This actually was the first story I wrote for this. I'm a little tentative at how the personalities turned out, but I created a loophole for myself and that is vodka. It wasn't an intentional loophole though and I don't personally think that Dmitri really acts all bitter and crap when drunk. (not that he was legitimately drunk though) Sigh. Back to the drawing board. Let's just say that this is part of the very beginning of their journey and nothing has developed yet. (even though it really isn't the beginning of their journey)

OH WELL. Make of this what you will!

Indigo

They were going to take a bus to Germany instead of walking, this much was true. But the train was supposed to take them all the way to Prague, so as it turns out they had to at least walk to Czechoslovakia. Complications in Krakow due to their late arrival by the fault of combusting steam engines had led them to brave the countrysides on foot. In all honesty it wouldn't have been so bad if they didn't have the bags to look after, and out of the three of them only two carried the suitcases. Really, there was courtesy, and then there was taking advantage of very strained chivalry. Yes, he and Vlad were stronger than Anya, and at least Anya gave her sympathies to Vlad, but she could've shared the load a little. Or at least given her sympathies to him as well. Why did Vlad have to get all the love? Dmitri was charming and handsome enough.

Or maybe he was mistaking 'charm' for 'snarkiness', but either way, he felt very indignant and disgruntled about the whole idea. He'd be five steps behind them, sneering as Vlad and Anya chatted away merrily, Pooka running in circles just ahead of them.

Then again, it's not like he wanted to actually talk to Anya, he just believed that he was severely uncredited for his efforts.

Dmitri leaned back in front of the fire they had built just off of the road and stared up at the stars. Tomorrow they'd reach Prague by mid-afternoon, and from then on they didn't have to rely on the untrustworthy tactic of hitch-hiking, given that there was still a bus leading up to northern Germany. He had heard that Germany was in a horrible state—worse than the Soviet Union, even, but hopefully the trip through the country would be without any troubles.

Vlad snored quietly off to the side. To celebrate them nearing the end of their long journey on foot, they had each shared a shot of vodka. Vlad of course was the best at holding his liquor, and they only had a simple shot, but to Dmitri every time Vlad drank his snores seemed to be louder and deeper. He later blamed the noise from Vlad's snores the reason why Anya was able to sneak up to him, nearly startling him out of his skin when she spoke.

"Hey, Dmitri," her breath had a faint stench of lingering vodka in it, "What's Prague like?"

Dmitri shrugged her hand away from his shoulder and furrowed his brow to hide his surprise at her sudden appearance. From the flickering glow he could see that she was smiling, whether from the drunkenness (she couldn't hold a drink well, probably because it was the first raw vodka she had ever consumed) or from an upcoming insult she had prepared for him.

"You asked this about Krakow too. How would I know? I've never been there,"

"Oh," Anya said. Her voice wasn't slurred, but her mind wasn't firing on all cylinders either, "Well, how would I know? I'm not you."

"Thank god for that," Dmitri murmured sourly. He pulled an arm over his eyes. A headache was developing, and he was positive that it wasn't because of the alcohol.

"Now that I think about it, you're right." Anya mused in response, twisting her mouth. Pooka romped into the glow of the fire without warning and scampered over to Anya, seemingly deliberately scrambling across Dmitri's stomach in the most unceremonious fashion possible. Dmitri gave a cry of surprise and disgust as the dogs damp, dirty little paws pounded onto his belly with more weight and power than he should've had. Scowling and turning away from Anya and the dog, he scolded her soundly, to which Anya just laughed somewhat maliciously. Petting the pooch as a reward, she babied the puppy until he fell asleep, content in her scrawny arms. The two were quiet for a while, Dmitri eventually rolling onto his back again to gaze at the stars. He didn't completely ignore Anya's presence with him, but he didn't precisely acknowledge it either. He figured that she was doing the same or at least something similar, whether it be stargazing or busying herself with preening Pooka's impossible head fur. Just as he felt the corners of his eyes begin to ache he wondered if he shouldn't go to sleep when Anya broke the silence again.

"Wanna share a bedtime story?"

"What? You're drunk. Go to sleep." Dmitri shot down immediately. Anya smirked in spite of him, and ignored his sharp retort.

"I am not drunk," Anya proclaimed.

"How would you know?" he asked sarcastically, about to pull another verbal punch at her but was interrupted as she gave her proof.

"The woman who ran the orphanage gave us vodka and water when we were sick. More shots to those who were the sickest, because then it'd shut them up eventually. Needless to say I know what being drunk is like."

Dmitri snorted, giving a wry smile at her story. He bade her a hasty good night, but she caught him by the shoulder as he was turning the other way, her nails digging into his skin.

"No you don't. Not fair. Just tell me something about Anastasia. You know something about that, right? It's your business to know."

"How about not," Dmitri grunted, feeling tired and grouchy. He had been pounced upon not once, but twice, and the second time had left little paw prints across his shirt, and it did not leave him in a very good or talkative mood.

"You said you were going to teach me everything about being Anastasia," she pointed out cockily.

"Not in the middle of the night I'm not," Dmitri replied, struggling to wrench his shoulder free from her grasp, "Let me go."

"No," her eyes flared, "Tell me a story."

Violently Dmitri turned his body so he was facing her, making sure to drench his voice with as much annoyance as possible, "What, you want a story? Fine. Fine. But it's not going to be about Anastasia."

