Thanks for reading this! Sorry if it's boring, I understand my writing is pretty boring but I love writing for myself. The fic is set around 1915 in the Caucasus mountains (So part of the Russian Empire) and will go up to, through, and after the Bolshevik revolution :D I love this time period and I hope you find it interesting as well! Also the basis for the fic is that when the Romanov Dynasty died out in the 1700s (leaving the ruling house to be of Holstein-Gottorp-Romanov), there was actually another more legitimate house (Lightwood-Romanov) but they were exiled before the could attain the power to seize their claims.
The light bothered Alec. Knowing the futility yet despite it he swats away at the beams of sun breaking through the arched window above his bed, trying desperately to deny the morning. It was funny really, considering his name. The 'light' in Lightwood would suggest a certain affinity toward the revered entity, or at least a light-on-his feet disposition, but unfortunately Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Romanov, descendant of Elisabeth Romanov of the original line of Romanovs, had neither the appreciation toward the meddling beams of light shining on his face, nor the unnatural litheness which seemed to have touched upon his siblings. Conceding defeat to the light, Alec gets up from his bed, stretching like an animal in the spring. He can hear the clamoring of people in the courtyard, the sounds echoing up the sides of the tower where he had relocated his bedroom some years ago.
Despite being a person of good stock, Alec still felt awkward whenever he passed maids and footmen in the halls. Keeping his gaze high but glazed over, Alec strides past his sisters' Lady's Maid Anatolia, barely catching her clearing her throat to get his attention. "Alec," she says looking cautiously down the corner of the hall – no matter how much Alec insisted on not being called sir, lord, or any of the like, she would still be reprimanded harshly should she be overheard. She passes a folded note to him while patting at the folds of his coat, "your sister asked me to give this to you on your way to the gardens today." Anatolia takes another look over her shoulder before leaning in closer, further hushing her voice, "she suggested you bring it.' The petite lady's maid smiles to herself smugly before turning back down the hall with her basket of sage grass and lavender, presumably for his sisters' quarters. Alec shakes his head dismissively, unfolding the note, hoping the writing will reveal what it is.
Brother dearest, it wrote in Izzy's flamboyant hand, at this point you're wondering what it is. It is just the satisfaction of knowing that you've given Anatolia the pleasure of being part of a scheme. Just meet me and Jace in the hydrangea garden tonight. Same time. Try to look presentable, you know how much mum would like it.
Alec smiles to himself, thinking of his sister's ridiculous ploys to pass time, going through the doorway connecting to the library, further connected via extraordinarily tall, floor to ceiling windows to a smaller courtyard filled with blooming yellow and deep red roses. Sat in the center at a stone carved round table and deep mahogany chairs, his father and the community mystic and intellectual, Valentine Morgenstern are deep in conversation, one which seemed to irritate the both. "I absolutely agree my lord, although we may be required by treaty to let them pass through the walls to keep refuge through the mountains, it is nowhere stated that we must be overly accommodating." Alec's father nods in agreement with his advisor, glancing briefly at Alec as he sits to join them. Alec tunes them out slightly, looking around at the statues of angels lining the circular courtyard dispersed between the tall rose beds, some stone guardians in flight, some in contemplation, and others in overt awareness. Alec knew it was a beautiful parcel of land in the keep, but he couldn't shake the memories of his mother being constantly displeased with the roses. She was, as she often said, a fan of blue - blue like the sky, like the Caspian Sea shimmering over shallow beds of rocks, and blue like her and Alec's eyes. The yellow offended her eyesight she'd say, too bright like staring into the sun for too long, and the reds reminded her of the famines of her childhood, when the red sun setting over the steppes of her birthplace was all that a child could look forward to. She always seemed so pained in these gardens, yet whenever she noticed Alec – only a child at the time - staring at her with questioning eyes, she'd switch into a mother and comment the same thing every time, the greens are nice though, like lush fruit trees ready to bloom, a motherly smile on her face, dismissing her own concerns.
" –your concerns completely, the Dutch are crafty and will haggle with their own mother if it means a better price." Alec snaps out of his reverie hearing of the Dutch. Although they live in plenty and comfort, the community was still that of solidarity. Alec came to relish the few times each year a traveller or merchant would spend a night in the monastery or at the village bunkhouse. His favourite memory being of Italian merchants travelling through to the free ports at the Sea of Azov from the south. They were carrying beasts from the Bay of Bengal to be sold at the Russian court, and failing that to the travelling circuses. Alec could remember his father regarding them with distaste, and his mother afraid of the beasts, but he and Izzy, too young to really grasp what trust was, took a liking to the merchants, their favourite being an older man with a long deep red beard and a cane who let them play with a young tiger. Demetrio, as Alec remembers, took a liking to him. He said Alec reminded him of his grandson who he missed very much. His cane was carved to the likeness of a stallion rearing over a serpent, coiling at its feet. The old man would let Alec hold it in his hands, his mind running wild of great battles over the waves of the Caspian Sea, the foamy waters crashing over jagged rocks. When the old mans' caravan was departing from the village, he broke the figurine off from his cane and gave it to Alec, thanking him for making the separation from his grandson more bearable. The old man never returned, but the head from his cane rests on the window sill above Alec's bed, reminding him to never close himself off from the wonders of foreigners. Obviously, his father and his faithful servant didn't feel the same.
