The numbers look good. The only quibble I have is why is the US army so big, or does that include reserves and the national guard? Right now in OTL we are at peace (more or less) and the active Army is supposed to be 475,000, with another 540,000 reserves and guard. If the US number is just active, it looks too big. It works if the list is counting reserves as well, but in that case I would expect the Russian Army to be roughly 1.8-2.3 million (880,000 active plus a 1-1.5 million or so reserves).
The consequences of an errant shell
- Thread starter johnboy
- Start date
It does include reserves in terms of U.S numbers, where the regular army is smaller and reserve forces larger. Russia runs no regular reserve army, hence numbers are lower.
Correct, numbers include reserves for those countries that have a valid training regime for such and equipment on hand to immediately activate such forces. Singapore has both backing quite a sizeable regular army.
Some would question whether or not you can say that about the US National Guard but that is a very contentious issue.
Ryan
Donor
why not? Russia has one of the longest land borders in the world, in the event of war (however unlikely) they'll be defended by their army not their navy like the US.
True, but by 2016 they border Finland(ally), Poland(ally), Korea(ally), Turkestan(ally), Mongolia(ally), Baltics States(allies), Armenia(ally), Manchuria(ally). There are few borders that don't have their own "trip wires" so an enormous standing army is hardly required.
28 February 2016, Hermitage Palace, St Petersburg, Russian Empire
Isabel had been happy to respond to the invitation but the though of meeting George's entire family, including his sister and her husband Prince Harry of Wales, whom she had had a crush on as a teen, was rather daunting. It was a "family only" event, which usually meant spouses only, so not only herself but George had been surprised when she had been invited. She had been unaware, but a small section of the Hermitage was still used by the Palace, the rest being open to the public and it was in the private chambers the gathering had occurred. It had been George's grandmother that had come up to her.
"Now, come.” She handed me her arm. “I believe I promised you a da Vinci.”
I wasn’t able to help what I was sure was an almost audible gasp. “Really?”
“Let’s go.” She smiled, linking arms. “I shall show you to the gallery.” We started to make our way out, when she turned to look back at where the others were. George was making his way after us. “Uh, where are you going?”
George looked up, confused. “The gallery?”
“And who says you’re invited?”
I tried to suppress a smile, but it was hard. George looked so muchlike a child caught in mischief.
She walked us out of the ballroom - the guards at the door opened the doors for us, and I noticed two men in suits followed us nearby, though leaving enough space so they were out of earshot. I understood they were the Dowager Empress's protection detail, and wondered if she really had to go everywhere with them, even inside her own house.
“Maam,” I started, as we were making out way up the impressive stairs to the second level of the palace. “Was it you who invited me here today?”
She smiled. “Yes, it was.”
“May I ask why? I mean, I am honoured to be here, of course. But I was told the lunch was for family and spouses only.”
“Well,” she started, hanging on to the bannister of the stairs as she climbed. “I was informed you wouldn’t be back to the country until March, and I wanted to talk to you about something before then.” As we reached the second level, he turned to me. “But first, let’s see that ring!” Confused, I sustained her look until she winked at me. “Come on, I know you have it with you… Let me see if it is worthy of that hand of yours.”
“Oh!” I said, realizing what she meant. I pulled the long chain from my neck, from where my engagement ring hung from, and showed it to her, standing with my back to her security officers so they couldn’t see it. Except for them, we were alone, so I pulled the ring into my finger to show it to her.
“Hm…” Dowager Empress Taissa contemplated, holding my left hand between her two frail ones and looking down at my ring. “Well done, Georgie.” She smiled. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” I said. “How did you know I had it?”
“You’re a hopeless romantic girl who just got engaged.” She shrugged. “I may be old, dear, but I still know a thing or two about what it's like to young.”
I smiled, and returned the ring, in the chain, to the inside of my dress, where the high neck would hide it from view.
“I was born in Minsk, did you know that, Miss Lucas?”
“Please, maam, call me Belle.”
He smiled. “Only if you call me Taissa.”
I smiled, somewhat awkwardly. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Then I’m not sure I can call you Belle.”
“Okay.”
“Well, Belle…” She went on, as I cross my arm in hers again, and we returned to our slow pace en route to the gallery. “I was born as a cousin in an anonymous Lithuanian family in the 1930's when the country was vastly different than today. Who you were was far more important then than what you could do. I became a doctor for two reasons. My Aunt was a doctor, as well as a lesbian. I'm not sure what was more shocking in 1900. As you know homosexuality is not illegal but frowned upon in Russia. However, relations between women, well that was unheard of in 1900. The other reason I had to become a doctor was my family needed the money. We were not well off, we had no land but we had enough money from relatives to see us well educated. It was only in the 1950's that University education became easily available to all via state funding, before that you needed money to go. In 1950, I was a simple public doctor in Petersburg.”
As she paused, I took in a deep breath, realizing just how stuck I was at her words. I had known she was not born royal, indeed, unlike George, his siblings and his parents, her English was accented, not perfect "Oxford English." I knew she had had an interesting story before marrying the Tsar, but I had no idea this was it.
"I met Peter quite simply. He had slipped his bodyguards on a motorbike. Crashed the thing too speeding like a fool on the Fontanka and cut open his arm. He came to my clinic to have it sewed up since he did not want anyone to know. Waited an hour behind others. I had no idea who he was, but I thought he looked quite handsome, was well mannered and things took their course from there. Of course, it didn't take too long to find out. Normal men don't get trailed around by men in overcoats with guns, you understand. Then when the time came there were the inevitable screams of how "unsuitable" I was to be a royal bride."
"I'm sorry about that".
She looked at me as we walked. “Don’t be silly, dear.” She said.
Though I knew she must have been trying to be nice, I couldn’t help but add on.
“You had to fight you’re his family to be happy. It couldn’t have been easy. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
She stopped walking and turned to me. “Listen to me, Belle, this will be lesson number one. Never apologize for anything that isn’t your fault.”
“I…” I stuttered. “What?”
“I am telling you all of this because I know what it feels like to marry into this family while having so much going against you. And I am trying to help. So, the first lesson is this: you can’t let them see your weaknesses. So as much as I can admire your compassion, never apologize for what isn’t your fault. Is that clear?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet. I had a feeling even if I knew what to say, maybe I wouldn’t, because despite being appreciative of her helpfulness, I wasn’t sure I agreed with her.
After turning a corner, more guards in blue opened a set of double doors for us and we walked into what I assumed was the gallery, a bright lit big room, as magnificently decorated as the rest of the palace, with many paintings all over its walls and statues hanging about the room. There were chairs also, and Taissa led me to a couple of them in front of a black and white drawing in a big frame by the windows.
The signature in the bottom left no doubt: da Vinci.
“Woah.” I let out.
She was quiet as I admired the frame, looking more to the signature than anything else. Finally, I turned back to sit in the chair by her side. She sighed. I wondered if she, like me, had been thinking about all she had just been telling me.
“In 1950 when I first met Peter we had a number of picnics and getaways at the start before I knew who he was… I wasn’t in love, of course. And love was an annoyance back then, something to get rid of when you were trying to build a career. Peter says he fell in love with me at first sight, however.”
I smiled. “You must have been beautiful.”
She giggled, blushing slightly. “Well… I was OK. Not a model and movie star like yourself.”
“That's never been the most important part of my life.”
She went on. “At the time we waited some time even after we had fallen for each other.” I smiled. “We waited… now, as someone who, I hear, has been told everything about herself that makes her a bad future royal, can you guess what about me was frowned upon?”
I thought about it, remembering everything Paul, George's private secretary and the advisors had complained about me.
“Well, you weren’t 100% Russian.” I started, and she smiled. “And as a Lithuanian, I am assuming you weren’t Orthodox either.”
“I abandoned my practice, career and marriage were not 'a thing' in those days and converted officially to Orthodoxy.” I nodded, knowing I’d soon have to do a lot of that as well. “I had no financial standing, either. Some, in fact most, of the Tsarina's advisors did not think I was good enough for Peter… I was, after all, a vague offshoot of terribly minor nobility and perhaps even worse poor to boot. I think even Peter's mother wasn’t convinced I was a good match for her son. The Empress was a most formidable figure, however, and after putting me through the wringer to 'test my resolve' was supportive and no courtier wanted to cross her, trust me that always ended badly.”
“I think I can relate.” I told her, who smiled at me, knowingly.
