Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns him. I'm just borrowing.

Demetri

Chapter 1: Dare You to Find Me.

Moscow, 1589 - Ostankino Palace.

"Ninety-seven... ninety-eight... ninety-nine... one hundred!" His chubby, seven year old fingers fell from his eyes as he finally struggled free from the heavy velvet curtain that had previously engulfed him.

"Here I come, ready or not!" he yelled, his voice echoing across the empty banquet hall. It was more out of habit than anything else. He knew that she was probably hiding somewhere far away right now, too far to hear him.

He was always quick to find her though. He was good at this game. Better than her, although of course she stubbornly refused to admit it. He had once hid for two hours behind an armchair in one of the libraries before showing himself out of boredom, and that was already after they had agreed to not hide in the east wing of the palace.

And she cheats, he thought to himself as he ran across one of the ball rooms. He had once overheard her asking the servants which way they'd seen him run.

"I dare you to prove it," she had said when he had confronted her for cheating. She had lifted her eyebrows in the most aggravating, six year old way, still refusing to be wrong.

Dare. It was her favourite word.

He continued running out of the west wing, allowing himself to be guided by the strange pull in his mind that somehow told him that she wasn't anywhere in that part of the palace. He had never told anyone about this gift. Not Nana or Tatiana, or even his mother. They often teased him for his luck at finding people, and he was only too happy to play along. He didn't like telling them about something he couldn't explain. Nonetheless, it certainly was a good skill to have when living in a palace.

He ran past another hallway when he felt the pull from the staircase at the end. He was already up the first few steps when he heard his name being called from behind him.

"Master Demetri! There you are," Nana's voice boomed from across the hall.

He was seriously contemplating from running away from the nagging, old governess, but something in her tone stopped him. "Your mother is looking for you. You are to go to her at once."

For a moment her eyes flickered around the hallway, searching. "Where is Miss Tatiana?"

"Upstairs. We're playing hide-and-seek."

The governess frowned and let out a sigh. There was a strange sadness in her eyes as she regarded the child before her. To Demetri, she suddenly seemed very old.

"Go find your mother," she said finally as she turned to leave. "I will tell Miss Tatiana that she has summoned you."

Demetri continued up the stairs, but this time he headed for his mother's chambers. The pull in his mind told him that she would be there and decided that he had better not let her wait.

He walked through the heavy oak doors, taking in the light floral scent of his mother's quarters. His father, the late Tsar had been known to be a very hard man, but he had doted on his pretty young wife, filling her rooms with the most expensive furniture, rugs, art pieces and other lavish gifts. To Demetri it was the most comfortable and familiar part of the palace - not that he ever got lost, of course.

However, this time the warm comforting feeling was absent to the seven year old as he gazed upon the room full of activity. His mother's chambermaids were bustling back and forth, seeming to be... packing?

Manoeuvring between servants, he followed the invisible pull to the study. He hesitated as he stood by the half open door, unsure if he should knock as he overheard the conversation that was taking place within. Demetri recognised his uncle's voice from where he stood.

"You'll be able to return soon, Maria," he said, addressing Demetri's mother. "I give you my word."

"No." His mother's voice was hard and cold. "You will do nothing. My son and I will not be returning to Moscow."

"Sister, you cannot really think to live your whole life in Uglich! You are the Tsaritsa – the Empress! Demetri is Tsarevich - heir to the throne! This is madness!"

"No, Nicholas. What is madness is to stay. The Tsar has decided that we are to leave. That witch of his will have it no other way. I will not stay here and wait like a lamb awaits the butcher's knife! She will have us killed."

"But Tsarevish Demetri... He must succeed his brother."

"Over my dead body!" Maria hissed. "You think I've spent this long raising my son so that he may play in your politics? I think not."

Someone was moving within the room, the sound frightened Demetri into motion from where he had frozen by the door. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, he finally walked into his mother's study.

"Mother! Uncle Nicholas!" he called when he saw them. He crossed the room in a dash, burying his face in his mother's dress as he hugged her. Slowly he turned, looking at his uncle who smiled kindly at his nephew.

"Have you told him?" he asked, looking at his sister who answered him with a meaningful look. Demetri turned to face his mother, his expression expectant.

His mother sighed. The smile that lingered on her delicate face did not reach her eyes as her fingers touched his short blonde hair.

"My darling, we have to leave. We're going to Uglich. Tonight. Eva and the other servants are packing your things right now."

Demetri's eyes had widened in alarm and he took in the information. Other than the few trips into town during the festivals, he had never been anywhere away from the palace before.

"When are we coming back?"

"I don't know, my dear." The sadness in her voice unsettled him more than the idea of leaving.

