Chapter 1: 1. Prologue and beginning
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Chapter Text
Proverbs 4:23
“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”
ACT I
Once upon a time, on a small island. There was a small child wished upon a star to wish a dream into existence. He was not satisfied with his achievements. He was not satisfied with what he had and who he was. He was a simple little boy whose dream was to be a great soldier, and later on a great leader. He was shy, gentle, kind, but also fierce and tenacious. A boy with a fiery temper and somewhat michevious. A boy who was very intelligent and had talents most couldn’t have fathomed of possessing. “What was his wish?” You may ask. “What was the dream?”
“for my fantasy to be a reality.”
It takes the child a long time to bring it into existence. The child became a man. The man thinks of all the things he ever did. All the things he did in his life and all his dreams. With all his mind could do, comprehend, and visualize, with all his power, He thinks of everything he can make and do.
After many years of hard and smart work, he made his wish come true. After many conquests and campaigns, treaty after treaty, he did it. The fruit of his ambition was here. He brough a fantasy to reality. It is a dream come true. Heaven on earth.
A wonderful world and empire where anyone could have their happily ever after in. A true fairytale. Magic existed, and so did fairies and many other otherworldly powers and creatures that would normally appear in imagination did too. The landscapes were majestic and almost otherworldly, dotted with flowers, lights, and color. Mountains that reached the clouds, grass green as emerald. The people were healthy, and most importantly happy. Not to mention there was never a winter. They could grow crops and flowers all year round! With bountiful rain and the brilliant sun, and don’t forget about the luminous night sky.
The cities boomed with people and activity. They lit up with life and soul, joy and euphoria. The buildings were grandiose and heavily decorated, inspired by the architecture of the Romans and Greeks, and skyscrapers that ascended high into the sky. The colors resembled that of a rainbow or opal…it was like one big giant opal. You can guess how resplendent they were combined with the stars.
The land was prosperous, it had gotten rid of the archaic beliefs and backwardness of the Ancien Regime and advanced and accelerated when the French Revolution came. They advanced in Science and made new discoveries and technology. They gained new territory, the people gained a better life. Children could have fun and be educated to serve the Empire. The men were glorious soldiers. The women were entertainers and caretakers. The Generals and Marshals enjoyed pleasure and riches, I suppose you get the idea.
It was a wonderful fantastic dream come true. And it was all cause of a little boy who wished upon on a star, because anything your heart desires can come to you. As long as it’s in your dream, it’s never too extreme.
And our story begins on this special day. The day where The Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte invaded Russia.
1
January 1st 1813
He’d finally won.
He did it. He actually did it.
Battle after battle after battle, shot by shot, march by march, step by step, he’d finally conquered Russia. Not only had his forces conquered and took Moscow but Saint Petersburg too. Many months of planning and fighting had finally paid off.
Cannons boomed as men ran. Shots from muskets and rifles flew throughout the battlefield. Swords were drawn and guns were fired. Soldiers trampled over their enemies and cheered.
The invasion of Russia was finally complete. Soldiers gathered at the newly captured Catherine Palace, The Alexander Palace was burnt down to the ground in a splendid display of golden flames. Saint Petersburg in the distance was colorful like opals. It was bright and shining just like the stars in the night sky. The sky was crystal clear, stars of all kinds of colors danced and spun and shined, it was glittery, sparkly, they looked like jewels. Everything was like a dream. A fantasy that became reality.
The soldiers and Russian people gathered around the Palace. Actually all kinds of people gathered. They waited for their New Emperor to come out. Not the Tsar, but the one to bring prosperity to all and make as good as new! Better than any Tsar did and ever would. He was going to bring change, a revolution. A fantasy to be reality.
It felt hopeless at first, difficult, but once everyone regained their morale they had finally conquered the Tsardom. “Those traitors got what they deserved,” he thought.
Meanwhile in the Palace, Napoleon cheerily and happily strolled down through the halls of the newly captured Catherine Palace. The latest and newest pair of Marionettes he held in his hand were that of Tsar Alexander the First, and his wife, Elizabeth Alexeievna. He was wearing an outfit, black boots, black gloves, the signature blue military uniform with a dark indigo vest and robe over his uniform and legs, the robe and vest had the floral patterns of gladioli, roses, and daffodils. He had a red collar over his neck, some golden plates on his shoulders, and a red cape. His hair dark brown and short, skin yellowish but pale, and his eyes a piercing blue-grey.
“Oh the Tsar he fought! Oh the Tsar he’s caught! But now the Tsar’s a puppet of mine! Whine all you want crybabies, but I’m not going to let you or your pathetic Tsarina be free anytime soon. Besides, you two look way more adorable as my little marionettes! Look at yourself.”
A wry smile formed on his face, his eyes looking down on them with glee and sadism.
“Golly! How wonderful you two look together.”
Although the pretty marionettes seemed to have no expression on their motionless faces, they were dreadful inside. Petrified in fear and terror. They were motionless dolls, what could they do?
“Emperor Bonaparte!” Napoleon heard someone call out.
“Now, as for me. I have some business to attend to. You two will be coming along with me.”
He toyed around with the pair of the poor tormented puppets in his hand. Their glassy eyes locked onto their tormentor.
“What are you gawking at you idiots?” asked the now-irritated Napoleon.
“Bonaparte!!” the voice called out again from the other side of the hall.
“I have no business dealing with you two. You’ll still be coming along though.”
He resumed merrily skipping down the golden halls of the Palace, searching for the friend who was calling him.
“Ney!!” He called back. “Look what I got!” A smile was plastered across his face. He proudly showcased his newest pair of marionettes he got.
Michel Ney, the “bravest of the brave” at least according to him, walked up closer to Napoleon.
“Tsar Alexander the First…” Ney muttered, pointing to one of the two marionettes.
“Doesn’t he look wonderful? He looks even better with his wife too! At least I’m happy with mine. Unlike him…”
“You’re not any better Napoleon, you have af-”
“Atatatatat!” He interrupted, “That’s not relevant! At least I actually appreciate her, you get it Ney. Don’t you?”
“Uhm..” he felt slightly uneasy “Yeah. I get it.”
“Good. I have no interest in hearing your whines or complaints like these unlucky two in my hand. I don’t want you to end up like them, you don’t want to be like them either. Trust me. Now, where are we off to?”
“To your men, sire.”
“Good to know!” Napoleon sounded excited, he was even pinching himself, something he usually did whenever he was happy or in a good mood.
He could already hear chatter and cheering outside the Palace. He grabbed onto his friend’s hand and ran throughout the halls. On the other hand of Napoleon were the marionettes being hung by threads swinging and clanking onto each other.
“I guess we’ll have to see what the future holds for all of us! For me….right?” said Napoleon.
Ney nodded in response.
Napoleon abruptly stopped running. He cocked his head towards Ney, his blue-gray eyes gazed up on him.
“Everything will be fine. Right?”
“I hope it will be, I’m sure it’ll be fine. You don’t have to be so paranoid or worry all the time.”
“A dream come true..you’re the best Ney!” He happily laid his head on Ney’s shoulder and smiled at him.
“I’m happy you’re happy.” Ney smiled back at him.
Right when they were nearing the end of the hall and to the door, a woman waited right in front of it.
“Josephine!” Napoleon called out, he gave the marionettes to Ney, ran towards her and pulled her into his embrace.
She was wearing a dress standard of that of an Empress. It suited her, the long resplendent elegant dress even looked and was colored like that of a bubble. A bubble dress with glitter and sparkles decorating her appearance and jewelry and dress. The most notable of her jewelry was the pendant of her necklace. A medallion clock. A tanzanite blue enameled gold case with sliver grey hands of an hour and minute on it. It was encased in glass. A gold border surrounded it along with large diamonds. Her eyes were a startling hazel, and her hair was a curly chestnut brown wrapped into a bun. She had a slim figure, and her fair skin was soft as silk.
“You seem very excited, Napoleon.” Josephine was equally excited and proud of Napoleon as he was. She was glad for him, everyone was.
“I’m happy I brought you along with my expeditions. I’m glad you helped with the Soldiers too! You’re the best. If it weren’t for you bringing all the resources, or entertaining them and encouraging them! I could’ve never done it without you!”
“No need to thank me…you don’t have to be such an overexcited rambler all the time. I get you’re overwhelmed or excited. But don’t get too overwhelmed or excited. Keep your composure.”
Napoleon always wondered how anyone else was able to do it. To Josephine, she was simply trying to help him. She’d known about French society and was well connected far before Napoleon ever was. By the time she was married to her first husband, Alexandre de Beauharnais, Napoleon would still be in Brienne with his friend and soon-to-be-secretary, Louis de Bourrienne.
Ironically, at some point, she too was a Social Outcast. She was a Creole, she came from the Island of Martinique. Josephine wasn’t even her birth name, her birth name was Marie-Rose. She often went by Rose. To her, she was just teaching him some of the ropes, she knew what it felt like, from one social outcast to another, helping one another.
“Well what are we waiting for just running our mouths? He’s supposed to give a speech outside.” said Ney. It was about time, they didn’t want to keep the people waiting any longer.
The trio finally opened the door in front of them and walked out into the chaos in front of them.
It burst with noise and cheer. It blared and echoed, it was actually overwhelming and overstimulating to poor Napoleon, the center of it all.
The whole scenery was resplendent and dream-like. All of this, to Napoleon, and to the people who fought for him, as well as the russian and all the other ethnicities in russia, was a dream come true.
Everyone cheered his name, everyone cried out “Our new Emperor!”. He was given all kinds of titles. All kinds of little nicknames and compliments. It was something the Emperor could dream of. It wasn’t really a surprise to him that they’d want a new Emperor after almost two centuries of poor rule under the wretched Romanovs. But he never expected to have this enormous number of supporters. He never expected an entire parade, or for the cities to look like Opals because of him and his army.
It was a new year, under a new rule.
The Era of the Romanovs was gone, in with the new Bonapartes, and out with the old Romanovs.
Welcome to the Napoleonic Empire
Chapter 2: 2. Parade, celebration and dread.
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Chapter Text
“Napoleon! Napoleon! Napoleon!”
He peeked through the doorway to take it all in and get a sense of his surroundings. But then..
“Wait! Your clothing!” said Josephine, pointing at him.
“What about it? Look at it! What’s wrong?” Asked Napoleon in a bubbly and confused tone. He immediately closed the door.
“Have you forgotten?” Asked Josephine again. Meanwhile Ney was still fiddling with the Marionettes in his hand. “Playfully teasing” and tormenting them.
“Oh! Right. I’ve forgotten.”
Lucky for him, he was a shapeshifter, so he didn’t have to constantly manually change or take off his clothing unless he needed to. Maybe impersonate, or be anything he wanted. Anyone, and anything. He could even be someone or something he’s not.
He snapped his fingers and there it was. The classical Emperor outfit. The “King of Diamonds” Josephine and her children playfully dubbed it. Though the diamonds on the outfit were stars if anything. Along with the red, purple, and blue inside of the gown with white borders and black dots. He had lots of gold on him. “Oh how elegant, authoritative, royal, and amazing he looks!” thought Josephine, and the people would think that soon once he went outside. The Napoleon from Corsica who despised France and only spoke Italian was born into a minor noble Tuscan family, but he had not once ever thought of the possibility of himself in the future being an Emperor. He had always thought of himself as a soldier, and at heart he was. He still was a soldier and fought alongside his friends and men. He relished and reveled in the ideas he despised and stood against in his youth. He was proud of himself, he loved being an Emperor.
Napoleon turned his head towards Ney, then towards Josephine, then towards the environment around him to take it all in.
Napoleon responded with a plastered smile and a wave. “Greetings!”
But there was no denying that behind that politeness or confidence was leaving him quite nervous. To him, despite the achievements he made, he never expected it to be celebrated to this enormity. He never expected to have…a parade. He never expected ALL of the Russian people to applaud and celebrate. To parade him around like he was…dare I say it, a God, a Deity to be worshiped and praised by all for what they do and what they’ve created and given. It’s not to say he didn’t like being treated like a God. If anything, he reveled in it. It’s a fantasy or dream for him to be praised like this. Now, it’s real. Then, Napoleon took a breath and spoke.
“I want to welcome you all to the new republic! To all my friends! To the new era!” He spoke, boasting in the best form of grandiloquence he could possibly do. He sounded a little shy, but mainly confident and booming.
Napoleon turned his head towards the left where his Marshal was. “Go on, you’re doing great.” Ney quietly whispered to him in his ear to reassure him. He also gave him back the pair of marionettes, the ones of the Tsar and Tsarina. On Napoleon’s right was Josephine smiling at him and giving him a thumbs up. They were all happy for him.
Napoleon glanced at the shaking little pretty porcelain marionettes in his hand and gave a sardonic smile to them both. “This is what you deserve.”
He held them up in front of the whole crowd, a confident and wry smile displayed on his face while the poor souls were terrified and frightened for their dear lives. This wouldn’t be the end, but their time wouldn’t be pleasurable either.
“And these fools were to ascend to the throne and be called Tsar and Tsarina? To be Emperor? Tsar of all Russia?”
The Tsar-turned-marionette Alexander peered down and whimpered quietly in shame.
“Do you hear this!? This is your Pathetic little Tsar! This is your Tsar and what and who he really is! This is your Tsar whimpering like an ANIMAL!”
He was able to earn a few chuckles and bursts of laughter, alongside whispering about the event from the crowd. Most were amused, few felt sympathy. Then, he threw the pair of the scared marionettes to the ground and set his foot on them.
“A real ruler provides for its people. An Emperor is a man who has the capacity to rule! an Emperor to change and revolutionize! You don’t even need an Emperor actually, you’ll vote and rule for yourselves!”
Each sentence he recited he stomped on the marionettes, breaking and cracking them.
“This is for everyone! And this! THIS IS FOR YOU!”
He dealt the final blow, he stomped on it, and the fragile scared porcelain romanovs were shattered into pieces. They were not dead, but they were in tremendous amounts of agony. An incomprehensible amount of pain and suffering unbeknownst to the average human as fleshy wriggling pieces of porcelain, glass, silk, and gore squirming in pure distress. There were even glass cracked fingers and even eyeballs and facial features trying to move away from the foot and escape. Napoleon quickly picked up the pieces and looked at the moving pieces in satisfaction.
“No longer will I allow these foolish Tsars and Romanovs to rule over you all, I will not allow such foolish buffoons to have control over such a large area of land in such a primitive manner! For I will allow you all to be independent Republics ruled by you! I won’t allow you all to be slaves or serfs! I want a nation of thinkers, of leaders.”
That was even better. It seemed to the Russian People and everyone else that he would be kind enough to abolish serfdom and let the people rule for themselves. He would actually change Russia. He was going to change it far more than Catherine the “great” did. Far more than the Tsar Alexander would ever plan, the so-called “beloved”, he was far from it. At best he was alright, at worst he was young and incompetent.
Little did they know that despite the all-so grandiloquent speech and cheers, Napoleon wasn’t really going to make them “republics”. He was really going to use them as puppet states for the expansion of his Empire. He’d make his stepson, The Marshal Eugene de Beauharnais the commander of the army of Russia. Contrary to Alexander, and despite being young, he was revolutionary.
Thanks to all this, considering how much land and resources his Empire had now, it was no doubt that it’d been complete. It’s no doubt that it’ll be flourishing and a superpower. He had ALL of Europe and Northern Asia. Spain, Portugal, The Papal States, The whole of Scandinavia and the Balkans, Austria, The Holy Roman Empire, all of Europe. Just now he’d taken Russia. However, that wasn’t the best part.
Not only would his Empire span Europe and parts of Asia, but by extension the globe. Spain and Portugal already had territories in South America and Africa. If he had any other country, he’d not only have the motherland or fatherland, but its territories too. By definition, he had the world. He could trade with others like the Americas, maybe trade with the Ottomans after pushing them out of the Balkans, they were, afterall completely at his mercy now. Tax certain valuable goods, mine stuff like gold or silver or grow new crops, and with all those resources he could have the richest Empire in the world. No need to worry about war debt any longer, It’d be paid easily by the minuscule taxes placed on such enormous amounts of resources. Use it to build new infrastructure or grand cities and all kinds of places. Who knows what he could make? Or what he could become? Who knew what he could discover? With everything he had, for all he knew, everything was a dream come true.
But there was just one problem though…He didn’t exactly conquer all of Europe. Just the mainland. He just had one more.
It didn’t exactly help too well that he fought with them before at the Battle of Trafalgar. He had other plans to invade it too which never came to fruition, until now.
That rival being the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. The British, ruled by a demented mentally ill old geezer and his fat drunkard disappointment of a son and regent, let alone a King. King George the third and his Prince Regent son George-soon-to-be-fourth.
The British had colonies of their own all over the world. Canada, Africa, India, you could name it. If he took over Britain, well, that meant he took over all of Europe and its colonies. If he took its colonies, he’d take the world. However, this time he’d have to make…additions.
But enough dreading the future or enemies. It was showtime!
Napoleon grabbed Ney and Josephine’s hands as they walked down from the entrance of the Catherine Palace and into the Parade. The crowd leading and celebrating hustled and bustled through the streets of Saint Petersburg. The Marching Bands marched and the Orchestra played in the background in celebration of the Victory aswell as becoming a “Republic,” Or according to Napoleon, a “Republet”. Not exactly the best play on words, Republic and puppet. He wasn’t very good at puns, that’s for one. Josephine mentioned it all the time. But despite their differences in the past, they still loved each other. Despite Napoleon having tons of mistresses and lovers, male or female. Despite Josephine having a fair share of her own affairs. They were husband and wife after all.
The other Marshals led the way, marching step by step. Streets were filled with luminance and color, decorations and all kinds of material. The Buildings lit up, to say the least the whole world became a sparkling glittery shiny rainbow.
Napoleon got up on the golden throne during the parade, he picked up his golden, purple, and red staff with an eagle and star on it. Another throne was next to him, Josephine’s. Napoleon gave her a peck on the cheek and gave her a wide smile. She smiled back. Ney stood right next to Josephine watching and being proud and happy for the whole ordeal.
He gave little waves to each person passing by. Greeting them and exclaiming “Hello!” to every person….or subject.
Each plastered smile he gave to the people around him was happy at the surface. He was happy at his core too. He was with friends and family, he’d just taken over a major superpower.
But dread still lingered by, what if it were to come crashing down? He hadn’t exactly conquered all of Europe, he just needed one more. But he dreaded it.
The parade in Europe went along happily voyaging through all kinds of cities, Warsaw, Vienna, Bern and eventually Paris. Cities lit up one after another and as the parade drew closer to its destination, so did more people join.
But what also grew was not only joy of the People around him, but his own uneasiness and dread, would he no longer be an Emperor? He’s a conqueror! A warrior! Just like Julius Caesar and Alexander! Greater than them! And that’s was what who he was. And all he wanted to be, and what he was destined to be. He’s a warrior. He’s his victories. He’s what he’s accomplished. He couldn’t imagine the terror of failing. He didn’t want to fail, success was all he had and he was. It could fall apart at anytime! And what if he was abandoned? What if he were forgotten? No no no! He couldn’t understand! It was a celebration! He would never be forgotten! He’s success! And his success alone! His hands trembled as he waved to the crowd and his chest tightened. Yet he felt so cold inside, something he despised. Cold, he hated it. He hated being cold more than anything in the world. The hollow echoes reverberated through his head. He shivered and trembled, but this wasn’t the time! It was progress! And he must be success! He must be greater than Caesar!
But the plan to invade Britain like he planned all those many years finally started to bloom…
He just had one more.
“Just one more….”
“Just one more to Conquer”
Chapter 3: 3. The Irasomas and Wellington’s plan
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
Uh-oh! It seems like the British are up to no good. What are they planning to harm the Napoleonic Empire? Find out. This is the debut.
Chapter Text
“Now how exactly are we supposed to defeat him?” Asked the already irritated King, George the third. Sitting on a chair in a room plastered with all kinds of pictures and furniture and decorations fit for a monarch like him. His fine powdered hair tied in a pony tail was turning disheveled, and the expression on his face seemed to be loosing its patience as seconds went by. His grey eyes twitching and widening as the minutes ticked.
“That is what I’m working on, your majesty.” Replied Arthur Wellesley, first Duke of Wellington in a stern manner. A smug expression was plastered on his face. He was in his red military uniform with golden decorations and collar and badges and a black sash. He had dark grey eyes and short greying balding dark brown hair.
“This maniac has successfully conquered Russia and made it into a puppet state! He has the entirety of continental Europe and its colonies all over the globe! It will be in no time if we don’t prepare for the little corporal’s invasion! We’re doomed!”
“Calm down, your majesty.” Wellington soothed the King and calmed him down. “We’ll come up with a plan eventually. We’ve prevailed!
“First we lose our colonies in America!”
“But you still have Canada, among others. That was decades ago. You no longer have to worry about them. Why do you still keep on talking about it over and over?”
“But this is worse! Do you see?! Do you see how e-“
“Oh please, he can’t do anything. We’ll come up with a plan sooner or later and we’ll get rid of that nuisance.”
He walked towards a table with some ink and a feather pen, and a map showing the continent of Europe.
But right before he Wellington could come up with something, a call ran through the halls and throughout the palace.
“Your Majesty! Your majesty! The soldiers!”
“What about the-GOODNESS GRACIOUS!” Wellington stood there in shock. George III could not seem to process it at first until he paid full attention. He was horrified.
The soldier rushed was horribly deformed and had little flames and red spikes poking out of his skin. Red blooms followed along the rest of his body and his face kept on shifting places and becoming more and more unrecognizable. Skin and flesh twisted and turned until it was pushed to its limit. But on his face he had distress and fury and rage on his face.
“The soldiers! Almost all of them! They’re in a fury and madness and I don’t know how it’s possible but..”
But before the person could finish his sentence, the flames and spikes of the soldier…erupts.
Skin and clothing ripped and tore apart and was scattered everywhere. All that remained was the embodiment of the soldier’s rage. It flew around, screeched and screamed. It was a giant colossal ball of flames. It had red, black and orange and yellow spikes over its body with a huge mouth filled with razor sharp teeth and a long tongue that shouldn’t even be possible. It had small tiny beady black eyes filled with rage and determination.
It attacked and wrecked everywhere in the room like a wild animal. It bit and ripped everything until it was captured and tamed by Wellington. It even nearly killed the King.
“You’re saying our men are becoming…this!?” Asked King George III
“It seems like so.” Said the person. Meanwhile Wellington was barely keeping it together holding the now-shrunken-beast in his hands. He was panicked, and shocked. But not just that, he was thoroughly impressed. He wanted to ask how the men were infected by madness so much they could become these. Then he had an idea.
“So our men…wait!”
“Yes Wellington?”
“I have just come up with a way to get rid of that little corporal and his Empire. I’ll get rid of that…boney man. By these, IF!…If we unleash these balls of pure unadulterated rage, passion, fury, we might be able to destroy them! We’ll need more men, more passion, more anger.”
“What makes you say think so Wellesley?”
“Did you see how this monster destroyed everything in this room? We can use them to destroy our enemies! Their rage will be unleashed upon them.”
“So you’re saying they’ll chomp and destroy everything if we..” but before the person could finish, Wellington interrupted.
“Exactly! They will be defeated and destroyed, brought to their knees. Born from the fury and rage of our men they shall be called irasomas”
“I see where you’re trailing off to, Wellesley, excellent. Go on.” King George remarked. He was pretty impressed. It was a plausible idea. The question though, is that how much damage would they cause? And how would they be vulnerable?
“Grab a pistol, shoot it.” George asked in a stern and blunt voice.
“What? You want me to kil-“
“Do it.”
Wellesley got out his pistol and shot it, but it was not affected. The pistol simply evaporated and was absorbed into the ball of spikes and fire and rage. Next he drew his sword and attempted to slice through them or give it a scar. It was to no avail, it didn’t even give a scratch. When he attempted to sliced through it again, this time with all his might, it still didn’t do anything.
These beasts were practically untouchable. In such a short amount of time, it was crystal clear that this was a miraculously powerful super weapon to be used.
“So this means…” muttered the person.
“Indeed. They’re unstoppable. It’s a miracle!” Exclaimed George.
“Exactly! They’re mighty weapons, stronger than muskets or cannons. Stronger than any artillery! Giant balls of raging flame and spikes!” Wellington elaborated further.
“So…we can use them. But how do we need more? Get more?” The person asked
“Get more men and more fury. More hatred, more madness!” Wellington proposed
“So you’re saying you want to infuriate our men to the point you drive them to insanity?”
“Well this is how you get a super weapon like this. A miracle like this should be produced to defeat such a powerful empire like that lunatic’s” George replied, after witnessing such a powerful tool be tested and used. There should, and would be no reason why they shouldn’t be used or produced more. At least to him.
“Hold on..no-“
But before the person could mutter anything. The King interrupted him.
“Desperate times come for desperate measures my subject! And I won’t be handling any more of your pleas and rants, do you get it? Speak again, and I won’t hesitate to have your tongue ripped out or have you executed. Do you-“
“Yes! Your majesty! I won’t-“
“Good. Now depart from me. As for you Wellesley I shall concern myself with you. You have a very important role. Remember that.”
From the distance it seemed that only the man, the king and the duke knew about it. But from a distance was a tiny little lady with insect-like wings watching from a corner. Almost like, a fairy. A spy. Sparkles that glimmered and shimmered orbited around her. She was also wearing the empire silhouette, the simple yet elegant long dress adorned with all kinds of floral patterns. The little lady had a pen in her hand and a book, and she wrote everything down. She looked at the window, and smiled.
“Oh, he’ll find a way. Eventually.”
she closed her little book, and flew off.
Chapter 4: 4. Napoleon Strikes!
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
So the British have finally released the Irasomas. What will Napoleon do exactly though?
Luckily he’s already come up with a plan, and he’s prepared.
Meet some new friends!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Why thank you Caroline! I never could’ve known about this without you!” He thanked his younger sister in a chirpy voice. He was in his uniform as first consul. He held a little note book in his hand. A notebook not exactly big for a regular person though, but fit for something like an ant. A notebook for ants! Or bigger than an ant. The person he was talking to was a fairy afterall.
“Had I not listened to Josephine and implemented the faerical system, I would’ve never had this much of an advantage. Oh and of course, and had I not appointed my beloved little sister as my little spy, I would’ve never got this information!”
He gave her a little pat on the head with his finger. She nodded and gave a little laugh.
“And it’s all thanks to you that we know what they’re getting up to! Goodbye Caroline!”
Little Caroline flew off and exited the room and the Palace of Fontainebleau.
“Drive their men to madness to make the beings known as Irasomas….What is THIS?!”
The moment he started reading the notes he flipped. Instead of being happy, he was now enraged. Despite the smile still evident on his face, just by his mannerisms and behavior along with his now-harsh voice was clearly outraged.
He sat on a stool, right next to a desk with a red robe covering it adorned with the golden symbol of his Empire, and an “N”. It had a large chandelier with little white flames hanging from the ceiling with arabesque patterns colored yellow. Another object hanging from the ceiling was a little glowing sand timer with its sand slowly falling to the bottom. It spanned and flipped continuously over and over.
He has plenty of time.
There was a fireplace with a blue-violet flame contained in the walls, and above the fireplace was a painting. To the left of the desk was a large blue and red throne with a large red and yellow crown over it. Next to the throne were candle sticks and poles that had the letter “N” on them.
Walls were adorned with golden decor and patterns, but they mostly consisted of mirrors. It was a throne room of mirrors.
He gripped the letter in his hand tightly as it trembled. He looked like he was about to rip it into pieces and feed it to the blue flames wriggling around in the fireplace. That wasn’t necessarily his intent, but he did have the urge to do so.
He glanced at the letter again, gripping it tightly and still smiling.
“At least I know now.”
“Hi Napoleon!” A man opened the door.
“Why if it isn't my beloved Private Secretary Bourrienne? Greetings!” He greeted him in his usual happy-go-lucky tone. At the same time his voice sounded grating and sarcastic, he was genuinely happy to see his friend. He just felt angry at the same time. His eyes were wide open, and he gave a wide smile. His smile twitched, and his blue-grey eyes were unblinking and occasionally twitched. They To Bourrienne, being a childhood friend of his he knew that he was angry, though in this case he was trying to hide it.
“Napoleon. Come on now.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Oh cut the crap! What is it?”
Napoleon gave him the paper.
“Why are you getting so worked up over it?” asked Bourrienne
“Read it for yourself.”
“Alright then.”
Then as soon as he read the contents of the letter, his face morphed into that of horror.
“Oh. I see what you’re talking about..”
“Now do you see? It’s brutal. Inhumane, cruel, disgusting.
“So how do we destroy them?”
“No. We’re obviously not going to kill them, that’s for one. I think there’s another solution, put them to ease.”
“They are weapons of mass destruction! Do you realize the risks you’re taking? They-”
“I know, I know. But don’t you think there should be a more humane way of handling them?
He got a pen, and a piece of paper. He sat down on his desk, and drew.
“What is it that you’re planning now? It’s futile! We can’t shoot them, and definitely can’t stab them. They’re balls of flame and rage and they destroy everything in their sight!”
He continues sketching and drawing.
“What do you think you’re doing? You’re a genius, but don’t overestimate yourself. You’re clearly underestimating the power of these creatures! You aren’t so foolish to not miss that are you now?” Bourrienne shouted, clearly getting more worked up and irritated.
But Napoleon gave no response, he had a blank expression. His eyes were locked onto the paper, and the hand with the pen leaving a trail of black lines and streaks. It wasn’t quite clear what he was making, not yet.
“You think creating a few doodles is going to do anything?”
No response
“ANSWER ME!”
Then, Napoleon showed him the finished piece.
The drawing consisted of figures trying to put out a fire. One person would use a large sheet of some sort to smother it, another with ribbons to capture and restrain it. So the fire was an Irasoma. Another figure would put water over it to cool it.
Then, at the bottom, there was a drawing of a small fire on a large oval table, there would be 5 chairs surrounding it. Each chair with a person smiling and singing. That was an extremely off-putting, foolish and absurd idea. Sing to a fire on a table? The fire would simply consume everything around it. That’s what Bourrienne thought, “What a stupid idea!”.
At least at first glance it seemed futile. But in fact, it would be a great idea.
“This is what you plan to do to stop them? What? Have you lost your mind?” He gave a wry smile and laughed. Napoleon also gave him a smile, a smug smile. He knew this would work eventually.
***
“What’s the buzz this time?” Lannes asked in an exuberant and rough tone, he was the most daring and toughest of them. He held a long red double helical lance that twisted and turned before gradually separating into 2 massive tines.
“This is serious Lannes.” Said Murat in his usual arrogant and over-the-top voice. All dressed up nice and fancy like he’s going to a ball or party rather than a fight. He’d much better serve as a toy or figure rather than a cavalry commander. He had a ribbon wand in his hand.
“If you actually took this seriously you wouldn’t be dressed like you’re about to screw around at a party.”
“Knock it off you animalistic brute!”
“You mother-”
They got into a fight. Lannes made his ribbon wand into a cat o'nine whip with spikes and spike balls, and Lannes almost charged at Murat with his Lance.
“Settle it down you two. We don’t want anyone else causing any more trouble. This is very important!” Ney cooled down the situation in his usual calm and reasonable tone. He acted as the mediator between the two, they were always fighting, he was carrying a large piece of fabric, a blanket of some sort.
“Anyways, why do you need a blanket? And why do we need that table over there? Why are we even at a Cafe of all places? I thought this was a fight, not a cafe party or date or anything like that!” said Lannes.
“Don’t ask me, Napoleon said so. Speaking of him, I don’t know what’s taking him so long, he said he’d be here by now.” Said Bourrienne, waiting at a bench.
“Is this slowpoke gonna hurry up now?” Asked Lannes in a more gruff, irritated and impatient voice.”
“I’m here now!!!” A voice called out from a distance.A playful and teasing voice. He ran and was out of breath, this time he was in his regular uniform. Grey coat and bicorn and all. To his side was Josephine, brown hair tied up in a bun and in a simple modest light green and blue dress, Little Caroline the fairy was here too. She flew towards Murat and sat on his shoulder, in right hand she held a little wand with a star on it and some wings. There was also a little bow with ribbons on the wand. In her left hand she had a small bucket of boiling hair.
“You better not spill it on me!” said Murat
“Oh I won’t.”
Meanwhile Napoleon and Josephine stood right next to each other, right in front of Lannes.
“About time! What took you so long!?”
“Long story…Put that Lance down, we won’t be needing it.” For whatever reason Napoleon was surprisingly happy.
“What about it as a chain?”
“I suppose so. Make it a chain later, right now protect it! We don’t want it broken do we now?”
He placed a sheath on his lance. “Oh I understand just fine! So what’s the buzz this time?”
Josephine pulled out a piece of paper, it was Napoleon’s drawing. She gave it to Lannes.
“I apologize for my horrendous wart skills! Please don’t mind!” Napoleon nervously chuckled
“Well it’s not as bad as your horrendous handwriting. Thank god for that.” He snarkily added.
“Oh don’t be rude Lannes!” Josephine came to her husband’s defense. He looked at the paper.
“No need Josephine!”
“Well you can’t let your own troops and friends disrespect you like that can we?”
“Oh forgive him! He’s a close friend of mine! Right?”
“Right. And lady don’t forget about your-”
“I know Lannes. You don’t have to bring it up.”
“No. I forgave her! It’s fine really.”
“If you say so boss.” His eyes went right back onto the drawing. It wasn’t bad. It was actually clear on what it was showing, one might even say it’s surprisingly good. Even Lannes was even surprised. Well, more surprised about the table with them singing to the creature. Josephine went to accompany Bourrienne.
He almost laughed, he wheezed. “You’re being way too optimistic here Napoleon, Do you not see how absurd it is? Murat! Take a look!” He handed the paper to Murat, Murat wheezed at the thought. “What was Napoleon thinking?”
“May I suggest not consuming too much alcohol Sire? It has lots of benefits.” He sarcastically and mockingly remarked.
“Oh I’m perfectly well. I know what I'm doing. All you have to do is follow the directions for once. Not be a moron and risk being discharged? Not too hard isn’t it?” replied Napoleon.
Ney stood by the side of Murat, Caroline in between. He watched, and he listened. It was as if he was a doll, or a puppet.
It was almost like all of his marshals or generals were marionettes for him to play with, to control. To a degree, they were. But they were still his friends, still, they were people he adored and cared for.
“Oh Murat. How many times must we tell you to not disrespect or underestimate him.”
“Oh Ney! About time you said something and not stand there like the emotionless puppet you are!”
“Will you shut up? I’m not looking forward to another fight with you here.”
Bourrienne waited and sat in the corner of the cafe impatiently. “This is getting ridiculous…” He muttered. “Napoleon, is this even necessary? Doesn’t seem like it’ll be arriving anytime soon.”
The sun was already beginning to set for the day, daylight was redder and softer, the sky seemed gold.
“I can already see a meteor in the sky!” Lannes pointed to the flying ball of flame in the sky. This wasn’t normal, a shooting star should not be present at this point of day!
“Lannes? I don’t think It’s a meteor or shooting star.” Bourrienne now sounded worried
“Then a comet? An Asteroid?”
“Comets are definitely not present at this time either, and definitely not an asteroid. So…Oh god.”
Lannes froze and yelled. “WE’RE SUPPOSED TO CAPTURE THAT!?”
“Remember what you’re supposed to do from the drawing! GO! Don’t let yourself down! You can do it!” Napoleon encouraged them. “You can do it!”
He was even making little gestures trying to encourage and boost their morale. “As for you Bourrienne I recommend you stay here. Just watch.”
Lannes snickered, he was clearly excited. This was going to be fun. He unsheathed his lance and broke it into chains. He got on his right knee, and when the “Meteor”, or rather Irasoma got closer, he lept. He lept higher than he ever could have imagined.
“Just go with hope! Believe you can do it!” Napoleon yelled. “Murat! You go too!”
Little Caroline swiftly flew above the Irasoma with the pale of boiling water and the wand. She poured down the boiling water on the now-chained and restricted Irasoma. The Irasoma tried to break free from the grasp of Lannes’ Chains, blowing fire and wriggling around, but to no avail it worked. When Caroline poured the boiling water over it, it screamed, it screeched and howled in pain. It shrunk., its flames flickered and it sputtered ever so slightly. Its howls echoed throughout the city. Everyone covered their ears. It was a terrible loud cacophony of agony and rage.
Murat was next, he spun the ribbon wand around, 5 of the ribbons extended and became long prickly ropes with a striking head covered in spikes. The other 4 ribbons still remained the same, just grew longer.
He swung the ribbons and ropes, and wrapped them around the creature, capturing and holding it back. The ribbons and ropes wrapped around it like a lasso, he pulled it down further to the ground. “A little help here Ney?!” His voice was strained, he pulled onto the handle and ribbons as hard as he could.
Ney was last, he focused on the target. When Murat brought the Irasoma even closer to ground level, Ney smothered it with the blanket. It couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. It shrunk and withered. Its flames flickered until it burnt up entirely, until all that was left was a small writhing mass of spikes and flesh.
“You two can let go now. Ney, keep the blanket on.”
Lannes and Murat let go of the chains and ribbons, and ropes. They ripped it off the smothered ball of spikes, and Ney kept the blanket.
“Can I carry it?”
Ney nodded and handed the smothered ball of spikes to Napoleon. He smiled, looking down onto the tormented creature in his arms. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.”
“Wooo!!” Lannes cheered. “We did it! Gosh I had so much fun!” He pulled Napoleon into a hug.
“Well I never expected for you to have fun..that’s a surprise!”
“Well maybe you should join us! You know, like, fight. You were a soldier at one point, and you’re a soldier at heart! You did that during the Russian invasion too, don’t forget that.”
He nervously and sheepishly laughed
“Alright…Alright…I’ll admit! It wasn’t all that-”
“Just admit it!”
“Ok…it was fun.”
“It wasn’t that fun for me.” Said Murat.
“That’s because you’re lazy and rather spend your time at home having those stupid parties you dingus!”
“Hey!”
“Oh settle down you too. Work isn’t completely done.” Said Ney, pushing the two away from each other.
Little Caroline flew down to Murat, and gave him a little frown.
“You’re right Caroline. I should just leave him alone.”
“Hold up Caroline!” Called Napoleon “I’m gonna need you for a little bit to care for this one.” He held up the creature in the blanket.
“Sure thing!”
“IS THIS OVER!????” Yelled Bourrienne.
“No! How much do I have to tell you?!” Yelled Jospehine back. “That's what you get for ridiculing and heckling my husband!”
“Oh shut up! You’re not so innocent either you CAVITY RIDDLED WHO-!”
“You lying snake! You’re a Conman!”
They’ve been arguing for almost the entire time.
“I’ve known him better and far longer than you have and ever will!”
“I’m his wife!”
“And I’m his childhood friend! I’ve known him since the beginning!”
“And I thought the fights between my husband and Lannes were hard enough to handle.” Caroline was tired and annoyed at this point.’Hey you two! If you guys are gonna keep bickering with each other then we’ll get nowhere! This isn’t over.”
“Maybe if Napoleon had replaced his secretary already we wouldn’t be in this mess! But no! Instead I have to correct him for ages and ages and AGES!”
“Or maybe if Napoleon just divorced Josephine already!”
“Oh come on guys, he loves both of you. He doesn’t hate you guys, I’m his sister, I know.”
“What’s wrong guys?” Napoleon and the marshals were already at the table. The Creature writhing and squirming was restrained to the table.
“Coming! Just a moment!” and then quickly turned back towards Josephine and Bourrienne. “You guys better resolve soon. What if there’s a situation where you have to depend on each other then?. You two are one of his closest allies. You know better. Now with that out of the way we better stop wasting time. Josephine I’m going to need you to be with the others, Bourrienne, stay here.”
“Of course. Because Napoleon obviously trusts his unfaithful adulterous wife more than the person who’s known him since his childhood!”
