Hello everyone! I was so glad to see they finally made a section for the musical Anastasia. I recently saw it on Broadway and fell in love with it all over again, and this story just came to mind after I listened to the soundtrack on repeat for a week. Hope you enjoy!
It was unusually cold for a spring day. There was a definite air of excitement in the streets of St. Petersburg, and so if anyone did notice the chill, they didn't mind enough to complain. Then again, it was such a special occasion that Dmitry doubted anyone would dare complain about anything. A single year free from communist rule was not enough to suppress the instinct to suffer in silence and grumble in private. Sometimes he thought that instinct would never go away, especially after a decade of its necessity. Only the foolish had the nerve to mouth off in front of officers, and he was not so reckless anymore.
In the three years since returning to Russia, Dmitry had turned a corner. He tried to make a living as honestly as possible and actively avoided those he had dealt with before his grand adventure to France. He swore to himself that he would never do something to draw attention to himself, and so far he had been succeeding. But he also knew that if he ever talked to his old partners again it would be a slippery slope back down into the life he'd fought so hard to escape. So while his earnings were slim, they were enough to get by and to afford a small apartment, and that was enough for him.
He didn't often think about the reward money for finding the lost Grand Duchess Anastasia, though it did cross his mind when times were especially tough. But no matter how cold or hungry he got, he couldn't bring himself to regret not taking the money. To him, helping return her to her family truly was all the reward he needed, and honestly he owed it to her after all he put her through. The shame alone prevented him from showing up when he was summoned. It was probably some sort of treason, ignoring the Dowager Empress, but no one had ever come after him. Perhaps it was only because they didn't know where to find him. He hadn't even told Vlad that he was leaving, much less where he was going, and he doubted anyone who knew him would think he'd return to St. Petersburg. But Petersburg had always been his home, so to him it made sense to go back.
And now she was coming back to St. Petersburg too, apparently, after all these years. He wondered if she'd be amazed at how the city had changed. Of course she most likely had more pressing things on her mind, as a new monarch. The revolution against the communists was mostly bloodless, and as the only surviving member of the Romanov family the crown was offered to the Grand Duchess first. Part of Dmitry wondered if she had wanted to abdicate and pass the title along to whomever was next in line. But it didn't matter if she had, because in the end she accepted the crown, reclaiming her birthright, and the Russian people were eagerly awaiting her arrival.
Schools and businesses were closed for the day, and the people flooded the streets. Children waving flags were perched atop their parents' shoulders and the especially rowdy sang patriotic songs. Word on the street was that this day was now a national holiday. It was the day Russia was supposed to be reborn into a new and beautiful country.
Dmitry was skeptical about that last part though; he (and the rest of Russia, for that matter) had heard that promise so many times, and each time it got worse than the last. He wanted to believe more than anything that this new government would succeed, for a number of reasons. Somewhere along the line it had been decided to combine the monarchy with a bit of democracy. Supposedly the people would be able to elect the people they wanted to speak on their behalf, though the new Tsarina would have the final say. It was supposed to be the best of both worlds. And it would be different this time. Anya knew what it was to be homeless. She knew the value of a coin, had spent years in the gutter with the Russian people, though at the time no one knew it. Anya knew their struggles, and deep down Dmitry suspected Anya was still there somewhere in Anastasia. Dmitry shuddered to imagine what the people would do to her if it failed. He knew he wouldn't be able to watch.
Standing under a tree in front of his apartment, Dmitry knew exactly when the parade turned the corner.
The songs and conversations faded into a roar of excitement, and waves of people rushed the barricades that lined the streets. Swept forward with the crowd, Dmitry struggled to hang onto his hat and footing. Everyone around him was shouting her name, her real name, as her carriage slowly made its way through the streets before heading up to the palace. Children waved and blew kisses, their parents pointed and laughed with joy. The lost princess was home.
Dmitry felt an odd plunging sensation in his stomach as he watched her wave back at the crowds. She looked exactly as he remembered her, albeit maybe a bit better fed. Her cheeks had a healthy roundness to them that he had never seen on her before, and they were rosy in the chill of the day. It was a strange feeling, being so close to her, and she didn't even have a clue. To her, he was once again just a faceless commoner in a sea of people. Instantly he was brought back to that June day, now over twenty years ago. He had caught her attention and bowed, making her smile, and for one second he had felt important. He had been the one to make the princess smile, of everyone there that day. He had been noticed, been memorable. And though a part of him longed to stand out to her again, he knew he wouldn't.
He wondered what might happen if he did run up to the barricade and bow to her again. He'd like to believe she'd recognize him instantly and stop the parade. He'd be allowed to approach her carriage and sweep her down to his level. Up there she seemed larger than life, so far away. But once she got down to his level she would be his Anya again. She would always be Anya to him. Not the Grand Duchess Anastasia. Not this new title, Her Imperial Highness Tsarina Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov, Empress of all Russia. Just Anya, a fellow orphan and street rat.
As her carriage passed, she turned her head in his direction, staring at the exact spot where he stood. Terror immediately swept over him. Because what if he was recognized? The last time they had seen each other, she had been so angry with him. He couldn't blame her. She had every right to be angry, and sometimes when he thought back to that moment he thinks she wasn't angry enough. He had deserved much worse, and she had deserved much better. He left the room when the Dowager Empress showed up to talk to Anya, and he never saw either of them again. In hind sight, he wishes he'd at least left a note apologizing and begging for her forgiveness, but he was so focused on getting out of Paris that it didn't cross his mind until he was already back in Petersburg.
In a second, his mind swung to the opposite extreme. He was sure that she would stop the parade. She would point at him and yell for the guards to arrest him. He wouldn't run as the guards approached. He wouldn't resist if they threw him to the ground. He knew he deserved it, and deserved her anger. She would watch the entire thing silently from the carriage, and he would not be able to meet her eye. Arresting him would be her first act as the leader of her country.
But instead her gaze swept right over him and continued on. She waved to the crowd, a politely interested expression on her face. But Dmitry could tell by the stiffness of her shoulders and the set of her mouth that she was rather disinterested. He'd seen the same expression on her face a thousand times in the old Yusopov palace when he and Vlad were coaching her in her own family history.
He would have to be more careful. Now that she was back in Petersburg, he couldn't give her any reason to suspect he was there too. He feared he'd have to work extra hard to stay off her radar. Angry or not, she was still the leader of his country, and he was simply a man. He would never be on the level of even holding her hand, and he wasn't foolish enough to pretend he would be. To end up alone in a room with her would be dangerous for both of them for a number of reasons, so he vowed her would never give anyone any reason to call him to the palace. It was better that way.
Some of the crowd followed the carriage as it made its way down the street, but Dmitry stayed where he stood. He closed his eyes briefly, replaying the moment she happened to glance in his direction. She hadn't seen him standing there among the crowd, but he'd been close enough to see her face. It had been more than he had ever hoped for. When he opened his eyes again, her carriage had already turned the corner at the end of the street and was gone.