Home, love, family

by Gabros

… there was once a time the Romanovs had it all. This is just the story of Anastasia and her siblings before the revolution. Prequel to Light at the end of the tunnel.

19. The sign

Balalaikas are traditional Russian musical instruments. They look like flat and triangle-shaped guitars.

I got lots of information from Russia Beyond and Helen Rappaport's "The Romanov Sisters."

St. Petersburg. August 12, 1904.

"No, no, no, Vanya!" Ilya exclaims.

"Shh!" Ivan opens his eyes wide. If it weren't for the fact he is trying to position the wooden pattern inside the metal box properly, Ivan would have already put a finger on his mouth or even that of his brother to shut him up.

Although the day has been exceptionally sunny, it has otherwise been just a normal Friday at the foundry. The men are, as usual, working in simple kosovorotka shirts of different colors, leather boots, black caps, and baggy dark pants.

The light is pouring through the two open windows so abundantly that the molten iron inside the furnace doesn't seem to stand out as much as it usually does.

Although Ivan has finally decided to join the anarchists, he hasn't managed to convince his brother to do the same. Ilya doesn't even buy that becoming an outlaw is the right path for Ivan at all.

"What a stupid thing to do", Ilya grumbles lowly now. "Think, Ivan, think! Who is going to take care of the children if anything happens to you?"

"You know Maria and Kostya will", Ivan asserts as he and Ilya hold a handle each and pick up yet another metal box, this one filled with sand.

"And you know exactly what I actually meant", Ilya counters. "Who is going to put food on the table while they are taking care of them?"

"We will find a way. Anarchists support and take care of each other. Once I join, my cell will not leave our family to perish." Ivan speaks in hushed tones, knowing he and his brother shouldn't be talking about this dangerous and very much illegal subject at the foundry, but the workday is long and boring, and even after hours of arguing at home, the brothers haven't come in any way closer to an agreement.

"You are going to have your family live out of stolen money?!" Ilya accuses his elder brother in an angry whisper as they pour the sand onto the metal box with the pattern inside.

"Expropriated", Ivan corrects him.

Ilya shakes his head in disbelief. "Those college students and intellectuals will abandon us all as soon as you are arrested." He goes to pick up a ramming tool and then begins flattening the sand.

"You don't know them as well as I do", Ivan retorts, "and they are not all intellectuals or even college students, most are peasants or workers like we are. I am tired, and I only want the best for my children."

"You know I would follow you to the ends of Earth, Ivan", Ilya gives up trying to argue. "So think carefully."

The brothers keep pouring the sand slowly, making sure it becomes firm in the box as they do. Having completed a few more steps, they release the pattern from the mold.

Once their gloves and visors are in place, they prepare for the scariest part of the process. Sparks fly and the heat becomes intense as the old crane with the molten metal is lowered. The brothers approach with the mold.

Oo

It is still quite early when Ivan, Ilya, and the other workers hear the first cannon.

Everyone stops whatever it is that they are doing. The Tsar has had another child, something Ivan couldn't care less about.

Another cannon is fired.

A couple of men whistle with joy. They know they may get the rest of the day off. Ilya reminds Ivan of this, and the father's mood immediately changes as he imagines an entire afternoon with his boy Dima and his little Sonya. Others stay silent or sit down on the floor to rest and chatter. Many count out loud.

Three, four, five. Most are too lazy to do so from the very beginning, only joining the chorus after the number of cannons fired has reached 70.

"25, 26, 27, 28!" The workers shout with excitement, glad for the distraction. Happy to have their hellish day interrupted. Ilya and Ivan are among those who gather outside the factory, where many other people await, also counting.

49, 50, 51, 52.

Women from the workshops across the street approach and search for their husbands.

66, 67, 68, 69.

When the 75th canon is fired, Ilya joins the ones counting. 79, 80, 81. He grins at his brother, who tries hard not to smile back.

"91, 92, 93, 94!" The enthusiastic crowd continues, louder than ever before. It is so contagious that Ivan can't take it anymore. "97, 98, 99!" He joins. "100, 101!"

When the 102nd cannon is fired, the crowd roars with joy. It also stops counting.

Oo

The artillerymen from the Fortress of Saints Peter and Paul haven't finished firing the 301 cannons when the Sudayev brothers rush home. They don't need to be told they have the day off. They know.

Ivan can't believe his eyes. The cannons keep booming as people from all walks of life celebrate like crazy. Everywhere he looks couples kiss on the sidewalks, men throw their caps in the air, and soldiers show everyone and each other their best traditional dancing skills in the parks. Some others play their balalaikas or accordions to provide them with music. Ivan is reminded of his life in the countryside and his heart is filled with nostalgia.

Men and women wave Russian flags from their balconies. White, blue, and red. Groups of people sing the national anthem. The poor, the wealthy, and those in between. Men, women, and children.

God, save the Tsar!

Strong, sovereign,

Reign for glory, for our glory!

Reign to make foes fear,

Orthodox Tsar!

God, save the Tsar!

For once, Ivan doesn't want to cover his ears.

When they get to their putrid little neighborhood, Ivan and Ilya find their friends and acquaintances celebrating as well. Of course Maria is celebrating. A picture of Tsar Nicholas II sits amongst the many icons of the corner, the icons that she prays with more than anyone else living in the flat. But even those who have lost their sons during the ongoing war are celebrating, Ivan realizes in awe. Even Kostya has forgotten about the shame his scars usually bring him.

His five-year-old Dima is dancing with baby Sonya, Maria standing nearby to make sure he won't drop her. Dmitri's laughter is immensely loud as he spins Sonya around, giving her big fat cheeks a long kiss or two every three seconds. It is clear what has brought about these displays of affection. Baby Sophia looks more adorable than ever with her growing red hair, dimples on her cheeks, and big brown eyes that follow her brother everywhere. She laughs and babbles uncontrollably at all the faces Dima makes at her, opening her eyes wide to make sure she is not missing anything.

They both look so happy that Ivan's chest tightens as he approaches to kiss them.

"Did you hear, papa?" Dima asks Ivan as the father picks up his baby daughter and showers her with kisses. "Auntie Masha says the future Tsar has been born, she says this is a sign things will get better."

Maria and Ilya have disappeared from sight. To have a private moment is what Ivan assumes.

"Yes, Dima", Ivan replies. "It appears to be that way."

"Are you happy?" The boy cocks his head.

"I am happy you are happy Dima", Ivan ruffles the child's hair, "but let me tell you a little secret." He kneels to talk to his son face to face. "He may be the heir to the throne, but the new Tsesarevich is no more special than our baby Sonya."

"He is not?" Dmitri's eyes grow bigger.

"Absolutely not", Ivan shakes his head. "I have made some new friends and…"

"Who are they?" The child asks before his father can continue.

"They call themselves the anarchists."

"The anartists?" Dmitri echoes.

"Do you know what they told me?" Ivan smiles at his child's mispronunciation.

"What?" The little boy jumps from excitement.

"They told me no one is better or worse than anyone else for being born rich or poor, the child of a beggar or that of a Tsar, man or woman, Jew, Orthodox or Catholic, Russian or from anywhere else in the world. We make ourselves better than our circumstances, and no matter what you hear around you, no one can force you to do anything you don't want just because he or she is more powerful, let alone supposedly better than you."

"Wow", Dmitri grins. "Really?" As much as Ivan has tried to simplify the anarchist ideology for his Dima, those were still big words for such a small child. Dmitri understands the sentiment behind it though. He feels his father's emotions.

"Really Dima. Don't ever, ever allow anyone to make you believe otherwise. You are just as precious as the pampered gymnasium boys with their shiny shoes you see walking down the Nevsky Prospect."

"Does that mean I can stay up after bedtime if I want to?" The little boy giggles.

"Well, I don't know about that", Ivan laughs, which makes baby Sophia chuckle along as if she understood what her father and brother were talking about. Ivan and Dmitri are so delighted by this that they try to prolong her laughter for minutes by making funny faces and noises at her. It is only after the little girlʼs giggles have subsided that Ivan answers his son's question. "How about we have a discussion and come to an agreement on how long you can stay awake each night?"

"Oh, yes, papa!" Dmitri claps, and yet again Sophia imitates him. "That would be great!" Ivan and Dmitri laugh at Sophia's mimicking and start trying to get her to clap again.

"What do you think, Dima?" Ivan asks amidst laughter. "Should your father be an anarchist?"

"But you already are, papa", the child's confusion is evident in his frown, "are you not?"

"Well… yes Dima", Ivan answers unsurely, "I meet with my friends often, but they need my help if we want to live in a world where everyone believes the nice things I just told you about and your papa can spend a lot more time with you."

"Is that why you have been away so much even after work?" Dmitri comes across as sad. "What do your friends need help for?"

This awakens something in Ivan. By way of answer, he kisses his daughter on the cheek. Emulating his father, Dmitri kisses his sister on the other cheek. They play with her for a while on the sidewalk where people celebrate still. Dmitri had a few of his wooden toys in his pockets and allowed his little sister to grab them.

Sophia babbles considerably already. She does so as she plays with her father and brother. Her first ever word was "Dima."

Oo

Ivan is being reminded of the countryside more now than ever. All of the neighbors are having an improvised party at the nearest park, and music they are playing with the accordions and balalaikas brings him back to his home village.

