He was walking through the halls and had finally made it to Anya’s room. He knocked on the door and waited for a response, but it didn’t come. He knocked once more and opened the door, and nearly fell to his knees when he saw what was inside. 

“No… no no no.” he walked further into the room and took in the whole scene. 

There were two pools of blood, next to one was Anastasia’s music box, and next to the other was Viktoria’s broken bracelet Dimitri had given her that she had never taken off as long as he had known her. Vlad ran to the sitting room where Maria and Lily were sitting. 

“Your majesty, Lily. Anastasia and Viktoria, they’re gone! There’s blood all over the floor in Anastasia’s room and all of their things are still in their rooms. Other than the blood there’s no sign of them!” Vlad frantically rushed out. 

“No! Not my Anastasia, not again!”  the Dowager screamed, Lily went to try to console her, while trying to hold herself together as well. Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna sent out a search party for her granddaughter and her best friend, but there was no luck in finding them, instead only evidence to prove their death, they had to accept that the girls were dead, for real this time.

Alek was at the train station thinking about his hasty decision to leave. So what if Dimitri wanted him to leave, the desperation in Viktoria’s voice when he told her of his plans to leave should’ve been all it took to make him stay. Why did he think for a second it was ok to leave the love of his life? He had to go back, to fight for her love; hopefully she would be willing to take him back. He picked up his bag and ran off the platform, hailed a taxi and rode back to the Dowager Empress’ flat. He took the steps to the door two at a time and knocked on the door. Vlad opened the door looking sadder than Alek had seen him. 

“I need to see Viktoria, I messed up and I need to fix it.” Alek rambled, Vlad motioned for Alek to come inside. 

“Alek sit down, son.” Vlad said solemnly. Alek did as he said with a confused look on his face. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“Viktoria and Anastasia were both killed around two hours ago.” Vlad said, very blatantly. Alek blinked at him. 

“What? I was just here and she was fine. There’s no way she’s gone, she was just here?!”  

“Two hours ago I went into Anastasia’s room and there was blood all over the floor, Anastasia’s music box and Viktoria’s broken bracelet were left.” Vlad said numbly. 

“No! No no no I was supposed to protect them! I was supposed to protect her! ” Alek was yelling, “If Dimitri never convinced me to leave she would have been here! This is his fault! Where is he?!” 

“He left right after you, Alek.” Vlad answered. 

“He left?! He made me leave and then rather than be with his sister, he left her too!!” 

Alek was raging, going straight from denial to anger, feeling helpless, all he could do was yell and place the blame on anyone else. After he had started calming down a little bit, not a lot, Lily and the Dowager came into the room to see who was screaming, when they heard another knock on the door.

Dimitri was near the train station, getting ready to buy a ticket when the guilt crept in. He had just left Russia, so he could be safe with his sister. He hadn’t left his sister’s side for more than a few hours since 1918, nearly 10 years. He couldn’t leave her, and he couldn’t leave Anya. He walked back to the Dowager Empress’ flat. He knocked and when the door was opened, on the other side he saw the tear stricken faces of the Dowager Empress, Vlad, and Lily.

“What? What happened?” Dimitri asked

“Dimitri, Anastasia and Viktoria were murdered two hours ago. Alek just came back ten minutes ago and found out as well.” Lily choked out. 

“What?!” Dimitri got up and ran to Viktoria’s room then Anastasia’s, he looked into Anya’s room only for a few seconds and then quickly pulled the door closed and ran to the bathroom and emptied his stomach.

He stumbled back to the foyer and looked at the group in shock.

“If you hadn’t made me leave, Viktoria would still be alive!” Alek snarled, fists clenched.

Dimitri’s breath hitched. “You don’t know that.” But his voice wavered. That was all it took. Alek swung, and Dimitri hit the floor.

For the next 4 days there were barely 20 words shared between the 5 new housemates. Dimitri and Alek wouldn’t even look at eachother, both blaming the other and themselves at the same time. Maria closed herself off in her room and only opened the door to accept meals. Lily and Vlad found comfort in each other, but both were still lost in the grief of losing the two amazing and lively girls. Viktoria and Dimitri were like children to Vlad for the last 9 years, and Anastasia, even though he had only known her for a few months, still felt like she was his as well. 

Lily and Vlad barely saw the other three people in the house. Dimitri chose to stay locked up in Viktoria’s room; he didn't eat anything the first few days after the news. Alek used the room Maria had given him only to sleep, the rest of the time he sat on the back patio looking at the sky. He had a hard time eating as well.

One time both men were sitting on the patio, on opposite sides. They certainly weren’t getting along, but Dimitri had been thinking about their deaths and he didn’t want to believe it, he questioned everything, maybe they made it out, like Anya had last time. “Two pools of blood, but no bodies?” Dimitri muttered, his gut twisting. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“They must have been taken,” Alek said. “Or-” He swallowed. “Or dumped in the river.”

Five days after the tragedy, Maria met with Lily, Vlad, Dimitri, and Alek.

“If you are fully loyal to me, the Dowager Empress of all of Russia, and wish to stay here, I must show you my dearest and most confidential secret. If word of this secret gets out, we will all suffer more than we already are. Do you all promise, at the pain of death, to keep this secret to your grave?” Maria asked.

The three men looked puzzled, but they all agreed.

“We will be going to my flat in Laval.” Maria said.

The five entered the flat and sat in the drawing room.

“This is where I will show you my most coveted secret.”

Two Russian soldiers walked into the room.

“Hello, I am Captain Anatole Ouspensky.”

“And I am Captain Pytor Yemenkov.” They introduced themselves.

“These men live in the guest house on the property, they guard my secret.” Maria explained, “Now, here they come.”

Vlad, Alek, and Dimitri heard footsteps coming into the room, they looked up and three jaws dropped very nearly to the floor. Tsar Nicholas II, Tsarina Alexandra, Grand Duchesses; Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Tsesarevich Alexei walked into the room.

After they had gotten over the initial shock Alek and Vlad dropped to a knee, and then Vlad pulled Dimitri down to his knee.

“I know this is quite a shock.” Maria looked at her son, eyes weary. 

“We will explain everything. How we got out of that basement… and what it cost us.” Nicholas began.

“Thank you for finding my daughter, treating her well, and returning her home. We miss her dearly, as we know you do as well.” Alexandra said, sadly.

“You are welcome to stay here with us, unless you have somewhere else to go.” Nicholas offered.

They took them up on their offer. The house went from six occupants to eleven. Eventually after a few months Dimitri and Alek slowly, very slowly, reconciled and became friends. They would sit together on the back patio, along with any given member of the royal family, and share stories they had of Viktoria and Anastasia, tears in their eyes and sad smiles on their faces; slowly they would heal together, but there would always be a hole in their hearts where the two girls used to reside.

Maria Feodorovna Romanova had to give a speech in Paris on what she was going to do with the reward money for the return of her granddaughter. At the same time Gleb Vaganov gave a speech in Leningrad about the Anastasia imposter situation. 

Maria stood at the podium with Vlad and Lily on her left and Dimitri and Alek on her right. 

“As of today, there will be no more Anastasias. The reward for her safe return will be given to charity.”   Maria announced, and the audience clapped. 

“Anastasia is gone. She was nothing but a dream.” Gleb addressed his crowd of Russian onlookers. 

“She was a beautiful dream,”  

“A dream only time will fade.” 

“So, no more talk of the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova”     Maria says, trying hard to say her beloved granddaughter’s name without her imperial expression faltering. 

“The new order has no need for fairy tales. The case is closed.” Gleb finished, hoping they believed his bluff. 

“Let her rest now. No matter how much I wish for her to come home, I know she will not.”   Maria concluded, she backed away from the microphone and turned to her housemates, ready to leave. 

As they walked to her car, she let her thoughts linger on her elusive granddaughter, she always had a way of coming back from the dead, the meaning of her name was resurrection after all, and they had never found a body. She knew she needed to stop thinking such things, she could never come back a second time. As the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna Romanova looked out over the Pont Alexandre and the shining Seine, she whispered to herself with hope. 

“Still…”

Chapter Text

25 February, 1928  Kristianstad, Sweden - A year later

Aimee and Jeanette LeBlanc were sitting on their front porch drinking tea when a man approached their gate, obstructed by the bushes around the archway.

“Excuse me? Do Aimee and Jeanette LeBlanc live here?” he asked in Russian accented English

“Yes, who is there?” Jeanette asked in english with a french accent. Viktoria Kotov was hoping this was Gleb Vaganov and not some other Russian in Sweden.

“Come on Jeanette, let me in.” he said, in Russian this time. Viktoria rounded the corner and saw Gleb standing at the gate with four other men.

“Gleb, come in. Aimee, let's go inside and show our guests some hospitality!” Viktoria yelled.

Viktoria and Aimee, or Anastasia Romanov, sat down at the table with Gleb. Their English and false French accents were long gone now, only perfectly accented Russian was spoken around the table.

“It’s nice to see you again girls, I hope you’ve been faring well.” Gleb said honestly.

“We have been fine, thank you Gleb.” Anya replied.

Four imposing figures stepped into the room, their eyes sharp with years of battle. Viktoria tensed. These were the men who would help them reclaim Russia? Or would they betray them just as easily? 

Gleb folded his arms. “Ladies, meet our allies. Men, this is the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova.” Gleb announced, the four men bowed to her. “And this is Viktoria Alexandrovna Kotova, one of Anastasia’s oldest friends.” the men acknowledged Viktoria.

“Gleb, how are things in Russia?” Viktoria asked.

“Right, to the point. Things have calmed down in Russia about Anastasia. Now we need to get ready to take over. I’ve brought with me some generals, all loyal to the late Tsar, and now you, Anya.” Gleb started, “General Eugene Starikov, General Pavel Petrov, General Lev Lebedev, and General Maxim Volkovsky. Their men are waiting in Russia for our coup on Stalin.”

“I want to be a part of Anya’s security detail. I don’t want to sit around and be useless. I know how to shoot a gun, I’m sure if you helped me I could be great.” Viktoria intervened.

“Vichka, no that's too dangerous.” Anya objected.

“Anya, I’m not going to just stand around and do nothing. I won’t be on the front lines or anything, but I want to be able to protect you if the need comes up. You can’t change my mind.”

“Alright, General Volkovsky, will you work with Ms. Kotov later?”

“Gleb, could I have a little word with you?” Anya asked, she led him into the kitchen and shut the door behind her, “Do you really believe in this?” she asked, voice low. “In me?”

Gleb met her gaze. “I have to. Remember your roots, shoulders back, stand up tall, and show those men out there that you know you can do it.”

Anya took a deep breath and did as he said, they walked back into the small dining room and sat in their seats.

“Now, let’s go over our plan when we get to Russia.” Gleb began to explain their plan.

Laval, France

Dimitri and Alek were in their usual spots on the back patio.

“How was the Russian tea shop and all the once noble Russians?” Dimitri asked.

“Just how you would expect a Russian tea shop in the middle of Paris.” Alek replied. They resumed their staring into space. Olga and Tatiana walked out onto the patio and sat with Dimitri and Alek.

“How are you two today?” Tatiana asked, her imperial manners had stuck around for all these years.

“Alright, the same as yesterday I suppose.” Alek replied.

Dimtri had a hard time looking at Tatiana in the face. Everyone said Anastasia and Maria looked the most alike, before the revolution, but Dimitri would beg to differ. He supposed in old pictures people said that because of their build and the fact that in most pictures Maria and Anastasia weren’t old enough to wear their hair up. But if you looked at their faces, Tatiana and Anastasia were more of a match, especially now that Anya had thinned out from the harsh Russian streets. When Dimitri looked at Tatiana, all he saw was Anya in Paris, all done up, her hair back in a bun, the only differences were that Anya was still shorter than her older sister and their eyes. Dimitri shook himself out of his revery to listen to the conversation at hand.

“I remember once, we were in the crimson room, and we were talking about our crushes.” Tatiana recalled, “Maria and Olga chased Anastasia out to try to get her to tell who her crush was; but Viktoria and I stayed put. I asked her if she had anyone in mind. She told me not to tell, but now I suppose it’s ok. She told me it was you, Alek.”

A sad smile spread across Alek’s face.

“She didn’t think you would ever love her back because she was a baby as she put it. But… I told her you are a good man, and I was sure you would be a great pair when you were both older.” Tatiana finished, with tears in her eyes.

“Thank you for telling me Tatiana.” Alek replied.

“Of course, Aleksander.”

They went back to their silence.

Later everyone was in the drawing room; Olga and Tatiana were playing a duet on the piano, Alexei, Maria and Vlad were playing cards, Maria Feodorovna, Alexandra, and Lily were drinking tea, and Nicholas, Alek, and Dimitri were smoking and talking.

