The Golden Age, 1002

Peter had a difficult time admitting it to himself, and he certainly would never admit it to Lucy, but he was finding himself unsettled by the oddest things recently. He was convinced that it was her. For what else could it be? He wasn't certain what it was about her that made him think strange thoughts, but all the same, it was happening. It was if she pulled them from the depths of his brain despite his reluctance, like they couldn't help emerging just for her. And despite his vow to always remain the same even in his thoughts, he couldn't bring himself to give Lucy up and stop them from changing. She was the first human soul he had encountered in what must have been a hundred years. A child, too! A friend.

Lonely was a word he wished he did not know the meaning of. He hadn't, not before his Narnian years. He had always had the company of his Lost Boys to fend off this feeling. Even when he had sometimes lived in Kensington Gardens, Tinker Bell had always been at his side. Then came the period of time before Lucy. That was how he measured time now, before and after Lucy. Time had stretched out interminably as it had never done before for him. It was almost as if Time itself had betrayed him.

Before he had met Lucy he never really lingered on thoughts about Tinker Bell and the Neverland and the Lost Boys, about Kensington Gardens and the taboo subject of his parents. It wasn't in his nature to remember. Of course, the thoughts flitted in occasionally, but then they flitted right out again. Now these thoughts flitted in and—stuck, as if caught in a spider web. His head was increasingly full of uncomfortable thoughts. That wasn't him. That had never been him, it defied his very nature. He lived in the moment, he went on adventures, and he thought only of himself. And most of all, he never changed. Except…

She would ask the most troublesome questions that would get him thinking. Really thinking. There were new things happening inside of him, and he had an inkling of what they were, no matter how much he wished ignorance still reigned. From a long time ago, Peter faintly remembered other little girls talking to him about feelings. He hadn't known then what the feelings they spoke of were, but now…

He felt new things. Things like worry. What had happened to Tinker Bell? She had been missing for ever so long, and Peter had never truly searched for her. But now she could be anywhere. Peter didn't keep track of time, it had never been important before. What was time to a boy who intended to go on living forever? But he was sure that he had been in Narnia for a long, long time. It was hopeless to try and find her now. He didn't know what the name of this feeling was, but it was a tightness in his chest at the knowledge that if he had only thought of someone other than himself, he might know where she was. This feeling plagued him constantly now. Lucy would know the name of this feeling. She had probably experienced all of them before, but it was all new to him.

New, and overwhelming. For the truth of the matter was that Peter Pan had never felt very much, and what little he had was greatly subdued and diluted. You and I wouldn't recognize any of his poor vestiges of feelings as any of the ones we have experienced and are familiar with ourselves. I am afraid, and rather reluctant, to admit that Peter Pan was really quite a shallow little boy. He had never been a total void, he had felt compassion for a frightened creature, troubled when he did not know all the details of a situation, and protective when he believed that someone under his care might be in danger. But these were brief sentiments, always. He could not remember to be bothered by them for long. His heart had never throbbed or bled with pain. He had never felt anything deeply, all the way down to his bones.

For the first time in his life, Peter found himself missing the Lost Boys, the ones that had grown up and returned to England, as was the natural order of things. He found himself mourning the friends that he had constantly lost. A terrible heat streaked through him every time the realization struck once more that he couldn't remember their names. Not a single one. He felt, down to his very bones, that there was something horribly wrong with that. He was afraid, yes, afraid. He knew one day Lucy would have to grow up too. She would grow up and he would lose her friendship. Maybe he would forget her name too.

Peter even felt a little lost himself. He loved Narnia, and it had become his home. But now—now he remembered the Neverland, and he remembered how he had tried to return from a stay in Kensington Gardens and the heavens had refused him. He had not had to search for the Neverland before, but that night he had, and he had been unable to find it. He had been rejected from his home and had drifted after desperate efforts, waking to find himself thrust into the unfamiliar Narnian forest. Was the Neverland gone forever? Had children grown so disbelieving, that they had really and truly brought an end to the land of dreams? Peter had never thought of the Neverland as small until he came to Narnia. Everything was so concentrated in the Neverland, one didn't have to go very far to stumble upon one adventure or another. His whole world had been the forest and the beach there.

Now it seemed tiny in comparison to the world that was Narnia. It was vast, stretching in all directions. There were full fledged nations and large conflicts. Peter had flown high above the trees. He knew how very large it was. He had remained near to the comfort of a forest and an ocean through the years. In hindsight, he could understand that London had been much the same, part of what he guessed was a much wider world. He had never been curious enough to fly beyond it.

He'd never really wondered why he could fly, though he did know that other children couldn't. All these things Lucy prompted in him, and he couldn't grasp the why of it. He even found himself sitting and just thinking about the wonder that was Lucy more and more often. Her pure faith in Aslan, and all that was good and beautiful and wonderful was astounding.

Peter knew that he was not a normal boy. He also knew that he had a distinct advantage over all other children, for he lived in a magical world, and always had. He had no natural ability to doubt, but for this same reason he also had no need for faith in what he did not know for a certainty.

He had always found himself to be the most wonderful boy that ever lived. But was he the most wonderful child that ever lived? He knew he was not. And he even thought—he thought if asked, he must admit it out loud. Peter sincerely doubted that he could ever harness the level of faith that Lucy Pevensie, the Valiant Queen, possessed. He had believed that he could win any contest, but he was unsure from whence this belief had sprung, and now, whether it was justified.

