I did A LOT of research on christmas in Russia for these upcoming three chapters.. :D

The candles all dimmed as the evening went on. For it was Christmas eve and all of the palace was alight with laughter and joy. Not a single soul was unhappy, except for maybe one small kitchen boy named Dimitri.

He sat upon the stairs pretending to be cleaning the banisters as the Czar was reading to his daughters. The youngest one, and his own dear friend, Anastasia sat upon her fathers lap as he read aloud about "Father Frost."

Each pair of their blue eyes was focused upon him and even little Alexei sat with his mother accross from them. As he finished the story and told them it was time for bed, Anastasia and Alexei protested.

"Oh, my little Malenkaya." Nicholas picked up his tenacious daughter and hugged her tightly. "You must go to sleep or else he shall not come.." Softly he placed a finger to the tip of her nose, making her giggle.

As the family departed from the grand room, Dimitri ventured out to find the book upon a small table next to where the Czar had sat. He opened it and began to try to read the words, being a servant made him a bit limited in reading and other areas of intelligence.

"Would you like me to read it?"

He nearly fell out of the arm chair as Anastasia's head appeared over his shoulder. "Your Grace, I..." She halted him with her hand.

"You know better than to call me that when it's just us.." She laughed taking a seat beside him and beginning to read the winter tale outloud. As she finished he had his hand on his chin, looking perplexed.

"What?" She asked half laughing.

"It's just, I've never seen his troika, how do we know he's real?" The small Duchess frowned upon such thought.

"Not everything has to be seen to be real." She plainly stated closing the book.

"Yeah, but.."

"Dimitri, can't you just not question this one thing and relie on your own heart?" Her smile was small yet filled him with endless warmth. Just as he was about to say something a door opened and shut. Retreating like a mouse, he scurried back to the kitchen.

Come Christmas morning he awoke to find there was a small gift beside his bed. Immediatly he began to suspect it was someone pulling his leg, but under the green ribbon was a tag that prooved it to be true.

"Dimitri, merry christmas. your friend Anna."

He didn't care what lay under the gold wrapping paper, all he cared was that for once in his miserable life someone actually cared about him.