-1Anastasia
Novelized by RedWolfZakuro
Disclaimer: I do not own this movie, or story, or anything in it. I just felt like writing it out.
Chapter Two: Journey to the Past
A large man walked through the streets of St. Petersburg, looking around at the civilians. The one topic of their conversation was one thing: The Princess Anastasia.
"Although the Czar did not survive, his youngest daughter still may live," one vendor told a small group of people. They all gasped, although this information was not knew to them. Since the revolution, their lives had been so gray… Nothing brought them more cheer than gossip, and what better to talk about than the possibility of an heir to the Russian throne? "But please do not repeat!" He added as a mounted guard glared at him from a street corner.
As the fat man passed another vendor, she called him over to her. Another group was already gathered. "They say her royal Grandmamma will pay a royal sum," she began, handing out merchandise all the time, "to someone who can bring the princess back!"
He hurried up stairs toward another part of the city when a whistle behind him sounded. "Vlad!" He turned at the sound of his name.
"Dimitri!" They exchanged hurried words, then continued on, continually stopped by more vendors, who were selling everything from Romonov paintings to Count Yusupov's pajamas. They reached the abandoned building they were staying at. "Well, Dimitri, I got us a theater."
"Everything's going according to plan. Now all we need is the girl!" Dimitri turned, smiling. "Just think, Vlad, no more forging papers, no more stolen goods. You and I, friend, will go down in history! We'll have three tickets out of here: one for you, one for me, and one for Anastasia!" He jumped up on the windowsill and looked out at the dull city. "We'll find a girl to play the part and teach her what to say. We'll dress her up and take her to Paris. Imagine the reward her dear old Grandmamma will pay. Who else could pull it off? We'll be rich!"
"We'll be rich!" Vladimir echoed.
"We'll be out! And St. Petersburg will have some more to talk about. This is going to be the biggest con in history!"
"Goodbye! Goodbye, everybody!" The girl waved at her former orphanage roommates as she walked out into the snow. Her red hair was barely visible under the cap she wore, and her dress was too big. A large coat hung loose over that, with a purple scarf tied around her face and neck.
"I got you a job in the fish factory. You go straight down this path till you get to the fork in the road. Go left-- are you even listening?" The old matron yelled.
"Goodbye! I'm listening, Comrade Phlegmenkoff." She sadly turned her attention back to the old woman.
"You've been a thorn in my side since you were brought here." She grabbed the girl's scarf and dragged her to the gate at the front of the orphanage. "Acting like the queen of Sheba instead of the nameless no-account you are. For the last ten years--" The girl, still following, mouthed along, "I've fed you, I've clothed you, I've--"
"Kept a roof over my head."
The matron turned from unlocking the gate. "How is it that you don't have a clue as to who you were before you came to us but you can remember all that?"
"Well, I do have a clue to who I--"
"Ack, I know. 'Together in Paris,'" she said, picking up the necklace from around the girl's neck. "So you want to go to France to find you're family, huh?"
The girl nodded.
"Little miss Anya. It's time you take your place in life. In life and in line, and be grateful too." She slammed the gate in Anya's face. " 'Together in Paris!' Bah. Be grateful!"
Anya walked along the snow covered road until she came to the mentioned fork. Mimicking Phlegmenkoff's rusty voice, she said, " 'Be grateful.' I am grateful. Grateful to get away! 'Go left' she says. Well, I know what's to the left. I'll be Anya the orphan forever. But…If I go right, maybe I could find… Whoever gave me this necklace must have loved me. Who am I kidding? This is crazy. Me, go to Paris?" Looking up at the sky, she opened her arms. "Send me a sign! A-a hint! Anything!"
She heard a rustling behind her. A little grey dog came out from behind a tree. It barked, then grabbed her scarf and ran a few steps away.
Anya laughed, but told him sternly, "Hey! I don't have time to play right now, okay? I'm waiting for a sign." The dog yipped happily again, dragging the scarf farther away. When she chased it, it circled around her and she tripped, falling face flat in the snow. The dog, meanwhile, had moved farther along the path to St. Petersburg, whimpering quizzically at her.
"Oh, great," she said sarcastically. "A dog wants me to go to St. Petersburg." Then she gasped, a look of interest on her face. "All right, I can take a hint." She cautiously picked up the scarf, approaching the dog. The dog, seemingly satisfied, happily followed her as she began her journey to the large city.
"You know, I think someone's waiting there for me. Home, love, family. I must have had them once. Maybe somebody there will help me. Years of dreams just can't be wrong. Please, let this road be mine. Let it bring me home at last." She smiled down at the dog and nodded her head for him to come with her.
