A/N: Hello lovely readers! I'm very excited to begin this chapter today. I hope I can get it out to you guys soon! I actually wrote a one-shot last night that had to do with Undertale, so if you're a fan of that game and Muffet you might like it. Anyway, that's all I have for announcements. Enjoy.
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Slightly stared at Margaret wide-eyed for a split second. "Nuh uh, no way! Peter Pan has given us strict orders for you to stay here in the hideout," he said, folding his arms and turning his head away. Margaret sighed.
"My Nana is aging. She needs me around to help take care of her. I wouldn't want her to die because the lot of you kept me here," Margaret said in a calm and sad voice.
"Nope, not gonna happen!" Slightly said, plugging his ears with his hands. Margaret knew that this was turning into a losing battle, so she dropped the subject, focusing on the laundry.
Slightly chose this as an opportune time to return to his lookout position as he quietly stole into the wild jungle surrounding Hangman's Tree. However, once he disappeared, Margaret took to looking around the clearing and the hideout for anything she could use to get home as she conjured a plan.
"Hm. Well the island is in the sky, so a raft won't do. So, the only way home would be to…" Margaret felt her face pale at the realization that she would have to fly home. How in the world would she be able to do that?! "Think, Margaret think! Remember those stories Nana told you! Don't be daft!" She quietly chastised herself in deep thought. "Think happy thoughts and use pixie dust. Well, happy thoughts are easy, but how will I get any pixie dust?"
Then, as if by a miracle, Margaret glanced across the room of the hideout and saw a pouch sitting on one of the misshapen tables. Curiously, she rushed over and opened the pouch to see a small pile of glowing dust inside of it. Margaret quickly realized it must be pixie dust. Excitedly she ran out of the hideout and stood in the middle of the clearing. She quickly grabbed a dash of the dust and sprinkled it over her head.
"Alright, this is your chance, don't blow it Margaret!" Upon doing so, she closed her eyes and searched her mind for her happiest memory. After some quick thought, the day she got her acceptance letter to Grim Prep sounded suitable enough. All of the pride and excitement rushed back to her as she thought about the memory. She opened her eyes and looked down.
Nothing. She was still glued to the ground. Margaret blinked, her face contorting into one of vexation. "Alright then, um, maybe going to my first day at Grim Prep, perhaps?" She went through the same process of focusing on the memory, and allowing herself time to float before looking down again. Still, nothing. Margaret inhaled deeply, checking to ensure that there was pixie dust on her, which there was.
"I'm thinking of some bloody happy thoughts and nothing's happening, what in the world—"
"Ah, I see you're trying to leave," a voice said behind her. Margaret whipped around to see Peter leaning against Hangman's Tree with his arms folded, studying Margaret carefully.
"Oh, bloody hell," she muttered to herself. "What do you want?"
"Your safety," Peter replied simply.
"Well, I thank you kindly for your concern, but I think it's imperative to mention that if I do not return home soon my Nana could possibly become sick with worry and die. That is enough reason for me to be so desperate to leave, I'll have you know," Margaret replied with a stiff jaw. Peter only sighed in frustration.
"I swear to you that if I could I would take you back home to Wendy, but the pirates have been swarming the island. There's nothing that I can do."
"I understand that it's 'dangerous', but I don't think we'll find an opportune time to leave Neverland without facing at least a little danger," Margaret retorted.
"And what would Wendy say if I had to carry you home dead in my arms?" Peter questioned.
Margaret froze, unable to respond to his question. He had a point: if she was dead, that would distress her Nana more than her disappearance would. Margaret bit her tongue as she thought of a reasonable reply. However, her mind went dry, and as such she found herself unable to respond.
"Well, if you agree, then in the meantime I would suggest putting back the pixie dust and laying low for a while, since that apparently seems so difficult for you to do," Peter replied in a calm tone. Margaret shot a death glare at Peter as he quickly flew away and disappeared into the overgrowth.
"He's such an insufferable git," Margaret muttered to herself. If she were a bit more of a wild individual she would have spat on the ground, but Margaret was an upstanding member of English society who did not partake in such a brutish action.
However, despite her own anger, Margaret put the pixie dust into a cupboard and continued on with the chores she had chosen to do in the hideout. Once the sheets were finished drying, she made the beds once again and started sewing the clothes with holes with a makeshift needle and thread.
Margaret lost track of time sewing, only noticing that the day had fallen to night when the Lost Boys began streaming into the hideout from their duties at lookout. Some of them gawked at her, while Slightly only gave her a blank expression, and Tootles gave a heated blush.
Peter Pan was nowhere to be seen, though the Lost Boys didn't appear worried at all by his absence. Margaret finished the sewing and folded the clothes, putting them away before she began to worry about dinner.
"Are there any particular traditions or rituals the lot of you follow for dinner?" She asked as she went through the cupboards to find any suitable food. The Lost Boys shook their heads, stopping in the middle of their conversations.
"You should wait. Peter is probably hunting some game right now," Slightly said with a skeptical eye in Margaret's direction.
"But do you know for certain that he is? Does he usually hunt at night?" Margaret interrogated.
"Yes, and yes," a familiar voice replied behind Margaret. She whipped around to see Peter Pan standing behind her with a fatigued expression on his face. Slung over his right shoulder was a deer, which had been expertly killed with a precise arrow to the heart. "Since you've been doing so much around here, I'll do the cooking this evening," Peter said as he ducked outside to put the deer down.
"You forgot to call her 'mother'!" Tootles added immediately after.
"What did you just call me?" Margaret called after him in confusion.
"I called you 'mother'," Tootles said in his squeaky voice. Margaret turned to look at him, trying to recall if Nana had ever mentioned anything about being called mother.
