Heart and Soul
This is a story based (kinda) off of Anastasia Romanov, but with REALLY different ending.
Anastasia (Anette) Collin—young: Hayley Erin
Anastasia (Anette) Collin—older: Taylor Momsen (minus ton of eyeliner)
Peter Vaugn—young: Jimmy Bennett
Peter Vaugn—older: Richard Fleeshman
Song: Nemo by Nightwish (it really makes sense after you read a chapter or two and you've heard the song. Nemo translates literally into 'No one' in Latin.) Memories by Within Temptation. Jillian by Within Temptation.
*To see what Anastasia's red ball gown looks like, go to .?googleimage first column, far right.*
Chapter I:
Anastasia sat down and looked at herself in the mirror. At only fourteen, she could carry herself with a confidence that no other girl her age would manage to accomplish. But she was a princess; it was her job.
She sighed and smoothed down her red silk dress and ran a hand gently over her soft wavy blond hair, which reached her waist.
There was a knock on her door before her father—King Frederick Collin—walked into the room. He smiled when he saw her.
"Anastasia," he said, sitting down. "Can I have a word before everyone starts arriving for the ball?"
She nodded. "Of course, Father." She smiled and turned to face her father. She wasn't at all curious about what he would say; before important balls like this one, he usually told her to be on her best behavior and stay close to her fiancé, Paul James, a very important lord. He also told her to stay away from her best friend, the kitchen helper, Peter, which she usually ignored and talked to him anyways.
"Tonight is of very much significance, Anastasia; you know that," he started. "It is the five-hundred year anniversary of the Collin family ruling the great Navera. It is necessary, of course, that you stay with Paul and keep away from Peter, for just one night," he added when he saw her expression. "Just one night, daughter."
"But Father," she pleaded. "Paul is sixteen, and he treats me like a child. Peter is my best friend, and a better influence than Paul."
"No matter. Paul has a title and he influences society. You need to stay with him and away from Peter. No more discussion." He smiled, the skin by his eyes crinkling. He held up two boxes; one short and about the size of her palm and the other a little taller and bigger than her palm. "I got these for you."
She reached for the boxes and opened the flatter one first, revealing a necklace completely made of diamonds, which ended with a teardrop diamond. She gasped and touched it gently. She managed to tear her eyes away from the beautiful necklace and open the bigger box. In it was an intricate silver tiara, diamonds implanted in the silver, and a matching teardrop diamond on the top of it. She put her hand to her mouth to hide the smile that was building on her face.
"They're so beautiful," she whispered. Her father smiled.
"You're becoming a lovely young woman, Anastasia. It's time you were treated like one as well." With that, he stood up, kissed Anastasia on the forehead, and left the room. She stood up and walked to the larger, stand-up mirror and fasted the necklace around her throat. It stopped just above the start of her dress. Then she reached up and placed the tiara softly onto her hair.
She smiled at herself and took one last look at herself; the silky red fabric that clung in the right places, the full skirt, and then tight sleeves that started just below her shoulders, on her arms. She was beautiful, she knew it.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," she murmered to herself. "Who is the fairest of them all?"
"Well, I'm no mirror, but my answer would have to be you, Princess," Peter said from behind her. She turned around, smiling. She walked over and hit his arm lightly.
"That," she said. "Was a rhetorical question." She laughed and hugged him. He hesitated before hugging her back. Peter was fifteen; a year older than she was, which was probably why she had become friends with him. He was the closest to her age.
"I'm still obligated to voice my opinion, Princess." He looked at her tiara and necklace and smiled. "New accessories?"
Anastasia smiled wider and nodded. "Aren't they beautiful?" She twirled in a circle, her already full skirt flaring out more. "Now be honest; how do I look?"
Peter cocked his head to the side. "Didn't I already say you were beautiful? The fairest of them all?"
Anastasia beamed. "Thank you!"
"Anastasia? Come, Lord Paul will be here soon," her older brother, Raymond, said from behind Peter.
She frowned at Paul's name, looking at Peter, who avoided her gaze. "I have to go," she said sadly. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, then." Peter bowed and left, and Anastasia joined Raymond.
He frowned at her. "You and I both know that Paul would not approve of you speaking to Peter."
"You and I both know I don't give a damn of what Paul thinks," Anastasia replied without thinking. Ramon gave her a sharp look.
"Anastasia, we are the future of Navera! Don't go and ruining it for yourself by associating with servants and speaking like one." He put his hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off.
