Hello! Thanks for the reviews (the ones I got, at least . . . ) Thanks for
taking the time, it's really appreciated.
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The music in the elegantly ornate ball room rose to a climax and the couples dancing swirled to a dramatic stop. As the guests got ready for the next dance, whispers flowed throughout the room about the missing Princess Anastasia's return. The glittering jewels, intricate hair styles, and silk gloves decorating the women matched their bright, colourful dresses, and Anya could only stare. The men were all wearing suits, as splendid as the ones they had worn at the Russian ballet last night. Anya had seen many people dressed up earlier, but that hardly compared with tonight. Last night she had been too anxious about her meeting with the Dowager Empress to pay attention to the splendor that surrounded her, but now . . . now it was like a blow to the face, so unexpected was it.
Behind the curtain at the front of the room, where the grand, coronation chair stood, Anya paced to and fro. Perched on her head, atop her skillfully worked hair, her crown sat, glimmering like a drop of dew. Her coronation gown clung to her slender body; the richly embroidered skirts trailing gracefully behind her. But there was nothing graceful about the way she felt. Anya's stomach was flipping around like a wheel on a train, and when she reached up to fiddle with her necklace, the one she had worn for years, she realized that it wasn't there; it was in her room with the music box.
The music box. That little present Grandmama had given her had been lost, just like she, Anastasia had been lost; but it had been found, and it had reunited Anya with her grandmother and reminded her of her real life: the life of a princess.
But the life Anya was about to enter was the last thing on her mind as she, finally overcome by curiosity, pulled back the curtain and peeked through to the other side. The side filled with titled ladies and wealthy gentlemen, golden pocket watches and impressive pedigrees. Her eyes searched in vain, hoping to see his familiar walk; the cocky flip of hair out of his eyes; the somewhat awkward way he stood when around people of high breeding that he didn't know. Anya thought back to their last conversation and winced. Dimitri had taken the reward and left, just like that. He'd said goodbye, she supposed, but it hadn't happened like she thought it would. In her mind she had seen herself regally turning her head away as he walked past, and him going after her, insisting that she listen to what he had to say; that he hadn't taken the money and that he wanted to- - to what? she wondered. Anya didn't know. The fantasy ended there. She couldn't really say what he would do or what he wanted. And since he had taken the reward money, it was a bit pointless to imagine that he hadn't. Why else would he have been at the house?
Still, Anya couldn't let go of the one last hope that he had come, even to just see her.
Marie watched her granddaughter peer though the curtains toward the dancing couples. Sighing rather heavily, she shook her head. Earlier in her office, Dimitri had tried not to show anything of what he felt, but Marie could tell that he was in love with her granddaughter. The way he hadn't met her eye, not accepting the reward money, wanting Anastasia to be happy, and that change of heart statement . . . Had he really thought she wouldn't see into it? Or perhaps he had meant for her to know. Perhaps he thought she might do something that would make Anastasia see . . .
Walking up to Anya, the Empress said, sounding very nonchalant indeed after years of practice, "He's not there." She wondered if her granddaughter would respond the way she thought she would.
Anya sighed dejectedly. She didn't need to be told what she already knew. It had just been a silly, girlish hope anyway. She hadn't seriously thought Dimitri would show up; and yet she couldn't honestly say that her heart didn't pang a little more at the thought of it being true.
"Oh," Anya said, trying to convince herself, "I-- I know he's not. He's . . ." She blinked. How had Grandmama known she'd been looking for Dimitri? She hadn't been whispering his name out loud, had she? If she had she'd never hear the end of it. Trying to cover up her blunder, and failing rather horribly, Anya cocked her head to one side and asked innocently, "Who's not there, Grandmama?"
The Empress had to fight back a smile and looked out at the group assembled for the coronation ceremony. She had been right. Anastasia had been thinking of him; perhaps hoping --even if she had known all along that he wasn't there-- hoping all the same that he would come.
Pretending not to notice her granddaughter's sudden uneasiness and fake innocence, Marie replied, "A remarkable young man, who found a music box . . ."
Anya knew when she was beat. "No, he's probably too busy spending his reward money as fast as he can," she said, her heart sinking even more as she uttered the words in a bitter tone. All this was doing was reminding her that Dimitri has tried to use her in a scam to get a lonely old woman's money.
Feeling the unwillingness to talk about such things, Marie thought it wise to change the subject. She gestured to the crowd beyond the curtain. "Look at them dance!" she said, remembering a time when she would have joined in with them. Marie turned to Anastasia, not wanting to give up her granddaughter who was more precious to her than anything, yet knowing if she didn't speak now, Anastasia could never be truly happy. "You were born into this world of glittering jewels and fine titles, but I wonder if this is what you really want."