Alec leans toward the table, jumping back into the conversation. "What's so bad about the Dutch, father?" Valentine scoffs at Alec's question, as though the answer is obvious. "The problem with the Dutch is less of them and more of the goods they bring with them. Ever since they founded their colonies in Siam they've brought all manners of ill omens with them; false idols, disgusting artwork, revolting culture, and whores and eunuchs," Alec's father explains with disgust in his voice. Sounds rather intriguing to me Alec thinks to himself. Alec's father catches his look of interest and visibly sours. "Alec, you are not to speak with these heretics. I forbid you and your brothers from even seeing them and as the eldest you are to watch and protect your sister like she's your daughter." Robert gives him the look as he and Izzy call it, meaning the decision was not up for debate.
Smiling from across the table like the snake he is, Valentine clasps his hands. "I should remind you Robert that you can't possibly keep them from the travellers at the initial welcoming banquet to be held here in the hall." Hands opening and closing, Robert remains soured and bitter, "What happened to not being overly accommodating?" letting them go back to their petty mongering and subdued bigotry, Alec leaves to find some shade in a private part of the main gardens to read.
Its night by the time Alec sneaks through the halls of the keep, avoiding the prying eyes of servants. He knows the path to the clandestine meeting place well, through the halls, across the eastern courtyard, under the village aqueduct, and through the ivy covered gate in the outer wall. The walk from is not far there and is quiet, a comfort for Alec. The path is mountainous with few good sight lines, but to Alec the jagged corners of the red mountain only adds to the effect as each time he rounds the last corner of the mountainous path he is stunned and in awe to be faced with the towering blue domed cathedral of the Kelnig Convent. Its outer buildings of white marble and similar blue domes, the entire convent grounds covered with blue hydrangeas in full bloom, the grand armor clad angel with his sword directed towards the moon standing guard to the enormous gilded doors to the cathedral. To Alec the grounds of the convent were more astounding than any of the gardens in the castle, even the moths flittering in the moonlight seemingly full of energy and spirit. Under one of the arched stain glass windows of the main cathedral, Alec spots the one thing he could consider more attractive than the entirety of the convent. Standing in the shine of the moonlight, seemingly glowing is Jace. Not having been seen, Alec takes a moment to absorb his figure – tall enough, slim but fit, fine features which seem to be accentuated in the light of the night, and bright golden hair that seemingly turns the night into day. The pain Alec feels whenever his eyes find his family's ward is beyond belief. Not understanding it himself, he finds himself torn in two even just thinking of him. He knows his place as the eldest son, as the always faithful brother, yet he finds himself yearning for more. Alec knows why his yearning is bad, why it is wrong. Jace is too bright, like an attack on the senses.
Alec realises Izzy is standing near Jace, waiting for Alec to join them. He walks quietly over to them, waving quickly when they notice him. "Has she started yet?" He asks hoping he hasn't missed anything yet. Izzy answers him, something odd about her inquisitive eyes. "No, you got here in time. She's definitely in there though." Jace nods in agreement, turning to climb the trellis of morning glory. "Come on, I want to see it all tonight."
Izzy and Alec follow him up to the bottom of the great arched window, peering inside at the lavishly decorated interior of the cathedral, depicting holy scenes for only the devout to gaze upon. Alec examined the rows upon rows of pews, each intricately carved in swirls and crosses, the occasional mirror, cup, and sword depicted as was wielded by the angel this convent is dedicated to.
Jace elbows Alec in the side as a woman in the all black clothing of a sister of the Orthodox Church walks noisily from an alcove across the echoing hall to the altar in front of all the pews. She bends slightly in front of the gilded cross atop the altar, her hands held out slightly, palms face up in a begging sort of motion. The light of the moon creates a sort of beam of light over her and the cross, giving a clear view of her from the window. Her face is downcast, her lips forming silent prayers despite them being barely visible. When her lips stop moving and her hands clasp at her chest, Alec sees it, sees her properly. She turns her head upward, her face basking in the twilight. Alec feels his chest constrict, emotion welling at his eyes, recognising the icy blue eyes which resemble his own yet seemingly so much more lost and tired. He watches in awe as his mother, face hard, hair hidden, and seemingly lifeless, sheds no tears as she begins to sing Russian hymns to the heavens.
Alec can feel Izzy breathe in deeply next to him like a weight has been lifted from her chest. Jace's knuckles are white from gripping on the trellis, his lips silently moving along with their mother's. Her voice carries throughout the cathedral, reverberating off the marble arches. Her voice is not a pretty one, yet it is exactly like her as a person, strong and demanding, full of power. The three lie in wait, not saying anything for fear of disturbing their mother's spiritual moment with the heavens, until eventually she finishes her last hymn, quickly praying again before turning to leave the cathedral for the night. The three siblings remain still as they watch their distant mother leave the airy hall, only now seemingly gliding across the marble floor, barely making a noise.
Thanks again for reading :D
