Sorry for the long wait after such a huge cliffhanger last time! But here I am again!

Trigger Warnings in the end.

Perm. July 30, 1918.

Tatiana Nikolaevna Romanova.

"It is fine, darling, there is no one other than us here", I rub Anastasia's back as she hides her face in my neck. My little sister just had another nightmare, and now Maria and I are sitting on opposite sides of her bed, offering some comfort.

"I am just… so scared, Tanya", she sobs. "I mean, I know it was a dream, I am not an idiot, so it doesn't really help when you say 'it was just a dream, darling'". Her comment makes both me and Maria smile. She is stroking Anastasia's hair tenderly, wiping her tears almost every time they fall. "But even then", Anastasia continues, "the idea of being caught before seeing Olga and Alexei again… it is not impossible, you know?" Her voice becomes very high pitched and vulnerable, something quite rare in Anastasia. Something quite rare before.

Galina must have delivered the information already, so with God's help we will soon be able to heal somewhere safe, but the anticipation is making all of us uneasy nonetheless.

"They don't suspect a thing", Maria soothes our sister, "no one does, if they changed the rules with the guards and the time outside and everything it is probably because… I mean, I don't know, but I don't think they have everything figured out yet, Shvibzik".

God, let it be true. I wish I had Maria's optimism, but I don't. I am far too pragmatic to correct her with my doubts and fears though. We need good morale, and she is the one who provides it.

"I just can't sleep like this", Anastasia hugs me tighter, and I rest my head on hers in response. "I am too anxious right now, I am not even tired anymore, can we please play cards or something?"

In view of the situation, I decide to indulge my little sister just for tonight, but then I notice there is mucus running down her nose.

"I am getting you some toilet paper first, Nastasia", I stand up, smiling. I know very well our Shvibzik would see no problem in using her sleeves to wipe her runny nose, but at her age there is no excuse for such unhygienic practice. "The drops of rainwater that have been leaking from the ceiling since yesterday don't let me sleep anyway". Galina kindly provided us with a bucket, so our room won't be flooding any time soon, but the sound the drops make upon falling is so loud it dulls that of the precipitation outside.

I begin to turn the knob, only to be abruptly pushed backwards when the door is opened from the other side. I let out a shriek just an instant before my sisters do.

A tall, lanky man has entered the room. He moves to sneak behind me faster than it takes for me to realize, clasps an arm around my waist, and soon enough my next scream is being muffled by his other hand. He moves backwards, lifting and then dragging me outside with him through the corridor. I can hear my sisters screaming, I can see them rushing to save me, but the man is faster.

I can't think. What is happening? This isn't happening. This isn't supposed to happen. They are not even allowed to touch us.

"Help! Help!" Maria and Anastasia cry out. "Tatiana, no!"

He uncovers my mouth, but I am far too astonished to scream. He is opening a door, the bathroom door. Oh no. My heart races at an incredible speed, my mind does the same, but nothing could be more useless right now. What is he doing? What does he want? And most importantly, how dare he?! Ortipo starts barking, and she seems to be following us. I try nothing. I do nothing.

The lightbulb of the bathroom is turned on. It is bright. Now I am inside. We are inside. But I don't move nor make a sound. I am completely frozen in panic. Maria and Anastasia are still screaming, but then the man shuts the bathroom door in their faces. Only my dog's protests remain as clear and loud. She came with me. My Ortipo, my Malama's Ortipo.

Suddenly the intruder clutches my shoulders, manhandling me so that we are face to face. He forces me to take a few quick steps backwards until my upper legs hit the sink. I wince in pain, then I look up at him, a corpulent man in his twenties with brown eyes, dirty blond hair and thick, dark eyebrows. He isn't actually that much taller, but he is clearly stronger than me. Way stronger. He feels that way too. That man effortlessly lifted me up without a second thought, and his grasp on my shoulders remains tight, so tight. The grimness of his glare makes me feel as if he were waiting for me to dare give him an excuse to break one of my bones... or shoot me with that pistol I just noticed he has tucked in his belt.

I try glaring back, I try staring him down the same way I did when some of the guards tried peeking in me and my sisters' bedroom back in Ekaterinburg, I try making him uncomfortable like I successfully did that last time, ashamed of himself as he should very well be. It doesn't work this time. He remains undisturbed, as confident in his wickedness as our parents' murderers. The threat of being made to feel like a bad person doesn't seem to work on people without a conscience.

"Please…" I barely dare utter, all while trying to sound firm and without breaking eye contact, but just letting that one word leave my mouth in a whisper is enough to make my hands shake and my jaw quiver. "What is…?" What is it that you want, fool? Let me go you impertinent idiot! But I am not brave enough.

"Listen to me very carefully", the man cuts in, whispering in my ear so closely I can feel his warm and muggy breath all over the right side of my face, a breath that also smells like cigarette smoke and food mixed and rotted together. It is disgusting. "Your sisters are screaming at the top of their lungs right now, do you hear them?" His tone is mocking, and so frightening I quickly lose my composure. I nod frantically, pathetically, my throat producing high pitched sounds in the process. "Yeah, I don't care", the loathsome man continues, "you four do that almost every night, nothing unusual about it. One day I thought, 'hey, might as well benefit from those bitches' nightly whining and have a good time with my favorite one', ain't that a good idea, beautiful?"

The way this absolute stranger caresses my cheek once he is done delivering his condescending speech makes me shiver and almost gag.

I hate the fact that he is right. Who is going to notice anything different about my sisters' terrified cries? And who among our indifferent jailers would care if they did? My eyes begin to flood with tears at the absolute unfairness of it all.

"Just clearing that up so you understand no one is coming to save you", he begins fondling my back, his hands creeping lower and lower, groping and squeezing all the way to my buttocks. I let out a gasp, unnerved, repulsed by his touch. Scared and outraged.

This is when I should be running. This is when I should be screaming. I know I should be protesting at the very least, but the horror is too much. Come on, fight back, go ahead, you know what you should be doing, a simple 'no' at the very least, reach for the door, push him away… what the hell is happening? But I remain frozen even as I desperately beg myself to act now, now, now, now… now! Nothing. My body remains rigid as if, quite literally, paralyzed by fear. All I do is let my tears roll down freely and whimper repeatedly without even opening my mouth.

Ortipo is still barking. She hasn't stopped for a second, she is only getting closer and closer, as if threatening my attacker, as if a small dog could stop this unscrupulous man. I have never loved her more.

"Shut the fuck up, you ugly rat!" The man yells at her, but Ortipo keeps barking as he shifts his attention to my breasts. "Oh, that is better", he gropes one of them roughly and it hurts, it hurts and dozens of dreadful memories flood my mind in an instant.

The moment mama and papa died, what happened right after, those men touching me the same way this man is, without a drop of compassion. Over and over again. I can't stop thinking about it.

He gropes the other one. Help me, God.

I shut my eyes tightly and shrink, hoping to disappear, to escape from my body and thus his sickening touch. Tears keep flowing down my cheeks abundantly as I think of mama, the grief and need for her growing stronger than ever now that I feel helpless. I want her to hold me, to kiss my forehead and stroke my hair. I am impotent and powerless like a child, crying like a little girl, scandalized by the foul beast's entitlement to what is without question mine and yet still as a statue. Even my limbs go numb. This isn't me, I always know what I must do and then do it accordingly. I always act.

He begins unbuttoning my shirt. I remain frozen solid even knowing what is coming. I learnt about it during our nursing course, but I didn't know it was such a painfully slow process. This is torture.

