My Father's Daughter is from the Flag Day Original Soundtrack which is available from the 20th August 2021. The song is performed by Olivia Vedder (daughter of Eddie) written by Glen Hansard and Eddie Vedder.
anastasia!au. 1900s!au. after [y/n]’s narrow escape from the alexander palace, she lost most, if not all, memory of her childhood, only remembering the tiny details that would help her later on in life. this is the second part of a duology.
THIS FIC CONTAINS a generalized russian accent; this story is both of my own creation and inspirations (listed below); mentions of death.
A/N - layout by @adoresobs! the description of the dress i’m going for the coronation clothing and crown is empress sissi. the wedding dress is also by her. i understand that she’s from the 1800s, but i just love her style. i also took the wedding traditions from an article, so if you are from russia and know about the traditions and see anything wrong, please just contact me and i’ll fix it! also, this may suck, idk.
looking at herself in the mirror, [y/n] eyed the large sapphire necklace sitting on the supple skin of her chest, the heavy weight of her long hair evenly distributed around her head. the corset was tighter than usual, but she had grown used to it from the long training hours she was forced to endure. the blue eyes of the man she had seen again haunted her day, feeling them watch her when she stood in the same room with him, her heart beating wildly as she tried to shake off the feeling of hopelessness. she wanted to talk to him again, wanted to see what he was like after years of not being with him, wanted to have him hold her as he whispered that everything was alright, wanted his smell linger on her clothes.
she didn’t notice the tear in her eye until it hit her cheek, her hand reaching up to immediately dab it away, not wanting to destroy the makeup on the handmaids took her time on, taking a deep breath in order to calm her heartbeat. she stood up, ready for her wedding.
eddie remembered when he asked her about the traditions of a russian wedding, wondering if they were the same as american counterparts, but quickly realizing that russian weddings tend to be grand and exciting.
“our marriage would only be legal if we register it at the zapis aktov grazhdanskogo sostoyaniya,” [y/n] had told him one night. “usually people do it before the ceremony so they have more time for the fun things. and at the ceremony, crowns will be placed on our heads. the crown is usually placed in by the priest, and is usually held in place by family or friends while we stand on top of a rose colored cloth. then games are played. It’s all very fun and can actually last a couple of days.”
the first day of the wedding was the actual ceremony.
eyeing the man at the end of the aisle, the now tsarevna [y/n] tomanov held her uncle’s hand, a smile broadening acros her lips. eddie seemed a little nervous, not liking the idea of being in front of such a large crowd, but knew he had to begin getting used to it as the impending knowledge of him being tsar of russia loomed over him like a dark cloud. he was a simple american man stuck in an expansive country as the love he held for their tsarevna kept him there. she had given him a manor home in both england and the united states, an escape from royal life so that he may go and clear his head.
but not only was there those manors; they had the livadia palace in the crimea, which [y/n] and her family had spent their summers in, the winter palace that was their main residence, and many other palaces that had been the homes to her ancestors. the doors open, revealing the tsarevna in her beautiful white gown, dark green trim showing all of the layers of the skirt, the neckline, the hem of the sleeves, and the sash loosely wrapped around her right shoulder, the rest landing softly on the skirt of her dress. soft floral patterns lined around the green trim, complementing her features perfectly. eddie gasped as he watched his bride come closer, a large smile spreading across her lips as she stared at him as if he were the only thing in the world, the only rope that tied her to this place.
the traditional vows were said, crowns were placed on their heads (which eddie found out they were tsar nicholas ii’s and tsarevna alexandra’s imperial jewels) and the ornamental glasses were smashed (another thing that was counted to be luck for a long-lasting marriage), and the two spouses followed the priest around the lectern (thrice) as they held each other’s hands tightly.
the second day of the wedding consisted of a roadtrip.
they visited many important landmarks, such as visting the peter vassilevsky island to touch the 4000-year-old egyptian statues and stone griffons, or to the new hermitage portico and rub the toes of the marble atlanti statues, all for good luck on their marriage. “you know i love you, right?” eddie whispered into [y/n]’s hair, carresing her bare shoulder as they cuddled in the master bedroom of the imperial train, her warm skin pressed up against his.
snow drifted slowly to the ground, covering the grass in a cold, white blanket, reminding you of the lullaby your grandmother used to sing to you when you were much younger. “i know,” she pressed a light kiss to his lips, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone, forehead pressing against his. this was something you longed for all your years spent in that orphanage.
someone to love, hold, cherish.
“and a song, someone sings once upon a december,” eddie’s resonant voice sang from the comfort of olivia’s room, brushing away the small tendrils of hair that stuck to the side of her face. “someone holds me safe and warm,” you continued, putting your chin on eddie’s shoulder. so many years had passed since the two of you were married, and many began speculating if either of you were infertile, most of which directed at you, all because you were a female. but luckily, olivia came along one hot june morning, screaming as you cried from your spot in the bed. it had been such an intensive labor and now she was here. “horses prance through a silver storm,” eddie’s voice joined yours, his hand holding your cheek softly. “figures dancing gracefully across my memory.”
“someone holds me safe and warm,” you wrap your arms around eddie, holding him tight against your body, eddie moving his hand to take yours in his, his free hand grabbing onto olivia’s. “horses prance through a silver storm,” the days of you and your family going on horseback rides during the heavy snowfalls flashed through your mind; it was one of the best feelings you ever experienced in your early life. the cold wind biting at your cheeks, the laughter and smiles passed around warmed your insides. “figures dancing gracefully across my memory,” the balls your father threw, the many people wearing heavy gowns and sparkling jewelry dancing around the floor, skirts skimming the floor and coattails flying up.
“far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember,” you were reminded of your time in the american orphanage, the troublesome nights of the small flashes of memory, the longing for a life you couldn’t remember. “things my heart used to know, things it yearns to remember.”
“and a song someone sings,” you looked out the window, placing a hand on your growing belly. “once upon a december.”
