A.N: I am back! Here is another alternate history and light Anastasia AU. This will be an epic-length bildungsroman about OTMA, who will mature as normal women. But Alexei would not be born without the need for a heir to succeed this alternate Nicholas Romanov...

Enjoy! :)

Foreword

(Tsarevich Nicholas Romanov POV)

I was once a Tsarevich of Imperial Russia destined for the throne. My dear family was close knit in a circle of love… except my father held little appreciation and confidence in me as the heir apparent. To him, I was less suitable for the role I should have played as future Tsar. He often called me Girlie. I despised that. Oftentimes, after an argument with my father, I would hold in my tears and weep in my quarters, clenching my pillows in anguish. Why did Mama love me, but my father did not feel that as much? The Lord my God commanded us to love and respect our parents. It grew the guilt within my soul, and I felt conflicted. Did I truly belong?

On one fateful night, my life changed. Never in my former twenty four years did I expect such a thing to happen. It certainly caught me off guard.

June 7, 1892

"Papa is expecting you in his study, Nicky," my sister Xenia said.

"Alright. I will be there… Papa will complain about me again, specifically how inept I am for my destined place," I muttered.

"Do not say that, dear brother. I am certain that you will find a proper place in due time."

I sighed, placing the book I had been reading onto the table with a resigned thump. Xenia looked at me with sadder Romanov blue eyes, bluer with some pity for my situation. Her hands gripped mine, as her eyes looked into mine, telling me to find strength. As the elder of my two sisters, she had to be an obedient, proper Grand Duchess. Well behaved. Well mannered. Docile. Devout. Still, she supported me, and I felt grateful for that.

I made my way through the ever so familiar corridors of the Alexander Palace to the study room where my father often worked. The guards parted, allowing me to step forward. I stopped mid-step, feeling a strange fear overcome me when I looked into the stern, narrowed eyes of my father. There was an imposing, almost threatening energy from his gaze almost like that of a ray of heat. Under its intensity, my resolve wilts like a dead flower.

Girlie, Girlie, a past mock echoed in my mind.

I clenched my fists for a brief second, looking at the floor.

"Look up," my father ordered, tapping on the cold, stiff wood of the desk thrice.

I did, and I sat down on a chair in front of him. The wood felt colder. And the portraits of my recent ancestors almost glare down at me from their high places within the gloomy light.

"Look at me. I must tell you my plans and the decision I have made for Russia."

I did as he said.

"As of tonight, I have decided on a solution to the risk of succession within you. As per my absolute will and decree on this paper, the named successor to me will be your brother Michael. You are no longer the heir apparent to Russia, and no longer a Grand Duke, but a Duke of Russia."

A horrible dread rose within my soul, disturbing my inner peace. It was a horrible shock, and I opened my mouth without a word, trembling in my chair.

I did not feel confident or ready to become the Tsar. But to strip me of my rightful royal birthright as a Romanov? That, I could never bear.

Why, how dare he!

"What, what?" I shouted, slamming my fists on the desk.

Tears blurred my vision, masking the sight of my father. I buried my head in my hands, feeling the pain grow and grow… I began to weep.

"It had to be done, but this is for your own good, Nicholas. Already, I have arranged for you to be sent to Copenhagen, Denmark."

"But- But Papa-"

"Huh, son, there is more I must say."

I flinched back in my chair, looking at my father with widened eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. I was only twenty four. A man, but still uncertain about the world. What would happen to me?

I could not bear his rejection anymore. I only wanted to make my father proud. He should have been pleased with me as his heir apparent. But that was all wasted.

How could I have thought that I had any chances of impressing my father?

No. As much as I loved my family, I could no longer deny my true feelings. I did not belong there.

And I stormed out of the room, ignoring the calls of my father…

I collapsed in a sorrowful heap of tears and limbs on my bedroom floor, sobbing. I did not know when my brothers had come to comfort me… But Michael and George were there when I opened my reddened eyes again. They hugged me, giving me the comfort and support I had craved.

"What is wrong, Nicky?" George asked me, handing me a handkerchief.

I wiped my eyes. "Papa… he… he stripped me of my title as heir apparent and demoted me to a Duke."

"What? No, Papa would never do such a thing!"

"He did, George. Why do you think I am here?"

"I remember you stating a few times that you dreaded being the future Tsar. Perhaps you can see this as the silver lining?"

"Yes, but I feel as if I am a waste."

"No, brother. You are destined for something great, even if not as a Tsar," Michael said, and George nodded in assent.

The door slamming open brought us three to attention. My father had arrived to finish what he began. As an iron-fisted, strong-willed ruler, he was not one to hesitate.

Even to abandon his firstborn.

My father sighed. "This is for the higher good, Nicky."

"Papa… I-"

My father held up his hand, palm first. This silenced me, and I closed my mouth, frowning.

"I also know about your feelings for Alix of Hesse. That too, is a reason why I am letting you leave."

I blinked twice. I could not believe what I had heard, but I could not deny that forever.

My anger waned upon hearing those words. It faded, being replaced by a strange appreciation and a slew of other roiling emotions… Tears filled my eyes again. The thought of seeing Alix again! The thought of a life of freedom!

"You will see Alix in Denmark, for I have privately sent a telegram to the Kaiser to arrange your reunion. Remember one thing, Nicky."

"What is it, Papa?"

"You may not believe so, but I love you as my firstborn. You are the most educated and compassionate of us all, a principled man of strong conviction. YOu may not be fit to be Tsar, but for something else."

"Now, go and do wonderful things, son."

And I received the last hug I would have from my father, brothers, and sisters. Mama, the consort of my father, also joined us in the embrace. I knew that within a few days, I would leave our home. The first to be born. The first to leave.

God had a different plan for me. Little did I know about what would come in the following years.