Louis stepped into the throne room, every inch the warrior. Tall, strong, broad shouldered, with deep black hair cut practically on his head. He took his position as a royal guard very, very seriously, particularly now that he was captain. His face was handsome, but somewhat weathered; he hadn't become captain of the guard by staying at home. He adjusted his ceremonial uniform and licked his lips, his one concession to his weakness. Because the captain of the guard wasn't supposed to feel anything towards his king but a desire to protect him, and Louis was intensely jealous of his king. Envious, even.
Because he was in love with the queen. More than that; he'd heard loved described a thousand ways, but none of them accurately captured the strange searing need he felt when he looked at her, saw the way her breath made her chest move, saw the way she walked, like she owned a room...he shook his head as he approached the throne. Not the thoughts to be having. He knelt and bowed his head respectfully.
"Your majesty," he said, fighting to keep any sign of his feelings out of his voice. "There are a few additions I would like to discuss security measures with you. Particularly the placement of additional guards in key positions around the palace."