Three months later, the date was April 12th, 1830.
Napoleon II woke up from his bed, and next to him was Elisabeth, snuggled close under the covers.
Morning light filtered through the curtains in thin bands, settling across her face. A loose strand of hair rested against her cheek. He reached over and brushed it aside with two fingers, careful not to wake her.
His gaze lingered.
His hand moved down almost on instinct, resting gently over her belly. There was a firmness there now that hadn't been before.
He let his palm sit there, feeling the warmth through the fabric.
Elisabeth stirred.
Her brow twitched first, then her eyes fluttered open. She looked down at his hand, then up at his face.
"Good morning," Napoleon said softly.
A sleepy smile formed. "Good morning," she replied.
He leaned in and kissed her deeply, catching her by surprise. But she didn't protest.
After ten seconds, Napoleon II pulled back from the kiss and ran his tongue across his lower lips.
