The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

Diplomacy At Its Worst

Anastasia was pissed.

That was an understatement. She wasn't just pissed: that was a general state of being for her, at that point. She was livid. She looked like she was just barely managing to keep from killing everybody in the general vicinity. It was bad enough that Sasha actually managed to keep his mouth shut when he and Virtanen walked into her study.

Of course, he didn't say a word: he was still living. If he had, he probably would've gotten the Bolshevik treatment: getting himself shot in front of a dirt mound outside the city and his body strung up on some bridge somewhere.

He had a feeling that Virtanen could see the same thing. He'd seemed kind of annoyed about getting pulled away from their poker game, just as Sasha was, but that all seemed to change the second they walked into the study. He almost seemed concerned when they walked in, his brows furrowed and his mouth creased in a frown.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong?" she repeated. "Is something wrong?" she snorted, standing up from her desk. Sasha kept a careful eye on the letter opener on her desk: her hand was dangerously close to it. "Yes, Ambassador Virtanen: something is very wrong."

Virtanen shot a quick glance at Sasha, apparently hoping that he would have some answers for him. Sadly, he didn't: he didn't have any damned idea what any of this could possibly be about.

"Well, what is it?" Virtanen asked. "I-I'm a little confused-"

"Do you know the name Nadezhda Krupskaya, ambassador?"

Virtanen didn't seem to know what she was talking about. Sasha, on the other hand, did. He knew exactly who that was. Krupskaya was Lenin's wife, as well as a fellow revolutionary. She was known for being pretty loud about her political opinions, though frankly, Sasha had forgotten that she even existed during the past month or so of him trying to fit in with the imperial army.

"I'm not familiar with the name, no," Virtanen said as he took a chair. Sasha elected to stay standing: it would be easier to keep Anastasia from killing Virtanen that way, should she decide to make the worst mistake one could make in the world of diplomacy. "Should I be?"

Sasha thought he saw Anastasia's eyelid twitch. "I suppose you wouldn't know much of her, you being a Finn and all." She stood up straight and put her hands behind her back. For just the briefest of seconds, she was able to regain what little composure she had left. "Krupskaya was the wife of the revolutionary Vladimir Lenin. Surely, you're aware of that name, at least."

Virtanen nodded. He looked like he was just barely restraining himself, too. Suddenly, Sasha was very concerned. What would he do if this all ended in a fistfight? What was he supposed to do? Sit back in watch the show, or actually try to be a good person and keep them from killing each other?

He didn't know, and all he could really do was pray that he would never find out the answer.

"Yes," Virtanen said, his voice tight. "I'm well aware of who Lenin is."

"Well, his wife was a revolutionary right alongside him during that little revolt," Anastasia said. "As you can imagine, having that sort of person running around the streets was too dangerous: we can't afford another revolution, not after what happened during the last one. So, we found her, and we arrested her for her crimes against the Romanov family. My family."

Anastasia lost her composure. Her eyes narrowed, glaring at Virtanen with a look to kill. "She was being transferred back here for interrogation and execution, but she never made it here. Somebody stopped the transport, killed the guards, and took her. Nobody's seen her – or the bastards that broke her out – since."