Duchess Diva

Chapter 1

Brief Foreword: This is a piece dedicated to the late Grand Duchess Anastasia of Russia, and the urban legend of her survival. In this story, there is a great destiny waiting for Anastasia in America... A place among the stars of Broadway and Hollywood through their Golden Ages. And this is mildly based in historical facts, as it is an alternate history. Enjoy this first sneak peek!

(No worries, this will not interfere with other stories I have online. This is a side project, which will be posted on my Ao3 as well.)

October 1, 1918: 8:30 A.M

Washington D.C

(Anastasia's POV)

For the first time since that turbulent time of the Revolution, the harsh reality I faced became clear. After the long journey away from Russia, there were no more distractions and excuses for myself to ignore it. Now- Now I was lost and alone in an unfamiliar, distant nation from my former homeland, Russia. Well, if Russia could be called Russia anymore. No, it was all dead to me! Everything of my old life had been washed away into history. Like my family that lived only to die, those Russian soldiers that fought in vain, and some dear friends that died long ago.

Yet I was still alive, and what for? I no longer knew who I was anymore. Once a Grand Duchess with her entire world at her grasp, and now a castaway orphan! And this was what it was like to be on the wrong side of history...

It was painful to give even a glancing thought about my dire situation. My breath hitched, as I covered my face into my hands. The thought of all of them being stabbed and shot to death, screaming for help in that gloomy, cold cellar that night... My heart broke. Tears slipped out of the cracks, blurring everything.

My parents, my dear sisters, and even my youngest brother had all perished at the end of June. I knew it would happen soon after the British agents smuggled me out of Tobolsk to England, where I would be moved to America. In April, the rest of my family were moved to that horrid prison the Bolsheviks called a "house". And that murderer they called a commandant had ordered their so-called "execution" one month after their transfer. And what saddened me most was that I never had a chance to give them a proper goodbye.

Why must I outlive my loved ones?

I did not know how long I cried. I smothered my face into the pillow and sobbed for what seemed like hours. Bargaining with God to bring them back would not work. My family was already in a better place, but they were still gone for the rest of my life! They would never grow old and happy!

It ached very much. Yet I needed to cry now so that I would be strong later. I would live for my parents and my siblings watching from above. Poor Mashka... She wanted the most out of all of us to have a family.

"Mama... P- Papa..."

But I could not hear an answer. Between hitching breaths and trembling sobs, I asked God to take care of my late family. That was all I could pray for. Soon, I realized I was truly alone. I had no family, no home to rest in anymore.

With my tears now dry, salty streaks on my face, I laid down again on my hotel bed and closed my eyes. All I could do was wait until a guardian was found for me. They would not be any distant relatives since they were all living far away. They would be strangers to me.

I had my doubts after hearing of the dreadful news that my Mama, Papa, and siblings were all gone from the slaughter. But did I have any other option? I hoped that whoever became my guardian was a kind and trustworthy person...

After some time, I realized that I was hungry. I got off the bed and glanced out of the window. A few stories below on my left, an unfamiliar maroon red car was parked. I squinted below from my windowsill, seeing a lady in a dark blue dress and a white sun hat step out of the car. I wondered if that lady would be my new guardian, as foolish as it was. For at least a dozen times, I had looked down to see well-dressed visitors who simply happened to be hotel guests.