Jehene/Gianna had nothing to do with the war.

It was a clash of two different economic systems along with a historical rivalry between two large European land powers.

Plus Stalin is an a..h..e.
 
Jehene/Gianna had nothing to do with the war.

It was a clash of two different economic systems along with a historical rivalry between two large European land powers.

Plus Stalin is an a..h..e.

It's possible that installing Jehane as the Tsarina might be pivotal in securing the peace - setting up something like a constitutional monarchy making it more stable. She's had exposure to Kira as an example as to how it's done. Of course, I don't have much idea as to who all the factions are and what they might want.
 
Kira's brother Vladimir is the pretender to the throne.

An! So Jehana can remain Gianna, which I think she'd prefer.
In an ideal world, yeah. However Gianna has been long enough around Kat to get infected with her brand of luck, so odds are that Vladimir will either be assassinated or something else, and Gianna decides to step into the spotlight in order to fix a broken Russia postwar into a nation that her family, both biological and surrogate would be proud of....
 
In an ideal world, yeah. However Gianna has been long enough around Kat to get infected with her brand of luck, so odds are that Vladimir will either be assassinated or something else, and Gianna decides to step into the spotlight in order to fix a broken Russia postwar into a nation that her family, both biological and surrogate would be proud of....

Well, let's see what our esteemed Peabody-Martini has in mind for us. I wouldn't put it past him, of course.
 
Isn't Jehane out anyway, because she was born of a morganatic marriage?

If not, then I think she's the true pretender, being the last surviving grandchild of the Tsar.
 
I believe she's out, yes.
In a far more traditionalist world yeah, but in a Post War Russia, and considering that outside of Kira's line if Vladimir buys it, she has the closest direct lineage to the Czar, and think in the Final decision would run from both the German and English rulers, combined with some of the Russian representatives post war in who ends sitting in the Russian Throne....While the French would certainly appreciate a Russian Empress who comes from the Common people in a level...


By the formal rules she is out, but this ain't a normal situation, Russia isn't a normal country and a more traditional and of noble upbringing candidate would certainly be rejected by the population with still not much of a monarchy leaning, where Gianna would certainly be acknowledged to have been as much of a victim of Stalin than many others in Russia, and unlike some nobility she isn't out of contact with the realities of a normal individual, what is what many in Russia long wished from their rulers until stuff like Nihilism and Bolshevism started to breed...
 
In a far more traditionalist world yeah, but in a Post War Russia, and considering that outside of Kira's line if Vladimir buys it, she has the closest direct lineage to the Czar, and think in the Final decision would run from both the German and English rulers, combined with some of the Russian representatives post war in who ends sitting in the Russian Throne....While the French would certainly appreciate a Russian Empress who comes from the Common people in a level...

Oh, if the other potential heirs are out, definitely. But she wouldn't be considered otherwise.
 
Part 25, Chapter 281
Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-One


9th January 1943

Berlin

Nika Utkin woke up in a strange place, a hospital from the sounds and smells. She remembered how she had come to be here every time she fell asleep, she’d be right back with being held down while a rifle butt crashed down on her fingers and hands, questions being shouted at her that she couldn’t answer. The first time she’d woken up here she’d discovered that her hands were a mass of gauss, splints and pins and had not understood what was happening. The Doctor had said through a translator that he’d been able to save most of her fingers. Then she’d seen the X-Rays, she’d seen those once before and knew what they were. What she had seen just looked shattered. Since then she’d just sat and waited to see what would come of her.

The other women around the ward had said that Nika had a German woman named Katerina, who they all held in high regard, had called in personal favors so she could the very best medical care. All Nika had was memories hazed by pain and terror of a woman with red hair trying to calm her. Nika couldn’t understand it, wasn’t she an enemy?

This time she woke up to a girl a few years younger than her sitting on a chair next to her bed reading a book. She had black hair that showed blue in the morning sunlight and dark blue eyes. “You’re awake, Nika?” She asked in strangely accented Russian.

“Yes” Nika managed to croak through a dry throat.

“Let me help” The girl said, putting down the book. She got a glass of water for Nika and helped her take a drink. As Nika had discovered, not being able to use her hands meant that she could do nothing for herself.

“Thank you” Nika said “Who are you?”

“Gianna” She answered, “And you are right where I was when Kat found me.”

Nika looked at Gianna skeptically. What could this girl possibly know?

“Alone and broken” Gianna said “That everything is over. Sound familiar?”

It did.

“Why is Katerina doing this?” Nika asked.

“Because doing nothing is just not in how Kat was made” Gianna said “Now, all we need you to do is heal so that we can help you figure out what you want to do next.”

That didn’t actually sound so bad, Nika only had one question.

“What accent is that?” She asked.

“Aunt Marcella and my cousins say I speak with a terrible French accent” Gianna said.

