Chapter I - Natalia Alianovna Romanova
December 1937. Stalingrad, Russia.
She was born before the chaos of war before blood flooded the streets and smoke clogged the air. A wailing infant birthed into the freezing Russian winter, taken into her father's arms, wrapped, and placed into her mother's. She was a beautiful baby, eyes greener than the summer trees and skin as pale as the snow.
Beautiful. Protected. Loved.
Innocent.
"Natalia," the mother had whispered. "Natalia Alianovna Romanova, welcome to the world." They stood there together, now a family of three, wrapped in the heat of the fireplace and sheltered from the blizzard outside.
Father. Mother. Daughter.
That didn't last for long.
Her hair was red and she was quick as a three-year-old could possibly be. Natalia was a beautiful baby and an adorable toddler. She tore through their tiny home with ferocity, weaving and ducking in an attempt to evade her father's arms trying to scoop her up and take her to the dinner table. Her mother sat and laughed as she doled out servings of the warm soup. The three were happy.
However they were a young family, one could say naive. War was being waged across countries their Soviet Union bonded with the Nazis of Germany. Fighting was breaking out around them, chaos circling their home like sharks hunting for blood. But in their small home, the family of three felt safe, protected. They didn't understand, most never do, not until it was too late.
Not until three became two.
It had just passed her fourth birthday when Natalia's mother fell ill. Winter had swept through Stalingrad, and it was one of the coldest yet. Weakened by the cold and food shortage (caused by war,) her mother caught a cold. As days bled together Natalia and her father sat, watching as she got worse. Feeding her soup and walking her to the bathroom, hoping- praying she would get better soon.
Two weeks later her mother was buried.
It was just two now.
Another birthday passed, the little girl with red hair was five now. Natalia attended school now, she was smart for her age and she quickly moved through her workbooks. But if you asked her teachers, they would tell you something was missing. The parents whispered about it among themselves:"no girl should be raised without a mother, how does her father do it" "she used to be such a happy little girl, it's truly a shame."
It mattered very little considering what was to come.
The August breeze stirred the leaves as Natalia walked home. She wasn't a stupid child, she saw. The war, the death, the destruction. It was starting to close in on them, the sharks had found them. They wanted Stalingrad and would do anything to get it, it was as if the whole city was holding their collective breath, waiting for the sharks to tear through them. Praying the damage wouldn't be fatal.
It was slow at first. The sharks tore throughout the city, ripped it from limb to limb and watched it bleed. The streets ran with blood and were littered with corpses the air was clogged with smoke and screams of the few left. In a few months, Natalia was made an orphan, her father marked as a casualty of war along with the masses. She had no family, no home, nobody to help.
She turned to whatever gods would listen and prayed to survive no matter the cost.
Natalia was five and she had just made the worst mistake of her life.
She was so cold so hungry and so afraid. Natalia was six now, just one of the many orphaned children on the street, one of the few who survived. She wasn't special, wasn't loved, not anymore. Her hair was still red but it had turned brown and tangled with the snow. Her frame had narrowed from starvation, it was a slow killer. Sometimes she wasted the day counting her visible bones. She sat shivering, huddled with her knees to her chest tucked against a brick alleyway as the cold Russian wind stung her face. Natalia wished she had just died with her father or caught her mother's sickness, she hated herself for forgetting their voices, touch, their faces becoming blurry in her memory. She didn't cry- it took too much energy and just made her face colder.
The footsteps echoed, bouncing off the walls of the back alley. Her limbs were stiff, frozen together and unwilling to unfurl. She watched unseeingly as an expensive pair of leather shoes stopped in front of her. The man stood for a moment before crouching.
“What is your name, little girl?” She could not respond, her lips too chapped, only blink slowly at him. He hummed. “I am Konstantine,” the Russian slipped beautifully from his lips. She blinked again.
He stood and looked down upon her for a moment before reaching into his coat. He pulled out a candy bar, covered in silver wrapper. She blinked at him again.
“Here little girl,” he held it out to her as an offering. A voice in her head rang out, clear as day. Her father telling her never to take food from strangers.
Well, father is dead isn’t he Natalia? A nasty voice bit out besides she was so, so, hungry.
So she reached up and took the candy from him and unwrapped it with shaking hands. He looked amused as she took a small bite. Watching her as she widened her eyes and wolfed down the chocolate like it was the greatest thing ever created. When the bar was all gone he offered her his hand and she stood.
“I am Natalia Romanova,” she whispered.
“That is a beautiful name, little girl. Would you like to come with me where it's warm? I have more food there as well.”
She weighed her options, remembering how the chocolate had melted into her mouth, and nodded once.
“Come.” He took her hand and smiled down at her, only then she was too young to see that it never truly reached his eye.
Years would go by where Natalia had wished she starved to death in that cold Russian alleyway because this became the greatest mistake she could ever have made.