Shakespeare Legend: The King's Men

by Azarius

The characters of William Shakespeare comes to life in this modern and original twist on Shakespeare's classic plays when teenager Anne Hathaway and the King's Men have to stop the mysterious Critics from finding the Seven Relics . . . . Please R&R!

1. Chapter One

The Legend of Shakespeare by Raymond Gilstrap

Book One: The Golden Skull

Synopsis

Anne Hathaway is a normal sixteen-year-old girl who has the perfect boyfriend in Will Stratford, who seems unable to tell a single lie. Living with her older sister Alice, Anne enjoys writing sonnets and reading anything that was ever written by William Shakespeare.

Perhaps her fascination with Shakespeare is the reason behind the dreams that she keeps having, dreams about a girl named the Dark Lady, who interacts with the characters from Shakespearean plays. Anne's sub-conscious mind has created her own world of Shakespeare and in that world, the Dark Lady is plotting to take over by making a covenant with a group of invaders known as the Critics.

Anne believes that her dreams are only dreams, but when she reads from a glowing manuscript that was actual written by Shakespeare himself, the world of Shakespeare collide with Anne's world in ways beyond imagination.

Now, Anne finds herself inside the plays of Shakespeare and she must join forces with a group of soldiers called the King's Men, who are led by Prospero from The Tempest and Oberon from A Midsummer's Night Dream, to stop the Dark Lady and the Critics from finding the Seven Relics, magical artifacts that can bring ultimate power to anyone who possesses them.

It is Shakespeare like you have never read before . . . .

Chapter One

Have you ever taken a step back from your day-to-day activities and observed your own life wondering how you ever managed to do something extraordinary, something that you would have never expected yourself to be capable of in a million years?

Well, if you have never done so, then that's just too bad. You need to because I am pretty sure that you can find something awesome that you have done in the past that has awed everyone, including yourself, if you only take some time out of your busy schedule to reflect for a while.

I find myself doing it quite often because self-reflection is invigorating and relaxing—well, at least to me anyways—and although, I can name at least a handful of surprising and awesomely cool things that I have done before, there is always one that surprises me the most.

Even to this day, I cannot explain how or why it happened. If you ask Will to explain the bizarre phenomenon, then you will get the same response. It was indescribable, it was instantaneous, and it was unexpected. It was something more than just a physical attraction. It was love at first sight and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

For as long as I live, I will always remember two things—the first time I met Will and the day that we fell in love, with the second being the extraordinary event.

We met in chemistry class of all places. It was last year during our sophomore year of high school and I was a complete nerd back then. I am still a nerd now but last year, I looked like one from head to toe.

My blond hair was stringy and clumpy, looking more like party streamers than actual strands of hair. My bright blue eyes were always hidden behind gi-normous (giant and enormous combined into one compound word to stress the importance here) spectacles that magnified my eyes to three times their normal size and made them look far from appealing. And I had braces. My teeth were running over each other inside of my mouth as if they were trying to escape and I had to wear braces all the time and a retainer at night since I was ten years old. My clothes were thrift store bought or my older sister, Alice, made them, the only somewhat cool aspect of my appearance.

My self-esteem was so low that I usually didn't talk to anyone unless I had to. I had zero confidence and the dysfunction between my coordination and motor skills usually kept me on the sidelines during gym class, of which I didn't really mind one bit. I sometimes sat by myself during lunch and my only solace at school away from the awkward stares and the childish teasing was the school's clock tower. I had somehow found a way to climb up to the very top of it during my freshman year and it was a lovely place to read novels and write my sonnets. Watching the gears and odd mechanisms at work brought to me serenity and an escape from everyday problems. Besides, the view of the school's campus and surrounding residential areas from the top of the clock tower was amazingly breathtaking.

The clock tower will always hold a special place in my heart as my former place of sanctuary and as me and Will's favorite school hangout retreat, where we often shared private lunches. It was also the site of our first date where Will declared his true feelings for me.

And oh yeah, clumsy is another word that describes me. I am still as clumsy today as I was back then, always a train wreck waiting to happen. My clumsiness was the reason why I was partnered with Will during that fateful chemistry class in the first place. Instead of running away from me like most sane and normal people, Will actually liked my awkward misfortunes. I intrigued him and somehow I reeled him in with a penchant for bad luck and hilariously uncomfortable situations.

It was a Monday, a day I have come to dread the most out of the seven days of the week. The weekends were two days that were made enjoyable by the fact that I wasn't at school, one of the few places I despised intensely.

On that particular Monday, Natalie Wentworth had already teased me because she thought that my new dress made me look like a hobo. But everyone was entitled to his or her own opinion and although her clique of drama queens had laughed hysterically at her insult, I was proud of my dress and thought it made me look the opposite of a hobo. I felt like I was a princess or a member of an elite family.

I was wearing the product of another one of Alice's fashion creations. It was a white layered tulle dress with a black bow placed decoratively beneath the bosom of the dress. The dress was simple, yet beautiful. I guess it didn't help that I was wearing my purple sweater composed entirely of yarn, my straw fedora, and my beat up ancient pair of black high-top Converse All Stars.

By the time chemistry class had started after lunch, I had stowed my sweater and hat inside my backpack, which was already bursting at the seams with books for both studying and reading pleasure. I couldn't do anything to hide my shoes; I was stuck wearing them for the rest of the day.

For the first time, I was feeling really self-conscious. Like I said before I had low self-esteem and no confidence, but I had never felt so strangely insecure about myself until that day. Before, I ignored comments about my eclectic style and never had I taken them to heart. I had always been comfortable in my strange clothing and didn't care what people thought about them. Clothes did not make the person and was one of the few things about myself that could make me feel a little bit good about myself. My style was unique and was something that I never wanted to change. I had wished that my hair was silky smooth and that my glasses and braces would vanish into thin air, but I had never wished ill upon my attire.

It was as if a heavy weight had settled in my stomach or a blow had struck me hard and fast from out nowhere, catching me by surprise. I guess that all of the mockery was finally getting to me a bit. I had remained strong for so long and suddenly I was broken. The rest of the day could only get better . . . and so it did.

Chemistry class started differently that day. Normally, Mrs. Allen was already in the classroom, waiting on the students to arrive so that she could begin her pre-lab lecture, so I was shocked to not find her sitting behind her desk when I was the first person to enter Room 205. I took my normal post at one of the lab tables along the front row and watched as the rest of the class filed in behind me. Some came in groups of twos or threes, while others entered alone. Nonetheless, everyone was as shocked as I had been to find out that Mrs. Allen was not in the classroom yet.

"Maybe she's sick and we're going to get a substitute teacher today," one girl whose name I didn't know whispered to one of her friends.

"Maybe she went on an abrupt vacation or something," another student speculated. It was a boy this time—Chris—I think his name was, or maybe it was Charlie, I didn't exactly remember his name, although I was positive that Mrs. Allen had spoken it before. All I knew was that it started with a C, which made me feel worse about myself. Was I so trapped in my own little world all of the time that I didn't notice anything?

"Maybe she got fired," another boy said hopefully, grinning at his friend who was sharing a lab station with him. I couldn't remember his name either.

"I did not get fired," said a stern voice from the classroom door. The class looked over and watched as Mrs. Allen entered the room, garbed in her usual white smock that was terribly stained with substances of who knows what. "Nor did I go on vacation," Mrs. Allen added, facing the class, of which several students moaned at her appearance, "although," she continued, "I am due for a vacation this summer. I think I may not teach summer courses at the university."

Mrs. Allen was beaming, another shock. Mrs. Allen never smiled. I assumed that we would be having a very exciting lesson that day and so I sat perched on the very edge of my seat, ready to absorb Mrs. Allen's every word during her lecture.

"Before we begin for today, we have another student who will be joining our class for the rest of the semester," Mrs. Allen informed us, after the bell had rung signaling the start of fourth period. "Please welcome William Stratford. William is new here, his family . . . ."

But Mrs. Allen's voice trailed off, or at least I thought that her voice had trailed off. In reality, I didn't hear the rest of her statement because at that moment, the most gorgeous human being I had ever laid eyes on stepped into the room.

He was a light among darkness, a god among men. No other boy had ever captivated me so as much as William Stratford did. He was my first crush and he was my first love and I was sure of that in an instant.

It was love at first sight for me. I had been struck by Cupid's arrow or I had willingly taken a sip of Puck's love potion. My heart was thumping madly in my chest and I was sweating. It was like someone had turned up the temperature of the classroom and now I was hyperventilating.

