Of 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨 & 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙨 (𝘿𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙧𝙞) - Anastasia Prequel

три (three)

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Snow slowly flickered to a stop in the corner of Dimitri's vision. The wind had died down, but the bitter chill of the crisp winter was still prevalent. His eyelids felt heavy and numb with cold as he blinked in disbelief.

"Me, help... you." With skepticism drawn on his face, the boy frowned. The man said nothing, waiting for Dimitri to say more.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean by that... How could I possibly help you?"

Vlad tutted his lips together as he hefted his belt further up his stout stomach.
"As you can tell, I'm not quite the richest man... 've been smuggling some small trinkets here and there- you know, useless items that look pretty- and reselling them. I haven't gotten very far in my investments as I would have hoped, but... that's how the world goes this time of season."

"...and so?," Dimitri prodded. He didn't ask for the man's financial status. He could have cared less. It took an effort for him not to roll his eyes. This man was wasting his time..keeping him out in the cold weather...

"I simply need an agile hand... a pickpocket of sorts. I'm getting on in years and seem to be a bit of a pushover... can't get into anyone's pocketbooks anymore." He grumbled the last words in a huff, as if wary passerbys would hear him.

Dimitri dragged the dirty sleeve of his forearm across his snot covered face. Sickness was definitely catching up to him.

"I don't know... I can't exactly work for free. Can't afford it." He said it sarcastically but it was sadly the truth. He needed money heaps more than a companion in thievery.

"But two scoundrels working together... doesn't sound so unheard of, does it?"
Vlad was desperate now, his hands wringing over and over.

"And what would I get in return, old man?"

"Well, shelter I suppose... maybe food, but not guaranteed..." Vlad, eyes narrowed, didn't appreciate the insult to his age. He would have to be careful with this one...

Dimitri sighed, though the heat of his exhaled breath didn't appear in front of him in a steamy haze as before.

Should he run? A deal like that was asking for trouble. The streets were dangerous, even for Dimitri. He had no faint idea how he had survived the way he did for so long.. Other kids hadn't been as lucky.

Even so, both of them were fraught for some sort of bestowed award of riches... They were practically tripping over their own feet for it. Maybe this man would aid him in more ways than just one.

Dimitri was sure he was getting himself into a foolish scam... and yet...

"Fine. From now on, I'll be your little nevinovnyy* nephew; a sidekick if you will.. But you have to promise me something."

The spectacled man scowled. "Are you pulling my leg, mal'chik**?"

"No need to worry, I'm not... I'm just making sure you're not pulling mine." Vlad huffed, but stayed silent.

"You work a sort of business, right? Reselling you said? Well, let's put up a bargain... you do like those sorts of things, correct?"

Oh, Dimitri was foul. He was a dreamer... but also, a bit of a schemer.

"Whatever kind of amount you receive, I get half of the shares. It's only fair, old man."

Dimitri could tell he had him in a headlock. The man was actually considering it.

"But let's say you run away with the money. What then? We're both thieves after all, and thieves don't play fair..."

So, the old man was one step ahead of the boy...

"If I run away, you have my word to turn me over to the police. They know me and are sure to find me. There aren't many hiding places in St. Petersburg."

Vlad took off his winter cap and ran a hand through his imaginary head of hair.

"All right, son. All right." They shook hands, though it was like touching solid ice.

The pair walked through the streets, content that they had found what they had been looking for.

"My place is up a little ways. It's not exactly nice, but it's not bad either. Needs a little fixing up though, I'm afraid."

Dimitri nodded. He wasn't expecting much. "As long as we get out of this god forsaken weather, I'm happy."

Cobble street after cobble street, the city looked the same from every angle. Old beggars with tin cups froze to death on the sides of the roads, fat businessmen with silver pocket watches bustled through crowds, trying their hardest to avoid the looks of the poor, while constables, dressed in red, observed the scene, their pistols giving Dimitri a nervous lurch of his stomach.

Vlad's humble abode was in a rundown portion of town, and all the roofs of nearby huts were made of wood and sod. The small chimneys erupted with smoke, filling the skies with even more smog.

Once inside the inconsequential shack, Dimitri took off his grime covered boots. "Do you have a fireplace?"

Vlad, hanging his coat on a lopsided hook on the wall shook his balding head. "I warned you that I don't have much." Sighing, but not wishing to go on further with conversation, Vlad hurried to another corner of the room. What looked like a bed was covered in a pile of random assortments of ladies garments and pearl necklaces. Dimitri could see some scorch marks on the fabric, as if they'd been in a blazing fire...

"Abandoned keepsakes. From the palace. Don't ask me why I still keep them. They're not worth anything anymore."

Unwanted memories littered Dimitri's mind. The palace. The siege. The fire...

No one had to know of the boy's connection to the once great royal palace. No one.

A rumble in Dimitri's gut reminded him of the chaotic events of that morning.

"Come. Let's get some food in that belly of yours, shall we?" Vlad gave Dimitri a warm smile. Dimitri looked away, his hair falling in his face again. He didn't return the gesture.

Vlad, in an odd sort of way, cared about the boy, even if he was a bit stubborn and disobedient... In time, he hoped, they would both be in a better situation... That they would both get out.

*Nevinovnyy [невиновный] - Innocent (something Dimitri is not...)

**Mal'chik [мальчик] - Boy