Two days passed. It was a blur of tears and funeral preparations. My sisters often would weep spontaneously. Ileana was glum and weepy all the time, never doing much but looking at pictures of Alexei and reading through his journals. Papa was grieving, but he was still warm and gentle to us. I cried myself to sleep every night. I only stared at the wall when my sisters wept. Why couldn't I grieve properly with my family? It's almost like I am embarrassed to cry in front of them.

Mama resolved to anger in her grief, which was only worse when Rasputin came running back here.

He entered the palace assuming he'd be forgiven. Of course, a downward spiral would be the only result of the visit.

He came into Mama's Mauve Boudoir, where we all sat looking through photo albums.

"My children, do not weep!" He exclaimed. The audacity! He enters our home, patronizing us by calling us his "children" and acting as though we shall adore him!

"Grigori," Mama said in a deadly low voice.

"Ah, Alix, dear, do not weep, for I will save the Little One." He replied with far too much confidence.

In a blink, we watched our mother's hand fly across Rasputin's face, her gold rings tearing at his scraggly beard, her skin leaving a dark red mark on his grimy face.

"You son of a bitch!" She screamed. My mother had never sworn before, nonetheless to the man she doted upon as holy. "My son is dead! And you abandoned me! You left him to die, and my spirit with him!"

The shock in his icy, choking eyes was electric. He got down into his knees, "Alexandra, please! Remember, it is I, Father Grigori, who has saved your son countless times! I am a holy man! I would never let him die!" He still proclaimed himself holy?

"Then resurrect my son." She fired back. We stared at her. What on earth was she thinking?

I looked to Olga, whose mouth was agape. She stared at me. We both silently thought, was she serious? Does she believe he could resurrect Alexei?

Rasputin looked terribly shocked and knew his time as a holy man was coming to a close. Mama's gaze didn't waver. She was giving him a challenge she would win undoubtedly. She would be prideful leading him into his own jeopardy.

We led Rasputin to Alexei's bedroom, where his body lay cold. He would be prepared soon for the funeral, and we couldn't bear being in the same room as his dead body. We had to see if Rasputin would bring our brother back. He wouldn't, right? No, he couldn't.

Rasputin stood over his body and exclaimed a prayer before demanding Alexei to rise. He repeated this multiple times.

Nothing.

What the hell was the point of this?

The fourth time he attempted to resurrect my brother, Mama leapt at Rasputin. She hit him in the face, the chest, scratched at his skin, and screamed at him. "You are nothing! You have deceived me for too long now! How dare you proclaim yourself as a man of God? You are nothing but a worthless piece of-" Papa restrained Mama as best he could, but it was no use. We don't know where her strength came from, but she was not failing in injuring Rasputin.

Something caught her eye. A letter opener.

Oh, no.

She grabbed it off the desk and attempted to stab Rasputin in the chest. She actually succeeded and stabbed his arms as well.

Has one ever seen one's mother attack and stab the man she proclaimed holy for over twenty years after he attempted to resurrect her son? Well, if not, it is quite a sight. I've never seen my mother so ferocious and wild, but I almost support her. Of course there is probably a better way to express her hatred for him than attack, but then again I did offer to beat Olga's husband, so perhaps I do support this act.

Mama collapsed in sobs after a moment. Rasputin, in obvious pain, attempts to regain his dignity, tries to comfort and forgive Mama. "Now, now. I forgive you." He's desperate to be a holy man again. But no one listens. Papa knelt down and stroked Mama's hair. Rasputin tried to come near her, but Papa shooed him away like a fly and turned his back to him. He picked Mama up off the floor and carried her to their bedroom. She cried the entire night.

In the morning, I stood with my sisters at the window of the sitting room in the suite of our childhood rooms. We watched as Rasputin was handcuffed and dragged into a truck. He was going to prison, likely until the end of his days.

The guards say that his ribs were broken and he had deep knife wounds. Mama wouldn't allow a doctor to tend to him.

She sat at her window, staring coldly out at the landscape. I sat out on her balcony with Olga and Tatiana and Dmytri drinking coffee in the late morning. Tsarskoe Selo is beautiful in the fall and we enjoyed taking in the view of the crisp orange leaves. For once in the three days since Alexei's death, none of us were crying or speaking sadly of his life. We were slowly starting to unwind from the stress, but we would still have the funeral preparations, of course.

