A/N: Hello everyone. Here is a new story, and I am experimenting here with something that has proved unsuccessful for me in the past- the main conflict will be introduced in the first chapter horror movie score plays. Anyway, does anyone know if there's a difference between "faerie" and "fairy"? I just chose the cooler-looking spelling... well, whatever.

Excuses as to why the other three stories have not been updated recently:

Fall of Paireys- I know how I want to end this, but I don't know what to put in the middle, if you know what I mean.

Grecia- I don't like to work on this unless I'm completely and totally alone. It's, well... definitely NOT a lemon, but it might evolve to be a bit more than fluff... what's a term, I don't know anymore internet terms... uh, lemon-oid. Hey, that sounds like lemonade! Okay, new internet term (I think). Here's what I know so far (but I could be wrong)...

Lemon: a story with sex scenes

Fluff: a story with kissing and "mushiness"

Lemonade: a story with sexual hints and themes, but without detail

Falcons of Napyra- Working on it. I had finished five chapters before I posted the story, so that's why it went up so fast. I usually write kind of slowly.

Well, here's some things about the new story... a lot of things are capitalized. A hundred Faerie years is one Human year in terms of physical aging. For height, six Faerie feet equals four Human inches. And the only Faerie titles are "Lord", "Lady", "Prince", and "Princess". Oh, and Humans and Faeries used to live together in one world, but then the Humans grew distant and the Faeries retreated to their own world, seperated from the Human World by the Sky (this does not mean they live in outer space- it will be explained later).

Chapter One

Humans, Faeries, and Half Faeries

It was just another afternoon on the high school campus in the small Connecticut town, just like every afternoon before it and, in all likelihood, many afternoons to follow- at least in his opinion. This was his life, the same day, every day, each day the only day he ever knew. He did not dare take control of the other humans or make a stand for them- he scarcely even spoke to them. He merely watched. Watched and listened.

And so it was that he was watching and listening that afternoon. Most of the students were in the cafeteria eating their lunches (or perhaps throwing them at each other). However, he was no ordinary student. He was not in the cafeteria because he had nowhere to sit. He had nowhere to sit because he had no friends. And he had no friends because he wanted or needed no friends. In his world, there was him, and there was him, no boundary between him and him, and everything revolved around him, was influenced by him, and ruled by him. He was a part of it and it was a part of him; he was it and it was him.

He sat in the shade of the only large tree on campus, a rebellious senior with the air of a king in charge of his own destiny and not concerned about anyone else’s. He appeared to be skimming through his chemistry textbook, but every so often, his mahogany eyes would flicker toward the only other two students in sight, both classmates and enemies of his- and of each other.

“I promise you, I didn’t tell Mr. Gray anything!” the scrawny, bespectacled boy insisted, “It was Susan! She was the one who told him, I swear!”

The boy with the glasses was one of the lower rungs on the high school ladder- a ladder that the onlooker, of course, was not a part of- a straight-A student who was rarely seen without a book and could never step into the locker room without being struck with at least a dozen wet towels. He and his watcher were in many of the same classes- calculus, chemistry, physics, composition, and computer studies, to name a few- but they had never once spoken as friends or even as allies. The boy on the side was not quite sure that this “nerd”, as the students called him, even knew the name of his onlooker.

“Don’t drag my girlfriend into this!” snapped the other boy. He was a different brand of high school senior- popular, athletic, the one that all the girls were in love with- but in the eyes of the unnoticed watcher, just as lowly and pathetic as the other. They were all the same, these boys and girls, each greedy and self-seeking, with the intelligence of a rotten turnip.

The two imbeciles continued to argue for quite some time. He glanced at his watch; only ten more minutes until another onslaught of dull classes taught by teachers just as lamentably worthless as the students. Only ten more minutes of watching the two idiots face off.

“Susan would never tell!”

“She must have! She was the only other one who knew, and I didn’t tell!”

“Liar! You told!”

“I didn’t tell!”

Finally, the bell rang.

“Pathetic,” he snarled under his breath.

The popular boy frowned, suddenly noticing the silent observer. “Where did you come from?”

He scowled. “Does it matter? What matters is that you are both morons and should not even be allowed entrance into any building that isn't a mental hospital, let alone a high school.”

“Say that to my face!” demanded the bigger boy, enraged.

He began to laugh cruelly. “I believe I just did.”

His opponent clenched his fists. “I’ll beat you so hard, you’ll be eating through your arms!”

“You could have easily just said that I’ll be on an IV,” he mused, “Wait… you know what that is, don’t you?”

The enraged boy drew back his fist and swiped at him- yet somehow, the punch had landed in the face of the one who threw it.

“Who are you?” the stunned youth asked after several stunned seconds.

Heshot the confused student one last glare before making his way back to the school building, unaccompanied and as silent as ever. He quickly glanced across the street and paused for a minute.

The same man that had been seated on the bench in front of the decaying old café when the boy had first arrived at the school that morning still sat there, reading the same newspaper, still occasionally peering over the top.

He shrugged. This man was not his problem. He was an island onto his own- and what island cared for the other islands?

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“Azara… Nareia… where are we going?” demanded Cielle, the youngest daughter of the Queen of the Faerie World, of her two sisters.

