Here's the second part to this sort of Neverland that Was section of the story. Thanks to those who reviewed, you made my day and inspired me to write this faster!
~Isle of Thorns~
Chapter Ten – Tall Tales (and fiery embers)
By the time Wendy came out feeling moderately refreshed, she was mildly surprised to find Peter still there lounging on the couch with a lazy smirk thrown her way. She said nothing, but glared and stayed close to the door. She had no wish to be any nearer to him.
"Come and join me. We have a lot to talk about," he said.
"No we don't," she refuted.
"Well, if you want to stay alone in this room for the rest of the day, that can be arranged."
"I survived in harsher conditions," was her quiet reply. He paused, his smirk tapering off into a serious expression. It made her slightly curious as to his thoughts, but then again, he always kept her on her toes when it came to his inner workings. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he managed to surprise her. Granted, she hadn't seen him in two years.
"It is not my intention to lock you up." Though his tone held the thinly veiled warning that if she gave him no other option, he would take it.
"Then what is your intention?" she asked. The confident look returned to his gaze then, and he sat up a little straighter and pat the cushion next to him. Wendy sighed in exasperation. If he didn't get his way, he wouldn't divulge anything.
She hesitantly sat beside him as close to the other side as she could. His expression was amused, but he allowed her space.
"Oh, don't get me wrong. You won't be leaving this island." She shifted her gaze to the fireplace. Fissures were being made in each of the logs as red-orange flame licked and crackled at the wood. She watched as flakes broke off and disintegrated, or dropped to the bottom of the pit into ash.
"I didn't make that mistake," she said. Wendy's voice was small and soft, but carried enough in the spacious room. Unbeknownst to her, the boy watched the dull expression in her eyes with…well, he didn't readily know what to make of it. She should be fearful. Or angry. Even miserable at her fate, to be moved from one prison to another. But her bearing was blank, void of anything resembling a response. It was…disquieting, he supposed.
Unexpected, was a better word.
"So," he began, and stood. Peter couldn't be still for long. It felt more natural to wander about the room, gave him a better vantage point and, psychologically, made it easier for him to attain the information he wanted. Or simply make his company uncomfortable enough to be wary.
"My shadow takes you back to your home in the Enchanted Forest through your open windows, and then…what?"
He circled around the couch, but Wendy only blinked and looked down at her lap.
"You ran away?"
At her silence, he probed further and came into her line of vision by rounding the corner.
"No? Perhaps your father found out about me and handed you over to the Evil Queen."
Her eyes flicked up to his, and he saw something spark in them. But what, he could not be certain.
"Warmer?" he asked with a cheeky grin. She looked away and didn't see his annoyed frown.
"Ah, I guess not. Hmm, this is an intriguing puzzle," he mused, as if he were only talking to himself. With his hands folded behind his back, he continued.
"He caught you upon your return, didn't he?" At this her mouth parted slightly, but her silence persisted. A slow grin formed across his face at the subtle shift in her demeanor. When he came to stand behind and to her left, he moved a strand of hair behind her ear.
"And he found out about our…nightly excursions."
Her head snapped in his direction and on instinct, she moved away from his touch. Wendy's lips were pursed as her eyes narrowed.
"He didn't," she said at last, to his satisfaction. "But guessed it was you're doing."
"Ah, so you lied," Pan said with a nod.
"He was more willing to believe that you had taken me against my will," she said. It wasn't worth it to explain the details; she had lied by not telling Garen the whole truth, and that was all that mattered in the end. Perhaps if she had, things would have been different.
"I see…and after?" he asked. Though he saw the pain and unwillingness in her eyes, coupled with the stubbornness he found himself remembering. Her mouth clamped shut, and he sighed, relenting.
Perhaps a change in tactic is in order.
"We've spent enough time chatting," he decided, catching her attention. "I think we could both do with some fresh air."
The camp was everything she remembered. Open and busy with boys running to and fro, sparing and eating and laughing. There were probably only twenty of them at most, but they seemed to be content in a place they thought they belonged. Wendy had thought so too, once.
Peter led her on, greeting Lost Boys who offered a "good morning, Pan!" and ignoring those who threw the girl strange looks as she trailed behind their leader. The only one she didn't see that she knew was Felix. Not that it would be pleasant if she saw him.