“French? But you’re German?” Nika said.

“Whoever said that Germany is just one place” Gianna said, “I happen to come from someplace in the far west.”

That wasn’t what Nika was expecting to hear and this whole conservation… It felt like her head was spinning and not because of the pain medication they had her on.


Southern Vietnam

Tilo could feel the red dust of the road under his boots, like talc. It was a hot afternoon. Tilo’s understanding was that there were no other kind here. He had heard that this was the dry season, in the rainy season it was hot and wet. There were farms on either side of the road, small family plots. That much he understood, there was not much else about this place that he did. They had been told that the Government was modeled after their own and the French Forth Republic with something like the Reichstag and Federal Council. That was where the similarities ended, the ruling coalition in the government was a Center Left/Traditionalist bloc that would have been unthinkable in Germany, it would have been as if the Social Democrats and furthest fringe of the Royalists had formed a Government. The Vietnamese had an Emperor but he had far less real power than the German Emperor. The real power was held by the Prime Minister and the President. It was President Nguyen Tat Thành who had invited them in to aid in their efforts to repel the Japanese after the Government was forced to relocate from Hanoi to Saigon.

As they had made their way north they had been spent trying to get their bearings on the situation and get to know their Vietnamese and French allies. Both those things had proven difficult. For starters, most of the French weren’t actually French. The Legionnaires seemed to be from everywhere and nowhere. The Vietnamese had proven completely alien to Tilo. The only one who Tilo had been able to sort of get a handle on was Phan, the Vietnamese Unteroffizer who’d attached himself to Tilo’s Squad that first day.

Phan was actually a few years older than Tilo had thought at first and had been educated by Jesuit Missionaries but that had evidently not put a dent in own beliefs, an odd mixture philosophies that Tilo had never heard of before. Tilo had made the mistake of trying to argue philosophy with him. It had been like trying to grab smoke and had left Tilo feeling like he was utterly clueless.

It had been other things like the cartridge belt that Tilo was still trying to understand. Phan only had a half dozen cartridges. He said that his rifle had a full magazine. That meant that he had eleven cartridges total. Tilo had asked him if he wanted more, they had plenty of 8mm JS ammunition for their machine guns and charger clips could probably be drummed up. Phan had declined, stating that if he killed eleven Japanese then he’d consider it a good day. Tilo had asked the obvious question, what if there were more than eleven Japanese? Phan had said that he’d get more from the large amount of 8mm ammunition that they had on hand for their machine guns. Why schlep it around until he needed it?

“Break time!” One of the Feldwebels yelled at them as he walked the opposite way down the road. Adjusting to the heat had been an issue. The officers had relented and had them break up marches during the hottest part of the day because of that. Tilo found himself sitting in the shade beside the road between Reier and Phan drinking lukewarm water from his canteen trying to ignore the taste left by the chlorine tablets.

A man came walking down the road, he had a vague look on his face and he was wearing the robes that they had been told were worn by the holy men in this land. The locals held them in great reverence so be respectful. He was talking in Vietnamese to the German Marines who were looking at him with bewildered expressions. When he reached them, Phan stood up and spoke briefly to him, then smiled before rejoining Tilo and Reier.

“What did he say?” Tilo asked.

“He said that it’s your first turn” Phan said.

What was that supposed to mean? First turn at what?

“And that Reier must have been an animal before” Phan concluded.

“What the Hell?” Reier growled.

“Let it go” Tilo said “That was clearly a joke.”

“A man like that ought to be careful with jokes like that” Reier muttered.

Phan just sat back down, his face unreadable.
 
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Part 25, Chapter 282
Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Two


11th January 1943

Breslau

Kurt was walking with Field Marshal von Wolvogle through the ruined city. When Wolvogle had asked him if he wanted to be there at the end of the winter offensive he’d had no idea that he along with a Platoon of SKA cutthroats that had been dredged up from somewhere would be the ones with the task of escorting Wolvogle through the lines into the pocket so that he could negotiate the final surrender of Soviet Forces. Kurt was of mixed mind about the SKA, no one knew how many of them there were or exactly what they might be up to at any given moment but they were doubtlessly effective. It was their irregular nature that bothered even him and he wasn’t exactly a by the book sort. They existed outside the regular order of things and made no bones about that. Of course, Manfred von Wolvogle loved them.

Kurt saw the pinched faces of the defenders holed up here with little in the way of food, fuel or ammunition. Still no one had been in a rush to root them out. Who wanted to be the last soldier to die in a battle? Elsewhere the Ukrainian Front had been surrendering by the thousands. This lot, probably no more than a Division was still holding firm in the ruins of Breslau, the largest block remaining. Rumor had it that Field Marshal von Richthofen wanted to rebuild his house starting this Spring and found the Russian presence inconvenient.

They stepped up to a building that seemed to be the most intact in the city center.

