#*˖ ⊹ cedric antoine perceval ☆ﾟ ( ft. )

[monarhrh]

@reinaxc | Cedric & Maya the day after the arrests.

As dawn's first light filtered through the small, barred window of his cell, Cédric stretched his stiff limbs, his anger from the previous night now a controlled and focused determination. His mind was set on finding answers and ensuring the safety of those he cared about. In the adjacent cell, the Deputy Prime Minister of France, Maya, sat on a small cot.

Cédric rose and approached the bars separating them, his voice low and steady. "Maya," he called softly, ensuring his tone conveyed both concern and camaraderie. "Are you all right?"

[monarhrh]

He considered the princess's words, reflecting on the truth behind them. Titles and lands often came with expectations and responsibilities, but they didn’t guarantee wisdom or compassion. He had seen many wield power without the insight to use it for good, prioritizing ambition over the well-being of those they governed. Considering her desire to leave. “If you feel it’s best to go, I won’t keep you." He stepped back slightly, allowing her to make her exit without pressure. "Your Highness" he said softly, his tone filled with sincerity.

He made his way to the candlelight alter, the soft flicker of flames beckoning him. Each flickering flame a reminder of lives past and hopes for the future. Silently, he lit several candles, one for each member of his family and another for those whom the princess had lost. The warm glow of the candles enveloped him, casting shadows against the church walls. Cedric closed his eyes briefly, offering his thoughts and prayers in the quiet solitude of the sanctuary.

yet he  stood  beside  and  served  those who had. no words he spoke would alter that fact nor add new colors to the image the french had painted of themselves in her eyes. he might not have been there but the people he supped with or called friends may have been. logically, if conflict brewed between their nations again he might be ordered to take action. all thoughts she kept contained in her mind. voiced denial was easy; she tired of hearing it. ❝ thank you for your acknowledgement, sir, ❞   she said softly instead. anger still burned but an opportunity to avoid further conflict made it return to its quieter state. if only the nerves in her stomach would follow in suit.   ❝ some who possess titles or land have failed at that. ❞   she took a deep breath.   ❝ now, i believe it's best i take my leave. ❞

[monarhrh]

@thcrnedthrones | Cedric & Genevieve

In the cold confines of his cell, Cédric Antoine Perceval Leclerc sat with his back against the damp stone wall, his thoughts a tumultuous storm of anger, betrayal, and longing. The events that led to his imprisonment felt like a cruel twist of fate, orchestrated by unseen hands that sought to tear him apart from everything he held dear. And yet, amid the shadows and echoes of despair, there came a hauntingly familiar sound—the soft echo of footsteps approaching. The Commander looked up, his heart lurching as Princess Genevieve appeared before him, her face illuminated by the faint glow of a flickering torch. She stood just beyond the reach of his outstretched hand, her presence both a balm and a torment to his weary soul. "Genevieve" Cédric murmured, his voice rough with unspoken anguish. "You shouldn't have come. It's too dangerous."

[monarhrh]

@opalnoble | Cedric & Aurora at the Soldiers Taverna

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm golden hue over the city of Paraty. Located just a few hours' ride outside of Rio De Janeiro, Paraty was known for its scenic beauty, sandy white beaches, and quaint homes. Just off the main beach, rows of charming shops lined the boardwalks, creating a lively atmosphere.

Princess Genevieve was among those enjoying the late afternoon, browsing the shops with a casual grace. Cedric had been instructed to grant her privacy, so he decided to take a walk and admire the seashore. As he strolled along the boardwalk, the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping against the shore provided a soothing backdrop. The scent of the ocean filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of nearby food stalls.

Cedric's thoughts were interrupted when he unexpectedly crossed paths with Crown Princess Aurora. "Your Highness," Cedric greeted her with a respectful bow, his voice steady despite his surprise. "It is an unexpected pleasure to see you here."

