November 9, 1989
Berlin, Germany

"Today is a monumental day in the history of our great country," Richard von Weizsacker, Germany's president, announced. "Today the wall that has separated one part of the city of Berlin from the other for over a quarter of a century will be taken down, and for the first time in that many years, all German citizens will be able to freely go wherever they wish within this city."

Fifty-year-old Michael Romanov, the son of Alexei and Rachel, listened with rapt attention to the president's words.

"Here to remove the first brick is a special guest," von Weizsacker continued. "Michael Romanov is the man who should be the Tsar of Russia today. Coincidentally, he happens to now be the same age that his grandfather, Tsar Nicholas II, was at the time his entire family, except for his youngest daughter Anastasia, were slaughtered in the basement of the Ipatiev House. A miracle brought the family back to life ten years later, but by then, the Communists were firmly entrenched in power over the Tsar's former kingdom."

"Helpless to do anything about the situation in their beloved country, the Romanovs lived out the rest of their lives as private citizens in Paris, France. Yet today marks the beginning of a new era, one for which Michael and his sister Alena and their cousins have waited their entire lives. And now, without further ado, Michael Romanov of Paris, France."

The crowd erupted in applause as von Weizsacker handed the microphone to Michael, who waited for the applause to subside, then began speaking.

"Greetings, citizens of Germany and all other countries represented here. It truly gladdens my heart to see my grandmother's homeland once again united and free. Ever since the end of the second world war, its eastern part has been enslaved under the yoke of the same government which destroyed my father's family and way of life. Over the years, some have died in the struggle to escape to freedom in the west, and my heart goes out to them and their families. Many others succeeded, for which fact I'm very happy. How I wish that my grandmother were still alive to take part in this celebration! I take comfort in the thought that she's looking down from above in approval."

"My greatest hope now is that freedom in the Eastern Bloc will continue to increase, and my dearest dream is that one day my grandfather's flag will once again fly over his beloved country."

The crowd once again erupted in applause, and Michael ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair and glanced over at his wife and children, who stood near the front of the crowd, beaming.

In Paris, an elderly lady watched the ceremony and Michael's speech on television. Too weak and frail now to travel, she had to be content with the next best thing.

As she watched Michael remove the first brick from the Berlin Wall, her heart nearly burst with joy. Of all her many nieces and nephews, Michael was the one to whom she'd always felt closest, and the one she'd always been the most proud of.

She thought of her parents and siblings in heaven above and how much she missed them. And Dimitri, of course. Her precious Dimitri.

He'd been beside her for almost sixty years, sharing life's joys and sorrows, until pneumonia had taken him away several years previously. How well she remembered sitting beside his hospital bed, holding his hand, comforting him as he'd so often comforted her over the years.

"It's all right, Mitya. You're free to go. I release you. The children and I are going to be fine. I'll always love you, darling, and we'll be together on the other side soon."

"Nastya." He grinned his familiar mischievous grin. "Remember the first time you met me?"

"Of course! How could I ever forget that?"

She'd thought he looked awfully young to be a kitchen boy, barely older than she herself was, his dark hair slicked down so that it wouldn't fly away, his brown eyes dancing with glee.

He'd taken something out of his pocket to show her, and she'd gasped when she saw what it was. A tiny black garden snake.

"Come on," he'd whispered conspiratorially. "I'm gonna hide it in the pantry when the cook isn't looking." Right away, Anastasia had known that she'd found a kindred spirit.

Now as she watched his life ebb away, she'd wondered what in the world she'd do without him.

"Hold onto the memories, Nastya," he'd whispered. "You'll always have those. Nobody can take them away from you."

"Oh, I will, Mitya, I will!" she'd cried.

"I love you, Anastasia." He'd closed his eyes and was gone.

Jolted back to the present, Anastasia sat riveted to the television set. Indeed there were many changes taking place in the world, almost all of them good ones. Although she missed her family, she was glad that she'd lived to see this day, and like Michael, she hoped to live to see even more positive changes.

She called to her granddaughter. "Natalie, will you please bring me my music box?"

"Of course, Grandmama."

Seconds later, Anastasia was holding the music box in her hands. Although it was very old, it still worked. Anastasia turned the key and watched the dancing figures twirl around and around and listened to the tinkling tune. "Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember..."

"That song makes you think of Grandpapa, doesn't it?" asked Natalie.

"It sure does, sweetheart."

"We'll see him again someday, Grandmama."

"Someday soon, in my case."

"Don't talk like that, Grandmama."

"But it's true." Anastasia patted Natalie's hand. "Don't be sad, sweetheart. It's as it should be. I've lived a full life. When my time comes, I'll be ready."

As the music gradually slowed and then stopped, Natalie looked at her grandmother and saw that Anastasia was asleep. She switched the television off but left the music box where it was.

A/N: Well, there you have it, folks. An alternative ending to the movie in which the rest of Anastasia's family, as well as Anastasia herself, get to live out their lives on earth. First of all, I have to say that I was greatly inspired by a story called 'A Journey To The Past' by Bob Wright. If you haven't read it, I'd highly recommend it if you're both a history buff and a fan of the movie like me. The ending of Bob's story was really awesome. It was one of the most profound things I've ever read. I won't give it away in case you haven't read it and would like to, but after reading it, I knew that I wanted to write something similar to it and yet different. I know that my story does bear some similarities to Bob's, and if he's reading this, I hope that he doesn't mind. I do know a lot more about the Romanovs now than when I first started writing it. Some of the things I learned about them shocked me. One or two things I tried to sugarcoat to keep within the limits of a K+ rating and hope that I was successful at doing so. Only Ilya and Valya, Maurice, Cecile, and Yvonne Marceau, Fifi, Jules, Dr. Fournier, young Nicholas, Alexander, Rachel, Oxana, Anatoly, Luc, Lara, Kira, Inessa, Erich Strauss, Alena, young Michael, and Natalie belong to me. Everyone else belongs to actual history, except for Dimitri, Vlad, and Pooka, who, of course, belong to Fox and Don Bluth. I hope that all who read this story enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy reading, and long live democracy, music boxes, and horses prancing through silver storms...