The Key to the Music Box

Their Childhood

            "Anastasia, get back here!" her father called. Anastasia, only seven, giggled and ran away. She had put a frog in Olga's bed. 'That ought to teach her not to mess with me,' she thought. Olga had made her so frustrated. She criticized her dancing, saying Anastasia had two left feet. Anaya would have cried, but she learned how to be a big girl. Her head turned around, as she was running, making sure she lost her father along the way. Right as she began to turn around, she bumped into somebody and they both fell back. Anastasia groaned in pain. She was sure her and whoever, the person was, bumped heads.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" she heard the person snap.

Anastasia looked over, seeing a little boy also on the ground. His clothes were torn, and his brown hair was falling in his face. When he looked up, he immediately blushed. "I am so sorry your highness. I wouldn't have said that if I knew it was you," the boy said. He stood up and bowed.

"No, no it's okay. I was just trying to run from my father," Anastasia started. The boy took out his hand to help her up, and she willingly took it. "I don't know if I lost him or not. He's really mad at me..." she looked down, ashamed.

"What did you do?" the boy asked, tilting his head,

"You know how my older sister Olga woke up screaming this morning?"

"Yes. She woke everyone up," the boy became suspicious.

"Well... I put a frog in her bed..." Anaya blushed and looked down.

The little boy burst out in laughter. Anastasia clenched her fists, embarrassed. "Why did you do that? That's not very princess like," the boy scolded, teasing.

"She told me I couldn't dance. She really hurt my feelings," Anaya could feel the tears coming. She refused to cry. 'I'm a big girl.' The little boy's smile disappeared. He could see the hurt in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's alright," he began. He walked up to her, putting his hands on her arm to console the princess. "I've seen you dance before, and I don't think what she said is true."

"Really?" sniffled Anastasia. She looked up at him. He was so nice to her. None of the servants talked to her. They were always scared of her and her family. It was nice to have a friend.

"Yes. I really do think so," said the boy truthfully.

"Do you think you could dance with me?"

"I... Uhm...." The boy blushed hard.

"Please?" Anastasia begged. She gave him the look her father always said 'yes' to. She even pouted for good measure!

"I could get in trouble," the boy worried.

"Aren't I the boss of you?" she asked him.

"Well y-yes, but-," the boy stammered.

"Then dance with me!" Anastasia demanded. "I have to practice somehow, and you are a good size to dance with me," she argued. Defeated, the boy sighed and grabbed his hands in hers. One of his hands went onto her waist, and the other grabbed her hand. He began leading her in a simple waltz. "Where did you learn to dance?" She asked curiously. Most palace servants did know how to waltz.

"My mother taught me after catching me watching people dance at the balls," he answered.

"Dimitri!" the boy turned around. The mean, old cook stormed towards him. "What are you doing? How dare you touch the royal highness," the cook yelled. He grabbed the boy by the scruff of his shirt.

The boy, Dimitri, struggled out of his grasp. "Put him down!" Anastasia demanded.

The cook looked over to her, embarrassed, and dropped him on the ground. "I am so very sorry, your grace. I will remove this boy out of your sight, and punish him severely."

"You will do no such thing," Anaya proclaimed. "I asked him to dance with me because I needed practice, and all of the boys I practice with are either too big or small. This boy is my friend, and you will cause him no such harm. He was nothing but sweet to me."

Puzzled, the cook bowed. "Of course, you highness." He turned to leave. The cook bent down to the ground and murmured something in the boy's ear. Dimitri looked down, ashamed.

Anastasia walked over to him and helped him up. "Thank you," Dimitri said to her. She smiled.

"Anastasia?" her mother called.

Anaya let out a small squeak, and her eyes got big. "I have to go!" she whispered. She threw her arms around the boy's neck, giving him a hug. "Thank you for dancing with me!" Anastasia gave him a kiss on the cheek and turned around, running away.

Dimitri, dazed, put his hand up to where her lips touched. The words from what the cook murmured to him rang in his head. Ashamed, he dropped his hand. 'Princesses don't marry kitchen boys.'