Disclaimer: I don't own Anastasia or any of the characters therein.

Chapter Two

Dimitri woke to sunlight filtering through the dirty window, and the aroma and sound of frying eggs. He yawned and stretched, flinching as the muscles in his arm pulled against the weakened bone. He held the arm tight against him, clenching his teeth against the pain. His stomach growled, reminding him that he had had nothing to eat for over twenty-four hours.

The boy turned his attention to the tiny stove across the room where Vlad stood, preparing breakfast. "Good morning sir," Dimitri called.

"Ah, good morning my boy! Are you ready for a hearty zavtrak?" Vlad answered cheerily, motioning to the eggs sizzling on the stove.

Dimitri nodded eagerly and rose, pacing over to the table. He hesitated. "Is there anything I may do sir?"

"No, no, no Dimitri! Sit down, please, and know you do not need to address me so formally. To you I am simply 'Vlad'. Just as, to me, you are simply Dimitri."

Dimitri did as he was bidden, seating himself in the nearest chair. He felt very uncomfortable; at the palace he was accustomed to eating last, and then only after much work. Being treated as an equal by this man, who was obviously of more quality than he, was both a compliment and unnerving.

The food was on the table shortly. The two ate silently; the whole while Dimitri was uneasy with the arrangement. Eventually Dimitri's discomfiture prompted Vlad to break the silence.

"I heard the most unusual news in the market this morning," Vlad began slowly. When the boy looked up from his plate with a keen spark of interest in his eye, the elder deemed the subject worthy of continuance. "Apparently Grigori Rasputin, the so-called 'Mad Monk', was found drowned in the river this morning."

Dimitri shuddered involuntarily. Images from that foreboding night at the palace sprang unbidden to his mind. The ragged-looking monk had paced in, parting the crowd by virtue of his dark aura. After the monk's worsening exchange with the Tsar he had declared his curse. The words echoed hauntingly in Dimitri's mind. His avidity to find the princess flared back into life.

"…was thinking about going on the road. Saint Petersburg has become too unstable for my tastes. Would you like to join me?" Vlad looked expectantly at the boy. "Dimitri?"

It took several moments for Dimitri to realize that a question had been directed at him. "Hmm?"

"I am leaving town this afternoon. Are you coming with me?"

The boy's fervent answer took Vlad by surprise. "I cannot. I must find her!"

"Find who my boy?"

Here Dimitri hesitated. He realized he knew almost nothing about this man, specifically regarding his allegiances. Dimitri shook his head almost apologetically. He owed Vlad so much already but the name of the one he sought was a price too high to pay.

Vlad sighed knowingly. "Ah, young love," he muttered.

Dimitri's head shot up, a defensive look in his eye. "It's not a matter of love!"

"Then what matter is she to you Dimitri?"

Dimitri didn't miss a beat and quickly formulated a lie. "I saw a girl in the market yesterday. She dropped something that was, apparently, very precious to her. As her mother dragged her away, the girl was very nearly in tears over the loss. I found the item and have been trying to return it since." The fib seemed acceptable to him. He was glad for the skill he'd honed in the kitchens when bits of food would go missing and he would, rightfully, be blamed.

Vlad narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. His time spent in the imperial court had honed his almost omniscient ability to see through lies. The boy was much better at convincingly fabricating tales than one would expect from a child of his years. But Vlad, with his extensive experience, saw through the act. He also knew that to expose the boy's lie would be unnecessarily damaging to his confidence. There would be time enough to get to the truth.

"I see," the elder began slowly. "Well Dimitri, I can hardly condemn such an honorable intention. However I do not think it wise for me to remain in this city much longer. As I stated before, you are welcome to accompany me. However, it seems you have a quest of your own to fulfill. What did you say her name was?"

Dimitri, his mind occupied with thoughts of her, slipped up. "Anastasia."

A thrill coursed through Vlad like lightning. The Grand Duchess? If the boy had truly seen the princess alive the day before, it was entirely possible she could have survived the siege. A surviving member of the royal family was the only hope for the courtiers; if the royal family still lived they could be reinstated and everything return to the way it was. Quite suddenly, the boy's quest became Vlad's.

Dimitri was staring worriedly at the man. As soon as he'd realized his folly he began chastising himself; for all he knew, this man was part of the revolution! Vlad's silence weighed heavily on Dimitri's mind.

Vlad shook himself from his thoughts and realized the effect his sudden muteness had on the boy. "I see, and what was it you were striving to return to this young lady?"

The boy started as if stung. He frantically checked the few places an item could be concealed in his wardrobe and came up empty.

Vlad dug the gilded box from his pocket. "Is this it? I saw you drop it when you fell in the street."

Dimitri relaxed immediately. "Yes, that is it! Thank you!" He accepted the box reverently.

"You know, Dimitri, I am acquainted with a family. Their youngest daughter is named Anastasia. Perhaps the girl you are seeking and the girl I know are one in the same?"

Dimitri's expression was guarded but he could not conceal his excitement at this prospect. "Do you think so?"

"It is a possibility."

The boy suddenly looked crestfallen as a new idea occurred to him. "But I suppose we will not have the chance to find out; you said you were leaving this afternoon."

Vlad was dismayed. To change his story now might arouse the boy's unusually acute suspicions. What a hole he'd dug for himself! "Yes, I must depart today."

Dimitri nodded resignedly. He had hoped he could count on a companion in his search. He pushed his chair back and rose stiffly. "Then I will trouble you no further. Thank you for your courtesy." He offered a bow of gratitude.

Vlad stood as well. He extended his left hand, acknowledging that the boy could not shake with his bound right hand. "Best of luck, my boy."

"Thank you," Dimitri took the proffered hand, "and to you."

At the time neither of them realized that that handshake was the beginning of a partnership; a friendship that would see and endure many fantastic adventures.

[A/N: Zavtrak is breakfast. Thank you to all who read, reviewed, and put this story on your alerts list. I wasn't sure how active this fandom was, but I'm pleased to see some readers!]