I'm so sorry for the hiatus, it was just school and work and stuff and I hated that I left you guys waiting for so long. But I haven't abandoned this fic! I also made a new cover, to get myself back into this fic. Tell me what you think. Anyways, enjoy!
Chapter Fourteen
That evening, the Lost Boys celebrated their victory.
The bonfire was particularly large, and the boys danced around it when they weren't busy cooking or eating. The most Mallory could do was just sit around, eat some chicken brisket, and let Barnaby-Twigs wrap up her wrist.
"What's up with you and snappin' joints?" Barnaby-Twigs muttered, apparently annoyed that Pan had him tending to her instead of letting him join the rest of the fun. "I thought girls were s'posed to be good at staying outta trouble?"
"Oh, girls get in trouble all the time," Mallory sighed, resting her chin on her good hand. "We just know how to get away with it."
Barnaby-Twigs threw her a skeptical look, wrinkling his dirt-smudged nose, before he just shrugged. He tightened the knot over her wrist, checking to make sure the bandage and splint was tight enough. "Well, looks like you need more practice. The sprain ain't too bad, but with this and your gammy leg you won't be doin' much for a bit."
"Thanks for the professional diagnosis," Mallory said, but couldn't help but smile a little at Twig's snort. "What? You still too good for me?"
"Too good for a girl? Pfft," Barnaby-Twigs sniffed, jumping to his feet and brushing his hands on his pants. "I just think you don't belong here. You better hope that storytellin' of yours is good enough for Peter."
"Yeah," Mallory's smile slipped off her face, and she frowned at her feet. A part of her was frustrated that they didn't take her seriously, that she wasn't considered worthy of Neverland. Even if she herself didn't want to belong here, Mallory was having a hell of a time trying to get Matty back, and she'd like some appreciation, you know? If not from Peter Pan, at least from one of these other guys. "I hope so, too."
At least she had Flint's sword back. Even though she could barely use it, Mallory felt better having it in her hands. She spun it around, the point burrowing into the dirt, as the Lost Boys commenced with their little pow-wow.
She watched this dance, mesmerized by the golden flames and the pulsating shadows, going round and round… The singing and music certainly helped too, if one could call it music. Beating drums and whoops, a pseudo-Indian chant, exactly like you'd expect boys to act when living off the legends of Native Americans. Mallory wasn't even sure where they got these ideas from, if they were technically immortal, if they came from the past.
How old were they really? Did they do this, all the time? Didn't they ever get bored? Didn't they ever want to... grow up?
As soon as Mallory thought it, she shook her head. No, no, Lost Boys never wanted to grow up, did they? That was the whole point. Why? That was a harder question to answer. There was a certain allure to never growing up, sure. But how long could you be in stasis like that and not lose your mind?
Maybe they were just afraid.
Mallory blinked, surprised by this conclusion, but before she could ponder more deeply on this concept, a sudden voice drew her attention to the head of the fire. More specifically, Peter Pan's throne. The titular owner was standing on top, one foot on an armrest and his arms held out, announcing to the dancing Lost Boys, "Hear ye, hear ye, Conquerors of Neverland and Pirate Slayers! I bid you good evening, and as your host, I hope you're having a grand ol' time! Now, if you could all get yourselves settled and something to eat, we can finally get to tonight's entertainment! Mallory?"
She jumped a little in surprise when everyone's gaze turned towards her. Mallory didn't expect to have a grand introduction to her storytelling, and it occurred to her that this may be another challenge from Pan. Perhaps he was testing her mettle once again, her confidence in her own abilities.
Not about to be one-upped, Mallory straightened up on her spot on the log, raising her chin and replying, in as smooth a voice she could muster, and mimicking Pan's grandiose verbiage as well as she could, said, "Well, of course! I'd hate to disappoint any of you."
"I'd hate so, too," Peter returned with a wolfish grin, before flopping down into his seat. The boy with the scarred face offered him a plate of food, which he took without so much as a glance. "Thank you, Felix. Well, Mallory, what tale are you going to spin for us tonight?"