The curtain fell back into place as Anya dropped it out of shock. Not knowing what Grandmama was talking about at all, she looked at her in confusion. Of course this was what she wanted! She had found her home; the thing she had been looking for all her life. Why wouldn't she really want this? All the rules and proper stuff may not be the best, but Anya was ready to give up almost anything to keep her new-found home. "Of course, of course it is. I found what I was looking for. I found my home. I found you."
Marie nodded, understandingly. Her Anastasia was still so young, so innocent, so confused. She didn't know what she wanted. "Yes, you did find me," the Empress said, "and you'll always have me. But is it enough?" She looked at her Anastasia for a moment. "Your home is in your heart; in the future that you make for yourself. Do you understand the choice you must make?"
Anya looked at her, bewildered, again. What choice? What was Grandmama talking about? Choosing between her and Dimitri? There wasn't even any comparison between the two. Anya would never go to Dimitri, no matter how much she felt. He had used her to help himself, and that was unforgivable. She shook her head. "This is my future. This is who I am. There's no choice- -"
Holding up a hand, Marie stopped her from going on. "This is who you were. Exactly who you are is up to you."
"I don't know who I am! I still don't know!" Anya bust out. After she said it, she realised it was true-- it had to be true. She didn't know, even though she had found her family, her grandmother. She knew that she was Princess Anastasia, yes, but . . .
"Yes, you do," Marie insisted. Deep down, she felt certain Anastasia knew who she was. She just needed to be reminded.
"I've spent my whole life waiting to find you--"
"And we have found each other; nothing will ever change that." Marie shook her head, and gathered Anya up in her arms. "I'm your family, but I may not be your home," she whispered into Anya's hair. Backing away, Marie knew she had to tell Anastasia the truth about Dimitri. Not knowing what he had done was blinding her granddaughter from knowing her true self, what she really wanted. Now that she really thought about it, Marie knew that what Dimitri had done, not accepting the reward, it had all been done because he loved Anastasia and he had returned her to her family because it had been what she wanted. And he had wanted her to be happy. The Dowager Empress Marie looked at Anya with tears in her eyes.
"My darling," she said, grasping Anya's hands in her own. "He didn't take the money."
Anya's mouth dropped. No, no, Grandmama must be mistaken! There was no way . . . Last night at the ballet she had learned that he had been using her to get the money all along. So why would he change his mind about what he had been after the whole time, when she had already been accepted by the Dowager Empress as Anastasia? No, Anya had seen for herself-- she had seen him at the house today, and he hadn't denied anything about taking the money. She had told him she was glad he had found what he was looking for, and she hadn't meant it at all! She had thought he had gotten his money, and she had just been trying to make him feel the least bit shameful about the way he had used her, and he hadn't retaliated at all except to say that he was glad for her too. And now Grandmama was saying that what she had, what she had found, wasn't what she had been looking for all along! How confusing this all was! But if Dimitri hadn't taken the money, why had he led her to believe that he had? So she would hate him for using her? Why would he want her to hate him? Anya had thought that they had been getting on quite well --they had become good friends, perhaps a bit more than friends-- so why would he want her to hate him? And oh! She had told him she hoped he enjoyed his fortune, and he hadn't even opened his mouth except to wish her goodbye. Why? Why had he lied about taking the money?
Anya's breath caught in her chest. If he hadn't taken the money . . . That meant he hadn't used her. The only thing he had done was reunite her with her grandmother. Dimitri had smuggled her out of Russia, paid for her steamship ticket, bought her a dress, taught her all about the Romanovs, and snuck his way into her heart. And he hadn't taken the reward money of ten million rubles. It was pretty . . . sweet.
"He . . . didn't?" she asked, still dazed by her discovery.
Marie smiled at her. "He just wanted to make sure you were happy," she said.
Dimitri wanted her to be happy . . . was that why he had let her believe he had taken the money? But how could he think she'd be happy if she thought he had used her? Suddenly Anya knew what Grandmama had been talking about when she said that being a princess wasn't what she wanted.
"Knowing that you are alive, seeing the woman you have become, brings me joy I never thought I could feel again." Marie embraced Anya again, then, gently pulling away, she drew back the curtain and looked out at the crowd. Now Anastasia knew; and she would choose. She would choose what she wanted, what she had been meant to do. Having been reunited with her granddaughter, even if it had been for just this short time, Marie felt like it was enough. She could rest peacefully now, knowing what had happened to her favourite granddaughter, knowing she was safe and happy.