I choke down a sob. I feel so violated, his mere touch is already unbearable, immensely uncomfortable, and what if it hurts too much for me to handle? And why am I still not moving? Not only am I about to be defiled and sinned against, I am also a coward. I am also sinning by omission.

Coward. Coward. Coward. Coward.

I stop trying to hold back my sobs. No, the word I try but fail to utter with each of them. This along with Ortipo's unrelenting barking seems to irritate the man.

"Of course you could make this harder on yourself than it has to be", he says, "but I know you wouldn't want me trying this with your sisters, or better yet, disclosing your entire little secret to the commander, so be a good girl, don't go snitching on me after I am done, and I won't foil your silly escape plans", his excessively wet lips begin sucking on my neck, leaving it drenched in saliva. The sensation is so repulsive I instinctively try to scream, but the fear of what might happen arrests the sound inside my throat, and all I manage to produce is a strangled noise.

Our escape plans? Did I hear that correctly? My chest is about to explode from the fear as he continues planting those stomach-turning slimy kisses on my neck, making the bile rise in my throat. I can taste a rotten, half digested version of yesterday's dinner. No, not my sisters, I couldn't bear it. And he knows. He knows. He saw or heard us do something. My sisters are in danger and he knows about our plans.

Ortipo barks louder. I start choking on my own sobs, which makes my struggle to keep myself from vomiting harder. Outside, my sisters slam their hands against the door.

"Help!" They cry. "Help!"

I couldn't bear the thought of sweet Maria about to vomit right now, what of her adorable dreams of romance? What of her blushing and the spark in her eyes as she talks about them? What about her hope? What of her innocence? And even less could I bear the thought of our little Shvibzik being subjected to anything close to this ever again. She is so childlike still, our little girl. I still remember the day Maria and I saw her for the first time on our mother's bed and spent what felt like hours gushing over her. So tiny. For me she will always be my tiny boisterous sister, no matter how much she grows, the one who hated being tiny and would hang on papa's pull-up bar in order to stretch and grow taller.

But worst of all would be if our only hope to see our precious siblings again were cruelly snatched away by this shameless man. I can't do that to them.

The man moves on to kiss my shoulders. My jaw keeps quivering, and I get goosebumps as I fight the urge to vomit by swallowing the burning bile. I become dizzy in the process, the world around me feeling slower than it should, and my mind foggy. I am even sleepy… does that mean I am going to faint? Because right now it would probably be for the best. I don't want to be aware of what is coming. At all. Forgive me, God.

"Shut up!" I barely hear him yell at Ortipo again, only this time he moves his leg back as if intending to kick her. I can feel my hands and feet again all of the sudden. It is like a switch.

"No…" my silence is finally defeated by a tentative, broken lament, "don't hurt her, please…"

I hardly detect his arm swing, it is the sting on my cheek that lets me know he has slapped me. I cry out. Not giving me even an instant to recover, he leans to silence me with a kiss on the mouth this time, but the pain has awakened my reflexes. I quickly turn my head around and his lips land on my ear instead, but not for long. He suddenly jumps for fright and groans loudly.

I look down to see my dog biting down on his ankle. He, in turn, is trying to kick her away. I stand still in bewilderment for the few seconds it takes me to acknowledge what is happening. Thank you, God. I am too afraid to move my limbs even now, but the incident has provided me with renewed faith, hope, and the genuine notion that I am witnessing a miracle. I even feel God's love and presence around me. I am His child, He is with me right now, and He will always love me. Maybe my parents are also here, with me in spirit.

I have to do something now, to make the time Ortipo has bought me worth it, but all I dare is mutter a prayer to the Theotokos, for her to intercede for me before her Son. Please save me, comfort me through it all otherwise.

My prayers are interrupted when the man brutally kicks Ortipo, causing my little French bulldog to whine louder than she was barking a few seconds ago.

"No, no, please!" I protest. "Leave her be!" All I manage to do is bring attention to myself. The loathsome man glares at me and makes a sudden motion, most certainly to continue what he started. He is immediately interrupted when Ortipo bites him again. This does not go unpunished. The second kick is harder, more brutal. My poor dog's cry, even more deafening. How can I let her do this for me?

By some miracle my limbs seem to listen now, to a certain degree. Is it the guilt? The fear? Both? I slowly begin moving away from the man. Shaking, disoriented, without thinking.

Kick. Cry.

I hear it, but I can't dwell on it now, I have to escape.

Kick. Groan. Cry. Kick. Groan. Cry. Kick. Cry.

It goes on and on and on. The evil man's attention has completely shifted towards my poor, poor little Ortipo.

I want to scream, I want to defend her, but my mind is a muddy mess of fear and stupidity… and how did I even end up inside the tub?! I should have rushed towards the door!

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Oh, help us, God!

I close the shower curtains, as if that could stop this monster. Then I mutter another prayer. O Master and God, Father almighty, Lord, and only-begotten Son, Jesus Christ, and Holy Spirit, one divinity and power, have mercy on me a sinner, and save me, your unworthy servant, in any way you know; for you are blessed unto the ages of ages. Amen.

Kick. Cry. Kick. Cry.

"Stop, please, stop!" I scream for my darling little Ortipo, repeatedly, but the brute does not listen. "I will do what you want, but please stop!" I beg him, barely thinking about the horrifying implication of my words, frightened out of my mind for both myself and my pet, but it doesn't work. He doesn't stop kicking my dog until her cries have gone completely silent. I don't have much time to reflect on what that means though.

I sit on the wet floor of the bathtub, put my arms around my legs and begin moving back and forward, rocking myself as I continue praying. He has a gun. I don't know what else to do. I hate him so much.

I hear footsteps and my chest tightens. I begin having trouble breathing. Only a few seconds go by before the man draws the curtains fully in one abrupt move. I leap up, covering my face with my arms and screaming like a mad woman. Loud. Very, very loud.

There he is, with wild eyes, one foot over the tub and the other one outside, intending to harm me in the most despicable manner.

"Shut up!" He lunges forward. "Shut up, bitch!" I almost trip on my way out of the tub. He follows me outside, his hand over the pistol. "Shut up!"

I cry out louder, now frightened for my life as well. I keep doing so as he chases me across the bathroom in a sort of sick game of tag. I scream frantically as I am left with no choice but to dodge him in the tiny room's constraint space. I do so without thinking about whether screaming will save me, delay the inevitable, or even get me killed. I am so scared I can't think at all.

"Shut up!" He grunts. "Shut up!"

Then I hear a man's voice coming from the other side of the door. Whoever it is will be calling the commander. My attacker stops in his tracks, distracted, giving me enough time to reach for the door, but he catches up on my intentions quickly and blocks the entrance before I can touch the knob, putting an arm around my waist and lifting me up again.

"Do that and she is dead!" He shouts at the door. "If I so much as hear his footsteps she is dead!" I feel something cold touch my temple and my body freezes again. His pistol. He has finally decided to use it.

I hear my sisters protesting outside and my heart races. Then everything seems to go quiet. I keep crying, whimpering, fearing for my life. I know I shouldn't fear death but I really don't want to die. I want to see Olga again, I want to see baby grow up, I want to explore the English countryside with my sisters and maybe even sail again. Most importantly, I want to be there for my younger siblings. They still need a mother figure. Please, God, please, they need me.