I needed some fresh air. I needed to break free from the sudden sweltering heat but I couldn't move. I was frozen in my chair as though someone had glued me to it. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He was a tall, dark and handsome magnet and I was the oddly shaped piece of metal that was attracted to him.

And I wasn't the only one either. I could tell that the eyes of the other dozen or so girls were also upon William, or Will as I learned later that he liked to be called, without even looking around at them. Will was one of those guys who could light up a room with his presence.

I started fanning myself with my spiral notebook as I gawked at Will. He strode into the classroom at Mrs. Allen's command with more confidence than I would ever possess in a lifetime, carrying only a notebook and a tattered old chemistry book. He halted next to Mrs. Allen and faced the class, running his free hand through his messy—but messy in a cool way—dark brown hair.

He resembled a rockstar—the cute, clean, wholesome ones and not the cute, but dirty, badboy ones. His messy hair was all over the place, longer on the sides, but not greasy, and the hairstyle suited him well. His eyes were perhaps his best features. They were warm and inviting and were the bait that captured my heart in an instant. They were green, brilliantly and vividly green, sparkling and shimmering like emerald encrusted jewels. His skin was dark, an almost olive color, and his physical physique was well defined. Subtle, but toned arm muscles peeked out from beneath his collared polo shirt. His face was chiseled and his lips were palely pink and . . . kissable.

I nearly fell out of my seat at such a thought. I had never thought about kissing a boy, but suddenly I was longing for just one kiss from Will. It was like a scene out of a fairy tale or something of that nature.

Slowly, my heartbeat returned to normal and my breathing regulated. Mrs. Allen had been addressing the class for the past couple of minutes and I hadn't heard a word she had said. As my body temperature decreased as well, I heard Mrs. Allen say something about Will needing a lab partner and that I was the only person in the class who was without one.

Wait a second . . . Mrs. Allen wanted Will to be my partner for today's lesson? My lab partner? I couldn't believe my luck. And so, I started hyperventilating again.

Will made his way over towards me and I was lost in his gaze. Several girls protested with Mrs. Allen, wanting to be Will's lab partner; however, fate had already been sealed. Will and I were destined to be lab partners, if I managed to prevent myself from puking all over the place. I was suddenly feeling very, very queasy.

Will arrived at my table and sat down next to me. He was so close to me that I could smell him. And he smelled wonderful. His scent reminded me of the beach; it was sweet and pleasant, yet salty and outdoorsy.

I wanted more than anything to look at him and touch him since he was so close, but my eyes darted away from him nervously. He was a little too close to ogle without me going into cardiac arrest. And then, he spoke, just as Mrs. Allen was beginning her lesson.

"Hey, your name is Anne, right?" he asked me, holding out a hand for me to shake. He was so nice and I couldn't believe that he was actually talking to me. No one ever talked to me at school unless they had something bad to say. And his voice was . . . perfect. He talked with a slight accent as well. I couldn't quite place my finger on it, but I assumed it was British, perhaps. "I'm Will, Will Stratford." He introduced himself, even though I already knew his name because Mrs. Allen had introduced him formally to the class earlier. What surprised me was that he knew my name. The only possible explanation for this was that Mrs. Allen must have mentioned my name when she assigned Will to be my lab partner.

I nodded, lost for words. My pulse was going at an insane speed now. I felt dizzy. Tentatively, I reached out a hand to shake Will's hand, while praying desperately for my stomach to stop churning so I wouldn't throw up on this handsome angel of a man. I quickly shook Will's hand and then I dropped my eyes away from him, staring absently down at the tabletop. I had tried to say, "Nice to meet you," but the words just didn't want to come out.

Will didn't seem to care much. After shaking my hand, he turned to listen to Mrs. Allen's lecture, jotting down notes into his notebook. I should have been taking notes too, or at least listening, but I couldn't. I was trying to calm myself down. I was still very warm and my heart was thumping so hard in my chest that I was positive that Will could hear it.

Occasionally, I could see Will glancing over at me out of the corner of my eyes, concern plainly etched across his adoring face.

I tried several times to look at him and tell him somehow silently that I was okay, but I failed miserably each time. The truth was that I was not okay and if I looked up into Will's face at such a short distance away from each other, who knows what might happen? If I didn't regurgitate my lunch, then I might try to kiss him.

Breathing heavily, I placed my hands on the tabletop, bracing myself as my stomach gave another lurch.

Suddenly, one of Will's hands found one of my hands. It was a soft and gentle touch that sent my insides careening upside-down. "Are you all right?" his perfect voice asked me. "You don't look so good."

That was all it took. I snatched my hand out from under Will's hand and stood up. Curious eyes turned away from Mrs. Allen and towards me, but I didn't care about any of them. Sick to my stomach, I darted for the classroom exit, covering my mouth as I ran. Mrs. Allen stopped her lecture and asked me what was going on. I didn't reply. I just ran from the room, leaving behind a roar of laughter from my classmates. I'm sure that Natalie Wentworth was one of those who had snickered.

I vomited in the restroom for several minutes, losing the majority if not all of my lunch. Then, I went to wash my hands at one of the sinks, feeling much better all of a sudden. I stared at my pitiful reflection in the mirror and wondered why something so beautiful as Will had caused me to be sick. If he was going to end up being my lab partner for the rest of the semester, then I would have to stop feeling nauseated whenever I looked at him or whenever he touched me.

I looked down at my hand. I still couldn't believe that he had touched me. My heart fluttered. I was getting excited and I felt weird. I wasn't feeling sick, thank God, but I was feeling something else, something that I would never be able to formulate into words. However, one word could describe the feeling accurately.

Love.

I was in love.

I was in love with Will Stratford.

It was amazing. I had never known what it was like to feel this way. Besides the puking, I could get used to feeling this way even if Will didn't return the favor. He was so nice and kind to me and that was all that mattered.

I returned to class, embarrassed from running from the room and wondering what Will would think of me. I popped a stick of gum in my mouth. At least I won't have bad breath while we completed our lab together.

Mrs. Allen was walking about the classroom, giving out additional instructions and information about today's assignment or answering the many questions that her students could formulate over the course of the next hour. She looked over at me as I shuffled over to join Will and she approached me. I groaned silently.

"Anne, are you feeling sick?" Mrs. Allen said loudly before she reached me. Behind her, several students snickered. "If so, then you need to go and see the school nurse."

"I'm fine," I managed to choke out, snatching up a lab apron and a pair of goggles that were hanging in a tiny cupboard-like closet next to the lab station that I now shared with Will.

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Allen was persistent.

Just leave me alone, I thought to myself. I was already embarrassed enough without Mrs. Allen concerned questions.

I nodded and managed a very feeble smile. "I'm fine," I repeated just as weakly as my smile had been.

Mrs. Allen stared at me for a moment as I put on my apron and goggles, and then she shuffled off, continuing her pacing in between the tables.

Taking a deep and steadying breath, hoping that I would be able to remain calm, I walked over to Will.

He was standing there like a dazzling statue, staring down at the contents atop the lab station. Even in a silly apron and goggles, he was stunning. My heart skipped a beat and I adjusted my goggles around my glasses and wiping them clean as they started to fog for some strange reason.

Will looked up at me when I arrived and my knees buckled. I tried to keep as much space between the two of us as possible.

"Welcome back, Anne," he flashed a sparkling smile. "You feeling all right now?"

I nodded but didn't say anything and Will continued to smile.

"We've got an interesting lesson ahead of us for today," Will informed me. The smile had faded from his face but I could feel the excitement that was radiating from him. "I've already done the pre-lab stuff for you. Now, it is time for the fun to begin."

"Th-thanks," I said to him, at long last finding my voice and speaking to him, even though I had stuttered terribly.

"No problem," Will said. "And all of the answers should be right, I think. You can double-check them if you want to."

I shook my head, trying not to look him directly in the eyes because of my fear of nausea. "I . . . I trust you."

Will smiled again. "That's right, you can trust me."

You can trust me . . . .

Those four golden words became Will's catch phrase in our relationship.

Whenever I asked him his opinion about anything, he would give it and then tell me immediately thereafter that I can trust him. Will always spoke the truth and I didn't think that he knew how to lie at all. Every word that he spoke to me was flawless, so flawless that I would do anything that he told me to do because I knew that I could trust him with my life and that he would never lead me astray. Forget the whole jumping off a bridge thing. I would so do it if Will told me to because I know that he has a valid reason for telling me to do so and that taking such a plunge would not harm me but rather keep me safe.

