Katya stood as still as a statue, her heart pounding beneath the layers of silk and lace that enveloped her. The maids moved around her with practiced efficiency, their hands deftly fastening buttons, adjusting sashes, and arranging the intricate patterns of her gown. Each touch seemed to bring her closer to a world she had never imagined entering—a world of nobility and grandeur, far removed from her humble origins.
One of the senior maids, a stern-faced woman with a sharp tongue, looked her up and down critically. "For a peasant girl, you clean up nicely. Though I suppose there's only so much we can do," she remarked, her tone dripping with condescension.
Katya felt a flush of embarrassment and anger rise to her cheeks, but she kept her composure. She looked up into the mirror before her and forced a small smile. The reflection staring back was almost unrecognizable. The ornate gown, the jeweled ornaments in her hair, the carefully applied makeup—it all seemed like a facade, a mask she was being forced to wear.
When the maids finally left her alone, she slumped into a nearby chair, her thoughts racing. Accepting the proposal to marry Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich had been a decision made out of desperation and fear. It was a way to protect her brother, Mikhail, from execution—a sacrifice she had been willing to make. But now, sitting in this opulent room, the weight of that decision pressed down on her.
As she sat lost in thought, the door creaked open. Katya snapped her head up, her heart skipping a beat, until she saw Polina step into the room. Relief washed over her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Polina," she said, her voice breaking slightly.
Polina, her friend from the duchy, smiled warmly and crossed the room to hug Katya. "You look beautiful," she said, pulling back to admire Katya's dress. "Like a character in a fantastical novel."
Katya gave a small, rueful smile. "It does feel unreal, doesn't it? Like I'm living someone else's life."
Polina's expression turned serious. "You need to stop punishing yourself, Katya. This isn't your burden to bear. Mikhail—"
"Mikhail is my brother," Katya interrupted, her voice firm. "He's family. I can't lose him, not after Mama."
Polina sighed and sat down next to her. "I understand, but I worry for you. Do you even know who you're marrying?"
Katya looked at her friend, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
Polina glanced around, as if to ensure they were truly alone, then lowered her voice. "The Grand Duke Alexander... He's the son of the Tsar, the former Tsarevich."
Katya's eyes widened in surprise. "I didn't know that. But if he was the crown prince, why isn't he now?"
Polina hesitated, then continued. "It's complicated. Alexander was the firstborn of the Tsar and Tsarina, and he was the Tsarevich from birth. But for reasons that are unclear—some say political, others say personal—the title was given to his younger brother. There are rumors, of course, that Alexander isn't the Tsar's true son, but the imperial family has always denied them."
Katya's mind raced as she processed this information. "So he's not the rightful heir?"
"Officially, no. But he still holds significant power and influence. Marrying him... it will place you in the heart of the imperial court's intrigues and secrets."
Katya's heart sank. She had agreed to this marriage to save her brother, but now it seemed she was stepping into a world even more dangerous and uncertain than she had imagined. She looked at Polina, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "What should I do?"
Polina squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Stay strong, Katya. Remember why you're doing this. And no matter what, I'll be here for you."
Katya nodded, drawing strength from her friend's presence. As she looked back at her reflection in the mirror, she felt a flicker of determination. The road ahead was fraught with peril, but she would face it head-on—for her brother, for her family, and for herself.
The Basilica was resplendent, its grand arches and intricate mosaics illuminated by the soft glow of countless candles. The nobles were seated in their designated places, their conversations a low hum that filled the sacred space. They gossiped and talked, their voices rising and falling like the waves of the sea, each snippet of conversation a tiny ripple in the ocean of nobility.
At the altar, the church choir sang ethereal hymns, their voices soaring to the heavens, creating an atmosphere of solemnity and grace. The Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich stood speaking with the Orthodox priest, their heads bowed in earnest discussion. His tall, commanding presence was a stark contrast to the reverence of the priest, and his dark eyes occasionally flicked towards the entrance where Katya would soon appear.
Katya took a deep breath, summoning all her courage, and prepared to step into the Basilica.
Polina gave her a final, reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze of the hand. "You can do this," she whispered.
Katya nodded, her resolve hardening. She lifted her chin and took her first step towards the grand doors of the Basilica, ready to face whatever awaited her on the other side. The nobles' gossip, the choir's hymns, and the Grand Duke's imposing figure all seemed to fade into the background as she focused on one thing: her purpose. She was doing this for her family, for Mikhail, and for herself.
The wedding ceremony began with the Betrothal Ceremony. Katya and Alexander stood before the priest, who blessed their rings and placed them on their fingers, signifying their commitment to each other. Alexander's hand was cold and unyielding, a stark reminder of the impassive man she was marrying. Katya's hands trembled slightly, but she felt a reassuring squeeze from Polina's earlier encouragement.
Next came the Candles and Hand-Holding. The priest handed them lit candles, symbols of the light of Christ that would guide their marriage. Their hands were joined together, bound by a ribbon to symbolize their unity. Alexander's grip remained firm and impersonal, as if the ceremony were merely a formality.
The Crowning followed, with golden crowns placed upon their heads, marking them as king and queen of their new household. The weight of the crown was both literal and symbolic, a reminder of the responsibilities they were taking on. Alexander's expression was stoic, his eyes fixed ahead, revealing nothing of his thoughts.
The Common Cup was presented, and they each took a sip of wine, sharing in the same cup to signify their shared life and the joys and sorrows that would come with it. The wine was sweet and strong, leaving a lingering taste that reminded Katya of the gravity of the vows she was taking. Alexander's demeanor remained unchanged, his actions precise and detached.
Finally, they circled the table three times, led by the priest, in a dance of joy and reverence. Each step felt like a step towards an unknown future, but also a step towards fulfilling her promise to her brother and herself. Alexander's movements were measured and controlled, his face an unreadable mask.
Traditional blessings were bestowed upon them, prayers for a long and prosperous marriage filled with love and faith. As the priest concluded the ceremony, Katya felt a mixture of emotions—fear, hope, and a tentative sense of peace.
When the ceremony ended, the Grand Duke turned to her, his eyes cold and distant. "Welcome, my Duchess," he said, his voice devoid of warmth.
Katya managed a small, polite smile. "Thank you, my Lord."
As they walked down the aisle together, the nobles' whispers and the choir's hymns faded into the background. Katya felt Polina's eyes on her, filled with encouragement and pride. She straightened her back, lifting her chin slightly. The path ahead was uncertain, but she was determined to walk it with strength and grace.