[Kaiba]

Well, I spent four hours researching and going over details for the idea that I mentioned in the crossover thread, and here's a preview/first chapter. It's technically not a ZnT fic yet, and it's actually the first fanfic I've ever written, but let's go:

Spoiler for Napoleon/ZnT crossover:

“The men…..will obey….. Me!”

“No, my emperor. The men will obey their generals. That is how war is always conducted.”

The eyes of the Emperor Napoleon widened in shock. It had not occurred when he had realized that his Grand Army was doomed in the wastelands of Russia. For the two years after that defeat, he had resisted as all of Europe, his Empire, had risen up, against the principles of the Revolution and French supremacy. Now, in the year of 1814, Paris had fallen at the hands of all of the nations of Europe. Englishmen, Spaniards, Russians, Prussians, and Austrians, all of them had united to finally defeat the man whom they viewed as a madman, a conqueror who endlessly sought blood, and he had still nearly won.

Defeat in Russia had not stunned him. The loss of Paris had not either – these were setbacks, temporary, and he knew that he would have a way to regroup and reach for his destiny among the stars. But now, his marshals – men whom had fought with him for at least a decade, were telling him that it was over.

The Emperor sighed and glanced out the window. He had retreated to the palace of Fontainebleau, an ancient and decrepit castle that he had renovated after receiving his rightful title as Emperor. And here he was, cornered at last.
Michel Ney, one of the marshals whom had been standing across from Napoleon, cleared his throat, treating the silence of his master as a signal to continue.

“It is not just us. The Senate has clearly indicated that you will not be able to rule. They have voted the creation of a new government, led by Talleyrand. They are calling you a criminal, for implementing excessive taxes and using conscription to bleed our young men out in faraway lands.”

“Talleyrand?”

Napoleon’s eyes had originally been scheming with an air of desperation, like a chess player desperately finding a way for his king to escape checkmate. But now they flared up with hostility, and the aura of rage dripped through his voice.

“I should have had him assassinated at least five years ago - Europe would have remained mine if not for that simple step. But the Senate? What business do they have calling me a criminal? They backed me every step as I implemented those laws and never murmured a word. None of them would have power if it wasn’t for me. If I am a tyrant and have betrayed the Revolution by spreading it throughout Europe, then they are also equally guilty.”

Ney remained silent to these statements. Perhaps Napoleon was right. It was not for him to decide, and it changed nothing about the fact that the Emperor must abdicate. And everyone in the room knew it as silence reigned for the next few minutes.

“Very well.”

Napoleon sighed and rose up from his seat.

“I will abdicate, to save my Empire and France. But my son will retain control, with the Empress as regent. Go, inform the Allies of this proposition, and leave me alone. I will compose my memorandum to leave the throne.”

As the marshals departed, Napoleon looked around at his study. Fontainebleau may have been the creation of the great king, Francis I, but he had never been one for personal extravagance. It was a sparse room, filled only with that which he deemed necessary. Now he sat at his desk and began composing a letter, the letter that would be the end of his Empire. Napoleon was no fool after all – even if he had ordered his marshals to state that he would abdicate in favor of his son, he would be shocked if the Allies actually accepted those conditions. The boy would never be a ruler, but would probably be raised by his wife’s Austrian father, while he himself would live out his days in jail or exile. Meanwhile, the Bourbons, those fat slobs who had ruined this country and had acted like the world belonged to them from the moment of their birth, would come back as Europe would work to plunder the country which while not like his home of Corsica, was the land in which he had resided for most of his life.

He idly tugged at the pouch draped around his neck. It was filled with poison, something which he had obtained as he retreated from a burning Moscow. That had been the moment when he had realized the peril that his army of 300,000 was in, and had obtained the pouch for his own protection. Death was not something to fear, but capture and humiliation, especially by men as mercurial as Tsar Alexander I, was something he wished to avoid. Even now, the odds were not completely zero - a miracle could occur to save him and his Empire. When it did reach that number, then he would end his own life.

A sound occurred from behind him, and at first Napoleon wondered what reason Ney would have to return. But it was different, a peculiar humming sound, and all of a sudden, there was a strange feeling in the air, that something that should not have been there was indeed there. As the hairs on his back of neck stood up, Napoleon rose from his desk and looked across the room.

It was a blue circle of some kind, with a weird emblem of a star in the center. Perhaps it was the way it just floated as if the laws of gravity did not apply to it, but years of fighting meant that Napoleon’s instincts were incredibly powerful. And that old sense told him that whatever this circle was, it wasn’t part of the world he knew. Especially when the circle opened like a door would, and Napoleon was able to look in.

It was blackness; blackness which somehow he knew just existed endlessly, perhaps without end. An uncontrolled shudder moved throughout his body, yet there was a new feeling, one which he couldn’t recognize at first, but he eventually realized.

It was the feeling of discovering something new, of excitement. Rulers didn’t have time for such things, especially ones whom had been fighting for the world like he had spent the past 15 years doing. But the Emperor somehow knew that this led to somewhere new, and that created this feeling of excitement. Was he not pondering his death anyways, the ultimate abandonment to this current mortal plane? Had not his generals and people betrayed him? Were not all the armies of Europe, those who had been his enemies for years upon years, preparing to march upon and capture him once and for all?

Napoleon somehow knew. That if he went through the circle, there was no returning. That if he jumped through, and then maybe he would be condemning himself. Perhaps this circle, as strange and innocuous as it was, was simply the entrance to the gates of Hell.

It didn’t matter. This was an escape from this world, a refuge. And so, with a lightness in his step that had not existed since he had been a young man traipsing through Paris, he walked through the circle, into the blackness, and looked back on his palace and room, as the circle closed upon him, and left him in a place without light or sound. Napoleon was enveloped in a world where the concept of nothingness had complete supremacy.