Collection: State Historical Museum, St Petersburgh, Russia
Alexandra Feodorovna
Alexandra Feodorovna (6 June [O.S. 25 May] 1872 – 17 July 1918), born Princess Alix of Hesse and by Rhine, was the last Empress of Russia as the consort of Tsar Nicholas II from their marriage on 26 November [O.S. 14 November] 1894 until his forced abdication on 15 March [O.S. 2 March] 1917. A granddaughter of Queen Victoria, Alexandra was one of the most famous royal carriers of hemophilia and passed the condition to her son, Alexei Nikolaevich, Tsarevich of Russia.
It was the early morning hours of 17 July 1918. In the cellar of a merchant’s house in the bleak industrial town of Ekaterinburg, Tsar Nicholas II straightened his son’s collar.
His wife, Alexandra, clutched a small pillow stuffed with jewels sewn in secret into her corset. The daughters — Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia — looked pale but composed.
The guards said they were being moved for safety. Then armed men entered the room.
. . .
It had all begun three centuries earlier, in a different world. In 1613, amid chaos, famine, and foreign occupation, a teenage boy named Mikhail Romanov was plucked from obscurity by a national assembly and crowned tsar.
His reign brought stability. His descendants brought empire.
They conquered Siberia, codified serfdom, built cathedrals and palaces, and declared themselves heirs not just of Rus but of Byzantium.
Peter the Great westernized Russia with fire and steel. Catherine the Great ruled with wit, force, and ambition. Together, they fashioned the Russian Empire into a behemoth that sprawled from Poland to the Pacific.
But autocracy is a fragile inheritance.
By the 19th century, cracks had begun to show.
The peasants were shackled to the land. Reformers were exiled or hanged. Revolutionaries plotted in cellars.
Alexander II tried to change things — he freed the serfs. For his trouble, he was blown apart by an anarchist’s bomb.
His grandson, Nicholas II, would learn all the wrong lessons.
Earnest, devout, and utterly out of his depth, Nicholas presided over disaster after disaster: a humiliating defeat against Japan, the massacre of peaceful protestors on Bloody Sunday, and the slow, choking breakdown of trust between the crown and the people.
And then there was Rasputin.
A peasant mystic with hypnotic eyes and foul habits, Rasputin slithered his way into the palace through the Romanovs’ desperation.
The heir, Alexei, suffered from hemophilia. Rasputin promised healing — his influence became absolute.
As Russia collapsed on the battlefields of World War I, many whispered that a mad monk was running the country. By the time Rasputin was assassinated in 1916, it was already too late.
Revolution swept the empire. In March 1917, Nicholas abdicated. The dynasty that had survived Napoleonic war and palace coups was overthrown by bread riots.
The Bolsheviks came next. Lenin’s revolutionaries, hardened and pitiless, had no place in their world for kings or saints.
The Romanovs were sent east — first to Siberia, then to Ekaterinburg. They lived under house arrest in dwindling comfort, guarded by men who grew more hostile with each passing week.
Outside, Russia was consumed by civil war. White armies approached the city. The Bolsheviks feared rescue — and worse, a tsarist restoration. So they acted.
. . .
Eleven people entered the cellar that morning. A single chair. Bare walls. No ceremony. No priest. Only the stifling air and the measured footsteps of men with pistols.
The commandant read a brief sentence: the family had been condemned to death. Nicholas turned, confused, and asked, “What?”
The gunfire answered.
When it was over, eleven bodies lay on the floor—Tsar, Tsarina, four daughters, a son, and their loyal servants.
The killers worked in chaos. Some of the girls had sewn diamonds into their corsets, which deflected the first bullets.
Bayonets were used. Smoke choked the room. The executioners, though hardened men, were sickened by the blood.
But the work was done. The Romanovs were gone. The autocracy was over.
In place of a tsar, the Bolsheviks gave Russia the gulag, the famine, the purge, and the midnight knock on the door.
The empire of the tsars had died in a basement — but the terror of the Reds was just beginning.
