Home, love, family Chapter 10: Calm before the storm, an anastasia fanfic

Moscow. July 17, 1918.

Doroteya Filippovna Lavrova.

After spending another happy Christmas with their daughters, Nicholas and Alexandra prepared themselves for a very special ball, a 17th-century imperial costume ball. It took place at the Winter Palace on January 22, 1903, or February 4 according to the new calendar.

The sheer opulence of the ball was near blinding, as it meant to celebrate 290th anniversary of the Romanov dynasty. The Tsar invited 390 guests, and the festivities lasted two days. The first day featured feasting and dancing, and a masked ball was held on the second, the steps of which had been rehearsed with anticipation. Everyone assisted wearing traditional imperial Russian clothing from the 17th century. Court ladies wore long loose dresses embroidered with precious stones and kokoshnik head-dresses adorned with the finest family jewels, while the men donned richly decorated caftans and boyar-style fur hats.

The costumes were designed with the help of historical consultants. Emperor Nicholas disguised himself as his ancestor Alexei I. Following suit, Alexandra dressed like Maria Miloslavskaya, Alexeiʼs first wife. Peter Carl Fabergé chose the jewelry, including Tsarina Alexandraʼs pearls, the enormous emerald on her brocaded dress, and her diamond and emerald-studded crown.

Fabergé is a Russian jeweler who was well known among the upper classes for his famous jeweled eggs. The ostentatious objects look like real, painted Easter eggs. The Romanovs were great enthusiasts of Fabergé's art, and used to gift each other the most beautiful eggs. From the same maker, Alexandraʼs headwear was so heavy she was barely able to move her head, but quite amazingly, she was able to dance.

It was the last great spectacular ball in the history of the empire. While the aristocrats danced, the workers were striking, and the clouds over the Far East were hanging dangerously low. Soon, a great economic crisis would mark the beginning of the end for the Russian Empire.

Other than Tatiana badly injuring herself by pinching her leg while standing up on a car, the early part of the year went on as usual with few incidents. The family travelled to Moscow for Easter, the greatest and most important festivity in Russia.

Easter holds great significance for Christians all over the world and is also my favorite holiday. Every Passion Week, the Romanovs would receive Holy Communion in Moscow. In preparation for it, one has to fast for seven days, going to church both morning and evening. Then comes the confession of sins to a priest in order to receive absolution.

The rite of confirmation is administered immediately after baptism, and children up to the age of seven can receive communion every month. After that age, confession and churchgoing are essential before receiving communion.

All of the imperial children attended church with their parents fairly often. With time, they learned to comprehend and appreciate the significance of the rituals performed at mass. Aged seven, Grand Duchess Olga was already rather attentive to everything that was said during each service, and she enjoyed telling everyone about it: "The priest prayed for mama and papa, and Tatiana and me, the soldiers and the sailors, the poor sick people, and the apples and pears." The young girl would then ask her parents questions about it.

To keep the children quiet, Alexandra used to make them think of things so that she could later guess what those things were. Olga always thought of the sun, the sky, the rain, or anything celestial, and would explain to her mother that it made her very happy to think of those things. They might have reminded her of God.

Ever since she had learnt how to talk, Olga had loved pointing her fingers at specific words written on books or sheets of paper and asking the adults around her for their meaning, later searching for and finding the same words on other places and enthusiastically telling everyone about it. She had always been a sensitive and intelligent child, so much so that her relentless curiosity had urged Margaretta Eagar to start educating her at the tender age of four.

One time, the sharp little Olga woke Miss Eagar up right after midnight to know how the water came upstairs into the bathroom. On another occasion, Miss Eagar taught Olga the multiplication table.

The Empress had thought it too bad that five-year-old Olga was able to read English but not Russian, and thereupon had gotten her a master, an aged Archbishop and famous theologian but also a very simple-minded old man. When he had been teaching the girl for a few days, he came to Miss Eagar and said: "You know this dear child so well that I feel almost convinced that you know what I have just discovered. The dear child is inspired!"

Miss Eagar gasped.

"I wanted to teach her the multiplication table", the master proceeded to explain, "and judge my surprise when I found out that she knew it already!"

He was very thankful when Miss Eagar informed him that she had taught Olga the multiplication table.

"I was troubled about it", he said, "for I did not see how I could teach one who was already taught supernaturally."

