I Trusted You (Peter Pan)

Chapter 3

A/N: Let's kick off this chapter with a bit of romance, shall we? :)

Cassandra was seated on the ground, her back against a tree. She could hear the cheers of the Lost Boys from the camp nearby. Not in the mood for fun, she had left the group and was currently hiding away until she could calm down. She hadn't wanted to see a certain someone. Didn't trust herself not to kill him if she saw that egotistical face of his. Her plan had worked, slightly. The roaring fire of her anger had simmered to a level she could control. The stillness of her current surroundings definitely helped. The pale moonlight cast a beautiful glow over the trees. The soft shadows twisting as the gentle breeze fluttered the leaves.

Feeling someone drop down beside her, Cassandra tensed. She knew who it was. The bold action as he rested his hand on her knee was clear enough. Although she was angry at him, she suddenly felt too drained to shove him away. Curious to her body's reaction she quickly deduced a reason. She felt defeated. The one person she thought would always be there to back her up, to catch her if she fell...well he didn't. He virtually pushed her off the figurative edge, sending her tumbling down to the despondent state she was in. Ripping her away from a chance at vengeance.

"Why?" She asked, her voice weak.

"You see, I don't think you've thought this through." Peter said, his voice somehow both gentle and cocky. "I know I said you could have your revenge, but is stabbing your mother really the best way to go about it?"

"You're kidding, right?" Cassandra bristled at the boy's words.

"Andie, I think you've forgotten I'm on your side." She could sense his self-righteous smile. "Listen, you loathe Emma. Completely understandable after what she did to you. But a dagger to the heart. Surely that's too quick an end for someone so vile."

The cogs in Cassandra's turned. She could see Peter's point. Cursing herself, she could feel her icy aura melting. She knew she shouldn't forgive him so easily but it was so hard, so tiring, staying mad at him. Her stiff posture relaxed somewhat.

"Then what would you suggest?"

"Have a little fun. Make her suffer. Mess with her head. Make her part of the game." The mischievous tone in his voice was unmistakable. "I've already started to toy with her. Let me tell you, she's not as strong as she likes to think. There are already cracks in her walls. Despair beginning to show and we've barely gotten started." He sneered and Cassandra grinned widely.

"And then I can kill her?" Her eyes lit up at this vengeful ploy. Without hesitation, Peter fuelled her fire.

"After we've torn her down and she's begging for forgiveness. Begging for death." He nodded. "Andie, this opportunity has the potential to be the greatest game of all time and I do not intend to waste it."

"Likewise." Cassandra's fury towards Peter had dissipated and her head fell to his shoulder. "What about Snow and Charming, can I kill them?" Her quip was met with a simple chuckle from Peter.

She raised her head and turned to face him. Her heart tightened. The white light danced across his features creating dark contrasting shadows which accentuated the deep colour of his iris'. Sometimes they could be described as pure emerald or even forest-green when the sunlight emphasised the lighter flecks within. Now however, the darkness from the clearing, cast away by the moon, had escaped into his eyes turning them into a deeper, richer green. Their colour reminded Cassandra of moss in winter where it poked out from under the snow, the sodden plant dark in tone. The stark contrast to the dazzling white around it causing it to appear darker still.

Peter's gaze had become intense and Cassandra found she was unable to look away. She became aware of their closeness, aware of the heat radiating from his chest, aware of how it was more than likely that Peter could hear her trembling heartbeat. The hand that had been resting on her knee disappeared and immediately the spot felt cold. The hand moved to her face where it brushed aside her tatted locks. He traced the scar that flowed across her temple almost gracefully. Its jagged form had faded somewhat since she was a small child but still the mark remained. Peter had never offered to use his magic to rid her of it. Cassandra hadn't asked him to. She liked it. It was a reminder of what she'd been through. Of how much she was capable of overcoming.