A.N. Holy crap. This had to be the hardest chapter to edit so far. Ugh… See my commentary at the bottom.


Pan continued following Serori and the other girls down many corridors, the halls twisting and turning sharply, and at times, the turns catching her off guard. Everything around her seemed to meld perfectly, so when she thought they were at a dead end, they would abruptly turn. Pan tried her best to keep track of the twists and turns the cow was leading them through, but she simply could not do it. It was entirely something of frustration to realize that escape was going to be increasingly more difficult with every turn they rounded.

'I've got to calm down… I was trained far better than this. Trained to examine all possible strategies…' She made a lame attempt at a smile, remembering one of her father's and grandfather's sayings. However, these thoughts of her family led down a now familiar trail of memories that was not at all welcome. Thoughts of failure…

She had trained for many years, and it all had come down to that last battle, and it was she who had failed. She could not rise to the challenge, to the urgency of the situation… she was not strong enough. And she had paid dearly for her failure.

'Mother, father... it's my fault. You're both gone now, because of me, because I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't do it… After all those years, all the pain… I failed you, all of you…'



She was suddenly back in the nightmare again. The last battle for Chikyuu she knew she would ever fight. They had managed through careful planning to infiltrate the Saiyan station on earth. It was all so perfect, so inconceivably precise…

They had spent years mastering the art of hiding ki, even while using it. The original plan was simple in its brilliance; they would destroy the base before the Saiyans knew what hit them. They would slowly, and with as much stealth as possible, attack the base from the outside in. They had spent years secretly re-wiring from underground and had disabled all alarms, thanks mostly to her father. Everything should have gone right, everyone should be alive and enjoying their freedom…But they were all dead.

She and her father were to attack from the north, her Grandpa Goku from the south, and her Uncle Goten from the east. She would split from her father after the most guarded part of the base had been taken, and go to the western side. But they had slipped somewhere; somehow they had missed a silent alarm. That single missed wire, that one mistake, caused the downfall of the entire mission. Years of careful planning and risking her life underneath the base, all crumbled in that one moment.

She had tripped the alarm, that one alarm, on her way to the west. Without her knowledge her family had been captured, and taken to the west where they had predicted her attack. While she was confidently flying to where she expected the few guards she needed to take out would be, her family was suffering. All because of her idiocy... All her fault…

When she arrived, she was ambushed. She had powered up, and fought harder than she had ever fought in her life, yet they just kept coming. The warriors… the blood was everywhere. Her blood, their blood… the heat of the battle pumped through her, and she felt herself losing control of everything, and she was beginning to be overcome. Hordes of the bastards surrounded her, and as soon as she killed one, two more were there to take its place.

And then there he had been. The one who's face would be forever etched into her memory, the one who had, in a single moment, taken anything and everything she had ever cared for. That Saiyan… the one she could never forget. Lavender hair played into ice blue eyes as he looked coldly down on her family. His set face gave away no emotions, save annoyance and hate, as he eyed her loved ones carefully.

Pan had looked to her father. His body was battered and bloody, his once orange gi covered in his own blood and the grime that had built on him from struggling on the ground. He was bound in a ki lock, as was her uncle, and her grandfather.

Her father's eyes caught hers, and they flew over her straining form. His face was clouded with worry as he called out, "Pan! There is nothing more here that you can do! Go, run while you still can!" Gohan looked at her with pleading eyes, begging her to do what he knew she couldn't. He cried out as he was slapped across the face for his outburst, his already bloodied mouth beginning to ooze bright crimson. There was a fear in his eyes that made Pan want to run… a father fearing for his daughter.

Pan met with a decision that was impossible to make. To leave would mean certain death for her family… She couldn't leave.

'I can't just give up dad… I can't leave you all here to die alone!'

"Dad! I won't give up!" She cried out. She looked desperately within herself, trying to tap into any power she may have missed. Yet, she could find no more power within. She knocked away more of the damn Saiyan beasts, caught off guard by her anger. She couldn't find the power she needed! Why… why wasn't it there? Why!?

