(A/N: This takes place in the first book (even though I read them all) when Rose and Dimitri are discussing his father. There will be this and only this chapter. I tried to write it from a 13 year old, male POV [obviously Dimitri's]. Hope you enjoy!)

"You knew your father?" Rose asked incredulously. Her dark brown eyes widened slightly in interest. Not many Dhampirs —the half human, half vampire offspring of either Moroi and humans or Moroi and Dhampirs— actually knew their Moroi parent. They never stuck around.

"Yes, he is the father of my sisters and I." I admitted.

"Wow, I'd never thought Moroi guys would stay for long. Were they in love?" Rose's head tilted in curiosity, making her long, dark tresses fall lightly over her shoulder. If I could get close enough just to touch...

'No' I mentally scolded myself. 'You are her mentor and she is your student. Leave the girl alone!'

However, I still found myself wondering if she felt the same attraction I did.

"Hello? Anybody home in there?" she remarked sarcastically.

"No, Rose, they weren't in love. In fact, he would take advantage of my mother whenever he visited, and then he would beat her." Those last words came out venomously. I let out a low animalistic growl. Rose seemed unfazed by the gesture, albeit her curiosity just seemed to grow.

"Did you do anything about it?" she questioned.

"Yes, when I was thirteen..." I said as I recalled what had happened back then.

It was late December in Siberia, so most of us were out on holiday. I was hiding in the kitchen from Sonya and Viktoria, who were trying to make me play princess with them again. Sonya insisted that she paint my nails red. At nine years old, you would expect nothing less. And little Vika was only six, so she always followed her sister.

"Dimka, why must you hide from your sisters? You know they will start messing up the house without supervision. And without Babushka around and your sister Karolina pregnant, I can barely do things around the house." my mama said as she chopped vegetables and tossed them into the kettle.

"No mama, they will make me wear your dresses again! I don't want that!" I whined, their games always seemed to include me changing sex or marrying their dolls.

When I grew up I wanted to be a guardian like all the other Dhampir men out there. And I wanted to guard Ivan Zeklos, a royal Moroi who happened to also be my best friend. Of course, I also wanted to be a cowboy like the American movies on TV, but the Wild West no longer existed. And a six-foot tall, thirteen-year-old, Russian cowboy would be a rare sight to see; especially if he spent his time, "playing dress up with his little sisters."

My mother laughed. She was really pretty, even if she was an old lady of thirty-three and almost a grandmamma herself. I hoped if I ever got married, it would be to someone who would love me like she did.

"Okay Dimka, you can help me cook the stroganoff for dinner tonight." she said.

Out of nowhere, the doorbell rang.

"Could you please get that for me son?" my mother asked as she chopped away.

"Yes mama."

I left the kitchen and opened the door to find none other than Peter Lazar, a royal Moroi with a wild partying reputation and a history of alcohol abuse.

He was also my father.

"Hello there Daniel." his breath reeked of vodka. I could tell he was hitting the happy-juice hard before waltzing on over here.

"It's Dimitri." I replied coldly.

"Whatever floats your boat, little man. Or should I say not-so little! How tall are you, five-foot eight?"

"I'm six feet, old man." I answered back tersely.

"Ah, yes." he marveled, "I see that know. It has been a long time."

"Six years." I countered.

"Dimka who is that at the doo- Peter?" she gasped in shock. She wasn't too happy to see him.

"Hello Olena, still as beautiful as ever, I see." he smiled. I almost barfed.

"And you're still the same old drunken bastard of a ladies' man. Dimka honey, please go upstairs." she requested.

"But-" I began.

"NOW." she cut in trenchantly.

I solemnly made my way upstairs and shut my room door loudly.

With my heightened sense of hearing, I listened to the hushed arguing escalate into a fully fledged war of who shouted louder. The yells stopped abruptly with the song of shattering glass. Then I heard my mother scream.

I flew blindly down the steps and into the living room. Peter held mama by the arm as she tried to get away. Blood trickled down her temple.
I then noticed the broken vase on the floor. He smiled cruelly and grabbed a large piece of the glass. My mother's eyes grew wide in fear. She pleaded for her life.

Peter showed no mercy, he grabbed mama by the hair and sliced it off, leaving it super short.

"There, you look like a guardian now, which is what Dhampir bitches like you are SUPPOSED to do with your life." he pushed her onto the floor. She fell on top of the glass, causing my self-control to snap like a rubber band.

Not thinking, I charged up to him and punched him square along the jaw. I heard a satisfying crack beneath my fist. But I didn't stop there; I kept at him, flinging him across the room with a strength I didn't know I possessed.

I made him feel it all: every time he hit my mother, every time he touched her and almost raped her, every time he hit any of us, and a few for just how much I despised the man.

When I felt finished with him, I dragged his broken, bloody, defeated body out of the door and literally threw him out.

"If you EVER come near us, if you even set foot in Baia ever again, I will see to it that I will hunt you down and I will treat you as though you were Strigoi. Don't be surprised if you wake up and find a stake through your chest the next day... Of course... You wouldn't actually wake up." my words were like daggers.

I slammed the door, leaving him to freeze in the icy Siberian winter...

"So what happened?" Rose asked, snapping me back into focus.

"I beat him up." I smiled at the fact I did that malevolent man justice.

"Whoa, THAT'S AWESOME!" she squealed.

"Really?" I asked dubiously.

"Totally, I would've done the same thing." I remembered Rose had a very pugnacious reputation that she upheld constantly.

"Anyways, enough about me, can we get back to training?" I changed the subject.

"Sure Thing! I got the hang of it! I can totally beat you now."

I pushed aside all possible feelings I might have toward her and gave her a smug grin.

"Can you now, Roza? What do you say, best two out of three?"

"I say: BRING IT ON, COMRADE!" she laughed, and in those split seconds of warm laughter, she reminded me of my mother.