The House Of Special Purpose

A fan fic inspired by “Sakura Wars”

By Karenjade

Prologue

The collapse of the three hundred year Tsarist Imperial Regime and the fall of the Romanov family was inevitable; From the new Tsar, Nicholas II stating he never wished to rule and asking what was to become of him and Russia, to the German born Tsarina, Alexandra arriving behind the casket of the late Tsar, Alexander III. From the The Khodynka Tragedy where over a thousand people were tripped and trampled during the royal coronation because of a rumour of not enough food and drink, to the Russo Japanese war which caused my family to be exiled. From Bloody Sunday where at least one hundred peaceful demonstrators were killed by Winter Palace troops, to the outbreak of the First World War. The illness of the young Tsarvitch, Alexei and the scandal of the mad peasent monk, Rasputin were merely the tip of the iceburg.

In spite of the Tsarist White Armys ambush on the Volga Third Regiment near Moscow, where my beloved Captain Yuri Mikhail Nikolayevich lost his life to aid us in our escape, and the growing tug-of-war between the Provisional Government and the Bolsheviks, the revolution was already well on its way to being won and finished.

By March, 1917, Tsar Nicholas had abdicated and his whole family placed under house arrest at Tsarskoe Seloe until August. Moscow had become the new capital of the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic, and of the Soviet Union less then five years later.

After the Romanovs two months of exile at Tobolsk in the Urals, the Provisional government was overthrown by the Bolsheviks, with our leader, Vladimir Ilyich Lenin elected the Chairman of the Council of People’s Commissars by the Russian Congress of Soviets. Also, the secret police force of the revolution, the Cheka, had been established the following December of Yuris death.

By the end of April, 1918 the royal family was transferred to what would be their final destination; the two story Ipatiev House, former home of military engineer Nikolai Nikolayevich Ipatiev, in Yekaterinburg, Siberia, under the watch of Alexander Avdeyev… It was there that several new comrades and I under Officer Yakov Yurovsky, Chief of the Yekaterinburg Cheka, were sent to replace Avdeyev when he and his men were dismissed, and to “safeguard” the prisoners; the former Tsar Nicholas, his wife Alexandra, their five children Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia and Alexei, personal physician Dr Evgeny Botkin, parlour maid Anna Demidova, chef Ivan Kharitonov, footman Alexey Trupp and the young kitchen boy Leonid Sedniv, who had willingly stayed on with them in the summer of 1918…

Chapter 1

Yekaterinburg, Monday, July 8, 1918

Chief Yakov Yurovsky, our current commander, had the reputation for being a fiercely loyal Bolshevik, one whom Moscow could rely on to carry out its orders, and he proved it by quickly tightening the already immense security even further; every piece of jewellery and valuable was collected from the Imperial family and placed in a sealed box which he left with the prisoners.

Most of the newer guards were handpicked by the local Cheka from the volunteer battalions at the Verkh-Isesk factory, mainly foreigners or “Letts” as they were called. The only Russians among them were Viktor Netreben, eighteen years old, but had already fought against the Whites, and the brothers Mikhail and Alexey Kabanov, the latter ironically a former soldier in the Imperial Guards.

There were at least three remaining senior internal guards from Avdeyevs original detachment; Anatoly Yakimov, Konstantin Dobrynin and Ivan Starkov. These three, however, were now designated to guard the hallway area. The captives’ rooms were the provinces only of Yurovskys men.

As for myself, I had turned fifteen that summer, Yuri had been gone for seven months and it felt like the best part of myself had died along with him in the bloodstained, freezing snow that day. Now there was nothing more to be done then finish this war and revolution, for Yuri’s sake, for my fathers and for Russia, obeying orders and guarding the Romanovs until it was decided what was to be done with them; Many of us agreed that exile to England was most likely, though others doubted if they would be accepted there. Some of Yurovskys men had even confided that they were hired on the understanding that they must be prepared to kill the Tsar if necessary.

That warm July day after my new comrades and I had been assigned and arrived at the house was the first time I ever exchanged words with the fallen royals. I will admit, from the very first glimpse of them they were not at all as I expected. Then again, I had expected to still be doing battle with the White Army, not held up at the “House of Special Purpose” as it was called.

I stood in my boots, faded trousers and shirt with my worn coat opened to reveal the gun at my belt and watched impassively as the former Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna and two of the children, the former Tsarevich, Alexei Nikolaevich, and Grand Duchess, Tatiana Nikolaevna, enjoyed the sunny afternoon in captivity as much as they were able. None of the prisoners could escape if they tried. There had been a large fence built around the yard and garden of the house and each and every sentry carried a rifle or a revolver.

