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

The Wedding Day

Irina awoke before dawn when the sky was still dark and the air cool. When she left the bed, her feet touched the cold tile floor, taking away what was left of her drowsiness. The house was still peacefully quiet and she could hear the soft, rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs below Ai-Todor drifting through the open windows and the salty air filling her lungs. She sat on her bed for a long moment, breathing it in, feeling that it helped to steady her nerves.

She hadn't slept for more than an hour, even though she had excused herself early from the banquet the night before. She had tossed and turned in bed, playing everything she needed to know in her mind, all the rules, the protocols, the prayers, the rituals, fearing that she would forget something when the time came. The exhaustion from the events of the previous days eventually took over and she fell into a restless sleep, full of vivid dreams. But now, standing by the window, and watching the world slowly coming alive, she felt surprisingly calm and rested, like she could overcome this hurdle and that her life would change for the better afterwards.

Once again, she was glad they were here, near the coast. If they had married in Petrograd, the endless hustle and chaos would have overwhelmed her. She could almost imagine the day unfolding with serenity in this quiet corner of the Crimea.

Everything felt hushed, the world around her bathed in soft, muted tones as if the day hadn't yet decided to fully awaken. Irina stood there, watching as the first slivers of light began to stretch across the horizon, gently coaxing the sky from darkness. The air felt different, almost sacred in its quiet, and for a moment, it was just her and the sound of the distant waves below.

She was well aware this was just a fleeting pause before the rush of the day would sweep her away, she held on to the moment for dear life. Her thoughts flickered to what lay ahead—the ceremony, the sea of faces, the weight of everything about to change. Yet in the stillness of the morning, it all felt far off, as if this time was just hers, untouched by the enormity of what was coming.

A gentle creak startled her, and she turned to see the door connecting her room to Feodor's, which was usually locked, slowly swinging open. To her surprise, Feodor stood there, still in his robe, flashing her a playful grin as he stepped into her bedroom.

"Feodor!" she gasped, trying to suppress a smile. "You're not supposed to open that door! And it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

Feodor shrugged off her playful scolding and walked towards her. "I don't care about any of those silly superstitions. I just had to see you before everything starts."

Irina rolled her eyes but couldn't stop herself from smiling as he approached. He placed his hands on her waist and brushed his lips against hers softly, a simple gesture that made her melt into him.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, searching her eyes.

Surprisingly, she shook her head. "Not yet, at least. Ai-Todor is working its magic on me. I love it here more and more each day."

Feodor's face lit up at her words. "I'm glad to hear that," he said softly, kissing her again, lingering this time as if committing the moment to memory.

He stepped back slightly, still holding her gaze. "I feel like the luckiest man in the world, Irina. This... all of this still feels like a dream."

Irina's heart swelled, and for a brief second, all the nerves she'd expected to feel melted away.

"You're not dreaming," she whispered, resting her forehead against his for a moment. "And neither am I."

Feodor kissed her once more, more deeply this time, before reluctantly pulling away. "I suppose I should let you get back to your preparations before I really tempt fate," he teased.