A/N: Chocolate chip (par request) cookies for all you guys, and an extra one to Aurelia Lothlorien just because her reviews always make me laugh. See chapter one for disclaimer.
Last Time: Trunks gets a peek at everyday life for those that aren't prissy princes, Pan's parents leave her the farm while they go out of town for a few days, Videl mopes over her daughter's singleness, Bulma ignores Vegeta some more, and Trunks finds a nice barn to sleep in.
"Devil with a Pie"
The sunlight was beaming down on her through the open window, the change in light causing her to slowly lift her eyelids and wake up. Pan stretched out her arms, feeling satisfied by the numerous cracks and pops that ensued. Swinging her arms back in front, and letting them drop to the bed, Pan sat neither looking or thinking anything, merely waiting for her mind to catch up to her already awake body. A few strands of raven hair blew across her clouded vision, and she had to take the effort to pull them away from her eyes. Startled at the strands whipping across her face, Pan turned to see where they got the outside help to move. Her midnight eyes landed on the window which was open. Opened? She always shut if before bed...
But vague distorted memories of her father slipping into the bedroom, and telling her they were off, opening the window, and kissing her on the forehead filtered into her still half-asleep mind. With a smile Pan remembered they were gone. She had the farm to herself... as well as the hundred some-odd workers, but today she was in charge.
And she had no idea where to start.
*
"Prince Trunks." It was spoken in a statement rather than a question. With a grin, Trunks turned to see the speaker. The spell was broken. Perhaps just finding the girl had been enough.
"Yes," he replied giddily, "I am prince Trunks." The man before him nodded and stepped to the side so the objects behind him would become visible to the happy prince.
"I am under instruction to give these to you." He waved his hand to show the gifts. Trunks clasped his hands together, and started hopping from foot to foot. Before him stood a huge pile of... food! Not just any food, but delicious looking food. Apple pies were lined up with roasted turkey, fresh milk and steaming bread, all waiting for him. Trunks let an excited squeal escape his throat, and dove foreword towards the food. The pie was almost in his grasp when his hands were throttled away.
A rough, straw-like object batted his eager hands away from his food. Trunks was shocked. He was so incredibly hungry that he felt like he was going to cry. How could he be shown the food and then denied it? With a puppy-dog frown, he turned to the holder of the batter. But no one was there. No one held the object, yet it still came down on his hands, getting more demanding and painful by the second. He was too distraught over his lost food, which was now no where in sight, to pay any heed to the beating of his hands. However when the object switched its victims and went for his face, he decided to do something about it.
"You!" he cried, grabbing the straw from the invisible holder. He growled and pulled on it, trying to rip it from his opponent's clutches. The tug of war ensued for a dozen tugs before his adversary gave up, and let him have the weapon. The sudden loss of pull made himself fling backwards, yet he sat up quickly to gloat over his victory.
"Ha! What are you going to do now?!" he cried in childish boasting.
"I'm going to get my ax if you don't wake up," came the reply. Trunks stopped laughing and opened his eyes. The sun was shinning over his nemesis, causing him to need to shield his eyes against the strong silhouette. He glanced down, finding a broom locked tightly in his grip, and saw nothing but straw around him. He looked up at his opponent with a pout.
"Why'd you take my food away?" he asked, sadly. Pan raised an eyebrow.
"What? I didn't steal your food. I don't cheat, and I prefer the honest road in life, however it is obvious that you do not. What are you doing in our barn? Do you think you can just break in like this?! Just because you're the prince -"
"Pan?" Trunks asked groggily. She hadn't taken his food. There never was. It was just a dream. This seemed to sadden him even more. But- "Your barn? You mean I made it to your land after all?! This is great!" Trunks cried. He quickly stood up, causing stray pieces of straw that had been on his body to slip off and rejoin the large bail he had been sleeping in. He lunged at her and grabbed her arm. "Let's go to the castle!" he said, marching towards the door to the barn. He didn't make it very far.
"What do you think you are doing?" Pan asked, monotonous. She planted her feet to the ground and refused to move. Trunks sighed and turned.
"Look. I need to take you to the castle. I have to lift my curse."
"Your curse?" Pan asked with an amused tone. She shook her head with a sympathetic smile. The prince had gone off the deep end. He had trekked all the way from the castle with a 'curse'. He was crazy. "Yes well, I don't want to be cursed, so why don't you get off my property. You don't own it yet," Pan said with a glare, thrusting her hand towards the door to show him the way and emphasize her want for him to go. Trunks furrowed his eyebrows and stood up.
"No, you don't understand. I have a curse of invisibility."
