Chapter One:

Clary kept her bright, hazel eyes focused as she counted the stars, seeing the numbers drop lower and lower. She released a heavy sigh, wishing she could float up and follow them. Disappear as just another lost number. Another lost girl.

Her legs dangled below her, far too high to even think of reaching the ground. Palms indented on the floor beneath and back arched, so she could see out the top of the leaves shrouding her view. She spent most of her time here, on her perch, swinging in the trees. Wooden beams kept her enclosed, leaves covering the top from view. A few blankets and a pillow added comfort so she could sleep her time away.

The camp was fairly silent for once, Pan was in one of his moods, so everyone was keeping their distance. She had wanted to ask for a covering or jacket some time ago but thought it better not to bother. Shivers caused goose bumps to texture her skin, the blanket she had draped around her shoulder not doing much to contain any heat. The lower thigh length dress didn't help either, rough fabric edges tickled her skin. The top half had a mixture of different coloured layers which did well against most cold, it rested fairly high towards her throat, but only reached just above her elbows.

She couldn't wait to be lowered when food was ready, so she could really sit by the fire, but until then she was left with the muted heat of the embers that barely reached where she nested.

Giving up on her counting as it just made her feel mournful, she shuffled further into the wooden frame, content that Pan's magic would keep it steady. Moving another, but smaller, blanket over her legs, she became lost in her thoughts.

Pan being in a mood must mean something he had planned wasn't going well. And his plans were never good news. It made her tense, which made her disloyal, which led to punishment. At the thought her hand briefly skimmed over the most recent little of scars, before forcing herself to ignore the ever-present stinging. The island was losing some of its colour, its personality. Something was happening that everyone but her knew about. She assumed it had something to do with the 'heart of the truest believer' she heard him mumbling and ranting about. The one he thought Bae might have, or Lloyd, or James, or countless other boys he'd compared to this image and discarded when they became useless to his cause. When they cried.

The light smell of fresh meat being cooked was becoming stronger and stronger, and her stomach was growing impatient as she was left waiting. The smell was causing more a rummage below, as lost boys trickled back into camp, which meant conversations begun and the fire strengthened to heat so many.

Peter had been pacing through camp a few times, as had Felix and Cae, but other than that, he had remained rather absent. Not that she would complain, it was just one of those boring days where she couldn't do anything but sit or etch or sleep. The trees surrounding her were covered in hundreds of drawings and becoming scarce of space which concerned her. Without the books he kept hidden unless she was really good or the natural paints or clay, she had little to do in the way of entertainment. They spent most of their days sleeping anyway, as the heat on Neverland could be more brutal than the cold. Night-time was their haven, to dance and cheer and hunt, everything was done during dusk till dawn. She preferred night anyway, so found no issues in seeing her stars, watching mermaids, chasing fireflies.

Jerking her alert, the perch was slowly lowered down, and Cary hopped down from where it stopped, her bare feet almost silent on the soft ground. Roger handed her a bowl and moved on quickly. No physical contact and no eye contact. No contact with anyone other than Pan.

She stretched her legs, resting the bowl in her perch as she cracked her bones and shook her limbs to rid the cramp from her body. Debating where to sit, she determined she was done with the perch for the day and curled in front of the closest tree to the fire, the warmth adding a glow to her skin.

Grumbles of greeting and rustling alerted her to Pan's return, which she glanced up at and sighed again.

Peter Pan stood somewhat shadowed by the flickering of the fire, dark and poised even in the gate of light. His trousers just skimmed his calf, boots reaching the top of his ankles, where the edge of a knife could be seen poking out the side. He was subconsciously adjusting the leather cuff around his wrist, the cuff that connected to the anklet she wore around her own ankle. His own layers jacket was done up to cross over other, tied with a belt that was much plainer than her own, but made with the same dusty leather as his boots. The collar of his shirt was caked in blood, as was the side of his neck and some splatters on his cheek. Clary could just make out a few glistening strands in his rough hair as he spoke in hushed voices to Felix.

When he finally moved away from the fire, he was handed his own bowl of food, which he accepted with a nod before his eyes flickered to her perch. Seeing it empty, it didn't take long for his emerald gaze to locate her agile form masked by the edges of the tree.

Strolling towards her, he took a seat on the closest log to her, using his fingers to dig apart the meat of the animal, capturing any liquid to split down his fingers with a languished stroke of his tongue. She looked away then and heard him chuckle distractedly. He knew the effect he had on her to the extent that he barely had to try.

"Did you catch dinner?" she asked, knowing silence would just provoke him to becoming bored and touching her or riling her up somehow.

"No," Pan grumbled, throwing his bowl into the waiting hands of another lost boy, who stacked them with the others. "One of the lost boys fell."

Clary paused in eating her own food, staring at the last few remaining pieces with a sorrowful look before making herself continue before she made Peter mad. Any weakness was to be dealt with. Most likely he fell and had no way to redeem his strength in Pan's eyes, so he was killed. If Peter thought for a second she felt any sympathy for another boy on the island, his jealously wouldn't work in her favour.

Standing up, she returned the bowl with the others before stretching her back against the tree, then her legs again. Peter just watched her with knowing eyes that skimmed down her body. However, his gazing was interrupted as his head jerked suddenly towards where Clary knew the shore was. Curiosity spiked, she couldn't help the glint of hope that blossomed in her chest, threatening to consume her.

"Felix" he ordered, who had already assembled a group of boys, awaiting orders. "Go give them the official Home Office welcome."

Clary watched them go with suspicion, seeing Pan become almost giddy as he waved the blood off himself.

"Get in" Pan ordered, not glancing at her defeated expression.

"I have been this whole time" she commented, before seeing his eyes flash in warning. With a frustrated huff, she climbed back into the perch, Pan waving his finger so bars surrounded what was the exit, trapping her inside. "What's happening?" she dared to ask.

Pan turned to her with a slanted, manic grin spreading across his face.

"The game."

Welcome to my new fanfic. If you've read The Prince's Prisoner, you will find some similarities in behaviour and Clary/Aria. There is only so much original content I can think off.

This will be dark, most likely darker than TPP. This is your warning!

Any feedback on how this sounds, let me know. You are entering this story smack-bang in the middle of their relationship, so some chapters might be flashbacks to past events, but most 'should' be the present story.

Please message me or review on initial thoughts, or idea's throughout.

Thanks Tayz x