For the God and the Kaiserin (German SI)

Alexandra Karoline known formerly as Miya, inhaled sharply. The evening air, heavy with the scent of blossoming linden, was a stark contrast to the icy chill snaking into her heart. Shanghai, her Shanghai, with its teeming streets, the horns of cars, and the glittering skyscrapers along the Bund... it all felt like a fever dream compared to the hushed elegance gripping the



Potsdam Palace.



Her gaze fell upon the Havel River, the water rippling like molten silver under the fading sun. It was hauntingly beautiful, like a scene trapped in a Prussian landscape painting. But this was her reality – a displaced reality where she lived as a princess, tethered to a future she recalled all too vividly, so vividly in fact that it was still floating in her mind. The memories of her travels in Europe and visit to Auschwitz, the large industrial scale construction there. The old photographs from the textbooks, showing the Berlin Push of the Soviet Union. A city with a flag of Hammer and Sickle fluttering above it alongside the Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes.



A soft footfall drew her attention. Marta, her lady's maid, stepped onto the balcony, a concerned frown creasing her brow. "Your Highness, shall I bring you a wrap? The evening chill can be unkind."



Alexandra squeezed out a smile. "In a moment, Marta. I find the air refreshing."



The maid bowed and retreated inside. Once alone, Alexandra leaned on the cool stone balustrade, a sigh escaping her lips. Her life as a twenty-first-century modern girl, more worried about how to spend money than to earn it, in Shanghai had been orderly, predictable. Now? She was Princess Alexandra Karoline of the German Empire, thrust into a world on the brink of cataclysm, where the deaths of millions were already on the distant horizon.



But there was an anomaly that had been eating her, the anomaly being herself. She had spent weeks poring over history books, confirming what she'd already intuited: she was an aberration, an addition to Wilhelm II's lineage that shouldn't be.



How she'd landed here, in 1902, was a puzzle with no solution. But the repercussions were terrifyingly clear. As someone who had read modern history quite extensively, she knew the horrors World War I would bring and the eventual downfall of the once-mighty German Empire.





A princess.

A gilded cage, however grand, was still a cage. That gilded cage promised a loveless marriage – a political alliance and little else. Then would come the war, the defeat, and an uncertain life in exile. For how could a woman of her time, raised with notions of a world beyond domestic confines, accept a life reduced to tea parties and empty titles?



And yet, was it possible to turn this bizarre twist of fate into an opportunity? Her mind buzzed with possibilities, desperate plans born from a 21st-century perspective and the historical hindsight she carried. She needed an out, but how, that was the question.



Option two had no appeal. The idea of living a passive, prescribed life – even one cushioned in luxurious privilege – choked her. She was neither a delicate flower nor a biddable ornament. If she must endure this reality, then she would fight to change the empire's course, even a fraction. That, at least, was honorable. Again there were limits.



But a princess's power was limited. Every smile, every curtsey, was scrutinized. Every utterance, every opinion, was filtered through a lens of 'appropriate' royal behavior. Could she be a subversive princess? A dangerous idea flickered to life.



"Knowledge is power," she whispered to the darkening sky.



Germany, in 1902, was a paradox. It bristled with industrial might, scientific advancement, military prowess. And yet, the empire was also riddled with weaknesses. Wilhelm II, her father, was a dangerously volatile figure, both arrogant and insecure. The navy, his pet project, was a formidable force, yet the country was surrounded by potential foes – Britain, its jealous eye on Germany's growing colonies, France, still smarting from its 1870 defeat, and the ever-hungry Russian bear lurking to the east.



She knew enough of warship design and the evolving technologies of naval strategy. Knowledge meticulously gleaned from the many books and videos, she had once wasted her time on. A mad idea began to coalesce.



Survival might demand something drastic. She would have to gain knowledge wherever possible, build alliances where she could, and most importantly, gain her volatile father's trust. If he could be convinced of a credible threat, if she could subtly play upon his ambition and militaristic tendencies, perhaps he'd be open to… innovation.



Her hands tightened on the railings. As a woman, she had no place on the battlefield or in the smoke-filled rooms where the Kaiser and his generals made their plans. But she possessed knowledge that could tip the scales – knowledge they lacked. The decision made was one of many risks, and most certainly terrified her. A gamble, undoubtedly. Yet, it was the first step towards carving agency from this bewildering situation. If she was to be stranded at the precipice of history's greatest tragedies, then she would not be swept away by it. She would fight, in her own limited way, to change the narrative, for herself and the German Empire.



