"Your Majesty, Empress Auguste Viktoria, Prince Joachim, and Princess Viktoria Luise have arrived."
At the maid's announcement, Victoria Adelaide slowly opened her eyes. Once the pride of the British Empire as its "Princess Royal," she was now an elderly woman clinging to her final breaths. Yet her gaze remained as sharp and bright as ever.
"Mother."
"Auguste… it has been too long."
As Empress Auguste Viktoria entered the sickroom, the Dowager Empress Victoria struggled to sit up with her maid's assistance. This daughter-in-law had once been a source of resentment—Auguste had usurped Victoria's leadership roles in the German Red Cross and Patriotic Women's Association, positions she'd hoped to pass down. But over time, as loneliness gnawed at Auguste during Wilhelm II's frequent absences, the two women bonded, their grievances dissolving into mutual reliance. Now, Victoria held only affection for her.
"Grandmother!"
"Joachim, Luise… how you've grown. Truly grown."
The Dowager Empress smiled as her grandchildren bowed. The last time she'd seen them, they'd been infants. Now they stood tall—a bittersweet reminder of time's relentless march. Had her stubborn son not whisked them away, claiming her "liberal ideas" would corrupt them, she might have showered them with more love. Regret tightened her chest.
"And Wilhelm? Did he not come?"
"No. He was still in Königsberg when I left Potsdam. He'll arrive tomorrow."
"So Wilhelm rushes to witness his mother's deathbed, while my eldest daughter remains absent."
"Mother, Sophie Charlotte simply received the news late. She'll come soon," Auguste insisted, though her youngest daughter Margarete's attempts to defend her sister only deepened Victoria's scowl.
Sophie Charlotte, her eldest, had always been cold—a stark contrast to her brothers. Victoria blamed herself: she'd neglected the girl in her youth, letting her drown in society's frivolities. Old habits, it seemed, died hard.
"And who is that child?" Victoria Adelaide pointed to the silent boy behind Auguste.
At the Empress' nod, Hans stepped forward.
"I am Hans Jo. It is an honor to meet Her Royal Highness Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa, Princess Royal of Britain and Dowager Empress of Germany."
"Ah, so you're the Asian boy who saved Wilhelm."
A faint smile curled the Dowager Empress' lips, pleased by Hans' polished demeanor. The child, roughly her granddaughter Viktoria Luise's age, carried himself with uncommon poise.
"When I heard my fool of a son had brought you into the palace, I thought he'd lost his mind—or taken to strange narcotics."
"Mother!"
"Don't look so scandalized, Moretta." Victoria Adelaide's fourth daughter, Princess Viktoria of Prussia, stiffened at the childhood nickname. "Your eldest brother rants about 'yellow peril' conquering Europe. Even street beggars know it."
Her bluntness drew quiet sighs from her children. The Dowager Empress had always been thus.
"Hans Jo, how do you find palace life?"
"Would you prefer honesty or diplomacy?"
"What?"
"Hans, must you always—"
"Ha! Hahaha!"
Empress Auguste Viktoria's reproach died as the Dowager Empress erupted into laughter.
"A sharp tongue indeed! Speak plainly, then."
"Tolerable. The Kaiser, Empress, and royals treat me well. At least none gawk at me like a circus ape."
"Pfft! Auguste, where did Wilhelm dig up this child?"
"He's clever and well-mannered… sometimes too clever," the Empress sighed, the exasperation of a mother vexed by a mischievous child.
"Not the sort your husband favors," the Dowager Empress remarked. She knew her eldest son—a man who brooked no defiance, even from family.
"Just look at how he reacted when Sophie—" (her fifth daughter, Crown Princess Sophie, nicknamed "Sossi") "—converted to her husband's faith. That tells you all you need to know about his temperament."
"Fascinating child."
"Mother?"
"Elizabeth, help me out of this damned bed."
A British maid nodded, stepping forward to assist.
"Mother, you shouldn't strain yourself," Sophie fretted, but Victoria Adelaide waved her off.
With the maid's support, she painfully settled into a wheelchair beside the bed. The family watched with heavy hearts as the once-indomitable empress relied on others for movement. She, however, seemed unbothered—pity was an old acquaintance.
"Ponsonby, how's the weather?"
"The skies are clear, not a cloud in sight."
The Dowager Empress smiled. "Ah, perfect for a stroll." Her sharp eyes turned to Hans.
"Would you assist me?"
Victoria Adelaide's interest in the boy deepened.
---
Friedrichshof Gardens
"Heh… Hans, you truly are a fascinating and remarkable child."
"You flatter me, Your Majesty."
"Not at all. What a waste to leave you with Wilhelm."
Hans pushed the wheelchair slowly, their solitary walk proving unexpectedly pleasant. He'd never imagined bonding with the Dowager Empress, yet their rapport felt natural.
"What matters is I enjoy our conversations," she added, her voice softening.
Dowager Empress Victoria was among the rare enlightened and astute women of the 19th century.
Yet even by the era's standards, the German imperial family remained deeply conservative—viewing her intellect with suspicion and sidelining her. Her father, Prince Albert, a steadfast ally of Prussia and the German Empire, had once raged at their treatment of her.
"So you believe monarchy will inevitably fade into history?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Since the French Revolution, the people's power has grown while monarchies wane. Though monarchies still hold sway today, within half a century, republics may dominate."
"Heh. Wilhelm calls me a 'liberal,' yet he's brought a 'republican' into his court."
Well, having witnessed the 21st century, I can't argue. But outright agreement might court danger. Hans tempered his response.
"I don't deem monarchy obsolete. It can coexist with democracy, as in your homeland Britain. That may be its only path forward."
Indeed, by the 20th century, surviving monarchies were almost exclusively constitutional. Absolute monarchies like Saudi Arabia became outliers.
"…My late husband once said the same."
"You speak of Emperor Friedrich III."
A bittersweet smile crossed her face, memories of her husband lingering. Like Victoria Adelaide, Friedrich III had leaned liberal, clashing with his conservative father Wilhelm I and the militaristic Junker class. Historians speculated that had Friedrich III reigned longer, Germany's trajectory—and perhaps even World War I—might have diverged.
"He dreamed of a Germany guided by reason, not bayonets,"she murmured. "But fate granted him only 99 days."
Hans remained silent. The "liberal emperor" had died of throat cancer in 1888, leaving Wilhelm II to embrace the militarism his parents despised.
"The Year of Three Emperors."
1888, a pivotal year when three rulers—Wilhelm I, Friedrich III, and Wilhelm II—ascended the throne in rapid succession, sealing the German Empire's fate.
"When Friedrich closed his eyes for the last time, Wilhelm blamed me for his death. He even suspected 'treasonous' content in my letters to British relatives, rifling through my private correspondence."
To exile me from court.
The Dowager Empress' face twisted with disgust. The memory clearly still rankled.
"If only the late Emperor had lived longer…"
"…You disapprove of the current Kaiser's rule," Hans observed.
"A child like you can see it, Hans. Wilhelm is… adequate in domestic affairs, but a disaster in diplomacy."
I know.
Too well. That's the problem.
"That is why I fear, Hans."
She turned to him, her gaze piercing.
"What future will my son's recklessness bring? What fate awaits my beloved homeland and my husband's nation because of it?"
Her eyes brimmed with sorrow and regret, their light dimmed by the weight of prophecy.