But Olga could also be obstinate and even irrational at times. One Christmas, despite Margaretta's attempts to convince her otherwise, the little Grand Duchess insisted on making a kettle-holder for her father, something that, of course, wouldn't be of any use to him. It had a picture of a little kettle singing on a fire, which she had embroidered around as a blue frame, and the little girl was very happy with her accomplishment. When Christmas came, she presented it to her father Nicholas II, saying: "Nanny was afraid that it wasn't going to be much use to you because it's a kettle-holder, but you can put it on your table and use it as a placemat, or hang it on the wall for a picture. Just see the pretty little frame around it."

When Grand Duchess Olga was seven, she made her first confession during the Lent of I903 and received a gift from the children of Moscow, an icon of the Virgin Mary. The little Olga was incredibly religious for her age, so this made her immensely happy.

All of the imperial children would get to do the same once they reached the age of seven.

A Midnight Mass is celebrated the night between Easter Saturday and Sunday. It lasts for about three hours. The atmosphere during the mass is sad at the beginning as the churchgoers mourn the death of Christ at the cross and reflect on its significance. Exactly at midnight, the priest chants: "Christ is risen," and the choir chants back: "He is risen indeed." People kiss each other, and in a moment, the scene is changed from sorrow and mourning to joy and gladness. The four little girls cherished every minute of it. On Sunday, the fast is broken and everyone celebrates with a feast the resurrection of our Lord. Church bells can be heard all day long. That day, the Emperor would kiss all of the men in the imperial household and the Empress would kiss all of the women.

Throughout the Easter week, hardboiled eggs are painted. The little Grand Duchesses used to do this as well. Whenever you meet with an acquaintance you are supposed to say: "Christ is risen", to which the person replies: "He is risen indeed", and then eggs are exchanged. It is such an amazing time of the year! All little children love painting eggs.

One day, still during Eastertide, Miss Eagar and the little Grand Duchesses were driving on a carriage through the Nevsky Prospect, one of the main streets of St. Petersburg.

Seven-year-old Olga was being very naughty, standing up and then sitting back down on the moving carriage, a very dangerous thing to do. Five-year-old Tatiana was already exhibiting signs of having a meeker and more obedient personality, and she had recently been hurt while standing up in a car. She looked between her older sister and her nanny with a cheeky grin of admiration, but she didn't participate in Olga's antics. Three-year-old Maria only smiled, and Anastasia was, of course, just a toddler back then.

Miss Eagar was struggling to control Olga when a policeman passed nearby. The little girl suddenly sat down without coercing and folded her arms in front of her.

"Did you see that policeman?" Olga asked her nanny.

"Yes, dear", Margaretta Eagar replied. "But that is nothing extraordinary, the police can do you no harm, he has no right to touch you".

"But this one was writing something", the child insisted. "I was afraid he might have been writing 'I saw Olga, and she was very naughty.'" The governess smiled.

"That is very unlikely", Margaretta assured her.

"But one time I saw the police arresting a woman, and I asked you to tell them not to hurt her and you said that it was right for them to arrest her because she was being really naughty."

"That is because the woman was very drunk in the streets dear", Miss Eagar explained. "You have to do something really big and really naughty before the police take you to prison. It is possible to live your whole life without going there."

When she returned home, Olga asked everyone if the policeman had come or asked for her. She then told her father the entire story.

"Papa, have you ever been a prisoner?" The little girl asked the Emperor. Nicholas laughed.

"I have never been quite naughty enough to go to prison", the proud father replied.

"Oh! How very good you must have been, too", Olga remarked.

When the family left Moscow and returned to Tsarskoye Selo, Alexandra and the girls developed whooping cough.

Margaretta Eagar told the children they were to be most careful not to cough on anyone, for otherwise that person might take the disease from them. The four girls were very obedient at the beginning, but one day, the little Grand Duchess Anastasia was sitting on her nanny's lap, coughing and choking away, when the Grand Duchess Maria came to her and, putting her face close up to her, said: "Baby, darling, cough on me."

Greatly amazed, the nanny asked Maria what she had meant.

"I am so sorry to see my dear little sister so ill", the girl responded, "and I thought if I could take it from her she would be better."

So incredibly sweet.

Tatiana was quieter than her sisters but no less endearing or playful. She was completely devoted to both her family and the people who served her.

Being very weak because of her illness, the five-year-old Tatiana was ordered a great deal of nourishment, mainly beef-juice, but it was difficult for her to swallow it. One day, she innocently asked Miss Eagar if she had made the juice. Margaretta Eagar drew a picture of the cook in the kitchen making it. His big knife cutting the beef figured in it conspicuously. Tatiana was greatly interested in the image.

"Would it give the cook pleasure if I drank it?" She asked.

"It would give him the greatest pleasure, my dear", Miss Eagar replied, hoping to encourage the girl to drink.

