The Crystal Adventure: Part Two

      When she looked up at Alerzal, she was shocked to see he was looking angry, and his fists looked like they wanted to smack her. “Alright, Flayire. Enough of this foolishness. Don’t mock my intelligence with your imaginative little stories. I expect you to be over this tomorrow, and don’t you ever do one of this silly little stunts ever again. Your mother would have put up with it, but I shall not tolerate it. Understand, young lady?”

      Flayire felt pitiful, and a huge lump formed in her throat, making it hard for her to speak. She nodded weakly. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry...” she choked. Alerzal humfed and got up, sweeping to the door with angry strides, slamming the door behind him without a single glance back at her.

      The tears started falling from her eyes again as he left the room, and she buried her crying face in her pillow, muffling her sobs. She cried herself to sleep, still in her dress. Little did she know, tomorrow was going to be a million times worse.

      The next morning, Flayire awoke at sunrise. She looked out her window and idly watched the golden ball of light rise above the purple and blue clouds, casting its golden rays across the beautiful land. For a moment, she forgot all her heartbreak of the previous night and just watched it rise through the early morning sky, intrigued. She stared at it for hours, unaware of the time that was flying by her.

      When a rather tall, striking Kyrii made his way through the room, Flayire looked him up and down. He had long, dark purple hair and light purple skin. His ears were rather pointed and he had a spiked, short brown beard on his chin. He was clad in dark brown boots, a gold and crimson crown, dark purple pants, and a top the same colors as his crown. Flayire was confused as he bowed to her. Why is he bowing? I’m nothing important. Then she thought of the past experiences from yesterday and remembered: Oh yeah, I’m a princess. Guess I am something important.

      “Please, miss, it is time for breakfast, and you have a visitor downstairs waiting for you, along with your father,” he said. Her interest sparked at the word “visitor.”

      “Thank you, erm-” She didn’t know the Kyrii’s name, and felt bad about it.

      “Kavou, your grace,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. From behind his back, Kavou took out a beautiful dress. It was white as snow with a golden sash around the waist area, and orange ruffles toward the bottom, the exact same color as her hair. “Your father requested you wear this today,” he said. “I must say it would look lovely with your beautiful hair.”

      He handed her the dress, bowed once more, and left the room, closing the door gently and politely. She watched the door for a moment, then quickly changed into the goddess-like dress. When she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, she was even more stunned than she was the last time she’d seen it. Her now perfectly-formed lips curved into a smile, and she twirled around a bit, enjoying her dress.

      Then, she realized she had go downstairs and meet with her father and the visitor, so she immediately left her room and trailed down the stairs, her dress trailing behind her.

      Once she’d reached the downstairs, she was surprised to see that her visitor was Jeran, that Lupe she’d seen yesterday. She studied him. And she was surprised that, when she actually took time to look at him, he was rather handsome. He had pointed ears, much like Kavou, but they looked good on him. His fur was dark, dark blue, and his eyes were a bright yellow, twinkling with kindness. Every inch of his body looked like stone hard muscle, and she hoped she wasn’t drooling at him. That wasn’t very princess-like behavior.

      He smiled kindly at her when she came downstairs, looking at her dress. “Ah, princess Flayire, it’s good to finally be properly introduced to you. I am Sir Jeran Borodere, a Meridellian Knight. I’m honored to meet you,” he said, taking her hand in his and shaking it, a firm grip, just like King Skarl’s. But Jeran’s hand was surprisingly softer, gentler; he didn’t try to unintentionally rip her arm out of its socket.

      Flayire was blushing furiously but smiled shyly, sitting down at the table. Alerzal was staring at her, she knew, but she didn’t try and see his expression. She feared it would be angry.

      As she picked at her cheese and grapes, Jeran told her all about his adventures. He told her about his battles with Lord Kass, when he was reunited with his sister, when he was rescued by Psellia, a beautiful air faerie. She listened the entire time, and she was staring at him more than courtesy demanded, often missing her mouth with her grapes. When he finished, he smiled at her, and she smiled back, not exactly sure what to see, so not saying anything, in fear of looking like an idiot.

      Alerzal looked pleased by their reactions, hummed, and got up. He excused himself politely, and told them to continue chattering. They did, and for almost two hours. Flayire was astonished at how much they had in common. She would have never thought such an extraordinary Neopian could like such ordinary things.

      When it was time for Jeran to leave, she felt slightly saddened, but tried not to let it show. He bade her farewell, and left with a smile on his face.

      Alerzal emerged from out of nowhere and put his arm on Flayire’s shoulder, startling her. “He’s a great man, isn’t he?” he asked.

      Flayire nodded, her fiery curls bouncing. “We seem to have lots in common.”

      Alerzal pondered that for a moment. “Come on, it’s time for your archery lesson,” he said.

      Flayire’s face turned pale and her stomach dropped in horror. “A-archery lesson?” she stammered.

      “Yes, you know, your daily archery lesson,” he said impatiently, frowning at her. Of course, Flayire didn’t know. She didn’t know anything that was going on. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her outside.

