Though you loved me [2/3]
anonymous
June 28 2009, 19:53:13 UTC
******
They all pray in their own way. The Tsarina is in fits of tear and anxiety, whispering words to God then demanding 'where Rasputin?' The Tsar paces the room ceaselessly, saying nothing.
But the children, they cling to him in fright. This is not the first time. Still, every time is even more harrowing than the last: he holds them close.
"He will be here soon, Mama." Tatiana says. Her arms tremble around his own without end; otherwise she would be beside her mother to share and find comfort. Olga holds his other arm, raising his and her own in a prayer. Maria buries her head in his leg as Anastasia begins to cry on it.
Alexei, he says in his mind, do not die today.
When the rumored holy man finally arrives, he does not stand up to greet Rasputin as the rest of them do. He watches the girls flock around him from his seat, observing how their faces uncrease from worry to captivated relief. The strannik hugs each and every one of them.
Both the Tsar and the Tsarina lead him into the room where their son lies bleeding. Olga and Tatiana begin to pray beside each other. Maria moves to join them. Only Anastasia returns to his side.
She is no longer crying but the tears have left wet trails on her cheeks. "Nastenka..."
"No," she says to his thumb that brushes the salty remains. He drops it immediately. She frowns at him through her unshed tears.
"No, no I didn't mean that."
Awkwardly, he resumes wiping away the wetness which only makes her sigh as she sits down on his lap. She is too old for this, she knows, but he does not stop her.
"I meant you don't need to say anything. Aloysha will be fine now. He will be fine."
He nods though he still can not believe that Rasputin's prayers are what makes it so.
"Pray with us."
She slips off him lightly, walking to the spot where the rest of the sisters have chosen to sink to their knees. Taking her spot beside Maria, she looks at him expectantly. She does not even wait to see his response to it before joining the chorus of hushed voices.
He gets up from the chair for the first time that day.
******
She screams in fear when the tree shakes. What are you doing, she cries. You will uproot it!
I won't, he assures her. They are strong; I have tried climbing one before.
Still she yells.
Stop, stop. It will break. Look at that branch under you: it is in so much pain.
He deftly moves to another one as he can be sprightly when he likes. I am coming to get you Malenkaya, he says. Don't move.
Though you loved me [3/4] I lied
anonymous
June 28 2009, 19:56:19 UTC
******
Anastasia looks much thinner now. He can see the beginning of hollows in her cheeks: she is not as bad as Olga or Tatiana or even Alexei but it makes him want to hold her tight.
As soon as she sees him, she runs down the hall in a thunderous ruckus. 'Anastasia' he begins but fails to even finish the first syllable as she knocks the wind out of him.
"Ваня," she says affectionately, "Ваня, you came to visit."
"I did," he strokes her plaited hair, careful not to disrupt it. How thick it was before! Now it seems like fine silk. "I am glad to see you."
She does not let him pet her for long. Using the dexterity that had nearly left his memories, she soon holds his face between her hands, scrutinizing every detail until he starts to feel uncomfortable. At least her blue eyes remain bright with familiar spirit. "Is something the matter...?"
"I was just thinking," she cocks her head mischievously; she is still the same, "that I should give you a haircut. You look like a wild thing, my country. Have you been living with the wolves?"
His bashful expression makes her laugh loudly enough that some of the sentries from upstairs come to see what is wrong. Oh he missed it, her relentless teases and that amused chortle at someone else's expensive.
"You came at the right time. We were getting ready to hold a play."
Only then does he notice the ridiculously constructed 'dress' she wears, which was probably made from old blankets since he can see clearly the moth holes on its edges. Twirling as if she were wearing the most charming court dress, she looks the part of the pauper princess; he does not like how well it seems to fit her.
"You still hold plays?" He asks instead, holding the smile on his face.
"Yes, of course! Poor Aloysha is not in a good mood, who can blame him in this house, so we all hold plays to cheer him up. It cheers everyone else up too."
"Speaking of which," she adds, a step faster than his open mouth. He had forgotten that she spoke faster than the wind. "His birthday is approaching. You will come, won't you? He has missed you dearly."
“I’m not--“
"Oh but you can't--"
"Anastasia."
She stops immediately. He remembers from when she was little that she could not abide being interrupted. Wistfully, he notes that she has matured away from his eye. How sad it was that she could not share it to everyone else...
"Anastasia, I am not sure when I can visit next. Things are... changing outside."
"I know. I have seen the papers."
It is hard to talk like this. Maybe if Anastasia didn't look so sure of all this despite the confusion behind her eyes.
"I'm only asking for a small visit." She continues, pausing only for a moment.
"I want to know that we are not forgotten by everyone."
"Anastasia..."
