EDIT: this first started out as a one-shot and a additional short chapter but I decided to make it a multi-chapter story. I hope you all like it and please tell me what you think and review. I'm dying here!

More Summary:

In the town of "Storybrooke," Emma Swan only came for her son Henry, who she had given up for adoption when she was eighteen. She didn't expect to find that all the stories, fantasies and fables she was told growing up were true, living and breathing. The residents of Storybrooke are living proof of that.

Jumping in and following the third season, "The Thing I'll Never Say" is a story of one of Faerie Tales' most infamous character. Everyone knows that Pan is a heartless demon, merciless, vengeful and wrathful, corrupting every soul that comes in contact with him. But this man-child has a backstory that none of the #SaveHenry team would have ever imagined. Well, make that HER backstory—the proud, bold and fierce Princess of Neverland; of the all the children that Pan brought to Neverland, there was one girl whom he kept under lock and key. She was the only one he had ever allowed to stay and roam free; the one person who can go toe-to-toe with him and walk away still breathing. She is the reason Pan turned dark and why he is so determined to gain the heart of the truest believer. But there is one problem that pecks at him like a pest, and it has nothing to do with the rest of Henry's family arriving to Neverland.

"I will be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in times of sickness and in times of health, in times of joy and in times of sorrow, in times of failure and in times of triumph. I promise to cherish and respect you, to care and protect you, to comfort and encourage you, and stay with you, for all eternity."

When those words were spoken, no one expected them to be taken literally. Now, Emma, Hook, Regina, Neal, Rumple, and all of Storybrooke might be faced with a challenge that would put them all to the test. This girl could be the worm in the system that helps Pan finally win victory or be his ultimate downfall.

This is a story of love, hate, gain, and loss; of unrequited love and a love that is a sympathized attachment to one's captor; of a son's grief and a father's cowardice; of an innocent girl's trust lost to a boy's devious lies. This story centers around a boy who could fly and a chief's daughter. Of how Felix got the scar on his face, why Wendy was trapped in the cage for years, how Baelfire escaped Neverland. This is a story of believing and not-believing; how did the boy who refused to grow up become so dark and malice?, to murder an entire people, wreak havoc and cause fear across realms, and tear countless families apart, all while making a legend for himself. How did this man finally lose his innocence, ironically, in the body of a young boy? If you travel past the Willow Forest north of the Nevermountains and not too far from the northwest shore, if you follow the sounds of the drumbeats, there you will find the Piccaninny tribe, and there will be a girl with looks of beauty as a flower and "Tiger" in her name. And she will tell you everything.

K. I had to get this out of my system. this is a sort of rough draft so beware errors and mistakes, please tell me if there are any that I missed or even any thoughts at all.

Homework you say? I've never heard such a thing...

[Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time is owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis. The original faerie tales are owned by the Brothers Grimm and whoever owns the copyright now. The original Peter Pan story and characters and settings goes to credit of J. M. Barrie and whoever owns copyright now. I own nothing. ]

She was beautiful, there was no denying that. Strong willed, proud, and daring, she was a perfect match for him. And she definitely lived up to her name, he had thought.

He ran a hand thru her hair, lifting the dark strands closer towards him, marveling at its silky texture. Her eyes that were cast downward fluttered to look up at him. Their gazes met and he leant down to kiss the lock of hair between his fingers.

Peter had stepped away from camp, leaving Felix, his second in command, in charge for a few hours and to keep an eye on Henry. Now, he wondered aimlessly around the island.

He kicked at a random rock in his path. Then he tore at overhanging branches, his magic making the branches disintegrate in his hands almost immediately. Soon he was doubling over, his fingers digging into his scalp, and tearing at his hair. His back arched as he howled into the night like an animal.

Any greenery that was too close wilted and crumpled in seconds. Scorch marks were left under his footsteps.

It's been years, centuries to be exact, since he's seen her. It's been decades since that war as well.

This was the day he dreaded most. Even though he didn't own a calendar, it was as if he just knew every year, knew this day.

She smiled at him, more out of embarrassment than anything else. He returned it but only as an amused grin; she was never able to hide whenever that red hue on her face. The bonfire licked the night air, its shadows and warm color of the flame, making her appear even more magical.

He was surprised that he still felt this way, that he still felt this...this...anger? Frustration? ...He was definitely distraught.

He was surprised he still remembered her.

It was her father's idea. As chief, he had been prepared to give his only daughter's hand in marriage, not wanting her to rule alone; saw that he had been the right fit for the position and had been first choice. The problem was, she and Peter had no intentions of ruling a people, let alone an entire tribe. They didn't want such responsibilities; they didn't want to grow up.

"I'm sorry about my father," she had said, "he can be a bit..."

"Oh it's alright. I don't think much of it," Peter shrugged. They had been walking thru the forest after the celebration until coming to a waterfall where they were now, sitting on a large boulder near its shore.

Peter grinned. "But do you really think that I'd be chief one day? Because I don't really think I'd do a great job at it," he asked, pulling her onto his lap.

She sighed, knowing that grin. He wasn't asking because he wanted to know her opinion. "Well... I think that you are great, Peter," she answered. "...And at many things," her words trailed to a whisper as he closed the space between them.