      It was a gorgeous day outside. The sky hung lazily over them, light blue and cloudless. A soft, comfortable breeze ruffled through Flayire’s hair, and the sun shone brightly down upon them. Buzzers flittered around them, buzzing catchy tunes in her ear in a slightly annoying way.

      Alerzal handed her a quiver of sharp-pointed arrows and a bow, pointing at the target. “Go ahead, shoot and get me one of those bull’s-eyes like you always do. The big tournament you’ve been training for is today.”

      Tournament?! The news shocked Flayire, as if she was being drenched in a cascade of icy cold water. I’ve never picked up a bow in my life, and I’m supposed to compete in a TOURNAMENT?!

      Flayire just stared at him in horror. Alerzal raised his eyebrows, looking annoyed. “Flayire, for Kreludor’s sake, just fire the arrow,” he grouched, irritated by her idleness.

      With shaky hands, Flayire pulled an arrow from her quiver, stalling by acting like she was admiring it. When Alerzal clicked impatiently, she stopped stalling and loaded it into her bow. She took a deep breath and squinted one eyes hut, aiming at the bulleseye.

      She pulled back the bow, and let go.

      The second the arrow went flying, everything started to go wrong.

      The arrow flew furiously through the air, but landed nowhere near the target. It landed on a rock three feet away, buried into its diamond-hard exterior. How in the world did I miss the target? Flayire thought sadly, staring at the now permanently marked rock.

      Alerzal looked furious. “Flayire! Stop playing games. You’re going to hit that bulleseye, and I’m not leaving here until you do,” he said, stomping his foot down on the ground. Flayire gulped and aimed again, this time only to hit an innocent flower nearby.

      For three hours straight, she tried to hit that bulleseye. She hit the wall of the castle. She hit the Meridellian flag nearby. She hit a passing Turdle on its shell. She hit an innocent Peasant on their hat. In short, she hit everything but the target.

      Alerzal looked fed up. “Alright, daughter, I’ll put up with your games. But you are not, I repeat, not going to do this at the tournament. It starts in an hour. And when it does start, oh you BETTER start shaping up and hit that target. And not just the target, hit the BULLESEYE of the target. Everybody important is going to be there. King Skarl, Lord Darigan, Jeran, Lisha, Kayla, and all their little friends. They’re all counting on you. I’M counting on you. Don’t fail me.” he paused. “Now go to your room and read a book. I’ll come and get you when it’s time.”

      “But, Father-” she began meekly.

      “NOW,” he boomed.

      Whimpering, Flayire whipped around and scuttled back to the castle, running to her room and shutting the door behind her. She collapsed onto the bed and hid her face in her pillow, much like she had last night, and sobbed, feeling completely and utterly sorry for herself.

      “I’m going to make a fool of myself in front of all those important people. Not to mention Jeran. Ugh, what am I going to do? Why’d I touch that crystal? Why didn’t I just keep going? Why’d I have to be so curious? Why ME?!”

      She cried and wallowed in self pity for what seemed like forever, then she heard a knock on the door. “Oh great. That’s probably my ‘father’ again,” she moaned, wiping her eyes hurriedly and calling, “Come in,” in a rather controlled voice.

      When it was Jeran who entered the room, Flayire gasped in shock; she was expecting her father to come in and scold her. But instead, her clear admirer was in the room. He bowed and sat down next to her, smiling.

      “Hello, Princess Flayire. I just came to wish you luck today in the tournament. You’re one of the best archers I’ve ever seen, though, so I don’t think you’ll need it.” He paused. “I’ll be in the crowd, cheering for you. I know I can count on you to do a great job.”

      Unexpectedly, he put his arm around her shoulder, and Flayire flinched a bit, surprised. When Jeran continued, his voice was softer. “You’re something special, Flayire. You’re talented, beautiful, and graceful. And I know today, in the tournament, all your great qualities are going to shine through.”

      With that, he removed his arm and got up, bowing once again, then left the room without another word, feeling confident that Flayire was going to do a great job.

      Which made Flayire feel a billion times worse.

      “Ugh, now HE’S expecting me to do well. What have I gotten myself into...” she moaned to herself, feeling hot tears stinging at her eyes again. But she had to stop, for at the moment the door opened, this time without a knock, and Alerzal came in. He didn’t look very angry.

      “Time to go, daughter,” he said, his voice gentle.

      Flayire got up without another word, and without looking at him. Alerzal escorted her out of the castle, leading her to where the tournament was going to take place.

      The whole way there, Flayire was degrading herself, imagining the worst possible things that were going to happen. She would shoot the arrow into an important person. She would accidentally hit herself somehow. She’d disappoint Jeran. She’d make a complete and utter fool of herself.

      Okay, so that last one was a given, she thought bitterly.

      Once they reached the arena, she gulped and bit her lip; Her nerves were terrible, she couldn’t stand the tension. She looked around at the stadium, a lump formed in her throat. The arena was huge, with huge stone seating that rose hundreds of feet all around her; they were steps, and filled with Neopets of all size and shapes and colors. The floor was covered in sand and had ten targets sets up, and a long red line painted about ten feet away from them. Nine other Neopets, some dressed shabbily, some dressed fancily, were lined up, and it appeared Flayire was the last to arrive.

