The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

The Night Before

Nadezhda couldn't sleep, but then again, she hadn't slept well in a long time. Ever since Anastasia started her invasion of Russia. And when they'd killed Vladimir, her trouble sleeping turned into a near complete lack. She was tired - so, so tired - but when she put her head down on the pillow to sleep, all she could seem to do was stare up at the dark ceiling above her and wish for sleep to finally come, knowing full well that it might never happen.

The night before the attacks were to happen, though, she didn't even bother trying: she was far too nervous, her stomach writhing in her belly like some sort of serpent. So, once she knew that Virtanen was asleep, she got up, shrugged on her coat, put on her shoes, and headed up the stairs for the bell tower.

When she got there, she discovered that she wasn't alone: Nadya was there, as well, staring out at the city as it slept.

Nadya didn't even bother to look back at her. "Thought you'd show up, eventually."

"The feeling's mutual." Nadezhda walked up and stood next to her, looking out at the dark city. The sleeping giant that was St. Petersburg. "Is tomorrow keeping you up, too?"

"No: I couldn't be more prepared to kill Zelenko if I tried," Nadya said. "It's Nikola."

Nadezhda sighed. Of course: her cousin seemed to occupy her every waking moment, even on the rare occasion she managed to sleep. Not that she could blame her: not a day had passed since Vladimir had been executed that she didn't think about him.

"I regret never actually meeting him," Nadezhda said. "He sounds like a good man from what I've heard of him."

"He wasn't much of a man," Nadya said quietly. "He was just a kid. I don't think he really understood what he'd gotten himself into when he joined up, but he had his heart in the right place. Shame that it got him killed in the end."

Nadezhda grew concerned about her. It was more than a little concerning, the cold, distant way she was speaking about Nikola. As if that pain of losing him were somebody else's, and not hers. She was trying to distance herself from it: even a blind man could see that. And even a dunce could know that it was a horrible decision.

But, Nadezhda wasn't about to lecture her about it: they couldn't afford to dredge up those feelings right then.

Besides: perhaps killing the man who'd gotten her cousin killed might bring some sense of closure. Even if it would only be false, temporary.

"So, you're not at all nervous about tomorrow?" Nadezhda asked.

Nadya shook her head. "Why? Should I be?"

"Well, we'll all be killed if we fail, for one thing," Nadezhda said. "And even if things do go our way, there's no guarantee that we'll all get out with our lives."

Nadya shrugged. "I don't have anything else to lose, Nadezhda. Nothing. So what if I die? They'd be doing me a favor, if anything."

Nadezhda didn't know what to say. What was she supposed to say?

"You're afraid of dying?" Nadya asked. Though, she said it as more of a statement.

Nadezhda sighed. "I don't know. I don't know that Vladimir would like me coming to visit him so soon."

She could feel tears beginning to brew in her eyes. Strange: she'd thought that she'd be over it, by now. At least, enough so that she wouldn't feel like breaking down the second he came to mind.

"You're probably right," Nadya said. "I don't know that Nikola would like me coming, either." She scanned the horizon, as if she were looking for something. "Whatever happens tomorrow, though, all of this running around will be over. And I don't know about you, but I take great comfort in that."