Main Page Go to Short Stories Go back to Articles Go to Comics Go to Continued Series Go to Editorial Go to New Series

Show All | Week 1 | Week 2 | Week 3 | Week 4 | Week 5 | Week 6 | Week 7 | Week 8 | Week 9 | Week 10 | Week 11 | Week 12 | Week 13 | Week 14 | Week 15 | Week 16 | Week 17 | Week 18 | Week 19 | Week 20 | Week 21 | Week 22 | Week 23 | Week 24 | Week 25 | Week 26 | Week 27 | Week 28 | Week 29 | Week 30 | Week 31 | Week 32 | Week 33 | Week 34 | Week 35 | Week 36 | Week 37 | Week 38 | Week 39 | Week 40 | Week 41 | Week 42 | Week 43 | Week 44 | Week 45 | Week 46 | Week 47 | Week 48 | Week 49 | Week 50 | Week 51 | Week 52 | Week 53 | Week 54 | Week 55 | Week 56 | Week 57 | Week 58 | Week 59 | Week 60 | Week 61 | Week 62 | Week 63 | Week 64 | Week 65 | Week 66 | Week 67 | Week 68 | Week 69 | Week 70 | Week 71 | Week 72 | Week 73 | Week 74 | Week 75 | Week 76 | Week 77 | Week 78 | Week 79 | Week 80 | Week 81 | Week 82 | Week 83 | Week 84 | Week 85 | Week 86 | Week 87 | Week 88 | Week 89 | Week 90 | Week 91 | Week 92 | Week 93 | Week 94 | Week 95 | Week 96 | Week 97 | Week 98 | Week 99 | Week 100 | Week 101 | Week 102 | Week 103 | Week 104 | Week 105 | Week 106 | Week 107 | Week 108 | Week 109 | Week 110 | Week 111 | Week 112 | Week 113 | Week 114 | Week 115 | Week 116 | Week 117 | Week 118 | Week 119 | Week 120 | Week 121 | Week 122 | Week 123 | Week 124 | Week 125 | Week 126 | Week 127 | Week 128 | Week 129 | Week 130 | Week 131 | Week 132 | Week 133 | Week 134 | Week 135 | Week 136 | Week 137 | Week 138 | Week 139 | Week 140 | Week 141 | Week 142 | Week 143 | Week 144 | Week 145 | Week 146 | Week 147 | Week 148 | Week 149

Neopia's Fill in the Blank News Source | 25th day of Eating, Yr 21
The Neopian Times Week 107 > Short Stories > Young Fyora — The Not-So Innocent

Young Fyora — The Not-So Innocent

by wolfofthewoods

“Come now, Fyora, you’ve got to learn not to act up,” scolded a very flustered Aisha. She was enveloped in a thick brown slime. Fyora stifled a snigger.

       “It’s not my fault, Nan. The brownies just sort of… exploded.” She gave a sly smile and licked batter from her fingertips. “You have to admit, it does taste good.” Fyora’s nanny sighed heavily and plucked a brownie-covered rag from the metal sink. She wrung it out and began furiously rubbing away at the counter tops. Fyora smirked and strolled casually from the kitchen. She pulled out the velvet, deep purple ribbon from her intricately plaited hair, and let her long violet locks sweep about her shoulders.

       Fyora smiled and paraded out the door, her slender, calloused feet, bare, as usual. Today, her mother was judging the annual Faerieland garden competition, and so she was free to roam the city streets. The cloud bounced lightly under her footfall as she skipped off towards the marketplace.

       The young Faerie loved it when her mother was out on business. Thyora had never paid her much attention, except to tell her off for performing various feats of mischief. Thyora would never let her daughter out of the palace grounds unescorted, or even allow her entrance to the Hidden Tower, where Thyora had a very rare assortment of overpriced items. At least, that’s what Fyora understood, from snippets of conversation she’d heard between the housemaids.

       Nan didn’t really mind if she had some fun, as long as she didn’t go overboard with it. Nan was old, fat, and complained, and that was pretty much all the use she was. The elderly Aisha did threaten to punish her, but never went through with anything for love of the young Faerie. So Fyora did her best to push Nan’s tolerance to the point where it teetered on the brink of insanity.

       Fyora now hurried into the market and grinned at a middle-aged Kacheek. He wore a patched tan jacket and thin denim slacks. The Kacheek waved, and returned Fyora’s smile.

       “Princess! How do you do on this fine summer day?” asked the Kacheek, a hint of a foreign accent ebbing at his strong voice. Fyora smirked and scurried over to him, her thick hair blowing behind her like a banner.

       “Perfect, John,” she replied merrily. Fyora greedily took in every aspect of the market: the colourful Faeries and Pets, the smells, the sound of bubbling merriment… John interrupted her happy thoughts with a sharp whistle.

       “Malan!” he shouted, lifting a paw. Fyora turned to see the receiver of his greeting. A lean, crimson-furred Kau smiled and performed a sweeping bow to the ground, his snout brushing the soft cloud.

       “John! ‘Tis a wonderful day, do you not think?”

       “Simply marvelous, Malan,” replied John, laughing heartily as his friend bowed yet again, this time to Fyora. “This is my dear friend, Malan. Fyora, she goes by. Princess of the Faeries.” He beamed proudly. Fyora felt her face flush, and hurriedly attempted to cover her embarrassment by snatching a large, floppy hat from John’s stand. She shoved it on her head at an angle, and both Pets chortled.

       “Princess of the Faeries, eh? What are you doing gallivanting off and fraternizing with the commoners, Princess?” Malan winked, his sapphire eyes twinkling. Fyora giggled nervously. She hoped word of this never reached her mother.

