At last, after two years, he could finally have a moment with Napoleon alone. Seeing him up this close was a great opportunity for a man like him from the 21st century.
He was a legend. He could even ask for his autograph but that's not why he was here, he came here to warn him.
He wondered how he would react when a child like him could speak. But how to do that?
As he was thinking of what he would say to him, Napoleon spoke.
"When I was a young officer," Napoleon murmured, his voice quieter than the crackle of the fire, "I never imagined any of this."
"I wanted glory, yes. Every soldier does. But I also wanted France to rise. To prove herself. And she did. At Toulon, they barely knew my name. By the time Italy fell at my feet, the world understood it. At Austerlitz…" He paused, exhaling through his nose with something like a bitter smile. "Austerlitz was perfection. A moment carved from fire and discipline. The sun rose on me that day."
Alfred remained still. He didn't babble or tug or reach—he simply watched Napoleon with wide, unblinking eyes.
Napoleon glanced down at him, noticing the attentiveness, and continued.
"I built an empire from the ashes of the Revolution. I forged allies, created kingdoms, placed crowns on loyal heads." His jaw tightened. "I thought I could shape Europe itself. Bend kings and emperors to a new order."
He lifted a hand, brushing a strand of Alfred's curls aside.
"You were meant to inherit all of it. Every reform. Every law. Every victory."
His voice lowered.
"But it's all gone now because of the invasion I made…I was ahead of myself. I shouldn't ask the Goddess of Luck for more."
Alfred's small hand patted Napoleon's coat, more a soft tap than anything with intent.
Napoleon covered that tiny hand with his own.
"The Empire may not survive this," Napoleon admitted, voice low and rough. "And if it falls… what will happen to you? My son. The King of Rome." His thumb brushed the child's knuckles. "I built all of this so that your future would be secured. So that no Bourbon or Habsburg could ever strip France of her destiny."
His eyes dimmed.
"But now I can't even promise you a throne. I can't even promise you peace."
Alfred felt the weight of those words, this wasn't the mythic Napoleon from history books or documentaries. This was a man exhausted, cornered, and cracking at the seams. A man mourning a future he believed he had destroyed with his own choices.
Now, it's time for him to speak.
"Father…listen to me,"
Napoleon jerked back in the chair as if struck.
His fingers tightened reflexively around Alfred's small frame—but not hard enough to hurt him, only enough to steady himself. For a moment he looked around the room, almost expecting someone to leap out from behind a curtain, some ventriloquist trick revealed, some minister playing a cruel joke.
But the room was empty.
His gaze snapped back down to the toddler on his lap.
Alfred met his eyes without blinking.
"I know it's hard to believe this but I'm from the future."
"What devilry is this?" he muttered.
"Father…or rather, Napoleon, I'm from the future. Please, if you want to save the Empire of France, you must accept the Frankfurt Proposal. Because if you did not, the coalition forces would cross France, and you are not going to win decisively. You will lose the empire and will be exiled to the island of Elba."
Napoleon sat stiff as stone, breath held tight in his chest. Alfred's words were fluid, and clear, unmistakably articulate, and it did not match the mouth they came from.
A two-year-old should not have been capable of forming complex sentences, let alone speaking of geopolitics, exile, and proposals only discussed behind closed doors.
"Speak again," Napoleon said quietly. "Say something no child could memorize."
Alfred nodded once.
"You rejected the first Frankfurt terms before Leipzig," he said, tone steady. "Austria wanted you to accept borders along the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees. France would remain the strongest nation in Europe."
Napoleon's eyes narrowed.
"In the real timeline," Alfred continued, "you hesitated. You believed you could turn the war around. But when you were ready to negotiate, it was too late. The coalition changed its demands. They no longer wanted to contain you. They wanted to remove you."
A muscle in Napoleon's jaw twitched.
"You speak," he murmured, "as if you sat in the council chambers with Metternich himself."
Alfred shook his head. "No. I learned it in books. In my world, people write about you. Study you. Debate your choices. You're famous, Napoleon. Even two hundred years later."
Napoleon's breath hitched.
Two hundred years.
But that only made the situation more impossible.
"Impossible," Napoleon whispered. "A child cannot… this is sorcery, or delusion. Some trick."
Alfred shook his head again, firmer this time.
"I can prove it."
Napoleon straightened, instinct bracing his posture like a soldier before a volley.
"Prove it, then," he said. "If you claim to know the future, give me something that has not yet happened. Give me what only fate could know."
Alfred took a breath. "I can tell you what the coalition army will do next month."
Napoleon's eyes sharpened, interest flickering despite himself.
"They will march through Switzerland to bypass your defenses," Alfred said. "Blücher will push from the north. Schwarzenberg from the south. You will fight six battles in six days. You will win several. They will still break through."
Napoleon didn't move.
"On March 30th, they will reach Paris."
A cold silence wrapped around them.
"If you want one more proof," Alfred added, "then ask me anything. Anything from your childhood. Your secrets. Your battles. Your letters. I studied you in my world. I know more about you than anyone alive in this century."
That struck a nerve.
"If what you say is true… if you truly remember a future where France collapses, where I fall… then you must also know how to prevent it."
Alfred nodded. "I do."
"And you claim the key is the Frankfurt Proposal."
"Yes."
"And if I accept it," Napoleon said slowly, "France survives?"
"Yes."
"And if I don't? Aside from me losing the throne, what would happen to you?"
"I would be evacuated with Marie Louise back to Austria where they'll contain me, or this boy, so there's no Bonaparte will rise up again in France."
Hearing that, his mind shifted in tactical mode. If the child is truly from the future, then he should follow his advice. Besides, there's nothing to lose by accepting the peace proposal by Austrians. He would get to keep his throne, and his borders are strong due to the natural frontiers, and he could consolidate, strengthen, and recover.
"Very well, I'll bet my future on you kid. But before that, I want to know more about the future."