Disclaimer: I do not and never have owned Peter Pan and anything related top it, although I do claim this plot line.

AN: This is my first serious Peter Pan Fanfiction. It is a dark fic, containing subject matter not everyone may be comfortable with.

Gossamer Threads
 By Daggerpoint

A young woman of nineteen, sat in a rocking chair by the window, humming. In her arms she rocked a young babe perhaps three months old. The window was open despite the fact that it was barely the beginning of spring. The room was a cozily light nursery. The young mother looked down at her son, a look of tenderness on her face, before staring back out the window, pensively.

Wendy Darling had changed ever so much in the year she had been married to Sir Richard Darle. She was no longer the beautiful, happy girl of her youth. In her place was a woman pushed and beaten down, almost to the point of breaking. Her husband, she sneered at the thought, was a cruel, merciless man, who never hesitated to use his fist, if he thought his wife was out of line.

Only one thing had kept her from becoming a mere shell, the way she had when her husband had taken her on their wedding night one year ago. Peter Pan. Her night with Peter. That one night kept her motivated, and gave her the will to live, and when she had thought it to be but a dream, in her arms she held the proof. Richard might think this child to be his, but Wendy knew better. Although most of the child's features took after her family and herself, his eyes and grin could only have been Peter's.

The child stirred restlessly against her, and Wendy deftly released her dressing gown and brought her son to her breast. He suckled contently. Feeding her son from her own body was the only thing Wendy had refused to back down from, despite the many beatings it had earned her. She would not let her child be raised by some other woman. Tonight however, she need not fear a beating. Richard was on business in London and would not return to the manor for many a days yet.

He had forbidden her to go, of course, sighting that it wouldn't be good for the baby. Wendy, however, knew that it was to bar her from the opportunity of seeing her family. Richard did not approve of the adopted Lost Boys. He had made it plain that Wendy was his, and the boys had no say. In fact Wendy could count on one had the number of times she had seen her family since the Wedding.

"Madame." Her lady's maid Martha, entered the nursery bobbing a curtsy. "Dinner is served." She cast a quick glance around. This room had once been a guestroom, but at her Mistress bidding it had transformed into a nursery. In fact The Lady Wendy had given birth in this room, despite Sir Richard's protests. She had claimed at the time it was closer to the washroom, but Martha didn't blame her for not wanting to have her child in the cold Master Suit. In fact the bed still remained in the room and Lady Wendy slept in it whenever Sir Darle was gone. None of the servants mentioned it to their lord. The gentle Lady, whom they had all come to love, would not suffer anything they could prevent.

Actually it had been Martha who had approached her master about turning this room into a nursery. She had said the ventilation would do the child good. Sir Darle had trusted her, as she had several healthy children, several of them boys, of her own. His concern was not precisely for the health of the child, but for the birth and wellbeing of a healthy heir. He cared only for appearance.

"Martha." The servant was startled. The Lady very rarely talked to any of the servants, almost never using first names.

Martha bobbed another curtsey. "Yes? My Lady." "Have you ever wanted to fly away from here? Fly amongst the stars?"

"My Lady?" Martha's confusion and worry was plain.

Wendy let out a short laugh. 'Never mind. Just the wanderings of a silly girl's mind." By this time the babe had finished nursing, and Wendy buttoned her gown. "Martha would you please bring me the green dinner dress?"

Suddenly Martha became aware of just how young her mistress really was. She moved to retrieve the requested gown, then paused. "My Lady? If you wish I could have dinner sent here instead?" It was the first suggestion she had ever made for the Lady Wendy.

A small smile graced Wendy's features. "I'd like that."

Martha nodded. "I'll go request it then." And with another curtsey she was gone.

Wendy stood and carried her son to the window. Holding him in her arms she began to speak to him. "Your father is out there. Among the stars." She smiled sadly. "He's probably found other Lost Boys to care for and have adventures with." With a sigh she turned from the window, and walked over to place her child in the waiting bassinet. Pulling the blanket over him, Wendy whispered "Sleep well my child."

Wendy returned to her seat by the fire, lifting a book from the table beside it. She did not open it however. Instead she stared out the window, holding her tears at bay. She barely heard Martha return with a tray, which she left on the table where Wendy's book had sat not long ago.

"Thank you Martha. That will be all this evening."

Martha curtsied to her mistress and left the room, as Wendy turned her attention to the tray. She soon lost interest however, and gently set down her silverware. As quiet as a waif she moved to the bookcase that was built in to the far wall, and gently withdrew a thick tome from the shelf, caring it back to her chair. Setting the book on her lap she allowed it to fall open to where several beautiful flowers had been pressed between the pages. Gently Wendy stroked the brittle petals, her mind bring her back to the morning after her wedding.

After Peter left, Wendy had found the flowers on the table, as fresh as when they had been picked. They had smelled divine, but Wendy knew she could not risk their discovery. Unable to be rid of them, she had pulled a dusty book from the shelf and slipped the flowers between the pages, to preserve as much as to hide them. Completing this task, Wendy left her sanctuary and returned to the master suit, where shortly her husband awoke and again made use of his bride.

A sound by the window, pulled Wendy out of her memories. She silently closed the book and set it aside. The curtains moved, though there was no wind. Wendy did not move. And then they stopped, and she sank back in disappointment. It had not been Peter. During the past year she had hoped and prayed for his return, wish for a rescue and for her son to know his true father.

She had in a small way tried to tie her son to his biological parent. Though Richard had name the boy William, in honor of his deceased father, Wendy had given the middle name of Peter. Though Richard had been suspicious, Wendy had merely sighted faith as her reason for the name. Richard had accepted this with out question, never knowing that the child would carry his true father's name forever.

AN: Sorry for this post for having taken so long and for being so short. I have been suffering from writer's block, plus have been working quite a bit. Any ways please let me know what you think through a review.