Flowers Bloom In Spring

Part 16: The Hour

Maria

The rhythmic clank of forks, the popping of champagne bottles, the laughter and waltzes. It was an orchestra of its own.

There was great aura of joy and peace. As if all of Russia had breathed a sigh of relief from all that had happened in the past few months. We had missed the cliffs of revolution, and somehow found solice in a bright and fiery young woman, my eldest sister.

I delicately picked at the lavish dessert placed in front of me, exchanging glances with Tatiana as we sat together. The crystal chandeliers dangled beautifully from the golden arched ceiling of the ballroom.

A constant flow of champagne and desserts entered through the doors and plenty of plates and empty glasses exited. I can't imagine how long it would take to clean them all and tidy up the kitchen after all this!

"Well, how does it feel to be the sister of the Empress, eh?" I elbowed Tatiana.

Her stern and regal expression was concrete. "I don really feel any different. Is that bad?" She said softly, a tiny smile peaking through her lips.

"How about you?" She replied.

"Well I-" I paused for a moment.

I hadn't really gotten the chance to really think about it. Should I be proud, maybe happy, what about dutiful? I didn't know. Strong and steady me didn't have an answer. I was actually thinking of Mama and Papa more then anything. They sat there with a proud and vacant expression. But deep inside,
way down- they each had their difficulties that would not be shown in the light of this bright room. Only when we were alone at home, and the lights were dimmed. When they sat in bed and had their tea. When I was younger I would tip toe to the door, slightly cracked open and listen intently. Although I rarely disobeyed, this was one thing I could not help myself from doing. I would crouch by the door with my ear against the wall until my governess would hurry me back to bed, fearful of the consequences. Then they would talk of their darkest fears and sorrows. For Papa, he felt like a failure. His daughter who had zero training and was supposed to be a Grand Duchess for good. But she became an Empress, and her hemophiliac brother was no longer needed for the throne. But he had been trained, pedigreed for the title of Tsar and now he was handing it over.

Meanwhile, Mama, who was always an emotional train wreck in situations like these had been through the wringer of Imperial ridicule the day she came to court. This only made things worse. The public had a new favorite Empress, and it definitely wasn't her. For everything she put up with in life, I am hard pressed to see how she will recover from this blow without dragging Tatiana out of the Imperial Court to exile with her. Tatya was her 'safe space.' It was a miracle she was somewhat emotionally stable now. Especially with the death of Father Grigori. If I called it a miracle I would call it Tatiana. Mama had a tendency to cling to people. First it was Papa then it was Rasputin, and now it is Tatiana.

I fear sometimes that maybe the situation would end up like our great grandma, Queen Victoria and her daughter. She was with her all the time. Tatiana couldn't do that. As grounded as she is, she wants to fly. I can feel her slowly chipping away at it.

I sighed, leaving the question unanswered.

Then there was Alexei, who was whisked away back to the Palace after the ceremony because he couldn't take the stimulation of the whole celebration. He was crippled in his health, but also crippled in his emotion. Now no one in the public dotted on him like we would always do, regardless of his status.
He was merely a blissful dream to them. Because now they only cared about Empress Olga Nikolaevna. She was under the spotlight. As if we had dealt with such a thing enough, now she was stuck with the increased press. But we weren't far from the grasp of the press either. Alexei essentially switched places with us. Before this month, no one cared about the four girls in white. They only cared about the delicate Tsarevich. Because the Duchesses were expendable, able to be married off and forgotten.

I suddenly felt quite sad, unusually sad. I stared off at the dancing figures on the dance floor.

"Sit up straight." Mama said firmly, gripping my wrist as I shocked myself from my daydream.

Papa silently turned his head as she rebuked me, wrestling with emotions of his own.

"Yes Mama." I said faintly, glancing at her cold features. I could tell she was in a 'mixed' mood at best.

My blue saucers scanned the room. I slid closer to Tatiana as Mama wasn't offering any joyful remarks.

Suddenly something hit me in the head. I glanced around confused, then another thing pelted at me. Crumpled pieces of paper flung at me. I furrowed my brows in confusion.

As if my instincts didn't tell me that Shvybzik was somewhere off target practicing on me with paper pieces. When I spotted her behind a large plant I crossed my arms.

Meanwhile a stern 'Stop it' was mouthed by Tatiana, who was trying to play Grand Duchess flawlessly and scold Nastya at the same time.

Anastasia glared at her, before prancing back to the table, sitting next to me.

"Look at her. Have you ever seen her this happy. Just like before the war." Tatiana said warmly, her lips lifting in a beaming smile, joining all eyes in beholding the Empress waltz gracefully around the ballroom.

"Who wouldn't be?" I said happily, eager to make my way to the dance floor with Tatiana and Anastasia.

As the orchestra fizzled into a gradient of clapping from the guests, a horde of Grand Dukes and Princes hastened to follow Olga in hopes of securing the next dance.

She glanced at us, motioning for us to come. I ventured towards her with Tatiana and Anastasia.

"You three should be dancing." She said quietly, shooing away the hopeful men as they crowded her.

"But whom shall I have for my first dance?" I said with a smirk, peering around the room as dozens of dukes and prince stood on the sidelines.

"Just pick anyone." Anastasia said modestly, well over having to be tightlaced in her mannerisms for a few hours.

"Oh but you can't just pick anyone." Tatiana said quickly refuting Anastasia.

"What if he has two left feet?" Olga said, proceeding to step forward with a small smile as she surveyed the landscape of the ballroom.

"Hm." I nodded, gripping the grand staircase.

Tatiana and Olga walked down the few steps and onto the floor, and within seconds, they were flocked by dukes and princes.

"Come on!" I said above the boisterous music as Anastasia trailed behind me.

A mischievous grin emerged from Anastasia's bored expression as Prince Igor swooped in and intercepted the Empress on her way to the dance floor.

"They are so in love." I beamed dreamily, spinning around benevolently.

"Ugh. What makes you think that-" Anastasia mentioned, but not before rolling her eyes.

"Its just a feeling.'' I said.

''Any- expert in the field knows it. The looks, the compliments, the nervous laughs." I replied in a sing song voice, tapping her shoulder.

"Expert in the field, really Mashka?" Nastya said in strained tone, cringing until her eyelids were intensely wrinkled.

"Let's just get going on the dance floor Ms. Matchmaker." She added, shoving me forward.