"Did she take it?" He asked in the same flat tone he always used when she was on his mind.
Felix once told him it sounded forced and unnatural. That was the day he received the awful scar that would become his distinctive feature. Ever since that day nobody ever mentioned her again unless Pan initiated the conversation, which he rarely ever did, for the obvious reason that he couldn't even say her name, even after a century. The Shadow nodded and flew away, like it usually did.
A storm was brewing this morning, following the uncharacteristically calm night. All living souls on Neverland knew they better stay in their shacks and not upset him further, for the weather on Neverland was merely a reflection of Pan's state of mind. What was so different today? Today was special – special to him. Time didn't pass in Neverland that was true. Not a minute had ticked away since the very first day, but still it was a special day. No one so far had connected the dots yet every 365 days, there was a storm ravaging the island.
"The Lost Boys are awaiting your orders, Pan."
It was Felix's voice that burst Pan's bubble of thought. His head whipped to the right and glared towards his daring right hand man. He never learned his lesson, scarring his flesh wasn't enough to make him stop defying him. A wave of power emanated from Pan, propelling Felix meters away from where he was standing and making him hit a tree.
"The orders are get busy and don't vex me," he barked at his so-called friend. "I want quiet today. Whatever trouble might erupt you take care of it."
Pan vanished in a flicker beat, not leaving Felix any chance to answer. Not that there was anything to answer, he received direct orders and even he knew not to discuss those.
When did life on Neverland become so dull that shouting orders around and watching his Lost Boys wriggle and run around to fulfill his every desire didn't bring him any satisfaction any more? When has the island's luxurious greenery turned gray? There was a time when it flourished like no place on earth but now when Peter dared pick a flower from the ground, it began to fray and shrink until it was dead and mere shreds. The once immortal King of Neverland was so utterly devoid of vitality that he sucked the life out of everything he touched.
This was her fault. Mercy. No one was ever named such an unfit name. In all the centuries he had known her, she never once showed mercy. The burning memory of her first steps as a Lost Girl still marked his mind like a white-hot iron would. If only he had known the misery she would bring him, would he still have chosen to bring her to his kingdom? He saw something in her – promises of great adventures and a radiance unseen before. Still he was far from suspecting how special she would become to him. She should be by his side instead of Felix and his moody self. No other than her had the potential to be his equal.
Peter Pan, despite all the rumors that told him stone-hearted and vile, felt her inside his very being. Each missed beat, each caught breath, and each tear in her heart. Neverland acted as a bridge – this curse in the form of a blessing kept him up to date with her but helped make his misery grow. For the two infamous heartless beings ruling Neverland were the ones feeling most deeply. Peter knew when she was sad and he knew when she was happy – or rather, he knew that she was not happy.
"I bet even she doesn't know," he mumbled to himself from the branch of the tree he was sitting on.
It was his secret thinking tree. It only appeared to those he wanted to reveal himself to. No Lost Boy could find him there. From there, he could see the smoke of the Lost Girls' bonfire, where they all sat to warm themselves on this doomed day. Not a single ray of sun pierced through the thick storm clouds and the rumbling of thunder could be heard from a distance. He remembered a time when there was no storm in Neverland, not a single one.
000
"Let me go!" Mercy screamed and threw herself to the bars of her cage.
She started shaking them violently with all her strength but the frail looking wooden bars tied together with thin rope didn't even budge. Magic, she thought. There was no way she would get out of this cage if it was kept closed by magic.
"You'll get out of there as soon as you've calmed down my dear," Peter's sultry voice said from behind her. Mercy jerked away from the bar and into a corner, her chest heaving and nostrils flaring. He was pacing around her like a lion around his prey once again. "No need to fear me."
"I told you I'm not scared of anything," she said, still wary of him. "But I would be stupid to let my guard down around you, wouldn't I?"
"You learn fast, I knew bringing you along was the right thing to do," he declared proudly, swelling his chest.
"I hardly think it was the right thing to do. It might have been a good choice for you but there is nothing right in kidnapping children!" She barked at him, lurching forward and even making him flinch a bit. She smirked in victory.
"Philosophizing, are we?" He laughed at her. "You will soon find it pointless to fight against me. Give in, join us and stop being so stubborn. Don't waste your potential."
"My potential? Of becoming what? One of your brain-washed puppets? No thanks, I'd rather lose my freedom than my mind," Mercy said, challengingly raising her chin.