After two hours, Peter was still walking around the island. Stumbling to be exact. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly. He gasped when his foot caught on a stone and watched as a flock of crows flew into the air, startled that he disturbed their resting.

His dusty brown hair, that was already messy, was a bird's nest. He stumbled, looking out of breath as his jaw hung slightly ajar. His face had an uncomfortable red shade to it. This was also the day he was weakest, when Neverland became the most vulnerable to change.

He leans against a nearby tree just as an owl's hoot sounds thru the air. Peter's gaze catches it as it flies from the branch overhead.

On this day every year, Neverland seems to change little by little.

"What's the feather for?" He knew it was a heritage-thing, but still he wanted to know. "Like, what type of bird is it from?"

"It's a night owl's."

"Why?"

"Because. It's from when you get a certain age you're sent to connect with nature, which is when you get your adult tribal name and sort of figure out yourself. You stay out in the forest—alone—for three days and have to bring back something in return to sort of prove that you've completed and mastered the task. Some bring back pendants; others, certain stones; and some," she pointed to the large light brown feather in her hair, "bring back animal parts."

"Oh," Peter breathed. "Sounds interesting. Think they'd let me do it? I am the only one fit to be chief next, after all," he joked.

She giggled and shrugged.

"What kind of person do you think I'd come out to be?"

He had been stupid, naïve; she had been his weakness. She was quick, determined, and fierce—she was a threat, and he began to see that early on. He was selfish and knew it, and with the more children he brought back to Neverland, the more the island's power grew.

Peter trudged up the steep hill, refusing to use his powers in exchange for his dwindling energy. He huffed out a mouthful of air when he reached the top and was able to see the cave off in the distance.

"What I think? What do I think!? I think that you are the most ignorant, arrogant, selfish man who needs to stop playing games!" She screamed at him. Her fingers flexed across the hilt of her knife, held at the ready for if he made a move to her.

The two circled each other like predators, their eyes wide and crazed. Focused on the other waiting to make a move, both crouched like animals ready to rip each other's throats out. The Lost Boys had vacant the area, and from their seats, they could hear the sound of steel clashing again from their treehouse underground.

"Well that makes two of us, 'Lily," he smiled cockily. "Those are some big words coming from someone who's such a shorty, you sick, bitchy squaw."

She returned his snarl before pouncing high in the air, dagger raised. She lost it.

The moon was very bright tonight. A large, silvery diamond in the sky, its night light illuminated all of Neverland in a beautiful, mystical glow.

A hummingbird flew past his face. Peter paused to watch it land on a large flower and begin to drink the nectar. He ran a hand thru his hair as an unwanted thought passed thru his mind—an unwanted memory—and scowled.

Peter took in the rest of the area. The flower covered the entire hillside, creating a beautiful vacant meadow. And with it, he could see hundreds of hummingbirds flying from flower to flower. These type of birds did not reside on Neverland, he had made sure of that, so why was there such a large group of them here?

Hummingbirds had secretly been one of her favorites.

Peter stood in awe, the sight still after all the years able to strike him. Hardly a single blade of grass could be seen between the millions of flowers. He plucked a flower nearest his shoe. The flower had large orange petals speckled with dark spots. Each petal's end curled backward exposing it's long middle that extended far into the air and was sprinkled with pollen. The moonlight made the flower appear to be a jewel.

She had been deadly, just like part of her name, yet so captivating. Just as the flower.

He flicked the plant to the ground and trudged thru the field without further thought. It's green stem was charred, smoking a little.

The war against the Native Americans had happened over 100 years ago, yet it still branded in his memory. It had been a one-man fight, really; Peter had destroyed more than the trust of the only people that had welcomed him to the island.

She hadn't liked what it was doing to him, what he was doing to it. He absorbed the islands power night and day, drinking it in like an addiction—it was his drug.

It was the magic, she knew. She had warned him that it can become like a virus, as it had happened to take over a few of her tribe who, in the end, had to be put down.

"If you aren't careful, it will soak into you, becoming you. You will become Neverland and Neverland will become you."

He had been too arrogant, just as he was now.

Peter scoffed.

He straightened his posture and stuck his chin out, giving into his bravado and ego. The familiar scowl became sinister on his almost-boyish face.

She had been crazy. Ridiculous.

The snap of a twig made him freeze. He stepped behind a tree just as a wild boar ran past. Peter's nose turned up; he'd have to have a "talk" with Felix later. He thought he had ordered for all Lost Boys to stay in camp tonight.

Seconds later a young boy, looking no older than twelve, burst from the bushes, spear raised high, in hot pursuit of the squealing animal.

Peter waited until the sounds of their footsteps faded to let out a sigh. He didn't—couldn't let anyone see him, they would just stop and stall him for too long.

"Peter, you worry too much," he remembers her saying.

He had stepped back out into the meadow but had stopped short after a while. He had felt very exposed and alone under only the moonlight, and had used his power to teleport from the open clearing to back in the nearby trees. He felt as if he was being watched, and the feeling didn't leave even under the greenery covering.

