( Warning! This chapter has events that could possibly be upsetting to readers. There are scenes of extensive violence, deaths, and gunshots. Please use discretion before reading. )
…
Gunfire. All she could hear was gunfire and screaming. The smoke was thick and threatened to choke her. She couldn't breathe. Oh god, the screaming. The gunshots. The noise was deafening. Sound faded out and was replaced with a ringing in her ears, which muffled everything else. More gunshots were fired. And then, silence. Nothing but silence.
Anastasia stirred, trying to piece together what had happened. A photograph. They had been told they were taking a photograph, to dispute the rumors of their escape. Father had asked for chairs... they had brought some in. And then one of the guards, he'd announced that the Soviet of Workers' Deputies had resolved to shoot them. There had been a moment of stunned silence before father had yelled "What?"
That was when the shooting had started. Anastasia had been hit, but not injured. Her dress, decorated with jewels, had shielded her from any real damage.
And now, Anastasia was trembling, trying to get up. Was anyone else alive?
"That one, there. Shoot her again," someone said, but she could not identify the voice.
Suddenly, her ears were deafened once again, and she felt the impact of something hitting her chest, but once again, although breathless, she was unharmed. Turning over and getting onto her knees, she grabbed a wall for support and started to stand, coughing and gasping for breath. And then something struck her head, and everything had turned to black.
...
Voices. There were distant voices. She was confused. Her head ached, her chest ached. She was so frightened. The voices were threatening now. She was laying on top of something, she could not tell what. She searched her brain, attempting to make sense of anything, but the thoughts that came to her mind vanished and she was unable to remember them.
Something brushed against her leg, but she was too weak to react. There were more touches, the voices were so close now. Someone was shifting her, moving her. She felt a tug and heard something rip. Her dress. They were ripping her dress. There was laughter, cold and cruel. She didn't understand, she didn't understand. And then someone was yelling, and everything went away, the voices, the touches. The only thing she could hear was a constant humming- was that the sound of an engine?
There was a lurch, and she turned, but the movement left her feeling weak and dizzy. She tried to sit up, but instead felt something shift underneath her, and with a terrifying motion, she felt herself start to slip. She tried to move, she pushed herself up with all of her strength, but that made the falling faster, and she hit the ground with a painful thump.
She lay on the cold ground in shock, still unable to process anything. Eventually, she mustered the strength to pull herself up enough to see. There were tracks surrounding her, and snow was softly falling. Every movement she made brought nausea and lightheadedness. She could not remember anything, and she could not make sense of anything but the fact that she must have been in a truck and fallen out. Her strength gave out, and she collapsed once more against the ground. It must have been over an hour before anything happened. She felt a bright light shine against the back of her closed eyelids, but she did not open her eyes.
"Dear God, my God," someone was saying, over and over. It was a kinder voice than the others, one that got nearer and nearer, and she felt someone touch the back of her head where it ached.
"Is she alive?" A different voice asked,
Now, a hand was on her wrist, over her heart, brushing against her cheek:
"She's alive and breathing, but very weak. And, as far as I can tell, she's been hit on the head with something very hard," the first voice replied.
"We have to get her to the Hospital," the second voice said. She felt someone lift her off the ground, and once again, the world faded into black.
...
Anya woke up from her nightmare, gasping and crying. Dmitry was not in bed with her, so she stood and pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to stop the sobs that were coming out of her.
She was trembling uncontrollably. Another nightmare. Except, this one hadn't been a nightmare. This one had been a horrifying replay of her memories, with vivid detail. It had felt so real, so present. Why did they never end? Yesterday had been so wonderful, why could it not seem to stay that way?
She swallowed hard and paced across the floor, trying to wake herself up. It was dawn, and a soft light was showing through the curtains. It was still early. Where was Dmitry?
Anya's heart was beating hard within her chest, and she could not slow it down. A feeling of panic was quickly overtaking her. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself.
"Everything's fine, Anya. Everything is fine. You're safe now. Dmitry's just gone out somewhere, he probably left you a note," she said to herself. To think that she was somehow in danger was completely illogical, but she'd seemed to have lost all sense of logic at the moment. Every thought was a paralyzingly fear, and whether it made sense or not, it rendered her anxious and overwhelmed, suffocating in panic. Suddenly, the bathroom door opened and Dmitry stepped out, looking at her in concern.
Anya was still trapped in her terror, and she did not move.
"Anya?" he said, walking over to her. "What happened, what's wrong?"
She let out a sob and shook her head, and Dmitry quickly wrapped his arms around her, his hand rubbing her back reassuringly.
"It's alright, Anya, everything's alright."
She clung to him, still shaking, and he hugged her to him, murmuring soft words of comfort.
When she had stopped crying, he stepped back to look at her, his thumb brushing over her cheek.
"What happened, Anya?" he asked.
"I... I had a nightmare," she told him.
"A nightmare? With your family?" he questioned.