"But—,"

"Why do you need a story anyways?" Dmitri mocked, trying to prolong this as he didn't actually know any good stories by memory. Anya stared at him, emotionless. Would she tell him that the night before she had encountered a frightful dream, where millions of faces danced about her, faces that she knew but had never met before? Would she tell him that the same haunting melody that had been playing endlessly in her head stretched across her mindscape every time she closed her eyes, taunting her into an abyss of terror and thoughtlessness, the ultimate unknown reaches of her mind? Would she tell him that she was afraid to sleep, afraid to be caught in the circus of faces that laughed at her as she struggled to piece everything together?

No, no she would never. That would seem weak. Stupid. Daft. The last thing she wanted to do was let her guard down while she was traveling with two unfamiliar men. True, Vlad was pleasant and sweet in a fatherly way, and Dmitri was terribly sarcastic and unlikable yet somehow decent through it all, and she did feel safe with them but...anything could happen. It wasn't so much that she didn't want to seem weak at all to everyone, she just didn't want to seem like a laughable piece of woman to them, especially to Dmitri. Losing a battle like that would be major, and would max out Dmitri's score on Vlad's little sheet of tallies.

Ha, and god forbid she lose that.

Anya buried her fingers in Pooka's fur as she stared.

"Whatever," Dmitri gave in, dropping his gaze away from her. She blinked. Had he been staring straight at her the entire time?

He cleared his throat, "Once upon a time there was a boy who was abandoned after his entire family was killed. Alone in his house, he went to Baba Yaga for help and advice. Baba Yaga gave him a small, gold little jewelry box and told him to brave the winter snows. He would find what he wanted and dreamed for if he kept the little box safe. So the boy went out into the blizzard, only to come to a cruel orphanage. He had many opportunities to save his skin from the punishments and beatings if he showed the jewelry box, but he did not. Soon he left the orphanage by himself by the time the next blizzard came. He had many opportunities to save himself from the ice and snow if he showed the jewelry box to the houses of the many people, but he did not. He then collapsed at the door of a man who took him in. The man nursed him back to better health and they were living happily together in no time, the man replacing his father. But soon they couldn't live as well as they had been previously, for they could not provide for themselves. Here he had many opportunities to save them from the starvation and humiliation by showing the jewelry box to be pawned, but he did not. Then, one day, when the boy was looking at the jewelry box, the man saw, and attempted to steal the box away from him. The boy fought for the box and cried for Baba Yaga to help him. The man eventually let go of the box and the two reached a mutual agreement. Later that night the boy snuck out to see Baba Yaga again, but she wasn't anywhere to be found. He felt that he had betrayed her, and that he would never find what he was dreaming for. He never looked at the jewelry box again and it proceeded to gather dust in the corner as he left it behind forever."

Dmitri uneasily coughed as he finished, "There, happy now?"

Anya was quiet, responding in a wide-eyed whisper, "That was true."

Dmitri scoffed.

"No it wasn't."

"Yes it was."

"Don't tell me you believe the stories of the Baba Yaga."

"I do—I don't, I—," Anya struggled with her replies, "No, it's just, I hadn't heard that one before. And just, the way you told it—,"

"What about the way I told it?" Dmitri snarled, making her jump in surprise, "Was it not to your liking? Am I not good enough for you, Your Highness?" His senses were flaring on red hot flames, fueled by the pain of his past memories that he had foolishly dug up in the form of a bedtime story. He should've thought that through better and should've known that all of his old insecurities would resurface with even just a remote acknowledgment of his childhood. Even worse, though she had no idea of the truth she suspected, and through this trouble Dmitri's hotheadedness exploded in his defense. He told himself that it was justified—it was just Anya he was talking to, just an orphan off of the streets that only looked a lot like the lost duchess.

"No!" Anya gasped quietly in shock, "No, it's not that."

"Go to sleep then. I told you a bedtime story. Good night." He stated flatly, turning away from her for the final time with a dismissive sniff and a sharp twist of the shoulder, freeing it from her hand. Anya stared quietly at his back for a while, the usual smooth green of his shirt changed to a dull orange in the flickering light of the flames. Pieces of dead grass and leaves stuck to the fabric, shuddering as his forced breaths made his chest sharply rise and fall. Part of her felt responsible for Dmitri's sudden anger, though not in the way she expected to. Something inexplicable and deep within her put her shame to the front of her mind, aching to give sympathies for something that happened long before she met him.

"I'm sorry, Dmitri," she whispered sincerely after a while. Dmitri grunted, still keeping his annoyance in his response.

"For what, hating the story?"

"I think you know." She said confidently but softly, crumbling his brick wall of anger. Nothing but the fire crackled and snapped, the sparks flying high as they dreamed to reach the indigo blankets of the far off sky, dreamed to join the stars. Anya was distracted by them as the waltzing figures danced upwards towards their goal. Somehow she knew the story was true in more ways than she could ever imagine, and as the indigo skies came down to meet her eyelids she wondered about what it was the boy in the story dreamed so fiercely about that made him never want to let go of the jewelry box until he was sure his wish wouldn't be granted. As she closed her eyes a smile fell across her face as Dmitri, sighing a deep, calming sigh, gave a shaky apology disguised as two simple, soft words.

"Good night."