Alice claims that it is because I am so in love with Will that I trust him so much. Maybe that is true but I feel that I would still feel that way even if I weren't head over heels for this boy. And isn't that what true love is supposed to be about anyway? I always imagined the perfect relationship as being a relationship where both parties trusted each other unconditionally with love and mutual attraction being added bonuses.

When Will first declared his love for me, he had said those four magic words. Of course, this didn't take place immediately after I first met him in chemistry class. It took a couple of months before Will finally admitted it, although he claims to this day that I started liking me during that fateful class together. I want to find that hard to believe but I trust him so much.

Over the next few months, just being around Will for the two hour chemistry class evoked a change within me. I became a much more social human being. I started making friends at school. I was still not apart of the popular crowd yet but it was a start.

Will was such a likable person that just being around him caused people to suddenly like me. I actually ate lunch in the cafeteria now and spent less time up in the clock tower. I participated in gym class, although it was a catastrophe to watch me shoot a basketball or attempt to hit a wiffle ball.

Even with Will around, I still had enemies. Natalie Wentworth and her posse made fun of my outfits on nearly a day-to-day basis but I didn't care. After allowing Natalie to get under my skin that one time, I vowed to never allow that to happen again. I adored my clothes and there was nothing that Natalie or her friends could say about them that would upset me.

Yet, deep down inside, I desperately wanted a change. I secretly wanted to makeover my physical appearance. At first, I wanted to do so because I wanted Will to notice me on more than just a friend level but soon my desires became deeper than that. What I desired most, besides Will's love of course, was confidence. I didn't want to look pretty to be popular or to become the eye candy of the all of the sophomore boys. I wanted to look and feel pretty because I wanted a higher self-esteem, to boost my confidence, and to feel great about myself and not just about the idiosyncratic outfits I was always wearing.

Three weeks after meeting Will, I went to the orthodontist to have my braces removed after five years. This simple visit was what truly sparked my interest in receiving a makeover. With my braces finally gone, I realized how beautiful my smile could be without metal running across them like railroad tracks.

If my smile could be beautiful, then that meant that I could be beautiful in more ways than that.

I started with my hair. Alice set up me an appointment with a local beauty salon, and the woman who styled my hair chopped off so much of it that I thought I was going to cry. The reason for this was because the stylist felt that I had way too many split ends. When the cutting process, along with the washing and styling processes, was complete, I was left with a much shorter haircut. But I liked it. Although my hair barely came down to my shoulders now, it was glossy blond now and light seemed to bounce off of it in radiant streaks.

After some tips from the hairdresser, it was off to visit the eye doctor for a new pair of glasses and contacts. I wanted my new glasses to be as thin as possible. The black-rimmed spectacles were popular among young people and although I did not promote conformity, I couldn't help but to admit that I liked how one particular pair of black-rimmed glasses looked on my face. It had the right feel as well; I couldn't deny that. So I ordered a pair of those particular glasses, which would arrive in about a week. But I had a trial pair of contacts at my disposal until my glasses arrived and I purchased an entire box of contact lenses the week after—the eye doctor wanted me to wear the trial contacts for a few days to make sure that I liked them. I just didn't realize how difficult it would be to wear contacts.

It took me nearly an hour to force them into my eyes the following morning. I was already excited, more than ready to show off my new look at school. My hands shook so terribly that I dropped my contacts several times on the floor and had to use a magnifying glass just to be able to locate the clear lens. I used up about half of a trial bottle of saline solution just rinsing my contacts off after I dropped them. Luckily, I had woken up that morning two hours normally than usual so I wasn't late to school.

Alice had made me a new dress for the occasion. It was a blue silk tee dress with a lace trim insert. I had a brown belt and matching boots to complement the dress perfectly. Alice was amazed when I appeared that morning for breakfast. Although, my makeover had cost us a lot of money that we didn't really have, she thought I looked as beautiful as our mother had been.

I rode the bus to school after Alice forced me to take a few pictures and after I promised her that I would try to find a job when I was old enough to pay her back for all that she has done for me since the tragedy that we have come to speak of as simply "the accident". Alice was not only my caregiver and my older sister, but she was also my best friend. Before Will came along, I had no one. She was all I had and I would do anything for her.

The bus ride to school was . . . well, it was different than before to say the least. No one talked to me like usual; however, everyone was gawking at me. After a while, I found it quite annoying, especially when the whispers started. So, I stared out the window and tried to ignore them. It was difficult. I was not used to this and wondered if this was what popular kids had to endure on a day-to-day basis. I was used to being ignored unless someone wanted a laugh at my expense and now, I was suddenly the center of attention.

School was worse, but not necessarily in a negative way either. When I arrived and walked down the hallway to my locker, students stared at me like they did on the bus. Most were amazed, which made me feel somewhat good about my makeover, while others asked me strange questions like "Is that your real hair?" or "Are you wearing makeup?"

I was pretty much a big deal, although I didn't really want to be. It seemed like the entire school was talking about me. Everywhere I went, the whispers seemed to follow me like my own shadow. During lunch, I was invited to eat with a group of seniors who wanted to know how I managed to pull off such a spectacular feat. I answered all of their questions half-heartedly, while glancing around the cafeteria and hoping that I would get to see Will before chemistry class. Sometimes, his weight training class dismissed for lunch early and I got the opportunity to see him on rare occasions when I was returning to math class. I hoped that the coaches would let him out early that day so he could see the surprise that I had for him before we entered Mrs. Allen's class but of course, it didn't happen. By the end of algebra, I was very excited, but also very, very, very nervous. It felt like that first day all over again and I wanted to puke. The only thing different was that anticipation was present this time around and I didn't know that I could handle it. I was shaking as though I was having convulsions and I felt like I could faint at any moment.

I wasn't the first to arrive to chemistry class that day. I had spent the first few minutes after class, cooling myself off in the restrooms. I looked at my self in the mirror and was momentarily shock for the change in my reflection, only to remember soon thereafter that I had altered a lot about my appearance over the last few days.

I stared at myself and right then and there, I truly asked myself if I had done this to myself for the right reasons or just to impress a boy, who already liked me for me—as a friend, anyway. A voice in my head told myself that I had done it for Will, but my heart told me differently. My heart told me that I had done it for myself and that winning Will's heart was not determined by just my new looks. It would take more than that. If I wanted Will, now was the time to get him. I couldn't hold back. It was only a matter of time before he found someone special.

But what if he had already found someone he liked and they were already dating? The voice in my head had asked me that question, arguing with what my heart was saying and playing devil's advocate. If so, then I was too late. I would have to settle for friendship, something that I was positive I couldn't just accept easily. With Will, I wanted more. I connected on a certain level with him that I had never connected with anyone before.

He hasn't found anyone yet, my heart argued. He would have told you by now . . . .

But what if he didn't want to tell anyone yet . . . .

Don't worry about it, Anne. If it was meant to be, then it was meant to be . . . .

I walked into chemistry class with as much poise and confidence I could muster. My confidence reserves were still pretty low—I hadn't built them up tremendously yet—but I think my entrance was fairly decent. Heads turned and people gossiped about me. Will was not there yet and I was thankful. But what I was not grateful for was the fact that Natalie and her friends were already there and they were watching me. Well, Natalie's friends were watching me. Natalie was actually glaring at me with a look of seething contempt. I busied myself with doodling in my notebook to keep from looking over at them. I waited for Natalie to make a comment, knowing that she would and wondering what she would say.

"I don't believe it," Natalie's voice rang out across the classroom seconds later. I realized a moment too late that Mrs. Allen wasn't in the classroom yet either. This was only the second time that it had happened and it had happen on such a day as that one. How convenient . . . .

There was silence and Natalie seemed to enjoy the silence for a while before continuing.

"I don't believe it," Natalie repeated, her voice dripping with something foul. "Anne Hathaway has finally learned to comb her hair."

The laughter came then. I blushed, but I held my head high, ignoring the gale of laughter. My eyes were staring down at my notebook, following the pencil strokes that I was making on the page. I would ignore them. I would ignore them all. Will would be here soon with Mrs. Allen and everything would be okay then. I had to endure the temporary torture. It would all be over soon. I wondered, apprehensively, what Will would think about my new look.

The laughter subsided, but Natalie's taunts didn't.

"And look, she is not wearing her dorky glasses anymore; an improvement," Natalie continued. "But her clothes are still the same. They are just as hideous as they were before. I mean, where does she find them? The trash dumpsters out back behind Target?"

