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The ideal is to separate one life from another.
Henceforth, Russian Federation should not be—and was not—Tver's grandmother, because that role goes to Rus Land.
It was complicated, their relationship. Everything was bound to be complicated ever since Rus Land's death. Though Tver would be familiar with who Rus Land was, he would not be familiar with who this new relative of him was.
Hardly new, but in an essence, it really was new. They both knew naught of one another until Tver's father, Vladimir, brought her under his wing. How kind he was to his unnamed sister, to even bestow her the city of Moscow.
Tver was a curious heir. His position within the principalities was already strengthened considering who his father was.
And Volyn was a great seer. It wasn't like they could see the future, but is it really not an act of such, when the clues are laid out right in front of them? Volyn foresaw how Tver would be an important figure in the future of the Rus people.
And he was. Until Moscovia came by and snuffed his light out, before he could pose an even bigger threat to her existence.
How selfish of her to do so to her own grandson.
Of course Moscovia could keep deflecting the blame from herself, saying that it was Tver's own fault for attempting to rebel against the Golden Horde's rightful rule.
But what was the point of saying that, when she readily agreed to be the khan's enforcer? The khan had chosen her to counterbalance the rapidly rising power of Tver, and she accepted that role; perhaps too eagerly.
The constant chattering of her subjects does not hinder her from her continuous thoughts, but the sight of her grandson that she herself killed inching closer to her certainly was.
Ignoring whatever he was doing, it wasn't like Tver was the only obstacle in retaining what once was with Rus Land's control. There was his own father—Vladimir—himself, Kiev (though weakened) and Ruthenia down south, there's no need to mention the Balts and the Tatars, as well as the ever-present ideal that was Novgorod Republic.
Those who survived never directly faced against her, she realised. All that had to go against her in the endless wars of the past had been slaughtered by her own blade.
Those who survived have been conquered by Lithuania, and his bride, Poland. The elder of those two, not their children of the modern age.
Well, the Tsardom of Russia was much more of a merciless person compared to Moscovia. All the killing of adversaries had come to an end once the Time of Troubles came to an end.
She'd rather not think of The Smuta.
Even so, that goal of hers—to eliminate all the contenders of who would be the next Rus Land—had only failed once in the two lives Moscovia had. She did not kill Novgorod. But she did leave him to die.
Was there really a difference there? Russia would say that there was one, because she wasn't the one to have done the killing blow. She was still the one who killed Rus Land's son Vladimir. She was still the one who killed Rus Land's daughter Beloozero. She was still the one who killed Rus Land's daughter Izborsk. She was still the one who killed an innocent huma—
He was right in front of her now. Shorter than her, of course, but not considerably so. He still had his father's height. As with the whole family. Russia was sure Rus Land didn't intend in having an all-giant family when she first took them in under her wing.
Well, that's hard to ignore now.
"It's a bit rude to stare at someone so closely up their face, Arey Iraklyevich."
It was almost cute to see him jump back so far, like a startled cat, especially with how wide his eyes seem to be. Or maybe he's just afraid, look at how his eyes shook when she spoke to him.
The talking can be done later. Right now, Russia's mind stays intact in its attempt to figure out why Moscovia had to kill him in the beginning.
"You can see me?"
Well, she'd always been able to see him, ever since the sixth day of the twelfth month (or would it have been the twenty-seventh day of the eleventh month for him? He likely still considered dates using the old style), nearly eight years ago. He was sitting on the freshly rained upon grass, sleeping. His hair was as soft as ever.
Ah, her train of thought had been derailed.
"Of course I can, I'm not alive."
"Oh."
Her answer and his reply was as simple as that. Though Russia tried to walk away to find an even more solitary place to have a better place to think slowly, it should've been expected that Tver would follow suit.
She wouldn't complain about that. She'll ignore Teutonic Order's complaints, though.
She kept walking while he kept floating behind her, following her in suit. Only when she stopped in front of a bench and took seat on it, did he stop as well and floated absentmindedly beside her.
How better than to answer her questions than to have someone else answer for her?
"Do you know why Moscovia killed you, Arey?"
"To be the sole successor of Vladimir?"
Well that was certainly an answer. As much as he wasn't wrong in his hesitation, she doesn't find that answer to be the exact one.
"That's not it?"
"Not quite."
He was quick to pick her hints up. All of her descendants were.
"Because you felt shackled to your duties as Zemstvo?"
"Is that a statement or not?"
"It is."
That's it, then. Tver has the answer, and it should be a surprise to no one that he's correct.