Nicholas II (Nikolai Alexandrovich Romanov; 18 May [O.S. 6 May] 1868 – 17 July 1918)
Alexandra Feodorovna (born Princess Alix of Hesse and by Rhine; 6 June 1872 – 17 July 1918)
Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna of Russia (15 November [O.S. 3 November] 1895 – 17 July 1918)
Grand Duchess Tatiana Nikolaevna of Russia (Tatiana Nikolaevna) 10 June [O.S. 29 May] 1897[1] – 17 July 1918)
Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna of Russia (Maria Nikolaevna) 26 June [O.S. 14 June] 1899 – 17 July 1918)
Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia (18 June [O.S. 5 June] 1901 – 17 July 1918)
Alexei Nikolaevich Romanov (12 August [O.S. 30 July] 1904 – 17 July 1918)
"Nicky's diary entry for the last day of 1894 is poignant in its expression of endings and new beginning: "Read until 7.30 and then went upstairs for the service. It was painful to stand in church and think of the terrible changes, which have happened this year. But putting faith in God I look forward to the next year without fear -- because for me the worst has already happened, that which I feared all my life! But together with this irrevocable grief the Lord has rewarded me also with a happiness which I could never have imagined. He has given me Alix.""
Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich of Russia (Russian: Александр Михайлович Aleksandr Mikhailovich; 13 April 1866 – 26 February 1933) was a dynast of the Russian Empire, a naval officer, an author, explorer, the brother-in-law of Emperor Nicholas II and advisor to him. Alexander was born in Tbilisi, in the Tiflis Governorate of the Russian Empire(present-day Georgia). He was the son of Grand Duke Michael Nikolaevich of Russia, the youngest son of Nicholas I of Russia, and Grand Duchess Olga Feodorovna (Cecily of Baden). He was mostly known as "Sandro".He was a naval officer. In his youth, he made a good-will visit to the Japanese Empire on behalf of the Russian Empire and another to the Brazilian Empire. He married his first cousin's daughter, Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna, the eldest daughter of Alexander III on 6 August [O.S. 25 July] 1894. He was a brother-in-law and a close advisor of Tsar Nicholas II.
Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna of Russia (Russian: Ксения Александровна Романова; 6 April [O.S. 25 March] 1875 – 20 April 1960) was the elder daughter and fourth child of Emperor Alexander III of Russia and Empress Maria Feodorovna of Russia (née Princess Dagmar of Denmark) and the sister of Emperor Nicholas II. She married a cousin, Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich of Russia, with whom she had seven children. She was the mother-in-law of Felix Yusupov and a cousin of Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia who, together, killed Grigori Rasputin, holy healer to her nephew, the haemophiliac Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich of Russia. During her brother's reign she recorded in her diary and letters increasing concern about his rule. After the fall of the monarchy in February 1917 she fled Russia, eventually settling in the United Kingdom. Her grandson Prince Andrew Andreevich has been head of the Romanov family since December 2016.
Nicholas and Catherine were ushered into the police office, their hands cuffed behind their backs. They were then placed into cells, one in front of Diogenes and one to the right side of him, to keep the royals as far from each other as possible. They still managed to scream at each other, as it was a rather small jail.
“Be quiet while I sort this out. We have to see if the victim presses charges, and I need order.” explained the officer, mildly exasperated. “Just… behave.”
The officer then proceeded to the small room, the same room as the one the previous interview had happened, to talk to the phone woman. “Okay, for a start, I’m going to need your name and your account of the happenings, and whether you wish to prosecute. I’m also going to need whoever wants to’s eye witness account for the Nicholas case.” He thought about this for a second and added, “you can all write in English, right?”
“I do believe so.” Felix Yusupov responded. His speech was accented and affected, but comprehensible: exactly what a person might expect from a nineteenth-century Russian aristocrat - that is, if one had expected to encounter a nineteenth-century Russian aristocrat.
The officer nodded.
