Anastasia and Andrei didn't have a honeymoon.

They felt they didn't need one for they were just as happy celebrating the beginning of their beautiful new life together at Sandringham, surrounded by the people they loved.

The year traveled on and tragedy struck when Joy, unfortunately, passed away in July at the old age of sixteen.

"He was a wonderful friend." Maria sniffed as she wiped her tears. The family had a small marble memorial erected in Sandringham's gardens for the dog.

The year was filled with more tragedy for the family had received a letter from Denmark in late September.

Grandmama was on her deathbed.

The next day was spent packing and the day after, Maria, Anastasia, Xenia, Olga, Vasili, eleven-year-old Tikhon, and nine-year-old Guri boarded the HMS Bridport for a four-day journey to Denmark. From there, they were driven to a town in Copenhagen named Klampenborg. In Klampenborg, they were driven in a separate car to Hvidøre House, a country house, on the coast.

The car finally arrived at the house on the second day of October as a light rain fell. The lavish house came into view of the car but there was no time to admire it for the family had rushed to the upper level of the house and into Grandmama's room where she rested in bed. She lay motionless, frail, and weak. She couldn't move her head but her eyes turned toward her family.

"Oh." was all she managed to say.

"It's alright, mother. We are here." Olga said as she took her hand. The family sat in chairs around her bed, tending to her needs, reading to her, and singing hymns. Grandmama was awake most of the time but was unresponsive.

Eleven days after coming to Denmark, Grandmama passed.

Some might even say she died of a broken heart.

Maria Feodorovna, Empress consort of Russia passed away on October thirteenth, nineteen-twenty-eight, aged eighty.

Tears were shed. Letters were mailed from family far away. A funeral was held a few days later at Roskilde Cathedral. Olga and Xenia cried the most during the service. Their beloved mother was gone. Maria and Anastasia knew exactly how they felt.

The year followed with more pain and suffering for when the family returned to Sandringham, they found little three-year-old Anatolii in bed, stricken with pain.

"There were no accidents, no bruises, no falling! He was in pain when he awoke this morning!" Liesel cried as she followed Maria who had run into the nursery.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" she shrieked.

"How could this happen?" Maria asked. Liesel shrugged her shoulders as her face grew red with tears.

Maria had an idea. "Was he playing in his toy cart?"

That previous Christmas, Anatolii had received a small toy cart that he loved to ride in.

"Yes! I was pushing him around on the pebble driveway yesterday. I wasn't pushing hard!"

"I think I know what's wrong. A similar thing happened to my brother Alexei. He was riding in a carriage with my mother. The vibrations and juddering of the carriage was shaking him. A healing hematoma in his thigh burst, causing him to bleed. It seems the reaction was slowed for Ana and nothing has burst. The blood is clotting causing pain." she said as she stroked his hair.

"You are very smart," Liesel remarked.

"Thank you. My older sisters and mother were nurses during the great war. I wasn't a nurse but I've learned a lot from them. And since my brother was a hemophiliac, I've picked up a few things."

"Maria, again. I am so sorry," Liesel was overcome with guilt as she looked at the worried face of Maria and heard the pain-filled cries of little Anatolii.

"It's alright. You didn't know." Maria forced a smile.

"Please do not release me!" Liesel pleaded. "This was the only work I could find!"

"Release you!" Maria laughed. "No, I would never release you because of this. It was a simple mistake. All we need to do is pray and hope for the best."

-

Winter arrived; Anatolii was still in bed. Maria had grown to trust and rely on doctor Thomas Clarke who now lived at the house. He had a head of white hair and wore glasses that hung on the tip of his pointed nose.

"Can Ana at least go outside? He needs to be rid of that bed. He needs to be with his sisters." Maria spoke with Thomas outside Anatolii's room one snowy morning. He stayed in a different room, isolated from his sisters.

"We let the child go outside! Catch hypothermia? I don't think that is a very good idea." Thomas advised. Maria pleaded with Thomas more.

"Can he go out for just a few minutes? Ana loves the snow. I want him to be able to experience it."

"If we let him go out, he will take more time to heal."

"Please, sir. My brother Alexei was able to-"

"Your brother is dead, miss. He has been for ten years so I advise you don't use him to get your own son out of bed."

Maria gasped, equally shocked and enraged. How could someone say such a thing!? Thomas didn't even seem phased by her reaction. He only stood in front of her, staring off into space.

"I don't know how much time he has left! I want him to enjoy things!" Maria protested.

"Well, if he goes outside, he'll die faster!" Thomas shot back.

Maria covered her ears. She didn't want to hear of her son dying. She didn't want to hear anything about it.

'Maria, stop. Don't think like that! Don't think like that!'

"Release me if you want, miss. Find a new doctor that lets your son do clueless things to endanger himself even more. Don't say I didn't warn you if he dies next year."

With that, Thomas walked down the hall to his room.

Anastasia, who had eavesdropped on their conversation, came out from around the corner to see Maria sitting in front of the closed door, quietly crying.

"Mashka, you must not let him speak to you that way!" Anastasia hugged her. "He is a rude man. Ana is your son. Your son, your rules."

"I know Nastasia. But, a doctor knows more than I ever will. I never should have brought it up that Ana wants to go outside. He watches his sisters play out and just wants to be with them."

Maria was too sad to talk about it anymore. She walked into Anatolii's room while Anastasia went somewhere else.

"How are you feeling, my love?" Maria asked in Russian as she fixed the blankets on his bed.

"Better." Anatolii whispered, his blue eyes staring into his mother's.

"That's good. Hopefully, you'll be out of bed by Christmas. That's only two weeks away!"

"Window!" Anatolii cheered as he tried to sit up in bed.

"Alright, baby."

Maria helped her son out of bed and into his wheelchair. She wheeled the boy to the window so he could look out at the snow-covered gardens. Anatolii spotted Anastasia and Andrei walking outside. He knocked on the window, causing them to wave to him.

A half-hour passed and the boy spotted his sisters waddling through the snow. Though Anatolii banged on the window multiple times, the girls were having too much fun in the snow to notice him. The smile he had worn faded.

"Oh, Anatolii," Maria sighed sadly.

She wheeled him away from the window and helped him into bed. Shortly after, Anatolii fell asleep. Maria began to cry again.

She couldn't stand Anatolii becoming sick. She hated every moment of it. His cries of pain, his pale face, the smell of medicine. She longed for her son to be healthy. To be able to run and jump. All Anatolii wanted in the world was to be normal. That's all Maria wanted for him. She couldn't forgive herself if another of her children died again. Doctors said Alexei wouldn't live past age sixteen, but he had died three years prior.

Maria took one of her mother's old rosaries and prayed.

"O Lord our God, the Physician of our souls and bodies, look down upon thy servant Anatolii and cure him of all infirmities of the flesh, in the name of our Lord and saviour Jesus Christ, with Whom Thou art blessed, together with Thy Most Holy, Gracious, and Life-giving Spirit, always, now and forever, and unto ages of ages."

Amen.