“You’ll see,” promised Nareia, only about fifty or so years older, “but you have to be silent.”

Azara, the oldest of the three of them and second oldest if their older sister Merlei was included, pressed her finger to her lips as she stopped by a crack in one of the Palace’s many stone walls.

“Here,” she whispered, gesturing for her sisters to come to her.

They quickly rushed to her side and the three of them adjusted so that each had an ear by the sizeable crack.

“Lady Feina.”

It was the voice of Arlan, their mother’s most trusted advisor.

“So you have continued your mission, Lord Arlan?” inquired Feina, the Queen of the Faerie World and the girls’ mother.

“Yes, milady. The mission has been my burden for seventeen long years, and I do not wish to disband it now.”

Azara and Nareia exchanged a quick glance. Cielle frowned. What was this mission they spoke of?

“It is important that you succeed,” Feina continued, “If Prince Carsaion is not protected, then Merlei will be forced to marry Lord Patroius, and he is the one Faerie I would never have sitting on the Throne of my ancestors.”

“I do not blame you, Lady Feina. Lord Patroius is by all means evil.”

“If only the Law were different,” sighed the Queen, “If only the reigning descendents of the first King such as myself and my daughters were not obliged by the Oath to marry the descendents of his adulterous Queen… then there would be more hope for the Faerie World. Patroius would not have a chance of gaining the Throne.”

“Yes, milady,” Arlan agreed, “Unfortunately, that is the way it is. Patroius and Carsaion are the only remaining males of that bloodline. Merlei will have to marry one of them before she becomes Queen, or she will die in accordance to the Oath and the Throne will pass to Azara, who will face the same predicament, then Nareia, and Cielle, and your line will end.”

Cielle trembled, a gasp only stifled by Azara’s hand over her mouth. She knew of Lord Patroius. She had never been introduced to the man, but she had seen him, heard him, and she knew that he would never lead the Faerie World to an age of prosperity. But who was this Prince Carsaion? She had never heard the name before as far as she knew, and had had no idea that Patroius had any male relatives.

“You have observed Carsaion, correct?” asked Feina, “Tell me, what is he like?”

Arlan exhaled before answering. “He is… difficult. However, he is our only hope- Patroius cannot be allowed to sit on the Throne.”

“But is Carsaion a legitimate heir?” Feina inquired, “Is he not only a Half Faerie? I doubt that one with Human blood could ever rule the Faerie World. And the child of a Faerie and Human could not possibly have been born into wedlock…”

Cielle’s ears perked up with interest. A Half Faerie… she had believed that they were only figures of legend, myths of an age long past… but there was at least one remaining- this Prince Carsaion.

Nareia then extended one antenna into the crack. Exchanging a quick glance, Azara and Cielle followed suit.

“The blood of the first Queen still runs in his veins,” Arlan insisted, “As long as he bears the dal’Arei, Carsaion is legitimate enough.”

Cielle could almost see Feina glancing at the ground and smiling quickly. “I am glad of that. So then Carsaion will be here within the fortnight?”

“Yes, milady. I will retrieve him from the Human World.”

Azara and Nareia both immediately looked at Cielle, who couldn’t help but smile. Ever since she had been a young Faerie child, she had dreamed of journeying to the Human world on the other side of the Sky, but had never been allowed. Even the older Faeries rarely ventured their, save for servants of the Queen such as Arlan.

“Good. You are dismissed.”

The three sisters simultaneously retracted their antennae and stared at each other in unbroken silence for several minutes. Finally, Nareia spoke.

“So then Patroius can be prevented from gaining the Throne,” she mused aloud.

Azara nodded. “That is a relief. He would be an awful King and brother-in-law; as little as Merlei and I see eye-to-eye, I will admit that she does deserve better than Patroius. What do you think, Cielle?”

Cielle didn’t answer- she hardly even heard her.

“Cielle?”

Nareia shook her head. “Do not mind her- she is just daydreaming about the Human World again.”

“I resent that!” replied Cielle, frowning.

“Well… what does it matter?” Azara began, changing the subject, “It is a beautiful day- Cielle, you should be out playing in the sunshine.”

“I amnot a child!” Cielle insisted, “I am one thousand five hundred and ninety-eight years old! I came of age three hundred and twenty-six years ago!”

“Three hundred and twenty-three,” Nareia corrected, a grin playing on her face.

“You’re not that much older than me!”

“Well, I am far more mature than you.”

Azara sighed. “Enough of this! Cielle, the outdoors are beckoning. Go and play in the Courtyard like a good girl, would you please? And Nareia, surely you have something to do too? Practice your swordplay, perhaps? Is there a chance that a new Prince is waiting to court you?”

“There is no man in this world worth courting,” sighed the middle sister, “but I suppose I could go and brush up on my swordsmanship.”

“And I could go outside,” grumbled Cielle, “but what will you do?”

The older sister smiled deviously. “I will speak with Mother.”

A/N: Yep, it's possible to have it all figured out right now, but I will tell you this- the boy in the first part is NOT a Faerie. There, all the confusion cleared up? No? Understandable. Please review (I prefer non-stop compliments, but constructive criticism is okay too).