"Ah," Margaret said in remembrance, "yes, 'mother'. I remember Nana mentioning something about that."
"Did you not know?" The boy in the bear outfit asked Margaret in shock. The Lost Boys all gaped at her, somehow uncomprehending of the fact that she did not know that being a female in Neverland immediately meant that she was the "mother".
"I don't recall there being a sign outside that said that I was you lots 'mother'," Margaret replied in a dry voice. The Lost Boys perpetuated their looks of shock as they remained staring at Margaret. Peter Pan ducked back in with the now skinned deer. He paused in confusion at seeing the flabbergasted looks of the Lost Boys.
"What's happened here?" He asked Margaret upon seeing the mixture of amusement and annoyance in her face.
"Well, I did not know that I was the 'mother'. They seem to be unable to understand that," she said with a civil shrug.
"Lost Boys, she's not your 'mother'. Wendy is," Peter stated clearly.
"But she looks exactly like Wendy!" The twin boys protested in unison. "Are we still not sure that she isn't Wendy?"
"Oh, dear goodness, we have already discussed this matter," Margaret groaned in an exasperated tone.
"Twins, lay off. Margaret is not your mother. She may do motherly things, but Wendy is still your mother," Peter finished firmly. The Lost Boys all reluctantly nodded their heads in understanding at the situation. Before Margaret could catch herself, she offered him a nod of gratitude, a gesture that Peter merely stared at before cooking the deer.
Dinner that night was a silent affair as everyone chewed on the delicious meat in quiet contemplation. Margaret, a bit disgusted at her impatience and behavior from earlier found herself barely able to eat the delicious dinner, quickly excusing herself before she could even manage to have a bite.
Margaret hurried out of the hideout into the chilly night air, staring at the twinkling stars in the sky as she stood in the clearing. "My god what have I turned into? A barmy bitch, that's what," she muttered to herself with dissatisfaction.
A rustle behind her alerted her to the presence of another as the individual walked up to her side. "…Are you alright?" Peter asked her gently, appearing to be treading on eggshells.
"Hm?" Margaret asked, turning her head with eyebrows raised. "I do apologize, I was thinking rather deeply about something."
"You seemed bothered when you were in there," he explained to her.
"Mm, I guess I was. I hope you are not offended by my abruptness; it was not at all meant to be in any way an insult to your cooking. Though, I guess I do appear rather rude for leaving before taking a bite. I'm so sorry, I should go insi—"
"Don't worry about it," Peter replied simply. "I'm not offended."
Margaret exhaled deeply. "Well—um—good, then." The two remained outside in complete silence as Margaret was unsure how to continue. "To answer your question more specifically, I've found that I've been bothered about myself, my behavior. I'm usually quite calm and collected in such situations, and yet here I've been such an insufferable guest despite the amount of kindness that was showed to me by you and the Lost Boys." She paused as she remembered something. "And, as a matter of fact, I completely forgot to thank you for saving my life. I'm very grateful in you doing so," Margaret said, looking at Peter in the eyes. She had expected to see a spark of adventurousness in his eyes, but she was only met with a tired softness.
"You're welcome."
"You know, I've actually been wondering: why were you there? It's not like you knew who I was. And, even though I looked like my Nana, you must recall your adventures with my Mum?" Margaret questioned him curiously.
"Well, as a matter of fact, I had thought you were Wendy. I should have realized that couldn't be possible, but…well I heard Hook having talks about going after 'that blasted girl' once again. And, I assumed he meant Wendy. When he disappeared from Neverland, I took to flying to London to check up on her—well, you," he explained to her quickly. "I still recall when you looked at me during that rain storm. I thought for a moment that Wendy recognized me, though of course, it was you."
"That's curious. I recall seeing a figure go into the alleyway during the storm. I couldn't make out who it was, but the silhouette I found was quite peculiar. I had recklessly run to the alleyway to see if I could find the person I saw, but they had disappeared. A few seconds later I saw the strangest bird flying into the distance. And now, I realize I must have been so daft to not have realized it was you. Well, I guess I shouldn't say I was daft, as until about a day or two ago I had been convinced that you and Neverland were just made up stories that my Nana told me," Margaret explained with a slight chuckle.
Peter partook in the chuckle quietly, the two of them turning to look up at the stars together. However, after a moment of silence Peter chose to speak.
"There may be a way to check on your grandmother without you having to leave," Peter told Margaret without looking over at her.
Margaret's head snapped over to him eagerly. "Really? Do you truly mean that? Please, tell me how!"
Peter gave her a wary expression. "Well, I can't say for certain that it will work, but I think that if I use some special fairy dust in the pond that you can check up on her. I'll have to speak to the fairy court. I may not even receive permission."
Margaret held her hand up for Peter to stop talking. "I understand, but if I can't leave this island that is my only hope. If you're willing I…well…I politely demand that you try," she told him firmly. Peter gave a slight smile.
"I'll seek an audience with the fairy queen tomorrow, then. Until then, I need you to promise me that you'll not make any attempts to leave the island," Peter said. "If you don't, I won't go through with it."
Margaret took a deep breath. "I promise whole heartedly to not attempt to leave Neverland on my own."
"Good. Well, now that that's settled, you should head inside. You don't have to finish your dinner, but it's late. You should rest," Peter told her. He looked over at her and patted her shoulder before ducking inside Hangman's Tree. Margaret raised her eyebrows in surprise at his consideration. Though, honestly speaking, he had appeared rather…responsible during her entire stay. He appeared nothing like the reckless boy in the tales her Nana told.
Margaret took one last lingering look at the stars before she too ducked inside for the evening, gathering a restful sleep.