Chapter 1: Prologue

He was never the ruler of Neverland. No, he was Neverland's chosen protector. The island itself had whisked him away from his paltry, miserable life to live anew as the protector of the dreams of children.

His earliest memories were of a cold, dark place, and a hand that came down and caused pain and agony. He remembered being hungry and so very alone until a soft hushed voice had spoken to him in his dreams and promised him freedom and warmth if he followed. The next day, he was on the shores of a magical island where there was no pain and no dreams. The latter confused him at first but he brushed it off; why would he ever need dreams when he had all that he had ever wanted right in front of him? He was the fae boy of Neverland, its puckish spirit of delight and the living embodiment of the island. Neverland had provided, clothing him lovingly in her colors and ensuring that he wanted for nothing.

On the land between awake and asleep, where dreams were remembered, Peter Pan waited and guarded over the dreams of children. Here he lived alone, catering to their every need. He was the fun playmate in their games, the merry companion on their adventures, and the knowledgeable guide through the magical land that was their playground. It was a fleeting life, none of the children ever stayed, but it was one that Peter was content with. He taught them to fly, to always dream and believe in themselves. Their joy was his joy.

But a land that relied on the faith of the children was always tenuous at best. When the children left, the island was a little darker, a little less magical. Time flowed slower, moved at such a sluggish pace. Peter always disliked the time when he was alone but in his heart he knew that there would always be children who believed in Peter Pan and Neverland, and would find their way to the island. And thus he held hope even during the longer stretches of time between visits.

Until it all stopped. He waited ages and ages but not one child showed up on the shores of Neverland. Days became years and years became decades until the silence and isolation drove him mad. In a fit of desperation he tore off his own shadow to play the part of his companion. It staved off the loneliness somewhat but it was never enough. Shadow magic was a dark, cursed thing and as the years slipped away, so did his sanity, until his lovely thoughts grew dark and his heart grew bitter.

Fine then, Peter Pan thought ominously. If the children do not come to me then I will find them.

So he travelled to the other worlds, dressed in a pied cloak and precious finery. Fortunately, he still had enough mind while crafting his pipe so that it would only choose boys who were abandoned, unloved, and lost. They became his new band of brothers, his Lost Boys, his family. He was their uncontested leader through their adventures on Neverland and the guardian of their dreams.

It was fun and he was happy until he began noticing that his boys were aging. It was subtle at first: hair and nails growing longer, an inch or two here or there, but then a year would pass and suddenly Peter found himself the shortest of the Lost Boys when he had been originally the tallest. And then the more obvious signs: lapses during flight, magical inhabitants disappearing, and parts of the forest dying out as if infected with rot. Something was wrong. The magic of Neverland was fading.

Even the boys had begun to notice these changes and their carefree lives suddenly had a shadow of doubt. They began to mention their families back on the mainland and depression became a constant confidant. His embittered heart grew colder with dread as he felt their belief in him drain out.

No, no, no! His boys were never supposed to crave home, and mothers and fathers. They were supposed to be here, with him, having fun all day with not a care in the world. But he could solve that. He was nothing if not a provider for his boys so he found them a mother, a girl named Wendy Darling with the same taste for adventure as his Lost Boys. She was easily beguiled by his talk of fantastical creatures and the ability of fairy flight. Along with her came her two little brothers who became Peter Pan's new Lost Boys. All talk of families ended and Peter breathed a sigh of relief for now.

But these problems shouldn't have been problems, Peter thought grimly in the confines of his own heart. Neverland was meant to be a land of freedom from duties and responsibilities. Nothing painful could touch them here but it was encroaching upon his territory and Peter did. Not. Like. It. Neverland was his to protect and he would be damned if she submitted to something as frivolous as Time and Death.

And so when the Lost Boys had fallen asleep, he traversed alone into the heart of Neverland where the waters of youth ran freely. To his horror, the gushing waterfall that transported the water throughout the island had dulled down to a trickling river which was Not Good. Neverland was dying, Peter realized with a cold wash of fear. His home was slowly rotting away to nothing. The thought plagued his mind constantly, drove him utterly mad with worry. By day he was the cheerful leader, driving away the doubts from his Lost Boys but by night, he fruitlessly searched for a cure on the island until his body was exhausted and his sanity fraying at the ends.

