Morning came quietly to Versailles.
Napoleon II arrived first, as he always did. He stood near the tall windows of the smaller council salon, hands clasped behind his back, watching sunlight move across the gardens below. The lamps along the paths were dark now, their glass dull in daylight. Last night already felt distant.
Behind him, the doors opened.
Napoleon I entered with Marie Louise at his side. Both were dressed simply, formally, without ceremony. This was not a celebration. It was business.
"Sit," Napoleon I said, not unkindly.
Napoleon II obeyed.
Moments later, the opposite doors opened again.
Princess Elisabeth entered with her parents.
Her father, Duke Maximilian von Wittelsbach, carried himself with controlled dignity. Not stiff. Not deferential. A man used to standing before emperors without bowing his spine. Her mother, Duchess Charlotte, moved with quieter authority, eyes sharp, posture measured.
Elisabeth walked between them.
