Hullo everyone! It's been a really long time since I last uploaded something (make that three years; I took a long hiatus) and I got back in to writing a while back. My writing skills are rusty, so please, bear with me. I got this idea after Darling Pan ship week on tumblr, and the last prompt was the theme, eternity. This idea popped up in my mind and it took me a few days to write. I wanted to write the middle and ending differently, for I had a different ending in mind, but as I wrote, it just came and I like it, so I hope you all enjoy it!
In this au, Peter Pan is NOT Rumple's father. Ever since I got caught up with season 3, I grew disappointed that he was his father. The Neverland arc could have been better, so I decided to add my own little twist to it.
theme: eternity
trope: an awfully big adventure
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, Hook, or Once Upon A Time. I do not own Disney or anything related to Disney, Peter Pan, Hook, or Once Upon A Time. All credit goes to their respective owners.
If someday the moon calls you by your name, don't be surprised
because every night I tell her about you. - Shahrazad Al-Khalij
{ }
The Pan sat on his throne deep in the dark heart of Never Neverland. His legs dangled from the edge of the seat, like a rag doll caught between the window sill and the air miles and miles beneath its feet. Dark green eyes glimmered beneath golden hair, eyebrows furrowed lost in thought. The jungle of Neverland was quiet at the foul mood of the king.
The waters around the jungle were frozen. No gold dust glittered in Pixie Hallow. Not even the moon shed its light in to the dark night; the stars did not wink. The pirate ship that stood in the ocean tipped to the side and was frozen in mid air. The mermaids were lost in the dark waters. The Indian camp was still. There was not even the slightest breeze. Neverland was shrouded in darkness. There was no such thing as light, and the lonely boy king sat alone on his throne.
The Never bird did not sing.
His shadow had not returned. It had been nearly a month since his shadow was gone. It was when he left Kensington Gardens before he was caught by the police when a man got too close. The Pan – a boy, back then – was tackled to the ground. He struggled out of the man's grasp and climbed a tree with the man falling close behind.
He grabbed his ankle but missed, instead, he grasped his shadow.
A little faerie with the brightest wings appeared to him and helped him escape to the dark world of Neverland, a place where he would be free to play until the sun rose. It had been such a long, long time since the Pan last saw the sun. It was always dark. The stars were too far away to shed an ounce of light on to the dark Neverland. Neverland became his home, a part of him that he could feel the island shift through his veins whenever his heart sunk in his chest at the realization that he was still alone.
The Pan dropped his pipe and fled Neverland.
He stumbled in to Bloomsbury, a little place in London. It was twilight when he arrived, just when the sun began to set over the hills and sink in to the ocean. The Pan settled on a pink cloud in the sky, his green eyes wide with awe and wonder at the sight. Hues of violet, blue, orange, and pink painted the sky and filled his vision with such a bright light, he had to squint and rub his eyes several times to prevent blindness. His mouth slightly gaped open at the beautiful scene that unfolded before him; it had been so long since he last saw the light. He could feel the light kissing his cold skin, causing his finger tips to tingle at the odd sensation.
The Pan loved the light.
The moon soon rose the moment a black paint brush was glided across the blue canvas. He turned on to his back with his hands behind his head to gaze at the stars. Each one of them was bright, but not as bright as the light he saw when he first came to Bloomsbury. They smiled down at the boy king and sprinkled their dust on his skeletal body in the clouds. His heart grew fond and opened up to the stars; they told him stories about this world, and winked at him whenever he spoke about the time he came across the dread path of a pirate back in Neverland. The stars watched over him.
The Pan stayed and watched the sun rise the following morning.
He stayed on the cloud for the next few days, watching the city below him. He placed his chin in his hand and lay on his stomach, gazing at the world below. It was much different from Neverland; he spent so much time alone on that island, it was odd for him to see so many people converse and smile at each other down below. He grew curious and yearned for someone to see him, to talk to, to laugh with, and to smile. It had been so long.
Night fell, and the Pan descended from his spot on the cloud. He flew through London, passing by Big Ben and the bridge. He spread his arms out smiled when he flew below the bridge, his hand kissing the cold water. The Pan crowed happily and glided on to his back, staring at the stars that twinkled above him. He heard the stars laugh.
The stars talked excitedly, and the Pan stopped. He put his hands to his hips and gazed at the stars, wondering what they could possibly be excited about. The stars laughed.