"That's funny, because I can see you pretty good. Now look, my temper is doing okay at the moment, but I could lose it at any second. Just leave." Her delicate features were turned in a scowl, her broom poised in her hand towards the door. Pan wanted him to leave. He couldn't do that! He quietly shook his head.
"Listen to me. I - am - invisible! Only you can see me!"
"Look," Pan started, the words forcing themselves from her clenched teeth. "I've asked you to leave." She looked towards him. This was the man of her suffering. The royalty. He would be the one that would take away the farm; the home she had lived on her entire life. He would, without a second thought, steal away all of her memories and sell them off bit by bit with no regard as to what it was doing to her inside. That was just the kind of person they were, and Pan didn't want to have a thing to do with them. "Please," she whispered quietly. "Just leave."
Trunks dropped his arms from their flaring position, and lost his demanding speech. Trunks looked at Pan. For the first time since he had met the girl, he chose to look and see who she was. She wasn't just a farm girl, or the cure to his curse. She had a soul. His eyes danced over her pleated ankle length skirt, her worn apron, the woolen gloves with cut fingers, the broom she held; a farm girl - yet not. Her raven hair, pale skin, proud stance, demanding voice; a noble - yet not. Neither a noble or a farm girl seemed to justifly put a name as to what Pan was. He couldn't put his finger on what she was, but it was neither noble or peasant... something all together different.
Her eyes were what set off her unjustified class. Although they didn't captivate him at this point, or draw him in; there was something alluring about them. They portrayed what and who she was. Although shimmering with happiness, they cowered with sadness and hurt. They fought with vigor and stubbornness, yet they were lost and afraid. They were a complete contradiction of each other. And that's what Pan was. A contradiction.
Minutes ago, she was yelling, hitting him with that broom for him to leave. Yet now she was begging him in whispers. She was a puzzle. One which he wished he had time to put together; perhaps when complete he would be able to see who she really was - contradictions and false readings down. He could see who Pan was.
Much like she's the only who can see him.
Trunks shook of his train of thought and heaved his shoulders in a huff. There was no way it was going to end here just because she wouldn't cooperate. Was it that big of a deal to travel back to the castle with him? "Look," he started, patience gone, anger returned. "I have traveled all yesterday in these pathetic boots," he paused to dramatically gesture towards his torn footwear before continuing, "on little to no food, stumbling in the dark, being completely invisible, and I am telling you... as your prince, I am ordering you to come back to the castle with me. Do you understand?" Pan quirked an eyebrow for a second, but then let it fall to a slanted position, a stubborn scowl reappearing on her lips.
"I understand that you are a selfish knave and I ought to grab a kitchen knife, slit your throat and do a favour to the world," Pan replied, her scowl flipping upside down into an angry smirk. Trunks seethed with anger.
"How dare you. I am royalty!"
"A royal pain in the ass."
Trunks' brain clouded. That was it. There was no way that this stubborn, loud-mouthed girl was going to insult the crown any longer. This behavior wouldn't even be tolerated by a courtier let alone a farm girl. She needed to be taught some respect, and she needed it now. Without a second thought on the matter, Trunks briskly raised his hand. With a quick flick, his palm came in contact with her cheek, slapping skin against skin. The force of the strike caused Pan's face to move with it, her furious smirk disappeared in a look of shock. He slowly recalled his hand and brought it back to his side, his face still contorted with anger. Pan, still shocked by the sudden swing, gingerly lifted her hand and delicately grazed it over the struck cheek.
She raised her eyes and stared at him. Hurt, confusion, upset, fear, anger, all danced in her eyes. Wordlessly, Pan bent down and reached for the broom that had been earlier discarded. With an effort on her part, she managed to slip past Trunks without taking revenge by a physical punch or a mental jab, but simply walked on past. Trunks watched in slight curiosity. He prided himself in being able to judge someone's character at a quick glance, but this girl was becoming a real bother. He couldn't make heads or tails of half of her actions, when he expected a yell, he got a whisper, a smile turned to be a frown. She was just too complicated!
Trunks glanced around the barn. Everything was in tip top order; something he had failed to notice the earlier night in the dark. It was becoming clear why his father wanted complete control over this farm. Although the Son's managed it well at it produced an abundance for the country, they were simply too lenient on the people around. They could pay much less for their help, and charge much more for the quality of their crops. And his father wanted to make these changes.