“This family can be overprotective of each other, clannish. It's because of the external pressures.” She said. “But the intentions are the best, I’ll assure you.”
“How did you do it?” I asked. “It was a different time, a more misogynistic time when women were supposed to be of lesser importance and all that… how did you convince them you were good enough?”
“I didn’t.” She smiled, wickedly. “Peter did. He wanted to marry me and, as a future Tsar, his will prevailed. We got married, I rapidly became pregnant with Sasha even though we were not trying as such, then the old Empress died and he became Tsar. We moved into this palace and so our new jobs began… With Peter’s accession, our whole life changed again."
“As a consort of a Tsar, I was expected to stand back and let him do the work. I was expected to erase myself, so he was the only one seen. I had to fight the courtiers at every turn, dear… I had to refuse to let them write my speeches and, what they thought was worse, refuse to follow their advice to say nothing.” She winked at me. “I always made sure to say what I wanted… I insisted on being heard, and to their dismay, I was. It was something Empress Olga advised me on when she was alive.”
I smiled; in both amusement and admiration of her strength.
“Maam…” I started, and she cleared her throat, giving me a look. “Sorry,” I smiled, “Taissa… I’m still not sure why you wanted me to hear all this.”
“You are not Russian, Belle.” She told me. “And you have no royal blood or rank. You are not Orthodox. You have a very British name, and a past as an actress that is way too loud for anyone to be able to hush.” I nodded, understanding, finally, her point.
We were alike, her and me. Two otherwise outsiders marrying into a family that would be far better off with other people. And yet, in another strike of resemblance, we were too stubborn to give up.
“Your condition reminds me a lot of mine.” She said.
“I understand what will be expected of me.” I told her. “I understand I’ll have to become a Russian citizen, convert to Orthodoxy, and dress differently to boot. Probably sort out my criminal record in Japan, although I won't give up my advocacy for animal rights. I understand the importance of these other things to the survival of the family’s image.”
“But do you understand your responsibility, dear?” She asked. “Not only to us, but to yourself?” She paused. “It is our job to make this monarchy business work. And as you become one of us, it will be your job as well. But you will never be able to be a part of our family if you allow them to completely dismantle you of who you are… I had to leave my career, name, faith and because my father had a criminal record for fraud to a large extent my family behind for this life, but for the life of me I never let who I was go.”
She reached out, and held my hand in hers, smiling.
“This finger will sport a ring soon, and you must remember as you are asked to be more and more like us, that you should never stop being yourself.”
It was later that night that they retreated to their own apartment on the Prospekt. She felt happy with how things had gone. George had felt wide awake and wanted to watch a movie, in particular her last film project, Zadar, about the Great War landings in Slavonia. War movies fell into two categories, American productions about the Pacific War or Russian and British ones about the Great War or the Eastern War. Hollywood films about the European conflict were limited, simply due to the fact that U.S ground troops were not committed until late in the war, although there were a number of films on the role of the 8th Air Force. Hard core war movie junkies usually watched Russian films, of which there was a plethora, most subtitled but some in English.
Until the Gulf War in 1990, the world had been at peace since 1958. Well, perhaps not at peace, but bereft of major conflicts aside from the brief India-Pakistan renewal of conflict in 1971.There had been much sabre rattling at times, especially the famous "Cold War in the Middle Kingdom" between China on one hand and Manchuria and South China on the other, but no actual warfare.
Whilst war films were a favourite genre in Russia, so were period dramas. The Russians loved their classics like Tolstoy, Chekov, Dostoyevsky and the like and most Russian film actresses were well acquainted with "corset roles". Great tragedies were particularly loved. For a time, space related roles were also a favourite, celebrating the achievement of being first to land on the moon in 1968. The Americans had beaten them to Mars and Venus, however, although no manned mission had been flown to either. A manned mission was possibly on the cards to Mars, however, with joint collaboration between both the USA and Russia since 2013 working towards such an end, although the project had been suffering from cost overruns and consequent criticism. The entertainment industry was still dominated by Hollywood, Russian films a distant third ahead of French and Italian. Globally English was increasingly the lingua franca, especially in Russia where since the 1980's a foreign language was mandatory. In many schools English was the standard choice, way ahead or the old favourite in Russian 100 years ago, French. In the Far East many chose Korean, some Mandarin or even Cantonese.
Isabel had been happy to respond to the invitation but the though of meeting George's entire family, including his sister and her husband Prince Harry of Wales, whom she had had a crush on as a teen, was rather daunting. It was a "family only" event, which usually meant spouses only, so not only herself but George had been surprised when she had been invited. She had been unaware, but a small section of the Hermitage was still used by the Palace, the rest being open to the public and it was in the private chambers the gathering had occurred. It had been George's grandmother that had come up to her.
"Now, come.” She handed me her arm. “I believe I promised you a da Vinci.”
I wasn’t able to help what I was sure was an almost audible gasp. “Really?”
“Let’s go.” She smiled, linking arms. “I shall show you to the gallery.” We started to make our way out, when she turned to look back at where the others were. George was making his way after us. “Uh, where are you going?”
George looked up, confused. “The gallery?”
“And who says you’re invited?”
I tried to suppress a smile, but it was hard. George looked so muchlike a child caught in mischief.
She walked us out of the ballroom - the guards at the door opened the doors for us, and I noticed two men in suits followed us nearby, though leaving enough space so they were out of earshot. I understood they were the Dowager Empress's protection detail, and wondered if she really had to go everywhere with them, even inside her own house.
“Maam,” I started, as we were making out way up the impressive stairs to the second level of the palace. “Was it you who invited me here today?”
She smiled. “Yes, it was.”
“May I ask why? I mean, I am honoured to be here, of course. But I was told the lunch was for family and spouses only.”
“Well,” she started, hanging on to the bannister of the stairs as she climbed. “I was informed you wouldn’t be back to the country until March, and I wanted to talk to you about something before then.” As we reached the second level, he turned to me. “But first, let’s see that ring!” Confused, I sustained her look until she winked at me. “Come on, I know you have it with you… Let me see if it is worthy of that hand of yours.”
“Oh!” I said, realizing what she meant. I pulled the long chain from my neck, from where my engagement ring hung from, and showed it to her, standing with my back to her security officers so they couldn’t see it. Except for them, we were alone, so I pulled the ring into my finger to show it to her.
“Hm…” Dowager Empress Taissa contemplated, holding my left hand between her two frail ones and looking down at my ring. “Well done, Georgie.” She smiled. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” I said. “How did you know I had it?”
“You’re a hopeless romantic girl who just got engaged.” She shrugged. “I may be old, dear, but I still know a thing or two about what it's like to young.”
I smiled, and returned the ring, in the chain, to the inside of my dress, where the high neck would hide it from view.
“I was born in Minsk, did you know that, Miss Lucas?”
“Please, maam, call me Belle.”
He smiled. “Only if you call me Taissa.”
I smiled, somewhat awkwardly. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Then I’m not sure I can call you Belle.”
“Okay.”
“Well, Belle…” She went on, as I cross my arm in hers again, and we returned to our slow pace en route to the gallery. “I was born as a cousin in an anonymous Lithuanian family in the 1930's when the country was vastly different than today. Who you were was far more important then than what you could do. I became a doctor for two reasons. My Aunt was a doctor, as well as a lesbian. I'm not sure what was more shocking in 1900. As you know homosexuality is not illegal but frowned upon in Russia. However, relations between women, well that was unheard of in 1900. The other reason I had to become a doctor was my family needed the money. We were not well off, we had no land but we had enough money from relatives to see us well educated. It was only in the 1950's that University education became easily available to all via state funding, before that you needed money to go. In 1950, I was a simple public doctor in Petersburg.”
As she paused, I took in a deep breath, realizing just how stuck I was at her words. I had known she was not born royal, indeed, unlike George, his siblings and his parents, her English was accented, not perfect "Oxford English." I knew she had had an interesting story before marrying the Tsar, but I had no idea this was it.
"I met Peter quite simply. He had slipped his bodyguards on a motorbike. Crashed the thing too speeding like a fool on the Fontanka and cut open his arm. He came to my clinic to have it sewed up since he did not want anyone to know. Waited an hour behind others. I had no idea who he was, but I thought he looked quite handsome, was well mannered and things took their course from there. Of course, it didn't take too long to find out. Normal men don't get trailed around by men in overcoats with guns, you understand. Then when the time came there were the inevitable screams of how "unsuitable" I was to be a royal bride."