“I was jealous of her at some point too. But eventually I accepted her. Now stay here for God’s sake”
God’s sake alright.
As Josephine sat in her chair right next to Napoleon’s and Ney’s on the left of her vision, they held hands and chanted. Caroline hovered above the creature and used her wand, she waved it around and spun it, and from the wand rained glitter and sparkles that set it into ease and changed its form.
“Let this nightmare wear away. For a new dawn will emerge, and emerge from the dawn a serene dream.”
As the view of the nightmarish spikes and flames wore away, it came into view that it was a soldier. A very young soldier. Somewhere between the ages 15-17. He was lanky, white, his hair was brown, and his eyes were brown as well.
“Christ! That’s a teenager!” Lannes yelled out. The whole group was surprised, scared even. “Does that mean-”
“What else? That’s not a shocker for the British. They’re desperate at this point!” Napoleon nonchalantly confirmed everyone’s beliefs. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose.”
His eyes flickered open with shock and fatigue. His eyes darted around, his vision unclear at first, but then clearing up to show the unfamiliar faces looking at him with surprise.The sky was bathed in shades of dusk, the colors being dark blue, purple pink, orange and yellow. For whatever reason he was outside of a cafe, on a table. But then his eyes set on a familiar figure, the enemy he was sent to kill. None other than the man Napoleon Bonaparte. The little corporal. The tyrant.
“What are you going to do with me!? What’s going on!?” He panicked, he got up from the table and shivered.
“Well I’m not going to harm you. None of us actually. But why would I do that?”
“What…how.”
“Did those leaders tell you that? The caricatures? The propaganda?”
“Y-you’re…you’re.”
“I know who I am. you know who I am. We all know who I am! Don’t worry, I’m still me.”
He gave a smile, a warm, kind and welcoming smile, a bold and confident smile.
"Just not the me from the lies they’ve spread! Hey Caroline!”
“What is it now?”
The soldier yelped and flinched. “Who’s that!!? Is that a..”
“Fairy? Oh, I’m Caroline Murat. Napoleon’s my older brother, and that guy in the fancy uniform over there is my husband. Joachim Murat. Now I suppose you’re going to need some rest. So follow me. Ok?”
“...lead the way.”
“Goodbye Caroline!” Napoleon waved goodbye to his sister and to the soldier walking away in the sunset.
“Can have something to eat now! Sure it was fun and all…But” Said Lannes
“Of course!.” Napoleon replied
“About time.” sighed Ney. “Might as well eat here.’
“Wait! Josephine. Come with me!”
They walked to the corner of the Cafe, and there sat Bourrienne. He pulled them both into a tight group hug.
“I don’t hate any of you. You’re still my best friend, and she’s my beloved wife. You guys don’t have to compete with each other for me. I love both of you. Just remember that.”
“What?” Bourrienne was surprised. So was Josephine. “How did you know?”
“That’s not important. But come on guys! You’ve got to stop fighting and bickering all the time!”
“Uhm…alright.” He reluctantly accepted.
“Fine.” Josephine sighed.
“No! Seriously. If you guys got along and didn’t argue, I know you guys would be best friends! I don’t prefer you over each other, and that is the truth.”
“Oh you’re too kind.” Josephine remarked.
“How is he too kind?”Asked Bourrienne.
“I just told you guys. Come on now.”
“WHAT’S TAKING YOU GUYS SO LOOOONG!?” yelled Lannes.
“Oh I’m sorry! We’re coming!”
“We’ve decided to go somewhere else! So you better hurry up before we leave you all behind!”
He took both their hands
“Come on. Let’s go!”
They chuckled.
“We’ll race ya!” Yelled Lannes
And so they all ran off. And then they had food.
Notes:
Sorry for not updating in awhile.
I’ve worked on this chapter tirelessly and also, schoolwork has also been really hard to deal with.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter, leave any thoughts below. Good? Bad? Any work? Let me know.
Thanks for reading! More will come soon.
Chapter 5: 5. Defeat, failure, and bickering.
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
Tis the season! And tis the season where the British face their defeat and Failure. Not only that! But father-son rivalry and fighting!
Chapter Text
“Your majesty!” Cried Wellington. He pleaded. He got on his knees. “Please! You need to take this-”
“This is inoperable…” King George III muttered. He slammed his fist on the throne. Wellington was begging for his mercy. “And I thought these Irasomas would be indestructible. What have you done!? You incompetent imbecile! You foolish good-for-nothing PRAT!”
He grabbed a glass cup of water from a table, and threw it at his head, he glassed him.
“Oh? What’s this row about?” The Prince and soon-to-be-King George IV strode in. He had curly short brown hair and grey eyes. He was dirty, his clothes were expensive and unnecessarily pompous, he was morbidly obese.
“Great Britain is doomed!” George III angrily lashed out. “And because of you and your damn miscalculations we’re BLUNDERING this war! Your “Irasomas” Are being defeated one by one! Not only that but that nuisance is gaining more recruits and soldiers! There have been countless battles! Almost every single one of them has joined his side! This is Disastrous! NONE OF THESE HAVE WORKED!”
Wellington on the other hand was bleeding. He masked his face with his hands, and hid it in shame. He even sniffled and cried in pain. Not loudly, that’d make him even more pathetic than he already was. The King looked upon him in shame.
“You better return to me once you’ve come up with a plan to fix the mess you’ve created, and don’t you dare even think about miscalculating ever again! Depart from me you insolent fool!” He was enraged.
He obeyed. The cowardly Wellington hid face face, stumbled, tumbled, and departed from his sight.
“Greetings.” He greeted his father in a wry, mocking manner. He walked up to him and stuck his nose out to him. His grey eyes looked at his father’s squinty blue eyes. George II sighed and turned away.
“Damn you George. I’d rather be dead than stuck with you, or stuck in a room with you. Even that Wellesley buffoon I’d rather be with than an sorry excuse for a son like you.“
“Oh come on father! I’d like to see what that was all about.”
“Go back to your mistresses.”
“Tell me!”
“I’m just a poor old man for God’s sake! I’m nearly blind! Nearly deaf! Oh will you leave your poor father alone for once?”
“What did I do?”
“I’m ill, George, go somewhere else.”
“Exactly father! You’re just a demented ill old man. Out with the old and in with the new. You’re overdue.”
“I’m better than ruling than you are and better than you ever will. You never tried.”
“The only reason you’re King at this point is because you’re still alive. I’m already the King now since you’re ill. Prince Regent? Remember?” He gave a sly grin.
“Silence. You selfish moronic Corny-faced puff-gut.”
“You’re going mad father…You’re rotting away, decaying.”
“You two! Stop immediately! I have very important news for you two.” A familiar voice called.
“Oh look who it is! The man you glassed earlier!”
“What disaster do you plan to bring this time?” He asked, the old King’s weak and hoarse voice was drenched in the poison of sarcasm,
“Hello! What brings you here once again?”
“Aren’t you two son and father? Just stop it you two.” There he was, Wellington again. He was still hiding it. His face was covered with wounds from the broken glass.
“I thought I told you to depart from my sight, you shameful useless idiot.” George III sneered.
“ Your majesty, you’re depending on your son at this rate.”
“I’d say he’s quite useful, father.” Said George IV.
“Get the hell out of here!” yelled the old King.
“GUARDS!! Restrain him!” yelled the son.
Guards ran through the doors, and they dragged him off.
“Stop! NOOOO!”
George IV took his father’s throne and sat on it.
“That’s better. I apologize for my mad father’s assault. You should clean yourself up. There’s blood everywhere!”
“YOU BARELY EVEN KNOW HOW TO RULE!!!” George III screamed while being dragged away.
“Silence father, you need to get better. Now? What is it then?” George IV asked.
“Your Royal Highness…sir. I’ve come up with a new plan!”
“Let’s just hope it doesn't result in any more disasters.” he chuckled. “ Don’t worry, I’m not going to glass you. How’d you come up with one so fast anyway?”
“That doesn’t matter. That’s not important!”
“Oh, alright then. Don’t rush it though, you know what’s been happening over the past month.”
“I think we might as well have spies of our own. Maybe more…say…sapient..Irasomas?”
“....What are you even suggesting?
“Why not keep some of their humanity? When our men metamorphosis into them, they’ll retain some of their humanity. At least, little enough to sustain them and do what they’re ordered to do rather than acting unpredictably.”
“Mhm. Yes, go on.”
“But they could be more useful! More valuable as weapons. We’re in a war right now, it won’t be long til we’re invaded. They’re destroying us.”
“We are?”
“YES! YOU’RE PRINCE REGENT! YOU DON’T KNOW!?”
“Why I’m a Prince. Not a King.”
“You should know! You’ll become one after your father dies eventually! And you pretty much are since you’re prince Regent. And you somehow don’t know?”
“..”
Wellington grew infuriated. His infuriating nonchalant uncaring moronic responses only boiled his temper more and more.
“You’re an incompetent moron! You know that! Your father knows! I’d do a way better job ruling this godforsaken collapsing rotting kingdom than you could and you ever will! A fat useless slob, a glob of meat who’s only interested in hanging with his mistresses and eating his food! You’re a drunkard! An idiot!”
It was true. HIs father was particularly critical of him more than anything else as well, and that didn’t help. In return, he infuriated him more by getting more mistresses, and indulging in more hedonistic and worldly activities. It was a cycle, a never-ending loop. A negative feedback loop of spite and criticism. Nothing got better, only worse. He was never bright, and to a degree, he was a moron. Never quite paid attention to studies, and never went to educate himself.
“Were you even paying attention? Were you even listening to me about the plan?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“WHAT CAN YOU RECALL!?”
“Uhm..”
“YOU BARELY EVEN REMEMBER! YOU INCOMPETENT MANCHILD!”
“What?”
“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO TRIED TO MARRY A CATHOLIC!”
“You-”
They hurled insults at each other, their bickering and fighting seemed to never end, it escalated, and it didn’t take long for the two to hurl objects and glass at eachother.
“Goodness Caroline! This is worse than what I could’ve ever imagined!” exclaimed Elisa, spying from the corner with her little sister Caroline.
“Why I’m not surprised Elisa.” She nonchalantly responded, she wasn’t impressed
“It's good that we fairies get to travel the world, and also have entertaining shows! Like this one!”
“That’s one of many. We fairies are entertainers. We teach, entertain, spy, there’s a wide variety of stuff we can do. Never thought his wife, of all people, the person who I underestimated and was jealous of would come up with this! I have to give her a kudos.”
“Glad we got over that!”
“Still kinda hard to deal with though. I had to deal with her fighting and bickering with our brother’s secretary.”
“Should I be surprised?”
"Don’t be. She always does this. Even after I developed respect she didn't learn. Sometimes she still treats me like I'm her enemy rather than a sister-in-law. And then I have to deal with Murat at home. Then I also have to train and teach cadets. It's a lot. And it's not all that pleasurable. As if being Queen of Naples wasn't tiring enough!"
"I understand alright. Come on Caro-"
"Ah yes, planning to tease me for being your younger sister and that you're the only person our brother gives political power to?"
"A rapid fire of assumptions! You're the most like him."
"Your condescension is why he interacts with me more often. Being your younger sister I’ve done more stuff for Naples than my husband, and you, the one with power.”
“Wow! As if you’re any better than I am. You’re basically a copy of him! Except you’re more annoying!”
And then a glass cup hit the ceiling and shattered. “Holy shit! Thank god our fights don’t get that bad.”
“Well we better get the hell out of here before we end up caught!”
“Oh right Elisa..almost forgot about that.”
Another glass cup was hurled at them, and the swiftly flew out of the way.
“Shit! Caroline! We have to get out!”
Then they flew out of a window while the two men kept assaulting each other and throwing things.
Chapter 6: 6. The Envy of Secretary Louis de Bourrienne
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
The Title says it all.
Thank you all for waiting! I know it’s been awhile.
Let me know in the comments what you think and offer any kind of feedback, advice or criticism! But thanks for reading.
Chapter Text
“Do those morons even try anymore with these things?” Lannes snarkily asked. A cocky smile was apparent on his face. He was riding on his grey horse who was coughing on the way.
“Guess not.” Replied General Junot with complete nonchalance. “Bet their rulers and commanders are reeeeally creative and original coming up with archaic strategies.” His voice was filled with sarcasm. He was riding on his white horse next to Lannes.
They were riding through an open field. Plains, and there were farmers nearby. The civilians were happy, and they did what they normally did. Farmed, played, ate, slept, talked, walked, the usual. Farmers grew their crops as their children ran through the fields.
“Hello Mister!” Two little girls ran up to them. They were twins, blonde hair, brown eyes, their skin was a little tan thanks to their time spent out in the bright sun. They looked no older than eight. One had a red headband while the other had a white bow.
“Why hello there!” Replied Junot, he had a bright smile to greet them.
“What are you doing here?” Asked the twin with the red headband.
“We’re going out here in the country for a stroll dear! Everyone does that!”
“Why’s the pony coughing? Won’t you get sick too?”
“Oh nothing dearie. She’s just a little hoarse. That’s all, just trying to keep her throat clear.” The girls giggled.
“You were waiting to pull that one. Weren’t you Junot?”
“Oh come on, Lannes. It’s not bad to add a bit of humor isn’t it?”
“What other mediocre jokes do you have in store?”
“Much more, and better than your non-existent humor. Now anyways-”
“Mister Junot?” Asked the girls with the white bow. “So are you a Marshal?”
Lannes laughed. “Heavens no! He’s a general. He may become one, but I highly doubt so.”
“Hey!” Junot protested.
“Well be glad you’re a General, and not drunkard doing nothing but having his time with the ladies, not yet….But anyways dears, we must go now. Farewell!
“Bye misters!”
As they rode on their horses, they remained silent. They did not want to talk with one another. They rode further from the countryside, and into the streets of Fontainebleau. People walked, children played and waved at the two, and they were doing what they’d usually do. They ran their shops, went to work, drank, everything. They rode, until they reached the Palace of Fontainebleau.
Everything was perfectly symmetrical. To the placement of the trees in the pathway, to the gardens, to the Palace’s architecture and the pair of stairs known as the “Horseshoe staircase” led to the door. It was perfect, just like him.
“Hello Lannes, Hello Junot.” Someone opened the door, it was his secretary, Louis de Bourrienne. His voice was calm, relaxed, and welcoming. He had a smile on his face to greet the two.
“WHO’S THERE!???” Yelled a voice from across the hall and from the Palace.
“Lannes and Junot!” Bourienne replied back. “We can hear you just fine Bonaparte, you don’t have to-”
“All right! Fine! Let me-”
“It’s alright! You don’t have to get wor-..What the hell are you doing? Why are…you…what are you exactly? just, change back into your normal self….Is there something wrong?” He was now panicked and worried.
From the door, they could already hear bashing and clanking. They could hear grunts and yells of pain before it disappeared. There was even shattering.
“What the hell is going on with him? Is he having a bad day?” Lannes muttered to Junot.
“Oh don’t be so harsh with him. Maybe he just needs rest.” Junot muttered back.
“Hello!!!” Napoleon dashed up to the door. He was in his usual favorite, a green uniform. He gave a nervous chuckle, and he looked…off. He sounded erratic, he looked erratic, and his smile was unnerving. There were already shadows staining the skin around his eyes, but now it was even more noticeable. His piercing gaze didn’t help either.
“So..How were your travels???” His voice was polite and cheery, it was obviously forced.
“Oh, it was fine. What’s up with you?” Asked Lannes.
“Do you need rest?” Asked Junot
“Oh no no no! Nothing’s wrong! I’m just..”
“Oh you deprive yourself of rest far too much. You’ve been doing it ever since you got out of military sch-”
“I’M FINE!”
“...So can we go in-”
“Yes! Yes! You two are always welcome!”
***
In the “Petits Appartements” of Napoleon, or more accurately, the “Grands Appartement”. It wasn’t really small, because if anything it was incredibly large. This is where the Emperor could do anything as he pleased, in private of course.
They were in a room, not too fancy. It was large, expansive, spacious, it had brown wooden walls, numerous shelves filled with books, and two chandeliers hung from the ceiling. There was a wooden spiral staircase, and there were tables, chairs, and books scattered around the room. Bonaparte, Lannes, and Junot sat on a sofa together enjoying their Coffee while Bourrienne sat across from them.
“I’ve gotta admit, this Coffee’s a blast!” Lannes exclaimed. “No wonder you have such a huge affinity for it.”
“Oh don’t be surprised, it has lots of benefits.”
“Well you can’t expect Coffee to be your life blood forever, you need rest.” Junot got closer to him, he placed his finished cup on a table nearby. He laid his head on his shoulder. In response Napoleon gently pulled his ear as a symbol of affection. “Oh Junot..”
“Hey now! You don’t get to be so greedy now Junot!” He tugged at Napoleon’s arm.
“I’ve known him far longer than you have Lannes, and more..intimate.”
“We’ll just have to see! I’m closer and I’m a Marshal!”
“Oh stop it you two!” He excitedly giggled.
“Oh look..Our little Emperor is getting excited. By me~...” Junot hugged him, he felt warm and happy. He felt happy at how his Emperor was pulling his ear and giggling.
“Oh shut up Junot.”
“Great.” Bourrienne rolled his eyes and sighed. He picked up a book on the floor and started reading it. He could care less about what went on in the bedroom with his Generals or Marshals. But he knew that he had known him since childhood. “Here it comes..” He groaned. “Just for god’s sake don’t be loud in there.”
“Well we’re just gonna have to see who’s really the best friend here Junot.” He tugged and wrapped his hands around Napoleon’s arm even more. They were all very happy. Bourrienne, not so much because he didn’t want his afternoon to be like this. All he wanted to do was to have a cup of Coffee, not watch his childhood friend get into difficulty over his friends fighting over him as if he was a toy rather than a person. Then they went upstairs and closed the door. You could imagine what went on in the bedroom for the next couple minutes or hours.
But where did that friend go?
Bourrienne thought. Did he simply forget him? Did he forget about him in favor of power?
Or did he finally lived up to his ramblings? He always knew Napoleon in his youth, but all he heard him talking about Caesar and Alexander and how much he wanted to be them. He was unique, but he pretty much wanted to be a carbon copy. Every little boy wants to be a brave strong man some day. But he wanted to be someone entirely different. Sometimes it felt like it was endless ambition. Endless yearning for power, but it was unclear. Then what? He was a machine that ran on it. Did he want to be loved by as many people as possible? Or was he simply doing pretend?
“Boy do I sure do love being alone! Oh, hello Laure..and Louise.”
Why if it wasn’t the wives of Junot and Lannes. Possibly at the worst possible time since their husbands were having their own form of fun with their Emperor. They walked through the door and walked up to Bourrienne.
“Why didn’t your husband invite us?! Lannes said I could come. But instead he went off with your idiot husband Junot!” she angrily exclaimed,
“Well is it a shocker?” Laure said to Louise in response.
“So how are you handling this? You two?” Asked Bourrienne.
“Oh? From the time my husband was seduced by your friend’s sister? I’m honestly not impressed in the slightest. He’s already a serial adulterer.” Laure nonchalantly responded. “And he’s already sodomizing. He’s obsessed with him, the Corsican whore.”
“You have no right to degrade him like that, Madame Junot.” Bourrienne got annoyed. Oh great! Dealing with your friend’s friends’ wives. As if this day wasn’t bad enough. He always had to clean up after everyone’s messes. He was practically a janitor. A custodian, a servant. Then the two wives argued.
“Just…go.” Groaned Bourrienne. “I’m his secretary for goodness sake. Not a janitor. Now get out.”
“Let’s just go home, listen to him.” Said the exhausted Laure, and so they did.
“Well crud. I guess I’ll just sleep here then.” He laid down on the green couch, and closed his eyes.
***
May 30th 1779
Over two weeks had passed since Napoleon first attended Brienne, and he was fed up. The two were in the Library, Napoleon sat at a desk ranting to Bourrienne while trying to find a book to read in order to comfort himself. The library was dark, but in front of Napoleon and the desk was a window showing the rest of the schoolboys playing all sorts of games, from tag to hide and seek, or even fighting. Meanwhile Bourrienne paced around the library attempting to reason with him, he was getting more frustrated and tried everything to comfort his angry friend on the brink of tears. He was far too wild for them, he tore off leaves of bushes and scratched tables. He’s basically a pet if anything, a pet cat.
But he was also far too reserved, far too shy. He’d prefer gorging himself on books and knowledge about mathematics and history. Louis was your average kid though, cheery, hyper, over-excited. It’s what you expect from a normal little boy. But here he was acting like a caretaker to his friend, who buried his face into his arms on the scratched table crying onto it. He pat his back whilst trying to salvage the situation as much as he possibly could.
“You don’t have to waste time with these boys Bonaparte! They’ll only tease you more!”
“Oh I’ll do all the mischief I can to these French!”
“No time bothering yourself with these people. I get it, you hate it here!”
“No you don’t understand! You lived in this godforsaken country your whole life! What do you have to worry about!? You know everything!”
“I can understand? Correct? It’s not my fault you act like a dog whenever it comes to dealing with them! I’m not your nanny Bonaparte! I’m a peer! You can’t keep doing this! You NEED to BE BETTER!”
“But you don’t ridicule me. You like me.”
“But I’m also trying to help you, you only ignore my advice and double down instead!”
Then it wasn’t long before Napoleon broke into tears. Burying his head into his arms and resting both his arms and his head on the table.
“Nobody knows me.”
“I do!”
“I just want to go home!”
“...Oh…Come on!”
“What?”
‘You’re better than this. I’m sure you have a bright future ahead of you. You could be a mathematician, sure, but despite what those monks say I’m sure you’ll be more. You shouldn’t be so harsh, and you definitely shouldn’t underestimate yourself.“
Napoleon looked up at him wide eyed. Still crying, but more surprised.
“Really?”
“I mean the fact you spend your time usually reading about all these people like Caesar, Alexander, Hannibal, I barely know this. Maybe one day you’ll be like them! Cmon now!”
“Are you just saying that to make me feel better? IF ANYTHING IT MAKES ME FEEL WORSE SINCE I’LL NEVER BE THEM!” He broke into sobs once again.
“Oh I mean it alright! Cmon..”
He lifted him off the ground and hugged him. It was a loving and protective embrace.
“H-hey!” He nervously protested. “Put me down!”
“Not anytime soon! You’re cute like this. You’re like a little baby or doll”
“Oh you’re too kind..”
***
It was a dream, a memory, a flashback playing in his head.
The Napoleon from Brienne was gone, and the Napoleon who was his friend? He’s long gone too. He was replaced by those damn marshals and lovers.
He groggily opened up his eyes to see a man looming over him. He couldn’t tell who it was at first since his vision was blurry and he was disoriented.
Once his vision finally cleared, and once he fully woke up, the man looming over was revealed to be Napoleon. He looked Sympathetic towards him. He felt a gentle tugging on his ear, a habit he always did to show affection.
“They left.” He said. It was blunt and monotone.
“What-? Were you waiting this whole time?
“Well I just wanted to check on you. Why wouldn’t I?”
“You don’t care about me. I think you’ve just thrown me away for your lovers and titles.”
“What?”
He smiled, then giggled, and laughed.
“Oh you’re so hilarious!”
It was playful, innocent, without ill intentions
“Why are you laughing!? Napoleon! This isn’t funny!” He got up from the sofa. “What do you think is so hilarious to you?”`
But he kept laughing, he didn’t stop.
“Stop that!”
He didn’t stop laughing.
“STOP IT.”
Then, there was silence. A deafening silence. The only sounds in the room were that of breathing.
“You thought I abandoned you. Didn’t you?” He murmured.
“What? How did-..What are you talking-..?” He was confused. How did he know that?
“Oh silly Louis.” He pulled Bourrienne into a hug. “Why would I do that? Hmm?” He gave him a mischievous grin, his hands trailed across Bourrienne’s shoulder and to his neck, then to his ears on which he gently tugged on them. Whenever he’d tug someone’s ear, it would be a symbol of affection. “Why would I want to leave you? I told you..I love everyone~.”
“Why are you doing this?” Then Napoleon placed his hands off Bourrienne. He sat on the sofa.
“Because you’re my best friend. Why else~?”
“So…why..”
“I have lots to do. You know how it is? You’re my secretary. But I suppose you don’t really pay attention. Instead, you came to such an absurd conclusion.”
“So you don’t want to-”
“No. You told me I was going to have a bright future. Look at this now. Are any of these things signs of a bleak future? I don’t think so. You were my only friend during military school too. Did you think I left you? No! I’m the same boy you’ve always known! Don’t worry! I’m still me.”
“Oh you’re too sweet.”
“So being a good friend is “too sweet” now? Earlier you were complaining about how I don’t care about you.”
“Well I think there can be a way to reconcile.”
***
The two sat on a picnic blanket, it was simple and didn’t have many patterns or decorations. They just had a batch of onions. But who said onions aren’t good for picnics? The landscape was beautiful, the Dandelions swayed and danced with the grass. The day was sunny and windy, the sky was bright blue with splotches of white clouds in the sky. The whole landscape was basically something straight out of a painting. In the distance was the Skyline, the world and city he with the help of his friends worked long and hard to create. A city full of life and color, a true dream come true. It filled him and his friend with a sense of pride and satisfaction.
“This is our work, our masterpiece.” Then he casually proceeded to take a bite out his onion.”
“Did you necessarily have to choose onions out of all things?”
“Oh please, they’re very good. There’s nothing better than an onion for marching on the road to glory!”
“Well at least eating onions and talking is better than nothing. Am I right?”
“Definitely.”
Bourrienne offered his hand. “Friends?”
“Friends!”
”
Chapter 7: 7. Marshal Junot
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
Another fight! The Irasomas attack. Again. And we get to meet a new character!
Anyways enjoy. Sorry I delayed. Schoolwork is ass.
Chapter Text
“Yes, please, go ahead.” Said King George III “Advance them.”
“Thank you, your majesty.”
“Now go on boy! Do it.”
The King and Wellesley stood by while watching a soldier hold a syringe. The room was dark, only lit by torches. The Soldier’s hands trembled and shook the longer he hesitated and held onto the needle. It felt and looked like a dungeon, a prison. “N-no..please.”
“But you must.” Said Wellington with a wicked smirk evident on his face. “And if you can’t, I’ll do it for you.”
***
A storm rained down.
A ghastly terrible large storm.
A storm of hail, hailstones made of flames.
The balls of flames that swept through the towns and cities
Balls of flames with consciousness and sentience. Arms, teeth, and a scorching rage.
The only thing left was their simple minds kept
Nobody slept, children wept.
It was not just the age of war just yet.
But the age of nightmares, it must be.
***
The sky was bathed in hues of yellow, orange, and red. The pitch black clouds of all kinds, whether it’d be a cumulonimbus or cirrus, or cirrocumulus obscured the rising bright sun at the horizon. A terrible storm was approaching, and they had to act fast. A massive tower, towering over many skyscrapers materialized, and on top were the people about to fight the storm. The storm of the flamey beasts. The Irasomas.
“Just why????” cried out Murat
“Because, you pompous imbecile, do you not see what we’re trying to do? For the past weeks we’ve been fighting these guys nonstop and enlisting more soldiers and fairies to fight these nuisances. But because our goody-two-shoes boss here decided not to deal with them the easy way out, we have to do it LIKE THIS! And he barely does any of the work. All he did was materialize the tower and be a glorified cheerleader! It’s not like he isn’t capable of being a soldier himself, that’s what he is on the inside-OW!” Lannes was smacked in the face by Junot. “JUNOT WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR!?”
“That’s for insulting him.”
“You’re not even a marshal, what are you on about?”
“Ah yes, I’m not skilled enough to be more than you or be like you cause I’m a general! Of course! I must be very incompetent. Murat there is definitely competent and skilled to be a Marshal for example!”
“Sorry?” He drew out his cat o’nine tails adorned with spikes and whipped it on the cold hard floor.
“Insult me again and I won’t hesitate to-”
Junot drew his crossbow. “Oh no! I’m shaking in my boots, whatever must I do?!”
“And this is the exact same kind of stuff I have to deal with every single day.” Ney muttered while he pinched his nose bridge.
“I get you. Cmon now.” Said Berthier while patting him on the back.
“ Anyways, WHY IS HE LATE AGAIN!?” yelled Lannes.
“I just don’t get why he can’t just..you know. Shapeshift into something like a bird instead of travelling by foot? He has to do this shit MANUALLY! He’s just making it more difficult for himself.”
“I think you know how he feels in bodies other than himself Lannes.” replied Junot while still holding his crossbow and aiming at Murat. “He likes being his own self.”
“OF COURSE!”
Then he appeared.
“Oh look who finally decided to show up. Mr. Goody two-shoes. Despite being the person who MATERIALIZED THIS DAMN TOWER IN THE FIRST PLACE!”
He’d finally arrived after climbing up a long flight of stairs. But whatever he was doing beforehand was much longer.
“Hello!!” He said in an awfully cheery and chirpy voice. But before he could say anything, he was cut off by Ney, and next to Ney was Berthier who awkwardly stared at him. He gave him a nervous glance and flicked his eyes to Murat and Junot. Then back to Napoleon, then back to the two.
“Mind helping out here?”
Then he looked at Murat and Junot who were just about to enter a brawl or duel of some sort.
“Oh…right.” He cleared his throat and spoke up. “Hello Murat and Junot!”
They froze.
“Murat, you wouldn’t want to get shot and have your pretty face ruined. Would you now?” He gave him a smile. Not a genuine one. A forced, mocking, and passive aggressive smile. Just being passive aggressive towards Murat as per usual. “Oh I wouldn’t want to have your oh-so-pretty face ruined, surely you wouldn’t dare to scare my sister with that hideous face and your citizens you’d get.” His voice was poisoned by malice and sarcasm. He glared at him with his piercing blue-grey eyes. “You’re here to beat the senses into the beasts. Not beat some sense into your fellow marshals and tear yourselves apart like you’re children fighting over toys.” Then he approached Junot and changed his demeanor completely, rather than being passive aggressive, his voice instantly switched to being playful, encouraging and affectionate. His smile was genuine now. It was beautiful, rather than unnerving.
“And Junot, considering your injuries, I’m pretty sure you don't wanna be sliced and cut. You’re smarter than that. We don’t want your head to leak out! Do we? I don’t want my dear friend to get hurt anymore.” He said while wrapping his arms around him.
“And there he goes getting all touchy feely..eugh” Lannes muttered. He snickered.
“You’re no better Lannes.” teased Murat.
“This guy’s not even a marshal though.”
“But you weren’t from Toulon.”
“Oh shut up Murat!”
“Will you guys just shut up already!?” Yelled Berthier. “For god’s sake! We are not your babysitters! Will you two just stop arguing for just FIVE MINUTES!?”
“Oh you’re asking for too much, Berthier. They can’t even avoid a conflict for more than 30 seconds. There’s only so much they can do.” Ney sarcastically remarked.
“I can hear everything you say. Yes. I’m talking to all of you now. Especially Murat.”
“Oh look! Murat’s in trouble. So long you-”
“You too Lannes. I tolerate it when it's about me. But not when it's a dear friend.”
“Oh now you suddenly like Murat now?”
“No. He’s good at calvary though. He’s a king after all. That’s pretty much the only reason I’m keeping him.”
“Sorry? HAVE YOU SEEN ME!?”
“You’re not the only Marshal who became a King.” Said Berthier.
“Anyways Junot-don’t mind them! I appreciate you more than anything!”
And he planted a peck on Junot’s cheek. Junot smiled back at him and picked him up in response. They of course were very happy with one another.
“Is this not weird to you?” Asked Murat
“No. It’s usual.” replied Ney.
He does that with nearly all of us. But definitely not with you, the closest you can get to that is with Caroline.”
Replied Ney being nonchalant as per usual.
***
The sky was now bathed in the deep blue colors of the night with hints of the red sun setting in the corner. The clouds hadn’t receded. The storm was still approaching. But there was still some skepticism among some.
Murat was left out. Junot chatted about pretty much everything to Napoleon. The other 3 had a conversation with one another.
Napoleon looked worried, sitting down and gazing below at the city. His eyes flicking back and forth, to the sky, and the city, the sky, and the city.
“I don’t think they’re coming. What if it's a false alarm?” Asked Berthier before he sneezed.
“We’ve been out here forever!” yelled Murat in a melodramatic voice.
“Be patient! He planned this! We’ve been doing it for a couple months now.”
There went Junot trying to defend Napoleon as per usual. At all costs. Even if he was wrong at times. But it was a good thing they waited before they heard thunder.
“..Rain?” muttered Murat. He sounded bewildered.
“No Murat.”
Then a bunch of fairies came rushing in.
“Oh look. It’s those other glorified cheerleaders.” Lannes sarcastically remarked with a cheeky smirk.
“Those cadets. I can tell they’re young.” said Murat.
“And they’re cuties!” Junot blushed at them. Then he got a small pebble thrown at him by one of the fairies from above.. “DAMN YOU! YOU WH-”
“You had that coming Junot.” Lannes snickered. “How are you gonna fight those Irasomas? Seduce them like you do with the ladies? You wouldn’t even try. You haven’t even done this. The only reason why you didn’t screw up at Smolensk was because the Russians were already doomed. Had you two been on equal grounds you’d be demoted and crying for your beloved emperor!”
“Shut up Lannes! I have very good leadership skills and I am perfectly fine! I’m called the Tempest for a reason.”
“And I’m called the Roland of the North.” He placed his hand on his many badges and metals, then he pulled out his Marshal’s Baton.
“Marshal of the Empire. Something you’ll never be able to get since you’re a complete Lunatic.”
“Hmph! Never say never you-”
“Will you guys just shut up? Lannes, quit your squabbling for once. Junot, you need to pull yourself together and stop getting triggered and defensive about what everyone else says. You can’t just rely on Napoleon all the time. Stop being dependent on him like you’re a parasite! For God’s sake.” Yelled Berthier.
“These monsters will never come. It’s for nothing. We’ll just squabble amongst ourselves.” cried out Murat in his melodramatic voice.
Meanwhile Napoleon just constantly scanned the sky and landscape. Not paying attention to anything.
“Any ideas of what will happen? Are they going to come?” Asked Ney to a small little fairy carrying a rolled up letter. She wore a green dress that matched her emerald eyes. She had light brown hair tied up in twin tails and wore a star shaped hair clip. She had a green wand with a yellow star on it. Her white butterfly shaped wings flapped vigorously and erratically. Despite her neutral expression she was clearly very excited about her new position. Assisting the beloved marshals of the Empire and assisting the Emperor! It was for the greater good for her home after all.
“Well..” She spoke in a shaky and excited chirpy voice. Her hands trembled as she unrolled the paper far bigger than her. Ney took it from her tiny trembling hands. She’d be back to the normal size of a teen girl once the shift was done for the day, but of course like all fairies, as of now, they’re more comparable to that of figurines or toys than people.
“It’s estimated that they’ll appear in a few minutes or so. I doubt they’ll ever come though. But who knows? Probably cowardly hiding in the clouds.”
“I doubt that. Maybe they learned.” Ney replied.
“Well you never know sir!”
“ESMERALDAA!! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?” And then another Fairy in a red dress, a girl around the same age, pulled her away.
“HOW COULD YOU!? I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! JUST ABOUT TO SHOW HIM MY EPIC BACKFLIPS AND FRONT FLIPS IN THE AIR!!” Then they flew off.
“...Oh well.” Muttered Ney.
“SPEAK OF THE DEVIL! SHE WAS RIGHT!” Lannes pointed to the sky. “LOOK!”
“Say wha-oooooOOOOOH GOOOOD! WE DIDN’T PREPARE!” Napoleon instantly became horrified.
Meanwhile Ney instantly materialized his Mace and bashed it against the…new forms of the beasts. He fought violently with them. Slicing and and attempting bashing against their flamey bodies.
They ran down like a meteor shower. To call them rain or a storm would be an understatement. Now it was a meteor shower. Asteroids, comets. They were pitch black comets with sharp red flames for a tail. Some even burnt so much, they burnt blue flame rather than orange or red. Their rage had grown exponentially. Some even fought back. Some even had limbs. Apparently Napoleon had never considered the fact his enemies would learn from their mistakes. They blazed the skies.
Even the fairies had a hard time aiding the Marshals. It was much tougher to bring them back to their senses now. Ney kept on getting injured and burnt over and over, but luckily the same fairy from earlier kept on coming to his aid and healed him again and again.
“Thank you little cadet!”
“Anything to help my favori-AHHHH!!!” Then she kept on getting pulled away by her own friend to try and sabotage the beasts. Unfortunately they didn’t consider the fact they’re too small at the moment, and the fact the faerical system was not meant to turn young girls and women into practical female soldiers. For two doll-sized 12 year olds with shiny insect-like wings and oh-so colorful outfits to make them appear as mascots, it went as well as you’d possibly expect.
“HELP MEEEEE!!!!!”
“...Teenagers.” He murmured to himself in a disgruntled voice.
“Did you not plan for this!?” yelled Lannes.
“I always plan! Why do you think I materialized this tower!?”
“These things you’ve talked about look far more different than what you told me!” Yelled Junot.
“That’s because they WERE different Junot! At least the last time we fought them! AND YOU’RE CLEARLY NOT-”
“Just shut up Lannes. Shut up for God’s sake.” Junot groaned.
“How about you two work together then?”
“WITH THAT PLAYBOY!?”
“NO! I’m not working with that Jerkwad.”
“And that’s too bad then.” He crossed his arms. “I’ve been nice, but if you two are going to keep on heckle one another and constantly cry to me. Then I suppose the only way to teach you guys anything is to force you two together. MUUURAAAAT!! You’re definitely no exception!”
“Oh great..” Murat rolled his eyes. Then Napoleon walked up to him and kicked his groin.
“OW! BONAPARTE!!!” He hollered. Berthier snickered. “You had that coming Murat!”
“Is this how I’m going to punish my Marshals?”
“Well that’s how you chose-OW!” And he kicked him again.
“What are you waiting for Marshals? Chop chop!”
“WHAT THE HELL?!” Yowled Murat. “IT HURTS IT HURTS” He echoed and wailed over and over again.
“I’ll take this…wand and whip for myself. Thank you!” He picked up Murat’s Ribbon wand.
“You said I can’t be standing by the sidelines, can I Lannes? I did fight myself!” He remarked in an eerie unsettlingly happy and passive-aggressive manner. “So there’s no reason I can’t adapt to other weapons!”
“WHAT IS WRO-OW!” Napoleon kicked his groin again. Murat collapsed onto the ground.
“Piss me off again and I won’t hesitate to shatter you.. You don’t wanna be like Alexander do you? Or any of the other rulers when I invaded their nations? Or maybe I’ll kick you as much as I want.”
“DO IT MORE!” cheered Lannes. “LET ME WATCH-”
“Just-....do the job Lannes”
“Well I guess I’m going to have and tolerate you.” Lannes smirked towards Junot as they both materialized their respective weapons. The Lance and the Crossbow.
“Aight then!” He looked at Junot with a smirk. But…he looked determined. Hopeful.
“I’ll teach you the ropes then. Or your friend over there is literally pulling the ropes for both of us right now….”
And in the distance was none other than Napoleon himself attempting to wrap them all together, he was attempting to strangle them and force them into a pen made of ribbons, ropes and spikes. A shepard for the monsters trying to keep them enclosed, if you will. He was attempting to play the puppeteer. The thing is that he couldn’t control them, yet.
He lashed and pulled onto them as tight as he could, using the whip as some makeshift lasso to coop them up together. He dragged himself with them. He screamed, violently being dragged along through the air by the beasts flying around. He was practically trying to restrain a meteor shower. He hollered and screeched. He cursed like a drunken sailor. His usual cheerful and friendly demeanor was replaced by a hostile and wild demeanor. Instead of amiable, it was aggressive and harsh. Brash and, dare I say it, Feral behavior.