She nodded.
"But I thought you didn't get those anymore," he said.
"I don't," she lied, turning away to look out the window. "Well, I didn't, but now they're back, and it was so real, it was so real, Dmitry, and I-" Anya was cut off by the sobs that choked her throat.
Dmitry came behind her and once again wrapped his arms around her.
"You're safe, Anya, you're safe," he told her.
Anya took three deep breaths, and felt her body start to calm down.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"We should get out of here, get some fresh air. Is there somewhere you want to go?"
Anya nodded.
"Yes. I want to get some breakfast and then visit Nana."
. . .
The Dowager Empress Maria Feoderovna could be a cold, bitter old woman. For years, she'd had everything she'd known taken from her. But when Anastasia came to visit, she was as welcoming and as warm as a hug. This was something Lily had taken notice to, over the past month. On days when Anastasia had not visited or written in a while, she was stressed and lashed out. When Anastasia was here, she was happier than ever. And that was how Lily knew that Anastasia was coming to visit today- the Dowager was cheerful and energetic.
"I'm guessing we have a visitor coming today?" Lily questioned, pouring some tea for the former Empress.
Maria smiled at her, sitting down and handing her a letter.
"Yes, I believe we do, Lily," she replied, adding some sugar to her tea.
Lily looked down at the letter in front of her, on which a neat scrawl was written:
"Nana,
I'm coming to visit today."
The letter was unsigned, but neither of the women needed a signature to identify who had written it.
"It's been a while since she's visited," Lily remarked, handing it back to the Dowager.
"Too long," the Dowager agreed, folding the letter neatly in half. "But the new life she and Dmitry have started has been a busy one to start, and I don't blame her."
Lily did not respond, but instead sat down and poured herself a cup of tea as well.
"Any news?" The Dowager asked pointedly.
"Nothing new. More letters from Count Leopold, but as you've requested, I've completely ignored them."
"Good." The Dowager finished her tea and pushed her empty cup forward, now staring intently at Lily. "And how is that imposter you still insist on seeing?"
"Vlad is doing well," Lily reported.
The Dowager pursed her lips and nodded.
"As long as he makes you happy, I suppose," she remarked, leaning back in her chair.
As sly smile crossed Lily's lips. Vlad did, in fact, make her happy. In truth, she was a little too happy with him. Although he was still the mischievous conman he'd been in his youth, he'd matured into a good man, and he was even better company.
However, the fact was, even though the Dowager pretended to hate him, Lily knew that she was the one who had employed him.
Vlad dealt with all the press- he talked with journalists, he did occasional publicity stunts with the Dowager. He'd learned to hold his tongue and say what the public needed to hear. He was also the one who responded to the letters- the fake Anastasia's who simply refused to stop writing; Maria had been unable to handle them any longer.
The Dowager had passed off his being employed by her as a careless coincidence- Vlad had just happened to be there, Vlad had just happened to be right for the job, but Lily knew the truth. Vlad had started to grow on the Dowager, and she didn't mind him nearly as much as she once had. She also must have known how Vlad was doing, but she'd still chosen to ask.
"I'm bored, Lily," the Dowager sighed. "I grow tired of sitting here. I feel shut in."
"Shall we go somewhere tomorrow, then?" Lily asked.
"Yes, I think that would be a good idea," Maria said, nodding.
There was a silence that sat between them for a while, before Lily stood and cleared the tea off the table.
"I'll be back soon, your highness," she said and left the room.
Vlad was standing in the hallway, talking to a guard, but when he saw Lily, he quickly turned to walk with her, following her quick pace.
"Well, how has your day been?" she asked impatiently.
"Good. And yours?" he replied.
"Like usual. And guess who's coming to visit today."
"No! Really? Anya?" he asked.
"Yes." Lily made a quick stop at the kitchen to drop off the tea cups, then rejoined Vlad.
"Well, is she bringing Dmitry with her?" he questioned.
"She didn't say."
Vlad shook his head. "I haven't seen him since they left together."
"You will soon," Lily said, taking his hand. A maid walked out of the kitchen, and they quickly broke apart, trying to look inconspicuous. The maid stared at them, and then made her way down the hallway, ducking her head to avoid eye contact.
"So, we still aren't telling anyone about us?" Vlad asked.
"They don't need to know. The only people who need to know, do." she told him.
Vlad sighed, but did not argue.
"Well-" Vlad was interrupted by a guard, who walked straight to Lily.
"Countess Lily, there's a girl here to see the Dowager," he said.
"Bring her in," she replied.
The guard hesitated.
"She brought someone with her as well. A man."
Vlad cut in for her.
"Tall, with brown hair?" he asked.
The guard nodded, clearly unhappy Vlad had joined the conversation.
"He's alright, bring them both," Lily said, and the guard exited to do so.
She looked at Vlad, smiling, who grinned back at her.
"Here we go," he said.