Anastasia 15th Anniversary: Prologue

Prologue
St. Petersburg, Russia
Winter 1916

  Sitting on the table, the music box twirled, a gentle melody playing. As it shut, the Dowager Empress Marie Feodorovna picked it up and placed it in her handbag. Outside, through the falling snow, she stepped into her carriage, and with a flick of the reigns and a shout from the driver, they were off through the streets of St. Petersburg.
 There was a time, not very long ago... Marie later recalled, when we lived in an enchanted world of elegant palaces, and grand parties...
  The golden-white carriage entered the grounds of the Catherine Palace, taking it's place amongst the many other carriages and motorcars there, gathered in the glowing light from the ballroom.
 Entering the Palace, guests stopped and bowed to the Dowager.
  The year was Nineteen-Hundred and Sixteen, and my son, Nicholas, was the Czar of Imperial Russia...
  Inside the glittering ballroom, guests dressed in their finest danced to the orchestra, clapping in time and twirling to the music.
  "Hello, darling!" Marie called out, waving, as she took a seat at one of the three thrones set up at the top of the stairs, just before the giant portrait of the Imperial Family.
  We were celebrating the 300th anniversary of our family's rule...
  Out on the dance floor, where Marie had waved to, the Czar, Nicholas, picked up his young daughter, laughing, and swung her up in the air, her red curls bouncing. His wife Alexandra laughed, clapping her hands as she stood beside them.
   "Oh, Papa!" The Princess giggled, her hat flying off. He set her down and she bobbed a quick curtsy before she headed up the stairs, past her sisters sitting in their small thrones, on her way to see Marie.
  ...And that night, no star burned brighter than that of our sweet Anastasia, my youngest granddaughter.
  Anastasia proudly presented a drawing she had made to Marie. Delighted, Marie affectionately touched her cheek before placing the drawing to one side and reached into her handbag.
  She begged me not to return to Paris, so I had a very special gift made for her- to make the separation easier, for both of us.
  As Marie pulled the music box out of her bag, a young, brown-haired boy snuck up behind them, curious, and took a big bite out of an apple.
  Anastasia's eyes lit up as Marie presented her with the gift.
  "For me?" She asked, taking the music box. "Is it a jewellery box?"
  Unnoticed by the Dowager Empress and Grand Duchess, the Major Domo suddenly spotted the servant boy behind them.
  "Dimitri, you belong in the kitchen!" He admonished, picking up the boy, who dropped the apple and protested as he was dragged away. "No! Let go!"
   Unaware, Marie produced a small key in the shape of the flowers decorating the music box and began to wind it. "Look."
 Anastasia gave a small, delighted gasp as the lid opened and the tune played, a miniature version of her mother and father dancing inside. "It plays our lullaby!"
 "You can play it at night, before you go to sleep, and pretend that it's me singing,"  Marie said. To the tune of the box, she sang,
"On the wind, cross the sea,
Hear this song and remember..."
  Anastasia joined her, holding Marie's hand with one hand and the music box in the other.
 "Soon you'll be home with me
Once upon a December."
  She twirled and bowed to Marie at the end, and the two laughed.
  Marie took back the music box and handed Anastasia the key. "Read what it says."
  Anastasia peered at it. "Together in Paris."  Her eyes lit up. "Really?" She threw herself into Marie's arms. "Oh, Grandmama! Mmm."
  Marie laughed and hugged her.
  ...But we would never be together in Paris. For a dark shadow had fallen upon the House of the Romanovs.
  Suddenly, the lights dimmed and darkened as an uninvited figure dressed in a cloak and hood arrived, walking slowly and deliberately towards the Czar near the front of the ballroom. Guests quickly moved away; there were gasps, murmurs and soft cries as he advanced. One woman even dropped her champagne glass- the cloaked figure stepped on it, not even noticing as he walked.
  A wicked smile crept across the man's face as a small white bat flew from his shoulder off into the air.
  His name was Rasputin. We thought he was a holy man, but he was a fraud- power mad and dangerous.
  "How dare you return to the palace?" Czar Nicholas demanded, confronting Rasputin head on.
  "But, I am your confidant!" Rasputin replied, shocked.
   "Confidant; ha! You are a traitor. Get out!" Nicholas retorted, pointing towards the exit.
   Rasputin sneered angrily. "You think you can banish the great Rasputin?" He demanded, grasping an eerie, green-glowing object that hung from his belt... an ominous reliquary, with a skull at it's head. "By the unholy power vested in me, I banish you- with a curse!"
   Everyone in the ballroom gasped. Anastasia and Marie, hands clasped together, instinctively inched back. Even the young servant boy, once again behind them, did the same.
   "Mark my words," Rasputin continued. "You and your family will die within the fortnight! I will not rest until I see the end of the Romanov line forever!"
   Raising the reliquary high, a bolt of green lightning burst forth from it and hit the massive chandelier in the centre of the ballroom, sending it crashing to the ground, guests scrambling and screaming as all was plunged into darkness.