Ah, another game. Mallory smiled primly, the sort of way you would to someone rude you didn't like but had to pretend you did. As everyone settled down, finding their spots around the fire and at her feet, Mallory flushed under the unshielded warmth of the fire, blinking away the glare and keeping an eye on Pan out of the corner of her eye. Now that everyone's eyes were off of him, Pan had gone to leaning on one hand, and she noticed that the expression on his face had darkened quite a few degrees. Oh, what surprise, the baby boy didn't like it when no one was paying attention to him. Boo hoo.
Hands on her knees, she cleared her throat, and began.
"Well, I thought I'd start off where I left off last time." She said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. The Lost Boy's rapt attention was caught in the white of their eyes, made bright and nearly glowing by the fire. Over two dozen gazes, all on her. Mallory had a hard time trying not to look like she enjoyed stealing Pan's limelight. "When was that again? Oh, right, Mother Gothel, who had just kidnapped the baby Rapunzel and taken her to her little secluded tower in a small valley, hidden somewhere in the wilderness of Corona's kingdom."
She took a deep breath, then began: "So, for seventeen years Rapunzel lived high up in that tower, never once her feet touching the ground since she was taken that night as a babe. She was well hidden there, where none of the King's men could find her, and Mother Gothel could leave Rapunzel alone for days on end without fearing her daughter escaping.
"It was easy at first. The tower had a set of stairs winding up its interior, old stonework that promised never to fail. It was easy to climb up and down, so long as Mother Gothel's arthritis was kept at bay. But as Rapunzel grew older, and showed a curious side in her unquenchable desire to read and learn, Gothel knew that it wouldn't take long for the girl to find a way out. So she blocked both doorways, hiding both exits so that no one could come in or out of the tower either way. And Rapunzel was none the wiser."
A hand shot in the air. "Then how did Mother Gother get back into the tower without the stairs?"
"Good question!" Mallory smiled, glad that at least the Lost Boys remembered their manners this time. "Well, remember how I said Mother Gothel couldn't cut Rapunzel's hair to preserve its magic? See, funny thing, hair gets really long when you don't cut it. And Gothel let it. So Rapunzel grew. And as she grew, so did her hair - long, thick locks the color of sunlight, pure and more rich and beautiful than all the gold in the world. It was also strong, strong enough to climb if you threw it out the window, hanging from a hook, in such a way that it allowed Mother Gothel in and out as she pleased. All she had to do was call out, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!' And Rapunzel would come to the window and gleefully throw out her hair, welcoming her mother home. By seventeen, her hair was over eighty feet long! And it took Rapunzel three hours every day to clean it and brush it, keeping it perfect for her mother.
"Some of you probably don't know this, but when some kids grow older, they get more curious and independent. They want to fly from the nest, so to speak, go out in the world on their own. Which was something Gothel feared would happen with Rapunzel, who seemed to grow up so fast, even though she didn't grow any faster than any other child - Gothel tried her best, but she just couldn't crush the wanderlust from Rapunzel's heart. And Gothel couldn't just let Rapunzel go, either, she was the only way Gothel could remain young. And if Rapunzel escaped, there was the chance she found out about Gothel's true nature. What would Rapunzel do, then? She wouldn't return to Gothel, surely. Not to the witch who stole a helpless baby from her loving parents, who now thought her dead.
"But there wasn't nothing she could do to stop Rapunzel from seeing the lights on her birthday, those that glowed in the thousands, far away in the night sky every year. There was no explanation for them, no clue as to what they might really be. But they were so beautiful and calming, as strange and wonderful as the aurora borealis you see way up north. And Rapunzel dreamed of seeing these lights up close, to learn their meaning, why they only happened once a year, exactly on her birthday.