While Sophia rests in Maria's arms, Ilya and a few young lads are teaching Dima how to do the squat dance. It is quite hard, Ivan remembers with a smile. He hopes his Dima can someday master it. Ivan used to win all of the competitions in his village. That is how he met his wife, who swooned over his jumps and kicks.

Dancers squat with folded arms as they kick one leg and then the other, sometimes at the same time, alternating between high and low kicks. Squat dance demands tight muscles and good balance. Ivan can't do any of that anymore. His back would kill him, but he is enjoying the show, and he is most certainly enjoying watching his Dima have fun.

The new generation is just as good, Ivan admits to himself. Too bad they are dancing in a small park and not the endless green fields surrounding the crops of his village, where one could run for hours uninterrupted.

Ivan also remembers Ivan Kupala, the summer solstice feast. It takes place in June, during the shortest night of the year, when evil forces grow most powerful and you can't fall asleep lest you become one of their victims. Nymphs from the swamps and rusalki from the rivers make themselves known and are both at the service of Vodyanoy, the frog water spirit. Witches and demons also abound, and so does Leshi, the forest spirit. They can kidnap children to make them slaves, or so the legends Natalia believed wholeheartedly said.

As a means of protection, men would place nettle clusters on the thresholds. Sometimes we still do, Ivan thinks, amused. They are believed to keep bad spirits from entering homes. Ivan and his brother would take lots of precautions with their landlordsʼ livestock and the horses in particular so that the witches wouldn't steal them.

Some peasants even believe that Ivan Kupala is the only night in which people can understand plants and animals as they talk.

Ivan is being reminded of this feast in part because it never gets darker than dusk during the nights of the weeks surrounding Ivan Kupala. The sun never truly sets the night of the feast itself either, not even at midnight. The birth of the Tsesarevich can't help but feel like a different type of midnight sun to Ivan.

All these weeks have been nothing but darkness. Nothing but news of more and more men and boys lost, of broken promises from the employers. Even then, this baby boyʼs birth seems to have reminded everyone that hope is never truly lost. It is never truly dark. The midnight sun is there. The future of Russia.

Ivan doesn't know if he really believes in a better future without struggling for it. His heart wants to though, for the sake of his little Dima, who is still being taught how to dance.

The last time Ivan and his family stopped by their old village in order to visit some distant relatives, the children had the time of their lives.

Swimming during the night of Kupala is also a tradition. Ivan and his family would do so in a small lake. Remembering Andrei and Dmitri's joy always makes Ivan feel better after an awful day.

But one of the main elements of the feast is the bonfires by the river. People dance around and jump over them. It is said that the more you jump the luckier you will be in life. Some villagers also claim that if a couple jumps over the bonfire holding hands and is still doing so by the time they land on the other side, they will be happy together for the rest of their lives. Ivan is not so sure about the latter. He lost Natalia. He hopes there is some truth to the former though.

Very small children are not supposed to jump over the bonfire, and yet Ivanʼs little Dima did, many times. Maybe because he saw everyone else doing it and Ivan, Natalia, and Andrei had all carried the small boy in their arms as they jumped before. The mischievous and sneaky child had always wanted to try doing it all by himself though, so one time, while his father and mother were both distracted, he untangled himself from Nataliaʼs grasp and jumped over the fire without his parents' permission, coming out completely unharmed. The villagers saw it as a good omen.

Dmitri was scolded once his parents' fright had subsided, but it would not be the first time he got his way. Another time he accused his brother Andrei of hitting him, something he hadn't done, and while his parents were too busy scolding their eldest, Dmitri ran to the fire and jumped without a care in the world.

Ivan doesn't think anyone enjoys getting dirty as much as his Dima. In another life, he could have been a great, hardworking peasant, but it would be way too hard to get a good chunk of land in these times, and the father is sure neither his brother nor Maria will have any of it after what they have endured getting used to St. Petersburg.

Still, all Ivan wants is for Dmitriʼs life to be as happy and simple in the future. Forever. He just wonders… will that be possible?

The fatherʼs thoughts are interrupted when Dima manages to kick one leg and quickly return to his squatting position without falling. Ivan claps and cheers for his child. Everyone around does as well, even baby Sophia, still in her auntʼs arms.

"For the Tsarevich!" An old man exclaims. Dmitri nods at that. Ilya and Maria laugh. More cheers are heard. Cheers and whistling.

Ivan can hardly believe it himself, but the happiness is so contagious he is soon completely entrapped in it. He is ecstatic for some reason, and for instants, genuinely happy for the parents even, as if this child were a sign his real duty is with his own children.

His deeply held beliefs are stored in the back of his mind. His hatred subsides and remains solely directed at his greedy employers. Ivan can't help but remember, however, that this doesn't change the fact his little hope is just a baby, and that midnight suns only last a few weeks.

Oo

12th of August.

30th of July, to be precise. In Russia, the so-called Julian calendar, thirteen days behind the Gregorian calendar, is still used.

Nicholas and Alexandra's prayers have been answered.

For us a great, unforgettable day on which God's goodness was so clearly visited upon us. At 1:15 this afternoon, Alix gave birth to a son, whom in prayer we have named Alexei. Everything happened remarkably quickly, for me at least. There are no words to thank God properly for the comfort He has sent us in this year of hard trials.

Tsar Nicholas II is happier than ever and his diary entry reveals that. Today, his joy and that of his wife are unparalleled, leaving no room for a single worry. The long-awaited son and heir to the Russian throne is in the arms of his beloved sunny, who felt extremely well after the birth, looked radiant, and soon enough was happily breastfeeding.

Alexandra doesn't want to separate from her baby. She hasn't stopped looking at him. She hasn't stopped holding, cuddling, kissing, and feeding him. Caressing his face and each of his tiny fingers. She can't quite believe it is true yet and barely ever lets the nurses come between her and her newly born baby boy, only allowing them to do their job when absolutely necessary. Her chest is brimming with so much love she may explode.

Nicholas is so ecstatic he can hardly decide between staying with his wife all day long and telling the world about his boy through endless telegrams. The Tsar has done both, running around the corridors of the Lower Dacha from one room to the other like an excited little boy for hours.

Alexei. It had to be Alexei. Nicholas and Alexandra decided amidst exaltation and laughter that they had to break the cycle of Alexanders and Nicholases before they even started praying for a good name, which they carefully did.

The name they chose had been out of favor with the Romanov family. Ever since Peter the Great ordered his son and heir Alexei to be tortured to death, the Romanovs have avoided giving this name to heirs to the throne. There is even a legend regarding an alleged curse on the Romanov line that the bruised and bleeding Tsarevich Alexei managed to cry out before his death.

But Nicholas didn't care. He was set on this name. A name to honor St. Alexei of Moscow, the Metropolitan of Kiev and all of Russia from 1354 who saved Moscow from a Tatar raid by curing the blindness of Taidula Khatun, mother of Jani Beg, the Khan of the Golden Horde.

Nicholas II had long been attracted by the image of yet another Alexei, the Romanov Tsar Alexei I.

He still admires the religiosity of his ancestor deeply. Alexei I did a great deal for the Russian state. Not with cruelty or fierce will, at least not as much as Peter the Great, but with meekness and gradual reforms. And so, Nicholas gave his son this name. God had sent him a message. The name was perfect. It is perfect, and it also connotes "bringer of peace", among other meanings. What could be more suitable right now?

At long last have the cannons of the Peter and Paul Fortress in St. Petersburg boomed out the 301 volleys across the Neva River announcing the birth of a child who is not only the heir but also the first Tsesarevich to be born to a ruling Emperor rather than another heir since the seventeenth century.

People stopped in their tracks to count the number of volleys, which came every six seconds. The appearance of the streets changed quite suddenly, with national flags springing from every quarter, and five minutes after the 102nd gun had boomed out its glad tidings, the people had completely given themselves over to public rejoicing. The excitement only kept rising until the full 301 shots for a boy were given, upon which the wildest cheers erupted all over St. Petersburg and then the whole Empire as the telegrams carrying the happy news kept arriving everywhere.

Cities, towns, and villages all over Russia have broken out in celebration. The evening streets are now bright with electric illuminations of the famous Romanov coat of arms, which also decorates the gates and interiors of several palaces. It is embroidered or painted in several ceremonial uniforms. In plates and adornments. It serves as the Empireʼs official seal of approval.

The main element of this important symbol is the twin-headed eagle. These birds are very common among noble families. They are seen as majestic. The eagle is the king of the skies. It represents power and kingship. For this reason, the eagle was used by the Romans as well, and when their Empire split into two, the eastern Byzantines continued using it. They, however, used a double-headed eagle instead. The two heads of the eagle faced opposite sides to symbolize the fact they were looking both east and west.

Byzantium was the origin of the many Eastern Orthodox Churches, which continued using the double-headed eagle that eventually became a symbol of Eastern Europe. It is clear why the Orthodox Russian Emperors adopted the twin-headed eagle as well. Russia spans Asia and Europe. Looks east and west.

