Forever Romanov

March 27, 2012
Part One

“Wake up Ana.” I heard a sweet voice say. “They’re moving us again.”

I opened my eyes to our dimly lit room. My younger brother by three years, Alexei, was snuggled next to me, his dark yes slowly opening as well. Looking over, I saw my eldest sister, Olga. She was shaking me lightly. I scooted away and rubbed my eyes. I looked up.

“What is it syestra?” I asked sleepily. Olga helped me up.

“The soldiers. They’re moving us again. Get dressed, quickly!” I nodded. Standing shakily, I pulled on as many layers as I could. In some of our clothing Mama had sewn our most precious wealth.

Tatianna and Mariya were dressing Alexei. Tatianna sighed.

“Ah… Aly, why did you have to fall down those stairs?” Alexei smirked. Despite his hemophilia, he still had that mischievous streak.

“I like giving the soldiers problems.”

“But hurting yourself? You can barely walk” Alexei shrugged weakly, saying no more.

Papa came in, his blue eyes tired. He pulled a little at his beard before taking the limp Alexei into his arms. He turned to Mama, speaking softly.

“Alexandra, get the girls downstairs.” Mama nodded, whispering to us to get our things, the four of us following her down.

Olga, Tatianna, Mariya, and I.
Part Two

Papa’s arms were warm as he spoke to the servants quietly, ordering them with kind words to get our things. As we descended the stairs alone, I spoke quietly to him.

“Papa,” I said. “Where are they taking us this time?” Papa’s shoulders sagged.

“I don’t know Alexei; I don’t know.” I thought about going home to the Winter Palace, but I knew that was silly, so I kept quiet. Each step Papa took jolted through me, and I held a cold hand to my nose, just in case. By the time we had reached Mama and the girls, no blood had come.

We stood there for a moment before a man came to us. He was dressed in a crisp black military uniform. He ordered us into an empty dimly lit room. Two chairs were in the middle. The man smiled at us a bit, asking us to pose for a family photo.

“The photographer will be here soon,” he said quickly, leaving us.

Mama sat in one chair, Papa in the other with me in his lap. The girls lined up behind us, the servants off to the side. A very familiar man came in.

Dr. Botkin, our physician, came in saying a truck would be here soon to transport us safely. Something seemed vaguely odd about this “family photo” story. Botkin left, minutes passed by, and nothing happened. Then, a very vindictive looking man came in with a group of soldiers.

And they all had guns.

Anastasia gripped my shoulder, for this man was Yakov Yurovsky, the one who ran everything in this house. A cold light shone in his eyed, a light that scared me. A soldier stepped up, handed Yurovsky a piece of paper, whispering to him. Yurovsky smiled and stepped closer to us.

“Nikolai Aleksandrovich…” He said, looking at Papa. Papa straightened as he continued. “ In view of the fact that your relatives are continuing their attack on Soviet Russia, the Ural Executive Committee has decided to execute you.” I gasped and Papa put me in the chair and stood.


“Yurovsky quickly repeated the order, and the soldiers raised their guns at us.

Then they began firing.
Part Three

Mama was screaming. Papa fell to the floor, dead. Olga collapsed as a bullet hit her, moaning in soft pain. A bullet hit my shoulder. I screamed as pain rocketed through me, and I fell to my knees.

Looking up through tear-filled eyes, I saw Alexei sitting in the chair still, eyes wide, but face emotionless. He had not been hit. I crawled over and huddled next to Mariya, who was badly hurt, but still alive. I looked about. Mama, Olga, and Tatianna had fallen, along with two of the servants.

Then Alexei was hit.

A bullet pierced his chest, making a muffled sound from all his clothing. He fell over, and I could not see whether he was dead or alive.

I had to get out, I had to. Smoke had filled the room, and everything smelled like gunpowder. I could get out now. There was the door-

Something grabbed my ankle as I slowly stood. Looking down, it was Alexei. He was alive. His clothing, our precious wealth, it had protected him. I helped him up, and thanks to sheer adrenaline, he managed to walk a bit.

Soldiers were now walking into the smoke. One stabbed Mama’s servant to death with his bayonet. Another was crushing Papa’s chest…

We had to leave now.

Moving slowly, as to not alert anyone, we moved out the door, smoke hiding us as we crouched. The place was emptier than it had ever been. Perhaps those men did not wish to see our bodies.

Moving slowly for stealth, and also for Alexei’s sake, we made it outside. Taking as much of Alexei’s weight as I could manage, we ran awkwardly toward the closest place of cover. Alexei moaned quietly.

“My head is pounding, Ana… Dear God help me, it hurts.” He suddenly dropped from me, blood pouring from his pale nose onto his lips and chest. He moaned softly. I kneeled by him, surprisingly not panicking as I used to. The adrenaline must’ve worn off from him. I took Alexei into my arms, getting blood on my soft blue coat. I shushed his cried, and as time slowly went by, his nosebleed slowed to a trickle. I breathed out heavily.

It was a miracle.
Part Four

Anastasia helped me down the walkway we were on. Tearing off a part of her dress, she cleaned me up with it and had me hold my nose with it. Now that I was taken care of, I began to think.

We were about a mile from the house now, but I swore I could still smell gunpowder. Despite the fact my nose was filled with blood. Anastasia took my hand as I slowly gained more strength. My legs still hurt, but we were now at least two miles from the house, and we needed to get further.

A truck rumbled along slowly. Anastasia’s eyes opened wide and pulled me towards the truck. Trying with all her might, she lifted me up into it. She then lifted herself into it as well. The back of the truck was filled with crates of all sorts. The driver did not see us, nor notice we were in the back of his truck.

When he stopped, a girl my age came out from a tiny house, exclaiming in English. She ran to the driver, laughing.

“Daddy!” A young boy, still my age, maybe a little older, came to the back. He saw us immediately, his eyes widening.

“Uh… Dad?” The girl, his sister, came to the back, eyes widening in recognition.

“Daddy… It’s the Russian Prince and Princess from that place in Petrograd!” The man looked back in surprise.

“By God it is! What are you doing here…?” Anastasia sat forward.

“They were keeping us under house arrest in Yekatereninburg. They’re all dead… Papa, Mama, our sister, the servants. They tried to execute us.” She spoke well enough English. The girl gasped, her emerald eyes glittering. Anastasia took her hand.

“Please… help us. We’re hurt.” They saw the blood and helped us out. I was studying their way of talking, and they were American. The girl took my arm, helping me, looking in awe at the blood on my green military uniform.

“My name is Sarah.” She said nervously. “Um… How do you say your name?”

“Alexei.” Was all I said. Could we trust them?

“Alexei… I don’t know much about Russians… But Daddy works for a trading company. We’re going back to America in a few days.” So they didn’t have real ties to Russia.


“Yes… If you’re in trouble, maybe we can take you with us.” That sounded safe. It would be odd… But Anastasia and I were going to need to do some drastic things now.

“Alexei… You and your sister are safe now. I promise.” Yes. I believed we would be.

“I believe you.” As we got inside, I leaned against her. She blushed cutely, like a shy child.

Yes. I knew we would be safe.
Or is it?

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