The next morning, Anya awoke to light. Slowly, she stretched out on the sheets, welcoming the warmth that streamed against her face. Dmitry was already up, pulling on a shirt.
She sat up and smiled at him, leaning back into the sunlight.
Dmitry chuckled, shaking his head.
"Well, you're feeling better," he said, buttoning up his shirt.
"Morning, Dima," she replied, standing up and grabbing a glass. Pouring some water into it, she looked out the windows at the city below as she drank. Paris had not impressed her at first, but it had quickly nudged its way into a place close to her heart.
"You up to exploring today?" Dmitry asked her.
She grinned. "Of course. How could I miss our day of adventure?" She asked, setting the glass down.
Dmitry was almost done getting dressed, and she took this as her cue to start getting ready for the day. Taking a brush off of the nightstand, she carefully brushed out the tangles from her hair, then put up her hair. Then, it was time to decide on a dress. She picked one that was a dusty pink, with fabric so light and soft that it seemed to float around her, and quickly put it on. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found that Dmitry was ready to go and was making their bed. Quickly, she rushed to help him, and in seconds the task was finished.
"Are you ready to go?" he asked her, placing a kiss onto her forehead.
"Yes," she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a real kiss. He lingered against her for a bit, then pulled away and offered her his arm.
"Well then, your highness, let's get going."
She smiled and took his arm, and they walked into the streets together. Paris was already buzzing with people, and Anya's head was constantly whirling around, trying to take everything in. They had been in Paris for about a month now, but with trying to get everything about their new life settled and on the down low, Anya and Dmitry had never really gotten the time to explore the city by themselves. The scent of freshly baked pastries and succulent fruits followed behind her like the train of a gown. She took in a deep breath and cherished it. Focusing on a cart, she pulled Dmitry with her toward it.
"Dima, look," she exclaimed. "Eclairs!"
Dmitry broke away from her grip to buy two of them. As she watched him pay, she recognized the uneasiness in his stance. He hadn't quite gotten used to having enough money to never worry about having enough, even after dreaming about it for years.
For Anya, it was a mix of emotions. She still remembered her carefree days as a child, but she also could not forget those cold, hungry, desperate nights alone in the woods when she was so hungry she'd chewed on the inside bark of pine trees just to fill her stomach with something.
Her and Dmitry, they never over indulged, but always took just enough.
Although, she was sure that Nana would want them to overindulge. She was the one who had provided for them in the first place. After Anya and Dmitry had eloped, Anya had made sure that they weren't too far from Nana, for easy visits. Of course, on the first return, Nana had insisted that they be taken care of financially.
"When's the wedding?" Nana had whispered in her ear. Anya had smiled distantly, not knowing how to respond. Dmitry had not yet proposed, and she was still not sure he ever would.
Nana had rubbed her back understandingly. "Well, whenever you two decide to do it, you must tell me. I will be there."
Anya had hugged her goodbye, the scent of orange blossoms overpowering her.
"Here, Anya," Dmitry said, bringing her back to the present. He was holding out her eclair, waiting for her to respond.
She quickly took it from him and took a big bite. It was delicious, soft and warm, the chocolate on top complementing the cream inside.
"It's amazing," she said, looking over at him, who nodded in response as he took another bite of his. His was already almost gone.
She laughed. "Dima! It's not going anywhere!" She told him, but a part of her heart ached as she realized that as a child, he'd never gotten anything he wanted. He'd most likely never gotten special treats or gifts from loving relatives. And if he had ever had things like baked goods, those were things that he'd probably had to eat quickly, in case other people would try to steal it. This lavish life was completely new to him. She took his arm again and decided that in the future, she wouldn't say anything about how fast he was eating or anything similar.
Taking another bite of her eclair and pulled him further down the street.
A painting caught her eye, and she turned to look at it. It was a soft, almost hazy scene of a family playing by a river.
"Tu aimes?" Asked the merchant. She noticed his thick accent on the words and looked up at him.
"Oui. You aren't french, are you?" she asked.
"Thank the lord!" He sighed, relieved. "My french is a disgrace. No, I'm not from France."
She smiled and looked back at the painting. "Did you paint this?"
The merchant nodded.
"When I'm uninspired, I paint the rumors I hear. When I painted this, I heard of the princess Anastasia. You've heard about those rumors, yes?"
Anya's heart was beating very fast, and her throat tightened. She gave a nod.
"Well, I wanted to paint her, but whether she is alive or not, I haven't any idea what she'd look like now. So I painted her as a child, playing with her family."
Anya was trying not to let her emotions cross her face, and she felt Dmitry slip his hand into her own. She studied the painting. He'd gotten their faces down just right. "It's beautiful," she was finally able to tell the merchant.
She felt Dmitry's eyes on her face, and looked over at him. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and turned to the merchant.
"We'll take it," Dmitry told him. Anya didn't have it in her to protest. It was expensive, but it felt almost like a part of her now, and she had no idea how to let it go.
Dmitry walked over to pay for the painting, and returned with it in hand. She took his arm again and rested her head against his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered.
The painting was fairly large and proved to be somewhat awkward to carry, and they agreed to take it back home, then returned to the streets. "Where to now?" Dmitry questioned. She looked around, thinking.
"What about Notre Dame?" she asked.
Dmitry shrugged. "Okay," he said. "To Notre Dame."
It was a fairly long walk to the cathedral, but neither of them minded. They'd both walked much longer in worse conditions.
When the cathedral came into view, Anya gaped at the sight. As she got closer and closer to the building, it began to tower over her. She felt so small in comparison, almost insignificant. Dmitry was looking up with the same awe written on his face as she now felt.
"It's beautiful," she murmured. Dmitry gave a chuckle under his breath.
"What is it?" she asked him.
"Just... imagine, a year ago, telling yourself that today you'd be standing in the heart of Paris," Dmitry said, placing his hand on the small of her back.
A soft smile crossed her lips.
"I would have never believed it. But here we are. The heart of Paris. Look, there's the Seine. And the Louvre, just down there, we passed it to get here."
Dmitry nodded, gazing down at her.
"Yeah. Here we are."
She took his hand and leaned into him for a moment, then pulled away
"Well? We're in the heart of Paris, we should do more than just stand here!" Anya gestured down the road.
"It's that way to Sacré-Cœur, what do you say we go there next?"
"Wow, Anya, I don't think you're excited at all," he replied.
"I've dreamed about this city for years. Let's go!"
So they did. They visited Sacré-Cœur, and the Louvre, and the Place Charles de Gaulle.
They had lunch on the streets and dinner at a cafe, watched the sun go down, then strolled through the quiet night roads.
Anya was soon ready to leave, and pulled Dmitry to come with her, but a look of confusion crossed his face.
"Anya, what about the bridge? Aren't we visiting that?"
Anya was quiet, but nodded and took his arm, and they walked together until the bridge came into view. It was just as beautiful as she remembered.
"It's beautiful," he said softly.
"Yes, like everything else in Paris. Le Pont Alexandre III."
There was a moment of silence between them, but it was comfortable and welcome, as they stared at the bridge, the lights, the water.
"I think we've had our share of adventure for today, don't you, Dima?" she asked him.
"Yeah, I do."
And then they returned home, the silence once again returning.
From the windows of their room, the light from the Eiffel Tower lit up the night. Anya gazed at it as she got ready for bed, and as she lay down beside Dmitry, for the first time in over a month, she fell asleep without the feeling of dread lurking over her.