"And Rapunzel wasn't unintelligent. She knew how to read and write. She could cook and clean, do math, play chess, paint and sing - all basic skills Gothel taught her, things every well-to-do girl should know, to prepare herself for the outside world. She hadn't a clue that Gothel had no intention to let her leave, and Rapunzel had hoped that now, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, that she may finally be allowed to see the world beyond her little tower. It was, after all, getting a little cramped. Rapunzel had already read all of her books a thousand times over; she's painted every wall, every surface that could be painted. She'd already sung the same songs a thousand times, baked a thousand of the same pies, swept the floor thousands of times. She knew all the hiding places, all the little nooks and crannies that you might play in when you were little, but were now too small for a young woman like Rapunzel.
"And Rapunzel was lonely. She only had one friend, a quiet chameleon named Pascal, who also wished to leave the tower and see the lights. Rapunzel's desire to meet new people, see new things, was greater than any fear or danger the world might hold for her. So when Mother Gothel came to her tower that morning, shouting 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,' Rapunzel did so with hope in her heart and a smile on her face.
"Mother Gothel returned with food and paint for Rapunzel, and it took the girl several times to get Gothel's attention long enough to ask her question. 'Mother Gothel, I wanted to know -'
Here Mallory tested her voice acting skills, putting on an older, slightly sing-songy voice, with a condescending tone. "'Not now, child. I must see what new wrinkles I have in this mirror.'
"But I wished to ask -'
"Not now, child. I must count the gray hairs that appeared in the night I was away.'
"Please, it's important -'
"More important than your own mother? Please, Rapunzel, don't be so inconsiderate. And have you been eating? You're looking a little thin.'
Mallory returned to her regular narrating voice: "Mother Gothel must, of course, have a taste of the golden flower before hearing anything Rapunzel had to say. Rapunzel, too excited to wait, broke a record in how fast she could sing that lullaby, and poof! Mother Gothel was young again.
"And Rapunzel said to her, 'Mother Gothel, there's only one thing I want for my birthday. I was, well, I was wondering if maybe I could leave the tower? I mean, I'm almost grown up now. And there's so much I want to see…'
"But Mother Gothel just laughed. 'Leave the tower? Why would you ever want that? Don't you know what dangers lie out there, just lying in wait to snap up a naive little girl like you, Rapunzel? The ruffians and thieves, scoundrels and quicksand! Monsters that will hunt you in the night, and the plague that will get you in your sleep! No, no, Rapunzel, I can't let you leave. Besides, towers are respectable homes for maidens, don't you think? Oh, come now, Rapunzel, don't cry. Mother always knows best.'
Mallory could see the irritation in the boys' eyes, and she was pleased that she got them to dislike the villain as much as she intended. Mallory could only shrug and continue: "And that was that. Rapunzel could not longer make her argument, as Mother Gothel was no longer willing to listen. But secretly, Gothel was still afraid, and so she locked all the windows, save for her exit, hoping to discourage Rapunzel and keep her from gazing longingly at a world she couldn't have. Mother Gothel couldn't stay, of course, to make sure Rapunzel did anything stupid. She had to leave, take care of more personal business, and once more left the tower, leaving Rapunzel alone with her only friend, Pascal, to pace and ponder and sigh in that lonely tower.
She took a deep breath, and started with a new gust of energy. "Now, on the other side of the kingdom were three men hopping along the roofs of the palace of Corona. These three men were Flynn Rider and the brothers Stabbington, thieves who came to steal the crown of the Lost Princess, which lied in wait for the return of its cherished owner. The crown was kept under lock and key at all times, guarded by two dozen heavily-armed and highly-trained soldiers of the Royal Army, and was nigh unreachable unless you were the King himself…or you happened to be a very clever thief. And Flynn Rider was quite clever indeed.
"And you should know, Flynn Rider was not just any clever thief. Oh no, he was the most notorious in all the land, wanted in several kingdoms, and never having served a single jail sentence in his life. Flynn was quite good at what he did, and yet he still dreamed of having a castle of his own, of a life of wealth and easy living...but he was just a thief, and thieves don't deserve happy endings.