    Consumed by his hatred for Nicholas and his family, Rasputin sold his soul for the power to destroy them...
Deep underground, Rasputin shielded his face as an explosion of dark energy burst from a well and seemingly sucked away his skin and muscle, leaving his exposed skeleton. Grasping the reliquary, his flesh returned to him, and grinning wickedly, he coaxed on the green, winged minions which spilled from the mouth of the skull.
   "Go... fulfil your dark purpose! Seal the fate of the Czar and his family... once and for all!"
   Into the snowy night the minions flew, straight to the gates of the palace where a mob of angry revolutionaries stood, shouting and protesting.
  From that moment on, the spark of unhappiness in our country would be fanned into a flame that would destroy our lives, forever!
Quickly and silently, the minions unlocked the gates and the mob burst onto the palace grounds, yelling, weapons held high.
   A statue of the Czar fell to them, hitting the ground and smashing to pieces.
   Inside the palace, the Imperial Family and other members of the household ran for their lives, coats thrown over their sleeping clothes, making their way down the hallways.
  "Help, help!"
  "Hurry, children!" Nicholas cried.
  Suddenly, Anastasia stopped. "My music box!" She cried, turning back and running for her room.
  Marie ran after her, pleading. "Anastasia! Come back! Come back!"
  In her bedroom, Anastasia pulled the music box from her onion-domed dollhouse, looking around worriedly. Marie burst into the room and shut the door quickly.
  "Anastasia!"
  Suddenly, there was a loud crash.
  "Ahh!" Marie rushed to Anastasia's side, both their eyes wide in terror.
  Just at that moment, a panel in the wall popped open, and the young servant boy stuck his head into the room to see what was happening.
  Outside, the white albino bat, Bartok, who had been with Rasputin earlier landed on the windowsill with an, "Oomph, oy."
  "Please, hurry!" Marie cried, pulling Anastasia towards the door.
  The boy grabbed them and pushed in the other direction. "Come this way, out the servant's quarters!"
  Marie ducked into the passageway. "Hurry, Anastasia!" She called urgently.
  In their haste, Anastasia dropped the music box on the floor at the boy's feet.
  "Rasputin, she's getting away!" The bat cried, taking off into the night.
  As the servant boy tried to close the doorway to the secret passage, Anastasia turned around and tried to get out. "My music box!" She cried.
  "Go, go!" The boy cried, and pushed her inside, closing the door.
  Only seconds later, with a cry of, "Comrade, in here!", revolutionaries burst into the room.
  "Where are they, boy?" One demanded.
  Angrily, the boy threw a flowerpot at the soldier, who in return struck the boy hard with the butt of his rifle.
  "Ah!" He collapsed unconscious to the floor, the glittering gold-and-green music box beside him.

  Outside, Marie and Anastasia ran through the snow as fast as they could, leaving the palace behind.
  "Grandmama!" Anastasia panted.
  "Keep up with me, darling!"
  But suddenly, crossing under a frozen bridge, Rasputin leaped from above, laughing triumphantly. He landed hard on the ice, cracks spreading out beneath him as he grabbed Anastasia's ankle. She screamed.
  "Rasputin!" Marie gasped in horror.
  "Let me go, please!" Anastasia pleaded.
  "You'll never escape me, child, never!" He growled. But then the ice beneath him cracked further, and he gasped.
  "Ee-ah!" He cried as he hit the icy cold water.
  "Let me go!" Anastasia cried again, wrenching her ankle free and rolling away. She jumped to her feet, and she and Marie began to run again as Rasputin struggled against the current.
  "Bartok!"
  "Master!" The bat cried, landing on the ice. Gurgling, Rasputin sunk and was dragged away, leaving behind nothing but the reliquary.
  "Uhh..." Unable to help, Bartok could only watch.

  The train station was packed with panicked, scared people. Marie and Anastasia hurried through the crowd to the train, which was beginning to pull out of the station.
  "Anastasia, hurry! Hurry!" Marie cried as they ran, making it to the train. Passengers, unaware of who she was, pulled her onto the last car. "Ohh!"
  "Grandmama!"
  Marie looked to see Anastasia desperately running alongside the train, hands outstretched.
  Marie reached out as far as she could. "Here, take my hand! Hold onto my hand!"
  Anastasia looked up at her, blue eyes wide. "Don't let go!"
  But the train began to speed up, and their hands were torn from one another's. Anastasia screamed.
  "Ah, Anastasia!" Marie cried.
  Anastasia was thrown backwards and her head struck the hard surface of the platform, tears in her eyes, her necklace landing with a chink.
  Held back by the other passengers, unable to get to her, Marie reached out her hand and screamed.
  "Anastasia!!"

   Inside the palace ballroom, the portrait of the last Romanovs stood silent as a shaft of light streamed through, past Nicholas, Alexandra, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Alexei, finally settling on the youngest daughter.
  So many lives were destroyed that night. What had always been was now gone, forever. And my Anastasia, my beloved grandchild...
  I never saw her again.