"I'm sorry about that".
She looked at me as we walked. “Don’t be silly, dear.” She said.
Though I knew she must have been trying to be nice, I couldn’t help but add on.
“You had to fight you’re his family to be happy. It couldn’t have been easy. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
She stopped walking and turned to me. “Listen to me, Belle, this will be lesson number one. Never apologize for anything that isn’t your fault.”
“I…” I stuttered. “What?”
“I am telling you all of this because I know what it feels like to marry into this family while having so much going against you. And I am trying to help. So, the first lesson is this: you can’t let them see your weaknesses. So as much as I can admire your compassion, never apologize for what isn’t your fault. Is that clear?”
I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet. I had a feeling even if I knew what to say, maybe I wouldn’t, because despite being appreciative of her helpfulness, I wasn’t sure I agreed with her.
After turning a corner, more guards in blue opened a set of double doors for us and we walked into what I assumed was the gallery, a bright lit big room, as magnificently decorated as the rest of the palace, with many paintings all over its walls and statues hanging about the room. There were chairs also, and Taissa led me to a couple of them in front of a black and white drawing in a big frame by the windows.
The signature in the bottom left no doubt: da Vinci.
“Woah.” I let out.
She was quiet as I admired the frame, looking more to the signature than anything else. Finally, I turned back to sit in the chair by her side. She sighed. I wondered if she, like me, had been thinking about all she had just been telling me.
“In 1950 when I first met Peter we had a number of picnics and getaways at the start before I knew who he was… I wasn’t in love, of course. And love was an annoyance back then, something to get rid of when you were trying to build a career. Peter says he fell in love with me at first sight, however.”
I smiled. “You must have been beautiful.”
She giggled, blushing slightly. “Well… I was OK. Not a model and movie star like yourself.”
“That's never been the most important part of my life.”
She went on. “At the time we waited some time even after we had fallen for each other.” I smiled. “We waited… now, as someone who, I hear, has been told everything about herself that makes her a bad future royal, can you guess what about me was frowned upon?”
I thought about it, remembering everything Paul, George's private secretary and the advisors had complained about me.
“Well, you weren’t 100% Russian.” I started, and she smiled. “And as a Lithuanian, I am assuming you weren’t Orthodox either.”
“I abandoned my practice, career and marriage were not 'a thing' in those days and converted officially to Orthodoxy.” I nodded, knowing I’d soon have to do a lot of that as well. “I had no financial standing, either. Some, in fact most, of the Tsarina's advisors did not think I was good enough for Peter… I was, after all, a vague offshoot of terribly minor nobility and perhaps even worse poor to boot. I think even Peter's mother wasn’t convinced I was a good match for her son. The Empress was a most formidable figure, however, and after putting me through the wringer to 'test my resolve' was supportive and no courtier wanted to cross her, trust me that always ended badly.”
“I think I can relate.” I told her, who smiled at me, knowingly.
“This family can be overprotective of each other, clannish. It's because of the external pressures.” She said. “But the intentions are the best, I’ll assure you.”
“How did you do it?” I asked. “It was a different time, a more misogynistic time when women were supposed to be of lesser importance and all that… how did you convince them you were good enough?”
“I didn’t.” She smiled, wickedly. “Peter did. He wanted to marry me and, as a future Tsar, his will prevailed. We got married, I rapidly became pregnant with Sasha even though we were not trying as such, then the old Empress died and he became Tsar. We moved into this palace and so our new jobs began… With Peter’s accession, our whole life changed again."
“As a consort of a Tsar, I was expected to stand back and let him do the work. I was expected to erase myself, so he was the only one seen. I had to fight the courtiers at every turn, dear… I had to refuse to let them write my speeches and, what they thought was worse, refuse to follow their advice to say nothing.” She winked at me. “I always made sure to say what I wanted… I insisted on being heard, and to their dismay, I was. It was something Empress Olga advised me on when she was alive.”
I smiled; in both amusement and admiration of her strength.
“Maam…” I started, and she cleared her throat, giving me a look. “Sorry,” I smiled, “Taissa… I’m still not sure why you wanted me to hear all this.”
“You are not Russian, Belle.” She told me. “And you have no royal blood or rank. You are not Orthodox. You have a very British name, and a past as an actress that is way too loud for anyone to be able to hush.” I nodded, understanding, finally, her point.
We were alike, her and me. Two otherwise outsiders marrying into a family that would be far better off with other people. And yet, in another strike of resemblance, we were too stubborn to give up.
“Your condition reminds me a lot of mine.” She said.
“I understand what will be expected of me.” I told her. “I understand I’ll have to become a Russian citizen, convert to Orthodoxy, and dress differently to boot. Probably sort out my criminal record in Japan, although I won't give up my advocacy for animal rights. I understand the importance of these other things to the survival of the family’s image.”
“But do you understand your responsibility, dear?” She asked. “Not only to us, but to yourself?” She paused. “It is our job to make this monarchy business work. And as you become one of us, it will be your job as well. But you will never be able to be a part of our family if you allow them to completely dismantle you of who you are… I had to leave my career, name, faith and because my father had a criminal record for fraud to a large extent my family behind for this life, but for the life of me I never let who I was go.”
She reached out, and held my hand in hers, smiling.
“This finger will sport a ring soon, and you must remember as you are asked to be more and more like us, that you should never stop being yourself.”
It was later that night that they retreated to their own apartment on the Prospekt. She felt happy with how things had gone. George had felt wide awake and wanted to watch a movie, in particular her last film project, Zadar, about the Great War landings in Slavonia. War movies fell into two categories, American productions about the Pacific War or Russian and British ones about the Great War or the Eastern War. Hollywood films about the European conflict were limited, simply due to the fact that U.S ground troops were not committed until late in the war, although there were a number of films on the role of the 8th Air Force. Hard core war movie junkies usually watched Russian films, of which there was a plethora, most subtitled but some in English.
Until the Gulf War in 1990, the world had been at peace since 1958. Well, perhaps not at peace, but bereft of major conflicts aside from the brief India-Pakistan renewal of conflict in 1971.There had been much sabre rattling at times, especially the famous "Cold War in the Middle Kingdom" between China on one hand and Manchuria and South China on the other, but no actual warfare.
Whilst war films were a favourite genre in Russia, so were period dramas. The Russians loved their classics like Tolstoy, Chekov, Dostoyevsky and the like and most Russian film actresses were well acquainted with "corset roles". Great tragedies were particularly loved. For a time, space related roles were also a favourite, celebrating the achievement of being first to land on the moon in 1968. The Americans had beaten them to Mars and Venus, however, although no manned mission had been flown to either. A manned mission was possibly on the cards to Mars, however, with joint collaboration between both the USA and Russia since 2013 working towards such an end, although the project had been suffering from cost overruns and consequent criticism. The entertainment industry was still dominated by Hollywood, Russian films a distant third ahead of French and Italian. Globally English was increasingly the lingua franca, especially in Russia where since the 1980's a foreign language was mandatory. In many schools English was the standard choice, way ahead or the old favourite in Russian 100 years ago, French. In the Far East many chose Korean, some Mandarin or even Cantonese.
Agreed.
And in a world where the US and Russia are 90%+ of the time friendly rivals, there are a *lot* of conflicts that either don't happen or are more settled.
Agreed. The British are an interesting bridge iTTL, united by family to the Russians and by history to the USA.
And in a world where the US and Russia are 90%+ of the time friendly rivals, there are a *lot* of conflicts that either don't happen or are more settled.
2 July 2016, Aralsk, Republic of Kazakhstan, Russian Empire
The small city was a fishing mecca for the surrounding areas, the abundant waters of the Aral Sea supporting a healthy catch. Despite thoughts of using the Sea's waters for irrigation in the 1950's very few such projects had been approved by St Petersburg as the dangers of draining the Sea itself were well recognised as being an ecological disaster. The Caspian had been treated in a similar way and whilst pollution was still an issue, the worst of many of the crackpot schemes proposed from the late 1940's onward head been avoided. Taras Lamomov main job as a Imperial government employee was to monitor the Sea's waters for salinity, pollutants and the like.