[monarhrh]

cedric antoine perceval tag dump

*˖ ⊹       cedric antoine perceval      ☆ﾟ       (  thread  )

*˖ ⊹       cedric antoine perceval      ☆ﾟ      (  musings  )

*˖ ⊹      cedric antoine perceval      ☆ﾟ      (  mirror  )

*˖ ⊹       cedric antoine perceval      ☆ﾟ       (  answered  )

*˖ ⊹       cedric antoine perceval      ☆ﾟ      (  ft.  )

[monarhrh]

Cedric chuckled softly at Andromeda’s astonishment and fast joke. “Yes, a pod of dolphins! They were leaping alongside the ship, almost as if they were guiding us through the storm. It was a beautiful distraction amidst the chaos,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with the memory. When she asked if it was the largest storm he had faced, he nodded. "No, that storm wasn't the largest, but it certainly left a lasting impression. The sea has a way of humbling us.” The sea had indeed been a cruel mistress at times, taking more than just ships—it had claimed friends and comrades who had sailed beside him. 

He sensed her hesitation when it came to sharing her own stories. “I understand,” he said gently. "I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss your stories. Everyone has their own adventures, even if they seem mundane at first glance. Life can surprise us in the most ordinary moments. But if you’re ever willing to share, I’m all ears. Everyone’s journey holds value, even if it doesn’t involve battling storms.”

Andromeda’s eyes widened at the story, his words conjuring a scene that would surely inspire absolute terror to actually experience. It was not a particularly comforting story, though she’d been assured theirs was likely to be a smooth journey. “A pod of dolphins?” She repeated, genuinely astonished at the tale. “I hope you kept contact with them, should we run into a similar situation.” She gave a playful smile. “Was that the largest storm you’ve experienced?”

If she’d thought it through a bit more, she would have seen his question coming, but she’d been so focused on maintaining her composure that she hadn’t thought it through. She did carry a great number of stories, but they all belonged to the life she had before- something she tried to keep out of casual conversation. “Oh, captain, my life is not nearly as interesting. I’m sure any story of mine would pale in comparison to the life you’ve lived.” It was a weak attempt at a avoiding the question, but she didn’t want to seem too eager in her own evasion.

[monarhrh]

Cedric nodded appreciatively, the weight of her words settling in his mind. "Thank you, Nicollete. Your trust in my leadership means a great deal to me," he replied, his tone steady but thoughtful.  "Training the guards has always been a duty I hold dear, and I take pride in their discipline and strength," Cedric replied, his tone steady but thoughtful. "It's true, I've often felt the weight of responsibility on my shoulders alone. Perhaps it's the nature of my role, but I recognize the importance of relying on those around me. I have my own trusted few, but I sometimes forget to lean on them."

The Guard's gaze met Nicollete’s, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usually composed demeanor. "Your reminder is a valuable one. I suppose it’s easy to forget that strength lies not just in individual resolve but in the bonds we share with others. I will strive to be more open to that support."

She nodded while she listened, aware of what he meant. When she made a mistake it could have long lasting impacts for France, but ones she was unlikely to see in the moment. His mistakes would have instant, terrible consequences.

"You are a good leader, Cedric. You have trained the other guards well, ensured they have discipline and strength." Even if she could not quite trust them to lead her own guard, it had nothing to do with competence and everything to do with the need for discretion. "It is ok to trust them, to know that if you falter one or more will be standing behind you to catch you. It is why I have Maya and Max and the rest of my people."

She knew the advice may be unsolicited, but she could not help herself. "You are good because you care, but you must not feel as if you have to carry this burden alone."

[monarhrh]

The simple man gazed at Genevieve with a mixture of tenderness and resolve, his hand gently cradling her cheek still. Her words touched him deeply, resonating with the unspoken fears and hopes they both carried. The weight of their shared experiences and the uncertainties of their world pressed upon him, yet in this moment, he focused on reassuring her.

"mon chéri," he murmured softly, his voice carrying a steadying warmth, "I promise you, I'm not going anywhere. You mean more to me than I can express." His thumb traced a gentle path along her cheekbone, a silent gesture of comfort and commitment. "Whatever happens, whatever challenges we face, I will stand by you."

He felt a surge of protectiveness, a desire to shield her from the turmoil that surrounded them. Their connection was a sanctuary amidst the chaos, a place where their hearts could find peace. Leaning closer, he brushed a feather-light kiss against her forehead, a tender expression of his steadfast devotion. "We'll face everything together," he whispered, his breath mingling with hers in the cool night air. "I'll always be here for you, Genevieve. Always."

As they stood there, hand in hand, Cedric knew that their bond transcended duty and circumstance. In Genevieve's presence, he found a strength that anchored him, a reason to endure the uncertainties that lay ahead. He vowed silently to cherish every moment with her, to protect their love with unwavering determination. "Je t’aime," he added quietly, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that echoed his unspoken promise.