His fingers twine with her hair, combing it loose as he moves through it. She does not care as she leans into the hand that cups her cheek with all the tenderness in the world. Witty Nastenka in the house with painted windows, seen by no one except those who lived in it, was being washed away from existence by his own people. But how could anyone completely forget...?
"Nastenka, we are starting soon."
He turns to the new voice, suddenly meeting the gaze of Maria who peeks out from behind a door. Her eyes become saucers when she realizes who it is; she flies to him in the same manner that her younger sister had and holds him in a tight embrace.
"Good timing, Maria. Hold him there. Now he'll definitely have to watch the play."
And sweet Maria smiles as she does what Anastasia says. A trap, he thinks, though he does not wish to be free of it.
"Tell me you will come?"
He knows she is not speaking about their small play. Looking at her, he notices that her eyes glimmer something odd which she quickly wipes away. He is very bad at saying no to children who cry.
Though you loved me [4/4]
anonymous
June 28 2009, 19:57:28 UTC
******
There, he says. The tree did not break.
She assaults him with her hand, shoving back his forehead playfully.
You nearly killed us both! I should have you tried for murder.
Where did you learn that word? Children should not use them so lightly.
I know many things, Russia. I am a clever one.
He frowns slightly, but says nothing more on it. They should not be discussing such things.
Is there room for me, he asks. She titters like a squirrel. No of course not you big, silly oaf.
Oh that is too bad, he replies. Now I will have to take you down with me.
She squeals when he attempts to hold her in his arms. No no no! You will really kill us now! How can you climb down like that?
I thought, he smiles, that I'd jump down.
She chides him for a full minute, telling him all the dangers of doing something like that, which very much included damaging his already stupid head, before motioning him to move so that she may climb down herself.
You are a silly nation, Russia, she tells him. I doubt any other nation is sillier.
Her kiss is chaste, more like a bird's peck on his open cheek. He nearly falls when he lets go of a branch to touch the tingling spot.
I do not know why I love you so much.
******
His hand is so very big on the neck of the bottle, perfectly able to break it, but so very still as well.
A shot to the head, they told him. That's all it took.
He commented that they must not have been trained very well if they missed their first shots because they were drunk. Yurovsky only shrugged. "They are dead now." Dead, yes. He drinks to it.
There must have been a lot of blood, he realizes on his second bottle. Nicholas, Alexandra, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia, and Alexei. Perhaps they had flooded the whole basement with red? There were servants there too after all. All of them shot and stabbed and clubbed.
He holds up the note he was given, his eyes trailing over the words again. It is a very detailed report: it is as if he is right there to watch them shoot Nicholas with barely any warning then proceed to put bullets in the rest of the family. The words are vivid. But just the same as if he had gone, there is no reaction from his body.
His hands are so very big. Perfectly capable of hurting or breaking or stopping anything. But they are also so very still tonight. They lie side by side now, resting on the table quietly. They are tired today, he thinks. They are tired for me. He is afraid to wake them from their rest but can not resist talking to them; they are a part of him. He leans in as he asks them so softly: what have I done?
Nothing, they respond. They must be grumpy at being awakened because the answer is curt: you did nothing. He nods for that answer was very expected and does not question what they have told him. Sitting back on his chair, he does as they tell him: nothing.
- The little nursery rhyme at the beginning is 'The Priest Had A Dog' The priest had a dog, And he loved her. The dog ate a piece of meat, He killed her. He buried her in the ground, And he wrote an inscription... (Repeat...) - 'shvibzik' means 'imp'. - 'Nastenka' is one of the many nicknames of Anastasia. - The first event is meant to be the Romanov Tercentery, taking place in 1913 to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the Romanov rule. - Иван is 'Ivan' in Russian. Россия is 'Russia'. - There's mentions of Rasputin in the second event. He was a sort of 'holy man' or even 'monk' who was supposedly the only one who could cure the Tsarevitch's hemophilia. The Tsarina especially depended on him the most. However, Rasputin was not welcome in the courts and not everyone believed his 'miracles'. - 'Malenkaya' means 'little one'. - Ваня is 'Vanya', a sort of nickname for 'Ivan'. - The third event takes place in late May or June of 1918. About a month before their execution. The house that they were under arrest in had the windows painted and the family was forbidden to open them. - Apparently Anastasia would climb trees and refuse to come down until specifically asked to by her father. I just took liberties with history...
Ivan is slowly crawling up my list of favourite characters- and let's face it, Rasputin was by no means holy. I almost cheered when Ivan only 'prayed' for the children, not because of Rasputin's power over everyone else (I've now got a plot bunny where Ivan's the one to shoot the bastard- I blame you, you know).
