Chapter 19: The Buildup

Once upon a time, a boy who would never grow up lived happily on an island...until he didn't…

Sun kissed hands speckled with freckles reached out, gingerly touched a drooping flower. Peter Pan, the boy who would never grow up, watched with a downward twist of his lips as the flower seemed to wilt even more in just a few seconds. He pulled away, standing up from his crouched position and looking around.

To an outsider, perhaps even someone who had not been on the Isle as long as Peter had, the island paradise looked just that: an island paradise bright with color and sound. But they would be wrong. Peter had spent years and years and years on the island. Though he always struggled with names, he knew every face, every animal, every tree, and flower and insect. Neverland sang in his bones and every breath he took was the island breathing in as well.

But something was off. Something so minuscule that anyone else wouldn't haven't noticed until it eroded away, crumbling until everything that was being held up by it collapsed, until it was too late.

Decision clear in the way that only a child can confidently decide on, Peter flew into the air. Several minutes later, he landed on the landing of the tree house belonging to Tiger Lily. He didn't even bother to knock, walking in as was his usual habit. He found her, back towards him, writing at her desk.

"Hello Peter," she greeted without looking up.

Peter frowned, not knowing what but knowing something was...off...like the flower had been off. Like Neverland had been off. He shrugged it away though. It may have just been because Tiger Lily was a girl and girls, to Peter, were strange creatures that always seemed a bit off, even the interesting ones like Tiger Lily.

"Lily, have you been outside?" he asked, taking his customary position, legs folded under him, elbow propped up on his knee, hand holding his chin as he floated in the air.

"Hm, can't say I have this morning," Tiger Lily responded as she wrote and then crossed out something in the brown leather bound book she was writing in.

Peter squished up his nose in distaste. "It's already the afternoon Lily! How could you not have gone outside and had an adventure yet?" he asked, his original purpose for being here temporarily forgotten at the shocking news that one of his favorite playmates had thought staying inside all day was a better idea than going out and feeling the sun on her skin, the smell of the sea, and the joy that radiated throughout Neverland.

He paused, thinking why Tiger Lily would ever pass on an opportunity to go out and run amok, free of her duties as the daughter of her tribe...Peter gasped, a thought coming to mind.

"You aren't afraid of that old codfish, Hook, kidnapping you again? Because I'll always rescue ya!" he said as gallantly as possible, standing up in the air, hands on his hips.

Tiger Lily snorted, looking over her shoulder. "Peter," she chuckled. "I haven't been afraid of Hook, nor have I needed you to rescue me in a very long time."

Peter didn't process her words, too caught off guard by just how...old Tiger Lily looked. She was no longer a girl. She was a woman. An adult. She had grown old without him. Just like Jane Darling had. Just like Wendy had before that.

Before he could comment on it, an unexpected bundle of excited energy and girlish giggles entered the room in the form of a little girl. Peter was bad with age, simply declaring someone as either a child or an adult, but this girl seemed about Tootles size, small and barely coming to Peter's waist, so maybe they were the same age.

"Hi Peter!" the girl giggled in that weird way that girls always seemed to do in his presence before running up to Tiger Lily, who easily turned in her chair revealing to Peter that not only did her face look older but the rest of her body had grown as well. She easily caught the young girl in her arms, tossing her lightly in the air. "Momma!" the little girl laughed as Tiger Lily caught her, hugging her tightly, pressing kisses against her cheeks.

Peter paled. A mother.

Tiger Lily happened to look up and see the confusion and slight horror on the boy's face. "Peter," she said gently. "You remember Tiger Peony, right? My daughter."

For what felt like a long moment, Peter did not saying anything.

It felt wrong. So wrong. He may not remember every name, but he knew every face on this island and he didn't know this girl's. He didn't know this old Tiger Lily, he-

-and then, like a rubber band, everything snapped into place.

Yes, this was Tiger Peony, daughter of Neverland's Chief, Tiger Lily. Peter had taught Peony how to fly before she could even walk. Tiger Lily had decided to grow older and lead her people...while Peter would remain a young boy forever…

"You forgot again, didn't you?"

Peter shook his head, grinning as he flew closer. He poked Tiger Peony in the nose, the little girl letting out a peal of giggles. "Of course not! I was just testing you! Making sure you weren't becoming a boring adult."

Tiger Lily looked unconvinced. However, before she could say anything, a horn was sound in the distance. "He's here," set Tiger Peony on her feet before standing up.

"He's here! He's here!" the little girl stamped her feet happily.

Peter frowned. "Who's here?"

Tiger Lily walked past, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze, Peter for a moment catching something unreadable in her eyes. He didn't know what it was but he didn't like it.

