The iron gates of the royal palace at Potsdam swung inward with the familiar groan of old hinges.
Beneath a light fall of snow, Oskar's convoy entered the grounds and followed the long, tree-lined drive through the winter gardens. It circled the great fountain before the palace, then stopped at the foot of the main steps.
The Eternal Guards dismounted first.
They spread across the courtyard with practised efficiency, securing the entrance and watching the surrounding windows while the household staff assembled beneath the portico. Two orderly lines of maids waited between the automobile and the palace doors, dressed in fitted black household uniforms with white aprons and high collars. They had clearly been expecting him for some time.
Oskar stepped from the automobile.
Freed from his enormous weight, the suspension rose sharply and the car rocked behind him. Cold air touched his face as he straightened his coat and approached the steps.
He acknowledged the servants with a simple nod as he passed.
There was no grand gesture and no formal greeting. Only recognition.
Several of the younger maids struggled to conceal their excitement. Their eyes followed his towering figure with the barely restrained delight of people watching a celebrated hero return home.
A few of the newer servants were considerably less subtle.
One young woman with ginger hair stared at him with bright, nervous admiration, her hands clasped so tightly before her apron that her posture became almost comically rigid. When Oskar glanced in her direction, she immediately blushed and lowered her eyes.
The woman beside her did not look away quickly enough.
She was somewhat tall and quite striking, with fair skin, warm brown eyes and long scarlet hair unlike almost anything Oskar had seen during either of his lives. The colour was not merely red, but vivid copper and flame beneath the pale winter light.
Their eyes met.
The woman flinched as though caught committing some serious offence, then turned nearly as red as her hair.
Oskar stopped before them.
The two redhead women curtsied hastily.
"Your Imperial Highness," the first said. "Jean Baird."
"Annie Baird," said the taller redhead.
Oskar looked between them.
"Baird?"
"Our brother is John Baird, Your Highness," Jean explained. "He works for Imperial Image Works."
Understanding came immediately.
John Logie Baird—the Scotsman helping Oskar's engineers turn the impossible idea of transmitting moving pictures into a working television system.
"And your family remained in Scotland," Oskar said.
"Yes, Your Highness," Annie replied. "Most of them. Jean and I accepted positions here."
Oskar studied their extraordinary hair with open curiosity.
"I have scarcely seen colouring as striking as yours."
Both women blushed again.
Then their eyes shifted—not toward one another, but toward the Eternal Guard officer standing several paces behind Oskar.
Captain Carter von Jonarett suddenly became very interested in the palace architecture.
Oskar followed their gaze.
A smile spread slowly across his face.
"Oh," he said. "I see."
Carter cleared his throat.
The captain wore no wedding ring, nor any household insignia bearing the women's names. Nevertheless, the answer was written plainly across all three faces.
"So these are yours, Captain?"
Carter's composure weakened.
"We are still courting, Your Highness."
"Courting," Oskar repeated.
Jean and Annie lowered their hands almost simultaneously, resting them protectively across the slight curves beneath their uniforms.
Oskar noticed, then he looked at Carter. Then at the two women. Then back at Carter.
A deep laugh escaped him.
He clapped the captain upon the shoulder—carefully enough not to send him stumbling.
"Well done, my man. Two rare beauties."
Carter's face reddened.
Oskar glanced toward Jean and Annie.
"Take good care of them. And I expect you'll make these two thoroughly German before long."
"We are making excellent progress," Carter replied with dignified embarrassment.
The surrounding maids broke into quiet laughter.
Jean covered her smile. Annie looked as though she wished the snow would open beneath her feet and swallow her.
Still laughing, Oskar continued toward the palace.
He had missed this place.
The servants were not pieces of furniture or decorations arranged for royal convenience. Anna and Tanya had both once worn household uniforms themselves, and they had never forgotten what it meant to serve people who barely acknowledged their existence.
Together, they had created a palace in which loyalty grew from affection as much as obligation.
The servants were treated well. Their wages were fair. Their complaints were heard. Their children received assistance, and those who proved exceptionally loyal often found places within Oskar's larger household or the Eternal Guard.
It was not perfect, but it was home.
Oskar climbed the steps and passed through the widened double doors, altered years earlier to accommodate his enormous frame.
The instant he entered the grand hall, the palace erupted.
"Papa!"
The cry struck him with almost physical force.
Small feet hammered across the polished floor. Pale hair flashed beneath the lamps as a storm of princes and princesses raced down the corridor, violet eyes fixed upon him as though his absence of five days had lasted an entire year.
Azarael and Liorael reached him first.
