Wil didn’t have to exactly twist this boy king’s dreams in the least. They were already quite painful, and may be the reason that Malcolm and Peter rarely if ever sleep.
In the dream realm, he was not the boy he was in the waking world. Wil would see a tired man in an empty cottage, looking at a bed with a sad longing. Sometimes one could see a woman there sleeping with a bundle that was Rumple. A sad dream but probably a happy one of what could have been.
The woman and Rumple vanished in and out as if under an illusion or Malcolm himself was trying to force the illusion to remain.
There was no arrogant boy king here. If anything, if Wil had never seen Malcolm before, he could probably understandably think he happened upon the wrong dream. But the blue eyes were there.. even with the cruelty in them, they were the false king’s eyes that ruined Peter and continues to happily ruin him even when in different bodies.
Blue eyes look at Wil and smiles some as if greeting an old friend or maybe seeing someone Wil wasn’t, “Fiona... and Rumple.” He introduced them as they faded away again.
There was also one other thing... the iron shackles around his wrists that were tight. They were unattached but still remained as he stood up and looked at Wil, “we’d make such a happy life here, Rumple.. just the three of us.” His accent was almost like Harry’s. Scottish instead of the British that Pan and Dark Pan held.
And it was clear to that he didn’t see Wil, but thought he was seeing Rumple.
