Set Your Sails...to Atlantis || Peter Pan, OUAT

Chapter Three - A Gilded Prison

~ Davina

For a brig, it's not the worst I've been in. Somehow, they've managed to keep it bearable. They give me food and water, but just enough to keep me alive. Beckett attempts to question me, ask me of my whereabouts and knowledge, but I stay still and stoic, not ready to divulge my information just to get a marginal amount of sunlight and fresh air. Besides, I'm quite happy using my magic to sneak in and out without them knowing to achieve the restricted freedom they're trying to bribe me with.

And it makes a nice change to be able to lie down and sleep for a change, unable to do anything or go anywhere. No point in fighting, it won't make the ship go faster.

Time no longer exists as it used to for me. However long I spent on Neverland has changed my perception of it forever. We could have only just set our course, or we could have arrived on the mainland, I don't know. I take every moment as it comes, studying the habits of the crew, the sounds above, the rhythm of the ocean below, the orders I hear being shouted above me. And whilst they believe they have won, I know better.

As always.

I'm just about to doze off when I'm awoken by the rattle of keys and clanging of metal. I find myself being pulled from my surprisingly comfortable position from the floor of the brig, two of Beckett's men dragging me by the elbows up to the deck.

"Boys, please, at least buy me a drink first," I joke as they tighten their grips on my arms as we reach the deck.

Beckett saunters over smugly, smirking, his hands folded behind his back and the stench of an overly-powerful citrus scent covering the reality of a long journey.

"Ah if it isn't the reanimated corpse in a powdered wig," I greet, grinning.

His face falls.

"Last time I saw you, Beckett, was when the Endeavour was blown to pieces, and by pirates, no less. Tell me, how did it feel to be bested by those you despise the most?" I ask, raising my brow.

His nostrils flare and his jaw tightens with discomfort.

"Doesn't matter now, does it, Miss Jones? As I am once again commanding a fleet and you are in shackles." He retorts.

"Wouldn't be the first time. Have you really not learned your lesson?" I reply, raising my hands to reveal them to be shackle-free.

Beckett freezes in shock, as he usually does. Pathetic, really.

"Now now boys, there's no need to be hasty. I'm not going to run away or fight you. That would be rather...shortsighted of me, and then I'd be no better than your Captain," I say, raising my hands higher to show I'm unarmed.

Irritation at my jibes visibly builds in Beckett's face. I can almost hear the cogs turning, shrieking and grinding, as he tries to find a suitable insult.

"What is it you wanted from me, Beckett? I'm sure you didn't bring me up to the deck for me to show off."

His face smoothens from a frown, a smile replacing his displeased expression. Beckett grabs my bicep and pulls me forward, over to the side of the ship.

"As we approach port, I thought it would be a good idea to remind you what lies in wait should you try to flee, disobey orders, or cause any kind of trouble."

As the boat rounds the corner past an outcrop of rock, I see what my fate could be. Cages, hung on thick chains with the skeletons of pirates still trapped inside. Some bodies hang only by a rope, the personal items that are yet to be taken by the elements still clinging to what's left. My throat tightens and eyes well at the sight of my people, but I harden my face, refusing to let Beckett have any kind of hold of me.