"I pray to God that my eldest son [Edward] will never marry and have children, and that nothing will come between Bertie and Lilibet and the throne."

As told by George V to a courtier

1.

    This was wrong, so wrong.  Edward couldn’t get the thought out of his head as he scanned the room he was currently in.  It was August 1914, Germany had just declared war on Russia and yet Edward, heir to the throne of Britain was sitting in a lavish dining room in the Catherine Palace with an assortment of Russian gentry, eating wonderful food as if the rest of the world didn’t exist and it most definitely wasn’t beginning the downward spiral into all out war.

    The food had been delicious, so much so that Tsar Nicholas had invited the cook Ivan Kharitonov to join them at the table.  Nicholas caught Edward’s eye and raised his glass, Edward copied the gesture in a respectful fashion and remembered the brief conversation they had had before sitting down to the meal.  As Edward placed his glass back down and his gaze scanned the other people sitting around the long table, he saw Grand Duchess Olga smile at him.  He smiled back, his heart missing a beat and if he had been standing his legs would have turned to jelly.  Their Fathers; Nicholas II and George V were cousins, but that didn’t change the way Edward felt about Olga, and if her letters were to be believed, the way Olga also felt about Edward.

    As Edward tore his gaze away from Olga, Sir George Buchanan; the British ambassador to Russia leant close to the young Prince and whispered a translation of something comical one of the Russians had just said.  Edward smiled and laughed, but had actually understood every word of what was being said around the table.  Olga frequently wrote to him in Russian, and he to her in English.  And when in London, Edward had sought out a young student and paid handsomely for lessons in Russian reading, writing and speaking.  It had certainly paid off, as since discovering this, Nicholas had treated Edward differently, and Edward was starting to think he may be in with a real chance of being granted Olga’s hand in marriage.

    At the far end of the table, Nicholas stood and gently tapped a spoon on his ornate wine glass.

“I would very much like to thank you all for coming this evening, and I apologise that I am speaking in Russian in the company of Prince Edward of Wales.”  Edward nodded once as the other diners turned to look at him.  “I planned this evening as a last hurrah, as we do not know how the war that is starting to envelope our world will end.  I have complete faith in the Russian Armed Forces, and the Russian people that our great land will not be taken!”  The room erupted in cheers and clapping.  “I would like to thank Kharitonov for this wonderful meal and am sorry that my son Alexei and wife Alix could not attend.  Alexei suffered an attack earlier this evening and has been sitting with his Mother and Doctor Bitkin ever since.  So I would like to end the evening by making a toast, to Russia and to Alexei, future Tsar of all the Russias!”  Everyone stood.

“To Russia!  Alexei, future Tsar of all the Russias!”