Disclaimer: I still own nothing and that is still upsetting

Nana's photo collection were the only way Anya was able to share her memories with Dmitry. Sure, there were pictures from the state, those that hadn't been destroyed by the Bolsheviks that is, but Nana had the only authentic photos left that showed Anya's memories. Maria and Anastasia wearing their mothers crowns, four year old Anastasia holding Alexei on the day of his christening as she smiled at her little brother. Olga and Tatiana on Christmas morning, hiding Anya under the expanse of their skirts. Her father holding her high in the air, whirling around the room, a single moment of that joy captured forever.

Pictures were the only proof she had that these memories were not a fantasy in her head. Pictures were the only way she could show Dmitry her childhood and her life. For this reason, those pictures were one of her most prized possessions. For this same reason, Dmitry's first 'luxury' purchase was a camera.

He fell in love with Anya even more through pictures of her. The ability to keep a specific moment forever was beyond his wildest dreams. He had no pictures of his father, only memories over twenty years old. His mother he remembered even less- she died, along with his little sister, in childbirth. But pictures, he learned, would keep Anya forever, even after they were gone.

And Dmitry thought the entire world should know how beautiful she is.

The pictures started simple, now filling a box that sits on their bookshelf.

The first picture he took of her was when they lived in Marseille briefly.

He had been working on the docks, while Anya had taken a position in a local bookstore. He had gotten off of work before her, and snuck right up on her. She was at the front desk, staring down at a thick book on the counter. She rested her cheek on her hand, her arm supporting her weight against the deck. Her left hand trailed along the sentence she read. Her blonde hair spread around her shoulders, a few strands falling out of her braid into her face. He snapped a picture before she could look up to greet the person walking through the door, the flash alarming her.

"What are you- what is that?" Anya quirked an eyebrow, tilting her head at him. She hopped over the counter to look over the device.

"It's to take pictures. I just thought.. because you love the pictures of your family so much-" He was cut off when she threw her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his. His free arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. They pulled apart when they heard the bell that signified someone entering the store, Anya stepping closer to the help desk, trying to even her breathing before the customer asked for help. She sent him a snide smile, winking before the older woman approached her to ask for assistance. Dmitry winked at her, before slipping out the front door. He'd continue that later, he decided.

Another favorite photo was one of them both, at the public wedding her Nana had thrown with the assistance of Lily. This one resided on the bedside table in the Paris townhouse, where it would remain forever.

For a day about them, they knew four whole people in attendance. Of course, this was a show of "lily's niece," as the white Russian society of Paris knew her. This was not about Anya nor Dmitry, though they were okay with that. Neither Nana nor Lily knew they had married quietly, two days after their initial trip out of Paris, in a small orthodox church in Marseille. Anya nearly told her, after a particularly heated lecture about 'the only living Romanov' living in sin. Dmitry convinced her against it, enjoying the grandmother's implied disappointment too much.

He saw Anya coming, looking like the queen she was meant to be in a white tulle dress, white lace delicately covering her shoulders and upper body. She forced another laugh, a fake smile plastered on her gorgeous face. As she finally reached him, free of the guest. Anya stole the champagne glass right out of his hand, throwing her head back and drinking the contents in one quick sip.

"The next long lost count I meet, I might have to take the throne to get rid of them." She mumbled, leaning her hand on the balcony behind them. "You know, if you would have let me tell her, we could have gotten away with a disappointed look, Dima."

"But then I'd miss the 'my only grandchild. Living in sin. Her mother, rest her soul, would roll her in grave if she knew' lecture at dinner every week." He teased, turning to look over the balcony with her. His other hand rubbed soothing circles on her lower back, as they watched Lily's absolute madness on the terrace. "I know Lily's been in Paris a long time, but she still drinks every man I've ever met right under the table. She's the most Russian woman I've ever met. Besides the grand duchess herself, of course."

Anya just smiled and shook her head, directing her attention up to meet his eyes with hers. "I think you can officially never call me that again, now."

"Whatever you say, Princess."

At the time they didn't realize that Vlad had taken the photo of them from behind, of the two of them in that position, smiling at each other. As soon as Dmitry had seen it, it took a permanent home on their bedside table.

Dmitry looked at the photos sometimes, and finds new favorites. He found one in the bottom of his travel bag the last time he cleaned it out. Another one he took candidly of Anya, when she wasn't looking but smiling brilliantly.

Another publicity event for the Dowager, another day of Anya dressed up to follow Lily. It was Maria's way of keeping Anya close and involved in the things she could have done if she came out as the lost princess. Nana respected her decision, to stay with Dmitry, but she still wanted her participating in the lifestyle she left behind. She had worn a short red dress that wrapped around her body, cinching at her waist. The sleeves came to her elbows. Sure, she had the makeup on, but it was the golden tiara in her hair that really stood out to him.