The Pan flew once more and settled in a quaint neighborhood. He stopped and stood at the lamp post at the edge of the street later that night when everyone was asleep. The streets were quiet; a handful of automobiles were parked along the curbs, a few trees towered over the buildings, and he could see the silhouettes dance in the window. The Pan grew curious at the sight, for he had never seen two shadows dance so close together. He could hear a soft voice; it sounded like a woman laughing.
He slowly approached the window and stood at the other end to stay out of sight. There was the sound of a piano in the room, followed by the laughing children. The Pan fell to his knees and peeked through the corner of the window through the curtains. In the center of the room, he saw a man (the Pan frowned at the adult) at the piano, his hair dark with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose. A woman stood with two young boys and a young girl around her. They smiled and laughed as they danced to the music that flowed from the piano.
He withdrew and sat in the shadows, listening to the music. His heart began to ache, for not long ago, he once danced to the piano. Green eyes looked up to the stars, and they sheltered him in their light.
{ }
Her name was Wendy Darling.
She was an odd young girl at thirteen years old, spending lots of time in the nursery to tend her younger brothers. The Pan watched her at night through the cracks of the white satin curtains that sealed their window, green eyes wide with childish curiosity. The girl was a vision, with her honey locks floating around her like a halo, her clear eyes bright and warm as the sky. When she laughed and smiled, the Pan's frozen heart strings were pulled. She was beautiful and breathtaking; he could not take his eyes off of her.
The Pan stayed at their window at night. The Darling children played in the nursery, dressed as pirates and governors of France. He sat, amused at the boy with black hair dressed as Napoleon with a wooden sword in his hand. He chuckled at the children running around the nursery.
The dog in the nursery – Nana, he believed they called her – stared right at him through the window. She barked violently and ran towards the window. The Pan immediately flew up to the roof and lay on his back on the uneven tiles, trying to steady his breathing as he heard the children run and push the window up.
"There's no one here," one of the boys said.
The Pan clutched his chest and closed his eyes. He heard the children close the door shut, and he flew in to the night under the light of the stars back to Neverland with an ache in his heart.
It was the longest winter in Neverland.
The Pan was curled on his throne once more with a blanket draped around his bony shoulders. He shivered; his teeth chattered as the wind blew harshly outside. Deep below ground in his tree, he sat alone. His golden brown hair was a mess, his skin pale as snow, and his skin as cold as ice. His lips turned blue at the cold; he drew the capes and blankets closer to himself and rested his chin on his knees. He often thought about the girl he saw back in London, smiling and laughing happily. The Pan missed the light; he missed the sun's rays on his skin. He needed the light.
His lips quivered as he looked around him. His only companion was the little faerie that slept on a leaf on his bed, her wings providing a small light that gave him hope. The Pan grew acquainted with the faerie that helped him escape, but she had a family in Pixie Hallow. The Indians of the camp welcomed him warmly, but they were a family as well. The boy king was alone.
A tear fell from his green eyes.
{ }
The leaves thawed and turned green.
There was the sound of voices on the island. In the heart of the jungle, a warm fire flickered in the night sky. Young boys dressed in dark green and red danced around the fire, crowing happily in to the night. A circle of older boys stood and banged on the drums in sync as they smiled and laughed. In the center stood the Pan, proud and tall, his green eyes filled with amusement as he blew in to his pipe. The more he played, the more the boys danced. His lips turned in to a grin as he watched the boys around the fire.
Neverland was a place for children to go to in their dreams. The Pan knew this very well, for long ago he once dreamed about flying to this place to escape the harsh reality. At night, boys would gather in to the heart of the wood and dance the night away, banging on the drums and crowing in to the sky. His heart grew warm as the boys smiled and laughed with one another, a sense of brotherhood flowing between them, despite their ages. For once, he wasn't alone.
It was autumn in the woods. Smoke littered the sky from the Indian camp on the other side of the island. If you listened closely, you could hear the faint tinkle of bells from Pixie Hallow. At the shores, the mermaids sat and sang. The pirate ship now sat straight in the ocean waters, and the Never bird once more sang. Life began to flourish in Neverland, and the stars came out once more, watching the boy king with amused eyes.
The sun had yet to show.
The Pan's eyes landed on two boys standing to the side. They were brothers, he figured. One of them was taller with black hair and had a pair of spectacles perched on his nose, and the other was shorter with sandy colored hair and bright blue eyes. The younger boy held his brother's hand tightly, another clutching the teddy bear that dangled to the ground. The older boy placed his arm around his shoulder and gazed in to the fire with a sad look on his face. At this, the Pan walked over to the two boys.
