A/N: I got much more reviews than I expected. You guys are great. It was also commented that "I don't know about dbz". Since this is my 9th t/p fic, I really hope I know something about dbz. I'll stress again that this is alternate universe, please keep that in mind. See chapter one for disclaimer.
Last time: Bulma and Vegeta are in a fight over Trunks' marriage, Trunks meets Pan, but dismisses her (the jerk), and he also meets his bride-to-be who slaps a spell on him. What a nice girl…
"Seven Years Bad Luck"
This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real - yes, that was it. It was all some sick joke that someone was playing on him. To think - on a prince? It was traitorous, and someone would pay. What had Trunks been thinking? No one could change people invisible, especially not some innocent courtier. But then how could he appear invisible?
Glancing down he could see his own body, and he could see hers as well. But when he re-directed his gaze to the mirror... it was as if she were the only one in the room. As if he wasn't there at all. But he was! Trunks was standing right beside her! It didn't make sense... or did it? It was the mirror. Twisting his angular features into a smirk inherited from his father, he gingerly picked up the mirror and dropped it onto the floor. His mother had liked that mirror, but there was obviously a spell on it. No bewitched mirror could stand in the royal throne room.
She laughed. He glared. What was so funny? This woman was infuriating him! She was conniving and treacherous, yet looked like a lady! Trunks was beginning to think that his judge of character was loosing its edge.
"And what is so funny?" he asked, clenching his jaw. She pointed down to the smashed mirror.
"That's seven years bad luck. You'll need all the luck you can get in finding the person who can break the spell, and here you are - throwing it all away. Tsk tsk. You are a funny man." Her voice rang with amusement, but with each word spoken, Trunks got more and more angry. He wanted to strike her, but weighing the pros and cons, it'd probably be better if he didn't. Instead, he opened his mouth for a comeback when he was interrupted by the familiar shuffle of robes and slippers, this time faster in pace. Koslin. The man ran in, pausing near the golden-blond, and paused with a hand to his chest to catch his breath. Trunks wasn't sure if he had just ran a long distance or if maybe he was just overweight. It was hard to tell his figure when he kept it all concealed in his garments. He looked up upon catching his breath and glanced from side to side. With a look of utter confusion, he turned to the girl.
"Did I hear something shatter? And where is the prince?" He asked, his voice sounding less ear-piercing than usual. Actually, it sounded more angry than anything. Trunks closed his eyes. No; this was not happening. Was the entire castle in on this joke?!
"Yes, this mirror regrettably fell," she replied, motioning towards the shattered fragments on the floor. "And I don't know where the prince ran off to."
"I'm right here!" Trunks shouted, fists clenched. He did not like this game. Koslin turned his head in every direction trying to find where the prince's voice had come from.
"Prince?" he asked, still unsure of where he was, from his view, Trunks was no where in sight. In reality; Trunks was directly in front of him.
"You keep playing these games and I will kill you myself!" he yelled. Koslin straightened up, and continued to search around frantically. Trunks was beyond anger; now he was just petrified. Could Koslin really not see him? This was bad. Real bad.
"Do you see him?" Koslin asked, facing back towards the woman. She shrugged her shoulders gracefully.
"I recall stating that he left." Koslin nodded that uneven nod he possessed.
"I remember. But can't you hear him? I don't now where he's calling from." She quirked an eyebrow and slowly took a look around the room.
"He's not here... and I haven't heard a thing." She said, sounding honest enough. Trunks hands were starting to shake. He was a prince! He had absolutely no experience on how to act in this situation. Would anybody? He had been made to disappear by his future wife! If this girl thinks she can get away with making a fool out of the prince; she has another thing coming. Trunks walked right up to Koslin, for the first time getting a whiff of his stench, undeniably making Trunks think he truly was a hermit. Perhaps he slept in the western swamp at nights? Keeping his breath in check, he leaned towards the man.
"I am right beside you!" he shouted, only inches from the man's ear. Koslin whirled around, but saw nothing. Koslin desperately turned towards the girl again.
"Can't you hear him?!" he shrieked, his old shrilling voice returning. The girl shook her head. He shot her an odd look, as if the two were communicating through means he did not understand, before nodding slowly. He whimpered quietly before lifting his robes around his ankles and quickly shuffling out of the room at speeds foreign to this slow-paced man. Trunks heaved in disappointment. That proved it. Although he wanted to deny it, there was no way he possibly could. He was invisible to the outside world. They could hear him. He could touch, talk and see them... but he was invisible to them. He was alone.
