Disclaimer: My Anastasia DVD is completely overdue by now, so the only claim I have in the name of this movie is a big fat fee. Ugh. But I hope you enjoy!

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After what felt like forever twirling under the stars and drinking in one another's company, Anya and Dimitri descended down under the deck to the small room they had snagged before the ship set off. They stumbled in laughing, a particularly violent lurch of the floorboards sending them sprawling together onto the small bed. Anya pulled herself up onto Dimitri's chest, a noise of contentment escaping her as she leaned forward and melded into his lips.

She finally rose for breath, taking in the room around them. "Well, this is home for now." She beamed.

Dimitri looked down at the size of the bed and the cramped walls and ceiling, "Are you sure we shouldn't try to look for more? Don't you want—?"

"No. That better not be starting up again." She headed him off. "You are not allowed to go on with your whole 'but I could never offer you enough', 'I'm not what you need' nonsense." Anya dropped her imitating-voice and softened her words, "I don't want to hear it."

He had been practically protesting as they walked back to the party, as she wrote the letter to her Grandmother and proudly presented it to him – snatching it away when reading it made him splutter, and eventually silencing him with a threat to shut up.

Dimitri looked at her earnestly, "But – It's true."

There was genuine honesty and concern behind those chocolate eyes of his. She couldn't stand it. And she stopped it in it's tracks, leaning in again and kissing him forcefully. Then kissing him some more. She broke off. "Is that enough to convince you?"

Dimitri didn't say a word, just reconnected their lips and rolled Anya onto her back, hovering above her. He dug his hands into her hair as he trailed kissed onto her cheeck, her chin, down to her throat, her collarbone as she breathed out a heavy sigh. His hands meanwhile followed from her hips, to her waist, up to…

He involuntarily sat upright slightly, looking into her eyes.

She saw a flash of fear that she didn't understand. He'd been with girls before – they'd even joked about it a few times along their trip. Something about how many girls his sly conman's tongue had coaxed into his sheets. Though she suspected numbers were being exaggerated a bit…something about the fact that his ego-stroking would follow arguments he'd lost.

"What's wrong?"

"Sorry, I'm not trying to ruin the moment." He shifted nervously, then nearly laughed, further confusing Anya. "It's just too…crazy."

"What?" Now she was just trying not to be impatient. It was a battle she lost constantly. Especially after he paused for a seemingly long self-conscious moment.

"Anya," he looked back at her, reaching out to stroke a lock of her hair to the side of her face. His lips quirked, "I had a crush on you when we were little."

Her surprise was reflected in a suddenly wide-eyed expression. She parroted herself again in shock. "What?"

Anya examined him in disbelief as he gave her his lopsided grin. His ears seemed a little pink, but that could just be the light.

"I feel like I'm ruining the mood though…"

She'd have to exercise restraint not to snap at him. "Dimitri."

"Well," Dimitri shifted slightly, "I used to work in the palace." He looked up to see her reaction. "And I used to see you – very rarely" he corrected. She was beautiful of course and full of life, plus the closest to his age. "I was always curious about everyone in your family, but more so about you." He added with a grin. "Of course, that didn't mean much. I knew my place."

He continued quickly when he saw the protest in her eyes. "I was barely let outside of the kitchens to be honest, though every once in a while I'd be sent to help set things up, or doing odd jobs here or there. If I was lucky, I'd catch a glimpse of you or one of the other Romanovs, but it didn't happen a lot.

"One night I'd done something worthy of being forbidden dinner – now that happened much more often – I was always getting into trouble. The head cook, though you wouldn't think he'd have time to bother with a kid, had it out for me." He was actually surprised the man never just threw him out on the streets for all the times he was at his throat for one thing or another.

"I don't entirely blame him though," he added, "I was probably messing up the smooth operation of his kitchen. I'm sure it reflected on him.

"Anyway," he continued "I had crept into the pantry to grab some food when I ran into you."

"You—Really?" Renewed surprise colored her question.

"Yes, well, I didn't know it was you at first" he continued to stroke her auburn strands " I think I reprimanded you too, you know, trying to cover my own guilt." He flashed one of his charming grins in self-defense.

Anya rolled her eyes, smiling. Imagine that.

"Of course when I realized who you were, I nearly had a heart attack – " Their laughter filled the cabin. "I think I just about threw myself at your feet begging forgiveness."

