Early September, 1914
"You look so handsome, Ivan Rossiyavich."
"Thank you, Tsarina," Russia said sincerely as the woman to whom he spoke, Alexandra Romanova, adjusted the lay of his scarf over his uniform. This was the last he would see of her, of the family, for many months, and the love he had in his heart for her, for the children, allowed him to consent to the way they fussed over him—how the girls offered him knitted gloves and sweaters and socks and signed icons of orthodox saints, how Tsarina Alexandra worried for him and spoke to him as though she had borne him herself.
Of course, he would have consented to such treatment anyway.
"We'll pray for you, Cousin Vanya," one of the girls, fifteen year old Marie, promised.
"Thank you, Marie Nicholaevna," he replied.
"You'll write us often?" This was the eldest of the four girls, Olga. She tried her hardest to be grown up, but the worry in her eyes reminded Russia of her age, a mere nineteen years.
"As often as I am able," he promised.
"You'll stay safe?" Tatiana asked. She was seventeen and trying so hard to be brave like her elder sister and mother.
Russia opened his mouth to offer his reassurances when Anastasia, thirteen and full of life, on the cusp of growing up, spoke for him. "Of course he'll stay safe! Cousin Vanya will come home a hero!"
He smiled warmly at her. "If Anastasia Nicholaevna says it will be done, then who am I to say otherwise?" Russia replied with a slight bow to the youngest Imperial Princess.
"I wish I could go with you," the youngest, and only boy in the room, said longingly.
Russia crossed the room to kneel in front of where the young boy sat. Only ten and how he longed to grow up, to fill his father's shoes. "Ahh, Alexei Nicholavich," Russia said warmlty. "Your day will come—and when it does, you will be the greatest soldier in all the Russias."
"You promise?" Alexei asked somberly.
"I could never tell my tsarievich untruths," Russia confirmed, mussing the boy's hair. His heart soared when Alexei smiled and laughed at the gesture.
There was a polite knock on the door, and Alexandra bid the person on the other side to enter. A young lance corporal stepped into the room and bowed to the royal family before saluting Russia. "Captain Branginsky."
Russia returned the salute. "Yes?"
"Sir, the train is leaving within the hour," the corporal announced. "We leave whenever you are ready."
"Wait for me," Russia commanded. Was it truly so late, that his time here had drawn to a close?
"Yes sir," the corporal replied, saluting once more before making a discrete exit.
Russia turned to the family, his eyes sad. "I'm afraid my time here is over."
The four daughters all embraced him, crying quietly and pleading for his safe return, something he promised them in earnest. He knelt to embrace the tsarevitch, and stood to turn into a warm embrace from the tsarina, who kissed his cheeks and promised that he had their prayers. After several moments, he broke away, allowing her to fuss over his scarf once more before going to the door. He paused in the doorframe to look at them all once more.
"You're going to miss your train, Ivan Rossiyavich," Alexandra said softly. Everything unsaid hung in the air like fog.
"You have my word, I will return," he promised. Do svidaniya.1"
1 Do svidaniya - Goodbye