Trunks reached to his back and dusted himself off of any dirt or dust that his clothing may have acquired during his sleep in the hay stack, then proceeded to pick up his discarded bag. If Pan thought she could simply ignore him, she was wrong. Dead wrong. He was not going to remain this unknown, unseen prince. He would drag her back to the castle unconscious if he had to. With a nod, he turned back to the doors of the storage barn, intent on searching Pan out and ordering her to go with him. He was surprised when he turned to come face to face with Pan again. But she wasn't alone.
Beside her, was a young man, maybe a year his senior, dark hair uncut so long it grazed over his eyes, causing to wonder if he could even see through the locks, his posture slightly slumped, emerald eyes gazing around.
"You said there was an intruder, ma'am?" he asked, his voice giving way to Trunks' earlier assumption on his age. The man's eyes traveled to Pan as if waiting for a confirmation. Pan blinked and looked over at Trunks. She slowly nodded.
"Yes. Intruder," she said, gazing confusingly from the man beside her and Trunks. The man seemed to give a slight nod, and took a slow step foreword. A pitch fork clutched in his grip. He was looking from side to side, attempting to find the person of whom Pan spoke of.
"Did you get a look at 'im? Do you know what he looks like?" he asked.
"Yes. Lavender hair. Your age. Dressed in blue..." Pan said, her voice slightly fearful. Pan gazed over at Trunks questionably. Trunks was smirking. "Can't you see him?!" Pan shrieked, becoming worried as to why the man was missing the prince that was so obvious in front of him.
"I'm sorry, miss. There's only you and I in here. He must have run off." he explained, and made a retreat to the doors, heading back to the work he was doing before being interrupted to search the storage barn. Pan watched him go angry, confused and upset.
"I told you," Trunks said arrogantly. "You are the only one who can see me." Pan turned to look at him, her eyes unreadable. She was staring at him, trying to find a lie in what he was saying. With a failed sigh, she slumped her shoulders and gave into defeat. "You see, all you need to do is go to the castle with me, and then I'll get this curse lifted." Trunks readjusted his shoulder bag, approached Pan, and once again grabbed her arm and made a line towards the exit. Pan shook her head harshly and dug her feet into the ground.
"I don't think so."
"What?" Trunks let his grip go and faced her. She wouldn't go? She knew that she was his only hope, to ever be able to be curse free, yet she still refused?! She was so incredibly selfish! "You can't defy me. I'm your prince."
"I don't understand."
"What don't you understand? It's very simple. I am the prince. You are a peasant. You do what I say." He watched her eyes spark up, and an obvious effort to hold back an insult that was forming by the way she clenched her jaw.
"What I mean," she said, her voice straining until she got it under control. "Is why am I the only one who can see you?"
"Well... I don't know. I was put under this curse and told only one person would be able to see me, and that I should bring this person back."
"And that person is me?"
"Yes. You got it, now let's go," Trunks ordered, once again latching his arm around hers and attempting to drag her to the door. Yet, once again she slammed her feet down making her body immobile.
"I don't think so."
"What?!"
"What's in it for me?" Pan asked, a smirk grazing her features. Trunks glared down at her and folded his arms across his chest; a pose he had inherited from his father.
"There doesn't have to be anything in it for you, because I am your ruler and I order you to come with me."
"Well seeing as you are invisible, and you're stuck without me, I don't think you should be bossing me around," Pan said, copying his stance, and folding her arms, however a delighted smirk was over her instead of the angry scowl that he possessed.
"Fine. If you come with me, I'll give you... one thousand gold pieces." Pan raised her eyebrows and switched her face into a thoughtful gesture. She chewed on it for a minute, then shook her head.
"We have a good deal of money. One thousand and... you better offer something else," she said, her smirk reappearing. Trunks' glare deepened. How dare she! She had absolutely no right to be doing this to him, yet what choice did he have? None.
"One thousand... and I'll make you a lady."
"What?"
"A lady. One at court," Trunks offered. Pan opened her mouth. If she were a lady she could find her family a new life easier than as she was. Yet... no, she wouldn't help this pompous prince. She silently shook her head, and turned to walk out.
Trunks watched as her feet trailed along the boarded floor, small fragments of dust and the like softly sifting out of the way as her foot padded to the ground. He was the most rich man (excluding his father) in the country, he was top of the looks, top of the power, yet... she held all of the cards. There really was no way of ordering her to help him. He couldn't. There was nothing he could use against her. He couldn't threaten her life, for then he would be permanently cursed. He couldn't very well murder her family one by one, because she may totally turn away from him and well... he simply had no mad desire to run around and murder people in the first place. He would have to get through to her. Bribe her. But with what? He had already offered her money and class, yet although they sparked an interest, they obviously didn't ignite the entire flame. But what then? What would she want most?