The fic was absolutely gorgeous too, and poor Ivan! Gosh, I've always been fascinated by the Romanov's downfall, but adding the personification of Russia makes it all the more tragic. Really well done.
They all pray in their own way. The Tsarina is in fits of tear and anxiety, whispering words to God then demanding 'where Rasputin?' The Tsar paces the room ceaselessly, saying nothing.
But the children, they cling to him in fright. This is not the first time. Still, every time is even more harrowing than the last: he holds them close.
"He will be here soon, Mama." Tatiana says. Her arms tremble around his own without end; otherwise she would be beside her mother to share and find comfort. Olga holds his other arm, raising his and her own in a prayer. Maria buries her head in his leg as Anastasia begins to cry on it.
Alexei, he says in his mind, do not die today.
When the rumored holy man finally arrives, he does not stand up to greet Rasputin as the rest of them do. He watches the girls flock around him from his seat, observing how their faces uncrease from worry to captivated relief. The strannik hugs each and every one of them.
Both the Tsar and the Tsarina lead him into the room where their son lies bleeding. Olga and Tatiana begin to pray beside each other. Maria moves to join them. Only Anastasia returns to his side.
She is no longer crying but the tears have left wet trails on her cheeks. "Nastenka..."
"No," she says to his thumb that brushes the salty remains. He drops it immediately. She frowns at him through her unshed tears.
"No, no I didn't mean that."
Awkwardly, he resumes wiping away the wetness which only makes her sigh as she sits down on his lap. She is too old for this, she knows, but he does not stop her.
"I meant you don't need to say anything. Aloysha will be fine now. He will be fine."
He nods though he still can not believe that Rasputin's prayers are what makes it so.
"Pray with us."
She slips off him lightly, walking to the spot where the rest of the sisters have chosen to sink to their knees. Taking her spot beside Maria, she looks at him expectantly. She does not even wait to see his response to it before joining the chorus of hushed voices.
He gets up from the chair for the first time that day.
******
She screams in fear when the tree shakes. What are you doing, she cries. You will uproot it!
I won't, he assures her. They are strong; I have tried climbing one before.
Still she yells.
Stop, stop. It will break. Look at that branch under you: it is in so much pain.
He deftly moves to another one as he can be sprightly when he likes. I am coming to get you Malenkaya, he says. Don't move.
As if I can, she replies.
Reply
Anastasia looks much thinner now. He can see the beginning of hollows in her cheeks: she is not as bad as Olga or Tatiana or even Alexei but it makes him want to hold her tight.
As soon as she sees him, she runs down the hall in a thunderous ruckus. 'Anastasia' he begins but fails to even finish the first syllable as she knocks the wind out of him.
"Ваня," she says affectionately, "Ваня, you came to visit."
"I did," he strokes her plaited hair, careful not to disrupt it. How thick it was before! Now it seems like fine silk. "I am glad to see you."
She does not let him pet her for long. Using the dexterity that had nearly left his memories, she soon holds his face between her hands, scrutinizing every detail until he starts to feel uncomfortable. At least her blue eyes remain bright with familiar spirit. "Is something the matter...?"
"I was just thinking," she cocks her head mischievously; she is still the same, "that I should give you a haircut. You look like a wild thing, my country. Have you been living with the wolves?"
His bashful expression makes her laugh loudly enough that some of the sentries from upstairs come to see what is wrong. Oh he missed it, her relentless teases and that amused chortle at someone else's expensive.
"You came at the right time. We were getting ready to hold a play."
Only then does he notice the ridiculously constructed 'dress' she wears, which was probably made from old blankets since he can see clearly the moth holes on its edges. Twirling as if she were wearing the most charming court dress, she looks the part of the pauper princess; he does not like how well it seems to fit her.
"You still hold plays?" He asks instead, holding the smile on his face.
"Yes, of course! Poor Aloysha is not in a good mood, who can blame him in this house, so we all hold plays to cheer him up. It cheers everyone else up too."
"Speaking of which," she adds, a step faster than his open mouth. He had forgotten that she spoke faster than the wind. "His birthday is approaching. You will come, won't you? He has missed you dearly."
“I’m not--“
"Oh but you can't--"
"Anastasia."
She stops immediately. He remembers from when she was little that she could not abide being interrupted. Wistfully, he notes that she has matured away from his eye. How sad it was that she could not share it to everyone else...
"Anastasia, I am not sure when I can visit next. Things are... changing outside."
"I know. I have seen the papers."
It is hard to talk like this. Maybe if Anastasia didn't look so sure of all this despite the confusion behind her eyes.
"I'm only asking for a small visit." She continues, pausing only for a moment.
"I want to know that we are not forgotten by everyone."
"Anastasia..."