"You're a damn fool, Pan!"

When he reached the top of the hill and saw the cave, he almost collapsed. Not only was he getting weaker but he was also closer now. All the bravery and gutlessness was all a show. That scowl and mocking smile he always wore was just a mask for now.

Echo Cave was just up ahead.

Peter did all but sprint to the dark cave, though no smile broke the hard look on his face.

Ruby red berry juice stained her lips. She smiled, laughing silently, seeing how it had caught his attention.

Peter swallowed nervously. She slowly ran her tongue over her lips, enjoying the fruity taste more than anything else.

He needed to get away from all this, he needed to rid himself from these thoughts—they did nothing but weigh and slow him down.

Peter came to an abrupt halt in front of the entrance. For minutes but what felt like hours, he stood staring at the vines and overgrowth hiding the mouth of the cave. He took a deep breath before stepping inside.

If one has ever heard of Echo Cave, they know that the only way to get inside was to voice a secret that one wouldn't speak to another living soul. This is also why the place so secure. It was the perfect place.

Peter's footsteps echoed off its dark cavernous walls. He lit the torch near the entrance. Waving the torch side to side, the shadows of the openings of multiple tunnels deep inside danced and flickered far on the other side of the cave. Peter walked to the edge of the opening, where the ground broke off and when one would have to speak a secret that would either break or fix one's life. A dark, wide, endless pit stood in between the entrance to the rest of the cave.

Peter snapped his fingers and the rock under him extended outwards in an arc, reaching to one of the smaller caves on the far side. It was one that could easily be missed especially in this heavy darkness.

He had picked it out; she had been the one who named the entire Cave.

The rock-bridge collapse behind him as soon as he stepped foot on the other side, then a gust of wind ruffed his hair. Peter squinted his eyes and the flame threatened to blow out. The rock under him shook and rumbled, threatening to collapse.

Peter sighed. It was the Cave warning him that he shouldn't cheat with magic.

Though there was no one else there, he still glanced left and right. Peter sighed, agitated.

"Alright!" he called out. He was not in a very cooperative mood. "You want to know about the little prick?! That wench!?"

The ground continued to shake.

"OK!" he shouted. "I did. I do, I guess," his voice calmed, though the venom still seeped from his words. "...I loved the Princess."

The ground calmed to cease. The cave where he was going opened from a small slit in the stone into a short tunnel. Peter walked inside and placed the torch in a holder on the wall.

He gazed into the darkness; he couldn't see. There was still one more secret that needed to be told.

Peter's voice was just above a whisper. "...And I'm the one who caused her demise."

The torch's flame blaze brighter and the entire tunnel was lit in the warm glow of the fire. Peter's eyes squinted in the dim lighting.

The tunnel was a shrine of some sorts, built bit by bit over years. Animal skin pictures hung in the small cave; jewels, trinkets and other small treasures lined the walls; and tiny hills of sand could be seen here and there lining the cave walls. Far to the back, where the light barely reached, was a large painting high above several mounds of wax. The wax were handmade candles that covered different level pedestals. Wilted flowers of orange pedals with dark speckles sat in clay cups and jars amongst the candles. On stolen pillows in the middle of them all sat a skeleton. It slumped to the side at an angle, it's head lolled to the side slightly. It still wore the thin cloth dress and moccasins during its passing. The skeleton was small, coming to stand just under Peter's nose if it were still alive; the person had passed at a young age, a juvenile no doubt.

As Peter looks down at the decayed body, his face softens. He takes in his handiwork and the permanent scowl disappears for the time being. The dress was still decorated in its embroidery and to him, it was just as beautiful on the skeleton as when it were alive. But his eyes purposely stayed away from the tear of the dress in the chest area that hid its broken ribs that were crumbling to dust.

For just a few minutes, he was different. For a few moments, he was the Peter he had been all those years ago. The one who flew runaways, orphans, and neglected children to Never Neverland for a better life, not kidnap them in the middle of the night by hypnotic music. The one before the island's magic was threatened and Henry and his family came. He was the Peter Pan that everyone knew and loved.

When he belonged to her. He had been her Peter.

He gets down on his knees, his fingers tracing the necklace around the bare neckbone. Several braids still hung onto the skull by a few strands, and bows and small feathers filled what little hair still held on to the bone. He eyes the small number of mini sand piles to his side.

Peter places a hand atop the skull and he leans closer to leave a kiss on the forehead.

"I'll bring you another hummingbird, Tigerlily."

Have you ever felt like you're being followed?
Or watched the ones that held your stare?
Turned around to see who's behind you to find there's no one there
Lurking in the dark there's someone who breathes you night and day
There's a friend who wants so much more
And if they can't have you, they'll never let you walk away.

I've been a PeterLily fan since I first watched the 1953 disney cartoon. and I am quite disappointed that they haven't (if they even are, which I doubt) added her to the OUaT cast yet. Even something brief. COME ON ABC! (you can hate me later.

The words in bold at the end are from the song "tigerlily" by La Roux. The orange flowers with brown speckles are actually called Tiger Lily flowers. And yes, the small mounds are buried hummingbirds, one killed for each year. Also yes, the skeleton is