Brother Otto was raised in the same weird way. Being the younger of the two, he ran off and joined the Bavarian Army. He was the lucky one; he got to run away from the crazy family he was born into.
He was active military and suffered severe PTSD from the battles he fought in. When he returned home, he was anxious and depressed. You have to feel sorry for the kid, his family was a bunch of wack-o-doodles, and he just wanted out and to live a normal life. He wanted to ride horses, dance with pretty ladies and grow carrots in his garden.
Otto was the one that was to get himself laid and produce an heir to the throne when he came home. No lady was willing as he was basically off his rocker; the poor guy had no idea what he missed. The family had a hard time finding a mail-order bride for either of the boys, so neither one married and had any spawn of their own.
Otto was under the care of a shrink while he became king. They never botherd to tell him his brother was murdered and he was the new King. He was on so much Prozac he probably would not have cared or remembered it anyway.
He was a source of cheap entertainment for the people as he would show up at church and interrupt mass to beg the priest for forgiveness for his war sins. Thanks to Otto’s constant interruptions, the priest often had to start over as he lost his spot in the sermon. Finally, Otto started to scare the kids, so they put an end to his public escapades.
He was removed quietly from his throne and locked away in a tower. All he had in that tower was paper and a pen, so he used to write notes and draw pictures of his shoes. He folded up the notes and created paper airplanes; he then sent them down to the streets begging for snacks and beer. There is a small museum dedicated to his notes and shoe drawings at the Marienplatz in Munich.