At the center of the dark brown twin-headed eagleʼs body is a red shield framed in gold surrounded by several decorations, among them five blue crosses of Saint Andrew, the apostle who preached to the Slavs living near the coasts of the Black Sea and the Dnieper River. The red shield itself depicts the patron saint of Moscow and the whole of Russia, Saint George, slaying the dragon.

In both the eagleʼs wings and surrounding the main shield are smaller shields symbolizing the regions of Russia conquered over the years. The Tsardom of Kazan, the Tsardom of Poland, the Tsardom of the Tauric Chersoneses, the Grand Duchies of Kiev, Vladimir, and Novgorod, the Tsardom of Astrakhan, the Tsardom of Siberia, the Tsardom of Georgia, and the Grand Duchy of Finland.

Both heads of the eagle are crowned by the same jeweled adornment used during coronation ceremonies. The scepter and orb are held by the eagleʼs claws as if the latter were the Tsarʼs hands, and a blue ribbon connects the two crowns worn by the twin heads with an identical but bigger ornament in the middle and on top of them, the one which crowns the entire coat of arms. The symbol of the Romanovs.

The newborn Tsesarevich is now the heir to that rich historic legacy, and most Russians could not be happier about it.

Orchestras play in the parks, constantly repeating the National Anthem. In many of the capital's best restaurants, champagne flows freely at the expense of the proprietors. Church bells have been ringing all day long.

Somewhere in one of the fanciest hotels of St. Petersburg, Countess Malevsky-Malevich and her lover Vladimir Popov happily celebrate the important event they care little for by making love amidst cologne scented bedclothes. They are planning to tiptoe to Peterhof the next morning without even warning Lilyʼs husband. For once she doesn't care about attracting suspicions. Her husband is oblivious either way.

The Grand Duke Michael is ecstatic by the news. No more of those nasty responsibilities being the heir carries. He is free. He is free and he has another nephew to spoil.

Despite the great wave of trouble throughout Russia, despite the huge storm still raging in the eastern lands and seas of the Empire, Alixʼs child, her boy, has made the nation rejoice for a moment.

Olga Alexandrovna, Tsar Nicholasʼs sister and happy aunt of yet another child to fuss over, is pretty sure that it was Seraphim who brought it about. So are the delighted parents, who bless the day they met their friend Philippe.

"Please, somehow or other, pass on our gratitude and joy", Nicholas is writing to Militza, who along with her sister Anastasia is responsible for introducing the imperial couple to their former spiritual advisor.

Oo

Not everyone was happy. For some, the news provoked nothing but irritation. For Gleb Stephanovich Vaganov in particular. Gleb was immensely annoyed by his classmates' reactions. They all seemed so happy for no reason. Babies are born every day. He was relieved when his lessons ended earlier than usual but was soon disappointed to discover that even his friends Peter, Leonid, Alexander, and Pavel had been sucked into that joyous madness. They started talking about the so-called miracle and the meaning it may have for Russia and the ongoing war as if half the babies born in the world weren't boys anyway. Statistically speaking, the tyrant and his wife had to have a boy sooner or later. Everyone became so stupid when the news arrived.

To make matters worse, in order to escape his friends' temporary stupidity, Gleb returned home only to get into a fight with his father for an incredibly dumb reason.

Gleb was smiling when he stepped into the flat. That is it. That was enough for Stephen to snap, as the man had suffered through a terrible workday, a workday that had also concluded in the worst possible way, with several of the coworkers he believed to have already done a good job educating cheering upon hearing the news of the heir's birth, congratulating each other on their ignorance. It had been absolutely unbelievable.

Stephen had never hit Gleb. Well, he had, once or twice back when the child was a lot younger, but he didn't do it anymore. Stephen has always protected his son, never letting anyone else lay a finger on him. On one occasion, Stephen used his own body to shield Gleb from a supervisor who was about to hit him, allegedly to correct the boy's work. Stephen lost his job that day, but no entitled bloodsucker got to harm his son. Not even a strand of his hair.

Stephen slapped Gleb today. He asked his son what it was that made him so happy, argued with him, interrogated him unsuccessfully for a few more minutes, and then hit him for the first time in years.

Stephen feels guilty though. Gleb was smiling for some reason and he jumped to conclusions without even thinking. But if all those exploited workers were celebrating the birth of the Tsesarevich, who is to say that his son, softened by years studying in a private gymnasium, wouldn't have?

Elena protested, just not enough, which angered Gleb further.

It is so unfair, the boy thinks. Gleb barely even remembered how it felt to be hit. The slap didn't hurt, but knowing his father had been angry enough to slap him in the first place did. It still hurts. He is never able to please him. And it is as if everyone had gone insane! It is just a baby, Gleb repeats in his head like a mantra. It is just a stupid baby. It truly is a stupid baby, the thirteen-year-old thinks, and in truth, he was smiling at the thought of Feodosia.

Gleb was smiling at the thought of Feodosia, and he didn't want his father to know this. Stephen would have congratulated him, sure, but then he would have started pestering him about talking to more and more people, because it is never enough. He is never enough.

For once not content enough with his mother's attempt at soothing him, Gleb went to Feodosia's house, hoping that walking in uninvited after becoming upset wouldn't count as one of those strange behaviors of his.

A few weeks ago, the girl had talked to Gleb after a meeting. She actually had. They had shared a short conversation along with other youngsters present that Gleb had barely managed to be a part of. He had been way too nervous.

Feodosia hadn't been nervous though. She had guided Gleb through it all and then invited him to see the secret part of the library, a small space that could only be accessed by moving one of the bookshelves of the living room, a bookshelf that was actually attached to a door. Inside, all of Feodosia the mother's illegal or suspicious books were kept. Gleb had never seen so many together.

Gleb is in the secret library now. He has escaped to read and talk about books with Feodosia. The two have become good friends these past few weeks, making the boy's deepest wishes come true. At least, Gleb truly hopes Feodosia considers him a friend.

Today, in particular, Gleb and Feodosia are having more fun than ever. That stupid baby was good for something, after all, Gleb admits.

Oo

Ivan holds Dima's hand as they both walk through the busy Sadovaina Street. They are talking about Andrushka and Natalia. Andrushka most of all. Dmitri likes to imagine what his big brother's life is like now in heaven. He misses playing with him.

The little boy still remembers all of his mother's stories. He doesn't talk about her as much as he did before Andrei died though. Not every day nor every night. He doesn't wake up asking for her either. Ivan knows this is a good thing, but part of him can't help but fear his wife's memory will gradually dissipate from his Dima's mind. A few outdated pictures are all they have to remember Natalia with now.

The five-year-old child is overjoyed by the many free treats he has received from vendors celebrating the heirʼs birth. Ivan smiles as he watches his son savoring a vanilla ice cream as if it were the most delicious thing in the world. There is nothing that could be more amusing.

They walk a few steps further and find Mr. Kolesov standing just outside his toy store giving out white, blue, and red balloons for free to the people passing by. Ipatiy Kolesov is a fat bald man in his late thirties with a black twirled mustache. He usually dresses in simple white shirts, dark pants, and black leather shoes, but today he is also wearing a bowler black hat, a blue tie, and his best purple vest.

In a seemingly good mood, the store owner greets Ivan and Dima by taking off his hat and smiling. Then he hands the small child a blue balloon.

"Wow!" Dima exclaims with the biggest smile on his face as he opens his eyes wide. Ivan never gets tired of how easy it is to make his son happy.

"What do you say when people are nice, Dima?" Ivan kneels next to Dmitri.

"Thank you!" Dmitri looks up at Ipatiy.

"You are very welcome", the man replies.

Ivan and Dmitri keep walking. If it weren't for the young heir's birth, Ivan would already have stolen something for his little Dima. He knows it is not right. He is setting a bad example that may someday get Dmitri into trouble, but he would do anything to amuse his son, to make him happy. Anything that causes Dima to make those mischievous sounds of joy and smile complicitly at him is something Ivan would risk getting in trouble for.

Whenever he walks down Sadovaina Street with his child, Ivan will try to buy him something. A chocolate, a candy. Simple things so many street vendors are giving out for free today. If he is not able to buy anything, the father will put a finger on his mouth and make funny faces at his boy, something that inevitably turns what he always does next a lot harder to hide. Ivan will then swiftly get hold of a small treat for his son, put it in his pocket, and then proceed to act naturally before anyone but the little Dmitri can notice what happened. The childʼs awe-stricken reaction always makes the petty offense worth it. One time, Ivan stole a balloon similar to the generous gift his Dima is playing with right now, something that was, of course, way harder to hide, but then again, it was worth it. Balloons are among Dmitriʼs favorite silly pleasures in life.

It is different this Friday, of course, but father and son are still heading towards the same place they frequent every Sunday evening. They call it the highest place in the world, although it is only the highest place Ivan knows how to reach in the city. It used to be the biggest hill surrounding their village back when they visited the countryside with regularity. Now it is the rooftop of a very tall white and yellow apartment building with conveniently terrible security.

Father and son climb up the stairs of a white conjoining building. Once they get to the top, they walk through the door that leads to the rooftop, where there is always a wooden ladder waiting for them. After tying the balloon around his child's wrist so it doesn't fly away, Ivan carries Dmitri on his back and makes sure the child is holding on tightly before he uses the ladder to climb to the rooftop of the slighter taller building.

