The bath after the confession went more or less as Oskar had expected.
Tanya had cried until her sobs dissolved into hiccups, then gradually quieted against his chest. He held her carefully in the warm water, the bite marks on his collarbone still stinging. She continued muttering insults under her breath—ass face, idiot, bastard—but she stayed. More than anything else, that told him there was still a thread connecting them.
He had no idea what to do next.
Then the bathroom door creaked open, and all three of them froze.
A naked figure appeared in the doorway, her hair disheveled, moving with the hesitant, careful steps of someone very sore between the legs.
Anna.
She still smelled faintly of sweat and last night's chaos, having not yet washed. Her eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, but the sight before her snapped her fully awake.
There was Prince Oskar, sitting in the bath with Tanya in his arms, the little blonde maid crying into his chest.
The door swung shut behind Anna under its own weight. For a heartbeat, she stood completely paralyzed as Tanya lifted her puffy, tear-reddened eyes toward the doorway.
The two maids locked gazes. Anna's hands flew to her mouth, while Tanya inhaled sharply, as though preparing to scream.
Instead, Anna moved.
She dropped to her knees on the wet tiles so hard they slapped against the floor, then crawled forward until she reached the edge of the tub. Bowing her head, she lowered herself until her forehead almost touched the porcelain.
"I'm sorry!" she blurted. "Miss Tanya, Your Highness, I—I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! I… I don't know what came over me! Please, punish me if you must, but—"
She trembled as the words tumbled over one another, looking every inch the lowly servant about to be dragged away and dismissed—or worse.
Oskar's stomach twisted.
This was wrong.
Tanya's fingernails dug into his skin hard enough to sting. Her body remained rigid against him, every muscle tense as she glared down at Anna with a mixture of hurt and fury.
But to Oskar, the sight was unbearable.
Anna begging. Tanya trembling. Both of them bleeding because of him.
It should be me kneeling, he thought, not her.
Before either woman could say another word, he moved. With one arm, he gently shifted Tanya higher against his chest. With the other, he reached out, grabbed Anna by the forearm, and pulled her smoothly up and into the tub.
Anna yelped in surprise as the hot water closed around her.
"Oskar, what are you—?!" Tanya choked.
Fortunately, the tub was enormous—a ridiculous royal-sized monstrosity of porcelain and brass. Even with three people inside, there was still plenty of room.
Tanya ended up pressed against his right side, her back resting against his chest and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Anna, bewildered and thoroughly drenched, sat to his left, turning uncertainly between Oskar and Tanya without daring to move.
Oskar wrapped his arms around both women and drew them close, holding them as carefully as though they were made of glass.
Beneath his chin, their heads almost touched, Tanya's golden hair on one side and Anna's dark brown locks on the other. The two maids exchanged uncertain glances across his chest, their faces filled with confusion, anger, shame, and a hundred other emotions they did not yet know how to name.
Oskar drew a slow breath.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and solemn. "Both of you. I'm the one who did this. So if you need to hate someone, hate me. Not each other."
The bathroom fell quiet.
He hesitated, searching carefully for the right words before continuing.
"I can't deny either of you now. Not after what I've done. Whether I deserve it or not… you're both important to my heart now. That's the truth."
He looked from one woman to the other.
"So please… don't let me be the reason your friendship breaks. Don't turn on each other because of me. If you need to scream, hit, cry, whatever—do it at me. Let me be the one you throw it at."
For a long moment, neither woman moved.
Anna's fingers tightened around the edge of the tub. Her heart ached for Tanya, who had been there first and had every right to be furious. Anna hadn't planned any of this. She had simply… fallen, and last night she had allowed herself to be swept away.
Tanya, meanwhile, felt as though she were standing at the edge of a cliff.
Without Oskar, there was nothing. Only darkness and a future utterly empty of him. The very thought made her feel as though she were about to plunge into a bottomless pit from which she would never escape.
She knew from his words that he wasn't going to let Anna go.
He wasn't that kind of man.
He took responsibility, even when it hurt, even when doing so created an even greater mess.
So what was she supposed to do now?
She wanted him. She needed him. She hated what he had done, yet she also understood that Anna was merely another woman drowning in the same tide.
Her chest burned with emotions she could scarcely contain.
Oskar gently tightened his embrace around them.
"It's alright if you can't say anything yet," he murmured. "Just… stay here a moment. Be quiet together. Let the silence and time… patch things up a little. We don't have to solve everything in one breath."