"Peter is my friend, Raymond; I'm not ruining it for myself. I simply like to have fun, something you have obviously never discovered for yourself," she snapped at him. She picked up her skirts and stepped down the grand staircase, to where her father and mother stood by the door, along with Lady Beatrice, Raymond's wife, and Lord Paul. I shuttered, thinking that, in three years, I would be his wife. She saw her little five-year old sister, Janice. She looked just like Anastasia's favorite aunt, Judith, who was the Duchess of Beck. She would hopefully be at the ball tonight; it would give them a chance to talk and an excuse for her to be away from Paul, because he didn't like Aunt Judith very much. She faked a smile at Paul, who rolled his eyes. She frowned.
She stopped by Paul's side, and he put his hand on her shoulder, pulling her to his side. She made a disgusted sound and pushed him away. Her father shot her a warning glance and she sighed, moving an inch closer to her fiancé. He put his hand on her shoulder again and she was once again by his side. He moved his hand to her waist and she jumped.
She felt eyes burning a hole in her back and she turned to see Peter walking back to the kitchen, most likely having handed something to a waiter, and he turned his eyes away from her, his cheeks red.
Anastasia looked at the ground and pulled away from Paul, and bent down to hug Janice, and set her tiny tiara back into place. Janice laughed, her high voice carrying through the room. Anastasia straightened back up and moved a little closer to Paul as the first guest walked through the door. Anastasia recognized her immediately.
"Aunt Judith!" she cried, hugging the woman tightly. Judith hugged her back.
"Anastasia, darling!" she said. "My, you look so grown up! How old are you now? Eighteen?"
Anastasia laughed and shook her head. Her aunt wasn't serious; she, like Anastasia, enjoyed jokes and fun. "Thirteen, Aunt Judith. Do I have to remind you every time you visit?"
"I'm getting old, sweet," Aunt Judith said. She wasn't old, not really. She was about thirty, which, in Anastasia's book, didn't count yet.
"You're not old, Aunt Judith," she replied. She hugged her again, her smile staying on her face. "How have you been?"
"I've been good, darling. How have you been? And Peter? Oh, I've always like Peter. He's so funny!" she clapped her hands.
Anastasia smiled. "I've been good, too. I think Peter has been, we were talking earlier." She looked around for him, but not seeing him.
Aunt Judith leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "I prefer Peter to that boring block Paul."
Anastasia covered her mouth to hide a laugh and replied quietly, "Me, too. Why don't you tell Father that?"
Aunt Judith shook her head. "As his little sister it is his job not to listen to me. I thought you would know that, with Raymond."
Anastasia shrugged. "I do, but we hardly ever get to see you, and you know that he misses you."
More people started filing into the ballroom. Aunt Judith smiled and patted Anastasia's shoulder and walked away. Anastasia rolled her eyes, and Paul grabbed her arms.
"Dance with me, Anastasia," Paul commanded. She sighed and nodded. Paul took her hand, raising it to be even with their shoulders. She put her hand on his shoulder and he put his on her waist.
Soon they were twirling along with everyone else. Anastasia hated dancing with him, because, unlike others, he didn't talk or laugh or even smile. In fact, he criticized her when she missed a step or stumbled.
Anastasia looked around the room, trying to find a reason to stop dancing with Paul. By now the ballroom was flooded with people. She saw one of her cousins, Bartholomew, who everyone just called Bart, and pulled away from Paul.
"I'm going to say hello to Bart," she said, pushing through the crowd. She smiled and hugged her cousin.
"Anastasia!" Bart cried, hugging her back. "I haven't seen you in such a long time! You've actually gotten taller."
Anastasia rolled her eyes. Bart always teased her because she was short than him, even though he was three years older. "I think you got shorter," she replied.
Bart smirked and tapped her nose. "Where's Paul? Aren't you supposed to be dancing with him?"
Anastasia looked past him. "Oh look, there's someone else I need to talk to!" She said and hurried away.
She spotted Peter back in one of the smaller ballrooms and picked up her skirts so she could speak to him before he left. She caught his shoulder. "Peter," she said, smiling. "Hello."
"Princess," he nodded, barely acknowledging her. He picked up the towel he had been using and slung it over his shoulder.
Anastasia frowned. "What? Why are you treating me like this?" she demanded.
"Shouldn't you be dancing with your fiancé?" Peter asked, still avoiding her gaze as he walked towards the kitchen.
She understood. "Is that what this is about? Paul? Peter, you know that I don't like him at all."
