June 25, 1916
Just one hour after the sun rose in the sky, three Rolls Royce automobiles arrived at the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoe Selo. In one of the cars, a tall, bearded man with light brown hair stepped out. He looked around at the facade of the palace, which towered over him by over ten meters. The pale yellow walls of the palace shone in the sunlight and the white columns of the front pavilion stood as robust as ever. The doors of the left wing opened, and two people escorted by a dozen royal guards stepped outside.
They were the new royal couple to be: Olga I and Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia. Dmitri looked at the visitor, and his face lit up in a wide smile. His weary blue eyes shone with joy as well. Dmitri and Olga walked to the tall man, who looked at them with a happier expression. He chuckled.
"Cousin Mitya! Olya!" the man said
"Cousin Misha!" Dmitri greeted with an enthusiastic tone.
Both Russian Grand Dukes Mikhail Alexandrovich and Dmitri Pavlovich embraced each other and gave hearty laughs. After a moment, they let go of each other and began to converse.
Mikhail looked at the new Tsarina, who stood beside Dmitri with a raised eyebrow. The older Grand Duke cleared his throat when taking a step to her.
"Good morning to you as well, Uncle Misha. Thank you for being prompt with your appearance," Olga said.
"You are welcome, my niece."
A moment of silence passed as Olga and the two Grand Dukes returned to the palace.
"Uncle Misha? May I ask you something?"
"Yes?"
"How have I done?"
Mikhail smiled again before he spoke. "I am happy to see that you have handled the Austro-Serbian Crisis and quelled the revolutionary sentiments. Your father would have disagreed with those reforms… he wanted to follow the footsteps of your more conservative grandfather, Alexander the Third. Nevertheless, the reforms have done us well. I am proud of you, and I believe that your parents must be proud of you as well. Yet I have heard rumors of a certain traitor being interrogated."
"Spasibo, Uncle Misha, and yes… the rumors are true. I… I… had to give the permit to the interrogators within the Okhrana. Sadly, they did not follow my request to interrogate the traitor's sister, and they- they shot her in the legs instead. All I could do was give the others a reprimand and send his sister to an infirmary. What makes me fear such a simple act is that I felt nothing. It always returns to my mind, and I wonder if I could have done something to prevent her unnecessary suffering."
"Your parents had just been murdered by the raiders at the Livadia Palace during that month. It is normal to be in denial and numbness after traumatic occurrences."
"But I allowed the sister of the traitor to be-"
Mikhail held his hand up. "The rumors may be true, but that does not change the core of your very being. You are kind and compassionate like your father. You are a sane and intelligent young woman, bearing responsibilities that few ever do. You must come to understand that many choices come with difficulty. Sometimes… you must choose one that hurts less than the more."
"Would it be better to force a third option to avoid hurting anyone undeserving of it?"
"Yes, but there will come a time when you will have to make a very hard decision where both choices cause great harm."
"What about the interrogation, what would you have done?"
"I would have personally overseen the interrogation to prevent any misdoings."
Olga remained silent for some time, pondering the words of her uncle. "I see."
"Good. Like chess, it is best to make few mistakes than to make many successes. You are the one to play a game to not lose… continue playing like so."
"Spasibo, Uncle Misha, for the advice. I have anguished over the memory since that time."
The Tsarina and the two Grand Dukes made their way into the Alexander Palace through the left center entrance. They went to the Left Wing and went up a flight of stairs. Now close to the bedrooms of the Grand Duchesses, Mikhail raised an eyebrow as he looked at an empty spot of the wall. Below the spot, another painting of Catherine the Great rested on the wall.
"Why is the portrait of Peter the Third missing?" he asked.
"I dislike Peter the Great. He was the least Russian of all the past Tsars, making a beard tax and other absurd laws to stamp out our culture. Once I believe that the economy is stable enough, I will promote our traditions once more," Olga said.
"Good to hear that you will bring back the old Russian ways. I see your point… but let us get to the reason why you called for me: you need someone to watch over Russia during your trip to America, right?"
"Without a doubt, Uncle Misha. The American president, Mister Wilson, has invited my family and I to the United States. There, we will negotiate a newer trade deal that will bring more industry to Russia. We will need more than just brave men if we are to fight another war- whenever it comes. It is already embarrassing enough for my homeland to be a mere breadbasket in an industrializing world."
"Do not worry a great deal about Russia. I will manage things while you, Mitya, and your sisters are in America… your policies will remain."