“I know we’ve said it before, but truly, thank you for taking care of our Anastasia. If it weren't for you she would still be suffering on the streets of Russia, cold and alone.” Nicholas was saying.

“Of course, I-” Dimitri struggled, “I loved her very much. I think… I think she loved me as well.”

“I see.” Nicholas started, “If- if she were still… here… I would grant you two my blessing.”

“Really? You would let your daughter marry an ex-con man?” Dimitri asked, bewildered.

“No. I would let her marry you, Dimitri.”

“Thank you, Nicholas.”

Nicholas’s voice wavered. “We owe you everything.”

Dimitri clenched his fists. “And yet, I still lost her.”

Nicholas cleared his throat and looked to Alek, “And what about our Viktoria?” Nicholas asked, looking at Alek.

“I loved her, with all my heart.” Alek replied.

“I never should have made you leave her.” Dimitri started.

“We’re past that Dimitri, it happened and there is nothing we can do now.” Alek stopped him.

“She loved you. I knew it. Now I see that you loved her too.”

“I’m sorry boys, I never wish to know the pain of losing my love, I’ve already lost a daughter.” Nicholas said.

They sat and smoked the rest of their cigarettes, as the rest of the family went about their night. Anastasia and Viktoria were never far from their minds.

11 April, 1928 Somewhere near Klaipėda, Lithuania

Viktoria looked through the window of the car as the smokey streets of Klaipėda faded away. She missed the hazy memory of Tsarskoye Selo, or the calmness of Kristianstad, or even the solemnness of St. Petersburg. She missed her brother’s protectiveness, Vlad’s humor, Alek’s entire being. She missed the Romanovs, her mama and papa, her little brother Nikolai.

The car stopped and Viktoria started to get out but stumbled on the step and General Maxim caught her arm, steadying her. She muttered a thank you, her mind flashing back to another time, another man who would have caught her like this. But Alek was gone; and Maxim was here.

“No worries, Jeanette.” he smiled, still being careful and using her code name.

Viktoria had grown closer to Maxim in her training with him, he was very kind and she was thankful he wasn’t like the other men in Petersburg Dimitri had to protect her from. Luckily none of the four Generals Gleb had brought were mean. They all had respect, not just for Anastasia, but for Viktoria too.

“Come on, let’s get you and Aimee inside. Then we’ll talk about the rest of our trip.” General Volkovsky insisted.

They walked into a hotel and rented four rooms, but before they went to their own rooms they all congregated in Gleb’s.

“Alright we are going to cross the Russian border from Navikai Lithuania to Gureli Russia. Us men all have Russian passports and a reason for leaving and coming back; to get you two. We told them you are both General Eugene Starikov’s sisters, and Viktoria you are General Volkovsky’s wife. You both left Russia before the borders closed but want to come back and pledge loyalty to Mother Russia and Stalin. Anastasia, your name is Yekaterina Starikova. Viktoria, yours is Daria Volkovskaya. Understand?” Gleb explained.

“Yes, but names are starting to get confusing. Why don’t you call us girl 1 and girl 2?” Anastasia jokes. General Volkovsky and General Lebedev snickered.

“Alright. Let’s get a good night's sleep, tomorrow the real ruse begins.” Gleb released everyone to their own rooms.

Chapter Text

Navikai, Lithuania

The Russian border loomed ahead. Anastasia and Viktoria, or Yekaterina and Daria, sat in the back seat of one of the trucks with their Russian passports. The first truck, the one with Gleb, General Lebedev, and General Petrov stopped to talk to the GPU (or Cheka) guards. The guards let the truck through and then stopped the truck with General Starikov, General Volkovsky, Anastasia, and Viktoria inside.

“Passports.” the guard stated.

They all handed over their passports. The guard looked at the General’s passports and then the girls’. He opened Viktoria’s, looked at her and seemed satisfied. He opened Anastasia’s, looked at her and scrunched his nose.

“You look familiar.” he questioned. Anastasia’s heart dropped to her feet.

“Well they are twins Katya and Dasha, a lot of people get them confused, the only difference is the hair!” General Starikov deterred.

“Yes indeed, people get so confused they sometimes go cross-eyed. But I could never confuse my Dashenka.” General Volkovsky was laying it on thick.

The GPU guard must have had enough mushy-ness because he let them go without another word.

“That was close.” General Starikov sighed.

“Too close.” Anastasia agreed.

The girls settled back in as the truck pulled into Gureli, Russia. After all of their trials to try to get away from Russia, they were right back where they started.

Podolsk, Russia

They were finally on the outskirts of Moscow. Viktoria, Gleb, and the Generals were outside throwing darts for aim practice since they couldn’t shoot without drawing quite a bit of suspicion. Anastasia watched closely. 

“Now you try Daria.” Gleb offered.

Viktoria stepped up and grabbed a dart. The dart board was so far away, Viktoria didn’t see how anyone could hit a bullseye, still she tried her hardest and she still was too far off of the center of the circle. This wouldn’t do, they were going to act on their coup tomorrow! She had to be ready.

“It’s getting late, everyone. Let’s get to sleep, we have a good day of traveling tomorrow.” Gleb said, as he and three of the generals headed inside.

“It’s alright Dasha, you’ll get it in time.” Anastasia comforted her.

“We don’t have time and you know it Katya.” Viktoria said. Anastasia gave her a sad look and headed inside. 

Viktoria picked up another dart and tried again, but hit the same spot she had earlier. “Ugh, I still can’t get to the center everytime!” she cried.

“Here let me help. Turn your hand to the right just a bit…” General Volkovsky was right behind her guiding her hand, trying to see her aim, “and then follow through.” 

Viktoria threw the dart and hit a perfect bullseye. “I did it!!” she shouted and jumped into his arms, and he hugged her back. “Thank you General Volkovsky.” she said earnestly. 

“Call me Maxim.” he said, never removing his arms from around her.

“Thank you Maxim.” she said, looking into his eyes. 

Viktoria had never really given him much thought before, but now so close… his dark hair… and his green eyes glowed in the dusk, and the way he helped her aim, and helped her so she didn’t fall out of the truck. She found herself starting to lean in, and before he could stop himself Maxim closed the gap between them. Viktoria’s mind went blank the moment their lips met, all she could think about was Maxim’s arms around her and his lips on hers. Then, as Maxim put his right hand on her jaw, just below her cheek, Alek’s face rushed to the forefront of her mind. She gently pushed away from the General before they could go any further. 

“Maxim… General Volkovsky… I- We can’t. I love someone else.” Viktoria murmured.

“Yes, of course. I’m so sorry Miss Ko- Mrs. Volkovskaya, I forget myself.” Maxim rushed out, clearly embarrassed.

“Please, call me Daria, or even Dasha. I hope we can still be good friends.” Viktoria corrected.

“Yes Dasha, I will be nothing but a friend. All thoughts of romantic love will be washed out, just platonic love from now on. I will always have your back, I promise.”

“Thank you Max, for being such a good friend.”

“Anytime Dasha.”

“Now, I should be getting to bed, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Yes, goodnight Dasha, sleep well.”

“You as well Max”

“Anya! Anya!” Viktoria whispered as soon as she shut the door to their shared room.

Anya rolled over in her bed, having already been asleep, and with a groggy voice grunted, “What Vichka?” 

“Anya, you can’t tell a soul. Especially not the ones that are around now. Swear it?” Viktoria pleaded.

Anastasia sat up quickly into a criss-cross position after hearing the urgency in her best friend’s voice, “What is it? Yes, yes, I swear. What?”

“I just had my first kiss.” Viktoria rushed out.

“What? With who? What happened? Do you love him? What about Alek?”

“Ok, ok, slow down. It was with General Volkovsky… Maxim. He was helping me learn how to aim and I got it so I was excited so I hugged him and then it just… sort of happened. And, I don’t think I love him, not like that at least. I do love Alek and I want to be with him. I told Maxim that and he was very understanding, we are going to be friends now.”

“Wow… I always thought your first kiss would be with Alek.” Anya was amazed.

“Me too! I never thought I would kiss anyone else. But… here we are.”

“How was it?” Anya smirked.

“It was… really nice. Truly. Even though he’s not the one I truly love, it was an amazing first kiss.” Viktoria continued to explain her evening with the general while getting into her nightgown and taking her hair down and brushing through it.

“He’s not bad looking either, Vichka.” Anya giggled. Viktoria blushed and pushed Anya back so she was laying down now. She laid down beside her best friend and they continued talking until they fell asleep on the same bed, leaving an empty one on the other side of the room.

Tomorrow, they would be changing history, hopefully they both lived to see what will become of it.

Chapter Text

The Kremlin, Moscow, Russia

30 April, 1928

General Petrov and General Lebedev were in the front, their rifles drawn. Then there was Gleb with his pistol in hand and rifle on his back. Anastasia and Viktoria were in the middle, Viktoria had her pistol in her hand ready to defend her best friend, and finally General Starikov and General Volkovsky were in the back with their rifles. They had an old white army battalion with them as well as old white army guards stationed at the door they would enter with them as well.

So far they had not run into any Bolsheviks yet, but they knew that wouldn’t last very long.

“Security is surprisingly low.” Anastasia whispered.

“Yes Anya, the outside and where Stalin is are the most guarded places, there's not too many guards actively guarding in the hallways. It’s mainly just men walking to and from the bathroom or a smoke break.” Gleb responded.

Then three Bolshevik officers walked around the corner, it looked like they were headed for a smoke break. General Petrov, General Lebedev, and three of the fake Bolshevik officers grabbed the three men, making sure they wouldn’t cause a scene so early. Anya and Viktoria turned around arm in arm as the Generals ended the Bolshevik’s quickly and quietly. Contrary to some belief, they really didn’t want to hurt a lot of these men; just the bad ones.

“Alright, let’s keep going, get this over quickly.” Gleb ordered.

They continued walking until they got to the entrance hall where they heard many voices coming from, five of the disguised white army officers walked into the room, and then six more, stationing themselves discreetly to take care of these politicians.

Gleb gave a hand signal to show that it was time. The Generals and the rest of the battalion got their rifles ready, Viktoria cocked her pistol. Then the men rushed forward and started taking out the guards, rounding up the unarmed politicians. It had been a totally unanticipated ambush and the white army won the Bolsheviks over with only minor injuries coming to the white army soldiers. The only two people of the red party still in the middle of the room were Joseph Stalin and his son Ivan Stalin, who were being guarded by all four of the Generals that came with Gleb.

“It seems you are outnumbered now, Stalin.” Gleb says, “We’ve brought someone you may like to see.”

Anastasia stepped into the room with Viktoria close behind her, her pistol still in her hand. Everyone in the room gasped, they knew exactly who she was.

“How the hell are you alive? You were confirmed dead twice!” Stalin was incredulous.

“Because, the Lord intended the Romanov dynasty to continue!” Anastasia yelled back, she was standing in her most regal posture, “I am The Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova daughter of Tsar Nicholas Romanov II of All of Russia, and I have come for my rightful and God-given throne.”

In all of the years Viktoria had known Anastasia she had never seen her be so regal and demanding. Not when she ordered her siblings and staff around, not when she demanded that she could have a second helping of dessert, not even when she had seen her in parades and official portraits to be sent around the whole world. Anya looked like she was truly meant to be in this role now, even if she was last in line until her entire family was murdered.

Outbursts erupted across the room; chairs scraping and voices shouting. In the confusion, Ivan Stalin slipped through the crush of guards like a snake. By the time Viktoria saw him, it was too late.

His arm hooked around her throat. The cold mouth of her own gun pressed hard into her temple.

The room froze.

“Don’t move.” Ivan hissed, his breath hot and sour against her ear.

Viktoria’s pulse hammered so loudly she barely heard the click of the safety being released. Across the room, Maxim had already raised his rifle, his jaw tight enough to crack.

“Let her go. Now,” Maxim ordered, voice steady but low; the kind that comes from the edge of losing control.

Ivan only smiled. “Ah ah. Not a step closer,” he warned, digging the barrel harder into Viktoria’s head. She winced, a strangled sound escaping her throat. “You take one more step and she dies.”

For a suspended moment, no one breathed. Dust drifted in the beam of light from the high window.

Then Ivan’s tone changed – colder and amused. “Let’s make a trade. You release my father… and I take this one with me.” He dragged the gun down her cheek, then lower, the gesture deliberate and disgusting. “I’ve always had a weakness for black hair.”

“Don’t touch her,” Maxim snarled, taking half a step forward before stopping himself. Ivan pressed the gun so hard against Viktoria’s temple that she cried out.

“I said, don’t move!” he barked.

Her voice trembled, but she forced the words out anyway. “F-fine. I’ll do it. Anya, you have to go through with it. I’ll be fine.” Her old stutter slipped out, betraying the terror she tried to bury.