My nieces and nephews were brought to Alexander Palace this morning, except Olga's children, who remained in Romania. Carol was too lazy to make any arrangements for them, despite Olga's protests. Alexei's only son, the little six month old was already here, of course, but he has been with his nurse. Ileana is in no state to care for her child at the moment. Maria is currently arranging the children in their rooms, and playing with them. She's missed them greatly since she hasn't seen them in a few days. Olga seemed sad when the children filed out of the cars with their governesses. I can imagine her frustration at Carol for not allowing the children to come to Russia.

Tatiana and Dmytri went to visit their children in their rooms, so Olga and I sat in Mama's Mauve Boudoir with her and knitted. There was a knock at the door, and Grandmere appeared. Mama hardly even mustered a glance at her. She sat on the sofa next to Mama.

"Alix, I saw you had Rasputin arrested." She said. Mama only nodded, her glance still on the distant trees.

"I agree he should be gone. I'm sorry for how he deceived you for so long."

"I don't care for him. Or your apologies. I only care for my dead son." Mama finally said. Olga and I looked at each other. This was going up in flames.

There was a tense silence. "Damn it, Alexandra! I am offering my condolences, my support, and this is what I get? After thirty three years of you being in my life, my family, I am trying to help you. I've never spoken a word of my dislike for that hellraiser since he waltzed into your home all those years ago, and I thought we could agree on something for once now!" Grandmere snapped.

"How dare you! You've always voiced your dislike for Rasputin, and everything I've ever done!" Mama shot back.

"Well, I was right about him, wasn't I?" Grandmere smirked.

Mama wasn't about to admit defeat. "I was always trying to do the best for my son." She growled.

"And trusting that monstrosity was the best thing you could do? There was nothing you could do!"

"You act like this is my fault! You claim it's my fault he had hemophilia!"

"Well, it is your fault! You passed it to him!" Grandmere was practically screaming.

"That was nothing I could possibly control!" Mama shouted. There was silence. Mama tried to save herself by testifying she was doing the best for Alexei, but then Grandmere blamed her for the hemophilia? We know Mama already blames herself for it, so there's no need for anyone else to do so.

Grandmere stormed out. I'm sure she'll go and tell Papa about Mama, but I don't want to know what they say. I love my Grandmere very much, but when I hear the chaotic relationships, it makes me feel like I shouldn't even think about how I adore her.

Mama simply turned her gaze back out the window. Both Mama and Grandmere were grieving, and so this was likely one of the many ways they will do so. Olga buried her head in her hands before lighting a cigarette. I would've asked her for one, but I only left the room. I needed to go somewhere someone wasn't fighting or weeping.

I went out to the park. The days were growing colder, and a chill went through me as I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders. This isn't what Alexei would've wanted. He wouldn't want this division and distress over him. But that's what we would get, no matter where he is.

"Auntie Nastasia!" I heard a joyous little voice behind me. Finally, an innocent, content soul who wouldn't cause me distress. I turned to find Dmytri and his children walking in the park. I was caught in a swarm of my sister's children hugging me. A chorus arose of "Auntie Nastasia!" And "Auntie! Auntie! It's me!" And the occasional, "Aren't I your favorite, Auntie?" They are sweet children, always so playful. I picked up the eldest and kissed her cheek.

They ran around the park as I looked on with Dmytri. "How have you been, Nastya?" He asked.

"I've been alright. Obviously, everyone could be better. Everyday brings some kind of chaos." I replied with a sigh. "But I think things will get better after the funeral and the stress of the preparations are gone." I am hopeful, but the grieving won't end for a while.

Dmytri is my favorite brother in law. Perhaps I shouldn't play favorites, but neither Olga or Maria even like their husbands, so I think they would agree with me. He's funny but kind and of course my parents are very fond of him. He likes to tease but he's never anything short of gentle.

"You'll get through this and everything will be fine." He smiled. There wasn't much to say to help grief, but he makes an effort, unlike my other in laws.

The children ran around me, tugging at my skirt, begging for my attention. They spun me in circles, giggling and shouting.

It was the only bright moment in a long period of grief, just before tragedy would strike its whip once again.