What Pan Wants, He Gets (Peter Pan--OUAT)

Battling Trust

(Bree's P.O.V.)
So you know that whole, 'Peter's a broken person blah, blah, blah?' Well change of plans. He's an asshole who deserves to die. Yeah, you heard me. Turns out, he gave up his child for power. How on Earth is that something to pity? How did I find out? I was let out my cage and decided to go for a walk around the perimeter. Probably wandered farther than the perimeter, but whatever. As I was walking, Rumplestilskin, showed up. Even when I think that I'm far enough from him, I'm not. I was able to runaway, but we did have a deep conversation. He explained his reasoning of why I should leave Peter and why he hates him so much. Rumplestilskin is Peter Pan's son. Who would have seen that coming? Not me.

"Hello again little bird." Peter greeted.

"Little bird?" I asked furrowing my brows.

"Yeah, it's my nickname for you. I think it goes great for what I have planned." Peter smirked.

"Well good for you. It's always good to get into the spirit." I grumbled.

"And why are you in such a bad mood?" Peter asked astonished.

"Well first off, I was captured and imprisoned for Lord-knows how long, beaten physically, mentally, and verbally, a teenage bastard nicknamed me for the fun of some game, I'm surrounded by boys, I have lost so much hope into leaving this horrid island, and I believe that if I were to leave, I would have to marry that son of bitch back home. Oh! I also believe that the longer I'm hear, the more I become mentally ill." I explained in one breath.

"You poor thing." Peter muttered.

"Did I mention that the bastard teenage boy left his son for power? That goes along with all my problems." I added.

"How would you get information like that?" Peter quizzed, crossing his arms.

"From Rumplestilskin himself." I answered.

"How did you find Rumplestilskin? You don't seem like an expert tracker." Peter commented.

"I'm not. I was walking around and he showed up. Luckily I got away, but not before hearing the one reason why he wants me to leave you. Funny, he thinks something is going on between us?" I snickered.

"What did he say about 'us', exactly?" Peter continued pressing.

"Something about a book, you and I have an ending together, blah, blah, blah." I shrugged.

"A book?"

"No a unicorn." I implied sarcastically.

"Ouch, offensive much?" Peter dramatically asked.

"Well if you don't want a sarcastic answer don't ask a stupid question." I fired back.

"Well if you don't want a week in the cage, shut your trap." Peter spat.

"Oh please, that's so overrated now. You've beaten me down countless times. How could a week in the cage possibly scare me now? Especially when I was in there for a lot more than a week." I countered.

"Little bird has teeth. If you continue being ungrateful from my gratitude, you'll face hell." He threatened, before walking off.

"You're telling me you haven't been trying to put me through hell?" I called as he continued walking, leaving my question unanswered.

'Wow, I really need to rethink this.' I thought to myself with a frown.

I looked around the camp hoping for something fun to pop up, but let's face it. The only thing that the Lost Boys find fun is killing innocent animals and fighting each other. Let's face it, killing isn't in my nature and fighting boys that are practically trained won't be in my favor.

I found a game they were playing and decided to check it out. We may have had our.... Differences, but don't we all? I walked over to them and they all stopped and stared.

"What do you want?" A Lost Boy asked harshly.

"Just wandering what your doing." I shrugged.

"Playing a game. Something a girl wouldn't understand." Another Lost Boy remarked.

The Lost Boys laughed and gave each a high-five, as if the funniest joke was said. They reminded me of all the jerks that were at school when we had the curse on us. I remember how they would bully people just for the fun of it and would praise each other in the end. It was sickening.

"You never know if a girl could beat you at your own game." I replied with a small smirk.

"Are you saying that you think that you can beat us at our own game?" A Lost Boy asked with doubt.

"I could beat Peter Pan at his own game." I confirmed with confidence.

"Game on."