Peter had always boasted about the forever he would live until. He had been alive and irresponsible for longer than anyone could keep track of. But he still didn't know what forever would really feel like. He wasn't even sure anymore that forever was something he wanted to stick around for. Was forever as lonely as now? What could be the point of outliving every living thing, only to find oneself alone? Why had this never occurred to him before?

The problem with people is, no matter whether one is three or one hundred and three, when we discover something about ourselves we would rather never have discovered, we like to pretend that we do not know it. Sometimes, we even try that much harder to be exactly what we were before. So, you see, that is what Peter Pan did. Because the truth is, he was afraid, and that was the scariest thing of all.

So Peter proceeded to pretend with all his might. Unfortunately, Lucy was the main witness of this determinedly unchanging Peter. She did not mind now, but she would. That part of the story comes later. For now, innocence reigned between the two friends. And little Lucy had not the least idea of the struggle she had initiated inside of Peter's head.

When he stopped doing, he started thinking. The key was to keep busy, and then the thoughts, and more than that, the feelings would disappear. At least, this was his theory. It took him little time to cook up an adventure.

Peter stood at the very edge of the forest. Lucy could see him all the way from the Cair. She couldn't help but wonder how long he planned on waiting for her. He must be waiting for her. He didn't know anyone else from the Cair, did he? What if she didn't come? But then—why was he just standing there like that?

Curiosity stirred (his plan, though she could not know it), she stepped away from the window and whirled down the halls of the palace, hurried down stairs, and scurried to meet him across the feet that separated the Cair from the comforting shade of the forest. The grass tickled her ankles and her excitement built. Grinding to a halt in front of Peter, Lucy just smiled at him. Per usual, her feet were bare, her newest pair of boots sitting forlornly by her bedroom chamber door. Susan was due to walk past them any minute now and scowl, as if the boots themselves were responsible for her unruly sister.

"I used to know pirates." Said he, proudly.

"Did you? What are they like? I imagine living at sea and sailing off to find adventures must be terribly thrilling."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, "They weren't that kind of pirates. I mean, they lived on the Jolly Roger, all right. But they usually kind of weighed anchor and stayed put. They liked to raid the redskins' village and took the princess captive on occasion. They were great fun."

Lucy frowned, "They don't sound very nice."

"They weren't! But don't you see that's where all the fun was? They tried to enslave the pixies once, which is ridiculous. Pixies are rather fierce, you know. Besides, the Piccaninnies held their own, they would scalp the pirates or the Lost Boys just as quickly." Peter chuckled at a memory.

"How awful."

"You should have seen the fun we had taunting grumpy Hook. Usually he was trying to kill me and the Lost Boys, but he was shoddy at it, and besides, me and my boys knew how to fight them off. Only got nicked by the hook once or twice."

Lucy grew visibly distressed, "He sounds like a proper tyrant. I've been learning about them." There was no amusement in her tone.

Whether he ignored the tone or it went over his head, she didn't know. He merely shrugged in response. Peter pulled two wooden swords from where they leant against a tree, Lucy not having noticed before, "One is for you."

"Where did you get them from?"

"I imagined them. Where else could I have gotten them?"

Lucy cast him a puzzled look and took the proffered sword, "But imagining something and it being real aren't the same thing."

Now he looked at her, puzzled, "I don't know what you mean. What do you think make-believe is for?"

Lucy just shook her head and dropped the debate, "Whatever are they for?"

"We're going to spar, of course! Come on, I'll teach you how. We can play war, and I shall call you Valiance itself."

I suppose it never occurred to Peter Pan, but playing at war was really a very grown-up thing to do. And though Lucy found it odd, at the time it did not occur to her either. Peter's account of the situation back on the Neverland sifted out of her mind like sand in the face of the wave of a new adventure.

They rushed deeper into the woods, crushed some berries and smeared crimson lines on each other's faces. Peter assured Lucy that the redskins had always done so before battle. He taught her to whoop loudly to intimidate the enemy, though their whoops were often followed by fits of uncontrollable laughter. They chased each other around and through the woods, and stalked each other, hiding in the bushes and leaping out at each other. They crossed swords roughly, but with a great deal of enthusiasm.

They challenged each other with words, as they imagined one would in battle.

"Hyah!"

"You'll never best me!"

"Just see if I can't, Sir Blaze."

"You dare challenge me, Lady Valiance?"

"I dare."

"You will find yourself outmatched."

"And you will find yourself a pile of matchsticks!"

"I'm not finished with you yet."

"I'll die before I surrender."

"Then die, you shall!"

Lucy learned to play this delightful new game, falling into bed exhausted that evening. Peter had no experience with the terrors and horrors of true battle, and it would be many, many years until he would. The duels with the pirates of the Neverland had never been more than a farce to add variety to the island, conjured by young boys dreaming of fighting a pirate and being declared a hero.

The threat of death was something that Peter had never thought about, though he had boasted often enough to James Hook that he would meet his doom. Peter, a boy who lived forever, did not understand death, and had not witnessed it. It is painful to report, then, that Lucy was the first of the cheerful duo to be disillusioned. There is no good way to brace oneself for war, and so she was quite woefully unprepared. Even so, she had years yet to enjoy the painless illusion before it was to be irrevocably shattered.

I apologize if the plot seems slow paced and that's not your thing. This is more of a deeper character study, so it will seem slow paced and slow burn.

Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, they make me smile.

Words-drip-from-my-fingertips