Chapter Text
“Why did you do that?”
Napoleon quirked a brow at you, slowing his pace.
Le Comte had just given an order for your protection in the form of one dead French emperor, and you couldn’t fathom why he had agreed. Your head was still swimming with the delirium of the new information. Time travel. Dead men. Walking. All you needed was an answer out of this night.
“You’ve got to be more specific than that.” He said nonchalantly.
You crossed your arms and stopped still. “The first night, yesterday. Why did you try to rescue me? You have no reason for that. And while I’m thankful, I don’t know if I can trust you.”
Napoleon sighed.
“You can trust me; I won’t hurt a hair on your pretty little head.”
The sun had just started to set on the horizon, setting the whole garden aglow with it’s light, turning the garden more ethereal than it already felt. You should have found it beautiful, but all it did was send alarm bells off in your head.
This isn’t home.
“If I can trust you, then tell me.” You tilted your chin up. “You’ve got nothing to hide, right?”
Napoleon set his level gaze upon you.
“I supposed it was because you looked lost. And I’m not a bad guy, you know.”
It was then when you realised- Napoleon measures out his words the way a chess player measured out their turns. He made it seem like he answered your question without really saying anything.
Stingy man, you had thought to yourself as he led you to your room, you couldn’t read him at all.
They were vampires. All of them.
Sebastian wasn’t kidding, and though he had told you not to think about it too much (they’re just like us, he had said), underneath the bedsheets it was all you could think about. Le Comte’s eyes were warm. But the house felt cold.
When you were six, you saw a nature documentary where the jaguar chased and mounted an antelope before splitting its neck open, exposing the blood and gristle between its teeth. All you remembered were the antelope’s glassy eyes, still conscious of being devoured whole as it was torn piece by piece.
This wasn’t your world. You swore to yourself as the moon slanted across the Parisian night. It didn’t matter how alluring or rare this world was. It wasn’t yours.
You would go home or die trying.
Once the reality of your situation settled in- you were almost curious. All these famous men now living right next to you, you could reach over and ask them anything. Wolfgang Mozart. Isaac Newton. Leonardo Da fucking Vinci.
But none of them you had as much access to as Napoleon. He walked you to your room at night, he chaperoned when you did the chores outside. And best of all, he was probably the one you counted on most if things went south.
There’s a lot you want to ask him. A quick skim through the library’s history books claimed to tell all about him: Master strategist. Militarian. The Nightmare of Europe.
In the dining room, Napoleon tripped over himself and almost went headfirst into the table. Vincent said something in a concerned voice and Theodorus chuckled. Even Mozart managed a grimace. The tense atmosphere at the dinner table loosens and even you have to fight the urge to laugh.
You decide to save those questions for later, deciding to first check whether he was okay or not.
What you did know now was that Napoleon Bonaparte wasn’t immune from a little human clumsiness, and neither were the rest of the residents.
It made the prospect of living here slightly less terrifying. Just by a bit.
Napoleon turned away, half-smiling when he heard you laugh.
Of course he had seen the last step on the staircase, but he had also seen the way you had tiptoed around everyone the past day and a half. It was easy to make a choice. He had done this before- to tired soldiers and upset children.
In the corner of his eye, he saw Jean D’Arc fix his gaze on him, shaking his head slightly. But Napoleon paid him no attention. It was just a tiny favour to a resident that wouldn’t be staying for long.
He liked the sound of your laugh anyway.
“Hello?”
You had knocked on the door three times by now. Sebastian had instructed you to wake up Napoleon, but for all you knew he might not even be in there.
Sighing, you entered the room.
It was surprisingly tidier than you thought it would be. Small but comfortable. There were a few things that gave him away- a chess board beneath the bed, a few knives that you didn’t know the names of scattered on the table. In the middle of the bed Napoleon was sprawled out, handsome and huge.
