Metanoia - Peter Pan OUAT

Chapter Thirty

There are two legendary trees deep rooted into Neverland's soil, the first being Pixie Hollow's Tree in all its glory and undeniable beauty, and the second being Peter Pan's Thinking Tree. This tree was like no other on the island; it was endlessly tall - if one were to crane their neck in attempts to view its peak, their neck would surely snap and they'd still fail to pinpoint where it ends. Its branches were sturdy commencing from the bottom, promising and inviting to be perched up on, though the further you go up the tree, the more brittle the branches become, and may snap with the weight of a mere finger. It was Peter Pan's favourite tree for many reasons which are to remain unknown for the time being to Metanoia, hence why he claimed it as his own, and would visit it quite often. It was, quite literally from its name, a place Peter went to for peace of mind to think things through and place his thoughts in order.

Peter was leaning against his Thinking Tree, with his toned arms crossed over his chest arrogantly, and intimidatingly gazing Metanoia down a few feet across from him. He was calculating his thoughts in his head before choosing what to say to her, and the longer he stared through her soul, the more Metanoia squirmed on the spot. She absolutely hated the ringing silence in the air. Finally, Peter decided to speak, and Metanoia almost sighed in relief for having him break the silence. "If you're anything like your father, then you're a force to be reckoned with, Metanoia."

Metanoia's lips twitched, half-amused, but Pan was swift to pummel her self-esteem with zero mercy, adding casually, "But I highly doubt it, given your lack of intellect, your poor judgment, and your disappointing fighting skills."

Her face dropped and morphed into a nasty scowl, before retorting, "I'm not sure if being like my father is all that great anyway, if I'm being honest."

Pan blinked at her as though she had just uttered the most ridiculous claim to exist. "Did you really just say being like the God of War isn't that great?"

Metanoia shrugged. "How badass is he if he managed to land himself into exile somewhere?"

Pan shot her a displeased look and snapped, "Did you ever consider the ample power the Greek Gods together possess against one Greek God or Olympian?"

Metanoia tilted her head to the side, irking him further with her next question. "Were you a Greek God or a regular, insignificant Olympian?"

In one swift motion, Pan had Metanoia against a random tree with a force tightened around her neck in midair, suspended with a force of magic exerted by Pan. He glared hotly at her.

"Choose your next words wisely, Metanoia." He spat angrily. "You may have been blessed with the ignorance of forgetting your memories, but if I were to trigger the dam withholding your past, you'd remember just how brutal the Gods at Mount Olympus truly are to those they consider a threat or a nuisance."

Metanoia choked against his invisible hold around her neck, her eyes bulging as her legs kicked involuntarily in the air. Deciding that this was enough of a warning, he let go of her, and watched her with satisfaction as she gasped when her body roughly fell to the ground in a loud thud. Metanoia scrambled to sit up, her hand caressing her neck gently from where he'd choked her, and glared lividly up at him.

"Is that any way to treat the daughter of a Greek God, then?" She growled, but Pan simply raised an eyebrow as he demeaningly gazed down at her.

Unimpressed by her futile attempt of authority, he deadpanned, "Let me be clear on one thing - I don't have any respect for you about who you are. You're in my world now, Metanoia. If you want my respect, then you have to earn it, not inherit it from your father's title."

Metanoia's eyebrows creased in frustration, standing up and dusting herself off, and she cried, "But you speak so highly of my father, when I don't even know the first thing about who he is or where we come from! I don't know anything. I deserve to at least know some context if you're expecting some kind of mystical Olympian bullshit from me."