Okay so I once read a prompt that during Once Upon a December that Anya's singing slips between Russian and French without knowing it and for some reason I really liked that? Anyways this is a lot more dramatic than the musical/movie so hold onto your hats (or music boxes or whatever. . .) kinda mostly from Dimitry's point of view in a way.

The music box's small handle made the noise of it winding up.  Dimitry stared at the girl in front of him in shock.  How did she do that? She popped open the lid and a melody began playing.

"How did you. . ." Dimitry trailed off, still stunned.

Anya's eyes had widened and she didn't acknowledge his presence anymore; slowly walking to the center of the city square.

"Anya?"

Dimitry watched her trance-like state.  He could barely hear her murmuring words to the tune of the music- slipping between Russian and French.  He could understand the Russian bits and every now and then English would slip out; but he'd never been more confused in his life.  He knelt down, still studying her as her gaze was fully on the music box in her hands.  It was as if she'd been transported to another world.

"Quelqu'un me tient en sécurité et au chaud,
loshadi plyvut skvoz' serebryanuyu buryu,
les figures dansent gracieusement,
po moyey pamyati. . ."

"Anya. . ." He tried again with no response.

What was making her this way? Why did a music box have such an effect on her? Unless she really was. . .

He didn't know.  Not a clue.  And to add on to this, he didn't know what his feelings for this girl had become.  What happened while dancing? What would have happened if Vlad hadn't quickly stolen her back?

Meanwhile Anya couldn't comprehend what was going on.  She wasn't with Dimitry anymore.  The benches of the train station by the square had disappeared from sight as soon as she unlocked the music box.

How did she know this song?

"Someone holds me safe and warm,
Horses prance through a silver storm,
Figures dancing gracefully,
Across my memory. . ."

It all looked like what you would see in a daze.  A beautiful and intriguing dream.  People dancing all in white.  A family watched her.  A mother and father with three daughters and a son.  It felt like she was home.  A real home.

It felt so real, just like a memory would.  But as the music was slowly fading, so were the people.  Their figures becoming blurrier and blurrier.  She didn't want them to go.  She didn't want this warm feeling inside her chest to go away.

Why did these people affect her so much?

Dimitry ran a hand through his hair, muttering cuss words in Russian.  What did he feel?

He looked back at Anya.  She was pale- looking as if she'd seen a ghost, maybe more than one.  Her movements slowing with each beat of the song.

Dimitry felt his nerves stand on edge as he carefully stood up.

"Anya?" He asked once more, hoping to get through to her.

"And a song someone sings. . ."

The music box fell to the ground, Anya collapsing with it.  The round object rolled out of her hand, the melody finishing with one last haunting string of notes.

Dimitry had dashed over to her the second he saw her fall; barely catching her before her head could hit the pavement.

"Anya!"

He gently but firmly shook her shoulders.  It did nothing.

At least she was still breathing.

Dimitry's gaze fell onto the music box that had now closed.

What the hell had just happened?

"Anya? Hey. . . Anya. . ." He tried once more, smoothing back the dirty blonde hair that had fallen in her face between the fall and his attempts to wake her.

What was he supposed to do? Kneeling by an unconscious girl in the middle of a St. Petersburg train station after who knows what happened.  What if those drunken people came back? What if the Bolsheviks came?

Dimitry threw the music box in his bag and leaned back over Anya, trying one last effort to wake her with no success.

He gently put his arms under her knees and back and picked her up bridal style, making sure her head rest against him and not falling backwards.

The only thing he could think of was to get back to the small abandoned building where they had been staying.

He quickly walked along the streets, ducking behind a building everytime he saw someone. Lucky for them, it was late in the evening so barely anybody was out.  The last thing he needed was the police interrogating him as to why he was carrying an unconscious girl through the streets of Russia.

He ducked into one of the alleyways on the way to the abandoned building; feeling Anya stir slightly against him.

"Maria. . . Alexei. . ." She murmured, her voice sounding strained.

Maria? Alexei? Weren't those two of Anastasia's siblings?

"Dimitry. . ."

He quickly looked down at her upon hearing his name.  Her eyes barely open.

"What- What happened. . ."

It came out more like a statement than a question in her hazey state.

He didn't have an answer for that.

"I- I don't know. . . He mumbled.

He felt her slump back against him as she once more lost consciousness.  Her head fell against the crook of his neck where he could feel her soft and slightly shakey breathing.

breath in. breath out. breath in.

He reached the door of the hideout and used his foot to do the secret knock.  Vlad peered through the door before nearly flinging it open at the two of them.

"What happened?!" He asked in a whisper-yell, ushering them inside quickly.

"I don't know." Dimitry said, keeping his voice down until the door was closed, "She got the music box open Vlad.  I don't know how she did it.  And she was almost in a trance.  She was white as a sheet and it was if she'd seen a ghost.  Then she passed out." He shifted her in his arms, "She was mumbling on the way here.  She mumbled the names Maria and Alexei."

Vlad stroked his beard in thought, "It could be from teaching her today?"

Dimitry shook his head, "It was different.  The way she said them- it was as if she was remembering something; someone."

He walked over and set Anya down on the old torn up couch.  He knelt beside her, holding her hand and stroking the back of it with his thumb.

"At least she's not truly injured." Vlad said softly.

"I caught her before she could fully hit the pavement." Dimitry said, not taking his eyes off of her.

"For all we know, a knock to the head could have even restored her memory."

Dimitry ran a hand over his face, "Don't even think like that buddy."

Vlad nodded thoughtfully before grabbing a blanket, "I'm going to sleep.  We have a long trip ahead."

He left the room, going to one of the others to find some piece of furniture to sleep on.

"Dimitry?"

Dimitry looked back down.

Anya was looking back up at him.

"What happened?" She asked once more.

"I don't know Anya. . . You got the music box open and it was like you were in a trance- you passed out."

Anya winced, the memory flooding back and hurting her head.  She squeezed Dimitri's hand in her own until her head stopped throbbing.

"I remember them-" She said carefully, "I- I don't know who they were though. . ."

Dimitry patted her hand softly, "Get some sleep Anya.  Tomorrow we start moving."

Anya nodded softly; exhaustion still holding her.  She wouldn't let go of Dimitry's hand.

"Please stay. . ."

Dimitry nodded, "Be right back."

He walked into the other room to Vlad.

"Anya wants me to stay with her for the night."

Vlad had a small smirk on his face that Dimitry rolled his eyes at before grabbing two blankets and walking out, heading Vlad mutter something about "young love"

Dimitry walked back into the living room to find Anya already back asleep.  He carefully draped one of the blankets over her before laying down on the floor, pulling over an old pillow and throwing the other blanket over him.

He suddenly felt Anya's hand shaking around; obviously looking for his.  He held her hand and felt her relax against him.

This was purely platonic.  He told himself.

Dimitry took a glance at their hands and smiled softly before rolling over, facing her up on the couch, and closing his eyes; letting sleep overtake him.