The central Asian parts of the Empire had been much less restless than other areas and had stayed part of the Empire as a whole, probably because they were not only given a large degree of state based autonomy, but they benefited from a large net influx of funds from St Petersburg, especially the more impoverished Southern states such as Turkmenistan and Kyrgyzstan. Since the granting of independence to the Baltic states in 1946, only Georgia and Azerbaijan had become independent in 1981 with the creation of the independent republics within the Empire and the dissolution of the old Governorates. Azerbaijan had to be considered an economic failure.
The independent republics of the Empire and their populations and capitals were:
Republic(Khanate in Khiva's place) Population Capital
Russia 234,000,000 St Petersburg
Uzbekistan 30,500,000 Tashkent
Kazakstan 15,200,000 Almaty
Tajikistan 8,600,000 Dushanbe
Tartarstan 7,200,000 Kazan
Kyirghizstan 6,200,000 Bishkek
Turkmenistan 5,200,000 Ashgabat
Dagestan 4,700,000 Baku
Moldova 3,600,000 Kishinev
Yevreyskiy 1,600,000 Daningrad
Cechnya 1,400,000 Grozny
Chuvashia 1,200,000 Cheboksary
Kabardino-Belkaria 900,000
Alania 850,000 Tskhinvali
Baltica 650,000 Tilsit
Ingushetia 550,000 Nalchik
Karachay-Cherkessia 500,000 Cherkessk
Tuva 300,000 Kyzyl
Abkhazia 275,000 Sukhumi
Kalmykia 275,000 Elista
Khanate of Khiva 200,000 Khiva
The small city was a fishing mecca for the surrounding areas, the abundant waters of the Aral Sea supporting a healthy catch. Despite thoughts of using the Sea's waters for irrigation in the 1950's very few such projects had been approved by St Petersburg as the dangers of draining the Sea itself were well recognised as being an ecological disaster. The Caspian had been treated in a similar way and whilst pollution was still an issue, the worst of many of the crackpot schemes proposed from the late 1940's onward head been avoided. Taras Lamomov main job as a Imperial government employee was to monitor the Sea's waters for salinity, pollutants and the like.
The central Asian parts of the Empire had been much less restless than other areas and had stayed part of the Empire as a whole, probably because they were not only given a large degree of state based autonomy, but they benefited from a large net influx of funds from St Petersburg, especially the more impoverished Southern states such as Turkmenistan and Kyrgyzstan. Since the granting of independence to the Baltic states in 1946, only Georgia and Azerbaijan had become independent in 1981 with the creation of the independent republics within the Empire and the dissolution of the old Governorates. Azerbaijan had to be considered an economic failure.
The independent republics of the Empire and their populations and capitals were:
Republic(Khanate in Khiva's place) Population Capital
Russia 234,000,000 St Petersburg
Uzbekistan 30,500,000 Tashkent
Kazakstan 15,200,000 Almaty
Tajikistan 8,600,000 Dushanbe
Tartarstan 7,200,000 Kazan
Kyirghizstan 6,200,000 Bishkek
Turkmenistan 5,200,000 Ashgabat
Dagestan 4,700,000 Baku
Moldova 3,600,000 Kishinev
Yevreyskiy 1,600,000 Daningrad
Cechnya 1,400,000 Grozny
Chuvashia 1,200,000 Cheboksary
Kabardino-Belkaria 900,000
Alania 850,000 Tskhinvali
Baltica 650,000 Tilsit
Ingushetia 550,000 Nalchik
Karachay-Cherkessia 500,000 Cherkessk
Tuva 300,000 Kyzyl
Abkhazia 275,000 Sukhumi
Kalmykia 275,000 Elista
Khanate of Khiva 200,000 Khiva
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2 June 2016, Kensington Palace, London, United Kingdom
When a couple get's engaged, you expect family and friends to make a big deal out of it. You even expect yourself to be a bit too caught up with wedding talk. But I had no words to describe what happened when Harry and I got engaged. The world was taken by storm that June 2016. Celebrities, personalities, every magazine and tabloid, royalty blogs, newspapers, televised news… everyone only had one thing to talk about: the engagement of Prince Harry and Grand Duchess Anna of Russia. At the centre of the storm, were the two of us. We almost didn’t sleep on that first night after the engagement announcement. We celebrated with our staff and protection team, we made plans for the havoc that would start on the next morning, and then we turned on the television.
Even though it was late at night, every news channel (Fox News, BBC and CNN, and of course Russian ones as well) had multiple people on set talking about us, looking like they weren’t about to go home and sleep any time soon. They called themselves ‘royal specialists’ and were gushing about everything from my ‘wild past’ to Harry’s ‘failed’ first relationship. One royal editor for the Daily Mail was interviewed, and said:
“We are all so happy at our offices over this news, none of us actually thought this would happen. You see, she’s a foreigner and it was thought the days of foreign royal marriages were over. Yet here we are, and it’s an even bigger fairy-tale than Will and Kate’s, I dare say.”
“What a hypocrite!” I said, shaking my head. “Just last week this bitch ran a story claiming I was breaking up with you because you wouldn’t commit!”
Harry sighed. “Get used to it. Now they know this is officially happening, they’ll pretend they’ve always known it.”
We had somewhat expected this, but the more that we watched, the weirder it felt. These channels cut to scenes from every public faux pas ever committed, including Harry's marijuana, his Nazi uniform and me dancing on a table at the exclusive Pasha's restaurant in St Petersburg wearing a satin skirt that was not exactly royal in length. Of course, they kept coming back to our public kiss some five years before and even photos of us together aged eight and four at Sandringham so many years ago. They seemed to show every paparazzi picture that had ever been snapped of us. They flashbacked to every moment of our relationship, and talked about us as if it had been written on the stars; as if this was the only possible outcome for our story. As if it hadn’t been so difficult to get there, with a mini break up and uncertainties, and even worse, as if they had something to do with it. Like they were trying to take the credit for us having made it.
“I believe she’ll be a brilliant princess!” Said another ‘royal expert’ on the BBC morning news. As if I already wasn't one.
I scoffed as we watched it, as Harry had breakfast and I had my hair done for our engagement photo call. Harry sat down and switched on his P.C for his own form of relaxation, "Empires in Arms." It was a Russian computer game simulating the Napoleonic Wars, made by Russobit-M, the largest Russian computer software company. They were the world's largest producers of online strategy games, but also the producers of Galaxy War, an online multi player computer game that rivalled World of Warcraft, effectively the Sci-Fi version thereof. It also had two modes, strategic or tactical and playing it was a likely addiction that could take large sections of one's life.
“No one knows the exact timeline, but they’re believed to be dating on and off for five years. The Queen has privately said before she wanted her grandchildren to date for a while before getting married so their partners could understand what they’re taking on, not to repeat the Prince of Wales’ mistake, of course, although in this instance Anna should be well aware of the pressures.” The man went on, and though Harry didn’t express a reaction to it, I was shaking my head with revulsion. Did they have to bring his mother into it? “And not only the time they’ve been dating, but she, as a public person herself, I’m sure, is ready to deal with what’s coming.”
“We have to address that issue.” Harry's private secretary Edward Soames mentioned. “The timeline thing. We have to make clear you didn’t start dating until months after Harry and Chelsy had broken up.”
Harry and I nodded, adding that to the list of things we needed to remember for the photo call and interview, and I opened my phone to check on things.
That morning, the Alexander Palace had been surrounded by paparazzi at their gates, the same with my brothers and sister-in-law's or sister in law's to be in Isabel's case. Thankfully, I had been called them before we released the announcement to let them know what to expect, of course they knew it had been coming.
I almost ached for a dose of vodka to calm my nerves, but it probably wasn't the best option. Our photographer Lindsay Ellis had flown in from New York the previous night so we could take engagement portraits to be released with the announcement. Though we hadn’t seen him in forever, he was as friendly as we remembered, and hugged us excitedly when we greeted him.
“I was hoping we would see you again.” Harry confessed, greeting him.
“I always knew we would be doing this one day.” He said, when we gave him his memory card back.