The student whose phone had been stolen started writing: Tina Stevenson, A strange woman claiming to be Catherine the great took my phone and resisted arrest, a gentleman claiming to be Tsar Nicholas II then also attempted to take my phone from the officer and both of them had violent conduct. I have no wish to prosecute.
Reading over the last sentence of this, the officer was extremely relieved. They would not have to get the courts involved. Still, it was a good idea to hold them until they could be certain of correct behaviour.
Then, he wanted to make sure that the others were aware enough of their situation not to be a danger. “Okay, who here comes from the 21st century?” Tina and Erin raised their hands. The other of Erin’s hand was holding Kristina’s.
“Alright, and uhh… are you taking care of her?” he said, gesturing towards their joint hands. The both of them smiled, and Erin nodded. “Yea, why not?”
The problem now was finding lodgings for the two men. The motel would surely accept them, but the officer doubted they would want to be separate from the Tsar. They seemed extremely fond of him. “And you two gentlemen, what do you wish to do?” The two men looked at each other, wondering what to say.
Felix was the first to respond. “We will not move from here without our Tsar, thank you very much.” Dmitry was silent, but stood behind Felix in an ‘I agree’ kind of a way.
The officer thought this over and nodded. “I thought as much. I’ll get you a couple of chairs if you like. You can sit in front of the cell.” The officer was half joking, but the two noblemen nodded seriously.
“Very well. We will stand guard.”
The officer went off, chuckling to himself.
The next object of interest was Catherine. The first step was to calm her down enough to communicate the actual situation. It was hard enough with the others, and the officer had the impression Catherine would not cooperate. He went over to the cell area, carrying two chairs and accompanied by his guard of Russian Aristocrats, a Swedish King, and various lesbians.
The two officers and their Tsar were quick to settle down into hushed Russian whispers. However, Catherine was - as expected - far less compliant. The instant the six of them came into view, she began belting out insults in whatever languages she could muster. Luckily, the officer didn’t understand almost all of it, because if he had he may have found it harder to ignore.
Kristina, on the other hand, understood all the French and German ones and could guess most of the rest. She also had the rather unique perspective of a similar disorientation - of feeling cut away from homeland and home… time. Her royal vantage point was helpful as well. She was used to being respected and so had a better understanding of Catherine’s pain at this whole process.
She began calming her down in French, “Your majesty, I agree this situation is quite unacceptably disrespectful to you, but you are a danger to the people around you. As mighty as you are, this is not your empire, nor is it your time. If you could tolerate this gentleman’s procedures long enough to be released then we can make arrangements.”
Catherine thought about this for a bit. “Alright, get this over with then. We wish to return to our palace.”
The officer saw this as an opportunity he wasn’t going to wave off. He would tell her the palace was no longer available after questioning. He brought her over to the little interrogation room and started his usual proceedings. “I’m going to need your full name, date of birth and social security number, please.”
Kristina translated this back to Catherine, seasoning her syntax every few words with some formula of deference, if only to keep the peace.
“We are Catherine the Second of Romanov, Empress and Autocrat of all Russia, Moscow, Kiev, Vladimir, Novgorod, Tsaritsa of Kazan and Astrakhan, Tsaritsa of Siberia, Tsaritsa of Chersonese-Tauride, Tsaritsa of Pskov, Grand Duchess of Smolensk, and Duchess of Estonia, Livonia, Karelia, Tver, Yugra, Perm, Vyatka, Bulgaria and others,” Catherine declaimed. The officer gaped, flabbergasted.
“What did she say?”
Kristina grimaced. “That was her imperial title. First name Catherine, last name Romanova - in commoners’ terms.”
“Thanks.” The cop filled in the name on a form he had prepared for the occasion.
Then Kristina turned to Catherine and asked for the next piece of information. “Date of birth?”
“The second of May, Year of Our Lord Seventeen Hundred and Twenty-Nine.”
Kristina smiled, with an air of interest, but didn’t delay the investigation. A monarch from the future, then! She translated the date back to the officer.
“Interesting,” he laughed. “I wonder if the database will accept that.”
“Excuse me? What is a... database?” Kristina squinted, curious.