"Spasibo, Uncle Misha," Olga replied, feeling grateful.
The young Tsarina opened the door to her bedroom. The walls were painted as pink as a blush, and a stenciled frieze of dragonflies soaring in the air decorated the lower ceiling. The room was split into two smaller areas by a white double door. Mikhail nodded in appreciation at the beauty of the bedroom, which almost gave off the atmosphere of an energetic and youthful childhood rather than a forced maturity. The various childhood pictures plastered all over the wall and on the nightstands added to that impression very much.
Olga walked to her desk beside the open windows, allowing the gentle breezes to gently ruffle her white dress ever so slightly. It was if she were a robed angel walking in the upper spaces of heaven. She picked up a framed picture. Dmitri went beside her to look at the picture. He squeezed her hand with gentle force, as it became noticeable that the Tsarina was blinking hard with watering eyes.
Mikhail did not know how to comfort the young Tsarina, who had been orphaned just four years ago. He had also lost his father, but at least his mother Marie Feodorovna was alive. So he kept silent as Dmitri whispered to her reassurances that her ordeal was over, that the storm had passed.
"Us Romanovs have been saved and redeemed in the eyes of our people because of you, Olya. Remember that your parents are in a better place and that they would be proud…"
"I do not weep only because of Mama and Papa's passing, Mitya. I have never told you this before..."
"What thing?" Dmitri asked in a sincere tone.
"I know it would be foolish of me- but I still miss the company of a certain junior officer very much. I knew him as Pasha… he was so kind and funny."
"And handsome?"
"Da. He was handsome."
"Things will pass by smoothly. Do not worry, you will see your friend again on the Standart-"
The double door opened, allowing Tatiana to step into the other room. She rolled her eyes as Dmitri Pavlovich flashed his signature grin at her. It would take more than superficial charms and looks to woo a proper Grand Duchess like herself, she thought.
For their remaining four hours in the palace, the Romanov sisters would pack their belongings and enjoy a light lunch before their trip.
(Line Break)
The moment had come. The Romanovs and some of their closest servants stepped out of the Alexander Palace. The Tsarina looked back at her home. Mikhail waved goodbye, praying that the trip would pass without incident. The Standart had never been on a voyage across the Atlantic. This time, they would.
Olga realized the significance of this voyage. She would be the first Empress of Russia to visit America in history. She felt a surge of excitement build up within herself. She could not resist smiling while she loaded her own travel bags onto her personal car.
Anna Demidova and kitchen servant Dmitri Ivanov took their seats in the last car in the procession. The Romanovs, as usual, took their seats in the first car once they had packed all of their items. Some of their relatives, including Maria Pavlovna and Marie Feodorovna, had arrived from the Pavlovsk Palace earlier. They too would sit in the second car along with Dmitri Pavlovich. The young Tsarina felt somewhat relieved that she sat separately from the free-spirited, womanizing Grand Duke.
Olga looked one last time at the Alexander Palace, her home. The guards gave a brief salute before the drivers began their drive towards the Petrograd docks. In the first car, the Romanov sisters kept quiet. The sheer realization that they were going to another continent left them in awe.
"America… I have heard many things about it. I am fascinated with how large and modernized their country is," Tatiana said.
"I hope that Mashka and I will find something to do there…" Anastasia murmured.
"You could have some fun with your friend," Maria suggested.
Anastasia smiled at the thought of touring America with her friend Dmitri. Already, she had developed a liking for photography. She looked forward to taking photographs of the famed New York City, Washington D.C, and other cities.
"I like that idea. Dmitri will be very happy about that."
The escort of cars arrived at the docks amidst cheering crowds. Some of the more enthusiastic subjects in the crowd waved the imperial flag of the two-headed Byzantine Eagle on a yellow background. Olga felt a surge of joy in her heart upon seeing crowds of people applauding her efforts. She now understood how it felt to be adored as the matushka of Russia. However, her mother was not as well liked during her co-reign with her father.
The Standart yacht floated beside its dock, where officers and guards in ordered formation stood at the ready. The ship still looked majestic from a distance, with its freshly repainted and fixed hull gleaming a shiny imperial black in the sunlight. The figurehead, a brass two-headed eagle, shone like gold. Few other symbols of the Russian crown could be as iconic as the ship.
