It was finally time to go home. Alexei died fourteen days ago, and after five days, my palace was ready for a child to live there. We designed and furnished a nursery with a little crib and lots of toys for my nephew. I wanted him to have the best childhood, despite his parents' deaths.

Everyone decided to depart on the same day. Olga was to return to Romania with Carol to see her children again after weeks of being apart. I know there is one thing that truly makes Olga hesitate from her travels. Igor.

In the morning, I went for a stroll before breakfast. There, in the park, I found Olga and Igor where they kissed just days before, in the privacy of the bushes. I heard their murmurs.

"Igor, I am leaving for Romania tonight. I'm sorry, but I cannot see you again for the longest time." She said sadly.

"I know. I don't want you to go." He replied, his tone equivalent to hers. "Olga, you could stay. Please," he took her hand. "Stay for me."

She turned away. "You know I want to. I would if I could. But I have a duty, and that is to sit next to Carol and be a patient little wife." She said firmly.

"Then I'll come with you. I have nothing keeping me here. I can buy a home nearby and we can visit often. I'd do anything to be with you, Olishka." His eyes were full of hope.

"You would move to Romania just for me?" She said in awe.

"I would move to the moon if it means I can be with you." He kissed her hand. I don't think Olga has ever felt such love from a man before. He would do anything for her, unlike Carol. I could imagine how overwhelmed she is now.

"It would be scandalous." She said quietly. "But I don't care." A smile came over her like none before. A smile of rebellion. They kissed.

"Besides, Carol has his affairs, and everyone knows it. Why don't I deserve happiness?" She added and Igor nodded. They laughed and kissed again.

My heart felt so warm. I know I shouldn't have eavesdropped, but I'm glad she's getting what she wants somehow. I pray her days pass with happiness with Igor.

I returned to the palace where I found the chaos of packing. Tatiana was rounding up her children and helping her governess pack the children's clothes. Maria was dressing her children in their coats and hats as Louis looked on with an expression of irritation. I went to find Shura, who packed my suitcase and the last of Sergei's belongings that were moving to my home. I picked Sergei up out of his crib, which was soon carried out to a motorcar with his belongings.

"Hello, Sergei." I said playfully. I bounced him in my arms, making him giggle. "I'm taking you home today." I kissed his little face.

My excitement was nearly overwhelming. I would take him home, raise, and love him. I could show him off to the snooty court ladies, showing them how the Emperor chose me to raise the future Tsar of Russia. He would run through the halls of my home excitedly and play with his cousins. He would sit politely at the table with our guests and be taught French and all sorts of languages like I know. He would bring me the last of the joy I was missing in my life.

Shortly before Olga departed with Carol, I joined my sisters, parents, in laws and their children for a photograph. We arranged in the Mauve Boudoir, organized by each daughter's family. I stood next to Maria, holding little Sergei. I was my own family. No husband nor biological children, but my little nephew. I was representing Alexei and Ileana through my own independence. Sure, he wasn't my true child, but I couldn't be more content.

I was bitterly disappointed when Olga departed, although I was glad to see Carol gone. His interaction with his in-laws was minimal, but his lingering presence infuriated me nonetheless. A ray of hope darted across Olga's horizon; Igor would discreetly follow her to Romania in a matter of weeks. I pray that would bring her more happiness than Carol ever could.

Maria, too, left for her home, along with her children but Louis went to London again. He didn't care much for formal goodbyes to the grieving Tsar and Imperial Family. He simply slipped away before Maria left. Maria was terribly unhappy to leave Mama, seeing her grief. She always wants to comfort one who is suffering, but the time has come that life must return to a sense of normalcy.

Tatiana would stay with our parents for many more days, organizing preparations for announcing to the public her becoming heir to the throne and other decisions that would be made for the heir. She has to decide where she intends to live when she inherits the throne and she must begin attending political meetings. Her children were disappointed at the departure of their cousins. Dmytri seems rather excited by the new decisions, as we all are, since Tatiana will be a very capable tsarina. He simply sits beside her and nods his head, for he will be by her side quietly for the rest of their lives.

Finally it is time for me to return home. I haven't seen the new arrangements of Sergei's apartments yet, but I trust my workers to be prepared for my arrival. I kissed my parents and Tatiana goodbye. I was the last daughter to leave today, so the palace was quieting down fast by the time I got to the door. My aunts and uncles and Grandmere had been filing out all day, but most didn't want to disturb Mama and only bid farewell to Papa.

