"Benj?"

He came down the corridor, his belt of knives glittering in the torch light. When he reached us, he stooped down, wrapped one of Peter's arms around his shoulders, and hoisted him up with a grunt.

"Help me get him back to his room," he said to me. "Quick, before anyone sees us."

I wrapped Peter's other arm over my shoulder. Even with Benj taking most of his weight, Peter was still heavy, and by the time we dumped him onto the bed in what was once my father's room, I was sweating.

I sat down on the edge of the bed to catch my breath and attempted to keep my stomach from emptying itself while Benj began to take off Peter's boots, crown, and jacket. Peter, despite the jostling, slept soundly, his breathing coming in soft, deep breaths.

After successfully removing Peter's crown, jacket, boots, and socks, he tossed them half-heartedly behind him.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Making it look like you had quite the night together," Benj replied without looking at me. He tugged Peter's tunic over his head, tossed it aside, and then began to undo his belt. I looked away, uncomfortable.

"Why?" I asked, focussing on the moon outside the bedroom window on the terrace.

He paused in his work. "Are you telling me that you were actually going to give yourself to him tonight?" He sounded skeptical. He met my gaze as he covered Peter's mostly naked body with the covers. He arched an eyebrow at me, expecting an answer.

"It's bound to happen at some point," I stated.

He studied me, searching my face. For what, I wasn't sure.

"Well," he said after a while, "tonight is not that night. Now, I suggest you get some sleep, Princess. Now that you're home, the real fun begins."

I wanted to ask him what he meant, but between the wine and the exertion from carrying Peter's dead weight, I was exhausted. Instead, I asked, "What did you do to him?"

Benj crossed his arms, studying Peter, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. "Just gave him some sleeping powder. Mixed it with his last goblet of wine when he was… occupied." He looked pointedly at me, and I felt the tips of my ears tingle in embarrassment.

"And what if he finds out that you gave him sleeping powder?" I asked.

Benj cocked his head as if it was the first time he had considered it. "Well, seeing as I only gave it to him after he's had his weight in wine, I would say he wouldn't know the difference between the powder and just having too much to drink. However, if someone were to tell him…" His words trailed off, and he arched a questioning brow at me.

"I'm not going to tell him," I whispered, my eyes falling on Peter as he rolled over onto his stomach. "I just don't understand why you're helping me."

Benj didn't answer. Instead, he wished me good night and made his way to the door.

Just before he closed the door behind him, he turned back to me. "The powder won't wear off until late into the morning. You'll be able to slip away long before he wakes up. I'll send the servants to fetch you in the morning to take you back to your room and to get you ready there. Just try to get some rest."

I nodded and watched him leave, but even after the door's latch clicked softly behind him, I didn't move. I sat in the quiet and silver moonlight, my crimson dress blossoming around me like a poppy in the spring. Peter continued to sleep soundly, half his face buried in the feather pillow. His lips were parted slightly, and I could see the scatter of freckles across his cheeks through his long curls.

Even dead to the world in his slumber, he terrified me. His power rolled off of him, even in this state, like a predator waiting for his prey to make the wrong move.

So, even though Benj told me to get some rest, I sat near the edge of the bed, my back against the headboard, and I watched Peter until my eyes grew heavy and I couldn't hold them open anymore.

###

At breakfast the next morning, I tried to focus on the warm bowl of cream and oats in front of me instead of the insistent throbbing in my neck. I took another bite, chewed slowly, and rolled my shoulders to try to alleviate some of the pain.

The dining hall was mostly empty, for which I was grateful. Besides the few guards standing at their station and the few servants who bustled about bringing out food and drink, Benj and I were the only two present. Benj said that the other boys would be by later in the morning, after they had effectively slept off the worse parts of their hangovers.

"How did you sleep?" Benj asked me as he buttered a slice of bread that smelled of cinnamon.

"Fine," I replied as I moved my spoon around my bowl.

He arched an eyebrow, unconvinced, but he didn't push it. At the time, a servant girl was placing a bowl of fruit next to him.

"And how was your evening with His Majesty?"

His voice was suggestive, and even though I knew that it was all a ruse that he was putting on in front of the servant girl, I couldn't help but flush.

"Benj," I hissed, embarrassed.

Even though she tried to hide it, I could see the servant girl's cheeks flush and the small smile as she hurried away. Surly, she was going to go share the gossip of the princess who slept with Peter Pan.

What they didn't know is that Peter hadn't stirred all night, that I had slept in my gown until the early hours of the morning. It was only when I heard a soft knock at the door that I slipped out of the gown and my undergarments and slipped into a silk robe I found in my father's wardrobe. I had ruffled my hair and pinched my cheeks and lips to make it as convincing as possible that Peter and I had enjoyed each other's company for the night.