"You informed me that you'd snuck in because..." he started to wave his hands in mock-theatrics, "it was your duty as a Romanov to know every inch of the palace," She couldn't help but smack him good-humoredly. "In fact you started rambling quite a bit about how you'd asked your parents and they'd forbidden you, which was why you were there at night…though I'd assumed you'd just slipped in to avoid a guard. It was well known that you were constantly getting in trouble yourself." He glanced over and they shared a knowing look.

"So you wanted me to show you around, grabbed my hand, had me lead the way." He now stroked her hand with the pad of his thumb.

"Naturally I was terrified. Here I was, a kitchen boy, not just a servant but the lowest ranking one." Lowest of the low. "…and the Grand Duchess was speaking directly to me."

Anya was listening very quietly, her attention prompting him to continue. She probably didn't get this kind of glimpse into her mysterious past very often.

"You see, we weren't allowed to speak to the royals, not even look at them, and were definitely forbidden to touch them." He chuckled as he continued to soothingly rub her palm, considering. She had kept pulling him this way and that, him trying to answer all the questions she was producing without looking her in the eye.

"The whole time I was afraid the cook would come bursting on in." He was known to have restless nights of sleep that would find him in the kitchen, fussing over details for the next day. "When I'd snuck in," he interjected, "I'd made sure he wasn't around before I snatched food, but I had also planned to get out of there quick..."

He thought for a second, remembering, "I actually think I tried to explain it to you," the smile in his voice was apparent, "but you clearly had no fear of him."

"When I heard someone come in I tried to hurry you along, to hoist you up through...I think it was a side window." It had lead to a small courtyard. "Anyways, with the sudden rush though you slipped a little, I knocked over something loud, probably some pot or pan..." It had scared them both. That and the fact that the cook was now shouting. "It was enough so that your next slip made me lose my grip and we fell."

He winced as he anticipated what was next, "The cook came in with the most unfortunate timing possible – he saw me trying to get off of you."

"Ooh" Anya winced in tandem.

Dimitri nodded, "What a nightmare."

The booming voice of the cook was still in his head. "I started pleading with him. I had never really pleaded for myself before, but this time you were involved…" Dimitri seemed lost in thought, "you on the other hand, jumped in to defend us, especially me." He smiled appreciatively.

"I imagine that with the dark he hadn't realized who you were, so the horror that came over his face when he did –" Dimitri laughed nervously just remembering, "when he connected it to what he thought he saw…it was scary."

"I'll bet. What did he do?"

"He lunged for me. With what he suspected now, well…murder was excusable.

"Then you leaped in between us. He was already embarrassed for having yelled at you, but then having almost struck you…" He trailed off. "It was a mess."

He tried to remember back to the scene. "I was still on the floor gazing at you in disbelief that you were standing up for me, trying to defend me. In fact," he smirked, "I think that's when I officially fell in love." He added off-hand, "As if knocking my abusive master into the river earlier in the year hadn't been enough…"

"Wait. He was the cook...?"

"The very one." Dimitri's proudly beamed at her.

"You tried to distract him, have him lead you out, clear my name, whatever would work. I could tell that's what you were thinking because you started babbling again." This time he rolled his eyes happily.

"I didn't dare move, but I finally looked into your face in gratitude." He pictured it in his mind's eye, watching the small girl as her smile faultered, "You were confused though, because you didn't understand."

Anya struggled to follow his train of thought. "What do you mean I didn't –"

"I must have been grimacing a bit because - well," He seemed to snap out of his thoughts, shaking his head a little "maybe I should stop my story there." He calmly leaned forward and affectionately kissed Anya on the forehead. She waited a beat, but he had stopped.

"What? You can't just say that!" Anya sat up indignantly. She tried not to sound like a kid whose bedtime story had ended too abruptly.

He returned her pouted lips with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I was just getting ahead of myself."

"Why? What happened?"

"It's really not important."

"Dimitri." Something about her tone was more than a little impatient. He watched her silently for a moment.

"Ha, ten years and you can still get me to do what you want."

Anya smiled the same, rather smug smile of that Anastasia from a decade ago, and motioned for him to continue. If he wasn't having dejavu before, he definitely was now.

"Its just not a happy ending…"

Her smile fell slightly, "Oh."

