May 3, 1912

A gentle breeze from the Black Sea blew through the many rows of the Yalta Cemetery. With saddened looks, four young women and an escort of guards looked at the marble mausoleum, the final resting place of the late royal couple. The mausoleum had been built from the order of Tsar Nicholas the Second a decade ago, as he knew his death was inevitable.

They remained wearing their white dresses, as the four Grand Duchesses and their guard decided that the death of the late Tsar and Tsarina must be kept secret. If not, the Bolsheviks would take advantage of the power vacuum and start revolts throughout the Russian Empire. Such an occurrence would mean doom for the Russian Empire and Romanovs. Olga, now declared as Tsarina according to the Nicholas Laws and her father's will, knew the importance of the situation. She would have to quickly fill the power vacuum of the throne before the revolutionaries did so. The thought of being imprisoned by a Bolshevik government unsettled her, reminding her of the dream she had before arriving in Livadia.

The four Romanov daughters each placed their flowers. Olga dropped a pink carnation flower in front of the mausoleum door, remembering her brave, kind father. Tatiana dropped a white rose, remembering the pious, strict, yet loving nature of her mother. The Little Pair, with watery eyes, dropped red roses. They were not as close to their parents compared to the Big Pair, but they still missed them. The feeling of loss still gnawed at their hearts, leaving a lasting ache that would not go away.

"Goodbye, Papa... Mama. For both of you, I promise that I will restore the dignity of the Romanov name once I become Tsarina. I will do everything in my power to make our motherland great again," Olga whispered.

"I trust that you can, Olya. You are the leader of our family now, and you have been preparing for this for years," Tatiana said, gently placing a hand on Olga's shoulder.

"Thank you, Tatya."

"You do not mind if I pay my respects as well?" a voice said behind her.

Olga turned around to see Pavel holding another pink carnation, and she nodded. Her favorite naval officer placed his carnation in front of the mausoleum, just as the four Grand Duchesses did. Her heart warmed at the sight of her crush paying respects for her parents. She wanted to spend more time with him and confess her feelings for him. However, such actions would be inappropriate... especially just after the death of her parents. Instead, she kept silent. It was a time for mourning rather than romance.

"I am sorry for your loss," Pavel said, the baritone of his voice pleasing to her ears.

"Do not feel too sorry over my loss, Officer Voronov. I deeply appreciate your sympathies, but I must remind you to not distract yourself from your duty to Russia."

"No need to worry, Your Imperial Highness. I understand what you mean. My heritage lies in the noble House of Voronov, and as nobles we have certain filial duties. I recall that my sister had to put away her feelings for a commoner boy to marry another nobleman... for the sake of our family reputation. So, I understand the importance of duty."

"You have a sister?"

"Yes, I do. I could eventually tell you more about her, she is a good woman."

Pavel returned to his fellow officers, who kept their distance from the four Grand Duchesses. All four of the young Russian princesses held their hands, making a silent prayer for God to guide them through their ordeal. Pavel interlocked his fingers to pray for his favorite Grand Duchess, his temperamental and intelligent Olga. He hoped that even if they did not stay together, Olga would find happiness and love. He was only a mere officer and a minor nobleman far below the station of the eldest Grand Duchess. Once the Grand Duchesses finished the prayer, they felt better with the knowledge that their parents now rested in a better existence.

The officers and guards lined up in two separated rows while the Grand Duchesses proceeded through the gap. As the Grand Duchesses returned to the Livadia Palace, the officers and guards escorted them, looking around to ensure that no threats were nearby.

Upon reaching the front lawn of the Livadia Palace, the four Grand Duchesses were relieved to see their staff exit the palace. In front of it, their family automobile idled by the curb. Instead of their father at the driver's seat, an Okhrana agent dressed in his brown suit manned the steering wheel. The agent looked at the four young women with a pitiful expression. The tragedy had hit the Romanovs and their staff hard, but they all knew that they needed to continue with life. They all had duties to fulfil for Imperial Russia, and they could not let their efforts to fulfill them falter. There was a Tsarina to coronate, and a great nation to fix.

