DISCLOSURE STATEMENT: I do not own Anastasia.
Death of Tsar Nicholas II
Anya could've written a million letters, each one the same as the last in sentiment and cadence. They would stay the same, only the word arrangement changes. It all boiled down to one thing….she missed them. Despite the knowledge that her ability to escape the bolshievik's grasp, in her heart she wanted nothing more than to have been with her family on that fateful day. She should've been there beside them. The continuation of the Romanov line meant absolutely nothing to her. Nothing. All she wanted, all she would ever want for as long as she may live was to be reunited with her family once more – whether in death or in Paris. Ultimately, no one would ever be able to tell her if that wish was selfish or not and even if it was, to hell with the rest of the world and their opinions. She missed them. Terribly.
She wished she had been there to comfort her siblings and parents as they were woken at two in the morning to get dressed and head down into that basement where those lying men with guns awaited them. How those traitors bragged about how easy it was to mislead them into believing the house was under attack. Instead, her family should have been much more afraid of the firing squad waiting to pick them off one by one. Supposedly her sisters had sewn jewels into their dresses in case they were forced to evacuate or whether the offer of asylum was offered by the British government once more. Those heartless bastards had revoked their offer mere months before citing diplomatic reasons – as though they didn't know the terrible fate that awaited her family, as though their lives were a small price to pay for keeping the peace.
Instead all her sisters had managed to perpetuate was the story of a regime that was more concerned about themselves than their people. Maybe the revolutionaries had a point. The more Anya saw, the more she understood the people's anger. Still – no matter their faults – those that had been mowed down like cattle were her family. Her mother. Her father. Her brother. Her sisters. And all anyone around her could do was smile in pure joy….so she forced herself to do so as well and keep her grief hidden deep inside.