Disclaimer: I don't own Anastasia or any of the characters therein.

[A/N: This picks up where the first bit of the movie left off, right after Dimitri helped Anastasia and Marie escape. Just an exploration of how Vlad and Dimitri came to the unique patnership they display in the movie. This is not slash. Okay, all that said, enjoy! :D]

Chapter One

The world faded back into existence as a cacophony of sounds. Thunderous crashes and angry shouts penetrated even the thick walls of the palace. Sensing the danger that was practically palpable on the air, Dimitri forced his umber eyes open.

He knew this room. Though it looked foreboding in the reddish glow that lit it from without, it was comforting to find himself in familiar surroundings. The boy started to right himself, but the slightest motion of his right arm dropped him back to the ground with a hiss of pain. In a flash he recalled the angry features of the soldier that had struck him and the events that led up to that moment. Most overwhelmingly, he remembered her--Anastasia.

The strangeness of the situation was slow to settle in his mind. That evening, amidst the panic and chaos, he had broken all the rules; not only had he had the gall to speak directly to members of the royal family (and in such an abrupt manner at that, not even taking the time to acknowledge their titles) he had laid hands upon them. Even though his uncouth actions had saved their lives the universe had taken its revenge for the disregard of the law, as his throbbing arm evidenced.

These ponderings brought back to mind his scandalous and brief conversation with the princess. She had been adamant about retrieving some item. He had been so concerned about getting her to safety that he could not recall what that had been. As he strove to recall her words, his eyes ranged about the room. They passed from the shattered windowpane, to the upturned and battered furniture, to the dollhouse, and, finally, they settled on the glimmer of gold on the floor before him.

He picked up the small item in his left hand and examined it carefully. The inlays were extraordinarily fine, the piece as a whole was flawless. Dimitri tilted his head to one side. It was gorgeous and obviously of significant value, but what was it? One thing he felt sure of was that he had found the item the princess had desired to bring with her. He determined then and there to return it to her and perhaps earn some favor from the young beauty.

Shouts in the corridor drew his attention with a start. He clutched the precious item tightly and awkwardly gained his feet. His arm was throbbing dangerously with every movement but Dimitri knew he had to be gone before the owners of those voices arrived.

He held the small box between his collarbone and chin while he clawed the secret door open. Dimitri ducked into the passage and pulled the door shut, plunging himself into darkness. He hesitated; he could run down the stairs now, as quickly as he could, but the voices were so close he feared his footsteps would give away his location. The boy froze as heavy footfalls sounded in the room beyond. There was no running now.

"Where is the boy?" a deep voice growled. Dimitri shrank away from the sound. His heels hung over the edge of the step and he forced himself to be still to avoid falling.

"It looks like he found a way out. I suppose no one would pay any attention to a servant boy making a run for it. I doubt he knew where they were headed anyway." The second voice was less gruff than the first and higher pitched.

"He could at least have told us how they managed to escape. For all we know they could still be in the palace, in hiding."

"I doubt it. The royals are running scared."

At some cue unknown to Dimitri the men turned and exited the room. Their footfalls were loud even through the wall panel. The boy waited until their steps faded away. He inched his way down the servants' stairway, holding the gilded box tightly in his good hand.

As Dimitri scoured the streets of Saint Petersburg, a horrifying thought consumed his mind. He had been there, hiding on the dais behind the thrones watching the grand ball, when that intimidating man had strolled in. The monk was well known throughout Russia, but his reputation was far from laudable. It was known that he had always dabbled in the dark arts; only the Tsarina's favor had kept him from banishment.

Dimitri had heard that vile monk proclaim his curse on the royal family. The audacity of the declaration had terrified him as well as everyone else. The boy was certain that these events of chaos and upheaval were Rasputin's doing. Indeed, it would take a supernatural force to undo the regal Romanovs, and they had been dethroned.

The boy soon became desperate in his search. The city's streets were roiling with life. He was too short to see farther than the back of the person in front of him. His arm was continuously jostled as he was shoved aside by pedestrians or carriages; jolts of pain shot through his body that threatened to overwhelm his senses. Several times he stumbled, almost losing his grip on the precious box.

Minute by minute, the situation grew darker. Dimitri lost his way and found himself on a less inhabited street. Blissfully, his arm was spared from the torment of impacts. He held his injured arm tight across his chest with the other and plodded miserably onward. It eventually became clear that he was on a wild goose chase, seeking the proverbial needle in a haystack. Surely the royals had cleared the city by now.

He was pondering giving up and finding a place to stay for the night when the clamor of hooves on stone wrenched his head up. A team of draft horses, coated in foamy sweat, were charging down the narrow lane. The driver whipped the team mercilessly, sending the horses even faster on their way. The panic-stricken animals did not even see the boy barring their way and the driver did not care.

"Out of the way!" the coachman screamed, smacking the whip against his horses' flanks. One of the beasts screamed and threw its head.

Dimitri had had little warning of the approach, so swiftly did it come, that he managed to make it only a few steps toward the nearest wall. The team and carriage bore down on him in seconds. The horse's near shoulder struck the boy full on the right side, sending him sprawling out of the way of the pursuing wheels.

