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

Newborn

Natalia

Against her better judgment—and despite all her determined efforts—Natalia was warming up to her nephew. The little creature now had a name: Michael, in honour of Feodor's grandfather. Natalia avoided holding him for the first few days, mainly because she didn't know how. But one afternoon, when she was alone with Irina, her sister asked if she wanted to give it a try. With no audience to scrutinize her every move, Natalia decided to accept the challenge.

She held him awkwardly at first, unsure of her grip, but the baby didn't seem to mind. Michael opened his grey eyes briefly, gave her a sleepy glance, then closed them again and drifted into a deep, contented sleep against her chest. Natalia was unprepared for the strange calm that followed. Over the next hour, she discovered that holding a sleeping newborn—feeling the gentle weight of his tiny body, listening to his soft breaths, watching the rise and fall of his little chest, and catching the faint, sweet scent unique to babies—was unexpectedly soothing.

Even more satisfying, though, was the fact that when Michael grew fussy, she could simply hand him back to Irina and go on with her day. Natalia wasn't ready to confess her newfound fondness for her nephew to anyone else, but she could admit to herself that being an aunt wasn't so bad after all.

Still, Michael's timing left something to be desired. His arrival coincided with the opening ceremony of the Olympics, which meant Natalia had missed most of the events and parties that were happening around the city to celebrate the event. Tata, on the other hand, was attending everything alongside her mother and Grand Duke Michael. Every morning, Tata called her house to fill Natalia in on all the details, and their phone conversations often stretched to an hour or more—until Natalia's father inevitably discovered how long the line had been tied up and promptly disconnected it.

"You know who was at the party last night?" Tata asked her one morning.

Natalia sprawled on a chaise longue placed next to the apparatus, rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh loud enough for Tata to hear.

"I can only guess," she said. "Did you talk to him?"

Tata chuckled on the other side of the line. "It was more him who came and talked to me."

Natalia gasped. "No! Did he try to flirt with you?"

Tata's tone immediately turned defensive, slightly offended by Natalia's question. "No, of course not! He came to ask about you—why he hasn't seen you around."

Natalia let out a sharp, frustrated grunt. "Jesus, I thought he'd just pretend nothing had happened. That would've been the polite thing to do."

Tata clicked her tongue.

"And that," she said pointedly, "is exactly why you should only have casual flings with people you're absolutely sure you won't bump into when your family is involved. It's a basic rule of survival, Natasha."

Natalia groaned, pressing the receiver against her forehead for a moment. "Thank you for that brilliant piece of advice, Tata. I'll be sure to write it down somewhere."

"Well, you should," Tata quipped. "You're clearly terrible at this sort of thing."

Natalia couldn't help but laugh despite herself. "Oh, and you're an expert, are you?"

Tata went quiet, so much so that Natalia glanced at the telephone as if checking for a broken connection.

"Tata? Did my father cut us off already?"

There was a faint sound, almost like a cleared throat, before Tata's voice came through again. "Sorry, I'm here," she said in a slightly distant tone, as if she'd been momentarily distracted.

"Were you daydreaming about your expertise in casual flings?" Natalia teased lightly, trying to pull her friend back into the conversation.

Tata let out a weak laugh, but it lacked her usual sharpness. 

"Something like that," she replied vaguely.

Natalia's brow furrowed at the odd moment but brushed it off, justifying Tata's response to exhaustion or some passing thought. 

"Well, as your self-proclaimed hopeless pupil in such matters, maybe you can come up with a plan to help me avoid this mess entirely," she joked.

Tata's voice brightened slightly, though there was a faint eagerness to it now. 

"I'll think about it. But for now, just stay hidden, Natasha. You're not ready to face him yet."

Natalia snorted. 

"Trust me, I have no intention of coming out of hiding anytime soon. Nicholas can stew in his curiosity."

***

Because of their busy schedules, Tata, Grand Duke Michael, and George only came to visit Irina, Feodor, and the baby a few days after the birth. As Grand Duke Michael was Feodor's uncle and godfather, he was particularly pleased to say that the baby looked more like his father than Irina. Although it irritated Natalia to admit it (after all, it had been Irina and not Feodor who had carried him for nine months and gone through all the unpleasantness of labour), he was right.

It was still a bit early to be certain, but from his blond curls to his grey eyes and distinct features, there was little doubt about who the father of this baby was.

Tata spent much of the visit in a quiet conversation with Irina, likely asking about her experience with childbirth and how she was managing the baby.

About ten minutes after the guests arrived, the door opened, and Vladimir entered the room. Natalia raised an eyebrow, surprised to see him again. He had already visited Irina earlier that morning and had been constantly reminding everyone how busy he was and how much he needed peace and quiet to "concentrate." She dismissed it, assuming he had come to see Grand Duke Michael, whom he greatly admired.

Eventually, Tata was ready to hold the baby. She handled him with ease, likely because she had carried George when he was little. As she gently rocked the baby, Vladimir moved slowly across the room in small and deliberate steps until he was directly behind Tata.

Natalia's eyes narrowed as she silently questioned what her brother was up to. But Vladimir didn't notice her. Tata remained focused on the baby, cooing softly about how big and heavy he was.

And then it happened.

To Natalia's shock, Vladimir placed his hand on Tata's back. Her heart jumped, and she parted her lips, expecting Tata to react with outrage — to shout at being touched so casually by her former tutor, of all people. Natalia prepared to join in the indignation, ready to see Tata spin around, scandalized.

But nothing happened.

Tata didn't move. She stayed calm, still rocking the baby as if completely unaware of Vladimir's hand. No, Natalia thought to herself, not unaware — unbothered. It was almost as if... as if she was used to it.

Natalia's eyes went wide, her breath catching in her throat. Her mind began connecting scattered pieces that suddenly fit too well together. Tata walking alone in the garden at night in only her nightgown. Vladimir's empty room when she had gone looking for him after Alexei's accident. His mood when he heard Natalia and Tata comment about the Princes at the Opening Ceremony just a week earlier. For a moment, she wondered if she was letting her imagination run wild.

But then Tata glanced up and noticed Natalia's unsettled expression. Her eyes narrowed in confusion, silently asking, What's wrong?

Natalia didn't speak. She simply shifted her gaze toward Vladimir's hand. Slowly, Tata followed her line of sight.

The realization hit Tata like a lightning strike. Her eyes widened with shock, and her lips parted in a silent gasp. She tensed, and in that split second, Vladimir also seemed to realize what he had done. He panicked and snatched his hand away as if he had burned it.

But it was too late.