Ipatiev House, Yekaterinburg.

It's been many months since their imprisonment, but I know they are still alive. They are strong, tough, and resilient like me. How else would I have become so strong? But now...now a great leader has come forwards. He will continue my glory, he will make me stronger still and unite all others into the Motherland. His ideas, philosophies, theories; they will make me a might country whom no one will stand against. All will tremble in my wake and hide in my shadows.

Bu t those before me?

I have found where they are hiding. No, 'hiding' is the wrong word. They do not hide, they still have pride. I have found where they are living temporarily. A small house, windows white-washed to protect them. There are those who would hurt them .

I walk towards the door. The guards look puzzled, but I smile. They baulk, fear gripping their organs and hands trembling around their guns. Why does my smile make so many fear me? I tell them to leave, still smiling despite the rage I feel boiling inside. With a glance, they do as I bid, cowering away into the shadows.

As I wrap a hand around the doorknob, I hear voices. Girls chatter aimlessly, a mother sings to a crying child. I hear a match strike, someone is lighting a pipe. The sounds of a family making the best of a bad situation.

It shouldn't have come to this. They should have been stronger. They should have fought harder for their place. But instead they grew weak, feeble, useless.

Now it had to end.

With a firm grip, I open the door. Silence greats me, then bodies start to back away. I smile, they move faster. A young boy, sickly pale and thin, holds his ground. He at least has some pride.

"Have you come for us Ivan?" he asks, voice firm despite his shaking limbs.

"Da Alexei," I say with a smile. I pull out the object hidden in my belt. The boy's eyes grow wide, a girl starts to scream.

"I have come..."

0O0

The cold night air creeps down my neck as I leave the white-washed house. A coppery smell lines my nose. The end of my scarf is drenched with blood. It lines my boots, the edge of my coat and the side of my face. Still I am not sad. My task is complete.

Guards run towards me. They stop as they see the inside of the house. Eyes flick from me, to the contents of the home, back to me. One gulps then licks his lips.

"The Tsarina? Her children?"

A stupid question. I smile and they all step back. Cowards. I must train them harder.

"Da. The Tsarina and the royal family. The Proletariat is supreme comrades."

I step past the gawking guards. A childhood tune pops into my head and I begin to hum, sucking blood from my soaked glove.

The weakness has been culled.

Now I am strong once more...