Prelude to Royalist Uprising

Six days later, on the 12th of Vendémiaire, as the sun began its descent below the horizon, Napoleon and Ciela found themselves standing side by side in the gentle embrace of their children's bedroom. The day had come to an end, casting a soft golden light that danced upon the walls, creating an enchanting ambiance.

As the room grew dim, their eyes were drawn to the two tiny figures nestled peacefully in their cribs. The flickering candlelight illuminated the innocence and purity that radiated from their slumbering forms. The exhaustion of the day melted away, replaced by a profound sense of awe and wonder.

Ciela's voice, barely a whisper, broke the serene silence. "Oh, aren't they so cute?"

Napoleon, his gaze fixed upon their children, couldn't help but let a gentle smile grace his lips.

"Yes, my love," he replied softly, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and contentment. "They are more than I could have ever imagined."