***
It had been a long day. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to escape into her chambers and sleep. The market place had been a swarm to begin with, and then with the run in with the angered king... it just plain wore on her nerves. She fiddled gingerly with a loose thread on her apron, walking the darkened halls of the castle. Her room wasn't too far off now. Just a few more turns and... oh no. The King! The King was coming her way.
She all to vividly remembered her earlier encounter with the man. She had to drop her basket and dash to the wall just to escape him. He had that blood-thirsty look in his eye that he would on occasion get. She had been lucky to have escaped this morning. In fact she had been surprised that he hadn't turned to her and cursed, slapped, or struck her. He just kept on walking , muttering his curses along the way. She had been fortuitous. She didn't want to take any chances now.
With a quick thought, she dove to her left and scampered behind the woven tapestry that hung there. She waited a second for her breath to re-catch, before peering one eye towards the hallway. She stood perfectly still, waiting for the King to storm by. The King did pass, but it was more of a stroll then a storm. In fact he even looked half-glad. With wonder, she poked her head out to watch his retreating figure. He had a smug look on his somewhat dark face. When he was out of sight, she completely emerged from the wall hanging and stood in confusion. How could a once rage-ridden man be so calm and self-satisfied now? Whatever had caused the change, she certainly wasn't going to complain. With a delicate shrug, the young market girl turned back to her walking, relieved to have escaped the King's wrath twice in one day.
Vegeta was smug. How couldn't he be? He had been so paranoid that his son actually cared about marrying for love, that he would go through Bulma to get to him... but he was mistaken. His son was right in line. Now it was time to face Bulma. Round two.
The King casually swung their bed chamber's door open, and glided into the room. His dark eyes scanned the room quickly, trying to spot his queen. He couldn't spot her at all. His smirk disappeared, and he stepped further into the room, allowing his eyes to do a more through search of the room. His vision finally spotted her sprawled out on the fainting table. He hadn't really expected to see her there, which was surely the reason he had missed her the first time around. He strode over to the table and looked down upon her sleeping form.
Her blue locks were draped all over the red cushioned makeshift bed. He gently brushed a few strands away from her face, and bent down to pick her up. Bulma had fallen asleep on the fainting table before, and had woken up with a strange kink in her neck. Complained about it for an entire week. Having the frame of mind not to go through that again, he easily hoisted her into his strong arms and carried her over to the bed. She didn't stir at any of his actions, so he simply folded the blankets around her, getting undressed for sleep.
They argued. It was an undeniable. But that was part of their relationship. It was one of the things that kept them going sometimes. Being able to vent and get rid of tension in their lives; the results were always more passionate in the end regardless. After a very emotional day, Vegeta dropped noiselessly onto the mattress, in an attempt to keep his wife asleep. This worked, however, the sudden increase of warmth in the bed managed to bring her out of her sleep.
"Aieeee," she gasped, sitting straight up in bed, obviously surprised at something. Sensing immediately who it was that had startled her, she turned her head towards her husband. Vegeta was smirking, resting against the headboard with his hands supporting his head like a pillow.
"Woman, calm down," he said amusingly. Although sometimes people may wonder it, he did like having Bulma for his wife. It had all been arranged by his own father, and Vegeta had an inkling they weren't on good terms with one another when he chose her. Bulma was a vibrant, energetic, loud-mouthed, obnoxious beauty who could get on anybody's nerves. Things hadn't changed much at all. His father no doubt was seeking a mild revenge for whatever Vegeta had done, but in actuality had granted Vegeta a gift. Through all the arguments and yelling, in the end, heck, even then, Vegeta was glad to have her by his side. She was never humble; giving him something to fight for - something one missed out on when you were king. She could always amuse him with her unpredictable ways. She kept the spark in his life burning.
"What am I doing here?" she asked quietly. Vegeta's smirk faded in disappointment. He had expected an onslaught of pillows, or a smack on the head, a loud curse... something from his wife, yet she just stared at him; expressionless.
"What do you mean 'what am I doing here'?" Vegeta asked, not comprehending.
"I was over there," she said pointing to the fainting table.
"Woman, put two and two together. I carried you here because last time you made a huge fuss about being left there."
"Last time I wanted to be with you." Her voice was icy, and not like her at all. "I shall move out of these chambers." Bulma informed her husband casually. "If love doesn't bind me here, I shall have my own room, and only appear at your bidding."
Vegeta seemed unaffected by the words she spoke, as well as the tone she spoke with and gazed at him with. It was cold. Had he been a normal man, he may have gotten shivers on the spine, but he had used the same tone and stare before himself. Besides, he wasn't really understanding what she was saying. Her own room?