A soft rustle of silk announced her mother's approach. Quickly, Alexandra smoothed away the determined set of her brow, replacing it with a facade of serene contemplation. Augusta Viktoria, a kind woman at heart, was still staunchly bound to the expected role of a royal consort. News of a rebellious, unladylike princess strategizing war tactics would likely send her into a fit of gentle hysterics.



"Alexandra, my dear," the Empress clucked, a delicate shawl tucked around her shoulders. "You will catch a dreadful cold out here. Come, dinner shall be served soon."



"Of course, mother," Alexandra murmured, pasting on a compliant smile. Inside, a silent promise took root – the promise of a princess's rebellion, masked behind a veil of royal decorum.



The first step, she decided, was the Naval Academy. Her father adored the navy; surely he wouldn't outright refuse his beloved daughter's enrollment. It was a starting point, a means to gain credibility. Her path would diverge from the pampered life of a princess toward the realm of strategic planning, a world of iron and smoke.



"Did you know, mother," Alexandra began as they strolled back inside, "that I have quite a fascination with ships? The design, the mechanics of it all…"



The Empress let out a small, surprised laugh. "My dear, ships are hardly fit topics for a princess!"



Alexandra squeezed her mother's arm gently. "And yet, knowledge is always a valuable asset, don't you think?"



The Empress smiled, bemused. Perhaps, hidden beneath Alexandra's gentle facade, was a glimmer of the Kaiser's iron will. It was an intriguing thought.



The seed of rebellion, meticulously planted, had begun to sprout.

---

The ballroom glowed brightly like a jewel box. Every surface gleamed – polished parquet, gilded mirrors, and the crystal teardrops of the enormous chandeliers. The Prussian nobility as always, a vision of military finery and rustling silk, swirled across the floor in an elegant dance of social hierarchy. And yes, Social Hierarchy it was, there was a strict segregation, as people only danced with those of their rank and station, and it took lots of guts to

approach someone of a higher station.



Alexandra stood apart, close enough to blend into the glittering crowd, yet detached, an observer in her own elaborate play.



Six months had passed since her life changing resolution on the balcony. Months of subtle maneuvering, careful observation, and veiled hints dropped into her father's conversations. Her request to enroll in the Naval Academy had, predictably, been met with shock, scorn, and finally, grudging amusement from the Kaiser.



"The sea is no place for a woman," he had boomed, a dismissive grin



softening to a contemplative frown. "And yet, my Alexandra has always had… unconventional spirit."



Unconventional indeed. She was, as far as she could determine, the only female cadet in the entire history of the Imperial German Navy. It had not been easy. The whispers, the snide remarks barely concealed behind gloved hands, and the blatant hostility from some male cadets – these were the thorns she had to navigate amid the grueling training.



But determination fueled her. Every knot mastered, every nautical chart plotted, and every navigation theory learned was a step towards her purpose. To matter, to not be just some other name passed in a long list of names on the pages of history.



"Your Highness, may I have the honor of this dance?"



Alexandra turned, and her carefully schooled expression faltered.

Hauptmann Erich von Falkenhayn, still, the picture of a Prussian officer – tall, blond, with eyes the precise shade of Baltic Sea blue – bowed with a click of his polished heels.



She'd come to see Falkenhayn as an… unexpected ally. His initial surprise at her presence in the Academy had shifted to gruff respect and a begrudging acknowledgment of her intelligence. He was, at heart, a man of the sea, and shared her almost fanatical interest in the latest technological

advancements in ship design.



"Of course, Hauptmann." She placed a gloved hand on his sleeve. The music, a lilting waltz, enveloped them.



"I must admit, Princess," Falkenhayn began, guiding her expertly through the dance, "you have confounded expectations."



She raised an eyebrow. "And is that a good thing, Haputmann?"



"It makes things… interesting," he replied with a flicker of a smile. "The men, they struggle. A woman giving orders?" He shook his head,



amusement lacing his voice. "It shakes their world."



"Perhaps it's time their world was shaken," Alexandra retorted lightly.



"And tell me, Princess, what grand schemes do you harbor for the Imperial Navy once you graduate?"



His question was shrewd, testing her. Yet, she couldn't fault him. He likely thought that she would just return to her luxurious life after everything was done and over. Not that he was wrong, she did have that plan but the path was going to be different.