Peter stopped once they reached the middle of the clearing. He whistled in order to get the attention of all, and Wendy looked at him in confusion. He slipped her a cheeky grin before addressing the rest.
"It seems we have an addition to our island, boys."
"But…she's a girl!" one refuted. He was missing one of his front teeth (or perhaps they hadn't grown in before he came to be in Neverland), and had a blonde, scruffy mane of hair that reminded Wendy of her brother John.
John! Michael! Where are they? They must be here, she thought guiltily at not having remembered earlier. Her eyes frantically searched the crowd of boys, but she couldn't sight of either.
"A good observation," Peter remarked dryly. "She has been a guest of Neverland since before you even got here, Tootles."
The younger boy shrank back at the small rebuke, and Peter continued.
"Wendy will be staying with us for a while…I trust all of you will make her feel welcome."
No sooner had he finished speaking when twin voices carried throughout the clearing. Voices calling out her name in sheer joy. Voices that were achingly familiar, making tears well up in her eyes as she caught sight of her boys stumbling towards her. They practically tackled her into an embrace that was both warm and welcome. Wendy kissed their cheeks and apologized over and over through her tears how sorry she was for taking so long, how she would never leave without them again, and how happy she was to see them. She didn't notice how Peter ordered the rest of the Lost Boys to get on with their tasks, nor did she register him ruffle Michael's hair and take his leave.
Good enough, he thought as he viewed the sky growing closer and closer until he could touch the clouds. Flying always helped him regroup and clear his head. He had a feeling he would need the grasp on clarity when he returned.
Wendy spent the day with her brothers. They showed her the whole camp (though she had mostly already seen all it had to offer), where they slept, where they went on hunting patrols, and even showed her some of the games they played. One was a game she would rather never attempt again; her reflexes with magic were honed to an art, but somehow, kicking around a small bag of sand only using her feet wasn't a skill she possessed.
This lasted until the evening, where a meal of roast pork (or at least what tasted like pork) was in offer. Even with only salt as seasoning, it was a delicacy compared to what she'd had as of late. Wendy grew curious, while relieved, when Peter didn't show. She also thought it odd that Felix was also missing, though she then supposed it was logical to assume the two were out together.
Either way, with both gone she would have a moment's peace. Felix had never taken kindly to her in the past. In fact, he did his best to avoid her, especially in the beginning when she first met Peter. Wendy thought nothing of it at the time, but perhaps she should have.
He had often voiced his opinion that a girl (as the Lost Boys in general were of the notion that girls were more likely to gossip) who knew their meeting place and continued to return would be more liable to tell someone. Peter had brushed him off each time, and finally leveled him with a look that asserted his authority over the situation.
But while other boys were still hesitant to speak to her (though she could tell they were curious), she was able to talk with John and Michael. She was forced to avoid specifics when they questioned where she had been, what she'd been doing, and why she couldn't return right away after she left Neverland.
"I had some things to take care of, but I'm here now," she reassured.
"And you're not going to leave us again?" Michael questioned, his already doe-like eyes filling with hope.
A part of her hesitated, but eventually answered, "Of course not, Michael. I promised before, and I'll promise again now. As long as I am able, I will never leave you alone again."
That night, she followed John and Michael to their beds and tucked them in individually, as she used to when they were…well, when they all lived on the outskirts of a little village in a smaller cottage. When they were free.
She kissed their foreheads and wished them peaceful dreams, giggling when Michael tugged lightly on a strand of her hair.
"I'm happy you're here," he whispered with a grin. She smiled and stroked his cheek.
"I'm happy we're together again…now get some sleep," she said, and reluctantly withdrew. She closed the door of the hut gently behind her, though she gasped in surprise when she turned and found Peter merely inches away.
"What are you doing?" she hissed in aggravation, though she held a hand over her heart and sent him a swift glare. His brow rose in amusement.
"Escorting you back to your room," he said, and took her hand in his. Before she could blink, they were returned to the room she was so very sick of seeing. She sighed and yanked her hand out of his, and sat down on the couch.
"Did you have fun today?" was his simple question. She wanted to give him a biting retort, but when she paused thoughtfully, what came to mind was her brothers' laughter, and her own smile at their carefree antics. For the first time in so long, she was able to relax and enjoy a single moment's peace.