"Make sense," he said, rolling his eyes dramatically. She straightened up, and faced him fully. Cerulean eyes burning into tenebrous ones.
"You said you don't need love, so there's no point in me wasting mine," she spoke, sliding out of the covers, walking back to her formal slumbering spot. He watched her carefully, as she quietly laid down for the night, keeping her body turned away from him. What was she trying to prove? That he didn't love her? Hadn't he already said that? Bulma was just carrying out. If he didn't love her, there was no point in them sharing their lives together. She would be what every other queen before her had been. A political formality, and nothing else. If being the queen meant not loving your king, providing an heir to the throne, an arm to escort at dinner parties; if that's all it took, Bulma could do that. To Vegeta, that's all that was necessary, in the making of a queen.
***
His legs were getting sore. Trunks had been pacing across the throne room's entrance since Koslin had scampered away, attempting to sort out the mess he was in. Pacing. It was a habit he acquired as a youth, and it normally helped to clear his mind. It was a simple task, and it was the best way to contrive your mind for thinking. If you were sitting down, the thoughts and worries would seem worse and more burdensome, which is no way to create a resolutionable environment. Any other action such as running, riding or swimming would simply take too much concentration, and your problems wouldn't get solved. Pacing was a low mind-level activity which allowed him room to think, but also to vent out some anger in his strides.
The girl had long since retired to the throne, and had her legs casually draped over the arm of the dais. Her intriguing eyes were always plastered on him; always watching - every move he made. Sometimes a small giggle would make its way up from her throat, but for the most part she just watched.
He was stuck. Trunks had given up his idea of the castle playing a trick on him. For one, he really didn't think anyone would have the backbone to do such a thing on a prince, secondly it was no where near the day of fools, and finally, from what Trunks had seen, people genuinely could not see him. This left him with the solution. He had to get back to normal. To break this curse. Unfortunately, he didn't understand how to break it, and there was only one way to find out. His pride was what kept him walking in paces. Seeing no way out, he stopped his walking, leaving his legs in a state of cramps from the sudden stop of exercise.
"All right. Tell me how to break this spell," he said towards his 'future wife'. He made sure to keep his voice sounding pure, not wanting to make her aggravated or annoyed. His salvation rested in her hands. At his voice, she swung her legs to the front of the chair and leaned her elbows on her knees. Her blue eyes twinkled mischievously, and a small smile played on her lips.
"I've already told you, but I could tell you again I suppose. All you have to do, is find the one person who can see you. Bring him back to me, and I shall return you to your normal state." Trunks chewed on this for a moment before nodding. That wouldn't be too hard. He had a good couple of hours to get used to the idea of being invisible, and had finally accepted that he just had to do what the girl said to get changed back. Yet, one question still boiled in his mind.
"Why did you do this to me?" he asked, almost devastatingly. She sighed, and glanced away. She crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands together giving her a lady-like posture, especially compared to her last stance.
"Simple. You think you can rule this country without love... I have the entire country to worry about. You can't love someone without befriending them; yet you can't even do that. You don't know friendship. So, with this little spell, hopefully you will learn how to make and keep friends. Then, you will be ready to love. I will be waiting for you." She stood up from her spot at the throne and walked over to where he was positioned. She reached her hands up, and held his firm chin in her soft fingers. She smiled a genuine smile and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I know you can do this," she whispered into his ear, before stepping away from him fully and walking away.
He didn't see her go. He more recognized that she had been there, and now she wasn't. The kiss hadn't stunned him, or her touch perplexed him; he just wasn't paying attention. Trunks could do this. He was the prince, and he could do anything he desired. It could be an adventure. How bad could it be? All he had to do was find this person, bring him back to the castle, and everything would be fine again. It was a walk in the park.
Trunks exited the throne room, and made a start towards his chambers. It would be better to leave in the morning rather than now anyway. It was already past sunset, so the streets would be empty; how could he find the person who could see him if they weren't outside? All logic stated to wait the night out. Yet, that would be difficult. No one could see him. The thought of it alone would be unsettling to anyone. No one could see him, so he was completely isolated. No one to talk to except his own thoughts, looking upon the world, but not being able to be looked upon yourself; it was some curse. It left Trunks with an empty feeling he didn't like. But he was the crowned prince; he could get through this.
With a heavy temperance, Trunks laid down to escape into dream land. There, he could be seen. In his dreams, he could give orders and have them obeyed. In fantasies he could forget that he was invisible, and dream of more happy things. He could forget entirely what had happened to him that day, and all about that woman. But as he closed his eyelids, happy visions didn't enter his mind. Only the darkness he was now left in, and a raven haired girl laughing. A girl that Trunks recognized quite easily. A girl by the name of Pan.
