OTMA: Till The End Of Time

Maria: Sweet Nothing

April 1918
I was allowed outside time, I was very grateful for the goodness of them. When my siblings first joined us in the new location our Papa strictly told my siblings not to speak or interact with any of them. I of course broke that rule, I couldn't contain myself. I was alone, I was alone with Mama and Papa which was nice, but they weren't up for conversations with me all the time. So I started to talk to the bolsheviks trying to pass the time. They were quite taken back by my outgoing personality and friendliness.  When I first attempted to speak with them they were not as nice to me compared to the officers on the the Standart, our old family yacht. But it was just a challenge to overcome. After a few days I already knew everyone's name and family life, just as they knew mine. The bolshevik soldiers were very friendly when they didn't see you as a blood thirsty enemy.

Most of them were young men trying to provide for their families. I now saw what Olga meant all those years ago. Russia was bleeding and the bolsheviks were trying to heal her. The young soldiers were the nicer ones. The older soldiers were a little bit more difficult to befriend but once in conversation I could see the tenderness in their eyes when speaking about their loved ones. Most of them said that I reminded them of their daughter's back home and that is how we bonded. They would tell tales of their families to me and I would tell tales of my family that I dearly missed as well, sometimes even showing my family pictures.

But befriending the guards did not prevent from the awfulness of the Ipatiev house to still rise. Many restrictions were implemented once we got to Yekaterinburg. The second we stepped foot on house grounds we had all of our bags searched as a welcome. There was also a tall wooden fence surrounding the perimeter of the house blocking street view. The windows were also painted over with white paint and were not to be opened at any time. All of this just complicated things.

We were forced into having a new routine, I had to do laundry and learn to make bread. Since I came before my sisters I had a head start at learning these things. I became a very good breadmaker, sometimes I would make my new friends try the bread I made for feedback to improve on it.  I did some cooking since our chief stayed behind with my siblings. I learned to do these things with the help of the guards.

Later I would get scolded by Mama for conversing with them but they weren't as bad as they seemed. If I was caught speaking with them in front of her, she would angrily whisper at me and scold me in my room near nighttime. I would always get in trouble by her. That is when I started wishing for the rest to arrive soon. I was no Tatiana and could not replace her. It was always obvious Mama favored her, Tatiana was always the most level headed and put together out of all of us. She always had something sweet for Mama to hear or advice for mama to give. All of us seemed to be imperfect compared to her. I was not molded to look perfect in her eyes.

As always all I wanted to do was please her. Tatiana told me to do whatever Mama pleased to distract her from the fact that we were all separated and that baby was ill. So I did what I had to do, I stopped. For a few days I managed to stop speaking to any of them. If they greeted me I would greet back because of having manners and I would notice my Mama would hide a small smile filled with pride on her face. I knew she was happy with my new change, I wasn't. When those few days passed I couldn't take it anymore. I only acted as if I was not conversing with any of them when Mama or Papa was in the room. Once they would leave the whispers would erupt to keep quiet so my parents would not hear me from the next room.

I was very happy with myself I could have friends to talk to and keep my ill Mama happy. She was very sick and had very bad migraines, her bones and joints also ached. I cared and sat by her making sure she was as comfortable as she could be under these horrid conditions. She would ask me to tell her stories imaging that we weren't in the middle of siberia but in Crimea instead, in our palace enjoying the ocean water and flower fields. With the stories of the past came the remembering of it, all the good and painful memories of the past and most importantly freedom.