Gabriel rose at his God-Queen's word, placing a hand over his chest as a form of salute. He kept his head bowed until she had passed, at which point he turned to follow her, flanking opposite Calor, albeit at a much more respectable distance. Out of his periphery, he had seen the kiss graced upon his forehead. If he cared to look, he would even see the mark, still there; much as he now bore a mark, the touch of the Goddess' paint on his shoulderpad. It had given him a very brief pause; the Magistrates had told him that he had their favor for the God-Queen's hand, an unthinkable honor. Now, it seemed, that honor was lost.
Or simply contested.
He did not know Cador personally; he knew of him, the most skilled, faithful, and secretive of all of the God-Queen's Dragoons, an order of her personal guard that were the only ones to whom Gabriel would ever think to yield; excepting the God-Queen and the Magistrates, in that order. He had what Gabriel thought to be a self righteous smirk on his face. Gabriel did not blame him, though his heart burned in jealousy, if what he thought was true.
He could not dwell on such things; he would keep it, lock it away, release it when needed. For now, his full attention would be to keep his beloved ruler safe, even if his presence was merely to support her unfathomable power.
Outside the Rooms of Thrones proper, the Knights Gabriel had selected were waiting, all kneeling in perfect formation in a semi-circle before Sarene, while leaving ample space for her to walk between them without being sullied by their personal auras.
There was Dunkel, the Herald and Standard bearer of the Knights; his duty today was to bear the God-Queen's own banner. It was tethered to the wall beside him, and he would not take it until he was given the command.
Andre, the most devout Knight among them, with the possible exception of Gabriel. He was weeping silent tears that fell through the eye-slits of his helmet, for having been chosen for Her honor guard was so great that he felt he could not allow himself to be bare-faced before her.
Charles, the second in command of the Knights, had placed his helmet before him, with it facing towards the God-Queen. His magnificent armor, with its gleaming silver wings and scales, shone with a radiance, polished just so to reflect Her own.
And lastly, Quinn, the oldest living-and-serving Knight among Her Own, was the chosen Shield Guard, who would be given the honor of the Knights of standing opposite her selected Dragoon, to defend her should any seek to attempt against her in any way.
The four of them were silent, save Andre, who could not suppress a brief, muted utterance, "Praised be the God-Queen, Sarene."
Gabriel would admonish him later for breaking protocol, but he was proud of their statuesque posturing, prostrate before their Queen in submission and devotion. They were prepared to march at a moments notice.