"Instead, he and the Stabbington brothers slipped into the castle vault from the roof, lowered in on a length of rope. With their backs turned, none of the guards noticed Flynn, and he made sure to be very quiet, as any good thief knows. He hung right above the crown, perched on its marble pedestal, and had just slipped it into his bag when in front of him, one of the guards sneezed.
"Now, Flynn was a clever thief, but even the cleverest of thieves had their weaknesses. In Flynn's case, it was that he had a funny way of never keeping his mouth shut," at this, Mallory threw a not-so-furtive look at Pan, who returned the look with one raised eyebrow, his expression a cross between offended and impressed. "Flynn loved to brag, always have the last word, even if it ruined everything. And this was no different; when the guard sneezed, Flynn could only smirk and say, 'Ugh, hay fever?'. The guard, thinking nothing of it at first, only smiled and said yes, before he did a double-take and discovered the thief that had broken into the vault. But before he could go after Flynn, he was zipped back up to the roof by the Stabbington brothers.
"Flynn had effectively ruined any stealth or subtlety his job title could afford, and suddenly the entire palace guard were hot on their tails. The Stabbington brothers were not happy with Flynn's unprofessional behavior, but there isn't a lot of time to argue when you have arrows shot at your head. They race across the rooftops, down the hill, across the bridge, and into the massive forests of Corona. The royal guard was still hot on their heels; at the head of the charge was a white stallion named Maximus, the prized ride of the guard's captain, and a fierce soldier of Corona in his own right.
"The three thieves make the mistake of stopping for a break to catch their breath, at which point Flynn finds wanted posters of all three of them. He is upset, not to find that he had a large bounty on his head and that the kingdom of Corona want him dead, but that the sketch artist failed to get his nose right. Unfortunately, Flynn doesn't have a lot of time to complain about it, because the guard have found them again!"
There was an audible tension in the air now, and Mallory didn't fail to notice how some of the boys were leaning forward, entirely rapt. She smiled, and raised one finger, "However, they don't get very far, quickly finding themselves in a dead end, surrounded by high rock walls. Flynn turns to the Stabbington brothers, offering that they give him a boost first, so that he may pull them up afterwards. However, the Stabbington brothers see through Flynn's ploy, accurately guessing that he will betray and abandon them as soon as he is at the top.
"So they ask for the satchel first, and Flynn tries to protest, but the Stabbington brothers are resolute, and Flynn reluctantly hands it over. Appeased, the brothers Stabbington lift Flynn up, just as Maximus and his charge come around the corner. The brothers reach up for Flynn, but he has a smile on his face and the satchel in his hand; the brothers never asked to keep it, after all.
"And thus the clever Flynn Rider finds himself running for his life on his own from the Royal guard. This time, Maximus is close, and he will not allow Flynn to escape with the satchel or the crown of the lost princess inside. However, things get turned on its head when Flynn, jumping over some logs and grabbing a find, suddenly finds himself flying around a tree, before he lands on the Captain of the guard just as he comes around. The Captain is knocked out of his seat and Flynn takes his place; Flynn, thinking he's home free, takes the reigns and snaps them, about to make his daring escape with both the stolen crown and the stolen horse.
"But the horse suddenly comes to a dead stop. Flynn doesn't realize it, but he has landed on Maximus, a horse so brave and true that he will not tolerate a dishonorable man to ride him. Flynn only realizes his mistake too late, and by then Maximus is already trying to get the satchel back, snapping with his mouth at the bag and nearly taking Flynn's leg with it.
"It's a mad scramble off the devoted horse, and Flynn has to fight with Maximus over the satchel — but in their horseplay, the two accidentally send the bag flying….over a cliff, where it goes over and would have fallen to the bottom of the valley, had it not been for one lonely tree. The handle of the satchel is saved by only one branch on that lonely tree, and it hangs precariously from its strap off the branch. Flynn and Maximus run after it, trying to beat each other, with Flynn just barely keeping the lead. Soon enough, both find themselves on this lonely tree hanging over the ravine, and Flynn has just reached the satchel, crying out in victory, when the tree trunk, not strong enough for the weight of both a full-grown horse and man, snaps.