He quickly posted the secret picture he had taken of us in 2011 on the MET, the one that showed our faces and proved we were the ones in the picture of our hands in front of da Vinci's portrait. We were laughing in it, and I couldn’t help but smile as Lindsay typed away an explanation for his followers. It read:
‘Five years ago I was photographing in the MET on a Sunday when I saw a young couple holding hands in front of this da Vinci painting. I took a picture of their hands, and when I introduced myself and started to explain about the blog, they quickly seemed unsure of allowing me to tell anyone they were there. Though that’s a reaction I am used to as most people don’t enjoy the words ‘can I take your picture for the internet?’, I quickly realized there was more to them than I had initially seen. The girl took off her hoodie to allow me to recognize her as Grand Duchess Anna of Russia, and her boyfriend’s ginger hair quickly showed me he was Prince Harry. They had no security with them; they were merely enjoying a Sunday date on a museum like the most normal of couples I know. They wanted to continue to enjoy their privacy, so they asked me not to tell anyone I had seen them. Instead, we took a second picture, the one I post now, that they told me I could post someday ‘if they ever got engaged’. I handed them the memory card with the picture so they would have a guarantee I wouldn’t post it, and they have just returned it to me. I leave you with Prince Harry’s words, which do a good job of exemplifying how I feel today: ‘I was hoping we would see you again’.’
We posed for Lindsay in front of the floor to ceiling windows in our bedroom. With the curtains wide opened, the background of our engagement photos was the treetops of Hyde Park and the blue sky above. We side hugged, and smiled, both wearing blue shirts and white pants.
“This feels so weird.” Harry laughed.
“Why?” asked Lindsay.
“We usually run away from cameras.” He explained, making me smile. I hugged him tighter, remembering each time I had to put space between us so the media wouldn’t get a story out of us; grateful I now could hug him in front of whomever I wanted.
The photos we selected had Harry and me laughing as we had joked about taking really tacky engagement pictures. Another one had been snapped just as he kissed my cheek strongly, making me giggle with my eyes closed. In the last one, we were hugging as I had my arms around his neck, with the left hand resting on his chest so my ring was visible. Lindsay told us he could have the photos edited in a few hours, and we decided we would release them that night.
Our house was serving as the headquarters for the engagement mayhem. On the kitchen, our security guys were stockpiling every delivery that arrived, from flower bouquets of every shape, type and colour to breakfast baskets. They came from friends, family, but mostly just the general public, from Aberdeen to Vladivostok. These were just the congratulatory gifts from people who actually had our address.
After the engagement announcement, Kensington Palace had sent a bigger security team to take turns on our building, and they were all handling the deliveries as well – they let in the ones from people we actually knew, and the others were sent to Harry’s office in Kensington.
Edward, Valentina and Jurgen had set up their computers on our dining room table and were spending their time either typing away frenetically or answering phone calls, Val typically biting at her gold necklace. They had reporters calling in or emailing asking everything from details about the engagement to if we had picked a wedding cake yet.
Val spoke. “They want know which church you’re getting married in, if it’s going to be a televised service, the date, if you’re getting married in England or Russia…” she listed. “You have to decide which information you’re willing to tell them now.”
“We talked about this.” Harry told her, with a look of confirmation to me. “You can tell them the date, 22nd September, and that we’ll get married in England. Maybe we can hold off on the wedding party information until we release the portraits.”
“Yes!” Edward pitched in. “If we release that now they’ll ask about it on the photo call, better avoid that.”
“TMZ wants to know if it’ll be morning dress and if you’ll be inviting any other royals.” Val said.
“Jesus, they want a guest list and dress code?!” I rolled my eyes. “We’ve just picked a date!”
“It’s a state occasion.” Edward said. “It’ll may be a national holiday. It might be your day, but the whole world will be sharing in on it.”
Suddenly, a pragmatic and robotic voice caught my attention, and I realized the security team had the TV of the living room on. I climbed the steps to watch it with them. It was NBC, and they were running a story on surprise! – us.
The reporter was talking live from right in front of our building, bustled by milling people.
“Is that downstairs?!” I asked, astonished.
“It’s a circus outside.” Mark, the senior PO said.
The reporter was saying: “On marrying a woman who is not a private citizen, who is used to the spotlight and the media pressure, Prince Harry is avoiding the mistakes made in the past by his father. But Anna is not only used to it, but as a royal, she was born to it. Though Anna is younger than he is, I think she is very mature and prepared for what this role will bring.”
From a studio, a woman in a power suit cut in to ask a question. “Now, James, we know that as a royal, though they won’t be King and Queen as William and Kate, Prince Harry and Anna will still have to do royal engagements such as representing the Queen and working with charities, do you have any insight as to how she’ll be at that?!”
Mark changed the channel to Sky News, but the topic here was the same. In a studio, a group of people were talking about us on a split screen as the other half showed pictures of Harry and me. In big red letters at the bottom of the screen were the words: BREAKING NEWS. Now we were at CNN, where a group of American reporters, that sounded Californian, were excitedly talking about… you guessed it, us.
“I am so excited about this, Mark! I just can’t even!” A blonde women was squealing making her colleagues laugh. “This is the heads of the two most well know two royal houses we’re talking about! It just feels too good to be true!”
“Trust the Americans to put a completely optimistic spin on it.” I said and smiled, making my way out.
Some of the British media had, of course, their reservations. I was Russian, young, a bit of a wild child. I was outspoken and impulsive at times, yet I had grown up. But even they could admit at this point there was very little they could do about it.
The world’s media had less to complain about. In fact, they seemed to think those were my strong suits. They paraded every red carpet look, every sassy response to annoying paparazzi questions as the reason I would be such a good fit in the monarchy. They claimed because the British monarchy wasn't 'lively' and it was good that someone was coming along to shake things up.
After lunch, Harry and I changed and made our way to Kensington Palace, with our staff tagging along. Our street had never been so crowded with paparazzi and it took us fifteen minutes to simply make an U turn around our building, which wasn’t so big. Scotland Yard had even come to try and keep the paparazzi and bystanders off the streets so they wouldn’t cause traffic jams, but it was useless. It was a day of total chaos. They were all in a good mood, at least. As they snapped their pictures of us in the car, they were all smiling and shouting congratulations. The cars we drove by were honking. People on the street were waving. It was one of the strangest experiences of my life.
The press had been called to the State Rooms of Kensington Palace, and had gathered and set their equipment on a big room with lots of windows on one side for good lighting. This room had cream wallpaper with golden drawings and a white marble fireplace with gold corners, with a gray carpet. There was about sixty press members in there, amidst them photographers and reporters, positioned a few meters ahead to give us space. In the back, they had set up cameras linked to their channels, which would be streaming live all over the world.
We stared at the closed doors as the time approached to walk in, feeling jumpy and nervous, something that wasn’t helped by our staff’s over-willingness to help. Val was practically wetting herself, chewing her gold Star of David in nervousness.
“Remember, we have confirmed the wedding date and country. So other than that, don’t tell them anything you don’t want them to know” Said Val.
“No cuss words, no dark humour.” Edward told us, though he was staring at me.
I breathed deeply once Edward and Val were gone, enjoying the sudden silence I knew would be broken soon. Harry reached out with his right hand and held my left one, intertwining our fingers together.
“Still time to back out.” He whispered.
I had my answer ready. “I’m actually somewhat nervous.” I admitted. “And also really fucking proud to let the world know we’re engaged.”
He smiled. We heard a cough from behind us, and looked back.
“It’s time.” Edward said.
The moment the doors opened, the familiar sound of incessant clicking filled the room as the photographers started snapping their pictures. The cream and gold walls of the State Rooms were illuminated so brightly they now looked snow white – there was no spotlight on them, just the flashes. As most British people were, these reporters were polite enough to be extremely quiet as we walked in. The sound of cameras going off was the only one in the room. I knew if these were American or Russian photographers, they would be shouting questions already.
Harry came to a halt in front of the fireplace and turned to them and I stopped by his side, folding my arm over his in front of his chest, I let my ring show as the flashes bathed us more ruthlessly now. We smiled, the butterflies still going crazy in my stomach.
I had done my fair share of staring into photographers’ cameras in the past, but this was different. This was my future I was staring into. I knew the drill: these images were being streamed live all over the world to every channel, in every language, where the news were interrupting whatever program was on with the breaking press conference of Prince Harry and Grand Duchess Anna about the Royal wedding of the year.
Harry held my hand with his other one, comforting, and we stared into the photographers again. It felt so weird to be in the same room as Harry and them after so much time hiding our relationship. After hiding how we felt for each other, now we could stand here and be ourselves. They actually wanted us to. We actually wanted to. I started laughing nervously as this crossed my mind, and looked down to try and stay calm, but Harry was already chuckling with me.
“We’ll take questions.” Edward informed the press. The flashes started to dim down. “Please hold your flash photography, they will be posing a little more afterwards. Let’s start with Joy Waters, BBC.”