“Viktoria!” Maxim’s voice cracked; too raw, too human for a soldier.

Anastasia straightened, face pale but resolute. “All right. I accept your terms,” she said. “But you will agree with mine. Viktoria lives. You and your father renounce your claim to Russia and submit to me; the rightful ruler.”

Ivan hesitated, flickering his eyes to his father. Stalin’s throat met General Starikov’s bayonet. “Fine,” the dictator growled.

Ivan shoved Viktoria away. She stumbled, then ran straight into Maxim’s arms. He caught her like something precious, his rifle forgotten.

The room exhaled – the moment shattered, but the fear still thrummed in the air.

Viktoria’s pulse was still racing when she made it to Maxim. He held her tight – tighter than protocol allowed – one hand at the back of her head as if to remind himself she was real.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe,” he murmured.

But safe felt like a lie. Her whole body trembled against him, the imprint of the gun’s barrel still burning into her skin. She could smell iron and smoke and the faint spice of Maxim’s uniform; all proof that she was still alive, though her mind hadn’t caught up yet.

Anya stood a few feet away, chest heaving, her expression both queenly and shattered. For a brief moment, Viktoria saw not the Tsarina of Russia but her oldest friend; the girl who used to braid flowers into her hair.

Ivan wiped the sweat from his brow, his grin returning like a wound reopening. “So it’s settled,” he said. “Two months’ time, she’ll be mine. The wedding of a century.”

Maxim’s muscles went rigid around Viktoria. She felt the low growl in his chest before she heard it.

“Over my dead body,” he muttered under his breath.

Anya’s gaze met Gleb’s. “We’ll honor the agreement – for now,” she said evenly, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “Take them away before I change my mind.”

The soldiers moved in, seizing the Stalins and the remaining politicians. The noise of boots and shouted orders filled the grand hall again. Viktoria and Maxim stayed locked together until the room was nearly empty.

Finally, she looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. “Two months.”

His hand tightened around hers. “Then we end this, Dasha. I swear it.”

Anya turned back to them, her crown catching the dull light. “And we’ll make sure no one ever tries to take what’s ours again,” she said. But the words didn’t sound like victory; they sounded like a vow made at the edge of a storm.

The Kremlin Palace Guest Quarters, Moscow, Russia

1 May

The morning light crept into the room through the narrow drapes, painting thin gold lines across the worn floorboards. Viktoria hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the cold press of metal against her temple, heart Ivan’s breath at her ear.

Her reflection in the cracked mirror was almost unrecognizable; a pale ghost wrapped in a silk robe that wasn’t hers. She ran a trembling hand through her hair and forced herself to breathe.

She was alive.

She had to remember that.

The door creaked open. Maxim stood there, freshly shaven, though his eyes were rimmed with sleepless red. “May I come in?” He asked softly.

She nodded, turning away from the mirror. He crossed the room in two strides, stopping a few feet short; close enough to see the fading bruise on her wrist, far enough not to startle her.

“I wanted to check on you,” he said. “No soldier should have gone through what you did yesterday.”

“I’m not a soldier,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

He hesitated. You’re braver than most I’ve served beside.”

Silence stretched between them. Heavy but not suffocating. Viktoria met his eyes that were a mix of kind, cautious, and guilty. She tried to smile, but it broke halfway. “I keep hearing his voice,” she admitted. “Like he’s still here.”

Maxim looked down. “He won’t touch you again. I swear it on my life.”

Before she could reply, there was a soft knock. Anastasia entered, still in her nightgown, her face pale but composed. “Vichka,” she said quietly. “Can I-?”

Viktoria nodded. Anya crossed the room and pulled her into a tight hug, ignoring propriety, ignoring titles. For a long moment, the only sound was the shallow rhythm of their breathing.

“I’m so sorry,” Anya whispered into her hair. “I should have done something. Said something. Anything.”

“You saved me,” Viktoria said, muffled against her shoulder. “That’s something.”

Anya drew back, eyes glistening. “The generals are already drafting the treaty terms. We’ll use the two months to prepare. The wedding will happen… but not like Ivan expects.”

Viktoria’s brow furrowed. “You’re planning to kill him there.”

“Both of them, “Maxim said, his tone flat, like an oath. “At the altar if we have to.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Viktoria stared between them; her best friend turned Empress, and the soldier who’d become her shield.

Finally, she nodded. “Then let’s make sure it’s done right. No more running, no more pretending.”

Anya gave a sad smile. “No more fairy tales.”

Viktoria met her gaze, something steely flickering behind her eyes. “No,” she said quietly. “This time, we write our own.”

Laval, France

16 June

“We never have visitors, no one is supposed to know about us.” Maria worried, “and they said they’re Russian officials, how are they letting them in to see us?”

“I don’t know Masha. But we trust our soldiers, they wouldn’t let a Bolshevik in.” Olga reasoned.

“Especially not since our Olga is married to her Major, Andrey.” Tatiana concluded.

A knock sounded at Tatiana and Maria’s bedroom door, they had gotten used to sleeping together ever since they were moved to Tobolsk, and especially since Anastasia’s death. Tatiana went to the door and opened it, it was Andrey and Alexei, who was now healed from his hemophilia. A doctor in America, of all places, had found the cure. A natural mixture of substances called the Ambraial Nauticora sap and the Mariner’s Favōre gum, the Romanov family jumped on it. Alexei had complained that it tasted horrible, but after a few months he hardly hemorrhaged at all.

“They’re ready for us, the Russian officials have been told about our survival and the shock has worn off.” Alexei chidded.

Alexei escorted his sisters, Tatiana and Maria, and Andrey escorted his wife, Olga, to where their parents were waiting, and then they walked into the room with the Russian officials, Maria Feodorovna, Dimitri, Alek, Vlad, and Lily and the Romanov’s servants, General Feodorov, Captain Yemenkov, and Captain Ouspensky. The Russian officials, even though they were briefed on the Romanovs, still looked astounded when seeing them walk in. The family sat down, followed by the two strangers.

The taller one cleared his throat in preparation to speak. “Hello, I am General Eugene Starikov”

“And I’m General Lev Lebedev.” said the shorter blond one. Maria eyed him.

“We’ve come with a great deal of news. I know you all are grieving the death of two very special women, Anastasia Romanova and Viktoria Kotova.” General Starikov began, everyone in the room caught their breath. “What you don’t know is that last year, when they were said to have died, with the help of Deputy Commissioner Gleb Vaganov, they faked their deaths and fled to Kristianstad, Sweden.” He paused to let the news sink in.

“How do we know you’re not lying? There was evidence of their deaths all over the city of Paris.” Tatiana questioned.

“But their bodies were never found, correct? I also have a picture of them in their house in Kristianstad.” General Lebedev pulled out a picture and began passing it around. Everyone’s reactions showed the belief and their relief that the girls were alive.

“Are they here? You must bring them here if not! I haven’t seen my sweet girlie in 10 years!” Alexandra cried.

“They are not here.” General Lebedev replied. The mood in the room deflated, but only slightly; nothing could dull the excitement that the girls were alive.

“We’ll send a ship to bring them from Sweden to us!” Nicholas said.

“They’re not in Sweden anymore, your majesty.” General Starikov began, “They’re in Russia. St. Petersburg to be exact.” Confusion began to spread across the room.

“Why the hell are they in Russia, are they trying to get themselves killed?” Dimitri asked.

“It hasn’t been in the papers yet, the bolsheviks are trying to drown it out, but there was a coup. The Stalins gave Russia up and the monarchy was restored. Russia is now ruled by her highness Tsarina Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, Empress of all of Russia. And she is assisted in her rule by her majesty Princess Viktoria Alexandrovna Kotova.” Everyone was in shock and they were all shouting something different.

“But… We’ve come because we need your help. Specifically Mr. Dimitri Sudayev and Mr. Aleksander Spassky.” Dimiri and Alek looked confused. “There is to be a royal wedding in two weeks' time.”

Now everyone was shouting again.

“Let me explain.” General Lebedev interceded, “When the coup took place, in order to get Stalin and his son Ivan to release their claim to the throne there was a price to pay. The deal was that Joseph Stalin would live and renounce his claim to Russia if Princess Viktoria Kotova would marry his son Ivan." At this everyone looked outraged, especially Dimitri and Alek. “We have a plan to take out Joseph and Ivan Stalin at the wedding, but Tsarina Anastasia requested to have you two as a part of the plan.”

“We’ll all come.” Alexei demanded.

“I’m not sure if that’s the safest thing to do.” Major Andrey Belov started.

“I agree with Alexei. Russia is under my daughter’s rule. Surely once the Stalins are dead, it will be safe to reveal ourselves; at least to Anastasia and Viktoria.” Nicholas stated.

“Alright, Generals, my men and I are with you. We pledge our loyalty to Her Highness Tsarina Anastasia.” General Feodorov said, and the three other soldiers nodded their agreement.

“Dimitri and I are in as well.” Alek said.

“I am as well.” Vlad stated proudly.

“Alright. Let’s begin to lay out our plan.” General Starikov began.

“I can’t believe they’re alive.” Alek said to Dimitri.

“Me either, I can’t wait to see them again.”

Chapter Text

Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

29 June, 1928

Viktoria and Anastasia sat in the mauve room at the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoye Selo.

“I never thought I would be back in this place.” Anastasia reflected, “It’s so quiet without my family. Without Olga playing the piano, Tatiana reading something aloud to Mama, Maria dancing, Alexei playing with his toys, Papa singing along to Olga’s song.”

“I know.” Viktoria said, “Come, let’s remember them.” Viktoria stood and walked to the piano, it was dusty from 11 years of non-use, she lifted the lid and began to play Lilac, a song the family loved to sing.

They knew, come tomorrow, Viktoria’s life would be very different. She was already a Princess, but now she would have to marry a man she hated.

Catherine Palace, St. Petersburg, Russia

30 June, 1928

Viktoria stood in front of the mirror in her wedding dress. She was dreading today. She knew she was doing this for a good reason, but she was still upset about it. Anastasia walked in, for a moment Viktoria thought it was Tsarina Alexandra, but she knew she was wrong. Her friend looked so much like her mother, especially while wearing her gown and her pearl drop tiara.

“Vichka, I’m so sorry you have to do this for me.” Anastasia lamented.

“Don’t be sorry Nastya, I’m not. I definitely wouldn’t choose this on my own accord, but if it is to save you and put you on the throne, I will do anything.” Viktoria declared.

“Here, let’s put on your tiara.” Anastasia pulled out a tiara from a velvet box on a nearby dresser, it was her grandma’s diamond kokoshnik tiara.

“Nastya I can’t wear that, it’s too grand.” Viktoria said

“Of course not! It’s perfect for you.” Anastasia came up behind Viktoria and put the tiara firmly on her head, making sure it wouldn’t fall off, “There, you look perfect.”

A knock sounded on the door, “Come in.” Anastasia said.

Gleb opened the door and walked into the room, “It’s time.”

Anastasia turned, hugged Viktoria, kissed her on the cheek, and walked out with Gleb. Another knock landed on the door a few minutes later and Viktoria granted entry to the person on the other side. General Maxim walked in.

“You… You look beautiful, your Majesty.” he said.

“Thank you Maxim, you’re too kind. And you don’t have to address me that way, just Viktoria is fine.”

“I hate this. I hate that you have to marry him.”

“I do as well. But it’s what I must do.” Viktoria looked in the mirror one last time and sighed, “Let’s go.”

Dimitri, Alek, Vlad, and Captain Ouspensky were in the Tsar’s (now the Tsarina’s) study with General Lebedev.  General Starikov was already in the audience ready. The door opened and another General and Gleb entered, along with the most beautiful sight Dimitri had ever seen. It was Anastasia in her full regal attire.

“Dimitri!” Forgetting all of her royal protocols she ran into Dimitri’s arms, she had missed this for so long, she wanted to stay there forever.

“Anya, I- this is so crazy. I thought you were dead, and now you’re here, in my arms.” Dimitri was astonished as he cupped her cheek.

“Dimitri, I’m so sorry we had to leave you. It broke both Viktoria and myself to leave you and Alek.”

“I’m here now.” Dimitri looked at Anastasia like she was the only one on the face of this earth, “We’re going to get my sister out of this wedding and ensure yours and her safety.”

Anastasia smiled, leaned in, and kissed him. It was sweet, earnest, and full of the love they missed out on for the last year.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” Alek butted in.

“Oh Alek, I’m so glad you’re here.” Anastasia went to him and hugged him. “And of course Vlad, I’ve missed you as well!” she said while moving to give Vlad a hug as well. “Viktoria has no clue you’re here and she doesn’t know about the plan, we wanted her to be as believable as possible.”

