The Princess and The Piper

Chapter Sixteen

His words circulated through my brain, weaving in and out, up and around my blood vessels as they strangled me from the inside out. My breath hitched in my throat, my mind a cluttered mess.

I glanced up at Pan's face, his perfectly shaped, oval face, that consisted of the most flawlessly designed upturned nose and slightly parted plush, pink lips. His cheeks were usually rosy from the heat, but he was pale. His skin was white as snow as if he'd just seen a ghost, as if he was a ghost.

I remembered what Parker had said earlier:

"He now knew why Pan had chosen to apprehend and execute his lost beloved. He finally realized the truth behind it all..."

"The subject of the prophecy," I murmured, slowly understanding the connotation behind the message myself. I locked eyes with him, anger and nerves beginning to boil in the pit of my stomach. I slightly scrunched my nose, refusing to break eye contact until he gave me an acceptable answer. Instead, he dug inside of his thrashed leaf-brown tunic.

Pan revealed yet another piece of old, torn parchment, though this one was folded into eighths. He broke away shamefully, the exact expression young children give their disappointed parents. I knew what it looks like because I wore it for almost ten years. The only difference between the two sheets of golden paper was that this one didn't have words. This one consisted of a single drawing: a person's face. My face.

"You look just like her," Pan spoke solemnly. "I was so desperate to find and rid this girl from the world that I convinced myself of your sister's eligibility. She fit all of the criteria. I didn't even know you existed at the time."

"That's why you sent Parker," I concluded as all of the puzzle pieces began to file into place. He nodded.

"I needed to know if she was the one," Pan disclosed. "I watched her grow over time, morph into a beautiful young woman. She was perfect." He stopped and gazed into my wide, yearning eyes. "And that was the problem. She had no issues, no flaws. Even still, I never loved her. But I guess that helped convince me that she was her-- the one who would be the death of me, that is. I guess that's why it was so easy to kill her." He clenched his fist, pretending to squeeze an imaginary heart as his eyes trailed into space. I stepped closer, leaving at least three feet between us.

"What about me?" I asked, stopping to peer up at him, waiting for the rest of the story.

As seconds passed, my question remained unanswered. Pan simply stared into my eyes, a cracked mask guarding his usual glare. I'd never seen him so defeated.

This time, he took a step forward. "For three decades, I fell asleep every single night, watching the girl in the drawing. She never moved, never spoke, never blinked, but I did. I would ask her questions, wondering what was so special about her, but she never responded. I grew paranoid, curious as to when and how she would arrive. I had a craving desire to know everything about her. Later, I was informed of a princess of both realms. She was a necessary loss, but my problems had yet to be solved. Then, one day, my shadow returned with a girl." He stroked his chin as he scoffed, using his left arm to support his right elbow.

I didn't understand the significance of a girl on the island.

"You don't get it, _____," Pan laughed, mocking my ignorance. "My shadow doesn't just bring girls whenever he feels like it. Did you ever notice that you're the only one?"

I blinked, trying to rephrase my original question. "Yes, I'm not blind."

"You are the only girl to involuntarily arrive on the island of Neverland, ever, period. My shadow chose you."

During his rant, Pan grew increasingly close. I could feel his warm breath beating against the bridge of my nose, smell his intoxicating scent of mint and vanilla. His gaze evidently trailed from my eyes to my lips, where it lingered longer than it should have. Once again, my heart jumped as if making a prison escape by tossing itself against the bars. He took a deep breath as well as a step backwards.

"There was another girl, many years ago." He turned around, obviously not wanting to face me. "She snuck here with her brothers, Michael and John. They had rubbish obsessions with steel pipe hats and teddy bears-"

I snorted, remembering a blonde, Roman book character from back at the palace. "Like Octavian." He gave me a fuzzy expression as if to say 'what?'. "It's from a mythological novel series," I explained, though his confusion didn't falter. I waved it off. "Nevermind."

Pan stared at me strangely. "Well, her name was Wendy."

"What do you mean 'was'?" I asked, frightened of what his response may be.

Pan smirked. "I grew bored of her," he stated nonchalantly. "So I knocked an arrow, its tip dipped in dreamshade." He pretended to pull the string to his nonexistent bow, making a whistling noise as he released. "And impaled her heart. She never bothered me after that, but her brothers demanded to be returned home. They weren't very helpful anyway." I gulped. "But you," he glanced at me over his shoulder. "You're different." Pan took a seat on his cot. "You only speak when you're angry or outraged, with the exception of that coward."

A millisecond was spent as I realized of whom Pan was speaking. A crease formed between my brows. "Do you mean Baelfire?"

He brushed it off as if it was no big deal, shrugging to say, "Whatever." I rolled my eyes. "She was so needy, so easy to find bothersome. But you, _____, are exactly the opposite. You don't nag me for anything. You barely even speak to me. It makes me so frustrated." He began to tug on the golden curls in his disheveled hair, widening his dazzling forest green eyes. "The first time I saw you, I couldn't connect the faces. You seemed so familiar, but I wasn't sure from where."

"How so?" I inquired further, continuing to close the chasm between us.

"Your expression revealed one thing, but your eyes held another story, one of more pain and torment, misery." Pan flinched like he had felt everything I had suffered through, like he was there to live it beside me. "You were troubled, I knew that much, but I couldn't read you like everyone else. Your magic, it holds great power, so much potential. There was a spell, blocking your past from me: a protection spell. It was encoded by a language I couldn't encrypt, ancient magic. But as the nights fell and days birthed, I leisurely began to discover your identity."

"And? I'm a princess," I stated, loathing my title. "I'm next in line for two kingdoms: Danmǫrk and Atlantica. My father, an alcoholic, has beat me since I was only a mere child of seven. My mother isn't even home anymore because my grandfather, the king of the sea, is dying. She doesn't even know what he does to me because no one will stand up to him, no one is willing to do anything about it. Believe me, he's too powerful. And I can't even go anywhere near water or else I'll turn into an ugly fish! So, what?" I yelled, tears rolling down my cheeks like boulders on a hill. I was ashamed of who I was.

"And that's exactly what your sister never saw," Pan spoke calmly, carefully approaching me, step-by-step. "She was living in her own bubble, oblivious to the real world around her. She never knew the experiences of starvation, thirst, illness, death. She was forever trapped in that rich, little palace. But you have suffered through everything. You know what it's like. I want so badly to rip your heart out of your chest, steal your soul, and crush it before your eyes-- to kill you slowly and painfully-- for what you are destined to do, but I can't. I can't bring myself to do it." He placed his arms around my torso so that his hands rested on my lower back, and brought me closer protectively. "Instead, I have to fight the urge to kiss you." His eyes trailed south again. "And I'm losing the battle."