Metanoia - Peter Pan OUAT

Chapter Five

Peter Pan was many things; an entity possessing an astounding amount of power, and a sorcerer so tremendously great, wielding a ridiculous amount of magic. He and he alone kept Neverland alive, for its eternal youth hadn't always existed; if Pan were to reside somewhere, he'd much prefer his constant existence in it for all of time. Let the gods and goddesses at Mount Olympus bang their heads against their lavishly gold-plated walls at his defiance of nature's ways. He smirked satisfactorily at the thought. Among the countless, great powers Pan relished in having, teleportation was quite convenient to him, and he used it the moment the sun peaked from the horizon at dawn.

He whizzed into the air and miraculously materialised effortlessly onto the sandy beach of Neverland's shore. The sunrise cast a beautiful sight upon the early morning sky, providing wild splashes of pink, red, purple and blue paint all over the canvas above, with a bright yellow glowing sphere waiting to rise up ahead and touch the world. The whistling wind teased Pan's fawn hair, tickling his strands so they swayed at its touch, and his focused forest-green eyes glared glumly at the sea before him.

He waited.

A few moments passed meaninglessly, for time was of no concern to Pan; he had all the time in the world, and yet, punctuality was a concept he firmly stood by. And the second party was considerably late to their meeting.

Suddenly, a bob of ginger hair has risen from the water right in front of him, followed by a feminine face of fair skin. The woman was visibly older of age than the boy stood staring at her menacingly, but make no mistake — Pan was easily a few centuries older. She was an infant to him, and he raised his head arrogantly as he observed her, claiming an authoritative stance.

Raising an eyebrow at her, he calmly stated, "You're late."

The woman rolled her baby blue eyes in annoyance, before remarking with a snarky edge to her tone, "You pretend time is of the essence to you."

Pan crossed his arms over his chest and spoke with a sneer, "I often forget you merfolk lack the capacity to practice manners. You're built to be the wild animals of the sea."

The woman's eyes narrowed into slits, before she hissed at him in her native tongue, to which Pan was hardly fazed, and waited for her to halt her tantrum. Once she was done, and was now glaring heatedly at him, Pan lifted a single hand in the air and clenched it. Suddenly, the woman clutched at her throat in confusion, attempting to speak, but failing to do so. She gazed up at Pan in horror, her blue eyes wide with perpetual panic upon witnessing the sadistic smirk plastered on his flawlessly sculpted face. Pan then flicked his hand aside, and stepped closer to where she was afloat in the water.

"Next time you mermaids think about trying to curse an immortally and infinitely powerful entity, you ought to consider the fact that this entity can end you in a heartbeat." He spoke calmly, but his eyes glowed with an impatient rage towards her, having spent the entirety of his patience waiting for her arrival.

The mermaid opened her mouth to speak, but no words were emitted through her teeth, and her lower lip quivered in an indescribable amount of sorrow.

"I just stole your voice, and you're never getting it back. So unless you want me to steal your tail too, I suggest you lead the way to your king." He spat vehemently, no longer in the mood to play along with her attitude.

The mermaid felt hot tears slip through her eyes and roll down her flushed cheeks, as she wordlessly spun around and commenced swimming. Pan dipped himself into the water and followed her lead. Although he was in the water, the water itself did not dare touch any inch of him. He swam with effortless ease, not bothering to hold his breath underwater, because the water kept itself from infiltrating his lungs, for it too feared his wrath. He observed the back of the mermaid's head as she swam ahead of him swiftly, and did not feel an ounce of guilt for snatching something so precious to a mermaid. He was well aware of the gift of singing merfolk were blessed with, and that was why Pan chose to take away her voice; he knew the amount of misery it'd cause her and he thoroughly enjoyed being the cause of her pain.