AS THE STARS GLISTENED in the night sky, Lancelot took her lover's lips in a gentle kiss. Lady Guinevere let out a small laugh, soft and delicate, and returned her kiss.

Her emerald eyes closed and Lancelot missed the vivid green. It reminded her of the ivy vines on her windowsill, growing quickly, crawling and conquering, until her wall was but a canvas of green. Guinevere, too, had grown too fast on her, creeping into the stone walls of Lancelot's heart, till her heart, her body, her soul knew nothing but moss green. Guinevere's green.

She sucked a breath as she felt the fair hands tug on her bronze armour. Lancelot's armour, a twisted part of her mind, reminded her. That she had stolen his armour just like she had stolen his identity. She could remember the golden haired boy with kind eyes that turned cruel when he discovered he was getting robbed . He grunted and clawed, his hands tugging at his silver dagger from a ragged little girl with a funny dress.

The girl wouldn't budge, she kept a tight grip on the dagger, muttering something Lancelot couldn't remember anymore. She still remembered the liveliness in his ocean eyes wither as the girl drove the dagger in his heart. She hadn't understood the strange strength and she didn't understand it now.

With a quivering hand she stripped his armour and his robes and his name and wore it like her own. She became Lancelot du Lac and went on great quests and brought victory. She was the great Lancelot of Arthur's round table. It was her honour, her achievement, her title and no one could snatch it from her.

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around Guinevere, caressing the chestnut curls. "I love you," whispered the queen, "oh I love you so much."

"This heart belongs to you, my lady," She whispered back. She watched her lover with a smile as she pulled her hand open.

Guinevere slipped a slender ring on her ring finger. "I want you to have it."

Lancelot frowned as she stared at the emerald stone on the ring, "but my lady–"

"Don't. I want you to have a piece of me. Even when you're away, I want you to remember me," said Guinevere, nuzzling her head in the crook of the knight's neck. At that moment, Lancelot felt like she had been blessed by an embrace of an angel.

Harsh thuds of footsteps sounded against the crystalline marble with a savage howl of "Lancelot! Where are you, you bastard?"

Lancelot and Guinevere jumped out of their embrace but not before the king's eyes fell on them. The mighty king Arthur of Camelot, with a sword wrapped in myths, glared at her with a ferocity that made her want to draw her own weapon.

"Lancelot!" Said the King, with a sneer. "Look at you. You don't deserve the title of knight, let alone a knight of Arthur, you dishonourable bastard."

Lancelot could feel the fear in Guinevere's kind eyes. They had been caught red handed. But Lancelot wouldn't give up so easily.

"What is my crime, my lord," she murmured, humbly. Even as she lowered her head, she couldn't help the grim envy that rose in her mind. Arthur had everything—a strong wife, a mystical sword, glory. Stolen glory. No matter how many dragons she slayed and brave warriors she defeated, it all went to him. To the brave knights of King Arthur. And she wanted it. She wanted it all.

The king's eyes grew livid. "You lay in my wife's bed then ask me your crime? I'll show you what you have done." His hand went to the gilded hilt of excalibur, the sword from the stone, Arthur's prized possession. "I challenge you to a duel Lancelot du Lac, for the honour of Guinevere Pendragon and for the punishment of your deception."

"I accept." As she said this, her calm snapped.

Her eyes blazed with rage, lips curling into a sinister smile as she drew her own blade. "When I kill you Arthur, I'm going to take your crown and I'm going to take your queen."

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The battle was so ugly yet beautiful that Guinevere couldn't turn her eyes from them. Arthur was firm and stiff like a hard rock too proud to bow and Lancelot, Guinevere shivered, Lancelot fought like fire. Her obsidian eyes held a saffron sheen as if on fire. Burning and swallowing everything in its path.

She had to stop the duel, had to end this atrocity before everything crumpled to ash. It was her duty to protect her king, to marr every obstacle in his way even if it meant hurting her beloved and ripping her own heart out. No. She will find a way to save them both.

She closed her eyes, softly murmuring spells. Her hand raised pointing at Lancelot and she opened her eyes, wishing these tears would stop.

"Stop," she whispered. She felt her heart ache as Lancelot stilled and looked at her with wide eyes. Her hand was raised in mid air, sword in hand. Arthur too stopped in confusion and turned to Guinevere.

I'm so sorry, cariad. I'm so sorry.

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Even with a still body, Lancelot still found herself getting lost in the green. There was something captivating in those dark mystical eyes, inviting her to take a bite of the forbidden apple. She searched her lover's fair face, asking, screaming questions to her. But the queen only shook her head, silent tears slipping her eyes.

She lowered her hand and Lancelot felt her arm falling too. Her arm turned and found itself pointing the sharp blade at Lancelot. At Lancelot's heart.

She looked up and met the jade eyes. "Guinevere please," she said, pleading with her eyes. Please don't let me die. Not like this.