I feel the gun quiver and my heart skips a beat. Then I realize the man's arm is shaking. I sigh, and I almost want to shout in relief as well. He was wrong. Help has come. Men of conscience have come to save me. He will not shoot me. Not with a guard to witness everything right outside.

My mind shifts. Now I focus on how irritating it is to have my skin be in contact with his still. Then I pay attention to him for a moment. This idiot is so focused on what my rescuer might be doing that even his hold on my waist has loosened. I know I should probably wait for them to open the door or something, but I sneak under the man's arm and pull away instead. I am just sick and tired of his touch.

He reacts quickly, catching my left hand and foiling my second attempt at reaching for the door. I struggle to move away, to disentangle myself from his grasp, but it only tightens as he uses both hands to grab my wrist. I squirm and lean back, trying to use my weight to force him to let go. That is when he viciously twists my carpal.

I only become coingsant of an unsettling sound at first, that of a bone cracking, but the ensuing agony is so shocking that my scream isn't piercing enough to convey it. I don't remember getting shot at hurting this much.

He lets go of my hand for just a fraction of a second and I run away without even thinking of the direction. How am I going to knit now? My first coherent thought.

Before long I find myself back in the tub, close to the shower head. He is in there as well, on the opposite side. I cry out in terror and turn on the faucet with my good hand in a pathetic attempt to defend myself. It does stop him for an instant. He grumbles and curses as the cold water rains over both of us.

I step out of the shower, exhausted and shaking in pain. My wrist hurts so badly I might faint and I am pretty sure the brute has broken it.

He grabs my hair to pull me back and I land with a huge thump on the wet floor. My hair becomes drenched under the shower immediately.

Suddenly the sound of a gunshot rings throughout the room. Another gunshot. Then the door plummets in a lumbering manner, landing right in front of us.

Oo

I barely noticed the commotion caused by Oleg and another man wrestling my attacker for the gun. I was far too busy buttoning my shirt and looking for Ortipo. Someone else must have turned off the faucet.

Of course our pets love us, but it is the first time I have been presented with such clear evidence. They are God's creatures as well, mama used to say so.

"I am so sorry", I rock back and forth and weep, kissing Ortipo's dark fur. "I should have defended you, darling, I shouldn't have let him do that to you, I am so sorry".

I tried to wake her up, but she is still, unresponsive, gone. Forever. I even scratched her in her favorite place behind her ears. Nothing.

I am so sorry my dear, I am so very sorry Dmitri.

The world around me seems unreal, like a dream. I know very well I am still in the bathroom, and I know my sisters are kneeling around me in tears, worried, but all I can see is Ortipo's inert body in my arms. That is real. That and the man's sickening touch, still alive in my body as if he were groping me right now.

I sob noisily, in a way I wouldn't have lowered myself down to before, not around these men. But I couldn't care less at the moment, not with the miracle that came out of Ekaterinburg alive now dead in my arms.

Mama really liked her, she loved all our pets. This would have broken her heart. Papa, mama… I need them so much.

Oo

"The three of them were screaming louder than usual", Oleg recalls. "That is what brought our attention to what was happening". God bless his noble soul. I can only lower my head in shame, knowing very well he heard wrong. It was mostly Maria and Anastasia screaming at the beginning.

"I didn't notice anything different about their screams, to be honest", Igor digresses. "But Kostya over here was making a lot of noise, and it was clear as day that his groans came from this bathroom, where as far as I am aware none of us are supposed to be at this hour, or ever". I had only seen and recognized Igor's face before, but the gratitude has made me memorize his name as well.

"Well, Kostya?" Ignat Iliaovich turns to the shameless man. "Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Maria arrived with the commander just a few seconds after Oleg and Igor broke in to rescue me. Unlike me and my sisters' cries for help, the gunshots didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Half the night guards are already curiously crowding around Ignat in the illuminated corridor where my sisters and I sit on the floor, leaning on the wall opposite to the bathroom.

I weep between Maria and Anastasia, holding Ortipo's lifeless little body in my arms. Both my sisters have been doing their best to comfort and reassure me, poor things. They ask me if I am alright every now and then. I always nod, knowing very well I won't feel fine any time soon. They know too. It is still a bit strange to be the one comforted by my little sisters, but I accept their embraces nonetheless.

The commander is standing right in front of us, looking between the many guards and the collapsed door behind him with what seems to me an evident incredulity he tries to disguise as controlled rage.

"Defense?!" Oleg snorts as soon as Kostya opens his mouth to answer Commander Ignat's question. "What could possibly justify what he did?!"

"We have already explained what happened", Igor insists. "Comrade Konstantin tried to rape citizen Romanova and was willing to kill her dog to do so, or at least that is my best guess as to why he did what he did to that poor animal. Oleg and I were simply forced to take drastic measures".

Rape. I flinch at the forthrightness of the word, despising the fact it might now be tied to me in all of these men's minds forever, maybe even in my sisters' minds. It is embarrassing and humiliating.

I wipe my tears out of spite. The intense pain in my wrist makes it hard for me not to shed new ones right away, but my trial is over now, and I want everyone to see that.

"And why didn't you wait for me?" The commander questions Igor with a stare so grim I feel awful for the latter. "Had you waited just a few seconds more I would have put a stop to it without any of these 'drastic measures' you so much try to make excuses for. What was this strange need of yours to… to, to destroy this place?!"

"He didn't do it, Commander Ignat", Oleg speaks promptly. "I did, both hinges, Igor had no part in it. It was an emergency, as I genuinely believed the prisoner to be in immediate danger, and I considered and still consider keeping the prisoners safe to be one of my obligations."

Ignat doesn't seem convinced. I can't remain silent, not when faced with the possibility of a man I now know to be decent despite my preconceptions being punished for doing the right thing.

"It… it is true, commander", I stutter. "I was in danger. Kos… he… the man who attacked me threatened to shoot me, and he may have broken my wrist as well." I extend my left arm to show him my noticeably bruised and swollen hand.

"I see", Commander Ignat frowns, turns his head from one side to the other as if searching for something, and then approaches one of the guards in particular. "Go downstairs to my office and find my big notebook, you know which of them, the green one. Try ringing some of the numbers written on the medical emergency pages at the back, all of them if necessary, and get a doctor to come right away, as soon as possible."

The guard nods and leaves.

"That is not the full story", Konstantin speaks for the first time since the commander arrived, and once Ignat gives him his full attention, the brute's arrogance becomes unbearably irritating. "I broke her wrist, yes, by accident, and I did kill her dog as well." He sneers at me and I get goosebumps, the air against my dripping hair making me shiver from the cold. "But I wasn't trying to harm the prisoner, I was keeping her from escaping," he directs a short glance at Oleg, "which as far as I am aware is also among our many obligations, commander".

I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't have said anything. How much does he know? No, please no.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Oleg growls.

"See for yourself commander", Konstantin doesn't acknowledge Oleg but only looks at Ignat Iliaovich as he tilts his head towards the room next to ours.

My sisters and I stand up, giving each other several looks of fear and puzzlement as we follow the guards to what would have been our brother's room if he hadn't been taken away. The commander walks ahead, guided by Konstantin, who limps noticeably.

I almost faint when I get there and see the starry night sky. The first window one sees upon entering is wide open, and tied to the foot of the sturdy cabinet is a rope that goes through the aperture.

I know where this is going. He made precautions. He planned this through.

"It still doesn't explain what you were doing upstairs", Ignat points out. "How did you find out about this?"

"The sound of Oleg and Igor's footsteps woke me up", Konstantin contends, "I followed them upstairs to see what was going on and found the two of them aiding the prisoners in their escape."

