A/N: I legitly spent two hours late last night planning out the entirety of this story so that I don't get half way through and write myself into a ditch that I have to write myself out of. AND, nobody told me that I'd been using 'distain' instead of 'disdain' for years which makes me feel incredibly stupid considering I took the highest English subject possible. Anyway, thank you guys for your reviews and follows, it means so much! xx

The Music

A thousand years ago…

The candles lit up her room as the young princess waited in anticipation at her window. Moonlight lit up the tops of the trees as she watched the town falling asleep. Her brown eyes shone with excitement that made the moment she saw him that much more important.

He himself was sneaking out. The musicians were like his family – like several protective uncles. But as of yesterday, he was a man. Sixteen years old; now he could go wherever he wanted. He could travel the world and see foreign lands and people. He could learn their songs.

Only she had to stay, one day she would be queen, and he knew he couldn't leave her.

He made his way through the woods warily. His eyes were glancing around furtively on his path. There was little that he could use to defend himself should someone attack him, not that he would know how to in any manner. Perhaps he could throw his flute at them, but that wasn't something he'd do until he had no other option.

He managed to reach the outermost wall of the castle without any trouble, except an acute growing fear of the things that moved in the darkness. His princess stood at her window, looking out past him. He didn't call her to gain her attention, but pulled out his flute and began to play.

Her eyes snapped to his as he played a melody that she had come to think of as hers and hers alone. And she smiled as he played, but others found the music not so appeasing to their ears. The sound of movement on the third floor of the castle forced her to make a stopping motion to Peter, and point at a small side door towards the south as she mouthed, "I'll meet you down there!"

It was a feat to get past the guards that had suddenly realised someone was present in the castle that shouldn't be. But they unlike the Princess, had no idea where the boy was coming from, and so she snuck down past the servant's stair into the delivery door and opened it.

Peter climbed in through the smaller door and lit up when he saw the Princess. His ecstasy was cut short however by the finger she placed to her lips in silence. Suddenly he was fearful again, for silence with his feet was not the easiest of tasks for him. But with the Princess leading the way, they found themselves quickly hidden away in her room.

Peter looked around in awe, once more shocked by the divide between their lives. He looked at her properly once more to find that she had made an effort to do her hair in braids for him, and smiled sadly. How long could this last? The Princess and the piper – surely she would be married off soon –

His thoughts were cut off by her hand, tracing his nimble fingers.

"Perhaps," she started, thinking of the importance of secrecy, "I could find a special flute for you, one that they can't hear."

"I could simply play softer," Peter suggested.

"No," she stated solidly. "No, you should never play softer."

Present Day

The haunting sound of music floated into Indigo's sleep, waking her gently. The night had crept up on her; the barest rays of light creeping through the tent surface to tell her that it was clear – the moon and the stars were out – and not a cloud was in sight. She kept count in her mind; it had been one day.

But Pan's flute was making its way into her tent, and outside she could see the scarlet tones of a raging fire. Boys beat rhythms onto whatever they could find as they danced. It was tribal and it was primitive, but Indigo wasn't afraid; this was merely Pan, reminding his lost boys of the reason why they came to Neverland in the first place.

The sound was darkened by the taint of loneliness in the music. Indigo supposed, to the lost boys, it was familiar and welcome, but to her, it dug cold shards into her heart. The call of loneliness was a reminder of a life that she would much rather forget. And Pan wasn't putting her in a fantastic mood.

She had no chance of seeing what was going on, but with a little concentration and a small flick of her head, the tent opened as though wind had flowed through the campsite. The boys were wild, and yet they were free. Her eyes followed them in keen observation, only a few did not dance, but they moved – they heard the music just as she did.

The notion made her shiver. She knew Pan's music only called to the lost ones. She didn't want to be lost, and yet she was. She always had been.

It wasn't something that she wanted known to them; not yet.

Night turned into early morning as the music slowly died and the lost boys found themselves back in their treetop houses. A single pan flute lulled the boys to their sleep as the fire dulled into embers. It was almost daybreak by the time Pan left his music to silence and walked into Indigo's tent, his face marred by blurred paint as he put aside his flute on a small hook in the tent.

"Did you enjoy the entertainment?" Pan asked. "I saw your magical display earlier. You aren't quite as secretive as you think you are."

"It was the wind," Indigo answered quickly, a little bit too much force and disdain in her voice compared to how she'd spoken to him earlier.

"Ah," Pan breathed with a little relief, walking over to her, "There's the fire that Felix told me about. I must admit, I was hoping you weren't going to be just another Wendy."

Hearing Pan talk about Wendy wasn't a welcome experience for Indigo, considering everything her new plan contained went against the old plan that Wendy had instigated.

"Has today been boring for you Indigo?" Pan continued belittlingly. "Surely you wouldn't mind, getting out of here." Giving in to the loneliness. She saw the unspoken words in his eyes but she looked past him, eager to ignore his words. He made it harder to look anywhere but at him with the closing proximity between them.

"I'll find out what you want," Pan whispered, close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek. "I can see through your lies. I will find out your power. And eventually, I will be the one to kill you."

She barely had a moment to gasp after his promise when she found him blocking her airways. Pan's lips were hard on hers – forceful – his movements driven by a force that she couldn't comprehend. It wasn't love, it could've been passion – but it took only a moment more for her to realise that it was nothing more than possession. This was his way of telling her that she couldn't leave; that from this moment on, she was his.

His hand held the back of her neck tightly and she tried, in reflex, to push him off, but Pan was smart – and he had trapped her with no loose chain. When he eventually let her go it was on his terms, and with a small tilt on the corners of his mouth on his mouth, he smiled darkly. Indigo glared at him icily – nothing she could say would be any help in this situation, especially since the only words going through her head were insults of varying degrees.

"I'll see you when the sun rises," Pan said as he walked out, his flute in hand.

She watched the instrument closely for a moment before the tent closed on her, plunging her into darkness. The chains around her, like snakes, strangled any hope of freedom. And lying awake in the moments before the dawn, she found herself examining her own thoughts curiously. Pan was right; she wouldn't mind giving in…if only to get out.