Chapter Forty-Two (Patreon)

Alexander smiled despite himself as he took his tea. Somehow the drink always tasted better when his mother poured it.

Charlotte of Prussia–formally Alexandra Feodorovna, Empress of Russia–was a thin, frail woman. Her voluminous silk dresses hid a body that had been wracked by childbirth. Her skin was wrinkled and aged beyond its years, her face closer to what Alexander would expect of his grandmother than his mother (though both of them had long since died). Yet her eyes remained sharp as ever and her mind was second to none.

“You have been married for three years,” his mother began. Alexander nodded. “It is happy?”

“It is,” Alexander agreed. Alexandrine was as good a wife as one could have, dutiful to her core. She was happy to be wed to him, ecstatic to raise their children, and would do anything asked of her and nothing more. “You and father could not have chosen me a better bride.”

“It is good to hear that you trust my judgement in such matters,” his mother said. “When your father came to me, speaking of betrothals which I had not been consulted, for a moment I wondered if you had forgotten the wisdom of the woman who raised you.”

“I would never,” Alexander lied. “I merely wished to convey my own concerns and desires regarding our diplomatic relations, with the understanding that you would, of course, appraise their personality yourself.” He did care about happy marriages, but Russia came first. Alexander was uncertain regarding the power of a marriage alliance in the 19th century–especially a marriage alliance with a constitutional monarch–but would take whatever power he could get for Russia.

His mother eyed him carefully. Her eyes, though clear, were tired. Worn down by decades of court intrigue and semi-public mistresses. After a while she nodded.

“There will be time to discuss your siblings’ marriages later,” his mother decided. “Tell me of my grandchildren.”

“Of Pyotr there is little to say,” Alexander began. “He is as any healthy infant his. He babbles and breastfeeds, relieves himself, then sleeps.”

“A healthy infant,” his mother agreed. “You yourself were not so different.”

Fighting a blush Alexander pressed on. “Alexandra is a little hellion. She delights in nothing so much as her ability to run. During the train right she and Maria’s daughter Alexandra invented a game where they ran at each other with pillows. They did so for two hours, until they both fell asleep.”

His mother laughed, and Alexander decided there were few sounds better in the world.

*

Alexander looked at his younger brothers. When he left for Irkutsk the eldest, Konstantin, had been only nine. Michael had been four, only just starting to read. Now Konstantin sat before him on the cusp of adulthood, dressed in a tailored suit with the beginnings of a beard upon his face.

“So,” Alexander began. “You like ships.”

Konstantin rolled his eyes. “Yes brother,” he said, “I like ships. Though I believe you do as well, if the rumors from your part of the Empire bear any truth.”

Alexander straightened up, his eyes gaining their steely sheen. “What rumors?” he asked sharply.

“Easy,” Konstantin said. “Just that you’re building a new fleet.” He leaned forward, grinning. “Why, is there something important happening? Something secret?”

“Brother–”

“You know I can keep my mouth shut,” Konstantin said. “No one learned about that kiss you and Alexandrine shared did they?”

Alexander looked at his brother wryly. “This is a rather more important secret than a light kiss between a betrothed pair.”

“Then I suppose you shall simply need to see that I keep your secrets,” Konstantin said. “Perhaps by bringing me with you?”

Alexander blinked. “You want to come to Siberia?”

“God yes,” Konstantin said. “Do you know how dull it is here? The Conservatives have only gained more power since you left. Christ’s blood, I am meant to be an admiral and my chief tutor is a poet as well as a Slavophile. That faction hates the Navy as much as they love the Army, not that they’re interested in getting good equipment for either. The Baltic fleet is meant to protect the capital, it should be at the forefront of any recent technologies yet remains old and out of date by the standards of the Patriotic War. Even the naval fortifications are substandard–our only saving grace is the number of cannons in the harbor, and that the few navies built for the shallow depths of the Gulf of Finland are in as bad a position as we are.” Konstantin leaned back in his chair, catching his breath. “Yes brother,” he said after a moment. “I want to come to Siberia. To Busan, where all the rumors of your new fleet come from. I want to bring a few people with me, good Russian men with good ideas who are being ignored.”

“If you can convince Father I will accept you with open arms,” Alexander said. “I will even convince Admiral Lazarev to mentor you personally.”

Konstantin’s eyes lit up. The teenage Grand Duke shot out of his chair, moving swiftly to the door. “I’ll talk to him right now,” Konstantin called over his shoulder. “He’ll agree before the day’s over, I swear it!”

*

“What’s this I hear about you planning to marry me off?”

Alexander stopped in his tracks. Though he knew better he turned to face the accusing voice. “Alexandra,” he greeted.

His sister glared at him. Clad in a white silk dress and decked with jewels, Alexandra was the very image of a Grand Duchess. Yet not all the money in the world would save a man from her sharp tongue. “So?” she asked. “Who is it? An old man? A pox-ridden prince? A syphilitic king?”

“I do not believe Crown Prince Victor Emmanuel is diseased,” Alexander calmly replied.

“A Catholic?”

“Not a particularly religious one by all accounts.”

Alexandra glared at him. “That makes it worse! At least a religious man believes in the same God, even if he, for some known reason, believes that God’s words come from a single man in a funny hat.”

“Would you prefer Crown Prince George of Hannover?”

Alexandra paused.

“He is not Catholic,” Alexander continued. “He is said to be quite handsome. And while he is blind, that does not appear to have affected his intelligence in the slightest.”

“Hanover is a backwater.”

“It is,” Alexander agreed. “How fortunate then, that you should bring with out a potent dowry. How very fortunate that the Crown Prince possesses ties to the English, who are ever-eager for investments.”

Alexandra seemed intrigued. Alexander went for the kill.

“He despises liberalism,” he said. “He favors the Divine Right of Kings. With your help he could build a bastion of religion and absolutism in Western Europe.”

“Hanover would not be able to stand alone.”

“No,” Alexander agreed. “But with Russian support, British trade, and a friendly relationship in Baden and Bavaria it has potential.”

“So that’s your goal,” Alexandra said, her eyes narrowed. “A German bloc, aligned to neither Prussia nor Austria, but to us.”

“Yes,” Alexander said simply. “The Germanies are at the center of Europe. For centuries whoever has controlled them has dominated European power. The Habsburgs, the Bourbons, and now the balance rests between the Hohenzollerns and a Habsburg resurgence. If either gains complete control over the Germanies, they will rival our own power. I would keep them from that, while strengthening the hand of my wife’s family and your potential husband.”

“And this only works with both Hanover and Bavaria,” Alexandra noted. “Prussia and Austria are far too strong for either of them alone. If I am to marry Prince George, who is to secure Bavaria?” Her eyes narrowed. “And do not claim that Maria’s marriage is sufficient. You know as well as I that the Bavarians will not honor an alliance through the Beauharnais line.”

“I have suggested that Konstantin wed Princess Hildegard.”

Alexandra nodded. “She is said to be very pretty, and dances quite well. She will be good for him, I think.”

“Will you speak to Father?”

Alexandra smiled. It was a sharp thing, one that reminded Alexander of himself. “Of course, “Alexandra said. “How could I pass up the chance to be a Queen?”