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'Kay, the boy's sawing logs, stage is reset, fade in, aaaaand, action. Forget I'm even here. You are in the winter palace, on a cold, familiar night, not so very long ago....
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Nothing could ever glow more than this night. No number of lamps could match the warmth, no thousand fires equal the noises of gaiety and life, nothing begin to resemble the pure radiation of love and joy.
Three hundred years of happy rule had all come down to this night, this party. All the grandest citizens of St. Petersburg and beyond were dressed in their traditional finest, and dozens of dancing bodies filled the floor before the guests of honor, the Romanov family.
As the traditional music reached its thunderous crescendo, a lighthearted father lifted his youngest daughter into the air and swirled her around, to her cry of "Oh, Papa!" If it weren't for their manner of dress, one would never have guessed this was them.
THe girl glanced up the platform and saw her grandmother beckon her over. Excited, she took leave of her father and ran past her sisters to the old woman's side.
"I have something for you," the Dowager Empress said, reaching into her purse, and extracting a small sphere of gold.
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Over the past year he'd gotten used to this door---just not from this side. Taking a bite of the apple he'd swiped from the kitchen, the boy scanned the room---it was grand, all right, but he'd seen it before---and his eyes fell on his friend talking with her grandmother. Mezmerized by this side of the world, he watched until he felt someone grab him from behind. He kicked to break free, but if the man in the suit had said it once, he'd said it a thousand times:
"Dimitri! You belong in the kitchen!"
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"For me? Is it a jewelery box?"
Marie said nothing, only smiled and produced a thin gold necklace, which she used as a key in the front of the small gold box. After a few turns, the lid raised open, and a tiny replica of the Tsar and Tsarina began to dance to a familiar melody.
"It plays our lullaby!" Anastasia gasped.
"You can play it at night before you go to sleep," Marie explained, "and pretend that it's me singing."
Taking her granddaughter's hand and twirling her to the music, the older woman began to sing along.
"On the wind,
'Cross the sea,
Hear this song and remember..."
Now Anastasia's young voice joined in.
"Soon you'll be,
Home with me,
Once upon a December."
Finishing with a bow, Anastasia laughed, and then her grandmother handed her the key, the necklace. "Read what it says."
The girl held the pendant comically close to her face and crossed her eyes in an attempt to make out the small engraving. "'Together In Paris,'" she read. And then she got it. "Really? Oh, grandmama!" Anastasia threw her arms around her grandmother, and Marie laughed.
But the laughter was quick to stop. On the far side of the room, the crowd was clearing a path in shock and in silence. The man they were making way for was tall, unkempt, and vile looking, and the grin on his face was enough to sicken the strongest of men.
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Somewhere behind where the women were shrinking back from the unwanted visitor, Dimitri gasped too. Maybe he'd picked the wrong moment to sneak back out.
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Nicholas stepped forward within the instant. He would deal with this monster, only him. Not his family. "How dare you return to the palace!" he roared.
The old monk, nkown to most as only Rasputin, feigned surprise. "But," he laughed, "I am your confidante!"
"Confidante---ha! You are a traitor! Get out!"
Rasputin had posed a test, and Nicholas had failed. "You think you can banish the great Rasputin? By the unholy powers vested in me, I ban---"
"No!" Nicholas interrupted. "You haven't the right to do anything. You have abused your power and have lost my trust. You are no longer welcome among my family. Guards! Guards!"
Two burly Imperial officers swooped in from either doorway and clamped down on an arm each, escorting Rasputing from the premises.
"Unhand me! Mark my words, Nicholas, you have not seen the last of me!"
In his wild attempts to free himself, the reliquary he'd been holding fell from his hand and dropped silently to the floor.
"Wait! No! No...!"
His last cry echoed through the silent ballroom, and all eyes fell on the Tsar once the madman was out of sight.
Nicholas looked up at his family, then out at the crowd. Finally he spoke. "Now, now. This is a celebration!"
With that a cheer rose up from the people, and the party resumed. Exhausted, Nicholas walked back to his wife and children.
"Is he gone?" asked Olga, his oldest daughter, still only fourteen herself.
Nicholas nodded. "For good, this time."
The three duchesses traded looks of releif, and the fourth rejoined the group by running up and bear-hugging her father. "You did it, Papa! That mean old man's gonna be locked up 'till he's a hundred and twelve!"
"Let's hope so, malenkaya," Nicholas laughed, when a third guard appeared from off the platform. He had his grip on the back of a young boy's collar, and Anastasia was both concerned and amused---very amused---when she saw who it was. The boy glared back.
"Your majesties, this servant has been caught shirking his duties to observe the royal ball," the guard announced. "What shall be done with him?"
Nicholas grinned. He studied Dimitri---he was just a child---noticing both his wife's apprehension and his youngest daughter's interest. He shot Alexandra a look. You worry too much, Sunny.
"Give him one of Alexei's suits," the Tsar decided, and winked. "He can't possibly attend a party like that."
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(FYI: "malenkaya"="little one.") I don't care what people say, fit to rule or not, Nicholas was a kind man and a fine father. I hope my interpretation of him lives up to that. So, so far we've eliminated the Romanov Curse and carried on with life as normal. But will it still be normal? Will the servant and the princess get their Happily Ever After? Will Alexandra meddle? Will Rasputin succumb to life in a cell, without his powers? Consider this the prologue. It's only just begun.
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