"Your farm!" Trunks shouted, the idea coming into his mind in a flash, and the more he tossed it around, the more he was sure it would work. It did manage to stop her from her exit and turn to face him fully. "I will give you one thousand, make you a lady, and allow you to keep your farm," Trunks said, beaming at the brilliance of his idea. He smiled over at her, and waited for a reaction.
Pan shifted from leaning on one foot to the other, her head tilted slightly to the sky as if thinking or asking the gods for an answer. Through a few minutes of silence, she finally reached a decision and gazed straight over at Trunks. "Thousand gold, lady, and the farm?" Pan asked. He nodded quickly, his smile never ceasing off his face. She hesitantly reached out her hand towards him, with a smile to match his own. Trunks eagerly placed his hand in hers and they shook each others. "Done," Pan said with a smirk.
"Excellent," Trunks agreed. This was brilliant. What was sure meant to be month long mission he had accomplished in a little over a day. He could be visible again by midnight. "Well, then," he said, turning to the door, "Let's me off."
"Uh uh," Pan said. Trunks narrowed his eyebrows and turned back. What now? Her hands were placed at her hips, her weight rested on one leg. "I can't leave now. I'm in charge of the farm until my parents return, so you'll just have to wait it out till then."
"What?!"
"I saaaaid," Pan exaggerated, switching her weight once again, "my parents are off for the harvest, and I'm in charge. I can't go with you until they get back."
"We had a deal!" Trunks yelled, his arms flaming in the air at the selfishness of this peasant girl.
"We made a deal on what's in it for me. We never agreed on the time. You are lucky that I'll go with you when they get back, and not make you wait even longer."
"And when will they get back?" Trunks asked meekly, already giving into defeat.
"In a few days. Don't sweat it." She smiled and hop-skipped towards him. "Give you a chance to see what real people do with their lives." She said before stepping around him and scampering off.
"Perfect," Trunks murmured. "Simply perfect." He contented himself with simply staring out into nothing, eyes blank, arms folded, running his predicament over in his head, when a growl from his stomach interrupted his train of thought. He glanced down and remembered he hadn't had a descent meal in two days. He could go in search of the kitchen and sneak some food, but why live as a beggar, when someone knew he was the prince? Granted she didn't think to highly of him, but she still knew. Mind made up, Trunks walked to the door, intent on finding Pan and then some food.
Glancing around, there were many buildings to the Son farm, which would have made it a hard time for him to locate Pan. He wasn't sure which building she would be working in. But his stomach betrayed him once again with a low growl. Trunks sighed. He would have to go sneak a little something to hold off his stomach until he could track down Pan and get her to make him something better.
Whereas locating Pan would have been a problem, finding the main kitchen certainly wasn't. The smell of freshly backed apple pie was stretching over the entire farm. He couldn't hold back his smirk to see the workers groaning at the smell yet not being able to get their hands on any. The main kitchen proved to be quite near by, and it didn't take long before Trunks was standing in the doorway of it. There were a couple of woman, mostly between middle and old age, bustling around the fire ovens and the cupboards, cooking and mixing, creating delicious foods for the farm. His smirk deepened and he rubbed his hands together. The food being made revealed the luscious foods that had been presented to himself in his dream. Fortunately this item Pan wasn't around with her broom of death.
Trunks quietly walked over to a table, careful as to not bump into anyone, and laid his cerulean eyes on a steaming apple pie. He glanced to his right and left, almost as if force of habit, since no one but Pan could see him. He pulled his sleeves down his wrists to act as protection against the hot pan, and carefully lifted the pie into his hands. He quickly shoved it behind his back, his hands carefully concealing the pie behind him, and turned to the door to backwards it out. However, he was interrupted by a scream.
"Aie!!" Trunks froze where he was, tempted to throw his hands over his ears at the yell, but couldn't since they were full. He glanced over to the woman who had yelped, and was curious and a little surprised to see her staring straight at him. "There's a devil!" she yelled again, her voice quite shrew. At the holler of a devil, all eyes turned to where the woman had her outstretched hand pointing. Trunks gulped; all eyes were directed right on him. He tilted his head for a moment, trying to understand how they had seen him, because after a quick look behind, there was no one else the women could be gawking at. When it hit him, he felt so utterly stupid he was glad that he was invisible. If he was visible, sneaking the pie behind his back would have kept it hidden, but in his current predicament, they could see straight through his body and to the stolen pastry he held.
