The next morning, Anastasia awoke in an empty bed.

She was still in her old bedroom, in Maria's bed, at Livadia Palace in the Crimea. Gold sunshine poured through the glass windows and Anastasia could hear waves from the ocean crash outside.

Life felt so normal in those few seconds. There wasn't a war ravaging Russia, her father was still Tsar, she was on holiday here at the palace, and her three sisters would soon burst into the room, requesting her presence at breakfast.

But the reality of her life soon overpowered her fantasy and she stepped out of bed, now carrying the burdening weight and suffering of her country. The country that took thousands of lives, including its royal family.

Anastasia had her sister - that was good enough for her.

Anastasia sprinted the halls, attempting to find her sister and Grandmama when she stumbled across them eating in the palace's dining room.

"Are you alright, Shvibzik?" Maria asked, taking a bite of toast, seeing her disheveled, panting state.

Shvibzik was one of Anastasia's family nicknames, which meant imp or devil. Anastasia couldn't remember the last time someone called her that. She smiled at the name. It felt so good hearing that word again.

"Come eat," Grandmama motioned for her granddaughter to sit.

"It was so kind of the sisters from the convent to deliver us this delicious meal!" Maria stuffed a piece of toast into her mouth.

Anastasia gobbled down her food - it was the first real meal she had eaten since she had left Ekaterinburg over a week ago.

After breakfast, Anastasia put on some old clothes she had found and decided to look around the palace.

Instinct led her to a room where she found herself standing solitary in Olga and Tatiana's bedroom. Never again would a body sleep within the walls of this room. Where girlish fantasies, deep secrets, and heartfelt prayers were absorbed into its still air.

There was a made bed in each corner, religious icons on the wall and dead flowers in vases on tables. Framed pictures of family were also scattered around the room. Most photographed were now dead, captured in image forever.

Anastasia glanced at Olga's desk. She saw a small black book identical to hers. She flipped through the pages to see photographs of her family from nineteen-thirteen, here at Livadia, here in these white winding halls.

How happy little Anastasia Romanov had been then, oblivious to smoldering war on the horizon.

The girl also spotted a copy of Olga's favorite book next to the album; Les Miserables. 'No wonder she couldn't find it when we returned to Tsarskoe Selo'

Anastasia also glanced in Olga's dresser, looking through the outfits, noticing they were quite childish and small. How time had passed...

There was something else that caught Anastasia eye. A box. Inside, there was a light pink dress embroidered with pearls. The dress brought back so many beautiful memories.

It was November third, nineteen eleven - Olga's sixteenth birthday. The age that a girl with royal status is presented to the world. A party was held in the glittering ballroom of Livadia palace. Guests from near, far, and wide were dressed in gowns and suits doused in jewels.

Olga had looked ever so regal walking down the grand staircase in her pink dress, waving gingerly to her guests with her escort. Her three other sisters wore matching white dresses. The party started at six forty-five that night, dinner being served first.

Anastasia remembered throwing pieces of bread at Olga's escort, who sat across the table from her. She had met the young man earlier that day and learned he had a knack for causing mischief, just as she did. She still remembered the face Olga had made while she and the escort laughed.

Then came the dancing. Endless cavalier dancing.

Anastasia remembered taking off her shoes to calm her aching feet as the party reached past midnight.

The ball ended at two in the morning and Olga was ever so happy the party went well, besides the devious mini food fight.

She was still very embarrassed about that and made sure her little sister knew it.

By now, Anastasia missed the scolding.

The Romanov then found herself in her mother's boudoir, which was a few doors down from the bedroom. Inside, saw empty chairs, empty shelves, empty everything. Anastasia as well was empty standing in the room without the warm company of her family.

It had had been the place where everyone gathered on late nights to chat and play games, maybe even host a piano concert as said instrument was tucked in the corner. Anastasia knew she wasn't the best at playing the piano, her sister Tatiana had filled that spot.

All in all, the medium sized room was mother's safe haven. But it now felt far from safe, stripped of its loving ambiance.

Anastasia walked to the door, closing it behind her, never again entering.

Bored now, she planned to write a letter to Andrei even though she had figured he hadn't returned home yet. She sat down at her desk in her room, scribbling across the white parchment in her swirly cursive.

September 14th, 1918.

