Dimitri's hair was long and cool like a muddy summer. His flesh was white and his eyes were matted brown orbs. When the young man was stressed, he did certain things unconsciously, such as comb his hair out of his face. When he spoke he was condescending and pushy and this drove Anya to her wits end, but Vlad was very fond of him nonetheless.
"My boy," the plump Russian spoke with fatherly sweetness, "must you stay up all night? Last night, too, you took no time to rest."
The candlelight flickered on a crate beside them. They were spending the night on the edge of Russia, close to its German border. As dusk had fallen Anya's feet had grown tired from the long trek and they had found an old inn in which to rest. But the upkeep of the establishment was poor and Dimitri doubted they could trust the staff and other patrons, leaving him to watch keenly over their possessions.
"It's fine." Dimitri's arms rested against bent knees. "I'm not tired."
"Must you be so stubborn?" Vlad chuckled, but then, knowing argument was futile in this instance, curled over for sleep.
Anya slept on the only bed in the room and Vlad on the floor beside her. Dimitri leaned against the wall, refusing still to shut his eyes. He found staying awake easy. When he lived on the damp rainy streets and underground gutters of St. Petersburg, he scrapped for food when possible and slept only during the day for safety. Life outside of the palace was much harsher than living in servitude within it. When he was of age he enlisted in the army immediately, escaping one desperate situation by fleeing to another.
Years later, after the fighting had ceased, at 20 years old, Dimitri met Vlad at a local tavern the two frequented. Upon discovering that they both used to work at the palace, they fell into easy conversation. During these enjoyable evenings, Dimitri began to see Vlad as a truly amicable character. He started anticipating their exchanges and their friendly games of chess.
"What do you do for work my boy?" asked Vlad one evening, once the acquaintances could begin to consider themselves friends. He had heard rumors of Dimitri's role as a con man and was now asking, carefully, for confirmation. Dimitri shrugged, chewing on a cigarette. "I do what I can."
That was when Vlad brought up the idea of hoaxing a Princess Anastasia. "Let's rent a space at the old theater," Dimitri suggested, "We could hold auditions there." Within a matter of weeks Dimitri had gotten the theater and rounded up some actresses. He was dexterous like that. Within months, he found himself on a voyage through Europe with a princess look-alike. Curious, but hopeful, he watched his path unwind before him.
"The Romanov Curse," bubbled out of Anya and broke Dimitri's thoughts. His brows rose in concern, but she quickly rolled over in her sleep.