She couldn't pinpoint the moment she realized she was in love with him, but it felt a lot like a slow and building adoration that had grown to the love that she had for him now - unable to imagine her life without him in it. Genevieve sighed, happy to have his hand tangled with hers as they stood there, the cool breeze of the night going through her hair as she so wished she could lean against him but knew that she couldn't without putting them both at risk.

She was surprised to feel his hand against her cheek but she welcomed it, closing her eyes and leaning into his palm as she got closer to him. "I have no interest in breaking your heart, Cedric.. Just promise me you aren't going anywhere. With everything that's been happening -- I don't want to lose you."

[monarhrh]

Cedric regarded Tian Feng with a mixture of gratitude and weariness, a faint smile breaking through the tension. “A twisted sense of curiosity? Not at all, I can appreciate that,” he replied, his voice lightening slightly. “Though don't let the others hear you."

As Tian Feng extended the small bundle through the bars, Cedric’s stomach rumbled in response. “Breakfast from you? Now that’s a welcome treat,” he said, accepting the offering gratefully. “Anything is better than the slop they’ve been serving.” He took a bite of the food, he was grateful someone came to see him. When Tian Feng mentioned the Orleans family, Cedric felt a wave of relief wash over him, he could only think of one person and that was Genevieve, her safety was his concern . “I appreciate it” he said.

Satisfied with the somber refusal, Tian Feng rose his brow at the question. " Would it be impolite of me to say a twisted sense of curiosity? " He leaned into the bars, the half-smile remaining in hopes of lifting the other's spirits. " And I brought you the best from breakfast, unless you are filled up on the slop I saw them bringing through. " He extended the small bundle in through the bars.

Tian Feng was no stranger to a cell - he didn't talk about it, but there were times in his service where he had fallen under enemy confinement. With ambitious as the Chinese army was; he'd faced much hardships for the sake of duty, and it was not always rightfully placed. " The Orleans had their meal delivered to their chambers. " He added this quietly, with a serious tone, wondering if it would anger the other and feeling almost guilty for sharing the information. But the Commander knew he'd want to know, if the roles were reversed.

[monarhrh]

Cedric observed Genjirou with a nod of respect, appreciating the dedication to his sword practice. "No need for apologies, Monseiur," Cedric replied warmly. "Your skill with the sword is impressive, a testament even. It's good to see such craftsmanship maintained. Who taught you?" He stated softly, genuinely intrigued by the other. " I am afraid I might be out of practice, yet I have some time to spare" 

closed starter: julian wechsler, any muse of your choice! / @espionisms @succiducus @monarhrh not a group thread

location: the military yards

though his life now involved diplomacy, genjirou cannot shake the habits his father instilled on the ships they sailed together. sword lessons on the decks, moving the fight as the waves rocked the boat, were long, arduous. but for all of his father's sins, the swords gifted served him well through the years. it is one now, hilt engraved with the sakiyama name, that genjirou wields with the sturdiness of a practiced hand. he only notices an audience at the last stroke.

"ah, i apologize for taking up the space. i'm about done." he sheathes the sword, placing it on a nearby bench. "though, if you need a sparring partner, i still have energy to spend."

[monarhrh]

The French Guard regarded Timur with a steady gaze, understanding the weight behind his words. The recent revelations had cast a shadow over many, leaving doubts and suspicions in their wake. "I understand," Cedric replied, his voice calm but respectful. His outward demeanor remained composed and attentive, masking any inner frustration he might have felt. Internally, he processed Timur's guarded stance and the weight of the unspoken tensions between nations. Despite the gravity of the situation, Cedric knew the importance of maintaining professionalism. He offered a slight nod, "Have a good day".

french. the  evidence  revealed  hadn't  painted  many of them in a good light. it made timur wonder: who amongst them hadn't been caught? he knew all about responsible parties slipping through the cracks; it was why everyone believed his hands were clean rather than bloody due to the orders given by another. the man's nod was not returned. the hand that had still been guiding the whetstone, albeit a little slower than before, stilled.   ❝ no. ❞   a cold firmness consumed the single word and bled into his eyes. the arslan family sword's history was not for strangers.

