Anything But a Mistake

A.V. Nikitenko: “The main failing of the reign of Nicholas Pavlovich was that it was all a mistake.”

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ANYTHING BUT A MISTAKE: A 19TH-CENTURY RUSSIAN EMPIRE TIMELINE

30 March 1801

The blood had barely begun to cool upon his father’s body, Alexander thought, and already von der Pahlen, Panin and Ribas had retreated back into the ranks of the nobility, glowering at him from the shadows. He knew what they wanted him to be: an orderly Tsar, an illiberal Tsar, repressing the masses through bayonet and blood. Grimacing, he sat back in his chair and laced his fingers together. The winter chill had begun to bleed from St Petersburg.

He would not be a conservative Tsar. (Frankly, he hadn’t even wished to be the Tsar, not from the start; why not Constantine? Constantine always got the better lot.) The nobility would resist; of course they would, what else? -but he would push back. The serfs had to be freed, sooner or later. And there was that business with France to worry about, as well as enforcing control over the Polish corpse. Constantine was drifting away from him, too- but where would he find the time for family in the midst of all this ruling? Alexander removed his eyeglasses and groaned quietly.

There was a knock on his door. “Enter!”

The door opened, but there was no one there. Curious. Alexander stood up- ah! There- wandering on the carpet- his brother, Nicholas. Truth be told, sometimes Alexander thought of Nicholas more as his own son than a brother, being nearly two decades older than him- when he thought of him, that is. But the boy was crying now, genuinely crying, great wet teardrops leaking from his eyes and staining the fine fabric of his clothing. Alexander suddenly felt a stirring of feeling in his chest. Granted, it was by no means an avalanche of emotion, but it was something. Not paternal- of course not! –but, perhaps, familial.

“What’s the matter, Nicholas?” Alexander went down on one knee upon the carpet to examine his brother at eye level, but kept his distance. He knew next to nothing about children. The boy was struggling to keep himself under control, and succeeding. Strange thing- when Alexander was young, he took a while to calm down when he cried. Nicholas was rather large for his age, too- oh, yes. Hadn’t grandmother called him “the colossus”?

He was roused from his reminisces by Nicholas. “Con- constant- erm- Constantine,” and here Nicholas paused to take in a deep breath, “Constantine told me that Father’s never coming back. Never coming back.” He paused, grey eyes filling again with tears. Alexander blinked. Constantine was in the Winter Palace? “He left me in my quarters. But Father can’t be not coming back, can he?”

Nicholas’ eyes were huge, Alexander realized. He was starting to see his father in the young boy, and at this realization he shifted uncomfortably. Abruptly, he straightened up and adjusted his coat. “Well. I don’t really- that’s a-” He looked away, eyes shifting from one portrait to another. Generations of Romanovs past glared at him. How do you tell a young boy that his father was killed? Alexander sighed, and got down again.

“He’s not coming back, Nicholas.”

Nicholas stared at nothing for a while, and then he stared at Alexander. “I- I see,” the boy forced out, hoarsely, and then ran from the room, footsteps echoing. The Winter Palace suddenly seemed so very empty.

Alexander stood up again, somewhat slower, and went to sit heavily on his chair again. He didn’t think that he’d get any work done today. On the other hand- he supposed it was time to take a closer look at his younger brother’s education. If he thought about it, he and Constantine had had a blessed childhood. And there was another boy too, wasn’t there? Michael. Yes. He would have to give Nicholas and- what was his name again? –Michael the education that he and Constantine had received. After all, they were family too.


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Hello! Austria and Westeros sort of hit a dead end, so I decided to try a different POD. Haven't been able to find a POD where Nicholas I was different- in my personal opinion, scenarios where Constantine becomes Emperor are improbable. So here this is. Please provide your input! The POD here is that Alexander and Constantine's relationship is a bit more strained, and of course the above scene in his study. Hence, Nicholas is given a similar education to Alexander's, and, well, we'll see what this does to his personality and character.
 
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IMO what really shaped the reign of Nikolai Pavlovich is the way he entered it. After attempt of Decembrist coup he was extremely reluctant (mildly put) to encourage any liberal reforms.
His OTL education was not actually a liability (very few monarchs had any technical expertise - not that it helped much with general Russian backwardness), but less narrow mindedness and more early responsibility in state matters may be beneficial.

Interested to see where it can go. Nicolais I was a capable man who could do much better for his country then OTL.
 
Nicholas watched as the men marched back and forth, back and forth, across St Petersburg, across European Russia. "You are too precious to allow to march with the army," Alexander had said, refusing to meet his eyes. Yet Michael had been sent off behind the front lines. What was the use of wearing military uniform if he had not seen real combat? His youth was over, anyhow. From now on his value to the nation would only increase.

The grin on his brother's face was insufferable, but Nicholas recognized the fondness welling in his chest. He was tempted to give in to the patriotism and hyper-masculinity filling the air; yes, Russia had won both the war and the peace, but did pride not go before destruction? Bracing oneself for the other foot to drop was something that Nicholas had been born with, and it had only been enforced under Lamsdorf. Alexander had unknowingly strengthened this conviction further as he switched Nicholas' and Michael's tutors back and forth; Nicholas had made it an objective to learn as much from each individual tutor before the tutor was dismissed and a new one appointed. Alexander was weird that way.

His brother also seemed to think that revolution was a bad thing. Not so for Nicholas. The dirty Russian nobles who had murdered his father protected their own, and every last one of them fought for the Emperor and for Russia. If the man on the throne was not adequately receptive to their demands, they would remove him; but faced with revolution, they would forget previous grievances. Each and every one of them lacked conviction and courage, changing sides like... like...

Like Russia. Nicholas barked out a short laugh and adjusted his tight collar. Constantine glanced at him and got back to quaffing drink. His elder brother had managed to find his way onto the battlefield; he heard that Austerlitz had been the debacle it was to some extent because of Constantine. And now, in Paris, Nicholas could hear him banging and shouting around in his private rooms. What on Earth was he trying to prove? Alexander didn't like Constantine, Nicholas knew; not least because Father had named him Tsarevich over Alexander.

Let Europe dance while the French celebrated their restoration under the Bourbons. Let Alexander's new order bloom. Nicholas had made his own allies, bored garrisons in St Petersburg. There were enemies everywhere. The nobility plotted as they always did, plotting and plotting and plotting. And their plotting would bear ill results for the Romanov family, for Alexander, if their plotting went uncharted, went unnoticed. And in Europe, Nicholas had seen the eyes flash from beneath shadowed brows; the peasants tilling in the fields had not forgotten the Duchy of Warsaw or any of Napoleon's other fabrications. They were more relaxed in the presence of just another Russian nobleman, Nicholas noted; evidently only the Emperor was terrifying enough. He would need to change that. Now all that remained was talking Alexander into letting him into the Ministry of Internal Affairs and going on endless tours. Still- it was something. He could make contacts, get to know the country. He was looking forward to it.

Nicholas' smile curved under his moustache. He inhaled deeply, stepping back as the soldiers snapped to attention and Alexander inclined his head gravely. There were noblewomen out tonight in Paris, German and French and British girls looking for a Russian to flirt with. For now, Russia was on top of the world. For now, Nicholas would dance.
 
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