“General Zhukov requested me to come personally under flag of truce” Wolvogle said to the sentries. The fact that there were still men willing to stand sentry here spoke volumes about General Zhukov. Judging from the looks on their faces they clearly hadn't thought that Wolvogle would take their General up on that.

“If you could give us a minute” One of the sentries said before scurrying off.

Presently a man appeared wearing a pristine Commissar uniform. The experience that Kurt had so far in this war was that such people were seldom worth taking alive. He’d heard that special camps in Canada had to be constructed to warehouse them until someone figured out what to do with them.

“We’re here to meet with General Zhukov” Wolvogle said “To accept his surrender.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ve come a long way for nothing” The Commissar said as they walked deeper into the building. The truth was that they hadn’t come very far, Kurt’s Panzer Regiment was parked less than three kilometers from here.

Presently they came upon a man standing next to a fire burning in a steel drum. The man looked up, he looked just as pinched and tired as his men. He looked at Wolvogle “Do I have your word that my men will be looked after if I surrender?” He asked.

“You have my word of honor” Wolvogle said “I don’t know how good that is though, I can't speak for the government.”

The Commissar then interjected in rapid fire Russian. Kurt could only catch something about having orders to hold out to the last.

“That is good enough for me” Zhukov said, “But one thing first…”

He pulled out a pistol and shot the Commissar in the face, the man went down in spray of blood and teeth. Amazingly the man was still alive when Zhukov stepped up took aim and ended it.

“Sorry about that” Zhukov said as he flipped the pistol around and handed it to Wolvogle.

“Don’t be” Wolvogle said “If that whoreson had kept going on like that I’d have shot him myself.”


Berlin

Manfred von Richthofen was reviewing citations that were crossing his desk, Luftwaffe airmen who had shown extreme bravery or outstanding service. Then one came up that was most unexpected.

Between the 30th of October 1942 and 21st of November 1942 Oberfunker/Oberfernsprecher Helene von Richthofen remained at her post coordinating the defense of the City of Berlin even while her position came under constant attack…

Manfred read through it. Helene had forgone sleep, choosing to remain at her post for days at a time when Berlin had come within easy bomber range for Soviet forces. Having to be carried down to her bunk when she’d finally collapsed, she’d then be back a few hours later. The Flakturm had also come under constant bombardment. The conclusion that it reached was that Helene should be mentioned in a communique to the Reichstag, resulting in her being mentioned over every radio net in the German Empire, and nominated for the Iron Cross 2nd Class. It also didn’t matter if he signed off on it, that was a formality.

That slammed a few things into perspective for him. He’d been at odds with his rebellious daughter for years. Her various interests and crusades, the Mischner girl. Käte had told him it was because she was exactly like him. If he couldn’t have gotten into the Cavalry or later the Luftstreitkräfte, the precursor of the Luftwaffe would he have found some other way to serve like Helene had? He would like to think so. Somehow, Helene had become an adult and had made what seemed to have been the right choice in this situation. Even if that was over his own personal objections. Manfred signed the citation. Of course, he understood that there would probably be no living with Helene after this. At least Käte would be pleased.
 
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Commissars would be equivalent of SS, right

I think in this timeline they are the worst of the worst. The SS doesn't exits, there is still going bad stuff around in the German Army, but it is not state sponsered. If caught it will be punished. Germans being Germans, you don't break the rules. In the heat of fight, well stuff happens at the front, but it stays at the front. Commissars kill you, your family, pets, friends etc... just because they can and sometimes for their own personal reasons or to make some quota (look at OTL Beria's actions with minor girls).
 
Gianna would be in the line of succession if her grandfather Tsar Nikolai II or uncle Tsesarevich Alexei signed of on the marriage. Rules pertaining to morganatic marriage are at the discretion of the head of the house of Romanov. They were in OTL last changed in 1911 by the Tsar, to allow marriage to non royals but only by relinquishing the right of succession. However there is nothing stopping the Tsar or Tsesarevich to change them again.

If the marriage was permitted under the "new" house rules she would be the heir to the pretender to the throne of Russia and head of the House of Romanov.

So long as her cousin(they share a great great grandfather tsar Alexander II) Tsesarevich Kirill the current pretender has no male heir like in OTL or is declared Tsar. The line of succession is calculated from Tsar Nikolai II as the last ruling Tsar to which Gianna is much closer than the daughters of Kirill. And unlike in OTL Kirill and Kira's father could not declare himself to be Tsar of Russia as Nikolai was still alive.

The only other requirement is that she has to be Russian Orthodox.
 
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Thinking about Kat's reaction to the assault on the Russian girl and the avowed attitude in this time line regarding action outside the moral rules of war. I would conclude that the unit would be identified and the commanding officer quietly told that if it was not sorted out 'dam quick' then Kat and the SKA would de given the nod to do it for him!!
 
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