The Paleys (1921-1927) - An Alternate Romanov Story

Distance

Natalia

Natalia stood at the edge of the grand dining room and immediately drew her eyes to Irina. She was stunning, absolutely radiant in a sparkling grey dress that shimmered like moonlight and crowned with a glittering tiara. It suited her perfectly, emphasizing her grace and poise—so far removed from the shy little girl Natalia used to confide in late at night. There was a dignity about her now, a sense of responsibility and maturity that Natalia admired. It felt as if she had truly been born into the role of a Princess.

How far we've both come, she thought, feeling her chest swelling with pride not just for Irina but also for herself. For the first time, she had been allowed to wear jewellery, and the gentle weight of the gems at her ears and around her neck seemed enough to make her feel more mature, more responsible. She found herself standing a little taller, lifting her chin just slightly as if the pearls themselves were guiding her into a more refined version of herself.

Her dress—a pale pink chiffon that clung to her like a second skin—was a recent acquisition from Paris, and it made her feel confident in a way she had never quite felt before. The fabric flowed around her knees with every movement, light and airy, as if she was walking on a cloud. For the first time, she felt like she truly belonged in this dazzling world of royalty and dignitaries.

Still, despite her excitement, Natalia's eyes scanned the room restlessly. She didn't spot Alexei right away, but she felt her chest grow warmer when she caught sight of Tata. Without a second thought, she made a beeline toward her. It had only been a few days since they had last seen each other, but after sharing their lives and so many different experiences for the past six months, those few days had felt like an eternity. Seeing Tata felt like a reunion of sorts, something familiar and comforting in the middle of the grandeur and formality of the evening.

"Tata!" she exclaimed, pulling her into a tight embrace. Tata laughed softly, returning the hug with equal warmth. It felt like home like everything was back in its place. The two exchanged a few hurried words before Natalia suddenly realized they weren't alone.

She turned and, for the first time that evening, saw Alexei. Her heart gave a small, unexpected jolt and felt a wave of excitement so great it made her toes curl. He looked so different. He hadn't stopped growing in the six months they had been apart and was now almost as tall as his uncle Misha. It was clearer than ever that he had taken more to the Romanov side of his family, full of giant Grand Dukes. She smiled and moved toward him, but a brief pause from him —a second of hesitation—made the moment feel a little strained. His eyes held hers for a long moment, and though she pulled him into an embrace, she sensed that a quiet distance had settled between them like they had forgotten how to act around each other.

"Alexei," she said softly, but he didn't respond immediately.

She felt the bones sticking out on his back as she embraced him and noticed for the first time that, despite the concealing effect of his uniform, he was much thinner than the last time she had seen him and the lively energy he displayed when they were together seemed muted, replaced by a tiredness that worried her. His eyes, though still warm, looked shadowed and worn.

"Are you all right?" Natalia asked, unable to hide the concern from her voice. For a moment, he didn't answer, just stared up at her as if weighing his response.

"I'm fine," he said eventually, though his voice lacked strength. He tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Natalia felt a pang of worry deep in her chest. Something was off, but she knew better than to address it here, under the glittering chandeliers, surrounded by so many watchful eyes. Instead, she gently squeezed his hand, offering him a soft smile in hopes of reassuring him that she was there, no matter what.

"Don't tell me the cabinet meetings have already eaten away your soul," she teased lightly, hoping to lift the cloud that seemed to hang over him.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Alexei's lips. It was subtle, but enough to give her a glimpse of the friend she had missed.

"They're not the most fun I've had," Alexei admitted and his tone warmed for a moment that passed all too quickly, "but they're bearable. I know my duty."

For a brief moment, the familiar spark of the boy she had left behind flickered in his eyes, and Natalia clung to that, hoping it meant he wasn't as far away as she feared. However, before they had a chance to say anything else, she saw a figure approaching them. A tall, middle-aged man with silvering hair and a formal demeanour—a courtier, she guessed—made his way toward Alexei with a respectful bow.

"Your Majesty," the man began, in a low, serious voice, "there are matters I must discuss with you regarding tomorrow's proceedings."

Alexei straightened and he immediately put on the mask of duty and formality she had come to recognize as he slowly took over his role. His hand slipped from hers, and without another word, he turned his attention fully to the man.

Natalia stepped back, sensing it was her cue to leave. She gave Alexei one last glance, but he was already absorbed in the conversation. Quietly, she made her way back to her seat.

Throughout the dinner, Natalia kept stealing glances at Alexei. He was always surrounded by someone —middle-aged men eager to discuss political matters, high-born ladies flattering him with every word, and beautiful young women hoping to catch his attention. It was as if he were the centre of gravity in the room, drawing everyone in with an irresistible pull. To them, Alexei wasn't just any young man—he was the Tsar, a powerful presence they rarely had the chance to bask in here in the Crimea.

It was funny, she thought to herself, watching him nod thoughtfully at something one of the courtiers said. She had known Alexei since they were children, and to her, he had always been a friend first. But now, as she observed him being constantly surrounded, Natalia saw the inevitable shift happening. The boy she had spent hours with playing in gardens, teasing at every opportunity she got, was becoming a monarch, and everyone was trying to claim a piece of his time.

His coronation loomed on the horizon—it was only two years away—but she knew that every moment from now until then would be filled with preparations, moulding him into the leader of a vast, complex nation. The thought made her head spin. It was all so far removed from the carefree, dazzling life she had come to enjoy in Paris, where her only concerns were fashion, art, and, somewhere in there, school.

What a world to be entering, she reflected, glancing down at the fabric of her dress, which seemed to belong to a different reality than the weighty decisions that were being made just across the room. She wondered if Alexei ever longed for simpler days if he missed the freedom they had once shared. But looking at him now—surrounded, regal, and so far away—it was hard to imagine him as anything other than what he was destined to be.