The twin boy's were nearly six now, fast enough to throw themselves into Oskar's arms before their sisters could catch them. He bent and caught both boys, lifting them easily against his chest.
Juniel and Lailael arrived a heartbeat later.
At seven, the two princesses considered themselves far too dignified to race through palace corridors.
They had raced anyway, and now collided with his legs, loudly protesting that their brothers had cheated.
Behind them came little Princess Mirael, nearly six, followed by four-year-old Prince Aureliel and Princess Sereniel. They crowded around him without hesitation, pulling at his coat and demanding kisses, attention and explanations of where he had been.
Then came the smallest.
Chubby little prince Grel and Gael advanced upon unsteady toddler legs, accompanied by chubby little princess Floriel and Liliel. Gundelinde's daughter, Adelheidel, hurried after them with determined little steps, refusing to be left behind despite being not yet two years old.
Within moments, Oskar had what appeared to be an entire kindergarten wrapped around his legs.
Small hands seized his coat. Children shouted over one another. Several demanded to be lifted immediately, while others threatened tears because someone else had received the first kiss.
Oskar laughed, the sound rolling freely through the entrance hall, as he then crouched among them and began gathering the children one by one.
A child was lifted, kissed upon the forehead or cheek, and reluctantly returned to the floor—only for another to take the vacant place. They climbed him with the fearless confidence children reserved for someone they trusted completely, boots pressing against his shins and fingers burying themselves in his coat.
The girls displayed new dresses, braided hair and carefully tied ribbons.
The boys attempted to impress him with confused accounts of the knife and pistol exercises Tanya had apparently allowed them to watch, and even try with the Eternal Guard.
Then something landed upon Oskar's head.
He paused, as he felt that a cap had been pulled over his hair. Oskar removed it and examined the words stitched across the front.
BEST MOM OF THE YEAR.
He frowned theatrically.
"I am reasonably certain," he said, "that I am your father."
Liorael stood several paces away, already retreating with a grin sharp enough to expose him as the culprit.
Azarael laughed beside him with the unmistakable delight of an accomplice who had contributed very little but intended to enjoy the consequences fully.
Oskar looked from the cap to the twins, yet he placed it back upon his head.
"Criminals," he rumbled.
The boys turned to run, though they did not make it far.
Oskar caught them both, lifting one beneath each arm like sacks of flour before kissing their cheeks until they squealed and begged for mercy.
"Absolute criminals."
He released them, and they fled into the safety of their sisters.
Juniel and Lailael laughed triumphantly when Oskar lifted them onto his shoulders, one upon either side. They sat there like small queens riding some enormous war beast, competing loudly over whose dress, ribbon and hairstyle their father admired most.
Then Oskar noticed Imperiel.
His eldest son stood several steps behind the others.
At seven years old, Imperiel had already adopted the posture of a miniature officer. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, his shoulders were straight and his expression carefully composed.
He had plainly rehearsed a formal greeting.
He appeared determined to wait until the younger children had exhausted themselves before approaching with the dignity expected of the eldest prince.
Oskar's expression softened.
Imperiel opened his mouth.
Oskar gave him no opportunity to speak.
Still wearing the ridiculous cap, he moved through the crowd, caught his eldest son gently by the shoulders and pulled him into an embrace.
Imperiel's carefully prepared dignity cracked immediately, as his arms tightened around his father.
"Everything well, my son?" Oskar murmured.
Imperiel nodded, still attempting to remain serious. He managed it for perhaps two seconds. Then he buried his face against Oskar's coat like any other child who had missed his father.
Behind the crowd, Anna's voice rose above the chaos.
"Easy now. Give him room to breathe."
She moved among the children with practised authority, separating elbows, untangling coats and preventing the smallest toddlers from vanishing beneath their older siblings.
Gundelinde followed beside her, laughter bright in her voice.
"He is built like a fortress, Anna. Let them try."
Oskar straightened carefully, several children still attached to him.
Anna and Gundelinde approached together.
Time and motherhood had only deepened their beauty. Anna remained warm and abundant, her dark hair framing the composed face of a woman accustomed to managing a household of impossible size. Gundelinde appeared fairer and more delicate beside her, honey-blonde hair falling softly around her aristocratic features.
Each placed one hand against Oskar's chest and pulled him down by the collar, and kissed his cheeks.
Oskar answered by kissing each woman briefly upon the lips.
There was nothing ceremonial in the gesture. No courtly performance and no concern for the watching servants.
It was simply the relief of a family returning to its proper shape.
The children objected immediately.
"Disgusting!"
"Papa, no kissing!"
"That is yucky!"