Marie turned to Anya again. "Whatever you chose, we will always have each other."
Somewhat still uncertain, Anya hesitated a moment too long. "Grandmama, can't you tell me--" But she was gone; Marie had slipped through the curtains.
Anya frowned. She knew that Dimitri hadn't taken the reward money; he hadn't taken if for her. And Grandmama seemed to think that she should go find him and abandon this new life she had found. Anya took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and was about to pass through the pulled back curtain, when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She stopped cold, staring at herself. What she saw was a beautiful, regal, prim and proper young lady; elegant coronation gown, sparkling crown; the Princess Anastasia. Princess Anastasia maybe, but not who she was; not Anya. Suddenly the crown seemed a bit too heavy, a bit not right for her.
Anya looked away, still uncertain with what she should do. Should she go after Dimitri, wherever he had disappeared to, as Grandmama seemed to think she should? Or should she stay in this new, strange life filled with embroidered handkerchiefs, flashing jewels, regal titles, and curiously suggestive French phrases? When she had first gotten to Paris she had felt, even though born into the system, that this new life would never fit her quite right. It wasn't who she was. Suddenly realising this, Anya let the curtain drop again and stood still. She would go after Dimitri, wherever he was. She would find him. He had to know how she felt. He must have sensed it, all those times when their hands had brushed and the curious tingles had traveled down her spine. Or when they had been getting out of Russia on the train and Dimitri had been trying to get the baggage car to stop and he had slipped and she had grabbed his hand and their faces had been so close together. Or when they had learned to waltz together on the deck of the ship crossing over from Germany and suddenly there had been that pause and everything else on the deck seemed to disappear and it had been just the two of them, and all of her attention had suddenly been focused on his lips and she couldn't seem to draw her gaze away from them. He must have felt the same-- he had been there too, after all.
Anya was suddenly shaken out of her reverie by someone calling her name.
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And you'll have to wait for the next chapter! Lol. Oh, and sorry about the French phrase thing; I just couldn't help myself. I watched Anatomy of a Murder with Jimmy Stewart last night, and this judge said something about how most French words were suggestive. No offense meant to any French people; I just thought it was kind of funny.
Please read and review!
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The music in the elegantly ornate ball room rose to a climax and the couples dancing swirled to a dramatic stop. As the guests got ready for the next dance, whispers flowed throughout the room about the missing Princess Anastasia's return. The glittering jewels, intricate hair styles, and silk gloves decorating the women matched their bright, colourful dresses, and Anya could only stare. The men were all wearing suits, as splendid as the ones they had worn at the Russian ballet last night. Anya had seen many people dressed up earlier, but that hardly compared with tonight. Last night she had been too anxious about her meeting with the Dowager Empress to pay attention to the splendor that surrounded her, but now . . . now it was like a blow to the face, so unexpected was it.
Behind the curtain at the front of the room, where the grand, coronation chair stood, Anya paced to and fro. Perched on her head, atop her skillfully worked hair, her crown sat, glimmering like a drop of dew. Her coronation gown clung to her slender body; the richly embroidered skirts trailing gracefully behind her. But there was nothing graceful about the way she felt. Anya's stomach was flipping around like a wheel on a train, and when she reached up to fiddle with her necklace, the one she had worn for years, she realized that it wasn't there; it was in her room with the music box.
The music box. That little present Grandmama had given her had been lost, just like she, Anastasia had been lost; but it had been found, and it had reunited Anya with her grandmother and reminded her of her real life: the life of a princess.
But the life Anya was about to enter was the last thing on her mind as she, finally overcome by curiosity, pulled back the curtain and peeked through to the other side. The side filled with titled ladies and wealthy gentlemen, golden pocket watches and impressive pedigrees. Her eyes searched in vain, hoping to see his familiar walk; the cocky flip of hair out of his eyes; the somewhat awkward way he stood when around people of high breeding that he didn't know. Anya thought back to their last conversation and winced. Dimitri had taken the reward and left, just like that. He'd said goodbye, she supposed, but it hadn't happened like she thought it would. In her mind she had seen herself regally turning her head away as he walked past, and him going after her, insisting that she listen to what he had to say; that he hadn't taken the money and that he wanted to- - to what? she wondered. Anya didn't know. The fantasy ended there. She couldn't really say what he would do or what he wanted. And since he had taken the reward money, it was a bit pointless to imagine that he hadn't. Why else would he have been at the house?
