Disclaimer: I don't own Peter Pan or its characters.
Author's Note: short chappie sorry! Enjoy! Happy Reading!
The Legend of the Lost Girl
Chapter 8: Death to the Duchess
It would seem that Peter was in a perpetual spot of ill luck. Once again floating Indian style above his bed, his eyes settled on the beauty darning socks in the corner. Could he ever be happy? He wanted fair Wendy-lady to return and now that she did, he needed Lost.
Wanted Wendy for the feelings she stirred deep within him. The quick flutter of his heart against his breast, the boiling blood that rushed towards his… unmentionables stirring new feelings. For the fact that it seemed in such a short time, a day, that he grew up; no longer a boy of twelve, but a youth of sixteen. Of course this change was only in body and not in spirit. Wendy seemed older, and fuller as well now a lady of fourteen or so.
Needed Lost to kill the duchess, to rein peace across Never Neverland, slay the nightmares the world over.
Deciding that he needed some fresh air, Peter Pan decided to take a quick flight around the island. As he left without a breath in between, he missed the knowing secretive smirk that came from Wendy.
When Peter returned a few minutes later he was face to face with an extremely altered winter weight green dress clad Wendy. She turned her back to him with a smile, "Could you tie my corset Peter dear?"
Dumbfounded Peter's feet moved towards the girl and, his fingers tightened the strings as Wendy had once taught him. He noticed that there was a slit in the left side of the seriously lightened skirt, and just barely in the low light he could see the shine of her concealed sword. Snapped out of his daze, Peter questioned, "What is going on Wendy-lady?"
"You'll see, now be a dear and go bathe thoroughly, please," answered Wendy as she turned, a bright and cryptic smile plastered on face. And once more Peter was transfixed, picking up the soap, he left the underground home.
Prepared for the worse Peter returned home, beads of water still collected on his silky hair. Not so much as a second after his feet touched ground was he thrown clothes to wear. They were the loose white shirt and brown pants that Wendy was used to wearing. The lost boy looked oddly at them and than at the girl.
"Put them on Peter, the socks as well, you'll be wearing boots," said Wendy as she turned and left, to give the boy privacy.
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Duchess Elaine Carrie was strolling down her streets, with a rather malicious air about her; she was out for blood, quite literally. Her vision so used to scarlet, in drops to splashes, glasses filled to dresses stained; that the sight of viridian stood out like a peacock flourishing its plumage.
A child of the forest; her hair soft brown in a single long pleat, and dressed in a long eloquent dress of a deep vibrant green. Her pale skin tinted a slight pink as her arm was linked, with the finely combed blond beside her.
Carrie licked her lips the two must be fresh off the ships, well no matter her blood would spill soon, and his phallus would spill seed soon after. Dagger in hand the deranged duchess approached the couple that was currently browsing one of the street side shops.
A shallow cut down the virgin's spine enough to disrupt the pure green with flowing blood and to remove the dress. All the blood would rush to her face in a deep red blush, as she screamed and quickly moved to cover her developing bosom. And then she would die.
Licking her lips in anticipation, Carrie raised the blade and moved it slowly downward. The dagger halted; there was no scream, no bright crimson. There was a sound though metal against metal, and the color was still forest.
"What do you think you are doing? Raising a blade to the Princess of Never Neverland?" replied the blond, his sword outstretched preventing the daggers descent.
"Now my prince, I am sure that the duchess here was only looking to gaze upon flowing blood. So let me help her!" Wendy span quickly a small dagger in her hand and with a thrust plunged the blade towards the gut of Bloody Carrie. The horrid cannibal, with her fast reflexes avoided the near-fatal blow, and in a single motion drew her sword. The reflection in the afternoon light sparkled throughout the streets and soon the seven remaining concubines with their huge fang swords stepped foot upon the streets.
The clash of sword on dagger echoed throughout the island, as duchess attacked princess, "Blood is all I ever want Lost, and it will show so brightly against its compliment. Surely you don't expect to beat me with that dagger?" sneered the duchess as she made a swipe at Wendy's neck. The young lady ducted and shuffled closer to her foe, make a few strikes of her own. Destroying the blood stiff dress, she watched the tattered shreds fall to the ground, leaving the proud, psychotic woman in her bodice.
