Disclaimer: Peter Pan, all characters, places, and related terms belong to J.M. Barrie. The plot is mine.
Author's Note: A little bird whispered in my ear that it has been a while since I wrote anything for Peter Pan, and should return to the fandom. Lately, I've had trouble coming up with any ideas for stories; I apologize for "disappearing" for so long.
Feedback would be appreciated. Happy New Year!
How to Awaken Fair One
Peter, floating in the air, follows Wendy about the house under the ground. She is trying to start cooking the evening meal, but Peter is distracting her. She wonders (for the fifth time) just why exactly he is so interested.
"Peter, does it really matter how the prince awakens the princess? They live happily ever after," she says, feeling a little bit of frustration towards the boy. Onto the table she empties her apron of the potatoes and carrots and tomatoes.
"It is very important," he protests, rising a bit as she returns to the shelves and fills her apron again, this time with lettuce, onion, and strawberries. He plucks the cheese off the top shelf for her. "You said last night there are different ways the prince awakens the princess."
"Well," the girl decides to humor him, "sometimes the prince ki—thimbles the princess, like I told the story last night, while other times he simply kneels before her, and she awakens." She glances up at him hovering above her.
The boy wrinkles his nose. "But how does he break the spell if all he does is kneel?"
Wendy shrugs her shoulders as she slices the carrots. "I do not know. It may just be that he came when the hundred years were over."
"In the other times, where does he thimble the princess?" Peter asks.
Lowering her head a little to hide her flaming face, she answers lightly, "That is also uncertain. My…" she thinks hard for a second, trying to remember the word, "my mother said the prince thimbles the princess on the cheek. But one of my cousins claimed he gives her one…on the…lips."
"Oh," he replies after a pause. "I wonder which way I should in the play?"
"What?" Peter now has Wendy's complete attention as she turns and stares at him. "What play?"
"The boys want to do a play of the story you told, Sleeping Beauty. And some of the Indians are going to take part," he explains.
"When did you decide all this?" the girl asks.
He answers, "This afternoon when we visited the Indians."
Wendy nods slowly. "And whom shall you play?"
"The prince. I am captain," he reminds her. "Tiger Lily will be the princess."
"Of course," she chuckles dryly.
"Would you like to be in the play?" asks Peter.
"I…eh…well," she sputters.
"Tiger Lily thought you could be the bad fairy," he says with a small frown.
Wendy looks at him.
"But Tootles thinks you should be the good fairy, the Fairy of White."
"I fear I would not have the time to practice. But thank you all the same." Wendy turns back to her task.
Peter's feet gently land on the ground. He stares at her back for a silent moment. "If you are sure," he says simply, then asks, "Which way do you think would be best for me to awaken Tiger Lily?"
"I'm not sure," Wendy attempts to come up with an answer. She sets her big black kettle full of water over the fire.
"Well, I will not kneel," Peter decides. On seeing his friend's confusion, he goes on, "I'll look silly, will I not, if I kneel?"
"It may be hard for others to understand why the princess awakes," the girl agrees, keeping one eye on the kettle and the other on picking the eyes out of the potatoes. A short pause follows. "Do you want to give a thimble to Tiger Lily?" she asks with deep interest.
She does not see Peter blush and shift uneasily from one foot to the other. "Of course I will," he says bravely. "It is what happens in the story; I must."
Wendy does not meet his eyes as, seeing the water bubbling merrily, she puts the potatoes in the kettle. "You are captain," she murmurs softly to herself. A troubled air comes over her.
"If that is all right with you, Wendy," he adds hurriedly.
Still not facing him, she shakes her head and replies lightly, "It matters not what I think. You should really talk to Tiger Lily about this."
"But it does matter to me when you…" Peter trails off, attempting to remember the word she had used before. His face brightens as he recalls, "…when you approve." He places one of his hands on the small of her back.
Wendy stiffens, feeling a little ashamed. All he wants is my approval. Is that really too much to give? It is only a play. She closes her eyes for a moment and sighs. The girl turns slightly so she can look into Peter's face.
"I believe whatever you and Tiger Lily decide to do will be wonderful in the play," she says. The girl holds the boy's intense gaze for a long moment; on seeing his face relax, she checks on the potatoes before beginning to make the salad.
Peter's feet leave the floor, and his crosses his legs Indian-style. "Do you suppose John will be upset when I give Tiger Lily a thimble?" he wonders with sensitivity very unlike his carefree, conceited nature.
Surprised that he is aware of something between her brother and the Indian princess, Wendy is momentarily stunned at the question and his tone of voice. "Perhaps," she says, finally finding her tongue. She looks at him and crosses her arms over her chest. "But I am not sure. He may not mind as much if you give her one on the forehead."
The boy nods in agreement, his chin resting against his fist. Both children think.
"I shall go and ask Tiger Lily what she wants to do," Peter breaks the silence first. "If the prince cannot give the princess a thimble, we will figure out something."
"Of course you will!" Wendy agrees heartily.
"Oh, the cleverness of me!"
The girl can only shake her head. "Just be sure to be back in time for supper," she urges as she turns hopefully to now finish the cooking. She glances up at Peter a final time at his words:
"Thank you, Wendy-lady," along with a cocky smile before he disappears up his tree.
Wendy smiles to herself and sprinkles chopped onion on the salad. Maybe she is glad after all that Peter is so interested in how the prince awakens the princess in the story.
THE END