The boys reacted with open horror. Several of the girls looked delighted, whispering to one another as though witnessing a scene from one of their storybooks.
Oskar laughed.
Their protests were loud, but their faces had softened. Their father was home. Their mothers were smiling. The household was whole again.
Oskar looked across the family and began counting almost unconsciously.
"Where is Tanya?"
Anna's mouth curved with quiet amusement.
"In your bedroom."
Gundelinde lifted her eyebrows.
"She is preparing Imperiel's new attendants. Apparently, she has decided that the heir already requires a household staff of his own."
Oskar looked down at Imperiel.
The boy suddenly found the floor fascinating.
"Of course she has," Oskar said.
Another figure appeared at the far end of the hall.
Cecilie approached with her customary grace, tall and elegant despite the chaos surrounding her.
Six-year-old Wilhelm walked beside her, solemn and observant, while three-year-old Elisara held tightly to Cecilie's dress and hurried to keep pace.
Oskar's expression softened again.
"Good morning."
He greeted Wilhelm first, resting one broad hand upon the boy's shoulder and asking quietly about his lessons.
Wilhelm answered with great seriousness, standing a little straighter beneath Oskar's attention.
Then Elisara reached him.
Her pale hair appeared almost silver beneath the lamps, framing a delicate face and eyes as clear as winter water. She stared up at Oskar for one solemn moment.
Then she raised both arms.
"Papa."
Oskar bent and lifted her against his chest.
Elisara immediately wrapped one arm around his neck and pressed her cheek against his coat, as though confirming that he had truly returned.
Cecilie watched them with a quiet smile.
"We were eating breakfast when we heard the automobiles," she said. "Come and join us."
Oskar returned Elisara to her mother's arms, then leaned down and kissed Cecilie.
He did it without hesitation, as naturally as he had kissed Anna and Gundelinde moments earlier. They were not married, and no court document granted Cecilie an official position beside him. But within the household they had built, none of that appeared to matter.
Cecilie accepted the kiss just as naturally. One hand rested briefly against his chest before they parted.
The children reacted at once.
Wilhelm frowned and looked away with exaggerated disapproval.
Elisara wrinkled her nose.
"Yucky," she declared.
The others joined her immediately.
"Again?"
"Papa!"
"Stop kissing!"
Their complaints filled the hall, but their smiles betrayed them.
Oskar laughed.
"I will join you shortly," he promised. "I should see Tanya first."
Gundelinde raised her eyebrows.
"Do not let her bite you."
Anna clicked her tongue, displaying just enough jealousy to make her meaning clear, though amusement softened the gesture.
"Come along," she told the children. "Let your father breathe."
She began steering them toward the dining room, loosening little hands from Oskar's coat and placing the youngest under the supervision of their older siblings.
Oskar watched them go.
But before Imperiel followed, Oskar rested one hand upon his head and ruffled his carefully arranged hair.
The boy attempted to look offended, he failed, and quickly hurried after his siblings, already helping guide the toddlers toward breakfast.
Oskar remained in the entrance hall for another moment.
The maids and guards who had witnessed the reunion were smiling openly now, several visibly moved by the warmth and disorder of it.
Oskar did not mind.
This was his household. Not orderly in the cold manner of a museum or royal court, but alive—filled with servants who were treated as people, guards who had become companions, women he loved and enough children to overrun a small country.
Still wearing the BEST MOM OF THE YEAR cap, Oskar turned toward the eastern wing.
Then he began climbing toward the family apartments on the third floor—and toward whatever Tanya had prepared in his absence.
Several minutes passed before Oskar reached the family apartments. The palace was enormous, and even a direct walk from the entrance hall required long corridors, broad staircases and more than one guarded doorway.
At last he reached his chambers and pushed open the double doors.
Morning light poured through the tall windows, spreading across the carpets and the enormous bed beyond. Near its foot, Tanya crouched with her back toward him, carefully straightening the uniforms of two little girls.
Both were fair-haired and blue-eyed, with round, doll-like faces and matching ribbons tied neatly into their hair. Their dark skirts, pale aprons and stiff white collars had been pressed so recently that neither child appeared entirely comfortable inside them.
The younger girl, perhaps six, could barely remain still. She rocked upon her heels while Tanya adjusted one sleeve, her attention wandering constantly around the room.
The elder, no more than seven, stood with determined composure. Her hands remained folded before her, and the solemnity upon her face suggested that she had been practising for this moment all morning.
Tanya wore one of her familiar deep-red dresses, simple in cut and soft in fabric, the colour vivid against her pale skin and golden hair.
Years had passed. Six sons had been born from her body, and more pregnancies were almost certainly waiting in the future. Yet time seemed incapable of diminishing her.