“Oh lordy lord.” Lannes sighed. “He’s in quite a pickle isn’t he?”
“Have you been paying attention to Ney?” asked Berthier.
“Well he’s having a harder time than him. Arguably.” Replied Lannes as he snorted.
“DIEEEEEEEEE!!!!” Napoleon screamed as he tried to hold on and pull the beasts together. Attempting to make a mountain or coop of living asteroids. Definitely a handy way to handle the situation in which you can barely control!
“Oh for Pete’s sake Bonaparte! Do you even know what you’re doing!?” Called Ney while hacking and bashing the Irasomas with his Mace. Alongside some of the idiotic fairies who didn’t consider that their expectations wouldn’t always be reality and would’ve practically been a suicide mission.
It was a disaster.
“WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE!? WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M TRYING TO DO!?”
“Well whatever you’re trying to do you’re doing terrible at it. And remember, temper.”
And while they argued and squabbled..
“Nice knowing ya folks!” Lannes placed his hands behind his head.
“LANNES NO-” But Berthier was cut off.
“Oh shut up. I know how to hold a Lance. I'm not blind.”
“Well don’t cut-” But Junot was also interrupted.
“My head? I’m no guillotine Junot. So don’t worry about that.” He gazed into the disaster that was the battlefield. “Now this battle feels hopeless.”
“OR MAYBE IF YOU TWO DID SOMETHING!” Yelped Berthier.
“Damn, didn’t think about that.”
‘“That’s what the boss instructed us to do. WHAT ELSE!?” Junot angrily snapped back.
“Screw this. If we’re going to have to partner up we’re going to have to put our differences aside and tolerate each other.” He spun around his lance and readied it.
“What about meee?” Whimpered out Murat. He was still languishing.
“Damn well we are not partnering up with you. You’re practically a dancing dog.” mocked Lannes. “You don’t even have your wand. He’s trying his best to restrain these goons over there.” He glanced back at the battlefield, and he was filled with hope. “Hey. Speaking of which, look over there. He’s almost got em!
”And these kiddos are actually doing their job.” Berthier was actually glad now. “Thank God.”
“READY UP SUCKERS!!!!” Lannes readied his Lance.
‘Hey. What if we…” Junot got out a crossbow. “Shot them?”
“Junot you dimwit. Didn’t he tell you they can’t be shot or impaled? Doesn’t help that they’re more powerful.”
“But what if it’s at a cost?”
“What are you on about?”
“Well it’s going to backfire on them either way. The best way to defeat an enemy is to make their strengths their weakness. They may have become more powerful, sure. But I think there’s a catch. Maybe they’re more vulnerable to impalement or shots then.”
“Oh Junot…..THAT’S A TERRIBLE IDEA!”
“What?”
“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID!?”
“Watch me then!”
As soon as Napoleon cooped them up. Or the closest he could. Junot readied his crossbow….miraculously the light droplets of vapor started to drift and suspend, drifting and coalescing into eachother to form a large mass of water that was at the point of the arrow, and it was fired.
A deafening boom rang through the sky. The day was saved! They exploded, a cloud of smoke formed around the exploded being. But inside was just a single soldier. All that remained was a single soldier being carried by Napoleon as they floated down.
Meanwhile Ney had made it out of the way and went back on top of the surface.
“What in God’s green earth?” Lannes murmured. “You actually did it!?” He was pleasantly surprised. “Holy shit! And you can bend water too!?”
Even Junot himself was shocked at what he did. He huffed, and puffed, and breathed. Taking the surroundings in and contemplating what he did. Not to mention he could…bend water. He had hydrokinesis.
“I…..did it. I act-”
“HOLY SHIT! YOU ACTUALLY DID IT! YOU DID IT YOU-”
“Is there anything you have to say for yourself Lannes?” He asked with a smug expression.
“Uhmmm…”
“Congratulations!” Ney and Berthier cheered and clapped. “You did it! You did it!”
“Uhh…I’m..I’M SORRY JUNOOOOT!!!!” He cried out. He got on his knees and begged. “Please-”
“Oh stop being a baby Lannes. Pull yourself together!” Junot smiled and picked him up. “I’m not going to do anything.”
“I'm kinda bummed out I didn’t get to do anything. But I’m surprised. Junot has powers!” Replied Berthier.
“Well it took a shot from me.” Proudly exclaimed Junot.
“And dozens of hacks from me!” Ney shouted.
“You were awesome down there Ney.”
“Thanks Lannes. It was pretty hard but surprisingly fun.”
“That’s with every fight we had crony!” He teased him.
With the fight over and the night saved, everyone could have peaceful dreams. The tower dematerialized, sinking into the ground until all the marshals were at ground level. The fairies circled around Junot. “A victory! A victory!” they chanted. “A victory for Marshal Junot!”
“Hold on? Marshal? I’m getting promoted!”
One of the fairies, a fairy in a green dress, gave him a baton. A black baton with golden edges and a pattern of eagles to top it off. It wasn’t just any baton. It was a Marshal’s baton.
“No way..” Lannes gasped.
“It was inevitable really.” The fairy in the green dress with a cheeky smile giggled.
“Oh! Oh! Marshal! He even left this note!” Another fairy approached. One with a red dress, this time with a letter in her hand. She passed it to Junot.
Dear Junot
I always planned to give it to you. I always saw in you that you’d be a great Marshal. I thought that today was the perfect day. I thought it’d be the perfect day for you to prove your worth as a Marshal as a test. It was inevitable really. From the man who led the victories in Spain to Smolensk in Russia. You were a tempest! From the days of Toulon I always recognized you as a reliable and strong ally. But more importantly, you’re my best friend.
Thank you for everything!
-From your friend Napoleon
There was even a smiley face at the bottom of the page.
Words could not even begin to describe how much ecstasy and joy he felt the moment he got the Marshal’s baton and read the letter. His heart raced, and his hands trembled.
“Where’s Napoleon?” Asked Junot.
“Why I don’t know. Most likely he went off with the soldier and he’s trying to aid him.” Replied Ney. “I honestly don’t feel like having much of a grand celebration. The sky’s clear now, how do you feel about stargazing?”
“Why not.”
“And meanwhile I’m going to eat Crepes!” cheered the fairy in the green dress.
“GO HOME ESMERALDA!” Said all the fairies.
“Why? We’re DEAD TIRED.”
“Well, I never said all you guys could eat crepes.”
“Do you know what time it is!?”
“What?”
They gazed at a clock tower.
“ELEVEN. I’m pretty sure most shops are closed.”
“Augh cmon!”
“I’m out!” and one of them flew off.
“..Well you can always have your sweet treats tomorrow too.” Junot said with a smile. “You all did great. But for now as a new marshal. I suggest you get your rest.”
“Yes sir!”
“Goodnight little ones.”
***
The sky was a shade of dark blue, bathed by the lights of stars of constellations. It was windy, and the 5 marshals laid down in a field of grass.
“And that at the bottom is the constellation of cancer. I think. The stars form a Y.”
“Correct Junot! And next to Cancer is Lynx.” replied Lannes. “Quite good at spotting constellations.”
“I can see Hydra too!” Yelped Berthier as he pointed towards the sky.
Lannes spotted someone approaching them.
“And look who decided to show up.” Murat snarkily remarked.
“Get over it you dancing dog. You had that coming,” Lannes bumped Murat’s shoulder.
”…can I join?” He shyly asked.
”Why not?” Junot asked back. He saved a spot for him.
He walked towards him, rather than the usual confident stride. Instead he had a gentle tread.
“What happened to you Mr. Bonaparte? Did you become a shrinking violet all the sudden?” Teased Lannes.
“Oh nothing.” Then he sat next to Junot. “I thought I’d be unlucky.”
“Hey!” Junot grinned. “It’s your luckiest constellation next to Cancer! Leo!”
A little smile started to form on his face.
”So you got the-“
Junot showed the letter and Baton to him instantly. He was obviously very prideful. In response Napoleon gently tugged on his ear.
And then for the rest of the night they stargazed in celebration til they fell asleep.
Chapter 8: 8. The Emperor and his Empress visit a church in Provence.
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
There’s love in the air..today is the month of February, and in celebration. I’ve blessed you all with a romantic chapter, a bit romantic. The Emperor and his Empress visit Provence!
It says it in the name..
Join them and have fun reading this chapter! This took me a very long time to create and rework this. I hope you all enjoy this! Make sure to leave a comment or kudos, I’d appreciate that.
And as always. Happy Valentine’s!
Chapter Text
The day was sunny and windy. Flowers were blooming, birds were singing, and the cities were booming. The sky was bathed in hues of light blue with little strokes of the white clouds flying past by. The sun was shining brighter than ever.
The Time of Spring was soon coming to an end. But the time of Summer was approaching. Time flew by.
In the park along the Seine river, children played with their friends, whether it’d be games like tag, hide and seek, frisbee, hopscotch and much more. Some with their family had picnics instead. Some people wanted a breath of fresh air, and some just wanted to relax, or perhaps walk around the park and forests. Some just wanted to go along the river walk. Some didn’t prefer to do anything at all and just lazily sat around, whether in the grass of the park or on a wooden bench along the riverwalk of the Seine.
Then there was the Empress and Emperor, who for some reason in the park were also acting like children. Playing tag to be more specific. Yes, I know, a very unusual sight for you, it seemed extremely weird and childish yet it also seemed loving and cute, and it was. They had a loving relationship and a loving marriage, although despite the early phases and despite the fact that her husband did have numerous mistresses, along with the fact Josephine did have tons of lovers in the early phases of their marriage, nothing could break their bond. Nonetheless they still loved each other
Sounds weird and contradicting to you? That’s because it is.
“Put me down! Put me down!” Josephine squealed and laughed as she was picked up by Napoleon.
“Not anytime soon! That’s for one.” he proudly exclaimed before proceeding to shower her in a bunch of nips and pecks on her neck and cheek. He was acting more like a playmate than a husband.
“Oh you’re just too cute!” She giggled and squealed once more while being showered in love and affection. She always loved to be spoiled rotten by the Emperor, giving her love, affection, gifts, presents, and in return, she did the same. She helped him with social skills and gave him pleasures.
For the occasion, the empress was in a pretty, colorful, loose fitting sundress. Her chestnut hair was tied into a bun. She was wearing a pearl necklace and pearl earrings. Meanwhile the Emperor was still in his Grenadier uniform. They were polar opposites, but, hey, opposites attract.
***
“So do you ever want to visit Toulon?” asked Josephine to Napoleon. She was genuinely curious.
They walked down the park, taking in the surroundings of the trees and gardens.
“Toulon?” Napoleon was pleasantly surprised. “Toulon? Since when did you take an interest in my military battles?” He raised an eyebrow.
“It’s your first victory. We both had a lot of things from our past that we regret, and I regret not spending much more time with you.”
“You…you weren’t even married to me back then though. And isn’t it too far? That’d take days.”
But just before they could continue with anything. Someone interrupted.
“Hello!!!”
A young girl, no older than 12 or 14 with light brunette hair and green eyes smiled at them. .Josephine got startled.
“Oh-oh! hi!” Josephine nervously simpered and tittered. She waved her hand rapidly and erratically. “Do you know her?” She asked Napoleon.
Napoleon glanced around swiftly, first at his surroundings, then at the girl, then at Josephine.
“Actually…” He stammered.
“Is there something you have to tell me?” Josephine frowned as she crossed her arms.
“I….barely know this person other than the fact that she was one of the fairies that appeared during one of the battles. …what was your name again?”
“Esmeralda!”
“Riiiight…listen kiddo, but please, just…go home.”
“But why!!!!???”
“Go home please.”
And off home she ran as she wailed “I HATE YOU!!”
“What’s her deal with you?”
“I..don’t know.”
“So can we go now?” She instantly asked and beamed. Napoleon groaned and placed his palm on his head. “Yes..sure.”
“Yayyy!!!” Josephine happily fired up whilst hopping up and down. “Thank you thank you!”
“Anything for you.” he gently smiled.
***
“Hey! Hey! Look over there!”
She pointed to some mountains with some towns on it, she beamed with a perpetual smile. This time she was wearing a more fancy dress, a more colorful one. A short sleeved dress with teal, green, red, yellow, and some white gloves. The couple was being transported by a red carriage being pulled by only two horses. Meanwhile Napoleon was still in his uniform from earlier.
“Look at all this Napoleon! Why don’t we stay here for a while?”
“I’m sorry?” He gave her a perplexed expression. “But…why? Didn’t y-”
“Oh come on!” She used her puppy-dog eyes on him. “Please! We could just go here instead!!” She clasped her hands together and bent her posture, making herself look smaller.” There’s a stop right there! We can spend time together!”
Napoleon stammered for a second. At first, he did not know what to say. He thought Josephine wanted to go to Toulon, which she initially did, but that was also an excuse for him to give his attention to her, and obviously spoil her. He raised his palm, then the carriage halted. And then, there was a ding!
“You’ve now arrived in the village of Gordes in the department of Vaucluse. Our next stop will be the medieval city of Avignon, the former seat of the Pope. We hope you enjoy the trip, you may hop off, or continue on the ride. And while you’re at it during your visit, we enjoy your stay! We look forward to you, dear passenger, for travelling with us again!”
Then the announcement ended with a ding. Napoleon and Josephine hopped off the carriage.
“Bye bye!” Josephine waved. She happily went around and yelped, jumping and cheering. “Woo! Woo! We’re here We’re here!”
The scenery was bright and vibrant. It was one of the most beautiful villages in the world. The town rose up like one massive citadel, and with it the trees. It was on a mountain. It looked ancient. It had a castle, multiple churches, forts, and tons of other tall buildings. The tall village faced the alpine Luberon, another ancient and majestic city.
The sun shone, birds sang and flew, insects buzzed and hovered. Napoleon took a breath, maybe his wife was right. Maybe while going to Toulon they should just check out the scenery. Maybe they should just skip Toulon and see this. He took a breath, looked around and-
“Napoleon!”
Napoleon snapped back. He looked down at Josephine using her puppy dog eyes. She was tugging on his arm and whining. Then she pointed to a seemingly abandoned church with a lavender field. Napoleon frowned in response.
“ Have you forgotten your manners? Just because you’re my wife doesn’t mean I have to buy everything for you.”
Josephine hopped up and down like an angry rabbit, frowning, pouting and whining like a dog. Pouncing up and down.
“Oh will you look at that..like I’m dealing with a child.” He quietly muttered to her as he snickered. Then the moment she came down, she let out a helpless cry as her cheeks got pinched by Napoleon. “Hey!!!” She squealed out.
“And just because you’re the Empress doesn’t mean you have to boss me around.” He broke out in a mischievous grin. That progressed into a chuckle, and then he laughed as he picked her up by her arms and twirled her around. Josephine squealed and yelled as she was being twirled and spun around by her hands. They spun, and spun, and spun till their vision shook and their heads went dizzy. Then they sat on the ground with Josephine in his lap. He fiddled around with her hair.
“What was that!?” Josephine heaved out while catching her breath. “ I felt like you were about to throw me out there! Please don’t do that!”
“Then please don’t ask me for so much stuff! I thought you wanted to go to Toulon until you decided this was a nicer place.”
“Well I did!” She puffed up her cheeks, trying to look upset. But she quickly broke into a fit of laughter and giggles when her cheeks once again got poked and squished. “Ahahahaha! Not again!”
“Well I guess we could explore the Church. But please, don’t ask for too much.”
***
The interior of the old abandoned Church created a feeling of something long forgotten. There was once elegance and grandiosity to its construct. There used to be beauty, used to be splendid. At the entrance were stone and marble columns holding up a high arched roof. The large stained glass showing scenes of the Bible and other scenes like Eve picking the forbidden fruit.
But that was how it was. It used to be beautiful.
Now, to the French Republic, and by extension, the Napoleonic Empire, it was nothing more than a museum. To the modern day it was a relic, an artifact. It was nothing more than a shadow of the past as the Ancien Regime. A remnant of when it was once a feudal Kingdom ruled by greedy Kings and Queens. The days of when France was once considered the “eldest daughter” of the Catholic Church have long passed. Eroded by the French Revolution, then later restored for a moment by Napoleon to keep everything stable.
Now, the Church has been overtaken by a growth. The growth of nature, wildlike, mainly fungi and plants. Moss, grass, mold, mushrooms, and all sorts of greens had overtaken the Church. There were even rabbits and other animals like mice and rats writhing and scrambling around the interior of the once grandiose Church.
“It smells awful in here!” Napoleon pinched his nose. He was repulsed by the sight. A little roach scurried around the entrance and skittered around his feet. “Those measly insects!” Then, with a sickening squelch and splat, he stomped and crushed the roach with his buckled shoe. He stomped, twisted, and stomped until all that was left was a red stain, “There, better.”
Josephine was a bit unsettled and unnerved at the sight of her husband stepping on the mouse, but she also looked around the entrance and felt appreciation for the structure. She gazed around in awe and wonder, softly smiling at the beautiful art getting corrupted by mold and moss. But the same couldn’t be said for Napoleon, who was utterly repulsed at the sight of the abandoned church. He waved his hand when flies came by, and he pinched his nose shut. “Josephine!”. He furrowed his brow and frowned. “Why in the world would you want to visit this godforsaken place!?”
“No no no no!” she protested. “It’s beautiful! What are you talking about? We’ve barely even seen this place!”
“Are you mad right now!?” He glowered. “This place is rotting and falling apart!’
“We’ve only seen so little though!!”
“Oh come on!” He yelled out “ Will you stop pestering me with a godforsaken request every second of the day!? Because you can’t keep doing this!”
“I-im..” Josephine backed away.
“Let me guess? Are you going to use your puppy dog eyes? Or tug on my arm and whimper for my attention?”
“I-I’m sorry!” Josephine whimpered out. “L-listen! I-I really am!” She clasped her hands together and lowered her head. ‘I just wanted to spend time with you! I’m not the person I used t-”
“Yet you’re still so demanding…” He pinched his forehead. “Just go ahead. Go explore. I’ll be with you!” His face was still a scowl, but his voice was overly cheerful.
“Ok! Ok! We don’t have to go! We can go to-”
“JUST GO!”
“Alright! Alright!”
***
The hall had been ridden with decay and rot. What was once a Grandiose Church devoted to the lord had now been taken over by time, and time brought change. But the art, the paintings of the hall were still as pristine and beautiful. Whilst some had been taken over by mold and moss, some were perfectly preserved. While the walls of the hall crumbled and decayed, the paintings were perfectly preserved.
“Better than the entrance. No roaches and rodents skittering around at least.” Napoleon was slightly relieved.
The paintings on the walls presented scenes of the Apostles. Some were moldy flaking portraits of Apostles like Saint Peter or Saint Matthew. Others showed scenes like the Eucharist or the Crucifixion.
She gazed at the paintings and looked around. She walked around the hall, peering at the scenes, and at the painting of the eucharist her hands gently traced over the frame.“Napoleon!” She called out excitedly. “Take a look!” But when she turned back to where Napoleon should’ve been, he was nowhere to be seen. Did he desert her? Did he leave her to be?
“Napoleon!” She was now more worried and panicked.
But then she noticed something moving through the paintings. Not an insect, or rodent, or any kind of pest or vermin for that matter. It was a figure. But before she could even see the figure moving clearly through the paintings, it was already gone. “Oh don’t tell me.” She chuckled. “What are you trying to do? Trying to make it fun?” She watched in amazement and wonder as she watched her Husband trying to entertain her through…moving paintings. Causing a ruckus in the paintings in the progress. He smudged and messed them up, and in an attempt to bring joy he destroyed the proportions and…pretty much everything in the paintings. I f you’d like to entertain or make amends with your spouse, that’s great, but I suggest you don’t ruin the iconography of property that doesn’t belong to you, let alone the property of a Church. But then she noticed the smudges and ruins sprawled across those once pristine paintings, and all because Napoleon was bored.
“What the-..Hey! Come back!” She yelped. “Stop that! You can’t just destroy all these things! COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”
But he didn’t, instead he kept on leaping and moving through picture after picture. He animated them and when he left, he smudged and left it as nothing but strokes and blurs.
She ran through the hall trying to catch him, but suddenly…he disappeared. At the end of the hall was a large wooden door. “Get out of those paintings right now!”
She bashed and banged on the door, then, with a loud -CLANG-, it broke open.
The place behind the door was a ruined Chapel which didn’t even have a wall anymore at the end. At the end of the Chapel was a stage, some candles, a statue of Jesus on the cross, and behind them all, was the outside. Where there should’ve been a wall, it was only the grass, the landscape, and the sun shining through. It was quite literally as clear as day that this Church was a relic of the past.
Rows of wooden pews were spread out in front of the stage. However most were overtaken by rot, mold, and nature while others were simply broken and destroyed. Except for the seats at the very front, which were still in pristine condition. Beside the seats were statues. More specifically, statues of the apostles. Peter, Bartholomew, John, James. And at the very top of the Chapel was a high arched roof and some colorful stained glass artwork, which also showed scenes of the Apostles with Jesus and the Apostles themselves. Some windows were even showing scenes of Moses with his staff.
Josephine stumbled and walked carefully, her hands were clasped and close to her chest.
“I-..”
But she was about to say anything. She heard a shuffle.
“Wha-what…wait a minute.”
She noticed a statue holding its hands up and dressed in an apostle’s clothing. But…it wasn’t like the rest. She immediately recognized it and she chuckled. Him pretending to be an apostle.
She walked up to the statue and poked at its stony face and its nose.
“Come on now!” She playfully encouraged him. She knocked at the statue’s head.
She turned around, hands behind her back and looking up innocently to the high arched roof. And -pop- went Napoleon!
He instantly sprung out of his stony shell, collapsing onto Josephine as he bathed and smothered her in affection and kisses. That was certainly unexpected, oh well. Josephine Napoleon both broke out in a fit of excited and joyful laughter, their love for one another unmatched, The Emperor and his Empress had no equals. They were yin and yang, night and day, sun and moon. One could not exist without the other. They were nothing without each other. What once began as an unhealthy and stormy marriage. What once had a rocky start littered with adultery, lies and deceit had now blossomed into a loving marriage. A marriage of love, passion, and power. A unity of Europe. Then they both stood up together, facing and staring into eachothers souls with pure wild passion whilst holding hands.
“I’m sorry Josephine..I really am.” He softly apologized. A shameful and guilt ridden was evident on his face.
“But you know I don’t despise you. You may have kept some traits, but you still grew.” Then he softly smiled down at her. “You realize this, right?”
“Of course. You grew too. But you’re still clingy and affectionate as ever.”
And then both of them closed their eyes, then they kissed. Words could not describe the nuclear fire or the oceanic depth of the love between the Emperor and the Empress. It felt like an eternity to the both of them. It was fiery, passionate, and exciting yet serene, peaceful, and calm as the ocean. But unfortunately the moment didn’t last forever, but they still gazed into each other's eyes.
“Say something for me Josephine. I am nothing without you.” He playfully remarked whilst giving her a boop on her nose.
“I am nothing without you.”
“Good..very good.” He gently stroked her hair.
“And you say I’m nothing without you too.”
“I’m nothing without you!”
And it was finally complete when they both said together in unison, “We are nothing without each other!”
Chapter 9: 9. A chaotic trip to the mountains!
Summary:
A new character’s introduced.
In this chapter our Marshals explore the vast terrains of Russia! And not only that, it’s special because you get TWO Chapters released!
This is also the first chapter with a co-creator in it, Trey!
So read along, get hooked. And a kudos and comment is also appreciated! Thanks for reading!
Chapter Text
The landscape was bright and vibrant. From the shining yellow sun bathing the sky in shades of blue with streaks of the white clouds, to the dark and green mountains below. Fields of chamomiles and peonies sprung up across the fields and hills, and the long deep rivers were serene and peaceful. Birds sang as butterflies glided across the air in search of nectar. There were even squirrels and rabbits skittering around. Surprisingly though, despite the fact that there was no rain there was a rainbow. In the distance were some orthodox churches plastered in all sorts of colors. They were practically rainbows on their own. Pretty much the whole landscape was a rainbow.
“I never knew Russia would be so amazing!” exclaimed Junot whilst walking on a bridge. It was a bridge that resembled that of a viaduct, with its thick high arches seemingly stretching into the sky. He pointed at the landscape right in front of him. He was accompanied by 3 other marshals, the flamboyant Murat, the chaotic and daring Lannes, and the peacemaking and friendly Bessieres.
Bessieres sighed at the sight of the landscape. He noticed an Orthodox Church which reminded him of something…familiar. “Murat. Doesn’t all this remind you of the old school in Cahors? That church over there. Even reminds me of you even with the color and all.”
“I don’t seem to recognize it.” He answered. “Our school was drab and bland.”
“But not you!” Bessieres praised him.
Murat looked down at Bessieres in surprise at the playful remark, and then he smiled, then he laughed. “You’re right Jean. Noone’s quite as colorful and vibrant like me!” and they both laughed. They were still the old good friends from the Church. Back when Murat was to be a priest and Bessieres a barber.
“Fate had different plans for us didn’t they? Imagine me as a lousy boring priest and you as a barber performing surgeries!” Murat joked. “We weren’t even the same people then! But we’re still the same friends..” Bessieres remarked. Oh how the times of childhood were so different for the two. They reminisced on the times they were in the Chapel together, listening to the bells of the belltower.
“What insufferable men and showoffs.” Muttered Lannes. He was quite tired of the two. He never liked them anyway. But they were still his Marshals.“Hey, why didn’t we invite him?” Asked Lannes.
“You don’t know? He went to Provence with his wife! There’s no reason why we can’t take recreational time either.” replied Bessieres.
“We have plenty of fun as Marshals, like those battles. But we all need time to wind down though. We can just..appreciate the beauty of nature.” added Junot
"I suppose so." Bessieres said as he dragged his feet through the bright, tall grass. They had now croassed the bridge.
His eyes were focused on a small lake. It had a group of fawns near it. It seemed that they did not hear the group. A few were drinking near it. He motioned for the others to join him as he watched. Murat knelt to observe the gathering, his hand near his chin. Junot watched as well, just from a farther distance.
"What are we doing?" Lannes inquired.
Murat turned his head and pointed at the group of fawns. "Deer-watching, obviously."
"Hey, I can do that!" Lannes squinted his eyes. It looked as though a lightbulb lit inside of his head. "That one is me. " He pointed to the one galloping, clearly having fun by itself as the rest of the group watched. It leaped over a sleeping deer.
Junot cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his sound. "WHICH ONE!?" It was a miracle that he startled only one of the thirsting deer with his racket.
"Quiet down! And just..come here."
Junot obeyed. He laid flat on his stomach and rested his head on his forearms near the rest of them. He started to focus on a bright orange tiger lily that hung right over his nose. He counted the dots as Lannes continued.
"That one is Murat," Lannes points to a sleeping deer. It was fluffy around the face with large ears, and a white mouth. "The one that looks like he dipped his face in onion soup."
Murat sighed. "So you're gonna be the cool one while us three get to b-" He gets interrupted by Lannes as his next insulting personification is announced.
"Hm.. Junot is that one!" He raised his voice, ensuring that Junot could hear him, although spaced out. He pointed to the one rapidly spinning in circles around a tree. "The stupid looking one."
"EXCUSE ME??" He yelled, offended by the comparison. He lifted himself from his position quickly, sped toward Lannes and in turn tripped on his own feet. He landed flat on his face. Junot muttered something into the ground below him. The two others gently backed away from the shitshow ensuing before them.
"What did you say?" He taunted.
Junot raised his head, an angered expression on his face. "You're the stupid looking deer!" He screamed out, now. Even the group of fawns were confused and tired of the bickering so they all scattered and left. The two bickering men were now at their feet.
"Shouldn't we tell them all of the deer left?" Murat whispered, quite concerned.
Bessieres looked nothing less than amused at the developing scuffle. "No, no, this will be a life lesson for them. It'll teach them not to act like little boys." He snickered. Napoleon will love to hear about this.” he said sarcastically.
"At least it won't be me getting berated."
"Pfft...As if he'd do anything to those two."
The two men conversing whipped their heads to the left and heard a battle cry in the middle of the bickering. Junot charged to Lannes like a speeding bull and grabbed hold of his Midsection. Lannes's arms swung wildly. He took hold of his back for balance and began repeatedly punching it. Then, he got an idea. He pulled the new marshal's coat over his head. This caused Junot to lose both his balance and lose his grip on him.
"PICK HIM UP!" Lannes yelled.
He put his hands up in a defensive position. "I'm on thin ice, man. Thin ice." Murat said without hesitation. He couldn't care less what happened to himself, truthfully. He just didn't want to get kicked in the face by a struggling Junot.
"DO IT OR I'M THROWING YOU INTO THE WATER, TOO!" He angrily yelled back.
"Into the water? Wha--" Junot's eyes widened in fear as his legs got lifted into the air by Murat. "NOOOO! DAMN YOU BASTARDS! WAIT TILL NAPOLEON HEARS ABOUT THIS!" He kicked and he screamed and he struggled, but his efforts were in vain. Bessieres just watched in the distance as he splashed into the shallow lake.
He climbed out of the water and sat, defeated. He threw his head back in a fit of laughter. His attackers couldn't help themselves. They started laughing as well. They both thought it was a great idea in all honesty, and they both had great entertainment. Even Bessieres, the peacemaker, couldn’t help himself from getting a little amused from the ordeal. "That was so silly of you guys!" Bessieres chuckled.
The same could not be said for the man bellowing with rage, Junot. He ripped some grass from his roots to help dry his face off. His hussar uniform was soaking wet. It was all wet. It felt sticky and damp and uncomfortable, he needed to undress.
"So much for 'trying to appreciate nature's beauty'" Bessieres rolled his eyes at the men, but still couldn't stop himself from laughing. It was funny."You beasts. You three as friends are worse off than Napoleon and Josephine as lovers. Better yet, worse off than Clisson and Eugenie!”
“That was then Bessieres.” Junot grew irritated. “This is now. Why do you think they went to Provence?”
“That was a joke Junot. You can’t even take jokes seriously anymore?” scoffed Lannes. “Run crying to your beloved Emperor! ‘O’ Napoleon! O’ Napoleon! Save me! Save me! Save me like the helpless damsel in distress I am!’ Go ahead Junot! I dare you!”
“He’d explode at you with the rage of a thousand suns! He’d be a beast and-”
“Oh do you not hear yourself!?” Lannes snarkily remarked. “You really are a damsel in distress. All we need to do is give you Murat’s clothing-”
“DO NOT!” Murat was mightily offended. He glared in irritation at Lannes and got out the ribbon wand. A ribbon wand that could become a whip.
“Now now you guys!” Bessieres got in between the two. “We don’t wanna cause a ruckus do we? Murat!” He nervously stammered and chuckled. He didn’t want to fight with Lannes. And above all else he did not want to get into trouble.
“Y’know what? I don’t have to bother myself with that mangy little dog. You’re right.” Murat smiled at him. He was right. He didn’t have to bother with Lannes.
“MANGY LITTLE DOG!? YOU’RE A POMPOUS BUFFOON! A DANCING DOG!” And then right as Lannes was screeching his head off, Murat picked him up by the arms and dunked him into the lake where Junot had been previously thrown. The same person who he commanded to throw Junot into the lake was now the person putting him into the lake. It wasn’t pretty. He’d go kicking and screaming instead.
He screamed and screeched. He cried and wailed. “YOU MO-”
“Serves you right. Mangy little dog.” Junot gave him an annoyed look, and then he gave him the middle finger. “This is for making Murat throw me in the water.”
“Guess we’ll both be in nothing but rags! I hate this!” Lannes complained and cried in frustration. How could he? The most daring Marshal be reduced to a mangy little dog in a puddle crying like a spoiled brat? Then he gave Junot the middle finger back. “SCREW YOU!”
“Rage all you want l’ane”
***
As sunset dawned, bathing the landscape before them in hues of blue, orange and pink. More and more people started showing up. Inhabitants, or tourists. People mining for jewels, gold, and silver. People chopping down trees and searching for all sorts of tools in this landscape. Invading Russia had done so much good for the Empire lately. The economy was booming, and the sheer power it gained and possessed was unimaginable. It was a fantasy, almost too good to be true. It was a dream come true for everyone. Well…maybe not everyone, but for the vast majority it was.
Children ran home from school, parents returned home for their children. Some were sightseers, watching as sunset dawned.
“He always told me he used to believe in the stars.” Said Junot as he laid in a makeshift blanket of his now dried up clothing. “Told me he wished on one once. And it came true.”
“No wonder he loves stars and all that stuff!” Lannes was somewhat surprised. He also laid on the grass in a makeshift blanket of his own.
“Well he always keeps on asking me, ‘Am I lucky? Am I lucky?’. He was a firm believer in that sort of stuff. Had a star he’d always follow in the night sky, told me it was the same star he wished on.”
“We get it Junot, you’re his closest friend. No need to flex and dunk the rest of us!” Murat was quite annoyed. Ever since Junot became a Marshal he kind of…acted like he was superior.
“Junot, you need to tone yourself down.” Said Bessieres crossing his arms. “ I get it, you’re proud of yourself. We’ll admit, you deserve it. But the moment you start acting like you’re better than us or acting out of line, it gets annoying. You’re smarter than that.”
“I mean we were promoted ahead of you for a reason.” Lannes snickered. And next to him was a hearth of red fire.
“Lannes, put it out. We aren’t going to burn the entire country down just because you wanna show off too. For God’s sake.” Bessieres sternly reminded him. Lannes pouted and put it out.
“Gee, I just wanted to warm myself up.”
“Lannes? You can make fire like that? Why didn’t you use them?”
Lannes laughed at Junot. “Junot you numbskull, The Irasomas are made of fire! There’s no use fighting fire with fire, and I mean that literally. It would make things worst! The same reason Ney didn’t use lightning at them. Because it would be foolish. That would also backfire since it’d make those things more powerful.”
“Hold on… you AND Ney have powers?” Junot replied.
“Almost all of us do! Bessieres can manipulate crystals, but he mainly uses ice. You have hydrokinesis, Berthier can even move the earth, Davout’s called the iron marshal for a reason since…y’know, he can mold metal….ok but still, he’s a great Marshal. Desaix controls the wind and air, Ney can produce lightning, and Murat here is actually super stretchy and elastic! He just doesn’t use it because it’d ruin his perfect figure, so he just uses the ribbon wand since it’s an extension of his powers.”
“Oh don’t you dare you-?” Murat angrily yelled, he was embarrassed before being calmed down by Bessieres. “It’s ok Murat, you can be honest. You don’t have to be flamboyant and extravagant all the time…Back when it was simple in Cahors. Remember?”
“Just for you Bessieres. Just for you. Alright?”
Then he stretched his arm out to hit Lannes and slap him.
“OW! What was that!”
And then Murat immediately retracted it. It looked like a wet noodle or snake, it was hideous and weird. And to you dear reader you probably thought it was less than pleasant imaging that.
“That’s what you get L’ane!”
“I’M NOT TO BE COMPARED TO A DAMN DONKEY YOU-
“OK YOU TWO! SERIOUSLY! CUT IT OUT!”
“Bessieres, seriously, I can’t handle him.”
“NO! I’m the-”
“SHUT UP YOU DONKEY! YOU’RE THE ONE-”
Then in a moment, they were encased in ice by Bessieres.
“I don’t get why they can’t stop bickering. Don’t worry, the ice will melt. They’ll be in here temporarily.”
“That’ll serve those two right.”
***
After the chaos of the sunset came the resplendent and vibrant array of stars of the night sky. Those stars were always spinning and turning. There were constellations and even shooting stars. They walked again, and this time Murat and Lannes weren’t frozen anymore. Lannes and Junot were also in their uniforms again!
“Should we make a wish?” asked Junot.
“Well I wish for the Marshalate to stop acting like whiny children. I also wish for me to relax in peace and not be used as an antidote for every conflict or argument.” Bessieres sarcastically remarked.
“Bessieres.” Murat softly spoke and pat Bessieres’ head. Clutching him and holding him tight like a mother would with their own children. He felt bad about him, he didn’t want to cause his poor friend trouble. He didn’t want to upset the overly stressed Bessieres. “Murat, you can stop now.”
“So why don’t you use your powers Lannes?” Asked Junot again. “Fighting…those?”
“The Irasomas? Oh you numbskull. You can’t just fight fire with fire, that’ll make it worse.” he laughed.
“Should’ve known. We really should try to reduce our..fighting. Within each other.”
Junot gazed up at the night sky and closed his eyes.
“Well…I wish we could be happy. We’ll need each other eventually if something catastrophic happens. Like…actual war. Otherwise we’re screwed. But I..We wish we’d unify and stop all conflict.”
When he opened his eyes and turned towards the others, they were sitting on the grass smiling at him.
“You’re right.” Said Lannes. “Let’s just rest here for now. We can stargaze and get along for once.”
They did just that. They stargazed and then later slept.
Chapter 10: 10. We Declare War!
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Chapter Text
The interior of the throne room perfectly resembled the King’s emotions and mental state. The burning furious red paint of the walls started to peel off. The room was bathed in all sorts of shades of furious red actually, from the throne itself to the walls. The chandeliers started to dim like him. The only thing lighting up the room was the burning light emitted from other rooms and doors. It was very slowly, but surely, losing its grandeur. The King seemed to decay, he only grew in anger and the throne room perfectly reflected that. Each visit to the room only ever filled Wellington with more and more terror. It only ever filled him with more anxiety and more fear.
“Why. Is. All. This. Resulting. In. NOTHING!?” George III slammed his fists on his throne. “Wellesley. You. Had. One. Job. We’ve been in a constant state of STAGNATION while his has been in a constant state of EVOLUTION! WHY!? Why haven’t you come up with ANYTHING!? Soon enough we’ll have to declare legitimate war! Not be stuck in tepid tension.”
“Why can’t we just use diplomacy then? Your majesty. It would be-”
“You blasted fool. We’re definitely not sending any diplomats either.”
“Oh I know that Boney man better than anyone else. I’d know what I’d be doing when I negotiate.”
George sneered. “Since when the hell have you considered yourself an expert diplomat? You’re a military man. Not a peacemaker or diplomat, If anything you’re no different from him so you better not overestimate yourself. And even if we did it, it wouldn’t last long. You know how it went with naive little Alexander, and he got broken and shattered. Even if you’re an Emperor, if you’re not wise….You’ll be broken. Only one small mistake can cost an entire EMPIRE! AN ENTIRE DYNASTY! ”
Each sentence was punctuated by his slamming his veiny and withered wrinkly hands on the dusty throne. He was decaying, but his fury only evolved. Wellington tried to propose anything else, but he was only ever ignored and even silenced. The King continued to rant on and on, his voice bitter and filled with misery, pain, and bellowing.
“Ever since we sent them, they’ve been blown up one after the other. Even when you improve them they still fail and go to…that little nuisance instead. Explain to me Wellesley, how do we ever manage to win this? Their economy is rapidly improving and so is everything else! Despite all we have. THIS ALL RESULTS IN NOTHING! WE’RE ALL DOOMED! And I can bet that the boney man will be preparing for invasion anytime soon.”
“You need to lower your temper Majesty. We’re all doing everything we can. I’m trying the best I POSSIBLY can! We’re ALL doing what we can! This is all we have. This is everything we can do. It’s like..we can’t.”
Wellington looked down and contemplated. Was there really anything they could do? It was hopeless. They kept on blundering over and over, it was like they were doomed from the start. They were never meant to win.
“I swear your Majesty. We really are trying to do everything we can. I-I swear..” He gradually became more and more stressed and panicked.
“We did every-”
But he stopped. He remembered war . Sure, the Irasomas may have been threats and attacks, but never really full-scale war. They could use naval battle, afterall, Britannia ruled the waves. But it was time to do something, and do something fast. They needed to do something. They needed to evolve. They needed…war. They needed to industrialize, and they needed to evolve their military.
“We.”
Wellington looked up and grinned.
