The Old King ~OUAT Panfiction (Book 3)

Appraise

<><><>

Alec had ducked at the last second and the arrow punctured the fresh fruit, the poisoned tip, etched firmly in the tree. Suddenly the crowd boomed with exultant howls and applauds and Anne's eyes popped wide in amazement, an intense blush blooming in her cheeks. Preston shook her, congratulating her and a broad smile spread across her lips. When she glanced around she discovered an impressed Pan leaning against a tree by the entrance of the camp, lips curved upward and his narrowed eyes glinted appraisingly.

~ ~ ~

Plucking the penetrated apple off the ground, Pan gripped the spine of the arrow, veins bulging in his forearm when he yanked it free. As he left, he dropped the poisoned fruit on the ground, where it rolled under the bushes, When nightfall made its descent onto the island, the lost boys abundantly ate their dinner around the roaring fire that climbed their skin. Anne conservatively ate alone when suddenly, a lost boy jumped over the log, settling down beside her. In the process, she was startled and her food flew from her plate.

"Aw man, too bad, huh?" The lost boy beside her taunted, slapping her on the back -- once, then twice. The blond winced and tried to mask her soiled mood through her facial features, but she could only glare at him. Suddenly, she slammed a hand down onto his plate, knocking it to the ground.

"Hey you little--"

"Wench?" Anne interjected through clenched teeth with a mocking smirk and grinned in sheer amusement, before she rose and wiped her hand on his back. Then, she joined the other boys, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Taking a rum bottle from Dominique, she downed it as fast as she could, forcing each gulp of a thought she had of Pan -- true love's kiss, the abyss of impending doom, the lies he sold her and the games he played. Then, the euphoria she felt of having such a vile human being back in her life, never solely in her mind again.

When she swallowed the last of the rum, she lowered the bottle to behold the dumbfounded looks on Dominique's and his group's faces. "What?" She acknowledged them, then felt a blush surface in her cheeks. Suddenly feeling the urge to wretch, her eyes widened and her stomach churned, rumbling. She tried to hold it down, vomiting in her throat, then gulped it down and her whole body cringed.

"She's going to puke!" A boy shouted and the group fled. At last, she lurched forward, repeatedly vomiting onto the ground. Sinking down with her back against the log, she weakly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She saw the silhouette of a boy approach, glancing toward the pile, then at her. It was Pan. Just perfect, she thought but she wouldn't fight him, the camp was the last place she wanted to be. When he bent over, he wrapped an arm around her ribcage, hand pressing securely into her back.

"C'mon." Bringing an arm around his neck, Anne felt his other hand grip her other arm and lifted her onto her feet. Anne emitted a weak moan of agony, feeling even more nauseous. "Why do you do this to yourself?" Peter openly groused, no doubt putting on a show for the others. But Anne wouldn't comply, she just wouldn't say anything at all.

When arriving at the treehouse, Peter hauled Anne up the ladder. Then, he dropped her onto the bed. "Why do you do this to us?" He repeated. "All I ever try to do is protect you and then you embarrass yourself -- for what, Anne? What do you expect to gain from all this?"

Anne groaned, rolling onto her face. "Not now, Satan." The piper sighed deeply, lying down beside her and stared at the ceiling. Suddenly, Anne turned over, resting her head on his chest, hand sliding up and gripped his shoulder. And she stayed there. Pan was surprised, but he wouldn't complain. Instead, he turned in her direction, feeling her adjust to burying her face in his chest and smoothed her hand over his ribcage. Pan felt her relax, when closing his own eyes and listened to the distant night calls of the forest.

After sometime, Peter's ears perked at the sounds of an extra breather. Just then, his eyes shot wide and he was startled to discover himself, the way he was under the shadow keeper's curse, lying behind Anne and his dagger slipped down in front of her throat. She had coincidentally become detached from him in her sleep, though he did not feel her do it.

A cold tremor of intense fear shot through Pan's veins and he was paralyzed. He had never seen anything like it. How could he have been in two places at once?

"Say goodnight," the clone spoke, dagger gliding across Anne's throat and blood broke from an almost nonexistent slit. "No!!" Pan cried -- before abruptly shooting up from the bed, jolted awake and breathless. Immediately, he looked toward Anne's sleeping form.

Her back was to him and quickly, but carefully, he rolled her onto her back and she stirred, brows compressing and she murmured incoherently in her sleep. Pan's breathing returned to normal.