"Aren't you two having fun?"
The boy with the glasses looked up at the Pan and stumbled with his words. "W-why yes, of course."
"What are your names?" The Pan asked.
The youngest boy glanced at the Pan with glassy eyes. "I'm Michael."
"And I'm John," the boy with the glasses answered quite proudly.
The Pan nearly rolled his eyes at how adult-like the boy was. "Why don't you join the celebration?"
"Our sister isn't here and it isn't fun. Can she come?" Michael asked.
The Pan raised his eyebrows. There were no girls in Neverland, save for the faeries, the mermaids, and the girls in the Indian camp. Even the tribe girls don't bother with the Pan much unless they crossed paths when hunting.
He got down to his knee so he sat eye level with the young boy. The Pan rested his arm on his leg that was propped up and leaned forward to get a closer look at him.
"But your sister isn't here, I'm afraid." the Pan said.
"Can she come here, to Neverland?" John inquired earnestly.
"Why do you want her here?"
"She's sick," said Michael. "She is a very good story teller, and she was the one who told us about you, Peter Pan! She tells wonderful stories about princesses fighting pirates, and we tell her about our dreams of coming here."
The Pan's attention was caught at their unknown sister telling her brothers tales about him.
John spoke. "She wishes that she can come, but she's very ill. It's her dream to come to Neverland."
The Pan considered the option. After a few quiet moments, he asked for her name.
Michael beamed proudly. "Her name is Wendy!"
His shadow watched over her for a fortnight.
The Pan stood at the top of a cliff with his spyglass in hand. Wendy Darling sat in bed with her two younger brothers on both sides of her. She smiled whenever one of them began to tell the tale of their adventure with Peter Pan fighting pirates and the dreaded Captain Hook. The girl laughed when Michael and John stood at the edge of their bed to mimic the scene with John as Hook and Michael as the Pan, imitating their accented voices with a hanger as a replacement for an actual sword. She clapped her hands at the show.
He remembered her. She was thirteen years old then, and now she was a young blossoming lady at fifteen. It was during the harshest winter in Neverland when he saw the three Darling children dancing around their mother with their father at the piano. He remembered staying on the roof at night, listening to Wendy tell stories to her brothers about Cinderella fighting pirates with her glass slippers. His heart warmed when he recalled the bright blue sky of London with the pink, purples, and oranges of the clouds that he rested upon.
Michael and John returned frequently to Neverland, but their sister stayed in her own room, alone.
One night, the Pan left for London.
{ }
Wendy Darling drifted between sleep and wake. She lies in her bed beneath white silken sheets with her head propped on a cloud, her clear eyes set on the window on the opposite end of the room. She often dreamed about a boy with green eyes drifting through her window. Sometimes, he would sit at the edge of the bed and talk to her with a little faerie as bright as the sun resting on his shoulder. He told stories about a place where he would never have to grow up, clashing with pirates, listening to the singing mermaids, and hunting with the Indians of the island. What fascinated her most of all was the ability to fly.
The girl with the honey colored hair covered her mouth with her handkerchief and coughed. Her insides hurt with every breath she took. Late at night, she heard her parents talk about her condition down the hall when they believed that she was asleep. She was no fool and knew that her time was running short. At night, she would lay her head on her pillow and let the tears slip from her eyes. One day, she would no longer see her mother or her father, or Nana, or her little brothers who looked at her as if she was the sun.
She felt lost and alone.
As she sat in bed, she often drew pictures of the boy who came to her window. She smiled fondly at the memory of the boy with the brightest pair of forest green eyes. One time, he flew in, upset that he could not find his shadow. Wendy giggled when he bumped his head on her bed after looking beneath her bed. He only came when it was night and everyone was asleep, but sometimes, Wendy did not know if she was asleep or awake. With her illness, it was hard to tell what was real and what was not real.
One night, he played his enchanted pipe to her. Wendy clapped once he finished with a joyful smile on her lips.
"That was absolutely beautiful!" She praised him.
The pied piper grinned bashfully with reddened cheeks. "Thank you."
Wendy shyly looked down and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. "I should like to give you…a kiss."
He slowly extended his open palm to her.
She blinked in confusion at his outstretched palm. "Don't you know what a kiss is?"
"I shall know when you give it to me."