Her eyes caught the small glow of energy, and as she looked up, her eyes widened. The immanent doom that rested in the air about her made her body freeze, and her enemy pounded her on. Yet, the blows went unfelt, the anger beginning to boil her blood, and the sorrow beginning to fog her judgement. The scene before her was what could only be described as hell for the girl witnessing it.

The lavender-haired Saiyan power up. His hair turned gold, standing on end and defying gravity in an evil halo about it head. His eyes reflected nothing in an empty green void. Time slowed as his blast began to gather strength in his hands, and his muscles tightened in anticipation for the kill.

She could see it all clearly, and could only watch as her father looked at her, one last time, before he turned to his murderer to wait. Pan's senses went numb and tears flowed from her eyes as she blindly flew toward her family. She was nearly half way there when the Saiyan released his blast, a light blinding her and shoving her back roughly against a wall, collapsing it atop her battered form.

She had fainted for a moment, and when she awoke, she wanted nothing more than to lay there and let it end, to let the darkness engulf her and soothe her heart. She had failed her planet, her family. Everything she loved was gone, and it was her fault. The guilt was eating her alive.

Yet something deep inside her told her to get up, and to fight the darkness. It told her to get up and run, far away, as far away from this forsaken place as she could get.

And she did.

She burst through the fallen rubble, dropping out of her Super form, and flew as fast as her broken body would take her. Towards her home... yes, to mother. She had to get her mother to a safe place, before the Saiyans came for her as well.

There was no true memory of the flight home. There was only the need, the rush, and the prayer that she would get there. She had to save her mother, she had to! There was no option, nothing... It was her last hope, her only link to sanity.

But when she arrived at her home, it was clear that she was too late. The pieces of her hidden home lay about her in tiny shreds, with shards of their possessions strewn about. Pan had only had to walk a few steps before the bloody and disfigured heap that was her mother came into her view. Videl lay limp and lifeless in the mass of rubble that used to be her home.

Shattered. Everything was shattered.

She had knelt to her mother's body, eyes wide and teary. She did not know how, but somehow she had taken her mother, and used what energy she had left to bury it. She left the grave unmarked, and lay down next to it, fully intending to share in her mother's fate. She had let her tears flow freely from her eyes, and fell into sleep, never meaning nor wanting to wake up.

The point of living had been erased. Nothing was left but she, the failure. Nothing was worth it. There was nothing.

But she had awakened. There, in that stinking, disgusting carriage that had brought her to the port. The port where she had done damage, and the port where she was loaded onto a slave ship, to be carried to the home of her enemies.

Pan forgot means of escape; she forgot strategy, as she dwelled on the recent events. The memories were now fresh on her mind, making her bleed, the guilt eating at her gut until she felt it throb beneath the pressure and cramp. She felt her throat clog beyond any hope of emitting a noise, and the physical pain from her mental anguish ate at her very bones. But she would not cry, no, again, here, now. Not like the girls she was walking with. Tears were nothing close to what she felt, for there is a place in emotion where tears can do nothing to heal.

And Son Pan knew better than to let her foes see weakness. She knew she would get her revenge. That strange lavender-haired Saiyan would pay, no matter what the cost to herself. It was the only way she would ever be able to stop the pain...

She lifted her eyes from the ground when she noticed they had stopped again in a very poor-looking wash room. What she presumed to be a shower of some sort looked as though it had not been properly maintained in years. The grime and filth on the floors looked as if it was alive, and Pan asked herself how this could possible be a wash room.

Serori approached the girls, her glare coming down at them as hateful and cruel as ever. "Strip and bathe. Wash beneath the showers, and come out when we tell you. If you refuse to come out, we will come get you," she warned, looking pointedly at the male guard standing around her.

