In the month of December, Napoleon's health condition began to worsen. Lying on his bed, he was surrounded by his sons and daughters, and his wife, Ciela.
They were all looking at him, teary-eyed. Ciela grabbed his hands, squeezing it gently on hers.
"Napoleon…" Ciela sobbed.
"Cie…la," Napoleon said weakly before glancing at his children, Francis, Aveline, Tristan, and Daphne. They all have a somber look as it pained their heart to see their father struggling.
Not only was his relatives present, but his Marshals such as Lannes, Murat, Ney, Berthier, and Davout were also there, standing solemnly at the foot of the bed. Each of them wore expressions of deep respect and sadness, their eyes reflecting the years of battles fought and victories won under Napoleon's command.
Thank you for all the readers that supported this story throughout from beginning to the end. Sadly, all things must come to an end, or should be? There'd be a side story where instead of Napoleon, it'd be Francis leading the Empire and from there, parallel historical events such as the Sino-French war, revolution from other domains, and a lot more. Look forward for my next story.
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