Pan knelt down in front of the cage and placed his hand against the bars. He was too close for her liking but she didn't have much of a choice and simply stared at him with every ounce of hatred she could gather. The shit-eating grin on his face announced nothing good for her. Pan shook his head and clicked his tongue against his cheek.
"Oh but love, far be it from me the idea to stifle your spirit. I want you to nurture it, feed it, let it burn." A second of confusion made her drop her defensive stance and Peter saw it and smiled at that. "Let me know when you've grown tired of being locked up like an animal. In the meantime, the boys will provide what you need to survive."
Mercy huffed in disdain and turned away from him. If he wasn't playing thick he should get the hint and leave her alone – the conversation was over. She heard the faint ruffling of his clothes and the creaking sound of the wooden floor as he walked away and before long she wouldn't hear anything but complete silence. To the point when it would drive her crazy – wherever she was Pan must have hexed the place to block out any sound because when you lived in the middle of a forest there should be at least a little noise.
Three weeks and regular visits from Pan is what it took before Mercy accepted to give in to his conditions. She promised not to cause trouble, to behave, and to let him teach her his ways. Well, as best she could.
"So what now? I'm the only girl on this whole island and I am to live surrounded by little boys brandishing sticks like swords?" She snickered as Pan and her walked past the group of Lost Boys training.
"In time and with training the stick will eventually turn into real, steel swords. Worry not, you won't be training with them," Pan assured her.
"If you're thinking of forcing me into the role of mother of all and make me cook and sew their clothes, I'd rather go back to my cage," she immediately told him, stopping in her tracks. "I have not left behind one world ruled by men only to be bound to the domestic sphere once again."
"Do not compare me to the adults of your world, you're insulting me," Pan told her in a threatening voice. "I am like no one you ever encountered. It wouldn't cross my mind to strap you down to a chair and make you do drudgery, I know potential when I see it, and you are an endless source of potential."
Mercy frowned both in surprise and unpleasantness. She didn't know what to expect from him.
"What does this mean?"
"It means I won't let you waste your time and mine waving around wooden sticks. I will personality take care of your training – there will be no rest for you until you're ready."
"Ready for what?" Mercy asked.
Her shoulders slumped down upon hearing his words. Of course she would have to obey to his every order and work tirelessly to earn her freedom back. Of course this boy and his twisted mind thought he was doing her a favor by giving her the honor of becoming her tutor. She didn't want a tutor. She wanted a way back.
He laughed humorlessly even though she hadn't said a word.
"A way back, really? To your world ruled by men?" Peter asked. Mercy's face turned red from anger when she realized he violated her private thoughts. "Is that really what you want?"
"Do you mean, would I rather go back to my life than be toyed with by a children-stealing psychopath? Shocking, I know," she replied with all her fire.
He merely smiled his crooked, unpleasant smirk that gave Mercy the creeps. She didn't like that he was taller than her – back in her village she was always taller than the boys her age. Which made her wonder how old he really was. But she was in no position of asking as for now. And he was right in some way – she did not want to go back to the Enchanted Forest. There was nothing there for her, no future other than becoming the subdued wife of a gruff man. The problem was that she didn't want to stay on this island either, not if it meant being the prisoner of this boy, a compliant soldier in his army of children.
"In time, your opinion of me will change," he said in a hushed voice, like a promise of sorts. "I'm an acquired taste."
"That's what we call the things that taste like shit," Mercy replied.
Peter Pan stayed quiet but his eyes sparked with delight. That was the moment Mercy realized that he liked having her talk back. She might be the only one to do so, the other boys were much younger than him and in no position to defy him. Though she had no way to know if he simply got rid of those who dared to.
"You-" he began, "-you and your attitude, I know you'll soon be my favorite."
000
"A big storm is brewing," a girl announced to the group as they were having a meager breakfast – mostly berries and bread.
Mercy provided when she needed to, when food became rare, but she wanted her girls to be independent if something were to happen to her. She made them hunt and harvest and identify the poisonous plants.
"Thanks for the obvious statement," one of the others replied in a mocking yet fond tone.
She threw the newcomer a piece of bread which she caught singlehandedly. Nice reflexes, Mercy thought. Her girls shared a special kind of bond – they relied on one another and worked as a team. She was proud of them although she wasn't too keen on voicing it. She merely stuffed berry after berry in her mouth and darted her eyes down.
"It's coming from the Lost Boys' camp," the new girl added as she sat down on the log next to the fire. "It'll reach us in a couple hours."
