Once upon a time, when the world was new, there lived a young queen named Buffy. She had won her queenship by pulling a stake from a stone when she was a child. This young queen, and her king, Angelus, ruled over the kingdom of Sunnydale. Under her hand this kingdom had become a place of great beauty and wonder: a place of true happily ever aftering. She carried the flag of "Might for right", and under this principle, she formed the Slayerettes of the Round Library Table.

Calling near and far in the land, she asked for the finest in fighters, those who would defend the white, to join her table, and battle for that which is good. From all over came the most lion hearted and stout of warriors: Sir Giles, the Tweed. Lady Willow, the Lovely. Sir Oz, the Wolf Hearted. Lady Cordelia, the Vain. Lady Faith, the True. Sir Spike, the Manly.

And from a far away place, came a knight who’s heart rang pure. The finest knight ever to walk the earth. Xanderalot Du Lac. His strength was supreme, and his chocolately goodness radiated from within. He came to the Round Library Table with purity, and majestic wonder on his side. Queen Buffy took him at her right hand, as the leader of her Slayerettes.

And so Sunnydale lived, the prowess and integrity of their Slayerettes known far and wide. However, as time went on, the king and Sir Xanderalot began to fall in love. The knight and his lover would meet secretly for a tryst or two, whenever they were able. The two tried to keep their affair unknown, but someone was watching. She was Drusilla Le Faye, the Queen’s second cousin twice removed, a witch intent on destroying anything that took Angelus away from her. With use of her powers, she had seen the love between the knight and the king.

So she worked her magic, and brought Queen Buffy to her lair. Showing the mighty Queen visions of the love between her best friend and her king, the Queen was saddened. For Angelus’ actions were treason, and he must be burnt at the stake. She sent her Slayerettes after the two lovers. As Xanderalot was exiled, and Angelus sentenced, the Round Library Table cracked.

The dusk of the execution came foggy, and still. The king was brought from the castle, dressed simply, head hanging low. He was brought to the stake, wood stacked about his feet. But just as the torch was about to be thrown, a sound of hooves echoed in the clearing. Xanderalot rode in magnificently, his dark eyes flashing, standing tall in his saddle. He rode up to the stake, and swept his love into his arms. Seating Angelus on his horse, Xanderalot rode his way into the night.

The world turned to war, and Xanderalot and the Queen met on the field of battle. But that, my friends, is another story.