Peter Darling

By Austin Chant

A queer, transgender retelling of Peter Pan in which Pan returns to Neverland after a decade in the real world.

The Lost Boys say that Peter Pan went back to England because of Wendy Darling, but Wendy is just an old life he left behind. Neverland is his real home. So when Peter returns to it after ten years in the rea

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Chant
• Release date: Jun 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087818191

Book preview

Peter Darling

Peter Darling

Austin Chant

Also by Austin Chant

Caroline’s Heart

A queer Western laced with fantasy and romance in which Cecily, a reclusive witch, is torn between using her most powerful magic to resurrect her long-dead lover or to save the life of a stranger.

Coffee Boy

A contemporary romance in which Kieran, a young trans man interning at a political campaign, wrestles with the pressures of being out in the workplace – and develops an inconvenient crush on his obnoxious supervisor, Seth.

Copyright © 2017 by Austin Chant

First edition published by Less Than Three Press 2017

Second edition published by the author 2021

Edited by Amanda Jean and James Loke

All rights reserved.

Digital ISBN 978-1-0878-1819-1

Print ISBN 978-1-0878-0865-9

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Visit the author's website at www.austinchant.com

This book is for every villain who ever inspired a queer awakening, and for every queer child who ever saw a piece of themself in the enemy.

It's also for Simone, who is definitely a villain of some kind.

Peter Darling

Each new truth destroys the one held before it.

- Magnus Hirschfeld

Prologue

James Hook was bored.

The woods had grown rather tame, he thought. Time was, he and his pirates would have been fending off tigers, wolves, and little boys with swords; they would have been snarled in thorns and clinging vines, beset by swarming fairies, ambushed by roving crocodiles. Nowadays, though Neverland was still overgrown, it was no more threatening than an unkempt lawn.

It was the morning after a powerful rain, but the sun was shining, and dew gathered like jewels on the leaves. From where Hook was reclining, in the velvet cushions of a sedan chair carried by four straining men, the forest had a fresh polish and smelled like the coming of autumn. There were even sweet little birds singing; it was repulsively saccharine.

Which way at Eagle Pass, Captain? called Samuel, Hook’s bosun since the retirement of old Smee. Samuel was walking ahead, where Hook could admire his arse.

Hook glanced listlessly at the treasure map on his knee, lifting his lacy cuff so he could see the twist of the path. East, he said, and the party veered east.

They had liberated the treasure map from One-Eyed Jack, captain of the Devil’s Pride, after a brief and unsatisfying battle. The Devil’s Pride was currently sinking to the bottom of the sea, and Hook had sent all of One-Eyed Jack’s loyalists off the plank, but it hadn’t sated him. He was in a strange mood—bloodthirsty, yet lethargic, for he had nothing worthy to vent his bloodlust on.

The pirates followed his lackluster directions into a tight thicket, where the trees grew close to the narrow path. The sedan chair was almost too wide to fit through, but the men knew better than to suggest that Hook get down and walk. They struggled gamely on, prickled by brambles and scraped by encroaching branches, until the trail emerged into a wide gulch shaded by birch trees. An enormous tree had fallen across this gulch, leaving a space below it just large enough for a man to crouch in. And there, beneath the log, was a boulder carved with a particular sign—the sigil with which One-Eyed Jack had signed his letters.

Hook sighed, unable to muster much enthusiasm. Down, he commanded, and his pallbearers set the sedan chair down to rest on its base. Roll that boulder aside and start digging.

It would be dirty, sweaty work to squat beneath the fallen tree and dig up the fortune of gold and jewels rumored to be buried there. Hook was looking forward to it; the sight of other men toiling usually made him feel better. Samuel, especially, had a way of making sweat and grime look appealing. It would at least soothe Hook’s soul, if not end his boredom, to watch Samuel roll up his sleeves and grasp his shovel with those bulging forearms.

Therefore hopeful, Hook settled in for the show.

Half an hour or so later, he began to think that a book would have made for better entertainment. He could only watch the shovel go up and down so many times before it became monotonous instead of titillating, and his view was soon obstructed as Samuel and the others disappeared behind a growing mound of dirt. The temperature rose as the sun climbed higher; the lesser insects of Neverland grew hungry and agitated as they hovered over the ravine, attracted perhaps by all the sweat. Hook swatted the bugs away with the treasure map, scowling. How much longer? he barked.

