-One Month Before-

Torches flickered with an eerily green flame, illuminating the throne room of Dyfed. Green and bronze banners spiraled down from soaring stone arches, the white silhouette of an osprey with its wings and talons spread wide visible on their face. Nearly all the length of the Kingdom's northern edge bordered the sea, and the air was thick with the scent of salt and something nameless, but which felt as ancient as the old religion itself.

Queen Líadan Morcant sat erect on a large throne of intricately carved wood. Its surface was inlaid with delicate silver patterns of waves and wondrous ocean beasts. An inexperienced eye would have been quick to dismiss it, believing the wood, however fine, to be a humble material. But anyone who had dealt in the world of fine treasures would recognize the distinctive red purple hue of peltogyne wood. Worth a thousand times its own weight in gold due to the difficulty in harvesting it, as well as the distance from which it had to be imported. An effort which any merchant charged a ruinous price for.

It was a sly display of both influence and power, worthy of the Queen. Nothing less could be expected from a woman who had maintained her rule even after the death of her husband through an iron will and strong charisma.

She sat, resplendent in her throne, back straight and chin high. Long silver hair tumbled over her shoulders, and she was clad in a silk gown the deep green color of the sea before a storm. The bodice and the cuffs of the gown were embroidered with silver knot work in thread as fine as her hair. Age had carved weary furrows into her sun-tanned face, yet it had stolen none of the intelligence which shone from eyes as blue as the cerulean depths of the ocean.

A figure shrouded in darkness knelt before the throne. Two guards flanked the Queen on either side, eyes trained on the visitor. Weapons drawn, they stood in the deceptively relaxed posture of highly trained men who were ready for immediate and brutal action. Aside from those four figures, the grand room was notably empty.

After a long silence in which she contemplated the still kneeling form, the Queen spoke. "Your proposition is bold. And it would come at no small risk to my Kingdom."

The Queen gestured for the figure to rise.

Gracefully, she did. "Pardon me for speaking frankly but I'm surprised by your hesitation. Your son had led me to believe, even all these years later, your belly would burn for revenge."

A face flashed behind Líadan's eyes, hair the color of rich ochre, eyes as dazzling as the summer sky. The edges of the memory were faded with time and sorrow.

"And so it does," she agreed. "And yet I am more than a woman bereft. I am, first, a Queen. My people look to me for safety and security."

"Voice your concerns and perhaps I may provide reassurance."

"As satisfying as it would be- I'm uncertain what you expect of me. The Kingdom of Gawant is a close ally of Camelot's. Should we capture and then put their King to death without just cause or due process, chivalry and honor both would demand they avenge their ally. They would flood in to crush us against the sea as Camelot's army cut off any escape to the East. I am not blinded to the consequences of acts of rage and vengeance."

Putting a subtle emphasis on the word "I". Líadan knew the words would stoke the fury and wounded pride of this woman. She watched closely. The Queen was keen enough to recognize when someone was trying to use her. Perhaps, if this one knew how to play the game, they could use each other.

Eyes lowered demurely, a gesture entirely incongruous with the defiance and anger shining there. A nod of acknowledgment. "I understand that their alliance has thus far stayed your hand. But even the most noble of allies will not march to war for a lost cause… not if you give them an out."

Expectant silence, a raised eyebrow.

"If he is condemned following the very tenants of honor and chivalry, then your position will hold. Accuse Camelot of being the aggressor- assert self-defense, that he attacked your men on your lands. Naturally this will be challenged, and with the word of one monarch against the other and no unbiased witness you will engage in a wager of battle. Your champion versus Camelot's, where the winner of the fight is proclaimed by ancient law to be speaking true. I will fight as your champion. Your victory will be assured, and you can rightly take Arthur's head. No one would dare to challenge the results of such a sacred tradition, whether it pleases them or not."

A tenuous argument indeed, but Líadan knew King Godwyn well. Loyal and honorable he may be, but war was no small proposition. The trial by combat might just be a loophole to exploit. "What would you want in return?"

The woman's answer was swift and full of vicious anticipation, "I would ask to be the one to execute Arthur Pendragon and his Knights, in your name. On the field, immediately after the fight, where all may bear witness. A harsh punishment to be sure but trespassing and attacking one's own men is a grievous crime."

"You seem certain that they will accept the challenge of single combat. I've heard Guinevere is no fool, why would she do such a thing with these stakes?"

"It will be you who accepts their challenge, Queen Morcant. I have a man among Camelot's ranks. It will he be who presents the idea to her. She will be desperate to get her husband back and to avoid war. Your preliminary armies will meet, and she will be the one to seek an audience with you."

There was a long silence as Queen Líadan considered. "I make no guarantees, this all hinges on their blind pursuit of a servant into my land. Should they fail to follow, there is no foundation for your plot."

A bitter sneer curled the hard face half cradled in shadow. "It is obscene what any one of them would do for that particular servant."