So I am not sure how I should take this story. I was thinking I'd write from here to where Rose and Dimitri meet? Not sure whether to make him the Dimitri we all know and love, or whether to make him something else (but show how he ended up that way). Open to suggestions!

Thanks Richelle Mead for writing such awesome characters which compel us to continue telling their stories :D

Prologue

He's only been back a couple of hours, and already Mumma is crying. Karolina has taken off to her boyfriend's house. Sonja is out the back with Yeva, picking the vegetables for dinner. Little Viktoria is inside with Mumma and Randall. He's brought her a doll. Ugly porcelain thing in a frilly dress. Viktoria loves it, of course. It's not often she gets anything new, and certainly nothing that expensive.

But you can't eat a doll.

From my position in the hallway, I can see the three of them through the door crack. Randall towering over Mumma. Viktoria sitting on the couch behind Mumma, playing with her doll. Even at six, I realised, Viktoria instinctively knew to put Mumma between herself and Randall.

Mumma asked him about money. The roof is leaking. Karolina needs school books.

"Is that all you ever think about?" Randall roared at her. "I don't have to come and visit you, you know!" Plucking his hand-tooled leather wallet from expensive tailored pants he opened it, throwing a fistful of rubles onto the floor in front of her. "You want money? Then pick it up!"

I hate him! Hate the way he treats her. Treats us. But even more than that I hate the look on Mumma's face as she eagerly eyeballs the notes on the worn carpet in front of her. I can see her mentally calculating how far she can make the crumpled notes stretch.

Sinking onto her hands and knees in front of him, I can hear her appeasing him. Apologising as she gathers up the precious notes, carefully putting them into her pocket. I see his victorious look as she abases herself in front of him. And I hate her for doing it. Hate that she puts up with this from him.

An ugly expression creeping across his face, I can see his decision to kick her seconds before the first blow lands. Catching her by surprise, I can hear her astounded gasp before she rolls on to her side, curling up to protect stomach and ribs from the kicks he was now delivering in quick succession.

"Papa! Papa DON'T!" Viktoria was wailing. Clearly terrified, she was backing towards the door. Turning to her he screamed "This is nothing to do with you! Leave or you will be next!". Viktoria fled the room in terror, barely noticing me in the hallway as she fled towards the backyard and the safety of Yeva.

Back in the sitting room, Randall was still kicking Mumma. I could hear her whimpers as blow after blow landed on her unprotected back and legs. "I'm sorry, Randall" she cried.

Hearing the pleading in her voice ended it. Throwing open the door so hard it came off its top hinge, I stormed into the room. Approaching Randall I punched him three times in quick succession before he'd even realised what was happening. A very satisfying crunch accompanied each punch.

While I was only 13, I was already over 6-foot tall. Once long and lanky, the novice training sessions I'd started at St. Basil's were paying off – both with my punches as well as my physique. I was already more than a match for Randall, and he knew it.

"Don't,"

Punch

"you"

Punch

"dare"

Punch

"touch"

Punch

"my Mumma again" I finished, delivering a final crushing blow to the bloodied man now cowering on the couch in front of me.

"No, Dimitri! Don't" Mumma cried, trying to pull me away from him. I probably would have continued, had Yeva not come racing into the room at that moment, swearing profusely and waving the large knife she used in the garden.

"Enough!" she shouted at the three of us, quickly sizing up the situation.

"UP!" she ordered Randall, brandishing the knife in his direction. "This is my house and you are not to enter it again".

Seeing Randall was incapable of walking by himself, I pulled him up from the couch by his jacket. Walking him past the door hanging off its hinge, I led him to the front door, opening it and thrusting him through it.

"This is not the last you'll hear about this!" he threatened, using the cuff of his white shirt to wipe blood from his face.

"It had better be, old man" I told him ominously. "If I see you anywhere near here again, it will be the last time anyone sees you" I continued.

Then with a final look of disgust at him I closed the door.