His Lost Boys noticed these changes in their leader and began shying away from him but Peter, lost in his delirium, did not notice.

But then, the forests began whispering of a boy with the heart of the truest believer: Neverland's true king. Neverland's rightful king, a far brighter being with a heart so beautiful and true that his mere presence would be enough to resurrect the dying island. Peter could feel clarity for the first time in ages and for days he sat in a trance-like state in the heart of Neverland to hear these whispers, straining to catch a name, a description of their king so that he could find them. Then one day, his shadow pulled him to an island.

There was a large ornate hourglass filled with golden sand sitting upon a pedestal carved with reliefs of fairies in flight and dance, their dragonfly wings fanned out behind them beautifully. But Peter did not notice any of that. All he saw was the small amount of sand on top trickling down to the bottom. Neverland was running out of time so quickly, faster than he had realized.

"What have you brought me here for?" Peter snapped, his ire great after being faced with the physical representation of his failure. "I was in the middle of finding our king!"

His shadow pointed to something at the foot of the hour glass where a scroll glowed brightly. At the behest of his shadow, the scroll floated lazily towards him. Impatiently, Peter plucked the piece of parchment from the air and studied it.

It was a picture of a boy with a round face and lively smiling eyes. Peter studied the photo, tilting his head at an angle as if it would help him puzzle out why his shadow would have dragged him out here for just a picture of some random child. He was rather average and there was nothing really significant that came out at Peter.

"What is this?" he demanded, holding out the drawing.

"Our king," his shadow hissed, its sibilant voice ricocheting off the rocky cavern walls. "He will save our land and restore magic to this world."

Peter's heart leapt to his throat and his voiced was dry when he stuttered out, "T-Truly?"

His shadow nodded.

"He is the One?" Peter asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"Yes," his shadow murmured.

Peter felt his chest constrict painfully and he resisted the urge to scream out loud in pure jubilation. Outward expressions of joy could come later, he chided himself. First, they had to find their king and bring him to the island. There was much work to be done. He flew back as quickly as he could and landed right in the middle of the Lost Boy camp.

"Boys," Peter announced with so much enthusiasm that his Lost Boys all stood up in attention. "We're going hunting."

His compatriots began murmuring amongst themselves before one of them spoke up. "What are we hunting, Peter?"

Peter flicked the piece of paper toward the nearest boy. They scrambled for the drawing, analyzing it with the same confusion much like he did when he first saw it.

"What is it, Peter?" "Who is this boy?"

"Why he is our king, of course," Peter smirked. "He is going to save Neverland."

"Our king?" his brethren questioned.

"The rightful heir of Neverland, the boy who possesses the heart of the truest believer," Peter proclaimed as the boys hollered and shouted. A feral grin decorated his lips as he opened a portal with a wave of his hand. "Now let us hunt, boys!"

For the first time in a very long time, they had hope. They searched with a renewed energy, a new sense of purpose in their eyes.

But as the hunt drew on, year after year without fruition, Peter realized his Lost Boys could only do so much. The main world where his shadow had indicated that their king was to be born into was changing and they could no longer slip into the population undetected. Desperate, he looked to his Lost Boys and chose two of them, Wendy's brothers, and aged them until they passed as adults to search through the main world. He didn't care about the horrified looks he received from his brethren. They would understand as soon as their ruler was on the island. Sacrifices were necessary, he reasoned as he stripped away the very thing that made Michael and John Lost Boys.

It still wasn't enough; they needed help and so he had gone out in his pied clothing and found adults who blended in easily with the modern world. They were so easy to trick, Peter thought with a twisted grin. It was child's play to make them bend to his will. He had found the perfect set of pawns, so acrimonious with their belief that magic had destroyed their lives when in fact their own follies had led to their pathetic existences. With a sweet boyish smile and a few pretty words, he had them under his spell.

And then he sat down and waited.

A/N:Continue or not?

Just something I whipped up because this is my new ship and I want to have something for this pairing where nothing hurts and everything is okay. My version of Peter Pan is a mixture of OUAT Peter and the Peter in the movies both live action and Disney. Someone more mischievous than truly malicious.