Samuel stuck his head out of the hole, his brown hair slicked down with sweat. Hard to say, Captain, he said apologetically. There’s no sign of gold yet.

Hook sneered. Perhaps you need a little motivation. If that treasure isn’t unearthed within the hour, I’ll flog you until I can show you your own spine.

Samuel blanched and ducked back into the hole. Hook sighed, fanning himself.

What’s the hurry, Captain?

Hook twisted around in his chair, startled. He hadn’t heard the stranger approach, yet there he was, sitting on a rock at the edge of the ravine. The young man wore shapeless clothes, the trousers well cuffed and the overlarge sleeves torn away at the elbows. He was unarmed—unusual, for a denizen of Neverland—yet there was a challenge in his cool stare.

Hello, Hook said, attempting to compose himself. The stranger was handsome, in a lanky sort of way—his face was bony and keen, his limbs long and narrow. His hair curled raggedly, as if it had been hacked off with a knife. What have we here?

The stranger leaned forward as if he might pounce. You don’t remember me?

There was something familiar about the young man’s coloring and his clear, arrogant voice. It tugged at an old memory, one that Hook could not quite place. Why should I?

We fought, a long time ago, the stranger said. He rose, swaying slightly. Hook watched as he picked his way down the ravine. He walked on his toes and carried himself as if he were half air, as though a mere breeze could lift him off his feet. Something about his movements raised the hair on the back of Hook’s neck. They were not just familiar, though they were hauntingly familiar. They were the footsteps of a cat slinking toward a wounded bird.

Who are you? Hook asked, curling his fingers around the hilt of his sword.

The stranger paused and gave a slow, cold smile. I’m the prince of runaways, he said. The rightful king of Neverland.

Again, recognition pulled at the back of his mind. Is that so? Hook murmured. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. And here I thought that was me.

The stranger narrowed his eyes and came forward, but hesitated at the click of a pistol. Samuel had emerged from the pit, shovel in one hand and gun in the other, and was doing his level best to look menacing. Not a step further, he warned. Tell the captain who you are.

Be quiet, Hook snapped, without turning his head. He had lost all interest in the treasure and the interruption only annoyed him. He stepped down from the sedan chair, walking to meet the stranger as he descended into the ravine.

The nearer he went, the more handsome the youth became. His eyes were clever, green, and restless, constantly darting about to take in his surroundings; his mouth was a whimsical line, caught somewhere between a frown and a smile, ever threatening to tip toward one or the other. Hook couldn’t place the man anywhere in his memories, and he thought he would have kept a record of that smile. It was maddening. I didn’t ask you for a riddle, nor these arrogant claims. I want your name, stranger. Give it to me before my patience runs out.

You first, the stranger said.

Hook gritted his teeth. As you wish. Though I suspect you know very well. He doffed his hat and gave a slight, elegant bow. "I am James Hook, captain of the Jolly Roger, professionally known as the terror of the seven seas. He was frustrated, and a little fascinated, when the stranger failed to look impressed. He tried again, taking a step closer, pressing the advantage of his height over the slighter man. My friend, he said, allowing a touch of venom to creep into the words, you’ve stumbled upon the excavation of some extraordinarily valuable treasure. It belonged to the last man who challenged me, and you can guess what became of him. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t allow a hapless bystander to live if he crept up on me amid such a dig. But if you tell me your name, I’ll consider sparing your life."

You know me, the stranger said, calm like the bare edge of a knife.

He did, he did, and it was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. "Your name, stranger, he snarled, or else—"

His eyes caught a flicker of movement under the stranger’s collar. There was a silver gleam, and then the rustle of wings unfolding as a fairy crawled out onto the man’s shoulder. Hook knew her at once; she was only a little more tattered and rumpled than the last time he had seen her.

Tinker Bell? he asked, uncomprehending.

Then his eyes traipsed back to the stranger’s face, to his callous, boyish grin, and his stomach dropped with sudden revelation.

"You."

Peter Pan grinned at him. Me.