"King Adam, of course. And he would like to speak with you."

WLTF

Gods, even the lesser ones, could move easily in and out of the constraints of the space and the laws of physics that surrounded them. They moved seamlessly in ways that mortals - even those who had the ability to connect and manipulate the magic around them - couldn't ever hope to grasp. They could walk into slivers of time and space that stretched like endlessly long corridors between the past, the present, and the future. They could even travel between realms, galaxies, and realities, as easy as climbing up a flight of stairs.

It was on a flight of rarely used but still pristinely polished stairs that Persephone climbed, the familiar earthy smell of dirt and rot from the River Styx fading to be replaced by the sharp smell of ozone...and lightning.

Her dark gown, woven with rose thorns and creeping ivy and the long dead roots gifted long ago from Mother Willow when she was just a sapling, melted off her body. It was quickly replaced by a lighter cloud like dress that solidified around her as the softest of materials, trailing after her like autumn leaves in the wind. It was yellow as deep and bleeding as the sun rising. Trimming made with young green vines decorated the hem and ran into the golden clasps at her shoulders. A beautiful gown woven as the embodiment of spring. Too frail to survive even the mildest of frost or the shadows of the Underworld.

Her crown, woven with thorns and the eerie grey petals of asphodels grown from her very own plot of the Elysian fields, disappeared, tucked away in her own pocket of space. The comforting weight of the crown of the Underworld was replaced with a thin woven ringlet of golden barley that felt uncomfortably light and ill fitting against her brow. The sickly sweet smell of mint clung closely to her, the only armor she could afford to keep when summoned to Olympus.

"There was a reason why I created an elevator from Olympus to the Underworld millenia ago. Makes shuffling souls around from the mortal realm to the Underworld a little speedier," a voice sighed above her. "Not that I don't love what you did with redecorating down there. I do. Really. I swear! If you hear anything different than Dionysis is a damn liar! And a drunk! Wait, don't tell him I said that. The liar part, not the drunk part. I still like getting his little gift baskets of wine on my birthday, or the day that I decided my birthday will be this century. Tell me, do I seem like a Gemini?"

Persephone paused in her journey. Looking up, she found her mouth genuinely curving into a fond smile despite her previous dark mood.

Winged heels landed soundlessly next to her, attached to an outfit of a blue modern men's suit blended with a white robe that was trimmed in gold and knotted high at the waist in the old grecian athletic fashion. The appearance he had chosen for the last couple of hundred of years was tall and unsuspecting in its gangliness with dark hair cut neatly and blue eyes that twinkled with tempered mischief. It was the only sign in an otherwise handsome but unassuming face that he was the herald of the gods, protector of shepherds and travelers. The one who guided thieves and those of cunning wit. The god who guided the dead to the Underworld. This was Hermes. This was her oldest friend.

"Did you decide what day yours will be this century?," he continued speaking aloud his face pace train of thought. "Your birthday, I mean. Am I invited to the party? I hope I'm invited. But please don't give me a pity invite just because I'm the one that has to deliver the invitations. Besides, emails are quicker. You know what else is quicker? Elevators!" he clapped his hands. "A lot quicker than stairs. Less creepy too. Especially these stairs. Yeesh! Like, have you wondered what kind of shady figures - no pun intended - hang out around here? Maybe I should get you that human mace stuff the next time I visit you. Or you can, you know, take the elevator. Did I say that already? I think I did. But I'm saying again. You can take the elevator. You are, you know, allowed to use it being Queen of the Underworld and all. And again, less creepy. Wasn't joking about the mace."

"Hermes," she greeted him warmly, accepting his kiss to her cheek, not at all put off by his tangential speech. "I was wondering when you would grace me with your energetic presence."

"You flatter," he teasingly blew a raspberry at her, crossing his arms in mock offense. "But seriously, oh Queen of the Underworld. You shouldn't be slinking around in the back stairwells of existence."

Persephone linked arms with him, continuing forward. "You know I enjoy the time to think and prepare before coming back to Olympus. Especially after Hades's...departure..." she trailed off before taking a deep breath.

"I know," Hermes softly reassured, his usually fast paced energy mellowed by her somber expression. The "I'm sorry," hung unsaid but known in the air between them as it had done for the last two decades.

Afterall...it had been Hermes who had snatched Hades from out of her grasp and placed her husband in some place that she could not follow. The isle that the mortals and their fairies had created with Zeus's blessings.

The smell of mint became overwhelming but Hermes didn't comment as they continued to ascend, finally reaching the top of the stairs.