"Liar!" Igor exclaims.

"That is so untrue!" Anastasia joins in protest. Maria shakes her head in disbelief.

"You don't actually believe this, commander, do you?" Oleg scoffs.

"There were other men down in the yard", Kostya ignores them, "and they were helping Maria Nikolaevna down the rope by keeping it steady. I assume Igor and Oleg were the ones who set everything up from the inside, tying the rope and waking the prisoners up."

"This is nonsense!" Oleg turns to Konstantin and approaches him in an aggressive manner. "You must have planned this in advance in order to get away with whatever you wanted to do to citizen Romanova!"

"He must have, commander", Maria pleads, getting close to Ignat, "the three of us were in our room when he came, we haven't even visited this one in days".

Arguments and discussions erupt among the guards as they begin taking sides.

"I took Tatiana Nikolaevna as a hostage and locked her in the bathroom only because I was sure the other two wouldn't leave without her", Kostya proceeds, speaking louder, "and I was right. They have been planning this for days, commander, I heard them discussing their escape plans in the yard yesterday. That is what the paper and brushes were for, to send secret messages to their would-be rescuers."

"Liar! That is not what happened! He's a liar! Liar!" Anastasia screams frantically, pointing her finger at the man and looking between him and the commander for support, but she doesn't seem to find any. "Liar! Liar!" She moves towards my attacker, but Maria restrains her.

My ears ring and the room starts moving. All around me the guards keep arguing. I feel weak, dizzy, the pain in my wrist making it all the more worse. I can't take this anymore.

"Silence!" Yells Ignat. "What about the dog?" He frowns at Kostya. "And what made you think it was in any way acceptable to harm the prisoner?"

"I had to defend myself from the dog", Kostya lifts his trousers lightly in order to show the commander the fresh and bleeding bite wounds of his ankles. "And I am deeply sorry about the force I needed to use in order to drag her to the bathroom, but I didn't mean to break her wrist".

"I see", the commander is visibly disturbed by the injuries.

What is going to happen now? Will my sisters be punished?!

I can barely hear the guards arguing anymore, I feel more lightheaded than ever, and I can scarcely see anything behind the dark spots that have begun forming in front of my eyes.

Oo

Maria Nikolaevna Romanova.

I catch Tatiana just before she hits the floor. She has fainted from the commotion, maybe from the scare, from the horror of this entire situation just added to her terrifying experience. My poor darling.

As Shvibzik and I shake our sister on the ground, Oleg moves forward and punches Konstantin in the face. A noisy brawl immediately begins, one that Igor and another guard soon join. The commander makes sure it doesn't last long.

"Stop!" He extends his arms in front of them authoritatively. "Stop it goddamnit! Gregory, Victor, don't just stand around, restrain them!" He orders the remaining guards.

My eyes fill with tears as I watch Igor and Oleg be outnumbered and held back by their arms, my sister Tatiana still unconscious on the floor. I am so scared.

"Come, on, Tanechka", my baby sister before me is already crying, "wake up".

Once Konstantin, Oleg and Igor have been held back, Commander Ignat Iliaovich confiscates their weapons and hands them over to the guards behind him. He parades in front of the three restrained men for a few seconds, glaring menacingly at each of them.

Does he believe us? He has to, he can't let that awful man remain in this house! I wouldn't be able to sleep! And did Kostya really figure out all of our plans? How much does he know? Is Galina in danger? Is it over now? Is there no hope for us at all? My heart is beating really fast. Oh, help us, Lord.

"You are all arrested", Ignat Iliaovich finally states nonchalantly.

"No!" I cry. "Why?!"

"That is not fair!" Anastasia follows. "Igor and Oleg were just helping us!" Her voice cracks. "They saved my sister!"

"And what exactly it is that they were helping you with will be subject to investigation", Ignat informs her. "So will Konstantin Sergeyevich's culpability".

"This is such crap!" Oleg snaps. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Take them to my office", the commander orders his men. He doesn't seem to have acknowledged Oleg's outburst.

Not again. Not Oleg. My friend. Not after having saved Tatiana. Why, God? All of our friends are getting in trouble for our sake.

"Commander Ignat!" Kostya wriggles between the guards holding him. "Is the doctor that is coming to check on citizen Romanova also treating my bite wounds?"

I shiver at the thought of my vulnerable sister, frightened and in pain, having to sit close to that evil man as the doctor attends to her swollen wrist.

"A different doctor will be brought to your cell once you get there, scum!" Ignat barks before signaling the guards to take Kostya away. I sigh in relief.

The three men can be heard grumbling and complaining as they are guided down the stairs, especially Oleg. I haven't even thanked him yet, and right now I am almost too ashamed to do so.

Anastasia and I stay in the room, trying to wake our sister up. Most of the guards have gone back to their posts or back to sleep, and the ones that haven't are soon being compelled to do so by the commander.

"Wait, can you inform my wife and kids?!" I hear Igor shouting downstairs. "Where are we going to be detained?!" Ignat doesn't answer any of his questions.

This kills me.

I rush down the stairs, ignoring the commander's clamors for me to stay in the room. I find the guards restraining Oleg and Igor, and I run ahead of them.

"Oleg", I walk right next to him and the grimace on his face disappears when he sees me, turning into a sad smile. I have to thank these selfless men for their consideration. It is the least I can do. "Thank you so much, Oleg", I say, tears rolling down my cheeks, and turning to his friend, I add: "You too, Igor, my sisters and I owe you so much, I don't know how or when I will be able to repay you, oh, dear God! And you have children! I do hope you are not in serious trouble for our sake!"

"It is nothing", Igor directs a half-smile at me as he is taken away.

"Maria, I…" Oleg stops walking and stares at me firmly. The guards around him try to pull and push him forward, but Oleg resists, seemingly keen on telling me something before letting himself be moved along. "This has been my least regrettable night in months", he chuckles in an awkward manner, maybe to sound playful, as if aiming to soothe my self-reproach. "Don't worry, love, we will be fine".

"Move!" One of the guards grabbing Oleg interrupts him, and along with the limping Kostya he is taken downstairs to the commander's office, where they will be temporarily kept.

Oo

By the time I return upstairs, Tatiana has regained consciousness and is crying in Anastasia's arms. The commander stands in front of them both, holding Ortipo's limp body. I can only see his back as he argues with my sisters. I stand by the threshold of the room and listen to them.

"This is protocol, citizens!" Ignat's tone of voice is as cold and mean sounding as the day he introduced himself to us. "I received very precise instructions".

"But what could you people possibly need her for?!" Anastasia cries. "Ortipo was our dog, she deserves a funeral, why can't we bury her in the backyard?"

"It isn't happening. Period."

When Ignat turns around and becomes aware of my presence, he directs a quick glare at me before leaving the room carrying Ortipo. Anastasia pulls out her tongue at him.

Oo

I sit on my bed and sigh, completely overwhelmed. There is noise coming from the bathroom caused by the carpenters' tools as they fix the door, an unwelcome reminder of what happened earlier.

Things have gone from bad to worse.

The doctor who checked on Tatiana's wrist said he would need to perform an x-ray, but as the commander feared, in his own words, "another" escape attempt, Anastasia and I weren't allowed to accompany her. The poor dear is all alone in some strange hospital right now. I can only hope the nurses are friendly.

I dread to think Commander Ignat may be willing to give more credence to Konstantin's lies, but I fear for the success of our very real escape plans a lot more.

