The Piper's Song ~OUAT Peter Pan fanfiction (Book 1)

The Forgotten

“What is this--is this some kind of trick to throw me off?” Anne spoke cautiously. Benjamin’s deep colored brows inched inward towards one another’s wrinkling the dirty skin of his forehead.
                “Sit,” he urged opening his arm to reveal a gray and stone-like rock close by him.
                “I don’t think so,” Anne replied still cautious, “not until you tell me what’s going on,” she added.
                “Then perhaps I should tell you in a stand…but I must warn you, your legs will indeed get tired…this is sort of a long story,” Benjamin told Anne. Anne remained stubborn. “A while ago, Regina, or the Evil Queen…she cursed the Enchanted Forest…banishing everyone to a place in Maine, Storybrooke.” Anne recognized the name. Pan had mentioned it the night he first trained her…asked her about it but she never asked him about it. Truth was…she had no idea what Storybrooke even was but she was convinced Pan had thought she came from Storybrooke so she acted like she knew.
                “But…that’s impossible. I came from the Enchanted forest…” Anne then suddenly realized something. Pan must’ve known she lived in the Enchanted forest since he picked her up there…but, why’d he act like it was Storybrooke? Surly, he must’ve got confused…or maybe he knew, the entire time that Anne was faking and played her.
                “You did…but only a certain part of it…a certain part that was reserved.”
                “How?” Anne asked.
                “My mother…she was a witch. She casted a spell on the village, Hamelin…” Anne lived in Hamelin, she always had, her and Felix both. That’s where Pan collected his lost boys.
                “Wait--“ Anne shook her head… “When?—What for?”
                “Just before the curse hit,” Benjamin answered the when part. “Why? To see if I’d ever come home. Pan had taken me to Neverland you see…and my mother reserved Hamelin for the sake of my return.”
                “Why didn’t she reserve all of the Enchanted forest?”
                “She couldn’t. She wasn’t that powerful,” Benjamin informed. Anne understood. But she still didn’t know why Pan called Hamelin, Storybrooke.
                “Pan…he called Hamelin Storybrooke one night to me…why?”
                “Perhaps he got confused,” Benjamin suggested. “Returning to Hamelin after the curse, it messes with you.”
Anne struggled to exhale the breath she had been holding from fear. Benjamin could be right…but then again he also couldn’t.
                “How?” she asked.
                "You mix things up like names and such," Benjamin replied. Anne understood. Maybe Benjamin was right.
                "What about the villagers of Hamelin?"
                "I suppose it messes with their memories a little as well," Benjamin replied.
                "So wait--" Anne shook her head in confusion, "what does your mother's spell have to do with you letting Felix and my father go?"
                "Because my mother looked after you and Felix from time to time while you stayed in that little wooden house of yours..." Anne's eyes couldn't help but widen. "She was the witch that delivered you your soaps and things...and she's the reason your house burned down."


With a smug smirk on his face, Pan made his way to the moonlit lake shore. He knew what he came there for though he had only the slightest idea as to what he was expecting. Though he knew whatever it was, he could take it. Onlooking the black water, he breathed then closed his dark eyes. The palms of his hands facing the lake, his senses strengthened then he could hear the voices. He could start to smell their water-rotten flesh now. Then he could hear their faint cries that had been so long overlooked but have passed through the Neverland leaves of trees every night.

They are the air of Neverland, the rain and absolute evil, the forgotten ones...the stories. They are the pain and suffering. They were the shadow's children. Pan could feel their presence and he could start to hear the black water stir before him with the nighttime wind. Then finally he brought down his hands and opened his eyes. He couldn't help but loosen his neck just then then lifted his chin.

In front of him, he began to see the black heads of the forgotten ones rise from the dark, murky surface and slowly, giving him chills. But Pan suppressed his sudden wary expression and made himself look rather intrigued. Their white slimy skin contrasting against the black around them. The moon making their slim glisten sickly, Pan took another deep breath.  

The children wore dull night clothes, mostly nightgowns that were molded against their small bodies from the water they had so long stayed in, being ignored by their one guardian, the shadow. Pan knew their stories. Each one had come to Neverland in their dreams. The shadow flew them over the Neverland ocean to get to the island and when they became scared, the shadow dropped them in the water and they drowned, dieing. Each child coming at different times and there were many. These children knew even the most darkest secrets of the island. Pan had only recently discovered them, in a dream of his.

The water dripping from their dead bodies as they walked onto the shore, Pan fought the urge to flinch and back up. The tint of their lips a faint purple and their eyes dark with pure hatred. The leader, a little girl with long black, straight hair, she stood tall in front of the rest. The dead rotting bunch containing both boys and girls, young children, no teenagers, the leader inched her dripping self towards Pan. He held back on some flinching. Her smell welling in his nostrils, sickening and nauseating him, Pan fought the urge once more to pull back.

The girl stared upon him now, her eyes empty and sad with black surfacing beneath them. She was shorter then him, the top of her head, inches beneath his chin. She then lifted her hand to touch Pan's face. He cut her off. "What's your name?" he asked. The girl turned perplexed then brought her hand to her side tilting her head.
        "Have you not dreamt of me, Peter Pan?" Her voice was scratchy and terribly demonic-tinted. Pan tensed with slight fear. And it was funny because this was only a little dead girl, having had been dropped into the ocean during her dreams to drown. But she had this vibe, much like the rest of the children. It was dreadfully evil and dark, debatable even for the one and only Peter Pan.
        "I have," he spoke, lifting his chin once more to feel intimidating...to look intimidating. A sick devilish grin spread across the rotting girl's face revealing her slightly sharp and white teeth. Her eyes rolled back revealing nothing but black. Pan, this time, was unable to hold back and flinched slightly. For a moment he was convinced his flinch was barely noticeable but then the girl laughed. She then blinked. Opening her black holes, Pan then witnessed her eyes come back and a flash of sliver highlighted her now white iris's.
        "We've dreamt of you too," she replied.