His fingers twine with her hair, combing it loose as he moves through it. She does not care as she leans into the hand that cups her cheek with all the tenderness in the world. Witty Nastenka in the house with painted windows, seen by no one except those who lived in it, was being washed away from existence by his own people. But how could anyone completely forget...?
"Nastenka, we are starting soon."
He turns to the new voice, suddenly meeting the gaze of Maria who peeks out from behind a door. Her eyes become saucers when she realizes who it is; she flies to him in the same manner that her younger sister had and holds him in a tight embrace.
"Good timing, Maria. Hold him there. Now he'll definitely have to watch the play."
And sweet Maria smiles as she does what Anastasia says. A trap, he thinks, though he does not wish to be free of it.
"Tell me you will come?"
He knows she is not speaking about their small play. Looking at her, he notices that her eyes glimmer something odd which she quickly wipes away. He is very bad at saying no to children who cry.
"Perhaps I will ask if I may bring a gift."
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There, he says. The tree did not break.
She assaults him with her hand, shoving back his forehead playfully.
You nearly killed us both! I should have you tried for murder.
Where did you learn that word? Children should not use them so lightly.
I know many things, Russia. I am a clever one.
He frowns slightly, but says nothing more on it. They should not be discussing such things.
Is there room for me, he asks. She titters like a squirrel. No of course not you big, silly oaf.
Oh that is too bad, he replies. Now I will have to take you down with me.
She squeals when he attempts to hold her in his arms. No no no! You will really kill us now! How can you climb down like that?
I thought, he smiles, that I'd jump down.
She chides him for a full minute, telling him all the dangers of doing something like that, which very much included damaging his already stupid head, before motioning him to move so that she may climb down herself.
You are a silly nation, Russia, she tells him. I doubt any other nation is sillier.
Her kiss is chaste, more like a bird's peck on his open cheek. He nearly falls when he lets go of a branch to touch the tingling spot.
I do not know why I love you so much.
******
His hand is so very big on the neck of the bottle, perfectly able to break it, but so very still as well.
A shot to the head, they told him. That's all it took.
He commented that they must not have been trained very well if they missed their first shots because they were drunk. Yurovsky only shrugged. "They are dead now." Dead, yes. He drinks to it.
There must have been a lot of blood, he realizes on his second bottle. Nicholas, Alexandra, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia, and Alexei. Perhaps they had flooded the whole basement with red? There were servants there too after all. All of them shot and stabbed and clubbed.
He holds up the note he was given, his eyes trailing over the words again. It is a very detailed report: it is as if he is right there to watch them shoot Nicholas with barely any warning then proceed to put bullets in the rest of the family. The words are vivid. But just the same as if he had gone, there is no reaction from his body.
His hands are so very big. Perfectly capable of hurting or breaking or stopping anything. But they are also so very still tonight. They lie side by side now, resting on the table quietly. They are tired today, he thinks. They are tired for me. He is afraid to wake them from their rest but can not resist talking to them; they are a part of him. He leans in as he asks them so softly: what have I done?
Nothing, they respond. They must be grumpy at being awakened because the answer is curt: you did nothing. He nods for that answer was very expected and does not question what they have told him. Sitting back on his chair, he does as they tell him: nothing.
Reply
The priest had a dog,
And he loved her.
The dog ate a piece of meat,
He killed her.
He buried her in the ground,
And he wrote an inscription...
(Repeat...)
- 'shvibzik' means 'imp'.
- 'Nastenka' is one of the many nicknames of Anastasia.
- The first event is meant to be the Romanov Tercentery, taking place in 1913 to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the Romanov rule.
- Иван is 'Ivan' in Russian. Россия is 'Russia'.
- There's mentions of Rasputin in the second event. He was a sort of 'holy man' or even 'monk' who was supposedly the only one who could cure the Tsarevitch's hemophilia. The Tsarina especially depended on him the most. However, Rasputin was not welcome in the courts and not everyone believed his 'miracles'.
- 'Malenkaya' means 'little one'.
- Ваня is 'Vanya', a sort of nickname for 'Ivan'.
- The third event takes place in late May or June of 1918. About a month before their execution. The house that they were under arrest in had the windows painted and the family was forbidden to open them.
- Apparently Anastasia would climb trees and refuse to come down until specifically asked to by her father. I just took liberties with history...
Reply
Also, I love how you inserted the tree climbing in between, creating a sort of cut-scene as the timeline jumps from one to the other.
As one who loves reading up about the Romanovs, this is a truly lovely reading. Well done! \o/
Reply
The fic was absolutely gorgeous too, and poor Ivan! Gosh, I've always been fascinated by the Romanov's downfall, but adding the personification of Russia makes it all the more tragic. Really well done.
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