The Old King ~OUAT Panfiction (Book 3)

In Cold Blood

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"Attention, everyone. You are all gathered here to witness the conveyance of a valuable lesson at hand. It is imperative that you absorb every word of it, otherwise you may be next," Pan spoke assertively and forwardly as his eyes floated across the small crowd of groggy, disgruntled, and addled lost boys. Anne stood by a tree, just as puzzled as the rest of them, yawning into her hand. She glanced around at the lost boys, attempting to piece together what was going on, rubbing her arms to protect her skin from the biting of the frigid, night time air. What was he up to so late? Surely, it couldn't have been so important that it had to deprive everyone of their sleep --- or could it?

"Some of you may get the message that I brought you here to serve me... only me. And to repay you for your service, I have granted you an eternity of sheer freedom. But some of you have forgotten so soon. You might still recall the first day you all woke up on my island." As Pan spoke with attentive, merciless eyes on the group, he paced back and forth. "Some of you may even recall a poor old lad by the name of Gregory, as well." Then, he halted. Most--if not all of the boys, tensed in remembrance, blanching. Anne was even more puzzled by their reaction. Who was this Gregory kid and why did the mention of his name cause a sudden chain reaction?

"Gregory was the epitome of a lost boy, he was everything I sought in a potential second-in-command, until one morning he was found dead at the bottom of the forbidden abyss." Pan's tone was apathetic and his eyes were grave.

Anne couldn't help but gasp loudly, clamping a hand over her mouth. Several heads turned in her direction. She tried to ignore them, watching Pan from a distance. He regarded her, narrowing his gaze in vexation for her interruption. She helplessly shrugged at him, then beckoned him to continue.

"His eyes had been dug out and his tongue was missing. You may all still be wondering what happened to him. Well tonight, the truth shall be revealed." Then, Pan glanced to the side and hauling a bruised, bloody and partially unconscious Chester into the camp, came a couple of muscled lost boys. They flung him to the ground in front of Pan and Anne's eyes bulged, hand slapping over her nose and mouth once more. Chester's hands were tied together by thick, prickly rope.

Pan crouched down beside the boy and yanked his head up by his blond strands. His dark eyebrows wrinkled inward and his teeth ground together. Anne caught sight of his face. His eyebrow was busted open and his lip was bleeding and a multi-colored darkness collected in his right eye socket. He clenched his fists, chest heaving. If Anne wasn't so distracted by the intensity in Pan's jaw, eyes, and hand fiercely grasping the boy's hair, she might have thought Chester was almost beautiful.

Pervaded with desperation at the questioning sight, Anne sank her teeth into the pillow of her bottom lip and held her hands up by her mouth.

"Chester knew I had been considering Gregory for the position he desired. The position he would have killed for, and he did," Pan sneered. This time, gasps arose from the collection of lost boys. They were more than awake now.

"Is that true, Chester?" Sawyer couldn't help but interpose, having moved through the boys in front of him to make eye contact with his dearest friend. Chester's pained expression grew cold, sea blue hues darkening. He wanted to say something, but he didn't. That, or he couldn't because Pan intervened again. "He drugged him up with poppy seed and lugged him all the way to the abyss in the middle of the night. Then, he rolled his body over the edge of the cliff and watched him fall to his death!" Pan exclaimed. Anne was horrified at the image he conjured in her untouched mind. Until that moment.

Sawyer swallowed a lump in his throat and shot a frosty glare at Pan. "It can't be true, I know him and I know he wouldn't do that!" He protested.

"Just how well do you think you really know him?" Pan cooled with a wolfish grin. Chester couldn't help but smugly smirk, breathing through his nose as he set his jaw.

"Chester, he's lying, right?" The blond wouldn't answer. "Right?!" Sawyer frantically demanded for an answer.

The smirk deepened on his lips and he slowly eyed Sawyer up and down. "I'm afraid not, my friend," he answer bluntly. The shock of the boys in the camp intensified before Chester spoke again. "It's true, I did it. So what?! How many of you hypocrites can sit there and say you wouldn't kill for a chance to be the alpha? Well, second in line, that is..."

Pan then released Chester's hair with a forceful shove and rose to his feet. "There you have it," he spoke with a mischievous snicker. "I knew it the moment I found Gregory's body that Chester was guilty. I found him worthy in that moment to serve by my side. I admired his devotion, his bravery despite the crime. Though...I fear he has already become too arrogant, too competitive, too reckless." The smug aura radiating off of Chester dimmed and his lips fell into a concerned frown, brows intensely compressing. Then, when Pan continued, the color drained from his face. "He must be disposed of, tonight."