He was beautiful the way sculptures were beautiful. The thought came unsolicited when you gazed upon his sleeping form. Quickly, you dragged your eyes away, your face heating. It felt like a violation of privacy. Instead, you grabbed one of those sculpted shoulders and shook him.
“Napoleon.” He didn’t stir. You shook him harder. “Napole-ah!”
Faster than you could blink, the same arm had circled around your waist and pulled you under.
“What the-”
Napoleons arms pressed against either side of your head. You were flooded with his scent-something woody and distinctly masculine that went straight to your head. His arm was tight around your waist. Intoxicating. Dangerous. For the first time you noticed his eyes- hazed with sleep and a gorgeous shade of jade that made it hard to breathe, and it seemed like they were dropping closer and closer-
He’s going to kiss you. That realisation snapped you out of it in a split second. The barely conscious pretty boy was going to take you to first base whether you liked it or not.
You might be a tiny girl, but you’re a tiny girl that has had seven years of travel experience under her belt. Self-defence was a basic.
Naturally, you slammed your forehead into his pretty face.
Napoleon’s eyes gained clarity and he woke with a yelp, jerking back and clutching at his nose.
“What was that for?” He looked offended. You could have strangled him.
“Are you serious? Did you not remember anything from two seconds ago?”
“Two seconds ago, I was asleep. So I think it’s safe to say no.” Napoleon said slowly, like you were the one that was confused. “Also, most people apologize after nearly breaking someone’s nose.”
Christ. A sleep-kisser. You didn’t even think that kind of thing was possible. But apparently, reality had made it abundantly clear at this point it didn’t care what you thought.
“Never mind. Breakfast is ready at the dining hall.” You huffed before leaving the room and a confused but mildly amused Napoleon behind. “Sorry about the headbutt.” You said insincerely before closing the door.
Now you knew why you were given this task.
You were going to kill Sebastian.
“Do you want to see something?”
You look up from your raking to see, unsurprisingly, Napoleon looking down at you while leaning against one of the garden statues. You were still miffed at him for what happened in the morning.
“Not really.” You wiped your forehead. Napoleon raised his brows.
“I’ll help you with the laundry for a week if you do.” He goaded. “And cooking. For two weeks.”
You contemplated that for a beat, propping the rake against a nearby tree.
“Fine, but only because Sebastian is a control freak and I want you to suffer with me.”
Napoleon let out a cheeky grin and gave you his hand.
“I’m sure it was that and not my dashing charm. Now come on, or we’ll miss it.”
Insufferable bastard.
You took his hand and left with him.
You were both seated on the ledge of one of the grand town clocks. It was so high up that looking down gave you vertigo. It was a little cramped and a little dusty, but you found that you didn’t mind if Napoleon’s knees occasionally touched yours as your legs swung together in the wind.
“Watching a sunset together is the most classically cliché thing you could have done.”
“Yeah,” he gave out a stretch and a lazy smile. “But you’re impressed anyway, right?”
You turned away, rolling your eyes.
“Maybe.”
A comfortable beat of silence settled over the two of you. From where you were seated you could see the hustle and bustle of everyday life in Paris from a distance, carriages, bandwagons, markets being packed up- basked aglow in the pinks and mauves of the setting sun. Watching the lives of other people go on, normal as ever, eased the homesickness in your stomach.
You felt Napoleon shift next to you.
“Sorry for kissing you this morning.” He said honestly, without fanfare. “It’s a bad habit of mine I should have let you know earlier.”
His eyes were warm and open, for some reason if felt like he could see straight through you. You turned away.
“Watch out,” you warned, but you could feel your cheeks heat anyway. “You’re forgiven this time, but you better not think taking me for a pretty view solves everything, alright?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, nunuche.”
“I love being called silly, really, you might just steal my heart.” You deadpanned before turning your gaze back to the sight before you.
Napolean gave an exaggerated wink, and you couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter. In each of the houses, the lights had started to wink on one by one.
“Thank you.” You said finally, “It’s beautiful, and you’re a terribly hard person to not forgive.”
