The Lives Of The Romanovs

Another Day, Another Rose

Tatiana

Olga's wedding was absolutely beautiful. Igor and her were currently honeymooning in Moscow. They weren't going to be in contact with anyone for at least a week, which was understandable. I wasn't allowed to return to the hospital since I was six-months pregnant. Beloselsky-Belozersky Palace was full of life once again after we moved back in. Dmitri and I were able to put our own photos and paintings up.

"Dear Tatya." Dmitri walked into the sitting room. The walls were a turquoise color with a beautiful gray-carpet. We had photos around the sitting room with Dmitri and I's wedding photos and some from when we were children.
"Yes?"
"I have an idea. I know we had set our baby names up. Elisabeth, if it was a girl, and the name, Mikhail, if it was a boy. However, I've recently come to a love for the name Boris."
I frowned. "I don't like that name very much, dear. It sounds too old."
"Too old? It sounds classy to me! But I suppose it should be a mutual decision, so I supposed we shall stick with Elisabeth and Mikhail."
"Thank you." I nodded. Dmitri walked over to the alcohol cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He was drinking at 13:00. I hated when he drank before it was even dinner time. Dmitri started drinking a little more ever since we got married. He wasn't an alcoholic or anything, so don't think that.

"Drinking this early again?" I said in a condescending tone. Dmitri looked at me a groaned. He put the glass of whiskey down.
"Don't be like that, Tatya. I don't want to be lectured by you." Dmitri shook his head and swiftly walked out of the sitting room. I sighed and I tried to continue knitting. Was married life supposed to be aggravating so early on in this marriage? I honestly wasn't sure anymore.
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Anastasia

What went from five women in the Feminist group, quickly turned into twenty-women. And then it was fifty, then it was seventy. Before I knew it, there were hundreds of women who were interested. All friends of friends of friends that were members. My official name for the group: The ROOIW. Which stood for: "Russian Organization Of Inspiring Women".

We obviously couldn't continue the meetings in the cellar of the bar. So, I paid off an owner of a theater in Moscow to allow us to meet there. He was rather generous and promised to keep my true identity a secret. But anyway, my next plan for us: Put up posters around Petrograd and Moscow that would promote women's rights.

"Ladies, the posters look great!" I exclaimed as I walked around and looked at everyone's drawings.
"How is mine, Anastasia?" Svetlana asked.
I gasped. "I love it! The pink rose on the Russian flag really adds some pride for our country too."
"I think so too. We can print those later."
"Amazing!"
I walked away. But a man in a suit caught my eye. He was tall, I'm guessing around 6'0". Blond-hair and crystal blue-eyes. He wore a gray-suit with a red tie and was holding a notepad and pen in one hand along with a camera in the other. This man couldn't have been older then twenty-seven. I had no choice but to approach him and figure out what he wanted.

"Excuse me," I asked as I rushed over to him. "Can I help you or are you lost?"
He sighed and held out his hand. "Hello, my name is Makari Kuznetsov. I'm a journalist at The Petrograd Stories. I'm searching for the boss."
I crossed my arms. "That's me. And I've never heard of them."
"We're kind of newer...we were only started a year ago." Makari nervously chuckled.
"So how did you even find out about what we do here? And do you even want?"
He was so nervous. Makari was scanning the room and deeply breathing.
"My sister is actually apart of this. But there are so many women, you probably don't even know who she is. And if you shall allow it, I'd like an interview with you. Look, I know you probably would prefer a female journalist covering the story. But no one at the company wanted to cover the story."
"Well to be frank, you don't really want to cover the story. I'm sure you're just doing it for your sister." I shrugged. Makari shook his head.
"No, I actually am interested in this. I'm a liberal, ma'am. I believe in rights for everyone. Jews and women, especially. So please, can I have an interview? I'll buy you a drink if I have to." He smirked. I couldn't help but smirk back and chuckle at him.
"Fine. Let us do it next week. I want whiskey."
"Amazing! Shall I pick you up? I have a car-"
"No! We can meet. Let's say...Wednesday at 12:00 at The Stone House."
Makari scoffed and shook his head. "Oh no! I would never take you to some poor and dirty place. There's a much nicer place in Western Petrograd. It's called Red Hawk."
"Isn't that place expensive?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I'll do whatever I can to make the person I'm interviewing comfortable. I'll see you then."