More cackles of laughter. My face turned a nasty shade of red and my free hand balled into a fist. I was utterly embarrassed. Natalie had never taken her jeering this far before. It was usually easy for me to ignore her but it was growing harder and harder with every harsh word she uttered. Natalie was just jealous of me, that's all. She was jealous that for once, the people in class were paying more attention to me than her, and she wanted to win them back by making me feel inferior.

I drummed on the lab bench impatiently now, no longer able to doodle. Hurry up Will, I pleaded silently. Come and rescue me.

"You know why she did it, don't you?" Natalie was asking those around her, as the giggles died down a second time. "She's trying to impress Will. She actually thinks that she has a chance with him, but why would he want her? Just cause he tolerates her, it doesn't mean that he likes her. Just because she got a haircut and loss her glasses and braces doesn't mean that she is no longer a freak. Once a freak, always a—"

SCREEEEECH!

That was the sound of my stool legs skidding across the floor as I stood up, shaking with fury now. That was it. I had had it. I couldn't take it anymore. Natalie Wentworth had gone too far this time, way too far, and I would teach her a lesson. But what would I do? Would I hit her? I considered that option in the split-second that it took for me to cross the classroom in a couple of swift strides. I was definitely angry enough to strike Natalie, but I knew that I couldn't. I didn't need to be suspended from school from fighting and what would Alice think of me then? What about Will? Besides, that was what Natalie wanted. With me gone from school for a week, it would be just enough time for her to win Will over. I knew that she wanted him as badly as I wanted him. I could tell by the way she looked at him whenever he was in her presence.

Would I yell at her? That was option number two and an option that I was most likely to take, although I couldn't stop picturing myself slapping the crap out of Natalie.

I stopped inches away from her and glowered at her, my eyes narrowed to slits. No one said a word. Everyone was waiting to hear what I had to say to Natalie, who I noticed was cowering in fear in her seat. She hadn't expected this. I had the upper hand and I took it and grasped it firmly.

"What is your problem?" I asked Natalie through gritted teeth. "What is your freaking problem?"

Natalie tried to shrug casually as if she didn't know what I was talking about in response to my rhetorical questions. I didn't wait for her to say a word. I thundered on.

"I have never done anything to you and yet, you always criticize me for no reason at all! So what if my hair used to look terrible and now it is styled to my liking. So what if I used to wear huge, dorky glasses and braces on my teeth. I liked myself then and I like myself now without them. So what if I wear secondhand clothes or the dresses that my sister makes for me. To you, I may look like a homeless person or whatever, but in my own eyes I think I look ravishing. My style is unique and it will never change for anyone. And so what if I have a crush on Will Stratford. He is my friend and I care about him in a way that you can never understand because you are such a vile and hateful person. Will likes me the way that I am, makeover or not. Why can't you feel the same way?"

Natalie didn't respond. She just sat there gaping at me. I swallowed hard. I hadn't meant to say that last statement about Will. It had kind of just slipped out and now most of the class knew of my true feelings for him. I would have groaned if I hadn't been breathing so hard and if I hadn't spotted one of Natalie's close friends looking at me with a smile on her face. It wasn't a smirk but an actually smile. It was genuine and warm. Her name was Melody Fischer and after I stood up to Natalie, she became my new best friend.

Since Natalie had nothing to say, I stomped away to minute applause, and even some smiles. Natalie was thunderstruck and I was proud of myself. But then, I froze about halfway to my seat. I looked up. Will was standing next to our lab station. He was watching me with a passive look on his face and a thought struck me hard and fast. Will had seen and heard everything that I had said to Natalie and I wanted more than anything to be anywhere but there at the moment.

Slowly, Will's face broke into a smile. He grinned broadly at me and I watched him, lingering there on the spot and almost dying to hear what he had to say about my makeover and about me telling off Natalie, while inadvertently revealing to him that I liked him. The truth was out now and I was beginning to feel very numb.

"Hey, Anne," Will greeted me, still smiling as he looked me up and down from head to toe. My heart danced around inside my chest and I felt suddenly exposed while in the direct line of his gaze. It was as if Will was seeing me for the first time ever.

I waved at him silently but couldn't speak. I was completely lost from words, still waiting for a critique that would surely come.

"You look different today," Will said. "I almost didn't recognize you."

I smiled. I couldn't help it. He was so adorable.

"But why the change?" Will questioned me curiously. "You looked fine the way you were." He cleared his throat then, embarrassed. "I mean, not that you don't look fine now because you are absolutely gorgeous, but why the sudden change?"

I couldn't believe it. Will thought that I was gorgeous. My heart banged around now, continuing to dance around my chest. I think that it was waltzing now.

I tried to be as relaxed as I could with my response. "I just wanted something different," I told Will, which was mostly the truth.

"Well, I think you look beautiful," Will told me. "And I also liked the way that you used to look too. You were just as beautiful as you were now."

And suddenly, I felt as if I was floating in the air, high above the clouds. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Will thought that I was beautiful before too. This just couldn't be real. I was dreaming, I just had to be.

Before I could get used to floating in the clouds, I had to come back down to earth. Mrs. Allen walked in before Will and I could say anything more to each other and we were forced to remain quiet for about a half and hour while she did her pre-lab lecture. Afterwards, we were free to work on our lab and free to chat.

Mostly, we talked about me going off on Natalie and how Will thought it was amazing how someone had finally stood up to her. What amazed me was that I was the person who had done so, as I voiced openly to Will while we checked our solutions for acidity. It was a huge feat for me and I felt good about it. It was like a release of built up tension. I felt elated and overjoyed, as though I had accomplished something impossible.

Towards the end of the lesson when I was focused on finishing before the bell rung, I caught Will staring at me out of my peripheral vision. I tried to ignore his gaze but when it became too much, I looked at him and smiled nervously. He continued to stare and I started to sweat.

"What?" I asked him, grinning. I liked his stare, I really did, but it was making me so nervous that I couldn't write down the answers to my lab questions.

"Nothing," Will told me and I knew that he was telling a fib. He was holding back something that he wanted to tell me; I could hear that much in the tone of voice that he had elected to use.

"What?" I repeated, not buying his lie. He wasn't very good at lying. On the contrary, he was very good at telling the truth.

"Don't worry about it right now," Will told me kindly. "We'll talk about it later."

Trying to figure out what "it" was that he wanted to talk about, I told him, "I'll call you tonight." Those words sounded sweet coming from my mouth. I had almost forgotten that I had Will's phone number. He had mine too and the only few times that we had talked on the phone, he had called me to discuss schoolwork.

Will shook his head. "No, we'll talk in person," he said and I instantly complied, lost in those beautiful green eyes of his. "What are you doing tomorrow after school?"

I thought for a moment. Of course, I was doing nothing. I had no life.

And then, it struck me.

Was Will asking me out on a date?

I knew that he hadn't exactly formulated such words quite yet, but why else would he suddenly take an interest into what I was doing tomorrow after school?

"Going home," I answered truthfully, anxiously awaiting his response to that.

"Well then, why don't you hang around for a while instead of riding the bus home? We can talk after I pick up my costumes for the play and then, I'll make sure that you get home safely."

Three weeks into starting a new school, Will had won the lead role in the Drama Club's upcoming stage production of Hamlet, much to the dismay of the other guys who had auditioned for the part. He was a natural with Shakespeare and could quote more lines than I could, which made me slightly jealous. He had won the theatre teacher over with his near-perfect portrayal of Hamlet and his response to how he could easily assume such a complex role so easily was simple: "I feel like Hamlet and I are pretty good friends."

"Sure," I agreed to Will's proposition, which wasn't the type of date I was expecting—I was expecting dinner and a movie, or a romantic stroll through the park—but a date nonetheless. I was dying to know what he wanted to tell me and I would do almost anything just to get him to tell me what was on his mind. "You won't be long will you?"

Will promised me that he wouldn't take long to get his costumes and we barely managed to finish our lab right before the bell rung.

All in all, my first day with my new look wasn't too terrible. If I ignored the gawks and the gossips, it was actually a pretty good day. Nothing was better than the feeling that I had received from standing up to Natalie Wentworth after years and years of torment. And nothing was better than Will liking my makeover, but also telling me that I was just as beautiful before. I almost went back to wearing my old glasses and getting my braces put back on just for him. Also, he had something to tell me and it seemed really important for him not to tell me right then and there while we were in class.

And oh yeah, we kind of had a date the next day.