"Send for the cook then", Tatiana demanded in such a grown-up and dignified way that Margaretta couldn't help but indulge her.

The chef came into the room.

"Monsieur Cubat, did you make this beef-juice?" Tatiana asked him.

"One of the young cooks made it, Your Imperial Highness", Chef Cubat replied.

"Well, send him up and tell him to wear his big knife," was the little girlʼs following request. The little cook came up.

"Little cook," the young Grand Duchess said once he had entered the room, "you made me this beef-juice. Well, stand there and see me drink it." Tatiana did so, gave him the empty cup as soon as she was done, and then let him go. Miss Eagar was astonished by such lack of manners.

"Tatiana", she scolded her charge, "it was very naughty of you to give the young man that much trouble just to have him watch you drink the beef-juice".

"Well", the child replied with a shrug. "You said it would give him pleasure if I drank it, and I certainly did not want to make him cry."

The illness caused Grand Duchess Tatiana to have difficulty sleeping, so her nanny would be up a good portion of every night to soothe her. Invariably, Tatiana would ask Margaretta to sing for her.

"Rock of Ages" was the song of choice for many consecutive nights until the little girl finally refused to listen to it anymore. Thereupon, Miss Eagar fell back upon a song called "Villikins" that interested Tatiana very much. The ballad was about two lovers committing suicide after being parted by parental interference.

"Why did poor Dinah drink the poison cold?" The innocent girl would often ask in reference to the female protagonist of the song, the dark implication of which she did not fully grasp.

"She had not time to warm it, darling", Miss Eagar used to tell her. "Now, go to sleep."

One night, however, Tatiana's inquiries went further: "Why didn't she get her nana to warm it for her? You would have warmed it for me, wouldn't you?"

On one occasion, the four girls were being made ready to go out and Miss Eagar left them for a moment to get Tatianaʼs coat. Upon returning, she saw another nurse shaking the girl.

"How dare you shake Tatiana?" Eagar exclaimed. "You are paid to take care of her, not to correct her!"

Tatiana opened her eyes wide and turned them towards Margaretta.

"She is paid?" The distraught child asked her.

"Yes", the governess replied. "She is paid and I, also, am paid."

Hearing that, the little Tatiana put her head on her nurseʼs shoulder and started weeping bitterly. Miss Eagar was flummoxed.

"You have seen me get my money every month", Margaretta tried to tell Tatiana.

"I always thought it was a gift to you!" The little Grand Duchess cried.

A long explanation followed. The child was informed that it was necessary for the nannies and governesses to be paid, as they had no wealth of their own and their way of earning money was to look after children.

When Miss Eagar woke up the next morning, Tatiana was standing by her bed.

"May I get into your bed?" The child pleaded, and as she cuddled down in the arms of Margaretta, she remarked: "Anyway, you don't get paid for this."

Tatiana was very sensitive. She was also exceptionally polite for her age and expected the same in return. One day, the children and their nanny were walking in the garden of the Winter Palace. The Emperor had some beautiful collie dogs that were exercising in the garden as well. One of them, a young untrained creature, jumped on Tatiana's back and threw her down.

The child was frightened and cried most bitterly. The nanny lifted her up and exclaimed:

"Poor Sheilka! She did not mean to hurt you, she only wanted to say 'Good-morning' to you!"

Still in tears, the child looked up at Margaretta and said: "Was that all? I don't think she is very polite. She could have said it to my face, not to my back."

Some sense of humor she had!

One of my favorite visions of the four girls took place on board of the Standart. I think it happened in 1903, because little Anastasia was already looking and acting like a two-year-old. Walking very well, saying lots of words.

Seven-year-old Olga, five or six-year-old Tatiana, three or four-year-old Maria, and little Anastasia were playing on the deck, wearing their cute sailor shirts and skirts.

The Grand Duchesses were playing and dancing with the sailors as usual when their mother asked them to stay still so that she could take a picture of them. Olga was about to sit down with her youngest sister on her lap when Anastasia untangled herself from her grasp and started running over the deck. Promptly, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and some of the sailors began chasing the tiny giggling toddler around. It was incredibly amusing, as Anastasia was quite a fast runner. It was the Emperor who stopped the little girl, carrying her back to Alexandra. Needless to say, the four girls had a lot of fun that day.

Over the course of the year, the girls played a lot with their cousins, a usual occurrence whenever they visited them or the other way around. On one occasion, Olga and Irina did something very funny together while the other children played outside. The two little girls experimented on some stuffed animals to see whether they could make them look as if they had just appeared or disappeared, just like a magician would.

