I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with me. All through winter break when I had nothing but time, I couldn't focus enough to write anything for this. Now that classes have started up again and I'm swamped with work, inspiration strikes. It's so backwards, it's almost funny.


Dmitry was becoming more and more certain that he had missed something vital that day that they were all told the Bolsheviks were now in charge of the country. Alexei stayed practically glued to Nicholas's side during the days, and the epaulets had suddenly gone missing from the jackets and military uniforms they wore most days. The guards looked extremely pleased with themselves when they saw the new bare shoulders of their jackets, nudging each other and smirking. Dmitry had already caught Alexei hurriedly stuffing something under his pillow and looking far too innocent when he startled the younger boy, and he didn't have to think hard to take a guess at what it had been.

And the girls had been acting strangely as well. Normally they all took advantage of the hour they were allowed to exercise outside in the yard, rotating daily which one of them stayed indoors with their mother. But in the week since things changed, none of them went outside for the allotted hour. Instead, they gathered in their parents' bedroom with Alexandra and stayed in there for hours.

The one time Dmitry happened to wander past the room on his way to the bathroom, Maria had gasped his name from the doorway and slipped out into the hall, shutting the door tightly behind her. She had smiled sheepishly at him as he passed. When he asked Anastasia what they were all doing in there all that time, she had simply told him they were arranging medicines for Alexei and Alexandra.

He didn't say it to her face, but he didn't believe a single word she said. He had a feeling she knew anyway. It was a poor excuse by anyone's standards, and Dmitry sincerely hoped it wasn't the explanation they had given the guards for whatever they were actually doing. The Red Guards didn't strike him as the brightest bunch he'd ever met, but it didn't take a genius to know that arranging medicines didn't take hours each day.

And, if he was being completely honest, it stung a bit that they didn't think he could be trusted enough to tell him what they were actually doing.

He tried not to let his bruised ego show. He liked to believe that he didn't act any differently toward the family, though they certainly did to him. Still, he found himself feeling disconnected from everyone else around him. It shouldn't have bothered him so much; he knew perfectly well that he was not, in fact, family. But even the other servants were distant.

It was strange for him, not being called upon at any moment during the day. Despite being cooped up in the house together, all the siblings suddenly seemed too busy to need him. It was a lonely feeling, and he hated it more than he hated being a prisoner in his own country.


"What are you doing?"

Dmitry looked up over the top of his book, meeting Alexei's eye. The boy was propped up on the couch, warming up from helping his father chop wood that morning, and had his head tilted slightly to one side.

"I'm reading," Dmitry said, raising the book again to hide his burning cheeks.

"I can see that," Alexei said, "but what are you reading? Is it any good?"

"I don't really know."

Dmitry had nicked it out of one of the tutor's bags when their backs were turned. He had only been hoping for something new to read, and was severely disappointed when he realized the book was in another language entirely. He couldn't be sure which one it was, as he wasn't familiar with the Roman alphabet and therefore couldn't distinguish between the written languages.

He enjoyed looking at the differences between the alphabet he knew and this new one, though. When he'd managed to catch glimpses of Anastasia's letters or homework, he'd always thought that the Roman alphabet looked rather blocky and ugly. But in this book, it seemed quite elegant and fluid. He may not understand what he was looking at, but he thought he could look at it all day and still find it fascinating.

"Can I see it?" Alexei asked, sitting up straighter. Dmitry shrugged and stood from his own seat to stand by the boy. He supposed Alexei was bored of his own books by now too, and besides, maybe he could translate a bit of it for him. Alexei took the book from his hands and began scanning the page quickly. A second later, he burst out in wild laughter.

"What?" Dmitry demanded, snatching the book back from Alexei. He turned it this way and that, trying to make sense of what it said. "What's so funny?"

"Do you realize what you took?" Alexei managed to say between laughs. Tears were starting to stream down his face and he doubled over, clutching his stomach.

"A book?" Dmitry felt the heat in his cheeks rise to his ears.

"You'd better return that right away, Dmitry," Alexei said, wiping at his eyes. "It'll be a miracle if you don't get caught, he's probably already noticed it's gone."

"I still don't understand," Dmitry scowled.

"That book is Monsieur Gillard's diary!" Alexei dissolved into a fresh wave of laughter, and Dmitry had to suppress the urge to fling the book across the room and away from him. Suddenly he was very glad he couldn't understand what was written. Perhaps he'd be in less trouble that way.

"Well how was I supposed to know that?" Dmitry mumbled, feeling nettled.

"Weren't you suspicious when you saw the handwriting?" Alexei had managed to compose himself enough to talk normally again, giggling only every few seconds so.

"That doesn't necessarily mean it's a diary," Dmitry tried to argue.

"Well what else would it be?"

"I don't know, a book of poems?" Dmitry scowled as Alexei began to laugh in earnest again, and stalked out of the room, taking the diary with him. Now he had to figure out how to slip the diary back into the tutor's bag without him noticing, something that he felt would be absolutely impossible. He felt incredibly foolish, now. How would he be able to explain why he took it in the first place? If he had been so bored with what he'd had to read, he could have simply asked their tutor if he had something. Or better yet, he could have asked one of the girls to borrow a book. How stupid he was to not have done that first.

He knocked on the girls' closed bedroom door though he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for, a book or advice on how to get out of trouble. Those thoughts went out the window and confusion took its place, though, when he heard a squeal of surprise and what sounded like beads hitting the floor. Someone shushed whoever had cried out. Dmitry started to open the door even though he hadn't been told he could do so, but before the door was open even an inch someone threw their weight against it, slamming it shut and narrowly missing his nose.