Reluctant at first, Pan did nothing. It was then that Serori made an entirely different threat, "Or if you don't wish to bathe, we always have our guards do the washing for you. They haven't had the chance at a woman in awhile, and would be quite pleased to have such an opportunity," Pan looked at Serori's smirk, noted that the threat was indeed backed by the guards, who seemed to be mesmerized by the female bodies before them, and she quickly did as told.

She discarded her torn gi quietly, securing the small orange piece of cloth to her wrist. She marveled at it being intact, and left it in its place as a reminder of what she had to do.

Standing beneath the showers, she soon felt cold, perfumed water fall on her. She shivered; for the water had to be just above freezing. She looked in front of her at the three bottles, and grabbed one. She looked at the bottle before opening it and sniffing at the contents. She couldn't detect any type of drug, and after seeing a glare from Serori, let her hair down and applied whatever it was to her hair. She should have let her father cut her hair before the battle, but she had stubbornly refused to cut the raven mass, and now it was far beneath her shoulders. She felt the familiar sting at her eyes at the thought of her father, but quickly pushed the tears away. She couldn't break right now... she could break later. Not now.

She cleaned the dirt from her hair as thoroughly as she could, scratching through the knots and snags in it before scrubbing her skin down. Being dirty was never something she particularly cared for, even though she had always been somewhat of a tomboy.


The water soon stopped coming down, and she quickly dried herself, careful to use very little ki. She looked around for her clothes, anything to cover herself with, but upon further inspection and distress, found nothing.

She was grabbed by the arm again, and the guard seemed to enjoy dragging her naked form into the next room, which was, thankfully, near by. 'Dende, if you are alive and can hear me, make this next room be the dressing room or something!' The namek must have been alive, for the next room they entered was indeed a dressing room. A few slaves were there, very ready to attend to the girls' needs. She was suddenly dragged over toward the dressing place.

A light purple girl with golden eyes and long, bright blonde hair made her way to Pan, and it seemed to be of the same species as the earlier creatures that had tended to Pan's wounds. All the slaves in the place seemed to be of this same species, with differing shades of blonde hair. The gold-eyed creature looked to be human, though rather short, and with her different coloration and varying physical attributes.

The small creature looked eye to eye with Pan, who was sitting on her knees where she had been thrown to the ground. It smiled brightly before bowing deeply and addressing Pan. "I am Koshimoto. I will be attending your dress for your Presentation at the Royal Auctions." She chirped happily. Pan's curiosity got the best of her as the girl began to take her measurements, and Koshimoto's cheerfulness helped to soothe her aching soul as she blurted her question.

"What race are you?" Pan questioned, watching the slave creature jump about, grabbing various items and inspecting them.

"I am a Tsukaeme," she answered non-chalantly. "We live and die to serve our masters, the Saiyans. I am honored to be able to serve anyone with Saiyan blood, which you must have!" Koshimoto exclaimed, pulling something or other from a closet.

Pan looked at the girl before her, dumbfounded. The little slave reminded her of a puppy, with the way she was so delighted. The only difference was that the girl before her was obviously strictly trained for her purpose.

Glancing around the room, Pan noticed that each Tsukaeme was tending to their girl as though they were a goddess, yet each seemed to be keeping an eye on Pan. 'They can sense my Saiyan lineage? How odd...'

Pan jumped as Koshimoto's voice squealed in delight at finding what she was looking for. She held up the dress for Pan to see.

Her eyes widened at the dress, if it could be called that much. It was red, and was literally held together by two strings running up and down the sides, lacing like a shoe to combine the two pieces of cloth. A teardrop was cut out near the top on the front, and another on the stomach. A long strip of black lace was to be tied around the waste, and the ends were left to hang.

Pan's shock rendered her motionless for a few moments, as she let the fact that she would be sold as a concubine set it. Of course it would be better for them to be able to show of their merchandise...