“We declare war.”
Chapter 11: 11. The Painter and The Painting
Summary:
Today is something unique and special. Today is something unexpected…
Rather than continuing the story, it’s an intermission.
In this story, a painter seeks to create the perfect painting, but things do not go as well as he expected, and he learns a very valuable lesson in the end.
Kudos and comments aswell as feedback and criticism are always appreciated.
Chapter Text
Once upon a time, there was a painter. The painter was an extraordinary man, as he made the finest works of art. He was kind, gentle, patient and confident. But most importantly, he was known for being extremely devout in his faith.
He made paintings of all sorts. He had an elegant, rich, and fine style. But it was also modest and humble. He painted portraits of dukes, peasants, nobility and the peasantry. All across the land, everyone came to see him paint and draw. Everyone wanted a picture of their own by him, and he did just that. But he mainly made art that glorified the lord, he mainly made art that depicted scenes of the Bible. Some were grandiose, but most were humble. Some depicted scenes of Christ fasting in the desert for 40 days and 40 nights, to resist temptation by the devil.
Some that didn’t depict scenes from the bible depicted scenes of peasant life instead. They depicted marketplaces, farming, people going to church, and much more. Rather than focus on nobility or royalty, he instead focused on the common life. It wasn’t to say he didn’t make pictures of nobility and royalty though, but when he did, it was an extraordinary event. People would flock to him, waiting to see it. The nobles and royalty would even give him great estates and great sums of wealth, but he preferred to be modest and humble. He always treated everyone, rich and poor, women and men, children and elderly, and everyone else kindly and gently. He was celebrated.
But all that changed when he said to himself, “I want to create the greatest painting. The greatest painting to everyone. The greatest painting of all of history!”
He consulted a friend and asked him. He asked, “How do I make the greatest painting in all of history?”
The friend replied. “The greatest painting of all of history? That’s quite an ambitious goal you have.”
“I want to create the greatest painting for everyone! Including myself! One I can be proud of!”
“But you already have tons of paintings that you can be proud of.” He replied. “You already make such great paintings! What more could be fixed?”
“But I’m sure there’s always someone better. There’s always going to be a better painting in some shape or form. Whether subjective or objective, there’s always something going to be better. I want to figure out how to create the best painting for everyone!”
But the friend only let out an amused and bemused chuckle.
“The best painting for everyone? My friend. Do you not understand? You can’t expect your art to be purely objective. One way or form, someone will find a flaw.”
“That’s why I ask you, how can I make it the best for everyone? A perfect painting? A flawless form?”
At first, he was met with silence. But then, the friend laughed. It was a full-blown laugh, one of amusement and bemusement.
“Oh my friend! Do you not get the lesson? Your art is good as it is! You can’t make the perfect painting. There is no perfection!”
The painter glared. How dare he!? To him, the friend mocked and ridiculed him for his ambition. The friend didn’t support him, or maybe he wasn’t even a friend. To the friend, he was trying to help him. It was a harsh truth. There was no perfection.
He got up and yelled. “Because you are not capable of producing such! You foolish buffoon! You can’t produce such works and you don’t!”
“My friend! I-”
But he was cut off. Then, the painter left.
“I'm going to do whatever it takes. It’ll be possible, watch me.”
***
The painter returned to his atelier and got to work on his magnum opus. He worked for many hours, he sketched it out, then defined it, and then he colored, carefully applying every color and blending and swirling them all together to create his masterpiece.
He gazed at it, and thought..that it was flawed. It was good still, but not perfect. It was just like any work of his, but he wanted to defy that expectation.
He added more and more and more, a marketplace, some images of the lord, peasants, all of it. He added everything and seamlessly blended it and weaved it together into one grand giant canvas and masterpiece. Each brush, each stroke, each drop of paint and ink meant everything. He added shadows, light, depth, shape, everything. It meant everything. It should’ve been complete….
But it wasn’t.
He was still dissatisfied. It wasn’t perfect enough. He needed it to be perfect. So he added more color, more life, more light and dark. It even glowed and shined at this point. He even made it more grandiose.
He didn’t know how much time had passed. It must’ve been days. He could no longer come up with anything.
He decided to go somewhere else for inspiration. A church? Cathedral? No. He’d been to those hundreds of times. Walk along the countryside or gaze at a landscape? That was thousands of times. But what about an exhibit? A collection? Or even the forbidden? The list went on.
He went outside the atelier and into the outside world. He walked along bridges and towns, cities, forts, castles, markets. As he went along, he thought about adding it. But that was not enough.
He returned to his atelier once more and started painting. He replaced images and brushed in new ones. New images of castles, forts, grand cities and palaces. It was becoming vain, more grandiose. Even the painter himself started to forget what it originally looked like. All he knew was that it needed to be perfect.
But still he wasn’t satisfied. It still wasn’t perfect.
Not only that, but his skills aged. His hands became frail and more erratic and shaky, sometimes creating shaky strokes. Colors began to melt and merge into each other and amalgamate. Those colors became muddy. They lost their vibrancy, and so he desperately tried to restore it by adding more paint and making it more bright and colorful, he tried his best to salvage the old parts. But what he didn’t realize was that he himself was aging as well.
He added everything he could and did everything he could. Now the painting was restored and looked pristine. It was…great. It was complete.
But it wasn’t.
He was still dissatisfied. It wasn’t perfect enough. He needed it to be perfect. This simply wasn’t enough. It somehow…wasn’t complete. It didn’t feel…right.
By now he aged significantly. He’d grown a beard, his skin wrinkled and gone pale. He’d grown bitter and hot tempered. He aged as time went on, and he aged badly.
He didn’t know how long it had been since he went out. He no longer remembered what the painting originally looked like. He started to forget the faces of his friends and the villagers, but most importantly he started losing himself. He could barely even remember what his other paintings were and what made them so good. He started to forget everything prior to the “perfect painting”.
He needed another inspiration now, and he decided to venture into areas he never did. The dark. He attempted to recall the best he could, and so he painted.
It was a far cry from the works he used to depict. Instead of works that glorified the lord, instead he depicted all sorts of sin.
Nobles feasting on banquets, drinking and squabbling. Men in brothels raping prostitutes. Men fighting amongst one another and tearing themselves apart. Men displaying gross amounts of wealth and demanding more and more. Men grossly showcasing their pride and dragging their opponents down to lift themselves up. It was dark, bloody, disgusting, and repulsive beyond comprehension. The stench of rot and decay oozed from the painting. It was sickly. It, mixed with all the clashing visuals and imagery was downright horrific.
The painter could no longer remember much. He’d forgotten everything except the painting and the goal of it.
He looked at it, and he was satisfied. He was finally happy.
But not really.
It wasn’t long before he realized he was still dissatisfied.
He gazed upon his older paintings, and his eyes widened in pure raw horror and terror. He realized it, and in a desperate attempt to ignore it, he grabbed all those paintings and dumped them in a fireplace for them to burn and incinerate. He planned for it to be unveiled.
***
It was a very special day today. Today was the unveiling of the perfect painting.
It had been a very long time since the painter came out, and everyone held their breath in the hall before the painting was to be revealed. It was a very large canvas, obscured by a black robe. It was bigger than any other work of his.
The painter walked into the hall, significantly aged and changed. He pulled away the robes and dragged them down to reveal his masterpiece. It was his magnum opus. But when it was unveiled…they were shocked.
Instead of a beautiful painting, they got a painting, a disgusting, rotting, decaying and horrifying painting. One that depicted all kinds of sinful and graphic scenery.
The numerous layers of paint and marred faces of each and every figure on the painting reminded the crowd of what the painter once was. A humble man that took hold of immoral vices in search of the perfect piece of art. It was once beautiful. The painter could not think of this work as anything less than perfect. He was sure they would praise him, even more than before. But rather than applaud, it was silence. It was dead silence.
Then there was chaos. Horrified gasps and angry yells filled the room. They booed and shouted. Some disliked it so much that they even began throwing trash and food at it. Then the audience left. They were horrified and disgusted. It was inhuman.
Then he was alone. He gazed at the painting. He was inhuman. He was still the same man from years ago, yet instead of having extraordinary skill like he strove for, he was an imposter to not only himself but to the ones that once admired him.
He got out his tools and brushed and ruined it, splashing and randomly throwing paint and colors on there and merging and amalgamating them all into one horrid mess. At the end was the final result, a broken canvas with random splashes of color leaking out.
He tore the canvas piece by piece, breaking it into smaller and smaller and smaller parts, and throwing them into the fireplace. He looked in horror of what became of it. This wasn’t perfect. It was horrific, it was disgusting. He tried so hard to seek perfection, and it turned out his friend was right. There was no perfection.
He had been striving for an unattainable goal, a mirage. It was an illusion, it was delusional for him to even think about a “perfect painting” in the first place. The idea was so absurd and foreign, it would be laughable to think of such a thing, let alone attempting to make that fantasy become reality.
He collapsed to his knees and placed his hands on the floor, and he wept. He shook and trembled, first it was silent. Then he let out a cry of anguish, he wept and wailed for his failure and for what he became, for it was now foreign to his own self.
***
He sat in his now-empty house. He was pondering everything. He wondered, “What was it all for?”/
He looked in the mirror and at himself in shame and regret. He hated himself for what he did. He hated how he carelessly disregarded his friend and stormed out. But he couldn’t do anything now, what was done was done, and there was no going back. He should’ve stuck to what he used to do, and not lose himself. In the end, he lost everything. He decided to go back to his friend’s house.
The weather outside was dark and stormy, the man now looked like a peasant that was in deep poverty rather than the beloved painter he once was. He saw the house of his friend, and saw that on the outside it was dark and empty.
But when he peered through the window, it was bright and full of life. He saw that his friend…had a wife. He even cradled a baby in his arms. But yet, the friend still looked very young, still pristine as ever. He aged a bit, but not as much as the painter. The friend noticed, and he opened the door for him.
“What is it you’re doing out here in such weather? Come inside.”
The painter dragged his feet across the floor. His old and tattered face startled his wife who recoiled in disgust.
“Do you not remember me? It's me, the painter.”
The father swallowed and realized. "Ah, hello, my friend." He looked mildly concerned for the man. He still recognized the old him although others did not. He cradled his daughter in his arms.
"Your friend? What do you mean? You do not look down on a poor old sinner like I?" He pointed to himself with pity and confusion in his voice.
"I was sure you would heed my warning any day. It is never too late to repent while you still can. " He held his arms open. This seemed to enrage him. Kindness? After he wasted his life? He was clearly lying directly to his face.
"You liar!" He raised his voice in anger. "It is foolish to think I could ever be redeemed by anyone. I should have never come here!" He punched the wall of the man's home, but it only left his own knuckles bleeding.
The world was ugly to the painter. What he produced was ugly and grotesque, rather than depicting love and family and the beauty in the simplicities of life like he used to. The world was beautiful and full of opportunities for his friend. What he produced was life, and that was enough. As he rocked his daughter and saw his baby's face, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes upon. In his eyes, there was nothing to change.
“How!?” The painter screamed. “How could you POSSIBLY-”
“I’m always ready to give a second chance. If you look forward to improving. Look, you can always change again. You always have a chance to make things right, and I’d like to give you that opportunity.”
The friend extended his hand, as an offer of help. He cradled his daughter in the other arm.
“But-” Despite his hesitation, he took the hand. The friend smiled, glad that he was able to help him.
“Oh my friend…” He smiled for the first time in a while. He allowed himself to be vulnerable and cried.
“Oh..How could you..?”
Chapter 12: 12. A Big Brother and his Baby Sister
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
Today’s a good day! It’s a long day after work, and Napoleon’s having rest.
Until his younger sister, Caroline comes in and isn’t all too pleased.
Luckily, a big brother always knows how to light up his baby sister.
Kudos, comments, feedback and criticism is appreciated.
Chapter Text
ACT II
The bedchamber was illuminated by the burning glow of the golden chandelier. The walls and ceilings were adorned with opulent yellow and gold patterns and imagery. It had symbols of his Empire, golden engravings of lions, the shape of an eagle’s wings, a colony of bees, and a tail of a chameleon. There were even stars. There was a window too, and the sight behind the window also illuminated the room with its brilliant and vibrant colors of the night light. A perfect bedchamber for a monarch, one that also clearly showcased the world he achieved.
The room was furnished with green furniture. An emerald green drapery over a forest green bed, green chairs, and the embroidery of narcissi, gladioli and roses on chairs and the bed. There were even tables embroidered with those patterns and colors.
Beside the bed was a dresser made of marble. And on the marble, was a large opulent mirror adorned with the symbols of the Empire.
Napoleon gazed into his reflection. He couldn’t tell how long or how much he’d been staring, he just was. It was like a moth being drawn to the light, he was drawn to his own self.
He smiled and lovingly caressed himself, highlighting every single detail and contour of his face. From his nose to his eyes, or to his hair. He hummed a tune to himself.
Then came Berthier through the door across the room.
“Your majesty!” Berthier yelled out. It sounded rushed, urgent, panicked even. It was definitely important. It had to be. Berthier needed to know what to do. It was serious. Napoleon turned to Berthier, cocking his head to the side. He stared at him, his blue eyes unblinking. He looked slightly annoyed and irritated.
‘The Russians are revolting. There’s been some…riots lately around Russia. Ever since we invaded.”
“Rebellions?”
“Precisely. They want to-”
“Then put them down. Let them be reeducated.” He replied in a cold and unsettling voice whilst turning back to the mirror.
“But what if they refuse?”
“Then send them to work for me. Whether it’s in the army of Russia, being commanded by my dear Eugene, or building for me. If they want to go back to being serfs, I’m perfectly fine with letting them do hard labor.”
His voice shifted, and it changed from that of being cold, calculating and calm to being sadistic and excited.
“In fact, I’m going to have fun breaking those “revolutions” into little pieces. I may not come up to them myself, but it’ll be entertaining to watch it happen anyway.”
“...Thank you sir.”
Berthier left, and he resumed looking at himself in the mirror before being interrupted once again by another knock at the door.
“What is it now?”
“Oh Mr. Bonaparte!!!” Said a chirpy and cheery voice.
“Oh Caroline..”
His demeanor shifted entirely. From being cold and even cruel to warm and giddy. All at the sight of his sister. It was as if he was a different person entirely. At the drop of a hat he could go from being cruel and sadistic to being cheery and sweet.
“Hello there my baby sister!” He teasingly remarked.
“I didn’t see Josephine at the door when I entered. Where is she?” She asked. She was curious to know where she was. She’d usually be used to Josephine opening the door, but this time it was Bourrienne.
“Oh…that? She’s visiting her daughter, Queen Hortense in Holland!”
“I thought she was going to leave later though…I even had a letter for her to give. It was to our brother, Louis.”
She held up a piece of paper. It was a letter. Caroline had a disappointed pout evident on her face. She grumbled, and to which Napoleon chuckled in response.
“Oh? I’m sorry? Can you not fly there?”
“Sure…I could. Then after that I have to go back to Naples to deal with…I think you know.”
“Murat? Of course.”
“Not just that, I have to be Queen, then I have to train cadets as a fairy. You could easily substitute me. Why don’t you bother to use our other sisters? Elisa and Pauline? What about Walewska and Denuelle?”
“They serve different purposes for different reasons. But no one quite embodies it as well as you do!”
“So you’re going to put-” But just as she was about to talk back, his hand covered her mouth.
“Oh come on. Don’t fret.”
He only grew firmer, but that smile was still plastered on his face. He took a breath, and spoke. He spoke slowly, but it also gradually got more..harsh. More demanding and threatening. It was more intimidating, more stern..It was even fearful to her. Unsettling.
“Come on now, out of all of my siblings you’re the one most like me. I think you’re the perfect mascot. The others below need someone to look up to, and that person is you. The regular women look up to the Empress, but the fairies. They serve as mascots, bringers of hope, messengers, entertainers. You’re the perfect embodiment. They also need to look up to me, and if those girls want a woman to look up to, it’s one like me. I don’t think it would be wise if you randomly decide to quit just because you feel like it.”
His hand let go of her face. She stood still with an unsettled expression on her face. She was even quivering. Napoleon stared directly into her eyes. His gaze was unwavering and unblinking, and so was his smile.
“Oh don’t be afraid. The ladies should always smile!”
For a few long moments, she stood still. She was shivering and quivering. But then she smiled, It was a genuinely happy one. Her eyes had a temporarily blank expression, as if she were in trance. It didn’t take long for her beautiful beaming smile to reach her eyes, and soon her whole face beamed with joy.
“Now make your big brother proud. Ok? Pretty girls like you should ALWAYS SMILE!”
She just happily nodded
“That’s what I want!” He exclaimed and laughed as got up from his chair and playfully tugged at her ear. Then pinching her cheeks. He was certainly acting more lively and proud now. Caroline just smiled..and smiled. She was…happy. Always eager to do what big brother told her to do. She’ll do anything to make him happy now.
“Why don’t we have a tea party tomorrow?” Her voice was now chirpy and cheery. There wasn’t much she was thinking about.
“Well since you’ve been so good. Of course! And then after that we’ll have one with your husband!”
“What you do is good, big brother! It's real good. And tomorrow...tomorrow's gonna be a real good day!"
“Everyday’s a good day. It’s a good life afterall!
And they danced and twirled around together in joy and admiration. They were right, it’s a real good day.
Chapter 13: 13. Tea Party in Naples
Summary:
Napoleon comes over in order to have a tea party with his little sister and Murat! But Murat discovers something unusual during his stay..
Kudos, comments, and feedback along with criticism is always appreciated.
Chapter Text
Trees, mountains, flowers, buildings, and sea.
These were the sights Caroline and Napoleon saw on their way to Naples, They were on a carriage being pulled by two horses. They weren’t far. They were almost there. It was a bit cloudy today. Rather than a clear blue sunny sky, it was cloudy and misty. Bits of the sun shone through little gaps though, creating lights that looked ethereal and…heavenly.
“If it isn’t the rays of heaven!” Caroline exclaimed. She really liked the view and smiled at the sight of it. She turned to Napoleon who was reading a book about Roman History. Her smile turned into that of a pout or frown, she grumbled. “Cmon Napoleon, stick your head out of that book.” But he didn’t answer, he was too caught up in his book to hear her. She gently tugged at his ear, and she finally got his attention.
He turned his head to the sky and gazed at it, for a few seconds he didn’t say anything. He just took in the sight, and then turned back to Caroline. “They really do look like them. Hey, there it is!”
“Naples?”
“Yep!”
The city in the distance, Naples, was a port town, a bustling coastal city filled with color. It was guarded by an equally opulent and vibrant city wall. It looked like a giant rainbow. It was filled with activity, and it was all too clear once the two entered. Buildings were brightly colored and highly decorated with the empire style. There were symbols of the chameleon, the eagle, the narcissus, the violet, the lion, the bee. All sorts of emblems and icons were present. Civilians waved as they saw the 2 Bonaparte siblings pass by, and they waved back.
Children played around or washed their clothes out in the streets. Some planted flowers or drew on the walls and sidewalks. Some chased each other around, and some read their books, or some were just frozen in place…Not doing anything, not reading or talking, they just…sat there or stood there. Men huddled around each other sometimes, speaking to each other. Some were idle. The same applied to the women, some walked around, some cleaned and cooked for their husbands and children, some on the streets weaved all sorts of fabric and wonderful patterns. And that was all they did, other than nothing.
They attended school, went to churches with their mothers or fathers, it was very active. The fishermen and merchants held bags of goods. They held the fish they caught, the bread they sold, the money they earned. They were well off.
Seagulls squawked and flew around, annoying the farmers and cooks as they swooped down to steal their food to steal their food. In the distance you could hear the cursing of men as they swatted away seagulls. Musicians strummed their mandolins, and even animals like dogs ran around, fetching food or chasing other animals, like cats. The sky was also starting to clear up as well, the bright blue sky with the sunshine was starting to return.
“It’s bustling today. Isn’t it?” Remarked Napoleon. He kept on being smiley, waving to every person that greeted him. He greeted them back, always saying something on the lines of “Hello friends!” or “Hi there sir!” or just smiling at them. He was…almost always happy, almost cheerful, always a role model.
“And all thanks to you. All because of you!" said Caroline in response.
“I thought it was good when Joseph was King, But you…You’re better than I expected. Really great! But that’s not to say our big brother isn’t managing Spain well.”
“I’m glad I and Murat got to do all this with you! This is amazing!”
“That’s debatable that Joachim did anything. You’re like our mother, a woman with the mind of a man. He’s the woman in the body of a man! Speak of the devil…I can see him from here being all vain and brushing his fabulously long curly hair!”
“You can?”
“No. Of course not.”
“But it's accurate. Not that far off.”
The two both broke into a fit of laughter. It was a very hearty chuckle.
“Maybe you should be King of Naples instead of him! I bet your pinky finger has more energy than your husband’s entire personality!” Napoleon teased and jeered as he peered into Caroline’s dark brown eyes.
“I’ve already been regent plenty of times while he’s gone. I’m practically King already.”
“Maybe we need a second coronation where you’re crowned King of Naples.”
“And you crown me instead of the Pope?”
“Why shouldn’t I? I crowned myself after all.”
As they went deeper into the metropolitan area, gone were the rural simple communities, and there were the even more bustling metropolitan areas. It only ever grew more kaleidoscopic and resplendent. More iridescent and varicolored, You could say the city was made of opals. There were ports, ships boarded out onto the sea. Seagulls still squawked and annoyed and heckled everyone that came. Horses drew carriages, you get the idea. In the distance you could see Mount Vesuvius. Everything was a magnificent sight.
Finally, the palace. They got off the carriage and walked up to it. Or rather…a Castle-Palace. Had an equestrian statue at its front. There was a long set of stairs leading up to the entrance, and the entire castle-palace was held up by a structure underneath. It was like a building on top of a building. There were 5 cylindrical towers around the palace, each one was connected by a drawbridge, except 2 at the entrance, which were connected by a marble triumphal arch. It was a gatehouse. The two towers connected by the arch also had little flags on top, and of course, on the towers were the symbols of the house of Murat. Inside was not a bailey, but an elegant palace stretching high above the towers guadring it. Whilst the walls and towers around it were made of stone and marble, the palace inside was…like heaven.
It perfectly showcased its power, its opulence..and even vanity and flamboyance just like the King and Queen that lived inside it. The Facade was decorated with its red walls, which in turn was decorated with opal and golden patterns and symbols. It was kind of like a dreamy fairytale. Roofs were pointed and opulent, and flamboyant too. On the tallest point of the Palace, there was a clock, and below the clock was a window.
And in the window was Murat singing and humming whilst sitting on the window and brushing his long old curly black mane. It looked like he was going to fall out at any moment, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to groom himself.
“Oh that buffoon!” She grumbled. They walked close to the stairs.
“Sorry, who?” Napoleon asked.
“He’s right up there!’
He squinted his eyes as hard as he could, and he stepped back and looked up, and then he sighed.
“Oh god…YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!”
“Why are you surprised that he’s an idiot? Sure, might be good at leading an army of horses and men during a cavalry charge. Everything else? Not so much.”
Caroline cleared her throat and yelled as loud as she possibly could.
“HEY JOJO! GET OFF THE DAMN WINDOW YOU MORON! IF YOU WANNA CONTINUE TO LIVE AND BE KING OF NAPLES I SUGGEST YOU CLOSE YOUR WINDOW BEFORE YOU PLUMMET TO YOUR DEATH!”
“Caroline, you had no need to over exaggerate that.”
“That’s the truth!” She snapped back, losing her patience. Her voice rapidly rose in volume and she was clearly angry. She stomped and grunted, screamed and yelled. “I can deal with him on my own! Hell! I can rule this GODFORSAKEN Kingdom on my own! Maybe I should be King like you said. HAH! I continue to build and build and advance this, and he sits around going on campaigns and living in luxury while I do all-” but that was cut off when Napoleon’s palm covered her hand.
She went numb, her eyes widened, her arms went from jerky and expressional to being stiff and at her sides. She was afraid, uneasy, and nervous. Meanwhile Napoleon had a stoic yet disappointed look on his face.
“Temper now….Ca…ro…line..” The way he said her name was especially unnerving for her, as if she was being given a punishment or a scolding, or a harsh lecture. To him, it was simply his way of dealing with his little sisters in case they misbehaved. In case they went…out of order, out of line. In case they broke their strings or were naughty.
“ Now now..You need to remember your place. But continue to act like this, I might just put you in your place. A place where they wouldn’t be in the light of day so they won’t get ruined. So they'd always be protected by their big brother.”
She knew what he meant. The other…monarchs.
“Ok!” She returned to her bright, cheery and happy self. A bright smile appeared on her face.
“Why don’t we go up and prank him?”
“Such a funny idea!”
***
Murat sang and hummed as the wind blew, the breeze hit his face lightly. It was pleasant. He was in his kingly attire, feathers and sparkles and all. He was basically a human peacock.
He was happy, and he especially loved his appearance more than anything. It was a far cry from the appearance of his youth, when he was going to be a priest instead. He longed for glory on the battlefield though, and so he cast that aside and became the flamboyant Marshal and King! Sure, might’ve been turned into human rubber too, but he still liked it. The sun shined brightly on his face and his blue eyes, and his long flowy curly black hair he kept brushing. He sat on the window, his legs kicking outside it.
The room couldn’t say more, it was embroidered with gold, the floor was checked with blue and yellow, a dresser with many equestrian figures, hats, a bed with golden and red drapery over it, a closet with a flamboyant wardrobe, and a bright chandelier from the ceiling. There was a bookshelf too. A book shelf filled with…well…books, but games too. Board games, card games, stuff for entertainment, more equestrian statues, and his ribbon wand at the top. He took pride in that.
He was serene, peacefully brushing his hair. Looking down on his castle-palace and gazing at his kingdom and the shore.
In fact he was so serene to the point he didn’t even hear his Emperor and his own wife enter the room, and they hid behind a bookshelf.
“O’ Murat! O’ Murat! Let down your hair for everyone to gaze and praise!”
"What was that? Is someone calling me?!" He waited for a moment and when he did not hear a response he resumed. He didn't even bother to look behind himself. In ignorance of the world around him, he twirled his curly black locks in his own fingers and hummed to himself a tune. He scooted over and grabbed the frame of the window to pull his legs onto the windowsill.
"He truly is stupid, is he not?" Napoleon leaned in and whispered to Caroline.
"I assume that he thought that it was a voice in his head, or god. Whatever it is to him, he certainly knows of his beauty. " Caroline responded.
He rested his head on the frame and checked his nails. Uniform and straight. He laughed to himself and ruffled his hair, which somehow only seemed to make him look more beautiful. He leapt from the window into the comfort of the palace and sighed.
Napoleon and Caroline hid behind a nearby bookshelf, not that it was needed. Murat was a master in the art of fixating on himself when the time came. "Oh Murat, how beautiful you are, you're the most irresistible man in all of Europe!" He bragged to himself in a sing-songy voice. He danced and twirled around the floor and gracefully laid himself out on the ivory divan bed with drapery over it.
Napoleon cringed at the thought of enduring this scene for even a moment longer. He hushed his voice. "More like irresponsible...Caroline, it seems he's gone mad without you. How about you be a doll and surprise him, then I will come in and prank him!"
"You have not told me what we're going to do, though?"
"Oh, it is just a harmless prank. Just follow my lead and act normal. Don't you trust me, Caroline?" He gave her a reassuring smile. Caroline smiled as well, but with a visible hint of worry across her face.
She scooted from behind the large bookshelf and noisily waltzed through the room as if she'd just come in. Murat finally turned, looked around and shot up and his eyes widened in surprise. Caroline rushed closer and hugged her husband. It seemed Murat was overjoyed as well, and planted numerous kisses on her lips. Caroline eventually broke away and looked towards the Bookshelf.
Napoleon shuddered as he sat. He pointed toward the window. Caroline guided Joachim there and leaned over the ledge to see how much more beautiful the landscape was from this view. She looked left to the Man's direction and smiled. "I saw you sitting on the ledge earlier... uh, dear... " She trailed off as her brother crept behind him.
"Like this?" He pulled himself up onto the sill of the window and sat like he did before. "Caroline?"
Napoleon took hold of Murat's hair. He lost his balance and slipped off of the ledge of the large window. He yelped and kicked his legs and struggled. Caroline froze up. At this point, Murat was screaming and grabbing at his own hair and the man's hands for an inch of leverage. Napoleon could not keep himself from letting out a little laughter.
"Murat, have you seriously not considered stretching yet? Or even looking at who's doing this?" Napoleon laughed at the expense of the man and turned his gaze to Caroline who was petrified with fear. Murat finally outstretched his left arm to grasp the windowsill. He strained and lifted himself over the sill. He tumbled down to the floor.
"Napoleon, you…you---" He couldn't describe the rage he felt at the moment. He was drenched in sweat.
"Would you care for a drink?" Napoleon asked, but Murat’s expression was colder, a noticeable contrast to the once amused one. He bent down on one knee in a belittling manner. Joachim kneeled with a defiant stare. He didn't say a word, and that said enough to Napoleon. He planted a smack to his bearded cheek in anger. "Answer me! Answer me, you-!"
Tears welled up in Caroline's eyes. She threw herself infront of her kneeling husband and begged for mercy at his feet. This stunned Napoleon. It was unlike her to do so. It was pathetic, but admirable. He gazed outside to see the hazy white sky and luminous sunlight that penetrated the clouds. It seemed to Caroline, atleast, that the display of submission satisfied him. "How about we have tea?"
The couple looked at eachother. He took that as an absolute. Napoleon led as he happily skipped out of the King’s chamber, down the stairs and into the main hall. Murat's then red face had been especially drained of colour after the encounter. They were silent the entire way. Well, Napoleon was not. He greeted all that passed. He acted cheery and agreeable, as per usual. He was friendly and chummy to the servants, the fairies, courtiers, everyone.
“How is he even able to act like this..?” Murat thought to himself. Was he trying to kill him? No. But whatever the hell his idea of ‘pranking’ and fun was, it was off the rails. It was no different with Caroline, but she still had faith. “Just be happy! Be happy for big brother! He’s always watching..”
***
“This isn’t the tea I ordered!” Murat yelled.
They were in a garden. A very large one in fact. A meadow, and in the meadow was a small marble white table.
Fairies poured the tea from the kettle into 2 cups, which were also being held by fairies. One with the decorations of little horses and ribbons, another with a tiara and stars.
Meanwhile Napoleon had coffee instead. He was drinking from a plain old mug rather than drinking from a fancy little teacup. He always liked coffee, it was practically his lifeblood!
Caroline drank some sweet tea, and a slice of cake, a typical pastry..and meanwhile Murat had fruitcake along with some bitter tasting tea.
“Seriously! What the fuck is this shit!? I told you, I ordered-”
“Murat, of course you ordered this! You really are an imbecile aren’t you?” Sneered Napoleon.
“Well if I did, those bakers have to be real shit at their job.”
He was only met with more laughter from the two, and with that he stormed out. “Screw this, I’m out.”
And with that they went on with their conversation, and meanwhile Murat walked around the vast and expansive garden of the palace.
“Mindless giggling sheep..” Murat muttered to himself as he walked.
The garden itself was…something. While being a garden, lots of the local Neapolitans came here often. Unsurprisingly there were lots of people. The garden was filled with flowers, and children too. Parents accompanying their children, children looking and the floral sculptures and topiaries into all sorts of shapes, horses, lions, birds, anything really. The flowers were colorful and plentiful, with a wide variety from petunias to sunflowers. It was almost like every flower was there…And for whatever reason, there were tall ballerina sculptures with their long dresses decorated by flowers spinning. They just rotated…and rotated…all day long without a stop.
But then he spotted a little boy, somewhere around the age of 12 staring at it. And for whatever reason, he looked all…too….familiar.
“Achille? What are you doing-”
But before Murat could speak to him, the boy ran off into the bushes.
“Achille! Come back here! You’re in big trouble young man!” He yelled angrily. He grumbled as he ran into the bushes and got his hair all tangled up in the leaves and plants. He could still see his son though.
“Come back! Don’t think you can run away from your father like that!”
But he unlodged himself easily from his thorny and prickly prison, leaves and twigs were stuck in his now messy and tangled hair filled with knots. “One trip chasing after this rascal and now my hair’s ruined….” He grunted out. He was getting angrier and angrier. He tumbled as he freed his hair, but the view was surprising. His eyes widened and he blinked as he took in his brand new surroundings. An unfamiliar one.
A chaotic mess of roots, vines, and plants, a chaotic weave of knotted bark and branches alongside thorny vegetation. The path was narrow and damp, and Murat now had to find his son in this..messed up place. He.,..did not like it. For a man tidy and beautiful, to him it was hideous. He only became more irritated the longer it went on. He stumbled and watched each and every step he took in the narrow path, making sure he wouldn't tumble over or be injured. The path though only seemed to grow larger and longer, as if it would be an eternity you’d spend in there. But nothing lasts forever…and eventually, he stopped to catch his breath. He kept wondering if he should go back, and then…he was horrified.
His eyes widened in horror and mouth opened in shock as he screamed, “ACHILLE!”
His arms and legs went numb and still, he felt his blood coagulate and muscles tense, every part of him came to a lurching, stagnating, and brutal halt. “no..no…NONONO-”
***
“It's a real shame you have to go back home Napoleon.” Said Caroline as she accompanied Napoleon walking back to his carriage. She loved the time she spent with her big brother, and she was going to miss him dearly.
Murat stared at the two from afar, he was in the tall tower, his chamber. He looked unnerved, unsettled, uneasy, and he was all of those. He wanted to tell them so badly of what he saw. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, that little voice told him and commanded him not to. But he needed to, he had to. He waved at Napoleon leaving and he smiled.
And the little voice told him.
“Just keep smiling. Just. Be. Happy.”
Chapter 14: 14. Holes
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
Murat, Bessieres, Lannes, and Junot prepare for war on the horizon and go on a trip, but their training is more intense than they could’ve ever expected.
Chapter Text
The waves of the Mediterranean crashed against the ports of Toulon, and the cries and squawks of seagulls blared throughout the city. Church bells rang, and ships sailed. And along with the blaring cries of seagulls were the prideful and cheerful cries of Junot.
“Woo!!! Woo!!! Woohoo!!!”
“WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP!?” screamed an extremely enraged Lannes.
“Junot, this is no time to be fooling around,” said Bessieres.
Junot was having lots of fun with his new abilities lately and said his new ability was hydrokinesis. He’d just recently discovered it. Despite the incoming threat, he wasn’t taking it very seriously.
“Berthier told us that if you don’t get your act together, the Emperor is going to take away your baton.”
But Junot didn’t listen, he kept on getting more water, lifting it into the air and all sorts of shapes, and just to spite, splashing it on Lannes or an incoming seagull. Above all else though, this was training. This was preparation.
“Soil my clothes again one more time, I swear to god I’ll burn your face off!”
“Go ahead Donkey!”
“YOU ASKED FOR IT!”
But just about as he was about to charge, Bessieres blasted at him and froze his hands, and he did the
same with Junot. He froze his waves and his hands.
“I won’t hesitate to teach you two a very harsh and important lesson if you keep this up. We’re supposed to take this seriously. War is on the Horizon! THIS ISN’T A JOKE! ALL OF YOU!”
It was a harsh stern warning. A far cry from the usually relaxed and calm demeanor of Bessieres.
“Hello there.”
“Oh, hi Murat.” replied Bessieres. It didn’t take long for him to switch up completely with someone he adored. “If it isn't the master of the cavalry!....and ribbons?”
“Who says you can’t use both!?” He proudly exclaimed, pulling his ribbon wand from his jacket and flaunting it around. Bessieres had a hearty chuckle over that, in contrast to the other marshals he always found Murat’s antics extremely endearing. He was always endearing. He’d known him since childhood after all. The equestrian boy who rejected priesthood for glory!...and flamboyance.
“You’re always so funny Murat! Did you pra-?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I'm already prepared.”
“Well if you don’t mind…mind teaching those two a lesson over here? Given how you-”
“Of course I would!”
He walked up to the two in their icy prisons. “Looks like you’ll be dealing with me now..” He smugly sneered at them.
“You pompous fool..even my donkeys have more class than you.” Lannes furrowed his brow as he insulted him.
“Ok now! The first thing you two idiots need to do is to stop fighting with each other for once and take the preparation seriously. Before that…”
He fiddled with his ribbon wand, then he swung it around, pulled at the ice that trapped Junot and Lannes’ hands, and -SNAP-. Gone they were, they fell to the ground and instantly melted.
“Gosh, my hands feel numb..” Junot complained.
“Mine feels like they’re about to fall off…” Said Lannes. “I can see why our Emperor despises the cold now. He likes to boil like a carp in his baths. He always thrives in heat.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Asked Junot.
“ANYWAYS! Firstly, do not disturb me while I’m teaching. Understood! Shush!”
Junot and Lannes found him extremely condescending. But even the word “Condescending” would be a mere understatement. No, this was just him being his idiotic, prideful, and pompous self. He was rude, temperamental, and just outright and flat-out rude at times. Egocentric, a show-off, a “dancing dog” as Lannes liked to put it. He’d prefer being with his sheep at his maison than spend another minute with Murat. He’d rather hang out with the farm animals rather than a King or a fellow Marshal of the Empire.
“Second, focus on what I do…Firstly..”
“We don’t even have any dummies. Murat. What’s the use?” Lannes interrupted.
“I can always offer a bit of a challenge myself.”
“Oh? Really now?”
“Lannes, please don’t get riled up. This is a really bad idea-” But before Junot could finish, Lannes pulled out his Lance and changed at Murat anyway, completely disregarding Junot’s warning.
“YOU ASKED FOR IT SUCKER!”
But before he could light up his Lance with flames, Murat pulled him with his ribbons to the ground by his ankle and tripped him, slamming his head onto the concrete road. It stung and hurt badly, his head filled with aches. Blood poured out of his nose and spilled onto the stone of the road.
“Don’t overestimate yourself Lannes. You may be the most daring, but I’m still leagues ahead of you.”
Lannes just thought he was being an asshole, and of course, being full of arrogance and bluff. Junot just cowardly ran off in hopes of escaping Murat’s horrific wrath.
“Where did that cowardly idiot go? Junot!?” called Lannes.
“Why are you surprised Lannes? I’ll get him sooner or later either way.”
***
“For God’s sake Junot! Did you have to retreat like a coward?” yelled Murat as he slapped Junot’s face.
“I WASN’T GOING TO RISK GETTING BEATEN INTO A BLOODY PULP!”
“Well, you could’ve helped and defended me as he bashed my head onto the ground you dipshit!” Lannes shouted angrily at the top of his lungs. “You’re lucky we’re not on the battlefield yet! If you retreated that’d be desertion. You know how pissed Napoleon would get? He’d probably throw you into the water! Or worse!”
“Oh no, he wouldn’t.”
“He tore your head open and he can do it again!”
“I thought we guys agreed that we Marshals should get along from now on. Will you guys stick to your principles FOR FIVE MINUTES!?” yelled Bessieres.
There were the classic fights. They. Never. Stopped. But I suppose that’s what makes The Marshalate…well…The Marshalate.
“For you my-”
“Oh, you’re not so innocent either Murat!” Bessiers snapped back at Murat. “You’re part of this godforsaken problem too! Don’t expect me to be your white knight all the time just cause I’m your friend!
“Jean…I perfectly understand! I’m always trying to do the best I can. I want to avoid conflict as much as you do…”
“Bull. Shit. Absolute. Bullshit!” said Lannes.
“OI! I’M NOT TALKING TO YOU!”
“For Pete’s sake, I thought we agreed to not fight anymore.” Junot joined the argument.
“You’re part of the problem too. Ever since you became a Marshal you constantly have to brag about it and you’ve been a pain in the ass ever since!”
“Lannes..”
“DON’T ‘LANNES’ ME BESSIERES!”
