Heir To The Throne
Author's Note: This story has been cut and edited and rewritten and thrown
out so many times, it's a miracle it ever went into the Times! At last, the shortened
version, the "Good Parts" has made its way to general public as a story. Enjoy!
Voleur stared out of her window, angled face in her hands,
wispy hair blowing in the wind. Voleur was the typical air faerie--luxurious
blonde hair, angled face, arched nose, and bright eyes. She was also unlike
other air faeries in some ways--she wasn't vain, she was intelligent, and she
was a voracious reader. But the biggest difference of all was that she had a
She had never seen that 'guardian', before,
but her parent had adopted her from a Faerie Adoption Agency, built her a large,
transparent castle with everything any faerie could wish for, and wrote letters
to her once a week to see what was happening over on her end. There were strict
rules about everything--and she never even saw her guardian before. Voleur hated
it. She grew tired of being smothered in a castle, with everything to eat and
nothing to do. She grew bored of memorizing her lessons day after day.
She stared out of the stained glass window,
eyes gazing at the clouds and wishing she could be out there, playing with the
other faeries and possibly making friends. Another one of the rules--she could
never go outside or talk to the other faeries. Even the maids and cleaners were
forbidden to come near her, much less talk to her.
A sharp noise from the opposite window brought
Voleur crashing back down to Neopia.
She whirled around and saw that a huge white
Weewoo, familiar-looking and holding a scroll in his claws, was tapping on her
window. The Weewoo was strangely large--with a long, sharp beak, clear, intelligent
brown eyes, and a wingspan like a faerie's worst nightmare. Voleur's excitement
died. It was just her guardian's weekly messages.
Your Guardian has instructed you to do three
more pages in the vocabulary, recitation, and math workbooks. All three workbooks
should be finished at this point and sent in by 6 o' clock sharp on Saturday
night. She amends you on your hard work and hopes you will keep doing so.
The signature was always missing--another thing
Voleur wondered about but knew better to ask.
The Weewoo purred comfortingly, and paused for
a few seconds flying away, tail feathers fluffing out. Voleur's lips pressed
hard together, and she blinked sudden tears from her eyes. She always hoped
that some day, her guardian would write the letter herself and show some sign
of affection for her.
She opened the book and skimmed through the
pages. She stopped abruptly when she saw an illustration. Her books NEVER had
illustrations! It was all text, text, and more text. The Guardian made sure
her books never had any pictures. But one page was covered with an illustration--a
picture of a beautiful faerie maiden, with skin the color of ripe peaches, lips
the color of a rose in full bloom, eyes the color of a reflection of the moon
in a pond, delicate and fair, but with a commanding air, of one who expects
absolutely obedience. There was a small paragraph under the picture, and she
read it aloud:
"The Heir Princess Rue-Lov has been missing
for several years, ever since she as a child wandered into The Forest of The
Old and has never returned. Since then, Fyora has sent all of her best pixies
and faeries looking after her lost child, but no one has ever returned from
the task, and soon, Fyora gave up on her long-lost daughter and continued to
rule wisely throughout Faerieland."
Voleur had never heard about that before. Heir
Princess Rue-Lov... it had a certain familiar ring to it, but she couldn't place
a finger on it. She sat in silence, only to bolt upright when she heard a voice
outside calling: "Come on, Fae, pass the ball!" She heard a peal of clear laughter
as the faerie answered, calling: "Come and get it, Nalthi!" Sadness engulfed
Voleur as she closed the curtains once more and went to her studies.
The next day, Voleur donned her cloak, masked
her face, and stepped out into the sunlight. She had been thinking about this
all last night--the two faeries, Fae and Nalthi, had given her the strength
to defy her guardian's rules and step out into public--well disguised of course.
Sure, the mysterious faerie that took care of her was her legal guardian, who
had every right to be obeyed, but Voleur was sick and tired of being cramped
up in a little dollhouse. She hadn't remembered the last time her foot had walked
on soft, yet firm grass.