Dmitri once again took his seat in the car, moving aside for Anna Demidova to take her seat. She held his hand, reassuring him that he was still not alone. He had a royal handmaiden for an older friend, and his Anya was still alive. He watched the Grand Duchesses enter their car. Anastasia looked back at the royal servant car, smiling at Dmitri. She hoped that her friend would be safe despite the emerging threat of the Bolsheviks. The thought of losing him was unthinkable. To not see his handsome brown eyed face and hear his sarcastic remarks would crush her heart. Even his stubbornness would be missed in such a situation.

"It is time for us to leave the vicinity of this palace, Your Highnesses. It may still be unsafe here," the agent said.

"I see. Take us to the Port of Yalta," Olga said.

The escort arrived at the port, which had no crowds to greet and express their support for the Romanovs. Orders from the Okhrana agency and local military enforced a daytime curfew lasting from morning to evening. The curfew would officially end two days after the surviving Romanovs left Livadia. The silence felt strange to the Grand Duchesses and their servants. It was eerily silent, except for the sounds of stray cats and dogs wandering the streets. With one last look at Livadia, the Romanov daughters and their loyal staff boarded the Standart...


June 1, 1912

A month passed, and the measures by the Okhrana were not enough to hide the news. Both Tsarist and and revolutionary alike knew that the former Tsar and Tsarina had passed. Since news of the Livadia palace raid had leaked into the public, riots and protests had quadrupled, placing strain on the Okhrana and military. The Russian Empire now appeared more vulnerable than ever, with its past rulers dead and public order fraying. Now was the time for the highly anticipated coronation of the new ruler of Russia.

Olga wore her ceremonial dress: an elegant masterpiece of royal attire. The dress clung around her with its smooth white silk fabric. The red sash of St. Catherine and the Grand Cross of St. Catherine were attached to the dress. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark blonde hair was tied in a coiffure, as long hair would appear unruly for a Tsarina. Her light blue eyes still shone with determination despite her tragic loss. Instead of an adolescent young girl, she appeared like an empress, feeling older than she really was. She would soon live up to the nickname given to her by her father: his little empress.

Tatiana entered the preparation room with poise, as her mother had taught her to live the refined ways of a royal. By the mirror stood her sister, surrounded by three servants checking every inch of her dress for imperfections. Tatiana felt proud for her elder sister. It was as if her heart lifted up, and her eyes watered. The tears were not of sadness but of love. Olga knew that her younger sister had entered the room, and she turned around to speak to her sister.

"Tatya, I thought you were not finished preparing for the ceremony!"

"My lady-in-waiting finished dressing me earlier. I just wanted to see if you are alright," Tatiana murmured.

"I feel... Oh, it is complicated!"

"Tell me. We are sisters, Olya, there is no need to hide secrets from each other."

"What do you want me to say? That I feel burdened with so much... the loss of Mama and Papa, the attack, and now, the coronation?" Olga snapped.

Tatiana stepped back from the outburst of her eldest sister. "I will go if you do not want my presence-"

"No, I am sorry. I need you here... I feel so alone," Olga sighed, as her servants finished checking her ceremonial attire.

"Then I shall stay, dear sister."

Tatiana consoled her sister, saying that she should feel honored that she would receive the crown. Olga began to feel less anxious as her sister spoke to her. She dismissed her servants, who wasted no time in leaving the room. Before she would be received at the Red Porch of the Kremlin, she would spend more time with her sister. As the Governess of the four Romanov sisters, Tatiana was seen as their leader despite not being a Tsarina.

"I am happy to have you here, beside me. At least I will not bear this burden alone," Olga said.

Tatiana smiled, and she hugged her sister. She said, "I believe that you can accomplish what you must do. Mama and Papa must be proud of you, Olya. When you are crowned, remember that we stand beside you."

"I will never forget. I will not."

"Then I and the Little Pair will await your return to the Kremlin."