"Just a minute!" Tatiana's voice called out.

"Is everything okay?" Dmitry asked hesitantly.

"Everything's fine!"

A few seconds later, a very harassed looking Olga opened the door. Beyond her, her sisters were arranged in various places of the room, trying hard to appear casual. Unfortunately for them, they weren't very convincing, as Anastasia was sitting on top of her bunched-up blanket on her bed, and Maria was on their couch staring hard a book and very plainly not reading. One of the girl's coats was pooled on the floor by the foot of one of the beds.

"Oh, Mitya, it's just you," Olga breathed, visibly relaxing a bit. "We thought you might have been a guard."

Tatiana, on the other hand, stiffened. "Olga," she snapped. "You know what Mama said." Anastasia threw a glare at Tatiana, who didn't see.

"I know what Mama said," Olga reassured her. "I only said I was glad he wasn't a guard."

"Can we close the door?" Maria asked in a small voice, peeking over the top of her book. Tatiana glanced at her sister and then stared at Dmitry once again, plainly waiting for him to leave.

"Where's Alexei?" she asked. "He might need something. Why don't you go check on him?" Dmitry folded his arms against his chest and stared back at Tatiana.

"I was just with him, and I know for a fact he doesn't need anything," he said. "Besides, I'm sure that if I went back to him right now, he'd hurt himself by laughing too hard."

"And why is that?" Tatiana asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I'd… rather not say," Dmitry said, feeling his cheeks burn again. A mistake; at his words, Anastasia perked up, a wicked grin on her face. Dmitry felt his stomach plunge to his toes.

"What did you do?" she asked brightly, still grinning. "Are you in trouble?"

"Not yet. It was an accident," he tried to explain.

"Well, spit it out," Tatiana said briskly. "We haven't got all day."

"I was only looking for a new book to read, and I stole your tutor's diary," Dmitry mumbled, hanging his head.

There was a beat of silence in which all four sisters stared at him. Then, the little pair erupted into giggles.

Maria at least had the grace to try and hide it behind her book, though it didn't offer much disguise. Anastasia, on the other hand, made no attempt to hide her amusement. A small part of Dmitry was glad that she was at least laughing. Everyone had been so gloomy for the past week, and seeing her laugh so hard made him feel as if nothing had changed. The larger part of him, though, bristled at being laughed at for the second time in under ten minutes.

"It's not that funny," he protested.

"It's not funny at all," Tatiana said, but she was alone in her sentiment. Even Olga had the tiniest smirk on her face, as if she were trying to hold in her own laughter for the sake of Dmitry's ego.

Anastasia, in her mirth, fell from her bed, taking the blanket with her. She remained oblivious, still laughing hysterically, but Tatiana blanched and Olga launched herself toward her youngest sister's bed. In one swift move, she tugged the blanket from underneath Anastasia and draped it back over her bed, but it was too late. Dmitry's eyes had gone wide, staring at the piles of jewels on the bed that were once again hidden by the blanket. He suddenly had a horrible feeling about what was underneath the coat on the floor. Tatiana grabbed his arm and yanked him the rest of the way into the room and then shut the door firmly behind him.

"Anastasia Nikolaevna!" she hissed at her sister, who was no longer giggling. "Why are you always so careless?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," Anastasia shot back.

"She's the one who's careless?" Dmitry asked, finding his voice again. "What do you think you're doing with those out? With all the Red Guards in this place?" Maria laid her book down and stood.

"Mama said we-"

"Maria!" Tatiana barked. Maria shot a glare at her sister. "Mama said we can tell no one, not even the ones we trust most."

"And what good did that do?" Maria scowled. "We might as well tell him, he's already seen the 'medicines'."

"That's what you're doing when you tell me you're arranging medicines?" Dmitry asked. Tatiana threw her hands in the air and made a sound of outrage while Maria clamped her mouth shut. Tatiana stormed from the room, slamming the door shut again. Olga ripped the blanket down and began gathering up the assorted gems and jewels on the mattress.

"Quickly," she said, "let's get these away. The guards might be coming soon with all the door slamming." Anastasia and Maria both swept forward to help their sister, concealing the treasures away in bags and clothes. Olga took the largest, most ornate gems and tucked them away in a pouch, then knelt under her bed and concealed the pouch under a loose floor board. Within seconds, it was as if the gems had never been there.

"Do you think she'll tell Mama?" Maria asked meekly.

"I don't know, Mashka," Olga said, stroking her sister's hair to reassure her. "It's not your fault though. We should have had someone guarding the door better."

"What exactly were you doing with those?" Dmitry asked. The sisters shared a glance.

"We're concealing them," Olga said finally. "For safe keeping. No one outside our family was supposed to know."

"Mama wanted to make sure they didn't take them from us, too," Anastasia added. "So we've been sewing them into our jackets and corsets. Even some pillows, if we can."

"Is there any way I can help you?" Dmitry asked after a few seconds. "I could help you conceal them."

His words made the sisters snicker softly again.

"Do you even know how to sew, Mitya?" Maria asked.

"I can learn," Dmitry said defensively. "I want to help." Olga looped her arm through his and bent her head close to his.

"The best way you can help us is by acting as though you never saw anything," she said conspiratorially. "The guards would be suspicious if you were caught doing women's work. We've got it handled. You should focus on returning that diary."