I have no clue how much the commander suspects, but he already confiscated all of our brushes, sheets of paper, and paint, which isn't a good sign, and when Anastasia and I went downstairs to say goodbye to Tatiana as she was escorted out, we managed to pick out a discussion between Ignat and several of the guards. Even more restrictions will be put in place for us. Not only will we not be allowed outside for more than an hour a day, we won't be allowed outside at all. We will also be constrained to the second floor, unable to go downstairs without permission.

I look through the window to see the sunrise, maybe for the last time ever, though I hate to think so. The carpenters fixing the bathroom door can be heard discussing what they are going to do with the windows next. They will be boarded up with planks of wood, not just painted white. We will be truly prisoners in a way we never were before.

Added to that, there may be new guards coming to work here, and their numbers during each shift are going to change. Most of the information we wrote down and handed over to Galina for her to smuggle is pretty much useless now. I don't even know if finishing the special blanket Tatiana started knitting two days ago is worth it anymore.

I still hope and pray for things to sort themselves out, but it has been too much happening, such horrid events and so out of the sudden.

"No! No!" Anastasia is still ravaging the room. "Where are they?! Where are they?! Where did I put them?!"

To make matters worse, the jewels are gone. We tried checking on them a few minutes ago only to discover they weren't inside the pillows, where Anastasia last hid them. My baby sister screamed so much, so loudly. I tried to help her find them, but they were nowhere to be seen. We have already unmade the beds, pulled the cushions out of their pillowcases, and even turned the mattresses over. With a pitiful tear stained face, my little sister has kept frantically opening and closing the drawers.

"Stand up, Masha", she pleads, "let me see under your mattress again".

"We have already searched everywhere, Nastya", I remind her, "I am so sorry darling, but one of the guards might have stolen them while they were upstairs". I whisper that last part as I don't want the carpenters nor the men guarding the stairs to hear.

My little sister stops in her tracks and approaches, seemingly about to snap at me in anger. Realization washes over her face before she makes a sound though. She gasps audibly instead, shutting her eyes. Her eyebrows lower, pulling closer together as the corners of her mouth are drawn downwards. Finally, her legs lose strength, and she collapses on the ground, sobbing.

"I have nothing left from them now!" Anastasia cries out, pain and grief manifesting entirely in her swollen and contorted face. "They are completely gone! Everything is gone and nothing is going to work! I want to die!"

The sight makes me burst into tears as well. It is too much. Our parents. Olga and baby. Our precarious situation and the fact she has given up on thinking everything will be fine because hoping means risking more heartache and failure. It is too much pain.

"Shh, don't say that!" I kneel next to Shvibzik, hug her tightly, and begin stroking her strawberry blonde hair as the tears roll down my own eyes. "Please don't say that, darling..." She screams loudly under my arm, letting out all of her fear and anger. I remember our fight days earlier and try to be more understanding with her emotions. "It is fine, dear, you can cry, I am crying too, you know?" I chuckle amidst tears as she leans on my chest and keeps sobbing. "It has been awful, those thieving, brute animals!" I kiss Anastasia's head, and when I feel the poor thing start panting after having sobbed so much, I begin rocking her as I did my baby brother when he needed it, as if she were still a little girl. "But you are safe with me now, papa and mama are here with us regardless of whether we have something of theirs to remember them with or not, you know that, right? And whatever happens, God will never abandon us".

It has to be alright, even if I have to carry what is left of our hope over my shoulders. Hope is my cross right now.

We spend the rest of the sunrise weeping and praying in each other's arms. I pray for Christ to give me strength. Help me carry my cross, Lord.

The next thing I do is continue knitting the blanket. I can do it, this cross is nothing compared to that of our sweet and loving Jesus.

Oo

Tatiana Nikolaevna Romanova.

Sometime after midday I was escorted back to the Blue House on a motorcar, a short arm cast immobilizing my left hand. The food at the hospital was nothing special, but still outrageously better than the scraps Galina is usually forced to work with. They also gave me an aspirin, which I am grateful for. It has alleviated my pain a little bit.

Spending time outside what has become my prison was in no way pleasant. It only forced me to note the fact I had been and would again be in prison, a place I have been cruelly reminded is also dangerous for me and my sisters.

I really didn't want to go back to the basement, especially not before greeting my sisters, who are probably worried sick right now. I didn't want to sit on one of the chairs in front of the commander's workplace, or be anywhere near him. I despise having to lower myself down and almost beg on my knees for some resemblance of reasonable treatment. I hate feeling as I did back when Commander Pavel informed Olga, Maria and I that they were taking our baby away from us, when I lost Olga…

Negotiating even with my captors used to be a fun little challenge. It used to be comforting, and so were offices, papers and cigarette smoke. Papa, dearest, I miss you so much my whole being aches. When did everything become so unbearable?

But I mustn't think of my own comfort right now, not when my sisters' safety is at jeopardy. I don't have the right.

"It is very bold of you to demand anything from me after the scene you made earlier", Commander Ignat distracts me from my thoughts.

"Pardon me?" I raise my eyebrows. The scene… I, made? I could slap him.

Ignat extends his silver case and offers me a cigarette.

"No, thank you", I say.

"What is it that you want, citizen Romanova?" He lights his own cigarette calmly, without even getting a glimpse at me.

Sitting comfortably behind his desk and busy working on what I can only assume must be documents of great importance, Ignat hasn't actually acknowledged my presence that much since reluctantly agreeing to receive me in his office. At most he has lectured me about the new precautions he is supposedly being forced to take in order to prevent our escape. This is the first time he actually allows me to speak.

"What I need", I lower my head, hoping to avoid his gaze even by accident as I prepare to make an embarrassing allusion, "is assurance that nothing similar to what occurred in the bathroom at dawn will ever come to pass again." I am fortunate enough not to stutter.

"The recent happenings are still under investigation", he exhales a cloud of smoke. "But you can rest assured, citizen. If found guilty, your assailant will be punished, and with the new regulations put in place…"

"The new regulations?" I raise my chin. "You mean the men guarding the stairs on the same floor where our room is located? Let me ask you a question, Commander Ignat, who is going to be guarding these guards of yours? Who is going to stop them from hatching up a plan to attack my sisters and then inventing some sort of wild story to hide their wicked actions just like that man did today?" Ignat raises his eyebrows, seemingly shocked by my reborn confidence.

"And what do you expect me to do, huh?" He leaves his cigarette inside the ashtray and clasps his hands together on the surface of the desk. "Believe your story blindly? Restrain from taking precautions? I have no reason to trust you or your sisters, citizen".

I have no reason to trust you. That phrase sends shivers down my spine for some reason. I take a deep breath and try to maintain eye contact with the man. I can do this, why should I fear talking to a nobody made boss by a party of sophisticatedly organized thugs? I am good at this damnit!

"There are plenty of solutions", I soften my tone to sound more persuasive. "Female guards perhaps…"

"That is preposterous", Ignat shakes his head with a grin, putting the cigarette back in his mouth before reclining against the chair.

"Why?"

"Why?" He echoes mockingly, raising his eyebrows.

"Don't you Bolsheviks believe in equality?"

"I won't be lectured about my beliefs by someone who clearly doesn't share them", he says calmly, but the abrupt way in which he puts the cigarette out makes me suspect I have struck a nerve.

"I wasn't trying to lecture you", I counter. "I only hoped to convince you to reconsider. The Provisional Government formed several all-female combat units, what exactly is so preposterous about my suggestion? I am genuinely asking."