Her skin remained smooth and flawless. Her thick golden hair shone beneath the morning light, while her blue eyes remained as bright as they had been when she was a palace maid. Motherhood had softened and filled her petite figure, deepening the curves of her hips and breasts, but it had taken nothing from her youth.
She was more beautiful than the girl Oskar had first fallen in love with. Not older, only more complete.
Oskar smiled and crossed the room without announcing himself.
He slipped both arms around Tanya from behind and lifted her bodily from the floor.
She gave a startled cry, her composure breaking as he turned her around in his arms and brought her face level with his own.
"Oskar—what are you—"
He kissed her before she could finish.
The two little attendants watched in wide-eyed silence.
Tanya struck him lightly upon the chest when he finally released her mouth. Her hair had fallen partly across her face, and she was breathing too quickly to make her attempted annoyance convincing.
"You frightened me," she said.
Oskar's grin widened.
"How could I restrain myself when I entered my chamber and found such beauty waiting for me?"
Tanya's cheeks began colouring.
"My lovely wife," he continued, his voice dropping. "You know I love you more than anything."
The colour deepened from her cheeks to her throat.
For once, Tanya appeared unable to find a clever answer.
Oskar kissed her again.
This time there was nothing playful about it. His mouth claimed hers, and his tongue pressed between her lips until she yielded with a quiet sound and closed her eyes.
For several seconds she forgot the room around them.
Then she felt the hard length of him pressing against her stomach through his trousers.
Tanya's eyes opened.
She struck his chest again, harder this time, and broke the kiss.
"Oskar," she whispered sharply. "Behave yourself. We are not alone."
He glanced toward the two girls.
Both had become intensely interested in the carpet.
With visible reluctance, Oskar lowered Tanya back onto her feet. He did not release her completely, keeping one arm wrapped around her waist while she attempted to recover her dignity.
Tanya smoothed her dress and turned toward the children.
The girls immediately straightened.
"And who," Oskar asked, regarding them with amusement, "are these two little dolls?"
Tanya looked up at him.
"Do not pretend you have never seen them. This energetic little angel is Lina, Captain Dieter's only daughter. She is six."
Lina reacted at once.
She dropped dramatically onto one knee, nearly toppling sideways in her enthusiasm.
"My lord!" she declared. "I have come to serve Lord Imperiel faithfully!"
Oskar stared at her for half a heartbeat.
Then his laughter filled the room.
The older girl made a pained sound and nudged Lina sharply with one shoe.
"Get up," she whispered. "That is not how you greet the Crown Prince."
Lina scrambled upright, still grinning.
Tanya shook her head fondly.
"She has been listening to far too many stories about knights and kings."
"Clearly," Oskar said.
Tanya gestured toward the elder girl.
"And this is Leila, Captain Conrad's eldest daughter. She is seven."
Leila stepped forward, smoothed her apron and offered Oskar a careful curtsy.
"Your Imperial Highness," she said clearly. "My parents have asked me to serve Prince Imperiel faithfully and to learn everything Lady Tanya teaches me. I promise I will not fail you."
Lina leaned toward her.
"Was that what we were supposed to say?" she whispered.
Leila gave her a warning look.
Oskar smiled at both of them.
"Your fathers are trusted officers, and your mothers have served this household faithfully. You are welcome here."
The girls brightened.
"I only hope," Oskar continued, "that my eldest son does not prove too troublesome for you."
Both answered at once.
"He will not, Your Highness!"
"We can manage him!"
Lina lifted one finger sternly.
"My mother taught me what to do when boys misbehave."
Oskar raised an eyebrow.
"And what is that?"
Lina planted both hands upon her hips, pushed them backward with great seriousness and wagged her finger.
"You say, 'Bad boy. Bad, bad boy.'"
Leila covered her face with one hand.
Tanya began laughing.
Oskar regarded Lina solemnly.
"A devastating technique."
"It always works on Father," Lina said proudly.
Leila appeared to wish herself invisible.
"I promise proper service, Your Highness," she said quickly.
Oskar nodded.
"I am certain you will both serve him well."
Yet he understood that they were intended to be more than servants.
They would assist Imperiel with his clothes, books, meals and daily routine, but they would also grow beside him. They would become familiar faces within his private household—companions who understood his temperament, knew his habits and could speak honestly to him in ways older servants might not.
Tanya inspected both girls one final time, straightening Lina's collar and smoothing Leila's apron.
Then she nodded toward the door.
"Off you go. Find your new little lord before he decides to hide from you."
Lina's eyes lit up.
