I was wondering if you still Lizzipan prompts. If you do, could you a reverse au where Elizabeth Swan is the Queen of Neverland and Peter is the love child of CS or something else?
The tip of his nose itched under the roughly woven stack pulled over his head. He was being dragged - where to, he did not know. He stumbled over roots and rocks as the path meandered deeper, further away from the shore where the Roger was anchored. Hands clutched onto his arms. The Lost Girls were behind him ready to give the occasional push.
“Where are you taking me?” He tried to speak up, though the sack hindered his ability to be heard.
The girls hollered noises up ahead. They continued moving. Very soon he began to hear drum beats and laughter. He could smell smoke and roasting meat. The grips on his arms tightened to ensure he would not run.
“No, stop!” He tried to pull back, but it was to no avail. The girls had him, and very soon, they tripped him.
Upon his ungraceful fall down into the dirt, the end of the bag was grabbed to invite the cool midnight air to chill his sweating pores. Peter gasped. He kept his head bowed. His face remained low down to the dirt. Charcoals littered in the dirt where his hands clamped the earth. The nearby campfire crackled.
“Well?”
A feminine articulate voice spoke up, causing all others to quieten. Her tone was as light as air, unlike the other voices around him, which he perceived with a heavy savagery.
Peter swallowed. Reluctantly, he lifted his head up first to the two dark leather boots standing before him in the mud. Aged and scuffed from use, cracks ran up the laced leather shoes up where they ended at her knees. The girls frame was lean and slim; that much he could discern through her grey fitted pants that hugged her hips. She had a forest green shirt tucked in at her belt, which to some degree, resembled the metalwork of the buckle that his father used to wear, back when he was a pirate on the seas.
Long blonde tresses fell over the dark fabric. Her arms were crossed, exposing the two leather cuffs wrapped over her wrists.
Her eyes, however, were what truly captured his attention. They were gripping. Against the light from the fire, two pools of dark ocean sparkled from the flickering fire. A line of darkness traced under her lashes. She was menacing; horrifying; striking; beautiful.
Peter parted his lips to speak, though felt the words dry along the roof his mouth. “I…”
She raised her eyebrow mockingly.“You, what?” The girls around him giggled. The leader smirked and then turned to his tall, hooded warden standing beside him. “Goodness, Felicia. What have you brought us?”
He felt a spread of warmth over his cheeks where he suspected he was blushing. His jaw flexed, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, I’m only teasing you,” the girl laughed. “It’s not every day that we see a boy on the island.” Her smile widened to reveal two rows of impossibly perfect teeth - white, straight, and striking with contrasting the subtle dusting of dirt along her chin. “But really, where are my manners? My name is Elizabeth, Elizabeth Swan. Though here on this island, I go by Lizzie.”
Peter gawked at her, finally now assigning the infamous name to her captivating face. She might look like a young girl, but she is a bloody siren. The words of his father echoed in his mind. Stories of bloodshed, capture, torture, and hunts returned now - the stories he had been told by his father and also his step brother Henry from the storybook.
“So tell me, did dear Captain Hook give you a name, or should I give you one myself?”
“Peter,” he answered. “Peter Pan.”
Lizzie smiled. A spark of adventure lit in her eyes. “Welcome to Neverland, Peter.”