“Guys?” Junot sounded more fearful to them. Unbeknownst to the other three, Junot looked to the other side and looked at the citizens, animals, and the city. Only…they were all still. Frozen in place like statues or mere decorations. Birds suspended in the air, not even flapping their wings, and so were the insects. But the waves still crashed against the shore, the wind blew by, and the sun still shined. Everything else other than the Marshals were dead silent.
“What are you looking…ah..” Murat trailed off. Bessieres simply stared at the sight before him. Lannes ran up to get a closer look. Everyone’s expression in the town was still, in fact, some didn’t even have expressions. Some didn’t even have faces, as if they were mannequins.
“Did the British do this!?” yelled Lannes
“Lannes, no. How would they be here?” replied Junot. “Not so early..”
“No! I’m certain! It’s begun! We-”
“I doubt it’s as simple as that.” Bessieres cut off Lannes. “I highly doubt……Junot. I want you to do something for us. Why don’t we sail on that boat over there? You can use your hydrokinesis to sail us both.”
“Bessieres do you even have an idea of where you’re going!? Just why!?”
“I don’t know..maybe a relief.”
“Then I’m on your side Bessieres!” proudly exclaimed Murat. “Now where shall our grand adventure take us!”
Bessieres heartily chuckled “Why on a trip to Saint-Mandrier!”
“Oh god..” Lannes murmured to himself. ‘Pompous fools..”
***
“Alright, turn us left. Wha-..No!”
“Bessieres. If someone just learned their power for the first time..”
“Oh, you can do perfectly well. Stop complaining. We’ve been out for over-”
“Half an hour Bessieres. Can’t you be patient? You said it’d take half an hour or 20 minutes to get there.”
“And you’re only making it worse by continuously ignoring my directions and instructions! You’re doing this on purpose aren’t you!?”
“Gee Bessi. Leave him the hell alone man.”
“Lannes, when have you ever bothered to care for Junot!?”
“It’s his first time. And It’s a large body of water, mind you.”
“Silence! Violent fool!”
“Shut up Murat!”
“No-” But Murat stopped and froze in terror. He turned around, walked to the bow and stood in horror. He looked below…He expected to see an ocean, or even land,
Only…there was no ocean or sky or land…
There was nothing at all, except a void. The black empty vacuum of space stared right back, littered with twinkling galaxies and stars.
“JUNOT!” Murat screamed. “TURN US BACK!”
“What’s all this ruckus for..” Lannes grumbled before looking at the void, and he let out a scream of fright. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!? SPACE!?”
Junot tried his hardest to control the water, and he moved them back. As they went back though, they spotted more holes along the way. The empty vacuum of space corrupting the world around them, The ship shook violently as Junot tried his hardest to push it back to mainland.
“DO YOU BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAID THE BRITISH ARE ONTO US NOW!?” Yelled Lannes.
“I’m certain that’s not the case. I saw it the other time in my palace..” said Murat.
“And you didn’t tell anyone? Not even Napoleon?” Bessieres was shocked.
“Well, my son was running around in the gardens..and..”
“He’s ok, right?”
“Yes, fortunately.”
“Thank god..” He breathed a sigh of relief.
The other two didn’t have time for a conversation. They needed to get back to land, and if they had to, fight whoever was causing all this chaos and ruckus.
“WE DON’T HAVE TIME! WE NEED TO GET BACK TO LAND!” screamed Junot at the top of his lungs.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone that you saw these!? You pompous arrogant fool!?” yelled an angry and confused Lannes. “Well thanks to you, we’re completely unprepared. Had you told someone we would’ve gone back sooner! But no! You’re a blundering moron who only cares about himself! You don’t care! We’re going to die!”
“And even in your last possible moments, you’re still immature! How humiliating and pathetic is that!?” Yelled Bessieres.
“I-I…I can’t hold this any longer.” Junot’s voice became increasingly strained and weary. He felt more..tired. He’d been overexerting himself for far too long now. His limbs ached and stiffened as they limped to his side. It wasn’t long till he fainted completely, and everyone went into a frenzy.
But as he passed out, Lannes caught him in his arms and attempted to resuscitate him. He placed his hand over his chest, no pulse.
“No..no..nononononoNONONONO! JUNOT! WHAT DO WE DO!? WHAT DO-..JUNOT! Wake up! WAKE UP!!! WE CAN’T LOSE YOU!” He bawled as he desperately attempted to resuscitate him. The world kept getting worse.
Clouds seemed to melt and warp in tumor-like shapes as the sky and sea blended and swirled with the empty vacuums of space. Everything merged into each other the first moment, then they were ripped apart the next. They were dissolved and broken.
“By god what do we do-”
Bessieres had no time to finish his thought. The world they knew so dear and loved was collapsing and falling apart at the seams. Everything deconstructed bit by bit, wood from the shipped was torn away and sucked into the swirling mass and maw of the dying world around them, pecks of skin, fabric, and hair too.
It. Was. Agony. Murat’s handsome figure bent and twisted, first it grew, then his limbs ached, then burnt and stung, then burnt with the heat of a thousand suns. Skin fused with raw red flesh and coated it like slime alongside his long black hair falling off.
“He-”
But it didn’t take long until he collapsed into himself and melted into a pile of twisted mismatched skin and flesh with mismatched steaming organs and viscera. He wasn’t dead…but it was agony. His teeth fell out and into his gooey flesh as his trachea, larynx, and lungs coalesced. His tongue melded into the floor of the mouth, and it scorched like the flames of hell itself. All he could produce now were wet gargles as tissue vibrates and goes into places it normally wouldn’t, and normally shouldn’t.
“MURAT?!” Bessieres screamed in disbelief. Before he could mourn though, the world collapsed in on itself, ending everything…
Well….not really.
***
The waves of the Mediterranean crashed against the ports of Toulon, and the cries and squawks of seagulls blared throughout the city. Church bells rang, and ships sailed.
The difference now is that the 4 marshals were washed up against the shore now. They all looked as if they were serenely sleeping. Murat got up first, his vision blurred at first, but then he could see the sun in the sky. He looked at the other marshals who weren’t awake just yet, “What was that?” He thought to himself. “It was so…painful. It couldn’t have been a dream. It definitely wasn’t a dream.” And he was right, it wasn’t. Junot got up next, coughing up water and gasping for air. “What happened?” Junot thought.
“Are you ok?” asked Murat. His voice was unsteady and fearful.
Junot turned to Murat, Murat was acting remarkably differently. Not pompous or mean…but kind. He was genuinely kind. He was scared, terrified. He never saw him like this yet….it was so familiar. It suited him.
The whole time he felt that something was missing from him, it was…off.
“I’m fine..”
Junot got up and brushed the sand off his hussar uniform.
“How are we-why are we even here? What's going on? I think the war started!” Murat became more fearful, more panicked, and to Junot, more human, more real.
“Murat…I kind of like you like this. More kind, more human, it suits you!”
“Wha..what?”
Murat touched his face in contemplation.
“I did feel something was wrong with me. Everything’s fine and I’m happy and my wife’s happy but-...something inside me is just wrong! I don’t know what! I don’t know what’s going around me!
“Jo?”
Jo? Murat and Junot turned to the source. Bessieres had woken up. He sat up and looked around, then at Lannes. “Oh no..” tears welled up in his eyes. “Oh Lannes!” He cried as he held him in his arms.
“You didn’t even check his pulse! Is he breathing?” Junot was unfazed. Then Lannes proceeded to wake up and was confused.
“Bessieres, why are you hugging me!? Why are you crying? What were all these holes?”
“J-Jean!?” Bessieres was in disbelief. “You’re alive I-”
“Oh stop being such a crybaby Bessieres!” He hugged him back.
“Three Jeans! One Jo! Whadya say, group hug?” Junot asked.
“If you say so..” Joachim was relieved, they all were. They had a group hug, and it was warm and happy. It was like never before. It was far deeper, and it was genuine.
Despite the hiccups they all had, they were friends, and most importantly, they were Marshals of the Empire.
Chapter 15: 15. Interruptions
Chapter by Treymoment
Summary:
A rudely interrupted conversation with the king; printing out propaganda; memory lapses and an empathetic story.
Notes:
HI GUYS IT'S TREY!!!!!!!
I wrote this chapter by myself, I hope you guys like it.
Chapter Text
"Eugh, I've lost my appetite!" Arthur Wellesley said lamely as he swatted away his hearty portion of pudding pie. A sudden idea popped into his mind, with no way to write it down..He quietly arranged bowls and loose papers in peculiar, yet orderly ways. His mouth stood agape, apparently at his masterpiece. His eyes widened and he looked up in surprise.
"What in gods name are you doing, Arthur?" The elderly George said, half concerned and half annoyed at the way he stole his bowl of food without the courtesy to ask first. He was amused.
"Do you not see this? I've finally a plan to destroy him! Napoleon, I mean." He got up from his seat and began to pace around the room like a madman. He muttered to himself quietly and snapped his fingers everytime he got a good idea. At least, that is what George observed.
"And by the way this 'meeting' is going i am sure you'll destroy yourself in the process." George pinched his temple. Wellington sped toward him and grabbed him lightly by his shoulders.
"I've got it!" He furrowed his brows in the bitter realization that he sounded deserving of bedlam in his mannerisms alone. Though It relieved him that George could not judge him too harshly given his own circumstances.
He cleared his throat and sat down at his chair. There few beats of awkward silence. "...What I meant was that I have realized the perfect scheme to defeat Napoleon. Imagine--the bowls are our infantry and the paper is Napoleon's. First, he will attempt to strike in some overconfident charge, and we will stop them by encroaching upon them on either sides, in other words, forcing them in place!" He said as he shifted the bowls, napkins and papers as if it was some deranged game of chess.
George looked at him as if he had the head of a horse and grabbed back his teacup. "So, this is it? How do you know exactly what he would do?" His old features scrunched up in utter amusement.
He thought for a moment. How did he know Napoleon's plans? That was a question he could not answer with silverware.
"Look, i-if I am wrong we will just retreat." He says confidentally.
George spat out the now room temperature tea that he previously retrieved from Wellesley's adamant grasp. "No one plans to retreat, they just do so. Well, Cornwallis certainly set an example of that."
'Cornwallis chased, then surrendered..are you mad?' Is what he almost said before he realized he was speaking to the king and had good sense. "It is not the time to reminisce about our lost colonies, George. Besides, what do you know of war?"
"I did no such thing!" The elderly man upturned his head obnoxiously in a mocking tone.
"It is not your call.." His words came to a sudden halt. A white bird with accents of blue and red suddenly smashed into the window and shattered the glass with an egregious sound, presumably out of thin air. It materialized, somehow. He sputtered and spat to try and come up with a conclusion to what happened but to no avail. He approached the animal.
"What on Earth?" Arthur said as he inspected the bird. It was obviously dead, he could tell by the blood that pooled around its sides and stained the shattered glass. George cleared his throat. He was disgusted, both of them were. But he was more indignant than confused if anything.
"Do you mind to tell me what just happened?" George said, still sitting nonchalantly at the table. By the grace of god, why is his voice not more urgent?
***
"We need more of this." He said, pointing to a rather large engraving of a scrawny man, labeled France, being defeated by a bigger, more muscular opponent labeled Britain.
"No need, sir, we've already printed 500 copies" The male said confidentally.
Arthur stood up to accentuate his point further. He tapped on the pamphlet that held the drawing. "I mean we must propagate more. The people do not need to just resent France, they need to hate it." This is war after all.
After the young man left his office, a bold ringing invaded his ears. He cursed himself and humbled himself to his elliptical desk. He tried to write a letter to pass the time but his vision went into a haze each time he tried to focus and after a few tries and much spilled ink that covered each sheet he tried to conquer, he gave up. He shut his eyes tight and held his head in his hands for what he could swear was a moment.
But when he opened his eyes, it was night. Darkness as black as pitch. He couldnt have slept that long. That was impossible, he didnt eeven remember going to sleep. He had the work done, even drew out the plan for a battle as well as the missives penned...Was it possible that his memory had lapsed? No, no. This must be some odd dream. He held his hand up to his own face, scanned it and pinched it to try to wake himself up. He leaned into the leather of his seat.
He could not tell a soul about this, for they would call him mad and then he wouldn't be able to defeat the over-powerful French, he thought. Then came a newer bout of ringing, this time everytime he dared to move his head. He did not even have the strength to go to his chambers to properly rest. He laid his head down onto his desk and drifted off to sleep.
When the morning came, he tasked himself with a new duty: to properly prepare the soldiers for whatever came their way. He attempted to chalk up the events of yesterday to just a lapse in memory and a weird coincidence and tried to forget about it but it still lingered in his mind. In addition to the blatant denial, he properly fed himself, appetite or not.
He called for routine checks on priming and loading. So much infact that gossip had spread that he was paranoid of the french encroaching someday and his soldiers not being able to defend themselves from the heap of fire that was Napoleon's empire. This, of course, was a half truth. He was not paranoid, he thought, but in his own words "hypervigilant".
"Sir Wellesley?" A man approached. "I've a young soldier who is extremely shaken up due to some 'disastrous events' this morning accompanyed by another soldier who is no where to be found. We assumed he was just another weak deserter. He refused to tell us, and so we saw it fitting to tell you."
"Bring him to me."
"Of course."
He looked quite scared and scarcely relaxed. Arthur hastened to speak of what took place.
"What exactly happened, boy? Leave no detail untold." He was serious and straightforward but tried to extend his kindness to the obviously petrified soldier.
"We'd get in trouble." He looked down as if ashamed.
"You will not. This is life or death! I'll have you court martialed if you do not speak up." He slammed his fist on the table. It was atleast urgent enough to him to snap. He saw the man's mouth twitch up before he finally spoke.
***
...The two deserters walked throughout the large, desolate forest behind the camp. A cold rush of air blew past them. The two left half of their resplendent red uniforms a half of a mile ago, he thought. His guns were there as well. They were left unprotected, alone. Yet it was better than fighting in the wretched war. He did not know where he was heading. He knew they could not leave on the roads for there was a risk of being caught by a fellow soldier and court martialed for deserting.
They saw it fitting if they took a break. He leaned his back against the trunk of a large tree. His friend, out of sight, was stretching behind a nearby tree. His legs were aching quite badly. He heard a sound. It was like the world around them was being sucked into a portal. He could swear it got louder...Or closer? He froze with confusion and soon in terror.
The other man attempted to speak to him, but it was drowned out by the harsh noise no matter how much he strained his ears.
From the heavens was a blinding light that assaulted his eyes. The vacuum-like sound was soon replaced by staticky screams. They were low and agonizing to the ears. When he could move, he lost sight of his friend completely. The light was gone. Nothing. He ran back to the camp in hysterics...
***
"That is it?" Arthur prodded. "Was there.. Any change in time between when you weren't able to move and when you were? At all?"
He muttered softly, shifting his weight on his heels. "I-i do not know, Sir."
"Think! Was there anything different?" He focused.
"Yes, yes, I guess the sky darkened a little.. Maybe an hour passed?"
"I see, young man. I shall not bother you any further. Do not speak of this encounter to anyone else and I assure you'll be safe." Arthur said, rushing him away.
This tale cleared his further suspicions of there being any rational reason to his experiences. There has been a malignant force brewing, even before war was declared. How shall he train them for these mysterious forces without giving all of the soldiers a reason to desert? Anti invasion training could work.
And there he sat in his office, with only himself to consult.
Chapter 16: 16. Confrontation
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Chapter Text
“I don’t think I ever recalled the night sky being so… rainbow-filled, especially at night.” Muttered Murat, holding his head down as he led the group to the entrance of the Tuileries Palace. The moon shined brightly, so bright that it had a rainbow halo over it…which was…..odd. There was certainly no snow out, only the spinning rainbow stars of the Night Sky and other celestial bodies. Everyone had seen the rainbow night forever, so why did it feel so weird?
“Do you not think it’s weird at all Lannes? I never wanted to say it to you…but…..you’re the most different person.” Said Murat.
“Huh?” Lannes was confused. He was even offended by Murat’s remark about him. “Now hold your horses…!” Lannes immediately got defensive, right before Bessieres shushed him. And…where was Junot?
“Gosh, where did Junot go?” Asked Lannes…before he heard drunken laughter and singing.
On a field of grass next to the Arc du Carrousel, a group of fairies were dancing around of ring of white glowing mushrooms lit up by the moonlight and stars above, Junot in his drunken state of mind just so happened to disturb and join them in their fairy song. They all sang in unison.
“At night, when the men are asleep. The moon and stars light up for us. We rove and dance and sing. All of us are bright with joy! At night, when the men are asleep. We seek the fairy ring. And in the pale moonbeam, We rove about and sing and joyfully dance a dream!.”
“Hey! I heard of that poem before…wasn’t it written by Goethe?” Bessieres asked as he looked at Murat.
“I didn’t know you liked German Literature. I must wonder what other songs they sing.” Murat replied.
“Funny that a song about fairies dancing when the men are away have their song interrupted by a drunken Marshal.” sneered Lannes as he stomped his way to Junot and pulled him by the ear, who in response let out cries of pain and drunken confusion. “I should’ve never shared my drink with you when we went to that bar on the way here..cmon Junot!”
They walked up to the door of the Palace and knocked. The door was opened, and they were greeted by the cheery smile of Bourrienne. “Greetings! Come inside!” The group walked inside.
The hall of the Palace was perfectly symmetrical, decorated with marble, gold, silver, mirrors, glass, and even radiant gemstones like opals and diamonds. The floor was perfectly smooth with marble. The ceiling was decorated with paintings, and extravagantly bright chandeliers hung from the ceilings. It was beautiful. Almost too beautiful. It was almost impossibly perfect, impossibly clean. The emerald green of the plants along the way heavily contrasted with the rest of the Palace, it was…beautiful.
It was uneasy. It was like the group was in a place they didn’t belong, even Bourrienne felt slightly uneasy. As they went further down, in between the chandeliers were strange disks on the ceiling. “Suns” with 26 red rays, white centers, and a dark bluish-purple inner circle. It almost looked like an eye. It almost looked like it constantly had their eyes on them.
Bourrienne never remembered the Tuilleries looking like this. When he served Napoleon during the consulate, it was never this…colorful, never had these suns, and never was this… sumptuous. Even when he became Emperor, even when……
It didn’t matter. He could make anything to his will, he was the Emperor after all. If he wanted something to be perfect, so be it be perfect. In his eyes, everything must be perfect. He must be perfect. His childhood friend, who was also his secretary was also no exception. The fairies were supposed to be role models for the girls and women of the Empire. The Marshals also had to maintain a model of perfection, all of them did. If anything, they were under the greatest pressure. They had to be role models for the men and boys of the Empire. If it’s for the sake of perfection, he’ll do anything to pursue it. He was the embodiment of it.
“Have you ever wondered where the other Marshals were?” Asked Lannes to Junot. “Y’know…Marmont? Davout? Massena?”
“Lannes, they’re doing perfectly fine.” Chimed in Bessieres. “They’re fighting too. Probably dealing with the remaining Irasomas or training cadets and making battle plans…as usual.”
Lannes was slightly off-put. Marmont? Davout? He didn’t know where they were. He didn’t know Bessieres was in contact with them. “What about Soult-”
“The others are all doing wonderful!” Junot broke in. He had a wide, forced, unsettling grin.
“Ok, Junot! Stop that!”
“But it’s a fact! No?”
“Well, you don’t have to necessarily be so creepy.”
“Speak of the devil,” said Murat. “Davout and his friend Marshal Desaix are right over there.”
“Desaix? Marshal Desaix?” For some reason Lannes became increasingly more frightened.
Lannes grew increasingly perplexed. “When…hold on. He isn’t a marshal…what is he doing over there? And..” Lannes only ever became more and more confused. Was his mind pulling tricks on him? No. He wasn’t mistaken.
“Desaix isn’t supposed to be here.”
“...Sorry?” said Junot.
“Lannes! Stop messing around!” Bessieres slapped him in the face.
“Knock it off Bessieres.” Murat came to his defense.
“When did you ever defend him?!” Bessieres yelled angrily at Murat.
“Well, we need to be more consistent. We almost DIED over there! In Toulon! I thought you said we wouldn’t fight!” Murat harshly snapped back at Bessieres.
“Hold on? You almost died?” Bourrienne was mortified as he heard. “How!?”
“Go scram you two!” Yelled Junot, and then he went back to smiling and talking with Bessieres. “We should check up on Davout and Desaix!”
Bessieres smiled back at him. “A great idea!”
Bourrienne felt uneasy at the whole idea, but he kept on smiling. “If that’s what you want to do! And then we’ll go see Napoleon!”
***
Lannes and Murat stayed silent the whole time they walked through the Tuileries Gardens. The vibrant flowers glowed and swayed, and the fairies performed their fairy song as they did with the fairy ring. Some were even tending to the plants, others were cadets being trained. It felt uneasy, it was the evening after all.
“I thought Desaix…wasn’t..”
“I feel that way too. And since when was he a Marshal? I’m sure he’s been around for awhile but….no, no no, no…..definitely not.”
Lannes looked up at Murat in surprise. “You do?”
“I don’t know if it's a false memory…maybe someone else was causing these events…or…maybe the British or another enemy is attacking. Maybe it's just-”
“NO!” Lannes snapped and screamed. “SOMEONE HAS TO BE BEHIND THIS! SOMEONE IS ONTO US!” Lannes materialized his Lance, and the point burnt and lit up with fire. It glowed with rage and heat. He prepared to attack. “I’ll hunt whoever is causing this! And when I do…I’LL KILL-”
“Lannes put that away. We shouldn’t act so fast right now.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN!? SOMEONE HAS TO-”
“Just trust me. We’re preparing for war, there’s more important things to work on.”
Lannes stammered and tried to rebuke his claim, but..he was somewhat right. There could be a secret enemy causing this. Right now, they had to fight the British. He dematerialized it and kept walking with Murat.
“Do you not think it’s weird that he seemingly wanted to investigate something?” Asked Lannes.
“You mean Bessieres?”
“Yeah, and he was the one who got us to go on the trip. It was his idea. He also wanted to see something. He wanted to…”
“And where are you going with this?”
“Well, now Bessieres is all…strange. First, he wanted to search then he’s all jumpy and wants to keep anything in the dark sort of, like with Desaix. It’s almost forced. It’s like he’s being controlled.”
Murat froze in place. He was incredibly uneasy. The thought of someone controlling his friend was incredibly unsettling. To think that his friend’s words, actions, and thoughts were not of his own sent shivers and chills down his spine. That also meant he could be controlled, that his thoughts were not of his own. It could be Lannes, Junot, Davout, Caroline, it could be anyone being controlled. But who?
Murat then turned to Lannes who was looking above. He was casually whistling and walking. Murat became horrified and rushed.
“LANNES! WATCH OUT!”
Lannes jumped back and Murat’s arms restrained his arms. He looked down, and he saw a deep black hole with colorful bright rainbow shards dancing and cascading around it. But it instantly disappeared as they both looked down.
“Thank god you didn’t die!” Murat breathed to calm himself down. He was genuinely relieved. Lannes was too, he never expected Murat to save him. It was out of the blue, so unfamiliar, yet it suited Murat perfectly. A kind Murat felt right. A concerned and protective Murat felt more natural rather than the flamboyant two-dimensional character he displayed in public.
“Thank you..” He heaved as he caught his breath.
Murat looked down at Lannes and freed him. “Are you alright?”
“I'm fine..”
They both were equally terrified. “Seriously, we need to talk to Napoleon about this. I’m not risking you getting into trouble here, so I’ll talk to him for you-”
But just as he was about to finish his sentence. Someone called out both their names.
“Murat! Lannes!”
They turned around and saw Ney walking towards them.
“There you are!” Ney was smiling and tired. He’d looked all over the place, and he was glad that he finally found the two. He was even beginning to become worried. “What are you doing here? I’ve been looking for you! Napoleon told me to get you guys.”
“Uhm…why?”
“Well, it was for a very important meeting! We already discussed the plans though. After we all have tea then he’ll talk to you guys more.”
The two glanced at each other and nodded, then smiled at Ney. “We’ll go!”
***
“And here we are-! Wait..where’s Napoleon?” Ney was a bit surprised.
The room, like anything else was filled to the brim with with gold and red, with many resplendent and iridescent decorations. There were lots of chairs, tales, and a bookshelf and map to the side.
“Oh, Lannes. You missed the best part, he was getting to the real scary stuff about the ghost story.” Said Junot as Murat and Lannes walked into the room with Ney. He didn’t even bother to greet them both.
“You’re not even going to greet them first?” Davout glanced at Junot disappointedly. “At least say hello to them first.” He had a stern and stoic look on his face. It almost looked like he was always angry. He always had that scrunched-up face covered by glasses. He always looked so serious for some reason.
“Ok, egghead. Hello Lannes and Murat!” He replied in an ingenuine and overly cheery voice.
“Now that’s just blatantly fake,” Davout replied sternly.
“Where’s Desaix and Bessieres?” asked Murat.
“Hanging out in the other room over there. They have a lot in common. I never knew that.”
“Murat! Come here!” Waved Berthier from a corner of the room.
Murat glanced at Lannes, giving him a wink and gesture before heading towards Berthier. “Alright…So here is where the cavalry will stay…” Berthier pointed to a spot on the map as he trailed off.
Before Lannes could take another step, he felt a set of hands trail across his shoulder, then covering his eyes. Followed by the familiar brassy and happy teasing voice.
“Who’s here?” Said the voice in a playful sing-song manner.
“A silly Corsican obsessed with Math and Julius Caesar who just so happens to be Emperor of the French and is my Best Friend?”
“Bingo!” The hands released the eyes, Lannes turned around and was…startled. It was still the same Napoleon.
Only…
Only he was, very slightly, but a tiny bit paler.
Only he had very small cracks forming around him as if his face was a worn-out mask.
Only his grey-blue eyes seemed darker.
Only his hair was a tiny bit darker.
“HOLY-...Napoleon!?”
“Did you think I was someone else?’ He chuckled. “Don’t worry! I’m still me!”
Lannes felt extremely uncomfortable, uneasy, a bit scared even. It may have been a stretch, but that was how he was feeling.
“Lannes? Are you alright? We can talk in private if you’d like.”
“Jesus…I wonder what’s this about…” Davout groaned as he put his hand over his face.
“Davout, mind your own business. I’ll get some coffee for us two-”
Lannes raised a palm. “No thank you.”
“But you must! This is very valuable you know…How would you make them feel?”
“I said-”
“You have to!”
Lannes reluctantly sighed. “Alright! Alright! Fine! I’ll have it.”
“Thank you.”
***
The room was dimly lit by the twinkles of the night sky. There was little to no sound, the only sounds being the faint ticking of a mantel clock on a table and the clinking and clanking of silverware.
Nothing else really seemed to glow, it was still opulent, but it just felt off…It didn’t matter.
Napoleon waited patiently, his eyes unblinking and fixated on Lannes’ face as he sat there and waited for him to produce a word. He tapped on his mug filled with coffee. He was losing his patience.
“Go on then.”
Lannes took a breath and steeled his nerves.
“It’s not concerning the battles…I’m here to talk about something else. You see when we were in the south training and preparing ourselves for battle…we spotted…interruptions. Like, for example, stuff randomly kept freezing, and not to mention we almost die-”
“Sorry? You almost died?”
“Well we went on a boat trip, and we spotted some….holes….voids more accurately voids. They-”
“What are you talking about?” He cut him off and raised a palm. His voice was unnervingly calm, Lannes would expect him to be a bit apprehensive and angry, but instead, it was monotonous. He was probably fed up more than anything. Surely Bessieres and Junot must’ve talked to him and told him what happened. His expression read more like that of someone who was mildly irritated. It seemed more like someone was telling a false story to him rather than a legitimate concern he was hearing.
“Bessieres and Junot must’ve told you!”
“Oh, they did. They said it was wonderful. I’m very proud of you all. Whatever you’re talking about seems to be nothing more than some joke you want to bluff about. I’m almost certain it didn’t happen, Junot and Bessieres never even mentioned it once. If they had been along with you and had known about this, they certainly would’ve told me. They didn’t, and I’m certain they don’t even remember such. Probably because of some flights of fancy, you came up with while you were with that Buffoon Murat.”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?” Lannes was in utter disbelief. Certainly, they had to remember, they had to. Was someone controlling this? Was someone behind all this? He needed his friend to help, he could deal with this. He was the Emperor, he had the power, and he’d have the power to relinquish this beast.
But no, instead what he got was his own friend, the very man he’d known since the Italian campaign was now berating and shaming him. He denied it and attacked him.
“You’re imagining things Lannes” He spoke in a monotone, calm, and unsettlingly relaxed voice. His expression was still as stone, a furrowed brow that would suggest anger, but at most he must’ve been mildly inconvenienced. “You most likely came up with this with Murat for all I know. We have a battle on the horizon. I cannot allow this to happen. I’m sorry. I can’t just occupy myself with false matters. Every day Lannes. Day and night, night and day, moon and sun, I have to occupy myself with ruling an Empire that spans all of continental Europe. I have to make laws, and on top of that, I’m a military commander who has to lead armies. There hasn’t been a warrior monarch in centuries. I have to deal with all this. And right now, you’re making this harder. I have to sit here with you and listen to you go on about some myth you created. You’re preventing me from talking about really important matters. Not made-up fairytales.”
“Napoleon, I’m not even joking. Seriously! You have to believe me! I’m not making this up! I’m not lying to you! Please!”
“You’re my friend Lannes. You still insist on this. I can’t believe I have to sit here and listen to this. Why? Do you think this is funny?”
‘Napoleon you’re just deceiving me! YOU DID THIS!”
Napoleon’s eyes widened in response. In all honesty, he genuinely didn’t know what he meant. He did talk to Junot and Bessieres, and they talked about training and boat trips, but nothing out of the ordinary. To him, Lannes was simply getting desperate. The silence broke, and out came laughter.
“WHAT’S SO FUNNY NAPOLEON!? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?” He was distressed, to him it was a cruel, mocking and wicked. “STOP DECIEVING ME! STOP IT! STOP IT!”
The laughter died down, and in its place was a blank expression. He just stared down at him.
“You….Do you somehow think I’m in charge of this? I don’t know!” Suddenly it was replaced by panic and dread. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know what’s going on! You think I’m somehow in control of some… reality-warping hullabaloo when I…do you believe that? Do you really believe me? Napoleon Bonaparte, your own friend…is…..”
He trailed off. He looked at his trembling hands and placed one hand over his upper arm. Then he laughed, a laugh of disbelief..and nervousness. It even seemed more genuine, more…real.
“Do you believe that? That I’m just some sort of..eheh….monster?”
“W-what?”
“...This conversation serves no purpose anymore.” He went back to his stern, robotic, cold, and stoic demeanor, The change in voice and expression that fast was…more than unsettling.
“Napoleon, wait.”
“This no longer serves any purpose.”
But he was abruptly cut short when Lannes held his hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
He only blankly stared at Lannes for a moment, then smiled…as he did though, the cracks on his face grew larger.
Lannes didn’t want to trouble him any longer, so he hugged him. It was..tender, yet off. Lannes could only think, “I was the one in distress though…”
They shared an embrace…and everything was now perfectly fine….for now at least.
Chapter 17: 17. A little bit of advice
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
We travel back in time to the times of Brienne. We learn about the friendship of Napoleon and Louis de Bourrienne! And…how a simple wish came to be.
Kudos, comments, and feedback as well as criticism is very much appreciated.
Chapter Text
It was a bright summer day out.
The date was August 2nd, 1782, and a hot summer day in Brienne military school at that. Birds sang, church bells rang, and children hung outside.
They played with balls, played pretend, tag, you can get the idea. Boys aged 9 to 16 would attend the prestigious Military School of Brienne to learn to become great soldiers for the Kingdom of France. If you were a noble, you’d surely succeed. That was what it was based on. It’d been like this for many centuries now. As long as you were the child of a noble or aristocratic family, you’d get all the benefits, if you weren’t aristocratic, even if you were extremely skilled, tough luck.
Despite its radiant and elegant facade and reputation, despite what it seemed, let’s just say the conditions were the complete reverse of that. Some were even used as ‘nymphs’, whether it’d be students or teachers doing so. It was hell from the inside.
“Hey, straw-in-nose! Whatcha reading?” said a boy and his other friend under a tree. Sitting under a tree was a tiny little boy with long messy brown hair, sickly tannish yellowish skin, and sky blue-grey eyes. He was focused on a book he was reading, beside him was another stack of books. He tore off leaves off the ground and bark from the trees with his other hand to give himself some stimulation.
Another boy moved behind the reading one, in response he moved away and hid.
“My my, aren’t we in an unfriendly mood today BUONAPARTE!” Said the one from behind, emphasizing his foreign pronunciation and imitation.
“Al Jabr…Alexander’s conquest of Persia…Caesar’s conquest of Gaul…Aren’t you terribly conscientious about your studies? Did the supervisor allow you to take it away from school grounds?”
“Bremond, pretty sure he wasn’t allowed. Guess we’ll have to tell the monks and watch him have a tantrum and go around biting and scratching everything in sight as he usually does. He’s just a mangy, rabid little dog from Corsica!”
There was no response. He’d gone mute.
“Looks like sir straw-in-nose lost his voice! Are you deaf?”
He looked up at him, shot a glare, and blinked, then went back to reading.
“Oh Dufour, look at how terrifying he is. I’m shaking in my boots at the moment!” Bremond mocked.
He only blankly stared at the two mocking him. Again, he did not speak a single word.
“It’s a bit rude to not speak when someone’s talking to you. No?” Asked Dufour.
“But he’s a dog! Of course, rabid dogs don’t speak! Hasn’t been speaking for a couple of days now in fact.” sneered Bremond.
“Oh! Right! And we all know what happens to dogs that bite! Do we?”
“They get taught a lesson and get humbled!”
Dufour took the stack of books away from him and held it up in the air so he couldn’t reach it. Instantly he leapt up and tried to catch it, putting the book he was currently reading on the ground. Bremond grabbed it and threw it. “Fetch!” He threw it in the mud, and the other books soon followed. They laughed joyfully, they were having a great time! They threw stones at the poor boy to add insult to injury.
Abruptly the boy growled and fiercely attacked him. He screeched and screamed, even ‘barking’ like a dog. His feral gaze pierced into their eyes, and he clawed and attempted to masticate into them.
“Bad dog! BAD DOG!” Dufour smacked at him. They all entered a vicious brawl. A tangle of limbs, tooth, and nail, fang and claw. “WATCH IT!”
Other children heard the commotion and watched it. They laughed and jeered at the little Corsican.
“Straw-in-Nose! Straw-in-nose is fighting again! Ahahaha!”
“The poor Corsican dog is being tormented! How tragic!”
“FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!”
Barrages of laughter, cheers, and mockery erupted from the children in the audience as the brawl between the 3 became more brutal. Skin and clothing were torn, blood poured out, knees scraped, hair pulled and ripped out. Whatever rule there was in the book of honorable combat, the 3 broke a dozen times over.
It was becoming more intense. Shockingly, despite his small stature, he was ferocious and tenacious. He was determined to make them pay.
It was cut short by a monk dressed in long robes and modest clothing pulling the Corsican by the ear and yanking his hair. His eyes looking at him with a furious glare, he responded with the same. The monk whipped his Cane on the ground.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING BONAPARTE!?” The monk glanced at the books in the mud, and then at the bruised boys.
“HE THREW THOSE BOOKS IN THE MUD! WHEN WE TOLD HIM TO PUT THEM BACK HE ATTACKED US!”
He turned his eyes back to the boy he was yanking by the hair and dropped him. “ON YOUR KNEES BONAPARTE!”
“In my family, we only bow down to God!”
The laughter grew louder, and with a hard, loud, and painful, THWIP! He caned him. What followed were several more insults, wails of pain, and more hits.
***
“Shhh…shhhh…shhh..”
Louis de Bourrienne, dressed in his blue school uniform, with red cuffs and lines on the coat and silver buttons, as standard for everyone in the school, comforted the little boy. The Dormitory doorway was blue and furnished with intricate carvings and the fleur-de-lis. The room had 10 cubicles, and each had a bed with a bran mattress and blankets. There were a few wooden chairs, a window with a curtain letting in the glow of the stars and moonlight, and a cupboard on which a jug and wash basin stood. On the bed the boy and Bourrienne were on, there was a cross over it. None of the other cubicles had one.
Louis gently rocked Napoleon like a mother would do for her infant. He was battered, covered in brutal bruises and red marks throughout his body from head to toe. He was calming down. In the distance, they heard two men speaking.
“Did that Corsican scoundrel get in trouble again?”
“..yes. He doesn’t give any of us a break. He’s a feral dog. An animal. He should be rotting in the streets and thrown away like the trash he is. At least the other boys are more obedient.” he sighed. “I had plans to bed one of the boys, have fun like we usually did, and pleasure ourselves. No, instead we have to deal with that nuisance.”
“He’s such a bother..” their voices faded as they walked off. They were very annoyed.
“Bonaparte, please don’t listen to them.” He gently comforted him as he laid him down on his stomach on the bed and tucked him in. He ruffled and patted his head, trying his hardest to soothe him. He was miserable, he knew the hellish conditions of the school and he felt deep sorrow in his heart. He was probably silently crying.
“If you don’t want to talk about anything I-”
He hid himself away with the blankets.
“Now now…don't be such a shrinking violet. Come on out my little violet!”
He just let out a noisy grumble and ignored him.
“You haven’t even been speaking for a while now! You’re always so shy and nervous. You’re a little smartie too, they’re just jealous.”
He tugged the blankets away from him and gave him a teasing smile.
“Cmon out..cmon out..” He smiled, his brown eyes looking into Napoleon’s blue-grey ones.
Napoleon came on out….but, there was no crying. Instead, he had a flustered look on his face. He let out a few breathy giggles, his eyes squinting as he blushed and smiled. He held his arms wide open for a hug.
“Napoleon?”
He laughed some for, and he hid his face in embarrassment. He was bashful. He really liked him. Louis though was worried. Did he have a fever? Was he alright? What was going on?
He laughed and embraced him in a warm hug. He was caught off-guard by the sudden display of affection and happiness. Then, he started to catch on.
“Oh? Do you have a crush on me? You’re becoming a Nancy boy!” He playfully teased him. He panicked and hid under the blanket again. “I thought you didn’t like them. It's always the ones who pretend to be against them the most turn out to be the people who are the most passionate! What do you know? And there goes back the shy violet shrinking back into its blanket!”
“STOP! STOP!”
He tried to find him under the blanket, and he tickled and played with him.
“Ahahahaha!” He emerged once again from the confines of his fuzzy enclosure and tickled his armpits and stomach, and in turn, Louis gently brushed the tip of his finger against his skin and tickled his neck. Laughter and joy spread throughout the room and they continued to fight and play. They were having fun after a long and hard day.
“Will that moron Bourrienne shut up!?” Shouted an angry voice from next door.
“Then he wonders why no one's in the same room as him and his dog!” followed by an exasperated sigh.
“Huh?” He blinked. He stopped suddenly. He sat up with his legs crossed hearing the exasperated sighs from next door and fits of sniffles. He looked away from Napoleon and focused his attention on the wall, he pressed his ear against the wall to get an idea of what they were saying. Needless to say, he wasn’t impressed.
“Gee, what do they have against us? We never did anything to them. Mom always told me about treating people how you want them to treat you. The golden rule, y’know? My father and brothers do it and they get all the attention! When I’m kind they’re just flat-out rude! It’s not fair! I wanna go home!” He crossed his arms and pouted. When he turned to Napoleon, he was shocked. He lowered his head, his eyes glaring, and fixated on the cross over the bed. He had an angry and horrible frown, eyes limp, hair messy and going around his face even. He spoke quietly with resentment and cynicism.
