Flowers Bloom In Spring

Part 11: The Wolf I Loved

Thank you all for reading! Please don't hesitate to vote or comment, it really brightens my day and motivates me! Enjoy chapter 11! -Cavalry

Olga

April of 1917

Another packed day for the Empress to be. It made me understand my father so much more. I always questioned why he was so exhausted all the time; now I know. I wearily followed the bandwagon of ministers down the hall.

''Ah, excuse me, Your Majesty.'' An old British minister behind me said. I tried with all my might not to roll my eyes at all of these over-the-top titles. I am Olga Nikolaevna Romanova; why can't that be my 'title.'

''Yes?'' I said, slowly spindling around with little enthusiasm. He glanced down at his notebook, adjusting his glasses.

''There is a Mr. Pavlovich here to see you. He is a reporter.'' The man said.

''Bring me to him.'' I decided. Maybe going to the press would help solidify the people's hope in me. Besides, it was something new to break up my monotonous days spent doing the same thing.

The Cossacks unlocked the door to the meeting room. Two chairs sat next to the grand fireplace. A reasonably tall man had his back to me, pouring himself a drink of whiskey. Something about him was familiar, but I couldn't place the resemblance unless he turned to show his face.

Slowly he turned around, and my blood ran cold. A million memories flooded back to me in an instant; I thought I was dreaming. I gasped for air as he stood there.

''Did you miss me?'' He said, lifting his glass.

It was Prince Dmitry Pavlovich, the man who provided the gun for Rasputin's death. The man who I saw as a brother, and later my fiance. I had no emotion towards him whatsoever. To me, he was a murderer, an ex-fiance, and a liar. There were occasional thoughts of sadness, but I kept telling myself the story of how he was sent away and why. As guarded as Tatiana was, I knew they clicked more than Dmitry and I did, and we were engaged.

He had a disguise of sorts and forged papers displayed on a sitting chair in the corner. No wonder he couldn't have come back here as himself. Papa had banished him to the far reaches of the empire for what he had done to Grigori Rasputin. It was the only way to console grieving and distraught Mama.

I glanced back at the door, then at him. ''Give me one good reason not to SLAP you right now.'' I seethed, slamming my hand on the back of the sofa.

''Oh, still sour about the engagement?'' He frowned, lowering the glass as he walked towards me.

''I'm mad at you for a lot of things, now if you'll excuse me, I'll have to ask you to leave, or I'll-.'' He cut me off.

''You and I both know Rasputin's death is what we wanted.'' He murmured, starting to encroach on my personal space until I backed into the mantel of the fireplace.

I wriggled to the right of him, walking to the middle of the room. Those words had been fighting over me for the past four months. Maybe I did want Rasputin dead or banished, but not how Dmitry envisioned it.

I avoided that question, ignoring my initial thoughts. ''Why are you here?'' I said, closing my eyes briefly as I tried to suppress raw memories.

''Well, I heard the news that you're in power now, and naturally hearing that my fiance was Empress, I thought I'd head back into town and ask to come back to court life.'' He said nonchalantly, tipping the last of the bottle of whiskey into his glass.

''Ex-fiance.'' I clarified.

''Right.'' He grinned, lifting a finger.

I sighed in frustration, shaking my head. ''Why do you think that I would do such a thing?"

''Because one, you and I are not fully enemies, and two because you love your sister.'' He just drove the dagger further and further in.

''What makes you think Tatiana has any feelings for you now, Dmitry?" I snapped, narrowing my gaze at him.

He sighed. ''I know there was something different between us before I was banished from the court.'' It almost looked like he didn't want to hurt my feelings because he didn't really love me. At least he broke off our engagement quietly, I didn't care for it, but he did it with at least an ounce of dignity like a man.

"I just can't imagine what my parents would think of me not excommunicating you. I know for sure Mother would quite possibly disown me." I scoffed.

"Maybe they wouldn't if they didn't know my true identity." He said.

"You've really thought this over haven't you?" I replied, questions swirling.

"I've had about four months of rotting in exile to."He replied in his usual sarcastic manner.

"I-I can't help you Dmitry." I replied, shaking my head at the thought of such an outrageous prospect.

"Not even for old times sake? Please, Olga." He begged, grabbing my hand.

I sighed, tearing my hand away from him. "Not right now, no." I said, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Very well. I'll be- around." He muttered, tapping at his glass.

What did he mean? "I'll be around."
I thought, slowly walking to the doors. I grabbed the brass handle, gripping it tightly.

"Take care, Dmitry. Whatever I decide." I said subtly, before departing.

The Cossacks walked with me down the corridor. I had enough responsibility, and now I had to keep secrets from my family. It felt like every day my problems escalated, one way or an other I was determined to survive. The golden eagle would survive at all costs.

I always thought no one could ever take it away. But now I had my doubts. It could be gone in an instant, tarnished by war, famine, scandal.

The Russian eagle would rise from these ashes, and it was up to the Empress to make that happen.

One way or another we would be victorious.