A/N: I'm really loving Once Upon A Time in Wonderland at the mo. But anyway, here's the next chapter. I should probably be writing practice essays for my HSC but this story simply needs to be written. Thank you again for all the follows and reviews! xx

The Lost Boys' Fight to Be Found

A thousand years ago…

Fireworks dotted the sky as the sound of uproarious laughter filled the streets. Inside the castle courtyard, candles dotted the walls like fairy lights, the stars themselves hidden by clouds that were threatening rain. But it hadn't arrived yet, and so the people danced.

Peter stood upon a block at the back of the group still. But when the princess caught sight of him, she smiled and waved. In return, he played his melodies louder. The others shot him looks of disdain as he began to move his way around them. The crowd clapped as he began to dance. He was lucky enough to play a small instrument with sound that followed him wherever he went.

The young princess dance with many that night, but as the fires were lit at the ending of the festivities, she merely stood aside; her small silvery crown glittering in the firelight as her braids caught the colours of her auburn hair. And there, Peter stood in awe of her beauty.

But when the princess sought him later that night, or early into the morning, she couldn't find him. The musicians had cleared out of the castle quickly. It was a measure of her determination that she was able to hightail her way out of the palace on the back of a food carriage in nothing more than her nightgown and petticoat, and not be discovered.

Peter thought, as soon as he saw her walking into the inn, this girl was amazing.

And yet as soon as he thought it, he regretted it. This girl, she wasn't ordinary, a peasant like him – she was a princess…the princess. One day she would rule Hainor, and he would die a pauper's death.

But of course, at that moment, as she ran inside and took him by the hand, glowing with what could only be described as new love, those thoughts were wiped from his mind. And they danced.

Present Day

Indigo's wrists were being rubbed away and she had the funniest feeling that these cuffs were enchanted because everything she tried, magic or physical, was not working to get her out of these chains.

It was the most she could do to try and make herself comfortable and not move. It was entirely frustrating though, to be bound. She wasn't entirely helpless, after all, this point could be advantageous. It would only take a mild illusion to gain pity from some of the lost boys, and perhaps even more from the older ones.

There, in a dingy tent, connected to the trunk of a tree by rusted chains, Indigo began to hatch a plan, better by far than the one she had been given back home. Now that she was here, surrounded by the people who it applied to, she knew she could do it. She knew that she could free the lost boys.

And yet…

The day wore on. And as Indigo slipped in and out of sleep, all she could feel was bored. There was only a certain amount of time she could spend memorising the patterns of a dirty tent that let limited light through. There was a blanket in the corner, which led her to believe that she wasn't the first prisoner that had found themselves in this position.

Of course she wasn't, she reminded herself, Wendy had been here.

The sudden opening of the tent forced her face to turn to the back of the enclosure, recoiling away from the light, and the image of Pan's face. But he merely shut it behind him and began pacing the dirt floor. Slowly, Indigo turned back, eying him curiously.

He seemed to be choosing his words with extreme care, although why, she didn't know. With these chains inhibiting her power, she was effectively rendered powerless.

"You swam to shore," Pan started, not looking at her. "And I know that that's feasible. But what eludes me is how you got into Neverland. I am this world. Everything that happens here, I feel. So how did you get in?" By the end of it he was looking directly at her, accusing and menacing.

"I escaped," she answered meekly, lying through her teeth, yet acting the victim. Hopefully Felix hadn't shared her earlier escapades with the world. It would work to her advantage if Pan didn't know exactly what she could do. "I escaped from Hook."

"You were Hook's prisoner," Pan's eyebrows raised, "Plausible, but flawed. Hook hasn't left Neverland in almost twenty years."

"Time means nothing here," Indigo said quietly.

"You're quite right of course," Pan started up his pacing once more. "And so Hook just let you go?"

"He was leaving Neverland and said he had grown tired of my limited uses," she simpered, looking at the floor. It was surprisingly easy to turn Hook into a bastard, a concept she inwardly smiled at. "He said it was better to leave me to die in the jungle than to take me with him."

"Yes, his leaving Neverland was a welcome endeavour," Pan answered, looking over at her again. His face was unreadable. For a moment she'd thought he was smiling, but as he turned, she saw the hardness of his lines. "We shall speak again soon my dear."

The tent flap closed, leaving her alone. It was growing increasingly warm beneath the dark material which was not conducive to fighting off the naps that had attacked her all day. And yet, when footsteps echoed outside the tent, she knew they were much too heavy to be Pan's – so she took a risk. She didn't need her hands for this kind of magic.

It was Felix who entered the tent, carrying a carved wooden bowl filled to the brim with water. When he saw her, his eyes blinked twice. But that was the only sign that he noticed the illusion she had placed upon herself. The small colours of black and blue that dotted her collarbone; the cuts that leaked blood onto her shirt. It was enough to make him falter – a momentary second guess – and for now, that was enough. The plan was in motion – the lost boys' fight to be found.

And yet, Indigo questioned his presence here. Surely this wasn't Pan's kindness.

"He doesn't want you dead," Felix said as though he had heard her thoughts, or had perhaps seen the illusion and assumed Pan had already begun with her torture, "Yet."

She manoeuvred her hands forward to take the bowl, wincing as the shackles slid down her wrists slightly. That was no illusion – they were burning with every attempt she had tried to get out of them.

Felix dropped the bowl into her hands, eyeing her wrists carefully before starting, "You probably shouldn't keep trying. He'll let you go when he's ready."

"Any clue as to when that will be?" Indigo questioned, lowering the bowl from her lips, before returning to it quickly, eager to quench her thirst.

"Only he knows," Felix answered, holding his hand out for the bowl. Indigo returned it with a small, "Thanks," to which he nodded and left the tent as she took down the illusion that covered her to save her energy should a real emergency arise.

It was only a few minutes later, when the novelty of his appearance had worn off that Indigo realised what she was truly thanking him for. The throbbing pain in her wrists had subsided. Looking at them, she noticed that the redness faded into nothing, and all that remained were the lightest of scars that were disappearing before her eyes. It had to have been Felix, she assumed. And yet it was curious, if he could heal this, how come the scar that marred his face still stood prominent and menacing?

At that moment though, it didn't particularly matter. All she knew was that one lost boy might not be too lost for much longer.