"Is Tatiana coming with us?"

"No, darling. She's not."

Although he had already guessed the answer, a wave of dull unidentified pain broke against his chest. He was seven and had never missed or longed for anyone in his short life. He had been too young to properly know his father before he died and so, the pain he felt was something he didn't understand.

"W-why?" he asked – no, demanded. He heard his voice crack and he fought hard to swallow.

She hugged him to her, the fingers of her free hand caressed his cheek, but he remained staring at the floor, ashamed of the tears that were any second going to betray him.

"Because her Papa works here. Because she belongs here with him," she finally whispered.

There was silence as he considered this answer. Tatiana's father was the Tsar's Chief General who lived at the palace. To his knowledge, children did not live away from their parents.

He remained silent, reflecting on the hopelessness of the situation. He couldn't stay and she couldn't come. And that was it. Finished. He wasn't going to be able to play with her any more. He wished his mother would let him go so he could leave.

"Go find her and say goodbye," his mother instructed when she finally let him go. "You will see her again, you know. I'm sure her father will let her visit, and I have something you can give her so she can remember you. It's pretty," she said, smiling now. "She'll like it."

Feeling slightly better, Demetri allowed his mother to lead him towards her study table. His mother's jewellery was scattered across it. The more expensive things were wrapped in tissue and boxes, already stacked neatly on one side. She reached out for the piece she wanted, and dropped it into his palm by the thin silver chain.

"Do you think she'll like it?"

He nodded as he stared at the silver pendant in his palm. Two tiny, silver swallows were frozen together in mid-flight above the coils of silver chain. His mother smiled as she took it back, popping it into a little silk pouch before giving it back to him.

When he finally left the study, he once again felt the full force of leaving as he looked at his mother's unrecognisably empty chambers. Everything was missing having been packed away. He avoided his own room, not wanting to see it empty.

He decided to go find Tatiana. The pull in his mind told him that she was somewhere downstairs. He crossed a hallway and headed for the staircase, this time walking slowly, taking in every aspect of the magnificent palace and trying to storing it in his memory. For the first time he took it all in - the grandeur for the painted ceilings, the beauty of the polished floors and carvings... things that he would normally run past without a thought in a burst of incessant energy.

His impromptu palace tour came to an end when he finally found her curled up against a wall in the west armoury, her chin resting on her knees. He had called her name when he had entered, but she hadn't answered. Her long hair fell across her face, blocking it from his view.

He moved closer to her and sat down beside her. Her pretty face (adults often commented that she was pretty) did not turn. Her small white teeth chewed her bottom lip as she registered his actions without looking at him. When she finally did turn to meet his gaze Demetri all but froze, staring at her red eyes, shocked. She had been crying. This knowledge sent his mind reeling.

Tatiana never cried. She had always scorned him whenever he cried, be it over a fall, a broken toy, or fear. In fact, he could only remember her crying once when the mathematics professor had struck her for rudeness in one of his lessons. Hot angry tears had fallen from her long, wet lashes and down her cheeks before she'd forcefully wipe them away. Demetri had felt an unexplainable sense of guilt at her tears that day. As if he were to blame for them, and as they sat in silence in the armoury he felt the same guilt all over again.

They didn't talk, but sat together in silence for a long while, staring at the room around them. There was nothing they had to say, nothing they knew that needed saying and so, they remained in silence, communicating their shared pain in that unspoken language only children can understand.

Eventually they heard the servants calling. When they stood up, Demetri pulled the silk pouch out if his pocket and unceremoniously handed it to her.

"A present," he said, as she raised her eyes questioningly.

Her small fingers undid the little ribbon and she smiled in delight as the sliver sparrows fell into her small cupped hand.

Without warming she hugged her best friend and planted a large, wet six-year-old kiss on his cheek.

"I dare you to come back and find me," she said, before finally turning and running from the room.

He stared after her, still in shock at the wetness on his cheek. He contemplated on going after her, but his mother's voice told him he was out of time.

"Demetri! Come on, let's go," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him outside to where the packed carriages were waiting.

He felt insignificantly small as he trailed his mother down the palace steps for the last time, but even that was nothing compared to how small he felt as the carriage finally pulled away and the palace where he had lived all his life disappeared from view.

A/N: Hi guys! My second posting...ever. It's been a while since I've been able to write. I don't know if anyone is actually interested in Demetri from Twilight, but he always seemed so polite, and somehow nicer than the other Volturi and being a minor character I thought it would be fun to make up his past. I actually fashioned him after one of the Russian Tsar's kids. Made the piece easier to write.

So yeah, REVIEW please and tell me if I should continue...