To say the "highest place in the world" has a wonderful view would be an understatement. The gorgeous Winter Palace can be seen from there, and so can its many white columns and golden Romanov coats of arms.

Ivan and Dmitri also get a nice view of the dozens of other palaces and mansions located all over the Nevsky Prospect. They both love imagining who lives there and coming up with stories about them. Dmitri's stories can sometimes become incredibly far-fetched. He once said that someday, they would both live in a big house like that. Someone would invite them to. Perhaps they would work in the kitchen.

Most of all, Dmitri and his father enjoy seeing the Neva River and the Baltic Sea from afar. The sight is so beautiful that every time he reaches the perfect spot to contemplate it, Ivan lets out a gasp of wonder without fail. The little Dmitri, sitting on his fatherʼs shoulders, will often do the same.

"Bet you can see all the way to Finland from up there, Dima!" Ivan looks up at his son, letting out a little enthusiastic jump that makes Dmitri squeal in amusement. The child loves hearing his father say that, especially when he jumps. It feels so funny in his belly!

"Wow!" The five-year-old exclaims in awe, also trying to jump from his seat on top of Ivan's shoulders. "We will go to Finland someday too!"

"Oh, really? How?" Ivan keeps a firm grasp on his son's legs to make sure he doesn't fall off out of excitement.

"We'll go swimming if we have to!" The boy's little hands play with his father's red hair. "And we will take Auntie Masha and Uncle Ilya and Sonya too!"

"How is baby Sonya going to swim all the way to Finland, Dima?" Ivan looks up again with a grin, trying to get a glimpse of his son sitting behind him.

"We'll build her a little wooden crib so that we can push her around in the sea!" Dmitri replies. Ivan laughs wholeheartedly at this.

Sitting side by side with their legs hanging in the air to watch the sunset, father and son continue having a great evening spotting ships approaching the city and trying to guess what merchandise they carry or who the passengers are.

When the sun finally sets after a very long and bright day, fireworks start exploding in the sky, illuminating the already lit up streets further.

"Look, Dima!" The happy father points at one of these wonderful spectacles.

"Wow!" The child exclaims again. Dmitri's joy knows no bounds. His eyes grow big, his wide-open mouth locked in a never-ending wonderstruck expression.

While the fireworks may be amazing, the only thing Ivan wants to do is watch his son enjoy them. He looks down at him, smiles, and kisses the top of his head. The day has been crowned as one of the best they have ever had.

Oo

After attending a number of military maneuvers, Grand Duke Vladimir intended to have lunch with a few guests. Upon arriving at the table he was handed a telegram though, and the Grand Duke immediately disappeared.

The guests were left waiting for an hour before Vladimir returned. They all sat down in silence, and as the host did not speak, the rest could not do so either. Only the changing of the plates and the constant presenting of a fresh cigarette to the Grand Duke by the tall Cossack who stood at other times immovable behind his chair relieved the stillness.

After lunch, the Grand Duke absented himself once again. It was only later that the guests learned what exactly had cast such a gloom over their lunch.

Vladimir's hopes of sitting on the throne one day seemed more frustrated than ever. Neither was this dream likely for his sons Cyril, Boris, and Andrei.

Had he known then what Nicholas and Alexandra already suspected, the Grand Duke might have been a bit less gloomy.

Oo

The little Grand Duchess Maria once told a footman working at one of the palaces about a special doll of hers which had a laughing face and a crying face that said "Papa" and "Mama" respectively. It was one of her favorite dolls. Maria was able to rotate and thus change the faces depending on what she wanted to play each particular day.

After describing her amazing doll to the kind man, who listened to the young child joyfully, Maria asked him if his little girl had such a doll. Now, the footman was a bachelor, so unsurprisingly, he had no children.

"I have no little girl", the footman replied with an apologetic smile. Maria was very sad for him, and it showed. "I do have a niece", the man added to comfort the little Grand Duchess, omitting to mention that she was a grown woman.

"Does your niece have a doll like mine?" Maria asked him. He shook his head, so when the little Grand Duchess got back to the nursery, she took her darling doll and gave it to him for his niece. A small gesture that felt big for the Grand Duchess, who loves all of her dolls, especially baby dolls. She likes to kiss, squeeze, and take care of those precious toys.

When Anastasia was born, Maria became obsessed with her new baby sister, so much so that she ignored her dolls for days until she began to feel sorry for them. But the five-year-old Maria doesn't remember how her three-year-old little sister Anastasia looked like as a very small baby, at least not too well. Not anymore.

She knows what her little cousin Rostislav looks like. He is very cute, and Maria does love him, but he isn't really their baby like Anastasia was. Not fully.

For this reason, out of her sisters, Maria was the most excited by the prospect of meeting a real baby. Not a doll. A real little one who can move and is all theirs.

The five-year-old Maria has also grown increasingly curious about the way babies are born.

"Does the infant really get born from the mother?" She wrote to Alexandra shortly after being told another baby brother or sister was on the way. "Mama, please write to me how it is born."

Maria did this with great difficulty, as she just started reading and writing, and she has recently learned that the hand she prefers, the left hand, is strictly forbidden for her to use. But none of that stopped her. Babies fascinate her.

"When is the baby coming?" She had been asking her parents repeatedly days and even weeks before his birth. "When is the baby coming?"

The baby is now here. Through an imperial manifesto, Nicholas called upon all Russian subjects to join him in praying for the prosperity of his first son. An official announcement was soon published revoking the nomination of Grand Duke Michael as successor: "From now on, in accordance with the Fundamental Laws of the Empire, the Imperial title of Heir Tsarevich, and all the rights pertaining to it, belong to Our Son Alexei."

Dr. Ott and the midwife Madame Günst were once again handsomely rewarded for their services. Like his sisters before him, Alexei has been provided with a Russian wet nurse, Maria Geringer, whose special duty is to eat plenty of good food in order to produce equally good milk.

To celebrate, Nicholas took his three eldest daughters to a Te Deum prayer service at the Lower Dacha's chapel, and luckily for the little Maria, it didn't take long for her and her sisters to be allowed to enter their mother's room to see the baby.

The four girls were wearing their simplest white dresses, shoes, and short stockings. Olga was the first to walk in, followed closely by Tatiana, who was holding her hand. Not far behind, Maria and Anastasia also entered the room together.

Their mother was sitting on the bed with her arms wide open and the biggest smile they had ever seen on her face. Nicholas was sitting next to her, waiting. He greeted his daughters with great pride in his eyes.

Olga and Tatiana ran to hug and kiss their mother. The little pair entered the room a bit slower, tentatively, their curious eyes already searching for the baby.

"Hello, big sisters!" Alexandra hugged her two eldest daughters back.

"Where is the baby?" Olga looked between her parents as Alexandra kissed her on top of the head. Maria was the first to notice a nurse was carrying the family's newest member. She immediately turned to look at him.

"Oh!" Maria grinned widely, covering her mouth with her hands out of pure sheer joy. "A baby!"

"A baby!" Nicholas and Alexandra echoed at the same time, immensely endeared by their third daughter's delight. "Dear, will you please?" Alexandra turned to the wet nurse Maria Geringer and extended her arms to hold her son.

"Baby brother!" Anastasia ran towards the nurse. Olga and Tatiana remained with their mother, but their attention had shifted to the baby as well.

"Yes, darling!" Nicholas stood up and went to pick his youngest daughter up. "Do you want to see him?"

"Yeah!" The three-year-old Anastasia nodded.

"You will have to be very nice and careful with him, all right?" Nicholas kneeled to hold his daughter. "If you are going to kiss or touch him you must do so very slowly, very gently."

The little girl opened her eyes wide and nodded.

"Mommy, are you all right?" Maria approached the bed where her mother sat between Olga and Tatiana.

"Yes, my love, I feel very good", Alexandra received Alexei in her arms with a warm smile directed at her little Maria. "That would be all, Miss Geringer, thank you", she told the nurse, who curtsied before leaving the room to let the family have their special moment together.

Comfortably cuddling their mother, Olga and Tatiana were the first to see the baby from up close, squealing with excitement upon doing so.

The girls started discussing the infantʼs looks and behavior in spite of the fact that there wasn't really much to discuss. Like Alexandra's four daughters before him, Alexei too had been born slightly bigger and heavier than most babies, but other than that, the youngest member of the Romanov family looked just like any other newborn. Pale, small, wrinkly, somewhat red, and almost bald.

He wasn't crying, sleeping, or being breastfed. Not at the moment. But very naturally, that is all the little hope of Russia had done since his birth moments ago while more than half the nation put their hopes and dreams on him. This little baby had no clue of how much was and would be expected of him.

Olga and Tatiana saw much more, however, as they didn't expect anything at all from him. Alexei had his light blue-gray eyes wide open and that was enough. He already had those girls wrapped around his little finger. While unable to see clearly yet, his blinks, eye movements, and even yawns delighted Olga and Tatiana, who could interpret anything as a sign of sorts.

"He likes me!" Tatiana giggled.

"Nope", Olga shook her head. "He finds you boring, which is why he yawned." Both girls started laughing.

"My baby brother!" The little Anastasia repeated, now in her father's arms. Like her two oldest sisters, was also deeply amused and interested by all of the baby's movements. "Is that my baby brother?"