Olga nodded, and the door opened to reveal Anna Demidova, dressed in her special attire for the occasion. She also felt proud of the eldest daughter of her late mistress. Hopefully, she would continue to serve the new Empress of Russia after the coronation.

"It is time for your procession through Moscow, Your Imperial Majesty," she said.


The sounds of church bells ringing throughout Moscow permeated the air, as the soon-to-be Empress of Russia rode in her carriage. Behind her, the regalia items were carried by guards, stored in a long wooden box. Olga took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. She had been on the throne for almost a month, and her coronation was merely a ceremony to cement her place as the new Empress of Russia. If she could handle the loss of her parents and a palace raid, she could handle a state ceremony. She mustered her inner strength, and she forced a smile at the crowds, waving her hand at them.

Both commoners and nobles stood at a distance, watching the procession. Most of them cheered, but some of them wore confused or even surprised expressions. The thought of a seventeen-year-old holding the throne of Russia seemed foreign to them. Despite the rumors of the compassionate and intelligent nature of the new Tsarina, some doubts persisted.

The procession stopped at the Dormition Cathedral, a Romanesque-style building with a modest size. Its gold topped domes shone in the sun, almost emitting a golden glow like painted halos upon icons of saints. Beside the path of the procession, generals, officers, and guards stood at attention. The cheering crowds watched the new Tsarina arrive at the cathedral doors, where the Patriarch of Russia stood in his white robes. Another priest held a small bowl of holy water for sprinkling the new ruler of Russia. Olga was offered a wooden cross, and she kissed it in accordance with tradition. As she did so, the other priest sprinkled her with the holy water.

Both of the front doors opened, revealing the spacious interior adorned with icons of saints, the apostles, and the Christ. After venerating the icons thee times, Olga reached the throne platform. The choirs seated around her began to sing the 101st Psalm from the Bible. The Patriarch then told her to recite the Nicene Creed minus the Filioque clause. She recited it as requested. She felt a pious and solemn feeling fill her being, knowing that she was being made the blessed ruler of her people. She was blessed by the prelate, and hymns were sung. Scriptures were read aloud.

As per new customs from the lack of a male ruler beside her, Olga removed the Order of St. Catherine from her dress. The Metropolitans of St. Petersburg and Kiev took the Order before clothing her in purple. The Metropolitans prayed for her, quoting Old Testament verses for her coronation rites. Finally, Olga would be crowned, and all people within the building kept silent in anticipation.

"Bishop Dimitrov, hand me the crown," Olga quietly said.

The Metropolitan bishop smiled to reassure the young Empress of Russia that everything would proceed smoothly, and he handed her the Imperial Crown. It was a beautiful adornment, glittering with diamonds and a single large ruby in the center. Despite its beauty, holding it in title would be a great burden. She placed it on her head, now feeling the weight of the crown. Just as she bore a weight on herself, she would bear her own duties as Empress.

"Most God-fearing, absolute, and mighty Lord, Empress of all the Russias, this visible and tangible adornment of thy head is an eloquent symbol that thou, as the head of the whole Russian people, art invisibly crowned by the King of kings, Christ, with a most ample blessing, seeing that He bestows upon thee entire authority over His people," Dimitrov recited, looking at Olga with his dark blue eyes.

Bishop Dimitrov was handed the scepter and orb, and he gave them to the new Empress, who held both of them.

"God-crowned, God-given, God-adorned, most pious Autocrat and great Sovereign, Emperor of All the Russias. Receive the sceptre and the orb, which are the visible signs of the autocratic power given thee from the Most High over thy people, that thou mayest rule them and order for them the welfare they desire," Dimitrov recited.

The choirs prayed for the wellbeing of the new Empress, as a staccato of bangs resounded outside. Over a hundred guns fired their blanks. The church bells rung for minutes, and the crowds cheered even louder. Some of them even chanted the anthem of the Russian Empire.

"God save the Tsarina!"

"Long live our Empress!"