“Quick, Tsarina Anastasia, it’s time.” Gleb said, “General Petrov, you stay with them and lead the outside plan.”

Anastasia gave Dimitri one last kiss before their plan began, and left the room with Gleb.

In Anastasia’s few months as Tsarina she already was loved by her people. She was known as Anastasia the Peacemaker, a title her grandfather Alexander III had as well. However peaceful she seemed to be by her people, she would end these men however she needed to.

Viktoria stood outside of the double doors, awaiting her doomed wedding. Maxim stood next to her, “Viktoria, I’m so sorry.”

“Max, please. There’s nothing we can do now, let’s just get it over with.” Viktoria responded.

“Alright Dasha.” Maxim gave her a sad smile, and offered her his arm, she accepted it gratefully and the doors opened.

Viktoria’s eyes found Anastasia’s and she didn’t look away. Not to look at her poor excuse of a groom, not to look at Gleb or Maxim or any of the other Generals or aristocrats. She was thankful that the walk was long, it would prolong this wedding, even just for a few moments.

When Viktoria and Maxim got to the end of the walkway, the priest began, “Who gives this woman to marry this man?”

Maxim took a deep breath, he felt the guilt of offering Viktoria up deep in his chest, but he knew she would be fine, once their plan was followed through, “I do.” Viktoria turned to face Maxim, she had tears in her eyes and seemed to be begging him to take her away now. Maxim had to compose himself, she wasn’t going to be marrying this man, they were going to take care of him and his dreadful father, and Viktoria would be safe. Maxim leaned in and kissed both of Viktoria’s cheeks, let go of her hand, and took his place beside the Tsarina.

Viktoria walked to Ivan and the priest. Ivan went to grab Viktoria’s hand as the priest told him to do and Viktoria flinched, Ivan gave her a dirty look. 

The procession continued on while Viktoria looked straight ahead in a daze, she was so scared of Ivan and of her life she had before her. She wished now more than ever that Alek was here. That he would come and take her away and she could live happily with him for the rest of their lives. They would get married and have five kids, with Dimitri and Anastasia living next door, and they would be happy. But that was all a foolish childhood dream now, Alek was God knows where, and Viktoria was at the altar with another man.

Viktoria froze. The priest’s voice blurred. Then – two gunshots, one whizzing past her ear; Viktoria, Ivan, and many other aristocrats in attendance dropped to the ground. Viktoria looked around and saw Joseph Stalin laying on the ground in a pool of blood.

“No!” Ivan screamed, “We had a deal!”

“My country would never be safe while you and your father are alive, Ivan. This is the end of the Stalins and the Bolsheviks.” Anastasia declared.

As Anastasia was saying this General Starikov, General Petrov, General Lebedev, General Volkovsky, Gleb, Alek, and Dimitri surrounded the altar. Viktoria was filled with hope and excitement.

Ivan got a crazed look on his face, he pulled out a knife and a shotgun from his side. He aimed the gun at Anastasia and the knife at Viktoria’s throat. “Don’t move! Or I’ll kill the Empress and the Princess!”

While Ivan started on a self righteous rant he had his back turned to Maxim. Maxim signaled to General Pavel Petrov, a sharp shooter and former sniper. Maxim pointed to his right hand and pretended to shoot it with his left hand. Pavel understood. Maxim counted down from three… two… one.

Pavel shot Ivan’s left wrist, making sure he wouldn’t hit Viktoria, and Ivan dropped the knife. At the same time Maxim tackled him. Alek rushed forward and pulled Viktoria away, holding her in his arms. Maxim and Ivan kept tumbling around, General Lev Lebedev and General Eugene Starikov ran to them, they both grabbed Ivan and pulled him off of Maxim, but they didn’t get his gun away in time, Ivan shot Maxim in the chest.

“No! Maxim!” Viktoria screamed.

“Max!” A yell came from General Lev.

Gleb shot Ivan in the head and the scuffle was finally over.

Alek let go of Viktoria now that they were out of danger and she ran to Maxim. “Max! Max, look at me, please!”

 He found her eyes and smiled faintly. “You’re safe now.”

“But you’re not! Someone help him!” she cried.

Lev knelt and pressed his hands over the wound, though he already knew the truth.

“Why did you do that? It was so reckless!” Viktoria’s tears fell onto his uniform.

“For you, Viktoria… I’d do anything.” His voice was thin, his eyes glassy.

“Maxim Yakovlevich Volkovsky, you are not dying for me. I am not worth it.”

He gave a trembling laugh. “Lev… Viktoria… Please- tell my family gently. My Mama and sisters… it will be hard for them. Tell them to be strong, tell them I died for my country… and for my love.” Tears pooled in his eyes.

Viktoria shook her head, voice breaking. “No. No, I won’t. You will tell them you saved Russia, that they’ll be proud of you, that you’ll be there to see it. Where is the doctor! Why is no one helping?” 

Her please cracked through the hall, but the soldiers only bowed their heads. She pleaded that God would spare this man’s life. A man who loved her, who she could not love back; her new best friend. 

“Gleb, come with me.” Anastasia said softly. “We’ll find a doctor.” They ran.

Viktoria held his hand tighter. “Tell me about your family, Max. Keep talking.”

He smiled faintly, fighting for breath. “My mama and papa, are the kindest souls. I have six siblings – Natalya, the oldest, then me. Th-then Yakov, Maria, Yekaterina, E-Elena, and Sophiya.” he stuttered out, “Natalya is strong,  Yakov stubborn, Maria, Elena, and Sofiya are sweet and k-kind, Yekaterina is so silly and full of life.” He coughed, blood on his lip. “I’m going to miss them.”

“Stop. You’re not going anywhere.”She brushed his hair back.

“Dasha, Leva…” His voice was barely a whisper. “I know. I’m going to die. It’s alright. I’ve run my race. You have to be all right with it. I’ll be with God… watching over you.”

Viktoria couldn’t speak; her throat was closed by grief.

“I didn’t get to really have you, Viktoria… to really love you… But I loved you as a friend, and that was enough. Don’t be sad when I’m gone. Go with your love, be happy. Remember me, and smile.” 

She bent down and kissed his cheek. “I promise I’ll remember. I’ll tell your family all about their brave son, and how honorable he is. I’ll make sure they’re well off, they won’t suffer. Anastasia and I will see to it.”

“Thank you Dasha.”

“Anything for you Max. I love you.”

His lips curved. “I… love you too.”

His eyes fluttered shut. The faint smile stayed. His head was cradled in Viktoria’s lap and she crossed herself and gently put his head on the ground, and laid her head on his chest, sobbing her grief. Maxim shouldn’t have died. He should be alive. Viktoria would’ve married Ivan Stalin if it meant Maxim was alive.

The hall fell silent, save for the soft click of spent shell casings rolling on the marble; as if Alek had taken all of the sound out of the world with him. Viktoria and never heard silence this loud.

Anastasia stood nearby, her hands trembling as she wiped a tear from her own cheek.

For a moment no one moved. Then the Tsarina straightened, her grief hardening into resolve. She turned to the crown – soldiers, nobles, stunned guests – and lifted her chin.

“The threat of the Stalins and the Bolsheviks,” she began, her voice low but steady, “is now ended.”

Every face turned toward her. Even the guards stood still.

“Russia is free because of the courage of these men.” She took a step forward, her gaze sweeping across them. “General Eugene Glebovich Starikov. General Pavel Alexandrovich Petrov. General Lev Vladimirovich Lebedev. Chief of the General Staff Gleb Stephanovich Vaganov. Dimitri Nikolaevich Sudayev. Aleksander Nikolaevich Spassky. Count Vladimir Vladimirovich Popov. Captain Anatole Gregorovich Ouspensky…”

Her voice caught, but she forced herself to continue.

“And General Maxim Yakovlevich Volkovsky; who gave his life so that we might stand here free.” 

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Anastasia’s composure trembled, but she held it, barely.

“These men are heroes of Russia. Their loyalty and sacrifice will be remembered as long as this empire stands. And to the families who have given their sons for this cause; know that your loss is Russia’s sorrow, and their honor is eternal.”

She looked once more at Viktoria, still bent over Maxim’s body. “We are all safe because of him,” she said softly, her voice breaking for the first time. “Beacuse of all of them.”

The Imperial Guard began gently ushering the shaken aristocrats out of the grand hall. Their footsteps echoed against the marble, fading slowly until only the sound of Viktoria’s quiet weeping remained.

Chapter Text

Viktoria was still laying over Maxim’s body, mourning the life of her best friend. She was so mad at him for sacrificing himself for her, surely there was another way that would have resulted in them both being alive. It had been almost 30 minutes, and they had taken all of the other people out of the room, it was just Anastasia, Dimitri, Gleb, Alek, the soldiers, Viktoria, and Maxim’s body. The room was still, no one wanted to disturb the grieving that was happening both in front of them and in them. After a while Gleb went and gently put his hand on Viktoria’s shoulder, but she shrugged him off and began to cry louder.

Dimitri walked slowly to his little sister, he crouched down next to her and put his hand on Maxim’s shoulder that wasn't covered in blood, “Into Thy hands, O Lord, I commend the soul of Thy departed servant, Maxim Yakovich Volkovsky, and pray to Thee to grant them rest, O Lord, in the place of Thy rest, where all Thy blessed saints repose, where the light of Thy countenance shineth. Grant that our lives may be godly, sober and blameless, that we may be worthy to meet them again in Thy Heavenly Kingdom. For Thou art the Resurrection and the Life and the Repose of Thy departed servants, O Christ our God, and unto Thee we ascribe glory, to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

When Dimitri had finished reciting the prayer Viktoria slowly lifted her head towards him, her face was blotchy and streaked with tears. Dimitri opened his arms to his sister and she slowly laid in his embrace as he closed his arms around her.

Generals Eugene Starikov, Pavel Petrov, Lev Lebedev, Vasiliy Feodorov, Major Andey Belov, Captains Pytor Yemenkov and Anatole Ouspensky, and Gleb came up and very carefully lifted Maxim. Viktoria whimpered and began to cry again as the men walked away with Maxim, Dimitri just stroked his sister’s hair to comfort her. Once the doors closed behind the men Viktoria buried her head in Dimitri’s chest and cried for a few more minutes.

After the second round of tears had dried Viktoria looked up at her brother, “Dima, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Viki.” Dimitri said honestly.

Viktoria smiled at Dimitri and they stood up, Viktoria looked to Alek and when their eyes met another round of tears were welling up in her eyes. They walked to each other but stopped before they were too close.

“Alek…” Viktoria’s voice cracked as she said his name. “I-”

“I know, Viktoria. Please, you don’t have to explain, let me. I never should have left you, if I had this all could’ve gone so much simpler. I’m so sorry you have had to go through this Viktoria, but I’m here now, you won’t be alone anymore-” before Alek could finish his sentence Viktoria jumped into his arms. Alek’s hands trembled as they cradled Viktoria’s face, treasuring this moment. It wasn’t perfect, it was broken, but it was theirs.

Anastasia walked to Dimitri, “That was so sweet of you Dimiri, to pray for Maxim. I didn’t know you were religious.”

“I wasn’t. My father has always been against it, but I remember Viktoria praying over people, alive and dead, on the streets of Russia. I memorized them and would say them to her to comfort her from time to time… this past year, when I thought you were both dead, I’ve been thinking more about it. I’m not sure I fully understand, but some good friends have been teaching me.”

“I’m very thankful to those good friends.” Anastasia smiled and leaned into Dimitri’s side. Dimitri smirked and kissed her head as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

It was far from perfect, but in time they would heal together.

Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

17 July, 1928

Dimitri, Anastasia, Alek, Viktoria, and Gleb were sitting in the crimson room, outside of the Romanov girl’s childhood bedrooms. Alek and Viktoria were cuddled on a small chaise lounge, Viktoria was looking off at something that wasn’t really there and Alek was watching her; wishing he could bear her sadness for her. Gleb was sitting in a chair reading a book and Dimitri and Anastasia were sitting at a table looking through pictures, Anastasia looked up at the huge portrait of her grandmother, Alice of Hesse and by Rhine. 

“We should get portraits made of my parents and siblings to hang up. They deserve to have a space there.” she said

“That’s a good idea, Nastya.” Viktoria whispered.

Just before anyone could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. Gleb opened it, “Who are you?”

“I’m here for Dimitri Sudayev, his surprise is ready.”

“Surprise? What are you up to Dima?” Anastasia asked.

“You’ll see, don’t move!” He answered. Dimitri ran out of the room and shut the door.

“Do you know what this is?” Viktoria asked Alek.

“I do!”

“I don’t suppose you’d give me a sneak peak?” Viktoria raised an eyebrow.