They were only inches apart. Pan shot out his hand and tore a knife from Hook’s belt. Hook recoiled, drawing his sword barely quick enough to divert a stab at his heart. Before he could counter the attack, Pan leapt backward—leapt impossibly high, all the way to the top of the ravine, and did not quite come down. He floated in place, a gentle breeze rippling around him, toying with the knife in his grip. Tinker Bell glittered on his shoulder.

Hook squeezed the hilt of his sword, his fingers trembling with disbelief. "Pan." No wonder he hadn’t recognized the man; he had been a boy when last Hook had seen him. It had been a decade at least, and he had grown up after all. All that remained of the child Hook had known was the cruelty of his smile.

I remember you being quicker, Pan called down to him. You must be getting old.

I remember you being smaller, Hook sneered. Where have you been?

Having adventures, Pan said airily. Traveling the whole sea and sky. And now I’ve come to win the war with you once and for all.

Liar. Hook gestured to his men. Without looking, he knew they were arming themselves; he saw Pan watching them with interest, without fear. The last I heard, you were a strange little runaway, Hook continued. "Gone back to be with your family." That was all he had managed to torture out of the Lost Boys; they had lost all spirit in Pan’s absence.

A cloud passed over Pan’s face. You heard wrong, he said. I don’t even know what a family is.

Then correct me. Where have you been?

Killing pirates, Pan said. And I think I’ll add one more to my tally.

The vicious flash of intent in Pan’s eyes always gave him away before he struck. Hook had an instant to parry as Pan flew at him, quick as a dart. Pan’s knife rang hard off the edge of Hook’s sword, and Hook swiped up at Pan with his claw, only managing to catch the hem of one of his trouser legs. Pan kicked him in the chest and knocked Hook’s sword aside with a blow to the wrist, then swept forward and plunged his knife into Hook’s ribs.

Hook howled in surprise as much as pain. The short blade didn’t make it far past his coat, but it broke skin and scraped across bone before Pan tore it out again. Hook staggered back with a hand clapped over the wound.

Captain! Samuel bellowed, and fired his pistol. The bullet went wide, but even so Pan recoiled and soared into the air, laughing wildly. The pirates aimed their weapons after him, and he disappeared over the treetops, pursued by gunshots.

I’ll be back for you, Captain! Hook heard him shout.

Hook sank to the ground, staring at the blood on his fingers. The wound throbbed between his ribs, a slow crimson stain spreading on his shirt. He hardly recognized the sensation. His heart thundered against his ribs. It had been so long since someone had hurt him.

The thought brought a smile to his lips.

1.

W hat do you remember? Tinker Bell asked.

Peter folded his arms behind his head and grinned at her. What do you mean?

He was drifting above the island on his back, weightless on the wind. Tink perched on his chest, clinging to his shirt buttons. She glared her many eyes at him. Do you remember flying here?

Of course, Peter said easily. He had swum through an ocean of moonlight, following Tink’s directions to the second star on the right. They had burst out into a storm above the island and danced along the clouds together, lightning turning the world black and white in flashes.

And before that?

Peter had a vague memory that he had been somewhere unpleasant, but in the long dark passage between worlds, that memory had grown far away and unimportant. No, he said. I expect I was doing something interesting.

Tink hummed in agreement, and said no more of it. Peter turned over so he could survey his kingdom, spreading his arms out like a sail. The island was covered in thick, dark forest, except for the snowy peaks of distant mountains; blue rivers snaked through the woods, patrolled by wild beasts. The surrounding sea was a pale and pearlescent green, like absinthe, sunlight glinting off the waves.

There was still blood on the knife Peter had stuck in Hook, droplets of it sliding off the point and flying away into the wind. Peter threw the knife into the air, laughing, and caught it by the blade. Tinker Bell had warned him that Hook had been ruling Neverland in his absence; naturally, the first thing Peter had wanted to do was tip him off his throne. Probably Hook had gotten lazy and comfortable with no one to bully him. That would explain why Peter had gotten the best of him so easily.

Well, they would have to wake him up. Peter had no intention of coming back to Neverland without a good war.