"The two go tumbling down the ravine, screaming at the top of their lungs. They are separated in the fall, with Maximus landing in a soft patch of grass, while Flynn ends up hiding some twenty feet away behind a rock. Maximus immediately gets up and starts searching for Flynn, who still has the satchel. Flynn, looking for a better place to hide, is about to climb a cliff wall covered in plants, only to discover an empty tunnel behind the vine. Curious, he goes inside, wandering through a long dark tunnel. On the other side, he finds himself in a small valley, with a field of flowers, a small lake and, most importantly, a single tower standing at the very center.
"Flynn Rider, not being the man to question such things as strange towers abandoned in the middle of nowhere, considers it the perfect place to hide from Maximus and the rest of the guard until it's safe. Not daunted in the least bit by its height, Flynn climbs up the side of the tower, using two arrows the guard shot at him as anchors. He reaches the top window and slips inside. The tower is dark and quiet, and Maximus cannot find his trail.
"For now, Flynn is safe. He slams the window shut behind him, and is just about to admire the stolen crown, when something heavy and metal smacks him on the back of the head, and the world goes dark." Mallory sat back, and let the silence stretch for two seconds before she sighed, as though exhausted, and said, "Well, that's all I have for tonight!"
A collective groan rose up from her audience, boys slumping forward as all the tension broke at her conclusion. There was something especially cruel and delightful in ending on a cliffhanger, Mallory realized, and couldn't help but grin at their frustration.
"No fair!" One boy cried, shaking a fist. Nibs, from the looks of it. "I want a real ending."
"Yeah! This one stinks!" Another said.
"Oh, come on now," Mallory chided, giving them a fake pout, planting her hands on her hips. "If I ended the story then, it wouldn't be much of a story, would it? Don't be such a bad sport, everyone knows good things come to those who wait. And I promise you, I'll have more tomorrow night."
There was some grumbling to that, but no one else offered any complaints or criticisms. Then a slow clap fills the air, and everyone turned their head to look behind them, at Pan, who put his hands together in what Mallory could only describe as an ironic gesture. "Well done, Mallory. For a second there, I actually thought you might fail to live up to your potential. But I see our decision from the earlier night has held true. Well, I think that concludes for tonight's entertainment, don't you think, boys? What a lovely bedtime story to fall asleep to."
Mallory made a face, a little disgruntled at her oration being dumb-down to a bedtime story. Even if, technically, it was true. Still, the way Pan said it made it sound like Mallory was reading Goodnight, Moon or something equally simple and childish.
"Aw, now?" A boy complained.
"I ain't even tired yet!" Another said. This time, Mallory recognized Barnaby-Twigs, and would've smirked at his little pout if Pan hadn't already ruined her mood.
But just like that, everyone had forgotten about her, now focused on Pan again. Which was probably his intention. Beside him, the older boy — Felix, Mallory remembered the name — whispered something into Pan's ear. Pan tilted his head, considering whatever it was Felix suggested, before raising his hand to quiet the protests. The Lost Boys silenced at once. Pan said, "I think, after a day like today, we all deserve some rest. After all, there will still be more pirates for us to fight tomorrow, right?"
Mallory found that excuse to be rather lacking, but surprisingly it was enough to settle the boys. Everyone sighed, and a few yawned; the Lost Boys were just that, boys who needed serious nap time. And Mallory wasn't going to complain so long as Pan's trick actually worked.
As everyone got up and found their usual sleeping spots, Mallory used her sword as a crutch of sorts to get her to her tree — Mallory wondered when she started calling it that, and wondered if it was inappropriate. Nothing on Neverland could really belong to her, and if she started considering anything here as such, did that mean she was getting too comfortable? Because getting comfortable in Neverland was the last thing she wanted. What if Pan never let her leave?
Speaking of.