“Absolutely not.” Alek smirked and kissed Viktoria’s temple.

Dimitri peaked his head in the room and was smiling ear to ear, “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be!” Anastasia responded.

He opened the door and six people entered behind him, Anastasia and Viktoria’s jaws dropped. Anastasia stood and took three shaky steps towards the group. “Papa? Mama? My family! How-”

Alexandra wipped a tear, “Oh my Anastasia”

“My girl.” Nicholas said, Anastasia lept into her papa’s arms and they hugged each other for all they were worth. Alexandra joined the hug and then all of Anastasia’s siblings. Anastasia had always felt like something was missing, since that night in Yekaterinburg. Now, as she felt her papa’s beard tickle her forehead, smelled her mama’s white rose perfume, and heard her siblings laugh she knew exactly what it was. Her home, love, and family finally had been returned to her.

After minutes of this sweet reunion Olga turned and looked at Viktoria, “Vichka! Vichka, come here.”

Viktoria walked slowly to Olga, and Olga engulfed her in a hug. “Oh Vichka, we missed you so much, my fourth little sister!” 

“Come on, my girl” Alexandra motioned Viktoria to her, and so Viktoria was added to the family hug.

“How? How did you all survive?” Anastasia asked as they pulled away.

“Come sit down, we’ll explain everything.” Tatiana said.

“So, my father didn’t kill anyone? And he saved Anastasia?” Gleb asked, amazed.

“Turns out you really are your father’s son after all.” Anastasia smiled at him.

“I suppose I really am.” Gleb had a small smile on his face throughout the rest of the story.

After a brief 6 month reign, Anastasia abdicated in favor of her little brother, Alexei. The news was announced in papers world wide with a family portrait. Sitting on a small couch was Tsar Alexei II with his parents, Grand Prince Nicholas and Grand Princess Alexandra, sitting on either side of him. His sisters, Grand Duchesses Olga and Maria stood on the left of the couch, and Grand Duchesses Tatiana and Anastasia stood on the right. Below the big picture, there were 3 other pictures, from left to right they were; Olga and her husband, Andrey Belov, Maria and her fiance, Pavel Petrov, and Anastasia and her fiance, Dimitri Sudayev. There was also a picture of Viktoria in court dress with a kokoshnik, telling the world that she was a princess of Russia. 

Chapter Text

Kraków, Poland

Dimitri had explained to Viktoria the letter he had received from their parents while they were separated, and how they apologized, they were on good terms with Dimitri, and they had a new little sister! Dimitri and Viktoria traveled to Poland to see them, and surprise them, they had no idea Viktoria was alive.

The Sudayev family was sitting down for dinner, still with their two empty chairs, when there was a knock on the door. They weren’t expecting anyone, so Nikolai went to the door. He opened the door and saw Dimitri standing there, 

“Dimitri, my boy!” Nikolai exclaimed

“Dima!” Alexandra yelled and came to hug him. Nikolai jr and Valentina also came and gave him hugs.

“Come on in Dimitri, there’s plenty to eat.” Valentina told him.

The Sudayev family sat back at the table, now only one chair remained. Excited chatter filled the table, when another knock sounded.

“That’s strange… the only person who usually comes unannounced is Dimitri.” little Nicky said.

“I’ll get it.” Valentina said, she went to the door and her jaw dropped to the floor. On the other side of the door was her daughter, who she thought had been dead for a year. Valentina reached her hands out to hold Viktoria’s face, she stroked her cheek and tears came to her eyes.

“Mama,” Viktoria whispered, her own eyes cloudy, “I’ve missed you.”

“My baby! Oh I’ve missed you too!” Valentina pulled Viktoria into her arms and finally let the tears fall.

“Who is it?” Nikolai asked as he came to the door, he stopped in his tracks when he saw who it was.

Nikolai stared into her tear stained eyes. The last time he saw them was 11 years ago, they had been full of tears then too, but because of his own accord.

“Viktoria… you’re… you’re alive.” Nikolai said.

Viktoria looked at him for a moment, when she looked at him she saw everything he did to her. He had apologized… Was it too late? Before she could make up her mind her brother Nicky came over, saw her and ran into her arms.

He had been only three when she had left, but he remembered her immediately. He began to rattle out questions, when Nikolai interrupted him.

“Viktoria. I- I’m so happy you’re here, that you’re alive. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Nikolai, I remember everything, and it hurts me immensely. But, I know you were going through things as well. While that’s not an excuse, I will forgive you. I can see now how you love my mama, and my little siblings, and how you’ve begun to fix things with Dimitri. Thank you for taking care of my mama. And I would love to start building a relationship with you.”

“Thank you Viktoria. I know I can never fill the shoes of your papa, but I will try my hardest to come close.”

Viktoria walked up to Nikolai and hugged him.

“Viktoria, come sit down. Let’s get everyone reacquainted.” Dimitri said.

Viktoria was ushered to the table. She sat in her designated spot at the end of the table, in between Alexandra and Dimitri.

“Hi Alexandra. It’s so nice to meet you.” Viktoria started

“H-hi Viktoria.” Alexandra smiled

“Oh, let me hug you, sweet girl.” Viktoria and Alexandra stood and Viktoria and hugged her little sister for the first time, they stayed that way for awhile.

Once they had sat back down Valentina looked at Viktoria, “Now, how are you alive? You’ve had me so sad for a whole year!”

“I’m sorry mama. It’s a long story. My friend, Anya, and I had to fake our deaths; otherwise she would’ve been hunted down and really killed. We took over Russia and restored the monarchy.”

The Sudayev family sat in silence for a moment.

“That sounds like fun!” Nicky exclaimed

“Of course you’d think that was fun.” Alexandra said, Nicky stuck his tongue out at her.

“Viktoria, that’s a lot to go through, are you alright?” Valentina asked

“Yes, I’m alright. I wouldn’t be if I didn’t have Anya.”

“Is this Anya perhaps Tsarina Anastasia Romanov?” Nikolai asked

“She is, but not for much longer.” Dimitri replied

“Dima.” Viktoria looked at him angrily.

“What do you mean?” Nicky asked

“We aren’t supposed to tell anyone.” Viktoria glared at Dimitri, “but Anastasia is abdicating. She’s giving the throne to her little brother Alexei, her parents and siblings all also survived the revolution. We didn’t know this until a few months ago.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you’re friends with royalty.” Nicky said

“We’re not just friends with them. Viktoria is royalty. She’s Princess Viktoria Alexandrovna Kotov.” Dimitri exclaimed

“You’re a princess?!” Alexandra shouted in awe.

Viktoria laughed, “I won’t be the only royal in the room soon.” she said while eyeing Dimitri.

“Dimiri? You’re receiving a title?” Valentina asked

“Well, yes. I’m engaged to the current Tsarina.”

The table burst with excitement.

“I want to meet the Tsarina!” Alexandra yelled

“You will, soon.” Dimitri responded, “Y’know, Viktoria is engaged as well.” Dimitri smirked

The table erupted again.

“Tell us about him!” Valentina begged

“Yeah, Papa, Dimitri, and I will straighten him out for you if needed.” Nicky said, seriously.

“No, I won’t need that, thanks Nicky.” Viktoria started, “I’m engaged to Aleksander Spasskey.”

“Oh, he’s a nice boy, he will be a good match for you my Vira.” Valentina smiled

“Thank you Mama, I think so too.”

“We’ll send you all invitations to the weddings as soon as possible.” Dimitri said.

The dinner carried on well and they transitioned into the living room to continue catching up.

“How long are you two staying?” Nikolai asked

“For the week. If that’s ok?” Viktoria asked

“Of course! We’d keep you forever if we could.” Valentina said as she snuggled closer to her daughter. Viktoria yawned as she embraced her mother.

“You must be so tired from your traveling, come let me show you your room. Nicky, Alexandra, tell your sister goodnight and then head to bed.” Valentina said.

Viktoria stood and hugged Nicky, ruffling his hair, and Alexandra, giving her a soft kiss on the head. Valentina walked Viktoria to her room, she opened the door and Viktoria giggled. “There’s enough purple in here to repaint the Catherine Palace.”

“Oh hush. I remember how much you loved purple, I hope you still do. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, I feel like I don’t know anything about my baby anymore.”

“I still love purple. I love you Mama. I wish things could have been different, but I’m here now.” Viktoria said, she hugged her mama tight.

“Look Vira, do you remember this?” Valentina went to the dresser and picked up a little bear that sat there.

“Oh my goodness! It’s the bear Papa got me on my seventh birthday!” Viktoria held the bear to her chest.

“And the letter that came with it, and a picture of us.” Valentina handed it to her.

  To my beautiful Kiska, 

     I love you forever my darling girl. 

-Your Papachka, 1908 <3

The picture was of her, her mama, and her papa. They had it taken on her eighth birthday, then they ate black bread, a small portion of butter, and cabbage soup for a month to make up for it. Her papa was adamant that they get the photo though, because he knew he didn’t have much longer to be with his daughter, and he wanted her to have something to remember him by.

“Oh Papa. I haven’t seen his handwriting in so long.” Viktoria began to tear up.

“My Vira. He loved you so much. And he would’ve loved Aleksander as well.”

“Thank you Mama. I really did miss you.” Viktoria hugged her mama again.

“Alright, sweet girl. You need to go to bed, I know you’re tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” Valentina smiled and left the room.

Viktoria sat the letter on the dresser and put the bear in her bed and picture on her night stand. She got ready for bed and snuggled up with her bear close. She could swear it still smelled like her papa.

Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

Anastasia was snuggled up on the couch in the mauve room with Tatiana and her mama. Olga was sitting with her husband Major Andrey Belov, Nicholas and Alexei were sitting on the other side of the couch, and Maria was talking to General Pavel Petrov.

As Anastasia looked around the room and realized she had everything she had been wanting for 10 years now. She started to tear up and she snuggled into Tatiana more.

“Oh Nastya, we’ve missed you so much. It was horrible thinking that you were the only one who didn’t make it. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through all these years.” Tatiana sniffed

“It’s alright, we’re together now. I’ve found everything I’ve been looking for. Home, love, and family. I have everything now.” Anastasia smiled, and then she scowled, “I can’t believe I missed Olga’s wedding!”

Tatiana and Alexandra laughed, “It was nothing really Shvibzik. Just in the garden of the Laval house.” Tatiana comforted her.

“They should get remarried in the Catherine Palace, like it was meant to be.” Alexandra stated.

“Oh Mama, you know Olga doesn’t care as much for those kinds of things, if anything I think she would want to get married in a cathedral; she has always loved the Saint Nicholas naval cathedral.” Tatiana reasoned.

“I think Maria would like to get married outside like Olga did.” Anastasia continued their game.

“And Alexei at the Winter Palace.” Alexandra continued.

“Tatiana at the Catherine Palace with all of the lavishings.” Anastasia teased

“And Anastasia… hm… probably in a small cathedral in a small town.” Tatiana smiled.

“I would like that… but I think when Dimitri and I get married, we’ll get married here in the Alexander Palace, where I’m most happy.” Anastasia said.

“I like that idea.” Tatiana snuggled closer to her sister and Anastasia fell asleep on her shoulder, finally at peace.

Chapter Text

November 30, 1929

Alexander Palace, St. Petersburg, Russia

Dimitri and Anastasia were standing in front of the priest with their families surrounding them; families that Dimitri and Anastasia were sure wouldn’t be there only two years ago. This was the first time Dimitri’s family had been there for him in a long time, maybe the first time. He couldn’t believe today he was marrying the love of his life, who he first saw 12 years ago.

Anastasia and Dimitri were wearing their wedding crowns and had exchanged rings and taken their candles, the priest was saying a prayer and then they would be officially married. Dimitri peaked at his bride during the prayer, and silently said his own. ‘Protect my wife, O Lord, bless her and keep her safe. Let no harm come to her, prosper her all the days of her life. Thank you for giving her to me, I will love her as You love her, and protect her as You have protected her, O Lord, amen.’ he closed his eye and listened as the priest finished his prayer.

After the priest said, “Amen.” Anastasia looked up at Dimitri like he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, Anastasia was sure he was. He was perfect. After so long of everything being temporary, at last there was something tangible in front of her. At last. She felt her hands in his and then one hand went to her cheek, they both leaned in and shared their first kiss as man and wife. It was soft and gentle, something so new to them. Nothing about either of their lives the past ten years was soft or gentle, but now they clung to this softness. Their families and friends applauded them, as well as the other spectators in the room as Dimitri and Anastasia turned to be presented to them as man and wife. They walked down the aisle together, not before glancing at their families, then they were out of the room and off to get ready for their reception with only family and friends.