***

A portly tree with wide branches had served as the Lost Boys’ hideout since Peter had first assembled their company. The tree’s roots grew down into a substantial cavern below the earth, which the Lost Boys had further hollowed out and made into their home.

The hideout tree flowered in summer, putting out papery pink blossoms that gave way to autumn fruit. It was the only one of its kind in Neverland, and visible from a distance when one flew above the forest. Peter spotted it almost at once, though he might just as easily have followed the plume of black smoke rising beside it.

They’re always making a mess, Tink said.

Has Hook killed any of them? Peter asked, coasting down toward the tree.

Probably, Tink said heartlessly. I don’t count them. But maybe not. There’s hardly any bloodshed when you aren’t around.

Then it’s a good thing I’m back.

He came down on a branch above the hideout tree. In the clearing around it, a bonfire blazed as wild pigs roasted on spits above the flames. All around the fire were a dozen or

Reviews for Peter Darling

[felcrystals · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It was cute. The characters were relatable and real, and the romance was decently paced. Hook managed to be a theatrical, ruthless pirate and still came across as sympathetic, likeable and human when appropriate. Peter also has noticeable depth and personal growth.

The book would have benefitted from more detailed descriptions of Neverland's more fantastical creatures as some were hard to visualize and one character in particular is around quite a while before a very jarring description is given. I also found it just a little fanfic level over the top when describing attraction, but I could have been more bothered.

The second half is superior in my opinion, so if you're not sold at first, stick with it.

[Silvia · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

While it loses most of the original Peter Pan novel, and reads a lot like fanfiction, it was a very pleasant story which I thoroughly enjoyed it.

[Klassia Missford · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Me lo he leído dos veces. Y repito, DOS VECES. Toda una joya.

[MacSuibhne9 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I haven’t written many reviews and can’t remember the last time I did. But this story sucked me into it within the first couple pages and I flew through it until I reached the last couple pages, with the anxiety one feels only when a great story is nearing its end. It’s engaging, exciting, and heartbreaking. I only wish I could have stayed in Chant’s Neverland for another thousand pages.

[Good Grief · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I have been desperate to read this book since I learnt about its existence and I am so happy to say that it did not disappoint! This book has all of the great queer feels. As someone who is a fan of neither enemies-to-lover nor Peter Pan, you would have thought this book would be a hard pass for me but it is exceptionally well crafted and boy do I love this world Chant has created.

[Moira · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A beautiful retelling of Peter Pan with the added complexity of adulthood, running away from one's family, and being vulnerable to oneself and others. It takes Neverland to a different level, making the story even more complex and interesting. Definitely recommended! 

[Erienne Birt · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Complicated thoughts incoming, starting with that I myself am a queer trans man.

The first 90 pages dragged unconscionably. I was expecting a retelling rather than a continuation, but even so it was very harsh and made no sense as Peter is dropped back upon neverland 10 years later. Weird amounts of death and violence, not in keeping witht he original feel of the story but also not adapted in a way that fit with this new story. I couldn't tell how alarmed to be for any character in danger, because I wasn't sure what was a joke or not. Of course, that gets resolved, but 100 pages feels like a long time to spend, in a 200 page novella, with that level of confusion.

That said, the premise is brilliant. The Peter/Wendy dichotomy is well done of course, as only another trans person could write and so much of it spoke to me.

I struggle a bit with the Hook/Peter thing because if Peter was a child when Hook knew him first and Hook was an adult...but then the like time dilation thing that happens very similarly to the Narnia books, so I am not sure how big the age gap actually is.

Overall I enjoyed it, it was cute.

[mikhail bish · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

As a trans man who identifies heavily with Peter Pan, to the point of getting a tattoo of the image, I loved this book. I felt seen and respected.
As a Peter Pan fan, I really liked this understanding of Neverland as a shared dream. Particularly, knowing different entrances to Neverland personalized the piece and made all the primary characters more realistic. The imagery is gorgeous and I really was able to picture some of the fights and stages.
Additionally, this enemies-to-lovers story is easy to follow and convincing. Although it felt somewhat that I ended a very different book that I started, the journey was fun, fast, senseful, and sensual.
Great work of the author. Thank you Mack for making this. I will return to it again.