Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I’m only joking, Souphian.” Napoleon’s voice rang out in the darkness, Soup’s eyes still unadjusted. He hadn’t heard that name in ages. He stopped going by it years ago, and thought that no one in the Capital knew him by it. As the Emperor placed down a torch in the deepslate cave—No, as Napoleon V, as, as Leon placed a torch down in the deepslate cave, Soup was made keenly aware of the dream he was once again experiencing.

“No one is crazy enough to release a monster like that,” Leon’s back was to him as he pressed onward, only glancing back periodically to make sure he was keeping up. As if he’d ever fallen behind. “Do you think anyone wants to ring that dinner bell? Huh?” The sarcastic question had made him smile at the moment, and even laugh when Leon continued with-

“You wanna ring it? You wanna let everyone know Soup-“

“Soup?”

“Soup?”

The adventurer—the librarian was woken with a start as Napoleon VII knocked on his door early in the morning. The sun had just broken over the horizon and already the little Emperor was at his door, likely with a thousand questions. He never had it in him to turn him away. Not really, anyway.

He responded and could hear Napoleon coming in past the reinforced entrance. He still thought it was a bit of overkill, for him at least, but he knew better than to try to tell Leon—Napoleon—that it was unnecessary. At this point the little Emperor knew that Soup was once an adventurer and that he could handle himself, but worry wasn’t something that words could dispel. And Souphian was a greedy man sometimes.

He wanted to think that the concern the Emperor had for him was because of a memory, because of a feeling, because he knew. But each encounter only proved that Napoleon VII was not the Napoleon V that he knew. Not in the way he remembered.

The little Emperor prattled on about stones and enchantments and David, evoking emotions that Soup couldn’t quite touch. Was he jealous? No, he’d already mourned Napoleon V. He knew that the man in front of him wasn’t the same. Was he concerned? Of course, he was always worried about the Emperor. It felt like a force of habit even by his second encounter. For all of their differences, he was still so much like his Leon. Still, it bothered him, to not be able to understand himself. He was an old man, he should be able to pick apart a few feelings.

It took weeks to decipher the emotions he felt.

He was proud, he was bitter, he was angry, and he was devastated. Looking at Napoleon VII was like seeing a grandson. He was so proud of the work he’d put in, of the dedication and the time and the care that Napoleon had for this Empire. Soup was so damned proud of him.

But to look at him and see the face of the man he loved in his youth, to see the man that Leon never had the chance to become…

It was too difficult to bear at times.