"Does that matter?" he began wiping off a table near the kitchen. "He is still your fiancé, and nothing will change your father's mind. But if I am not out of line asking this, who do you even like?" Peter turned and met her gaze.
"I have two or three years to change his mind, Peter, it is not set in stone," she argued, avoiding his other question for the moment. Then she sighed and said, "Would you truly like to know? Who I care about?"
Peter paused. "Would it be too much to ask of you, Princess?" he finally said.
Anastasia turned his face towards hers. "You. I care about you, above any other man," she replied honestly.
Peter didn't reply. He grabbed the towel and walked into the kitchen. Anastasia felt her throat become thick with tears, but she swallowed them back. She would be allowed to cry later, alone, but not in front of all these people.
She turned on her heel and strode out of the small ballroom and back into the largest one, looking at the grand clock above the dining hall doors. Soon her father would be calling everyone into the hall for dinner.
"There you are!" Paul said. "Your father wants you in the grand dining hall now, before everyone else goes."
Anastasia nodded and hurried off to do as her father wished. She mounted the steps that led to the royal family's dining area and sat in her spot, left of Raymond. Janice sat on her left and then came Beatrice and finally Paul. He came last because they were not yet married. When they were she would be seated by him and Raymond by Beatrice with Janice at the end.
Anastasia sat and fixed her tiara. Then she turned to Janice and smiled sadly, repositioning the little girl's tiara on her silky blond curls.
Soon the rest of the guests filed in, but Paul had not come to his spot on the table. She looked around for him but could not see him anywhere. She sighed.
Her father stood up and tapped on his glass. "Settle down, everyone, settle down," he was preparing for his speech. "As you all know, today is the five-hundredth year anniversary of the Collin reign over Navera. This is something that has never happened before. I want to know that, as your king, it has been many, many fine years of ruling. In this next coming year, I shall step down and my son, Prince Raymond, and his wife, Lady Beatrice, will take up where my beautiful queen and I left off. So! Let us enjoy this fabulous feast that has been prepared for us!"
"Not just yet," someone said from below. She looked down and saw Paul walking to the center of the hall. "I am sure I am not the only one that has thought this. Five hundred years is far too long for one family to rule. And tonight, that will change. Tonight, every Collin in this room," he paused and smiled evilly. "Shall be no more. Kill them all! Every one of them!"
Soldiers in black uniforms flooded out from hiding spots. Some stayed on the ground and held up cross bows, and others marched up with clubs and swords.
"Go!" Father yelled at Anastasia, Raymond, and Janice. "Get away from here!" He was hit square in the chest with an arrow and he fell onto the table, dead.
Mother screamed and a soldier slit her throat. Raymond shoved at her arm. "You heard him! Go!" he cried. Beatrice was slumped on the table, an arrow showing through the back of her head.
Anastasia got up and pulled Janice along with them, running for the stairs. Suddenly there was a weight on them and she stumbled and hit the floor. She looked back in horror as her brother's lifeless eyes stared at her. She scrambled up and a soldier with a sword tried to cut her, and managed to cut a long deep gash running up her right forearm.
She gasped and pulled Janice along. Suddenly part of the wall swung open and hit the soldier with the sword in the face.
"In here! Hurry!" Peter whispered. Anastasia took his outstretched hand and entered the dark tunnel.
"Wait! Janice!" she said, turning back just in time to see Janice fall to the ground, blood pooling around her little body. She covered her mouth in horror. Peter pulled her through the thin, dark hallway.
"There are two horses outside. I've already gotten Judith to one of them. You take the other and get out of here," he said, opening the back of the hallway.
"Peter," she gasped. "You must come with me! You cannot stay here or you will surely be killed!"
"Anastasia," he said quietly, cupping her face in his hands. He had never called her by her first name only before. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers for a quick second before pulling back.
He slipped off his pale blue string bracelet and slid it onto her right wrist. "I promise I'll find you again," he whispered. He pushed her towards the waiting horse and she stumbled, and realized her tiara had fallen off.
She didn't care. Peter would find her again and when he did he would kiss her again. Everything would be okay.
Anastasia scrambled onto the horse and her aunt looked at her, relieved. "Thank God you're okay!"
"Someone's escaping!" someone yelled from the tower. "Get horses! Go after them! Kill them!"
Anastasia and Aunt Judith whipped the horses and they ran out of the palace gates. The sound of more horses galloping behind them filled her ears.
When they turned onto the third street, a cat streaked across, in front of Anastasia's horse. It neighed and reeled back onto its back feet.
Anastasia managed one short scream before her head cracked onto the ground.