She inwardly laughed at how oblivious the boy was; he appeared to be seventeen years old, she found it odd that he did not know what a kiss was. Perhaps he had lived in Neverland for so long, he forgot about the customs and ways of old society London.
The faerie on his shoulder frowned, in which Wendy laughed. She turned to her night stand and pulled out a thimble from her drawer, placing it in his hand.
He stared at it for a moment, and then smiled. "I guess I should give you one as well."
"If you like."
He smiled at her and pulled out a small acorn, no bigger than the thimble, to her. It was no ordinary acorn, for it was narrow and thinner. Wendy smiled and placed the acorn through a thread that she tied around her neck.
Her eyes caught the sun beginning to rise on the horizon through her window. She frowned.
"What's wrong, Wendy?"
"It's almost morning," she answered with sorrowful eyes. "Do you have to go?"
The boy with the green irises brushed her hair out of her eyes and smiled. "You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting."
{ }
Sometimes, Wendy would sit at the window at night when she was alone. She daydreamed about the pied piper taking her to Never Neverland. She imagined his strong arms around her waist as they soared in the night sky high above London with the wind in her hair and the stars at her finger tips. Up above in the black sky, the stars twinkled and shed its light on to the girl with her head in the clouds. One particular star caught her eye. It almost sat on the edge of the sky, but its light was the brightest of all the stars and surpassed the sun.
Wendy's fingers tangled with his kiss resting on her chest. The second star to the right stared at her with its rays, twinkling and smiling at the young girl. She leaned her head against the sill and sighed blissfully.
"The second star to the right shines with a light so rare and if it's Neverland you need, its light will find you there," she whispered as she closed her eyes, dreaming about a boy with green eyes.
When she opened them, she was flying. Her eyes widened as she turned in a circle; she was high in the clouds with the stars at her finger tips and the wind blowing through her sandy colored locks. A smile broke on to her lips as she soared, towering over London and soon over the ocean. She screamed happily in to the night with her eyes set on the second star to the right shining so brightly, she squinted her eyes before she lost her sight.
"How do you like it?"
Wendy turned to the sound of the voice. The pied piper flew beside her with an amused lopsided grin on his lips, his hands behind his head. She laughed.
"It's amazing!"
He reached for her hand and grasped it tightly. "Think happy thoughts, Wendy-bird."
She smirked as she pulled him closer so they were nose to nose. "Second star to the right…"
"…and straight on till morning," he finished. "No matter what, don't let go."
The Pan watched her with soft eyes.
Wendy Darling was a vision to him. Ever since she flew in to Neverland at his side, his heart thawed. A heart that was once full of ice, darkness, and hatred, slowly turned to light and joy in her hands. Flowers blossomed at her feet wherever she walked, the trees shifted and bloomed in to a brighter shade of green. There was a flock of Never birds on the island that sang so sweet, butterflies and dragonflies flew through the leaves of the jungle and sat perched on her shoulder.
{ }
It was finally spring.
She followed him everywhere, and he followed her. They never left each other's side. Neither knew how long they knew each other, for all she remembered was drifting in that place between sleep and awake where she still remembered dreaming. Wendy always questioned whether she was asleep or awake, for this dream she was in (if it is a dream) felt so real, and if it was a dream (which she hoped that it was not), she did not want it to end.
The sun shined for the first time in Neverland. The Day was born.
Wendy was dying.
The Pan was terrified. Her skin turned colder, her voice grew softer, and her eyes grew more tired. Those beautiful clear eyes of hers were beginning to dim, and the sun began to fade its light. The flowers withered and tilted, shedding its petals on the dried earth that was as hard and cold as ice. The waters began to freeze, and the clouds gathered in the sky. He could no longer see the stars, but the grey clouds that hovered above. In the distance, he heard thunder.
His shadow watched over her in London. In Neverland, the boy king stayed with the Lost Boys. He stayed silent as the boy with the scar tended the little ones, like a father scolding his children, but the Pan saw the fond look in his eyes when his gaze fell upon the faerie. The Pan observed the native warrior princess with the boy with the bow and arrow, and how they would look at each other with a certain softness that he could not describe. Once, he saw Rufio laid his head on Tiger Lily's lap after a long day of activities. She smiled at him, a smile that his bird once wore.
He forced himself to avert his gaze.
He begged her to stay. As each night passes, the less frequent she came. The Pan grew frantic. He did not want to lose her, not his little bird.
"Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting." He pleaded with his cold hands holding hers. His heart split through the seams when her tearful eyes met his.
