Tatiana was led to her bedroom by her parents, sisters, and a blonde-haired guard. Dmitri followed close behind them, holding his loaf of bread. The walls were covered in intricate designs of gold and white paint, and the floors were carpeted. The crimson red made him think of the spilled blood of Bloody Sunday. However, he could not voice his dissent, as he would be thrown out of the palace or even branded as a traitor to Russia. The thought almost made him quiver. Dmitri instead turned his attention to the well decorated interior of the palace. 18th and 19th century paintings hung on the wall beside a portrait of Alexander the Third. Although the street orphan disliked the Tsar, he could not help but enjoy the presence of the Romanov daughters. As they were royalty, they had been raised well with good manners, and they were kind enough to allow him, a mere commoner, to play with them.

As Tatiana got into her cot, her mother kissed her on the cheek. "Stay here, my child. I will fetch Doctor Botkin here."

As Olga and Maria faced their youngest sister, they began to lecture her about the rocky snowball incident.

"Nastya, why did you do that to Tatya?" Olga asked, crossing her arms.

"I- I do not know."

"Whatever the reason, you still did something wrong. We know that Papa is angry with you."

"I am sorry."

"Tell that to Papa, not us," Olga said, gesturing to her father who sat beside Tatiana.

After ensuring that Tatiana was comfortable in her bed, Nicholas and Alexandra both approached Anastasia. They looked at Anastasia with gazes of disapproval. The youngest Grand Duchess felt dread within herself. Never before had the young vivacious girl faced something that instilled fear into her. She looked at Dmitri for a defendant, but he looked away instead of giving a sympathetic look. Her other three sisters also wore looks of disapproval like those of her parents.

"My little shvibzik, I am disappointed with you. Now, we will talk and discuss your punishment in our bedroom."

After lecturing his youngest daughter, Nicholas looked at Dmitri, saying, "We can talk after my business. You may stay here, but do not wander, or else you will be lost within the palace."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Dmitri replied, and he was surprised to see such hospitality and kindness from the Tsar and his family despite the terrible rumors about them.

"At least you know your honorifics, boy. I am glad to have your respect. You may talk with our daughters here, as Sergei over here will keep watch."

The royal couple led Anastasia out of the bedroom, leaving Dmitri behind with the rest of the Grand Duchesses and the lone guard. The guard, Sergei, looked at the boy intently. Sergei carried a pistol within his pocket, and Dmitri knew the guard did not fool around. Taking a deep breath, Dmitri attempted to calm himself. He looked at the floor, as he still felt nervous.

Olga broke the silence. "So, Dmitri, how are you feeling today?"

"Well, I'm not cold anymore," Dmitri joked, managing a smile.

"You are a funny boy," Maria said, as Olga laughed.

"My father often said I was funny. That was before he was... taken away."

"By who?"

"Some policemen took him to prison, and I do not know why," Dmitri said, and his facial expression became a frown.

"We are sorry to hear that," Tatiana softly spoke.

"Thanks, I have almost no one to talk to except for the other poor children who live on the streets. It is hard enough to even get this. Everyday, I risk my safety by stealing bread and picking pockets," Dmitri said, pointing to his loaf of bread.

His three new accomplices looked at him with sympathetic expressions. As Grand Duchesses living a sheltered life in the Alexander Palace, they remained ignorant of the hardships that the working class faced. Even though all four of the Romanov daughters lived simply, they were still surprised at the testimony of the commoner boy they had just brought in. As Dmitri explained his circumstances in detail, Maria felt her eyes water, and the Big Pair looked at the boy with sadder expressions.

"I wish I could help you," Maria said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"I am fine, at least I have this bread. I spent almost all of my change for just that one loaf," Dmitri said, taking a bite from his bread.

