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Heir To The Throne

by grapesourhorse


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 rich guardian.

      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.

     Miss Voleur:

     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.

     Yours Sincerely,

      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 house.

      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 quickly.

      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 in faerie.

      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 my face?"

      Voleur shook herself. "Sorry," she apologized sheepishly.

      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: "Lady Fa-Roy!"

      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 to three.


      "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, azure, indigo...

      ... 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 soothed her.

      "Welcome. Few could have gotten so far, Voleur."

      "Who--I mean, not to be rude, but I don't know who-"

      "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 fluttering open

      "Mamma... " the child mumbled sleepily, eyes already beginning to close.

      Fyora scooped the faerie in her arms. "You must awaken!"

      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 world..."

      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.

The End

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.

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