Philomena Pan, Daughter of Peter Pan and Wendy Darling, had grown up hearing tales of her mother and father's great adventures.
However, the girl was most accustomed to the story of her fathers fight against his archenemy Captain Hook, the pirate c...
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The Epilogue ~ Say you won't let go
Captain Hook's home, tucked away in a secluded part of the Isle, surrounded by a dense thicket of trees, seemed to keep the rest of the world at bay. The house is old but sturdy, with weathered wooden beams and a cozy, lived-in feel that makes it the perfect place to spend a chilly winter's day.
Inside, the warm glow of the fireplace illuminated the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls as the fire crackles softly.
In the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg fills the air, mixing with the warmth of the hearth and creating a comforting, festive atmosphere.
Harry Hook, with his sleeves rolled up and a smudge of flour on his cheek, stands at the counter, intently focused on rolling out the dough for gingerbread cookies. His usual pirate attire has been exchanged for a simple crimson wool sweater and dark trousers.
Beside him, Phina is busy mixing ingredients in a large bowl, her cheeks flushed with the warmth of the kitchen and the joy of the holiday season.
"Ye're makin' a right mess there, love," Harry teases, glancing over at Phina with a playful smirk as she adds a little too much flour to the mixture.
Phina rolls her eyes good-naturedly, her lips curling into a smile. "Says the guy with flour all over his face," she retorts, reaching out with a finger to swipe some of the flour from his cheek. Harry catches her wrist mid-motion, his grin widening.
"Careful now, ye wouldn't want to start a flour fight, would ye?" His eyes twinkle with mischief as he lets go of her wrist, but not before dusting a bit of flour onto her nose.
Phina laughs, her heart light as she playfully pushes him away. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"That's what makes me so charmin'," Harry shoots back with a wink, turning his attention back to the dough. He cuts out shapes with a gingerbread man cutter, his focus shifting between the task at hand and sneaking glances at Phina. He loved these moments with her, the quiet domesticity that was so different from their usual adventures.
Phina hums a tune under her breath as she pours the mixed dough onto the counter to knead it, her thoughts drifting to how this Christmas felt so different from any other.
The holidays at home weren't usually filled with all that much warmth and joy compared to being with Harry, in his father's home. She had enjoyed christmas with her mother and father as a child, but as she grew christmas lost its magic as she lost her childlike joy. Eventually Wendy and Peter had stopped making such an effort, so christmas just became like every other day.
As Phina presses the dough flat, she looks up at Harry, a warm smile playing on her lips. "I'm glad we're doing this," she says softly, her voice sincere. "It feels... nice."
Harry pauses in his work, meeting her gaze. For a moment, the playful banter drops away, leaving only the tenderness that had grown between them over time. "Aye," he murmurs, his voice low and earnest. "It does."