Wondering what Will had to reveal to me tomorrow afternoon had me on edge for the rest of the day and the following morning. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat and I changed my outfit that I was wearing that day about five times before I settled on my floral stretch-poplin dress that was trimmed in red and decorated with rose floral prints.

Content with what I was wearing, I said bye to Alice and headed for the bus stop about ten minutes earlier than usual and without eating breakfast.

Melody Fischer rode my bus and she arrived a few minutes after I did, wearing a friendly smile on her face. For some reason, I got the feeling that she had been staring out of her apartment window, waiting for me to arrive at the bus stop. At any rate, she waved at me and I waved back at her uneasily. After all, Melody was still in Natalie's inner circle at that time and I was curious to know why she had waved at me for the first time ever—we had rode the same bus for the past five years.

Then, Melody did something that she had never done before: She spoke to me.

"Good morning, Anne." Those words shocked me so much that it forced my thoughts away from the looming conversation "date" with Will.

What . . . the . . . heck? My mind thought. I was bewildered. I couldn't believe it. Melody Fischer was actually speaking to me? I even looked over my shoulder to make sure that we were alone on the sidewalk. No one was with us. Melody had addressed me. She had even said my name.

I cleared my throat and suppressed the shock. "Hey," I said shortly, wondering what was going on. Was there something in the air that made Melody choose today of all days to finally say something to me?

Silence prevailed afterwards and I could tell that Melody was thinking of more to say. We had never had a conversation before and this was new for the both of us.

"Um," Melody began again and then, hesitated. "Um, I . . . I just wanted to tell you that I think that you were . . . uh, brave for what you did in chemistry class yesterday. I've been waiting for someone to tell Natalie how horrible of a person she is."

I was stunned. "But Natalie is your best friend," I said, reminding Melody of that fact.

"Was my best friend," Melody corrected me. "It took what you did for me to realize that I didn't want to be friends with Natalie anymore."

Was this a joke? But Melody seemed so sincere.

I smiled lightly but was unsure if she was playing a joke on me, although like I said earlier, she sounded rather sincere about her feelings towards Natalie. "Glad I could help," I told her.

"And . . . sorry that I ignored you all of these years," Melody apologized. She was just so full of surprises this morning.

"It's okay," I said. "I like it that way anyways."

Melody looked hurt and it took me a few seconds to realize what I had just said. Color filled my face. I could feel it rising in my cheeks as sheer embarrassment kicked into high gear.

"I am so sorry, Melody," I said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I—"

But Melody smiled and cut me off in mid-sentence. "Don't worry about it. I probably deserve worse than that."

"No, you don't deserve that," I said. "I would like for you to talk to me. You don't have to ignore me if you don't want to anymore."

Melody beamed.

Melody sat with me on the bus. Riding to school we talked about various topics, such as what it is like to hang out with Natalie Wentworth, who wasn't as popular as she self-proclaimed herself to be. This made me giggle, especially when Melody told me that Natalie was in a spot of trouble with some junior girls. Apparently, Natalie was going around telling everyone that she would be named cheerleading captain next year, even though she would be a junior and the current juniors were ticked off because one of the four of them should be a sure-in next year since they were the most experienced veterans. We even talked about my quirky style. Melody revealed to me then that she had always liked some of the clothes that I wore and that she could see them catching on as a trend at school now that I was becoming more popular.

But I didn't want to become popular. If Melody and I were to have more chit-chats on the bus then I was going to have to stop her from talking about popularity and things of that nature. I guess once a popular inner circle girl, always a popular inner circle girl at heart, even though you're not as popular anymore and the inner circle no longer includes you, which is what happened to Melody. You see, that's the thing I hate about popularity contests and blah, blah, blah. One day you can have it all—the trends, the popularity, the star quarterback, the crowd of devoted followers—and then the next day, it could be gone. Poof, just like that and then you are nothing, a nobody. You may even get ignored and then you may know what it feels like to be apart of the social high school hierarchy that you used to despise. Of course, one can climb the ladder of popularity if he or she so desired, but it is a lot harder than falling off of the ladder.

My mind returned to Will when we arrived at school. Melody wanted to eat lunch together since our classes went around the same time, so we could continue our bus discussions. I promised her that I would meet her in the cafeteria and it was off to class.

With me thinking about what Will had to tell me again, classes went by in a flash. The first few periods were over so quickly that I was surprised that I was already eating lunch at a somewhat secluded table in the cafeteria with Melody Fischer. People gawked at us, of course, but after the previous day I was pretty much used to such attention. And I nearly laughed when Natalie and her remaining entourage entered the cafeteria. Natalie was staring daggers at Melody and me, unable to believe her own eyes.

"Natalie is furious at me for jumping ship," Melody informed me, as if I couldn't already tell from the looks she was giving us. "Yesterday, she was plotting revenge against you and I told her that I would not be a part of it."

"Thank you," I told her, before biting into my pizza slice.

Next up, after lunch, was chemistry, the class I had been dreading all day because Will would be there. But chemistry wasn't as bas as I thought it was going to be. Not only did it pass by quickly, but Will and I was able to work on our lab and talk like usual. Every now and again, I would drop subtle hints or flat out ask Will to tell me what he had to tell me, but of course, he wouldn't.

Towards the end of the lesson, Melody joined us at our lab station as a third member. Apparently, Natalie and company wasn't allowing her to help steam the smelly cabbages to make litmus paper for our pH testing for next class and were acting awful towards her, so Melody decided to ask us for permission to join our table. I told her that it was okay and after class, Mrs. Allen approved for Melody to work with Will and I for the rest of the semester. Although, I would rather keep Will to myself, I didn't mind. It would give me the opportunity to get to know Melody better and any opportunity like that was always a welcomed one since we were quickly advancing to friend level.

After chemistry, my nerves were shot. The anxiety was too much that I had to leave my last class for the day—Literature—for a while just to step outside and get some fresh air.

By the time the final bell had signaled, indicating it was dismissal time, I stayed in my seat for several minutes, waiting and giving Will a slight head start. When I could no longer sit still, I gathered up my belongings and headed for the Performance Arts Building.

I waited in the lobby, fidgeting in my chair so much that I started pacing.

Most of the students who were going to be in the play were already there. I could hear laughing and talking coming from the auditorium. Will had to be one of them because several students arrived after I did and he wasn't one of them.

I paced back and forth across the lobby, my eyes constantly darting down to look at my watch. The minutes seemed to tick by slowly now. Apprehension overpowered me. It felt like ages before Will emerged from the auditorium carrying a garment bag and talking to a few of the guys who was to star in the play with him, when only about ten minutes had lapsed since my arrival. Will spotted me at once and smiled. I stopped pacing and smiled back. My heart did a couple of cartwheels.

Will said farewell to his buddies and walked over to me. He was as beautiful in motion as he was when he was sitting still next to me in chemistry class and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Tall, dark, and handsome, a lovely combination. His green eyes twinkled as he continued to smile at me.

"Anne, you're here," Will said by way of greeting, his tone ecstatic. He hadn't asked it as a question, yet I could detect a little hint of surprise in his voice as though he had been expecting me to back out of our date.

No way, Will Stratford, would I ever miss a date with you. Not in this lifetime.

I grinned. "What, you didn't think that I would come?"

Will blushed; it was cute. "Honestly, I didn't think that you would want to hang out with me," he said truthfully. I told you that he couldn't lie. "But then again, you are curious to find out what I wanted to discuss with you and part of me knew, as well as hoped, that your intrigue would bring you here this afternoon."

I was flattered. "Well, I am here. Intrigue or no intrigue, I would never miss the chance to see you."

Will smiled then in a way that I had never seen him smile before and that smile became my favorite smile. It was a smile so big and bright that it reached his eyes too. Combine his smile with his eyes and I was head over heels each time it happened.

"So then, I guess that you would like for me to tell you what is on my mind," he said.

I nodded but then, suddenly, I had an idea.

"But wait before you tell me, I want to show you something."

Will followed me out of the building and back towards the center of campus. He was the one who was now curious, asking me where I was taking him. My response was that it was a surprise and that he would find out soon enough.

Climbing up to the top of the clock tower was tricky but if I could do it, I knew that Will could do it as well.

I entered the clock tower through the unlocked door at the bottom and Will followed me through.

"What are we doing here?" he asked me, inquiringly.

"You'll see," I promised him, looking back into his gorgeous face. "And you might want to leave your costume down here," I suggested. "The climb up will be tough enough without you trying to hold on to your garment bag."