"May we bring him biscuits? And may I brush his hair?"
"You must ask him," Tanya replied. "Though I am sure he will allow it. If he becomes difficult, ask Princess Anna for assistance."
Leila caught Lina by the sleeve before another dozen questions could escape her.
"Come along."
The girls curtsied and hurried into the corridor.
Lina nearly ran. Leila followed with greater dignity, though both were plainly eager to begin their extremely important duties.
Oskar watched them disappear before looking down at Tanya.
"Two maids for a seven-year-old boy?"
"For an exceptionally handsome and important boy," Tanya corrected. "One who lacked two sweet companions of his own age."
"He already has brothers, sisters, cousins and half the palace following him."
"Yes, but they are family."
Tanya rested both hands against Oskar's chest.
"He needs friends who are not related to him by blood. Girls who will know him before ceremony and politics teach everyone to fear him."
Oskar studied her expression.
"You are planning something."
Tanya smiled with exaggerated innocence.
"Imperiel will become a man one day. Friendships formed now may endure. Perhaps they will become something more when they are grown."
Oskar shook his head, amused.
"You are already arranging the future. You make us sound ancient."
Tanya sighed theatrically.
"I feel ancient."
Oskar looked at her more carefully.
There was not a trace of age upon her face. No lines marked the corners of her eyes, and no weariness dulled their colour. Her skin remained smooth beneath his fingers, while her golden hair shone as brightly as it had when she had once blushed whenever he entered a room.
She had carried six sons.
She had endured scandal, danger and years beside a man who seemed incapable of remaining still.
Yet time had scarcely touched her.
Anna was much the same. Her beauty had deepened into something almost divine—warm, abundant and maternal, like fertility given human form.
Even Gundelinde had begun changing in subtler ways. Her complexion grew clearer with each passing year, while her honey-blonde hair seemed brighter and richer than it had been before she joined Oskar's household.
Whatever power flowed through him appeared to reach those bound most deeply to him.
Love did not merely preserve them, it refined them.
Oskar lifted Tanya's chin.
"You are more beautiful now than on the day we met," he said quietly.
Her teasing expression softened.
Then his hand dropped. He closed it around one of her full breasts through the dress, squeezing the heavy softness deliberately in his palm.
Tanya gasped.
Oskar smiled against her lips.
"And you have become considerably more difficult to resist."
He squeezed again.
"Especially with these magnificent tits."
Tanya's breath caught.
Their mouths were almost touching, their breathing mingling as she stared up at him with bright, narrowing eyes.
Then her hand descended between them.
She caught his already rigid cock through the fabric of his trousers and squeezed hard.
Oskar stiffened.
Tanya's lips curved.
"I suppose my great, badly behaved husband requires calming before breakfast."
She tightened her grip.
"And perhaps a reward for speaking so sweetly."
The words emerged almost as a growl.
Oskar's smile became predatory.
"I think breakfast may have to wait."
He lifted her without effort.
Tanya wrapped herself around him as their mouths met again, fiercer than before. Oskar carried her toward the bed while she pulled at his coat and collar, kissing him with open hunger.
They landed among the blankets with enough force to make the bedframe groan.
Oskar came over her, his enormous body covering hers as he loosened the front of her dress. Tanya pulled him closer, fingers buried in his hair while his mouth travelled from her lips to her throat.
He kissed and bit along the pale line of her neck.
Her breathing quickened.
The dress slipped from one shoulder, then the other, exposing the full weight of her breasts. Oskar lowered his mouth to them, kissing and sucking until Tanya arched beneath him and whispered his name.
His hands dragged the dress farther down.
He kissed over her stomach, lower and lower, until he reached the heat between her thighs.
Tanya's legs opened for him.
Oskar pressed his mouth against her wet folds.
Her cry carried through the bedchamber.
"Oskar!"
Farther down the private corridor, beyond the closed doors leading into the family wing, two Eternal Guards stood at their posts.
Both men heard the cry.
One turned his head slowly toward the other. The second guard stared directly ahead with the rigid expression of a man determined to acknowledge nothing.
Another muffled moan travelled through the corridor.
The first guard cleared his throat.
Now they understood the warning given by their captains when they had been assigned to protect the royal family's private apartments.
Behind these guarded doors lay the children's rooms, the family bath, Oskar's office, Karl's adjoining workroom and, at the far end of the passage, the Crown Prince's enormous bedchamber.
The duty was entrusted only to married men of the New Dawn and the most loyal members of the Eternal Guard.
Men who understood discretion. Men who knew how to keep their faces expressionless. And, above all, men who knew when to keep their mouths firmly shut.