@dimitripetrovv
“Dimitri?!"
The palace was on fire. Smoke burned her lungs with every inhale. The people had revolted. But she wasn't ten anymore. Anya pounded on the only door she could find that wasn't aflame until someone grabbed her from behind and dragged her away through the snow.
"No he's still in there — !! " She was screaming, the fire becoming an orange and yellow blur through the tears, "you can't leave him!"
Tears still streaked down her cheeks as the princess bolted upright in bed. She touched her face, pulling her hand away to see the clear liquid on her shaking fingertips.
Anya slid out of bed, shivering at the cool air, and crossed to the door that connected her room to his. She hesitated, unsure if he'd be awake or alone, but worry won out. The fear that he had been dying while she could do nothing still had her heart pounding.
The only sound she heard after the creaky opening of the door was the soft breaths that told her he was asleep. Anya tiptoed to his bed, arms crossed to keep her torso warm to look at him once before she would scurry back to her own bed.
She didn't see him sleep often. Sometimes he passed out on the couch or long car rides, but this was different. His chest rose and fell in an even pattern with his breathing. Long lashes fluttered; maybe he was in his own dream. Anya reached out and brushed reddish bangs away from his face. Even strangers noticed he was beautiful.
"Dimitri — ?" She whispered, covering her mouth in surprise at the broken sound her voice had. It must be from the crying. She perched on the edge of the bed and shook his shoulder gently.
“Dimitri...”