"I'll take that as a yes," he said, and she sighed. He raised a brow. "I didn't have to let you see them."
She looked up at him and made the mistake of peering into his eyes, blue and uncharacteristically serious.
"No, you didn't," she agreed, no matter how much it pained her. She bit her lip before adding, "thank you."
It was short, but he could see the sincerity in her gaze, even if she still didn't trust him or care to thank him in any way. It made a smirk slide onto his face as he plopped down onto the sofa beside her.
"I think it's time you told me the rest of the story," he said. Wendy was confused, until she remembered what they had talked about that morning.
"Is that what this whole thing was about? Why you let me go into the camp? To relax me before continuing your interrogation?" she asked. He cocked his head to one side.
"The sooner you tell me, the sooner I'll leave you be for the night," he pointed out. Her solid glare met his unperturbed expression.
Eventually, however, she sighed in defeat.
"The Queen…she wanted a spell from him, even when he said it would be of no use for her purpose. At the time I hadn't known she intended to murder the only living heir to her throne…she had pretty words to disguise her intentions," said Wendy. "I tried to steal it for her, but my father interceded and exposed her for what she was…he couldn't stop her from using it against him."
"What was the spell?" he asked, peering into her haunted gaze. Although, he didn't need to see her face to hear the regret and veiled sorrow in her voice as she spoke.
"An entrapment in the form of an old book. It can only seal one who shares a bond of blood with whoever initiates the spell. Since she couldn't use it on Snow White, she used it on my father," she explained. Once she finished, she finally looked up at him. His expression showed his struggle to fill in the obvious gaps.
"How?" he asked, "if you say it required a bond by blood…"
His eyes widened in realization as the implications were made clearer in his mind.
"My cousin left me for dead in my own house," said Wendy, and she proceeded to explain her quest for vengeance, rallying allies and acquiring spells to aid her plans, her subsequent failure and deportation via the Jolly Roger to Neverland. At the end of her tale, Peter nodded and stood, facing away from her to stare into the fireplace she hadn't realized had been relit.
"Why did you let me see my brothers?" she asked against her better judgment. It was probably what he was waiting for, a chance to manipulate her emotions like he always did—try and make her feel as if he actually cared, as if an act of kindness could erase everything he had done to hurt her.
"Neverland is now your home," he said. "It's time you get used to it. Your brothers will make it easier for you."
"By giving me a reason to stay," she supplied. Just as she thought, it had been part of his plan. It had worked.
"Perhaps," he allowed with a knowing grin. "But I doubt you would believe I did it just so you could see them."
"Because that isn't your nature," she said, giving the back of his head a sharp look. She couldn't see the way his grin turned into a smirk, but she could guess it.
"I'm giving you an opportunity of a lifetime," he said, and turned to her, stepping closer. She gave him an incredulous look.
"How so?"
"You can start fresh with them, actually be a family and all that garbage you were always moaning about," he said. His amusement only grew with her venomous glare.
"You can't actually think I'll ever be happy here."
"And why is that?" he asked innocently.
"Hmm, I wonder why?" she spat. "Why do you want me here in the first place? As another plaything you can toss about? Another lapdog like Felix at your beck and call?"
She stood and closed the distance between them, until they were mere inches away from touching. He narrowed his eyes at her, though they glittered with amusement, mischief, and something else she couldn't readily name.
"I have fought too long and too hard to break under the likes of you," she spat. Peter tilted his head to the right and leant closer to her, until she could feel their breaths mingling together. As much as he knew touching her was a bad idea, his hands gripped her waist, effectively rooting her to her spot. For so long he had denied the effect her nearness had on him, but if she asked him now, his lie would hardly be believable.
That didn't mean he couldn't use it to his advantage.
He smirked when he felt the tremor in her body and the heat in her eyes that didn't just stem from anger.
"Why would I want to break you?" His voice was low and smooth in her ear, and Wendy restrained a shiver as she grasped his forearms. "When I have missed your fire?"
Just when Wendy thought her self-control would be at its breaking point, her hands met open air. The rush of cold and loss of contact made her stumble a bit and heave a few breaths to steady herself. The couch broke her stumbling fall. And after a moment to relax her nerves, her fist met the armrest in sheer aggravation.
Well, make of that what you will. ;) There will be more to come!