Anastasia Romanov was in love with Dimitri. Yes, she knew for certain. But she had grown to appreciate the spotlight which high society thrust upon her with wonderment and awe.

Anastasia appreciated the notion that there were people out there who cherished her. After years of sweeping floors, living life as a ghost, haunting the streets with hunger in her belly. 

Dimitri insisted that they would not be safe. The Bolsheviks would hunt her down, for the represented the last ember of a previous era whose fire they wanted smothered. She may lose the trust of her people, he said, if people found out about his upbringing and lack of social status. Anastasia understood that feeling, because that was once her.

"Nonsense. I will be the pillar of strength this country needs. I will stand strong and represent them," Anastasia consoled her love, but Dimitri was not swayed.

"This is reckless, and you will get yourself killed. I cannot let you die," Dimitri exclaimed, adjusting his bowtie on his tuxedo.

Anastasia examined her gown and tiara in the mirror, ensuring not a jewel or hair was out of place. "It was the fate of my family to die. I was spared, and I will not fail them. That is the coward's way out."

A muscle ticked in Dimitri's jaw. He was not pleased with his betrothed's decision, but he would shield her from any backlash or harm that may come her way. "It's not cowardly to know when you're sealing up your own death sentence."

"Come, Dimitri. It is time to show ourselves to the world. Together." She took his hand in her gloved one. Gave it a kiss. A smudge of lipstick lingered on his knuckles, but he paid it no mind.

Together, they walked to the curtain, where the people of Russia, from all walks of life, awaited them. Cameras from members of the press flashed, ready to capture what would display on the front page of their newspapers.

Dimitri was still unsettled by the fact that the people may not respect this union. But he would not get in the way of his headstrong and courageous Anastasia.

As the curtains drew back, there was a moment of hushed silence.

"My name is Anastasia Romanov. And this is my future husband, Dimitri Romanov," Anastasia stated to the crowd.

Whispers flurried among the people. Dimitri had no qualms about adopting the last name of Anastasia, though he knew it was unconventional. Her wish was his command. For he was just happy to be by her side, after all these years of loving her, but not knowing who she truly was, or if she was alive, until now.

Dimitri gave a sheepish wave.

The people erupted into cheers.

Cameras blinded the couple. Faces shone with elation. Voices of people with questions elevated the noise until the future king and queen could not even hear themselves think.

Anastasia turned to her future husband. Squeezed his hand. 

Dimitri thought that perhaps he could survive this life as long as she kept squeezing his hand like that forever.