      She scurried to her spot, and was aware that pretty much the entire sea of Neopets was looking at her; her clothing was fancier than any of the other archers. When she looked up, she saw Jeran’s handsome, reassuring face, and he gave her a thumbs up. She felt sick to the core and the back of her neck prickled with nerves.

      An announcer announced the start of the tournament and welcomed everybody heartily. With each word he spoke, more and more confidence drained from Flayire. She glanced around nervously, searching for something, some inspiration, some motivation...

      “Now, without further ado, let the tournament begin!” the announcer called.

      Flayire had listened to the rules, and was going over them in her head, despite how she knew it wouldn’t help her much; she had no skill with a bow whatsoever. Everyone thought she was talented. But she’d disappoint them all, and none of them would be expecting it.

      Each Neopet got ten shots. There were five rings on the target, and depending on which one you hit, the more or less points you got. The outermost one got you one point. The next one got you three. The third one also got you three. The one closest to the center got you five, and the bulleseye was worth ten. One hundred was the highest score you could get.

      Flayire scoffed. I’ll be lucky if I can get one, she thought sulkily.

      She watched each Neopet aim for their target, and with each arrow that flew, her face grew paler and paler. These Neopets were extraordinary. Each time, they hit the target. Several of them hit the bulleseye more than six times. They were all so much better than her, she knew she’d fail. Everyone clapped loudly for them.

      When it was her turn, everyone stopped clapping and stared at her, waiting for her to move. Flayire’s heart beat faster, so loud she thought it would beat out of her chest. Sweat poured from the back of her neck, and she was shaking in fear. But she picked up her bow and inserted an arrow, at least trying to act like she knew what she was doing. Slowly, carefully, she aimed the arrow...

      The second that arrow flew, she knew that chaos had unfurled.

      The first arrow didn’t even hit the target. It hit an empty seat, and the female red Usul sitting next to it shrieked and ran out of the stadium, flailing her arms all over the place madly.

      Everyone booed her and someone even threw some peanuts at her. Flayire flushed terribly and felt hot tears stinging at her eyes as she tried to hold back her tears of embarrassment. She glanced up at where Jeran was sitting, and his face was fallen; he looked extremely disappointed.

      Needless to say, the rest of her shots didn’t do well at all. She didn’t hit anybody, thankfully, but she hit pretty much every inanimate object in the stadium. On her tenth shot, she hit the last ring of the target.

      She had one point. Everyone else had at least sixty.

      The whole way home, Alerzal said nothing to Flayire. He didn’t even look at her. He didn’t talk to her, either. All he did was stare straight ahead; he didn’t even flicker his gaze at her for a moment.

      When they got back, Alerzal lead her to her room. She sat down on the bed, and he stood in front of her, his arms folded across his firm chest. His face was hostile, unfriendly; stone was softer than his glare at her,

      “After that little performance...” he began in a voice that sounded like it was suppressing anger, pausing for dramatic effect, “I am ashamed to call you my daughter.”

      With that, he turned on his heel and left the room without even looking at her, slamming the door behind him.

      Flayire knew she deserved that.

      But nothing, nothing in her life had ever stung her as much as those words did. She’d completely and utterly failed this handsome Krawk she didn’t even know, this striking Lupe that admired her, and herself, all in one day. She felt completely and utterly sick, and felt like just sinking into her bed and letting it drown her; she wished she could just disappear.

      She began talking to herself, degrading herself for doing so terribly.

      “Who am I kidding? How in the world did I think I could pull this off? I’m not fit for royalty. I’m barely fit for existence. I thought there was nowhere worse I could ever be, and I thought living royalty would be a dream come true, but it’s the worst nightmare I’ve ever had, and it’s real. How could I do this to myself? Why did I touch that crystal? Why couldn’t I just contain my curiosity? I hate being rich and royal and popular. I hate being admired by a handsome knight. I just want to be poor and ugly again. I wish none of this had EVER happened!”

      The second she uttered the last word, she felt a nauseating jerk and felt like she was being pulled forward on a leash, and everything around her turned into a brilliant swirl of colors. Her stomach churned and her head spun as she was twirled around and around, it was agonizing, maddening. “Please, make it stop...” she moaned.

      As she said “stop,” she did indeed stop. She came to a screeching halt, so fast she stumbled forward and landed on her palms, cutting them. The smell of damp grass filled her nostrils and she moaned, examining her cut palms. When she looked up, she gasped in surprise.

      She was right back where she started.

      She was in the underbrush, and she shaded her eyes, looking further. The crystal’s light was clearly visible, and when she saw it, her heart skipped a beat.

      It was over.

      No more royal dresses. No more swooning Meridellian knights. No more archery. No more demanding fathers and critical Kings. And best of all, no more trying to be something she wasn’t.

      She leaned against the bark of the tree, closed her eyes, and sighed happily.

      For once in her life, she was happy to be herself.

      And for the rest of her life, she always was.

The End