"As I recall, the first Russian Women's Battalion of Death failed to fulfill its purpose of revitalizing the Russian army's decaying morale. Many of the women were placed in auxiliary roles away from the front instead, and by November of last year, the dissolution of any remaining women's military formations had already been ordered."

"Of course", I nod, "but many of those women saw battle indeed, Commander Ignat. Bearing in mind that the much more moderate Provisional Government allowed those women to guard railroads and munition factories at a time of war or even face our enemies on the battlefield, why is recruiting them for the simpler and safer task of guarding three unarmed prisoners too much to ask from you Bolcheviks?"

"Three important and sought after prisoners, Tatiana Nikolaevna", he puts emphasis on the second word. Important.

"I am in no way implying the male guards would have to be dismissed, only that the women should be the ones allowed anywhere close to our bedchambers".

Commander Ignat sighs. He then stays silent, frowning but not quite glaring at me, as if taking his time to analyze my proposal. His stare conveys skepticism about my intentions more than disdain.

After some time his expression becomes one of reluctant acceptance. He stands up and walks towards the gate.

"Very well then", he turns the knob, opens the door and stands aside for me to go through. "I will make the necessary inquiries regarding the female guards you requested, citizen Romanova, but I can't promise you anything. The three of you are still suspected of being involved in the recently foiled plot to release you. Konstantin communicated to me everything he claims to have witnessed you write down on those sheets of paper I so naively provided you with, and as you might have suspected, I have not yet dismissed his allegations."

Oo

Their red eyes and cheeks reveal the fact they have been crying, but my little sisters receive me with exceeding enthusiasm nonetheless, kissing and squeezing me, all while carefully avoiding my plaster cast. I try to reciprocate their affection, but my mind spins a bit too fast for me to answer their endless questions about my well-being properly.

Why did Ignat make that revelation? Did he hope to get a clue of our involvement in the plot or lack thereof by reading my reaction? Is it truly over? No, Olga would never give up on us, and even if she were capable of doing so, baby wouldn't let her… but what if the people helping them have all been arrested? No, that is silly, the commander didn't say that… but even if they haven't been arrested, there is no way they will know about the new precautions Commander Ignat has taken unless we smuggle even more information, which is more dangerous now than ever and…

"Tatiana?" Masha interrupts my troublesome thoughts, cocking her head as she cups mine with her hands. "Is something wrong?"

I look at my sister's big, concerned eyes and my lip starts trembling.

"Masha, the new guards by the stairs, they…" I try to explain my numerous concerns, but all I manage to do is burst into tears.

"Shh, shh", Maria hugs me, and I feel Shvibzik hugging me from behind as well. "Don't speak in Russian", she whispers in English, "don't use English exclusively either", she continues in French. "Have hope, darling, it is time for our backup plan".

Oo

I would never skip a shower willingly, but I must admit my recent experience made me consider doing so. Both my sisters helped me overcome my fears by staying closely outside the bathroom as if guarding the door. Maria would try to chat in order to distract me, while Anastasia would shout jokes at me. I was immensely grateful, and words can't convey how much I loved and appreciated them at that moment, but it still saddens me to know I will never feel safe in that bathroom again. It was my shelter, where I could hide my grief from the world and bawl my eyes out in peace, where I could compose myself and regain strength. Now, for the first time since we got to the Blue House, I stepped out of the shower as soon as I could.

"Wow, you were quick this time", Anastasia pointed out with a grin as soon as I opened the newly fixed bathroom door.

I was only away from the Blue House for a few hours and yet still had a lot of catching up to do with my sisters as we sat cross legged on the floor. Finding out about the missing jewels was a blow so immense that for hours I wasn't able to stop crying. Anastasia hasn't stopped. She feels guilty about making me so unhappy, which in turn makes me feel even guiltier.

"It is you who saved those jewels at our lowest", I soothe her. "This is a greater loss for you than me, dear", I stroke her shoulder. "Don't worry about your silly older sister, I will be fine", I smile, wiping one of her tears. "It was nice having them to remember mama with while the miracle lasted, and it wasn't your fault they went missing, they were well hidden after all".

"The only thing that worries me is whoever has the jewels might show them to the commander", Maria says. "Ignat would definitely punish us for keeping them".

"Don't be silly Masha", Anastasia rolls her eyes and then wipes a few more of her tears away. "Do you think any of the guards would give up on those expensive jewels for the grand opportunity of being granted the 'Perfect Snitch' award?"

"Good point, Shvibzik", I grin at my youngest sister. "But I am guessing it depends, a few of them must believe in what they are doing, don't you think? And if another one happens to be like Konstantin, well…"

We haven't spoken Russian at all. In order to hide what we are working on from the guards, who are all Russian, we have to use a mixture of English, French, and once in a while, German.

Truth be told, at one point a guard approached the room's threshold and scolded us for using foreign tongues. He had probably been instructed to spy on us.

No one is bothering us right now though. It must be hard for the guards to even discern what language we are speaking when our careful whispers are inevitably deadened by the hammering of the carpenters outside. They are boarding up the windows, a horrid thing to do. And we can't even go outside anymore. I can only pray we will be rescued soon.

Maria is finishing the special blanket I started knitting. I can't continue doing so with my broken wrist, but I trust she will manage to capture the details as well as I have so far. She and I were always the best at these sorts of handicraft.

The wool of many colors I requested has been very useful, and luckily hasn't drawn any suspicions like the sheets of paper did. We have even made good use of the wool from the items of clothing we were making before to complete the mantle.

We have to work with what we have.

"So when does Galina come?" I hand Anastasia a lip rouge metal pot and a hair pin. She gets down to work immediately.

It may be cruel for me to think so, but I am glad Denis is nowhere to be seen right now. We can't afford any distractions. I do feel for the poor boy if it turns out they changed his shift to the evening though.

"She will come upstairs to bring us dinner later", Maria replies, looking down at the blanket she is diligently working on. "That is how all of our meals will be served from now on. We had breakfast and lunch here in our room as well."

"I am just worried about her", I sigh. "I think Shvibzik's idea is brilliant, but how is Galina going to justify going out now? Going to the marketplace several days in a row? Not very believable."

"She is going to visit Oleg's cell at the local jail", Maria reminds me. "The poor thing is so worried about him… and so am I", she looks away, troubled.

"That makes sense," I nod, relieved. "He must be needing his grandmother a lot right now and…" I am suddenly struck by guilt. "Oh, Masha, I am so ashamed of the trouble I have caused him, the trouble I have caused them all, maybe if I had fought that man off myself…"

I look down, not daring to continue. I can't. I can't tell anyone about the way I stood still and allowed that man to do whatever he wanted, about the way I would have remained still like a loose woman or a simple coward as he had his way with me if it weren't for Ortipo. It is my fault Oleg is in jail. It is my fault Ortipo is dead. I might have been able to stop that man myself if I had tried.

"I understand, and I feel just as bad", Maria sympathizes, "but look at this". She stops knitting, stands up and heads towards the counter. "Here", she gathers the icon of the Theotokos from on top of it and then sits back down next to me.

"That's the icon Anastasia found on our first day here".

Shvibzik looks up.

"Yes", Maria stares at Our Lady with a smile, "and do you know what happened today when I asked Galina if she wanted it back?"

I shake my head.

"She said that if we found the icon it is because we were meant to have it and God wanted us to have it for a reason", Maria recalls.