But who was she in front of an all powerful sorceress? Even if the sorceress once lovingly caressed her lips.

A sorrowful smile sat on Lancelot's lips as she felt the blade pierce the walls of her ribs. She smiled still as it dove towards her heart, the wretched organ that fluttered when Guinevere smiled at her, ached when Guinevere turned away from her. Even now, it still beat fast as the ethereal glow of magic wrapped around her.

Blood spilled and flowed and glinted on the silver blade like rubies in an argentum chest. Lancelot's knees gave away and she fell on the cold grass. Pain filled her chest, though she wasn't sure if it was from the sword or her lover's betrayal.

She laughed, feeling her power crumple and wither. Hadn't Lancelot fallen just like this, dagger in heart, hand on wound, disbelief in eyes? Their blood was the same scarlet, murky and dark. It seemed fair they had the same ends too.

As her eyes closed, maybe forever, the last thing she heard was a honey voice whispering, "don't forget me, cariad. I'll see you soon."

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"WAKE UP, LEIA!"

A whisper-shout in her ears and a very uncomfortable pock on her side made her stand up straight and scream "AAAAAH!" She looked up and grimaced as Mr. Grayson, her economics teacher and worst nightmare, glared in her direction.

"Miss Williams," he said with his regular scowl. "Is there a reason you thought it was okay to interrupt my class like that?"

"She's having a stomach ache, sir," said Aryan, voice laced with concern. "She's been feeling sick since morning. I think she should be taken to the school nurse." Leia rolled her eyes as her best friend dragged, no escorted her out of the room and into the corridor.

"What was that?"muttered Leia, raising her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. They walked silently towards the cafeteria, their number one getaway place.

"What was that?" Aryan eyed her. "You fell asleep in class. You never fall asleep in class. Are you ok?"

"I had a weird dream," replied Leia. "How long had I been sleeping?" She turned towards him while brushing her hand through her curls. She didn't want to think about her dream, about she had been some mythical warrior. How she had a lover. A beautiful lover. But it seemed unrealistic. Leia couldn't use a baseball bat properly, let alone swords and daggers. And she wouldn't kill someone, right?

"About a few minutes, I'd say," Aryan said. "I was so jealous of you. Sleeping in class like it's no big deal. I wish– what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, waving her hands to gesture the same when something glimmered on her dark finger. Her eyes nearly bulged from her eye socket when she saw a ring on it. Finely cut to a spherical shape, a brilliant emerald sat proudly on a band of gilded wreath. It was beautiful and magnificent and not something to be worn by Leia Williams, she thought to herself. She vaguely remembered the queen in her dreams, with a silver diadem and long slick robe, gave it to her. She had been her lover.

She groaned and took a seat on one of the benches. What was happening to her? Was she hallucinating? Had she actually been to a magic world—"camelot"—and played hero by going on quests and slaying beasts? Did she really have a secret affair with the queen? And did she really kill herself, led by her lover's hand? The more she thought about those unanswered questions, the more her head hurt.

She rubbed her fingers on her forehead. "I need a huge mug of hot chocolate and thirty six hours of sleep to deal with this."

Aryan handed her a bar of chocolate, laughing at her silly words. "What happened?"

"I had a dream where I was a great knight who fought his king and then I killed myself."

"You really are in need of sleep and hot cocoa then."

As the bell for lunch break rang, more and more students filled the canteen. Leia wanted to get away from there. Hell, she wanted to go home but she still had three classes left. She still had to pretend she was completely fine for three more hours, that she wasn't shaken by this strange dream. And the stupid ring, she thought, gently removing from her fingers. She would be in serious trouble if anyone saw it.

She stood up and turned to Aryan. "I'm going to sit in my next class. See you in Logic." He waved at her, not looking up from his phone and grumbled a bye.

She made her way out of the canteen and into the busy hallway. The corridor was lively as always with clusters of students standing in random places, chattering and giggling with their friends or fussing about their new enmities. It was much like a battlefield, where people made queer alliances, betrayed their companions, destroyed their foes. High School wasn't much different than a Lord Of The Rings movie.

She made her way to the stairs but stopped as a figure bumped into her. Her—not her—emerald ring slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground with a soft 'clink'. The girl rushed and bent to pick up the ring. "I'm so sorry for my clumsiness."

She knew that voice, like a clear stream of water noisily dancing down pebbles. It was the lady of her dreams. The ethereal queen. She looked at the girl, her chestnut hair pulled in a ponytail. The grey uniform of Phoenix looked odd on her, yet managed to enhance the beauty of hers. So the sorceress did find her.

Her green eyes met with Leia's charcoal ones and a knowing smile pressed on the girl's lips. She commented in that ethereal voice of hers, "it's a very pretty ring," and handed me the ring.

Leia shook her head slightly, suppressing a smile. "Here to kill me again?"