A.N: If anyone reading this likes the premise and it's execution, let me know! If not, you could show me some support by following or favoriting this fanfic, or PMing me for questions. Again, this story is only speculative and for entertainment purposes.

Within two days of the resurrection, the news had spread at an astonishing speed across all media. Again, the past had returned to haunt the unaware and living. First Russia had known of this shocking miracle. But through a few undercover, foreign reporters and spies, the news escaped around the world. All hell broke loose… for the politicians and scholars.

And as with all miracles, people either believed it or doubted it. Most of the average people doubted it. Neither would the average person understand until they searched Wikipedia for the Romanov royals and their extended relatives. The other popular Romanov reference site, the website crashed for the first time. Within two days, European history academia complained to Wikipedia by the thousands about the terrible loading times! An announcement on the popular reference site apologized for the poor service and acknowledged that it was "a difficult situation".

But one thing stayed the same. The awe and shock of seeing the infamous Grand Duchesses somehow return from beyond the grave had caught worldwide attention.

Now, it was only a matter of time before political leaders and figureheads would make their official statements under the endless barrage of questions on their social media.

July 20, 2022

Alexander Palace, Russia

Putin had to disable commenting on his VK account. The curious comments and internet trolls had come by the tens of thousands, annoying the Russian president. Whenever his phone buzzed incessantly, he almost felt fucking pissed. But deep inside his cunning patriotism, he was giddy with an impish glee. He felt like a kid who got his favorite toys for Christmas!

To chuckle and mutter "hell yes" in Russian, while dancing a little jig would not be appropriate for public announcements. Neither would blasting EDM for a patriotic music show be appropriate for the time. But he had to admit that was fine for the pomp and circumstance.

Now, he had Russia and its allies firmly in his hands. Belarus had some internal controversy over the return of the monarchist figures, but they had to admit that the Romanov sisters would improve Russian morale during the war.

He stopped dancing. The clacking of his polished black boots on the wooden floors of the main hall ceased. He needed a quieter moment to gather his composure.

The Russian president checked his watch. He still had time to calm his excitement. First, he needed to check on the small group of Romanov pretenders with the four sisters. He headed to the left wing of the former imperial residence, finding Olga and her sisters talking with their current relatives.

Prince Rotislav had struck up a conversation with Olga. The sight of both a past figure and a modern person speaking seemed bizarre at first. Something about seeing the two parts of a family, separated by time and fate, meeting just felt heartwarming.

The president moved on to check the other three sisters, unaware of another conversation: Olga and Prince Rotislav Romanov had their own disagreements.

"Russia is a part of us… our heart, our soul."

"Frankly, it tried to slaughter our family before," Olga said, scoffing.

"Maybe we might have made mistakes, but we should not betray Russia in her hour of need. That would be something terrible to do, Ol- Your Highness. A virtuous person never leaves their dear thing to rot."

"Well, I still feel uncomfortable here. I have no clues why my sisters and I returned. And, I have no understanding of who I am anymore. I feel like we are pawns in a morbid game," Olga said, turning away to sigh..

"At least you have another chance to live and discover the potential within yourself. I remember reading that you were the more intellectual one. And as much as I wish the throne would return, Putin is fine. He will not hurt any of you."

"But-"

"God gave you another chance. Have hope in the future."

"You are right. But I still do not know what to do."

"After this state ceremony, I think we should all take a short trip around Saint Petersburg. I also know of some good cafes. Maybe you need a cup of coffee too."

"Yes-"

But before Olga could finish her sentence, the guards of the Romanov burial site went inside the hall. Commander Pavel, next to Anton, cleared his throat.

"President Putin-"

"I know! It is very close to the start of this ceremony. Five minutes," Putin said, checking his watch again.

Soon enough, the Romanovs realized that the time for their first public appearance in years had come. This time, they would be seen by millions of Russians and foreigners. This worried Olga and her sisters too. The fact that they only had five minutes to take their positions in line did not relieve them at all.

Putin gestured for the commander to order the Honor Guards from the tomb into their lines. In a near instant, Commander Pavel turned to his supervised guards, ignoring that Anton winked at Olga. This, of course, caused the eldest Grand Duchess to grin.

"Is he your friend already?" Anastasia whispered behind Olga.

Olga lost her grin, glancing back at her youngest sister with an unamused face.

"No, I hardly know him!"

"If you do get together, I would approve, even if he is two years younger," Maria added.

Anastasia and Maria, snickering, high-fived with a subtle smack. Perhaps this new gesture was something one of them had learned from the guards.

Tatiana and Olga shared looks, knowing the same thing. Just like their first earthly lives, the Governess had her duties to keep the Little Pair in check. But something made them realize that it would be a lot more difficult to do so… The times were more liberal.

"Hush, please. We should not fool around before the President."

"Fine…"

Both past and present day Romanovs lined up as planned, with the current head pretender Maria Vladimirovna standing tall and proud in front. Her expression was a cool, collected gaze much like that of the regal Grand Duchesses of the distant past. It almost aroused feelings of envy within Olga. A melancholy memory of her being nicknamed the Little Empress by her cousin Ella came to mind…

She remembered what it felt like…

The adoration. The support. The kindness. The love shared with dear family and friends that had long gone still haunted her.