Alexei was seated in the wheelchair he had been confined to since Tobolsk and Alexandra was working on a piece of knitting, sitting beside him on a chair she had taken out. The two of them listened contently as Tatiana read to them from one of books she had brought along and a little dog, a spaniel, napped beside her. Nearby, I could see Nicholas and the eldest daughter, Olga walking the length of the fenced grounds together.

For some reason, it brought back memories of my own early childhood in Siberia... Often in summer my father and I would go for walks down the paths near our village and in the evenings I would practice my reading and writing by my mothers side while she finished the sewing and mending...

It was then Alexandra noticed me watching them. Being the only female among the soldiers and guards here, I suppose I was bound to stand out, something that I always tried my hardest not to do, but which was usually quite difficult.

“Hello,” the former Empress greeted me in somewhat flawed Russian, just one of the many reasons the German woman was so unpopular in this country. “There are many new young guards here, but you seem to be the only girl.”

I studied them before answering. At one time, Alexandra may have been very beautiful with dark auburn hair and blue grey eyes, but age and years of enormous problems had worn her down considerably. Tatiana though, while thin and slightly pale, looked very much as her mother must have as a younger woman. Alexei, the youngest, looked so frail in his wheelchair, but he had a pleasant, impish face. All of them had to dress plainly now, so unlike the royals they had been less then a year ago.

“Yes, I am,” I replied coolly, not returning their friendly gazes. “Maria Tach… Bryusovna of the Volga Third Regiment.” I stopped just short of giving away my Japanese family name.

At this, Tatiana put down her book in surprise, waking the little dog who started to whine and bark.

“You’re the Kazuar, aren’t you?” she gasped. “Papa and Olga told us about you!”

“They always read up about what was going on with the war,” Alexei declared with enthusiasm. “Is it true that you killed nearly a hundred men with one single shot?”

At this, the German woman was appalled.

“Alexei!” she chastised gently, switching to English “We do not speak like that, Alyosha.”

The boy hastily apologized to his mother and sister who were both glancing at me nervously.

I suppose it figured. From the endless, farfetched rumours going around they had probably expected a brutal monster of a woman, a giant firebird who devoured entire armies with her flames, not a thin, expressionless teenaged girl.

I shook my head. “No” I answered. “If anyone could do that, they would have won the Great War all on their own.”

Alexei chuckled softly as Alexandra lovingly smoothed his hair away from his eyes and Tatiana gave the barking spaniel a reassuring pat before it made its way over to the boy to lick his hand.

“Of course not,” the second eldest daughter said.

“And you don’t look like a fierce firebird,” her little brother added.

“No,” the former Tsarina agreed with a smile. “Why, you don’t look very much older then our Anastasia. How old are you, my dear?”

“Fifteen,” I answered, matter of factly.

“Goodness! You must be the very youngest here,” Tatiana exclaimed. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No,” I answered again.

“Where is your family? Your parents then?” the German woman wanted to know.

I felt my throat and lips tighten at this question. Had these people no idea of how much families like mine had suffered and died under their reign? And all because my father had dared to criticize the government and fall in love with my mother, the so-called ‘enemy’.

“They are all gone,” I replied. “Both my parents were exiles and died in Siberia five years ago.”

The former Tsarina put down her needlework on her lap.

“Dear me, you would have been only ten then. I’m sorry to hear that. I lost my own mother when I was only six years old. I don’t know how such awful things could happen to a child.”

At this, I met her gaze with a frosty look.

“Well, you can ask your husband,” I said coldly.

She realized what I meant by this, and to my surprise Alexandra’s expression became one of understanding and compassion.

“Oh dear, forgive me,” she answered sincerely. “I didn’t realize… Poor poor girl. I’m so sorry.”

This was the last thing I had expected to hear from the wife of the former Tsar! Of all people! For some reason I felt as though I had been outrightly robbed in broad daylight! For the better part of my life I had been told how admirably strong and brave I was. I certainly wasn’t used to people feeling any sympathy for me!

I narrowed my blue green eyes and lowered my voice.

“It’s a bit late for that now,” I hissed icily. These people were always sorry after the damage had been done. “You should save your pity for yourselves.”

And with that I turned on my heel and walked away back towards the House of Special Purpose before I betrayed any more emotion.