She approached Pan, who was busy playing with what appeared to be a compass. With one hand, Mallory pulled off the whistle hanging from her neck, and held it out to him. "I think this is yours."
There really was no reason for her to go out of her way like this, but Mallory was wary of any tricks Pan might pull. Besides, she wanted to speak to him anyways, and this seemed as good a reason to start as any.
Pan blinked, staring at the golden whistle for a second before looking up to smile at Mallory. He raised a hand, pressed it against hers, closing her fingers over the whistle. "Oh, you can keep it. Returning gifts is rude, you know, Mallosaur. Besides, you can still use the whistle to call for help, or whenever a silly girl likes you gets lost on the island."
"Hmph," Mallory pursed her lips. Pan's skin was warm, but luckily the insult distracted her from such weird thoughts. She withdrew her hand, held it to her chest. Mallory wasn't about to put the whistle back on in front of him. "Well, thanks, I guess. But actually, I...I wanted to ask you something."
The reaction she got was exactly what Mallory expected from Pan by now. He squinted at her slightly, leaning back in his seat and fixing her with a mischievous look. "Is that so?"
"Uh, yeah," Mallory scowled at the dirt at her feet. It was starting to become a common desire to punch Pan in his smug little face; this instance was certainly one of them. "I just wanted to know why you took my brother."
"Why?" Pan repeated with emphasis, tilted his head ever so slightly. It reminded her of a snake, or maybe a cat, analyzing its prey.
"Yeah, why. You took him for a reason, right?" Mallory said. "He's too old to be a Lost Boy, so you didn't need him for that. It's something else. It has to be."
"And how do you know if I didn't just take dear old Mathias because I felt like it?" Pan pointed out with a cheeky little smile.
"Because that's not how you think," Mallory retorted, giving a little annoyed toss of her head. She kept her voice low, not wanting to draw attention to this conversation as the clearing around them quieted with sleeping boys. "You don't do things like that just because you feel like it. You must have a-a plan, or something."
Pan studied her for a second, his expression inscrutable, spinning the compass in his hands. Then he shrugged, coming to a stand. Mallory stepped back as he said, "Well, well, you know me even better than I thought, Mallory. I guess there's more to you than just a pretty face and a silver tongue, huh?"
"So there is a reason?" Mallory said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice at finally getting something right. "What is it?"
But Pan just smiled enigmatically, tapping her on the nose. "Oh, but you already know the answer to that, Malzipan."
Mallory blinked, flinching at his touch. She shook her head, staring at Pan in bewilderment. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? How was that possible? She didn't think anyone else even knew… "Wait, you mean —"
Pan just winked at her, stepping backwards, then turning on his heel and heading for the edge of camp. Mallory couldn't finish the sentence, rendered speechless by his seemingly omniscience. She could only stand there dumbly, watching as Pan disappeared into the darkness of the jungle.
There was no way…
Unfortunately, there wasn't much else Mallory could do about the subject, with Pan gone. Heading back to her tree, the wink seemed to repeat over and over again in Mallory's head; there was no doubt in her mind that she and Pan were at a complete understanding over one another about why Mathias was here on Neverland.
Still. That didn't tell her what Pan needed him for.
She sighed. Of course Pan managed to avoid telling her what Mallory really wanted to know. Surprise, surprise.
Reaching the top of the wooden staircase, Mallory rested Flint's sword against the side of the tree and was about to jump inside her little nook.
Except someone was already inside.
And it wasn't a Lost Boy.
"Well, it's about time."
A woman, dressed in a roughly-hewn dress and corset, sitting cross-legged on the bedmat. She had blonde, curly hair pulled back and an irritated look on her face. Her skin seemed to sparkle, although that had to be a trick of the light.
"Who're you?" Mallory stumbled back, caught off guard. Was this another one of Pan's little games? Who was this woman? Where had she come from?
"I've been waiting for some time to meet you, Mallory Farthing," She regarded Mallory with sharp blue eyes. "My name is Tinkerbell. We have something to discuss."