Mon amour, ma vie

16

You awoke to the sun rising and on Napoléon's chest. Sighing, the sun was shining through the windows and curtains. It was a quiet morning and the birds could be heard chirping in the distance. You soon realized your nakedness and smiled, you remembered what you'd done with Napoléon last night, you still felt him inside you.

Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you kissed his check, waking him up. His sky colored eyes looked down at you. He wrapped his arms on you and pulled you up to his chest. Kissing him, he was still naked. He seemed to be wanting sex again.

"Hmmm not right now dear. I'm still a lot tired from last night." You said, as he kissed your chest, your nipples perking up to the chilly air. He pulled back from you, and sat up, pulling you up with him. It was late morning, probably 10 am and you kissed your love again and got out of bed. Napoléon watched you dress from afar, you skipped the corset part and went for the light green dress he had gotten you secretly in Spain.

He got up and you helped him dress in his usual attire. You brushed his dark brown hair and kissed his temple. You loved all these little moments between you two, when no one else was around and you could be with him all alone.

Kissing him one last time, he had to go out and deal with some business today. You waved goodbye and he said he'd be home by 5 pm and that there was a dance tonight and wanted you to accompany him. You blushed and said yes. Napoléon still kept you a bit of a secret from most people, due to your birth status and such, which you understood.

You went into the charming study and picked up the book Napoléon had given to you a few weeks back. It was warm for this time of year, but maybe the Portuguese weather was always like this. It was mid April and Spring had just begun and this Sunday was Easter.

You tried to read but your mind wandered off to other things. Part of it was towards Clement, your husband you had separated from long ago. You wondered what he was up to. You wondered if Mr. Vatté had told him yet. You prayed earnestly that the Church would grant a divorce but you knew Napoléon would take care of that.

You were mainly worried about Étiennette. It'd been over a month since you saw her smiling face full of love and your maternal instincts were making you worried. Since leaving you'd been given one report on how she was a week ago, saying she was healthy and happy.

Deciding you couldn't read right now, you went back to you and Napoléon's room and lay down. The bed was comfortable and you admired and studied the green dress Napoléon had given you a week ago. He had given you so much in a short time. You felt so unworthy of it, to be born a simple peasant and to by a stroke of luck and perhaps God's favor, you had more than your entire town from Normandy that seemed so long ago.

At half past 3, a knock came from outside your door. You got up, thinking Napoléon was home early. Opening the door, it was not him but his brother, Joseph. You were a bit confused but not it wasn't the most unusual thing.

"Hello Joseph. What's going on?" You asked, noticing his solemn face. Was something wrong?

"y/n, I hate to give you this news, but your daughter, Étiennette is ill. I just got the news now. Napoléon is getting his team ready to go back to Paris. You just need to pack and I can escort you out." Joseph said, a deep feeling of sympathy in his voice and face for you.

You didn't respond. You knew you were right. This entire trip had been a bad idea. You knew it. You barely had time to think, you grabbed a few dresses, bras and threw them in a bag. Joseph led you out where you found Napoléon on his horse. Joseph helped you get on and you said goodbye.

"Napoléon, what has Étiennette come down?" You said, tears streaming like a river down your face.

"Cherie, I do not know, but I promise I'll bring you to her as fast as possible. There are already doctors looking after her, ma fleur." He said. You said nothing, instead nuzzled in his jacket on the back of the horse, wrapping your arms around him.