Olga went to the bed and checked on Tatiana. She frowned, as she noticed that the cut on her sister's forehead began to inflame. Clenching her fists, Olga was angered towards her youngest sibling. If Anastasia had known better than to place a rock in the snowball, her sister would not have been injured. Despite her anger, Olga knew that she could not blame her youngest sister. As to be expected, her sister was the troublemaker of the family. Maria, of course, was sweet and gentle. She was the romantic, and Anastasia the prankster of the family. Her pranks never caused much damage or harm, but placing a rock inside a snowball was inexcusable.

Before Dmitri could speak again, he heard the screams of a little girl. Maria raised her head when she realized what was happening. Her little sister was being chastised by her strict mother. Against their rationale, Maria and Dmitri walked just outside the bedroom. Sergei shook his head, and he spoke.

"Your Highness, your father told you to stay within this room."

"Do not worry, Sergei. It is only a few steps to Mama's bedroom," Maria said.

"Alright, do not go too far."

Before Dmitri and Maria could walk any further, they were stopped by Olga.

"Mashka, I think you should not bother Mama and Papa. Nastya's been quite naughty today, so she needs a good... spanking," Olga whispered.

"A spanking? But, Nastya always gets away with things!"

"Yes, but not this time..."

Maria shook her head, and she led Dmitri closer to her mother's bedroom. Listening closely, they could hear smacks from behind the door. Eventually, the noises ceased, and sobbing could be heard. Feeling sympathy for the chastised young girl, Dmitri wanted to hug her, but he did not want to disturb the royal couple.


With her light blue eyes dripping tears, Anastasia sobbed on her mother's lap while she was embraced by her father. He wore a frown, as he did not enjoy punishing his daughters. Despite being seen a callous ruler by his subjects, he was a caring, tender man. The situation, however, needed drastic measures according to his Sunny. She had been strictly disciplined before by her parents in Hesse, and she would ensure that her children were disciplined well. The thought of her children running off to behave like the crude, lower class commoners bothered her, and she inwardly shuddered at the thought.

"Mama... it hurts," Anastasia moaned.

"I know, my child. But what did you do?" Alexandra asked.

"I- I put a r-rock in the snowball."

"And what else?"

"I hurt T-Tatya w-with it."

"So, now you know. We only want to make sure that none of you hurt each other, especially since Baby left us," Alexandra tenderly spoke.

"A princess like you must be a good girl." Nicholas said, wiping the tear-streaked cheeks of his youngest child.

"Y- Yes, I promise."

"Not to do what?"

"To throw rocks at anybody."

"Good, Anastasia, we will give you a cookie, as you have learned your lesson today."

"Really?"

"Yes, remember that your Papa and Mama love you with all their hearts, little shvibzik," Nicholas said.

"I love you too, Papa and Mama."

Nicholas gave his wife and youngest daughter a hug. When Anastasia ceased to sob, her parents led her to the door before opening it. They were surprised to see Dmitri and Maria standing beside the door, frozen in fear. Alexandra opened her mouth to lecture Maria, but Nicholas shook his head.

"Do not worry, we will not punish you two," he said.

Maria and Dmitri sighed in relief. Dmitri remembered in an instant the upcoming conversation he would have with Tsar Nicholas the Second. He did not dare remind the Tsar, as such an action would insult his authority. Although Dmitri did not like the Tsar, he could not bring himself to act hostile towards him. In the meantime, he would respect the Tsar. He hoped that his lifestyle would improve, as he tired of scrounging in the streets for food. As Alexandra led Maria back to Tatiana's bedroom, a brown-haired man arrived, carrying a suitcase. Towering over Dmitri by a height of three heads, he looked down at the boy. The fact that a commoner boy was allowed into the palace intrigued but confused him.

"Your Majesty, may I ask what a commoner boy is doing here?"

"I tolerate his presence, as he helped my little Tatiana by dabbing her injury with a cloth to absorb the blood. For his helpfulness, he is welcome in my home."

Botkin hummed as he considered the words of his Tsar. "I see. Now, is your daughter in bed?"

"Yes," Nicholas said, and he led Botkin to the bedroom.