You felt him stiffen at that. Napoleon had an unreadable expression on his face.
“That’s not something most people say about me.” He said lightly. “You clearly haven’t read up on your history.”
In a rare moment you had forgotten who you were talking to. He made it easy to forget with his easy conversation. Napoleon Bonaparte in the books had killed thousands of people. And yet, you couldn’t connect that with the man that sat beside you now.
Distantly, alarm bells went off in your head but you ignored them.
“I know you’ve done some awful things.” You settled on saying, “To be honest, it scares me if I think about it for too long. But…” you trailed off.
“How many of the things you did were what what anyone in your position was pushed to do, and how much of it was you? You’ve been nothing but kind to me since I arrived.”
Napoleon fixed his piercing gaze on you.
“It’s a dangerous move to think of me that way.”
“You’re right.” You looked back with equal steel and lifted your chin. “But I don’t understand you, Napoleon. And I won’t judge someone who I don’t understand yet.”
You turned your head quickly back to the lights. A tight, shy feeling overcame you- it felt like you had blurted out too much, too earnestly to someone you barely knew. Don’t get attached, stupid a voice in your head whispered.
From your side, Napoleon gazed at you like you were something he had never seen before.
“Again? Are you serious?”
Napoleon groaned as you took his queen with an easy swipe of your knight. You grinned. It was your third win in a row.
Le Comte had given you the day off with the logic that the day was too good to be spent inside. Of course, you had to go pester your favourite resident in the house, and that was the end of that. You reclined triumphantly in your chair. A slight breeze picked up in the courtyard and almost topped over your game of chess.
“Master strategist my ass,” you laughed. “Are you losing on purpose?”
Napoleon folded his arms over his chest. “You know, I actually hate chess.”
“I can see that.” You twirled one of the pawns listlessly between your fingers. “What’s so different between this and you know…”
You trailed off, but you caught your drift. Real War. Napoleon laughed- the sound of it clear and lovely.
“You always want answers where I have none.”
Stingy man, you thought again, but this time with mirth.
“That’s a lie. You just dodge my questions.”
Napoleon had a thoughtful gleam in his eyes before finally speaking. His voice was light, but you could hear a thread of steel in his words.
“In chess, both players have the same pieces and number of turns. A pawn is a pawn. You win by pure strategy.” He said moving his own pawn one square forward.
“The tide of war can be easily changed- you can spread rumour, remove the middleman, cut off their supplies. The stage is never equal, so you fight dirty. Chess pieces don’t have the kinds of ugly needs and vices that people do. It’s squeaky clean, and it’s not real.” Napoleon reclined in his own chair. “People are greater collateral than they realise.”
It was fascinating, and a little terrifying to watch the kind exterior peeled back to reveal the gristle beneath. To see Napoleon in his dichotomies.
“So, you read people instead of the field.” You tested slowly. “A polarising leader. It suits what was written about you.”
“Why,” and his face suddenly cracked into a grin. “Don’t you think I can read you?”
You rolled your eyes, but your face heated under his scrutiny.
“You can try.”
“If you insist.” Napoleon sang cheerfully. “My nunuche is a five foot spunky brat with too many questions. She also harbours a special weakness for charming French gentlemen that are awful at chess.”
“You’re not my type.” You said dismissively. And it was true- the guys you had gone for before were nothing like Napoleon. They were all just your regular men that liked you a little more than they should have. They all had normal worries and ambitions and issues with you. None of them were the goddamn Emperor of France.
“Oh really?” He was joking, but it felt more like flirting. “And what would your type be, exactly?”
“The kind of guy that doesn’t rudely kiss women first thing in the morning.” You retorted.
He ruffled your hair. You blew a raspberry back at him.
“With a tongue like that, who needs a bodyguard?”
You both were definitely flirting. The end of the month was coming soon and you really, really shouldn’t be doing this. But Napoleon’s eyes were so warm, the silver-black of his fringe was dappled with autumn sunlight and just for a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.