"Oh! This will look so wonderful on you, mistress! Please, you must put it on! You will fetch far more than any of the other girls with this on," Koshimoto's voice snapped the scowl off Pan's face. She almost smiled at the little Tsukaeme's happiness, and sighed. Pan would have to wear the dress; she had no other choice. She was not going to be shown naked.

She pulled off the slip she had been given right before she was thrown into the room, and with the help of Koshimoto was able to tie it onto herself.


"What did I tell you mistress! It fits perfectly, and it makes you look so pretty!"

Pan looked at her image in the mirror, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. She had known that the 'dress' wouldn't cover much, but this? She may as well have chosen to run about naked. The strings that laced through on the sides hadn't pulled tight enough not to leave any revealed flesh and so the skin down her sides was only what could be described as an eyeful. The edge of the damn thing came barely below her rear, and the tight thing pushed her bust up against the cloth, revealing more than she would ever have shown if given the choice. The scrap of material was definitely skin-tight, and did not leave much for the imagination.

The little servant quickly grabbed Pan's hand, and took her to do her hair, squealing the whole way there. She quickly sat Pan down on a small wooden stool, presumably Koshimoto's 'hair and make up' station.

"Don't worry, mistress, I will make your hair as pretty as your dress!" Pan grimaced as Koshimoto began to play with her hair, pulling it this way, or pinning it that way... Pan had never done anything to her hair, except for occasionally cutting it, and the rest of the time it stayed tied tightly in a ponytail. A fighter had no use for beautiful hair, though Pan had always coveted the long, shining hair of her old, lost friends.

She waited patiently for what seemed like an eternity as Koshimoto brushed, fought with, and experimented with her hair. Even Pan had to admit the end result was amazing. Her bangs had been slightly cut, and her hair had been pulled back into a long, loose ponytail. Pieces of her hair fell carelessly around her face, and pan shook her head as she stared at her reflection.

It was almost funny, but she looked remarkably good as a whore.

Pan didn't like this. The way she looked, she would be sold in no time. She was pulled away from the mirror to the and jewelry 'station.' A silver necklace was added to complete the 'ensemble', though the necklace appeared to be rusted and cheap. Probably to save money when the girls were sold. The little Tsukaeme was very pleased with the new Pan.

As soon as Pan gathered her wits again, she turned to the slave girl who was still touching her up. "Tell me, who exactly will be trying to buy me?" Pan asked the girl, hoping to get some answers.

Her golden eyes lit up as she answered, "To the Royal Family and their personal guards, mistress. You shall be auctioned as a concubine, but your buyer may also buy you only for himself. You should be glad you were chosen for these auctions... I'm afraid the others aboard your ship won't have been as lucky," the child's face fell, "They will be sold to anyone who will buy them. More than likely a cold, cruel master whom won't provide for their slave. They won't last very long... they never do... that's why there are always so many customers," then Koshimoto brightened again, "But not you, mistress! You're strong enough to be here, and you'll be living much better with your master. You deserve a good home, and there are some really nice people who'll be bidding on you, too!"

Pan looked into the little Tsukaeme's eyes. The creature had just lied, she could tell. Though her lie was probably more about the 'nice people' who would be trying to buy her. Hn, yes, nice people who just want a sex slave.

"I see," Pan said quietly, offering a tiny smile to the slave girl who had tried to give her comfort. Pan turned to see Serori once again appear, calling all the ready girls to the front. "I must leave you now, thank you for your help, Koshimoto. I hope we'll meet again someday." Koshimoto blushed, and looked down at her feet. Pan reached out of habit to her wrist to where the orange cloth of her Grandpa's gi lay knotted around her wrist, and lent a wish to Kami that she would stay safe. Pan turned away from Koshimoto, walking to Serori, to follow her back to the transport ship.

The ship they were led to this time was cleaner than the one they had been traveling on before, but more cramped. The tight space that the girls squeezed into was barely enough for even the slightest bit of comfort.

