Tsar Nicholas was pacing his study, his most honored military generals sitting comfortably in upholstered chairs that had been around since the times of Catherine The Great. His concern was apparent.
"So, your majesty, how do we approach this?" Asked the head of guard, Alexander Nabokov. "Have you confirmed that this is true?"
"Sadly, there is an overwhelming amount of evidence to suggest so. There was one specific pub these Bolsheviks seemed to be meeting at, and I paid the bartender handsomely to confirm all that was written in the letter. In fact," The Tsar seemed to have a sort of conniving smirk on his face. "He will be here in attendance to help us. Guards, bring in our guest."
An old man was brought in, cuffed with his hands behind his back. His beard was scraggly, and his nose seemed a bit big for his face. He was very unkempt, it appeared. He must have owned that bar for a very long time, for he had to be pushing eighty.
"Tell us, Mr. Chbosky." Nicholas started. "What all have you heard of these Bolsheviks?"
"Every night, they would come in, order drinks and…and they would begin to discuss their plan" Started the old man. He seemed to rattle in his cuffs.
"And, if you don't mind telling us…what was this plan?" It seemed for once that the Tsar was more than comfortable with speaking to someone he didn't know that well—possibly due to the fact it was an interrogation rather than dinner conversation.
"Well, the plan was…. They wished to overthrow the royal family. They believed that every man should be a king" Continued Mr. Chbosky. "They said they would lay siege to the palace and—" He hesitated.
"And?" Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "What would they do once they had captured the palace? You may tell me, Mr. Chbosky. I won't hurt you"
"They would kill you, your wife and…I can't bear to say it." The man seemed horrified at the mere thought of what their intentions were. "Your children!"
Nicholas contained his rage as best he could. Deep down he was utterly seething. This was an insult to him and his entire family. He wasn't as weak as whispers throughout his empire spoke, but this barely affected him compared to the fact someone intended on hurting his children. They were the light of his life, and anyone who dared lay a finger on them was worse than any insult that could be spat at him.
"So, it is true." He said, cracking his knuckles. "Do you have the names of those who inspired this…this…whatever you may call it"
"Yes…" The old man was hesitant. Giving these names would surely result in these people's deaths, but it was a necessary loss. These people were traitors. They needed to be made examples of.
"Give me them. Now." Nicholas's voice was harsh and demanding. This was rare side that very little of Russia ever saw, and it was quite the opposite of the gentle and kind soul that most of Russia knew—though they would soon come to know it quite well. It struck fear into the souls of every man present in that room, especially Chbosky.
"The leaders, they were…they were Vladimir Lenin…" The shaking man began, listing off every name he could think of. Maybe the Tsar would have mercy and not send him to Siberia for merely associating with those horrible men. "Of course, there was a young man, I think he was called Stalin? A boy of fifteen—a shame he got involved in this so heavily—Ilya Vasiliev. And…oh—Konstantin Vaganov."
"And these 37 names, these are truly the names of the leaders?" Asked the Tsar, ever stern.
The old man merely nodded. Nicholas smiled, but it wasn't as benevolent as usual.
"Alright, now lock him up. We cannot risk anything. Find the men bearing those names and imprison them. I will decide what to do with them afterwards."
Meanwhile, Tsarina Alexandra gathered her brood in the nursery. It was time to inform them of an incoming trip to Paris to see their Nana. She feared telling them that there was an impending assassination attempt would just scare them.
"Alright my darlings, I have good news!" Spoke Alix, although she was a bit hesitant. She had to bear the news gently. Anastasia especially would ask many questions about this trip—even if she'd be super excited. She'd probably have to fully explain to the older girls, Olga and Tatiana, exactly what was happening. Aged 17 and 15 surely, they would be able to understand and grasp the situation.
"What's going' on mama?" Asked Anya, who held her precious music box in her lap. She seemed to bring it everywhere with her, and never let it leave her sight. "Are we having a party?"
"Oooh, a party!" Maria said dreamily. "Will I be getting a new dress? And jewelry?"
The Tsarina shook her head, chuckling at Maria's excitedness. "No, my dear, we're going to Paris. To see your Nana!"
"Yay!" Anastasia exclaimed happily. She knew well that she was her grandmother's favorite, and seeing her meant lots of special activities for her.
"Oh, Paris! I can wear pretty dresses in Paris! I'm going to get Svetlana, I'll be riiiiight back!" Maria said, running to her personal maid. "Please pack my nicest dresses and ribbons, and don't forget my brush!" For someone who was only twelve, she'd quite a big interest in wearing nice clothes and looking pretty. Alexandra thought it was adorable, and so much like her when she was a little girl.