Voleur took off her pretty, satin blue dress
and replaced it with a plain, worn leather tunic that she had requested from
her guardian. She donned a thick black cloak and carefully retreated from her
The sunlight felt glorious. Voleur wanted to
lie down and stay there forever, under the comforting rays of the sun. She had
never been allowed to go outside before, not even from childhood. She opened
the windows to let sunlight through, but it was still never the same. And the
grass! The green, green grass!
Voleur's destination was the marketplace, where
all the hustle and bustle took place. "Calm," she told herself firmly, trying
to steady her nerves.
The marketplace was indeed a very busy place
at this time of day. A blue Kacheek stepped out of the Bakery, waving two baguettes
in his paws, and shouted: "Eata breada loafa!"
This attracted swarms and swarms of owners with
their pet Lupes, Aishas, Boris, and other assortment of pets. In seconds, the
shops were almost all sold out. Voleur watched in astonishment.
She walked up to the Breadmaster and requested
a Honey and Wheat Baguette. The Kacheek grinned, produced the baguette from
thin air, and accepted the money that Voleur extended.
At the end of the day, a beautiful woven basket
was in her hands, occupied by two Honey and Wheat Baguettes (she decided they
were so good, she needed to buy another one) a Water Faerie Pencil, (she decided
that the old one was too much of a stub and needed to be thrown away) and Red
Aisha Plushie that had been just too cute for her to resist. She was sipping
at an Ice Cream Jelly Smoothie when a dark figure flew into her side, knocking
her off balance.
The pair was flung into the fruit stand, but
the stranger merely dusted himself up and kept running. Indignant, Voleur gathered
her food and started to leave when-
"THIEF! THIEF!" shouted an angry voice behind
her. Bewildered, Voleur spun around and saw another figure running towards her
Voleur desperately tried to get out of the faeries'
way, but her cloak entangled with the faerie's foot and...
OOMPH! The two of them went down, faerie entangled
The dark figure scowled dangerously.
Voleur grimaced. "I'm sorry that you lost track
of the thief because of me," she said graciously.
The figure straightened and drew her violet
colored hair away from her face before answering: "No, that's all right... I'm
should have been guarding my stall better."
"I'm Voleur, by the way," the faerie said eagerly,
wanting to meet and talk to another faerie. She rarely used her voice when she
was home alone--she thought that she might go mute if she didn't say anything.
The figure's brow scrunched together, and her
eyes narrowed, looking stressed. "I'm Fa-Roy," she said finally.
For the first time, Voleur got to observe her.
She was strangely familiar, though she could not tell why. She was slim, tall,
and graceful, her face was angled, her eyes lavender and sparkling. Her hair
was long and a strange hue of purple that blew gracefully in the wind. Her nose
was arched, her lips were finely sculpted, and she held herself with an air
of commanding power-of one who expected nothing less than absolute obedience.
Voleur wondered if Fa-Roy was a noble from the Faerieland court, then concluded
that no noble would be at a common marketplace.
"What?" Fa-Roy asked. "Do I have something on
Voleur shook herself. "Sorry," she apologized
Suddenly, a figure fluttered down beside Fa-Roy,
arms crossed and frowning dangerously. "My lady-" the figure began, but Fa-Roy
hastily muttered: "Ehs si ym rieh!"
The figure recoiled, but before she could open
her mouth, Voleur politely interrupted: "What language are you speaking?"
Fa-Roy and the figure exchanged a fleeting,
hasty glance before Fa-Roy answered: "Ahh... we're speaking in code. My lady-in-waiting
prefers speaking in code. "
The lady-in-waiting rolled her eyes and said:
Fa-Roy glanced sharply at the lady-in-waiting
before turning to Voleur.
"My lady-in-waiting was just wondering if you'd
care to come to my house for some tea," she said pleasantly, smiling widely.
"She's just baked some double white chocolate chip cookies, and I wouldn't dream
of finishing them by myself."
Voleur, for the first time in her life, felt
insecure and unsure. Fa-Roy seemed like a very nice faerie, and the lady-in-waiting
smelt like the warmth of double white chocolate chip cookies. Yet she wondered
whether this was such a good idea--wandering into a stranger's house for tea.