Dimitri landed hard. He lost his grip on the golden box, which skittered well out of reach, striking the alley wall before coming to rest in a patch of mud. The force of the impact and subsequent pain sent the boy reeling into the always-waiting darkness.

A figure, somewhat heftier than the average man, stepped out from his shadowed hiding place. The hood of a cloak concealed his features. He had witnessed the boy's plight and his inherently kind nature prompted him to act. However, this man had special considerations for his own safety and feared that interfering might draw unwanted attention.

As casually as he could make it appear, he walked toward the unconscious boy. He veered away from the lad at the last moment as he spotted a glimmer of gold near the wall. The stranger picked the item up, rubbed some of the mud off on his cloak, and started at the sight of gold. He looked down at the boy with renewed interest.

The child's russet hair was tussled and caked with mud. His clothing was that of a peasant, though the fact that it was not threadbare proved he wasn't the poorest of the poor. He appeared to have been well cared for and the stranger wondered where the boy had come from.

With a start, the man realized he was dawdling too long. He shoved the gilded box in his pocket and turned to leave. He advanced several strides and then hesitated. He glanced reluctantly over his shoulder. The last thing he needed was another burden; however his gentle nature could not abide the thought of leaving the lad to freeze to death in the street. Heaving a sigh, the stranger doubled back and retrieved the boy.

As he made his way through the crowded streets, the man felt grateful for his wisdom in renting a lodging earlier that day. Normally, the sight of a man carrying such an unusual burden would have been noticed. However, the chaos that gripped the city made such a scene admissible, even normal.

The stranger conveyed his newfound charge to the apartment he had rented. Upon entering he set the boy down on the pallet and turned to bar the door; after all, his soft heart was not without precaution.

Turning around, he surveyed the shadowy surroundings. A single grimy window was placed high on the only exterior wall. The light it admitted was minimal at best and the man scrounged around for a candle, which he promptly lit. The flickering yellow light showed how dismal the space truly was. Shards of broken furniture were stacked haphazardly in the corners of the room. A decaying table was pressed against one wall, accompanied by a sturdier looking chair. Pieces of the original chair were no doubt to be found amidst the rubble.

Sighing, the man removed his cloak and set about reorganizing and tidying the room. It proved a filthy task; soon the air in the room was heavy with dust and both man and boy were coated in a film of the stuff. Despite all the noise the stranger made, the boy did not stir.

Once the room had been set in a semblance of order, the man turned his attention to his ward. Even in the candlelight the growing bruise on the boy's face was apparent, no doubt from the impact of the horse's shoulder. The feeble illumination also brought attention to the contusion that seemed to be leaking from beneath the boy's right sleeve.

As gently as he could, the man rolled the boy's sleeve back. The action revealed a sizable and ugly discoloration that covered half of his forearm.

A crash echoed out in the street and the boy started into wakefulness. He glanced about in fright, similar to how a deer looks about when it hears the wolves' howl. When his gaze landed on the stranger holding his arm he drew back, wincing as he held his arm close to him.

"Do not be afraid," the man said gently. His dark beard was full and obscured the lower half of his face. The man's close-set ebony eyes twinkled in the flickering candle light. His kindly words, accompanied by his apparently unthreatening nature, put the boy at ease.

"Is your arm troubling you?"

Dimitri nodded, his eyes glazed with pain. Sweat was prominent on his brow. His arm had hurt enough before, but with the added stress of the incident with the horse, it was unbearable. Darkness seemed to surround him, threatening to take him back into its unwelcome clutches.

"Why don't you let Vlad have a look at it?"

Dimitri extended his arm immediately, hopeful that the man could mend the throbbing limb. Vlad gently probed the boy's arm with his fingers, watching carefully for a reaction. As his fingers neared the wrist, Dimitri hissed and his muscles tensed. Vlad's fingers were at the center of the extensive bruise.

"Wait a moment, my boy," Vlad murmured as he rose. He looked about the dingy room and finally his eyes alighted on the desired object. He rummaged through a pile of debris, pulling out a few thin, elongated planks of wood. Vlad retrieved his cloak on his way back.

The boy was tenderly poking at the wound on his face. When he saw Vlad kneel down before him, he extended his injured arm. The man set to work splinting the limb and immobilizing the wrist. The boy looked on in fascination, occasionally wincing as his arm was jarred.

"What's your name boy?" Vlad asked benevolently.

The lad's cinnamon colored eyes darted to the elder's face. He saw no ulterior motive there, no devious expression. "Dimitri."

Vlad finished setting the boy's arm and released it. Dimitri tested the extra weight of the planks and strips of cloth from the cloak. His arm still ached terribly but with the restraint of motion the pain was reduced.

"Thank you, sir," Dimitri mumbled. The boy's eyelids were drooping. The stress and late hour were taking their toll on him.

"You are quite welcome my boy. Rest now and in the morning we will talk further."

[A/N: Well that's the start of it. I honestly don't know where this story is going (well, excepting that it will end where the movie picks up) or how long I'll actually work on it. Hope you've enjoyed reading thus far!]