Author's note: I do not own the lyrics to Still / The Neva Flows. This fic is for fans by a fan only. Otherwise, please note this will be talking about death, guns, and violence in general.
Enjoy!
"Paris is no place for a good and loyal Russian."
This is what he told Anya, with fury on his face, as the two stood off against each other. Only one of them had been brave enough to die.
We are both good and loyal Russians, she had responded.
Was she still really good? Or loyal? Maybe she was, maybe not. Maybe running off with Dimitri was a mistake. But when she looked at him standing beside her… she forgot all of this. Then she looked away, and the memory continued.
I've come to take you home.
My home is here now.
Stop playing this game, Anya! I beg you.
You and I both know it's not a game, Gleb.
It wasn't a game. It wasn't a game. Anya told this to herself— it was not a game whatsoever. And that was final.
Yet…
If you really are Anastasia, do you think that history wants you to have lived?
Yes, she'd said desperately. Why don't you?
The words Gleb had said then were the ones she'd been most terrified of; that someone was going to hurt her because she was just that.
The Romanovs had everything, and gave back nothing, until the Russian people rose up and destroyed them!
She once had everything. She came out of it having nothing. And her rebellious side, her brave side that she so rarely explored, had made an appearance then, speaking. Anya understood the words coming out of her mouth, but they didn't make sense; they weren't her words.
All but one, she snapped. Finish it. I am my father's daughter.
AND I AM MY FATHER'S SON!
The click of the gun being set.
Finish it, I must.
The shot never came, not while he was speaking… telling his story…
My father shook his head and told me not to ask,
My mother said he died of shame
And through the story, Anya's rebellious side had spoken all the way through.
In me you see them… look at their faces in mine, hear their screams
Imagine their terror, see their blood
Gleb's voice rose, though, louder so he could make himself heard.
But I believe he did a proud and vital task,
And in my father's name
Anya spoke again:
Do it, she dared. Do it and I will be with my parents and brother and sisters in that cellar in Yekaterinburg all over again!
Gleb almost looked wary.
The children.. their voices… a man makes painful choices. He does what's necessary, Anya
For Russia, my beauty. What choice but simple duty?
We have a past to bury, Anya
His face set.
Soon, it will be spring… the leaves unfold, the Tsar lies cold
Be careful what a dream may bring
A revolution is a simple thing!
Those words might have been the last of what she'd heard. But Gleb… he needed healing too. He was afraid too. Of course he was.
And Anya showed him mercy. They'd shown each other mercy… and yet her fear had allowed her to run. Run away, with Dimitri, and tell her grandmother to let the world think she was dead.
And the Grand Duchess Anastasia was dead. Sometime along the way, she wasn't the Grand Duchess Anastasia anymore… somewhere along the way, she'd become Anya.
