The Deathless Tsar

Chapter I

As I sit staring at the ballerinas far below, the upbeat symphony of the orchestra slowly lulls me to sleep. Suddenly I find myself looking right into the eyes of a massive reptile. All around me I hear a beautiful harmony of singing, and birds are circling overhead. I smell smoke, and there is fire everywhere. I gather the courage to stand up, still locking eyes with the dragon. I hold up a dead duck, stab it with a golden dagger, and then I blink.
A loud drumbeat brings me back to the theatre. On stage, the female ballerina has collapsed onto the ground, and she is surrounded by a dozen women who are dressed in all feathers. Slowly, she is lifted by the feathered women, wearing a shining, glimmering outfit of gold and yellow and red. The curtains close, signaling the end of the ballet.
"Well, what did you think, eh?" says Father, coughing up a cloud of smoke from his obstructive pipe. "You know, your mother and I met because she was a ballerina,"
"Yes Father, we know the story." Oleg, my twin brother, mutters.
Anna-Maria, my youngest sister, carefully stands up and smooths her dress. Then she says, "I don't understand the ending. Didn't she die?"
"Well, my love, she was a firebird, when she dies, she is brought back to life in flame." Father says. "Now, my children, it is time to head home. It is very late."
My father leads us out of the theatre to our carriage. The air outside is cold and wet with light rain, and the lights of the Bolshoi reflect off the stones of the street. It is the last day of summer, and such weather is out of character for the season, yet it reflects each of our moods toward going back to school. Except perhaps for Anna-Maria's, who, starting tomorrow, will be joining her brothers at the Russian Academy of Magic for her first year. She is beyond excited, and, secretly, so am I.
"A great ending to another summer gone by," remarks Nikolai, my brother, who at fourteen, is entering his fourth year at the Academy.
Father chuckles heftily, and lights his pipe, which clogs the carriage with smoke. We pass by the Red Square, and the great Kremlin. I can almost feel the eyes of the state staring down at me over the towering red walls. The swirling spires of the Cathedral of St. Basil zoom pass and now we are clopping down the streets. Exhausted from our long day in the city, I slowly doze off onto Oleg's firm shoulder.
We're dropped off in front of our house, which is a ways from city center. "Now, children, if you haven't already, I want you all to go up and pack for school, and then go to bed, tomorrow will be a long day for all of you," says Father sternly, reaching into his pockets for the keys.
In silence, we all enter the house, kept lit by the housekeepers. The children march up the stairs, and each into their bedroom.
"Oleg, have you packed yet?" I ask, his room is located directly across the hall, and given the correct volume, we can easily speak to each other.
"No, have you?"
"No," I check under the bed, and sure enough, there is my trunk from last school year, untouched since May. But because of our position in the Tsar Class, or Eighth Years, we are given a special metal to put on our uniforms, and a pin to put on the rim of our ushanka hats. I open up the trunk and check inside, there is the fur coat, there is the hat, and the uniform and every other accessory I should choose to wear. Carefully, I pin the blue-ribboned metal to the blood red jacket. Satisfied with my past self's organization, I close the trunk, heave the thing by my doorway, shut off the lights, and slip into bed.
"Konstantin! Wake up!" There is a knocking on the door that somehow found its way into my dream, accompanied by the unending yelling of my sister through the door. She has no manners.
"Yes! Okay! I need to get dressed first" I groan without even opening my eyes. The clock next to my bed reads 6:00. I groan again and slowly pull myself out of bed.
Still not fully dressed, I stand at the mirror and carefully comb back my thick dark hair. I get dressed quickly and open the door. Anna-Maria standing impatiently with Oleg and Nikolai leaning against the wall behind her, all three of them completely dressed. Together, the four of us walk down stairs, dragging our heavy trunks behind us.We find Father sitting at the dining table reading a book, with five plates of food spread in front of him and in settings around the table.
"Good morning, children," He says in his naturally booming voice. We mumble in reply, and sit to join our father in eating a hearty bowl of porridge and fruit. "How did you all sleep? You know, today you will be taking a long carriage ride north?"
"I'm excited!" says Anna-Maria, her waist-length braids swinging wildly with her bobbing head.
"Anna, do you remember when we rode to Petrograd?" retorts Nikolai, Anna nods, eyebrows furrowed slightly. "How long it took? that's how long we are going to be in a carriage."
Anna looks offended by this, and she mumbles, " I am still excited to finally go to school."
"It's good that you're excited, Anna, the Academy is a wonderful school, and the friends you make there will last for the rest of your life, I'm excited for you," I say in an effort to cheer her up, "I'm excited to go back myself, and I think Nikolai is only thinking about the ride there."
Our housekeeper, Boris, appears at the doorway and says, "I don't mean to interrupt, but there is a carriage outside for the children,"
"Oh, good! Children, it is time for you to leave!" Father says gladly.
"We're leaving now?" Anna-Maria squeals.
"Yes my dear, let me help you with your trunk, the thing is as big as you are," says Father calmly. He walks us out the door, and, with the help of the carriage driver, lifts the trunks on the top of the carriage. He hands the driver a large wad of money and says, "Thank you so much, it's a long trip"
We each say goodbye to our father and climb into the carriage. Immediately after we have turned the corner and Father is out of sight, Anna-Maria starts bawling. I stare out the small window and watch the buildings pass by; after this, I am never going to be making this journey again.