In this Peter *SPOLIER* is not Rumpelstiltskin's father and he never was an older man. His background will eventually be mentioned, but I thought I'd clear those things now.
Also Emma, Killian, Henry and everyone else WILL show up later, but they won't be a major part in the story :)
"Let him go!" Peter Pan's voice roared the command with such authority that it echoed throughout the dense forest.
Every Lost Boy present paused their attack on the traitor. As loyal as they were, they couldn't help but resent their leader for dismissing their only source of entertainment. The new-found spy continued to flee, unfazed by Pan's demand.
"Pan..." Felix inquired while his wooden club rested on his shoulder, "what is the meaning of this?"
"Relax boys..." Peter's left eyebrow arched up, "we'll continue the game once we put all pawns on the board."
The boy's were ignorant to what the statement actually meant, but they were eager to play the game.
"Is their something that I'm not seeing?" Felix switched the shoulder his club rested on, "What possessed you to let him go? He'd be ours by now." The Lost Boys adverted their attention between the Felix and Peter, entertained by their interaction.
"Yes he would be," Peter agreed, "but what's the fun in that? Let's change the game, make it interesting."
Realization flickered in Felix's eyes and he suddenly wanted to play the game Pan's way. "What can I do to help?"
"Go back to the camp," Peter commanded. He turned to the rest of the boys. "All of you, back to the camp! A head start won't help him for much longer."
Felix and the boys looked at Peter with such admiration and pride that a dangerous adrenaline rush pumped through his veins. He didn't want to let the boys down. He knew just which pawn was missing.
The chilling breeze sauntered through the open window, presumably making Isabelle's room cold and raw. The hair on her pale arms dotted upwards with goosebumps.
Her eyes opened lazily. After waking up so suddenly, it took her eyes an abnormally long time to focus on her surroundings. Everything appeared to be untouched. A soft brown blanket Izzy's mother sewed for her was still folded at the foot of the large bed, just as she left it. The mock leather boots she kicked off before bed still rested a few inches from her bed, each brown shoe facing a different direction. Every book on her bookshelf was positioned the same way as before. Everything was the exact same, yet something felt different.
It took her tired mind several minutes of scanning the room before she identified the problem: her window was open. When she went to sleep, if she recalled correctly, the window was closed. This caused the dramatic change in temperature, which aroused her.
Isabelle lifted the top half of her body up, so her spine was parallel to the white wall. She was too tired to consider the idea of an intruder, she just wanted the window to be closed and her room to be warm again. Isabelle pushed her pale comforter aside while swinging her legs off the bed. Without the warmth of her bed, her goosebumps magnified while she paraded to the window left ajar. She regretted sleeping in nothing but her brothers old tee-shirt. At least it still smells like him, she thought bitterly.
Once the window was closed, her senses began to waken and it dawned upon her that the situation was nothing to easily dismiss. Fearfully, Isabelle turned around, once again scanning her room for anything out-of-place, only this time she was wide awake with her heartbeat pounding in her chest.
Her room was essentially empty other than a queen sized bed and two large bookshelves, both completely filled with books. A cheap desk rested in the corner of her room, right beside the window she previously closed. Isabelle rarely used the desk, it was poorly built and wobbled when she applied pressure to it. Again, she couldn't find anything wrong. However something had to be amiss, strange things like this didn't happen randomly. Not after what happened to her brother.
She frowned at the memory of her brothers disappearance. Five years later and she can still remember it clearly.
"Awe," a chilling voice mocked Isabelle, "are you feeling down?"
Isabelle nearly jumped out of the large shirt she was wearing with fear. She pressed her back against the window, trying to distance herself from the English voice. Izzy frantically looked around, trying to find the owner of the daunting voice. Again, her room appeared to be empty, nobody was in sight. Her heartbeat increased so drastically, she was positive it was going to cause her heart to burst.
"Who's there?" She asked the futile question knowing she wouldn't get a straight answer. A dry chuckle filled the room causing her eyes to water. "Come out!" She commanded with a wavering voice, fear caused her voice to sound weak which may have been a good thing. If she spoke any louder her parents would have come upstairs and thought she was breaking down again.
"We both know I can't." The voice was dark and smug, she could tell the speaker was smiling whilst talking.
