Paris, June 30th, 1800

The streets of Paris were filled with exuberance as the grand procession welcomed their victorious First Consul, returning from his campaign in Italy.

The air resonated with joyous cheers, and the crowd's excitement was palpable. They waved their hands enthusiastically and let out bustling whistles to express their delight at the triumphant return of their leader.

Napoleon, riding on his horse, acknowledged the warm reception with a gracious wave of his hand, returning the affection of the crowd.

What's causing this mood? Napoleon's victory over the Austrians in Italy spread like wildfire in France. A million newspapers were filled with detailed accounts of how he defeated the Austrians in the Battle of Marengo and the subsequent aftermath, where the territories they had taken from France three years ago were now back in France's possession.

Moments later, as Napoleon was still waving his hands at the people, the people began to chant his name.

"Bonaparte! Bonaparte! Bonaparte!"

They chanted it so loud that their voices were reverberating through the very core of Paris. He couldn't make himself accustomed to their adoration. In Italy and in the capital city of France, it was all the same.

The procession continued to Versailles. Why was he going there? One of the news he received while he was in Italy is that the refurbishment and the renovation of the Palace of Versailles was now completed, and that indicated that he and his family can now move on to their new residence.

Ciela already had made the necessary arrangements for their move to Versailles, and they are already staying there last week.

"I bet you never expected this, Your Excellency," Murat grinned as he moved his horse closer to Napoleon.

"Well, I did expect it, Murat, but not to this degree," Napoleon let out a chuckle.

Napoleon truly had not expected this number. Maybe it has something to do with the newspaper's narrative, painting him as a hero of the Republic who has saved France again from the foreign invaders.

An hour passed and Napoleon, accompanied by his commanders and citizens, arrived at Versailles. At the gates, there were people wanting to get the attention of the First Consul, calling him by his title and expressing their gratitude for his leadership. Napoleon dismounted from his horse and approached the cheering crowd.

He shook hands with them, stroked the hairs of the children praising him affectionately, and patted a hand on the elderly's shoulders. After that, he proceeded to the main gates of Versailles. People were still following him but thanks to Bessierres, his guards formed a barrier between Napoleon and the enthusiastic crowd, giving him some space to move freely.

At the main entrance of the Palace of Versailles, Napoleon saw two familiar figures. Lucas and Beaumont.

"Are they inside?" Napoleon simply asked, his voice was slightly muffled by the crowds shouting and cheering behind.

Lucas and Beaumont nodded in reply, and then together, reached to the doorknob and pulled the large doors of the Palace of Versailles creaked open.

As the door opened wide, Napoleon's eyes widened as he found Ciela, and their children, Francis and Aveline standing there with beaming smiles on their faces. His heart swelled at the site, especially when Aveline rushed up towards him with her arms spread as if asking for his father's warm embrace. Napoleon bent down and scooped his young daughter into his arms, hugging her tightly, and swirling her around in the air playfully, eliciting laughter from the young girl.

"You're back Papa!" Aveline exclaimed.

"Didn't I tell you that I'm going to return soon?" Napoleon said.

"Yes, Papa, but I missed you so much," Aveline replied, holding onto her father tightly.

"I missed you too, my little angel," Napoleon said, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, before setting her down. He then turned to Francis, who stood there with a mix of awe and pride in his eyes.

"Francis, come here," Napoleon beckoned.

Francis stepped forward, and Napoleon placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "As always, not as enthusiastic as Aveline."

"Because…father..it's embarrassing," Francis stammered shyly.

Napoleon chuckled warmly, understanding his son's feelings. If he were to witness Francis acting like Aveline, he would be taken aback.

Napoleon's gaze shifted to the most beautiful woman on this planet. His eyes locked with Ciela's, and at that moment, similar to the time they stood on the balcony of Chantilly, he was once again charmed.

"Hello?" Ciela giggled as she waved at Napoleon, her eyes sparkling. She walked toward him, her elegant gown swaying with each step, and embraced him warmly. The months of separation melted away in that embrace, and he again felt at home.

A tear escaped from Napoleon's eye as he held her close. Ciela turned her face to look at Napoleon's tear-streaked cheek, a tender smile on her lips. She gently brushed away the tear with her thumb, her touch as soothing as ever.

"This is my first time seeing you break into tears," Ciela said teasingly.

"Me? Crying?" Napoleon quickly wiped off the tear from his cheek, trying to appear composed. "I must have gotten something in my eye," he said with a playful smirk, trying to deflect his vulnerability.

Ciela chuckled softly, seeing through his attempt to hide his emotions. "You don't have to be strong all the time, Napoleon," she said, her voice angelic. "Want me to comfort you later?"

"Mama…what do you mean comfort?" Aveline interjected, asking with an innocent tone.

"Ah…Aveline, comforting your father means I'll sing him a lullaby and hold him close like I do with you and your brother to make you sleep," Ciela replied with a gentle smile, kneeling down to Aveline's level. She doesn't want them to understand what she really meant.

"Ahh, okay," Aveline said.

"Uhm…Madame Bonaparte," Beaumont chimed in. "Uhm the painters who would make portraits for Aveline and Francis have arrived."

"Oh…okay," Ciela nodded, acknowledging the news. "Uhm…Francis, Aveline, you two may go to the courtyard now, the painters will be there to create beautiful portraits of both of you."

"Let's go, Aveline," Francis grabbed her little sister's hand, and together they hurried off to the courtyard.

Napoleon and Ciela watched them go with smiles on their faces. "Portrait huh?"

"Yeah," Ciela concurred. "Now, I have something to show you in our bedroom."

After saying that, Ciela pulled Napoleon towards the grand staircase of the Palace of Versailles, leading him up to the private quarters.

Once they reached their bedroom, Ciela led Napoleon to a beautifully upholstered sofa. She sat there and then patted her thigh. "I know you loved this, honey."

With her signal, Napoleon rested his head on Ciela's lap, feeling the softness of her thigh and the comforting touch of her hand on his head.

"How are you liking it?" Ciela asked.

"I'm loving it," Napoleon commented, sighing contently.

"Now, before you left, you promised me one thing," Ciela said. "Do you remember?"

"Of course I do, I will never forget," Napoleon confirmed. "But for now, I want to savor this moment."