Will cocked an eyebrow. "The climb up?"

I laughed and prepared to climb up, feeling bold all of a sudden, even though I did this all the time. Slowly, the anxiety was ebbing, washing away as I prepared to enter my safe haven.

"Follow me," I told Will.

Will nodded, more than ready for the brief adventure. He found a place to stow his garment bag and watched me as I initiated the first climb. Then, he followed without delay and with ease.

To reach the top of the clock tower one had to first climb up into a tiny alcove that was just big enough for two normal people to stand inside. The next step was to shimmy around to a small flight of broken steps. At the top of the stairs was a ladder that somehow could extend all the way to the apex of the tower but I could never figure out how to work it while balanced precariously upon the topmost—and most broken—step. The ladder in its current position led up to another alcove. A few minutes of shimmying later and I could then climb up to a platform where there was circular staircase. Climbing the circular staircase brought me to another unlocked door and through the door was my destination.

Will entered behind me and was instantly blown away by the inside of the clock tower. Up above our heads, the gigantic clock worked with a turning of gears and strange noises to keep up with the forever changing time. But what really took Will's breath away were not the workings of the clock, but the view that could be seen from the openings below the clock face where we were presently standing.

"It's so peaceful up here," Will commented, staring out at the panoramic view of the city. "Do you come up here often?"

"As often as I can," I told him, glad that he was appreciating the view as much as I did.

"How did you ever find out about this place?"

I shrugged. "I was bored one day and I tried the door downstairs and learned that it was unlocked. It took me several days of observing and mastering my fear before I was able to figure out how to climb up here and once I was up here the first time, the view was enough to make me want to stay up here forever."

"I see what you mean," Will told me. "It is so picturesque, so serene." Then, he looked at me suddenly and I faced him without any pangs of nervousness. "But beautiful as it may be, Anne, it doesn't even compare to you."

My ears burned pleasantly, longing to hear Will say those words again. Where had the sudden change in topic come from? And did he just say what I thought he had just said? The words had come so unexpectedly that I wasn't entirely sure.

"I can't hold back anymore, Anne," Will continued and I allowed him to speak without interruption. His words were like music to my ears—sweet melodies and catchy rhythms. "I have only known you for about three weeks; however, it feels like I have known you for a lifetime. I have enjoyed the time that we have spent together in class and I would like to take it one step farther. I like you Anne, I really do. And I would like the opportunity to get to know you better so that one day, I may come to love you."

I had been struck by lightning. That was it and now I was dead. This must be what Heaven feels like. I was standing in the school's clock tower, my most favorite place in the entire world, and Will Stratford had just told me that he likes me. My wildest dreams were coming true. It was almost too good to be real. I felt like I was floating . . . .

"You do?" I couldn't help but to be skeptical, although I knew that trustworthy Will would never lie to me. "You really like me?" Emphasis on the "me" because out of all of the many girls at school, he chose me of all people.

Will nodded. "Trust me, Anne, I truly, truly, like you. You are not like other girls. You intrigue me. You are a beautiful person inside and out and I would be honored if I could court you."

That was when Will had declared his love for me. That was when we had had our first date. Of course, Will had asked me out in a strange way but the meaning was just the same as if he had said "Will you go out with me?"

And I said yes. I would have been a fool to reject him, a liar if you please. The next day and for the next few months, the school would be buzzing about the fact that Will Stratford and Anne Hathaway were dating. It would take me some while to get used to being recognize, used to the jealousy of other girls who liked Will, but there was one thing that I could never get used to—being Will's girlfriend.

Even a year later it felt as though I was forever in a dream. I just couldn't believe that I was with Will Stratford. The hottest guy at school had fallen for me. I had found my Prince Charming quite by accident and misfortune. And I was loving every moment of it. Maybe fairy tales did exist in the real world.

Maybe. For I felt that nothing could destroy the love that I had for Will Stratford, the guy of my dreams and the boyfriend who could not lie.

Fast forward to the present a little more than a year later after Will had asked me out.

It was late at night on a Thursday, around Midnight, and Alice and I were sitting in the tiny living room of our apartment watching William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, the movie version that starred Claire Danes and Leonardo DiCaprio. We had watched the one with Olivia Hussey the previous night and were comparing the similarities and differences between the two films.

Alice was as much of a fan of Shakespeare as I was and she loved every movie that was ever made from a Shakespearean play. I didn't particularly like the movies, especially when the directors changed the stories so much; however, I liked this version of Romeo and Juliet—or should I say Romeo + Juliet—by Baz Luhrmann because it was a modern twist of the tale that retained the original lines from the play. It was a masterpiece and I loved how the guns were called swords.

The end of the movie came quick and I was so tired that I had sadly missed most of it. I had zoned out, reflecting on my life, as I liked to do often. Will was on my mind and so, I was thinking about that special moment when we had first started dating.

I was so far in the past that I didn't even notice that the movie was over and that Alice had turned off the television when the closing credits started rolling.

I snapped out of my trance, temporarily confused, until I remembered crazed Romeo chasing Tybalt through the streets of Verona Beach. I was suddenly mad at myself for missing the ending. I would have to rent the movie later to pick up where I had left off. Or maybe I would just buy it to add it to my small, but amazing, movie collection. It would be a worthy addition.

I also barely noticed Alice yawning before she said, "I think that I am going to bed. I have a presentation in class tomorrow."

"Okay," I said, standing up and stretching. Her yawn was contagious and I yawned too. "Good night, Alice."

"Good night, Anne," Alice said, already heading for her bedroom on the other side of the kitchen. "I'm making waffles in the morning if you want some."

I smiled. Waffles in the morning were always a good start to any day. "Of course, I'll be in the kitchen at seven sharp."

Alice laughed, waved over her shoulder and disappeared down the dark hallway, cutting the kitchen lights off in her wake.

The living room was now halfway shrouded in darkness. I killed the remaining lights and walked quickly to my room, hoping that I wouldn't trip in the dark.

I stumbled into my room, which was on the opposite side of the apartment from Alice's room, and flipped on the lights.

I quickly changed into something a little more comfortable for bed than jeans and a t-shirt. I was so tired that I nearly toppled over as I pulled my pants off.

After yanking the clip out of my hair, allowing it to fall down past my shoulders—I wore my hair slightly longer now than last year when I had first cut it—I turned the lights off and slid into bed. I needed a good night's sleep because not only did I have a long day of school ahead of me but also because I had decided that tomorrow after school, I would finally go into the city and look for a job.

I felt bad about not having a job since I had been sixteen for more than a few months now and I had promised Alice that I would find employment when I was old enough. Of course, sweet Alice never reminded me of my promise, but I was reminded of it quite often when the lights were cut off for a few days because of non-payment or when the landlord found time to yell at us in the hallways of the apartment building because Alice and I was a few months behind on the rent.

But tomorrow, I would hopefully find a job and things will be better and a little easier for Alice. I didn't like her having to bear the entire load of responsibilities. After all, she was a full-time college student who had a full-time job and a part-time job, while also trying to raise and provide for her younger sister. Times were hard and the gas prices didn't help either, which was why we were forced to ride mopeds or public transportation.

I fell asleep quickly and easily and the dreams came again.

Now, this may sound a little weird but whenever I dreamed, I often dreamed about Shakespeare. No, not Shakespeare himself, but I usually dreamed about the characters and the settings of his plays.

I guess that the only reasonable explanation for this strange phenomenon was that I liked reading Shakespeare so much that my subconscious mind enjoyed taking his words and creating my own little world with them.

That's exactly what my dreams did. The dreams created the world of Shakespeare as I saw fit, a world where the characters could interact with each other beyond the limits of the words on the pages of his plays, bound in books around the globe. In my dreams, Hamlet could talk to Viola, Othello could fight alongside Puck and the fairies, and Rosalind could fall in love with Romeo and Orlando could fall in love with Juliet if both parties so desired.

And each time I had a dream about the "world" of William Shakespeare, it was different. It was like watching a sitcom on television. Each dream was a different episode, yet each dream focused on a particular person—the main character—and the character's relations with Shakespearean characters.

The main character was known simply as the Dark Lady. She had no name and was an enigma to all. She wore a black hooded cloak, shrouding her petite frame in darkness. Hiding her face was not only the shadows from her hood but a mask that she wore all of the time, never taking it off. It was a golden tragedy mask, like the ones that were worn in those classic plays. Whenever she spoke, her voice was muffled and distorted by the mask, making her sound scary and intimidating.