"That was very nice of her", I say, "but…"

"You didn't arrest Oleg, Taneshka", Maria squeezes my shoulder. "You didn't cause him to be arrested either, that hateful man did, the commander did. Oleg and Igor were arrested for being righteous in a fallen world, but they may be proven innocent soon for all we know, we just have to pray for them. You have to remember sometimes God works in mysterious ways, using evil for good. This icon belonged to Galina's daughter and is now a source of faith and comfort for us. Today has been dreadfully awful, I know dear, but no one, not even Commander Ignat, would suspect Galina of having any ulterior motives just for going out to see her grandson in jail. She is going to be fine, Tanya, they both will."

Oo

Olga Nikolaevna Romanova.

And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.

"Olga!" I hear the maid call. I close the Bible I have been reading and lay it on the nightstand beside my bed.

I am tired, what is this about? I was lying down, already in my nightgown and about to fall asleep.

"Quickly, Olga, this is important!" Dunia cries again.

I change clothes quickly and walk down the stairs without brushing my hair. What I encounter upon entering the dining room is not at all what I expected.

"Olga!" Galina exclaims. "Your eye is a lot better!" She is sitting at the dining table along with Charles and several other agents who are not usually here at this hour. There is, in fact, one empty seat left, and only Erik shines for his absence.

There is something strange lying on top of the table resembling blood stained bandages. This is a troubling and bizarre sight.

"Thank… thank you", I stutter, too perplexed to speak properly. The day I asked for her help and gave her the onion containing my letter, I also provided Galina with this address in case there was ever an emergency requiring that we meet in person without a previous arrangement, but I never thought she would actually come, especially not after Oleg replaced her. There can only be one explanation for this, which is that something has gone terribly wrong.

"Please have a seat, Olga", Charles tilts his head towards the chair in between his and Galina's. I do as he says, moving very slowly.

"Did something happen to Oleg?" I sit down, laying my arms on the table. The light blue woolen blanket over Galina's shoulders catches my attention. It is quite beautiful.

"Oh, dear", Galina grabs my left hand, "he is in serious trouble I am afraid."

"He has been arrested", James Wilson reveals.

"But why?!" I sound louder than I intended to.

"Now, don't fear", Galina strokes my hand gently, "it is quite alright child". No, it is not. "They are probably going to let him go soon, I really don't think they have any evidence against him, even if he did help you". Oh, you poor fool!

"Apparently, there was an altercation in the bathroom involving your sister, Tatiana", Randall clarifies. "One of the guards tried to do something to her and Oleg defended her".

I bring my right hand to my mouth as I let out a panicked gasp.

"Oh, God!" I cry, my eyes filling with tears as I look between the men around me and Galina. "What happened to her? What happened to her?!" My heart skips a beat, and my breath is already becoming troubled… oh, God! Don't let it happen again! Not in front of all these people!

I am sweating and trembling. Too late, it is happening. It is way too late. All I can do now is try to hide it as best as I can.

Breathe in, breathe out.

"The vicious man broke her wrist, dear", Galina speaks to me in a soothing tone. "I talked to Tatiana today when I brought her dinner, and she was very shaken up indeed, but as my grandson got there in time, that broken wrist is the worst memory she will have of the foul creature, do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes", I nod frantically, still worried mad, but ever grateful for Galina's consideration. "I think I understand, yes, but how is she? Has anything like this ever happened before? Maria and Anastasia, have they…? Please tell me it hasn't! Her wrist? Was it immobilized? Has she been treated?"

"Yes, she was taken to a hospital and brought back with a cast".

Breathe in, breathe out.

I wipe my tears before they fall. Very slowly, and trying hard to ignore the men around me, I begin to compose myself.

"I know the news has upset you, Olga", Charles tells me, "but we need to get to work, see those bandages?" He points at the table.

Breathe in, breathe out.

"Yes", I say.

Breathe in, breathe out.

"They contain updates regarding the Blue House's security after the incident involving your sister".

"Amazing", I take a better look at the dressings and come to see they are not stained with blood, the red in them would have turned darker otherwise. There is something written in there though, and crimson was the color used. "Wait, was this smuggled the way I am thinking it…?"

"Oh, yes", Galina grins from ear to ear as she nods. "I pretended to trip on my way to the stairs after having served the girls dinner. Your sisters are no longer allowed to go downstairs, you see, but none of the guards were disdainful enough to keep them from aiding a poor old woman by bandaging her bleeding and sprained ankle". She laughs wholeheartedly, and I can't help but smile with her. "And there was no way the commander was going to look under that same fragile old woman's bloody bandages as he did inside my shoes… oh! Would you believe me if I told you I was almost busted that way last time?" I shake my head, and Galina continues: "I refused to take off my shoes on that occasion, of course, but that only made the commander more suspicious of my insistence on stopping by that closing marketplace again. Luckily for us my boy rushed in and to the rescue with a perfect excuse and a sly idea on how to hide all of those incriminating papers, but in no way was he as sly as your sisters and I were today!" She finishes with a good old chortle as she pats my shoulder.

I truly want to laugh with her. The clever way in which my sisters outsmarted those men is satisfying and amusing enough to laugh for ages. I would laugh, I would if I weren't so anxious about what comes next.

"But how did you think of this so quickly and after such a fright?" I ask, feeling quite impressed.

"One of the girls suggested it the same evening I gave them your letter, but Tatiana thought the whole strategy exceedingly complicated and vulnerable to the tiniest errors, so they used the paper, the paint and the brushes instead. We never truly dismissed the idea though, and it apparently remained at the back of your sisters' minds in the event of an emergency. At the time we simply weren't aware of just how thorough the new commander's searches were becoming. That man isn't easily fooled, I tell you".

"Did Anastasia come up with this 'exceedingly complicated' strategy we are enjoying the fruits of?" I inquire with a smile, knowing my youngest sister too well not to be sure it was her who did. Unsurprisingly, Galina nods again with moving enthusiasm, making my sisterly pride brim. Shvibzik. She is such a smart cookie.

"The amazing part is that they managed to follow through writing everything down even without paint", Galina says.

"How so?"

"The commander confiscated all of their paint early today after the roguish man who assaulted Tatiana revealed to him what they had used it for. Your sisters had to be crafty. With the help of a few hair pins they found inside the drawers of my room they somehow managed to make use of the little rouge that remained inside those scandalous cosmetic pots I used to confiscate from Yuri's girlfriends all the time, actresses, most of them… I hope so. By God's grace I always forgot to give those girls their makeup back."

"Oh, Galina!" I laugh, unable to hold back any longer.

"I couldn't consent to such behavior under my roof", she shakes her head in disapproval, "it isn't decent for young ladies to paint their faces like that".

James Wilson clears his throat loudly, reminding us it isn't the right time to gossip, banter, or even claim victory.

"I hate to interrupt your fascinating chatter", he begins, "but the situation is desperate. Our most cautious plan consisted of falsifying a telegram ordering the prisoners' transfer, and it has failed, it has failed miserably. Several of our informers have been arrested. One of them infiltrated the Cheka headquarters in Perm successfully, and he recently disclosed that a certain Alexander Zaytsev, an officer of great authority over the city's detachment, has overseen their torture."

"Dear God!" Galina bellows. "Could that happen to my Oleg?" Tears appear in her eyes, her cheerful mood disappearing as if it had never been there to begin with.