Dear Andrei-

I have made it safely to the palace! Maria is also here! She survived like me except she was rescued by Ivan! I'm ever so thankful she is here, but it is unfortunate without you here too. Please tell Dasia I miss her. I can't even explain my generosity for welcoming me into her home. Her necklace is still around my neck. I hope you have returned home safely. Sending hugs and prayers your way.

Yours truly, AR

Anastasia had just finished her letter as Maria stepped into the bedroom. "Would you like to explore with me, Shvibzik?"

"Sure, Mashka." Anastasia accepted, using her sister's nickname.

They both walked in the Italian-styled courtyard in the middle of the house, where they both admired the rare Chinese roses that grew only in Crimea. They also looked into an old wishing well where Anastasia and her family would often pose for pictures, reminiscing about old times.

The sisters both left the courtyard, making their way from inside the house to the outside. They then came across the ground's chapel. The inside of the chapel was covered in cobwebs and dust. There, the girls decided to pray.

The sisters prayed for their friends and family, who they hoped were still alive. They prayed for all of Russia and that this cruel war would end and lastly for their family, who they hoped was happy in heaven together, bathing free and painless in God's eternal light.

As they left the chapel, Anastasia was curious to revisit the expansive grounds. They made their way to the tennis courts, past the gardens, and soon found themselves on a pathway that ran along the Crimean Mountains.

While walking, Anastasia had an idea. She and Maria climbed down cliffside stairs to the palace's private beach. Anastasia waded her feet in the murky water while Maria remained on the pebble-covered shore. Anastasia went deeper into the sea with every wave that crashed against the shore.

"Shvibzik! Come back!" Maria called, fearing for her sister's safety.

Anastasia didn't listen, pulling her skirts up farther as she waded past her knees. Just then, a big wave hit her and pulled her under the water. She rose to the surface, laughing. Anastasia hadn't felt this happy in a long time. She was soaking wet, but she didn't care.

"Watch out for Poseidon!" Maria yelled playfully.

That joke had emerged when Anastasia was five. She was swimming in the sea with her father and sisters. Onshore, her mother and baby brother were overseeing the action. A sizable wave knocked her over and little Anastasia would have drowned if it wasn't for her father who saved her, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her to the surface. Her father always joked that Poseidon dragged her down, wanting to make her his sea queen. Anastasia stayed onshore for the rest of the day, now scared of the sea. The next day, forgetting about the joke, Anastasia rushed toward the water.

'Watch out for Poseidon!' her father had called.

A big wave crashed over Anastasia once again. After the wave had reached shore, she didn't appear on the surface. Dread started to fill Maria.

"Shvibzik! Anastasia?" her screams became louder as seconds passed. "ANASTASIA! ANASTASIA!"

She couldn't lose anyone else.

Fully clothed, Maria dove into the water, ripping through the waves, invincible. She swam to where she had seen her sister last.

"ANASTASIA! ANAS-" Maria was interrupted by a splash of water to the face. As Maria rubbed her eyes, she heard a wicked laugh. A very familiar wicked laugh.

"Nastasia! I thought you drowned! I didn't want to get wet! " Maria screeched, furious.

Anastasia appeared, a smug smile on her face. "Well, I knew you wouldn't come into the water! Why'd you think I'd do all this!"

Maria groaned. Her sister was impossible, famous in the family for her tricks and pranks.

Nevertheless, she was glad for the return of her sister's mischief. Her life needed it.

The girls made their back to the palace as the clock struck twelve-thirty, just in time for lunch. They took quick baths, ate, and spent the rest of the day on the terrace. Maria drew in the old sketchbook she had left here at the palace while Anastasia practiced a small play on the other side of the balcony.

Once she was ready, she performed it for her sister and Grandmama. She had to stop multiple times since they were all rolling with laughter. When the sun disappeared, the family went to their rooms.

"Do you think the sister who comes tomorrow will be able to deliver my letter to Andrei?" Anastasia asked as she closed the curtains of the enormous windows in their bedroom.

"I'm sure she can." Maria pulled her blanket over her body.

After turning the lamp off, Anastasia rushed into bed, next to Maria. The girls had moved their cots next to each other. "Just like old times!" Anastasia had said.

As Anastasia heard her sister lightly snoring, her mind wondered about Andrei. Had he made it home safe? He didn't have any money on him so how could he board a train or bus?

She knew he had to return home safely. He had to.