Pan guessed that it had been two days since she had been captured, and she had had very little sleep. Even in the cramped room of the tiny ship, she found herself closing her eyes. But the cursed nightmares plagued her sleep and offered no rest, and when she awoke she was more tired than ever.

Once again, it was Serori's voice that had snapped her from her painful dreams. "Get up. We have arrived at the auction house. You will follow me in a line, and you will be presented on the stage. Each person will bid on you; the highest bid will win you over. Now let's move out," she stated calmly, the authority in her voice speaking volumes to the girls in front of her. Pan blinked the sleep from her eyes and woke fully, righting her clothes, and followed the girls out. They passed numerous guards and servants, Serori gaining clearance for them to pass. It seemed to take hours before they were finally let into a glass tunnel. What she saw through the glass seemed so familiar, yet so alien to her, yet the beauty of the place left her jaw hanging slack.

The sky was a surprisingly welcoming shade of dark blue. The sun of the planet burned brightly as an odd blood-red disc in the sky, though the light was as white as the light of Chikyuu. The place she was walking in was a tunnel, and the city she saw through the windows was what she guessed to be the capital of Vegeta-sei.

They had landed, and her life had changed forever.

The city was beautiful, gleaming white and almost pure looking. The stone looked like glowing alabaster, and the architecture was stunning. It was like an ivory city, where towers of the stone stretched towards the sky, and the light played tricks on the eye with shadows and light flashes. It was stunning, and surprising, and absolutely beautiful.

She was led, awe-struck, through this tunnel until they came to a doorway. She looked at it, amazed at the craftsmanship. Pan idly wondered if it was all done by the same war-driven beasts who had taken her home many years ago. The white city, and the door before her made of black marble. The marble was intricately detailed, the cuts very precise and smooth, the designs flawless. What was beyond the doorway amazed her even more.

No palace she had seen on earth even qualified to be compared to this. It seemed that the place in front of her had simply been cut from a huge chunk of white marble, for she could see no crack where column met ceiling, or where walls connected. Complex designs were carved everywhere, telling stories or just being beautiful. Outlined in black stone, the images were brilliantly depicted. Everything was massive, and it seemed as though someone had taken every kind of architecture imaginable and combined it to create one exquisite masterpiece.

They were led out of this grand entrance hall quickly, guided by at least twenty guards to a door that led to a hallway of twists and turns. After walking for what seemed like forever, they were finally led to a small, almost underground looking room. It was there they were stopped, and Serori turned to address the girls.

"Alright, this is it. You will be sold here. Now, I will give you a number, go to the number on the floor that matches yours." A guard handed out the numbers, as Serori chose who would get which. Pan looked down at her number. Two. She went to the number that was engraved on the floor, and after every girl had stepped onto her number, a kind of force field went up around each of them. Surprised and distressed, she lightly punched the barrier as a test, and was met back with the force of her own punch against her body.


'A machine that uses your own struggles against you? I should have punched harder...' She thought darkly. At this point, she would rather be dead than put down so low as to be sold as a slave.

She stood in the small square, feeling like a doll being shown off by one collector to another, only she was alive and would be taken out of her package before she was sold again...

She watched as the other girls repeatedly banged on their boxes, probably attempting to knock themselves out. Number one was called up, and Pan took note of the shivers of fear the girl showed. 'Display of weakness to an enemy.' She scolded half-heartedly, remembering one of the things she had learned from experience with the Saiyan warriors on her planet. It was a habit, one she had adopted from Gohan and Videl.

She watched anxiously as the girl ahead of her was sold to a rather large Saiyan guard... Pan was up next. She could not help but gulp as her box suddenly jerked forward, and she was dragged to the prize point. The announcer looked at his notes, looking back toward the crowd and speaking enthusiastically. "We have a special treat for those willing to pay the price," Pan sneered to herself as the announcer continued, "The grand-daughter of the rebel Kakarott. This one fought off and injured at least twenty of the Chikyuu-stationed transport guards, while severely wounded, and it is rumored she was a part of the attack of the base on Chikyuu. You buy her, her punishment will be yours to decide," He ended mysteriously, the perverse meaning not lost on the crowd or Pan. "We start her at 20,000 kahei." Many of the males frowned at the price. Pan guessed that it was very expensive, for the girl before her had sold for 8,000 kahei.