She remembered how it felt to think that everything would be alright.

It was a summer afternoon in 1903. She was eight years of age that day, standing with her German cousin Elisabeth. Like divine energy, the sunlight shone in brilliant rays over the tops of the pristine green trees. The birds soared above, chirping. Little butterflies hovered around the nearby flowers. It was truly a beautiful place of nature for the mock ceremony.

Lower on the gentle slopes of the small hill, Olga looked down at her loyal "subjects"...

Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia, still a toddler, sat on the grass. Tatiana winked at her, making Olga giggle.

Elizabeth, acting as the priestess, put a small wreath of white flowers on Olga's head. They smiled at each other.

"For our Little Empress… a scepter. As the Empress, you now must take care of your people," she announced in a mock English accent, as she gave the straight stick to her cousin.

"Thank you, Priestess Ella."

She took the stick, standing up tall and firm as her mother had taught her. Her acting subjects bowed in reverence and love…

Olga felt a tap on her shoulder, flinching. Anton had come back to her, chuckling.

"Are you feeling good?"

"Oh, I am so sorry! I thought of special memories I had… I feel a little strange."

"Ah, that sometimes happens to me. My grandmother on my father's side passed away two years ago."

"Anton, hurry up! We have three minutes!" the commander barked.

"We must go."

Anton led Olga to her sisters and fellow Romanovs. Behind the front doors of the Alexander Palace, they would wait as Putin stepped out with a few other guards before the camera crew and crowd outside. He gave his speech for a few minutes, stirring the hearts and souls of millions of Russians and their allies.

Ten minutes passed before the real spectacle began.

"... And on that note, I warmly welcome our infamous Holy Royal Martyrs back to Russia. May Russia be blessed by God!"

The crowd had gathered before the infamous residence of the last Imperial Family… Now, they roared and shouted with applause, seeing the front doors open. Honor Guards stepped aside, as the Romanov descendants stepped out. Maria Vladimirovna motioned for the Romanov House members to step aside. She did not agree with the implications for her role, but she had to admit they were still family.

And before more than fifty million live viewers, the four Grand Duchesses stepped onto the stage. Olga still seemed uncomfortable, glancing around often. Only when Tatiana patted her did she muster a grin and wave. The two elder Romanov sisters huddled together, watching the ten thousand Russians before them cheer and sing Orthodox hymms and Russian folk songs.

The rest of her siblings enjoyed the attention, despite staying close together. This time, they were back. They did not know about their goals yet, but at least everything seemed good again. At once, electronic trance music blasted out the speakers.

Anastasia did not know about this strange music. Yet after the synths gave way, the bass and the beat line caught her interest. A little nodding of the head first. Then her feet tapped. This was completely alien versus the ragtime she had once listened to as a young girl. But damn, did it rile her up!

Before the eyes of fifty million people, she began to shuffle her legs. And soon enough, she was dancing along with the crowd, copying the shuffling leg movements by a few young college students nearby.

She did not know it yet, but she had become famous as an Internet meme. As her sister Maria joined the dance, she felt the happiest ever since those vacations in Livadia. Together, Anastasia and Maria laughed as they allowed themselves to let go of their burdens, even if only for an hour. They felt alive again!

Buckingham Palace, England, United Kingdom

The clamoring was plenty in the spacious meeting room. Still, the recent miracle had yet to be fully grasped by many governments.

"Your Majesty-"

"Please, be quiet, Prime Minister. I must give more thought into what will be done."

Prince William looked at the elder matriarch of the British Royal Family. She seemed more tired than ever, having reigned for decades- longer than even Queen Victoria. And she had lived long enough to see many new, strange, horrifying, or amazing things. But nothing compared to this. No words could describe their exact feelings.

Somehow, God had chosen the infamous, tragic OTMA to resurrect again. But so far, they seemed lost, behaving much like any other normal person would. This confused Queen Elizabeth and other royalty in the world! Would they act more like true royalty?

Then, three English men in black suits stepped into the room. The leading one, known as Chief Moore, cleared his throat before reaching into a crimson folder.

"Yes, Director?"

"Our newest intelligence reports that another similar event has happened in the German state of Hesse. The Romanov sisters are not the only ones to have risen. The other figure is at large."

Chief Moore handed two photographs of a familiar royal tomb in Darmstadt. The Queen widened her eyes. As plenty of European royals knew, the tale of Elisabeth of Hesse and by Rhine ended in tragedy. However, this apparent evidence of the new event could not be acknowledged yet. There was already enough chaos from the first few resurrections.

Where there was grass and flowers below a tarnished bronze angel was a large hole. And the other photograph was of a young woman in a white dress, glancing from behind a tree. Her eyes could be recognized as well from her childhood photographs.

Elisabeth Marie Alice Viktoria, or Ella, had returned.