untitled Romanov story (feedback welcome!)

[Lady Macduff]

I wouldn't call Maria introverted - quite the opposite, I'd say.

[edubs31]

I wouldn't call Maria introverted - quite the opposite, I'd say.

Yes, true. I think 'sweet' & 'sensitive' are better descriptions. She was very caring and very willing to be of assistance. She also seemed to have a tinge of sadness, at least as younger-adolescent girl. Wondering if she was truly loved which was probably more of response to her sensitivity of her mother's condition and domineering personality. Middle child syndrome perhaps. Alexei was the Heir, Anastasia was the attention grabbing clown, Olga was the eldest, and Tatiana was her mother's favorite (or at least the one Alexandra counted on the most).

Marie was trying to find her niche it seems. Although we know, as others did at the time, how wonderful she was. The very definition of 'good' as it relates to humanity, far as I'm concerned.

[t_co]

I wouldn't call Maria introverted - quite the opposite, I'd say.

Yes, true. I think 'sweet' & 'sensitive' are better descriptions. She was very caring and very willing to be of assistance. She also seemed to have a tinge of sadness, at least as younger-adolescent girl. Wondering if she was truly loved which was probably more of response to her sensitivity of her mother's condition and domineering personality. Middle child syndrome perhaps. Alexei was the Heir, Anastasia was the attention grabbing clown, Olga was the eldest, and Tatiana was her mother's favorite (or at least the one Alexandra counted on the most).

Marie was trying to find her niche it seems. Although we know, as others did at the time, how wonderful she was. The very definition of 'good' as it relates to humanity, far as I'm concerned.

Got it.  Trite as it may seem, I think the best way to flesh out Marie would be to have her fall hard for some dashing gentleman.  For extra drama, we could have that gentleman be a highly educated anarcho-socialist, although that might be pushing it in terms of workability

[TimM]

He's a guy who fell through a crack in time, and got his memory wiped as a result.

Ah, so I was on the right track.  I had the idea since my own story also involved time travel.

[t_co]

Ben's rifle was a Canton Self-Repeater, Model 1916, sheet metal stamped over a long-stroke gas piston and a tight trigger.  It fired six hundred shortened Mosin-Nagant rifle cartridges per minute through a chrome-lined, wear-resistant barrel, and held thirty rounds in a banana-shaped steel magazine.  While unloaded, it weighed three-and-a-half kilograms compared to the eight of its closest competitor, the Browning Automatic Rifle, and unlike the Browning, it had proven itself reliable in the mud of the Western Front.  Ben cradled it under an oversized trench coat as he led the horse-and-cart down Yekaterina Street.  The plywood grips were carved with a crude dragon motif, something to run your thumb across in the dark.

Karchenko sat behind him, covered in a farmer's outfit.  One arm was casually wrapped around a Berdanka loaded with hand-packed twelve-gauge shells.  The other snaked into a pocket, where it gripped a cocked and ready Nagant.  Over one shoulder, he slung a heavy sack for the anticipated loot.  At his suggestion, both men had painted their faces black with charcoal.

They'd set an alarm clock to go off thirty minutes to midnight, then loaded up on ammunition and food before washing down shots of ephedra extract with tea.  The combination of ephedrine and caffeine lit up the moonless night, and they rode the rush past the house.  As they did, Karchenko softly muttered numbers to himself.  When they got to the T-intersection at Pyotr Velikiy Prospekt, Ben turned around, searching for a nook to hide the wagon.  Karchenko patted him on the shoulder.

"Hoy, Genghiz.  Six lit windows, four on the second floor, two on the first.  I saw a few silhouettes, but couldn't get a count.  I also saw a pair of guards standing by the door."

Ben shook his head.  "That's too many.  Let's park the cart between those two apartments, and see if there's a back door."

Karchenko nodded.  They parked, disembarked, and swapped their boots for moccasins.  Beyond the forest and barnyard smells, the air had gotten worse; it seemed to have teeth tonight.  As they neared the house, Ben heard excited chatter in a foreign language.

"Hungarians," Karchenko said.  "I wonder what they're doing here?"

Ben took a risk, raised his head over a bush and peeked through an opened first-floor side window into a well-lit living room.  "Four of 'em.  Looks like they're playing cards, and wagering... bullets?"

Behind him, Karchenko smiled.  "Good, hopefully those idiots unloaded their guns to play.  What's more, their eyes will be on their hands.  Let's go."

The two circled around, padded up the unlit back porch.  Through a screen door, they saw one guard pacing the back hallway.  Ben recognized him as the dour Hungarian from Brodsky's tavern.

Karchenko nudged Ben.  "That bastard looks serious," he whispered.  A pause, then he pointed at a dark rectange.  "See that?"

Ben nodded.

"That's the cellar.  We should hide in there until the guards go to sleep.  Then we'll knife the poor chap still on duty, get our loot, and leave without a trace."

Ben nodded.  "Let's do it."

They waited until they could no longer hear the footsteps of the guard.  Karchenko slipped the catch with a penknife, and the two walked inside.

[Lady Macduff]

How close are we to the entrance of the family? I'm getting excited.