Yes, definitely dejavu, Dimitri reflected. "I was grimacing because I knew what was coming...".

"But hadn't I forbid him from going back -?"

"I don't think you thought of that, Anya. You didn't know he had me under his thumb as long as I lived in the palace."

"But…didn't you say I saved you?"

"Well," Dimitri shifted uncomfortably, "that's the thing. He despised me, and now I wasn't just defying his orders not to eat. He saw me touching you, in fact, he saw a transgression of the highest sin" he squeezed her hand affectionately, "Then you had – legitimately of course – undermined his authority over me."

"Probably made things worse."

"Well, I'm sure it didn't help that it was you of all people, the one who, as Vlad rightfully put it, used to terrorize him."

He paused, running his fingers up and down her arm slowly and methodically, deep in thought again. "My master, as soon as you disappeared down the next corridor mind you, turned with the scariest look on his face that I had ever seen. Probably scarier than that other look, actually."

Reliving the memory, Dimitri's gaze followed downward, and he darkly added, "then he started to loosen his belt."

He turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, running a hand through his hair in agitation. His next words however were recounted matter-of-factly, no emotion in his voice. "He beat me so hard I couldn't work for the next three days, which meant I couldn't earn my food."

He avoided Anya's face for the moment, expecting it to show pity. He couldn't bear the thought.

"I guess in the end he probably was protecting me. If he'd decided to turn me in for what he thought he'd seen, I wouldn't have stood a chance." It would have been the word of the top cook over his bad reputation. He recalled this as if he'd gone over it in his head many times before. "Of course there were all the other reasons I mentioned before too, but he justified every blow on the account that he was protecting you from my 'filthy', 'disobedient', and 'worthless' hands." Dimitri emphasized each word as if the belt had followed. He looked down again, flexing his fingers and giving a half-hearted smirk. It's not as if he'd learned his lesson.

He took a breath. "Ever since I first realized you were really the Grand Duchess, I haven't been able to get his words out of my head…"

In truth, his master's mantra, which had been punctuated by head-splitting agony, had been repeating on loop ever since Sophie's house.

He finished his thought, "…every time I touch you." It amazed him how something he had forgotten so long ago could haunt him so effectively.

After a moment, Anya's voice returned. "Dimitri—"

"I know it's not rationale." He cut in desperately, his gaze avoiding hers self-consciously still, "I'm sorry."

Anya moved closer, and didn't kiss or touch him, but merely waited. She gazed intently until he looked up – right into her disarming eyes. He swallowed.

"How could you be worthless when you mean the world to me?"

He wondered if she could hear his heart thudding so loudly in his chest. Dimitri reached up to touch her as if she were a fragile dream of his that might shatter.

Anya impatiently closed the gap.

As he returned the kiss, he seemed to hold on to her for dear life. Now that she finally understood, each motion now felt meaningful and more full of passion than before, if it was possible. This time Dimitri trailed his kisses downward, hesitated slightly, then continued, slowly feeling and tasting each breast with his lips, then venturing to every inch of her body. It continued that way for the both of them until they both collapsed back into the pillows, bodies entangled, panting wildly.

After a while, Anya propped herself up on one elbow, "Dimitri?"

"Yes, Your Highness?"

She could practically hear the grin back in his voice. He seemed very far off. She wacked him playfully with the only pillow that had managed to stay on the bed, not that it wasn't holding onto the edge for dear life.

He laughed, elated at everything.

"I was wondering, when did you realize I was, you know, Anastasia?" Sometimes she still felt like she was referring to herself in the third person when she said it that way. She'd have to do something about that.

"When you talked about the boy opening the wall, back when you met Sophie."

She looked over at him curiously.

"It led to the servant's quarters. That servant boy" he looked up at her with that lopsided grin "was me."

There was a silence as her memory clicked with a few nights before. "Is that what you were trying to tell me when I started yelling-?" she trailed off. It hadn't made any sense at the time, not that she'd wanted to listen to anything he'd had to say for that matter.

"Mmhmm" he held back a satisfied laugh. The truth was having quite the opposite effect on her now…it wasn't often that he was able to rob Anya of speech.

Meanwhile, the Grand Duchess in question blinked at him. He was the boy who had saved her? She stared, now the one who was lost for words. Maybe this is how it would go all night.

Dimitri impatiently closed the gap.

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