I glared at Benj, but he continued to eat his breakfast without looking at me.

We finished our meal in silence, but as our dishes were cleared away, Benj asked me if I had any plans for the morning.

I didn't, but I hadn't thought about it either. I assumed I would be waiting for the sleeping powder to wear off, whether that meant staying at the table for a few more hours or returning to Peter's room. I didn't think that I would have free rein of the castle. I thought there would be rules.

Peter always had rules.

"You said that His Majesty wouldn't be joining us for a few hours?" I asked Benj, carefully eyeing two servant girls as they cleared our plates. Benj nodded.

Benj smirked. "After the night you two had, I'm surprised you're up so early yourself, Princess."

This time, two servant girls perked up at his words and giggled, but they quickly stopped when they caught sight of my face. They bowed, apologized, and skittered away.

I could have scolded him, could have told him that this ruse wasn't funny, but I understood why he was doing it. I understood why people in the castle needed to believe that Peter and I had…

"I want to see my father," I blurted out before I could picture too much of what could have happened.

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to argue. Peter wouldn't like it, and we both knew it, but I would deal with Peter when it came to that.

Benj sighed and ran a hand through his hair, sitting back in his seat. "He isn't well, Holly," he said, and I nodded. He had already told me this.

I wanted to argue. I wanted to convince him that I could handle anything, that I could handle seeing my father in any state. I would order him to take me to my father if I had to.

Benj leaned forward, his voice quiet. "I just want you to be prepared," he said, his eyes serious but tinged with sadness. "He's not the same. He's changed." When I nodded my understanding, Benj pushed back from the table and stood, motioning for me to follow him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he whispered to me as we made our way to the dungeons.

###

So much had changed in such a short time, but not the dungeons. It was still as dark and cold as ever, the smell of dirt and mildew heavy in the air.

Two older Lost Boys were stationed at the stairs that led down to the dungeons. They were sitting at a makeshift table with wobbly stools, and they hardly looked up from their game of cards as Benj led me by them.

We descended the stairs, Benj a few steps ahead of me. Silence rose up to meet us, and it unsettled me. For as long as I could remember, there was always someone in the dungeon. Usually, there was more than one, which meant murmuring and the occasional shouting of an unruly few who felt their punishment was unfair. I thought back to the nights when Hook resided in his cell, and the raucous he had caused when he screamed for hours on end, rattling the bars of his cell and stirring the others up so they shouted with him.

We reached the bottom of the stairs and passed empty cell after empty cell. There were no whispers or slurs being hurled at me, no men reaching for me through the space between iron bars.

All there was… was haunting silence.

When we reached the last cell, Benj stopped and peered inside, holding up a hand to stop me before I could reach him. I stopped, watching anxiously as he stepped closer to the bars and said, "Aldwyn." He said it so gently, like he was worried that the dungeons would collapse if he spoke too loudly.

I wrung my hands, waiting, but there was no response. Benj took one of the knives from his belt and ran it along the bars of the cell, the sharp tangy sound of metal on metal pinging painfully through the air. "Aldwyn," he said, a little louder this time, and that's when I heard it.

Someone grumbling, the sound of cloth sliding against cloth and stone.

I felt my throat close when I heard my father's voice. I couldn't make out what he was saying. He spoke in low tones that bled together.

"Aldwyn, there is someone here to see you," Benj said as he returned the knife to his belt.

A single word floated out from the cell. "Visitor?"

I took a step forward, but Benj held up his hand, shooting me a warning look. He turned his eyes back to the cell and took a step closer to the bars. "Yes, a visitor."

There was more movement, but I couldn't see into the cell to see what was happening. There was more mumbling, more words that I couldn't decipher, but Benj didn't seem worried. I shifted my weight from one foot to the next, impatient.

There was a stretch of silence. Then, finally, "Who? Who visits?"

"Your daughter. Holly."

At first, he didn't respond, and I wondered if he had heard what Benj had said.

A cough. "Daughter. Daughter…" He repeated the word many times, saying it slightly different each time as though he was tasting it. I took a deep breath, but my chest felt restricted. Something wasn't right.

Benj's eyes slid to mine, his mouth set in a hard line, but his eyes were soft, apologetic.

"Would you like to see your daughter?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Daughter… Daughter…Do not be cruel, Lost Boy," came my father's response, his voice gravelly, and I felt a burning start in the back of my eyes. He sounded more like himself, more like the father I remembered. "My daughter was taken from me. She is gone… gone."