"Yes he is, my darling", the Tsar kissed his youngest daughter's cheek countless times. He could not have been more thrilled. Nicholas made sure to pick up Maria with his other arm so both little girls could get on the bed. "You will be gentle too, right?" He kissed Mariaʼs cheek as well, and the five-year-old Grand Duchess nodded.

Once in bed, the two younger girls crawled to sit just in front of their mother, brother, and older sisters. For an instant, Anastasia's speed worried Alexandra, but her daughter cautiously stopped near the baby and observed him with curiosity. The mother let out a sigh of relief and smiled.

"There", Alexandra introduced her son to her two youngest daughters as if the newborn could already understand her. "Those are your sisters, yes they are." Olga, Tatiana, and Anastasia giggled.

"Oh, hi!" Maria waved her hand and greeted the baby with a high-pitched voice that made her mother laugh out loud. "Papa, what is he called?"

"We are naming him Alexei, darling", the father stood around closely to make sure the girls, especially the two youngest, were indeed careful with the baby.

"My baby brother!" Anastasia kept saying as she looked between her father and brother with a big smile. "Yay!" By now, the youngest Romanov daughter was all but jumping on the bed. Nicholas smiled and kissed her again, this time on the forehead.

Olga and Tatiana continued to watch their baby brother with deep interest. Anastasia was immensely curious more than anything. Curious and amused.

Maria, in particular, was fascinated by this tiny human being who had arms, legs, eyes, ears, and a mouth like everyone else and yet seemed so different as well. So small and delicate. He needed to be cared for. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to squeeze him. She wanted him to be happy. She was experiencing something she didn't remember feeling as strongly before, not even with her baby dolls. Protectiveness. Each tiny movement her little brother made sent waves of love and tenderness to her young heart, which was in awe of the incredible new feeling, so big for someone as young as the five-year-old Maria.

"Our very own baby!" The chubby little girl gushed before leaning to kiss Alexei on the forehead rather abruptly. She had not been able to wait any longer to show her affection.

"Gentle, dear", Alexandra stroked her daughter's hair as tears of happiness started welling up in her eyes. Her third daughter's reaction had been incredibly moving for her. Maria leaned to kiss her brother again, this time slower. Anastasia too decided to show her affection by caressing her little brother's blanket-covered legs in a sort of awkward but also loving manner.

The baby made a short high sound, making everyone else in the room become silent. They thought he was about to cry. Alexei remained calm though, and he continued moving his little head, arms, and legs around. His big blue-grey eyes appeared to be searching for something.

"He is so cute!" Tatiana leaned on her mother's shoulder as she gave the newborn Alexei her pinky finger so he could hold it. Maria couldn't stop beaming. Anastasia giggled incessantly. Olga's eyes, just like her mother's, had started filling with tears of joy.

"What does the name Alexei mean, papa?" Olga asked without taking her tearful eyes off the baby. The eldest Romanov daughter was using a finger to caress the infant's head softly.

"Defender", Nicholas replied as he wiped away a tear from Olga's face. He then kissed her hair before continuing. "Defender, helper, or warrior. Isn't that a nice meaning, sweetings?"

"Oh, yes, papa!" Tatiana clasped both hands together and placed them next to her head as she tilted it. "It is perfect!"

"Our very own baby!" Maria continued beaming. "I love him, papa, I love him." She kissed the baby's forehead again.

"We can only pray he will grow to be of great help to his father once he is older", Alexandra caressed each of her daughters with one hand. "And that he is always a fierce little defender of his mother and big sisters."

"And of his motherland as well", Nicholas emphasized.

"He will be papa!" Tatiana exclaimed. "He is already so strong! Look how tightly he is squeezing my pinky finger again! I could barely get it away from his grasp a while ago!"

Nicholas, Alexandra, and Maria smiled tenderly. Olga giggled.

"He gon' kill lots Japs!" Anastasia exclaimed, making her parents and sisters laugh out loud.

The family kept gushing over the baby for a long time. They took notice of the little light blond hair he had and wondered whether it would remain the same color or become similar to that of Olga.

"I hope he has my hair color", the eldest girl smiled.

"Indeed, there has to be another blond in the family already", Nicholas joked.

The family started having fun imitating the little baby sounds Alexei would make and talking about who they thought he looked or would look like. Every few minutes, the three-year-old Anastasia would ask her mother the funniest questions, becoming somewhat displeased whenever the Empress was unable to answer them properly. How does he feel? Does he like us, mama? Is he happy, mama? Why is he doing that? Does that mean he is happy or sad? Is he happy or sad, mama?

"I love him papa", Maria would say repeatedly. On one occasion, without any sort of permission whatsoever, she tried but failed to snatch her baby brother away from her mother's arms in order to hold him, making Alexandra feel as if she were about to have a heart attack. Tatiana's good reflexes kept Maria from succeeding.

"You should have asked first", Nicholas scolded Maria gently. "We could have placed Alexei in your arms so very carefully and taught you how to hold him properly, like a true grown-up mommy."

Maria smiled at her father with eagerness. Very lovingly, Alexandra proceeded to teach her how to hold the baby correctly. "Would you like to try again now?" She asked Maria, whose joy was unmatched as she extended her little arms and looked at the baby with adoration.

Something surprised both Nicholas and Alexandra. Olga didn't protest nor bring up the fact she was the eldest. At all. In fact, Olga helped and encouraged the very excited Maria with evident fondness, placing her little sister's happiness above hers. Alexandra wouldn't have blamed Olga if she had indeed protested, but the fact she didn't could only mean her big girl was growing and maturing beautifully.

One by one, the girls got to hold their baby brother, talk to and kiss him. First Maria, then Olga, and later Tatiana. Even the three-year-old Anastasia got to hold him. She was, of course, supervised by her mother.

Olga became very sentimental, causing a deep impression on Tatiana, who cried almost as much as her. The big pair had a deep emotional bond, their moods affecting each other.

"Look at that, my sunbeam", Alexandra talked to her baby boy as little Anastasia held him and the three remaining girls smiled at him, touching his little head and feet. "You are going to grow up surrounded, completely surrounded by love."

As the day reached its end, Nicholas and Alexandra had a discussion lying in bed. Olga's impressive growth became the main topic.

"We seem to have the same thoughts, because I noticed it as well, sunny", Nicholas said. "And to think our Olga is only eight! Her behavior today was quite heartwarming and impressive."

"I think our baby girl should be rewarded for her big heart and sensitivity", Alix suggested.

"A nice way of doing so would be making her one of the baby's godmothers."

Oo

The first couple of days following the birth of their son were not entirely easy or even happy for the imperial couple. A persistent worry they didn't talk about in front of their daughters troubled their minds.

When his umbilical cord was cut, Alexei bled profusely. The midwife, Günst, had simply swaddled the baby too tightly. This is traditional Russian practice, but the pressure of the tight binding over Alexey's navel had triggered a hemorrhage, causing him to scream out in a frenzy of pain. Alexandra's heart broke constantly at the mere reminder.

That same day, Grand Duke Peter, a grandson of Nicholas I, visited the Lower Dacha along with his wife Militza, one of the Montenegrin sisters. They both offered the imperial couple their congratulations.

As the Grand Duke bid the parents farewell, the deliriously proud father confessed to him that even though Alexei was a big and healthy child, the doctors were somewhat concerned about the frequent splatters of blood in his swaddling clothes. Militza was shocked when Peter told her this and insisted on the doctors being informed about the hemophilia cases that have occasionally been passed down through the female line of Queen Victoria, the Tsarina's maternal grandmother. The Grand Duke tried to calm his wife, assuring her that the Tsar had been in the best of spirits. Nevertheless, Militza insisted, and Peter phoned the palace to ask the Tsar what the doctors had to say about the blood splatters.

When the Tsar replied saying that the physicians hoped the bleeding would soon stop, Militza snatched the receiver and asked if they could explain the cause of the bleeding. Nicholas could not give her a clear answer.

"I beg you", Militza spoke with the calmest voice she could manage, "ask them if there is any sign of hemophilia. Should that be the case, the doctors may be able to take certain measures."

The Tsar fell silent on the phone for a long time. He couldn't even think. When he was finally able to speak again, he started asking Militza questions about the illness.

Nicholas ended the call by quietly repeating the word that had staggered him over and over again.

Hemophilia, hemophilia.

Oo

It took the doctors two days to control the bleeding, after which Nicholas wrote to Militza on behalf of Alexandra explaining what they had said.

Thank God the day has passed calmly. After the dressing was applied from 12 o'clock until 9.30 that evening there wasn't a drop of blood. The doctors hope it will stay that way. Korovin is staying overnight. Fedorov is going into town and coming back tomorrow. The little treasure is amazingly placid, and when they change the dressing he either sleeps or lies there and smiles. His parents are now feeling a little easier in their minds. Fedorov says that the approximate amount of blood loss in 48 hours was from 1/8th to 1/9th of the total quantity of blood.

Weeping bitter tears, Alexandra had taken Maria Geringerʼs hand. "If only you knew how fervently I have prayed for God to protect my son from our inherited curse", she had told her, already well aware that the blight of hemophilia had descended upon them.