Still, Anya couldn't let go of the one last hope that he had come, even to just see her.
Marie watched her granddaughter peer though the curtains toward the dancing couples. Sighing rather heavily, she shook her head. Earlier in her office, Dimitri had tried not to show anything of what he felt, but Marie could tell that he was in love with her granddaughter. The way he hadn't met her eye, not accepting the reward money, wanting Anastasia to be happy, and that change of heart statement . . . Had he really thought she wouldn't see into it? Or perhaps he had meant for her to know. Perhaps he thought she might do something that would make Anastasia see . . .
Walking up to Anya, the Empress said, sounding very nonchalant indeed after years of practice, "He's not there." She wondered if her granddaughter would respond the way she thought she would.
Anya sighed dejectedly. She didn't need to be told what she already knew. It had just been a silly, girlish hope anyway. She hadn't seriously thought Dimitri would show up; and yet she couldn't honestly say that her heart didn't pang a little more at the thought of it being true.
"Oh," Anya said, trying to convince herself, "I-- I know he's not. He's . . ." She blinked. How had Grandmama known she'd been looking for Dimitri? She hadn't been whispering his name out loud, had she? If she had she'd never hear the end of it. Trying to cover up her blunder, and failing rather horribly, Anya cocked her head to one side and asked innocently, "Who's not there, Grandmama?"
The Empress had to fight back a smile and looked out at the group assembled for the coronation ceremony. She had been right. Anastasia had been thinking of him; perhaps hoping --even if she had known all along that he wasn't there-- hoping all the same that he would come.
Pretending not to notice her granddaughter's sudden uneasiness and fake innocence, Marie replied, "A remarkable young man, who found a music box . . ."
Anya knew when she was beat. "No, he's probably too busy spending his reward money as fast as he can," she said, her heart sinking even more as she uttered the words in a bitter tone. All this was doing was reminding her that Dimitri has tried to use her in a scam to get a lonely old woman's money.
Feeling the unwillingness to talk about such things, Marie thought it wise to change the subject. She gestured to the crowd beyond the curtain. "Look at them dance!" she said, remembering a time when she would have joined in with them. Marie turned to Anastasia, not wanting to give up her granddaughter who was more precious to her than anything, yet knowing if she didn't speak now, Anastasia could never be truly happy. "You were born into this world of glittering jewels and fine titles, but I wonder if this is what you really want."
The curtain fell back into place as Anya dropped it out of shock. Not knowing what Grandmama was talking about at all, she looked at her in confusion. Of course this was what she wanted! She had found her home; the thing she had been looking for all her life. Why wouldn't she really want this? All the rules and proper stuff may not be the best, but Anya was ready to give up almost anything to keep her new-found home. "Of course, of course it is. I found what I was looking for. I found my home. I found you."
Marie nodded, understandingly. Her Anastasia was still so young, so innocent, so confused. She didn't know what she wanted. "Yes, you did find me," the Empress said, "and you'll always have me. But is it enough?" She looked at her Anastasia for a moment. "Your home is in your heart; in the future that you make for yourself. Do you understand the choice you must make?"
Anya looked at her, bewildered, again. What choice? What was Grandmama talking about? Choosing between her and Dimitri? There wasn't even any comparison between the two. Anya would never go to Dimitri, no matter how much she felt. He had used her to help himself, and that was unforgivable. She shook her head. "This is my future. This is who I am. There's no choice- -"
Holding up a hand, Marie stopped her from going on. "This is who you were. Exactly who you are is up to you."
"I don't know who I am! I still don't know!" Anya bust out. After she said it, she realised it was true-- it had to be true. She didn't know, even though she had found her family, her grandmother. She knew that she was Princess Anastasia, yes, but . . .
"Yes, you do," Marie insisted. Deep down, she felt certain Anastasia knew who she was. She just needed to be reminded.
"I've spent my whole life waiting to find you--"
"And we have found each other; nothing will ever change that." Marie shook her head, and gathered Anya up in her arms. "I'm your family, but I may not be your home," she whispered into Anya's hair. Backing away, Marie knew she had to tell Anastasia the truth about Dimitri. Not knowing what he had done was blinding her granddaughter from knowing her true self, what she really wanted. Now that she really thought about it, Marie knew that what Dimitri had done, not accepting the reward, it had all been done because he loved Anastasia and he had returned her to her family because it had been what she wanted. And he had wanted her to be happy. The Dowager Empress Marie looked at Anya with tears in her eyes.