The night continued on splendidly and Anastasia and Dimitri were surrounded by love. Anastasia danced with her father while Maria and Alexei sang “Lilac” with Olga and Tatiana playing it on the piano.

Dimitri danced with his mom to a song Viktoria played on the piano, she whispered in his ear, telling him how proud she was of him and how sorry she was that she hadn’t been in his life much at all; he squeezed her tighter so she would know that it’s alright.

As another song began Alexei asked for Anastasia’s hand, so Dimitri let her go and went to Viktoria.

“May I have this dance?” he asked

“Why of course!” Dimitri took her hand and led her to the middle of the dance floor.

“Y’know, Anastasia and I will be gone for a while.”

“I know, you’re leaving me and taking my best friend! What ever will I do?” Viktoria responded dramatically.

“Hm, I’m sure Alek will have some ideas. Also, more catch up time with the Romanovs for you.”

“Of course.” Viktoria looked into her brother’s eyes, “Dima… I’m so happy for you. Truly. You are a wonderful man and I have loved every second of growing up with you.”

“Now Viki, don’t talk about me like I’m dying, I’m only going to Livadia for two weeks, then I’ll be back to annoy you like usual.”

“Ugh, if only it was that easy to get rid of you!” The siblings laughed as they continued to sway to the music. “I love you, Dima.”

“I love you too, Viki.” Viktoria laid her head on Dimitri’s shoulder as they continued on. “Hold on, I have more than one sister.”

“Go dance with Alexandra, I have another brother to dance with.” Viktoria walked over to Nikolas and asked him for a dance.

Dimitri walked up to his youngest sibling, Alexandra was sitting on their mama’s lap. He knelt down to be eye level with her and said, “Miss Sudayev, would you honor me with a dance?”

Alexandra beamed and took his hand. When they got to the middle of the floor they began dancing together and after a while Dimitri’s back was getting tired so he lifted Alexandra in his arms and swayed her back and forth, doing quick spins to make her giggle. He loved his family very much and thanked God silently in his head.

The next song that played was an upbeat, cheery tune and Anastasia grabbed her three sisters and took them to the middle and then gestured for Viktoria to come as well. They started goofing off and dancing sloppy ballet moves, just like that night after The Swan Lake in 1913. Everyone watching looked on in fondness and chuckled at the ridiculousness of the five girls.

It was the most wonderful day of Dimitri and Anastasia’s lives and they enjoyed it to the fullest, wishing it would never end. When they sat with their tea 3 days later in Livadia, they were excited because they knew the rest of their lives would look like this now. As long as they were together, At Last.

Chapter Text

18 December, 1929

Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

Viktoria stood in front of the mirror in her wedding dress. She was so excited for this day! Her mama was finishing up her hair in a gorgeous bun. Her little sister Alexandra and the Romanov women were getting ready in another room. Valentina Sudayev’s eyes glistened as she fixed the last pin in Viktoria’s hair. 

“Oh mama.” Viktoria said as she turned around and hugged her.

“Your papa would be so proud of you.”

Viktoria turned, hugging her mother tight. “I really miss him.”

“I do too.” Mother and daughter stood in an embrace for a few minutes. “I have something for you, from your papa.”

“You do?” Viktoria looked at her mama with such surprise. Valentina went to her bag and grabbed a small pouch and a letter and handed it to her. Viktoria opened the letter and read the words her papa had written to her.

My Dear Viktoria,

I am so happy for you, my Kiska girl. I wish more than anything 

that I could be there with you right now, on your special day. But know 

that I am always nearby, just around the corner, and I will always be on your team! 

I am sure your Mama has made sure this man is good for you, as I 

asked her to. I hope you enjoy this present, I want you to feel like I’m there

beside you, even if you can’t see me. I love you so much my girl. 

All my love, 

Papa <3

Through her tears Viktoria read the note once more, then lifted the small box in her lap. Inside was her father’s Russian Orthodox cross; the one he had always carried close to his heart. She picked it up, the metal warm as if it had just been resting on his collar bone.

“How sweet!” Valentina said, also with some tears in her eyes.

“I’ll wrap it around my flowers we picked, so it will be on display. Almost like he is here with me, after all.”

“I think that is perfect.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Anastasia peeked her head in, “May we enter?”

“Of course, Anya.”

Anastasia entered with Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Alexandra Sudayev behind her. Each girl wore soft shades of purple and silver and carried small bouquets tied with silk and lace.

“Oh Vichka, you look absolutely radiant!” Tatiana whispered as soon as she entered the room.

Viktoria turned and smiled, “Do I look alright?”

“More than alright,” Olga said softly. “You look like hope itself.”

“You’re beautiful, Vichka.” Maria added.

“The most perfect bride.” Anastasia finished as little Alexandra looked at her big sister in awe.

There was a knock, and then Dimitri’s voice: “It’s time.”

Valentina kissed her daughter’s cheek, whispering, “He’s waiting for you.” Viktoria nodded, her hands trembling as she picked up her bouquet with her father’s cross hugging the stems.

Viktoria linked arms with Dimitri right before she walked down the aisle, “You can always run away, and I’ll cover for you.” Dimitri whispered, only half joking.

“No way, not this time.” Viktoria snickered back.

“Good. You have both been waiting long enough.”

“Thank you, Dima. For everything.” Viktoria looked at her big brother seriously.

“Anything for my Vira.” Dimitri smiled back, “Alright, keep a grip, take a deep breath, and we’ll go from here.”

Viktoria settled herself and then – the doors opened. Music filled the air and Viktoria tightened her grip on Dimitri’s arm to steady herself. Viktoria  stepped forward, each step deliberate, the train of her gown gliding across the marble floor. 

As Alek turned he forgot how to breathe. Her veil shimmered like morning frost, her smile was gentle but full of strength; the same smile that had carried them both through war, loss, and everything in between.

When she reached him, Alek bowed his head for a moment, a silent thank you to Heaven, before taking her hands in his.

The priest began, “Today, before God and these witnesses, we join Aleksander Nikolaevich Spassky and Viktoria Alexandrovna Kotova in holy matrimony. Not only in love, but in faith and in promise.”

As the priest spoke about love’s endurance, Viktoria’s eyes wandered upward to the painted ceiling; she could almost feel Maxim’s presence there, warm and proud, alongside her papa’s.

Then the priest nodded to her. “Princess Viktoria, you may speak your vows.”

She took a steadying breath and looked into Alek’s eyes. “Alek, my love… You have been my protector, and my home. I once feared that love would mean losing myself again, but with you, I’ve found who I was always meant to be. ‘Entreat me not to leave you, or turn back from following after you; for wherever you go, I will go; and wherever you live, I will live; your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if anything but death parts you and me.’ You have my heart, my faith, and my forever.”

Her voice wavered, but she didn’t cry, not this time. This was joy, unshadowed by grief. When Alek’s turn came he squeezed her hands, then spoke with a calm, certain tone. It wasn’t rehearsed, it was honest.

“Viktoria, from the moment I met you, I knew you carried light – a light that not even the darkest years could extinguish. You’ve taught me courage, forgiveness, and what it means to love without fear. I promise to stand beside you in every season; in peace or in storm, in laughter or in sorrow. Wherever you walk, I will follow, because my heart already belongs there. You are my compass, my prayer answered, and my home.”

When the priest blessed their crowns, the gold caught the sunlight that streamed through the tall windows, bathing them both in light.

“By the grace of God,” the priest declared, “ you are joined: body, heart, and soul. What God has joined together, let no hardship put asunder.” 

Alek lifted her veil and whispered, “You’re my miracle,” before kissing her; soft, reverent, and real.

The room erupted in gentle applause. Anastasia was crying, Valentina had her hand over her mouth. Even Dimitri looked misty-eyed.

As the music began again Viktoria looked up, smiling through her tears. “We made it, Papa,” she smiled, “At last.”

The reception was held in the grand ballroom of the Alexander Palace, now bathed in the soft glow of winter twilight. Snow fell outside in slow, glittering flakes that looked like they were waltzing in time with the string quartet.

Anastasia and Dimitri stood by the long banquet table, surrounded by laughter and clinking glasses. The Romanov family, the Sudayevs, the Kotovs, and the Spasskys mingled together like one, no longer separated by class or title, only by joy.

Viktoria and Alek danced their first dance as husband and wife to a waltz that Tatiana played on the piano, her touch delicate and reverent. They moved as if they had done so a hundred times before, his hand steady on her back, her smile unwavering.

When the song ended, and the applause faded, Dimitri stepped forward, a familiar warmth in his expression.

“May I steal the bride for one dance?” he asked, bowing playfully.

Alek smiled, pressing a kiss to Viktoria’s forehead. “She’s all yours, brother.”

Dimitri led her to the center of the floor as a slow melody began, it was one Viktoria instantly recognized. It was The Waltz of the Flowers, the piece her papa had always played when she was small.

Viktoria looked up at him with glistening eyes. “You chose this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Dimitri said softly. “Or maybe your papa did.”

She let out a shaky laugh, and they began to dance – slow, grateful, and full of memory.

“I wish he could have seen this.”

“I think he did,” Dimitri replied, his voice low and steady. “He’d be proud of you, Vira. I know I am. You’ve been through so much, and still, you shine.”

Viktoria’s lip trembled. “You were always there for me, Dima. Even when everything else fell apart.”

“Always will be,” he said, pulling her close for a moment. “But now you have Alek. He is your home. And I finally get to be just your brother again.”

She smiled through her tears. “You’ll always be more than that.”

At that moment little Nikolai came up and addressed Viktoria, “May I finish out the dance with the bride?”

Dimitri passed Viktoria over to their little brother, and they began to dance. At 13 Nicky was as tall as Viktoria now, and he looked more like Dimitri than ever.

“Viktoria, I know we really haven’t been able to be close, and now that you’re married you’ll be with your husband… but I truly hope to be closer with you.”

“Oh Nicky, I’m so sorry I haven’t been there all of these years, sorry I haven’t seen you grow up. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise to be the best big sister you and Alexandra could ever ask for.”

Nikolai couldn’t say anything, he just pulled his big sister close and continued to sway.

The music began to pick up and Dimitri took Alexandra’s hand and led her out and began dancing with her. By the end of the song all four siblings were holding hands in a circle, dancing and jumping around; having the time of their lives. Finally all of the missing pieces of Valentina Sudayev’s puzzle were together.

When the song ended, the room fell quiet for a beat, the moment hanging in the air like a blessing. Then came the applause; it was soft at first, then growing, until Viktoria was laughing again.

Anastasia came forward, embracing Viktoria and Dimitri both tightly. “Oh, my dears,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “If there was ever a happy ending, I think this is it.”

Viktoria laughed. “It’s not an ending, Anya. It’s the start of something new.”

Anastasia nodded, glancing over to where Dimitri and Alek were now talking with their friends. “You’re right. But I think it’s finally the peace we’ve all been praying for.”

As the night wore on, laughter filled the ballroom. Little Alexandra twirled around with Nicky until they collapsed giggling. Valentina sat watching her children – all safe, all smiling – her hand pressed over her heart.

When it was time to leave, Viktoria and Alek stood in the doorway, waving goodbye as snow continued to fall outside. Dimitri hugged her once more, his voice quiet in her ear.

“Go be happy, Vira. You deserve every bit of it.”

She smiled up at him. “So do you, Dima. We both do.”

And as they stepped into the cold night, carriage waiting, the church bells of Tsarskoye Selo began to ring; their echoes carried far into the dark, as if to announce not an ending, but the long-awaited promise of forever.

Chapter Text

Catherine Palace, St. Petersburg, Russia

June 9, 1939

The morning sunlight spilled through the lace curtains of the Catherine Palace, scattering across parquet floors like rippled gold. In the gardens below tulips, lilies, and peonies were in full bloom. Inside the halls echoed with a kind of music that only came from family life: laughter, footsteps, and the clatter of toys and tea cups. Two of Alek and Viktoria’s daughters, Natalia and Tatiana, sat painting together, their little humming warming their mother’s heart more and more.

Viktoria Spasskaya moved through it all with quiet grace with little Vera on her hip. She wore a simple pale-purple dress, though her poise made it seem like a gown. The palace may have been vast, but it was never quiet anymore; laughter echoed down the corridors, followed by the thudding of small feet.

“Alexander! If you’re chasing Maxim again, do it outside!” she called. “I’m not chasing him!” came her eldest son’s voice from the stairs; followed by a loud thump and Maxim’s laughter.

Viktoria sighed, smiling to herself. “Of course you’re not.”

A moment later, Alek appeared at the end of the corridor, tall and composed, a smudge of ink still on his hand from the morning’s letters. “Your soldiers are rebelling again,” he said with mock seriousness.

“Then perhaps their general should restore order,” she replied, brushing past him with a teasing smile.

