The moment Peter’s feet touched the ground, and he rested Maggie down beside him, a fairy came by to present them both with a pair of ice skates. Guided to a fallen log, Maggie watched Peter as he pulled the skates on before following suit. They fit snuggly on her feet, though the sensation of the single blade on the bottom was an odd one to get used to. She never had the chance to go ice skating in the human world, and her natural lack of balance sort of kept her away from it, anyway. But she was hardly about to disappoint Peter when his excitement was the most infectious thing she ever experienced.
He gleefully helped her to her feet, raising her into the air to delicately guide her toward the icy surface of the frozen lake. Peter grasped onto her hands the moment they landed on the ice, her feet already beginning to slide in every direction.
“Peter–” Maggie sharply snapped, her fear already grasping her. There were so many eyes around, so many people having fun, and she was one of the oldest of them all, entirely incapable of holding her balance long enough to skate. The spiral began in an instant, her insecurity swelling to the point of tears welling in her eyes.
But the King of Neverland never once dared to let go of her hand.
“Eyes on me, Magpie,” he said, his voice a strong rope within the hazy anxiety. “Eyes on me.”
She met his gaze. “What if I fall?”
Peter pulled her close, his grasp on her tight and unyielding. “I won’t let you.”
And the next thing Maggie knew, she was skating around the frozen lake. Peter remained at her hip the entire time, his hold over her hands keeping her afloat, one step at a time. He twirled her every time she began to slip, the motion pulling a startled laugh out of her. The fear became simply fun, and the idea of falling was a faraway thought.
The night carried on with a splendour Maggie hadn’t known for quite some time. Age carried on in the human world, much different than how it did on Neverland, and Maggie couldn’t help but feel her own in that moment. She was full of aches and pains, but could hardly let a frown touch her face. The townspeople were skating all around her, offering waves and asking questions about what was next on her restaurant’s menu.
Was this not the life she always wanted?
What was it that she had wished for that one night, when the shooting stare graced her?
Maggie clung to Peter as he spun her through the middle of the frozen lake, dipping around the other couples that passed them by. Their speed slowed as they faced one another, still drifting in a small circle, arms curled entirely around the other. Maggie felt as though her heart was bound to Peter in ways she could never understand, ways that would tie her to the island for as long as she lived. He was leaning toward her, eyes holding onto her with a sincerity that spoke a thousand words.
She could practically hear his voice in her head:don’t leave. Stay in Neverland. Stay with me.
Stay for me.
The world drifted away. There was only them, and the ice beneath their feet. Peter’s lips were only a hair away from her own, his warm breath fanning her and sending chills down her spine. They were an inch away from embracing when –
“Have I finally gone blind, or has Neverland finally found its Queen?”
Maggie jerked away from Peter within an instant, almost losing her footing. In front of them, a little old lady from town alongside a dutiful granddaughter approached with a waggling finger. Though the moment was stifled, Maggie blushed as Peter’s arm snaked around her waist, keeping her firmly at his side.
“Grandmother!” the young girl scolded. “Don’t you see? They were going to kiss!”
The old woman waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t say such inappropriate things, child! You’ll embarrass the King of Neverland!”
Laughter ensued and polite chatter followed until Peter whisked Maggie away once more. They were dancing as they skated, following a symphony only they could hear. Peter spent every possible second peppering Maggie with a slurry of questions, diving deep into her past. He questioned where shelived, who she stayed with, how she came across Sunny and what drove her to be serving soup in that wench’s battered tavern. Maggie met each question with an answer. No one ever dove that deep into her memories, no one had ever been that intent on truly knowing her before.
In return, Maggie was quick to ask her own questions. “Who were you, before Neverland, before the crown, before Peter Pan?”
And he unfolded like a storybook, telling a tale that kept her enraptured for as long as he wished. She could have listened to him anywhere, whether it was beside a roasting fire or on a long trek beside the seashore. She simply wished to know more, to know everything he was willing to give. The more he told her, the more she wanted to give him, the more she wanted to be bound together. They skated and talked, forgetting about the world around them, even when the crowds grew.
Overhead, a loud burst of color exploded through the sky. Fairies could be seen darting across the sky as they let their magic fly, creating a spectacular light show for all who watched. The crowd applauded and cheered, their attention on the sky. Maggie felt inclined to watch along with them, that is, until Peter charmingly tucked his hands on either side of her face, guiding her gaze back toward him.
Before anyone else could dare to interrupt them, Peter pressed a delicate kiss against Maggie’s lips. She sank against his touch almost instantly as a shiver rolled down her spine. Happiness, a burst of it, rushed through her system. It almost felt wrong to have been so happy in one single moment, but Maggie didn’t care. She only wrapped herself further around Peter’s neck, deepening their kiss as much as she could.
And yet, wherever there was joy, sadness lingered.
Maggie remembered everything that had been left behind. Her life, her dreams, the fight she had given, the sacrifices shehad already made. Was it all for nothing? Was it all so that she could be whisked away to a magical land where everything was simply handed over to her? Life meant struggle, life meant strife. It did not mean taking the easiest route or forgetting what the point always was.
What was in front of her was a break from reality. It was a gift.
She leaned against Peter’s chest as the light show danced over their heads.
Maggie wasn’t in the habit of wasting gifts.
9