"Why was I summoned, Hermes?" Persehphone finally asked, hands gripping his arm tighter. "I had thought Zeus had tired of me," she said neutrally, pushing away eons old thoughts of unwanted hands grazing her skin, pulling her close, laughing as she cried, as he-

Persephone forced herself to unclench her hands, the indentation of her fingernails in the palm of her hands releasing a faint mint smell before she thoughtlessly made the broken skin smooth and perfect again.

Hermes nervously glanced around the open air hall, the finery and opulence that was Zeus's home growing more and more with each step. "You know Zeus doesn't let me in on his plans. I just deliver them," he tugged on his tie, giving his free hand something to do. When that didn't help, he manifested his golden staff, twirling it deftly in his hands like a baton. "You didn't hear this from me," he began after a moment, tone serious. "But word on the Greecian streets is that the old man is furious with you."

A regal brow arched. "You're right. I didn't hear that from you. Zeus's disdain for me isn't exactly the freshest of Olympic gossip."

Hermes swerved in front of her, stopping her. He landed, gently but firmly grabbed her shoulders. "This isn't Zeus's usual pettiness, Sehph! You claimed a demi-god that wasn't your direct descendant! He'll use this as a claim that you're not fit to rule!"

The golden barley crown across her brow withered, turning as dark as ash. The air around them grew cold as the smell of burnt mint grew sickeningly sweet. "Uma is mine ," Persephone said with deathly quiet. "I am a queen. Whatever is my husband's is therefore mine by right!"

"You know he won't see it like that," Hermes said gently, ignoring the dark twisting vines that crept up his legs. He knew she wouldn't hurt him but he also knew that one did not gain the moniker "Dread Queen" for nothing. "Maybe if we were talking about any other demigoddess. Anyone but her." He shook her gently but firmly. "You remember what the Fates prophesied, don't you?"

Persephone mouth hardened.

The vines that had at this point wrapped around up to Hermes's torso, recoiled. After a minute, Hermes slowly loosened his grip on her shoulders. Another minute, and he stepped back. "Kore, you're my best friend." the messenger of the gods sighed softly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Gods didn't grow tired, nor get headaches. Not in the same ways that mortals did. At that moment though, Hermes felt the millennia of his existence weighing heavily on his shoulders.

"But Zeus is my king. If you choose to keep championing Poseidon's spawn, you'll never get to see your son, not even when he reaches maturity."

Persephone was silent, looking down at her feet. "Thank you," she murmured softly.

Hermes reached out to comfort her. His hand stopped short when the smell of mint, that had yet to cease, grew thicker and heavier in the air. The Goddess of Spring lifted her head revealing the cold and withering glare of the Queen of the Underworld.

She shouldered past him, her bright yellow dress casting aflame in scorching blue flames that had Hermes jumping back. The flames died down as suddenly as they appeared revealing a dress dark enough to swallow the light of the brightest star, the crown on her head glowing with the eerie embers of Hades. An ensemble fitting of dread Queen Persephone.

"Thank you, Hermes, for reminding me just how much you Olympians underestimate me," the queen looked over her shoulder at him. "You know there's a saying the mortals have. It's cute, but fitting, especially when I adapt it a little. 'Hell hath no fury like a queen scorned'."

Hermes blinked, golden rod hanging loosely in his hands. "Is that a threat?"

The queen only gave him a dark smile. "Oh no my dear," she tisked, lightly tapping his nose. "That's a promise."

WLTF

Her outfit was dirty. Her hair was a mess. There was a tear in her skirt that would never sew up nicely. And oh! Evie didn't even want to think about what her makeup looked like at the moment!

She was sitting in some sort of meadow, surrounded by trees and florals that maybe at one point could have been such a lovely and vibrant green but now seemed dull and listless in a way that was difficult to put into words. It felt like ash was on her tongue. Like the world around her was slowly bleeding of its color.

A part deep within her, a part that barely brushed against her consciousness, ached with one thought that she strangely knew to be true: Neverland is dying.

"I can't believe you're back!" Pan exclaimed excitedly, distracting her from the feeling of decay and rot that had settled in her stomach. He cartwheeled in genuine happiness in the air. Boyish laughter filled the air before he stopped suddenly in front of her a wide fond grin on his lips. "I mean, you said you would be back but it's always difficult with you and your pretend game. Never know if it'll be you or you but not you," he waved his arms around excitedly. "Best pretender I know! You're called Evie this time, right? That's what I heard the Boy King call you."

Evie nodded, smoothing out her features into a pleasant smile. She didn't know what he was talking about at all but she pretended, just as he said, that she was talking to Dizzy. She made her voice fill with the same care and love and patience she gave the younger girl while also looking for an opportunity to escape.