The cars came to a stop, and the Romanovs waved at the crowd. Maria blew kisses at the crowds while Anastasia smiled. They basked in the attention, feeling a sense of joy. For certain, their eldest sister had done her duty well so far. At least they would be able to live without fear of being tortured or assassinated.
The Romanovs, their relatives, and their selected servants crossed the gangway onto the Standart, where the uniformed officers saluted their Tsarina and her relatives. Olga waved back at the crowds, hearing their shouts and cheers from afar.
Olga faced the officers. "Take us out of port, Captain Zelenetsky."
"Yes, Your Majesty," he replied, before stepping towards the officers.
The captain ordered the officers to move to their positions aboard the yacht while the Romanovs dispersed throughout the ship. Olga and Tatiana moved below deck, where an officer with familiar brown eyes approached them. Olga felt happier at the sight of him, feeling joy filling her heart.
"Mister Voronov, I am happy to see you again!"
"Did you miss me?" Pavel said.
The officer grinned wide with an unmistakable wink of his brown eyes. In that moment, the young Tsarina felt as if she were a young, carefree girl of seventeen years again. Her fears and responsibilities seemed to melt away. Nothing else seemed to matter except for spending time with the man she felt for. She did not know that she had instinctively ran her fingers over his white sailor gloves.
Tatiana cleared her throat. "My apologies for my interruption. I believe that you were going somewhere…"
"Thank you, Your Highness, for reminding me. I will see you again during my break hours, Olga Romanova," Pavel said, before continuing on.
Olga sighed as she watched her dashing officer walk out of her sight. One thought came to her mind. Her soon-to-be consort, Dmitri Pavlovich, would have a rivalry with Pavel for her affections. She hoped that they would not confront each other with fists and feet during the trip. It was all clear that the junior officer held strong feelings for her, but what would happen if she told him the bitter truth? That she could not associate anyone below her station?
"Are you feeling alright, Olya?" Tatiana asked, the concern evident in her tone.
"I do not know what words precisely tell what I am feeling. I like Pasha very much, but as you know… I cannot stay with him. He is far below my station," Olga said, the disappointment evident in her tone.
"That is true. I am certain that he has feelings for you as well. I wish that I could give you advice, but I have never been in love… yet."
"What do I do? If I tell him that I cannot be with him, I would break his heart."
"Although I have not been in love, I believe that it is better to be honest than to give false hopes for Mister Voronov. I know that is hard for you, but you may have to do that. If not, you would only hurt Mister Voronov even more."
"I understand why you want me to do such a thing… but any rejection from me would hurt him. If I stay with Pasha… I will only betray Mitya, who I am expected to court now."
"Then you must think about what would hurt less people. You are a sharp-minded Empress of Russia, Olya, I know that you can make the best decision for this issue," Tatiana said.
Her elder sister spent a moment considering the advice. "Spasibo, Tatya. How about we go find Mashka and Nastya? They must need two more playmates!"
The two elder Romanov sisters went above deck again, and they noticed that the docks were gradually receding away from the ship. The journey had begun, and the royal family would be at sea for at least nine days, if the Standart kept at max nautical speed for the entire trip. No Romanov had or would travel as far until now.
Olga looked around, and she spotted her two younger sisters leaning on the rails. She approached them. The younger two smiled as they looked at her, and their hair swayed in the sea breezes. Dressed in white dresses with decorative hems, they appeared like angels in the light: pure and majestic.
"Olya, I love the sea… just us and the calm winds and open skies. It is so beautiful out here, the waves sparkling, the hues of blue... I could paint this," Maria said.
"I love the sea too, Mashka. It reminds me of Papa and Mister Voronov."
"Your dashing, handsome officer?"
Olga looked at the horizon, closing her hand around the distant image of a cloud. "Yes… he is very handsome. Everytime I look into his hazel eyes, I feel as if I were at home, as if everything would be alright."
"I have seen photographs of him, and his nose reminds me of a long and pointy witch nose smashed in," Anastasia sniggered.
"Nastya! It is not as pointy as you think it is, and he is handsome!" Olga said, putting her hands on her hips.
Maria burst into laughter with her large blue eyes crinkling. Even Tatiana had her lip bent in an effort not to laugh. The shvibzik had struck again. This trip would be very enjoyable for all of them with Anastasia.
A.N: The Romanovs' relatives will appear more in the next chapters. Anyways, I have read that Anastasia often made some remarks based on the alexander palace website. Anastasia is such a savage, lol!