His deep voice filled the small bathroom, steady and reassuring.
Both women were accustomed to taking orders. When a prince spoke in such a tone, his words felt less like a suggestion and more like a command wrapped in concern.
Anna swallowed and looked toward Tanya, her warm brown eyes filled with pleading.
In Anna's world, Tanya stood above her—higher in rank, closer to the prince, smarter, and braver. Compared to her, Anna felt like a rabbit staring at a small, furious cat that could shred her to pieces if it wished.
If she tells me to leave, Anna thought, I'll leave. If she tells me to stay away, I'll do it.
She waited anxiously, but Tanya remained silent, her jaw clenched and her eyes shimmering as her thoughts chased one another in endless circles.
Eventually, Oskar broke the silence again.
"Fine," he said quietly. "If you two can't decide… then I'll decide."
He tilted his head back and gazed toward the ceiling for a moment before lowering his eyes to the two women in his arms.
"From now on," he declared, "you're both mine. That's my word."
He looked down at Tanya.
"Tanya… you were first. You hold the first place in my heart."
Then he turned to Anna.
"And you… came second. In that order, I think of you both. But both of you are my women now. That's my decision. For now, at least."
His words carried the unmistakable weight of an order.
To Oskar, it was simply a matter of taking responsibility. He would not run away, hide from what had happened, or pretend that the previous night had never occurred.
To the two women, however, it sounded like a verdict.
Something in Tanya's shoulders gradually loosened. It still hurt. It stung terribly, and she hated the thought of sharing him—hated it with every fiber of her being. Yet, at the same time, his declaration lifted a jagged weight from her chest.
He wasn't casting her aside.
He wasn't telling her that he had chosen Anna instead.
He was telling them both that they belonged to him and that he had no intention of abandoning either of them.
Tanya bit her lip before finally allowing her head to sink against his chest.
"Stupid… ass face," she muttered into his skin, her voice muffled and trembling.
It was half an insult and half an acceptance.
Anna watched them with her heart pounding. Then, slowly and hesitantly, she followed Tanya's example, resting her head against the other side of Oskar's chest while keeping her eyes lowered.
"I'm sorry," she whispered in a small, squeaky voice. "Miss Tanya… Your Highness… I'm so, so sorry…"
Oskar tightened his arms around them both.
For a little while, the three simply remained together, breathing quietly in the warmth of the bath. Their hearts were raw, their eyes sore, and none of them knew what the future would bring, but for the moment, they were together.
Then Tanya stirred.
She glanced sideways at Anna's stomach before slowly lifting one hand and resting it gently against the other woman's belly.
"For the baby," she muttered, almost as though she were explaining her decision to herself rather than anyone else. "If there is one."
Anna's eyes immediately filled with tears.
"It's alright," Tanya continued quietly. "But you're still cleaning the floor and whatever mess you two made."
Anna's thoughts came crashing back to earth.
The floors. The windows. The corridor.
And the prince's bedroom.
Her face went pale.
She had abandoned half her cleaning route the previous night, forgotten practically every duty assigned to her, and left behind what was undoubtedly a complete disaster. Oskar's bed alone probably looked like a battlefield, and she had absolutely no idea where her maid's uniform had ended up, only that it certainly couldn't be worn again.
Anna immediately sat upright and nodded so vigorously that her wet hair slapped against her cheeks.
"Y-Yes, Miss Tanya!" she squeaked. "I'll see to it right away!"
Tanya sniffed and settled back against Oskar, who continued holding both women close.
For now, it wasn't peace, but it was a truce.
And for a man about to negotiate with Krupp, juggle two pregnancies, and redesign the German Navy, achieving a truce in his own bathroom was already something of a miracle.
By the time the three finally emerged from the bath—clean, red-eyed, and at least no longer actively exploding at one another—Oskar felt like a man attempting to cross a frozen lake with a cannon strapped to his back.
Tanya was the first to move.
She quickly dressed in her maid's uniform, wiped the remaining moisture from her cheeks, and rebraided her golden hair with practiced efficiency. From a distance, she looked composed again, her posture straight and her expression carefully controlled. Only the slight redness around her eyes betrayed what had happened.
Anna, still thoroughly mortified and unwilling to meet either of their eyes for more than half a second, scurried into Oskar's bedroom to find something—anything—she could wear.