Both Nicholas and Alexandra entered the bedroom alongside Doctor Botkin. Setting down his suitcase, the doctor pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and bandages. He stepped over to Tatiana and he placed on his gloves before checking her temperature. After seeing that his patient lacked a fever, he soaked a cotton balli in the alcohol and rubbed it on the cut. Tatiana closed her eyes shut from the sting of the alcohol. Finally, the doctor placed the bandages.

"You are fortunate that your daughter has not developed an infection from her wound. Otherwise, treatment would be difficult. May I know exactly how she received the injury?"

"Our youngest daughter decided to throw a snowball with a sharp rock within it. Do not worry, Doctor Botkin, we have already chastised her."

The doctor nodded, and said "Good. I recommend that you both supervise your children, as you never know what they may do unseen."

Botkin faced Dmitri. "What is your name?"

"Dmitri, sir."

"Ah, Dmitri. My name is Eugene Botkin. You may refer to me as Doctor Botkin."

"You may leave, we appreciate your service," Nicholas said.

After Doctor Botkin packed his medical supplies and left the room, Nicholas decided that he would talk with the boy in private. He gestured for Dmitri and Sergei to follow him. They made their way to the bedroom of the Tsar, and after going inside it, Nicholas told the guard to keep watch at the door.

Before doing so, the guard said, "Yes, Your Majesty."

Sergei stood outside the door of the bedroom, and he scratched his blond hair in confusion. He did not hold any traitorous feelings for his Tsar, as he was proud to serve him. However, the reason why the Tsar, the ruler of all Russia, would invite a lowly street boy into the palace was a mystery to him. Despite no suspicious activity from the boy, he could not help feeling wary of Dmitri. Nicholas closed the door, and Sergei was left to stand alone in the hallway. Within the room, Dmitri prepared to converse with the Tsar of Russia himself.

"So, I can see that you have enough trouble getting food and money. I and my family are very sorry to see that," Nicholas quietly said.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I am forced to steal bread sometimes, and I am too young to go to prison. My Mama and Papa are gone too..." Dmitri said, looking at the floor with a saddened look in his eyes.

"Well, there is an offer I can give you. We are a few servants short, so we urgently need additional help."

"You mean..."

"Yes, I am asking you if you want to become a kitchen servant."

Dmitri took a deep breath. This decision would change his life in a permanent manner. Soon, he would either remain impoverished and hungry on the streets of St. Petersburg or find his first job in the home of the Romanovs. He still felt upset with the Tsar because he decreed the arrests of revolutionaries including his father, but he abhorred the idea of sleeping on the dirty streets. He thought for a few moments, as the Tsar sat patiently on his bed and waited for a response. Finally, he made his decision.

"I accept your offer, Your Majesty," Dmitri replied.

"Then, I welcome you into our home. May your days be full of good company and peace," Nicholas said, patting Dmitri on the shoulder.

As Dmitri took his first step into a new life, trouble brewed in the bustling cities of Holy Rus.


"Gleb, my son. Come here."

"Yes, Papa."

Gleb Vaganov, a dark-haired, brown-eyed boy, looked up from his book. He placed down the book, which was titled The Communist Manifesto. As he rushed down the hallway from his bedroom, he wondered what his father wanted. Entering the kitchen of the Vaganov-owned apartment, he saw his father with a bitter scowl on his face. Mikhal Vaganov was a bitter man since the arrest of his wife two years ago for traitorous activities. He felt angry with the Tsar for failing to meet the demands of the people, and he hated the aristocracy for manipulating the Romanovs to uphold their indifference to their subjects and the subversion of protests. He clenched his fists, crumpling the newspaper before tossing it into the trash can with perfect aim.

"Do you know what day it is, my son?" he spoke with a serious tone, dripping with anger.

"I know, Papa. Mama was taken away by the bad men."

"Yes, Gleb, the bad people, including that podonok of a Tsar and his bastard children."

"Will we take them off their thrones, Papa? Will Russia be free someday?"

"Someday, no matter how long it takes. No matter what must be done."

"How about Mama?"

"Yes, Gleb, we will get Mama back, and we will be together once as a family again."