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

Alone

Natalia had, indeed, returned to the theatre. She had done so almost every day for two weeks, pretty much every time Irina didn't need Sonya for the afternoon. Natalia had tried her best to devise a plan where she could go there without a chaperone - not that she didn't enjoy Sonya's company. Despite all their differences, she knew how to keep her distance, and she had never breathed a word about her closeness to Serge. But she longed to be alone with him, just so they have more intimate conversations and she could finally ask if he was indeed interested in her or if she was just imagining things.

However, she soon discovered that her father had ensured she wouldn't repeat her past transgressions around the house. Now, there were always guards around the gates, even at night, and he was in the process of erecting a fence in the most vulnerable corner of the wall, where she used to slip away unnoticed.

Thus, her meetings with Serge remained frustratingly public. Each day, they followed the same pattern: She would sit beside Sonya to watch rehearsals, then join him, Anna, and other dancers at a nearby café. The group was ever-changing, with a rotating cast of lively personalities, and Natalia found herself equal parts enchanted and frustrated by the conversations.

Serge's world was unlike anything she'd known—full of movement, expression, and freedom. He spoke of things that made her head spin and her heart race. He described the challenge of perfecting a pas de deux, how every step required trust, precision, and a deep connection between partners. He explained the history behind certain ballets, the stories that had inspired their creation, and the subtle ways choreography could convey emotion better than words ever could.

He talked of his gruelling training sessions, the discipline it took to shape the body into an instrument, and the ache of rehearsals that pushed him to his limits. Yet, for all the pain, his eyes lit up when he spoke of the stage—the thrill of the lights, the applause, and the fleeting magic of a perfect performance.

Natalia asked endless questions, soaking up every detail. What did it feel like to leap, defying gravity, with the orchestra swelling below? Did he ever grow tired of performing the same roles? Did he dream of creating his own choreography or even his own ballet company one day?

Serge, in turn, asked her about her life, though he rarely pushed when she hesitated to answer. He seemed genuinely fascinated by her sheltered, structured existence and teased her gently about her formal upbringing. He asked her numerous questions about the palaces, how many rooms they had, how many servants, where they slept and other similar things. He seemed as fascinated about her world as she felt about his, although, in her opinion, his stories always sounded more interesting than hers.

For the first time, Natalia felt like she saw the world in colour. It was as if Serge had lifted a veil she hadn't realized was there, showing her a new reality filled with passion and creativity like she'd never imagined. And though she yearned for a moment alone with him, she couldn't deny the thrill of these afternoons.

But as the days ticked by, her excitement gave way to an ache she didn't know how to suppress. Her departure to Cannes with Irina and Feodor was just a few days away, and the thought of leaving this newfound world filled her with despair. How was she supposed to return to the suffocating dullness of tea parties and leisurely strolls along the promenade when she had tasted something so vibrant and alive?

On her last day at the theatre, the air itself felt different. Natalia could almost swear that Serge looked sad on stage. His movements seemed heavier and more calculated, and his gaze flicked to her more often than usual. Those glances made her heart race. Could it be that he was feeling as depressed as she was about her departure? Could it be possible that he regretted not spending more time alone with her? Whatever it was, it both saddened and thrilled her. The idea that she could provoke such a reaction in him, that she could matter to someone like Serge, sent a quiet rush of exhilaration through her.