Tanya watched her disappear through the doorway, released a weary sigh, and muttered beneath her breath.
"If I leave her alone, she'll come out wearing your spare uniform and a bedsheet. I'll fetch her a proper dress before she starts trying on your trousers."
She gave Oskar's arm one final squeeze, hard enough to hurt, which was probably the point, before following Anna into the bedroom and closing the door behind her.
Oskar exhaled deeply.
He still felt terrible, and the guilt weighing on his conscience had certainly not disappeared. Nevertheless, Tanya and Anna were no longer trying to drown each other, and, more importantly, both women had stayed.
For this hour, at least, that was a victory.
He reached for a warm roll from Tanya's abandoned breakfast cart, took a generous bite, and began making his way down the private corridor toward the closed door at its far end.
When he pushed it open, he found a palace guard standing on the other side. The man immediately straightened, bringing his heels together with a sharp click.
"Good morning, Your Highness," he said, raising his hand in salute.
Most royals preferred their guards to stand like carved statues and refrain from breathing too loudly. Oskar, however, preferred his guards to actually talk.
He clapped the man on the shoulder.
"Good morning, my man," he said cheerfully. "Oh, and—" He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You didn't hear anything in there, right? No strange noises. No women coming and going. Isn't that right?"
The guard blinked, looking like a man who had just been handed a live grenade labeled conversation.
For a heartbeat, he hesitated. It was during that brief silence that Oskar realized something rather important: this wasn't the same guard who had been on duty the previous night. That unfortunate fellow had already finished his shift hours ago.
Of course. The guards had changed shifts.
Nevertheless, Oskar kept his enormous hand firmly on the man's shoulder, smiling without a trace of humor.
The guard swallowed nervously before deciding that agreement was undoubtedly the wisest course of action.
"Oh yes, Your Highness," he replied quickly. "I didn't see anything. All was quiet and clear this morning."
"Good man," Oskar said approvingly.
He broke the remaining half of his bread roll and handed it to the guard, who accepted the unexpected offering with both hands and promptly devoured it in two hurried bites, not daring to refuse.
Satisfied, Oskar released his shoulder and continued into the main corridor.
Karl appeared approximately thirty seconds later, his hair windswept, his coat askew, and his spectacles sitting slightly crooked upon his nose. He looked like a man who had just sprinted through an entire palace governed by strict protocol and somehow managed to avoid being arrested for it.
"Your Highness!" he panted. "There you are. We are officially… ten, perhaps fifteen minutes behind schedule."
"Then we are early by my standards," Oskar replied, giving him a friendly clap on the back. "Come. Let's go terrify Krupp with big numbers."
Together, they left the palace through a side entrance reserved for private business and stepped into the cold winter air of the courtyard.
A gleaming, dark-green Mercedes touring car awaited them, one of the newer models that had recently attracted the Emperor's admiration. Its brass lamps, polished radiator grille, and fine leather seats gave it an unmistakable air of luxury, while the faint scent of fuel and oil remained strangely exotic in a world still dominated by horses and coal smoke.
The driver immediately climbed down, offered a crisp salute, and opened the rear passenger door.
Karl climbed in first, his small frame barely occupying half the seat. Oskar followed, folding his enormous body into the automobile with the practiced contortions of a man who was clearly somewhat too large for early twentieth-century automotive design.
The suspension dipped noticeably beneath his weight.
With a mechanical cough, the engine roared to life before settling into a steady growl, and the Mercedes rolled out of the courtyard.
Potsdam gradually disappeared behind them, its stone façades and winter-bare trees giving way to the open countryside. The road carried them westward, past quiet fields and scattered towns, until the landscape eventually began to change. Chimneys rose above the horizon, railway lines multiplied, and the distant silhouettes of cranes and smokestacks announced their approach to the industrial heart of the Ruhr.
Karl, now fully awake and comfortably returned to his natural element, opened his notebook.
"Your Highness," he began seriously, "I've been conducting some market research regarding the cat sand—"
Oskar's mind, still overflowing with memories of bathtub tears, impending fatherhood, and the lingering sting of Tanya's fingernails against his skin, latched onto the words cat sand like a man suddenly hearing someone mention tomatoes in the middle of a physics lecture.
"…What?"
