When my brother and I were young, our father captured a wolf cub and gave it to us as a solstice gift. We named the wolf Balder after one of our fae gods.
The wolf cub grew up to be a ferocious beast who would terrorize the court any chance he got. Eventually Father made us keep him kenneled in the stables. But Balder had slept with us every night from the moment he came home and so all alone in the stables, he would howl long into the night.
“Can someone shut up that dog?” Mother had said. “I told your father it was a horrible idea to bring that beast home.”
Mother hated anything she couldn’t boss around.
To keep Balder quiet, Bash and I would sleep with him in the stables, nestled amongst the dry sweet grass that lined the dirt floor.
Bash and I didn’t mind it so much. No one bothered us in the stables. No one watched us and judged us and told us what we were doing wrong or what we weren’t doing that we should be doing right.
And then one night, we woke up and found Balder gone and Mother standing over us. It was the middle of the night so all we could see was the golden glow of her wings and the dark silhouette of the rest of her.
“Enough of this playing in the dirt,” she’d said. “You are princes and you should act the part.”
“Where’s our wolf?” Bash had asked.
“He ran away,” Mother said and then started for the open stable doors. “I’ll expect you dressed and at the gathering hall by sunup.”
Except Bash and I ignored the order and scoured the woods calling Balder’s name.
We eventually found ourselves at the edge of the woods where the sandy beach of the lagoon took over.
Peter Pan was at the shore staring out at the swirl of light.
He had already lost his shadow by that point, but Mother had still given us the warnings about him.
In fact, being in his territory was already a bad idea, let alone crossing paths with him.
“You can come out,” he’d called, his back still to us. “I can hear you breathing.”
Bash and I shared a look. Did we dare?
We had always been fascinated by Peter Pan. He was older than anyone could remember. More myth and god than man. Even Father was afraid of him and Father feared no one.
Bash was the first to step from the cover of the trees. “We’re looking for our wolf,” he’d said. “Have you seen him?”
“How is your mother?” Pan had asked instead.
I followed my brother out and the sand squished between my toes.
We knew there was history between Tinkerbell and Peter Pan, but the fae court had always been more gossip than fact. We weren’t sure what the actual story was. We knew that when Peter Pan’s name was brought up, her wings would glow brighter but her mouth would screw up into a scowl.
Tinkerbell loved and hated Peter Pan. She tried to hide the love now that she was married to the fae king.
But her wings never lied.
“Mother is well,” I’d answered.
“Is she? She trying to control your lives like she did mine?” He glanced at us over his shoulder.
I think he already knew the answer, but while Bash and I weren’t close with Mother, we weren’t going to talk ill about her. Nani had taught us better than that.
“Your wolf is dead,” he said. “I suspect Tinkerbell will know something about that.” Then he turned around and stalked off into the woods.
Bash and I shared a look.
“The fuck was that all about?” Bash asked.
“Fuck if I know.”
But then a swirl of light shot up from the lagoon. And there, sinking to the bottom, was our dead wolf.
Bash lights a cigarette and takes a long draw on it before handing it off to me. The treehouse is quiet, but with the early hour, I would expect nothing else.
“Now that Pan has his shadow back,” Bash says, “I think we could take the court if we wanted it. Tilly may be determined to scheme and oust Peter Pan, but all of it is at the expense of her army.”
There’s a piece of ash hanging on the end of the cigarette. I turn it around and blow across it and the embers flare, the ash flaking off. “I noticed.”
“Do we want it back? The court?”
I draw on the cigarette and hold the smoke in my lungs. “Do you?”
He rests his head against the flared side of the wingback chair. His gaze is trained on Darling. “It’s all I’ve wanted for a very long time.” He sighs and scrubs at his eyes. “But now I’m not so sure.”
“I never hungered for the power that the monarchy allowed, but you know what I do miss?” I hand him back the cigarette. “The rituals. The ceremonies. The solstice celebrations. The smell of feasts and the constant beat of music filling the halls.”
He smiles and nods and in an instant, Darling’s room is overtaken by an illusion that is a perfect replica of our memories.
It’s the dining hall at the fae palace, metal lanterns hanging from the ceiling glowing with fae magic. The smell of roasted meat and sweet cakes and herbed potatoes and honey biscuits.
It’s almost painful to look at but I can’t help but linger in the memory.
I hated every part of fae court life when I was a crowned prince living it.
It is a mortal sentiment, taking things for granted, missing something that is lost, but I understand it more than ever.
Everything is forever on Neverland but all of it is so easily lost.
I’m so old I’ve lost count.
Peter Pan is so old no one remembers when he first appeared.
And yet we still hunger for permanence and substance, something solid beneath our feet that we can call our own.
Something we can belong to.
The word love comes to mind.
To love and be loved.
To cling to something, not because you are afraid, but because you are happy.
Bash exhales smoke and stubs the cigarette into a nearby clay pot. “Do you know who that wolf reminds me of?” He nods at the furry black creature curled up next to Darling.
“Balder,” I say easily.
The wolf’s ears perk up and he opens his eyes and looks right at us.
Bash and I share a glance.
“Balder?” Bash repeats and the wolf lifts his head. Bash is on his feet in a second edging toward the bed. “Is that you, boy?”
The wolf groans and his tail thumps loudly against the mattress.
“How is that possible?” Bash scratches at the back of his head. “Balder has been dead for…a long time.”
I can hear Nani in the back of my head and I repeat her words out loud to my brother. “’The lagoon gives and it takes.’”
He frowns at me.
“Father knew it too. It’s why he went into the waters in the first place.”
“So the lagoon gives us Balder years and years after Tink killed him? Why?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think he’s here for us. You remember what Nani used to say about wolves.”
“Symbols of protection and strength.”
“It makes sense. Of course Darling should be shielded from us. We treat her like our whore and the island is telling us to stop being pricks or the wolf will bite off our dicks.”
“Don’t be an idiot. Darling likes being treated like a whore. And the island shouldn’t shame her for it.”
He’s right. For whatever reason, Darling does like what she likes and who are we to deny her?
But I can tell by the look on his face that he’s having the same thought that I am.
“You know what else ended up in the lagoon,” he says, his voice a rasp.
“Don’t even go there,” I tell him. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
A chill crawls up my spine.
Then Darling stretches beneath the sheet and issues a yawn. And when she opens her eyes and sees the wolf beside her, she lets out a startled yelp.