"Haputmann, surely you know the Empire is at a crossroads. Britain eyes our fleet jealously, and the French thirst for revenge," she said, her voice low.



Falkenhayn's expression sobered. "This is hardly suitable waltz conversation, Princess."



"And yet, is it not the unspoken fear in every strategist's heart?" she pressed. "They speak of grand maneuvers and naval battles, but there's a… stagnation. We rely on the same grand ships of the line, the same tactics that won wars a century ago. But the world is changing, Haputmann," she stressed, "faster than the Admiralty cares to admit."



His gaze fixed on her with a startling intensity. "And you believe you have solutions?"



Alexandra's pulse quickened. This was dangerous territory. Her knowledge of dreadnoughts, torpedo boats, and long-range gunnery was dangerous knowledge, a glimpse into a future these men couldn't yet fathom.

Something which they would reject out of hand without even giving the time of the day.



"Let us say, Haputmann… I have ideas," she said carefully.



The waltz concluded. Falkenhayn bowed again, this time a flicker of genuine respect in his eyes. "Princess Alexandra, you are a continuous source of surprise."



She curtsied, schooling her features into serene composure. "Isn't a little 'interesting' far preferable to the predictable, Haputmann?"



Falkenhayn retreated, but Alexandra sensed she'd sown another seed. She had to move with extreme caution, of course. One wrong step, one whiff of the fantastical knowledge she possessed, could brand her as unstable, or worse, a threat. And yet, inaction was the surest path to the downfall she knew was coming.



The evening blurred into a whirl of dances, meaningless conversations, and veiled glances aimed her way. The princess-turned-cadet had become the object of both fascination and wary disapproval. It was a role she would have to embrace, she realized, to forge her own strange path within this rigid, tradition-bound society. But tonight, another concern nipped at her mind – her brother, Crown Prince Wilhelm. Tonight marked his return from an extended diplomatic tour of the East. Wilhelm, the heir, with his brash demeanor and open disdain for Alexandra's "unladylike" pursuits, was a wild card in her carefully laid plans. He could easily undo whatever tenuous goodwill she was building and brand her a fool in the eyes of their already

skeptical father. Especially when he had his beautiful, "Viky" to compare her to.



"There you are, Alexandra!" a loud, jovial voice startled her from her reverie. Her brother, the Crown Prince,strode towards her, flanked by a gaggle of smirking officers in his entourage.



"Wilhelm," she acknowledged with a curt nod. It was no secret that the siblings maintained a cool formality bordering on dislike.



"You've caused quite a stir, little sister," Wilhelm said, a patronizing grin fixed on his face. "The Imperial Navy's latest curiosity."



"Curiosity turns to capability, dear brother," Alexandra replied, her tone deliberately light. "Or so I hope to prove."





"And I suppose next you shall be demanding a battleship to command?" Wilhelm guffawed, drawing the attention of those nearby.



It was a trap, meant to expose her as absurd before their peers. He'd always resented her quick mind and what he perceived as favoritism from their father. To openly challenge her in public was a calculated move.



Alexandra kept a calm smile fixed on her face. It would not do to lose her temper, not here. "A curious idea," she mused thoughtfully, playing along with the charade. "But perhaps I'd settle for a torpedo boat squadron. Faster, more agile, the wolf pack of the seas. A taste of the future, don't you think?"



The laughter around them faltered. Even Wilhelm seemed taken aback. Falkenhayn, observing from a distance, raised an intrigued eyebrow.



Wilhelm recovered quickly, the patronizing smile back in place. "Always with the dramatics, Alexandra. Torpedo boats? You speak as if you've stepped out of one of those fantastical novels you devour."



She held his gaze, letting the barest hint of steel creep into her voice.

"Perhaps, brother, I see the world a little more clearly than you give me credit for."



With that, she excused herself, leaving Wilhelm sputtering as he struggled to formulate a cutting retort. His anger was a small victory, one she'd savor even though it widened the chasm between herself and the future emperor.



As she moved through the glittering crowd, Alexandra felt a strange mix of adrenaline and apprehension. The path ahead would be a tightrope walk – a performance of duty and deference, peppered with carefully placed seeds of discord. One wrong move and the princess with the rebellious heart and the anachronistic knowledge would be silenced, dismissed as a foolish girl with delusions of grandeur. But surrender was no longer an option. The stakes

were too high.



But first, she needed some money for her future endeavours and her personal purse.