"Cat sand," Karl repeated, entirely unperturbed. "And brushes. Specifically, their export potential. I have some preliminary thoughts about which countries would make the most promising markets. Britain first, naturally. They have an enormous pet culture, established cat shows, and wealthy ladies with little to occupy their time beyond pampering their animals. Then the French bourgeoisie in Paris, followed perhaps by New York."
He adjusted his spectacles and continued enthusiastically.
"Belgium and the Netherlands are also particularly promising. Small countries, admittedly, but highly urbanized, with substantial middle-class populations and plenty of cats living in apartments. They would make excellent test markets for our hygienic products."
Oskar merely stared out of the window, watching the railway lines, factories, and distant chimneys pass by beneath a sky increasingly smeared with industrial smoke.
Karl, meanwhile, was gathering momentum.
"Germans will certainly purchase these products, but the British are practically insane when it comes to their pets. If we approach the marketing correctly—attractive packaging, charming illustrations, perhaps slogans such as 'Clean Homes for Gentle Cats'—we could very easily establish ourselves as the leading supplier of—"
"Mhm," Oskar murmured.
He hadn't absorbed a single number.
His thoughts were still trapped somewhere inside the palace bathroom.
Tanya is pregnant. Anna might be pregnant too. I'm going to be a father. Possibly more than once. Oh God, I'm meeting Krupp today, and I smell like soap and guilt.
Karl had already turned another page.
"Furthermore, if we establish our first export hub in Hamburg, we can distribute directly to London, Amsterdam, and Antwerp. Later, we might consider Scandinavia. There is a considerable overlap between their emphasis on household cleanliness and the growing practice of keeping domestic pets. With the right distribution agreements, we could leverage both—"
"Very good, my man," Oskar interrupted automatically. "We will bully the world with cat toilets."
Karl stopped speaking.
He slowly lowered his notebook and regarded the prince with an expression of profound uncertainty.
"…Yes," he said at last. "That is… one way of putting it."
Oskar nodded solemnly, apparently satisfied with the conclusion of their discussion, before returning his attention to the passing scenery.
Eventually, the Mercedes crested a gentle rise, and the city of Essen spread out before them beneath a low winter sky.
It was a city of smoke and steel, of church spires rising among factory chimneys, of railway yards and towering smokestacks. Great skeletal cranes loomed above the industrial districts, while the distant rhythm of machinery seemed to pulse through the very landscape.
And there, standing proudly upon a hill beyond the city's busiest streets, was an enormous complex of stone and brick, framed by bare winter trees and carefully maintained lawns.
Villa Hügel.
The ancestral seat of the Krupp family.
An industrial palace.
From a distance, the sprawling estate resembled a fortress built for bankers and steel magnates. Unlike the delicate grandeur and elaborate ornamentation of the Hohenzollern palaces, Villa Hügel was heavy, solid, and imposing, its architecture dominated by strong lines, massive proportions, and an unmistakable sense of quiet authority.
Closer to the foot of the hill, the administrative buildings of the Krupp corporation lined the surrounding streets. They were enormous, rectangular structures of dark brick and tall windows, their entrances protected by imposing iron gates bearing the famous Krupp three-ring emblem.
Everything about the place radiated order, discipline, and steel.
Here was wealth of a different kind from the hereditary grandeur of the Hohenzollerns. This was industrial wealth, built upon furnaces, machinery, factories, and the labor of thousands of workers.
Karl closed his notebook with a decisive snap.
"Your Highness," he announced, straightening his coat and sitting a little taller. "We're here."
Oskar straightened as well, rolling his enormous shoulders before adjusting his posture.
Whatever he might be at home—a man burdened with too many women, too many feelings, and an increasingly terrifying number of personal responsibilities—out here, he was something else entirely.
Prince Oskar von Preußen.
Designer of a revolutionary new battleship. Owner of a shipyard. Founder of a rapidly expanding industrial empire. And now, a man preparing to ask the mighty Krupp corporation to reshape German steel production around his ideas.
The Mercedes rolled through the iron gates, carrying them into the ordered world of Germany's greatest industrial dynasty.
For a moment, as Oskar gazed at the towering chimneys along the horizon and listened to the distant rhythm of railway wheels and factory hammers, something stirred within him.
The anxieties of the morning, the tears in the bathroom, and the looming possibility of fatherhood gradually retreated to the back of his mind.
He looked toward the enormous industrial complex ahead, his eyes narrowing with growing anticipation.
This, he thought, is where the future is forged.