A lady with a bob cut stood up from her chair and smiled at us. “Your Royal Highness, Your Imperial Highness, from all of us at BBC, congratulations!” We smiled at her. “I was wondering, Anna, can we know how Harry proposed? Was it romantic?”
Harry gave me a warning look, and we both knew what I was going to say. He couldn’t stop me though, because the question had been directed at me. So I smiled smugly, and looked at the reporter.
“Actually, I proposed to him.”
Harry let out an audible sigh and let his head fall as the press – and me – laughed. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“Well, it’s the truth.” I said, noticing as I spoke the flashes gradually started to go wild again, blinding me. “I had flown into London, Harry had prepared a dinner to celebrate and I was just so happy that I asked him to marry me. Little did I know he was planning to propose on that very dinner.”
They laughed appreciatively, and Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I planned that for a year and she just blurts out a proposal and gets the credit. Unbelievable.” They laughed more. “Technically, I still proposed first, though, because after she asked I got the ring and asked her, and she answered mine but I didn’t answer hers, so mine’s the one that counts.”
I was ready to contest that information, but Edward, probably knowing that, immediately called another reporter, Stephen Smythe, from Sky News.
“Congratulations to you both,” he started, “wonderful news! Anna, as you know, you won’t just be a wife after you marry. I was wondering, you’ve been in the public eye for a long time, do you feel prepared for your role in the this monarchy?”
I considered the question for a couple of seconds, and took in a deep breath. “I think the most daunting prospects of this new role look easier because of my background. I don’t have to worry so much about, for instance, you.” I gestured to all of them, who laughed. “I’ve done my fair share of interviews and I’ve dealt with the press for a really long time, so I know what to expect and what to do. Public speaking doesn’t scare me as much as it would most people. “And I have done humanitarian work in the past, so I’m hoping that will help me in the future. And, you know, I understand there’s a lot that will be different and for that I am counting on learning fast and being as helpful as I can be.”
Edward looked at the room. “Ebony, CNN.”
“Right here, Harry and Anna.” She called, so we knew where to look, though it was very hard to see anything ahead with all the flashes.
“We can’t actually see you, but we trust you’re there.” Harry joked.
“Harry, you’ve had quite a long relationship,” she started, “With your past experience and Anna's, I was wondering if that played a role in the timing of this engagement and what exactly about each other made you decide this was the person you wanted to marry?”
“Everything about Anna made me decide I wanted to marry her.” Harry said, in a heartbeat, making me smile broadly. I felt the change in the speed of the flashing again. “I’ve known this from very early on and truthfully it was a matter of waiting for the right time.”
“That’s his gentle way of saying I had commitment issues he needed to work around.” I explained, making them laugh. “Seriously, though, everything from going from friends to something more, to our first kiss, and being comfortable referring to us as an ‘us’ and calling him my boyfriend, saying ‘I love you’ for the first time, moving in together. Absolutely every step of this relationship took a very long time, and Harry was so patient through all of it I kept surprising myself every day that he still hadn’t left. Which is exactly what made me know I wanted to marry him, actually. His absolute patience through every rough bit of our life together, the distance, the tabloid rumours, he stayed. And I loved that.”
“Alan, Daily Mail, it’ll be the last one.” Edward called. “And photographers, please, I’ll ask again, hold your flashes for the questions, there’ll be another chance for photos.”
“Harry, Anna, congratulations.” The Daily Mail reporter started. “Can you tell us about the beginning of your relationship? You mentioned you were friends before anything else, so what made you start seeing each other differently? What made you fall in love with each other?”
“Well,” Harry started. Maybe because of the nature of the question, the flashes got even more unbearable now.
There was silence as Harry bit his lips, thinking about his answer. He pointed at me with his free hand, and looked at the reporter that had asked the last question. “This. This is what made me fall in love with her.”
The room erupted in delightful laughter, myself included as I blushed more furiously now. “Anna is… unstoppable. She’s strong and outspoken, not in an impulsive way, in a smart and capable way. In the kind of way where she fearlessly makes herself heard, and that is just so absolutely astonishing, like a… a hurricane or some force of nature that you can’t help but watch. I hear it's a Romanov family trait, her Great Great Aunt had it to. I mean we knew each other as kids, but when things became serious that’s what caught my eye, I think.” He paused. “Not at first, of course. At first her face did all the work.” We laughed again.
“Uhm…” I thought about it. “His cooking, definitely.” They laughed. “He grabbed me by the stomach, especially because I can’t cook for,” I almost said shit, “the life of me!” I paused as Harry and the photographers laughed. “In all seriousness, though, I think for me it’s how absolutely kind he is. Harry is generous and helpful and he is always willing to be there for everyone, for his family and friends and people he doesn’t even know that well. I’m sure you know this, as you have watched his work over the years. It reflects on it, on his work, how absolutely gentle he is with everyone. That is absolutely wonderful for me to watch.” We smiled at each other as the flashes started again, stronger than before.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.” Edward said. “Harry and Anna will pose a little more.” He pointed at a place a big closer to the photographers and we stepped up, so they could photograph us better.
We weren’t there for one minute, before Edward signalled we could go. We waved at the media slightly, saying our thank you's, and walked away back into Kensington.
I sat down on the first chair I found. “Well, that was… interesting.”
Harry smiled at me. “You okay?”
I smiled back. “I’m going be your wife.” I told him. “I’m perfect.”
And I was perfect. I was going to be OK, so was Russia, the U.K and, hopefully the world as a whole.
When a couple get's engaged, you expect family and friends to make a big deal out of it. You even expect yourself to be a bit too caught up with wedding talk. But I had no words to describe what happened when Harry and I got engaged. The world was taken by storm that June 2016. Celebrities, personalities, every magazine and tabloid, royalty blogs, newspapers, televised news… everyone only had one thing to talk about: the engagement of Prince Harry and Grand Duchess Anna of Russia. At the centre of the storm, were the two of us. We almost didn’t sleep on that first night after the engagement announcement. We celebrated with our staff and protection team, we made plans for the havoc that would start on the next morning, and then we turned on the television.
Even though it was late at night, every news channel (Fox News, BBC and CNN, and of course Russian ones as well) had multiple people on set talking about us, looking like they weren’t about to go home and sleep any time soon. They called themselves ‘royal specialists’ and were gushing about everything from my ‘wild past’ to Harry’s ‘failed’ first relationship. One royal editor for the Daily Mail was interviewed, and said:
“We are all so happy at our offices over this news, none of us actually thought this would happen. You see, she’s a foreigner and it was thought the days of foreign royal marriages were over. Yet here we are, and it’s an even bigger fairy-tale than Will and Kate’s, I dare say.”
“What a hypocrite!” I said, shaking my head. “Just last week this bitch ran a story claiming I was breaking up with you because you wouldn’t commit!”
Harry sighed. “Get used to it. Now they know this is officially happening, they’ll pretend they’ve always known it.”
We had somewhat expected this, but the more that we watched, the weirder it felt. These channels cut to scenes from every public faux pas ever committed, including Harry's marijuana, his Nazi uniform and me dancing on a table at the exclusive Pasha's restaurant in St Petersburg wearing a satin skirt that was not exactly royal in length. Of course, they kept coming back to our public kiss some five years before and even photos of us together aged eight and four at Sandringham so many years ago. They seemed to show every paparazzi picture that had ever been snapped of us. They flashbacked to every moment of our relationship, and talked about us as if it had been written on the stars; as if this was the only possible outcome for our story. As if it hadn’t been so difficult to get there, with a mini break up and uncertainties, and even worse, as if they had something to do with it. Like they were trying to take the credit for us having made it.
“I believe she’ll be a brilliant princess!” Said another ‘royal expert’ on the BBC morning news. As if I already wasn't one.
I scoffed as we watched it, as Harry had breakfast and I had my hair done for our engagement photo call. Harry sat down and switched on his P.C for his own form of relaxation, "Empires in Arms." It was a Russian computer game simulating the Napoleonic Wars, made by Russobit-M, the largest Russian computer software company. They were the world's largest producers of online strategy games, but also the producers of Galaxy War, an online multi player computer game that rivalled World of Warcraft, effectively the Sci-Fi version thereof. It also had two modes, strategic or tactical and playing it was a likely addiction that could take large sections of one's life.
