Winnie wasn't feeling well and it worried the other girls. She was their anchor, the soothing presence of the camp that put minds at rest and concerns at ease with a mere smile or hand gesture. Although she wasn't bed ridden with high fever, everybody could see the way her eyes kept losing focus, the way she walked like a zombie and hardly slept anymore.
A week had gone by since she wandered on Lost Boy territory with Felix and saw the Darlings siblings in their cage. Not a day went by without her nearly coming clean to Mercy and confessing everything. But where to even start? Admitting she was in a relationship with Felix, whom she hated more than any other living soul on Neverland, and that she frequently sneaked out of the camp to meet him in the forest? She would forever lose Mercy's trust and respect if she found out about that. It would be betrayal.
Then again, the betrayal had already happened. It happened the day she and Felix exchanged their first words. But the loyalty she had towards Mercy and the other girls pushed her to confess, made her feel guilty for not having said anything yet. What had this new girl, Wendy, endured during the week Winnie kept silent? Was she still in her cage, like a scare little animal that was trapped?
It proved too much for Winnie, and she saw the other's worries gazes linger on her when she walked by. Mercy gracefully didn't ask any questions though for once Winnie wished she had. She wished Mercy sat her down and grilled her until she spilled the beans. At least, this way she would have an excuse to tell her everything – she wouldn't have a choice. Or that was what she would tell herself, because while keeping quiet was a betrayal to Mercy, telling her everything would be betraying her love.
Would Felix forgive her sooner than Mercy? At this point, that was what she took into account when she considered confessing. Who would forgive her more readily? Who would she feel less guilty disappointing?
000
The years went by smoothly, like the quiet course of a small river down the mountain side. Peter and Mercy both played along and stuck to their bet. He could see the difference in her behavior already – the very perspective to have a way out of Neverland made her glow like never before. It gave her hope, and for that alone, he was almost tempted to let her leave right away.
If if wasn't for the piercing pain in his chest every time she looked his way or smiled, it would be done at this point. Seven years into their bet, Pan had nearly fooled himself into thinking she was happy here. Mercy hadn't stopped making efforts simply because he promised to let her go in ten years, no. She doubled her efforts, she became even better, even more invested in her training, in her learning of magic and trickery.
Pan didn't show it because she would find a way to use it against him – that was how far she had come – but he was proud and admiring of her spirit. In all his years and all the Lost children he had brought here, he had never met someone who's presence was as uplifting as Mercy's. He had never met someone who didn't break or bend under his relentless verbal and physical beatings.
Then again, perhaps he wasn't so keen on being mean to Mercy. She never upset him for the usual reason – forgetfulness, sloppiness, incompetence. The Lost Boys were mere children and made idiotic mistakes he then had to deal with, but Mercy was born to lead. She was smart and efficient, she was lethal in the same way as a pretty poisonous flower – people would think her inoffensive until it was too late.
He smiled to himself at the thought. Without thinking about it, he conjured one of their blue flowers. It didn't exist in nature, only in the palm of their hands. It was their sign, their silent message to each other whenever something happened. If one of them wanted to apologize they would leave this flower for the other to find. If Pan wanted to congratulate her for her progress, he would made one appear and tuck it behind her ear like he had done the first time.
His chest constricted every time he did so and Mercy relaxed and let him touch her. They spent most of their time sparring and training, avoiding being touched by the other, making it all the more special when they did touch. She found it wasn't unpleasant to have Peter gently push her hair back and tuck a flower in it. It was comforting, as much as she hated to think about it this way.
She was going to leave in three years. It was but a matter of time until she could step off this island and go back to her life.
If she still had a life to go back to, that is.
Her common sense often whispered in her ear that Peter was right in saying that she didn't have anything to go back to in the Enchanted Forest. She stubbornly hoped that nothing had changed in her absence and that she would be able to carry on with her life as if she had never left at all. But that was wishful thinking at best.
Her life, her future, was here now. And a small, emotional part of her had accepted it, however much she dreaded Pan being right in that aspect.
"Mercy!"
Speaking of the devil.
She didn't answer, he could very well find her on his own – the King of Neverland, the almighty Pan whose magic was boundless as long as he stayed on the island.
He had been overlooking the Lost Boys' training. It was a relatively uneventful few years and there hadn't been much happening on Neverland lately. Every few days, there was obligatory training for the boys. Mercy never took part in it, they wouldn't stand a chance in a one on one against her, and she always trained alone with Peter.
That said, she didn't have much else to do, so she often climbed up a tree and observed them. Peter knew she was around, it was only a matter of spotting the right tree and finding her little nest. Soon, she felt a presence behind her.
"Found you," Peter said from behind her.
He was awfully close; so much so that she felt his breath brush against her neck and it made her hair stand on end.