“The boys here are unhappy. They need someone more unhappy than they are to feel better about themselves. If they do find someone more happy, then they'll drag them to the same level…They’re nothing more than pathetic crabs imprisoned in a bucket. They see a crab crawl out; they'll drag them back in. If the monks see a flower grow taller than the rest, they’ll chop it down to keep it in line. This is what Brienne is. A prison. A hellscape”
“Well…that’s certainly the choice of words. Considering it's the first time you’re speaking in…uhm…I haven’t heard you speak in a couple days for sure-”
Napoleon raised a palm, and Louis blinked in response before sighing. “Fine..what’s this gloom and doom all about?”
Napoleon shuddered, his hands trailing over the cross on the wall. Then, with loud creaks, he started to pull it out. “Napoleon! What are you doing!?” He was caught off-guard.
“I came here in hopes of becoming great like Caesar and Alexander. My weak-willed father wanted it to be this way. But who cares what he thinks? When your father is more devoted to some random country that invaded theirs. When he goes from a proud Corsican patriot and soldier to a weak-willed French noble who leaves his family behind to gamble our money away, we always have to stay on the good side. But I’ll make them pay….every single one of them. Every single one of those WRETCHED FRENCH!”
With a sudden loud -POP-! From the walls and the groan of the strained wall and cross, it broke free and Napoleon grasped it in his hands. He gripped it tightly and hopped off the bed, stumbling over to the window. Then he looked at the cross.
“Napoleon! Don’t!”
“The cross stands still on the walls of this prison. I pray to the cross every day when I wake up and fall asleep. Mother makes me go to the Church, and she tells me he loves me. God always watches me and you all the time, but his face is always as cold stone. But if he loves me like she tells me, then why do I feel so all alone? Why can’t I have a friend or voice to comfort me? Why does Mother yell and scream at me? Why do the boys hate me for who I am? Why does she hurt me? Why does father leave me?... When I hear the sermons and listen they say the men of great antiquity like Caesar and Cato burn in hell. And I’m scandalized…no…enraged to hear that the men of great antiquity burn in hell for a religion they’ve never known! It’s all A LIE! IT’S FAKE!” He screamed and yelled.
“Napoleon! Please! Calm down!”
“CALM DOWN!?” He snarled as he bore his teeth. “YOU BOYS ARE STUPID! YOU’RE THE ONES WHO THINK OF ME AS AN ANIMAL! YOU FRENCH ARE THE ONES WHO THINK I AM NOT HUMAN!” He faced the window and opened the curtains. He gazed in awe and wonder into the constellations and stars shining in the sky. He loved stars, he wanted to be like them. They brought him at ease. He felt slightly calmer. But that faded away as now all he could see was red.
“Napoleon! Stop this! Stop acting like you’re a martyr!”
“You really wanna know who’s not human? YOU KNOW WHO ISN’T HUMAN? DO YOU KNOW WHO ISN’T HUMAN!?”
Louis was genuinely terrified as he huddled in the corner of the room. He covered his ears. The shrill, miserable, and furious scream erupted in the room.
“PEOPLE LIKE YOU!!!”
He hurled the cross out of the window and out into the open, never to be seen again, The wind from outside blew into the room. Glass shattered and clamored to the ground. It was loud and harsh combined with the shrill scream he roared out. It echoed through the room and reverberated through the walls and halls.
“Stop! Stop! Make it stop!” Louis pleaded. He shut his eyes from the sight and shielded his eyes. Tears streamed down his face as he continually repeated. “Stop! Stop! STOOOP!”
He gazed in awe at the stars in the night sky and the constellations. It was beautiful, then, he climbed over the window and walked out.
When Louis opened his eyes and unshielded himself, he was beyond terrified. Napoleon was nowhere to be seen.
He remembered those many nights they snuck out, the gentle breeze that flew into the room like they experienced whenever opening that window, or walking outside. It wall all those nights they snuck out.
His excited little giggles with him pinching his own arms, or even lightly tugging or pinching Louis’ ear with wide eyes and an ear to ear grin.
“There it is! There it is!” He was always so giddy whenever he spotted another shooting star or another meteor. Whenever he saw Aquila or Leo, whenever he saw the tail end of Ursa Minor, Polaris. Whenever he saw a galaxy. ”It’s so sparkly! So pretty!”
It’s whenever he acted…normal, to say the least. But he was normal in his own way. He was fine the way he was. Despite his weird habits, he was still…him.
Suddenly, he knew exactly where to find him. He’d look for him.
***
“Where are you…where are you..WHERE ARE YOU!?” Louis shouted again and again. No response. He wouldn’t be getting any response anytime soon. It’d take a miracle to find him.
He walked through the tall grass and ran and walked, his body wracked with fatigue with each step he took. He breathed heavily, he only focused on the crunching of grass and the wet squelching of mud beneath his boots. He barely glanced at the sky above.
“Napoleon! Napoleon!” He was losing hope. Where was he? Where did he go? Was he safe? What does he think he’s going to do? Where does he think he’s going? Corsica?
His vision swam the more he ran, it was getting hopeless. He wanted to sleep. He was reaching the end. He’d never be found, at least he thought.
Eventually, he fell and stumbled and tumbled upon a flat field of grass, and…a meadow? A meadow of violets and dandelions. He fell onto the dry grass, and he finally found him. He was on his knees, looking to the sky, and clasping his hands while muttering something he couldn’t quite understand. Was he…making a wish?
He called back to the times every time he’d stare into the night sky to comfort himself, every time he’d wish on a star and perform a prayer. But he wasn’t doing any prayer, he was fully devoted to the stars now. They were the only things that brought him ease now. He remembered the books on astronomy and astrology he’d read. How he’d smile and go all out speaking about mythology and Roman history and their fascination with the stars and their gods. They were omens, signs of their will, a gateway to the heavens.
He was in utter awe. He wanted to be one with the stars. He wanted to rise to the same heights. He didn't just want to be a great soldier, no, he wanted to be like the stars. He wanted to be like Caesar and Alexander. He wanted his name in the books to be remembered for centuries. He’d need no phony God to control him, it would be him and the stars.
What was his wish you may ask?
“I wish to be the greatest the world has ever seen and unite it. For all my fantasies to be a reality.”
***
“NAPOLEON!?” Louis was shocked, he put his hands over his mouth….and cried.
“Louis?” He turned around, blinked, and widened his eyes in shock. “No! No! Don’t cry! I’m sorry!”
He plucked a violet from the ground and gave it to him. “Don’t cry Louis! Don’t cry!”. Tears began to well up in his eyes, but as he was about to break into a sobbing mess he was pulled into a warm embrace.
“What are you doing you idiot!?
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being mean to you! I didn’t mean it I-..”
“shh..it’s ok, it’s ok. Everything’s going to be okay….it’s all going to be alright.”
He went silent, his face reddening as he cried more. He sniffled and wiped his tears as he turned around to look at the sky above.
“Aquila! Aquila!” Napoleon pointed.
“It’s that constellation..isn’t it? It’s your favorite alongside Leo and Ursa minor.”
They both sat cross-legged side by side, Napoleon leaning onto his shoulder. He was tired. Louis patted his head and put a violet in his hair.
“You look very pretty with it on…it suits you. You look so pretty.”
He looked away and curled up, he was always happy, but didn’t exactly know how to respond to a compliment. He felt unworthy of one, especially with how he lashed out at his dear friend Louis.
“The eagle’s a symbol of Jupiter. It was the eagle that abducted Ganymede so he’d be the cup-bearer to the Gods. Isn’t that….beautiful?”
“I always find it creepy.”
“Well…I want to have the same power as them. I’ve learned something today and I think you’ll like it.”
“Hm?” He turned to him. He gently smiled and kept his ears open. “I’d like to hear!” He eagerly responded. For a long time, he’d always been the one reassuring and caring for him. But him? Providing advice for him? He’s never seen this confidence, but….it seemed to fit him. “Well then, go on!”
He stammered for a moment when he heard his enthusiastic response. He didn’t expect it. He recollected his thoughts, scanned his surroundings, and spoke.
“I think we shouldn’t have to be dictated by the past. Look up from your feet, and up to the stars. Look away from the past and gaze towards the future. We don’t need to be dictated by archaic customs and silly old myths. No, we should look at the great men, and look to the stars and space above. All you have to do is look up to the sky and break away from the past. All you have to do is work hard enough. We’re one with them after all. We can ascend to the same heights. We can all be happy, we can all work enough to ascend to the stars someday. We’ll even overthrow them! We can persevere! I’ll make sure I’ll surpass those boys, and I want you to be alongside me! I know I may sound silly but…I think this will be very valuable.”
Louis was caught off guard when his shy, modest little friend suddenly spoke so articulately and eloquently. He knew he was mature for his age, but not to the point where he sounded, to him, grown-up. Here he sounded confident and courageous….and it suited him. What was even stranger was that it suited him even more than his original personality.
“We can be better than those boys. We don’t have to abide by those stupid monks and church stuff. No, we can forge our own! And I want you to be alongside me.”
“You’re…right.”
“Hm?”
“YOU’RE RIGHT!”
“You..think that? I thought it was a little silly-”
“But like you said. You said it was valuable and IT IS! I’m not going to lie to you. That’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard from the smartest person I’ve known…”
He was impressed. He did not expect his friend to take a genuine interest. He didn’t expect him to call him “The smartest person he’d ever known.”. But it made him feel better.
“I’m tired..” Napoleon yawned as he stretched his arms.
“What time is it anyway? It’s late. We should go back.” Louis added, He too was feeling exhausted.
“But I’ll make sure we’ll be friends and partners for as long as we live..I’ll work long and hard as possible to get what I need.. Perfection.”
***
It seemed a bit silly now that he thought about it. At least he kept his word, and made him a secretary. Look at him now, it came true. For some reason though, Louis felt…a bit….off. He had a strange foreign feeling that felt like he didn’t belong here, a deep sense of dread. A sense of…”I wasn’t supposed to be here.” But I suppose that’s how it is when you overthrow a system that’s been around for hundreds or thousands of years and rapidly modernize. It’s off. He looked forward, but it just felt…wrong.
It seemed haunting, how seemingly quickly his own friend, right before his eyes metamorphosed and changed throughout the years. Now he had far surpassed Caesar and Alexander. Once he conquered the United Kingdom, the world would be at his fingertips. He’d unite the world and enlighten them, they could finally reach the stars and enter a new age.
But then what?
What did he want to do exactly?
Even after he did all that, what was his plan? What comes next?
Who was he anymore? Was his friend from Brienne still there? Could he have been wrong all this time?
He’d been locking himself away for quite some time. He needed answers from him. He got up from his bed and put on his outfit. An elegant suit with a cravat. You get the idea.
He strode across the halls of Tuileries and entered his study. He…was in utter shock.
Messes of paper and ink in what would normally be a very pristine room. There was Napoleon at his desk, eyes fixated on a piece of paper he was drawing on. He did not blink, not even once. The only noises in the room were the faint ticking of a clock and the scraping of a pen among paper.
“Napoleon?” Louis nervously asked.
He heard him, and he twisted his head unnaturally towards him. His face pale and cracked. He looked malnourished, as if he hadn’t eaten or slept in days. He was very uneasy at the sight.
“It’s been a while hasn’t it? Since Brienne? I still remember your words. Looks like you finally got what you needed. It’s still not enough though, isn’t it?”
He only let out a simple “mhm” and nodded in response. Louis’ face turned stern. “Well let me give you a little warning. A little bit of advice.”
He only blankly stared at Louis in response and blinked. Then he nodded. “Go on.” He replied in a monotone voice. His face had no expression, but there was a slight curiosity. “What was this so-called ‘Warning?’” He thought to himself,
"When all said is done, you must remember, my friend, that you need to take a break. You're not perfect and never will be. However, you are a good man Napoleon. You're not a war-mongering monster either. I know you want to be like Caesar and Alexander, and they were great men. But they were consumed by their pride and ambition, wrath and greed. Eventually, their sins came back to bite them. You must remember not to make the same mistake as them in your pursuit of perfection. You must remember that you are a very different person from these men. You don't need to become a hollow husk of yourself and become an echo of these men. Once you do, you'll only ever be remembered as and be reduced to yet another mundane addition to the graveyard of the once-great conquerors and mighty Empires. You must be different from them. Napoleon, While this is a very serious battle, you must remember to not fight in vain only to lose the war. Do not confuse yourself with these men. Otherwise…you’ll sink into the trenches.”
“Do you understand what I’m getting at? Napoleon?”
Napoleon blankly stared at him, his gaze piercing into his soul. He didn’t, once, blink.
Then his cracking lips curved into a sly smirk.
“You’re wrong.”
There was an uneasy long silence. The only sound breaking the tension was the faint ticking of a grandfather clock. Then Louis was perplexed and dumbfounded. What was Napoleon talking about?
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re wrong!” He laughed.
Bourrienne was perplexed, and also…distraught. He furrowed his brow.
“This is a Great War. I have all of continental Europe at my fingertips. If I conquer The United Kingdom, I take control of its colonies, and I take control of the world. And soon I’ll have the world at my fingertips and lead the world into advancement! And…and..”
“Do you have any idea of what you’re planning?
“I do. And it’ll work out. I’m Napoleon after all. Emperor of Europe. But don’t worry though Louis! I’m still me!” Replied Napoleon in an awfully forced cheery voice.
“How I wonder..”
***
Bourienne exited the room and walked aimlessly through the halls. The only things he thought about was how he became like this. Where was Napoleon exactly?
Was his old friend still there? Just hiding? Was he simply a chrysalis meant for the Emperor to rise from? Was he simply an old set of skin meant to be shed by the snake that is the King? Or was he simply one of the many colors he could shift into like a chameleon would? Was he a fragile helpless newborn eaglet meant to grow up into a powerful eagle? Was he simply a cub trying to survive to become the lion that leads the pride? Change felt odd. Change was a part of life. For some reason though, this change seemed odd.
Eventually he came to a conclusion. The cracked visage was no longer him.
“How I wonder…is he still himself? No. It isn’t. It’s just a mask. It’s far too late. He believes himself to be God.”
No one would stop his Apotheosis.
Chapter 18: 18. Training
Summary:
Today is a day of training being led by the marshals, Berthier, Davout…..and Desaix. But after the session goes horribly wrong.
Feedback, kudos, criticism and comments are always appreciated.
Chapter Text
It was another usual hot summer day today. The world had changed a bit. Extravagant balloons and blimps floated as the townspeople roamed through the streets, birds flew and sang as critters like squirrels and insects scurried around the grass, dirt, and trees. It was natural.
Except today was actually a day of vigorous and hard military training. But this was also the usual.
This time it was more harsh with the Iron Marshal, Louis Nicholas Davout, in charge. It was the first part, the drill. Louis Desaix was also here to assist and Louis Alexandre Berthier guided and gave the plans.
It was a very large field with plenty of trees and shade on a hill. Balloons and birds flew over, and all the men training were arranged in neat lines. They stood up tall and straight, and they focused all their attention on the 3 marshals. Except for one…
There was a wooden table placed where Davout sat behind on a chair, Desaix was on his left, Berthier on his right. Davout stuck his nose in a book, fixing his glasses and paying more attention to his book than the drill. He was quiet, silent, stern and undisturbed right up until he glanced back up and saw a single soldier not standing up correctly. He was slumped over, picking his nose whilst he did so.
“Oi!” Davout yelled and he got up, fixed his glasses and marched straight up to the soldier and pulled on his ear. “Are you even paying attention!?”
“Pretty bold of you to ask Davout. You were literally sticking your head in that book and not giving a damn about it either. You’re in charge!”
“What? Just cause you’re his chief of staff and pet doesn’t mean you’re superior.”
“Can I not get into a duel with you please?”
“Guys! Guys! This is no time to get into a fight.” Desaix broke in. “We’ll go back right on track.”
Davout nodded in return and Desaix smiled.
“Alright everyone!”
Davout suggested the soldiers form a large square. He also ordered them to move forward and backwards repeatedly, which the others saw as odd as it caused great disorder each time. He repeatedly did the drills until the afternoon.
When he could get a hold of him without further disrupting his work, Desaix tapped Davout's shoulder. He was further occupied with the book so it took a few tries to gather his attention. The man did a quick half-turn in his seat to find out who interrupted his reading. He closed the book and set it on his own lap.
"What is with those 'back and forth' movements, with the squares?" He inquired. If it were anyone else saying this, Davout would've taken this as an insult, but he knew Desaix well.
The man cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. "Oh, those are for if we ever need to scurry. They kept taking minutes to form a box and move in it, which frustrated me—why didn't you ask me this during the drill? You shouldn't blindly follow someone, you know. You're a leader." He playfully kicked the other man's leg.
"I understand, but.." He thought carefully about how to word this, as it might seem belittling. "Boxes usually take over a minute to form."
"The keyword here is usually. It obviously takes longer in combat. If during training we slice that time by even a few seconds, we'll have an advantage." He pointed out. He took off his spectacles and cleaned them on his undoubtedly messy uniform. "I guess Berthier forgot to inform you on this plan."
"That only leaves one question,"
"And that is?"
"Why are you making boxes anyway? Columns are faster and easier to form. It is more efficient this way." He Instinctively pulled up a chair closer to Davout to listen further. Being badgered with questions about his tactics wasn't on 'the iron marshal's' agenda for today, but it was not at all unpleasant and it gave him more chances to think about trying out other formations—so why not?
"Lines could be sensitive to something..Inhuman," Although they both knew the Irasomas were no longer a threat, there's never a chance something else could be used against them. "Not to say that would not be useful in some other contexts." He opened his little book again and began to read.
"Alright, we could compromise columns and boxes. Would that be okay?" He asked politely. Davout nodded as he silently read his book, not taking an eye off of the pages.
Desaix turned to walk away. Davout glanced up. "Oh, and could you two take over for today?"
"Of course!" Desaix eagerly replied, though a bit annoyed.
-
The two men, Desaix and Berthier, began to sweat as the day got hotter. It was uncomfortable, but not yet to the point of calling off the drills. They were important after all. They could sense the veritable danger that came from the enemy. Some days they sensed it more than others, but between all of the marshals was an apparent odd air around them, like when they all first started spotting the holes. Or at the Tuileries. Napoleon himself never mentioned the discomfort, though. He actively tried to avoid the discussion altogether.
The following day, Davout, Berthier and Desaix then began to train the troops using exclusively squares or columns. The troops had improved significantly in moving in dense formations as well as moving in thinner lines.
"This is like watching a child grow before our eyes!" Berthier said sarcastically. He swiped away a nonexistent tear from his eye.
"I will have to agree with you on that." He said, glancing up at the soldiers and then his equals momentarily. The three were all confident in their ability to train the troops under normal circumstances but they all silently agreed that the sheer unpredictability of the British was a call to alarm.
***
Louis-Nicholas Davout peacefully enjoyed a meager strip of roasted meat for supper. The sky had faded into a deep blue colour. He retired the drill for the day and sat, collected and undisturbed. Until, of course, Berthier disturbed him.
Davout tapped his feet against the grass below him, kicking underneath his chair. Beside the plate were silver cutlery, knives, spoons, forks, and a glass of wine. Despite the deep blue color he could still see the light from the sun peaking out from the horizon. The few clouds in the sky seemed to perfectly align to create an awfully sickeningly sweet look. The sunlight stung his eyes. Not even the shield of his glasses could protect them. He was pretty irritated by how Berthier and Desaix would disagree. How sometimes Berthier would act condescending. He was one of the finest marshals!
And it couldn’t get worse when Berthier decided to approach him. A falcon was perched on Berthier’s shoulder and green cape as he began to stroke her head.
“Cindy…oh cindy.” he smiled happily at her as she chirped. “Good girl!”
“Berthier what is it now? Are you here to boast about how better of a Marshal you are than me?”
“I just came up with my Falcon expecting a peaceful interaction and what do you go and do?”
Davout stood up from his chair, picked up a fork and pointed it at him. Berthier held his hands up in response. “What are you going to do with that?”
Davout smirked in response. The fork bent and twisted, extending longer and longer. The sounds of ear-scratching and grating whines of straining and creaking of the metal burnt itself into Berthier’s ears. He shut his eyes and covered his ears, but the sound stopped. When he opened his eyes, he saw something resembling a small little sword. “Did you have to irritate me like that?
“Well it should teach you a lesson in not to underestimate me.”
“Are you that immature and petty?!” He raised his voice and yelled. The Falcon on his shoulder though recoiled in fear. “Oh…I’m sorry Cindy. Was I being too loud?” She chirped in response, expressing her discomfort. “Oh…I’m sorry.” He stroked her head once more. They could communicate. Davout rolled his eyes and looked at the small sword, then turned it back into a fork, saf back down and resumed eating.
“Well I’m sorry, but I actually did want to speak with you.”
“There it is again..” Davout replied coldly and sternly.
“Look, I’m not here to belittle you. First off managing everything and being the chief of staff for Bonaparte isn’t as easy as it seems. I may be chief but I’m still your fellow marshal. And I perfectly respect your friend Desaix, he gets along well! You two are one of the first few marshals. You two are the finest. Desaix is almost like you and he’s the finest, yet he gets along. Why are you two so similar yet you can’t get along? Why do you always snap? Why are you always so gloomy?”
“Oh. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m not Desaix?”
This annoyed Berthier further, he pinched his forehead and groaned. “Whatever-This isn’t my main point, My main point is that you’re not really able to accept feedback and other suggestions. I get it that you’re one of the most skilled but..please. For the love of god you need to stop being so stubborn all the time-”
But as he placed his hand on his shoulder, Davout immediately was offended.
He swatted his hand and kicked his groin. He had a very strong kick, and of course it was very painful. The falcon immediately leaped off his shoulder and scratched Davout in the chest.
“Oh it’s all the same!” he shouted. He leaped at Berthier and punched him in the jaw. However, it didn’t end there. Berthier raised his arm as he was knocked against a tree, and with it came small chunks of the ground alongside rocks and stone rising from the earth and being hurled at Davout. The falcon immediately and panicked as she flew up to a tree branch to protect herself from harm.
One small stone hit him in the stomach and he collapsed onto his knees. The others missed. Davout gritted his teeth, and materialized a large hammer made of iron and almost swung it at him, breaking the next piece of earth flying towards him. But then, everything in the air was suspended. The rocks that were floating were then swiped by the wind and tossed to the side.
“That’s enough already.”
Desaix stood in the distance, his shoulder length dark brown hair blowing in the wind as he gazed upon the two. His arm appeared outstretched before he recoiled it back to his side. “ I thought you guys weren’t going to enter into another duel, and now you’re using your powers!? Why do you never learn? Why is it all the same?”
They both stood there shocked, the falcon chirped and swept itself back to Berthier’s shoulder. They did nothing as they both watched Desaix speak to them.
“War is on the horizon and all you marshals do is bicker with one another like children! Do you even take this seriously? Not to mention all the strange stuff that happens!”
But then, Desaix froze in place. A deep sense of dread overtook him, he felt as if the whole world froze even. There wasn’t a sound to be heard, not even the wind could be felt. He felt each and every part of him go numb, as if parts of his body were sacs of beads.
He raised his hand to his face and touched it. He had no idea what was going on.
“Sometimes I feel like everything’s wrong…I feel like I’m not supposed to be here. I feel like I’m… W-..what is this? What am I?”
He collapsed to his knees, he looked down to the ground and touched the grass. Davout, who was concerned, approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Desaix?”. Berthier stepped back, he felt anxious, he was dreadful. But out of the blue, in Desaix’s eyes….there was a rotting hand sprouting out of the ground. An arm darkened and putrid by years of decay. The loose baggy skin peeled and hung off the bone like sleeves as maggots, termites, and ants ate away at the rotting flesh. It grabbed onto Desaix’s arm. However, Davout and Berthier didn’t see it. It was only in Desaix’s mind.
The deafening booms and gushes of wind blew from Desaix and flew through the air. But Desaix really tried to blow the arm away. Then, there was a shrill, harsh, and thunderous scream. A scream of fright.
“MAKE IT STOP!!! WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME!? SOMEONE! HELP ME!!” Desaix scratched his face and cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. “WHAT AM I!? WHAT IS THIS!? STOP IT! STOP IT!!!”
Davout’s eyes widened and he immediately restrained him by his arms. Berthier’s jaw hung open in pure shock, he raised his hands to his mouth as he witnessed the psychotic episode.
“IT'S ALRIGHT! IT'S ALRIGHT!” pleaded Davout as he restrained and attempted to embrace him as he screamed. “I KNOW! IT'S ALRIGHT! IT'S ALRIGHT! I'M HERE! I’M HERE!!! EVERYTHING WILL BE OK! EVERYTHING WILL BE OK!”
Berthier could do nothing but stand and watch. Desaix could do nothing but struggle, fight, and scream. And Davout could do nothing but try to restrain him in an ultimately futile attempt to bring him back to reality.
Chapter 19: 19. Beneath all the sluts in the world
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
Napoleon isn’t too pleased with Berthier after hearing about Desaix and decides to relieve himself afterwards. Meanwhile, Josephine decides to rest.
Chapter Text
The room was dark, lit by only the stars of the night and the cackling fireplace. It was the usual. Lots of shelves filled with books and maps in every corner and wall of the room. There was a large table in the middle of the room though with a chart, books, a globe, and a map. There were wooden two chairs on opposite sides of the table, Napoleon and Berthier sat on opposite sides.
Berthier and Napoleon both wore white stockings, white stockings, and black buckled shoes. They both wore an imperial full sleeved outfit decorated with medals and with silver lining and a red sash, and a white robe tied around the waist and white cravats, only to be topped off by capes with more silver lining. However, their colors contrasted. They sat opposite of each other, Red and green, colours of life, of the animal and herb. Berthier quivered in his seat like a fragile leaf, his brownish grey eyes darting around the room, whilst Napoleon looked like a hungry, starving, predator that was just about to pounce. It did not help that feeling, considering the fact Napoleon hadn’t been eating very much. His noises even sounded like hungry growls of a raving beast.
Napoleon tapped his fingers in impatience as Berthier breathed and heaved as he filled with dread.
“Desaix is not well you say?”
“Yes, your imperial majesty. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Davout will also not be present.”
“Why?” Napoleon cocked his head, lolling it to the side, lolling so far to the point it could fall off his neck. It was unnatural. His eyes seemed…darker yet more colorful. More blue, but with a tinge of periwinkle. It was still greyish though, but it was still extremely unnatural. His skin increased ever more in paleness. Even his skin seemed more smooth and perfect, but the cracks still increased. He was more statue than man. He resembled the statues of him that were plastered all over the empire, in every hall, every palace, every building and square of a street. Those roman style statues with their pillars and arches, it all so was horribly off to Berthier.
“Because he has to take care of him.”
There was a long, agonal, and uncomfortable silence. The atmosphere was suffocating. A long quiet that lasted for an eternity to Berthier. The only sounds in the room were that of a faint ticking of a clock, the irritated tapping on fingers, and the restless cackles of the fireplace.
Napoleon’s loose neck twisted then to the left, then to its correct position. Then, he laughed. It was not a hearty laugh, but a malicious one. A cackle, if you will. Then there was a sudden stop. He stared at Berthier in silence and spoke in a stern voice. A voice that sent shivers down Berthier’s spine.
“I will not afford having one of my best marshals desert to be a mere nursemaid to his ill friend.”
“But he says-”
Napoleon proceeded to raise a palm, and slammed his fist onto the table. His head lolling to the front, but eyes still directly glaring at Berthier.
“Tell him to come anyway. And if you don’t……well…I won’t hesitate to shatter you like the other monarchs..”
***
Josephine in her bedchamber was reading a book. She was under her fancy drapery decorated with dark teal vines, decorated with images of flowers like the chilean bellflower, rose, sunflowers, and daffodils that hung from the ceiling. On top of the bed was the swan, and roses as its side, the symbol of the Empress.
The red walls of the oval-shaped bedroom were also covered by the same fancy drapery that protected the red bed. It too was decorated with all sorts of colors of the flowers, but the main colors were white, light mint and teal. At the top of the ceiling was a painting of a clear blue sky with light white clouds, and from it was…a strange looking chandelier. It shouldn’t be called a chandelier at all even. The many rays of the glowing lantern were red, as if it were a star or sun. The inner circle was white, and the innermost circle in the center was blue. One might even say that it resembled an eye. It always spun, and always glowed. The fireplace was ordinary, with a fancy clock on it, and some more golden decorations.
There was even a table and mirror on which she could prepare and dress herself. Some stuff to apply her makeup with. The floor was oak…but oak painted with colorful arabesque patterns.
An oddly placed wooden perch connected the walls together, it didn’t look like it should be there. Even the red walls under the drapery had golden lines separating them. To her, it felt like she was in a cage being covered up for the night. She wondered as she scanned the surroundings. “What architect designs things like this?”
The air however is what most bothered her, irritating and clogging up her sinuses. Because of the amount of rose, violet, jasmine and musky scents and oud she put on, those smells and usually heavenly fragrances spun and mixed to form a sickening, almost sludge-like miasma. the kind of indiscernible quality that comes from the blending together of every scent there is at once. It’s like a teenager putting all their mother and father’s perfume and cologne all at once, or sticky muggy feeling you get right outside after rainfall. An odor that’s meant to be beautiful, but ends up moldy and suffocating instead. She even coughed. Trying to apply more fragrances only made it worse, and it was too bad there were no windows.
It felt all too familiar, yet all too foreign at the same time. It was all..mashed up.
Through the thick walls of the room filled with the oppressive air, despite how thick it seemed, she could hear a noise. A woman’s giggle, a soft moan. Then the mingling of flesh, the creaking of a bed, and then more wet noises and moans. There was also a quiet knocking against the wall.
She’d gotten used to this, it happened very often after all. Almost every day. She put her book away and stared at the ceiling. She wasn’t all that innocent either. This wasn’t even the first time she had her spouse have affairs. But unlike her previous spouse, Alexandre de Beauharnais, who abandoned her and her children for over a year to be a philanderer and spend his time with whores, Napoleon didn’t bother to do it in her face. She had a blank, yet sorrowful expression. She longed for the Napoleon she first met to come back, the one who was completely different. She regretted how much she belittled him. She wondered “Did he learn this from me like I did from Alexandre?”
But there was something familiar about it, something thrilling. She remembered when she caused those same noises with other people of power. How she’d have affairs, how she enjoyed the thrill of doing something forbidden and being caught at any moment. She remembered the nights with Hippolyte, all those muggy hot nights with him. She remembered what she’d say to him in those letters.
“Tell me that you only love me! And me alone!”
She hadn’t noticed that her hand was unconsciously moving to her lower body, and she snapped herself out of it. “What am I doing!?” She felt a deep sense of shame, but also…odd. How could she still be doing this?
“Maybe a little bit of sleep could clear my mind.” She thought to herself. “Maybe I'll stop feeling guilty.”
She took her dress off to replace it with a white nightgown, laid down, closed her eyes and drifted off.
***
The day Rose, now known as Josephine by her obnoxious new husband, was married, was not a happy one. She was glad that he’d be leaving soon for the Italian campaign, in 2 days actually.
She remembered being in the dimly lit room with Paul Barras, her former lover and main leader of the French government at the time. They were in a bed together, both bare of their clothing and resting. She remembered his words. “Go entertain and marry him. You’ll be secure.”
In reality, Barras was really tired of her spending habits and wanted to replace her. To him, she was just another one of his many mistresses and whores. To her, she’d be secure and provide for her 2 children, Eugene and Hortense. She had to be a ‘whore’ to survive. After all, according to her previous husband Alexandre, she was “beneath all the sluts in the world” She wondered to herself, "How did I become like this?
***
She remembered the summer afternoon on her island of Martinique, where an old fortune teller lady gave her a prophecy. She remembered other black people behind her, the waves crashing against the shore in the distance. She did not go by Josephine, nor Rose. Her real name was Marie Josephe Rose Tascher de la Pagerie. Of course it’s a mouthful, but she often went by Yeyette.
“You see something very wonderful in my face and hand?” inquired Yeyette whilst excitedly giggling.
“Yes, something very wonderful,” repeated the fortune teller, still intently staring at her.
“Is it a good or a bad fortune which awaits me?”
The old prophetess slowly shook her head.
“Who can tell,” said she, gravely, “what is a good or a bad fortune for human beings? In your hand I see evil, but in your face happiness! great happiness!” She said with great enthusiasm. She was thrilled.
“Well,” said Yeyette. “you are cautious, and your oracle is not very clear.”
The old woman looked to the top. “I dare not to express myself more clearly.”
“Tell me! I'm interested.” exclaimed Yeyette whose curiosity was excited by the secrecy of the fortune-teller. “Say what you see in my future life. Please?”
“Very well.” She said solemnly. “Listen, then. I read in your countenance that you are called to high destinies. You will soon be married. But your marriage will not be a happy one. You will soon be a young widow, and then you will be Queen of France! Greater than a Queen actually! You will live glorious, brilliant days, but at the last misfortune will come and carry you to your grave in a day of rebellion.”
What a bunch of nonsense! She thought at the time. She laughed as she got up from her seat. “Well that’s one glorious future I have!” and then she left.
***
“Beneath all the sluts in the world”
How ironic, because he preferred using her like a toy and beating her. The nerve he had to call her that when he was the man who’d abandon her for over a year to play with some silly whores and be with his mistresses rather than his own wife and offspring. How he embarrassed and humiliated her, viewed her as a stupid creole. She loved him, but he destroyed her. “Greater than a Queen….” Whilst the unhappy marriage was true, her being ‘greater than a Queen’ was…bullshit to her.
She could relate to Napoleon, she was once…just like him. When she was Yeyette, or Rose. A shy, unsophisticated, but happy, bright, and kind teenager who was giddy about marrying a devilishly handsome young man who was cultured. His sharp features and blue waistcoat. His natural brown hair, and when it was powdered. He could be an incubus.
Alexandre de Beauharnais. She could’ve never imagined this man whom she loved so dearly to utterly despise her. He wanted her to be different.
And so, when she was banished to the convent after giving birth to Hortense she did. Alexandre believed she was a slut, because he had expected his next child to be a son, and not only that, she arrived two weeks early.
“Beneath all the sluts in the world”
“Beneath all the sluts in the world”
“Beneath all the sluts in the world”
Those words repeated in her head over and over. It circles, and came, and echoed.
So she was determined to live up to it.
“If he believes me to be one I might as well be!”
She read all the fashion magazines, teaching herself all the manners and norms of Parisian society, which was so different from the one on Martinique. She had metamorphosed from a gauche schoolgirl into a sophisticated seductress, all she needed now was a man to seduce. She attended balls and parties at Fontainebleau, life was upside down until it wasn’t. Until she was separated from her children and forced into the Carmes prison. Her husband, who she'd been separated from, was obviously an aristocrat, and although he supported the revolution he was not spared by the guillotine. Stuck in an overcrowded dirty bedroom with straw beds, everyone had to live in fear.
Luckily, she got out, but she needed to survive. She needed to provide for her children, she used her newly learned skills and….became a whore. She went from Yeyette to Rose. She never really wanted to though, but she had to. She has affairs left and right with leading political figures, but she didn’t do it because she wanted to. She had to be a courtesan. She was the Creole Courtesan.
The Creole Courtesan entertained and seduced, being one of the ‘merveilleuse’. Whether she pretended to be an animal to entertain, or pleasuring her ‘lovers’. Despite her seductive, sophisticated and suave facade, she felt ashamed, dirty. In her mind she truly was a whore. She was garbage, she’d strayed from her true self.
“Beneath all the sluts in the world.” She truly was.
But then she wasn’t needed anymore, she was discarded. She was to be married to another person, Napoleon. Someone nobody ever heard of.
The savior of Toulon, the soon-to-be commander in chief of the army of Italy. But to her she was a fool. A young man who seemed boyish, puss-in-boots. His blue artillery uniform with a red collar and golden yellow embroidery. His oversized black boots swallowing up his legs. His long messy greasy hair and his sickly sallow face with black circles around his eyes. But his piercing blue-grey eyes were what stood out, they were oddly handsome. Still, he was very weird and eccentric. Childlike and fierce, with his passionate and gross love letters she viewed him as laughable and humiliating, much like what he previous husband did to her.
He was the complete foil of her previous husband, not handsome but ugly. But he was sweet, shy, awkward and passionate. He’d play with her and scare her, he loved her deeply. But that wasn’t what she was used to. She was mainly used to the former, being used for pleasure and getting money out of it. Or even being discarded and treated like an object. She’d expect him to move on and abandon her eventually. She really married him for financial security, and because Barras was tired of her.
Though they seemed the opposite, they still had very much in common.
***
The Creole Courtesan thought of all this whilst having that Corsican animal in her lap whilst they were both on a wide comfy soft couch. He was in a serene, peaceful headspace. His face was close to being almost angelic when sleeping. He’d usually be stern or ‘creepy’. More so he could fly into a great rage, but he usually was stoic and ‘logical’ in public.
He prided himself on logic and reason, not emotions. When all said was done, he’d just be a baby. He’s shy, and he desperately wanted to be loved and have a safe place after being in many unstable environments since he left home. Obviously, this wasn’t a very pleasant time to be in.
He just wished he had a home, someone he could love and adore with all his heart and rest. She wished she had someone she could rely on to provide and protect. They both missed home.
She looked at him for longer in the dimly lit living room, the only thing bringing light were the faint glow of starlight from 4 cross windows and a beautiful fireplace. She found him more and more endearing the longer she looked. He was oddly cute, but ugly and sallow nonetheless. He wasn’t handsome or sophisticated, he was childish. But he was still incredibly loving and kind, and far better than her previous husband.
She did feel sorry, because she never really married him for love like he thought, but rather, financial security. It was what she had to do. She felt sorry since he reminded her so much of when she was first married to Alexandre, when she was Yeyette, when she was at the young age of 16.
She was still “beneath all the sluts in the world.” Even as much as she changed, even if she was married again.
Never the matter, at least he’ll stop pestering her and go off to Italy soon...but a strange feeling lingered in her mind, a part of her wanted him to stay. She didn’t want him to leave.
Whatever the case may be, she wasn’t really going to miss him. And if she did, it’d take a long time for her to get used to it.
***
“You don’t need to worry about him.” Said Hippolyte to Josephine, who were both stripped bare of their clothing and lying in bed together. They both reveled in physical affection, with Hippolyte and Josephine both giving small hickeys and love-bites to one another. Josephine nibbled at his jaw and ear, whilst he softly bit at her neck and collarbone. They needed to wind down after a passionate night.
Josephine moaned softly at the passionate kisses, it was fiery and sweet at the same time. It was forbidden, it was thrilling, it was sinful, it was lustful, but it was amazing. She didn’t care if she was lower than a slut, she embraced it.
She loved how funny and witty he was. How devilishly handsome and young he was, with his strong muscular physique and his face.
It continued for many days, many nights, and all the way from the beginning of the Italian campaign, up to the day Napoleon came home from Egypt.
“YOU BEASTLY SLUT!”
Pulled from bed and smacked, her head hitting the hard oak beneath her. Her surroundings were familiar, yet all too familiar.
“YOU BITCH! YOU FUCKING WHORE! I’LL ABANDON YOU! I’LL DIVORCE YOU AND LEAVE YOU TO DIE ON THE STREETS LIKE THE WORTHLESS WOMAN YOU ARE! You really are beneath all the sluts in the world…
She weeped as she curled up, she looked up to behind expecting to see a horrified Hippolyte on the bed. Only….there was no bed, let alone Hippolyte. She had her hair pulled by Napoleon, ramming her head into the walls and insulting her. “YOU WOULDN’T EVEN HAVE ALL THIS WITHOUT ME!”
She was seeing bloody murder in his eyes. Napoleon wouldn’t do this! Napoleon never did that! But..wait a minute. No, this was Alexandre. “ALEXANDRE PLEASE!” She wailed.