I didn't know if I liked the Dark Lady much and I didn't like the fact that she was always the central focus of my dreams. Why was she always the person who I saw in my dreams? Why couldn't I view the Shakespearean world through the eyes of Hero, or Helena, or even Ophelia? What was so important about the Dark Lady? She seemed evil and manipulative and always up to something, scheming and making deals with shady people, such as Tybalt, John Falstaff, and Caliban. She was stirring up trouble in the world of Shakespeare and the continual excitement usually left me craving more whenever I woke up the next morning.

Tonight's dream had the Dark Lady riding a top an ebony steed across the countryside of Shakespeare. She was riding hard and fast, never slowing and never ceasing as if she was on a desperate mission. She was flanked by her usual group of bodyguards. To her right was Tybalt, who rode upon a beautiful horse that had hair as silver as liquid mercury. To her left was the disfigured Caliban, who was keeping up with the Dark Lady on a mare the color of chestnut. Behind the three of them rode two more villains. On a spotted horse was Iago and next to him was Don John, his horse's coat nearly as dark as the Dark Lady's.

The five of them rode in silence and with haste. The thundering of hooves was so loud that no other sounds could be heard in the still night. A light breeze blew in from the west and the dark sky covered the world like an obsidian blanket. Tonight, the stars were hiding, afraid to show their light because of all the evil that was brewing. The moon was full and giving off a reddish tint. To the Dark Lady, the bizarre light of the moon was perfect to light the pathway to her destination.

They rode on for what seemed like hours beneath the crimson glow of the moon. Far up ahead were the black gates that led to a town. Several hundred yards away from the gates, the Dark Lady at long last ceased her parade. The others followed suit, forming a circle around the Dark Lady, who was climbing down from the back of her horse.

She was garbed in her usual cloak and mask and a gleaming sword was hilted at her side.

The Dark Lady looked around at her companions before addressing them. "We make camp here," she said, before barking instructions. "Iago! Start a nice and healthy fire. John! Tybalt! Pitch the tents. And Caliban, I would like to speak with you briefly. Tonight, we feast and rest, because in the morning we've got work to do."

No one said anything. They all complied with the Dark Lady's orders. Iago started to untie a sack of driftwood to create a fire, while Tybalt and Don John started making tents out of tools and equipment that was in another sack. Caliban dropped gracefully from his horse and limped surprisingly gracefully over to the Dark Lady. He had a sword hilted on either side of his waist.

"Yes, milady," Caliban addressed the Dark Lady, his voice deep, accented, and more of a growl than actual speech.

"You were right, Caliban, you were right," the Dark Lady told him smugly. "The King's Men have no idea what we are up to and neither does the Sycorax."

Caliban's gnarled face contorted into as much of a smile as he could produce with the scars that covered the entire left side of his face. "I told you so, milady," he growled. "I am the Sycorax, so you will never have to worry about us. As for the King's Men, well let's just say that Prospero and Oberon have other matters to attend to than to worry about us betraying the three thrones. Besides, negotiations are going well with Claudius and he shall be in league with us shortly, once he gets rid of his pesky brother."

The Dark Lady laughed suddenly as though such a thought was amusing. "King Hamlet won't be a problem for someone as slippery as our friend, Claudius. Now, his son . . . his son may be a problem to us. Prince Hamlet may be a problem indeed."

Caliban raised his right eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? Prince Hamlet a problem? The boy is young and has no melee training. I doubt that he is even aware of his mystic ability yet."

"He has been off at school, so I am positive that his melee skills are probably at least sub par, but that is not why he poses a threat," the Dark Lady told Caliban. "Rumor has it that prince knows something about the skull."

Caliban's right eye grew wide with shock. "The skull? One of the relics?"

The Dark Lady nodded. "The very skull."

Caliban was confused. "How can a boy find out such valuable information? It has taken you about a decade to find five of the relics. How can he know anything about the skull? It's impossible."

"Not impossible if your father sits on one of the three thrones."

"So, you think that the three kings know the location of all of the relics?"

The Dark Lady nodded, a funny gesture, since she was wearing a hooded cloak and a mask. "And soon, once Claudius claims the throne of Denmark, we shall know the location of the final two. I'm sure that Henry and Duncan will disclose such a secret the moment that Claudius is crowned."

"Too bad that they don't know that we have already taken five of them the places that they were hidden," Caliban said, a half-grin plastered on his face. "Prospero suspects that some are missing but he has yet to send out a search team to be sure. Othello, as meddlesome as ever, wants him to but Prospero keeps declining. Othello may appeal to Oberon for support."

"Prospero suspects that some are missing?" the Dark Lady echoed. "When were you going to tell me this? And how does he suspect such a thing?"

"You mean to tell me that you don't know?" Caliban wondered, taken aback.

"Know what?" The Dark Lady demanded. After countless hours of research about the relics, she couldn't believe that she didn't know that there were things that she didn't know about them. The Dark Lady wanted to curse the historians who had aided her on her quest ever since she was a little girl and her father had first told her about the magical relics.

"About the bond between Prospero and the relics," Caliban said.

"Bond?" The Dark Lady echoed. "What bond?"

Caliban hesitated. "It's complicated," he replied. "I don't fully understand it myself. Prospero is a very powerful mystic—"

The Dark Lady cut him off. "You don't understand it?" She was growing angrier and angrier with each passing second. "You were Prospero's slave! Surely you must know something about this bond?"

Caliban seemed to struggle for a moment, suppressing his own anger. I got the feeling that he didn't like being referred to as Prospero's slave. "I do know something about the bond," he said to the Dark Lady slowly, keeping fury out of his voice, which was already difficult since his voice was already gruff and sounded angry anyway. "Apparently, Prospero was able to locate the relics decades ago. Believing that darkness would soon spread across the three thrones and the free lands with the first appearance of the Critics, he placed a very powerful enchantment on the relics before hiding them. The enchantment is supposed to protect the relics from thieves."

The Dark Lady seemed to relax a bit. "But we have mastered five of the relics, even with this enchantment of Prospero's. Only two remain and then, I shall be as powerful as the great Prospero himself."

"Oh, but there is more," Caliban warned the Dark Lady. "There are things about the enchantment that no one knows about, except for Prospero and perhaps Oberon. I don't think that the kings even know everything."

"Surely, the kings would know everything," the Dark Lady assumed.

"I don't think so," Caliban said. "You see, there is one thing about Prospero you should know—he doesn't trust the kings. Ever since he had his own . . . smaller throne usurped, he has been this way. He respects the kings and will work to keep them safe, but he will never trust them."

Before the Dark Lady could say anything more, Tybalt approached. He was armored and had a rapier sheathed at his waist. He looked from the Dark Lady to Caliban to back again as he walked up.

"Milady, your tent is ready," Tybalt informed her, bowing low.

"Thank you, Tybalt," the Dark Lady said and Tybalt swept away at once. The Dark Lady faced Caliban. "We will talk more about this later," she promised him before following Tybalt.

Caliban watched her retreating back with interest.

He continued to watch the Dark Lady throughout the rest of the evening, while they feasted and while they discussed tomorrow's plans. Caliban seemed to be searching, always searching, as if by observing he could learn the Dark Lady's ulterior motive behind tomorrow's journey into uncharted territory.

Wasn't her army large enough already? Wasn't her army strong enough? Duke Frederick had recently joined the Dark Lady's cause, bringing along his army, and so did Owen Glendower and Lord Angelo. Lord Claudius, who would soon rule one of the three thrones, had already expressed interest. And once he was king, his army would be a part of the Dark Lady's army. She would have the greatest army the world of Shakespeare has ever known.

So what was the point in trusting outsiders, outsiders who had so far proven to be peaceful invaders into the lands of Shakespeare? Prospero feared that the Critics were evil and they would make worthy allies to the Dark Lady if that were true, but how could she know that the Critics would agree to her terms? For all the Dark Lady knew, the Critics could have their own plans of attacking the three thrones, the smaller territories, and the free lands.

But Caliban didn't know that the Dark Lady shared in his thoughts. That was her biggest fear—that the Critics were already planning to invade Shakespeare through war and without the help of the Dark Lady and her followers. She, like everyone else, did not know where the Critics had come from. What was their purpose in Shakespeare? Had they come to live in harmony with the Shakespearean people, or had they come from different reasons? Tomorrow, hopefully, the Dark Lady would learn all that she wanted to know about the Critics. She would ask them questions, many questions, and with luck, they would answer all of them and then, a great alliance would be forged. The armies of the Dark Lady and the Critics would be unstoppable. Denmark would belong to her soon enough by default and one day, so would Scotland and England and every single territory and free city.

