High King Samuel, along with his co-High King Geoffrey, dispensed justice for many years, and was succeeded by a long line of descendants.

A soft female voice speaks in the darkness of the night. It's deep and calm, like the sea embracing the white cliffs of England.

“Tiw. I wish to seek your counsel.”

The voice that replies is low and reverberating, inhumanly so.

“Guinevere. That's not a usual request. I will hear you out.”

There is a long pause. Then the first voice speaks again.

“On the matter of your favourite of the High Kings…”

“I do not have favourites among humans or any other beings.”

There is a soft rustle.

“The one, upon whom you have bestowed your sword and whose prayers you are always willing to listen to, Samuel of the house of… Arthur.”

Tiw sighs at the audible hesitation before mentioning that name.

“I see you are not impartial on this matter. If emotions cloud your judgement, I will hear you out.”

“I can't deny the services Samuel has done for my country and my people,” Guinevere speaks after a while. “He is a just and honourable man, more than deserving of the High King's crown and the position he's in. I have to commend him for his humble gesture of wearing a simple iron circlet instead of a bejewelled crown most would choose. And yes, he is of Arthur's blood, and I can't help but see my beloved in him.”

“What do you ask of me then?”

“He is an oathbreaker.”

There is another pause.

“Do elaborate,” prods Tiw.

“Samuel has sworn an oath to the wretched kingslayer, calling upon me to witness it. It was all a ploy, beautifully executed, and I am eternally grateful to Samuel for his part in dealing with Aelindis. He has sworn to remain faithful to Aelindis and to forsake romantic love of anyone else until the day he dies.”

“Him being Samuel?” interrupts Tiw.

“Of course,” confirms Guinevere sadly. “Aelindis would not allow for such a simple loophole. Samuel has sworn the oath with the intent of breaking it, and I can't help but admire his dedication to the cause. He was willing to invoke my wrath upon himself, to stall Aelindis, so that others would have time to prepare for the fight.”

There is another silence, interrupted only by rustling of fabrics.

“Yes, he must have been aware of that at the time,” Tiw agrees with the Saint.

“If it wasn't for the oath, I would say he deserves the happiness his family is giving him,” continues Guinevere. “His children will follow in his footsteps for generations to come, and I do hope to witness them bring justice to the world, not only because they are of Arthur's blood. I would not dare bereave them of him, nor in other ways separate them. However, they are a proof of him breaking the oath.”

A long silence follows.

“I do not wish for such hardships to fall upon him either,” speaks up Tiw. “He is an exceptional person, is he not… Given the extenuating circumstances, I hesitate to pass judgement without giving it proper attention. In the meantime, let him have the memory of this conversation. I am curious as to what my favourite thinks on the matter.”

The campfire spat and a trail of amber-gold sparks fluttered into the deep blue twilight. Elena had travelled far with the High King that day, crossing the Wash and walking deep into the Fens, but his fever was worsening rapidly and she began to wonder whether they would make it back to Ely.

Leaving him, wracked with coughing, in his sleeping bag, she stood watch as the cold night drew in and the blue fires of the will-o'-the-wisps began to dance in the mist rising from the marsh. After a time, the coughing stilled slightly and, turning, she saw her father standing looking at her, his age-worn face half enshrouded by shadow.

“Elena,” Samuel began hoarsely, “my time here is nearly at an end, and soon you must continue along the path alone. Even as the new High Queen, things won't be easy for you, but I trust in your wise judgement and strong hand. Perhaps you will even be able to do those things I was not. I… But I have no time.”

He paused, seemingly listening out at the silence of the swamp. Sighing, he unbuckled one of the swords from his belt and passed it to her. Its handle was strong and sturdy, and engraved with writhing knotwork patterns.

“This is my gift to you, as a descendant of Arthur. In your pursuit of justice, always be strong and resolute, and Tiw will guide and protect you. Always do justice in the light of the sun.”

So saying, he removed a second smaller sword from his belt and passed it to her. This sword seemed much thinner, keener, and with a small M engraved on its cold handle.

“And this is my other gift to you, as a descendant of Mordred. For sometimes, what must be done must be done.”

And with that he turned and walked, at first uncertainly, but with increasing resolve, away from her and into the marsh. The mist rose up around him, and then he was gone.