***
Today was the day. He would be leaving the shelter of his home to venture out into the world; of course this was entirely by force and not by choice. What could he do? He was cursed. He was over twenty years old, this should be an easy task for him, but he had never left the castle like he was doing now. Sure, he had been out on hunts with teachers and such, and he had gone for horse rides, but never all alone. And all the other times, the people could see him. Trunks had already packed a few items in a bag, that was now slung over his shoulder. The curse varied a lot. Sometimes, articles he put on, such as his clothes and bag, remained invisible with him, but other things, like his royal seal remained visible. He thought to bring his seal to prove he was the prince to the person who could see him, but the curse seemed to not want that to happen.
Trunks let out a shaky sigh, the bag strap clutched tightly in his hands, as he steadily headed towards the castle's main doors. They would take him out of the safety of his home and into a world that he didn't know. It would have been an adventure in itself to set out into the common world, but to be invisible at the same time was just cruel. But he would succeed. He had to. With determination, he raised his head, took the time to brush light lavender strands out of his eyes, and walked with conviction.
Trunks had almost made it to the exit door when he met someone in the hall - Bulma. He froze to take one last look at his mother, and was shocked to see her face. She looked heart-broken, sad and miserable. Her normal bouncy hair lay limp around her shoulders, and she seemed to be dragging her feet. Trunks realized it looked like she hadn't slept at all, and instantly wondered what happened. Was it his father? Vegeta was known for his temper and sometimes his mouth got the best of him. But no, that couldn't be it. His father was in a good mood when he left the throne room last night. But then what could it be? Trunks desperately wanted to know, but he didn't have time to stay and make sure his mother would be okay. Besides, what could he do? She couldn't see him. With a saddened sigh, Trunks was forced to turn away from his depressed mother.
"Don't worry mother. Everything will be alright soon... I promise I'll be back." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for her to hear. Her slow shuffle stopped, and she whirled around, curiosity replacing the depression in her eyes.
"Trunks?" she asked to thin air. She couldn't see him. She quirked an eyebrow, and continued on her path. Trunks sighed and watched his mother go. He nodded his farewell to her, before exiting the castle - never to return until he could break the curse.
***
The sun was well up into the sky. Trunks had been walking for what seemed like forever, and his legs were starting to ache. He wasn't used to walking for hours, and even taking continual breaks wasn't helping him at all. With a tired sigh, he slumped down onto a large rock to catch his breath and let his legs rest. He had left just after sunrise and the sun was past being over head, so he deemed it time to have something to eat. He reached into his shoulder pack and pulled out a package of leftover lamb he had taken from the kitchen. He placed it carefully on his knee before digging in his bag again to find some cheese. Finding the item he was looking for, he pulled it out and turned to his meat to discover it being eaten. A small chipmunk sat happily perched on his knee chomping down on his lamb.
"Hey!" he shrieked. "That's mine!" The chipmunk glanced up at him, but continued to munch. "Why you little..." Trunks rolled his pointing finger back in his thumb, getting ready to flick the rodent off his lap, but when he brought his hand towards the chipmunk, it merely feasted its teeth on something other than leftover lamb. With a yelp he withdrew his hand. The rodent had bitten him! With a growl, he was about to back hand it away, when a thought struck him. How could this chipmunk bite him? He was invisible! With a shrug, he realized that the curse must allow more than just one person to see him. It was made clear there was only one person who could see him, but perhaps animals could too. This could make things easier. With a satisfied smile, he looked down to discover the chipmunk gone. However so was his meat. With a more intense growl, angry over losing his meal, he reached into his bag and felt something furry brush by his hand. With a yell, he quickly retreated his hand from his pack, and peeked in. Inside the leather pouch were four rodents, all happily chowing down on his food.
"No!" he yelled, causing them to scamper and run away, taking whatever food they held with them. With a depressed sigh, Trunks realized that there was only crumbs left. How could they be that hungry? Wasn't there food in the forest for them? Trunks whimpered, his stomach hungry, but could do nothing until he got to the next town. Carefully placing the much lighter bag on his shoulder, he took his losses and continued on his trek. Judging his distance, he figured he could be in the next town in an hour, and then he could get some food. Besides, a town meant lots of people, and he could walk around, with more people, the more likely someone could see him. It was simply getting rid of the sightless people in large groups.
"It won't be that much further," Trunks whispered, to himself, his stomach and his aching legs.