"Congratulations," she grumbled. She had to admit – at the very least to herself – that she showed little to no sport spirit. Peter on the other hand, seemed to enjoy himself quite a lot when she hid away and he had to find her. "I guess next time I'll have to sit on a higher branch."
"No branch is that high," he countered before lazily laying down on the branch next to hers, one arm tucked under his head. One of his legs dangled from the tree while the other was up. "I'm getting bored down there. Should I lower Neverland's defense to let strangers in? Life has never been this dull to memory."
"Only a psychopath like you would consider peace and quiet as boring," she replied, not looking at him.
Mercy sat with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes trained on the boys, meters below. It was getting harder and harder watching them stumble around with wooden swords in their hands. Peter was right, she was bored too, and she was a hypocrite at that, because she wouldn't even acknowledge it.
"I'm not so sure about that," he hummed, swinging his leg back and forth. "You itch for a good fight, I can feel it. You ooze hostility and pent-up energy."
"Maybe you've grown soft and sparring with you has become irksome," she huffed to provoke him.
This time she turned around, if only to watch his face decompose. A smirk appeared on her lips and it made Peter relax again.
"Teasing me, are you? I knew I'd grow on you," he chuckled and returned to his initial sitting position. "You know, I think a great deal of your blatant hostility towards me and Neverland is just an act. You force it because you don't want anyone to think you actually like it here."
"I hate it here, it's a prison."
The words came out before she could think about it. It was a practiced sentence, one she had been rehearsing for years, so much so that it lost its bite. She lost her edge after a while. Peter wasn't entirely wrong and she hated it, she absolutely loathed that she got used to living here and living with him.
"Whatever you tell yourself to feel better," he dismissed her comment. "I'll stick to my end of the bargain but you also have to stick to yours. If you think you can stay here without being miserable, just be honest about it."
A certain woefulness tinted his voice, as though he tried to hide real sadness behind his usual bravado. Something tugged at Mercy's heart but she elected to ignore it and play dumb instead.
"You're deluding yourself, Pan," she spat at him, giving him a scornful look to give with the harsh tone. "What kind of captor are you if you ask your victims to stay willingly in their jail?"
"You're not a victim, Mercy." Peter stood up and joined Mercy on her branch, startling her. She shuffled at bit to put some distance between them.
Not because she was scared, not because she thought Pan was a hateful, disgusting creature she didn't want to be near to. She backed away because her first instinct was to move closer. If she didn't watch herself, she would end up reaching out for him.
She had realized, after two decades on Neverland, that while Pan often touched her, she never touched him. And so, since then, Mercy lived in permanent torture. She wanted to touch him, to let her hand brush against his hair, the tips of her fingers run along his jaw, or let her palm rest on his shoulder.
She shook her head.
"Then what am I? You brought me here because you were bored. I'm a pet at best," she scoffed disdainfully and looked away to hide the blush on her cheeks from his view.
Peter hummed to himself while watching her intently, as though she had just said something very interesting worth some pondering.
"What is it, now? What did I say?" she pressed him when he didn't answer.
"It seems I am not the only one deluding myself here," he simply said, leaning on her raised leg. "You don't see it, do you? You're not a victim, or a prisoner here, let alone a pet! You're the one forcing yourself into these roles I've never imposed to you. Don't you realize you could be so much more? You already are, in the eyes of everyone but yours. You could rule this world, you could be a queen!"
Impossible to maintain her mask of indifference after such unexpected words came out of Pan's mouth. Mercy couldn't help herself and gawked at him in the most dumbfounded fashion. Her blush was on full display now, as much as she hated showing Pan any kind of emotion she hadn't carefully selected to show him.
She opened her mouth to answer something but nothing would come out, she simply opened and closed her mouth several times without making any sound. What did he mean by that? Her mind came up with thousands of explanations at a time, confusing her more and more with each passing second. None of them made any sense – or rather, they did, if she thought about it, but it scared her too much to consider them.
"What-" she started, shaking her head as if to get rid of parasite thoughts. "That doesn't-"
She never finished her sentence. Not because she had completely lost her ability to articulate a coherent thought, but because the loud boom of a canon ball being fired interrupted their conversation. Both of them adopted a defensive stance and looked in the direction the sound came from.
Neversea, the Mermaid Lagoon.
On the forest floor below, the Lost Boys stopped moving and looked around, both to find the source of the noise and to find Pan.
Mercy and Pan disappeared from the tree and materialized in the middle of the group of boys, a look of determination and fearlessness on their faces.
It wasn't the best day for a surprise attack – though one would argue that there was no good day for being surprise attacked by a band of pirates. The boys were already tired from their training, and Mercy didn't wear her usual gear. When she had a day off and no special duties, she simply reverted to a dress, feeling it granted her a kind of peace of mind and freedom of movement no practical gear ever could.
She still wore her weapons though, she wouldn't be caught dead without at least a few blades strapped to her body in various places, be it under a dress or pants and a jacket. Peter shifted into King mode and began to bark orders to the Lost Boys, putting together a plan of defense that took into account the general exhaustion of his troops and the landscape.
