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Tensions are high for a number of reasons... A few days later... Go on...

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There had been nothing Nicholas could do. Nothing. The man could parent a country, could raise an army, could direct each play of a war. But this time, he was at a loss. A royal order was a royal order, and to counteract his wife's word would be to counteract his own.

It was done. Anastasia had tried everything, but he was gone.

Things had been tense for the past few days. Anastasia barely spoke with her mother. Anastasia and Tatiana weren't speaking at all. Nicholas had tried whatever he could to ease the tension, but any relief was only momentary. Olga, Maria and Alexei all agreed that, until somebody found a way to contact Dimitri, they'd better get used to silence.

For some reason, though, everyone was in the same room today. Over the course of the morning every member of the family had wandered into Mashka and Anastasia's room with a book or a newspaper or needlepoint or something; anything to keep them occupied but talking. "Family time" would find a way to be enforced, apparently, even if half the family could care less. So there they all sat, quiet as church mice.

By now, talking was an entirely unfamiliar sound, so all of them looked up when Tatiana said meekly, "Uh, Anastasia? Could you hand me that book by your elbow?"

Without looking up, Anastasia picked the book up by its binding and casually flung it in her sister's direction. Tatiana had to duck to avoid being hit in the face by the splayed pages of Tolstoy.

"Uh, thanks," she said sarcastically, retrieving it from the floor.

"Young lady, that is not how you grant a simple request," came Alexandra's voice.

"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you," Anastasia muttered under her breath.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, mama," the duchess corrected.

"No," Alexandra started, putting down her embroidery, "I distinctly heard you muttering something and I insist on knowing what it was."

Fine. Anastasia shot up from her chair. "I said you wouldn't know anything about that. I asked you for one simple thing---"

"Anastasia---"

"---but no, that was too hard for you. What you did was cruel and unfair."

"You will not talk to me like that, I am your mother."

"I mean, what exactly was the problem? So what if he's not some pompous millionaire archduke."

"I will not discuss this a second longer."

"So what if I like him or love him or spend time with him. You had to separate us for that? You took his job away from him for that? I'm sorry I lied to you and Papa, but if you're too much of a snob to---"

"Enough!" the Empress cut in. "I won't tolerate this, young lady. You are out of line."

"You're both out of line." This time it was Nicholas who spoke, and everyone took notice. "Does no one see that there's a problem here?" He looked around at each and every person in the room. "This is no way to live. Malenkaya, it upsets me that you felt you had to hide from us, but I feel badly about what happened and I'm only sorry I wasn't here to intervene. As for your sister, it was an accident, and she regrets it I'm sure."

Anastasia's eyes fell as Nicholas turned to Tatiana.

"And as for you, Tanushka, perhaps next time you'll try harder to keep private business private, hm?"

"Yes papa," she squeaked, also looking down.

"And Sunny," he began, turning to his wife, "I can't believe you would let class overshadow affection even for a moment. Did you not stop to think that the boy had nowhere else to go?" She started to speak up in her defense, but Nicholas kept going. "I understand your concern, but it's up to Anastasia to ensure she's taken care of. All right?"

The Tsar sat back down and turned to a new page in his newspaper as if nothing had just happened, and it became clear to the rest of the family that the speech was over.

Everyone was so preoccupied by each other's ashamed and apologetic expressions that nobody noticed how dark it was getting outside the window.

What they did notice, though, was the chilling laughter that slowly engulfed them from all directions, jerking them from their thoughts.

"Papa, what's going on?" Alexei cried.

On the other side of the window, what looked like ghostly green dragons swirled back and forth in an ominous wall.

Nicholas was on his feet. "It can't be...." But it was. There was no other way. He made the decision without a second thought. "Quick, children---get out of the palace, run as fast as you can, and don't look back. Now!"

"But papa---"

"I said now, Olga."

But a tall, haggard form beat them to the door, with a face that could shock the soundest of mind.

"Going somewhere, comerade Romanov?"

The women shrank back to each other's sides, barely believing their eyes. Nicholas stepped forward, and so did Alexei, but Nicholas held him back.

He eyed the madman with a bitter, defiant glare. "Why have you returned to the palace?" he growled.

Rasputin laughed. "Only to finish what I began seven long years ago." For a moment he and the family were locked in a tense staring contest, but only a moment. He went on. "Seven years, your majesty. Seven years in a cell---caged, like an animal!" He laughed again to himself, confirming to the rest of them that he was probably mentally unstable. "You know, the whole trip, I spent my days thinking up the cruelest, most satisfying ways to kill you all. And I think I've finally settled on my favorite."

Suddenly Anastasia bolted out of her chair. "You can't touch us! We're not afraid of you!"

From the recesses of one of the old monk's ragged sleeves came an arc of green light that threw the Grand Duchess to the ground.

"Anastasia!"

"Trust me, child," Rasputin grinned, revealing the old reliquary, "I can and will. But first, I'm sure you'd love to hear my brilliant plan. Now then. There is no way out of this room. Every door and window has been sealed in a way that cannot be broken. You will know every hour of the misery I lived during those seven dispicable years. And at any time during these seven years, I may choose to kill you. That is if you haven't already died of thirst. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"You can't do that," Olga challenged, her narrowed eyes masking her fear.

"I think," Rasputin concluded, "that you all are in for a surprise as to what I can do."

At that, leaving no chance to react, there was a flash of smoke and darkness from the reliquary. When it cleared, there was nothing left of the unholy man but the dissipating echo of maniacal laughter.

"Everyone," Nicholas ordered, "try all the doors and windows. Break them if you have to."

Without a sound all seven of them raced to every possible exit, jimmying handles and bashing against glass, but to no avail. The room had become a prison, their first and last.

Alexandra was by far the worst at hiding her fear. "Nicky," she pleaded, "what are we going to do?"

Looking to each of his children, knowing that time was running out, Nicholas had no answer. "I don't know, Alix. I don't know."

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Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! Rasputin is back. Wondering why he didn't just kill them though? All in time. Keep in mind that the others in the palace have been gotten rid of...of course, since *somebody's* fired, he's not...in that situation. XD Let's see if class matters NOW. XD Big things coming, please review.

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