Despite her fear, Isabelle was brave. She pushed herself off the white window sill, forcing her body to move in a brisk walk to the door. If her intruder didn't appear to stop her, then she would escape, either option was a win.
The boy wanted to win the game, but he realized that was impossible if she exited the room.
"Running away," the speaker shook his head dissatisfied, "bad form."
Isabelle ceased her escape plan and turned to face the voice wildly. Her brown hair was still disheveled from her restless sleep, her dark eyes frantically searched the familiar room. Her eyes watered when she failed to see the male speaker.
"You're looking in all the wrong places, Izzy."
Heat pumped through her body, adrenaline and fear clashed together. "How do you know my name?" She whispered barely audibly, her mundane brain not allowing her to believe any of this was really happening.
"We've met before," the voice taunted her, making her believe she was crazy.
"You're not really here," Isabelle tried to convince herself more than the voice, "I'm just seeing things again."
"But you're not seeing anything," the voice was daunting and sinister, "look up."
At this point Isabelle was praying that this was just another one of her episodes, that she was imagining the whole encounter. However she knew her prayers were for naught when she looked up and saw a face devilishly smiling down at her. He was hovering in the air, she didn't understand how she failed to see him before, green fog surrounded him, lighting the corner of the ceiling he was in.
She wanted to scream but at that moment she remembered who he was: the man who stole her brother. She once watched him hypnotize her brother with an inaudible song he played with pipes. This man was supernatural, if the fact that he was flying wasn't clear enough. He wasn't a man at all, he barely looked older than her. He had chestnut colored hair, and a boyish smile, he looked about eighteen years old. He hadn't aged a day since the last time he was in the presence of Isabelle, five whole years ago when he took her older brother.
"Do you remember?" The boy asked the taunting question while flying towards her, landing a mere foot in front of her. Isabelle blinked back tears of fear and glared at him. She crossed her arms over her chest self consciously, aware that her black lace bra was visible. She felt naked under his piercing gaze, only wearing an old white tee-shirt which covered less than half of her thin thighs. The boy seemed to be enjoying her lack of clothing.
"You stole my brother."
The boyish smile on his face grew while his left eyebrow arched in amusement. "Well, I suppose that's how it appeared. I, however, assure you that your brother came with me willingly." He took a step forward, his tall leather boots didn't make any noise on her bedroom carpet. "What about you? Will you come with me willingly?"
Biting her lip nervously Isabelle observed him. He was dressed in a dark green weathered shirt with sleeves ending at his elbow. His pants were weathered as well, she couldn't decide if they were brown from the start, or if they changed color overtime. A brown belt held his shirt together, with a large buckle resting above his waist. Two bands made from the same leather-like material of his belt, cuffed each of his wrists, completing his whole outfit. The boy looked wild and no girl her age could deny how attractive he was.
The answer to his question would have been obvious to everyone: call for help. Her parents after all were just downstairs. But Isabelle knew if she called for her parents the boy would disappear and they would never believe he was here to begin with, concluding she was losing it again. Because of this is Izzy didn't scream for help. She also didn't for another reason: her brother. This boy took him, and she knew he was her only hope at seeing him again.
"Who are you?" Isabelle asked the question with an answer already in her mind.
His left eyebrow went down only for his right one to arch up, "You know exactly who I am."
Her right hand reached for her brown hair, tugging it out of habit, "This isn't possible..."
"Of course it is," the boys accent made the words sound like art, "with the help of magic, I can't think of anything that isn't possible."
"I must be going crazy..." Isabelle felt a headache coming on strong, this happened every time she cried.
"I do have that effect on people," the boy arrogantly joked, "c'mon, who am I?" He outstretched his arms, his hands found Isabelle's shoulder and pushed her against the cream colored wall. Her breathe hitched in her throat and she heavily sighed, causing her decent-sized chest to press into his. "I want you to tell me who I am.." His pink lips lightly made contact with the sensitive skin of her ear seductively.
"You're Peter Pan." She answered with a shaky voice, goosebumps covered her skin from his warm breathe.
"That's right and I am Peter Pan and I need you to come with me," Peter tugged at her ear with his teeth, "I'm sorry I have to do this to you..."
Isabelle didn't have time to ask what he meant before she fell into sudden unconsciousness.