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

Consequences

In a moment, the mood of the evening changed completely. From pure joy and peace to utter despair as Natalia tried to drag Alexei out of the frozen garden and into the house. She had wrapped his arm around her shoulders, bracing him as best as she could, but she felt the burden grow heavier with every step. She was sweating despite the freezing air, and her breath came in short, laboured gasps as she struggled to keep her footing. Her legs were trembling, her muscles threatening to give out beneath her, but there was no choice. She had to keep moving. She couldn't stop. Not now.

Alexei was doing his best, too. With one leg planted on the ground, he dragged the other behind him, gritting his teeth through each painful movement. The effort was too much. His face had gone deathly pale, his eyes glassy with pain, and every strained grunt that escaped him made Natalia's stomach tighten with dread. She could feel the warmth of his body fading, his strength slipping away with each passing moment. She feared he might lose consciousness at any second, and the thought nearly broke her.

She had wanted to scream for help, to call for the guards, but her voice came out thick and muffled. Her lungs burned from the effort, and her throat felt like it was closing in on her. Still, she pushed on, refusing to let him collapse.

The garden seemed endless as she struggled to carry their weight toward the house. She was growing weaker, but the thought of leaving Alexei behind—of letting him fall—was unthinkable. She couldn't afford to stop. Not for a second.

"Come on, Alexei," she whispered through gritted teeth. "We're almost there. Just a little further."

She felt his body lean more heavily against her as his grunts grew more pronounced. His good leg wavered, barely keeping him upright. She could feel his heart pounding erratically against her side, and it only made her panic more.

She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. They were so close to the door, but it might as well have been miles away. The icy air and the weight of their situation all felt too much. She kept her eyes on the door ahead, focusing on it, willing herself to make it, but she wasn't sure if she could.

She only wanted someone to hear them, see them, and help. She no longer cared if they knew they had been out in the town. It seemed so stupid now that they had done something so risky when they could have faced the guards and a minor punishment for disobeying. She knew the guilt would eat at her soon enough, but for now, she kept those thoughts away, focusing solely on getting to his room.

"Just a little more," she muttered, as if the simple words could somehow make it true. "We're almost there."

She could hardly believe it when they finally reached the door to his room. With what little strength remained in her, she guided him to his bed, easing him down before collapsing onto the floor beside it. Her body screamed in protest, every muscle aching, every bone protesting the strain as she tried to steady her breath, her mind swirling in a haze of panic and confusion.

Alexei needed help. She needed to call someone—his doctor, preferably—but she couldn't stay there, slumped on the floor, waiting for things to fix themselves somehow. His grunts of pain from the bed cut through her, sharpening her focus and spurring her into action. She had no choice but to rise.

He was lying face down, his screams muffled against the pillow, his face slick with sweat, his hair sticking to his skin. Climbing onto the bed, she gently turned him over, but the sight of him made her blood freeze. His face was the colour of the sheets—pale, drained—and the dark circles under his eyes made him look like he hadn't slept in days. Her chest tightened, but she pushed forward, brushing a wet strand of hair from his forehead and speaking to him in a soft, trembling voice.

"Alexei, I'm here. Please, stay with me," she whispered, but he could hardly respond coherently. His breath was ragged, his eyes unfocused.

"Go to... go to Bodia," he gasped, fighting for air. "He'll understand. He'll know what to do... —just tell him we were walking in the garden, that I tripped and fell. If you tell anyone the truth, they'll never let you near me again... And I just couldn't bear it, Natasha."