“Or,” he said, stopping her and pulling her in for a soft kiss, “perhaps their general should surrender to breakfast.”

Viktoria looked into his eyes for a moment, then stomped on his toes just enough to shock him and said, “Now that sounds like your father,” she said over her shoulder as she disappeared into the sunlit dining room.

Through the open windows, the morning air carried the faint smell of lilacs from the neighboring Alexander Palace. Viktoria paused for a moment to take it in, a nostalgic smile tugging at her lips.

Anastasia.

Her dearest friend and her brother, Dimitri, had settled in the Alexander Palace after their wedding. They were raising their three children in the same walls where she’d once been a mischievous grand duchess. Now, the two families lived side by side; as they had once dreamed they might, back when they were only children themselves.

From outside came the sound of tires on gravel. Viktoria turned just as the automobile rolled up the drive. The doors flew open before the wheels had even stopped.

“Vichka!” Anastasia cried, her voice bright as spring. She ran up the steps, skirts gathering in her hands, and threw her arms around her friend.

“Anya!” Viktoria laughed, hugging her tightly. “You always act like it’s been years, not a walkway between us.”

Anastasia grinned. “It’s more dramatic that way.”

Dimitri followed with the children: Maria, nine and proud; Alexei, seven and perpetually smudged with dirt; and little Olga, five and wide-eyed as she clutched a doll.

Alek greeted them at the door, shaking Dimtri’s hand warmly. “You’ve all come just in time. The chaos has already begun.”

“Perfect, Dimitri said, smiling. “I like to arrive in the middle of a battle.”

Soon the garden between the two palaces was alive with children – Alexander and Maria forming one team, Maxim and Alexei the other, sticks for swords and overturned flower pots for fortresses. The twins, Natalia and Tatiana, led Olga through rows of tulips, chattering about their dolls as though it were the most important diplomacy of the day.

From the porch, Viktoria and Anastasia, who was holding baby Vera on her lap, watched it all unfold with a shared knowing smile.

“Do you ever think,” Anastasia said softly, “how strange it is that our children play where we once did?”

Viktoria nodded. “Sometimes it feels like time just folded back in on itself; and somehow, we landed back where it all began.”

Anastasia laughed, the sound wistful. “Except this time, we have tea and husbands instead of tutors chasing us down corridors.”

“Speak for yourself,” Viktoria replied. “Alek can be just as bad as some of your tutors.”

“Excuse me?” Alek said as he and Dimitri came out with a tray of tea cups, “just for that, I’m drinking your tea I so lovingly made you.”

“No! Please don’t!” Viktoria playfully pleaded.

“Oh no, Viki. I heard it too, no tea for you!” Dimitri teased his little sister as he grabbed his niece from his wife’s arms.

“Well then no baby for you!” Viktoria retorted as she swiftly grabbed her daughter.

“Now, now, give me my girl.” Alek said as Vera reached for her father.

“Wow, thanks a lot, Verushka,” Viktoria chuckled as she handed Vera to her dad. And she calmed down as soon as she was in her papa’s arms. Alek was a natural with their children, all five of them loved their papachka very much.

“She takes after her mama.” Viktoria said with an almost sad smile.

By afternoon, everyone gathered in the conservatory. The sunlight made the crystal glasses shimmer, and the smell of fresh bread and wildflower honey filled the air.

Nicholas and Natalya Spassky arrived shortly after, greeted with cheers from the children. Dimitri’s parents, and Viktoria’s mother, Valentina and Nikolai, followed soon after; their presence more reserved but still lovingly welcomed.

“Viktoria Alexandrovna!” Valentina exclaimed, clutching her daughter’s hands. “You look radiant, my dear! And baby Vera– oh, how your father would have adored them all.”

Viktoria smiled softly. “I hope he knows.”

Alek poured tea for everyone, his voice calm amid the overlapping conversation. “To family; and to quiet days like this.”

Dimitri drained his cup. “And to the women who somehow make the world stand still long enough for peace to exist.”

Everyone laughed, but beneath the warmth there was a shared flicker of something quieter; the knowledge that the world beyond Tsarskoye Selo was shifting again.

Later, as the sun sank behind the trees, the two families lingered in the gardens. The children’s laughter faded into drowsy murmurs as they watched the fireflies flicker among the lilacs. Anastasia’s eldest, Maria, sat beside Alexander on the grass, her head resting sleepily against his shoulder.

Viktoria, Natalya, Valentina, and Anastasia watched from a distance. Anastasia smiled, “Do you think they’ll always be this happy?”

The three other women followed her gaze. Natalya Spasskaya answered first. “I think they’ll remember days like this, even when the world isn’t. Just as you girls have.”

Inside, the palaces glowed with candlelight. Dinner was simple but joyful: roasted chicken, fresh bread, and berries gathered that morning by little Natalia and Tatiana. When it was time to say goodnight, Anastasia lingered by the door, reluctant to leave.

“It feels wrong to go,” she murmured, as Alek hugged her and Dimitri hugged his sister tight. “As though tomorrow won’t be the same.”

Dimitri put a reassuring arm around his wife’s shoulders as Viktoria reached out and squeezed her hand. “Then come back tomorrow. And the day after. Until it feels right again.” she reassured her.

Anastasia smiled – that same mischievous, luminous smile that Viktoria has loved since childhood – and whispered, “Always.”

Viktoria watched her go, her strawberry bun catching the last of the light, and wondered if peace always felt like this; not the absence of fear, but the refusal to let it win.

Once everyone had gone and the Spasskys had put their children to bed, Alek and Viktoria laid in bed. The windows were ajar, letting in the warm summer air in.

“The world feels restless,” Viktoria whispered in the dark. “Like it’s holding its breath.”

Alek didn’t answer at first. The open window stirred the curtains and with it came the faint scent of rain and lilac – a scent he had come to associate with peace. He wondered, with sudden heaviness, if he would remember it the same way when war came again. 

“It is,” he said quietly. “There’s talk in the papers again; of Germany, of Poland.”

She turned on her side to face him, her face pale in the moonlight. “So soon?”

He hesitated. The truth pressed at the back of his throat – the reports he’d read with Dimitri, the letters from the foreign offices – but he couldn’t bring himself to darken this small, golden world they’d built. Not tonight. Not while she was still looking at him like that.

Instead, he reached for her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her hair. “Whatever comes,” he murmured, “we’ll protect them. All of them.”

He felt her exhale, slow and uncertain, against his chest. In that breath, he heard everything; the ghosts of their childhood, the echo of gunfire, the laughter of their children down the hall.

Below, the palace windows glowed softly; each one a little world of safety he knew he could not promise would last.

1 September 1939

A few weeks later, a newspaper lay open on the breakfast table. The headline stretched across the front page:

GERMANY INVADES POLAND

WAR DECLARED IN EUROPE.

Viktoria stood frozen for a moment, the sound of her children playing in the next room suddenly distant.

Alek entered quietly behind her, his expression unreadable. He had known before the morning papers, of course. The telegrams had come in the night.

She looked up at him; not with shock, but with the slow, hollow recognition of someone who has lived this before.

“So,” she whispered, her voice almost breaking, “it begins.”

He stepped closer, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Not here,” he said softly. “Not yet.”

But yet was enough.

Through the window, she could see the Alexander Palace. Anastasia’s curtains drawn, the faint shadow of Dimitri pacing behind them. Viktoria’s heart clenched; not only for them, but for the fragile illusion they had built between two gardens and two families.

That night, rain swept through Tsarskoye Selo. The air smelled of lilacs and lightning. Viktoria lay awake beside Alek, listening to the rhythmic patter against the windowpane.

Alek turned toward her, his voice soft. “You’re thinking of the past.”

She nodded. “Of 1918. Of everything we lost. Everything we rebuilt.”

He reached for her hand beneath the sheets, lacing his fingers through hers. “We’ll hold it together again, Viktoria. Whatever comes.”

Her eyes found his; they were older now, but still full of that quiet courage she had loved since she was a child. “Can we?” she asked. “Can we really protect them from all this?”

Alek didn’t answer right away. He looked toward the balcony, where the storm flashed white against the glass. He thought of the soldiers he’d trained with, of the borders that had shifted again, of his own children sleeping two rooms away. Every instinct in him – the soldier, the father, the husband – screamed to say yes.

But honesty, real honesty, lived in the silence that followed. He thought of the first time he had seen his wife. Running through the streets of Tsarskoye Selo, defiant of the tyranny at home; she had refused to bow to the ruin of the world then, so that’s what they would do now.

“If we cannot stop the storm,” he said finally, “we’ll build walls strong enough to outlast it.”

For a long while neither spoke. Viktoria leaned into him, her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart; a sound that had once soothed her through war, exile, and loss.

“Do you think Anastasia knows?” she murmured.

“She always does,” he said.

Outside, the storm rolled away toward the west; toward Poland, toward the frontlines of a world preparing to burn again.

The next morning dawned pale and silent. The rain had left the world washed and shining. Viktoria stepped out onto the balcony, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders.

Across the gardens, Anastasia stood on her own balcony, her strawberry hair loose around her face. Their eyes met across the misty expanse; two royals of a reborn empire: mothers, friends, survivors.

Neither moved. Neither waved. They didn’t need to.

Between them stretched the stillness of a decade of peace; and the unspoken knowledge that it was ending.

Alek joined Viktoria at the railing, his hand finding hers. Together, they watched the sky grow brighter, the clouds pulling apart in thin ribbons of gold.

“It’s beginning again,” Viktoria whispered.

Alek’s voice was quiet, resolute. “Then so will we.”

In the distance, the bells of Tsarskoye Selo began to toll.

The world would soon be at war again; but one fleeting morning, the gardens between the two palaces shimmered with dew and sunlight, a fragile echo of everything they had fought to preserve.

And somewhere beyond the horizon, new names were being written into history: Alexander Spassky, Maxim Spassky, Maria Sudayeva, Alexei Sudayev, and the children of peace who would soon learn what it meant to live in a world at war.

That night, when the palace had gone quiet and the world beyond the gardens seemed to hold its breath, Viktoria tucked Alexander and Maxim into bed. The flickering candlelight painted soft halos on their faces, the same golden glow she remembered from her own childhood sleepovers in the Alexander Palace… back when safety had felt eternal.

Maxim stirred, half asleep, his small voice muffled against his pillow.

“Mama,” he murmured, “will there always be peace?”

Viktoria froze, the question hung in the air; innocent and impossible. Alexander, who was old enough to sense the heaviness that had settled over the adults lately, turned his gaze toward her, waiting.

She brushed a strand of Maxim’s hair from his forehead, her hand trembling slightly. “I hope so, my love,” she whispered. “That’s why we build families. That’s why we love; to keep the world from forgetting how.”

Alexander sat up a little. “But what if it forgets again?”

Her throat tightened. She thought of the headlines that morning, of Anastasia’s pale silhouette in the rain, of Alek’s quiet resolve beside her on the balcony. If we cannot stop the storm… we’ll build walls strong enough to outlast it.

“Then we’ll remember,” she said softly. “And when you’re grown, you and your sisters – and Maria, Alexei, and Olga – you’ll build it all again. That’s what people like us do. We rebuild.”

The boys exchanged a sleepy, solemn nod, as if accepting a sacred duty. Viktoria leaned down and kissed their foreheads. “Sleep, my darlings,” she murmured. “The world is still peaceful tonight.”

She lingered a moment longer, listening to the even rhythm of her boy’s breathing. In Natalia and Tatiana’s room, the faint sound of a music box drifted down the hall; the same melody from so long ago, echoing faintly.

Viktoria closed her eyes. Time, she thought, has a way of carrying both joy and sorrow through the years.

And as the last note of the lullaby faded, she looked out over Tsarskoye Selo; it was peaceful, sleeping, and timeless… unaware that history was already turning its page.

The gardens would change, the faces would age, and the palaces would one day fall silent – but love, and memory, would remain.

She pressed her hand to the door, If we cannot stop the storm…

Then, she thought, we’ll teach our children to survive the rain.

“Please, O Lord,” she prayed, “let our walls hold.”

Chapter Text

Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo, Russia

June 1995

The morning air carried the faint sweetness of lilacs, drifting through the wide, sunlit corridors of the Alexander Palace. Once, emperors had walked here, and later: dreamers, survivors, and lovers. Now it was a museum, filled with quiet footsteps and the murmurs of history.

Elena Kozlovskaya paused beneath a grand chandelier, notebook clutched to her chest. Her black hair fell loose around her face, her eyes bright with the same curiosity that had brought her here all the way from Moscow. She was twenty-two, a university student with a research paper and a mystery: her great-grandparents, Prince Aleksander and Princess Viktoria Spassky, names whispered like myths in family stories that had lost their edges to time. 