Quickly, she answered: "I would be honored to
accept the offer of someone as noble as you, Lady Fa-Roy," she said graciously.
Voleur's mind was whirring. She wondered if Fa-Roy was a princess--she didn't
look like a peasant, but then again, she didn't look like royalty.
Fa-Roy smiled and took a feather from her pocket.
She grasped Voleur's arm in a tight grip, and she did the same to the lady-in-waiting.
"On the count of three now," she said, with a grip of iron.
Fa-Roy lifted her arm gracefully above her head,
black and white eagle feather over the three of them, and called: "Faerieland
Palace!" before dropping the feather.
Dizzying, spiraling sensations gripped Voleur
as she spun up and down, forwards and back into a never-ending, eternal abyss
of color and wind and the world. There were only two things that she could think
of. One, Fa-Roy lived in the Faerieland Palace. That must mean she was princess,
daughter of Queen Fyora and heir to the throne. And two, Fa-Roy had never counted
"Voleur?" asked a pleasant voice.
Voleur's eyes were tightly squeezed shut, even
though the spiraling sensation had ended a few minutes ago. When she wrenched
her eyes open, she saw that she was standing in a magnificent room.
'Magnificent' hardly did the room justice. It
was large--so tall; she could barely see the top. When she craned her head above,
she saw the ceiling was in the expensive shape of a dome, and it was painted
sky blue with clouds! The ceiling seemed to be enchanted--the clouds were moving
as an imaginary wind blew them forwards. A tall chandelier seemed to be attached
to the ceiling/sky, and it was beautiful. The chandelier itself was a transparent
glass, and it was strewn with diamonds and sapphires. 'Real diamonds? Real sapphires?'
Voleur wondered, as she gazed in awe. The walls were carpeted, it seemed--they
were fuzzy and painted to look like half-sky half-grass, and when she touched
the green part, it felt like her fingers were brushing against a freshly trimmed
lawn. There was a graceful marble staircase to her left-beautiful, pure white
marble, the railings of the most graceful, sculpted oak wood, with intricate
patterns, studded with a beautiful, milky white gems. To the left were three
doors of cherry oak.
"It's humble, but it's my home," said Fa-Roy
grandly. Voleur could not stop staring. Finally, she swallowed hard and stammered:
"Ahh... what's that?" She had just noticed a
beautiful, dark wood table, with elegant legs and a glossy surface. On top of
the table was a beautiful sapphire gem, shaped like a Draik egg.
Fa-Roy's eyes darkened, and she sent her lady-in-waiting
out to get the cookies before answering sternly: "That is The Sapphire. Not
'a' Sapphire, 'The' Sapphire. You are never, ever to touch it. The Sapphire
grants you the ability to find out whatever knowledge you like about whatever
subject you like."
There was a pause, before Fa-Roy said, "I think
I smell burning cookies. I must go and help my lady-in-waiting... and remember,
don't touch the sapphire!" With an affectionate pat on Voleur's cheek, the elderly
faerie walked off through one of the doors.
Voleur looked into the depths of the violent
cobalt sapphire. The colors seemed to be shifting... cerulean, navy, and twilight,
... Suddenly, a heavy force pressed down on
her eyelids, forcing them shut. Fighting off panic, she struggled to keep her
eyes open, but the pressure continued until she gave up and let her eyes close.
She wondered if she would ever open them again.
When the pressure stopped, her eyelids fluttered
open and she gasped. Various shades of blue-an ocean of blue, a jungle of blue,
a ground of blue, a sky of violent indigo surrounded her. The endless blue made
her want to bolt, and panic fought to surface.
"Be calm, child," said a deep voice, soothing
and resounding, echoing off the walls of her sapphire prison. The very words
"Welcome. Few could have gotten so far, Voleur."
"Who--I mean, not to be rude, but I don't know
"I am Aen the Wise, Prince of All of Neopia."