After reaching the town, she went to the train station. Reaching the barrier, she said, "One ticket to Paris, please."
"Exit visa," said the clerk in a bored tone. His uniform was the most colorful thing she had seen since she got to the big city.
"Exit visa?" Anya asked, confused.
"No exit visa? NO TICKET!" He slammed the window closed.
"Psst!" Anya looked around. A short, old woman was motioning for her to come closer. Her drab clothes blended perfectly with the surroundings. Anya leaned closer to her. "See Dimitri. He can help."
"Where can I find him?"
"At the old palace." Anya started away, but was called back. "But you didn't hear it from me."
"Oh," said Anya with understanding. "Dimitri. Hmm."
"Go, go!" The old woman encouraged, pushing her along.
"All right, all right."
Dimitri yawned. It was so late. After so many auditions, and still no Anastasia.
"And I look like princess!" said the girl who was currently on the stage. "I dance like a feather!" Her dancing, in reality, was similar to a hippopotamus having a heart attack, but he wasn't going to say that out loud. And as for the girl's looks, well, he wasn't even going to think about a description for that.
"Yes, thank you, thank you, next please." He tried to smile. Next to him, Vladimir was practically snoring.
An old woman walked out on stage. In a low, sultry voice, she announced, "Grandma, it's me, Anastasia." She shook her hips a bit.
"Oh brother…" Vladimir was now crying into his arms on the table.
Outside of the theater, Vlad really started whining. "That's it, Dimitri. Game over. Our last kopeck gone for this flea infested theater. And still, no girl to pretend to be Anastasia."
"We'll find her, Vlad. She's here somewhere, right under our noses."
He bumped into a girl in a big coat, who was saying, "I'm looking for the Catherine--Excuse me-- Do you know where that is?" He barely noticed the red hair poking out from underneath her hat as he continued talking to Vlad.
"Don't forget, one look at this jewelry box and the Dowager Empress will think we've brought her the real Anastasia. And before she catches on, we'll be off spending the ten million rubles! There is no way this plan will fail!"
Anya carefully walked through the courtyard, staring at the stone walls. She walked past a boarded up doorway. The dog slipped through a hole in the wood and barked. Anya came back, calling "Pooka. Pooka? Pooka, where are you?" She peered through another gap then tested the boards. Some of them pulled away after a small effort.
She walked into the dark palace, aware of every detail. "Hello? Anybody home?" Pooka answered with a small bark, but she wasn't listening. She wandered around, taking in every strangely familiar sight. Dust swirled around as her movement disturbed the long forgotten rooms. She blew a thick layer of dirt off of a plate. She saw a man twirl around with a young girl, but then her reflection returned. Anya the orphan.
"This place… It's--it's like a memory from a dream." A waltz came into her head, a tune she had always known, although she had never realized it before. "It's all so familiar…"
She danced out to the middle of an enormous ballroom, trying to remember the words someone had sung to her.
"Once upon a December…"
Upstairs at the old palace, Dimitri and Vladimir were eating dinner.
Dimitri looked up from his plate when he heard a crash downstairs. He looked at Vlad. "Did you hear something?"
"Hmm? No." Vlad smiled as he put another morsel in his mouth. "Oh, this is delicious! Where did you learn to cook?" Dimitri dismissed the question with a shrug as he stood up. He walked slowly down the stairs, finally reaching the ballroom.
In the middle sat a small figure, which he figured out was a girl. "Hey! What are you doing in here?" He yelled. Vlad came in behind him just as the girl looked up, startled. She ran to the opposite side where a dog was waiting.
Leaping down the rest of the stairs, he ran across the open space, Vlad panting after him.
"Stop! Stop, stop-stop-stop-stop-stop-stop! Hold on a minute! Hold on!" The boy called out behind her. He had almost caught up with her, but he didn't sound angry anymore. Just curious.
Reluctantly, she turned around to face him. He had brown hair that was brushed back, parted in the center, and hanging slightly over his brown eyes. Pooka sniffed him and growled.
"Now," he panted, "how did you get in he--here…?" He looked up at her, blinked, then a grin spread over his.
A very heavy man came up, breathless, behind him. "Excuse me, child." Glasses were on top of his wrinkled forehead. His long red coat swayed as he tried to regain his breath.
"Vlad, Vlad! Do you see what I see?" The boy whispered to him.
"Hmm? No."
The young man pulled his glasses down over his eyes. Vlad gasped. "Yes! Yes!"
The boy picked up Pooka, a disapproving look on his face. "A dog," he scoffed. He handed him to Vlad, saying, "Cute."
Tired of this strange exchange, Anya sighed. "Are you Dimitri?"