"That's right! Such a smart boy you are, Peter!" she praised, watching the way the boy preened. "I work with High King Ben as one of his Royal Councilors and-"

The laugh that abruptly came from the boy startled Evie, her smile tensing. "Oh that's- that's a perfectly wicked game you're playing," he gasped between his laughter.

He suddenly flew closer to her, his face just a mere few inches. And despite a voice in the back of her head that whispered, "This is wrong. He is wrong," Evie couldn't help her heart from breaking, just a little bit, for this boyish being. He gave her the most earnest smile, decades worth of sadness tucked into the corners of eyes. She wondered if that's how Dizzy would have looked if she had never been given a chance to get off the Isle. If that's how Carlos or Jay or Mal would have looked if there hadn't been a naively kind prince to give them a chance...If that's how Uma and all the other kids left on the Isle looked when they didn't initially return for them...

"I've missed you," Peter sniffed, pouting. Within a blink of her eyes, he was suddenly kneeling in front of her, arms wrapped around her shoulders, face pressed into her neck like Dizzy does when she misses her sisters or cousin or like Carlos when he has nightmares about his mother. Evie couldn't help but wrap her arms tightly around this lost boy.

(" Bleeding heart", Mal had joked once.)

"You were the only one who understood," he sniffed "Who tried to stop him from making things worse. But now we can fix it," he murmured into her neck. "I have a Hook. A Hook and a spare."

A Hook? Spare? Evie wanted to ask but before she could, an explosion of smoke and color filled the meadow. Pan released his grip on Evie, gasping in pain as he clawed at his neck.

She didn't allow herself a second to hesitate.

She ran. She ran and ran, ignoring the branches of the thick foliage that seemed to claw at her like hands that tried to hold her back.

Evie tripped over a tree root, panting heavily on the ground. She tried to soften her breath, trying to strain her ears to figure out if she was being followed or what had caused the explosion but she heard nothing. Not the birds calling or the rustling of leaves. Just...silence.

Quietly, she got to her feet, mind whirring to think of a plan. She needed to get back to Ben, Carlos, and Harry. They needed to get off the Isle and let the rest of Auradon know that there was something very wrong with Neverland.

However, Evie didn't notice that someone was right behind her until a cloth was forcefully pressed against her nose and mouth.

Poisoned apples, she thought as the world around her grew dark. She hated being the damsel in distress. Ben was much better at it, after all...

WLTF

His heart pounded against his chest, panic rising like thick smoke in his lungs as he managed to spit out the wad of fabric shoved into his mouth. Harry licked chapped lips, feeling the earth shake with the residual impact of a faraway explosion. "What the seven seas was that?"

CJ ignored him. Instead, she nodded her head towards the entrance, Sammy Smee and Big Murph silently moving out of the hut, swords drawn. Harry watched as the usually bright and impulsive CJ wearily placed herself between the entrance of the hut and her captives. Her entire stance spoke that she was preparing for a fight and the hard headed lass that she was, Harry wasn't going to let her fight by herself.

"Untie me, Callie," Harry tried to reason with her.

Her grip tightened around the handle of her sword. "Shut up," she hissed, gaze never tearing from the hut's entrance.

From the corner of his eye Harry could see Carlos silently undoing the ropes around his legs before rolling silently onto his feet. He had expected the runt to move next to begin to untie the still unconscious boy king like the good wee little pup that DeVil was. What Harry didn't expect was the younger boy to silently stalk towards CJ, pocket knife held out, a calculating cold expression on his face.

Harry's blood ran cold. His stomach dropped. All he saw was his little baby sister with knotted hair and a gap tooth grin clinging onto his coat tails with grubby little hands. He had thought she had died. Mourned for her on the isle only to find her alive and well and sided with the devil with a cherub smile. She was still Calista Jane. Wee little Callie. His sister…

He acted without thinking.

"CALLIE!" Harry warned just as Carlos had crept within a foot of her.

Just as CJ turned, blocking and disarming the pocket knife from Carlos with one swift movement of her sword.

Just as another explosion went off, right outside of the hut, knocking them all off of their feet. The last thing Harry was aware of was three colorful eyeless masks staring down at him from where he landed on his back, before the world went black.

Look! I've updated! This is definitely a shorter chapter. Most of it had been written for months now but I was trying to get one more scene in. I decided in the end to just post what I have now so that y'all could have something.

I hope you're all doing well. Thank you as always for the reviews, favorites, etc. I appreciate them.

I've said this in some of my other fics but I want to say this again. Though I think you all mean well, please don't ask when I'll update because I really don't know. Life is really stressful right now for obvious and not so obvious reasons and I don't have as much time to write. I haven't given up on this story but I have other responsibilities in my life right now that place writing on the back burner.

Anyway, as always let me know what you think.