I couldn't stand by for another minute. I took the last few steps between me and the small cell, stepping in front of the bars so that he could see me clearly. I wasn't going to linger in the shadows any longer. He needed to know I was here.

"Holly—" Benj reached out to me again, but it was too late.

When my eyes landed on my father behind the cell bars, I sucked in a painful breath.

The man staring back at me was my father, and yet…

Without thinking, I stepped up close to the bars and reached a hand inside. "Father." The word slipped out in a whisper. If I said it any louder, I worried I would scream or cry. A sob threatened to slip up from my throat, but I swallowed it down.

My father, thinner than I had ever seemed him, froze where he stood. His skin was grey, and I could see the purple web of veins peeking up underneath like shadows. He was barefoot, his feet almost black with filth. He wore rags that hung off of his body, and he reeked of urine, feces, and a body odor that only came from not having a proper bath. His hair hung in greasy tendrils around his shoulders, but there were places where hair no longer grew, leaving bald patches gleaming in the torch light.

He did not reach for my hand, so I brought it back to the bars and gripped tightly, trying to keep myself centered as I stared at him, tears filling my eyes.

My father looked at Benj, then to me, then back to Benj. They finally settled on me again, and he said, "Visitor."

I nodded, not trusting my words.

Benj stepped closer to me, one hand on my lower back. "Aldwyn, this is Holly. She's your daughter. She's come back."

My father tilted his head, studying me, his eyes dull as he took me in. My chest ached as we watched each other. This was not the father I knew. What had Peter and the Lost Boys done to him? I would have to ask Benj later, but I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know. I knew what Peter and the Lost Boys were capable of, but I had never seen the after-math of their cruelty quite like this.

Slowly, as if he wasn't sure, my father took a few steps towards me. The stink was enough to make me gag, but I didn't move. Neither did Benj, and I could see he was holding his breath.

My father and I stared at one another for several breaths, his rank breath washing over my face. Up close, I could see just how deep the lines of his face had settled, and just how hollow his cheeks were despite being hidden under thick whiskers.

"My daughter…" he croaked through dry, cracked lips, and I held onto the cell bars so tightly that my fingers ached. I nodded, the tears finally spilling onto my cheeks. I thought I could see the flame of recognition in his eyes, but it extinguished when he said, "My daughter is gone. Dead. Just like my son."

The anger overtook him so quickly that I didn't have time to react. His long, bony fingers shot out between the bars and raked down my face as he screamed at me, "You are cruel! Cruel!"

My eyes and face stung from his dirty nails, and as I cradled my face in my hands, I felt Benj pull me backwards, away from my father's thrashing. He continued to pull me back down the corridor, and up the stairs, all while my father continued to scream at us.

"My daughter is dead! Dead! Dead!"

By the time we had reached the top of the stairs, I was mostly able to see and blinked away the remaining tears in my eyes. My face still stung from where my father had scratched me, but I wasn't blinded anymore.

Benj barked for the Lost Boys that had been positioned at the table to vacate their seats so that I could sit, and even though I told him I was fine, he pushed me into one of the chairs and made me look at him, kneeling in front of me.

He turned my face to the left and then to the right, examining me for a moment before he released me. "Can you see alright," He asked me from his spot on the floor in front of me, pinching my chin with his thumb. I nodded, and he released me. He stood, planting his hands on his hips, and letting out a sigh.

One of the Lost Boys who hovered behind Benj peered at me from behind Benj's shoulder. "Those are some nasty scratches," he said. "You better hope those fade before Pan sees her."

There was no malice in his words, no threat. He was just stating the obvious, but that didn't stop Benj from whirling on him and shoving him as hard as he could, sending the boy backwards and landing on his backside. The boy scrambled to his feet, but didn't retaliate. His partner stood stock still, not daring to move.

I assured Benj that I was fine, that the scratches weren't even raised, which meant that the lines should fade in a few minutes. This seemed to help relax him somewhat, but he still studied me, like he was waiting for me to break down.

And I wanted to break down, to let the dam that had built in my chest when I came face to face with the ghost of the man who used to be my father, who used to be the king of Mystasia, crumble and let my tears spill over.

But I didn't. Not here. Not in front of these other Lost Boys.

"Let's go," he finally said after running his hands slowly through his hair and down his neck. I didn't argue, didn't ask where we were going. It didn't matter. I wanted to get away just as badly as Benj did.

The farther away we got from the dungeon, the more Benj's shoulder relaxed and the slower his steps became until, finally, we were casually strolling through the castle corridors.

We were passing by a wall entirely made of windows that looked onto the castle gardens when I suggested we should go outside. He agreed and mentioned that some sunshine might do him some good, and led me out the nearest door.