The sun set and rose sooner than expected. That night, the Dark Lady barely slept, listening to the sounds nature made outside of her tent. Her mind was on the important task that she had to carry out the next morning, forever thinking about the Critics. Although she was still very young, she had had plenty of experience with meeting leaders and proposing her plans of rebellion against the three thrones. But with the Critics, she knew that it would be different. She was unfamiliar with the Critics and the principles of their nation. The Dark Lady was positive that the customs of the Critics would be very dissimilar than those of the peoples of Shakespeare. None of her previous experience could prepare her for what she was about face.

"Your steed is ready to ride like the wind, milady," Don John interrupted the Dark Lady's thoughts after breakfast, when it was nearly time for them to depart from the camp.

"Thank you, John," the Dark Lady said absently.

She rose from her seat by the fire and clasped her cloak around herself. It was a chilly morning. The Dark Lady looked around at her companions. Everyone seemed ready but not eager to leave. Her eyes lingered on Caliban for a moment. She wanted to finish the conversation that they had started the night before, but now was not the time. It would have to wait until later. There was work to do.

The Dark Lady strode towards her horse, barking instructions along the way. "We ride without stopping to the gates. The Critics may send out scouts to protect their city. If so, we rendezvous with the scouts and I shall reveal to them our purpose of visit. Once we are granted access, Tybalt and Iago, I want you to remain outside of the gates as planned. You two know the signal if something goes wrong. I have soldiers awaiting your command to the east and to the west. Don't hesitate to bring them in and get us out of there."

Tybalt and Iago nodded at the same time and said almost simultaneously, "Yes, milady."
"Caliban and John, the two of you will escort me to speak with the leaders of the Critics. I may need help in coercing them to join us and your expertise will definitely be welcomed."

Don John smirked and the Dark Lady didn't miss it. She also didn't miss how passive Caliban's face was. Nothing ever fazed him and that was what she liked about him. He would always have a place by her side and he would be very useful as a spy, a double agent. Only he, out of all of her allies, was the only one capable of such a role. Caliban knew things that the others didn't and his personality was so slippery.

The Dark Lady mounted her horse. "Let's ride."

They rode with as much haste as the previous night, quickly closing the gap between them and the gigantic black gates that lead into Critic territory.

As was expected, the Critics sent a team out to meet the Dark Lady and her companions about halfway to the gates. It was a five-man scouting party, which was the same exact number as the Dark Lady had in her party, perfect numbers in case a fight erupted. But off in the distance, the Dark Lady could see archers standing at the top of the gates, their bows ready. And behind the scouts were dozens of soldiers that were anxious to attack the newcomers. The Dark Lady hoped that it wouldn't come to that. Their escape would be very difficult when so many Critics were present.

The Dark Lady slowed her team to a halt and the lead Critic scout circled them several times on horseback. The other scouts lined up side-by-side behind their leader. The Dark Lady and her companions had nowhere to go. They were trapped and they hoped that the Critics would give them a friendly welcome.

Then, the lead Critic spoke in an unfamiliar language. It sounded like a series of growls and barks, similar to the gruff sounds that Caliban made. Where Caliban's words were actual Shakespearean words, the Critic's words were not. No one in the Dark Lady's entourage could translate what the Critic was saying to his own party. His tone of voice was enough for them to guess that the lead Critic was in charge and was giving orders to those that surrounded the Dark Lady and her associates.

A rumble of a growling response rippled through the circle of Critics, who were beings that were completely armored from head to toe so that none of their physical features were displayed. Simultaneously, they all pulled out swords from seemingly out of nowhere. The Dark Lady watched as they remained where they were, however, as if awaiting a signal of attack from their captain.

The Critic leader spun his horse around to face the Dark Lady and he approached her slowly and cautiously. The Dark Lady watched his advance silently, her hand on the hilt of her own sword. She waited as patiently as the group of Critics around her, alert for the first signs of imminent danger. If it came to that, then she would be more than ready to draw her sword. But she prayed that it wouldn't. She wanted to at least hold a conference with Critic leaders and request their aid against the forces of Shakespeare. She wanted them to be her allies, not enemies.

The Critic captain stopped his steed several yards before the Dark Lady and surveyed her in silence for a long time. She could see a spot of red behind the holes of his helm where eyes should be and decided that Critics had red eyes. It was only a supposition, as she, like her companions, had no earthly idea what the Critics looked like. They were an enigma.

Apparently, the Critic leader decided that the Dark Lady was the leader of her group because when he spoke, he addressed her with a couple of growls.

"Come again," the Dark Lady said, not understanding the language of the Critics and wishing she had a translator. It might be harder than she had imagined for her to communicate with the mysterious and so far pacifistic invaders.

The head Critic growled again, a little more impatiently the second time.

"I don't understand," the Dark Lady told him just as impatiently. "Do you speak Shakespearean?"

The Critic captain did not say anything for a long time and the Dark Lady was not happy with the pause. She was becoming more and more frustrated and if the Critics could not speak Shakespearean, then her plans were already foiled at least temporarily.

Then, he spoke again and when he did, the Dark Lady could understand him.

"Shakespearean?" the Critic echoed, as if he had learned the word for the first time in his life.

The Dark Lady nodded with disgust. It was like speaking to a small child who didn't know anything.

"Since our arrival," the Critic leader spoke slowly, unsure of the right words to say, "we have studied your people closely and we have learned most of your language." His voice was low and throaty, like a frog speaking human words. Despite that tiny little oddity, the Dark Lady could comprehend him fully and his sentences were coherent, unlike someone who was learning to speak for the first time. The Critics seemed to be a very intelligent species, the Dark Lady noted. She glanced over and saw that Caliban was watching the Critic leader silently, his face passive. Caliban was always watching, always emotionless. The reactions on the faces and Iago and Tybalt were the very opposite of Caliban. They were shocked that the Critic could speak Shakespearean nearly perfectly. A little work on inflection and the Critic could possibly pass as human.

"Very well then," the Dark Lady said. "May I request that we speak in the language of my people, for I know not of your language, regretfully so?"

The Dark Lady kept it pleasant and light, although her impatience was growing. But at least she was finally getting somewhere with the Critic captain.

"As you wish," the Critic said and there was something else that the Dark Lady noticed. The Critic was very polite in speaking to her and she couldn't help but to feel that the Critics would not cause her and her companions any harm unless they were provoked. Yet the Dark Lady would not remove her hand from the handle of her blade. She was not that trusting.

"Thank you," the Dark Lady said, trying to be as polite as the Critic. Impatience shone through in her voice, despite her futile efforts to suppress it. She wished she had learned patience as a child—patience would definitely help her in the current situation—however, impatience had its uses as well. Impatience usually got the job done, simple as that.

"You're welcome," the Critic said to the Dark Lady, before folding his right arm across his chest as though performing a type of salute. "I am a Critic Scout Captain. I am here to greet you on behalf of the Council of Nocturne. The Council would like to know why you and your party are approaching our beautiful city. Never before have your people come to visit us. What is the purpose of today's sudden visit? Are you ambassadors from the cities beyond our walls? Are you explorers who happen to wander towards our gates? Are you here to trade or offer us a concordance of co-habitation?"

The Dark Lady was now annoyed, along with impatient. The Critic had asked her a lot of unnecessary questions to get to the point of trying to find out why the Dark Lady and her entourage was there.

The Dark Lady chose not to answer each individual question, rather she focused on answering the primary question of note.

"We are here because of your last question," the Dark Lady told him. "We are here to offer you a concordance of co-habitation and . . . more."

The Critic Scout Captain considered this for a moment. Then, he said. "Okay, I shall take you before the council. If they decide to permit you into their chamber, then you will discuss with them your terms of agreement, ambassadors. Afterwards, they will deliberate and ultimately, a decision will be reached either in favor of your request or against your request. If the council votes in favor, then I will look forward to living alongside the human civilization you call Shakespeare. But if the council votes against you proposition, then you must leave our city and return to your home never to bother us again. My people never forget faces and if we see you again after being declined, then you will be struck down. Understood?"

Again, the scout captain said more than was necessary, but at least the Dark Lady knew what she would be up against. First, she would have to get the council to admit her into assembly with them. Then, she would make her proposition, before biting her nails impatiently while they voted on the projected plan.

"Of course," the Dark Lady said. "Now, if you please, could you take us to your council. We have much to discuss."