Anya waded through fog, her hands reaching out for any obstacles she might stumble into. "Papa? Papa where are you?" She called out, receiving only silence as an answer. Her heart began to beat more rapidly, ice coating the blood in her veins. "Papa!" She screamed out, trying her hardest to ignore the razors of dread coursing through her.
Her foot stumbled over a fallen twig, nearly causing her to fall into a river that she swore hadn't been there moments ago. The water ran rapidly, carrying something large and almost animal looking towards her. Eyes squinted, she tried to make out if it was some sort of animal or just some wood from a fallen tree playing tricks on her eyes. As it came closer, she recognized a long, scraggly beard among disintegrating flesh. She closed her eyes trying to get rid of the ghastly image, and tried to back up until she felt herself collide with something solid.
Her eyes opened again to find that she was now in a small room, staring at soldiers who began shooting at the people who had appeared next to her. Frozen to the spot, she watched as the Romanovs were gunned down with no mercy. The blood rained down on her, and she screamed as she was coated in the blood of who knew how many, unsure if any of it was hers in the midst of the chaos. Rough arms picked her up to carry her off along with the rest of the bodies. She tried to dig in her heels but-
"Anya! Anya, wake up, you have to wake up!"
Looking around, she tried to see where the voice was coming from. She couldn't make out the words, but there was something familiar about it, despite the desperate and pleading tone.
"No!" She wailed, pounding her fists against her captor as he continued to try and drag her off. Rough, calloused hands cupped her face, and she opened her eyes to see there was no captor, only Dimitri. Her arms moved of their own accord, wrapping around his waist, as she sobbed into his chest while the rain pounded down upon them.
"So much blood… all these faces..." he heard her whisper painfully. The tear he felt in his heart that had been there as soon as Pooka had alerted him to her absence grew even deeper.
"It's okay. It was just a dream. You're alright now," he whispered into her hair reassuringly. He waited a minute before telling her he had to get her out of the rain. "Come on sweetheart," he coaxed, picking her up and carrying her back to their room.
She kept her head buried in his neck, the tears coming more slowly and silently now.
He let them in and set her down on the bed, with Vlad still sound asleep even amongst Pooka's racing clumsily towards them.
Anya picked Pooka up, holding him close to her chest like a child with a stuffed animal as Dimitri rummaged through the luggage looking for dry clothes for Anya to wear. Still shivering even after she changed, he wrapped his blanket around her. He could see tears still making tracks down her reddened cheeks and that tear just grew.
He had never seen her like this; like someone had smothered the fire that burned within her. The fire he found simultaneously infuriating and amusing and endearing. What could have happened in her nightmare to make her look so damn broken?
His hand reached out to wipe her tears before he could stop himself as Pooka curled up into her lap. Surprising him, she leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. He let out a sigh of relief that the tears finally seemed close to stopping.
"Dimitri," she spoke so softly he was afraid he had imagined it. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone, waiting for her to continue.
"I don't think this was a good idea," she said before taking a deep breath and continuing. "I keep seeing all of these faces… they feel so… so real. I've been learning so much about Anastasia, how do I know I'm not making up these faces I see? And if I am her… how could I bear it? Losing my whole family…parents, sisters, brother…" she trailed off.
"What if I never find out who I am? Or I find out who I am and it's her… and… I have to live with all of that? I don't know if I can. I don't know what's worse. I don't feel like I can do this anymore," she choked.
He moved to sit beside her and pulled her close to his side, kissing the top of her head.
Cautiously, he started to say, "If you are Anastasia… then you'll have the good memories of a family that love and adored you, and that you loved and adored. Memories of a family that would want you to go on and live a long happy life for them. They would want you to reunite with the grandmother you loved and cared so much for.
"If it turns out that you're not her… then we still know who you are. You're Anya. You're strong, brave, kind, and the most bull-headed woman I know." He earned a snort through her sniffles for the last comment.
"You're fierce and unstoppable, and no matter what happens, I'll be here. We'll figure it out together."
He kept holding her, knowing he should let her go but unable to. Finally, when her light snores began to mix with Pooka's, he carefully and regretfully unwound himself from her, slowly laying her down.
He stood up, stretching out before going to sit in front of the door, blocking anyone from getting out again, just in case the nightmares returned. He prayed they didn't and Anya could sleep peacefully for what remained of the night.
Sleep would not come for him anytime soon, with the thoughts that were jumbled around as he watched her breathing evenly and seemingly dreamlessly.
Dimitri had almost always been a selfish man. In the world he lived in, he had to be if he wanted to survive. Vlad was the only person alive that he had allowed himself to care about. Or, he was until a red haired spitfire crossed his path.
Recalling the first time he'd seen her, he had only seen her from the behind in her ragged clothes and red hair. Then she turned around with those wide blue eyes filled with so many things he couldn't name. Eyes that looked strikingly familiar to those portrayed in the painting conveniently behind her.
To have her suddenly appear after auditioning girl after girl made him feel like fate was finally smiling down on him even though he was sure he didn't deserve it.
He should have known it wouldn't last. Nothing wrong or bad had happened, per se, but that was also the problem. He found the perfect girl to play Anastasia, and she was indeed perfect.
Anya or Anastasia, regardless of name or title, Dimitri's feelings had changed drastically. What was once a means to an end was now something far more. Something that caused warmth to flood through him at seeing her smile while playing with Pooka or joking with Vlad, even if he was the butt of their jokes. It was the same thing that caused an unexplainable ache that happened every time that smile was yet another one that wasn't aimed at him. He was on the receiving end of far too few of them, even though he knew he was undeserving.
He was smarter than this, and had avoided it for so long. Caring about someone other than himself and Vlad. He felt downright stupid, having feelings for this unattainable, wonder of a woman. To say his feelings were all over the place was a gross understatement.
As sincere as his words to calm and comfort her were, he had no clue what the best possible outcome here would be.
If she was the same girl he had saved that fateful night, then almost all of her family was gone. How hard would it be to live through that not once, but twice? Knowing that you were the sole survivor of this brutal and violent massacre of your family? He almost wanted to call off the whole thing for that reason alone, to spare her the immense pain she would feel, and now knew already was.
And if she wasn't Anastasia, he continued to selfishly think, then she would just be Anya. They could be together, even if he couldn't give her the life she deserved right now, he would try his damnedest. That was, if she even wanted to be with him. Which, why would she?
Dimitri groaned, wondering at exactly what point in this journey things had become so complicated.