“No one knows the exact timeline, but they’re believed to be dating on and off for five years. The Queen has privately said before she wanted her grandchildren to date for a while before getting married so their partners could understand what they’re taking on, not to repeat the Prince of Wales’ mistake, of course, although in this instance Anna should be well aware of the pressures.” The man went on, and though Harry didn’t express a reaction to it, I was shaking my head with revulsion. Did they have to bring his mother into it? “And not only the time they’ve been dating, but she, as a public person herself, I’m sure, is ready to deal with what’s coming.”
“We have to address that issue.” Harry's private secretary Edward Soames mentioned. “The timeline thing. We have to make clear you didn’t start dating until months after Harry and Chelsy had broken up.”
Harry and I nodded, adding that to the list of things we needed to remember for the photo call and interview, and I opened my phone to check on things.
That morning, the Alexander Palace had been surrounded by paparazzi at their gates, the same with my brothers and sister-in-law's or sister in law's to be in Isabel's case. Thankfully, I had been called them before we released the announcement to let them know what to expect, of course they knew it had been coming.
I almost ached for a dose of vodka to calm my nerves, but it probably wasn't the best option. Our photographer Lindsay Ellis had flown in from New York the previous night so we could take engagement portraits to be released with the announcement. Though we hadn’t seen him in forever, he was as friendly as we remembered, and hugged us excitedly when we greeted him.
“I was hoping we would see you again.” Harry confessed, greeting him.
“I always knew we would be doing this one day.” He said, when we gave him his memory card back.
He quickly posted the secret picture he had taken of us in 2011 on the MET, the one that showed our faces and proved we were the ones in the picture of our hands in front of da Vinci's portrait. We were laughing in it, and I couldn’t help but smile as Lindsay typed away an explanation for his followers. It read:
‘Five years ago I was photographing in the MET on a Sunday when I saw a young couple holding hands in front of this da Vinci painting. I took a picture of their hands, and when I introduced myself and started to explain about the blog, they quickly seemed unsure of allowing me to tell anyone they were there. Though that’s a reaction I am used to as most people don’t enjoy the words ‘can I take your picture for the internet?’, I quickly realized there was more to them than I had initially seen. The girl took off her hoodie to allow me to recognize her as Grand Duchess Anna of Russia, and her boyfriend’s ginger hair quickly showed me he was Prince Harry. They had no security with them; they were merely enjoying a Sunday date on a museum like the most normal of couples I know. They wanted to continue to enjoy their privacy, so they asked me not to tell anyone I had seen them. Instead, we took a second picture, the one I post now, that they told me I could post someday ‘if they ever got engaged’. I handed them the memory card with the picture so they would have a guarantee I wouldn’t post it, and they have just returned it to me. I leave you with Prince Harry’s words, which do a good job of exemplifying how I feel today: ‘I was hoping we would see you again’.’
We posed for Lindsay in front of the floor to ceiling windows in our bedroom. With the curtains wide opened, the background of our engagement photos was the treetops of Hyde Park and the blue sky above. We side hugged, and smiled, both wearing blue shirts and white pants.
“This feels so weird.” Harry laughed.
“Why?” asked Lindsay.
“We usually run away from cameras.” He explained, making me smile. I hugged him tighter, remembering each time I had to put space between us so the media wouldn’t get a story out of us; grateful I now could hug him in front of whomever I wanted.
The photos we selected had Harry and me laughing as we had joked about taking really tacky engagement pictures. Another one had been snapped just as he kissed my cheek strongly, making me giggle with my eyes closed. In the last one, we were hugging as I had my arms around his neck, with the left hand resting on his chest so my ring was visible. Lindsay told us he could have the photos edited in a few hours, and we decided we would release them that night.
Our house was serving as the headquarters for the engagement mayhem. On the kitchen, our security guys were stockpiling every delivery that arrived, from flower bouquets of every shape, type and colour to breakfast baskets. They came from friends, family, but mostly just the general public, from Aberdeen to Vladivostok. These were just the congratulatory gifts from people who actually had our address.
After the engagement announcement, Kensington Palace had sent a bigger security team to take turns on our building, and they were all handling the deliveries as well – they let in the ones from people we actually knew, and the others were sent to Harry’s office in Kensington.
Edward, Valentina and Jurgen had set up their computers on our dining room table and were spending their time either typing away frenetically or answering phone calls, Val typically biting at her gold necklace. They had reporters calling in or emailing asking everything from details about the engagement to if we had picked a wedding cake yet.
Val spoke. “They want know which church you’re getting married in, if it’s going to be a televised service, the date, if you’re getting married in England or Russia…” she listed. “You have to decide which information you’re willing to tell them now.”
“We talked about this.” Harry told her, with a look of confirmation to me. “You can tell them the date, 22nd September, and that we’ll get married in England. Maybe we can hold off on the wedding party information until we release the portraits.”
“Yes!” Edward pitched in. “If we release that now they’ll ask about it on the photo call, better avoid that.”
“TMZ wants to know if it’ll be morning dress and if you’ll be inviting any other royals.” Val said.
“Jesus, they want a guest list and dress code?!” I rolled my eyes. “We’ve just picked a date!”
“It’s a state occasion.” Edward said. “It’ll may be a national holiday. It might be your day, but the whole world will be sharing in on it.”
Suddenly, a pragmatic and robotic voice caught my attention, and I realized the security team had the TV of the living room on. I climbed the steps to watch it with them. It was NBC, and they were running a story on surprise! – us.
The reporter was talking live from right in front of our building, bustled by milling people.
“Is that downstairs?!” I asked, astonished.
“It’s a circus outside.” Mark, the senior PO said.
The reporter was saying: “On marrying a woman who is not a private citizen, who is used to the spotlight and the media pressure, Prince Harry is avoiding the mistakes made in the past by his father. But Anna is not only used to it, but as a royal, she was born to it. Though Anna is younger than he is, I think she is very mature and prepared for what this role will bring.”
From a studio, a woman in a power suit cut in to ask a question. “Now, James, we know that as a royal, though they won’t be King and Queen as William and Kate, Prince Harry and Anna will still have to do royal engagements such as representing the Queen and working with charities, do you have any insight as to how she’ll be at that?!”
Mark changed the channel to Sky News, but the topic here was the same. In a studio, a group of people were talking about us on a split screen as the other half showed pictures of Harry and me. In big red letters at the bottom of the screen were the words: BREAKING NEWS. Now we were at CNN, where a group of American reporters, that sounded Californian, were excitedly talking about… you guessed it, us.
“I am so excited about this, Mark! I just can’t even!” A blonde women was squealing making her colleagues laugh. “This is the heads of the two most well know two royal houses we’re talking about! It just feels too good to be true!”
“Trust the Americans to put a completely optimistic spin on it.” I said and smiled, making my way out.
Some of the British media had, of course, their reservations. I was Russian, young, a bit of a wild child. I was outspoken and impulsive at times, yet I had grown up. But even they could admit at this point there was very little they could do about it.
The world’s media had less to complain about. In fact, they seemed to think those were my strong suits. They paraded every red carpet look, every sassy response to annoying paparazzi questions as the reason I would be such a good fit in the monarchy. They claimed because the British monarchy wasn't 'lively' and it was good that someone was coming along to shake things up.
After lunch, Harry and I changed and made our way to Kensington Palace, with our staff tagging along. Our street had never been so crowded with paparazzi and it took us fifteen minutes to simply make an U turn around our building, which wasn’t so big. Scotland Yard had even come to try and keep the paparazzi and bystanders off the streets so they wouldn’t cause traffic jams, but it was useless. It was a day of total chaos. They were all in a good mood, at least. As they snapped their pictures of us in the car, they were all smiling and shouting congratulations. The cars we drove by were honking. People on the street were waving. It was one of the strangest experiences of my life.
The press had been called to the State Rooms of Kensington Palace, and had gathered and set their equipment on a big room with lots of windows on one side for good lighting. This room had cream wallpaper with golden drawings and a white marble fireplace with gold corners, with a gray carpet. There was about sixty press members in there, amidst them photographers and reporters, positioned a few meters ahead to give us space. In the back, they had set up cameras linked to their channels, which would be streaming live all over the world.
We stared at the closed doors as the time approached to walk in, feeling jumpy and nervous, something that wasn’t helped by our staff’s over-willingness to help. Val was practically wetting herself, chewing her gold Star of David in nervousness.
“Remember, we have confirmed the wedding date and country. So other than that, don’t tell them anything you don’t want them to know” Said Val.
