Disclaimer: so not mine, but I wish…

Author's note: some Latin used for epigraphs, but I understand that not everybody knows Latin, so here's translation:

pecus Magnae Parentis means livestock of the Great Mother (Mother Nature, or any similar type of ancient, pre-pantheon goddess that created the world or a huge part of it in Roman mythology, I guess), literally. However, it's not just any animal, not even a domestic one, but a lion.

volatūs alĭtum sustinet means supports the feathered ones in flying; originally the phrase started with a word aēr, which means air – so it all basically means that the air helps birds to fly

Shadow of the Queen

Pecus Magnae Parentis

Chapter 1

Volatūs alĭtum sustinet

- The Sparrow changes route, coming through Passage B, rise security notch at Passage B. How do you read me, Lionel?

- Check, Shades. Security buildup at Passage B. Over.

Indeed, you want to get into the world – you learn the rules it lives by, you abide them and travel the roads it has to offer, preferably with all due respect to speed limits. That's what they taught him in the uni. When you are sitting on a high enough perch, you become one of those few who make rules and set speed limits for the world to abide. That's what the very same university professors said, in hushed whispers, when nobody unworthy of the trust was around. But whatever the side you're on, life is surely… interesting, taking quite unexpected turns – what with new laws and the former Queen, Her Majesty Clarisse, marrying her Royal Head of Security, Joseph, and him, Lionel Motaz, hopefully taking a full-time job here at the palace as soon as his university days were over and done with, hopefully with no complications, right after he hands in this internship papers and not a year later, with some nice comments from present Royal Head of Security Shades and – who knows? – maybe even a word or two from the Queen herself on the side. Right, life is quite interesting to follow... That much he managed to observe on his own.

Yes, sure... Wait, did he say Passage… B?! Damn, that's all the way up from his present position! But he's the closest one to it anyway… He ran. Steps and staircases, left, right… More steps and stairs... Please, God, I know I hardly ever pray and never come to Your churches since I turned five, but please, if you really exist, keep her away from any harm…

- Lionel, that you? – She stopped abruptly; more like almost bumped into him when the guard was about to turn around the corner. Her Royal Highness, Princess – no, he had to correct himself, it's been a month now, since she has become – …

- My Queen.

- Oh, Lionel… - There was a soft reproach in her voice as Queen Amelia Migno… – no, Mia, remember, she doesn't like to be called otherwise – as Queen Mia smiled at him, still a bit startled. – Do you security guys always have to pop out of nowhere like that, all the time? It's creepy.

- I am sorry, Your Majesty. Part of the job. You've changed your route so abruptly I had to hurry in case somebody less than friendly caught up with you faster than I did.

She smiled again at him, this time almost apologetically.

- Right. Well, no assassins here… Thanks anyway, I guess…

They just stood in the gallery, in awkward silence, and stared at each other – the Queen of Genovia still clutching a spot of the fabric right above her heart, and the guard standing slightly to her left, just enough to block whatever might come from the side of the park, shielding Mia with his own body; light summer wind ruffled her dress and his hair.

- Mia! There you are. Ready to go?

Young Lord Devereaux. He was supposed to take the Queen out today for a… walk? A date? Whatever the occasion, it was clearly none of his business, that much Shades, and Joseph before him, made quite clear. You guard, you shield, you protect, and stay the hell out of the Queen's way, unless her life or well-being is threatened. Period. Joseph especially stressed that, giving him a security crash course right before he left to enjoy his honeymoon with the former Queen. Sometimes Lionel could swear his muscles still hurt, and paranoia was practically his second nature – or was it just phantom pain of those lengthy work-out sessions multiplied by slowly, but steadily developing professionalism he strived to achieve so much? Maybe. Maybe not. And yet…

- Coming, Nicholas. Start the car!

She was still looking at him as she spoke. Not through him. But then she broke the gaze and brushed past ever so lightly, to the man waiting for her. Ever so lightly…but he could still remember those clumsy moments fondly, though hey – probably even the queens so full of life, queens like Her Majesty Mia learn how to move un-awkwardly and almost mechanically in their royal grace as they turn professional… Lionel breathed in. Roses from the garden. The wind. Sunshine. Her perfume… Suddenly, he noticed a small something sending sparks up form the gallery floor.

- Wait! Your Majesty! You have dropped – …

But Lord Devereaux's convertible was already gone, and his Queen with it.

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