The officer sighed. “I’ll explain later, okay?”
“O… kay? What is the meaning of oh, kay? I don’t understand.”
“Just… forget it. I need her social security number.”
“Her… I don’t… do forgive me, I am not familiar with the term.”
The cop shook his head. “Of course not. Sorry…” The cop sighed to himself. The only category he could put her in without some sort of formal identification given by a government was ‘undocumented’ but that would set off a series of investigations he didn't feel like dealing with.
“Since the victim isn't pressing charges, then I'm going to have to let you go unless you show me that you aren't fit for the outside world. Can you guarantee me that you will behave reasonably to anyone outside?” As Kristina translated this, Catherine's face grew redder and redder with sheer anger and desire for resistance. She was perfectly aware that any violence would lead to a longer incarceration but she also hated the way she was being spoken to. Having been brought up to feel special and entitled, being told to play nice with the others isn't generally taken very well.
“If you want, I can keep an eye on her.” offered Kristina. This was quickly seconded by Erin. Erin then made a suggestion, the same one as the officer had been thinking of.
“There's a motel down the street from the bar, we could all get rooms. It doesn't have very good single beds so we might need to get doubles.” At this point, Erin grinned at Kristina.
“That's just what I was thinking, it's what I've done with the others. There are over a dozen historical figures in that motel now. I assume you've noticed how many strange people are passing through the bar?”
At this point, Tina chimed in. “Yea. It started kind of normal there was that weird maths dude, then there was Oscar Wilde I mean wow… and then Shakespeare, more wow. He had a couple of others with him-”
Tina stopped at the look of utter exasperation on the cop’s face. “You mean there are more of them? Do you know where they are?”
Tina shook her head and shrugged slightly. The conversation would probably have continued if there hadn't been an exasperated scream from inside the cell area. The officer quickly checked the security camera on his computer, to the amazement of Kristina and the now surprisingly quiet Catherine.
The screen showed Felix and Dmitry cowering a fair distance from the bars -with Dmitry just a step behind Felix- and Tsar Nicholas ferociously kicking the bars.
“Get me out of here!” was repeating loudly in Russian over the speakers. Catherine and Kristina were staring at the entire setup, struck with awe at the seemingly magic device. After a few seconds, it occurred to Catherine that the others did not understand what was being said. The message was fairly obvious but she still translated to Kristina who in turn translated to the modern crowd.
“I should probably do something about him…” sighed the cop. He walked over to the cell area, accompanied by the four women.
“Quiet please, what's going on here?” asked the cop, who had a pretty good idea of what was happening but didn't want to miss the subtleties. Felix stepped forwards to offer an explanation.
“Our beloved Tsar is feeling quite distressed at his incarceration. We would like to know how long it will continue.” Felix glanced awkwardly at the gun hanging from the officer's belt; he knew it wouldn't be wise to try anything.
“The charges are attempted assault of a police officer and attempted theft. Nothing too serious and I would rather not get the government involved with you lot so he'll probably be out in a few hours. I have to settle some things with the motel. And I need to figure out if there are any more strange weirdos lying around.”
The officer had to decide what to do and when. The first step was to rent out two more rooms. Prices were going to become an issue. He could probably get quite a few of the arrivals loans and unemployment benefits but that would take time and paperwork. They were going to have to set themselves up and integrate since there didn't seem to be any obvious way of sending them back. This would mean getting them into the official system. And questions, and paperwork… He really wasn’t looking forward to that.
“I can't do this myself. I'm going to have to get you all papers and official documents and try and help you integrate into the 21st century. It won’t be easy, and it’ll take ages. Unless you know a way to get back…”
The five foreigners to this century thought about it for a bit, but were all stuck. Since there was no obvious solution, Kristina voiced her opinion. “Okay all of this started at the bar, and there might be other people there who know more. We should go back to the bar.”
Since no one had a better alternative, this decision was taken. The Tsar was released but was still being carefully watched by the mini justice league of the officer, Kristina and Erin, and the company of eight set off towards the bar.