“No cuss words, no dark humour.” Edward told us, though he was staring at me.
I breathed deeply once Edward and Val were gone, enjoying the sudden silence I knew would be broken soon. Harry reached out with his right hand and held my left one, intertwining our fingers together.
“Still time to back out.” He whispered.
I had my answer ready. “I’m actually somewhat nervous.” I admitted. “And also really fucking proud to let the world know we’re engaged.”
He smiled. We heard a cough from behind us, and looked back.
“It’s time.” Edward said.
The moment the doors opened, the familiar sound of incessant clicking filled the room as the photographers started snapping their pictures. The cream and gold walls of the State Rooms were illuminated so brightly they now looked snow white – there was no spotlight on them, just the flashes. As most British people were, these reporters were polite enough to be extremely quiet as we walked in. The sound of cameras going off was the only one in the room. I knew if these were American or Russian photographers, they would be shouting questions already.
Harry came to a halt in front of the fireplace and turned to them and I stopped by his side, folding my arm over his in front of his chest, I let my ring show as the flashes bathed us more ruthlessly now. We smiled, the butterflies still going crazy in my stomach.
I had done my fair share of staring into photographers’ cameras in the past, but this was different. This was my future I was staring into. I knew the drill: these images were being streamed live all over the world to every channel, in every language, where the news were interrupting whatever program was on with the breaking press conference of Prince Harry and Grand Duchess Anna about the Royal wedding of the year.
Harry held my hand with his other one, comforting, and we stared into the photographers again. It felt so weird to be in the same room as Harry and them after so much time hiding our relationship. After hiding how we felt for each other, now we could stand here and be ourselves. They actually wanted us to. We actually wanted to. I started laughing nervously as this crossed my mind, and looked down to try and stay calm, but Harry was already chuckling with me.
“We’ll take questions.” Edward informed the press. The flashes started to dim down. “Please hold your flash photography, they will be posing a little more afterwards. Let’s start with Joy Waters, BBC.”
A lady with a bob cut stood up from her chair and smiled at us. “Your Royal Highness, Your Imperial Highness, from all of us at BBC, congratulations!” We smiled at her. “I was wondering, Anna, can we know how Harry proposed? Was it romantic?”
Harry gave me a warning look, and we both knew what I was going to say. He couldn’t stop me though, because the question had been directed at me. So I smiled smugly, and looked at the reporter.
“Actually, I proposed to him.”
Harry let out an audible sigh and let his head fall as the press – and me – laughed. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“Well, it’s the truth.” I said, noticing as I spoke the flashes gradually started to go wild again, blinding me. “I had flown into London, Harry had prepared a dinner to celebrate and I was just so happy that I asked him to marry me. Little did I know he was planning to propose on that very dinner.”
They laughed appreciatively, and Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I planned that for a year and she just blurts out a proposal and gets the credit. Unbelievable.” They laughed more. “Technically, I still proposed first, though, because after she asked I got the ring and asked her, and she answered mine but I didn’t answer hers, so mine’s the one that counts.”
I was ready to contest that information, but Edward, probably knowing that, immediately called another reporter, Stephen Smythe, from Sky News.
“Congratulations to you both,” he started, “wonderful news! Anna, as you know, you won’t just be a wife after you marry. I was wondering, you’ve been in the public eye for a long time, do you feel prepared for your role in the this monarchy?”
I considered the question for a couple of seconds, and took in a deep breath. “I think the most daunting prospects of this new role look easier because of my background. I don’t have to worry so much about, for instance, you.” I gestured to all of them, who laughed. “I’ve done my fair share of interviews and I’ve dealt with the press for a really long time, so I know what to expect and what to do. Public speaking doesn’t scare me as much as it would most people. “And I have done humanitarian work in the past, so I’m hoping that will help me in the future. And, you know, I understand there’s a lot that will be different and for that I am counting on learning fast and being as helpful as I can be.”
Edward looked at the room. “Ebony, CNN.”
“Right here, Harry and Anna.” She called, so we knew where to look, though it was very hard to see anything ahead with all the flashes.
“We can’t actually see you, but we trust you’re there.” Harry joked.
“Harry, you’ve had quite a long relationship,” she started, “With your past experience and Anna's, I was wondering if that played a role in the timing of this engagement and what exactly about each other made you decide this was the person you wanted to marry?”
“Everything about Anna made me decide I wanted to marry her.” Harry said, in a heartbeat, making me smile broadly. I felt the change in the speed of the flashing again. “I’ve known this from very early on and truthfully it was a matter of waiting for the right time.”
“That’s his gentle way of saying I had commitment issues he needed to work around.” I explained, making them laugh. “Seriously, though, everything from going from friends to something more, to our first kiss, and being comfortable referring to us as an ‘us’ and calling him my boyfriend, saying ‘I love you’ for the first time, moving in together. Absolutely every step of this relationship took a very long time, and Harry was so patient through all of it I kept surprising myself every day that he still hadn’t left. Which is exactly what made me know I wanted to marry him, actually. His absolute patience through every rough bit of our life together, the distance, the tabloid rumours, he stayed. And I loved that.”
“Alan, Daily Mail, it’ll be the last one.” Edward called. “And photographers, please, I’ll ask again, hold your flashes for the questions, there’ll be another chance for photos.”
“Harry, Anna, congratulations.” The Daily Mail reporter started. “Can you tell us about the beginning of your relationship? You mentioned you were friends before anything else, so what made you start seeing each other differently? What made you fall in love with each other?”
“Well,” Harry started. Maybe because of the nature of the question, the flashes got even more unbearable now.
There was silence as Harry bit his lips, thinking about his answer. He pointed at me with his free hand, and looked at the reporter that had asked the last question. “This. This is what made me fall in love with her.”
The room erupted in delightful laughter, myself included as I blushed more furiously now. “Anna is… unstoppable. She’s strong and outspoken, not in an impulsive way, in a smart and capable way. In the kind of way where she fearlessly makes herself heard, and that is just so absolutely astonishing, like a… a hurricane or some force of nature that you can’t help but watch. I hear it's a Romanov family trait, her Great Great Aunt had it to. I mean we knew each other as kids, but when things became serious that’s what caught my eye, I think.” He paused. “Not at first, of course. At first her face did all the work.” We laughed again.
“Uhm…” I thought about it. “His cooking, definitely.” They laughed. “He grabbed me by the stomach, especially because I can’t cook for,” I almost said shit, “the life of me!” I paused as Harry and the photographers laughed. “In all seriousness, though, I think for me it’s how absolutely kind he is. Harry is generous and helpful and he is always willing to be there for everyone, for his family and friends and people he doesn’t even know that well. I’m sure you know this, as you have watched his work over the years. It reflects on it, on his work, how absolutely gentle he is with everyone. That is absolutely wonderful for me to watch.” We smiled at each other as the flashes started again, stronger than before.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.” Edward said. “Harry and Anna will pose a little more.” He pointed at a place a big closer to the photographers and we stepped up, so they could photograph us better.
We weren’t there for one minute, before Edward signalled we could go. We waved at the media slightly, saying our thank you's, and walked away back into Kensington.
I sat down on the first chair I found. “Well, that was… interesting.”
Harry smiled at me. “You okay?”
I smiled back. “I’m going be your wife.” I told him. “I’m perfect.”
And I was perfect. I was going to be OK, so was Russia, the U.K and, hopefully the world as a whole.
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I would just like to take this opportunity to Say thanks you all very much to those who have read this story. Thanks for your encouragement, your feedback and your support. It's been a long haul and taken nigh on two years but here we are at the end! If you have any "post timeline questions, I will be happy to answer them, but in terms of new posts, it's:
END OF TIMELINE
THANK YOU
END OF TIMELINE
THANK YOU
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Yes, the British are sort of a bridge between the two major powers. Many conflicts have not occurred as they might otherwise have done, not least of which are:
Second Balkans War
Turkish War of Liberation
Russian Civil War
Finnish Civil War
Polish-Soviet War
Saudi-Hejaz War
Syrian Revolt
Italian-Ethiopian War
Italian invasion of Albania
Indo-China war
Greek Civil War
Arab-Israeli wars(all)
Korean War
Malayan Emergency
Cuban Civil War
Vietnam war
Algerian war
Congo Crisis
Cambodian Civil War
Just to name a few.
Well done, I thoroughly enjoyed the journey.
I can only add some music I enjoy as a final addage to the tale.