She had come to see the palace where they once lived; where they raised their children and watched the world change around them. But as she reached the gilded double doors of the main gallery, she noticed something unexpected: a sign that read

“Private Event – Family Reunion, Closed to the Public.”

Her heart sank. “Oh no…” she whispered. She had come all this way.

A voice startled her from behind. “You’re here for the Spassky-Sudayev reunion, aren’t you?”

Elena turned. Two women stood there, both around her age, both holding that same unmistakable sense of recognition.

The taller one smiled. “I’m Katya. Yekaterina Pavlovna Spasskaya.”

The other, bright-eyed with a cascade of chestnut curls added, “I’m Liliya Alexeyevna Sudayeva; Lilenka, please. You must be Elena.”

Elena blinked, surprised. “How–?”

“Family resemblance,” Katya said with a knowing grin. “You look just like great-grandma Viktoria Alexandrovna, we were just talking about her.”

Liliya looped her arm through Elena’s without hesitation. “Come on. If you’re family, you belong here. That’s the rule.”

And just like that, Elena was swept inside; into rooms filled with laughter, long tables of food, and the hum of stories being retold. Elderly relatives embraced one another, children ran through the gardens, and every surface seemed to hold a trace of the past: photographs in silver frames, heirlooms arranged on linen cloths, faded letters in careful script.

Someone placed a teacup in her hand. Someone else insisted she sit near the window. And as she watched the sunlight ripple across the parquet floors, Elena felt it; the strange, wordless sense of home.

Later, after the afternoon’s excitement had ebbed, Elena wandered quietly through the halls alone. Her fingers brushed along the wall paper, the gilded moldings, the stillness of rooms that had seen both joy and grief.

She sat at a desk in the study that inhabited Prince Aleksander Spassky as its last occupant. She looked through the drawers, as she got to the last drawer she spotted something stuffed into a crack in the side; she pulled out a folded piece of paper. When she unfolded it her breath caught in her throat.

Vows to my Bride

18 December, 1929

Viktoria, from the moment I met you, I knew you carried light – a light that not even the darkest years could extinguish. You’ve taught me courage, forgiveness, and what it means to love without fear. I promise to stand beside you in every season; in peace or storm, in laughter or in sorrow. Wherever you walk, I will follow,  because my heart already belongs there. You are my compass, my prayer answered, and my home.”

And written in the margin were the words:

September 2, 1939

“I will build walls strong enough to outlast the storm. I will guard what we built together – our home, our children, your heart – until my final breath.”

Elena pressed a hand to the paper, as though she could feel the pulse of those words. She thought of the world they had survived – revolutions, wars, and silence – and yet here she stood, breathing the same air they did.

That afternoon Elena sat by the open balcony with her notebook. The gardens below shimmered with dew, the same gardens her ancestors once walked. She began to write, the words flowing easily now:

In 1929, Prince Aleksander and Princess Viktoria Spassky built more than walls of stone; they built a legacy of devotion. He vowed to protect their home; she vowed to never leave it.

Time tested them – through wars and exiles, loss and silence – yet their walls still stand.

They do not guard an empire, but a family. Not thrones, but generations.

I am proof of that. We all are.

The promises they made to one another still live here, in laughter that echoes through these halls, in the peace that endures despite everything.

Their home became ours. Their love became our inheritance.

And after all this time… we are home at last.”

As she finished writing, a breeze drifted through the balcony, stirring the pages. Elena looked out across the gardens, toward the Catherine Palace, where her great-grandparents had lived, loved and kept their vows.

The walls still stood. And within them, love had never left.

The sun was low over the gardens when Elena finally found herself standing before them; the four remaining Spassky siblings. They sat together in one of the smaller parlors, the one that looked out toward the lilac bushes where the children once played.

Alexander was the first to rise, tall despite his years, his silver hair neatly combed back. “You must be Elena,” he said, his voice deep and measured. “Maxim’s granddaughter.”

Elena nodded, suddenly aware of how her pulse quickened. “Yes, sir. My mother was Vira Smolensky. I… I didn’t even know I still had a family.”

A smile creased Alexander’s face; the same warm steadiness that once belonged to Alek. “We wondered for so long what became of our brother and if he had a family. You’ve brought him home, child.”

Natalia reached for Elena’s hand next; her touch light, trembling slightly with age but full of warmth. “You look just like Mama, and Maxim.” she said, eyes glistening. “Especially when you smile. Oh, she would have adored you.”

Tatiana chuckled softly from her chair, her voice still sharp with humor. “Careful, Natashenka, you’ll frighten the poor girl.” Then, turning to Elena, “But it’s true. You have her eyes… and that same tilt to your chin Max always had. Always so sure of themselves.”

Elena felt her throat tighten. “I found something,” she said quietly, pulling a folded piece of parchment from her satchel. “In Aleksander’s desk in his study. His handwriting, his vows to Viktoria.”

Vera leaned forward, her gray curls tumbling over her shoulder. “You found them?” she whispered. “After all this time?”

Elena nodded and unfolded the page with care. The ink had faded to brown, the edges worn thin. But Alek’s words were still legible: steady, deliberate, and full of conviction.

The room fell silent except for the faint ticking of a clock. Natalia reached out, fingertips brushing the parchment as though it were sacred. “He did,” she murmured. “He built them. And they lasted through every storm.”

Elena swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “Your mother’s vows were in the archives at Moscow University. I quoted them in my paper; her words from the Book of Ruth.”

Tatiana finished the line softly, almost reverently: “Entreat me not to leave you, or turn back from following after you; for wherever you go, I will go; and where you live, I will live; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if anything but death parts you and me.”

Elena nodded. “She wrote them in the margin of an old Bible. And she kept them for all of her life. I wrote that in the conclusion of my paper actually; that their promises still live in you all, in all of us. That home isn’t a palace or a name. It’s what they built together.”

Vera smiled through her tears. “Then you understand what most of us have spent a lifetime trying to say.”

Elena felt, for the first time since her mama died, not like a visitor to history… but part of it.
Alexander’s eyes lingered on Elena’s face for a long moment. “Tell me,” he said softly, “how did you find us? How did you find Max?”

Elena took a breath. “I was raised by my Mama and grandpa, Maxim. He was great, truly. When my mama, Vira, died I was looking through her things. She had a picture tucked in an old trunk. Two boys in uniforms, the writing on the bottom said ‘Alexander Aleksandrovich & Maxim Aleksandrovich.’ I also found a letter in the archives from a soldier named Gleb Glebovich Vaganov, he wrote that Maxim Spassky saved his life. He said Maxim spoke often of his family; of ‘the lilac gardens in Tsarskoye Selo’ and of a sister who painted.”

Vera’s hand flew to her mouth. “That was me,” she whispered. “I used to paint in the lilac garden every morning.”

Natalia spoke up, “What happened to him after that war?”
“Well, it was said that he died near Smolensk.” Elena began. “But I found him in the archives again. A record from 1953, filed under a different name; Maxim Vladimirovich Smolensky; the name I knew him by. He’d been taken as a prisoner during the East German Uprising. The reports say he was injured… badly. Head trauma. He escaped a transport, but he never made it all the way back. When the war ended, he was found by a monastery near Smolensk. The monks nursed him, but he’d lost parts of his memory: names, faces, pieces of himself.”

Vera covered her mouth with her hand, tears shining in her soft eyes. “Oh, my sweet brother…”

“He never remembered his full name,” Elena continued gently, “but he told the monks stories; of a palace, of four siblings, of gardens filled with lilacs. He said his sister had blonde hair, and his brother used to make toy soldiers out of sticks. The monks wrote it all down. They thought he was speaking in riddles.”

Natalia reached for Tatiana’s hand; neither spoke, but tears streaked silently down their cheeks.

“He lived quietly,” Elena went on. “He helped rebuild a village near the monastery. They said he was kind, gentle. He died in 1989; he never married, just had one daughter, Vira Smolenskaya; my mama. He left behind a letter; it wasn’t addressed, just signed Maxim Aleksandrovich Spassky. It said: “If they are alive, tell them I kept the promise; I built something that lasted.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The lilacs outside brushed against the windows.

Alexander exhaled shakily, wiping at his eyes. “He did,” he said finally, voice rough. “He kept it. We all did.”

Elena’s voice softened. “He never forgot you. Even when he couldn’t remember your names, he remembered your laughter. He told us stories of ‘the twins who sang,’ and ‘Mama’s garden.’ He said his father built walls so strong that even war couldn’t tear them down.

Vera reached for her hand. “You brought him home, dear. After all these years… you brought our brother back to us.”

Elena swallowed the lump in her throat. “No,” she said softly. “He was always here. You all were. I just… found the path back.”

Natalia smiled faintly, tears shining like dew in her eyes. “Your great-grandfather would’ve said that’s exactly what family is; finding the path back, no matter how long it takes.”

Tatiana nodded. “Mama always said love leaves echoes; it finds a way through the years.”

Elena looked toward the far wall, where a large portrait of Alek and Viktoria hung. The painter had captured them young, standing on the porch of the Catherine Palace; Alek’s hand at her waist, Viktoria turned just enough to reveal the warmth in her eyes. The light from the window touched the frame, making it seem as if they were standing there still, watching over the generations that followed.

Natalia rose and took Elena’s hand, she placed an item in it. “You deserve this, Elena.”

Elena opened her hand and saw something wrapped in a kerchief, she unwrapped it and saw a silver Orthodox Cross on a silver chain.

“That was our mama’s, given to her by her papa; Alexander Kotov.”

Elena was shocked. It was cool against her palm; heavier than she expected, as though it carried every prayer her family had ever whispered. “I don’t know what to say… thank you very much!” Elena looked back at the portrait – at the painted eyes that seemed to hold both sorrow and peace – and felt the truth of it. The walls had held.

Outside the sun dipped lower, painting the Alexander Palace gardens in amber light. Through the open window drifted the scent of lilacs and the laughter of children; the new generation of Spasskys and Sudayevs chasing one another beneath the trees.

Alexander stood with effort, leaning on his cane. “Come,” he said, a hint of his old warmth in his voice. “They should know the story too.”

Elena followed him out into the garden. The air was sweet, and the sound of the children’s laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves, the same sound Alek and Viktoria once heard, long ago. 

As Elena sat with Katya and Liliya she looked back at the palace – its pale blue walls shining against the sunset – and thought of her great-grandparents: of their courage, their vows, their love that had outlasted every storm.

She whispered to herself, almost like a prayer, “The walls still stand.”

And as she sat with her family, laughter echoing across the lilac garden, the bells of Tsarskoye Selo began to ring, their soft peals carrying through the evening air. Echoing off the walls that had weathered a century of silence and song.

Long after the laughter faded and the evening light withdrew from the palace windows, the halls of the Alexander Palace stood quiet again. Dust motes drifted through the shafts of moonlight, and in the gallery where their portrait hung, Alek and Viktoria seemed almost to breath; her hand forever in his, his gaze steady and sure. Outside, the lilacs bowed gently in the night breeze, and somewhere beyond the trees, the bells tolled once more, slow and even.

Generations had come and gone, empires had risen and fallen, but the promise they made – to love without end, to build and to keep – endured. The walls still held, not because they were strong, but because the hearts within them had been.

And so, beneath the soft hum of the Russian night, the story of Aleksander Spassky and Viktoria Kotov finally came to rest; not in silence, but in the living breath of those who remembered.

Home, at last.

Chapter Text

When I started Don't Forget Me, I didn't set out to write about royalty or palaces or the grand sweep of history; I set out to write about people. About the quiet, everyday moments that somehow survive even when the world doesn't.

Anastasia and Dimitri: With their laughter, their grace, their fierce, unshakable loyalty to one another.

Alek and Viktoria: Two souls shaped by loss and bound by a love they didn't expect, trying to hold their friends together why history pressed in on every side.

They are mirrors of one another in a way. Two couples who refused to let the world decide what their love was worth. Two homes built not of marble and gold, but of promise and devotion, of hands held through every season.

I've spent almost 6 years in their halls - The Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo, St. Peterburg, Paris, Laval, Kristinstad, Moscow, The Catherine Palace - that they feel so real now. 

This story was never just about Anastasia; it was about home, love, and family. The walls of their world cracked and healed, but they still stand; not because of power or legacy, but because love, in all of it's forms, was stronger than time.

To anyone who has loved fiercely, lost deeply, and still found a way to rebuild; this story is for you. It's for the dreamers who hold on. For the families that find their way back to one another, even after generations. For the ones who believe that even when the world forgets, love remembers.

The lilacs still bloom. The walls still hold. And somewhere, in the quiet of Tsarskoye Selo, they are still there - Anastasia and Dimitri, Alek and Viktoria - standing together in the light they built themselves

- Landry Ren <3