Throughout the following weeks, however, Nicholas and Alexandra would remain in a state of denial, hoping against all odds that once the bleeding stopped everything would be well, and that their beautiful baby boy would turn out to be healthy after all. He looks healthy, Alexandra told herself. Her sunbeam, the sunshine of her life, had an impressive amount of strength and vitality for such a young baby. He was big, strong, and rosy. Upon seeing him being bathed, even Grand Duchess Xenia had commented on little Alexei's amazing heftiness. With a chest like a barrel, the heir was so robust and energetic he had the air of a warrior knight.

Alexandra didn't want to believe it. The truth was far too cruel.

Oo

Alexei's birth has indeed been a ray of shining joyful news amidst an incredibly dark year, absorbing for some time the whole attention of the public and diverting it from what is taking place in Asia, but the war is far from over.

Just two days before Alexei's birth, the so-called Battle of Yellow Sea took place. Enemy ships fired at each other. Flames and smoke spread through the air as the men unfortunate enough to have been sailing on the targeted ships burnt or jumped into the saltwater to save themselves. 340 Russian sailors were killed or wounded, and a battleship was severely damaged.

The special child was born between two major clashes. Two days after he came into the world, the Battle of Ulsan was raging. 343 Russians died, 652 were wounded, one of their armored cruisers was sunk, and two more were damaged. The Japanese, on the other hand, lost less than 50 men, and only one of their cruisers was damaged.

Less than a month later, the first major land engagement of the Russo-Japanese War began. Named after the Manchurian city on the outskirts of which it is taking place, the Battle of Liaoyang had been planned for three months with the building of several defensive structures near the settlement. The size of the Manchurian Russian army was 152 000 men. The Japanese numbered thousands less, but they were the first to attack in the hopes of surrounding the Russians.

The Siberian Cossack division has played a great and honorable role in the battle, its members throwing themselves into the fiercest fire to defend their positions from the Japanese or carry their wounded out of harm's way. Both cavalry and infantry stand amongst artillery explosions as they kill hundreds of men and horses. The Cossacks fight with so much composure and courage that the Japanese infantry has more than once stopped before them.

The formidable warriors known as Cossacks are a group of predominantly East Slavic Orthodox Christian people. They are a somewhat contradictory breed. Best known for having formed democratic, self-governing, and semi-military communities in the steppes of Eastern Europe, the Cossacks have been for years among the most trusted military forces of the Russian Empire. They have also represented a constant headache for generations of Russian Tsars who have endeavored to keep them in line. The Cossacks are not a race, a nation, or a profession. They are all of that combined. They don't belong to any particular nationality and many have mixed ancestry. Most are Russian and Orthodox. Several are Old Believers. Their principles and way of life are what truly unites and identifies them as Cossacks though.

The word Cossack itself means free man, vagabond, or fortune seeker. The first of them lived on the outskirts of the Russian duchies in fortified colonies set up to resist attacks from nomadic tribes. These settlements were havens for people who had chosen freedom and danger before safety, for as serfdom, taxes, and centralized government emerged in Russia, Cossack domains started taking in runaway serfs, criminals, or whoever chose to go there.

The first Grand Princes of Moscow began the succession of attempts at putting the Cossacks at the governmentʼs service during the battles against the nomadic Tatars. Under Ivan the Terrible, the Cossacks stood guard against the enemies of Moscow.

In the 17th century, Moscow organized to rule over the Cossacks, but they valued their freedom more than anything else. They governed themselves and attacked Russia's neighbors, disturbing the Ottoman Empire with their raids even at times when the government wished to uphold peace.

The time came when the areas traditionally inhabited by Cossacks officially became parts of Russia. This threat to their independence was the source of several rebellions through the years.

The Cossacks were eventually subdued during the reigns of both Peter the Great and Catherine the Great, becoming an essential element of the Russian nation as the years went by, with special privileges and responsibilities. There are now dozens of different Cossack hosts or armies distributed across the Russian Empire, the Don Cossack host of Ukraine being the largest and oldest one. The leader or supreme military commander of each host is known as the Ataman or Hetman. During peaceful periods, the hosts disband and the Cossacks return to their unrestricted way of life on the steppes, free from several taxes but strictly obliged to appear to be drafted, armed and on a horse at the Tsar's first call to defend the motherland.

The Siberian Cossacks are those who settled in the Asian regions of Russia following Don Cossack Ataman Yermak Timofeyevich's conquest of Siberia. In the early days of Russiaʼs eastwards expansion, many Siberians were referred to as Cossacks without necessarily being so because they were neither landowners nor peasants, but most of them came from northwest Russia and had little connection to the Don Cossacks of the south. They served on the outskirts of the Russian land, protected its borders, and expanded its influence outwards.

Members of the Trans-Baikal host formed beyond the beautiful Siberian Lake Baikal can be identified by their dark green uniforms with yellow stripes. The Japanese were so terrified of them that if their numbers did not exceed those of the Cossacks by more than five times, they did not dare attack.

Most Cossacks can be recognized by their hairstyle, mustaches, or colorful clothing. Boys are taught how to ride, use a sword, and fire a gun from the age of ten. Their upbringing is harsh. Both girls and boys work in the fields side by side with their parents. Their games are military. Singing and dancing are also important for them, as it is said that a true Cossack should always be jolly and fearless.

Cossacks are raised and prepared since birth to serve the Tsar anytime it is needed. They are more loyal even than the average peasant, which is why they are often quite unwisely used by the Tsarist government as a police force to stop strikes, riots, and pogroms despite the fact they are not properly trained to be anything other than lethal warriors.

Oo

In spite of the Russians' bravery and numerical advantage, luck seems to be favoring the modernized and well-prepared Japanese. Even then, the general feeling is that the birth of an heir after so many anxious years of disappointed hopes will change the destiny of Russia. It has certainly made Nicholas optimistic about the outcome of the war. An imperial manifesto following his son's birth granted numerous political concessions. A political amnesty was also issued to all prisoners with the exception of those convicted of murder. A fund was set up for military and naval scholarships as well.

"I am more happy at the birth of a son and heir than at a victory of my troops," the Tsar said, "for now I face the future calmly and without alarm, knowing by this sign that the war will be brought to a happy conclusion." Believing this wholeheartedly and hoping to boost the morale of the soldiers fighting in Manchuria, the proud father made all of these brave heroes, as he calls them, Alexei's godfathers. Hundreds of battle-hardened soldiers were undoubtedly thrilled when they heard of this.

The honors and symbolic titles awarded to the infant heir seem endless. His Imperial Highness, Sovereign Heir and Tsesarevich, Grand Duke Alexei Nikolaevich of Russia, Ataman of all Cossacks, Knight of the Order of St. Andrew, Head of the Siberian Infantry, of the Horse Battalion Infantry, and Head of the Cadet Corps.

Not only are the brave fighting men becoming little Alexei's godfathers but also his grandmother the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna, his sister Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna Romanova, his great uncle Grand Duke Alexei Alexandrovich, King Christian IX of Denmark, England's King Edward VII, and the German Kaiser Wilhelm II, who sent Nicholas a warm letter upon hearing of this:

Dearest Nicky,

What a very kind thought that was of yours to ask me to be godfather to your little boy! You can well imagine what our joy was when we read your telegram announcing his birth! "A long wait brings good results," says an old German proverb, so may it be with this little dear one! May he grow to be a brave soldier a wise powerful statesman, and may God's blessing always rest on him preserve him from all harm of body soul. May he always be a ray of sunshine to you both during your life.

With best love to Alix the "Sunray"

I remain,

Ever your most devoted affectionate friend cousin,

Willy.

Oo

Peterhof. August 24, 1904.

Alexandra Feodorovna Romanova.

Never since my arrival at Russia have I known such happiness or felt this blessed. The days following my joy's birth have been so glorious I barely feel shy around strangers anymore. Why should I? I have fulfilled my most important duty as Empress. Even my sister Ella has noticed that I am more ongoing than ever.

I thank God for His precious gift as I smile down again at the real cherubic sunbeam I still hold tenderly in my arms. I finished breastfeeding him minutes ago, but I simply can't stop looking.

I feel so close to God it is as if I were praying, but this is nothing new. Every day, I sit down on my couch and stare at my beautiful baby boy for hours, admiring his chubby pink cheeks, his little blond hair, and his big long-lashed bright blue-grey eyes, already so alert and observing.

My baby shows signs of having inherited my and my husband's most beautiful facial features exclusively. His fingers are long, indicating he will be tall. I know how insecure his height can make my poor beloved Nicky sometimes. I am so very glad that won't be my sunshine's case.

I am his mother, so it is unsurprising that I find him breathtaking, but neither Nicky nor I are the only ones who think he is beautiful. Everyone who has had the chance to meet my sunbeam has said so. My sister Ella, Sergei, Minnie. Every day he receives endless admirers. Senior courtiers exclaim that he is a chubby, rosy, wonderful boy. My baby was born on Miss Eagarʼs birthday, so I playfully introduced her to him saying he was my birthday present. She says he is very beautiful, and that his lovely eyes remind her of my little Maria's big blue saucers.