[t_co]

How close are we to the entrance of the family? I'm getting excited.

Quick fact-check: how many members of the family were wearing jewels under their clothes?  Were any of the servants wearing jewels too?

This is because unloading a shotgun, an AK, and multiple pistols in a crowded 6m x 5m room generally produces loads of ricochets and flying plaster and bone chips, all of which kind of hurt if they hit you

[Lady Macduff]

Definitely Olga, Tatiana, Anastasia, and Alexei. Not sure about Alexandra and the tsar, and Maria is an issue all her own. She was found not to have and jewels under her corset after the execution. We don't know why - probably because she went ahead to Ekaterinburg with her parents and was not with the others in Tobolsk when they sewed the jewels into their clothes, possibly because of an incident that happened with one of the guards on her 19th birthday. There's a whole thread about that in The Final Chapter, but here's the short version (keep in mind most of this is hearsay and it's not really documented at all.) In Peter Ermakov's memoir he wrote that on Maria's 19th birthday one of the guards brought it a cake for her. In King and Wilson's The Fate of the Romanovs, they assert that after her brought the cake the two disappeared together, but Ermakov never mentioned this. Going off that story, some people have conjectured that it caused the others, especially Alexandra and Olga, to shun Maria and take the jewels away from her since she could no longer be trusted. Some also say that's the reason that the guards reported that the relationship between Olga and Maria seemed strained toward the end. Personally, I think she was just without jewels because she went ahead with her parents, and if any relationships were strained, think of it this way: The family was incredibly close and took great comfort in being together, but they were in an increasingly dangerous situation, confined to a smaller space than they'd been in their entire lives, and it was incredibly hot every day. Who wouldn't start to get a little tired of people?

[edubs31]

I may recommend reading through the various chapters of the "Final Chapter" topic on this forum. All of this has been discussed on here.

[t_co]

Definitely Olga, Tatiana, Anastasia, and Alexei. Not sure about Alexandra and the tsar, and Maria is an issue all her own. She was found not to have and jewels under her corset after the execution. We don't know why - probably because she went ahead to Ekaterinburg with her parents and was not with the others in Tobolsk when they sewed the jewels into their clothes, possibly because of an incident that happened with one of the guards on her 19th birthday. There's a whole thread about that in The Final Chapter, but here's the short version (keep in mind most of this is hearsay and it's not really documented at all.) In Peter Ermakov's memoir he wrote that on Maria's 19th birthday one of the guards brought it a cake for her. In King and Wilson's The Fate of the Romanovs, they assert that after her brought the cake the two disappeared together, but Ermakov never mentioned this. Going off that story, some people have conjectured that it caused the others, especially Alexandra and Olga, to shun Maria and take the jewels away from her since she could no longer be trusted. Some also say that's the reason that the guards reported that the relationship between Olga and Maria seemed strained toward the end. Personally, I think she was just without jewels because she went ahead with her parents, and if any relationships were strained, think of it this way: The family was incredibly close and took great comfort in being together, but they were in an increasingly dangerous situation, confined to a smaller space than they'd been in their entire lives, and it was incredibly hot every day. Who wouldn't start to get a little tired of people?

That's an interesting wrinkle.  Thanks.  The cellar scene is coming shortly.

[t_co]

The cellar was dark, smelling of earth.  Striped wallpaper ran down one wall.  Ben and Karchenko took spots in an opposite corner, wedged behind a half-dozen sacks of potatoes and barrels of flour.  Above them, through the floorboards, they heard footsteps advancing and retreating in a steady loop, accompanied by the rapid-fire chatter of the card game.

Ben drew out a pocketwatch.  Ten minutes drifted by.  Then twenty, thirty, forty.  To his credit, Karchenko stayed awake.  At an hour past midnight, the footsteps and card game stopped.  Karchenko nudged Ben, who nodded in response.

"Let's wait another hour.  Let them go to bed."

But the guards weren't going to bed.  Ben heard voices, a clear, yet tense voice he instinctively recognized as that of a leader, then the thudding of a multitude of footsteps.  More voices joined in.  Some of them were female.

All too soon, the cellar door burst open.  Karchenko drew his revolver.  Ben gripped the sergeant's other wrist, vigorously shaking his head.  Karchenko relented.

Through the door, eleven people filed in.  Seven of them were on Ben's photograph.

Though they dressed in simple white linen and dark cotton, they carried a sense of majesty.  Karchenko's face twisted in puzzlement, then slackened into sheer dumbstruck awe as he realized who they were--the most photographed family in Russia.  Ben could tell that this was a group of people that once often gathered in the warm lantern glow of mirth, but whose sense of joy was now shattered, leaving behind only a pale flicker of hope.

The Empress stood, looking a little lost in the barren room.  The Emperor moved to comfort her.  "Don't worry, Sasha, I told Yurovsky to bring a few chairs down for us."

More footsteps followed, led by a hard-faced man with cold eyes that glittered like chips of ice in a winter storm, and a mustache that looked like it was carved out of wood.  Three more men followed him, bearing chairs.  The room grew crowded, but no one noticed Ben and Karchenko crouched in the corner.