One of the few problems the sovereigns faced in 1903 had to do with Grand Duke Cyril Vladimirovich, the son of Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna the elder and Grand Duke Vladimir Alexandrovich, Nicholas's uncle.

Nicholas loved and admired his uncle for his intelligence and sophistication, and Miechen had convinced Alexandra to become orthodox. In spite of this, I think Alexandra might have been a bit mistrustful of their side of the family even then. The way she sometimes spoke to her husband about them often betrayed fear.

Besides Cyril, Maria Pavlovna had two more sons, Boris and Andrei, as well as a daughter named Helena. Alexandra had no sons to succeed her husband, and therefore Miechenʼs sons had a good chance of doing so. Unlike Alexandra, who was was very shy and hated society, Maria Pavlovna loved hosting concerts, magnificent balls, and several other entertainments at her residence, Vladimir Palace, a court of her own. In time, Miechen would become more popular than the Empress herself.

Nicholas and Alexandra had friendly interactions with their relatives, but they were very different from them. Maria Pavlovna and Alexandra Feodorovna were complete opposites. The women's attitudes concerning their duties as members of the imperial family were at odds.

Miechen loved and exploited the glamour to the fullest, believing that princesses should be leaders of both fashion and society. She regarded the luxurious lifestyle her family enjoyed as an indicator of the power and wealth of the country. A duty as well as a pleasure. The Vladimir Palace was filled with treasures set out in glass cases inside Miechenʼs dressing-room. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and pearls.

The Tsarina had jewels too, but she disliked the wealthy, the aristocratic, and the powerful. She believed that the monarchy had to devote itself to the poorest people of the country, the "real" people. Her most cherished virtues were honesty, simplicity, and profound religious faith. This did not sit well among Maria Pavlovna's sophisticated circles. The Russian aristocracy could not understand why on earth Empress Alexandra knitted scarves and shawls as presents for her friends when she had seemingly endless money to spend.

All through life Maria had been cherished, adulated, and spoiled. She would spend what she could. Every luxury, comfort, honor, and advantage her position offered was fully embraced. She knew exactly what to wear for each occasion, never making a mistake. An atmosphere of endless prosperity emanated from "Empress Miechen". It was as if she were the undisputed center of her own world, and she truly seemed to expect everyone around her to treat her with the same devotion she treated herself.

Being a second place to Alexandra, someone who came across as inept by her standards, would end up embittering Maria Pavlovna and bringing out the worst in her character.

Vladimir Alexandrovich had his differences with Nicholas as well. It had been hard for the Grand Duke to accept his duty to obey his inexperienced nephew, someone he had known as a child. Back in 1897, Grand Duchess Maria Pavlova had entertained some of her friends in the imperial box at the Mariinsky Theater, something she didnʼt have permission to do and showed a huge lack of respect for the new sovereign.

In the aftermath, Nicholas wrote a letter to his uncle asserting that the recent occurrence should never be repeated. The Tsar lamented how unfair it had been of them to take advantage of the fact he was young and their nephew. Nicholas reminded Vladimir of who the actual head of the family was and of the fact a Tsar could not turn a blind eye to what he considered inappropriate behavior. He also begged his uncle to help him keep the family firm and united.

It seems ironic now.

Miechenʼs eldest son, Cyril, was pursuing a career in the Russian navy. He would also prove to be a bit of a trouble maker. Cyril was passionately in love with Victoria Melita, Alexandra's cousin and former sister-in-law. In July of 1903, he asked Nicholas for permission to marry her.

Nicholas refused. Not only was Victoria Cyrilʼs first cousin, but she was also a divorced woman. Victoria Melita wouldnʼt fulfill her long-time wish of marrying her cousin Cyril Vladimirovich, at least not that year.

By mid-1903, everything was going well on the surface. Seemingly having overcome their disappointment over the distressing events of the previous year, Nicholas and Alexandra came across as exceptionally cheerful, especially when around their girls.

The storm clouds gathered very silently.

I just realized that I havenʼt been providing all my sources. It has been mostly Helen Rappaport, Robert K. Massie, online search, tumblr (mashkaromanova), and Wikipedia most of all. If I get any ideas from fictional books or movies I always specify which ones, but because I write this for fun I don't keep track of every single factual source I have ever used.

Just like before, lots of things are real and lots of things are fabricated. Many of the little OTMA stories are real and are mostly taken from Eagar's memoirs, some are also fabricated for fun, but plausible. I am too lazy to distinguish them here but if you ask me in the comments whether an anecdote in particular is real, I will tell you. The outside events, unrelated to the family life, are all completely real, except of course the ones having to do with fictional characters, both canon and ocs.