In January 1923, Maria announced her second pregnancy and in August of that same year, a beautiful baby boy was born. Fillipp Nikolaevich-Golovin-Romanov.

Weeks later, the family was shocked by the news that Maria had found out one morning while changing his diaper. He was stricken with the sickness the family had prayed would not be restored onto the baby. The Royal Disease, named by many but most knowingly called .

After finding out and confirming with the doctor, Maria locked herself in her room. She was filled with guilt for she had given her baby boy this disease and she knew his life would never be the same.

She could still envision her mother's pain-stricken face after Alexei would have one of his accidents. She would stay at his bedside for hours on end until he was better. Maria could still remember how intense his screams of pain were. Maria covered her ears, trying not reminisce how loud and painful they sounded.

"Please, Maria, open the door." Anastasia begged as the day carried on.

Once the family had eaten dinner, Anastasia carried a tray of food upstairs and left it in front of the door. She could still hear Maria's quiet sobs from inside.

"Please let me in Mashka. It's just me."

No answer. Anastasia turned to leave when she heard footsteps from inside the room. She turned back to see Maria standing in the way, her face red with tears.

"Oh, Mashka," Anastasia whispered as she hugged her sister. They both walked to the nursery where two-year-old Vivianne and Fillipp slept. His crib was in the corner while Vivianne's bed was in the other. Maria sat down in a rocking chair and rocked the baby.

"It's all my fault." she murmured through small tears.

"Maria, no. It's not your fault."

"I gave this to him. What if something happens? Alexei almost died!"

"We'll take care of him, Mashka. As long as we keep him safe, he'll be fine. Alexei was fine when he wasn't in bed or ill. I'm sure he will too."

"What if this sickness is worse!"

"Hemophilia is hemophilia. There's no other kind at least that I don't know of."

"I just couldn't bear to see Fillipp in pain or in a dying state. I don't want to lose him!" Maria wailed.

"We will not lose him." Anastasia took her sisters hand. "We won't. Now please come eat. You haven't eaten anything all day."

-

The year carried on and in November, Maria announced her third pregnancy. She prayed it was a girl.

-

In July of nineteen-twenty-four, a baby girl was born.

Elena Nikolaevna-Golovin-Romanov. She was born with a fuzz of bright hair on her head and had hazel eyes, unlike her siblings whose were blue. Elena most resembled Valentin more than the other children.

Valentin was ever so content with the little girl that it almost seemed like she was his favorite of the three. He would carry her around the house and through the gardens, stopping to say hello to everyone that passed.

Now, even after Elena's birth, Maria was very overwhelmed with stress for Fillipp had fallen down a small flight of stairs while she had looked away for a moment. He was stricken with a bruise and his cries of pain filled the house as they all prayed. She would never leave his side, refusing to eat, saying it would take her attention away from her son.

With Maria locked away in her 'tower', Valentin mostly took care of little Elena while Anastasia took Vivianne under her wing. When not comforting Maria, they would all play in the garden.

-

December 21, 1924

Unfortunately, Filipp was still sick. His cries kept everyone awake at night. Christmas was not enjoyable. Everyone mourned for a few days before the holiday, little Fillipp had taken his last breath. Maria cried herself to sleep every night. Even after, she had refused to eat. The family was worried about her because it was noticed that she had lost so much weight.

"It's all my fault again!" Maria sobbed while talking to her sister and husband one rainy morning.

"Mashka, no."

"I should have been watching him that day! His little body couldn't fight the sickness. Now he's gone forever."

"Fillipp is watching over all of us. He wouldn't want you to cry." Valentin placed his hand on his wife's shoulder. Just then, Dasia opened the bedroom door.

"The car is here. It's time to go."

"Are you sure you don't want to come? I'm sure people would be happy to see you." Anastasia asked.

"I can't Shvibzik. You go."

"No, Mashka. If you aren't going, I won't go."

"Nastasia, go for me. Say extra prayers for me."

Anastasia opened her mouth to protest but Maria gestured for her to stop.

The family, all dressed in black, waited outside for a car to take them to the church for Fillipp's funeral. Anastasia sat gazing out of the window as the car drove over the winding roads of the English countryside.

A rainbow stretched through the sky - Anastasia knew it was a sign from the baby.

The service was short and Anastasia's heart sank as the baby's tiny casket was lowered into his grave.

'That's too little of a casket.' Anastasia thought as it hit the ground with a small thump.

Everyone returned home and Anastasia rushed to Maria's room.

"How was it?" Maria asked as Anastasia laid next to her sister in bed.

"It was beautiful. The priest said wonderful prayers. I prayed extra hard for you."

"Thank you Shvibzik. I love you so much."