"Twenty-five thousand kahei." A voice answered immediately. A murmur ran through the crowd, though Pan paid it no mind. She did not care to see her buyer. Yet as her ears perked up, she noticed the word 'prince' tossed around quite often. Curious, she peeked up to look, and her breath caught in her throat as first surprise took her, and then, slowly, the rage boiled through her veins.

Pan saw him and knew him immediately. The warrior with lavender hair, the one who had killed her family before her eyes not even days ago. The one who must suffer, whom she had to kill. He had to die.

Yet, the tables were now severely turned. He smirked coldly up at her, and she knew he was going to be the one to hold her life in hand. Her eyes instantly burned with hate. She caught her rising ki. No other voice spoke in the room. No one dare take something away from the Prince that he wanted. Yes, her life was in his hands.

"S-sold to his highness, the Prince for 25,000 kahei." The announcer said nervously, shocked that the Prince himself had bid on the slave. Pan's box floated toward him and he greeted her with cold eyes, and she looked at him with a burning blood lust.

He knew her; she could see it in his eyes. She was the fighter who had helped attack the base... He had seen her after she had dropped out of the same form he had taken on so many times. He smirked at his new prize.


"A warrior in a whore's garb," he taunted slowly, "It suits you." She narrowed her eyes at him and scowled angrily as he continued to smirk at her. The bastard. He let his eyes trail up and down her body, lazily eyeing his possession.

Pan wanted to vomit. How dare he, how dare he look at her as if she was prey to be devoured! She squirmed under his gaze, suddenly very aware of her tight dress from Koshimoto, and the womanly attributes it failed to hide. The prince licked his lips, before turning on his heel to walk away. Pan felt the sickness from his stare and the anger from his comment bite her tongue, so she could not speak. Shaking with rage and sorrow at the sheer twisted irony of the situation.

She swallowed as her box began to follow him. She wanted to escape desperately, wanted to rip him up slowly, tooth by tooth, nail by nail, hair by hair, muscle by muscle. She wanted to watch him writhe in pain as she killed him; she wanted to see him suffer so badly he pleaded for death...

...But she couldn't get out of that damn box!

They came to a corridor where three different colors clashed where three different hallways met. Gold, silver, and bronze. She did not look hard at the hallways, but concentrated her gaze on the prince's back, wishing her gaze to burn a hole in him, and then burn him to death.

Finally finding her voice again pan hissed out, ice echoing in her voice, "Where are you taking me?" She growled when he only chuckled at her question.

"First to my father. It is required he know of any new personal slave I have bought, and he must approve. Then, back to my chambers..."Pan felt the sickness grow in her stomach at the implied meaning in his words. But he hadn't said that she was his whore... he had said 'personal slave'... that gave her some hope, right?

'Hn, with the gaze he gave me earlier, I doubt I have much to hope for. As it is, things can't get any worse... Wait, his father? Does he mean...' Pan's eyes snapped wide open as she realized what it meant. The King of Vegeta-sei. Ruler of the bastard Saiyan race. The mastermind behind her life's torture.

'How cruel can one life be,' she thought, 'to cast this fate to anyone...'


A.N. Holy shit. Do you *know* how long this chapter took to edit? It's like twice as long as the original, now that I've edited it. And the original was one of the longest chapters... my ass hurts from sitting in this uncomfortable computer chair!

So, please, for the sake of my ass, review! It has suffered for so long in this chair... It deserves some recognition, don't you think?

And thanks to those who have reviewed and sent me emails! I love you all sooooo much! You are the best! You are the reason I continue!

*Huggles*

-Tanny and her aching butt.