[monarhrh]

Cedric was still grappling with the remnants of panic, his breath coming in short gasps as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. The shout and the thunk of knuckles against stone had triggered a surge of anxiety, tightening his chest like a vice. Each sharp inhalation felt labored, and the shadows of the dungeon seemed to close in around him, amplifying his sense of entrapment.

He could hear the distant murmurs of guards and the unsettling sounds echoing through the stone corridors, adding to the chaos swirling in his mind. The Guard struggled to center himself, focusing on the coolness of the stone beneath his palms as he braced himself against the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to block out the clamor of his thoughts. The lingering panic threatened to spiral, but he reminded himself of the necessity of clarity. He couldn’t afford to succumb to fear, especially now when those he cared about were depending on him to remain steadfast. As he took a few deep breaths, he tried to visualize a calm, stable place—a quiet garden or a sunlit room. Slowly, he felt the tightness in his chest begin to ease, though the urgency of the situation remained present. Just then, Rostam's voice broke through the haze, steady and reassuring.

Cedric felt the grip of anxiety begin to loosen further at the sound of Rostam's calm demeanor. It was as if the sultan’s presence was a grounding force, pulling him back from the edge. “Your Majesty,” Cedric replied, his voice steadier now...however he couldn't express anything else, all he could do was nod and accept the help.

if there was one thing that rostam could wish, it would be to never again be woken up with a scream, shake, or an invasion. every time monarchs gathered together in hopes to secure a peaceful future, something of this nature kept happening. with no end to their misery in sight and the trauma that lingered in his veins from how he had been woken on the morning of khan's demise, rostam set out start an investigation of his own. the detainment of the french court didn't sit right on his stomach. the faces and eyes that had peered out at him from behind the bars of their cells did not look, at least to him, like people who could pull off such a feat. no, rostam was starting to worry that the benefactor was more than likely among them; among the monarchs. the king flinches at the sound of a shout and the hard, hollow thunk of knuckles to stone. a thumb runs over his own, where once splinters of wood and debris had been cleaned by the careful hands of his physician. "my friend?" he prompts, brown eyes falling softly on cedric. "would you like...some assistance?"

[monarhrh]

Cedric's thoughts drifted back to Lyon, a place that held his heart despite the many years and miles between them. He missed the rolling hills and the lush vineyards that stretched as far as the eye could see, the scent of fresh bread from the local vendors wafting through the narrow cobblestone streets to name a few. Lyon beauty was unmatched and its charm unforgettable. "It’s a pity we never crossed paths before," Cedric said, looking at Max with a thoughtful expression. "given how close our homes are," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But I'm grateful to have met you now, after all these years. It's rare to find someone who understands that pull of home so well."

He listened attentively to Max's story, nodding along with understanding. Curiosity evident in his expression. "Your dog sounds like quite the character. What's their name? And what kind of adventures do you two get up to together?" He smiled, clearly enjoying the conversation and eager to hear more about Max's life outside of their current duties.

"This handsome fellow is named Guerreiro," Cedric replied, pride evident in his voice. "He's not from France, actually. I acquired him here, but he's become a trusted companion and a reminder of home." He stroked Guerreiro's sleek black mane affectionately, a glimmer of nostalgia in his eyes. "It's remarkable how animals can ground us, even in unfamiliar places."

“I was raised on a farm. Roughly a day’s walk to your native Lyon, actually.” It was bittersweet to reflect on his early life. He missed France deeply, and thought often of the idyllic, pastoral life he could have had if he’d ignored his restlessness and never moved to Paris. That dream was always shattered at the memory of how miserable he’d been, but it was nice to consider before then. “We always had a horse, for taking produce to market, plowing the fields, that sort of thing.” He was always a bit embarrassed by his aversion to riding, and chose to keep those thoughts to himself. “I don’t ride much, though. I have a rather energetic mutt that needs a great deal of attention and exercise, so any time I could spend riding is spent walking her.” Max used the word mutt with great affection, even if he was using her as an excuse. He turned his attention to the stallion Cedric was attending to. “And who’s this? He’s absolutely stunning. Did you bring him from France?”

[monarhrh]

Cedric listened to Pavarti's words with a composed expression, taking in the intensity of her emotions. "Your Highness, your wrath is indeed yours to direct," he acknowledged respectfully. "I do not presume to control it or dictate where it should be aimed." He paused for a moment, then continued, "Who am I to say such things? I am not a monarch nor a man with titles or lands. I was not born into this life. I am a simple man, tasked with protecting those I serve and seeking to rectify the wrongs I can." His eyes met hers, conveying sincerity. "You are right to question and to express skepticism. Your family's pain and the injustices they have faced are undeniable. Yet, I ask you to consider this: I am not the one who brought harm to your family nor I was there."

