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Faerie Wings Short: Delilah's Royal Coronation

by downrightdude


Delilah occupied herself with the scenery below. Watching the various Faeries scramble around each other provided a temporary distraction. The Air Faerie behind her had her mouth stuffed with pins as she styled Delilah’s long, purple hair into a fancy beehive-style updo. Restless, Delilah stared up at the clock and sighed. Nine more hours to go, yet it feels like only seconds.

     “There. All finished.” The hairstylist had used up all of her pins to style an updo that towered at least five feet from Delilah’s head. “Now be careful how you move your head, Your Highness. A single shake and this masterpiece will unravel into a heap of messy hair.”

     Your Highness. Delilah had recently gotten used to being addressed with that title, even though it technically should have happened four years ago. Ever since a magical parchment proclaimed her as the next Faerie Princess, Delilah had devoted the past four years to learning all of the necessary skills she would need as the next Faerie Queen: table manners, afternoon tea lessons, violin practice (more of a fun activity than actual training) and the overall tips and tricks on how to walk, talk and act like a proper queen. Being Fyora’s successor was a big responsibility, and any Faerie in the same position would have also felt the overwhelming waves of stress and anxiety.

     “Ahem.” A blue Blumaroo was standing behind her, hand shaking as he held a silver tray topped with a bowl of peach slices. “Care for a snack, milady?” he asked, voice squeaky.

     Delilah used a spell to poof up a layer of purple flames from underneath the tray. “Thanks so much. I’m famished!” she gushed, hovering the tray from the Blumaroo’s hands and onto her vanity table.

     “Y-yes, ma’am.” The Blumaroo ducked his head before exiting the room at an impressive speed.

     Rolling her eyes, Delilah bit into a juicy slice. The Blumaroo wasn’t the only palace servant who viewed her with fear: all of the other palace servants kept their heads low and voices lower whenever they addressed her. Despite her royal title, Delilah knew she would always be viewed as the ‘scary Dark Faerie’ to those who were supposed to serve her. An entertaining thought she had was guessing how many servants would remain following her coronation’s end. Would any of them accept a Dark Faerie as the next Faerie Queen? Could anybody in Neopia accept her as a queen?


     One more hour. One more agonizing hour to go. Delilah stared at the floor-length mirror as a Light Faerie zoomed around her, finishing the details on her ball gown. Before she could breathe, the doors wooshed open and an Air Faerie with pale blonde hair glided in. “Delilah, darling! Ooh, love the dress,” she gushed.

     “Kira! You made it!” Delilah wanted to embrace her friend, but with the dressmaker still refining her gown, she could only stand at her post and wave. “I’m so glad you made it,” she sighed with relief.

     “Anything for the near-future queen of Faerieland,” said Kira breezily. Kira was the Top Air Faerie of Faerieland: her duty was looking over all of the other Air Faeries. The girls had been close friends for years, despite Delilah being the Top Dark Faerie prior to her princess coronation. “This dress you’re wearing is so sparkly,” said Kira.

     “It is.” Delilah admired the high-waisted dress Kira was wearing. The sky blue colour was divine, and it matched Kira’s blue highlights. “So, how are the preparations going on outside? Is everything ready for the….uh, coronation?”

     Kira nodded. “We Air Faeries are making sure there'll be clear skies all day. A few clouds here and there, but nothing major.” With a knowing smile, Kira reached over for her friend's hand and squeezed it gently. “You're frowning. Now, tell me what’s troubling the almighty Faerie Queen.”

     Delilah sighed and turned away. “I’m just nervous. Today starts my reign as Faerieland’s next queen, and I suppose I’m stressing out.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw the Blumaroo from earlier standing against the wall, a forced smile plastered on his face. “Then there’s that problem,” she whispered.

     “Relax. I’m sure you’re not the only one who’s ever had the ‘coronation day jitters’,” Kira insisted. “Remember your princess coronation? You weren’t as nervous, and most of it went swimmingly as I recall.”

     “Because I was naive at the time,” Delilah fumed, “and I didn't think the past four years would fly by so quickly.” She groaned. “Let's just hope this coronation won’t be interrupted by the Darkest Faerie.”

     “I can assure you there will be no such uninvited guests at the celebration.” Fyora entered the room with the grace befitting a true Faerie Queen. She nodded at Delilah. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with you privately. We have much to discuss.”

     Delilah dismissed the dressmaker and the nervous Blumaroo. Kira gave her a light squeeze before exiting. “What is it you wish to speak with me about,” asked Delilah, speaking slowly and calmly.

     Fyora held her hands behind her back. “I’m sure you are aware, Delilah, that today is the last day I’ll be serving as Faerieland’s active monarch. As my successor, I hope you’ll be able to live up to the expectations our predecessors have passed down through the generations. Perform your duties splendidly, and all of Neopia will respect you.”

     Delilah shook her head. “No matter what I do, nobody will respect me. All they’ll see is a scary Dark Faerie with a staff they’ll assume I stole from you. I can never be the next Fyora, and I’m afraid my hesitation will make things even worse.”

     To her surprise, Fyora reached over and grabbed her hands. A bigger shock was seeing Fyora’s eyes watering, possibly brimming with some sort of maternal pride. “I understand exactly what you must be feeling right now,” said Fyora tenderly, her voice shaking. “When I was your age, I also had the same doubts and jitters. I was worried the public wouldn’t accept me, and I kept dreading the days up to my coronation. But no matter what fears I had, I knew there was something important to remember.”

     “The importance of social service?” asked Delilah.

     Fyora shook her head. “The parchment chose you, which makes the throne of Faerieland your birthright. Out of all the Faeries in Neopia, you are the only one that can truly inherit the Faerie Queen Element. You know all about this power, don't you?”

     “Yes. It’s the magic element only Faerie Queens can use.” Then what would happen to Fyora after I inherited her powers? Delilah wondered. It was a question she’d been dying to ask, but the current situation didn’t seem like the right time.

     Fyora stood back and, after quickly wiping her purple-streaked cheeks, beamed a smile. “I know you will make a diligent queen, Delilah. You’ve become a refined lady over these few years. I’m confident that you, as queen, will lead Faerieland into a new golden age, and the public will love you just as much as they loved me.”

     After wiping her face again, Fyora nodded at Delilah and exited the room. As she left, the nervous Blumaroo from earlier appeared. “Are you ready for the coronation, Your Highness? It’s just about to begin.”

     “Just a minute.” Delilah headed to the window and peered down. Faeries and Neopians alike were swarming the palace grounds, carrying pink and purple balloons and miniature flags. Reporters from the Neopian Times were there, interviewing the guests. There was a loud, thundering cheer as the spectators clapped and stomped, eager for the ceremony to begin.

     Turning back to the Blumaroo, Delilah saw he was standing a bit taller now. He didn't seem nervous at the sight of her. Instead, he held his head high and posture straight. Matching his stance, Delilah nodded and approached the doorway. “I’m ready,” she said, shaking out the doubt in her voice. “Let’s go. My kingdom is waiting for the arrival of their new queen.”

     The End.

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