Work Text:
Saint Petersburg, Russian Empire
14 December 1825 [N.S. 26 December 1825]
It was clear to everyone that what those liberals did was treason.
And of course, though France—the revolutionary in particular—may hold her in such high regard, Russia wouldn't consider her feelings to be shared with the terror her ideas had brought to the land of Holy Rus. If it was the same thing as to how her father influenced her nation, then yes, Russia wouldn't deny such a thing. But no, that was not what happened.
A revolt! It had brought a revolt to the autocratic empire!
The effects of such a skirmish was still dawning upon her. Hardly could it even be called one. The riverbed was cold, of course it was. The blood had still not been cleaned by the police yet. Hard to do so in such a timeframe, if she were to be honest. The red liquid had stained the river with its bodies.
Though that should be the least of her concerns now. The only things she should be worried about was the safety of the emperor first and foremost, and the certainty of the autocracy right behind his life. It'd better not be another successive crisis as to how it was in ages past. Having three emperors in one year does not seem like the best for any countrymen's morale in this dangerous age.
It might as well stir in the minds of the vulnerable youth of how the emperor's rule could be challenged and hindered by a constitution. As to how it just did today. Preposterous.
Though Russia knew, that this was only the beginning.
Things like this do not happen with no reason. With every smoke there will always be a spark to ignite the fire. And she wasn't having it. As much as she'd want to believe that the future of the empire was secure, it wasn't. It hardly was, especially with the radical ideas France had cursed all monarchies to deal with.
The future would be uncertain, that in itself is certain. Man holds no power over time to see what would unfold in the coming hours. But man can predict and notice patterns, and that has been done in the past. An old Lefthand of hers had done that many times, and that she herself was familiar with. She was able to see the unseen as well. And she wasn't liking what she was seeing.
This idea of theirs, Russia wasn't able to figure out rationally as to why it made her head hurt to such a figure. That was a lie, she can, and she knows why. With each and every seconds passing by of the officers yelling, her mind goes back to the sight of the rebels and trembles.
The only sense of comfort enveloping her was that it wasn't an issue with an heir or the like. The only child she had given birth to was a colony, not a revolutionary. Colonies are safe, they would not bring great change to the imperial government. Revolutionaries, on the other hand, would.
And she is safe, because there was no revolutionary within this land who is able to do sich a thing.
Yet.
That thought was haunting her. As much as she'd want to think that this wasn't a pressing matter, and that this could as well be a one-off event that wouldn't see a repeat, she knows that to not be the truth. She knows! The idea that a revolutionary would once appear is barraging her mind in an endless siege.
Other monarchies would perceive this threat as to how it would be better to die honourably, than to have yourself be humiliated by some parliament. And perhaps Russia shared the same sentiment. There was no denying here over how uncomfortable the ideas of the liberals were. Even the thought of even pondering about them gave her an even worse headache than it already was.
If the liberals were to ever succeed in their ideas, that would mean the end of her millennium-long reign as a monarch. The idea of how Russia was cannot be separated from the emperor himself. If that was to be the case, then the Russian Empire had perished, and a radical had reaped the throne away from the rightful one.
She could always curse those liberals, of course she can! The radicalists will only bring ruin to the majesty that is All Russia. What good will come out of those who only wish for the greatness of the imperial legacy to vanish? Nothing to it's name, the empress was sure. There was none to be proud of as a republic when you are Russia. All the pride and joy of the long history of this land had been with its princes and tsars and emperors.
And its sorrow and regrets.
The past and present had been a great glory, and the future Russia saw herself living in would be far from such a description. All that she can imagine in that world would be an endlessly haunting vision with egregious blasphemy.
Did she have a choice on what to choose for the future of the state, though?
No, she does not.
God, if a revolutionary were to be born in the near future, I beg of you to not make him a son of mine.
Russia knows that she holds no stake over what The Principalities would decide. But she can always hope, as fruitless as it may be. Because that meant that she had at least wished for the opposite of the inevitable to happen.
Even if it were to be unstoppable, she wished that no blood of her children would be spilt anymore. No more than what she had already seen.
She's not sure if she can carry even more of that burden if it does.
If the revolutionary was to be a son of hers...
May God bless him protection from his own mother's steel.