"No time to waste then," Mercy declared as she stood up.
All the Lost Girls dropped their smile and turned their attention to their leader. She would occasionally eat with them but Mercy knew that they acted differently around her – fearfully – and she ate in her cabin most often than not.
"Winnie," Mercy called one of the oldest and the girl stood up, ready to receive orders. "You take the younger girls to the beach and have them combat train. No real weapons, only fighting stances and techniques."
The girl nodded and Mercy saw that sense of purpose and will not to disappoint that glimmered in the eyes of her girls. They were all fighters. All pure souls who escaped a terrible, fruitless life in the Enchanted Forest and despite the awe Mercy inspired them, she knew they were grateful to be here – away from their tormentors.
"Dorothy, Sybil, you go get those who are still on watch and join me as soon as you finish breakfast. We'll hunt before the game hides from the storm."
Orders were given, the girls knew their task of the day and happily finished their bread and berries before accomplishing their duty. Breakfast lasted another ten minutes until they were all finished and within a minute the remains were put away and it appeared as though no one was even here in the first place. Leave no trace; keep no unnecessary item with you; be quick; make stealth your middle name. Mercy made sure the girls learned those rules. Their camp looked abandoned if you didn't look close enough. Add to that the glamor Mercy cast on it to hide it from prying eyes and if was like there were really no girls on this island. Not that they counted at all – Peter Pan had scrapped them long ago.
"Ready?" She asked when she saw the five girls on hunting duty lined up with their bows and arrows and axes on their belts.
She knew they also had small knives hidden up their sleeves and in their boots. One can never be too heavily armed on this godforsaken island. Ever since Mercy first set foot on Neverland, it has changed. It grew oppressive, hazardous – you never knew what you could run into. The island itself became anthropophageous; it would eat you alive if you let it.
"As ever," Dorothy spoke for them.
Dorothy was one of Mercy's precious ones. She knew she wasn't supposed to have a favorite but she did and that was Dorothy. She was brave but not reckless; knowledgable but not cocky about it; and she was capable.
"You three," Mercy gestured to Dorothy and two others. "You go South. Don't come back empty handed or we'll be on leaf diet all week. You two-" she waved the two remaining girls to come behind her, "-you're with me. We'll take East. Beware of the Lost Boys and if you see one, aim at the legs."
"What about the Indians?" Sybil asked from before Dorothy. "Are you forgetting they fired arrows at us last time we came too close to their camp?" An angry frown distorted Sybil's delicate features. She too was a fighter despite her frail appearance and short stature. She was Dorothy's protegée and though she still had a lot to learn – especially in the respect of the authorities department – she was promising. Her left arm still bore evidence of that attack she was speaking of. She got pinned to a tree by an arrow and though Mercy had healed the physical wound, the memory still stung a bit.
"Move faster," Mercy scoffed. "The forest doesn't belong to anyone, we take what we need to survive that's all."
Dorothy elbowed Sybil when the latter opened her mouth to protest.
"She'll be more careful," she assured her. "I take responsibility if anything happens. Meet at the camp when the storm breaks?"
"That leaves us less than two hours to bring back lunch and dinner," Mercy said with a nod. "Like I said, no coming back empty handed. And Dorothy-" she said right when the girl was turning on her heels to start the hunt. "-let the others a chance to fire an arrow too. No need to brag about your skills."
Dorothy smiled faintly and walked away, followed by the two other girls. As she watched them strut away, silent as a bunch of light-footed cats, Mercy remembered when she was in their shoes. When she was the clueless apprentice who had to blindly obey the orders of a fear-inducing megalomaniac who thought everyone ought to kiss his ass. A weak smile contorted her lips – it must have looked pathetic, she hadn't smiled a genuine smile in longer than she could remember.
Peter Pan' ruthless methods did bear fruits though and she was living proof of it. Mercy had extensive knowledge on everything concerning Neverland. Its creatures, it's plants, it's every rock and nook had no secret for her. Her body memorized all of Pan's harsh combat lessons, all of his sneaky back stabbing attacks she knew by heart. The only thing that remained – and would always remain – a mystery to her were the workings of his twisted mind.
And with yet another sigh – when was the last time she didn't feel exhausted? - Mercy raised her hand to gesture the girls to come. Luckily for her in this time and place she didn't have to strut behind anyone anymore and if she wanted to, she could let a few tears drop without having to worry about hiding them.