But Napoleon threw her to the ground and retreated into another room, leaving himself to be. Her broken, battered self crawled across the ever-elongating room and pounding on the door with her numb hands. “PLEASE!” She wailed. “I'm SORRY! I'M SORRY! PLEASE NO! NOT AGAIN!” Her voice clamored and echoed off the door and around the room, her children wouldn’t help. Her teeth rattled out and fell from her mouth, as she became more..’hideous’. A mangled nightmare. A horrific nightmare. Alexandre must’ve come back. She and her children would die! She’s have no-
***
Then she jolted up. She could still feel the bruises all over her. She even felt her own teeth coming loose still. She checked her teeth, they were fine. But how so pristine exactly? How were they still so pristine? How were they white, pearly and perfect? She didn’t remember this.
She panted and breathed, glancing at her trembling sweaty palms. She was beyond terrified. She looked to the door to see an oddly humanoid figure looking at her, a young looking Napoleon with its long hair. The moment she fully was aware of its presence, it moved away and vanished into nothing.
There were no more sounds, only silence, and the muttering of a single question.
“Who is he anymore?”
But this wasn’t any time to dwell on the past. War was starting.
Chapter 20: 20. War
Summary:
Hi guys! Sorry it took longer than usual. I had to deal with social events, and me and Trey decided to write this to be a very special chapter. So we both hope you all enjoy it!
And as always, comments, kudos, criticism and feedback is always appreciated!
Chapter Text
The horns blared, the drums boomed. The harsh and strong howling of wind accompanied the loud piping of various reeds. The clouds were dark, as if there was going to be a storm approaching. The cacophony of thunder was heard in the distance.
Soldiers marched close in perfectly arranged and meticulously organized rows and columns. They were dressed in pristine blue, red, white, and yellow uniforms. Some even had feathered hats.
Horses clip-clopped across the field as their soldiers mounted upon their backs, the cavalry was led by Murat and Bessieres. They made sure to hide themselves behind a hill to ambush.
At the top of the hill was Napoleon surveying the soldiers, standing tall and proud with his hand in his shirt. His other hand holding a talisman, he glanced at it. A tiny clear quartz crystal sphinx resting upon a sliver base, shaped like the fleur de lis. It was adorned with sapphires, rubies and peridots on 2 sides. Ornamented with imagery and symbolism. This was his good luck. “You can do it! You’ll win!” It reminded him.
To his right was Lannes, the most daring of the marshals and Ney, the bravest of the brave. Both of the best marshals standing side by side. To his left was Junot, the new Marshal and “the Tempest” and Davout, the Iron Marshal. Lannes had his Lance, Ney had a Metal Mace. Junot had a bow and arrow, and Davout had an iron hammer.
First Napoleon turned to Lannes and Ney. His eyes were closed, a serene, but cloying smile greeted them. “Lannes, remember to use a lance when enemies are vulnerable or off guard. And burn them too. Ney, I want you to use the mace and your powers to redirect lightning and blast it towards the opposing troops.”
“Your Imperial Majesty..” Ney was concerned and his brow furrowed in confusion. “But metal doesn’t attract lightning.”
“Trust me. I’ll make sure it’ll be true.”
“This is the worst idea he has possibly come up with yet..” Lannes muttered under his breath to Ney. “burning them wouldn’t even work. There’s guns, and impaling them with the lance is only going to be futile. Someone could easily shoot me down. Unless I was in cavalry, this won’t be able to work.
“Oh I don’t need you to use your lance to burn the enemies alive, I need your powers to dispose of the bodies. Dump them in a hole, and burn them til they’re nothing but ash.” Napoleon responded coldly. It even came off as a bit harsh. He had a blank expression underneath.
A chill ran through Lannes’ spine as he said that. “So you just want me to burn all the corpses instead of burying them? But don’t we have to count casualties? People injured or dead?”
“That isn’t needed, I know what it is already.”
He rotated his head to Junot and Davout, a loud -pop!- rang out when it locked into the place he wanted it. “And as for you Junot, I need you to put the enemies down using your water.”
“There’s no water though..” Junot recoiled. The sight of him acting so unnatural put him off. Even the normally stoic and stern Davout took a small step back out of caution. Lannes grimaced and stepped away from him, 6 feet away to be exact. Ney was frightened, but wanted to stay near out of loyalty.
“There’s water in places you wouldn’t expect. There’s water everywhere, in the air, in the plants, even you. I’ll make sure you’re effective.”
“So how do I take it out?”
“Do it as you take it out from any other body of water. Will it to be. But it’ll take more focus, give it your all. And as for you Davout. You don’t have to do much. You know what you have to do. Make the weapon whatever you want to be, and lead the army like you usually do.”
Davout nodded his head in response, and he went off.
Napoleon turned to the soldiers and opened his eyes. they saluted and bowed in response to him.
“You seem a bit weary lately. You haven’t eaten much for the past few days. Are you ok? What's up with your face? Why are you- "asked Junot before he was cut off. He was always concerned for his friend’s wellbeing.
“I’m perfectly well my friend, stop asking so much. The rest of you three are dismissed.”
***
Some of The Marshals stood together, speaking among themselves. The thunder popped and boomed boldly. Napoleon seemed serious. He tapped his boot on the grass. His pale face was obscured by his bicorne and the smoky grey hue of the clouds. He was distant. Deep in thought, not peculiar for him.
Junot practiced his powers. He tried to produce water from the plants and the air just like Napoleon told him he could. He relaxed. Water! He lit up with excitement. He gathered more from the vapor in the air, and sucked some from the plant life around him. He shot the concentrated water onto a rotting tree. A small, hanging piece of bark broke off of the tree.
Suddenly, he heard the pounding of Horses approaching. "Everyone, places!" Napoleon hollered. They all mounted their horses. Davout and Lannes led the troops. Murat and Bessieres steadied themselves, ready to ambush the incoming soldiers.
The opposing infantry neared closer. Junot extracted the water from the air and prepared to use the skill once the troops passed over the horizon and into their view.
They saw the soldiers come into their collective sight. Junot acted first, spraying the water he'd collected at the troops. Most of the opposition had been flung back due to the intensity of the blast. Ney striked the surrounding area with lightning. Fittingly, it began to rain. Junot seized the opportunity to turn it into some sort of waterfall, knocking the British troops down to the ground whilst making sure it wouldn’t fall too hard for the French side.
“You two did great, I'd like to see better performance from you two, though.” He turned, almost too quickly, toward Lannes and Davout. Davout shrugged and Lannes agreed.
The rest of the soldiers pointed their guns at the enemy troops and began to fire. Bullets and musketballs flew through the battlefield, piercing the brains and hearts of their enemies. The opposing British troops responded with the same, shooting at the french. Cannons of each side were pointed up. Cartridges of gunpowder were put in each muzzle of every cannon, then an iron ball was placed inside, then each soldier pierced the cartridge with a pricker, and the cannonball ignited and came flying out.
Then in an instant, the cacophony of horrified screams and shrieks erupted throughout the battlefield.
Cannonballs rammed and crashed into the stomachs of soldiers, sending their intestines flying out of their mangled abdomens. Bones were shattered, skulls crushed and pierced by bullets. Legs crushed by cannonballs had blood streaming and gushing out of their malformed remains. Wails of agony echoed as some soldiers had their arms ripped off by cannonballs. Men falling to the ground, dying like flies as bullets pierced them. Some writhed and contorted on the ground, desperately crawling or trying to scoot away with what little of their bodies they had left. Their raw meat exposed to nature, muscles cramped and burnt with agony. Some were vengeful and angry, some were terrified, some sad for the comrades they lost, and many felt nothing at all as their consciousnesses faded away.
Organs were ruptured, falling out of stomachs, anticlimactically splattering to the door as soldiers on each side fell and dropped dead. The battlefield kind of resembled beetroot soup. Crimson and Scarlet red blood splattered across the battlefield, with crushed and shattered bones, mashed teeth, and cartilage. Warm, hot, tangled red noodles and nests of intestines alongside the milky substance decorated with reddish pink wrinkly splotches of oddly solid yet gooey and slimy stuff of what used to be brains. All those scalding squishy organs were splotched onto the battlefield, while also being cooled by the ice-cold rain. The smell was pungent and humid, suffocating and putrid. It was even sickeningly sweet. It was overbearing, strong, and even metallic from blood. The battle however was….unfortunately not over yet.
Junot stopped the waterfall he created and let the rain take the course. He was extremely shocked at what he’d created, how was he able to create that? He was…even scared. He’d trained, sure, but he was nowhere near the level of causing such hard rain comparable to that of a waterfall. But when he looked around he was mortified by the sight. He thought he’d been used to this, but…it was somehow still so tragic and shocking. A field of broken bodies. The cavalry was no longer needed. Abruptly, the rain stopped, the dark clouds began to part. Junot looked up to see…that the sky had become red.
“Wait.” said Davout, placing his hand on Junot’s shoulder with Ney standing next to him. “This isn’t over…I can hear them.”
“W-what?” Junot was bewildered, turning towards Ney and Davout. Davout held a blood-stained war hammer, whilst Ney held a burnt mace with smoke flowing upwards from it.
More British troops emerged from the shadows and charged at the butchered French infantry. A barrage of Bullets reverberated through the space, more yells and cries came about. More blood, more bullets. More suffering, more pain, more rage, more fear.
Then, the large Cavalry charge started.
The trotting and galloping of horses alongside the prideful and glorious cries of the cavalry, as they raised their sabres and charged. Running down the hill, and sweeping the British troops up. Angry and glorious cries and yells were mixed with the pathetic yowls and shrieks. Necks sliced and butchered, hands cut, legs gashed and faces slashed. Eyes gouged out, necks lacerated for soldiers to choke and cough on pieces of themselves and blood.
Murat got out his cat o’ nine whip, extended it and whipped some of the panicking and fleeing soldiers. Sending them knocked to the ground unable to escape being trampled and crushed by the stampede of scared horses and men.
Their bones shattered and crushed, legs paralyzed, and arms numb, they couldn’t get up. It wasn’t long till they had their back or head crushed into a splotch of red mush.
Horses hinnied and whined, some unfortunate men fell off the backs to be trampled and crushed into bone and paste. Some horses were even slashed and gashed. It was pure, raw horror. Skin was torn into ribbons, limbs and throats cleaved, and the casualties only creeped up to thousands. It wasn’t a fight for glory and protecting the empire, but a bloodbath. It was war, as typical. It was hell, horror, bloodshed, and murder Agonal moans and groans could be heard by the rapidly fading fast soldiers on the ground, whilst others held their dying comrades in their arms and cried. They shouted, screamed, and were sad, or mad. Very few were glorious and…happy, but they all felt one primal feeling at their core, and it was fear.
The result was a French victory.
***
The 3 marshals looked upon the deep mass grave with fear and disgust as each corpse was plopped and thrown inside. Davout pinched his nose and retained his stoic expression, despite him being disgusted on the inside. Ney looked upon it with dread and pity, his eyes wide and unblinking as he rapidly breathed. Junot went out to look for Napoleon. Lamnes, with his lance, spun it around and then lit it on fire, and burnt the bodies. Gone were the others, next were more bodies. It was slow, gruelling, and incredibly repulsive.
“So he doesn’t even care about the casualties anymore….” Lannes murmured. “Why do I feel so horrible?”
“That’s just the cost of war. We’ve been through this many times. Is this new?” Davout pinched his nose and fixed his glasses.
“Where did Murat and Bessieres go?” asked Lannes.
“Those morons probably went with the soldiers and celebrated with them as if nothing happened” Ney huffed in irritation as he crossed his arm and tapped his feet.
“What?”
“Are you surprised? Said Davout. “That's what they always do.”
Lannes hesitated as he was going to plop the next mound of brokens limbs and flattened organs into the mass grave to be burnt. A flicker of hesitation crossed him and he felt…uneasy. Ney was impatient and irritated, and Davout was mainly stoic.
“I don't remember them doing such…as if nothing ever happened. I don't remember Napoleon wanting to not face casualties. Do you?”
An awkward silence overwhelmed the group. Davout wanted to say something but refrained, but Ney tried to recall….but in fact he could recall nothing at all. “Actually no..” A sense of dread and fear creeped into his voice. “I don’t actually recall it.”
“And I don’t recall Desaix being a marshal, or when he got his baton. I don’t even recall him being one of the marshals in the 1st promotion. In fact, I don’t think I remember him being a marshal in the first place”
Davout said. His eyes widened, he frantically looked around.
“Do any of you remember?!”
“Right…because a week ago me and Murat were talking about how off it felt, We don’t actually remember Desaix being a marshal either.”
“I still remember Desaix screaming,” he looked down. “That time when he had a hallucination. He went home but I visited. Napoleon didn’t want me to, but I did it anyway. He kept on…going on about some arm bursting out of the ground, and it grabbed him. He thinks it’s where he belongs.”
“I think he’s simply in a psychotic state. He must be ill.”
“He is, that's why I wanted to be there for him. The Emperor refused.”
“Well I understand you wanted to be there, but you’re the iron marshal. You’re extremely great, what's important is protecting our homeland and invading the British eventually so we’ll be able to spread our greatness.”
Just as Lannes was about to rebuke this claim, a briny and saline smell enveloped them all.
“Seawater?” Ney remarked, he was bewildered
“Agh! Smells like shit!” Lannes yelled and coughed as he waved his arm. He was irritated by it
“Oh, Junot.” Davout pointed to the approaching figure in the distance.
“Shouldn’t Napoleon be with him?” added Ney
“And why did he change his clothing?” Davout pointed out.
Lannes looked up, and he saw Davout. The smell of salty seawater and kelp emanated from him. He was not in his usual fancy hussar uniform with gold, white, red and blue, with tons of white fur, decorated with medals and gold and a tall hat with feathers and golden decor. Normally he’d look like Murat, but Instead he was in the simple blue aide-de-camp uniform. He even had a blue sash, and a black bicorn with yellow embroidery. The other marshals were bewildered by how he was even able to change or why he did so, or where he got the clothes. For Lannes though, he was…extremely distressed. This shouldn’t be here. Why was it there? That was all the way back then. Moreso, why did he smell like seawater?
“I tried looking around” Junot fiddled with his clothing and paced back and forth. “Where is he?! Where is he?!”
“He’s missing?!” Ney shouted. They were all worried, Junot though was the most disturbed.
“HE IS!”
“Did he go off to fight on his own?! No…he could be dead!” Ney approached Junot.
Lannes then walked up to them and decided to look for Napoleon. “I’ll look for him.”
“But what about the-”
“Forget about them.” Lannes raised his palm and cut off Ney. “They deserve to be given a proper burial.”
“If you say so,” said Davout.
Lannes de-materialized his Lance and then ran off to find Napoleon.
***
Napoleon stumbled and tumbled, disoriented and dissociating. But while dissociating at the same time, he had the expression of pure wrath, rage and fury on his face. Not only that, but he was also starved…and hungry. His bicorn masked and obscured his expression.
It was eerily silent and quiet. The scent of iron and putrid flesh filled his nostrils. But for whatever reason…he was enamored. The sky was dark, but the clouds were still eerily colorful and rainbow. Not only that, but there was a red arc and red streaks in the sky, something highly unusual yet somehow common in this particular world. Faint shadows of trees and mountains were in the distance.
One particular British soldier was very unlucky trying to flee. It didn’t exactly help that he was in a group of 5 soldiers, him being the 6th. It also didn’t help that the very person they were fighting against was not only very skilled in fighting, but the leader of the side against them, the Emperor and monster, Napoleon Bonaparte. Thanks to his leadership and his ability to fight as well as fire guns, the majority of their soldiers, friends, and comrades were already dead. They were pointing guns at him, but they all wanted to leave at the same time, paralyzed in fear, they backed up while pointing their guns at him.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to shoot me?”
His expression was clearly furious, yet curious.. His black hair was disheveled. He had a grimace that expressed to them shame and disappointment. His voice was hoarse, bitter and sardonic. He cracked and cocked his head to the side, his dark blue eyes pierced into theirs and directly glared at them. “What the hell were they doing standing there? They should fire!” He thought.
Finally, one shot him in the head. Blood pooled at his forehead and dripped from his nose and down to his mouth and chin. Yet he didn’t look like he was in pain. He simply licked the blood dripping off his chin and rubbed and wiped the blood off his nose and forehead with his sleeve from the dark grey tattered and ragged coat. He was unbothered. It's as if nothing had happened.
“What now? Do you have to shoot me more? Do you want me dead? Shoot me again I dare you, let’s see how it works for you.” He spoke in a monotonous yet eerie voice. One might even say it was unnerving.
Another shot him in the stomach with a musket, still, blood pooled at his waistcoat, but he was unfazed and unscathed. Then his grimace became a wry smile and chuckled before speaking again, this time in a still bitter but more sarcastic and demented and enraged tone.
“I can tell you men..boys are young. How old are you? 17? 16? Maybe 15? 14 even? Who knows. I have soldiers who are younger than you and yet they know better. I have teenagers who are smarter than you.”
Yet again, Napoleon was met with silence. Not only that but he felt tired, and he needed something…to eat. He even began salivating a little.
“Oh look, the little corporal acting all so hydrophobic like a rabid wild animal!” Said one of the soldiers. Breaking into a chuckle to humor themselves.
“No! DON’T!”
That couldn’t be closer to the truth. Boy were they right.
The same mocking soldier punched him in the jaw, but like the other shots and blows, there was no effect. There was only an unfazed, stoic, neutral, emotionless and unchanging expression on his face. There were many cracks becoming all the more evident on his face and body, he looked like…a doll.
“What are you? an unfeeling emotionless doll?! A fucking sadistic broken doll?! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”
Another attempted to shoot him in the head but missed.
One simply ran away to not be a part of it. Deserting their friends in hopes of surviving, he cried out to the others “RUN!” And ran off into the distance. Now there were only 5. But before the teenager could escape, Napoleon pulled out a pistol from a pocket on his dark grey ragged jacket and shot the fleeing soldier.
Napoleon looked around for a bit, disoriented and unconcentrated before setting eyes on the mocking British soldier. The teenagers around him suddenly froze and remained silent.
“Wanna see something? Actually. I’m not going to wait for an ans-“ BOOM!
Before he could finish, the mocking soldier readied his gun and shot at the left side of Napoleon’s face. Skin blew off and an eye was shot out. Now half of his face was flayed muscle and gore, and an empty socket. To no surprise, yet somehow, a shock to the unlucky soldiers, he was completely fine. He even smiled back at them.
“I can regenerate and heal very fast you see! Look!”
Flakes of skin began to return to the blown off side, tissue developed and materialized in seconds in the empty socket of his left eye. Bit by bit skin and flesh and tissue began to return and regrow on his face in mere seconds. All they could do is watch in terror. Napoleon placed a hand over his regenerating face, before uncovering it and giving them an eerie unsettling forced smile. His face was perfectly fine.
“See? What’s the point?” His voice friendly, albeit as friendly as a chainsaw. He was barely even trying to hide his malicious intentions and hunger.
“How…how are you…how did you…”
“Oh?” Napoleon’s voice suddenly and abruptly dropped down to a lower octave. The once sarcastic and bitter friendly voice is replaced by a low pitched and angry tone. A voice even more bitter and malicious. Now he wasn’t hiding it at all.
“Run.” Muttered one of the teenagers
“What did-“ Another added but was cut off.
“RUN!”
“WAIT! NO!”
“Nope. That’s not how it works dummy.” Napoleon remarked in a confident and smug manner. Then, something…changed. For whatever reason the Teenagers didn’t know of, Napoleon started salivating more as if he was some rabid animal. Then, he changed.
He collapsed on his knees. “This is what happens when you desert your allies like a dumb coward.”
Then he collapsed completely. The teenager fleeing was still hopeful of surviving and making out of this hell. Boy was he wrong.
First, Napoleon clawed onto the ground pulling himself further and further. Then, he cracked his neck, twisting his neck and cracking his knuckles before he went on all fours, angrily and excitedly snarling and growling while salivating. Even his canines became more sharp. Even his nails got longer and became claws. This time his grin was macabre. He looked like he’d gone mad, which they weren’t too far off from.
“What the hell?” They thought. The Emperor of Europe was no longer behaving like a man, he was no longer an emperor or soldier. He became a wild animal. “But what was he going to do? He’s so far behind.” Little did they know that they severely underestimated him.
His black boots were dragged as he galloped and dashed and sprinted on all fours. His long dark grey jacket flowed and billowed behind his back as it got torn and worn out. They chased him and yelled for their unlucky friend to run faster. Shooting wouldn’t do anything to help since he could regenerate. They couldn’t kill him that easily. He was as fast as a cheetah, and it didn’t take long for him to be out of their distance.
The boy he was chasing after stopped to catch a breath. He was thinking he’d run far enough from the man-turned-animal he was unaware of was just about to murder and cannibalize him. He let out a sigh of relief. When he turned back, he was horrified and petrified.
“RUN! GET OUT!” He heard a distant voice called out. But before he could process who exactly was saying it. He was attacked.
Napoleon tackled him down to the ground and dug his nails-turned-claws in the poor soul’s arms, burrowing and digging into the flesh of his victim and meal. He had a smile plastered on his face. A mouth wide open and smiling with saliva dripping out of his mouth and sharp canines clearly visible. He was even cackling and laughing. Snarling and growling. His wide open navy eyes directly making eye contact and staring and glaring him down with dilated pupils. He was clearly very happy and excited to have his feast compared to his terrified unfortunate victim. He even grew a bit taller as his kicking legs extended in height. Before the soldier could let out a cry or scream, Napoleon feasted.
His head dug into his neck, teeth digging into skin, muscle, flesh, viscera, cartilage, and bone. Teeth grating into bone and breaking it. Yanking his vocal cords and pulling his skin off and eating it. Sucking on his blood. His claws tearing off the nose and biting it. Crunching through meat and cartilage. Napoleon was clearly enjoying his meal, and the victim however was in enormous pain and agony shortly before dying. He flayed the skin off the arms and face of his meal with his teeth and claws. Stuffing them into his mouth and still digging into his meal.
When the 4 teenagers finally found Napoleon, they were horrified. It was too late, far too late.
They saw a shadow and silhouette of Napoleon eating something. Or rather, someone. He was a complete animal.
Ripped clothing of their friend and remains of torn skin and broken bones were on the ground. Napoleon in his wild animalistic state let out a cry. He let out the loudest most blood curdling roar and scream he could that echoed throughout the battlefield to signal his fury and victory. It didn’t even sound like that of a person, but more of that of a predator. He scanned his surroundings to search for anyone or anything watching him, even his eyes looked as if they were glowing to them from a distance. It was a complete nightmare. The whole scene looked like something straight out of the most terrifying thoughts and nightmares anyone could imagine. It was a macabre nightmare. The most horrible dream someone could have, the worst nightmare they’d experience.
Napoleon looked at them, and gave a disgusting macabre grimacing smile. His glowing eyes wincing and staring directly at them, as if to say “that’s what happens!”
***
“Napoleon! Are you ok?!”
Lannes called out. He ran through the seemingly deserted and empty battlefield. He seemed to have assumed Napoleon was missing or dead and lost all hope until he saw the disgusting macabre scene in front of him.
Approaching Napoleon and taking a closer inspection, he wasn’t dead at all, he wasn’t injured or having a bad time. If anything, it was a dream to Napoleon. He was having a great time. He feasted upon mounds and mounds and piles and piles of corpses and meat. Crunching and eating every single last bit of them like the gluttonous pig he was. To Lannes, it was a complete, utter horror and nightmare. Napoleon turned to him and gave him a warm, kind, tender, but disgusting and prideful smile. Panting and still feasting. It was certainly less horrific than the ones he gave to the others, but still horrible and ugly either way. He even had a chunk of meat in his mouth hanging. He tore off an arm from a corpse and stuck it out towards Lannes. He was offering it to him. A sign of a little bit of humanity and altruism in him.
He didn’t accept it and only backed away further from Napoleon. He just muttered. His voice was filled to the brim with fear and shock. What the hell was he anymore? What the hell had he become?
“What the hell is actually wrong with you?”
Chapter 21: 21. Intermission II: The Aside, or, the letter.
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Chapter Text
To my dear friend, Marshal Desaix.
I hope you are all right and well. The battle was a victory, but it came at a devastating cost.
We have lost an uncountable numbers of soldiers, but it is for the good of the Empire. Despite the tragedies our brave soldiers have faced, we will continue our war, and eventual invasion of the British.
What is worrying is that despite the considerate number of casualties, our imperial majesty requested we shall not count for an unknown reason.
Nevertheless, they died as heroes. Our other fellow marshals however are having a bit of trouble grasping this. They’re acting strange for an unknown cause. They’re acting like they have not experienced this many times before.
I hope you feel better soon and gain the strength to lead our empire to victory no matter the cost. Our blood belongs to the Empire, and we will fight for it. Rest up my dear friend. I will be visiting you soon.
-your dear friend and fellow Marshal Davout, Prince of Eckmühl, Duke of Auerstaedt.
Chapter 22: 22. The Visit
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
Davout pays a visit to his friend Desaix after the glorious battle while he’s sick!
Kudos, feedback, comments and criticism is always appreciated.
Chapter Text
It was a typical ordinary day. It had been a week after the battle, and now Davout decided it would be a good time to visit his friend and let him shake off the memories of the battle.
The carriage passed by the typical sights of his friend’s home town of Ayat-sur-Sioule. The open fields and the rolling bucolic green hills, the green, peaceful mountainous background behind, the small village with cute little buildings and houses scattered over, and the Church that marked the spot.
The Carriage passed the town, but when Davout looked at the window…it seemed to be extremely isolated. “It’s a small town, so of course there aren’t much people.” He thought to himself. But even as he thought, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of discomfort. No matter the weather, or how beautiful the day was, it still felt off no matter what.
Eventually they got to the chateau, the chateau surrounded by hills and grassland. It was almost magical, it was even surrounded by a forest. It was a large, but quite modest, and even “ancient-looking” chateau. The towers were made of pale stone, topped off with orange roofs. It looked more like a small castle than a chateau. Despite its archaic structure, it was still pretty to look at. However, random towers of the chateau were placed at seemingly random places. “Must’ve been the work of someone who didn’t know what they were doing” Davout scoffed to himself.
He went inside. The room, which was a vestibule, was made of stone. It was filled with dirt and grime to the brim, the air inside was suffocating. Davout walked to the end of the entry hall, and found a door, and opened it to find a spiral stone staircase leading up to the 1st floor.
The 1st floor had an old, medieval looking kitchen. He’d expect to see servants since he was a marshal, but surprisingly there were none. A marshal of the empire was supposed to have a sumptuous lifestyle as a reward for his duties, not…isolated and alone, living in such a sickly and archaic place. However there was a living room, a living room and dining room. Though there should be many people, and despite the many chairs sitting around the large table there were no people.
How strange, that a man like him could be so isolated. The living room though was furnished with gold. Gold patterns and edges and decorations, alongside reception pieces with rare and admirable baroque frescoes representing biblical figures and roman mythological tales.
It was…all over the place. Still, he focused on finding his friend. He went up the spiral stairs again to the 2nd floor, which he did not bother to check out, then the 3rd.
He roamed the halls, and opened the door to see a bedroom. A sterile lifeless and empty room, with walls of seafoam green and blue stripes. There was a closer, a cabinet, and 2 beds. A desk was placed near a bed, and there was a large French window at the end of the room that let in a lot of sunlight. For some odd reason, there was a pungent and strangely rotting smell in the room.
“Be as it may, I need to help him.” He thought.
On one of the beds was bed-ridden Desaix, blankly staring at the ceiling, his long brown hair disheveled and messy. His skin was sickly pale, and he quivered and convulsed in pain and fear. In his hands was a thin but crumpled piece of paper, wrinkled and tattered. To him that letter was the only thing that had been bringing him ease.
“Desaix..” Davout made sure to speak in a gentle and quiet tone as he cautiously approached him.
But Desaix only screamed out in response, he was paranoid. Anything could happen, that hand could drag him back, he wasn’t supposed to be here. When he turned to where the source of the voice came from, he saw his friend, Davout looking back at him. It put him at ease to see his dearly beloved friend.
“Oh!….oh…it’s you, Davout.” He breathed out in relief, his heart rate slowing down.
“Are you alright?” Davout asked, a small, but soft shy smile starting to form upon his face. His arm reaching forward to grasp at his shoulder. “No…”
“Huh?” He was confused by the response.
“NICHOLAS!…Louis..Nicholas.” Desaix tightly grappled onto Davout’s arm and turned around, and rolled up his white puffy sleeve to reveal…something. There was only an ordinary-looking hand, but it was a bit bony.
“I can feel it Nicholas. I can feel those insects CRAWLING UNDER MY SKIN! I can see them bulging from there…don’t you see Nicholas?! DON’T-“
“What insects?!” He retorted back to the sudden and panicked nonsensical barrage of words.
“Ants…I feel them crawling under my skin, it’s going to come back. I know it’s going to come back any second now! AT ANY TIME IN ANY-“
“Desaix…You are in your house, in a very nice and beautiful place. Desaix, we won! They lost! Remember?” Davout said, trying to miserably console and put him at ease. But with a letter like that why would anyone even be at ease?
“Look at all these things around you. Or your chateau? Or servants? Or-or-!” He stammered and wavered in speech. “What about these grassy fields or the forest around you? Or the mountains?”
“Nicholas..” Desaix mumbled. “Don’t you smell it?” He shook in fear.
“Oh? That smell? Yeah…I didn’t want to really insult you but-“
“No…I know it….I’m rotting. I’m rotting! I’m rotting! I feel like I’m being consumed on the inside out!”
“DESAIX!” He shouted out, cutting him off and leaving him silent and frightened. Davout’s eyes widened, he fixed his glasses and took deep breaths in order to calm himself down.
“Desaix, there are no bugs on you. There are no ants under your skin. You are FINE, Desaix. There is nothing wrong with you. Everything is ok, everything is alright, and everything will be better once we go out for a stroll.” He said firmly, but not too harsh.
“A stroll?”
“Yes, a stroll.”
“But must I get well?”
“Well this stroll must help you.”
Desaix groaned in exhaustion and got out of bed. His eyelids still felt heavy, and he reluctantly agreed.
“Very…well then.”
***
Davout and Desaix walked down the spiral staircase. Each step Desaix took felt more tiring than the last. He had gotten ready, wearing his blue and yellow marshals uniform, but still tired.
“Where are the servants in your chateau? There was nobody.”
“Oh I have servants…LOTS! And lots of students.”
“Desaix, are you alright?” He grew worried and more concerned for him. Each word he spoke only made him slightly more dreadful for him.
“I am alright-! I’m alright!”
They both noticed something. As they descended, strangely it felt extremely long. It’s as if they were going nowhere at all. How long had they been walking? They both could not tell.
But it only got weirder when they went further down.
It felt like eternity at this point, a trip down to the 2nd floor shouldn’t take this long. It certainly wasn’t like that when he went upstairs. Did his chateau have more stairs? What was the architect even doing? The architect must’ve been living in a fantasy land to do this terrible of a Job. He must’ve not known what he was doing in the slightest.
But a shrill and horrified scream interrupted Davout’s thoughts and put him off-guard. He stopped looking down at his feet and each step he took, and paid attention to….wherever the hell they were.
It was a large, wide, and almost infinite labyrinth filled with spiral staircases and normal staircases all intersecting. For whatever reason, it almost looked like a “stair world”. The stairs led to and were placed in random places. Top, bottom, left, right, all over. The laws of physics and reality did not apply. They were all built at impossible angles. Each set of stairs led to some sort of outdoor scenery. There were doorways, rails, and windows.
On the stairs were strange, deformed, and miserable humanoid figures. The two could even hear moaning and groaning from the figures. They were featureless and putrid black. Some were even melting away, leaving trails of fetid fluid. They all had no faces. Some had their gooey arms hanging by thread while some had their legs dissolving onto the steps. They travelled endlessly without purpose, not knowing where they were going or supposed to go. All they knew was pain, and all they could do was to let out a scream that rapidly faded, for they were barely human.
“No…nononononononono…NO!” Desaix froze, his mouth hanging open, barely being able to utter a word. His hands trembled and fiddled endlessly, whilst Davout simply looked upon the grotesque sight in shock, fixing his glasses while he did so to avoid seeing double, or too little.
“What the hell are these?” Davout yelled out. “WHAT ARE THESE CREATURES!?” Out of panic, Desaix used his powers. With his Aerokinesis, he blasted a powerful gust of wind, blowing the poor creatures away into the seemingly bottomless pit.
“Why are you being so paranoid Desaix?” Davout asked. “So afraid? Are you still having those visions?”
“Those are NOT visions Davout. I swear, this all feels unfamiliar. I don’t even REMEMBER having a chateau!” I-…I…”
“What…what are you speaking of!?”
Davout was dumbfounded, what was he this mad for? Having visions of the dead was one thing, but he had deteriorated rapidly over the last few weeks. Was he even himself anymore?
“Nicholas I swear-“
“We’ll keep going down the stairs.”
Desaix calmed down a bit and trusted him, and so they both went down. Eventually the sight faded, they went to the 1st floor, then down the vestibule and out.
It was still beautiful out. Except….it seemed too colorful. It even seemed deformed. In fact the sky even seemed…rainbow. There were bright iridescent clouds scattered across the sky, complementing the dark distant green mountains. The world was like an opal.
But there were the figures again, migrating and marching like ants in the hills and fields. The poor creatures in agony, groaning and howling. “What….whats going on?” Davout recoiled out of caution, for this was unnatural. Everything was unusual and unnatural, this was unheard of. The flowers bloomed in unnatural ways. The shadows lengthened and then quickly receded, then lengthening, then receding again.
Meanwhile Desaix only grew more fearful and anxious. He did not want to be outside of his chateau any longer. He just wanted to be home. But he himself did not even feel like his home was even…his home anymore. He didn’t think it was ever his home. He just wanted to go back to where he was, but he was in his home town. It should’ve been familiar, yet it wasn’t. Something was terribly off.
“Why don’t we go into that forest over here?” “NO! LET ME GO HOME PLEASE! JUST LET ME GO!”
“What are you talking about!?”
“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!!!” He collapsed to his knees and looked at his hands.
Davout was getting fed up with Desaix’s nonsense. He yanked him by his hair and shouted. “STOP IT! STOP ACTING LIKE AN IMBECILE!” And then let him go. “Look, all I want to do is help you Desaix. I haven’t seen you in weeks and is this how you choose to act? I want to talk and interact with you, not watch you suffer. So, will you at least come along? And at least walk and talk with me?”
Desaix contemplated this. Though everything was starting to terrify him, his friend didn’t. He was still his close and loyal friend, he didn’t want to disappoint. So he got up and smiled nervously.
“S-sure..”
And so they walked through the forest.
For a few minutes it actually seemed leisurely and pleasurable, it wasn't distressing or horrifying. It was…nice. Nothing was wrong….for a bit.
Desaix still felt extremely uneasy, he looked down at his feet. Meanwhile Davout confidently strode and didn’t worry. But it didn’t take so long for it to go terribly wrong. Davout noticed as the world began to….untether.
As they walked, along the path the trees were stripped on their leaves and floated midair uprooted from the soil. The grass faded alongside the soil, and the sky…became black. Was this the empty part of this world? Davout became horrified, but he decided to explore anyway, determined to find out what was going on. “I see what you’ve been afraid of now..” The path was just…there, in the middle of space.
Desaix followed Davout, he himself also determined to figure out what was happening as well. It was all nonsensical. “What is this place?” Desaix asked. “Why is it..” “Empty?”
Davout finished it. “I don’t know..” even he started to feel dread build up inside him. His unsettled and uneasy voice betraying his usually aloof and nonchalant demeanor.
It was dead silent. Not even their footsteps could be heard anymore. The few bright twinkling stars of space contrasted with the randomly floating uprooted trees, and the dirt path they were…somehow still walking upon.
“I told you! I was!”
“I know. It’s alright, follow my lead and-“
But out of the blue, a shrill scream rang out and clamored. A melting black arm like ink grasped onto Davout’s arm. He froze in fear and simply stared at it.
The figure emerged from the darkness, An eyeless, and legless figure. Its mouth wailing out in anguish. “HELP ME!” It howled. “END THIS!! END THIS!!” It yowled, before quickly melting and falling into the vacuum. Bits of it still stuck to Davout’s sleeve though. He could only look down in sadness and horror as he watched the pieces of fluid drift off into the vacuum of space.
Desaix was in a full blown panic attack, he needed to run. He HAD to. What could happen to them?! Anything can.
“We need to get out Nicholas!” Desaix yelled at Davout.
“Antoine, we need to find out what’s going on. I NEED TO! And we too will know what to do, I have my hammer, and you have your air. We’re alright.”
But something strange occurred when they kept walking.
As they walked, the colorful sky with iridescent clouds started to return…only now it was now sunset. The trees regained their leaves, the fields returned and so did the chateau. When they looked back there was no trace of any space or vacuum, it was normal.
“A small world..” Davout murmured to himself.
A dark flock of birds flew through the sky, with clamoring and ringing honks and squawks. The flowers wilted, and near the horizon, the sky looked as if there was a gap. Flowers and mountains flickered and deformed in the background. Even one mountain was floating, as if it were wandering land.
The hills were doubled, and it was no visual problem of Davout. It was real, except they were torn and ripped, colors inverted and overlapping. The grass that blew flickered and were also overplayed with more colors and doubles, but they were mostly decomposing.
And the Chateau…the chateau was already broken from the start. Yet it was still so pristine and perfect.
The world was falling apart.
Davout looked upon the sight mortified by the sight, his mouth and eyes wide open. He could barely utter a word at the sheer scale of what destruction had occurred. What was happening? They needed to do something.
But Desaix looked upon the scenery serenely, sitting down on the grass taking upon the sight before him. He was calm, and it seemed to have..worked, strangely. How beautiful.
“What a small world.” He murmured.
And so, they both gazed into the distance as the world before them fell apart at the seams.
Chapter 23: 23. Dinner
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
Napoleon has a nice relaxing dinner after the battle. He and his wife Josephine also spend a bonding time together.
Or is it?
Comments, kudos, feedback, and criticism are always appreciated.
Chapter Text
It was overwhelming.
Josephine’s hands and feet went numb at the banquet. The chandelier lights were blinding and burning. The beautiful art painted on the walls made the room feel cluttered and overstimulating. The golden embroidery and ornaments made it feel so unnatural. There were even decorative stars hanging from the ceiling. She could hear the clinking and clanking of dishes and silverware on the long large table with a beige silk drapery atop.
Everyone at the large table was all dressed up. Acting as if it were all normal. All sitting still, with synthetic smiles doing nothing at all.
The women looked like dolls, and the men looked like figurines. The doll-like women’s dresses were colorful and…pretty, and for whatever damn reason, looked as if their dresses were to fall apart and show off their chest.
She was repulsed at the sight. Far too much makeup, far too perfect smiles, far too many colors and lights.
The figurine men looked like their clothing was sloppily painted on. Their faces were all identical. If they were toys, then the doll maker either didn’t even want to put any effort, or he didn’t know what he was doing at all. The people felt fake, and the whole sight was overwhelming.
She did not want this any longer.
Right across her was her husband, with his skin so white to the point he could basically be considered a Roman statue. He was even developing major cracks, his skin was textured like marble. It was glassy, perfect, beautiful, at least to everyone else but definitely not her. His eyes were navy blue with a twinge of indigo, and for whatever reason the caruncula of his eye looked inflamed and red. Was his eyes bleeding? Yet he still had that smile.
The plates were full of food. “The Emperor’s pig” as they had recently called it, all cut up and served in different forms and ways. It looked appetizing, but something felt off, at least to her. While the scent may have been hidden by herbs and spices, she could smell something metallic in it. Sickeningly sweet and disgusting. She hated it so much. Especially when she looked at her own bowl of meat, filled with chunks and lumps of tenderly cooked meat.
She wanted to leave right there and retreat into her room. She couldn’t though, it was the first victory. She was the empress. It was MANDATORY for her. She didn’t want to be such a whore, an ungrateful selfish b-
No. Now was not the time.
