The hour dragged by with the moans of Alexei. He was getting weaker by the minute. At about eleven thirty at night, he asked Mama and Papa to sit with him.

"My pain was a strain on everyone since my birth. Now it will be gone soon. Thank you for always protecting me, you did the best you could. But you couldn't protect me from the inevitable. So please, do not miss me too much. I won't suffer anymore, so rejoice when I'm gone." He spoke with a tone that was surprisingly happy for being moments away from his death. Mama continued to weep.

"How could I not grieve for you?" She exclaimed. "You're my sunbeam, my baby!" She sobbed as tears filled Papa's eyes.

"Ileana," Alexei said softly. "Come," she sat at the edge of his bed.

"My one regret was not marrying you the first time I laid my eyes upon your angelic face. I should have proposed sooner, and I would've embraced every moment if I knew my time was going to come so soon. Please," he barely mustered the strength to take her hand. "Marry again. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Take care of our little one, don't abandon him."

"But Alyosha! I didn't just want to have a child. I wanted to raise one with you!" She cried.

"We had his first six months to raise him together. He will be tsar one day. Take care of him, and most importantly, take care of yourself." He sighed. "I will always love you, and I did from the moment we met as children."

"I will always love you, too. Please think of me when you get to Heaven." Ileana's voice trembled.

"Oh, my dear, how could one ever forget you?"

"And I'll never forget you, my one and only husband."

Silence fell over the room again like a wool blanket. We waited in anxiety as Alexei's moans became quieter and Dr. Botkin continued to take his pulse.

"What's happening?" Mama asked, sounding nearly hysterical.

"His heart rate is going down," he replied anxiously.

Mama couldn't speak. She just broke out into choking sobs.

"Thank you, doctors," Alexei spoke softly to Dr. Botkin and Dr. Derevenko. They both saluted him.

It was nearly midnight. My leg bounced up and down and my stomach churned continuously. We all simultaneously gathered closer around Alexei. Mama and Ileana sat by his head, Papa next to Mama, and my sisters lining the bed on either side. I sat at the foot of the bed. My sisters all held Alexei's hands and Mama cradled his head. Ileana had his hand on his cheek.

Alexei looked up, kissed Ileana for the last time, and put his hand on Mama's cheek, and looked at everyone for the last time. My sisters held his hands again, but I linked my pinkie finger through his. He did the same, but no one noticed.

He murmured a prayer, and all I could hear was, "Lord, have mercy on our souls." His breathing shallowed. He closed his eyes, and I almost thought I saw a small tear slip out.

Something within me felt gone. Like something dissolved or was cut out with a knife. I felt hollow and light, but the pain of my grief was the weight that replaced the joy that was gone.

He was dead.

It was exactly midnight.

Dr. Botkin took his pulse for the last time, and declared him dead. "Your Imperial Highnesses, our Tsarevich has passed." His words hung in the air.

Mama instantly threw herself across his body, screaming. "No! No! My baby! You cannot leave me! Stay, my sunbeam, stay! I need you, please! It's too soon, you can't be gone!" She screamed and shrieked endlessly.

Ileana burst into sobs, and wouldn't stop crying for hours. Papa looked on with the pain of being shot four times in the chest, and having his children be done the same.

My pinkie finger was still looped through Alexei's. I didn't want to move. I sat there for a few minutes, just embracing the last moments of holding my sweet brother.

Maria quietly fainted in her chair. Olga tried to help her, as she and Tatiana were nurses in the Great War. But Olga could hardly move or speak to tend to her. Tatiana stroked Mama's hair. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't cry or speak. I simply went over to Ileana, who was sitting to the right of late Alexei alone, and I put my arm around her and she sobbed.

There was nothing to do but sit and listen to the sobs and Mama's screams. I didn't know if we would ever do anything else.

Suddenly Papa stood and kissed Alexei's cold forehead. We all did the same after him, one at a time, like the customary routine when a tsar dies.

"I must tell the others," Papa said. He went to leave the room, and suddenly I felt myself stand. I went with him. "Papa, may I help you?" I asked.

"Yes, Nastasia. Go tell your Aunt Olga and Grandmere." He replied. Tears hung in his eyes, but he didn't cry. I didn't wish to see him cry. I wouldn't be able to bear it.

I knocked on Aunt Olga's door. Her maid came to my door and let me in. Auntie's husband was away on a work trip when she was called to see Alexei. Her children, two young boys, stayed with their governess.

"Aunt Olga?" I asked softly. I lit a candle and approached her bed. Her eyes flashes open.

"Nastya?" She murmured.

"Yes, it is Nastya."

"Is he gone?"

"Yes,"

She sat up in bed. Her mind must've been clearing. She looked down at her hands for a moment, then looked back at me. "Come, my child." She said and opened her arms. I sat with her on her bed in the dim candlelight. We held each other and murmured a prayer. I felt a tear run off of her face onto my messy hair. I still wouldn't cry.

"I'll ready myself and go to your parents." She said after a moment. "I will see you there. I must first tell Grandmere." I left her dark bedroom.

The entire palace was dark. There was not a lamp aglow in sight. I reached Grandmere's bedroom and no reply came to my knock. I quietly slipped in the room, and appeared at the foot of her bed with my candle. "Grandmere?" I asked deadly quietly.

She was sitting up in bed already, wide awake.

"He is dead." She spoke with a monotone voice of a ghost, living alone as a lost spirit on earth for centuries.

"Yes, Grandmere."

"It happened at twelve." How did she know?

"Yes, Grandmere." I repeated.

"I woke at midnight. I knew immediately." How did she wake at the exact time he died?

"I see. Would you like to come see our family?"

She silently nodded, but didn't move. I sat at the foot of her bed. Her hair has gone white, and she's become thinner and weaker. But her eyes, they are still the same. The eyes that looked upon me as an infant, child, teenager, and now, adult. The eyes that watched me play piano solos for her at Sunday luncheons. The eyes that examined my artwork of paintings and drawings. The eyes that grew cold upon seeing my mother. The eyes that thawed upon seeing me, her favorite Anastasie.

I took her hand. We stood, linking arms. She leaned heavily on me as we walked as slow as a funeral procession, through the echoing halls where Alexei once ran, me with my candle.

My candle was the only glow in the palace. I was the only person one could think could attempt to cheer my family with my silly ways, but I cannot even bring myself to cheer myself up off the floor of my soul.