You return from a horrible and drawn out campaign of terror to put down that insurgency in the Caucasus to find out that her heart has turned colder than the Siberian winter.
Your first instinct is to call the Okhrana on all your bastard ministers and torture them till they confess. But then you sit down, pour yourself one and listen to some Lorde (because that's what royals are to do nowadays).
When people are talking, people are talking
Let 'em talk