"Yes," stammered Voleur, not knowing how Aen
had figured this out. Then again, he was called Aen the 'Wise'. But he was a
stupid chunk of sapphire. "It's just that I know nothing about her-" she started
to say, but Aen cut her off.
"You owe me no explanation, child," Aen the
Wise replied. "If this is the knowledge you seek, it shall be granted."
Aen started to hum. Deep, soothing, it echoed
reassuringly off the walls. It had no words, but the tune itself was meaningful--solemn
and sorrowful. Then, a spurt of pain erupted in her wing, and she sank to her
knees, crying out with pain. Sudden realization came with the pain.
Suddenly, everything made sense, a wave of realization
rushed into her mind--the language that Fa-Roy and her lady in waiting spoke...
it was English words spelt backwards to confuse eavesdroppers! Another jolt
of pain shot through her body, and she realized why Fa-Roy looked so familiar--but
not Fa-Roy, which was an anagram, but FYORA. A startling jolt burst through
her chest and blossomed throughout her body as she realized that Heir Princess
Rue-Lov... it was merely HER name spelt backwards with a hyphen! And she also
realized why books did not have pictures--she Fa-Roy, Fyora, her guardian, didn't
want herself recognized!
The painful throbs subsided. Her audience with
The Sapphire was over.
Once again, a heavy weight pressed down on her
eyelids, but she didn't resist because she knew this was merely The Sapphire's
way of returning her to her own color-filled world.
When the pressure lifted and her eyes opened,
a pang of shock once more surged through her body. She was on the cool marble
floor, the sapphire clutched in her hands, staring up at a familiar, purple-haired
faerie. Queen Fyora.
"But Your Majesty Fyora, why?" asked Voleur,
hoping she didn't sound like she was whining.
Fyora smiled warmly, lighting up the room and
notching up the temperature by 4 degrees. "I wanted to make sure my daughter
was brought up plain and simple, mildly intelligent, and moderately pretty."
"That doesn't explain why you didn't raise me
yourself," said Voleur. "Why you abandoned me in that palace. Why you sent me
White Weewoos holding letters typed up by your secretary!"
Fyora shook her head.
"My poor, dear, Rue-Lov. You must have been
so lonely. No playthings, no playmates, no friends except the White Weewoos."
"What happened, your Majesty?" Voleur begged,
and Fyora relented.
It was dark. The sun was in its last stage of
setting. But still, Fyora knew she must keep running. She was in danger now.
Queen Jhudora--Jhudora had finally caught the scent of her treachery.
She would come after her own sister now. Queen
Jhudora, her eyes smoldering with rage, on a cloud billowing noxious fumes would
come and capture Fyora. And what then?
She saw the faint outline of her house-she was
so relieved about the faint silhouette of her house that she lost all caution-stumbling
blindly in the dark. Suddenly, she tripped. She tried desperately to get up,
but he foot was caught.
Then, she heard a sound that made her heart
stop and her blood run cold.
"Ihhhhh sssmelllll ssssomethhhhiiing," came
a cold hiss.
Fyora's breath caught in her chest. So Jhudora
wasn't even going to waste her time on catching Fyora herself. She had merely
sent her Dark Guards after her.
She tried not to pant, the pressure building
up in her chest. Suddenly, a face pressed close to her, red eyes flashing. "I
ssseeee you, fffaerie!"
Fyora screamed and wrenched her ankle free from
the rock. A crack sounded through the air and a burst of pain blossomed in her
ankle. Fyora could not run. But she could fly.
She let her wings carry her to her cottage,
where she stood, panting, against the doorway, pale and pained. She hobbled
over to the baby's room, and roughly shook the young Heir Princess Rue-Lov.
Well, at least, she HAD been the Heir Princess
Rue-Lov, and she had been Queen Fyora. But ever since Jhudora had taken over,
she had become a peasant, and her daughter... her daughter was doomed...
"Rue-Lov, awake!" she commanded.
The little faerie stirred at last, her eyes
"Mamma... " the child mumbled sleepily, eyes
already beginning to close.