All of the nannies shook their heads with amusement when I told them, but my baby already smiles. He did so less than a week after his birth. Everybody says a mother's heart can play tricks, but I know what I saw. He truly did smile. I know he is special as well. So happy, highly spirited, and receptive to love for someone as young. What I really do not know is what blessing brings me the most pleasure, the sight of the gorgeous angel incarnate the love of my life and I have created together, the source of joy and amusement he is to my girlies, or the delight in my darling Nicky's eyes as he watches, carries, hugs, kisses, or tries to play with our little Alexei. His most absolute pride and joy.

My husband doesn't miss an opportunity to show our sunbeam off to friends, relatives, visitors, and ministers whose meetings will be surely interrupted regardless of what our baby may be doing. If he is being bathed Nicky will invite everyone in to gaze. It is quite amusing.

The love I have for my darling girls has only grown, if that is even possible. Despite my initial concerns, the arrival of the little one has not brought about any sort of jealousy from any of the four. My daughters are delighted with their new brother and make many quaint and critical remarks about him. They dote on Alexei almost as much as Nicky and I do. Every day, beaming with joy, they will eagerly ask whether and when they will be able to hold him. My girlies are always helping me and the nannies nurse our sunbeam and giving him kisses, especially my sweet Maria. Our gorgeous cherub behaves just as she did back when Anastasia was born, that loving little mother!

Tatiana follows my instructions on how to take care of the gift we now call "baby" with careful precision. Olga has started trying to teach him how to speak already. A little bit too early, I guess, but I would never dare say so out loud in front of my eldest. Perhaps her efforts will soon bear fruit. And each of my little Anastasia's comments is a tiny jewel! She had never been around such a tiny baby for as long as she has now, so quite understandably, being able to observe one from up close almost every day fills her active mind with awe and curiosity. Alexei's birth has brought her so much glee that just catching a glimpse of him drives her to a frenzy of giggles.

Miss Eagar told me that shortly after my baby boy was born, she caught Anastasia eating peas with her fingers again. She always does that. It is becoming quite hard to make Anastasia see the importance of keeping her hands and clothes clean, an endearing trait that is not too worrisome now but may very well be in the future. Margaretta, of course, reproved my little girl, saying very seriously: "Even the new baby does not eat peas with his fingers."

My daughter looked up and said: "'es him does - him eats them with him's foots too!"'

My husband and I laugh so very much every time we recall the incident!

I kiss my dear baby on each of his chubby cheeks and then on the forehead again. I am sure he smiles. The physical pain he has already endured would be too much for anyone, let alone such an innocent. I had a nightmare last night. He was screaming, loudly. He was experiencing the same amount of pain I go through every time the dreaded sciatica reminds me of its hateful and unwelcome existence by shooting fire through legs, burning them. He might have been suffering even more. I find it almost too dreadful to bear.

I know what is going on. It all fits and I know I am only fooling myself by hoping I will be wrong despite the many ominous signs. The excessive bleeding after they cut his umbilical cord. My English family's inherited curse and my friend Philippe's bell warning me about the angel of death, who will surely be quietly following my boy closely behind for the entirety of his life… for what remains of... oh, no! It can't be! How could God have granted us such a perfect gift after so many years of praying only for this to happen?

I cuddle my baby again and he clings to me, seemingly appreciating my affection. From the day of his birth, Alexei has been showered with love and affection from our close-knit family. In spite of what he has endured, the early first weeks of his life have been full of love and happiness. I find comfort in that fact. He is a peaceful and surprisingly calm baby who barely ever cries, just like Tatiana was, as sweet and loving as Maria, as attentive as Olga, as high-spirited as Anastasia. I don't think he even remembers he has ever been in pain. Maybe our love has successfully and fully soothed and overshadowed the little one's horrible experience. It may continue doing so if he does turn out to have…

I should not think about that. Right now, my sunbeam looks as healthy and lovely as ever, but what makes today special is that he is about to be baptized. The elegant white christening gown he is wearing only makes him look all the more adorable.

"Are you ready dear?" My Nicky steps into our room.

"You know the answer to that question very well", I give him a sad smile. "It will be so sad to be away from him during this precious day." Still, I must respect the Orthodox tradition. Parents shouldn't be at their children's baptisms. Missing Olga's was immensely hard. It became easier with each of my girls, but the birth of my son has only renewed that grief. How lucky my big Olga is to be able to attend!

Nicky comes over and kisses me on the lips to comfort me, doing so for a long time.

"Oh, stop it, Nicky!" I playfully push him away with an elbow. "We are in front of the baby!"

"All I am hoping is that the Mistress of the Robes won't drop our little one on the font", Nicky leans to kiss our baby on the forehead.

I giggle like a little girl at that. The Mistress of the Robes is, as usual, going to be the elderly Princess Maria Golitzyna. Her role will be to carry our baby in a golden cushion to the font where he will be baptized. The days preceding the christening we started fearing for our sunbeam though. And who could blame us after the fright we went through?

Fortunately, Princess Golitzyna will have rubber soles on her shoes so as to avoid slipping while carrying Russia's precious heir. A gold-colored band will be slung over her shoulder as well, another precaution to prevent our treasure from being dropped.

Nicky sits on the arm of my sofa and lays his head on top of mine after kissing it. We stare at the sunshine of our lives, both with huge grins on our faces. Our little baby stares back.

"Just look at him, sunny", Nicky smiles at me. "He has our sweet Maria's big eyes."

"Yes", I nod, "but I think his nose is mine."

"Anastasia's as well", Nicky points out. "She also inherited your nose, I would say, and his features are as fine as hers."

"All we know for sure is that he is beautiful."

"They all are, our five little angels", my husband adds. "Look, he is getting sleepy."

"Well, I hope not", I say. "He has a long and important day ahead." Nicky chuckles. "What do you think he dreams about when he sleeps?" I ask. "Do you think he dreams, love? Do you think he ponders what it will be like when he is older and has to help you deal with the ministers?" I joke.

"Oh, I am sure not, sunny!" He laughs, and I do too. "Why would he want to deal with the likes of Witte? That man complains to me every time any of his ideas goes wrong and takes the credit for mine whenever everything goes as planned!"

My husband starts caressing Alexei's pink cheek. "You are not looking forward to that, right?" He talks to our boy using a silly tone of voice. Then he looks back at me. "If he has dreams, sunny, I bet they are about how much he loves to be around us."

"He is a real miracle, Nicky, oh!" I exclaim. "Sometimes I cannot believe he is truly here already, that our family is complete. God is indeed good having sent us this sunbeam now, precisely when we all need him so much. Now you have baby to bring up to your ideas so as that he can help you in the future once he is big, working alongside you and lightening your heavy burden. May God give us the force to bring baby up well, as well as we have brought up our daughters."

Nicky's eyes light up at the reminder of our girlies.

"Oh, sunny! I can't wait to see them in their miniature court dresses!"

Oo

Olga Nikolaevna Romanova.

I cannot believe I am actually going to be my baby brother's godmother! I am almost nine, but I truly thought only full grownups were allowed to be godmothers or godfathers.

Papa tells me being a godmother is a very important thing. It means I have to protect little Alexei and guide him to be a good Christian. I can do that! I like going to church, and I love God. I am going to teach the baby everything I know.

My new baby brother is very cute. He is very blond like I am, pink, and small. He likes me very much already, mama says so. She says he always pays attention when I talk to him.

Papa says his eyes are as big as Masha's. Maria herself thinks he looks like one of her baby dolls. Tatiana has told me he looks like her back when she herself was a tiny baby. Anastasia, because no one else would have dared, confessed amidst giggles that she thinks he is quite ugly, but that she loves him anyway.

Today is Alexei's christening! My sisters and I are, of course, assisting. Tatiana and I are preparing for the happy event in the room we two share, already dressed almost the exact same way mama does on special occasions. Tatiana is very happy about it. She has spent all morning gushing about how pretty our dresses are.

We are wearing long white stockings and child-sized court dresses made of light blue satin and embroidered with small silver circles. They aren't long enough to reach our toes, but despite their length and color, our gowns are pretty similar to what our aunts and grandmother will be wearing. Several silver buttons are sewn in over the cloth that covers our chests and legs, one by one lined up from the top to the bottom of the dresses, vertically splitting them in the middle. More embroidered silver decorates them, outlining the wide collar surrounding our shoulders, our long open sleeves, and the long line of buttons.

We are also wearing silver shoes and light blue kokoshniks tied behind our necks with bows. Kokoshniks are traditional Russian half-moon-shaped headdresses, lines of embroidered pearls outlining their shape. A red ribbon is tied across our torsos, going from each of our right shoulders to our left hips. Over our left breasts sits the Order of St. Catherine, which is a pretty shining star made up of many small diamonds. My baby brother is the first out of my siblings to be awarded the Order of St. Andrew instead for being a boy.

Our baptism crosses are hidden under our dresses, but its golden chains around our necks can be easily discerned. We are also wearing short pearl necklaces that can be fully seen though. Mama loves pearls, they are her favorite jewels, and her favorite necklace is a long string of wonderful pearls that she wears very often. This string is so long that she can wear it twice around her neck. Each birthday and name day, mama will give me and my sisters a single pearl and a single diamond so that by the time we come of age we will have two full necklaces, a diamond necklace and a pearl necklace. Tanechka was in awe of our mother's cleverness when she told us this was cheaper than buying full necklaces.