The Emperor motioned for his son and wife to take their seats, then sat down after them.  The doctor strode up behind the son like a kindly uncle, placing one hand on his shoulder.  Beside him, three of the girls lined up behind the Empress.  The oldest looked like she wanted to cry.  The youngest giggled and nudged her.

"Cheer up, Olenka.  They're just taking a picture of us."  The oldest smiled.  The third daughter shushed them both.

The maid and a fourth daughter, with robust cheeks, stood silent behind the Tsar.  Two waiters completed the ensemble.

The four men in front of them took their places.  Yurovsky cleared his throat once.  Some of the men behind him reached into their jackets.

"Please, wait here.  The Ural Revolutionary Committee has found a truck to get you to safety.  It is currently en route."

Then the four men filed out, slamming the door behind them.

[t_co]

Karchenko's shoulders seemed wound like watch-springs.  Ben picked up his rifle with steady hands, surprising himself with his lack of nerve.  Karchenko leaned close for a whisper.

"Well, I guess that explains the guards--and the jewels.  The family must have brought some with them."

Ben nodded, surprised that his lie about a robbery was actually making sense.  "It doesn't look like the guards are here to protect them, though."

Karchenko bobbed his thick jaw up and down, grimacing.  "I've seen a firing squad before.  These Bolshevik guards have the same feel about them."  Then he put on a thin smile.  "We might have to save them.  If there are jewels around, they'll know where they are--or maybe the guards have already hidden them?"

Ben shook his head.  "Unlikely.  You've seen how short the Reds are of supplies.  Gold and silver are of little use to them.  Only bread and gunpowder are.  What's been taken has probably been sold."

"If that's true... well, I'm not leaving here without my pay."  A silent chuckle.  "You think we should get them out of here, now?"

"With all those guards around?  No.  Let's wait and--"  Ben was cut off mid-whisper by the youngest daughter.

"Where do you think they're taking us, Papa?"

"I don't know, Nastya, but I hope they'll let us keep Doctor Botkin around for Alyosha."  The voice was groggy, but regal.

At the mention of his name, the Imperial heir drooped his head.  "It's all my fault.  If I had passed on earlier, the Bolshies would go and bother someone else, like Uncle Michael."

"Hush!  How could you even think like that!"  The daughter standing by the maid spoke, her voice raw with emotion.

"Mashka, the boy has a point."  The voice came from the tallest daughter.  She turned to face Alexei, auburn hair swirling around a stern, yet beautiful face like brandy in a proper glass.  "But Alyosha, that's no excuse to give up on life.  We all have our duty to God, and to each other."

The Emperor turned in his chair.  "Now, Tanya, I don't think this is the proper time to lecture--"

The door opened again.  This time, ten men followed Yurovsky.  Seven of the men wore Austrian uniforms.  One of them, the dour-faced Hungarian Ben had seen in Brodsky's tavern, closed the door behind them, then took his place in the three rows the special detachment had taken. The air quickly grew stuffy, thick.

The leader of the detachment spoke.  "Nikolai Aleksandrovich, in view of the fact that your relatives are continuing their attack on Soviet Russia, the Ural Executive Committee has decided to execute you."

The Emperor turned immediately.  "What?  WHAT?!"  The eleven men began to draw out pistols.  Behind them, Ben poked his rifle over the edge of a flour barrel.  Karchenko followed with his berdanka.

Yurovsky coughed, then repeated himself, with considerably more agitation.  "Nikolai Aleksandrovich, because your relatives and that bastard Kolchak are still--"

Karchenko triggered a spread.  Buckshot spat forth in a wide arc.  The Hungarian caught buckshot and flew into the second row of shooters, knocking them helter-skelter.  Ben followed a split-second later with a long burst from the rifle into the remaining men of the back row.  Almost immediately, the three blew up.  Puffs of plaster, bone chips, and blood covered the side wall behind them.

Yurovsky turned and tried to shoot back, squeezing his Colt pistol as fast as he could.  His shots went wild into the plaster dust and smoke from the shotgun and the automatic rifle.  Ben flipped the selector switch to semi-auto, took aim, and threaded a round into the Old Bolshevik's chest.

The two Bolsheviks in the first row, thinking the sounds were from the guns of their comrades, started shooting wildly towards the Imperial Family.  Puffs of wallpaper exploded behind the doctor and the fourth daughter.  Karchenko had taken out his double-action Nagant and squeezed two shots into man on the left.  Ben heard a woman scream, ignored it, squeezed three rapid shots into the man on the right, firing low.  The two fell over.

In the meantime, Karchenko had reloaded his berdanka, squeezing another blast into the crumpled bodies on the floor.  Ben jammed in another magazine and stepped out from behind the flour barrel, over to the wounded gunmen--point-blank head shots, two apiece.

The room fell silent.

[t_co]

Er, why can't I modify my posts?

[Georgiy]

Hi t_co,
 while Sasha is indeed a pet-form for Aleksandra, so far as I know, the Tsar usually called his wife Alix.

[t_co]

Hi t_co,
 while Sasha is indeed a pet-form for Aleksandra, so far as I know, the Tsar usually called his wife Alix.

Got it, thanks!  Once I can edit my posts again I'll fix that.