The pirate caught him once. They held her as hostage, for the bastard Captain Hook knew that this girl was his undoing, his weakness. A smug smirk played on his lips as he held his hook to her pale ivory throat, his ocean blue orbs dark with bloodlust and pride at the Pan crippled on the deck of the Jolly Roger. Blood trickled down the side of his face as he struggled to stay awake, to see his bird before the darkness took over. Tears fell from her irises as she stared at him, her gaze full of pity at the boy who could not feel.
That was the riddle to his being, after all. The Pan could not love, for he was a wounded beast whose heart was as black as the night. Love was a thing for grown-ups, and he was not supposed to grow up. He was to stay a boy and have fun, not have his heart played with a silly girl.
The Pan cried out in pain when he was harshly pushed to the ground with a wound at his side, his dark green garments soaked with his own red blood. Thunder rumbled and lightning sliced through the dark sky. The seas tossed violently beneath the wooden ship, he could hear the Never beasts howl in to the stormy night. The stars hidden behind the grey clouds dimmed their light.
He closed his eyes. "To die," he breathed, "would be an awfully big adventure."
The Pan let her go.
He turned away when his shadow took her back to London with her brothers following close behind her. A tear escaped his eye, but it was hidden from her. The Pan could not bear to see the look of despair in her eyes as she left, and he could not look at her. He walked in to the jungle with a pain in his heart that he could not fathom in to words. The sky remained heavy with clouds, and the rain turned to snow. The flowers tilted towards their death, for Neverland mourned for the girl queen who once ruled by their king's side.
"You won't forget me, will you?" Wendy once asked a night before she stepped in to his kingdom.
The Pan turned with a wicked grin on his lips, a playful glint in his green eyes. "Me, forget? Never!"
He pulled out his spy glass and looked right in to it, straight to a star that was hidden from sight. He saw her back in bed with her eyes closed, shifting between dream and wake. It had been several months, nearly a year, since Wendy Darling and Peter Pan first crossed paths. Neverland was a place for children to go in their dreams, and the boy king often wondered if Wendy was truly with him, or if it he was nothing but a dream to her.
His shadow stayed in London to watch over her.
The Pan sat on his throne in the dark. He hid his face behind his hands and cried.
Two years passed by in London. Wendy Darling would have been sixteen years old.
Peter Pan sat on a branch in his Thinking Tree. For the first time since the girl queen left, the moon glowed. There was no Day, but Night in Never Neverland. While the sky remained dark, there was still light. The stars winked at the boy king once more, and the Never bird sang. Smoke littered the sky again from the Indian camp on the other end of the island, and night flowers blossomed in the soft earth.
In the heart of the jungle, the Lost Boys banged on the drums and crowed happily as they danced around the fire. Light glimmered from Pixie Hallow, and the pirate ship sat straight on the waters. Even the mermaids swam to the shore and basked in the moonlight. Peter Pan lay on a hammock at the Thinking Tree, gazing at the stars and the moon high above. He missed the sun, and his cold heart withered in to something else. He held his pipe to his lips and played the song, the song he once played to his queen not too long ago in London.
He never stopped thinking about her. Peter never forgot Wendy, for no one forgets their first love.
Peter once made a promise to Wendy. As she wandered between sleep and awake, the place where she remembered dreaming, he promised that he would wait for her. There, he would wait with his eyes set on the stars. He would never stop waiting for her, and he would never stop loving her, for her light killed the darkness in his black heart. Flowers bloomed through the cracks, for she was forever seared in to his heart.
Peter Pan never broke his promises.
The wind blew softly through Neverland, and a flower blossomed in the tree at the ghost's touch. Peter closed his eyes and envisioned a girl with long brown hair and the clearest eyes standing before him, a place where he remembered dreaming. She smiled as she curtseyed; her white gown reflected the glow of the moon, a crown of flowers on her head, and she appeared to him like a star passing through the night. Peter grinned and gave a gentleman's bow to the girl queen.
He heard her voice through the wind.
"To live, Peter Pan, would be an awfully big adventure."
Peter opened his eyes and smiled.
Fin.
Title credit to Panic! At The Disco; I'm getting hooked to that band.
Did Wendy really return to Neverland? Or is Peter dreaming about her? I don't know, that's up for you to decide.
this is also found on my writing blog. A link is provided in my bio.
Reviews are like kisses and thimbles; they make your heart grow warm and glow pink. :)