I'm positive that readers, who only know of the Peter Pan tale by any of the relating films, can just as easily follow the storyline, but the idea of it all is mainly based on the text of the actual novel, just as a side note.

Peter was the hero; even the rumors which drifted amongst London folk stated so. And every hero needs a villain, a villain to loath, to spar with, to triumph over.

Peter was not fully familiarized with the rules regarding chess. Peter hardly considered chess an actual game. (Adults typically engaged in the ways of chess. Therefore, Peter logically, did not.) But beneath all the layers of his everlasting youth, Peter still had grasped the overall concept of it. He understood the basic idea—Peter knew he was supposed to represent the good, the white king; while Hook stood on the opposing side. Hook was the sinister leader, the dark king. Peter and Hook, light and dark, hero and villain. To Peter, those aspects were plain and simple to see. And in the end, Peter's knights and pawns had been greater than his rival's. Peter had put Hook in checkmate, and at last, that was the fall of the Captain of the Jolly Roger. Peter hated Hook, hence why he battled with Hook for a time, and obliviously since he was the hero, Peter succeeded over his great and rather worthy opponent.

Though sometime after the long-awaited victory, Peter came to realize he then was a hero without a villain. He had no true rival left over. He saw no adventure in that whatsoever. So—naturally—Peter had no other choice but to select another villain, one that would be as satisfactory...if not, close to Hook in comparison.

And indeed, Peter's mind had pinpointed the perfect poor soul.

Peter honestly hadn't expected that he would grow to utterly hate the newfound villain more than he'd once resented Hook. And for him to come to terms with that truly said something. Peter could not express the level of revulsion he held towards Missus Mary Darling.

He privately, could not deny that he missed spending time with the second Darling maiden, who happened to be Wendy of course. Despite the amount of entertainment Peter would still find day by day, merely flying about, doing whatever he felt liked, it could not shake Wendy from his thoughts.

When Wendy was with him, it felt as if the energies of Neverland altogether had altered, intensified, all in a very inspiring manner. Peter preferred Wendy to be there when he slept as well, because if Peter would jolt awake from another nightmare, she would know how to sooth his nerves.

However, all of that changed solely because of Marine Darling. As to why Wendy was not with him any longer.

Some days Peter even was not as happy. In fact, he seemed enraged. His mood was, well, when put in Wendy's terms: perfectly horrid. The entire island recognized when it was a bad day for the Pan. In its own strange way, the weather of Neverland always echoed Peter's temperament. Henceforth, while Peter would perch himself high up in a tree to just sit alone, and think, and brood...his seething displeasure over Marsha Darling's wicked ways, would manifest into terrible storms on those days. Thunder rumbled above Neverland's bay as the lightning clashed across the mountain peaks.

Everyone else he had ever met, seized the fact what was Peter's was and remained, justly Peter's. The Lost Boys were Peter's Lost Boys. Peter's adventures were always Peter's ideas to begin with. The hollowed Never Tree was Peter's safe haven.

"She's awfully fond of Wendy," he said to himself. He was angry now for her not seeing why she couldn't have Wendy. The reason was so simple: "I'm fond of her too. We can't both have her, lady."

But the lady wouldn't make the best of it, and he was unhappy.

Wendy was also his. Once. And Peter sensed Wendy had known that too. She knew his story best, after all. While in Neverland, she had to pick favorites; it was his first and foremost rule (or more-so his deep desire). Sure, Wendy fussed over her youngest brother most of the time—Micah...Mitchel? Wait...oh yes, Michael—but ultimately her loyalty to Peter, she acknowledged, had to be her first priority.

Who did Marie Darling think she was, anyhow? Did she not have any inkling of who he was? He was not just any common boy, oh no, he was the Pan. Peter Pan. Certainly, she hadn't known what he was truly capable of. In any case, he had no authority breathing down his neck...he was the authority in these lands. If he really wanted to, he could have stolen Wendy away from her whenever he deemed fit. The only item preventing him from doing so was the fact that, as marvelous and mighty, artful and sly as Peter really was...he still was no crook.

There had been times when Peter would go to the little Darling house in London. Wendy's new separate lady's room would always be the only room in the entire house, which would have an open window—which had been somewhat of a relief. It was sign she believed in him, yet. Peter would glide in and hover over Wendy, watching her slumber on. Only on rare occasions, was Peter bold enough to play with her hair, or to lace his fingers with hers— Though, Peter had never tried to intentionally wake her. For, he knew it would only cause Wendy more grief knowing that he could not stay for too long, or knowing that she could not depart with him.

Wendy was to not ever see him again...even if she would always keep the window open. That was just how it was. His several visits in the end, were usually cut short by Tinkerbelle's tugs at his ear. (That's when Peter would turn to make his leave—swatting Tinkerbelle off with the back of his hand, harsh enough to make her lose her small grip on him, but he had to be equally gentle so he would not cripple, or tear her fragile fluttering wings.) Peter noted that if he decided to visit the sleeping Wendy Bird another time in the upcoming days, it may be best if he ordered the pixie stay behind. A pixie was a fickle companion by itself, but an envious pixie was purely a nuisance.

Yet, even though Wendy's widow would never close, it did not mean Peter's existing ripples of dissatisfaction within him had been smoothed over.

Yes, he was aware he still had Tinkerbelle at his side, had his red skinned-occasional-playmates, and he still had his mermaid spies to chat with at whatever time he wished—it irked Peter to no end that he was denied having everything that was theoretically his with him.

Wendy had once told him that her mother was beautiful, and absolutely graceful, like a loving angel. Peter scoffed at Wendy's words now. He questioned to himself what was so divine about a person that is selfish enough to demand Wendy to grow up, when Wendy instead was actually willing to return to Neverland with him in the very end? Choosing to grow old was one thing difficult to comprehend, Peter decided, though being forced to grow up was the ugliest matter within all that existed.

—Mrs. Darling stretched out her arms to him, but he repulsed her.

"Keep back, you lady, no one is going to catch me and make me a man."

"But where are you going to live?"

"With Tink, in the house we built for Wendy. The fearies are to put it up among the treetops where they sleep at night."

"How lovely!" Wendy cried so longingly that Mrs. Darling tightened her grip on her.

At least, Hook possessed the decency to capture Wendy to request a challenge in exchange for her release. On the other hand, Marcy Darling did not offer him a fair battle for the "custody" of Wendy. As soon as she had seen that her eldest child, her precious only daughter was back in her reach along with the others, she acted if she had bested Peter then and there. Just like that. End of discussion. End of their adventure. Not a single brawl, not even in the slightest degree.

— "It doesn't matter," said Peter to Wendy.

"Oh Peter, you know it matters."

"Well, then, come back with me to the little house."

"May I, mummy?"

"Certainly not! I have got you home again, and I mean to keep you."

"But he does so need a mother."

"So do you, my love."

"Oh, alright," Peter said, as if he asked from politeness merely; but Mrs. Darling saw his mouth twitch—

It made Peter sick.

Oh, how he loathed Marissa Darling, the mother whom had stolen what had been rightfully his.

*The reason to why Mary's name continued to change in Peter's mind is because Peter's memory tends to falter at times, remember? Peter's flashbacks are the original citations from Barrie's novel, from the chapter: When Wendy Grew Up. Hope this was an interesting read; review if desired.