The sun was still making its morning climb, and its warmth was beginning to dispel the morning chill. Dew decorated the grass, shrubbery, and flowers, each drop like a diamond reflecting the sunlight. The insects were still silent, but a few birds had begun chirping, flying from one tree to the next. A handful of servants were scattered across the grounds, attending to their duties as they trimmed flower bushes, picked up twigs and smaller fallen branches, and planted new ones that would grow later in the season.

"Looks like the boys haven't been out here much," I said casually, searching for any sign of destruction left behind by the Lost Boys.

Benj shrugged. "The boys don't much care for the gardens."

"I would think that would make them want to destroy it more."

He shrugged again. "That guard friend of yours also told Peter how much you loved the gardens, and that, if you ever returned, you'd be devastated to find it destroyed. Peter agreed."

"Harlan said that?" I asked, feeling shy, but Benj wasn't paying me any attention. He was taking in the massive expanse that was the garden.

"Is that his name?" He asked absently. Before I could answer him, he motioned towards the far end of the garden near a marble gazebo. "Is that him?"

I stopped walking, squinting in the sun to see where Benj was pointing. On the outside of the gazebo was a servant girl. She was on her hands and knees, weeding the ground around the gazebo. Her dark hair hung around her face as she worked. Standing in the gazebo, leaning casually over the marble railing, was Harlan. Instead of his wrinkled palace uniform, he wore a light tunic and brown trousers, his muscular, tan arms flexing as he leaned forward and talked to the girl as she worked.

The girl's shoulders shook with laughter as she sat back on her heels and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

Sasha.

I dropped my hand, hiked my dress up to my ankles, and took off at a jog towards them.

"Holly?" I heard Benj ask, but I didn't turn back to see if he was following me. The slight jangle of his belt and the soft thump of his footfalls behind me told me he was.

Sasha was making some sort of hand signal at Harlan, sending Harlan into hysterics and doubling over the railing of the gazebo. When she looked up and saw me, her laughter immediately stopped, and she quickly got to her feet, all color draining from her face. Harlan, noticing her sudden quiet, looked up at her, his brows pulled together in concern. His gaze followed her, landing on me and Benj. He also straightened, his face guarded as he looked at Benj. He tried to meet my gaze, but his cheeks flushed and he ducked his head, nervously running his hands through his curls like a boy who had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

I couldn't figure out why he was acting so strange, but that wasn't why I was there. I turned to Sasha, who was wringing her dirty hands nervously.

"How are you sisters?" I asked her, slightly out of breath.

The fear in her face was quickly replaced by confusion, her brows drawing together as she tilted her head, completely silent. She glanced at Harlan, but he was no help.

Benj whispered my name and touched my shoulder, and when I turned to see what he wanted, he was shaking his head.

"What?" I asked, annoyed.

"That's not Sasha," he stated simply.

Confused, I turned back to the servant girl. I was certain it was Sasha. She looked exactly like the girl who had been in my room yesterday, the same girl who had helped me get ready with her two younger sisters.

I shot a glare over my shoulder at Benj. "That's not funny. She's—"

"Saisha," Harlan interrupted. "Her name is Saisha."

"She's Sasha's twin sister," Harlan continued.

The girl, Saisha, curtsied before she returned to her stiff stance. She locked her knees, squared her shoulders, and then pressed the palms of her hands tightly together before entwining her fingers. She didn't smile.

We all stood there, awkward silence hanging heavy over us like a blanket, as I absorbed this information. Sasha had another sister, a twin sister. I had been confused yesterday because the two younger sisters that had been with her were able to talk. They both had their tongues.

Saisha hadn't spoken a word since I'd approached and, if I really thought about it, hadn't been speaking to Harlan when Benj pointed them out from across the garden. She had been laughing and gesturing with her hands. She hadn't spoken a word.

As understanding dawned on me, I felt my heart go out to the girl. She had lost her tongue because she refused to acknowledge Peter as her king. But there was also a prickle of something underneath… something I couldn't quite place.

When Benj finally broke the silence, stating that we should return to the castle since Peter would likely be up soon, I saw Saisha's jaw clench. Her eyes dropped to the ground.

Harlan said nothing. In fact, he hadn't looked at me much since we had approached. It stung, but I wasn't sure what I had done to earn such treatment.

I followed Benj without a word, unsure what kind of terms I was leaving Saisha and Harlan.

As if reading my mind, Benj said, "Be careful with her. There's something I don't trust."

"And Harlan?" I asked, even though I was afraid of the answer.

"He cares for you," he assured me, and I felt my chest tighten, "but these are strange times. Best to just keep your guard up."

Sometimes, it felt like that's all I did.