The year is 1930 in rural Russia, snow covers St. Petersburg in a fresh white blanket welcoming the holiday season with open arms. A couple sits cozily on a bench near an orphanage. The young woman snuggled under the young man's arm smiling. With each breath a white mist passes each of their lips as they laugh at each other's jokes.

After a few moments, the female sat up, her aqua eyes staring deeply into his chestnut irises passionately, as if she had just came up with a brilliant idea. Her smile widened as she grabbed his arm, her body bouncing eagerly.

"What is it Anya?" The young man replied.

He was concerned; he hadn't seen Anya so happy since they left Paris. By happy he meant not hitting him with that hot-tempered child attitude he had fallen in love with. It reminded him of the times he had seen her when he was a lad worked in the palace.

Sitting on her knees she spoke with enthusiasm, "Have you ever wondered what happened to my brother, Alexis?"

Her voice was more serious than her smile.

He cleared his throat with a cough as he turned to her slowly; understanding written on his face.

"What gave you this idea?"

Anya turned her head away, gazing at the snow covered orphanage.

"Well, you know, I just have a hunch that he's alive. Dimitri, you know better than me that he could possibly be alive. He was running right next to me, then I went back to get my music box. Everything's a blur after that."

Lowering her head, she scanned the wool gloves she had from the orphanage as if they had the answer to her question.

Dimitri stroked her shoulder gently, trying to calm her down. He couldn't imagine losing his entire family like she had. He had never seen her so down, what happened to that spunky girl he knew all his life.

"I don't know what to tell you. Perhaps the palace holds the answers you're looking for."

Dimitri didn't know what he was saying, the palace, being his residence, he had full access and he knew how to get in. This assumption of Alexei surviving the Russian Revolution was inconceivable, but the longing for Anya's smile compelled him. The palace being only a short walk away, he took her hand and walked down the snowy path. Anya hurried behind him, clutching his hand tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered.