ONCE UPON A TIME -
No. Wait.
Wren wrinkled her nose. Weren't there enough stories starting with once upon a time? She would know - after all, she did grow up in a bookshop. Every story of fairies, every epic, every love story. They all started the same.
But though this story was all those things, it was different. It was hers.
So she was going to start it differently. No unoriginal sentiments. Just the beginning.
She lifted her quill and wrote, as neat as she could help it, It began in a dream.
There, she thought, satisfied. Wren dipped her quill in the inkwell once again, and began to write.
001 / Strangers
"Girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their prams." -J. M Barrie
NEVERLAND
3 B.C. (BEFORE THE CURSE)
It began in a dream.
Wren Grimm was fourteen years old, and she had fallen asleep on the forest floor but woken up by the sea. Her first instinct was to believe that she had been kidnapped - but what kidnappers would abandon their victim on the beach?
She sat up slowly, glancing out at the ocean. It was beautiful, more inviting than she'd expected. The waves that lapped up on the shore, washing over her shins, were comfortably warm.
"Who's there?"
Turning her head sharply, Wren found herself looking at a pack of boys. The seeming leader was dressed in green trousers and a ragged shirt, and his thick hair was a mop on his head. He peered down at Wren with a boyish grin. She would've swooned, had the rest of the boys not been pointing spears and arrows in her direction.
"Um," she stated stupidly. "I'm Wren."
"Are you a girl?" one of the boys piped up.
"Quiet, Curly," another one commanded.
"No, he's got a point," spoke the leader. "Are you a girl?"
Wren glanced down at her body, still clothed in her dark cloak and her navy dress. "I believe so," she responded.
The boys were silent for a moment, and the aim of their weapons wavered, now hesitant. They shared glances with one another, wondering how to proceed.
When nobody spoke for a long minute, Wren took it upon herself. "Where am I?" she asked. "What is this place?" She allowed her gaze to drift over towards the jungle, and the cliffs protruding further down the beach. And the stars-they were different from the constellations back home. There were more of them, to start. And they seemed to be drifting from one place to another.
Wren shook the thought away. That was impossible.
"Neverland," said the leader. "I believe you dreamt yourself here." Wren's brow furrowed. If this was a dream, why was everything so vivid? Dreams didn't feel like this, they were supposed to be a haze. The sea, and the jungle, and the beach-those felt all too real to be her imagination. "Forgive my boys for their manners," the boy continued. Behind him, the rest of his pack lowered their weapons slowly. Ashamed. "I'm Peter Pan, it's lovely to meet you. These are my Lost Boys. We rule the island."
She raised an eyebrow. Peter looked like he was seventeen, but some of the children looked to be five or six at most. Wren couldn't imagine them being kings of anything. "Are you the only ones who live here?"
Peter raised an eyebrow, and then began to laugh. Wren didn't understand the joke.
"Have a little faith. We may look different from the royalty you know, but we're royalty nonetheless. We have our own subjects. There are the mermaids, and the pirates."
Wren's eyes jerked back towards the sea. Pirates? Her mother had known pirates before, but never the kind who travelled to places like this.
"And the fairies, too," he added.
"Fairies?" Wren asked, surprised. She thought that fairies only lived in the Enchanted Forest.
"A whole city of them," Peter confided. He reached a hand down to help her off the ground, and Wren took it gratefully, lifting herself up. His eyes remained carefully trained on her as she brushed the sand off her dress and adjusted the hang of her cloak. "Would you like to meet them?"
According to the books she'd read, fairies were beautiful, but temperamental. And they were even more dangerous in large numbers.
"No, thank you," she replied politely.
"Do we scare you?"
Wren shook her head, denying what they both knew to be true. She fought to keep the bravado on her face. "No," she said, but Peter smirked at her anyways.
"Boys," he called back, not breaking eye contact with her. "You may return to the campgrounds. Felix is in charge. I'd like to get to know our guest."
The boys disappeared quickly into the jungle, shuffling together up the beach and into the shadows.
"Where did they come from?" Wren asked Peter, once they'd disappeared. "Where are your parents?"
"Where are yours?" Peter fired back.
Wren wanted to point out that she asked first, but she had a feeling that he wouldn't care. "I never knew my father. And my mother went missing a week ago."
"Huh," Peter mumbled, deep in thought. "I guess that explains why you're here."
"Why I'm here?"
"In Neverland," he explained. "Girls are usually much too smart to end up lost enough that they reach out to me. It's always the boys."
She scowled at him, trying to guess if he'd meant to be rude, or if it had simply happened. "Are you saying that I'm stupid?" she questioned finally.
Peter grinned at her. "No. I just mean to say that you're a rare find."
"I'm not a prize," Wren defended, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Of course not," Peter obliged, reaching down to pick something up.
"You never answered my question," Wren said suddenly, glancing down at Peter's hand, where he held a broken shell.
He stood up straight and reached for her hand, placing the shell down in her palm and closing her fingers around it. "And what was that?" he asked, still clasping her hand in his. She sent a wary glance down to where their fingers touched, trying not to shiver.
Enough of that, she chided herself. Rolling her eyes, Wren pulled her hand away and repeated, "Where are your parents?"
Peter shrugged nonchalantly. "My father bargained me for magic. My mother left us when we were children."
"Us?"
"My brother and I."
A beat passed, and Wren turned her head down to trace the shell in her hands. "I'm sorry," she said finally.
"I don't mind, actually," Peter replied. "I've got an island. The boys are my real family."
They reached a bed of boulders leading up to a cliff, and Peter hopped onto the first one with ease, turning to offer Wren his hand. She took it and hoisted herself up to follow him.
"Want to know a secret?" he asked, a glint in his eye. Wren wanted to know a lot of things that she supposed were secret, so she nodded. "On Neverland, family is forever. Nobody grows old. No rules, no parents, no evil queens or wretched kings. We are in control."
"Is that why the stars are different?" Wren blurted out. Peter raised a curious eyebrow at her, before taking her hand and tugging her further up the rocks. "I just-they aren't the same as the ones back home."
"I control the stars, yes," Peter answered. "And I don't think that the place you call home feels like it, if you've managed to find your way here."
Peter dropped her hand and they stopped moving at the top of the cliff. A wave rolled up towards the wall and broke, sending a spray of seawater into Wren's face and hair. She rubbed the saltwater out of her eyes, and then leaned over slightly to see the water below. It was rocky and unsettled, shifting this way and that in an attempt to find rhythm.
"You know," Peter told her, snapping her out of her thoughts, "you'll always have a home here if you need it."
Wren peered at him quizzically. "Aren't I dreaming?"
He shrugged, sitting down on the cliff and letting his legs swing over the edge. He was crazy, she decided. This boy had no sense, no fear.
Maybe that came from being king.
She settled herself a healthy distance from the edge of the cliff, tucking her legs under her skirts. "Well?" Wren repeated. "Aren't I?"
"In a sense," Peter said. "Your physical body isn't here, but your subconscious is. Neverland is a real place." He grinned at her. "Maybe you'll find it one day."
A wolf howled in the distance, a sound that seemed to be coming from every direction. Wren frowned. "Are there wolves here?"
Peter shook his head. "No. But there are where you come from, apparently. You're waking up."
"I don't want to go yet," she protested, thinking of all the questions she had yet to ask. Where did the mermaids live? How did the other boys get here? How could she find Neverland?
"You'll find your way back," he promised, and Wren felt herself drifting as the island around her faded into the darkness behind her eyelids.
Wren gasped awake, her hands burying themselves in the piles of leaves surrounding her on the forest floor. She groaned as she sat up-the hard ground was less than ideal. Especially in the dark, when she couldn't see the bugs that were skittering around, and was left to simply hope they weren't going to hurt her as she slept.
She thought back to the dream. Boy kings on a beautiful island. Wren wished that it was real, that it had been more than what it was - a dream. She shifted, and then felt something under the spot where she'd been lying. Wren fumbled to find her lantern, holding it over the object.
In the light, she could see it clearly. A broken shell, identical to the one from her dream.
STORYBROOKE, MAINE
"Okay, girl wonder, you have to get out now."
Ivy looked up from her history textbook at Graham, who was holding his bag in one hand and his jacket in the other. "Graham," she begged, "I can't go home. I have a test on the American Revolution first period tomorrow, and if I'm home, my dearest father is gonna make me balance his bank books until the wee hours of the morning."
Graham rolled his eyes. "Your father is not that bad."
"People cross to the other side of the street when he walks me to school," Ivy stated flatly. "The birds stop chirping, the children stop singing." She leaned back in the swivel chair, propping up her boot-clad feet on the empty desk. "As your honorary deputy-"
"You gave yourself that title."
"-I think I should get to weigh in on the case. My opinion is that Henry probably went to his castle, and Regina is just being paranoid."
"And maybe you're right. I'll let you know when I find him. But that can't happen until you get out so I can lock up the office." Graham took a step towards her and pushed her legs off his desk.
Ivy considered for a second. "How about I cut you a deal: I'll get out of your office, but only if I can come with you."
Graham checked his watch and gave a resigned sigh. "Fine. Let's go."
Ivy grinned, shutting her book and grabbing her bag, following Graham out to the cruiser. She settled herself in the passenger seat as he switched on the sirens, taking off down Storybrooke's desolate streets. At five in the afternoon, everyone else in the world was stuck in rush hour traffic. But not here; here, the longest commute clocked in at ten minutes.
"You really shouldn't be so afraid to go home," Graham told Ivy after a minute. "Your father is a good man, even if he's rough around the edges."
"If that's the case, then I think he's all edges."
"He's trying his best. You're listening to Henry too much about the evil parents thing."
Ivy folded her arms across her chest. "Or maybe I'm just right."
Graham sighed, returning his focus to the road and making a sharp left onto Mifflin Street. The Mayor's mansion came into view immediately, a house unnecessarily large for two people. The pristine white exterior always reminded Ivy of something imprisoning and inescapable. She wrinkled her nose.
Ivy and Mayor Mills had never gotten along well. For as long as she could remember, her father would meet with Regina and leave Ivy no choice but to accompany him. While this had led to her close friendship with Henry, it also meant having to spend time with Regina herself, who always made her distaste for Ivy clear.
Today was no exception. When Graham pulled up in front of the mansion, Regina fled out of the house in hysterics. "I can't find him anywhere. I'm really worried, Sheriff," she cried. When her eyes fell on Ivy, who leaned against the side of the police cruiser, she added, with some degree of disgust, "Oh. Hello."
"Back atcha, Madame Mayor," Ivy replied. She folded her arms across her chest, offering an innocent smile that she knew would only enrage Regina further.
"What is...she doing here?"
Graham looked back at Ivy, who prayed that he would not sell her out. "She was helping me down at the station with some paperwork. I thought she should come along and see if she learns something."
Regina glared at him. "You want to turn my missing child into a learning experience?"
"I thought I might be helpful," Ivy interrupted before she could stop herself. "Since Henry and I are close."
After a minute of deliberation, Regina set her jaw and replied, "Fine."
"When was the last time you saw him?" Graham asked, as the three walked towards the house's porch. The sun was beginning to set, now, and a cool gust of October wind hit Ivy. She shivered, wishing she'd remembered her jacket.
"I dropped him off at school this morning. He never came home. I called the school, and they said he never showed up."
For the first time since hearing the news of Henry's disappearance, Ivy started to worry. Henry would never skip school, just like that. He loved Miss Blanchard too much to just leave.
"Was there anyone who would've wanted to go after Henry?" Graham asked.
At the same time, Regina and Ivy replied, "No." Regina shot Ivy a look that probably meant, stay the hell out of this, but Ivy was unfortunately rather curious and could not bring herself to remain quiet, especially in the case of Henry, who was the closest she had to a brother.
"Henry's a good kid. Everyone likes him," Ivy continued. Storybrooke Elementary shared a campus with Storybrooke High, and Henry would often sit with her and her friends in the library during lunch while she read and they studied. Although he'd never really connected with his peers, he wasn't a troubled kid at all, besides his affinity for fairy tales.
"Would anyone target him because he's my son?" Regina asked, opening the door and stepping inside without so much as a glance behind her.
At this, Ivy couldn't help but roll her eyes. Regina had run unopposed for mayor for literally as long as she could remember. Nobody in this town had political ambitions besides her.
"It's a possibility," Graham answered, ever the pragmatist.
"Have you checked his castle?" Ivy asked Regina.
The woman scowled at her. "Of course I checked the castle. I'm not an idiot."
That, she was not. Regina may have been shady and mean, but she was definitely not an idiot. Ivy shrugged, conceding to the other woman's point. Maybe a few years ago, she would've been frustrated by Regina's remarks, but at this point, they were nothing new.
Graham shot Ivy a quick, scolding look. "Anything else?"
"Not that I can think of, no." Regina wrung her wrists nervously. "Do you think he's been taken?"
Ivy knew in her heart that the answer was no. Storybrooke was an incredibly safe town. Even if she spent every moment of her free time pestering Graham and helping out at the station, the biggest problem she'd ever had to deal with was Leroy's constant drinking and passing out. Which, compared to the stuff she saw on TV, was nothing.
If she was making bets, she'd put her money on runaway. That wasn't less concerning, but Henry was a ten year old, sheltered kid. There's no way he could've made it that far.
For what felt like an eternity, Graham went through his routine set of questions, and Regina responded. With every line exchanged, Ivy became more and more convinced with her theory. She wanted to go look for Henry, not wait here for him to get back.
When she couldn't take it anymore, Ivy interrupted, "Should we start looking for him?"
Both of the adults gave her quizzical looks. She didn't understand why-it seemed like the appropriate thing to do. With every second that passed, Henry got further and further away.
"I'm going to put out a report," Graham responded, "and see if anyone has seen him since this morning. Ivy, maybe you can start talking to people on Main Street and asking questions?"
Ivy felt frustration bubbling up in her chest, but she shoved it down. It wasn't what she wanted to do, but Graham knew more about these kinds of things than she did. Maybe he was right. Thoughts of her history test had vanished from Ivy's mind, and she only had one goal in mind: find Henry.
NEVERLAND
3 B.C.
"Back so soon?"
Wren turned around, the hood of her cloak falling to her shoulders. Just minutes ago, she'd found safety in the branches of a tree, and dozed off. And now, she was back here. In this place. With this boy.
Said boy was raising an eyebrow at her and smiling cockily. Wren crossed her arms over her chest. "It's not on purpose."
Peter's smile softened into something slightly more genuine. "It usually isn't. But here you are, anyways." He took a step closer, and Wren didn't move back. Satisfied with her reaction, Peter continued, "No luck finding your missing mother?"
Wren shook her head no. She'd spent all day wandering the woods in search of food. It wasn't until the evening that she found berries she recognized, from one of the books in her mother's shop, to be edible. Before the entire shop had burned to the ground, that was.
Wren knew she couldn't blame anyone else for that-she'd been the one to light the match. It seemed like it was forever ago, and yet was just days ago, that her mother had gone missing. She'd woken up the morning after her fourteenth birthday to an empty house and the Queen's soldiers pounding on her door.
She'd panicked, then. Wren didn't know much about the Queen, but she knew to be afraid when she sent her masked soldiers. So she'd tossed a canteen, a box of matches, a journal, and a pen into a bag and fled out the back window, lighting a match and tossing it over her shoulder as she went. Since then, she'd been on her own, in a state of perpetual fear of virtually everything-the Queen's soldiers, the bears, the dropping temperature as winter approached. Soon, the streams would freeze over and she would lose her water source.
It seemed she could only find peace in her sleep, on this island.
"Are you sure she's not dead?" Peter asked bluntly.
Wren stared at him. He didn't seem to believe that he question was insensitive. It was honest like a punch to the stomach. In all honesty, she didn't have a definitive answer. If she was right, and the guards' sudden appearance correlated with her mother's disappearance, her mother could be locked in the Dark Palace dungeon awaiting execution. Though she hated to even consider it, Wren was not a good liar-especially not to herself.
"I'm not sure," she admitted. There was no point in lying to the boy in her dreams. She didn't even know if this was real, though the shell she now carried in her bag seemed to indicate that it was.
Peter nodded. "Well, in any case, you're here now. As my guest, I would like to give you a tour of the island."
"Your guest?"
"Yes. My guest. I'm the King of the Lost Boys, and it is therefore my duty to welcome you to Neverland."
Peter wasn't the first false king Wren had heard of, but he seemed the most harmless. Plus, she was intrigued by the island's potential. "Okay," she agreed finally. "I'll go with you."
He grinned at her, satisfied. "Wonderful."
STORYBROOKE
Twenty minutes later found Ivy at Granny's, where most of the town was congregated for dinner. The bell above the door rung as she stepped inside. The aroma of burgers and fries soon hit her, and Ivy realized how hungry she was. Her stomach grumbled, but there wasn't any time to deal with that.
She started at the counter, hopping up onto a barstool where Ruby was cleaning the counter.
"Welcome to Granny's!" Ruby greeted with faux-brightness, her heavy makeup distracting from her brilliant green eyes. "Today's special is fresh repression with a side of boring."
Ivy rolled her eyes playfully. She loved Ruby to death, sarcasm and all. They'd been friends for as long as Ivy could remember, with Ruby serving as the de facto big sister she never had. For years, Ruby had regaled Ivy with stories of her encounters with guys and girls passing through, her plans to move to Boston and become a model, and her loving, but rough relationship with Granny.
"Sounds delicious," Ivy quipped. "But I think I'll pass. Have you seen Henry recently?"
Ruby's brow furrowed, and she started tapping her long, scarlet nails against the counter as she considered. "He didn't come in for breakfast today. I saw him last night, though. He got a grilled cheese. Why?"
"He disappeared this morning."
"Like...taken?" Ruby asked, suddenly looking serious.
"I'm not sure. I'm helping Graham look. He was dropped off at school, but Mary Margaret said he didn't show up, and he never came home."
Ruby bit her lip. "I haven't seen him today, but I can ask around, if you'd like? And let you know if anyone has?"
Ivy nodded. "That would be great. Thank you."
"Can I get a beer?" Leroy called from a few seats down the bar.
"This isn't the Rabbit Hole," Ruby retorted. She gave Ivy a look over her shoulder of exasperation, before going to take his order.
Ivy lifted her hands and tightened her ponytail, surveying the diner to see if there was anyone else she could talk to. Ashley and Sean, seniors at Storybrooke High, were laughing over a shared plate of fries. They likely knew nothing. At a table by the window, Sidney read today's issue of the Daily Mirror while sipping coffee, as if he hadn't written the entire thing. Ivy hated talking to Sidney, but he could know something, so she hopped off her stool and headed to his table, pulling out the chair across from him.
Sidney dropped the newspaper in surprise. When he found Ivy sitting in front of him, his face flattened. "Can I help you?"
"Actually, you can," Ivy replied, smiling brightly. "Have you seen Henry today?"
Sidney offered an unamused look. "Why?"
"He didn't come home from school. Madame Mayor is quite worried," she returned. At the mention of Regina, Sidney sat up in his chair and refocused.
"He's missing?"
"Yes."
"I haven't seen him today, besides when Regina stopped by the Daily Mirror on the way to drop him off at school. I'll keep an eye out, though." He stopped, deep in thought, before perking up again. "Do tell me if you find anything else? I'm very concerned for that dear boy."
Yeah, right. More like I'm very interested in making this my front page story. Ivy resisted the urge to let the words exit her mouth, instead smiling complacently and promising, "I will."
The rest of the interviews at Granny's were fruitless. By the time she left, it was night. Darkness had enveloped the town into a strange embrace. The only thing that stood out was a bright yellow car parked across the street. She approached, curious about who it belonged to.
A blonde woman in a red leather jacket stepped out, slamming the door behind her. She leaned back down to the window and talked to whoever was in the passenger seat. The other door opened, and out stepped Henry.
Ivy was running before she realized it, towards the yellow bug. "Henry!" she called, dashing across the street.
He and the woman both turned to face her. Henry was grinning proudly, and the blonde looked mildly alarmed.
"Hi, Ivy," Henry called, waving innocently.
When she reached them, she grabbed him by his shoulders and chided, "Where the hell did you go, kid?"
"This is my mom," Henry introduced proudly.
Ivy looked up at the blonde, surprised. "Your-mom?"
She offered a smile that was more grimace than anything. "I'm Emma. I'm just trying to give him a ride home. He showed up on my doorstep."
"This is Ivy," Henry jumped in. "She's adopted too."
Ivy shook Emma's hand, before the group grew silent.
some other stuff idk
"Ivy, dearest."
She tensed at the voice. Her father. Ivy turned slowly, trying not to appear afraid. "Hi, father."
He was not having it. "Where have you been, sweetheart? I've needed help down at the shop all day."
Ivy swallowed, bowing her head and nodding. "I'm sorry, I was helping Regina look for Henry."
"It looks like you've found him. It's time to go. Goodbye, Henry," he said.
Henry maintained a blank expression. "Bye, Mr. Gold."
He grabbed her arm roughly and started pulling her down the street, towards home.
Ivy did not fall asleep until early in the morning. She hadn't been allowed to go upstairs until she'd finished helping him catalogue the store, and even then, he'd asked her to cook something for them to eat. (I've had a very long and stressful day, Ivy. I need my daughter to take care of me.)
When she did collapse onto her bed, it wasn't long until she fell asleep. As soon as she'd drifted off, she found herself on a beach.
Ivy sat up from her spot in the sand, looking around. She knew she had not been here before. She had never left Storybrooke in her life, and the sea back home was gray and rocky. And yet, there was some inarticulable sense of familiarity about this place. The beach stretched up the coast, before giving into a thick jungle.
She stood, brushing the sand off her pajamas. This was certainly a dream, and yet it felt so vivid. The water was warm, and the sand was soft, and-
"Wren?"
Ivy jumped, turning around. A lanky boy stood at the edge of the jungle, staring straight at her. She did not know who Wren was, or who this boy was, but she started towards him up the sand.
"Wren, bloody hell, where have you been?" he asked, taking long strides toward her. When he reached her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and the sides of her face, as if trying to distinguish whether or not she was real.
"I'm-who's Wren?" Ivy asked, taking a step back from the boy.
He laughed, open-mouthed and amused. Ivy didn't get the joke. Whoever he was looking for, it wasn't her. At her straight face, the boy stopped laughing. "C'mon, Wren. You're not serious."
"I'm not Wren," she answered. "My name is Ivy."
"Ivy?" He shook his head. "No, no, no. Your name is Wren. You live in the Enchanted Forest. We-I-don't you remember?"
Enchanted Forest? As in the Enchanted Forest from Henry's book? "You're mistaken," she answered, taking another step back. "I'm not Wren. I'm Ivy. I live in Maine, and I've never met you before."
"But-we were-"
Ivy waited for him to finish his sentence, but he didn't, clearly hoping that the start of it would jog her memory. She swallowed. "I'm sorry."
He looked at her again. "Maybe I'm mistaken," he conceded, though he looked less than convinced. "I apologize. My name is Peter." He extended his hand. Ivy took it in her own and shook it. "Welcome to Neverland."
"Like in the movie?" she asked, dubious. This had to be a dream, no matter how real it felt. She was just dreaming about a movie that she saw as a kid.
"What's a movie?" Peter returned, repulsed by the word.
This was a very strange dream. One of the strangest, including that time Ivy dreamt she was a cook in an upside-down house wearing socks on her head. She lifted an eyebrow at the boy-Peter Pan, she was now realizing-and thought about how to explain. "It's like a picture that moves. It's a way to record something."
"A picture that moves?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Strange."
"You live in Neverland and you think this is strange?" Ivy returned.
To that, Peter had no reply but a shrug.
"This is a very odd dream," Ivy said, slowly. "It feels so real."
"It's not a dream," Peter responded simply. When Ivy stared at him, waiting for him to continue, he added, "This is a real place. You've dreamt your consciousness here, but it's a physical reality."
"This is impossible," Ivy chided. "Where would this be, anyway? Somewhere in the Pacific?"
"The what?"
"The Pacific Ocean. God. What's happening?"
Peter ran a hand through his hair and gave her a look which communicated, Hell if I know.
"What's near Neverland?" Ivy asked. "What other islands are there?"
Peter sighed, and started scanning the ground. Ivy didn't bother asking what he was doing, just watched patiently as he picked up a stick and led her over to a patch of sand that was smoother from contact with the tide.
"Here is Neverland," Peter explained, drawing an X. "North of it is the Enchanted Forest, which is ruled by some collection of monarchs who are always fighting each other. I haven't been there in ages." Above the X, he traced a larger landmass, and added the descriptor EF to its center. "North of that is Arendelle."
Ivy narrowed her eyes at the map. She didn't understand what it meant, or how it fit into the globe she knew, or whether or not she could even trust this boy she'd dreamt up in her head. All she knew was that the Enchanted Forest was from Henry's book. Perhaps she'd been listening him too much after all?
"Between the Enchanted Forest and Neverland is a passage of water that's nearly impossible to sail through. There are a few pirates here, who have sailed through, but they're the exception. Most of them end up shipwrecked."
"Who runs the island?" A second thought occurred to Ivy. "Do you have parents?"
Peter raised his brow at her. "I am king of the island, with my Lost Boys."
I should've seen that one coming, Ivy thought to herself.
"And to your second question, I do not have parents anymore."
Ivy nodded slowly. "I don't have parents, either. They died."
"I see," said Peter, picking up a shell from the tide. "I guess this makes more sense now. I still don't understand how you got here."
Ivy snorted. "This is such a strange dream."
Peter looked at her sadly, like she was a ghost. She narrowed her eyes at him, unsure why he seemed to have some sort of expectation for who she would be. She had never met him before. He wasn't real. This was some weird movie-dream.
A loud, shrill, ringing surprised both of them. Ivy looked up. "Where is that coming from?"
"It's from your world," Peter answered quietly. "You're waking up." She felt the sky fading away, but before it did, she felt the sharpness of something against the palm of her hand, and she gripped it tightly in the dizzying sensation of sliding back and forth between opposite realities; she held onto it because it seemed to be the only constant.
Ivy woke up in bed. She reached over to her nightstand to shut off her alarm, and then threw the sheets off her body. Something clattered to the floor.
She peered down over the edge of the bed, and sucked in a breath when she saw it.
A conch shell.
a/n: hello everyone! this story has been a work in progress for literal years now and i'm very excited to finally be sharing it! it follows the show from seasons 1 to 3a and then goes completely divergent from canon. Wren is played by Lana Condor in my head, but feel free to picture her however you'd like. thank you for reading and please leave a review on the way out! much love x