What she had to do was to be the cheerful empress she always was. She wanted her children to be with her, not her son, Eugene, commanding the army of Russia far away from her. Not her daughter ruling Holland with her husband. She may have been proud but she NEEDED someone to keep her company and safe, and right now Napoleon wasn’t doing any favors. She felt abandoned and overstimulated.
His voice rang through her head over and over again. Those same words he told Caroline, his other sisters, mistresses, herself, and just about every woman.
“Don’t be afraid! The ladies should always SMILE!”
She muttered to herself nervously on the table. “Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop-“
“Josephine?”
She looked up at Napoleon, curiously, and unnaturally, lolling his head to the side.
On his plate was chicken marengo, with slices of grilled onions on the side and potatoes.
But she could still smell that odor. In fact, that’s where it was the strongest.
But the banquet began.
Napoleon first stuck his hands into the dish first, picking it up and eating it. That was usual, he normally used his hands.
But out of the blue he cleaned his hands with some wipes, picked up his utensils and…was eating it with them. It was…graceful.
Hold on a minute. He didn’t do this! He doesn’t eat so….how do you even do that?!
Meanwhile while everyone else was eating their food. Strangely enough when they ate, she did not hear the normal sound of chewing. While she did hear the sound of silverware clanking, and food being put into their mouth. Their mouths and jaws…jittered.
Teeth chattered, and instead they produced the sound of snapping and clicking. Their heads rocked side to side as they all smiled while “eating” their food.
And meanwhile, Napoleon somehow saw nothing wrong with ANY of this. All while he ate his favorite dish.
Josephine’s eyes rapidly flickered around the room and the people, she wanted to leave. She wanted to get out of here. She couldn’t! She couldn’t! No! It’d be shameful, hurtful, inconsiderate and disrespectful as the Empress. She could hear the alarms and voices screaming in her head. A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the back of her mind and telling her to get out. But his voice. That brassy, mocking, and condescending voice. That damned foreign accent.
It replied to the yells of her who clamoured. He re-echoed, aided, surpassed it in volume and in strength. It did this, and the yells of her instincts grew still in her mind, replaced only by his mantra.
“The ladies should ALWAYS SMILE!”
She could hear the deafening conversations and the barrage of topics.
“This food is wonderful!”
“Gosh it’s so good.”
“What are you going to do today?”
“We’re going to invade in no time!”
“I’m sure the French are going to win this war!”
“I heard even the new soldiers, recruits, and even cadets are eating it!”
All fell silent when a man asked. “Your Imperial Majesty, how do you make this?”
With a chuckle, he replied. “My chefs prefer to keep it secret. We don’t want any other copycats stealing the recipe now do we?”
Finally, she looked down at her meal and picked up her fork. She dug into the meat, only to hear a loud crack and crunch. She could hear the unnerving popping of bones as the fork pierced it. She lifted her fork up, and to her horror, it was a human finger. Still with some of its skin attached, and its nail haphazardly torn off the tip, even bits of skin were ripped off. It left instead crushed bones and mushy bloody flesh.
She could only stare at the finger on her fork in disgust and shock. Her mouth was wide open, so were her eyes.
She looked up to see everyone’s smiles had been dropped. All their heads were directly torn to her, giving her a death glare. They looked like they were going to murder her. They all had a dead look to them. Not even Napoleon, her own husband bothered to help her. He just glared at her. The cracks on his marble skin widening and intensifying as the minutes went on.
How could they even find this normal? Why were they all glaring at her? How was her own husband not helping her?
She could no longer ignore her instincts. She cleared her throat and got up from her chair and walked out.
***
The light coming from the windows in the hall of the Tuileries were absolutely blinding.
She strode through the hallway, horrified by what she just saw at dinner. When she saw the servants in the hallway, they too were glaring at her. That same blank expression with those wide empty eyes looking directly at her.
“It was human flesh…it was human flesh!..” she murmured to herself. When she looked outside, even other people had that dead look. They were all staring at her. They weren’t doing anything.
“Why are you staring at me?!” She shouted angrily. But despite the tone of her voice, she was actually afraid.
She even felt herself hyperventilating. She felt dizzy. The light from the window made her eyes sting, making her squint. Her head felt hollow and light, and she felt like her limbs were noodles.
Every corner, every part of the palace where she saw people, they still gave her that dead look.
“What have I done?”
Eventually she got to her room and locked the door. The red walls had been stripped bare of their drapery, leaving only it and the many golden borders and stripes, both horizontal and vertical, left in the strangely…oddly more circular and taller room. It was oval-like, but for an unknown reason it became taller and more circular. The lantern with the red rays and tanzanite center still spun atop the ceiling. One might even go as far as to say it resembled a cage.
Her bed also had been stripped bare of its drapery. Instead it had been replaced by a cubicle cage of iron, gilded with gold. It even had a gate that allowed her to get in or out. The black swan was still on top of the cage though to add insult to the injury. The inside of the cage though still looked cozy, a mattress, a blanket and pillows.
She was now a prisoner in her own home. For the sin of discovering human meat.
Though it may have been a nice gilded cage, it was a cage nonetheless. It may have been an imperial prison, but a prison nonetheless.
She recognized this, and she wasn’t going to put up with this any longer.
***
He was in his room. His hands were trembling and aching. Papers scattered and tattered with smudged ink upon them. His room was still pristine, but his desk and himself were far from it. He stared at himself in the mirror.
“I’m still me.” He had a smile plastered upon his face as his delicate and well-groomed hands caressed his skin.
Just then, Josephine knocked on the door.
“Who….is it?”
The door opened. Josephine came in, her expression stern. She was not going to tolerate this.
“Could you care to explain why you’re indulging in such savagery? Why did you do it?” She asked angrily.
“You’re going to be a lot more specific than that.” Napoleon answered in a cold, monotone, and eerily calm voice.
“Why are you indulging in cannibalism!? You stared at me like you wanted to kill me. And then after that, conveniently and coincidentally, there was a cage on my bed! My room looks like a cage! I’m not that stupid Napoleon. Why? Explain this to me!”
Napoleon twisted his head towards Josephine. From her a small gasp was emitted. His ultramarine eyes almost seemed…glowing. The cracks on his perfect marble-like skin only widened as he twitched and contorted unnaturally. His head bobbed and retracted. It was like he was a bird or some kind of reptile. They were jerky.
Josephine jolted back and slowly began to walk away. She treaded cautiously, making sure her footsteps didn’t make the slightest bit of noise or sound. Her eyes flicked all around the room and she could even feel sweat starting to coat her forehead.
“W-what’s wrong with you? This isn’t you.” she stammered, her voice meek and quiet.
For a little bit, there was no response before his lips twitched, and eventually stretching, carving, and elongating out into some sort of reptilian smile.
“Don’t worry, I’m still me.”
Despite the pounding of her heart, she had to keep going. This was her husband. She steeled her nerves.
“How?! How do you believe that?!” She looked upon him in fear and pity as she clutched her forehead. “No…NO! And THIS ISN’T EVEN THE SUBJECT! WHY ARE WE EATING PEOPLE?! YOU KNOW FULL ON WELL HOW DISGUSTING AND HORRIFIC THIS IS! YOU KNOW WELL!”
His smile drooped and instead was replaced by an unfazed look.
Josephine stormed and approached him. What was he even doing? Why was he treating her like this?
“You aren’t well Napoleon! You. Are. Not. Well! Please listen to me!”
Napoleon stood up and she was smacked to the ground by him. It felt like she’d been bashed. Her ears rang, the pain in her head spreading all over her body and her vision blurring and sharpening. Through the sharp screeching of her tinnitus though, she could hear the breaking and cracking of bones. She looked at the floor, dark crimson red blood plopping onto it from her nose and even her mouth.
This was completely out of character for him, he was unwell. He never hit her. Despite her thoughts the snapping of bones and stretching of skin kept on getting louder. Her hands trembled and her legs quaked. When she finally looked up, she was absolutely mortified.
He did not appear as his normal self at all. Instead, he was taller. He had that devilishly handsome features, same sharp nose, eyes, and hands, the same brown hair and incubus-like physique. The shock and realization dawned over her.
He had shapeshifted into her dead husband.
The same man who had beaten her. The same man who left her a widower. The same man who left her and her children to be with his stupid silly whores. He was wearing the face and skin as her first husband.
She felt her eyes sting a little and water up. It didn’t take long until it leaked, and tears began to stream down her skin. Anger coursed through her veins, but she felt herself tense up. Her lungs desperately grasped for air, making her breathe heavily. Her heart pounded rapidly against her chest, and she could feel screaming and alarms blaring in her head. She wanted to run away, she wanted to fight back, she also wanted to freeze up, she wanted to apologize. Why would he do this to her? She didn’t understand.
“What a fine woman you are.” He scoffed mockingly in his voice. The same voice of her first husband. “You truly are beneath all the sluts in the world.”
“That’s…not true.” she whimpered out meekly. Her voice shaky and quiet as a mouse.
“Oh?” he chuckled derisively. “You may be the Empress but you can’t even do your role as a woman right. Women are nothing but machines for producing children. From your previous marriage you seemed to have succeeded, but barren with me. Why is that? Oh right! Because you’re a silly whore. You were a fancy prostitute. Did you not think how stupid that was? Or the illnesses you may have contracted? No, you didn’t because you’re too moronic to figure out. You women are less serious than men, and look where it has got you.” He berated her, and just to hammer down his point he knocked on her head and hit it.
“You are useless, and you can’t even provide me an heir. And even in your marriage you continue to be the stupid whore you are. Don’t think I forgot about Hippolyte.”
“But I am faithful…I’m sorr-”
“NO!” His voice was booming and harsh. “YOU AREN’T SORRY! IF YOU WERE REALLY SORRY NONE OF THIS WOULD BE LIKE THIS! Constantly nagging me! Constantly crying to me! Wanting me to serve you at your every whim! This is the thanks I get!? I SHOULDER A BURDEN YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND! Ruling an Empire…fighting in war…commanding armies. Who do you think conquered all of Europe? Who do you think won all those battles and transformed the world? You? No! You sit there on your ass all day doing nothing but looking pretty. You don’t do shit! I work, and work, and work, and what the FUCK do you do!? DON’T YOU FUCKING SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT! DO YOU HEAR ME!? You are lucky I have not divorced you. And the only reason I’m not divorced yet from a waste of human flesh like you is because I love you. I will not suffer for you and your FUCKING BULLSHIT any longer. All your constant nags for jewelry, clothing, money, and going to places. I’m supposed to be your husband, not your fucking father. You think of yourself as equal to me when you clearly are not.”
Finally he transformed back into his normal form, glaring down at her in disgust and anger with those electric ultramarine eyes. “Go. Depart from me. I wish not to speak with you any longer.” His voice switched back from loud, angry and booming to eerily cold and calm. “Get out of my sight.”
“How?! How do you believe that?!” She looked upon him in fear and pity as she clutched her forehead. “No…NO! And THIS ISN’T EVEN THE SUBJECT! WHY ARE WE EATING PEOPLE?! YOU KNOW FULL ON WELL HOW DISGUSTING AND HORRIFIC THIS IS! YOU KNOW WELL!”
That was love?
Only because he loved her?
All while wearing the skin of Alexandre’s face while berating and insulting her?
She didn’t seem to understand, and it was a shame he seemed an honest man.
She was heartbroken. She felt like she had been stabbed by a thousand needles, or had a thousand cuts.
She felt guilty for what she did long ago. But even though she never had a single affair since her husband kept on having mistresses one after another. She was the empress. She was a hostess too. She had alliances. Had it not been for her and the connections she had, the coup of Brumaire would’ve been difficult to pull off.
“This is what you deserve” She felt both of their voices echoing over and over in her head.
That was out of necessity, he did it for pleasure. She didn’t even want to hear her first husband anymore, or his voice. She didn’t want to see him.
She buried her face in her hands, and left for her room.
And for the rest of the night she tucked herself in the cage-bed crying herself to scream while hearing both their voices and having nightmares.
Chapter 24: 24. The Monster in the Flesh of a man
Chapter Text
Wellesley knew well that the usurper could be ruthless, even evil at times. He thought he knew the bounds he could go, the lines he couldn't cross. But now he questions all he once knew about the man. Every single one of them. Dead. A feat not even the greatest commanders and military strategists could best with the sheer size, training, grit, and overall greatness of the British Army.
And he managed to not only defeat them, but to wipe out every single man he sent out on the battlefield. At least that's what he thought.
There was one. One sole survivor. Wellington could only envy the strength that soldier had to not go entirely mad after watching an entire battalion of men slaughtered ruthlessly. He could only imagine Napoleon and his generals rejoicing at the not-so-close victory.
“Would it be fit for you to see the survivor at this hour?” A young man bowed.
Wellington sighed and gulped nervously. “Indeed, it would. Bring him in please.”
It wasn't the first time he witnessed a traumatized soldier at his desk. This one looked a bit distant. Like there was something else, something more important going on in his head.
“Well, sit down.” He ushered him to bring up a chair to his desk.
“I will ask you only one question—what exactly happened? And be sure to not skip over absolutely anything.” Wellington attempted to sound uncaring. Even though it was completely obvious that he was shaken up from the devastation.
“He..Napoleon and his soldiers, they approached us. I remember that it was pouring. Yet there wasn't even a struggle. It was like they—they mowed through the troops. It was the most horrendous and abominable thing I'd ever seen.” His voice was like a straining rope, holding a huge weight. A burden. Guilt. “And I just wish, I wish I could do something. Anything.
He wrote something down. “Continue.”
“And– the blood–” He choked up. “There was so much blood. Napoleon tore the men apart like some savage wild animal could. It was almost inhuman. He shot them and laughed and rejoiced throughout all of the merciless killing. All I could smell was just the repugnant scent of blood and innards.”
“He did what?” He looked up, his eyes wide and in disbelief.
“Yes, like a complete and utter monster disguised in the flesh of a human being. I could've sworn he glanced at me. And I laid awake, wondering why he couldn't have taken me. So I couldn't live with this.” He was almost intelligible. He soon began to sob. “And the worst part? What he did to the little remaining survivors.”
Wellington looked up. He furrowed his brows. “And..what exactly did he do?” His ferocious writing came to a quick halt.
“That monster,” He choked in between heart wrenching sobs. “He devoured them. He ripped them apart with his teeth. I vividly remember their wails and screams for help. I couldn't take it! He’s…he is a monster! I’m telling you your grace! HE IS A COMPLETE AND UTTER MONSTER IN THE BODY OF A MAN! He’s the monster in human flesh! He’s the antichrist! I SAW MALEVOLENCE IN HIM! And I’m sure that corsican beast will rip open and reveal his true form…HE CAN’T HIDE IT! HE WON’T!”
“He ate them. His own soldiers?” He was distraught. He couldn't believe what he'd even been told. He repeated it over and over in his head to see if he could find a reasonable explanation on why he would do something other than the fact that he was inhuman. A monster. He backed away and stumbled, even almost falling onto a table. It sounded like him, but really it didn’t. It shouldn’t be.
“Of course he’d do something like this. He’d do something like that.” he thought.
“What the devil is he?” He muttered.
He led the traumatized British soldier out of his office. During the day, he made himself scarce trying to ponder how one could possibly wipe out a professional army of men, with only one known survivor of the terror.
***
The throne room seemed…fine at first glance.. Not too different for the changes to be a concern but obviously not the same as before. Things were misplaced and more obviously even the architecture of the room was different. The walls, if you looked close enough, the walls started to look lumpy and had holes, they curved and the chandeliers on the ceiling looked more like stalactites. The ceiling itself started to peel.
The older George was sitting there, on the throne, dead center. Talking to himself quietly. The large, echoing, room still picked up some of what he was saying but his words were nothing more than a madman's ramblings.
His son, however, who walked in on his daily routine, seemed to be tired of him and his overly exhausted talking points as to why he is still a capable experienced king.
“Over-experienced.” He thought.
He cupped his hands over his mouth and exclaimed, “Out, Now!”
The only response the elder got was a smug smile and a chuckle from the younger. The elder gave him a menacing glare.
“Are you deaf in one ear? Get off of there!” He made a shooing motion with his hands.
“Oh father, you’re the one who is deaf. Failing vision, failing hearing. It’s about time you get off that throne.” He smiled gleefully.
“that pompous arrogant fool.” He thought to himself. “He thinks he can overtake my position!? Like that!? When he can barely even take care of himself while I have been ruling the United Kingdom for 53 years!?”
“You dare to challenge me!?” He shouted angrily, eyes twitching and fists trembling with rage. “You dare insult my condition! Dare to challenge me when you can’t even take care of your own self!? You dare offend me, when I, your father, have been ruling the United Kingdom FOR 53 YEARS!? WHILE YOU HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING YOURSELF!?”
The berating echoed and reverberated through the hall. He tried to get off his throne with his brittle bony legs, hidden underneath all those layers and robes of white and golden colored fabric. He struggled, shaking and convulsing. Even his hands were stuck to the arms of the throne. His bones felt light and delicate, threatening to fall apart at any moment. They were practically sticks and twigs for bones if anything.
He could not leave his seat, and unease began to creep into him. He strained with the little strength he had, but it had appeared that he could not leave his seat. Was he glued to it? Did his own son do this to him?
When the younger saw his father writhing and straining to get off the throne, he was surprised and shocked at first. He was bewildered and bemused. He was also in awe, seeing his father grown so weak to the point he was stuck to his chair was astonishing. He had become so weak to the move he could only writhe in futility.
And that bemusement soon turned into amusement as soon as he laughed and mocked him.
“Oh father! What happened to you?” He scoffed in mocked concern as he walked closer to the throne. The Elder felt his skin strain and burn as it tried to separate from the velvet surface. There was nothing he could do. Panic set in as he realized that he was completely agglutinated onto the chair.
“Boy, those lectures about me being incompetent while you can’t even get off your own seat! Now father? Why don’t I help you off now?”
“HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE REGENT!”
George the IV stopped in his tracks and turned to see Wellington bowing for him. Wellington went up and faced him.
“We do have 1 survivor!”
“What?”
“We have a single survivor from the battle! And he has recounted everything. Apparently Napoleon cannibalized the soldiers.”
“Cannibalizing his soldiers?” George III heaved out.
“Yes. That soldier I talked to was the sole survivor, and I have my reasons for believing him. If there were no other survivors and he was the one who described it in such great detail then I suppose we should believe him.”
“You incompetent fool…” the elder growled under his breath.
There were a few brief moments of silence before the tension was broken by the laughter of the younger.
“Oh Wellington! Have you gone mad? Is that soldier mad?”
“I just told you I have my reasons to believe him. And even deeper reasons that I refuse to share.”
“George!” Yelled the elder “Get out of my sight! Go back to your chamber!”
”No no no father..” he chortled once more as he approached closer to the throne and put his hand on his father’s. “Now why don’t I help you take you off this throne and-“
”NO! NO! NO!”
But rather than getting him out…instead, He fell onto the chair himself, and it just so happened…that his oversized self, that could somehow even fit in it….couldn’t get out! It was too packed! Too tight! But nonetheless, he was stuck with his father on the throne.
”I’m stuck! I’m stuck!” He cried out.
Wellington came to a realization. His eyelids went limp and he approached the two to look upon them in disgust.
“Pathetic.”
“EXCUSE ME?!” Screamed out the elderly man, with his own son trying to strain. He looked like a giant bag of meat attached to him or the throne, which wasn’t far off. “WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME!?” He demanded a response. Meanwhile his son could barely even speak, so he could only wriggle and let out muffled whimpers as he desperately tried to escape.
“You can barely even function.” Wellington declared with certainty. His voice cold, sharp, emotionless and sterile. “You’re almost blind, deaf, you’re a walking corpse! You don’t do anything. You sit there, ramble on about your reign and constantly fight with your son while rotting away on your throne. And you can’t even get off it can you? You two are useless. I’m the one doing all the work. You’re rotting away. And it won’t be long til you die too. two deserve to be together. You two did this to yourselves. You, his father made him into the slab of useless meat he is today. And you can’t face the consequences of your own actions, so you shame and berate him over and over. You don’t teach him anything, you continue to act like a lunatic. You. Are. Pathetic.”
Wellington turned to the other side of the hall, at the doorway. But before he left, he gave the two one final glance. A cold, disgusted look.
“Now go rot in your chair, and in the meanwhile, I’ll take the matters into my own hands.”
So he walked away.
Meanwhile George III writhed as he tried to break away. He angrily shouted out.
“YOU DARE DISRESPECT ME? I SWEAR TO YOU-“
And the door was slammed shut, and the room went dark.
Chapter 25: It’s playtime!
Chapter by LizzysWildImagination
Summary:
Napoleon has a nice playtime and hangs out with Bourrienne and does some experiments.
Comments, kudos, feedback and criticism are always appreciated.
Chapter Text
“Hruuu~...du du…du duu…du du..ru ru…” he sang in a sing-song voice.
He toyed with the puppets in his hands. Using the strings atop them to let them move. His hands toyed with one string, and an entire arm came up. They were all under his control. He sat under the vivid, garnet-burgundy drapery over his bed, which was a deep, dark red. The entire furniture of that place had been switched from green to red. It was imperial red after all, and it would be much more befitting and creative for a monarch, let alone a man like him. Green wasn’t a creative color.
Not only that, but the walls seemed to pulsate. They even had visible pores. It was immensely trypophobic, resembling the inside of a rotting beast or beehive more than an emperor’s bedchamber. Any leg of any table and chair, or bed, or anything that even remotely resembled a column was a solomonic pillar, twisting and spiraling with its double helices. They were basically golden nautilus shells cut into the shape of pillars. The mirror was larger, and the golden statue of the eagle atop the bed was replaced by a griffin, a hybrid of an eagle and a lion. Both were symbols of his empire, but merged into one mythical creature. The eagle was the king of birds, and the lion was the king of beasts, so of course, both of his symbols would be fused to make such a powerful mythical creature.
“Say your holiness…Don't you enjoy this?” He asked the puppet in his hand with a soft, yet wry voice, with a sly smile. There was no response from the puppet, though.
“You’re boring,” he put on a mock-pout, even puffing his cheeks out. What about you, Francis? Frederick? Charlie? That includes your consorts, too.”
He opened the little red box decorated with purple, blue, and yellow, perched on the pillow, and it contained shattered glass and shifting pieces. Parts of the porcelain still moved, and he still heard clinking in it. Most just gave up entirely. Though some still had the tenacity to try and escape.
He smiled at the sight, pinching his arm and kicking his legs whilst watching.
“I’m glad you all get to be part of my wonderful collection! You should be lucky to have me. Most would consider you garbage, and that is what you are. You were garbage as rulers, especially! That’s what you truly are now. But all these pieces of glass you all are now are so…colorful, sparkly. Something about it makes me like it. I don’t know what's so special about you exactly, but I like it!”
His voice was so forcefully “friendly”, you’d think he’d burst into rage at any moment. He spoke so fast and quickly that you could barely understand what he was saying. He raised the puppet of the Pope and hung him upon some point in the wall.
“As for your holiness, I prefer to keep you like this. You’re still….quite important. To me, I mean. To me at least.”
“NAPOLEON!” Shouted out in an angry voice as someone barged into the bedchamber. “And what the hell are you actually doing!?”
Napoleon snapped his head in the direction of where the sound was coming from, ready to attack or reprimand the intruder at any moment…until he realized it was actually Bourrienne.
“Would you care to explain to me what the hell is going on? What is this garbage? And..” he stammered as he took in the grotesque sight of shattered porcelain still moving. Not to mention that puppet of the poor Pope still hanging on the wall, which he really didn’t even deserve in the first place, and the fact that it’s just plain petty of him to do so.
“They have names, Louis. Alexander, Elizabeth, Louise, Frederick, and that’s only a few of them among…Gosh, I forgot how many I had!” he tittered. “Each ruler I made into a puppet of mine…now do you remember how much I had?’
“WHAT THE FUCK IS ACTUALLY WRONG WITH YOU!?” He angrily shouted at him. He was horrified and angry beyond belief. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!? I thought you liked reading! Or looking at stars! Since when did you torture people!?”
“Well, why can’t I? I liked playing with toys from time to time.”
“THESE ARE PEOPLE, NAPOLEON! REAL. LIVING. BREATHING. AND FEELING PEOPLE. FELLOW RULERS!”
“What?” Napoleon cocked his head to the side to express his bewilderment. His neck cracked as he flopped to the side. It could fall off at any moment at that point. “Didn’t you just call them garbage?”
“Oh my-..THAT’S BECAUSE I DIDN’T KNOW THEY WERE ACTUAL PEOPLE! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!? THEY HAVE FAMILIES AND FRIENDS, NAPOLEON! AND HERE YOU ARE LITERALLY TORTURING THEM! You’re the smartest person I’ve known, yet you’re too immature to know how stupid this is! It’s inhumane!”
Napoleon gave no response. The closest thing he provided to that was corrugating his brow into a frown. His tanzanite eyes glared at him, surrounding his sclera a deep scarlet, scalding red. His eyes resembled a bit of a symbol. His already fragile marble-white skin throughout his body splintered and spalled. Was he a Roman statue now?
“You surely haven’t talked to me like that before, haven’t you?” He teased playfully. Though he was being playful, it wasn’t to say he wasn’t displeased. He had no smile, his face was still very much a frown.
“Just because you’re a close friend of mine doesn’t mean you get to talk to me that way. I’m still your imperial majesty~!”
He lolled his head to the other side with a forced smile and a playful voice that was just about as friendly as a chainsaw. It was extremely condescending without belief. He clutched at his dark grey jacket, as if he was trying to give himself some stability before swinging and snapping his head back into place. Bourrienne saw the squelching of flesh and muscle as his head swung and snapped into place. He could see strings of flayed muscle, arteries stitching themselves back into place, and bones clicking back into where they belonged.
Bourrienne shuddered at the sight and backed away. He was questioning everything.
“Why was it all red? How was he able to do that? How is he even alive? What had he become?”
He wanted it to stop. He wanted to get out. He wanted it all to end. More questions appeared in his mind, questioning his place and Napoleon’s accomplishments.
“How am I a secretary? Am I even supposed to be here? How did he even invade Russia? How is he not done with me yet? How? Why is it so bright? Is he angry at me? Should I even be here? How is everything fine? Why is he like this? Is he alright?”
“Why is it all so perfect? How did he even invade all of Europe? What will he do after he invades Britain? Why am I here? Why am I even still his secretary? Am I just his best friend? Who am I at all? Why is everything like this?! PLEASE. WHO AM I? WHAT IS ALL THIS! P̸̧̪͕̫͕͎͐L̸̛̯͍͎͉̳͎̳̹̏̇́͒͂̈́̒͑̿͝E̶̲̥̤͓̝͉̣̬̻̳͍͙̎̔̃͒̾̅̄̕͝Ä̸̢͍̤͈̱̟́̽̃̑̽͑̀̂S̶̭͍̲̺̪͕̄̏́̿̆͛̿̓̏ͅE̵̳͔͛ ̵̨̢̲̯͎̗̘͖͈̽̈́̄͊͋͛̀̈̎̂́̌̀̂͜ͅM̵̧̧̛̠͚͐̽͆͗̈́͂̾̆̄͜͠͠Å̶̳̣̫̘̩͛K̵̢̟̹̬̯̭̓̑͊̓̕̕͠͠Ȩ̵̢̩͓͕̖̞̌ ̴̡͊̿́̀̓̔̈̑̚̚Ỉ̵̦̪̰̖̤̣̝̤̼̙͙̝̳̾̇͌̃͑͘T̶̯͉͚̩͌̂ ̸̨̢͕̼͇͓̖̰͙̃̈́̓͌̑̀̀̅͗̈́͒̔͑̕͜͜͝S̴̢̞͖͛̃̄̇̽̑̐̒̄T̸̢̛͔̫̙͉͎̠͚̮̖̹͇͓͐̇͑͂͂͂͛̓̉̓́̆͆͜͝Ǫ̶̨̛̛̞̘͖͎̺̫̮̫̩͎̠̈̊̔̒̈́̄͗̐̀̀͜͝P̶̟̼̪͔̥̳͖̀̋̿ “
But all those thoughts came to a halt when he felt his warm, delicate, and well-manicured hand…trailing across his thigh, and moving up towards his crotch as he spoke in some sort of…tee-hee voice. Oddly calm, low, and soothing. It was tender even.
“Louis. Anything can be possible.” He smiled coyly, and he even giggled at the sight of Louis getting mortified, for him, he was just getting flustered. “Don’t think about it, my dear friend. Don’t worry, I’m still me. I’m the same boy you’ve always known.”
Lust and fear were building up inside of Louis. He breathed heavily. He felt heat and blood spread into his cheeks, and something building up in his crotch, heat. It felt hot. He wanted to get out, but he didn’t want to move at the same time.
But more so, how was Napoleon answering all his questions? Or more accurately, dodging them.
“You’re perfectly placed. You’re in the place I’ve always wanted you to be, Louis.” His eyelids hooded over his tanzanite eyes. Those glistening, sparkly eyes fluctuated between blue, violet, and purple.
He was completely unrecognizable. Louis’ heart rate sped up, pounding against his chest.
The fear began to overtake him, he wanted to scream. He couldn’t. He was jittered, he couldn’t defy him, he knew him from the beginning. He looked all over the room, trying to distract himself. “GET OUT”. The sirens in his head blared. Was he going to faint?
He felt the warm sensation of hands caressing his ear and an intimate-sounding giggle.
“I know you want to get out. But let’s have fun together. It’s playtime. We should do something together.”
There would be hell to pay if he didn’t do what he said.
***
It should’ve been a leisurely walk through the palace gardens for Bourrienne, except it wasn’t. Doing something with his friend? It felt dreadful more than anything. It felt like he’d been defiled, or that something horrible had happened, or that Napoleon would kill him.
It was still quite sunny out, but despite the brightness of the sun, Bourrienne shivered in fear. Autumn was going to be approaching sooner or later, while the trees and bushes were still lush and green. The grass was still green, perfectly trimmed, and had little tiny flowers. The breeze, however, was chilly and cold. The wind was extremely audible. Leaves began to dull in color and fall off despite the greenery of the vegetation. However, what was most jarring was the number of flowers that still bloomed. There were daffodils, roses, tulips, magnolias, and…gladioli? At the beginning of fall, how were all these flowers still alive? Moreover, when were there roses and gladioli?
He looked around to see the perfectly manicured bushes and trees, well-rounded into neat little boxes. He looked at the fountains spraying water into the air. The garden was perfectly symmetrical. He saw the civilians…standing by, or rows of them in a single line. Either randomly, or a tour guide was guiding them. Children didn’t really move, they just sat on the grass. Some civilians didn’t even move at all, they were frozen in place.
But what most disturbed him were the fairies. Their skins resembled the color and texture of pearls and porcelain. Their faces looked like they were painted on, and they looked like their makeup was substantial enough to carry. Their faces could fall off at any moment because of such burdensome makeup they had. Yet they still kept smiling.
They still danced and flew and sang mindlessly, acting like the whorish mascots they always were. Not only that, but even their outfits were…more revealing. The hems of their skirts were significantly shortened, coming below their knees, when the normal gown would typically reach their ankles.
That wouldn’t be an issue on its own, but the fact that it was thin and in certain parts, even see-through. Their dresses hung off and emphasized their…cleavage. It was borderline transparent. It was so extreme that it even looked like it was about to fall off. Given how they were supposed to mimic Greek and Roman tunics, it was meant to do that….but was that even necessary? They even had ribbons and jewelry glued all over them. They looked more like dolls than people at that point, and that greatly disturbed him. They weren’t even mascots or people meant to boost morale. They were just objects.
“I hate the cold. Y’know? One of my greatest dislikes. And these poor dolls! They must be so cold!” Napoleon’s abrupt, brittle, and bright voice had the harmony and likability of a broken, shattered bell. “I despise it. I detest it. But fall is nice.”
How odd, they were people, not puppets.
As he turned to face Napoleon, he was immensely disturbed by how he was walking.
His gait was unsteady, swinging back and forth. His arms and legs were myoclonic, having jerky and sudden movements and spasms. Not even his head moved along. Instead, it twisted and bobbed up and down, trying to stabilize what he saw. He was more avian and reptilian than man.
“Are you alright?” Louis stammered. Did he have a disease? It felt like he wasn’t really the same. Was it really the same? But there’d be hell to pay. He still felt humiliated and defiled. He hated this. He befriended him in military school, and now he was metamorphosing. It felt like he was watching him degenerate, devolve, or regress into a beast.
He got no response…from him at least.
Instead, what he got, or what they both got, was a harsh, sharp, deafening “CAW!!!” and screech of a raven. Bourrienne sheltered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.
The raven flew around, circling a patch of the garden and disturbing its peace.
But Napoleon, Napoleon was more annoyed and irritated. The pitch black raven perched itself on a tree, screaming and screeching. He cracked his back and straightened it, looking up to the bird.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Raven?”
He focused his gaze on the Raven. He narrowed his eyes towards it. His gaze furrowed, and his jaw clenched. His hands clenched into fists so hard that his knuckles turned white.
And then the Raven fell silent. It went numb.
Bourrienne lowered his hands from his ears and sighed in relief. Unfortunately, that moment of relief was cut short by the crunch of cartilage and the cracking of the raven’s bones.
The beak of the unfortunate bird opened, trying to call again. But instead, there was nothing at all. It lost its balance and fell from where it was perched. Its wings stretched out awkwardly, attempting to fly before being broken as it slammed onto the grass. Its head tilted, and soon it spasmed, its broken wings flapping wildly, its body convulsing from side to side. Its beak opened and shut as the painful cramps in its squelching muscles spread throughout its feathery body. It wanted to escape, to flee, but it wasn’t.
Soon enough, it fell still and stopped moving. It was in paralysis now.
Napoleon relaxed, and he picked up the body of the raven and stroked its black feathers.
“You don’t know where it’s been, Napoleon!” Bourrienne shouted. “What if it has a disease!? WHAT HAPPENED TO IT!?”
He was beyond mortified at what he saw. He couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of sadness and sympathy for the poor unfortunate bird, and seeing him focus on the bird….it was no coincidence.
“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO IT!? ARE YOU INSANE!?”
But all he gave was a soft smile and a quiet titter. “It’s so cool! It’s so fascinating! I want to see inside!”
“NO! IT’S DISGUSTING! WHY!? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!? WHAT THE HELL IS ACTUALLY WRONG WITH YOU!?”
“But it disturbed you, no?”
“WELL, YOU DIDN’T NEED TO TORTURE IT!”
“Well, I gave it its own medicine. I should be getting a thank you than you screaming at me and being ungrateful.” He replied in a cold, calm, monotone voice. It was unnerving how he could switch to logical, to furious, happy, playful, or even animalistic. He couldn’t help but feel terror creeping inside him. If he didn’t apologize and participate, there’d be hell to pay. He was already so humiliated, and he didn’t want to end up like the bird.
He gulped. Put on a smile and lowered his gaze. “Thank you!” he nervously mumbled.
“Good.”
***
He stood over the marble dresser with the large mirror engraved with the symbols of the empire. On the dresser was the paralyzed body of the bird, the little red, purple, blue, and yellow box, and a towel. Bourrienne stood behind him with a nervous smile, but on the inside, he hated this.
“How will you cut it open?” He mumbled out whilst quivering like a leaf. His eyes and lips twitched.
“Well, in case it comes back to life and tries to escape..” He was clearly giddy. It was full of life and excitement.
His hand gripped onto the wings of the bird and tugged on it gently…before yanking it off the body. Skin, feathers, and vessels were stretched and then torn. Muscles squelched and oozed as they strained before they tore apart. Nerves splintered and rapidly fired. Blood splattered onto the table, feathers fell away, and bones were crushed and shattered. Its black coat was tattered and frizzy, and raw, glistening red meat and muscle were splayed through its flayed skin. He set the wings on the table and smiled.
Bourrienne clutched his mouth and gagged. He was nauseous by those sickening wet squelches and cracking of bone. He wanted to vomit out his organs at this rate. He coughed out some phlegm and wiped it with a towel in his pocket.
“All done! Now..” Napoleon resumed. Though his voice had a little less enthusiasm than earlier.
He opened the box filled with the moving glass. He picked a shard up, hovered it over the torso of the raven, and sank the shard into its feathers…and sliced. It pierced through its feathers, slicing anything in its way. It met the soft skin underneath, through epidermis, dermis, muscle, and fat. The shard pierced through the deepest layers, severing major arteries. Then the shard moved down the torso, excoriating and lacerating open the rest of its abdomen til it reached the talons. Then he pushed the shard into the body and buried it under its layers of feathers and skin.
“STOP IT!” Louis couldn’t hold his composure much longer. “STOP IT!”
But he didn’t listen. He got more of the shards. He even shoveled an entire bunch in his bloodied hand, and buried them under its soft and squishy organs and the layers of its tender skin. He scooped another bunch, dug it in, scoped another bunch dug it in.
Louis couldn’t stop pleading for him to stop, he had to do something now. He raised his fist and hurled it at him.“STOP DOING THIS YOU SACK OF SH-”
But before he could even land a finger on it, a painful muscle spasm and cramp spread from his entire forearm and to his shoulder. His hand froze, and there it was acting against him.
Napoleon was bored. He rested his head on his hand, which was on the table. His other hand tapped impatiently, waiting for something interesting to happen. He yawned, and then he groaned out.
“BORING! Boring! I want something new to play with!”
Bourrienne couldn’t even move any part of his body. He, like the raven, had been paralyzed. He could not speak, nor walk, or use his arms. He could not even move his mouth. All he could do was move his eyes around and breathe.
For a few minutes, nothing happened. Napoleon waited impatiently for something to happen, Bourrienne was frozen is place, and the bird and the glass inside remained motionless.
Suddenly, the bird’s head bobbed up and down, side to side, its entire body convulsing in misery and unimaginable pain as it felt the pieces of living glass desperately escape from them. It dug through its soft organs, its intestines squelching and shredding, its bones and cartilage being scraped and sawed through. Its heart pierced, and soon enough the living glass began to emerge and burrow through its feathers. The raven stopped moving, its life ending in a matter of seconds.
The spasms through Bourrienne’s body ended. The paralysis ceased. But in return his stomach churned and turned, his vision swimming, an unwelcome liquid rushing through his throat. He clutched his stomach and ran out the room.
Napoleon stared down at the sight. He was amazed at it, it was fun. The living shards burrowing and poking out of the feathers and body of the bird, bathed blood and pieces of skin. He had a smile stretched upon his lips. He yawned and covered his mouth. But that was when he realized…He hadn’t eaten anything! He was starving.
“I’m feeling a bit tired of all this. I’m hungry.”
He took and shook the bird, shaking out loose feathers and having the pieces of the still-moving glass fall out, and into the little box to be sealed away.
Finally he was able to satiate himself. With his teeth, he picked up the wings and swung it around in his mouth like a dog playing with its prey or toy, and then mauling off its skin, meat and even feathers. He drew out the bones from his mouth and placed them on the towel.
Next was the body. With all the shards out, he dug in…literally. Yanking out its severed intestines and chewed on it. It was fatty, quite bitter but tender. Then he pulled out more strings of flesh, feathers and pieces of organs with his teeth and mauled on it before swallowing it. It’d normally be incredibly disgusting, but to him it was delicious. He tore its head off and spat it out along with its talons, before resuming to devour, munch and crunch the remaining pieces of its torso. He took large bites out of it like he was eating a sandwich or burrito. Blood dripped down his chin, and he wiped it off with the towel.
He coughed a bit as the feathers were bunched up and lodged in his throat, but eventually it was swallowed with the rest.
“That’s better.” He smiled at himself in the mirror lovingly caressing his face. “You’re all better now. I’m better.”
Zoeyau9 on Chapter 1 Sat 16 Nov 2024 04:38AM UTC
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