"My darling," she said, grasping Anya's hands in her own. "He didn't take the money."
Anya's mouth dropped. No, no, Grandmama must be mistaken! There was no way . . . Last night at the ballet she had learned that he had been using her to get the money all along. So why would he change his mind about what he had been after the whole time, when she had already been accepted by the Dowager Empress as Anastasia? No, Anya had seen for herself-- she had seen him at the house today, and he hadn't denied anything about taking the money. She had told him she was glad he had found what he was looking for, and she hadn't meant it at all! She had thought he had gotten his money, and she had just been trying to make him feel the least bit shameful about the way he had used her, and he hadn't retaliated at all except to say that he was glad for her too. And now Grandmama was saying that what she had, what she had found, wasn't what she had been looking for all along! How confusing this all was! But if Dimitri hadn't taken the money, why had he led her to believe that he had? So she would hate him for using her? Why would he want her to hate him? Anya had thought that they had been getting on quite well --they had become good friends, perhaps a bit more than friends-- so why would he want her to hate him? And oh! She had told him she hoped he enjoyed his fortune, and he hadn't even opened his mouth except to wish her goodbye. Why? Why had he lied about taking the money?
Anya's breath caught in her chest. If he hadn't taken the money . . . That meant he hadn't used her. The only thing he had done was reunite her with her grandmother. Dimitri had smuggled her out of Russia, paid for her steamship ticket, bought her a dress, taught her all about the Romanovs, and snuck his way into her heart. And he hadn't taken the reward money of ten million rubles. It was pretty . . . sweet.
"He . . . didn't?" she asked, still dazed by her discovery.
Marie smiled at her. "He just wanted to make sure you were happy," she said.
Dimitri wanted her to be happy . . . was that why he had let her believe he had taken the money? But how could he think she'd be happy if she thought he had used her? Suddenly Anya knew what Grandmama had been talking about when she said that being a princess wasn't what she wanted.
"Knowing that you are alive, seeing the woman you have become, brings me joy I never thought I could feel again." Marie embraced Anya again, then, gently pulling away, she drew back the curtain and looked out at the crowd. Now Anastasia knew; and she would choose. She would choose what she wanted, what she had been meant to do. Having been reunited with her granddaughter, even if it had been for just this short time, Marie felt like it was enough. She could rest peacefully now, knowing what had happened to her favourite granddaughter, knowing she was safe and happy.
Marie turned to Anya again. "Whatever you chose, we will always have each other."
Somewhat still uncertain, Anya hesitated a moment too long. "Grandmama, can't you tell me--" But she was gone; Marie had slipped through the curtains.
Anya frowned. She knew that Dimitri hadn't taken the reward money; he hadn't taken if for her. And Grandmama seemed to think that she should go find him and abandon this new life she had found. Anya took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and was about to pass through the pulled back curtain, when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She stopped cold, staring at herself. What she saw was a beautiful, regal, prim and proper young lady; elegant coronation gown, sparkling crown; the Princess Anastasia. Princess Anastasia maybe, but not who she was; not Anya. Suddenly the crown seemed a bit too heavy, a bit not right for her.
Anya looked away, still uncertain with what she should do. Should she go after Dimitri, wherever he had disappeared to, as Grandmama seemed to think she should? Or should she stay in this new, strange life filled with embroidered handkerchiefs, flashing jewels, regal titles, and curiously suggestive French phrases? When she had first gotten to Paris she had felt, even though born into the system, that this new life would never fit her quite right. It wasn't who she was. Suddenly realising this, Anya let the curtain drop again and stood still. She would go after Dimitri, wherever he was. She would find him. He had to know how she felt. He must have sensed it, all those times when their hands had brushed and the curious tingles had traveled down her spine. Or when they had been getting out of Russia on the train and Dimitri had been trying to get the baggage car to stop and he had slipped and she had grabbed his hand and their faces had been so close together. Or when they had learned to waltz together on the deck of the ship crossing over from Germany and suddenly there had been that pause and everything else on the deck seemed to disappear and it had been just the two of them, and all of her attention had suddenly been focused on his lips and she couldn't seem to draw her gaze away from them. He must have felt the same-- he had been there too, after all.
Anya was suddenly shaken out of her reverie by someone calling her name.
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And you'll have to wait for the next chapter! Lol. Oh, and sorry about the French phrase thing; I just couldn't help myself. I watched Anatomy of a Murder with Jimmy Stewart last night, and this judge said something about how most French words were suggestive. No offense meant to any French people; I just thought it was kind of funny.
Please read and review!