Mercy crouched down to pick up a broken branch and it turned into a fairly long cutlass. She weighted the weapon in her hand and checked its balance before nodding in approval. It was a good one, she had gotten better over the years. Raising a hand and making a circular gesture, she quickly did the same to the Lost Boys' wooden swords as well, giving them each a weapon adapted to their height, strength and skill.
Felix was given two curved daggers, and he smirked to himself before nodding towards Mercy. They loathed each other, but she knew just how much damage he could make if given the appropriate weapons. She nodded back, then turned to Pan, who was just about done giving his directives.
"Mercy, you follow me," he finally said before setting in motion. "Everyone knows what to do?" he asked, just to make sure.
All of them nodded. Some of them were bound to have questions but they all knew better than to ask Pan to repeat himself. They would all fall into their positions anyway, Felix was supposed to make sure of it, and soon Mercy and Peter would join the ranks as well.
But for now, they rushed into the forest in a different direction than the boys, and Mercy did not question it. There were many things she disapproved of when it came to Pan, but his sense of strategy and tactic were pretty on point, if she might say so. She still had some progress margin in those areas and so she watched and learned.
"You're not battle-ready, I want you to stay back today," he said, ruining the good opinion Mercy had of this tactical sense.
"Not even in your wildest dreams," she simply said, holding up her sword. "Don't argue with me on this, I will fight, even if I have to do it against your wish."
She was more than ready to disobey. He had said it himself only moments before: she needed a good fight. She needed blood and she was going to get it, even if she had to spill some of her own in the process.
Hesitation flickered in his eyes, as if he was weighing the pros and cons. Mercy never broke off their eye contact, she was determined to show him she was ready, not matter her attire. Mercy was always ready to whoop ass, she could do it in her sleep, he had made sure of that.
"If you are in any trouble, any difficulty at all-" he started, looking her dead in the eyes. "I want you to teleport. Either that or you call for me, I'll be there in a split second."
What had gotten into him? Where did this uncharacteristic protectiveness come from all of a sudden? He had never shown any reluctance when the two of them fought, he never went easy on her, and she highly doubted these pirates would challenge her as much as Peter did in combat. So what was his deal? She frowned but nodded nonetheless. There was no time for discussion, and it didn't cost her anything to agree to his condition.
"Come now, we need to know how many of them there are and how heavily armed they are," he told her, gesturing her to follow him.
They continued their hike in the forest and its increasingly steep floor the closer they came to the beach. Mermaid Lagoon was a bit lower off the cliff they were currently climbing. It was at the far end of the beach, were sand gave way to sharp-edged rocks and the waves crashed against the polished parts of the stone, covering the mesmerizing songs.
Peter stopped and held his arm up so Mercy wouldn't walk past him. They stayed under cover. Mercy sheathed her cutlass and strapped it to a belt she materialized for that very purpose. She quickly checked if her other knifes were still in place and then trained her eyes on the pirate ship that anchored in the bay. Five small boats filled with men were approaching the beach.
"Why fire a canon? There's no one on the beach and they could have taken us by surprise if they hadn't," Mercy said with a deep frown on her forehead.
Peter sucked in his cheeks and seemed to be about to implode. She had never seen him so enraged, though he appeared calm on the exterior, she could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.
"It's not just any pirate ship," he told her through gritted teeth. "He wants to provoke me, he's too proud to attack by surprise."
Mercy didn't know what the hell he was going on about. Who was he talking about? Who would give away their chance at victory out of sheer pride? Attacking by surprise gave a non-negligent advantage, anyone knew that.
She cast her gaze back on the ship, trying to spot her name.
"The Jollyroger," Mercy read. "You've had to deal with this ship's crew before?"
"The captain and I have history."
Peter had spat the word "captain" as if it burned his tongue to say it.
"Let's go back," he decided before Mercy could ask questions. "I've seen everything I needed. We need to get ready, because it won't be pretty."
After that, she shifted into fight mode and didn't put Pan's actions into questions anymore. There would be plenty of time to satisfy her curiosity later, for now, it was war time. Mercy ripped open the front part of her dress to make sure she wouldn't accidentally step on it at a crucial moment and fall.
She would be damned if she brought about her own downfall because of a piece of cloth.
"Any specific orders for me?" Mercy finally asked when they reached the group of boys, all standing in line, ready to crashed against the band of pirates like waves at a mere word of their leader and king.
Peter looked over at her with a small smirk.
"No, you do you, as long as you promise to stay alive."
Mercy was many things, but there were two important things she wasn't.
One: she wasn't reckless. Her actions were calculated and she always took the consequences into consideration when she needed to make a decision.
Two: she wasn't cruel.
She returned the smile and took out her sword without looking away from him.
"Right back at you."