The Day Sunshine Fell

The Sun lies to rest

Three days passed. After five tedious days since Alexei went cold, it was finally the funeral. Preparations were exhausting and depressing, and now he is going to be laid to rest.
Ileana had not eaten in days. I wouldn't be surprised if sleep never came upon her. She wept reading Alexei's diaries, looking at his pictures, and when she didn't weep she wrapped herself in a blanket and rocked back and forth. No one comforted her. She was a shell.
The morning of the funeral, she was hysterical. It took much convincing for her to arise from her bed, but upon seeing the gown she would wear to the ceremony, she collapsed in shrieking sobs. She couldn't function. She was literally dragged off of her floor by her maid and Dr. Botkin, who gave her a sedative. She had to be present at the funeral, but not in this state.
She calmed down, but tears still escaped her eyes. She was silent, and stared off into space frequently.
Mama didn't speak. She didn't eat or sleep the previous night. She simply dressed in her gown, put on her lace veil and sat in the parlor as our family flooded our home. Cousins, aunts, and uncles arrived, among them our distant relative, Prince Igor Konstantinovich. He has always been close to us and he enjoyed spending time with Alexei. He gave us his condolences, but it was a bright spot in the middle of grief when he said he would stay at the palace for a while.
He kissed all of our hands, as usual, but I noticed when he bowed and took Olga's hand, his lips lingered ever so slightly longer than on the rest of our hands. Like he wanted to embrace her touch for a moment, as did she. Olga's cheeks were flushed and I swear I could see her heart beating out of her chest.
He had a shy, but charming smile. My father likes him very much, and Mama always thought fondly of him. Olga, however, appeared to have a little more affection for him than the rest of us.
As our family chatted and greeted each other with a rain cloud over our heads, I stood by a wall in the parlor with Olga.
"It looks like someone has a crush," I teased with a smile. She attempted to stifle a grin.
"No, Nastya, I am a happily married woman." She replied stiffly. I glanced at her, and she replied with an eye roll as fast as lightning. I see, she just needed to make sure none of our family or court assumes the marriage is in shambles. It is, but of course it shall never be casually spoken of.
"Yes, of course you are." I said imperiously. I lifted my chin slightly and pursued a composed, graceful state.
"Anastasia, you needn't look as though you are mimicking the nobles. We are grieving, they may find it insulting if you are goofing around before a funeral." Tatiana scolded.
"Oh, please, Tatya, I am not trying to mimic anyone." I rolled my eyes.
"How about we simply don't speak, hm? Just stand here, poised." Maria cut in. She's been sharp lately. She's grieving, but also stressed because Louis came from England for the funeral. They seldom enjoy each other's company, hence why he's always in London.
"Fine," I replied. There's no use in battling them now, although I was just trying to represent myself as the grand duchess I am, but I guess I tried too hard. It's like the court judges every little thing I do.
After the endless greetings and people sending their condolences, we went to the funeral.
Through the ceremony, Ileana wept silently. Mama sat in a state of emotionlessness and seldom moved. She didn't cry, and she didn't seem as intent on the prayers. Olga and Tatiana were silent, and Maria had a mixed look of fury and grief on her face. But we did not cry, we just sat as the perfect daughters of the tsar we are.
Olga's expression of hopelessness seemed to be aimed at someone. I looked in the direction of her gaze, where I saw Igor replying to Olga with glum eyes.
I cannot remember what I felt or thought about. I just know it was endless and agonizing. I felt tears grow in my eyes as we watched his casket be lowered into the grave at Peter and Paul's Fortress. He was the first of us to go. We all silently realized that this would be where we, too, would be laid to rest. When would that time be?
There was no luncheon, gala, or ball. I was glad. I was exhausted from the service alone. We sat in silence when we returned home to Alexander Palace. Suddenly, Ileana began screaming.
"He's dead! He's gone! I'll never see him again! This can't be!" She shrieked. I think it finally set in that he was absolutely gone. She nearly hyperventilated, shrieking and sobbing. This was an entire new stage of grief we've seen so far.
She grabbed a letter opener off of Mama's desk.
What is with this family and letter openers?