"Miss, please", Wilson raises his palm as he turns to her, "I am talking". He lowers his hand, and after a short pause, he resumes. "Zaytsev learnt of our intentions this way. Our informers weren't actually aware of them, but by paying close attention to the information they confessed to be seeking, Alexander put the pieces together and warned both Commander Ignat and the Perm Soviet about our impending attempt to deceive them. In consequence, we are going to be dealing with overly cautious people who will not easily buy any forged documents claiming to be ordering the prisoners' transfer. Our most unadventurous approach has become, quite regrettably, utterly unfeasible. You do understand what this means, right?"

I stay silent, crossing myself once and focusing on comforting Galina instead, but I do understand. The bloodbath. It is inevitable.

"We have to take action", Randall is the one to answer Wilson's question. "Soon, and by any means necessary".

"The Bolsheviks have also interfered with the entire neighborhood's transmissions and cut off all the telegraph cables", a different agent adds. "This suggests they are close to finding our whereabouts."

"Precisely!" James Wilson exclaims, pointing a finger at him. "We cannot communicate with surrounding British intelligence groupings as rapidly as we were able to at some point. We have been forced to use messengers instead, men who sometimes travel up to miles to deliver our instructions and others who return with either confirmations or dreaded refusals. This is a slow and inefficient process, which means we cannot afford to postpone this operation any longer, not when the last telegram we received…"

"Sir", Charles interrupts him, "please, it is not the time".

"Your uncle, Grand Duke Michael, was shot more than a month ago I am afraid", James Wilson states matter-of-factly, turning to me and ignoring Charles's protest. "Your aunt, Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna, was killed the same day your parents were alongside several other Romanovs. Grand Duke Sergei Mikhailovich Romanov, Prince Ioann Konstantinovich Romanov, Prince Konstantin Konstantinovich Romanov, Prince Igor Konstantinovich Romanov and Prince Vladimir Pavlovich Paley were among the victims. They were all thrown into a mineshaft near the town of Alapayevsk.

"We cannot be certain of any of this, of course, but these rumors are based on intelligence reports gathered by several other British agents. There is no reason to distrust them. What I need to know is whether this puts into perspective the urgency of this meeting or not?"

I stare at him blankly in response.

"We don't want to disregard your sisters' valuable contribution", Charles Lamb continues without giving me any time to process the devastating news, "but this is illegible", he gestures towards the bandages. "Not only was it written using hair pins as pens and women's cosmetics as ink, the handwriting is difficult to understand."

Tears well up in my eyes, but I hold them back obstinately.

"I am deeply sorry, Olga", Charles apologizes. "He shouldn't have disclosed this tragic news to you just now, not until we had everything sorted out, but we need you, it is critical that you tell us what those bandages say, we have to adjust our previous strategy accordingly, we have to do so today. Most of the protocols for the rescue operation have already been established, and we can update them, but the one thing we cannot do is change the date, so this is pressing".

"That is why we called you", another agent follows. "They are your sisters, you must be familiar with their handwriting".

I take a few of the bandages and observe each of them carefully for a few seconds. Tears roll down my cheeks despite my best attempts to keep them in check, but I don't let that bother me. I don't let the men's stares of pity nor their indiscreet murmurs bother me either. I don't allow Galina's weeping to move me.

I have to ignore my feelings. I have to do so for my sisters.

"Yes, I can help", I settle their worries. "These sentences and keywords right here were written by my sister Tatiana, you see?" I lift the bandage in question and show them, pointing at the writings with my index finger. "And these other words over there are Anastasia's", I point to them as well. "All I need is a pen, ink, and somewhere to write everything down".

I would love to hear any of them call me hysterical now.

Oo

The agents speak English amongst themselves as I carefully write down the pieces of information my sisters managed to smuggle at the last minute. Double the number of guards in the garden, planks of wood covering the windows, water leaking from their bedroom's ceiling. Even more trivial details I doubt will be of use but that I write down nonetheless.

At the back of my mind are Cousin Igor's laughter, Paley's poetry and Aunt Ella's kindness. Always there. A mineshaft. A bloody mineshaft. I can almost feel my heart hardening, physically hardening. I might as well be the pharaoh of my own Exodus story.

I can in some ways understand why the Bolcheviks had such a satanic urge to use and then discard my thirteen-year-old brother as if he were nothing but a pest, a huge trouble to get rid of. Not that being understandable would make their wicked actions any bit less ludicrously evil, but I can see the pragmatic side of it. He is… probably was, the heir. His political significance and the threat it might have posed to their regime cannot be underestimated. What they did to my aunt, on the other hand…

Aunt Elizabeth was a nun. A Romanov by marriage who had sold all her possessions to help the poor after becoming a widow. She was childless and didn't have a claim to the throne. What they did to her, that was evil for evil's sake.

It is getting harder and harder to care for these people. My unnerving indifference towards the fate of the guards is reaching immoral levels.

"What is going to happen to him?" Galina doesn't stop weeping and asking the agents about Oleg. They usually reply by saying they may intervene if things get out of hand, but that for now they must wait and see how everything will turn out.

I try to soothe Galina once I am done copying the information down, but all I can offer are prayers.

"Thanks, sweet girl", she pats my cheek gently as she stands up, "well, I better leave, Oleg must be wondering why I haven't stopped by". She waves her hand goodbye and two agents escort her out. On her way to the door, however, Galina removes her light blue blanket.

"The girls wanted you to have this", she hands it over to one of the men. "They said a proper sketch would have been too overt".

Oo

When turned inside out and then extended over the table, the blanket my sisters knitted is revealed to be a croquis representing all of the Blue House's rooms, spaces and locations, which are clearly differentiated by the many diverse textures and colors of the fabric. Maria and Tatiana must have had something to do with this. The work is absolutely gorgeous, and the agents seem to appreciate my sisters' talent, for they are soon using the woolen croquis to resume the discussion I am assuming began some time ago.

"The first wave should aim their attention at taking control over the basement", one of the agents says.

"But wouldn't that turn the garden into the guards' perfect hiding spot?" Another man points at the green part of the blanket surrounding the blue representing the mansion. "They could easily get to the girls before the second wave does."

This is not something I know enough about to help them with.

"Pardon me", I interrupt them. "Is there anything else I could do to help you?"

"No, Olga", Randall replies, "thank you very much".

"If it is alright with you, I would like to go back to my room then".

"Oh!" Charles looks up from the croquis immediately. "I forgot to inform you, Olga, but you are being moved in advance tonight".

"What?" I frown.

"You should probably pack your things", he takes out his pocket watch and looks at it, "the carriage will be coming for you any time now".

"No, wait!" I move towards him. "I don't understand!"

"We are breaking your sisters out tomorrow", he tells me, and my eyes widen.

Tomorrow. I knew it was going to happen soon. The superior officer James Wilson made it clear enough, but… tomorrow? It is almost too good to be true.

"I-I, I don't want to be moved in advance", I say. "I want to be here when my sisters are brought".

"They are not being brought here", Charles explains. "You will be meeting them tomorrow in a log cabin located around a mile away from the city, that is where our coachman will be taking you, your first stop. You cannot stay in Perm or any other territory currently under Bolshevik control".

It is real then. It is happening. It is finally happening. I think of Romans 12:12 Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.

Then a horrifying memory turns my hope and joy into soul crushing guilt.

Alexei.

Trigger Warnings: Sexual assault, physical assault, attempted rape, injury, (broken wrist), animal cruelty, animal death. It is only the part before the first "Oo", in case you want to skip it.

Just learnt metal lipstick tubes weren't a thing until 1915, so I switched them to lip rouge metal pots.