"I apologize if my words implied otherwise. I did not mean to assume that I understand the depth of your emotions. I only meant that I can comprehend your anger, as anyone who has witnessed injustice can." He paused for a moment, allowing his words to settle. "I recognize that I cannot fully grasp the pain and grief you and your family have endured. My intention is not to belittle or dismiss your feelings, but to acknowledge them, which I believe is what a simple man in my position could realistically do."

❝ who are  you  to  say  where  my wrath can be directed? it is mine. ❞   one of the few things left that were. she didn't like clinging to it, rarely did for grief overshadowed, but neither would she let another control it. expression, previously overrun by uneasiness, shifted slightly as eyes narrowed.   ❝ though, all i did was ask a question and offer skepticism at your response. i wish that was all the 'wrath' my family faced. ❞   she fiddled with her fingers. something uncomfortable fluttered in her stomach. she should have left the moment he'd entered.   ❝ i'm also not the one assuming i understand the emotions of a person i don't know. ❞

[monarhrh]

It was clear that the actions of the French government had left deep scars. Cedric took a deep breath, steadying himself. He knew he couldn't let his own emotions cloud his judgment, but he also refused to be anyone's punching bag. "I understand your anger and the reasons behind it," he began, his voice calm and measured. "What happened at Lal Qila was a tragedy, and I do not stand here to defend those actions. The French government's decisions are not my own, and I deeply regret the pain and suffering that has been caused." He looked at Pavarti directly, his voice steady. "I can only comprehend your anger, and I respect your right to express it. But I must insist that I am not here to be the object of your wrath."

and yet  the  french  had  done  it. she had understood thailand's rage, losing not one but two children, but france had had no place in lal qila. no murder had touched their shores. her expression didn't soften.   ❝ that's very easy to say now that the act is done. ❞   he's a good actor, nodding along, declaring regret. it altered nothing.   ❝ many say words pale in comparison to actions. the people you stand with have spoken loudly with theirs. ❞   she spoke of the french government that now stood in power and the french royals. members of both, royal and offical, had strode into her home after their soldiers had broken in.

[monarhrh]

The Captain of the Guard received her words with a solemn nod, recognizing the depth of her reflection. He listened intently, his gaze steady and thoughtful, as she mused on their shared sense of duty and the transformations they had undergone. Cedric smiled faintly at her words. "A story worth telling," he agreed, his voice gentle yet firm. "We've both become more than we once were, in ways we couldn't have anticipated."

He's smile widened, a rare sight, as he nodded in agreement. "For tonight, then, I am neither captain nor doctor. Just Cedric." He took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and resolve. "It's the constant state of vigilance," he began, his voice steady but carrying a trace of weariness. "Being alert all the time, praying that no harm comes to those I care about. The weight of that responsibility is always there, pressing down on me. I fear what might happen if I falter, even for a moment."

He paused, looking at her with earnest eyes. "There are so many lives depending on me, and the thought of any harm coming to them because of a lapse on my part... it's a burden I carry with me every day.."

She receives his words, a woman who so often argues with whatever is being said, simply to prove she can, seeing no fault in what he is saying. There is no ability to form opinions on them, what he says just is.

"Most of the time I do not mind it. I cannot imagine a life without duty, purpose. At least I know that at the end of it all my life would have meant something. Succeed or fail I will have had a story." She shook herself out of her melancholy. "You have become a doctor and I a philosopher, what a strange transformation."

She nodded at his words, who were they? Captain and Prime Minister, or Cedric and Nicolette. "I am not sure we can ever know." If they did, they may find they did not like the answer. "But for tonight at least we can draw the line. Just Nicolette, just Cedric." A small thought was wringing out in the back of the mind, "perhaps this would all be easier, if we didn't care so much. We could put our work down at the end of the day, and shrug off our duty until work begins once more."

Nicolette shook her head at him with a smile, "if we are to just be tonight, then you can be neither captain nor doctor, nothing that requires a sense of duty to me. You know some of my struggles, what is keeping you up tonight?"