Work Text:
Siberia, Russian Empire
17 October 1907 [N.S. 30 October 1907]
It was uncomfortable for her, that the fiefs were starting to become entrenched in such an ideology.
Her son seems to have known the discomfort.
He was always quite emotionally perceptive. His perception ends there so far, soon she knows that he will find the political atmosphere more fiery than ever before. And he would have no choice but to participate, as due to his future as her imperial successor.
Those books were rampant. Das Kapital and the like. Especially the Communist Manifesto, she'd seen her son read that several times. Quite the concerning sight. But it isn't like she could just ban him from seeing such literature, could she? She had no right to do so. As long as her son can provide a valid argument—of which he always has, he was definitely her heir—she had no choice but to allow it.
Ever since what happened two years ago, the question has been lingering in the heads of her subjects. "What would be of the future of Russia?" Though they may not say it outwardly, she knew what they have thought of. She always does. Not if they hid it well, but oh, are they so terribly awful in hiding their true wonders.
Well, it's clear isn't it?
She doesn't find that question to be in any case necessary. She will die soon, in less than a decade, and she would be replaced by a personified communistic version of All of Russia. Blasphemous seemed to be a right way to call such a future. She has come to accept it, really. There is no denying Death's eternity.
Her son would be her unbecoming. The communist would be the state successor.
Her situation fits something quite well, one she's seen in one of her author's famed works. Tolstoy, Lev Nikolayevich, ever the great writer, especially with the masterful piece that was War and Peace. It really was only her favourite because of the specific Decembrist connotations it originally had. That event had its own memorable events for her. Now, what was it that he said? Oh, yes...
"Man can be master of nothing while he fears death, but he who does not fear it possesses all."
The echo of the communist's voice wasn't something new to her. Even as she tilted her head slightly to see where the origins of those words came from, she knew to expect nothing. The communist was always unseen by herself. She couldn't help but to wonder, when would she ever stand face to face with such an omen of Death, when the time comes?
She knows when, of course she does. That does not mean she has no right to pretend that she does not. It happens often, that sense of a fallible act seeping through the cracks. As much as she wishes to not know, she was not one of the blind, though she wishes to be one of them. Even with her riches, that wasn't a luxury she can provide for herself.
Oh, how joyful would she be, if she were to turn a blind eye on the rising ideology. But she is not one to do such a thing. Even as she were to ever become irrepairably blind, she would not be blind to the signs shown so brightly in front of her. After all, her eyes were always sensitive to light, were they not?
And her son... oh, her son. His smile was so blinding, was it not?
It was fated all along. With the birth of her beloved son, he will bring an end to her reign. Of course she knows that, there was a reason why she named him with a beautifully meaningful name after all. He would understand the name soon—when the Empire falls to the hands of the lower class. He will understand.
He will, one day, once he loses that boyhood of his and grows into the youth. He will understand that name.
Those books are bringing him there, anyway, to such a youth. She has never been against literature, of course not. He was raised to be part of the intelligentsiya, at least he was presented to be for the humans. All such knowledge would be useful for him in the future. Useful for when the next revolution occurs in less than a decade.
Her hands had been turning black for the last five years.
A Representation—ah, no. The Ruling Angel of the Barim stated that they were Personifications now—must be aware of the belief they are personifying. It was not a secret that the communist had been indulging in Marx's works. She had discouraged that outrageous future, even just reading the first words of his Manifesto made it clear how damaging such a future would be to her imperial status.
The Germans always found a way, did they not? The last century's fourties were the most turbulent of all in her opinion. It was only a miracle that the people were fearful enough to not do the same, as how it happened when Emperor Aleksandr came to pass. But they were bolder, now. As she had seen in the past two years. With how much damage control she had to do, and how often that son fraternised with the villagers more often than any other imperial figure would prefer.
The communist would prefer such a thing, of course. That ideology has been a great influence to the essence of Russia lately. Perhaps her son would decide where he stands soon enough. Though the answer was clear to her. In the end, communism would prevail and rule over the land.
And that will be an unchanging fact.
The Silver Bullet that will come to be shot would rule over the land in the next two decades. A monster brought down by silver, of whom is just another monster behind it.
Oh, how she wishes to be blind.