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

The Romanian Prince

Paris, November 1923

Natalia

Natalia tucked the scarf tighter around her neck as she stepped out of her dorm room and made her way to the school dining hall. The weather had turned nasty over the last few days, with pouring rain and biting winds that seemed to cut through her clothing, leaving her shivering to the bone. It was curious how the cold felt sharper here in France than it ever did in Russia. One of her teachers had mentioned something about the humidity, but Natalia hadn't paid much attention at the time. Now, as the icy wind wrapped around her, she wished she had.

Boarding school in Paris had been a world she hadn't expected to love so much. She had known from the start that she would enjoy life in France—she had never gotten over the feeling that Paris was her true home, where she felt most comfortable and able to be herself. But what had taken her by surprise was just how deeply she had grown attached to the routine, the friendships, and the sense of independence she had found here. The thought of returning to Russia was an unwelcome shadow looming over her final weeks. Her reluctance came not only from leaving Paris, but, above all from the fact that she was stepping away from the freedom she had carved out for herself, the autonomy that came from living in a city where her family name didn't carry as much weight and where no one had any expectations for her. Here, she was just another student navigating the ups and downs of adolescence.

The idea of returning to Tsarskoe Selo, especially now that Irina had moved to the Crimea, filled her with a deep unease. Everything in Russia would be different, and the comfort she had built in Paris would be stripped away. She imagined the landscapes of what was supposed to be her homeland, the endless expanse of snow, and the palaces that felt more like cages than homes. But even that vision seemed distant now. Russia had become a place tied to her past, while Paris represented the present—the person she was becoming.

As she walked through the rain-soaked courtyard, she reflected on how much she had changed since arriving here. She had been so unsure of herself before, nervous about fitting in and worried about how she would manage without the familiar structure of her home. Now, she moved through her days with a new confidence, a sense of purpose that had grown within her as the months passed. But this newfound confidence also made the thought of leaving harder. She would miss the late-night conversations in the dorms, the way the city lights flickered in the distance as she sat by her window and even the annoying rain that seemed to have settled permanently over Paris in recent days.

But most of all, Natalia would miss her escapades into Paris's nightclubs with Tata. How could she return to the stifling atmosphere of the Russian court after experiencing something so vivid, so alive? She and Tata had danced until their feet ached and laughed until their sides hurt as if they were part of this joyful mass of people who were determined to enjoy life to the fullest, after the nightmare of war. It was during those nights that Natalia had felt most free as if nothing could touch her or pull her back to the rigid expectations of her old life. The music, the dancing, the uninhibited conversations with strangers—it had been intoxicating.

She was still lost in the memories of their escapades when she entered the dining hall to have her breakfast, but she was immediately struck by an unusual level of chatter, far louder than the usual background noise of conversation she had grown accustomed to during her time at the school. For a moment, she paused in the doorway, wondering if she had accidentally walked into the wrong room or if she had somehow missed an important announcement about an event.

Her eyes scanned the room, but the rows of tables and chairs were mostly empty, except for a large group of students clustered at the far end of the hall. There was a palpable energy in the room that let her know at once that something different was happening. She tucked her books under her arm and stepped further in, her mind slowly detaching from thoughts of Parisian nights and slipping back into the present. Whatever had captured everyone's attention must have been important enough to draw most of the students together. The sound of voices rose and fell in excited bursts, but from where she stood, Natalia couldn't make out any details.