Luckily for Peter the concubines were bred for two things, even though one of them was to be grand killers, their sword play did not make up for the lack of brains. And the once group of ten was dropping in front of their prince, never to rise again.
Peter floated simply out of reach and watched amusedly as his current attacker waved his sword madly in the air trying to slash the youth. Out of no where, a man appeared hurling towards Peter. Knocking the wind out of the youth, Peter found that it felt as if he were falling, a large weight atop him. But when it came to air combat, Peter was king and a barrel roll later, his pursuer was impaled on the other's waving blade. The scarlet droplets had no chance to spill, before the collective weight fell on the man below, crushing his ribs and suffocating him.
"You know if you kill me, my life's milk will soak my remains and I'll be at least satisfied," said Bloody Elaine Carrie.
Wendy smirked. Not the smirk of a London bred lady, if they smirked at all. Nor was it a secretive sensual smirk of a grown lady who knows how to get what she wants. The same could be said for Lost's smirk, it was not hers. It was a smirk of a lady, secretive in its own ways, and it held the air of a child's mischievous nature. It was murderous, but not psychotic. Eerie but calm. This single smirk, the small quirk of Wendy's lip, spoke volumes, the duchess would die.
Spinning away from her current foe, and in the same movement drawing her concealed sword Wendy blocked a downward swipe, made by the last concubine. He was the last, the most coveted of all, the best, and he quickly retreated to attack again.
Wendy could feel Peter at her back now, protecting it from Bloody Carrie's steel, with a clash like thunder, booming and foreboding as they began their dance. Wendy had enough time to parry the strike and make a few quick ones of her own.
Parried and blocked, Wendy thought of a new strategy, and took to the air. Landing behind the man Wendy struck, the man a half second to late in his own turn. Red spilled clear across from his right shoulder down across the spine, around his side and into his navel. The screech rang out, followed by the thunk of iron against dirt and blood spilled unhindered onto the ground.
Left to the Neverland Royalty, the future King and Queen fought the Duchess. As soon as the rambunctious girl was back in the fight against Carrie, the Duchess next to forgot about the advancing sword of the youth Peter Pan.
With a battle cry Bloody Carrie charged the young Princess, fully prepared to see blood flow. Wendy simply stood calm, a simple smile on her face. The Duchess faulted at this estranged expression, and at that moment she remembered her second foe, the boy behind her.
A single glance, that is all it takes, a single glance behind her and a very feminine fist slammed into a blood thirsty left eye. There was barely any force put into the punch, but the sheer force of the Duchess' own charge forced her to stumble back a step or two. Into the waiting arms of the one the only Peter Pan.
Before Bloody Elaine Carrie knew what was happening, her hands were bound behind her back and she was face down in the dirt the weight of a masculine boot on her back.
A throaty chuckle rang out in the quiet village street, rising in volumes to a howling cackle that spoke emanate death, "Kill me, little girl. It is your only choice to rid the world of nightmares, of me."
"Little girl I am, I forgot my red cape at home sadly, but I'm just the little girl who cries wolf. You Madame Wolf won't eat this little girl, but the woodsman will still come. It's his choice whether he guts you fills you with rocks and throws you down the well or not," Answered the gallant nightmare slayer.
"What?" came the breathily pant of Elaine as the laughter died and confusion set in.
Wendy smiled; her voice raised and announced, "Villagers! Hear me! The Duchess is defeated; do with her as you like!"
In a gallant sweep, the still was broken. Every man who lost a wife or daughter, every mother who lost a daughter, and every orphaned child, swooped in and grabbed Duchess Elaine Carrie. And in the setting sun, the pinks and oranges painted, the feet of the once duchess hanging lifeless from the gallows.
That night in every nursery across the way, the nightlights shivered, for what mother wants her children seeing such a horrific sight? One would think that in that single night, all the nightmares of every nursery would end. For what is there to be afraid of, when there is no Captain James Hook too dreaded for the seas, or Bloody Duchess Elaine Carrie too twisted for the shores. But no, sadly, for no matter how much sorting and cleaning a mother could do, who would forget a glorious battle by their favorite heroes; Prince Peter Pan, and Princess Wendy Lost the soon to be King and Queen of all Never Neverland. But of course that is another tale that will be told at another moment in time.
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed, it's not the end. I also don't own Rotkäpchen (Red Riding Hood) that belongs to the glorious Brüder Grimm. Please tell me what you think.
-Na