Over an hour later, Trunks plodded into the small shop. It was mid-afternoon, and the scanty amount of food he had taken from the kitchen that morning had unfortunately been... disposed of. He was urged to continue on, all to eager to relieve himself of the curse, yet his stomach had different plans. Protesting enough that he was enable to continue on, he was forced to stop to get some food. The small bakery would be perfect. The smell of homemade, fresh-out-of-the-oven bread, had invaded his senses the moment he got in range. It smelt tantalizing, and he knew he had to have some. It shouldn't be too hard, he would just have to wait for the baker to turn his back, so he could grab some without him seeing bread lift up seemingly by magic.
Trunks walked into the store, and to his disappointment, there was a customer in the bakery already. No matter. He would just have to modify his plans slightly, and wait for him... err, her to leave. By the counter stood a young girl, a good head shorter than him, over at the counter talking to the baker. When he walked in, the door had creaked, causing both the customer and baker to glance over by the door. At first it got under his skin to have people look at you and not be able to see you, but it didn't bother him this time. He recognized that customer. Pan.
Her eyes were narrowed, and a scowl plastered onto her naturally pale features. It caused Trunks to smile. Was this girl always scowling?
"Windy out today," the large baker replied, nodding towards the door. Trunks grinned at sneaking in so easily. It was rather windy out today, so he had a cover up, but on still days he would have to be more careful. It would be difficult to grab some food with the shop tender being suspicious of someone being in the store.
"Uh... yeah," Pan said uncertainly. Trunks' grin widened at the girl. She didn't seem to be too intelligent despite his earlier thoughts of her being quite sharp. Pan glanced over at the door and smirked before turning back towards the baker. "I'd like to get a loaf... since I'm in town."
"Sure honey. Brings me t'a question. What ye doin' in dis 'ere town? Don't see you 'round much, 'cept in de harvestin' season," the baker spoke, while getting her bread ready. Pan smiled at the man, but smirked on the inside.
"You're right. But I was visiting the castle."
"Eie, you be der why?" he asked.
"Well, that stubborn, self-centered, conceited brat of a prince is stealing our farm from under us, and I wanted to see if I could change his thick-headed mind," Pan spat, with a smirk, counting her money to pay while she spoke. The baker, stood with a half-smile at her outburst.
"I see ye think highly of that der prince. Did you get yer farm back?" he asked, slipping the fresh bread into a cloth. Pan slumped her shoulders with a sigh.
"No. The prince is an ugly monster who wouldn't see reason if it danced naked in front of him." She pushed her coins forward, and took the bread in her arms. "Thanks," she said in reference to the bread. The baker nodded, about to continue the conversation on the bread when the bell went off in the back signifying the rolls on the fire were finished. Besides, Pan had already turned her back and was walking out.
Trunks was fuming. How dare she say that! The little brat wasn't worth his trouble, but it still bothered him to have her speak that way. It was treason. However, there wasn't much he could do in his state without arousing confusion. There wasn't much he could do, but there was something. With a smirk, he stepped to the side of Pan's path, and outstretched his leg to the right. No one would think anything of a young girl tripping. With all their skirted fabrics, it was common for them to stumble, besides, her hands were full. It was low, but he would take satisfaction in seeing her tumble to the floor.
Pan walked over to the door, shifting the bread in her arms. She continued on, Trunks' outstretched foot only a few steps away. She took a step forward. Almost there. With a few more strides she was there - but stopped. She stood her feet planted to the ground just before his foot. She slowly looked down, the looked towards the door. With a smirk, she looked back down to the ground.
"Creative," she said, sarcasm oozing in her tone. With a smart grin, she exaggerated her steps and proceeded over his outstretched foot and continued out the door without touching his body once. Trunks seethed. How could she step over him at the exact spot where he would have tripped her? It wasn't fair. The gods must either be mad at him, or favour her. With a sigh, he treaded to the front of the store, angry at what she said and that he hadn't been able to trip her. Trunks reached for a roll when the baker re-entered the room. Not wanting to get caught he dropped it. How would someone react to seeing a bread floating in the air by itself. Not good.
"That girl..." the baker muttered. "Badmouthing de prince like that. Almost as if she knew he could hear her," he mumbled, setting out more loaves. Trunks stared.
'Almost as if she knew he could hear her' ... 'creative' ... How could she step over him at the exact spot where he would have tripped her?
And then it clicked. It wasn't luck that she stepped over his foot. She had meant to! She knew it was there, which meant... she was the one! Pan was the one who could break his spell. And she had just walked away.
And Trunks had no idea where she went.
---
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-Angel Eevee