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

A New World

Alexei had never done many things before that evening. He had never walked down a public street without an escort, called a cab, or set foot anywhere near a nightclub. Natalia felt a bit nervous herself, even though she and Tata had been doing this almost every weekend for the past months. Tata, however, moved with more confidence in these settings. Except for the fact that her mother had married into the Romanov family, Tata had experienced a more typical upbringing than any of them.

She knew how to handle money, navigate shops without the help of servants, and make sense of public transport. Over the past year, she'd taught Natalia these things, but this was the first time she was trying it on her own—and with Alexei in tow, it felt a little daunting. However, she did her best to hide her uncertainty from him.

There was also the constant worry that someone might recognize him. Despite his civilian clothes, his height alone could attract attention, and a closer look would likely reveal his identity, as his face was often in newspapers and on postcards. Still, she found some comfort in the idea that most people wouldn't expect the Tsar of Russia to be out dancing at a Parisian nightclub. If anyone questioned it, she could brush it off, claiming he was just a distant cousin who happened to look a lot like him.

When she had left the house, Natalia had been bent on the idea of taking him only to the nightclub, but when they stepped foot on the streets of Montmartre, she had a slight change of heart. It was a beautiful evening. A light layer of snow was on the ground, but it was not as cold as it had been over the last few days.

Paris was preparing for Christmas, with all the shops draped in soft, twinkling lights, garlands of evergreen and ribbons lining the lampposts and wreaths hung on doors. The air smelt of cinnamon and freshly baked bread, which the bakeries prepared in advance to sell in the morning. Although it was late, the streets were still filled with people wrapped in scarves and coats who seemed reluctant to trade the cold, magical feeling of the evening for any warm fire.

Looking at Alexei, who was standing next to her, she saw him admiring all this, his eyes darting around wide and his mouth slightly open in awe at the scene. She smiled to herself at the sight of him. It was one of those moments she wished she could take a picture of and cherish it forever. The boy Tsar, now a young man, the richest and one of the most powerful people in the world, who lived in a palace all his life, was left completely stunned and taken aback by some humble Christmas lights the people of the neighbourhood had put together. It felt like something fragile, a snippet in time that could break at any moment.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she whispered, hoping to hold on to the moment's magic just a little longer.

Alexei snapped out of his reverie, looking down at her with sparkling eyes and a soft smile.

"It might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered back.

"The nightclub doesn't sound like such a good idea anymore, does it?" she asked playfully.

He chuckled, glancing back at the lights. "Maybe not. I think I'd rather stay here."

Natalia laughed, linking her arm with his.

"I love the sentiment, but we're not staying in one place all night. If you think this is beautiful, wait until you see what the Champs-Élysées and the tower look like at this time of year."

No further words or explanations were needed. Natalia led Alexei down the cobbled streets of Montmartre as the sounds of fading music and laughter filled the crisp night air. They wandered past small art studios and cafes, most of them closed for the night. The street performers were already packing their things, but there was an accordion player with his dog who, seeing them pass, asked if they would like to listen to a song. Natalia offered him a coin, and he started playing "Silent Night," filling the street with its gentle, familiar melody. Natalia thought there couldn't be a more perfect song for the evening.

When she took her eyes off the man and the dog—barking in rhythm with the tune—she found Alexei stretching out his hand toward her.

"This wouldn't be the perfect night in Paris if we didn't dance at least once," he said.

She laughed and accepted the invitation. They moved slowly to the tune, their chests pressing together, gloved hands holding tight to one another. The melody was so soothing, and Alexei's scent and presence were so familiar that she allowed herself to rest her head against his shoulder, humming the lyrics to the song in French. She could feel Alexei's heart beating frantically against his chest in unison with her own.

She found herself quietly thankful to have a friend like Alexei. Someone who had always been there since they were little more than children, someone who, even after a whole year apart and with all the responsibilities he had on his shoulders, still managed, deep down, to be the same kind little boy she had met all those years ago. All the fears about bringing him out and showing him the city had vanished, and now she was only glad that they had managed to get away, that she could offer him a few hours where he could just be himself, far from the pressures of the court.

When the tune ended, Alexei turned to the musician, slipping off one of his silver cufflinks and pressing it into the man's hand. Natalia leaned in, murmuring softly, "Alexei, that's far too generous."

He shook his head. "Not at all. It's a small price for the best performance I've ever seen," he replied with a wink. Then he took her arm, guiding her back onto the street.

As they strolled on, he grinned, "One day, I'll come back here and make him a Count."

Natalia chuckled, glancing up at him. "An excellent idea—for the day you decide things are running a little too smoothly. Hand out titles to street performers and watch your ministers question your sanity."

"Alexei the Mad," he declared in a mock-serious tone, sending them both into a fit of laughter.

They continued walking for a long time, but everything seemed easy and light in each other's company. They moved toward the heart of the city, crossing into the Champs-Élysées, where the scene became even grander. Strings of lights crisscrossed the boulevard, illuminating it like a river of stars flowing toward the Arc de Triomphe. At that time, the avenue was practically deserted, except for scattered groups of friends who were also enjoying the evening and the odd worker returning home after a long day.

After nearly two hours of wandering through the city, they finally reached the Place de la Concorde, where the Champs-Élysées opened up to a view of the Eiffel Tower. Against the dark winter sky, the tower shimmered with thousands of lights, casting a radiant glow over the landscape. Alexei stopped in his tracks, transfixed by the sight.

Natalia squeezed his arm. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

He hesitated, glancing at her with a half-smile.

She raised an eyebrow, catching the look on his face. "What?"

Alexei bit his lip, a semblance of a smile playing on his lips. "I'd rather not say. I saw how you practically murdered poor Kostya with a glare when he dared to criticize it."

Natalia burst into laughter, nudging his shoulder. "Well, let's hear it, then. Maybe you'll live to tell the tale."

He gave a mock sigh, looking back up at the tower. "Fine. It's... a pile of iron. A very tall one, I'll admit. And the lights make it somewhat pretty, but I wouldn't trade Russia for this."

Natalia gasped, feigning outrage, and swatted his arm. "I swear to you, Alexei Nikolaevich, if I'm ever fortunate enough to be in the same room as the President of France—and that shouldn't be too hard, considering he's a friend of my parents— I'm going to tell him word-for-word what you just told me. Let's see how the Entente Cordiale holds up after that!"