Anya called her servant and asked politely for her to pack her stuff, before turning to her mother and looking inquisitively.
"Why are we going to Paris?" Anastasia asked, leaning in a little.
"Yeah—it is quite short notice" Olga added. "It seems just a little bit sudden."
"Well, it was meant to be a surprise!" Alexandra replied hastily. "Your father and I have been planning this trip for months!"
"You should've told us…" Muttered Tatiana. "We wouldn't have spoiled it"
"Hush Tatya" Olga said, pushing her sister's arm slightly.
"Whatever." She responded coldly.
"Girls, be kind. Set a good example for Anastasia." Alexandra reprimanded, gesturing to the seven-year-old in the room.
"Yes mama, we're sorry" The big pair responded in unison.
"I must speak with you two in private later. For now, find what you want to be packed, alright?" She spoke calmer now, standing up and brushing off her white skirt.
Anastasia grabbed her favorite toys and handed them to her servant. "Make sure these are packed up, okay Klara? I can't leave home without them."
She still held the music box, however, in fear she might not have it that night to listen to when she went to sleep.
Once the younger children were in their bedrooms, Olga and Tatiana met their mother for this "adult conversation"
"Hasn't she already given us the talk about the birds and the bees?" Asked Tatiana, crossing her arms.
"Mama seemed much more serious about this than that, Tatiana. This is clearly dire—didn't you see the pallor on her face? That wasn't makeup." Olga said, fiddling with the gloves on her hands. It made her anxious to see her mother so serious.
"She's just nervous to tell us who we're betrothed to, probably" The younger of the pair shrugged, though the topic of betrothal did upset her. Her sweetheart was a commoner, a boy of her age named Ilya Vasiliev. However, he wouldn't last long. Though his heart had changed the night the "Antonov Letter" was delivered, it wouldn't matter. Tsar Nicholas had no patience for these Bolsheviks.
"I know that look…I wish I could help, Tia" Olga said sadly. She knew of Ilya, but also knew of the rules of marriage for royalty. There was simply no way.
Alexandra walked in, her face remaining serious. She sighed heavily and sat down, gesturing for the teenagers to sit across from her.
"Girls, I am afraid our trip to Paris is no simple surprise." She spoke. "Your father and I have caught wind of an assassination attempt, and we must flee until these criminals have been duly dealt with."
"No, you don't mean…" Olga was in shock, as was her sister.
"It's even deeper than assassination, I'm afraid. There were plans for revolution." Alexandra continued. "They wanted us gone forever."
"What were their names?" Tatiana said, her hands balling up into fists. "I'll kill them!"
"Well, your father knows a few names—I suppose it won't hurt to tell you. They're to be executed when their found" Alexandra said. "Quell your rage, it is improper of a lady"
"Just…just tell me who they are!" The girl was at the edge of her seat. Olga placed a hand on her shoulder and made an attempt at calming her sister.
"Tatiana, please…" She said, her voice soothing. "Deep breaths. They will be dealt with"
"If you must know, the heads were Vladimir Lenin, Konstantin Vaganov, and Ilya Vasiliev, in that order of course. It's a true shame too…Ilya was only Tatiana's age" Alexandra said, remorse in her voice. "If it were up to me, I wouldn't have him executed."
Tatiana could feel her heart stop. Ilya, her love, he was going to die. He was against her the entire time. She didn't cry out, but sat there, her eyes blank. She could practically hear her heart shatter inside of her.
Olga's heart stopped as well, for her sister's sake. Poor, poor Tatiana. She didn't deserve this heartbreak.
"I will be in my room. Thank you for telling me, mama" Tatiana said coldly, walking out of the parlor and up to her room. Olga could feel tears in her eyes, all for her sister.
"Mama, Ilya was…he was Tatiana's lover" She explained, hand cupped up to her mouth. "He was her first love…"
"Oh…oh dear" Alexandra knew something about this would upset Tatiana, but she never expected something to this extent. "I am dreadfully sorry" Was all she could manage to say. She hugged Olga, for it was all she could do.
That was the night that Tatiana changed. She lied on her bed and cried into her pillow, and as she cried, those shattered pieces of her heart would be put back together—with solid ice. She would never love again, and she would never let her sisters face the same heartbreak. She will never let a Romanov girl love a common man. It will hurt too much.