Fyora scooped the faerie in her arms. "You must
The Faerie's wings fluttered to life, and her
eyelids opened once more. "Mamma, I'm sleep-" the faerie began, but Fyora hushed
her quickly and flung open the cabinets, taking out a beautiful glass bottle
filled with a bright orange concoction.
"Rue-Lov, you're going on a little--a little
trip. My four White Weewoos are going to take you to a little clearing in a
beautiful forest, and when you get there, you must find yourself a little nest,
where you can sleep without being disturbed, and drink the potion after you
are settled in. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"
"Yes, Mamma," yawned Princess Rue-Lov. She thought
this was all a game. She was only three years old. And for immortal faeries,
this is very especially young.
Rue-Lov nodded obediently and Fyora slipped
the bottle into the faerie's jacket pocket.
Fyora dashed to the window and called: "Nabeth!
Garzlun! Faen! Lifear!" At her call, four white Weewoos resembling the color
of the frost that blanketed Terror Mountain descended down from the roof with
incredible speed and power.
She stroked their feathers and wrapped Rue-Lov
in a warm blanket before placing her in the large claws of the Weewoos.
"Take care, Rue-Lov. And remember: you are the
crown princess-heir to Faerieland."
"Mamma," Rue-Lov protested loudly, clutching
the necks of the frosty white birds.
Forcing a cheerful voice and a smile, Fyora
patted Rue-Lov's head and said: "Don't forget to take the potion."
A loud booming noise shattered the silent air,
and Fyora gasped. "GO! FLY!" she screamed, and the four birds screeched sorrowfully
before fleeing into the dark night sky.
Fyora didn't try to escape. She heard the thumping
boots of Queen Jhudora's guards coming up her stairs. She would meet her fate
proudly and lead Faerieland through it all...
-back to the present-
"Soon after that, I was taken capture of the
Dark Queen Jhudora. But that's a different tale. I defeated her after a long
battle, and have ruled over Faerieland ever since."
Fyora stopped talking to wince and massage her
throat. "I had given you the Stopper of Growth. It is a rather rare potion-"
"-that stops the drinker from aging, or growing--leaving
them to lie in eternal sleep until the antidote is given."
Fyora didn't look surprised, but her smile widened.
"It was in one of the lessons I sent you." The smile vanished. "You have to
understand, Voleur-Rue-Lov... I did not want you to grow up in such dark times,
while I was held a captive..."
"I understand, Your Majesty," said Voleur stiffly.
Then she suddenly felt angry. "If I had never touched The Sapphire, I never
would have known this! I would have been kept in the dark forever."
Fyora smiled mysteriously. "Ahhh, but here is
where my plan is so genius. When you arrived here, the first thing I told you
were to never EVER touch The Sapphire because it would grant you wisdom about
any subject. I knew that if I left you alone for a while in the same room as
The Sapphire, you would be tempted to hold it."
Voleur began to understand Fyora--her mother's--logic.
"That's means I'm the Heir Princess Rue-Lov," she said rather stiffly. She tried
to look stern, but broke out in smiles. "Rieh Ssecnirp Vol-Eur," she said sheepishly.
Fyora's grin widened. "I see you've learned
how to speak in code."
"But you know what this means, right?" Fyora
added, taking Voleur's hands in her cool, slim ones.
Voleur shook her head, oblivious. She had had
enough surprises for one day. But she wouldn't mind if it was a good surprise.
"Dearest Voleur, you could come and live with
me, in the Faerieland palace! You can have playmates of your own age, and you'll
never be lonely again! I can promise you all the riches and treasures in the
Voleur smiled, mouth tight. Wasn't this what
she always wanted? A playmate, a friend? No loneliness--a caring mother and
a pet to play with when friends went home to dinner--and treasures upon treasures
of treats, toys, and books? She had wanted this. She still did. But her mother...
finding her mother... was the greatest treasure of all.
End Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed ^^ This story gave me FIVE white hairs
-glower glare- Anyways, this is for NaruPocky ^^ That's AMY (Heh, I mean Aimee),
Taytay, Keri-ANNE, Kyky, Jin, THE GREAT KAKIMOCHI, and Coco-sama.