Custody Scandal Ignites
The soothing aroma of chamomile tea filled the meeting room, and Braun savored it from the most comfortable chair. After a heated argument with the young party members, he seemed a bit fatigued from the earlier exchange, setting aside his bowler hat to simply sip his tea.
"Shall we get down to business?"
"About the election?"
"We didn't all come to party headquarters for something that trivial."
Braun gave a faint smile at my words. He clearly had designs on using me. I needed him for now, so I'd play along, but I had no intention of going in blind.
"I need an alliance. One that can keep the military in check."
"Because I'm a Hohenzollern?"
Braun just smiled at my retort. As Prime Minister of Prussia, he had turned the Free State of Prussia into a bastion of democracy and the heart of the republic, mobilizing every authority at his disposal. The nickname "Red Tsar of Prussia" hadn't come about overnight.
"I'm a Königsberg native. I can pull strings for you there, and since East Prussia is part of Prussia, I can help with your campaign."
"I won't resort to dirty tricks. I've secured funding, and I'll find my own way."
Braun tilted his head at my response.
"I figured you'd say that, Joachim, but it doesn't mean you're rejecting my offer."
"I feel the need for civilian control too."
Braun nodded in satisfaction, eyeing me steadily. The military had been beyond even the emperor's control, and not even Hitler would later manage to rein it in until the Night of the Long Knives. The German army's independent streak was that fierce.
"Shall we drop the confiscation of princely assets, then?"
"I have no imperial fortune left. Not much of a draw."
He shrugged at my reply.
"I don't know what you're after."
"Not right now."
With a chuckle, he asked,
"You want me to owe you one?"
"It's not the time for equal exchange."
Braun paused for a moment.
"Help me out, then. Not as East Prussia's candidate, but as a royal."
He met my gaze directly.
"The military hasn't fully shed its loyalty to the royal house. You know that."
"Well, thanks to my past behavior, they might not trust me, but I'll give it a shot."
Braun extended his hand across the desk. I shook it lightly and stood.
"What the fuck..."
I'd thought things were going too smoothly. I knew my rising profile would draw this name first, but I never imagined it'd boomerang like this.
My estranged wife—someone I barely knew—had filed for custody of our son, Karl Franz. I couldn't buy that she suddenly missed him. Those around me said she hadn't even looked back when she left. She'd fled multiple times even while I was at war. So there was only one reason: money.
That was all that came to mind. It might not be exact, but the odds were high.
"Of all the timing!"
Right before the election. I glanced at Karl Franz in the living room, where the nanny was feeding him. He was munching away happily. How could anyone abandon such an adorable child—and now try to use him to squeeze money out of me?
"Nanny, could we talk for a moment?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
She fed him the last bite, handed him his doll, and came over.
"What is it...?"
"That woman—no, Karl's birth mother—has filed for custody. For the time being, don't open the door to anyone who comes to the house."
"Is that true?"
I nodded at her shocked question.
"How could she..."
Thankfully, even the nanny was appalled by Marie Auguste, so winning the case shouldn't be too burdensome. The real issue was my political role.
"Let's keep this between us as much as possible. Don't tell a soul."
"Of course, I know Your Highness's situation well."
She nodded repeatedly, treating me like her own son, showing full trust. What a relief.
"I might be away a lot for a while. Oh, and if we move to Königsberg—"
"I'll follow. It's my duty to serve you and the young master."
The only servant from the imperial days still with us, now as nanny. I didn't even know her name since possessing this body midway, but I bowed my head in gratitude.
But this wasn't the time to bask in thanks. I had to wrap up this lawsuit with my ex as quickly as possible—before it leaked outside. Ideally, in a day.
"...So in Your Highness's case, the ex-wife has no right to file suit at all."
The lawyer tapped the legal code as he continued.
"In short, under current civil law, the father is the child's legal guardian."
He flipped through the documents.
"The mother's rights are limited to participation in child-rearing."
"Then does the suit even stand?"
"...In principle, it's difficult to proceed."
I breathed a sigh of relief. But then he pulled out another sheet.
"However, there's one exception."
"An exception?"
"If the father is deemed mentally incompetent. Meaning, if his mental faculties are impaired to the point he can't raise the child."
He clasped his hands calmly and added,
"That's exactly what the ex-wife is claiming."
I couldn't believe it. By principle, custody defaults to the father under German civil law. But the one exception—mental illness history—was something Marie Auguste undoubtedly knew about.
"A doctor's opinion suffices?"
"Precisely, from the psychiatrist who's treated Your Highness long-term."
That could resolve it quickly. But one problem remained. If it were just a custody spat, a leak might cause minor noise. But if a custody suit based on "psychiatric history" hit the press?
It would explode uncontrollably.
"I'll get the opinion as fast as possible, so please don't let anything slip until the hearing."
"I'll do my best."
The fallout if my personal affairs leaked—the rumors feeding on rumors, snowballing. It terrified me more by the minute.
Newspapers piled up on the desk. Berlin, Potsdam, Hamburg... all screaming the same headline.
"..."
I draped a wet cloth over my forehead, trying to cool the rising fever. Just one week since the suit was filed. As evidence gathered pace, I never dreamed they'd preemptively leak it to the press.
The media tore in like sharks. Reactions ranged from "He joined the SPD because he's crazy" to constant violence, suicide attempts, and rumors it was still ongoing. Truth and lies mingled, the scandal festering worse by the hour.
Riiiing!
The ring echoed in the empty house. I'd sent the nanny and Karl Franz ahead to Königsberg for the move, leaving me alone in this Potsdam place with just a sofa and bed. I set down the cloth, rose, and answered.
"Joachim speaking..."
"Your Highness, a call from Prince Eitel Friedrich von Preußen. Shall I connect?"
I froze at the unexpected name, hesitating a full ten seconds after the operator's voice.
Eitel Friedrich? Wilhelm II's second son, my second brother.
"...Put him through."
A brief tone, then connection.
"Joachim."
"Brother?"
A sigh came through the receiver.
"Trouble with the wife, eh?"
"Can't be helped."
Silence. I just sighed heavily into the phone.
"I'll help."
"...Pardon?"
"I said I'll help."
Eitel's abrupt offer threw me. Politically, we were opposites. He was in the Stahlhelm and supported them.
"I saw you lose your memory, have fits. Seeing them deny your recovery now—I couldn't stand it."
Politics aside, he hated his little brother being branded insane by the press.
An unexpected ally brought a smile.
"Brother, would you testify in court?"
"...Contact me."
The line clicked dead. I set the receiver down uncertainly—too soon for relief.
"Haa..."
I had to end this fast. Or the rumors would balloon. I sorted my tangled thoughts.