Anastasia - From a Certain Point of View

Prologue

A night to remember...

We all said it would be a night to remember.

And it was.

But not as we had dreamed. No one could have imagined the events that would befall us.

I am the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna, Dagmar of Denmark and Empress consort of All the Russias. And they were the worst nights of my long life.

But let me start at the beginning.

There was a time, not very long ago, when we lived in an enchanted world of elegant palaces and grand parties.

The date was March 6th, 1913. My son Nicholas was the Czar of Imperial Russia. He and his wife had four beautiful daughters, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia and a handsome young son named Alexei.

Nicholas was a good man. But some people like Julius Martov have said he did not rule wisely. Some have said he was blind to the poverty and hunger that tore at his people and ravaged the country from the various wars and assassinations that already took the lives of two of my younger sons.

I do not know much about what the people had to say. I only know that he was a good soon and a loving father. My daughter-in-law, not so much.

The stars shone brightly that night as my carriage raced through the darkness. The horses' hooves clattered on the cobblestone streets. The light from the Alexander Palace at Tsarskoe Selo lit up the night as the gates swung open for my carriage. I joined the rest of my family, who were dressed in their finest suits and gowns.

We were celebrating a special anniversary. A tercentenary. Three hundred years of Romanov rule. And that night, so star burned brighter than my youngest granddaughter, our sweet Anastasia.

All eyes were on her as she danced with her father, the Czar. Her long brown curls shone in the light from the chandelier. She was only twelve, but she danced with spirit and grace.

When the dance ended, she curtsied to her father. Then she saw me. Laughing, she ran into my arms.

Why were the two of us so close? I do not know. Perhaps she reminded me of myself at her age. We were the best of friends.

But I was spending most of my time abroad and I was going to leave soon. She had begged me not to return to England to visit my favorite sister Queen Alexandra. So I had made a very special gift made for her birthday. I hoped it would make the separation easier for us to say good-bye.

Smiling, I pulled the gift from my bag.

"For me?" Anastasia said as she reached for the silver gift. "Is it a jewelry box?"

I shook my head. "Look."

I held up a key: a small flower on a silver neck chain. I showed her how to fit it into the tiny hole at the back of the box. Then I wound it.

A haunting melody played as the ballerina spun on the top of the box.

Anastasia clapped her hands. "It plays our lullaby!"

"You can play it at night before you go to sleep," I told her. "You can pretend I am singing to you."

And then I sang to her the words that would haunt me for years to come:

"On the wind, 'cross the sea,

Hear this song and remember,

Soon you'll be home with me

Once upon a December..."

I handed Anastasia the key. "Read what it says."

Anastasia peered at the tiny letters engraved on the key. "Together in Copenhagen," she read. Then she looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes. "Really?"