The Paleys - An Alternate Romanov Story

Doubts

The day after his disastrous meeting with Olga, another of his half-sisters, Grand Duchess Marie, his father's eldest daughter, came to see them. After her divorce from a Swedish Prince, "Marishka"; as Vladimir called her, had devoted herself to the war effort and opened a successful hospital in Pskov, so it was rare to see her. Although she was seven years older than him and they had not gotten along well when he was a child, since he had moved to Russia to study with the Corps-des-Pages, their relationship had blossomed.

Their minds and interests were also very different, but Vladimir felt that few people in the world understood him quite as much as his sister did. Every time she visited, they talked for hours, about everything and, considering the turmoil that had taken over him since he had first laid eyes on Olga, he was delighted that she was there.

After dinner, when everyone had already gone to bed, Vladimir went to her room, as customary during their visits. He found her writing letters and making lists at her desk, but she quickly dropped her work when she realised that he wanted to talk.

Vladimir entered the room, a hesitant smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Just wanted to chat before I..." he trailed off, unable to utter the dreaded word 'leave'.

Marie gestured to the chair opposite her, the warmth in her eyes dispelling the tension in his chest. "Always, dear brother. What's on your mind?"

He sank into the chair, fiddling with a loose thread on his trousers. "I don't know where to start."

A playful smile formed on Marishka's lips. She set down her pen, leaning back in her chair. "Oh my. Don't tell me that you finally felt the sting of Cupid's arrow?" she teased, but her voice was gentle.

A wave of heat washed over him as Marie's words hit the mark. His hesitant smile dissolved into a blush that bloomed on his face and crept down his neck. He fidgeted with the loose thread, suddenly self-conscious under his sister's gaze.

His sister let out a tinkling laugh. "It was bound to happen eventually, even to someone as guarded as yourself. Who's the lucky lady, then?"

A hesitant blush blossomed on Vladimir's face. "That's the issue," he admitted, fiddling with the loose thread on his uniform. "It's... Grand Duchess Olga."

Maria's eyes widened, surprise momentarily silencing her. She blinked, composing herself before asking, "Olga Nikolaevna?" just to confirm she'd heard correctly.

Vladimir offered a sheepish nod. A tense silence settled between them before Marishka took a deep breath, her gaze settling on her brother. "Well," she began, a wry smile tugging at her lips, "you two do share a lot in common. Books, music, introspection..."

He cut in, a flicker of hope lighting his eyes. "And her intelligence, Marishka, her mind is so sharp! And her humour, the way she can find a laugh in the darkest of times. And her courage..." his voice softened, filled with admiration, "I hear she works tirelessly at the hospital, tending to the wounded without a flicker of fear. Every time I see her, I..."

Vladimir trailed off, the words feeling inadequate to express the whirlwind of emotions Olga stirred within him. He looked at his sister, seeking affirmation, hoping she understood.

Marishka met his gaze, a knowing glint in her eyes. "You're smitten, little brother," she stated playfully, but a gentle warmth filled her voice. "I can see it in the way you talk about her, the way your eyes light up when you even mention her name."

A nervous chuckle escaped Vladimir's lips. "Is it... foolish?" he whispered, suddenly unsure.

Marishka's fingers drummed on the table before she spoke, her voice hesitant. "Did you know, a few years back, there was a plan for her and Mytia to marry? They were even engaged at some point, but only briefly."

Vladimir leaned back on his chair, searching his mind. He had heard some whispers of it at the time, but he had not known Olga then and had been so entirely focused on his studies, that he had not given it any importance.

"Not necessarily an obstacle," Marishka continued, "but their parting wasn't amicable. I imagine she might be wary of opening her heart to his brother, no matter your differences. And she is older..."

"Only by fourteen months," Vladimir cut in, a determined glint in his eye. "And I've always found older company more engaging anyway."

Marishka's lips curved into a fleeting smile, then tightened into a line of concern. With a sigh that spoke volumes, she met his gaze."Alright, but there's more to it. She's the eldest, so it's only natural that Uncle Nicky wants her to make a strategic marriage. At the time of her engagement to Mytia there were whispers that he was considering amending the Pauline laws that would allow her to become Empress if something were to happen to Alexei. Mytia fit the mould perfectly, but you..." Her voice faltered, leaving the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air.

Vladimir nodded, his face a mask of understanding yet his eyes burning with determination. "I don't think Aunt Alix likes you very much either," Marishka added, her voice laced with concern. "She and Aunt Ella haven't forgiven Papa, and you wouldn't exactly be welcomed with open arms."

He let out a deep breath, the weight of her words settling on his shoulders. Despite the growing obstacles, the flicker of hope in his eyes remained undimmed.

"Not to mention the fact that there's a war in full swing, a general discontent that chills me to the core and nobody knows what's going to happen over the next months," she stepped closer to him and held his hands between her own. "Oh, Bodia... I wish for nothing more in this world than for you to find happiness and someone to love, but I don't think this is the right path."

He flinched, his eyes hardening. "Are you saying I'm not good enough?"

"No, little brother," she squeezed his arm, "you're kind, brave, and have a fire in your heart that few possess. But this fire will be snuffed out in the court's machinations. Focus on the war, Volodya. There, your courage will be celebrated, and your skills honed. Prove yourself there, earn your own name, your own respect. Then, and only then, can you approach her with a strength that cannot be ignored."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. He looked away, a storm brewing in his eyes. "What if that's still not enough?"

Marishka sighed, her heart aching for him. "Then, my dear brother," she squeezed his hand, "you will know you fought for your love with all you had. And that, in itself, is a victory."

Vladimir stood, his face unreadable. "Thank you, Marishka. I feel like I should have talked to you before yesterday's...foolishness."

Marishka raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean? What happened?"

He took a deep breath. "I confessed my feelings. I couldn't keep them bottled up. And with my departure looming, I needed to tell her before it was too late..."

Shock and amusement flickered across Marishka's face as she covered her mouth. "You didn't..."

"Is it so terrible?" Vladimir asked, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice.

Marishka shook her head, a smile fighting its way back. "What was her response?"

"She said I read too many novels."

She burst into laughter, but quickly sobered seeing his confusion. "You know so much, yet remain so innocent when it comes to love," she said, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "You may have read a thousand novels, but love stories rarely unfold in a single chapter. Think of it as an epic saga, one where you build a foundation of friendship, respect, and shared experiences."

She winked at him, her smile fading. "But I have to be honest, my dear brother. This 'saga' might not have a happy ending, at least not with Olga. The expectations, the differences in your positions...they're like mountains between you."

Vladimir's face fell. "But you said I should prove myself to her!"

"And you should," Marishka agreed, her voice firm yet gentle. "But be prepared that still might not be what she desires. You deserve a love that celebrates you, not one that requires you to conquer mountains."

He looked down, his fists clenching. "But what if she's worth the fight?"

Marishka squeezed his hand, her eyes filled with compassion. "Sometimes, the greatest battles are the ones we choose not to fight. Remember, Vladimir, true love shouldn't leave you feeling like you have to prove your worth."