"Perhaps. That all depends on who's looking for him," he replied with a chuckle. He smiled, moving away from Vlad, who was getting on very well with Pooka.
"My name is Anya. I need travel papers." She continued in a whisper. "They say you're the man to see, even though I can't tell you who said that and--" Dimitri was walking around behind her, thoughtfully holding his chin. "Hey, and wha--hey! Why are you circling me? What, uh, what were you a vulture in another life?"
"I'm sorry, Enya--"
"It's Anya," she corrected him, pointedly poking him in the chest.
"Anya. It's just that--"
"Anya."
"It's just that you look an awful lot like--" He gestured at a portrait behind her, and she turned, but when he did not continue, she looked back at him. "Uh, never mind. Um, now, you said something about travel papers."
"Yes. I'd like to go to Paris."
"You'd like to go to Paris?"
"Mm-hmm."
Vladimir was holding Pooka, who was delightedly barking. "Oh, who is this here? Oh! Oh, look! Oh, he likes me!" Pooka was licking his face.
"Nice dog," said Dimitri unenthusiastically. "Now, let me ask you something, Anya, was it? There's a last name that goes with that?"
"Well, actually," she started, rubbing her forehead. "This is gonna sound crazy.I don't know my last name. I was found wandering around when I was eight years old."
"And before that? Before you were eight?"
"Look, I know it's strange, but I don't remember. I have very few memories of my past."
"That's… perfect," Dimitri said to himself.
"Well, I do have one clue, however, and that is Paris." She said, fingering the necklace. "So, can--So, can you two help me or not?" she finally had their attention.
"Sure would like to. In fact, oddly enough, we're going to Paris ourselves. And I have three--" he held up four tickets, one of which was to the Russian circus. "Well, this one is… But I have three tickets here. Unfortunately, the third one is for her: Anastasia."
"Oh." Vlad and Dimitri grabbed her arms and pulled her over to another painting.
"We are going to reunite the grand duchess with her grandmother," said Vladimir.
"You know, you do kind of resemble her."
"The same blue eyes."
"The Romonov eyes!"
"Nicholas's smile."
"Alexandra's chin."
"Oh, look. She even has the grandmother's hands."
"She's the same age, the same physical type--"
Anya's confusion turned to understanding. "Are you trying to tell me that you think that I am Anastasia?"
"All I'm saying is, I've seen thousands of girls all over the country and not one of them looks as much like the Grand Duchess as you. I mean, look at the portrait!"
"I knew you were crazy from the beginning, but now I think you are both mad." She began walking away, but Dimitri headed her off.
"Why? You don't know what happened to you."
"And no one knows what happened to her."
"You're looking for family, in Paris."
"And her only family is in Paris!"
"You ever thought about the possibility?"
"That I could be royalty? Well, I don't know. It's kind of hard to think of yourself as a duchess when you're sleeping on a damp floor. But sure, yeah. I guess every lonely girl would hope she's a princess."
"And, somewhere, one little girl is. After all, the name Anastasia means she will rise again."
Dimitri pulled them apart, leading Vladimir away. "Really wish we could help, but the third ticket is for the Grand Duchess Anastasia. Good luck."
As they walked back across the ballroom, Vlad began panicking. "Why didn't you tell her about our brilliant plan?"
"All she wants to do is go to Paris. Why give away a third of the reward money?"
"I'm telling you, we're walking away too soon."
"Not to worry. I've got it all under control. All right, but, walk a little slower."
Anya was examining the portrait of the Empress. What if…? No. But if she agreed, they would take her to Paris. So, what harm was there in it?
"Three, two, one…"
"Dimitri, wait!"
"Ha!"
"Right in the palm of our hand!"
Dimitri looked back at Anya who was running after them. "Did--did you call me?"
"If I don't remember who I am, then who's not to say I'm not a princess or a duchess or what ever she is, right? Yeah, and if I'm not, then the empress will certainly know right away and it's all just an honest mistake."
"Sounds plausible."
"But, if you are Anastasia, you'll finally know who you are and have your family back!"
"You know, you know he's right. Either way, it gets you to Paris."
"Right!" They shook hands, apparently too hard, because Dimitri pulled away rubbing his wrist. "Pooka, we are going to Paris!"
"Uh, the dog stays," Dimitri said.
"What are you talking about? The dog goes."
"No, the dog does not go."
"I say he's going."
"I'm allergic to dogs."
"The dog is coming."
"Just leave the dog."
"I am not leaving the dog!"
"We've got a train to catch." Vlad interrupted. They looked up from the argument, as if they had been unaware that another person was present.
"Fine, bring the stupid dog."