There was no denying- it was never Vlad's training, she was raised to behave like a royal.

Today's event was at the local Parisian children's orphanage. She insisted Dmitry always come with her, as a rock to ground her to the real world, to anchor her when the flashback or memory inevitably hit. He stood off to the side as Lily, the Dowager, and Anya took photos for the newspaper, He lost Anya, while Nana and Lily were speaking with the older children. He turned a corner to find her on her knees in a room full of younger girls, seemingly between the ages of three and seven. They were all sitting around her as she read a book aloud to them, though due to the rapid French she spoke he could not tell exactly what the story was. These children stared at her with rapt attention, one particularly small boy siting on her lap and sucking his thumb.

It dawned on him as he watched, that her heart bled for these children- they could end up on the streets just like she did. Just like he did.

He scrambled to grab the camera from his bag, and quickly snapped the picture to remember the moment.

Later, when he gave it to her, he had asked what she was telling them.

"Just a story about a princess who found a prince in an unlikely place." Anya smiled, tucking her cold feet against his legs in the bed.

"Where, the streets of Russia." Dmitry teased, pulling her closer to him by tugging her night gown.

"In a Frog."

Dmitry, knowing he had no pictures of himself or his mother, wanted better than that for his own children. Pictures of Anya with their daughter were surprisingly easy to get.

He didn't even know what time of night it was, at this point. All he knew was Anya hadn't come back to bed in at least an hour, and the moonlight that peaked through the curtains meant it was still a long way until sunrise. Concern pushed him out of bed, making him sit up and rub at his eyes. His feet hit the wooden floor, and he padded quickly down the hallway. He could hear Anya's soft voice coming from the room over, settling his initial panic.

Dmitry reached the doorway, and leaned against the frame of the door with curiosity on his face. His arms crossed over his chest as he watched Anya.

Anya stood in front of the large window, moonlight shining around her. In the distance he could see the Eiffel tower out of the window, still shining. The city of lights never goes dark, even for tired parents.

"And your aunt Maria, she was only a little older than me, so we always played together." Anya was whispering in an angel soft voice.

From the door, Dmitry could see that Anya had their daughter against her shoulder, her tiny head resting against Anya's neck. Anya's fingers were running over the dark, downy hair of their daughter, no doubt coaxing her to sleep.

"And your grandmother, my mama, her name was Alexandra. She was beautiful, and always made sure me and my sisters looked our best. She was even more devout than Nana. She would have loved you." Anya cooed, swaying gently in the window. "And your grandfather, oh he was the best. People didn't like him very much, but he was the best Papa in the world. He would dance with me before all of the balls- they said I was his favorite."

Dmitry had slipped out to grab the camera, and took the picture relatively quietly. He was relieved when Anya didn't stop, allowing him to capture the moment exactly how he saw it.

"You're such a lucky little girl, Maria." Anya whispered. "You have Vlad and Lily, who love you more that you'll ever understand. And Nana. She's waited for you for so long, you're hope for her, you know. Keeping her family alive." She kissed the side of the infant's head, and Dmitry could tell she was completely asleep. "And you actually have the best father in the entire world, darling. He'll go to the ends of the world for you. Even if he isn't very sneaky."

He was knocked out of his daze at her final comment, looking up to find her gazing at him with a tired smirk.

"If you were going to stand there Dima, you could have told her a story too." Anya whispered, ever so gently pulling her daughter from her shoulder to cradle her in the crook of her arms.

Dmitry hooked his arm around her waist, pressing his forehead to hers before he kissed her nose. "Come back to bed."

"I'm bringing the baby."

Dmitry had taken a new picture for the collection that afternoon, when he returned from work. His hours at the bakery were flexible, allowing him maximum time with his young family.

It was late afternoon, so he expected the laughter of his daughter when he walked in, not the shocking silence he was greeted with. "Anya?" He called out, pulling off his shoes and coat, leaving them by the door.

Dmitry entered further into the townhouse, his initial alarm assuaged when he caught a glimpse of their couch.

Anya was on her side, her arm above her head. Ten month old Maria had her little arms around Anya's neck, her little legs wrapped around her waist. Anya's other arm held Maria tightly, her hand resting on her stomach where their other child was growing.

He was relieved to see her asleep- she had been up nearly all night between Maria and her own discomfort. Dmitry crouched down to kiss both Anya and Maria on the forehead.

He slipped his camera from the bag, capturing the moment quickly. With a small smile and a shake of his head, he covered them both with a knitted purple blanket from the other chair.

There would never be a time when they or their children wished they had more pictures of them. Dmitry would make sure of that.

Hey guys thanks so much for reading!

The second picture is actually based on a picture of Christy and Derek at the opening night party.

The third is based on a scene from the Princess Diaries 2 which sort of inspired me.

I have a few more segments coming, with different people taking the pictures and what they want to remember!

Thank you again for reading!