𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄.
chapter forty; The Loyal Advisor
" You've given me two reasons to see that you are dead before Francis becomes King. Do not let it become three. "

DEMETRE HAD BEEN suffocated with duties. More so than ever before, so when Francis arrived at his chambers unannounced, he knew he was in for it.

"What's he done now?" Demetre sighed, leaning on his door.

  "It's not my father, this once," Francis breathed, clearly tense, "It's Mary."

  Demetre raised a brow, crossing his arms as he nodded.

  "Her mother is in trouble. Surrounded. We can't spare troops right now, so she has invited the Duke of Guise to ask for his help."

  "So she's an idiot?"

  "Careful, Demetre, she is my wife."

  "The man is--"

  "I am well aware," Francis sighed, "In exchange for sending his troops to Scotland's aide, he's asked to be made Lord Magistrate. My father would never agree, even with his current state. . . so I plan on speaking with him. Without Mary."

  Demetre stood at his full height, eyeing Francis for a moment.

  "You're playing a dangerous game."

  "So I need dangerous company," Francis nodded.

  "Ah," Demetre noted, "So today I am the Dauphin's watchdog?"

  "No. Today you are my advisor."

  Demetre's expression sobered, his arms falling to his sides.

  "Francis, I--"

  "I know," The man said, his tone softening, "But there is no one else I'd want at my side."

  Demetre nodded, stepping into the hall and shutting the door behind himself.

  "Then let us barter with the Duke of Guise."

"Were the guards necessary?"

Demetre flicked his eyes up at the voice. His jaw tightened as Christian entered the throne room with a lazy smile on his face, scanning the surroundings and lingering on Demetre for a long moment.

The Duke of Guise had a reputation that nearly rivaled Demetre's own for all the wrong reasons. Both were said to be cruel men, but the fork in their road was Demetre's undying loyalty to the French crown.

"Surely a messenger would have sufficed," Christian said, his eyes finding Francis as the Dauphain approached him.

"I wanted to speak to you alone, away from your men."

"But not away from your men, I see," Christian rebutted, glancing at the guards around them, "Have you spoken with your father?"

"The king will not agree to the position you want."

"You never asked him, did you?"

"We both know it was a fool's errand," Francis said, "There is something else that you want from me. Are you going to tell me, or am I meant to guess?"

Christian rolled his lips for a moment before speaking.

"Wise men," He started, "Look to the future. They're patient. When I started to build my army a decade ago, other men saw a ragtag rabble. I saw what it would become: a bargaining chip that would one day bring kings to me, begging for favors."

Demetre realized it as Francis did. His shoulder tensed, every muscle in his back tightening as he waited for the blind to speak.

"You never expected to be Father's Lord Magistrate," Francis said, "You want to be mine when I'm king. Even if you have to be patient."

"I won't have to be patient for long, I don't think," Christian said, "Is it poison, I wonder, that is driving him mad?"

"I don't trust you. And I don't like you."

"Eh, being liked is a king's job. Not his lieutenant's," Christian's eyes finally slid back to Demetre, "I believe you already know this, Lord Langlois."

"To be Lord Magistrate to the next King of France, you'll be working alongside me."

"Oh?"

"I don't need to like someone to work with them," Demetre continued, "But I do need them to respect both me and the crown we serve."

"Well, I suppose we'll get to that once we have an answer."

Demetre craned his neck to look at Francis.

They spoke without words, a skill they'd learned back when they were children avoiding their duties.

Francis was hesitant but more scared. Demetre could tell he felt backed into a corner like there was no other option than to agree.

And Francis could tell beneath his calm exterior, that Demetre Langlois was simmering with rage. Because the Duke of Guise was not a man of honor, because he was making demands, forcing Francis into a tight spot; because Demetre was loyal to Francis and could see that Christian would not be.

"Everything in me says I should say no."

"And yet you are here. . ." Christian said, "Away from your wife. I think you knew you would have to say yes and she would object. She would pay any price to save Scotland but would never ask you to. She knows how your family feels about me."

"Well, you've just explained to me why I love her."

"Enough to have her locked in a tower, I've heard."

"Do you want this position or don't you?"

"I want the chance to serve a great ruler. Great rulers aren't afraid of the truth, no matter how painful. The truth is, you love your wife. The truth is, she needs me. So what will it be. . . my prince?"

"When I am king the position is yours. You will work alongside Lord Langlois, not alone."

Christian's jaw tightened, but he knew better than to argue this point. The Langlois family was a damn dynasty; most thought of them as close to French royalty as they could be without wearing the crown. Christian saw the House as a leech he could never fully remove.

"But I have one condition," Francis continued, "Your men will report to me as they would to you."

"But why would you need my men to--"

"I'm going with you to Scotland."

"Well, that's unwise," Christian said, "And if you die, your promise to me is worth nothing."

"Well, then I'd suggest you keep me alive."

Demetre glanced at Francis, giving him a pointed look.

"I need you here," Francis said as if reading Demetre's mind.

"We'll meet to sort through the plan later," Demetre said, rolling his soldiers back, "Go to your wife."

Francis hesitated but nodded, starting on his way.

"And you, Lord Langlois?"

"Our relationship will begin early," Demetre said, turning to Christian, "Since your journey involves the Dauphin, it is now my business."

"Do you not have a woman to return to as well?"

Francis stilled in the doorway.

"Careful, Christian."

The man smiled.

"You have a pretty little thing residing in your wing of the castle unless my informants were mistaken."

Demetre's jaw tightened, and Christian saw it.

"Yes, I've heard news other than the king's current state," He continued, a crooked smile on his lips, "Like the Monster of House Langlois taking in someone else's discarded fiancé, I never took you as a man who accepted used items—"

"If you intend to leave with your life, I suggest you stop talking."

Christian grinned.

"A bold threat," He noted, eyes sparkling almost with admiration, "But an army devoted to me waits—"

"They would be buried at your feet. I'd allow you that luxury, of taking your army with you in death."

Christian faltered, and he could see clear as day this was no empty threat.

Demetre Langlois towered over him, easily, a broad frame for a noble. But Christian knew better than to discount Demetre as just a noble; he'd fought men and beasts of legend and killed both without issue. He was wealthy and powerful and hardly had to lift a finger to make people scurry wherever he wanted them to.

His shadow of a story was almost larger than Christian's, and this was impressive for a man half his age.

"Of course," Christian said, "Let us focus on the task at hand, then."

"You've given me two reasons to see that you are dead before Francis becomes King. Do not let it become three."

Demetre stared down at the man for another moment before starting off, sparing Francis a single glance and attempting to stifle his pride at the grin the blond wore.

But with Christian following his lead, Demetre knew there was no hope for this.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
OKAY GUYS IDK IF YALL
LIKE THEM BUT I LIVEEEE
FOR SOLO DEMETRE CHAPTERS
he's so fun to write and I love
giving u guys glimpses into HIM
and HIS dynamics with diff people
<3333 i simply love this man and
THIS IS coming from someone who 
doesn't normally like writing
male OCs hehe