Our brother will also be wearing a pretty dress. Maria says this is funny, but neither Tatiana nor I think so. Alexei has only ever worn dresses. Mama explained to me that baby boys are made to wear them until they are breeched at about four years old. Then they get to wear pants. Mama says it makes changing the diapers way easier for the nurses. I would not know about that. Unlike Tatiana, who wants to learn how Alexei's diapers are changed, I can't bear to stay around that awful smell. Neither can Mashka, as much as she tries to deny it. She is never able stay in whatever room he is being changed at for too long.

I am looking at myself in a small body mirror when Tatiana approaches me. "Olenka!" She exclaims. "Your order is crooked." My dear sister stands in front of me, just a bit shorter than I am, and sets my Order of Saint Catherine straight.

"Thank you!" I hug her.

"Oh, Olga!" Tatiana clasps her hands together as we both pull away and turn to look in the mirror. "We both look so pretty! Like the princesses from the tales mama and Babushka always tell us about!"

We really do. I stare at our reflections. Her wide-set almond-shaped grey eyes shine with excitement and her long auburn hair falls freely behind her kokoshnik. My round blue eyes and even longer blonde hair blend in perfectly with my light blue dress.

"And we look almost like grownups", I smile proudly. "I think from now on we will get to assist many more special functions with papa and mama, would not that be fun?"

"I think so, yes! Especially if we get to wear these dresses with mama, I do love them so, and I am so happy we have a little brother now", Tanya gushes. "It is something new, and he is so cute!"

She says that Alexei is cute every day because it is true.

"But we have to go together everywhere", she adds, taking my hands as if reading my mind. "Always."

"Yes!" I jump. Still holding hands, we start spinning in circles. "Forever and ever!"

"And if they tell us one should go without the other we say no."

Two of our nannies enter the room.

"It is time", one of them says. My sister and I are so thrilled that we start jumping.

Oo

An enlarged cortège of Hussars, Hetmans, and golden carriages led by white horses wound its way to the golden cupolaed chapel of the Grand Peterhof Palace, where my baby brother's baptism took place. Tatiana and I were part of the procession and rode on one of the carriages.

It was a splendid and formal occasion. The men appeared in full dress uniforms, and the women put on beautiful long Russian court dresses of many different colors. Maria and Anastasia wore short white lace dresses and stockings. Light blue bows matching the color of my and Tatiana's dresses decorated their shoulders, and light blue kokoshniks with embroidered pearls also adorned their heads.

I felt so happy when the christening began at 11 AM!

Princess Maria Golitzyna carried my baby brother on a golden cushion, and I proudly held one of its corners as I walked with my grandmother and Tatiana to the font. My sister and I were so nervous! I think she was as scared as I was. We feared doing something wrong during our dear baby brother's incredibly important and christian ceremony.

Our cousins were standing close to a doorway with the little pair. When they gazed open-mouthed at our procession as it passed by, Tatiana and I looked at each other and smiled, allowing ourselves to relax.

Our family's confessor, Father Yanishev, dipped Alexei in the baptismal font. My baby brother cried lustily for all to hear, but just for a moment, and then he quickly became calm. When he was being anointed for the first time, Alexei raised his little hand, looked at all of us with his big blue-grey eyes, and extended his fingers as if pronouncing a blessing. I was greatly amazed, and so was Tatiana, whose jaw dropped.

The ceremony was four hours long, but for the first time since I can remember, I didn't mind its length. I was too focused on doing everything right and listening to what the priest said.

"Did you see what my baby brother did?" I asked Miss Eagar when my sisters and I walked out of the church.

"Of course", she replied. "It was very hard to miss. Some of the guests say it is a very good omen, a sign the little Alexei will prove to be a father to his people."

"Oh, I hope so!" I exclaimed.

"God grant it", my nanny said, "but not for many years to come."

Oo

My parents, siblings, and I went back to Tsarskoye Selo to pose for family photographs meant to be used in postcards commemorating Alexei's christening.

Tatiana and I had our pictures taken in our miniature court dresses. The photographer took pictures of each of us alone and of the two of us together. Sitting and standing. It was very fun to pose, especially side by side. Just before one of the pictures was taken, Tatiana held on to my dress as if it were a piece of furniture. It was a joke, but the photographer liked it.

"I also liked it", I told my sister. "People from all over Russia will see the postcard and think to themselves: 'Those two Grand Duchesses are true friends.'"

Oo

Still dressed in white lace dresses with light blue bows on their shoulders and wearing light blue kokoshniks, Maria and Anastasia also had their pictures taken. They both looked so cute sitting on their sofas and smiling, especially our tiny Anastasia.

Later, Tatiana and I changed, dressing just like the little pair. Not without Maria complaining about it, my sisters and I also had our kokoshniks taken off to have our loose hair styled with considerably smaller blue bows.

Once the hairdresser had left, my sisters and I rested on the sofa. We were not really posing, just cuddling and talking mostly about our baby brother. Tatiana and I love imagining how we are going to help raise our baby brother to be the perfect Tsar for Russia, but a Tsar that always listens and has to do everything we say. We have certainly not told mama about the latter.

"It is not fair!" Maria lamented. "I would have worn my beautiful kokoshnik even while sleeping."

"Oh, do not be upset, Masha", Tatiana rubbed our sister's shoulder. "We can ask mama to give us old ones to play with."

Maria and I were sitting together on the sofa. Anastasia was doing so right from me between the arm and the backrest of the sofa, whereas Tatiana was standing behind the sofa, leaning on it. Just then, the photographer entered the room again and told us to look at him right there where we were, as we were. Together and comfortable.

Our parents were around all the time, smiling and making suggestions. When mama carefully placed our baby brother on one of the sofa's cushions so that he could appear on the picture as well, my two youngest sisters around me started moving and squealing, quickly changing their positions to be closer to him.

"Hi, baby!" Anastasia exclaimed. Maria just kept squealing.

"Girls!" Mama cried.

"His poor little ears!" Tatiana protested with a huge frown on her face.

"Do be careful my darlings", papa warned us.

I used my arms to protect my baby brother, who fortunately didn't seem too bothered by the little pair's loud affection and tumbling on the sofa. He was focused on me, as mama says he always is.

Anastasia looked between Alexei and the camera all the time, grinning and trying to catch his attention with any silliness that came to her mind. She had called the baby ugly before, making me laugh a lot, but I no longer believed she had meant it. Maria smiled a bit more silently at our little one, sweetly. Sometimes she smiled at papa and mama instead. Only Tatiana seemed to focus on the task at hand by staring at the photographer, at least as far as I could tell. The pictures were taken, but I was far too busy smiling at our baby to notice. I had to take care of him.

Oo

Finally, the seven of us, papa, mama, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia, the baby, and I had our picture taken. This was my favorite.

Wearing her favorite pearls and a simple white dress, mama sat on a chair holding and looking at our baby brother, still in his christening gown. Wearing a buttoned army uniform, papa sat higher, right next to mama. My youngest sister was kneeling on the floor in front of both our parents, papa holding her little hand.

Tatiana's head rested on mama's shoulder as she kneeled next to her and laid her hand on Maria's shoulder. Masha herself kneeled in front of them both.

I was the only one standing, choosing to do so next to our kind and loving papa. I chose to grab his strong arm.

Before bedtime, he asked me if I was happy.

"I am happier than ever", I replied.

"And so is the whole of Russia", papa said. "Everyone is celebrating Alexei's arrival."

This does make me happy, but it is not really what makes me the happiest.

Most of the people celebrating were cheering for Russia's heir, and so were the majority of those assisting the christening. My sisters and I, on the other hand, are delighted with the baby that heir is. The baby who cries, sleeps, moves his little hands and feet, and follows me with his eyes. He is Russiaʼs hope and future, and we are proud and happy that he is ours, our very own, as Masha says.

Papa says that one day I may be a queen abroad, which is true, but wouldn't it be nicer if I stayed? I could take care of the baby I am already so proud of. I could teach him so many things. He would have a true friend around when the time comes for him to inherit papa's strenuous duty by becoming a father to his people as the sign said he would. It breaks my heart to think our cute and tiny baby is destined to carry such a huge weight over his small shoulders. I need to protect him, to give him the strength to deal with it.

I told papa about all of this.

"You are still too young to worry about any of those matters", he replied. "But I am nonetheless pleasantly surprised you are having such sensitive thoughts." I didn't understand very well what he had meant by "sensitive."

Perhaps I am too young indeed. The more I grow, the more I accept this and the less I look forward to the future with impatience. I still long to do grown-up stuff with mama and Tatiana in our pretty court dresses, especially knowing how much my sister likes them, but for now, I could not be happier than I am with my perfect family of seven.

I didnt manage to finish this chapter for Christmas, New Year, Russian Christmas, or even get to Christmas to make this half-a-Christmas chapter, so disappointed in myself!

I got most of my ideas on how to make the girls react to and interact with baby Alexei from real family videos on YouTube.

I don't know whether there were fireworks after Alexei was born, so it is probably an invention, but it is a fact people indeed were very happy, there were lots of celebrations, and I wanted an excuse to connect his birth to one of those little moments between Dmitri and his father alluded to in the musical.

Another LATEOTT chapter is coming.