Sergei in my arms, I climbed into my motorcar with Shura and Gilliard. I gazed out at the park where much had happened over the course of the grieving process. Then I finally looked behind at the Alexander Palace. There I grew up, there I played with my siblings and said goodbye to my only brother. There I watch my mother beg for death. There my only sister in law took her own life. There my eldest sister began an affair. There my other sister became heir to the Russian throne. There I saw grief in different stages affect many of my loved ones in different ways. There I adopted my nephew, with whom I will start a new life.

I will never look at this place the same again.

The scenery flashed past me. We were on our way to St. Petersburg. Sergei wiggled in my arms, sticking his hands in his mouth. I chuckled at the sight.

"Would you like to hold him?" I asked softly to Gilliard. He silently nodded, a sad glean of happiness in his eyes. He's been very quiet lately, for he too is grieving. I haven't seen him nor Shura much, since I've been consumed in the affairs of my family. Now we will return to our normal lives and they can help me raise little Sergei.

Gilliard gently took the infant in his arms, and his gaze softened. He and Shura never had children, and so this will be a journey for all of us together.

We arrived at my palace, which I've missed for a long time. I longed to return home to escape the suffering. I took Sergei in my arms and entered the foyer through the large front doors.

"Welcome to your new home, Sergei." I said firmly but gently and rocked him slightly, gazing about my home. This was the beginning of a long, intriguing journey.

We settled back into our apartments, and I explored Sergei's rooms. The nursery was delightful, with playful shades of blue and a lovely rocking chair. There was a small bookshelf of children's books I could read to him in the evenings and a gramophone with records of nursery tunes. Paintings hung on the walls delicately of ships on water and the sun above a field. There was a wooden rocking horse and stuffed animals littered about the room. A long toy train circled the far corner, surrounding an army of toy soldiers. A small balalaika was perched on a shelf next to photographs and portraits of him and his parents. My intentions to spoil the little boy were executed.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. My palace was filled with his little cries but I didn't mind. He lit up my home brighter than any lamp or sun. His cousins peered at him curiously with bright eyes and his aunts fussed over him. Mama's eyes filled with tears when seeing him.

I never thought when I left my palace for Alexei's deathbed that I would return home with his son. The candle I used to visit Aunt Olga and Grandmere on the night of his death sat on my bedside table, to remind me that some of the greatest hope came from such a dark night. Never again did I burn it, for my true light lives within my home brighter than any candle.

The more he grew, the more I saw Alexei in him. His mischievous ways, even from a toddler, his glowing blue eyes, the way his bright eyes fluttered close despite his protests when he was weary from play. He called me "Auntie Nastasia," and to others he referred to me as his "Auntie Mama." The court appeared rather awkward upon receiving the news of Sergei's adoption, seeing that what they believed to be an immature whore of a grand duchess was raising the future emperor. My pride stepped to a new pedestal.

I fussed over him at teas, glanced at his bright face at dinners, and doted upon him in his nursery. He was the finest joy I could've asked for, and the court's shock was just another benefit to the arrangement. I took the most shocking turn that none of them would've guessed.

As for the Gilliards, they doted upon the little one as well. The entirety of my staff was encouraged to interact with him and love him as I did. I wanted him to be raised in a wholesome home where he didn't think he couldn't befriend those working for him. Growing up, my family and I were close with our staff and we made gifts for them on holidays. I am still close with my governess, who has become my family. I want the same for Sergei. In a household, we are all family and rank matters not, especially when members of the Imperial Family are only children.

Little Sergei couldn't properly pronounce "Shura," and so his nickname for her became "Zuri" for his little tongue couldn't quite produce "Sh." She was flattered by his affection for her. He liked drawing, although as a toddler they were naturally scribbles. He drew pictures as gifts for the staff and played his balalaika on Saturday evenings for the household.

"Good night, Auntie Nastasia!" he chirped every evening with a kiss upon my cheek. "Good night, Zuri." he would bid Shura farewell for the night. He would be whisked away by his governess to his bedroom, from which his crib was extracted and replaced with a camp cot not unlike what I was raised sleeping upon.

And so, the child who brought light to my life after my brother died, laid to sleep in his cot, and with him, the story of the death of my dearest young brother, Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich, my Alyosha.