Romanov

Why won't you die?" "because I have a story I was meant to live. And not even you can unwrite it.

The bond of our hearts spans miles, memory, and time.

It is if you separate the two- old life and new life. But once you learn that it's all one life and each day is a new page, it gets a bit easier to let your story take an unexpected path.

Let no one call you tame.

And hope never abandoned us - only we could abandon it.

But there was still light - we were just learning how to find it.

Peace, quiet, and safety are all well. But community and relationships are what truly fill a person's life.

No amount of age, pride, or maturity could stop me from loving my papa with the heart of a little girl.

I squeezed his hand, so tight it likely pained him. But sometimes comfort needed to sting more than the sorrow for it to break into the grief.

Romanov. For that name alone, bound to my blood like a Bolshevik is bound to the Russian Revolution, I am destined to die. Because not even royal blood can stop bullets.

My blood is my crime.

Healing. Forgiveness. Shared story. The promise of walking life with someone who knew my bloodied past. A hand willing to touch the skin of a Romanov and feel only joy.

You find joy in so many little things. For once... I want to see joy find you. Surprise you. You deserve it.

That was how we sisters worked. When one was weak, another picked up the strength.

I know," my lips said. I know, my head said. I want him, my heart said.

I’d told him I was trying to forgive him. As I lay in the grass next to the spell that could rid me of heart pain, I realized that a part of forgiveness was accepting the things someone had done—and the pain that came with that—and moving on with love. Forgiveness was a personal battle that must always be fought in my heart. Daily. And though I was tired of running and surviving and fighting . . . I wasn’t ready to surrender that battle yet.

All my life I was driven by the loyalty of caring for the people I loved...I was taught that nothing was more important than such care. But your family showed me differently. You cared equally as much about those you loved-you would do anything for them. But you also allowed yourselves to love...more. You loved your enemies. You loved your friends.

Revenge would have shattered us both. But you've given us the opportunity to be strong. To mend our hearts instead of break them further.

We understood that being left in the dark was far more despairing than dealing with the weight of the darkness.

I took his hand. "It'll be okay. This will help you." For now. "I will save you." Maybe. "I love you." Always.

Nothing was more exhausting than putting forth kindness and receiving indifference in return.

I’d not mourn the lost good memories— I would apply them to my heart as a poultice every time it ached. That was what positive moments were for— to help heal the wounds of the future. As long as we chose to remember them.

Can their hearts be softened?” “It’s not up to you to soften theirs. It’s up to you to keep yours soft.

But light could not be so swiftly overcome by darkness. Not when that light rested in a person's soul.

Papa always said that tears were the most fervent prayers, so I let them flow.

I want to finally love rightly.

But I wasn't the only one with a gaping wound inside. We would all have to carry this pain.

I nudged her. 'Now that you mention it, some of the guards out here seem particularly pleasant to look at.' Maria sighed. 'His name is Ivan.' His name is Zash, I replied in my head.