       John patted her shoulder fondly. “I wondered if perhaps you could do me a favor, little Fyora?” Fyora nodded, eager to change the subject. “Do you have access to the Hidden Tower?” The Faerie’s brow furrowed, and she shrugged.

       “I’m not really supposed to go in there. Anyway, I don’t know where it is. There are so many corridors in the upper breaches of the palace that it could take years to find the correct one, if you can even get there through a regular door.”

       “Oh, I can tell you the exact coordinates of the Hidden Tower itself, and give you a map beginning at the entrance hall. It’s not getting in that I’d have trouble with. It’s getting out.” Fyora was puzzled.

       “What do you mean? Don’t you just retrace your steps?” John winked.

       “That’s sort of hard to do when you have a gang of armed Faerie guards after you.” Fyora’s eyes narrowed.

       “Why…” Malan raised a hoof to his mouth, silencing her mid-sentence.

       “John and I are in desperate need of a Faerie Queen doll,” whispered Malan. “You’re the only one who could get it for us.” Fyora gagged.

       “You mean to say that I’m to steal from my mother? But…” Her eyes flickered and she cut herself off, recalling the time Thyora had dismissed her carelessly when she’d broken her wing. “I’ll do it.”


Fyora tiptoed up the spiraled staircase leading upwards from the entrance hall. She had drilled the directions to the Hidden Tower in her mind, and now hurried along on silent feet to her destination. All of the castle’s hallways looked an exact replica of the last, making it almost impossible for one to navigate one’s way through it. Searching for the Hidden Tower, it being very well hidden, makes the task of finding one’s way slightly more trying.

       Now, we cannot go into detail about the exact whereabouts of the Hidden Tower, lest it become simply “Tower.” We would not want to mess with the clever name given to this highly priced shop by the Faeries, so we shall skip to the entrance so as not to do so.

       Fyora grinned as she twisted a large brass doorknob. The journey had been long, and Fyora had become quite famished along the way, but at long last she would be able to get the doll for John and Malan.

       Thyora stood behind a mahogany counter, looking very depressed. Her face brightened as a bell tinkled at the doorway, but happiness was suppressed by rage as her daughter strode in, positively beaming.

       “Fyora! What in the name of Faerieland are you DOING here?” she demanded, stomping out from behind the counter. Fyora shrugged.

       “Just visiting. Did you know that there are some cobwebs in the corridors around here? I cleaned a couple of them out, but you should probably deal with the rest. I bet they’re turning away customers.” Fyora smiled. The job was going smoothly as of yet.

       Thyora’s eyes flamed. “How did you ever find it? The tower is so well hidden…” she trailed off, rage bubbling into curiosity and suspicion. “How…?”

       Fyora shrugged indifferently. “Who cares? I’m here. I was wondering if I could take a look around, you know? I am,” Fyora stared intently at her mother, “your daughter, after all.” Thyora almost snarled. Fyora had dared to play the daughter card. Her lips tightened.

       “Fine.” She strode stiffly back to her post behind the countertop.

       Fyora smiled, curtsied, and all but ran towards the large shelf piled with intricately made Faerie dolls. Thyora stared at her as a Meepit would stare at a hunk of cheese.

       Fyora accidentally-on-purpose knocked over an item labeled “Jhudora’s Crystal Ball.” Thyora gasped and threw herself under the priceless orb, and Fyora took this opportunity to stuff the Faerie Queen doll inside her robes. The Faerie Queen struggled up; she carefully placed the sphere back in place. Her eyes were cold as she pointed towards the door, lips pursed, face pale.

       “OUT!” she shrieked, knuckles white. Fyora obliged without further reason to do so, and ran as fast as a Babyca — which hadn’t, by the way, been discovered at the time — through the corridors, down numerous stairways, and straight out the front doors.

       She sped like a bullet to the marketplace, where John was hopping from foot to foot, anxiously awaiting her arrival.

       “Fyora!” he shouted hoarsely, racing over to her and picking her up in a tight embrace. “You did it? Really?” Fyora nodded vigorously and removed the doll from her robes. He took it eagerly in his paws and examined every inch. Malan stood to the side, tentatively watching the palace.

       “We really should split right about now,” he said to John. John inclined his head, gave Fyora an ecstatic smirk, and hailed an Eyrie-cab. Fyora never saw hide or tail of him again.


She did, however, see a lot of her bedroom wall. The poor young Faerie was confined to her tower room for months, her mother filled with incredible anger towards her.

       As soon as her door was unlocked, Fyora ran out, only to meet Thyora. The Faerie Queen’s eyes were sad as she took her daughter into her arms.

       “My little princess…” she whispered.

       Fyora grinned as she was taken into a tight embrace, and suppressed a giggle as she opened her fist, only to let a handful of Flightning Bugs fall into the back of her mother’s dress.

The End

Search :
Other Stories

Give my Regards to Neopia!
Presenting from plushieowner productions "Neopia! The Musical"...

by plushieowner

Neoschool Blues
She couldn’t stop her mind from wondering what Neoschool would be like. Would she like it? Would it be hard? Would she make friends?

by beau_lis

Heart of Gold
This is Alanna's story, the story of her kind, the gallant and majestic Unis...

by drhull

Memories of the Dark Lupe
It was his first day of Neoschool, and he wanted to make an impression his classmates would remember. He glared in the mirror one last time.

by zelestia

Neopets | Main | Articles | Editorial
Short Stories | Comics | New Series | Continued Series | Search