He remembered watching her when they were little, when she was still the Princess and he was just a kitchen boy in the palace. He was smitten with her, she was so full of life and energy, everywhere and nowhere all at once. The staff watched as slowly he fell for the Princess who cared not if you were rich or poor, always out playing with the village children or helping clean with the staff. They told him to forget whatever he was feeling, that it could never happen because Princess's don't love kitchen boys.
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It was an ordinary ball on the night it happened, the music boomed, the people danced and the Princess laughed. He watched from the shadows as she wove her way through the crowd, everyone parting for their beloved Princess who sang along as she twirled. Her grandmother was there as well, giving the Princess a small jewel box that he was sure only the three of them knew of.
Then the man came, he was a traitor to the throne by the name of Rasputin. She was in danger, that was all he knew and he instantly followed, helping the two out of the palace and taking the blow to keep their secret. When he came to he was alone, only Vladimir taking him in saved his life. The only thing he owned was the small music box he had taken, unable to allow it to just sit there.
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The next time he heard any mention of the Princess was eleven years later, he had just turned twenty one and had been shopping in the marketplace when he heard the rumours of the Princess being alive. For some reason, unknown to him he had felt a sense of great relief, instantly proposing to Vladimir they find a girl that looked like the Princess and take her to the duchess to collect the reward.
He had managed to convince himself that the only reason he cared was for the money. He did not have the heart to believe the Princess was still alive. Every girl that came to them was useless, she either look nothing like the Princess, she had no sense of manners or she just couldn't act.
They were just about to give up when Demetri heard singing from the ballroom, instantly racing through the palace while Vladimir followed slowly behind. He saw a beautiful redhead dancing with skill across the floor, bowing and dancing with imaginary people while she sang a song of hope and remembrance.
He instantly spotted the resemblance, someone getting her on his and Vladimir's side by offering her a ride to Paris. He felt a certain feeling of de ja vu when he looked at her but brushed it off at how similar she looked to the Princess.
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The journey to Paris was fast but to Demetri it took forever, Anya was more mesmerising than he had ever thought possible and the way she seemed natural at everything. She could ride horses, dance and she memorized every family member of the royal tree faster than anyone they had tried to teach before. Her beauty was unmatched and slowly he began falling for her, his eyes strayed to her every time she entered a room, he watched her lips as she smiled and her eyes as she laughed.
Vladimir tried to get him to make a move but he refused, unable to allow himself to feel anything lest she reject him.
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The moment she walked down those stairs in that dress he knew he had lost her. He didn't think anything of his actions when he went racing to get the duchess to her, the only thought he had was of her devastated face when she found the extent of his betrayal. It was in that instant that he allowed himself to realise the full depth of his feelings.
He watched a she held that crown and knew he had no chance. After all Princesses don't love kitchen boys. It was a childhood fantasy, not something that would ever be entertained or proven true. He left before she became a Princess, unable to watch the moment she would truly be gone from his grasp.
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He walked slowly down the paved road, his shoes catching on loose rocks that he kicked out of his way. People watched as he walked past, many affording him sympathetic glances, he wondered why till he realised how pathetic he must look. Trudging down the road along, his hands thrust into his pockets and his shoulders pulled up to his ears.
He sighed and headed towards the docks, planning on buying a ticket on the next boat to anywhere.
"Hey!" a familiar voice called from behind him but he ignored it, she was inside not out here.
"Oi idiot!" it was the same voice but this time it was accompanied by a shoe being thrown at his back.
He stiffened and turned slowly, seeing the meant to be Princess of Russia standing in front of him, her chest heaving as she planted her hands on her hips. The red hair he loved so much had fallen from its carefully styled up do and cascaded down her back. She wore only one shoe that was quickly kicked off. The people in the street had stopped to watch as the heir to the kingdom faced down with the handsome man in the middle of the street.
"Anastasia! What are you doing?" he choked out, unable to believe what she was doing outside if she had just been crowned Princess. He noticed the absence of a crown on her head with some shock and look down only to see her inches away.
"What does it look like I'm doing you idiot, I'm finding you," she drawled, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
"You're meant to be inside being crowned," he pointed out and she rolled her eyes, stepping closer.
"What if I didn't want to be crowned?" she whispered, her eyes boring into his intently.
"What do you want then?" he asked slowly, the crowd growing bigger as the tension blossomed.
"You," she said simply, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into a soft kiss.
"Your grandmamma would never allow it. Princesses don't love kitchen boys," he recited the phrase he had heard his entire life and she giggled.
"Guess I won't be a Princess then," she shrugged and he gaped at her.
"Kiss her you idiot boy, I don't care if you're a kitchen boy and apparently neither does she!" a loud voice called from above them and they all looked up to see the duchess hanging over the edge of the balcony.
"Well?" Anastasia asked softly, looking up at him from beneath long lashes and he swept her into his arms, kissing her with as much passion as he could muster.
The crowd around them cheered and whistled, only to be broken apart when, with a loud clap of thunder, it began to pour from the heavens. The crowd quickly scattered but the two remained kissing in the rain, finally breaking apart.
"I love you Anastasia, Princess or not," Demetri whispered, pushing a strand of rain soaked hair from her forehead.
"And I love you Demetri, kitchen boy and all," she grinned, kissing him again as the rain poured down around them.
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It seemed Princesses could love kitchen boys after all and Demetri wished nothing more than to be able to look his past self in the eyes and tell him to hang in there because one day he would marry that Princess.