Weighing his options, Trunks could easily just make off with the pie and let the old ladies think their kitchen was haunted. It would be better than talking aloud and getting them riled up even more than they already were. However any thoughts of dashing away with the pie were shattered as a newcomer stepped in and blocked the doorway. Trunks turned his glance and whimpered quietly upon seeing who it was.
"My lady!" the kitchen servant who had first spotted the seemingly floating pie called out. "Devil!" she cried pointing frantically at the pie Trunks held. Trunks turned around so he was facing the door, and was met with an angry scowl.
"It's not a devil..." Pan started, all the while glaring at Trunks. What an idiot. He honestly thought he could get out of the kitchen with a pie... in full view?!
"But it's floating on it's own!" another woman shrieked. Pan glanced around the kitchen. The five woman who were working for her were shaking slightly and were nervous wrecks. She heard stories of people quitting work because of superstitious occurrences, she certainly didn't want to loose any workers, especially when she was in charge. Her father would loose confidence in her leadership.
"Look. I won't have any of this nonsense on my farm," Pan said sternly. "Pie... drop," she commanded. Glaring at Trunks expectedly, wanting him to drop the pie so the women would calm their hysterics. However Trunks didn't even flinch, just kept the same expressionless face attached. She narrowed her eyes and deepened her scowl before speaking again, "drop and I'll go to bake my own pie."
The cooking women watched in amazement as the pastry dropped to the floor with a clang, the contents splattering over the swept-clean floor. They gazed to their mistress in awe. Pan tilted her head, then turned away from the kitchen. They looked down at the mess, and slowly got back to work cooking and cleaning.
Trunks looked regrettably down at the spoiled pie before dashing to catch up with Pan. "It better be an apple pie," he commented when he caught up to her and was walking by her side. She stopped walking and turned to him.
"Are you an idiot?" she asked, looking at him strangely. "Can't you use that royal brain of yours? You have to be careful what you do around here!" Pan lectured before beginning her walk to the house once again.
"I was hungry. What are you, the food patrol? That's twice in one hour that you've denied me pie."
"Just shut up. Because of you, by noon I'm going to be known as some witch who has magic powers and conspires with Satan."
"You conspire with the devil? Whoa, that explains a lot of things."
"Shut up!"
"You should keep your voice down. People are going to think you not only conspire but you talk to yourself too."
"You think this is some game?" Pan asked, turning and facing Trunks, her eyes searching his questionably. "You can't just waltz in and control people's lives, prince or not."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind," Pan said with a sigh, stepping into the house, and slamming the door behind her. Not expecting the action, Trunks walked straight into the wooden door with a decent force. Growling he opened the door and stepped in, looking around the kitchen he had entered. Glancing around, he saw no sign of Pan, and his stomach protested again angrily.
"Where's my pie?" he whimpered in the abandoned hallway.
*
"I'm going to kill him," Pan muttered, collapsing on her bed, turning on her back and lazily staring up at the ceiling. "The man is incompetent, intolerable... agh!" she cried out, throwing her hands up in dramatic effect. The open window let a cool autumn breeze in that brushed her ebony locks across her face annoyingly. With a frown she slapped them away, energy drained, kept her hand upwards and let it slunk down above her head, too lazy to bring it back down by her side. Every little thing that wouldn't have even caught her attention before was driving her up the wall. All because of him. Something about him sent an aura around the whole farm... it was intoxicating. She wanted to work on the farm like she always did. She wanted to prance out into the fields in her low cut dress and get a laugh out of the boys. She wanted to be alone.
"I just want him to go away!" She yelled, voicing her stress.
"Then go to the castle," came a slightly muffled reply from behind the door. Seconds later, Trunks walked in munching on an apple he must have found. "But I want that pie first," he added, before taking a large bite out of the fruit.
"Agh!" Pan screeched, reached for the nearest object and flung it at him. He simply dodged it, and the wooden bowl dropped to the floor with a thump. Trunks shook his finger disapprovingly.
"Tsk tsk. Temper."
"I'm. Going. To. Kill. You," Pan seethed out through gritted teeth. He merely 'tsked' again and took another bite. Pan clenched her fists around the blankets as she was sitting on her bed, facing Trunks who seemed oblivious to her frustrated attitude. She waited a moment for him to speak. At the catch of this, he finished chewing what he had in his mouth and turned to her.
"So... where's that pie?"
"Agh!!"
*
The sun peaked in through a crack in the closed curtains, causing him to squint and slowly open his eyes. With a quick look towards the window, dispite the fact that they were covered, Vegeta guessed it was mid morning. He lazily stretched his legs, but made no effort to move otherwise or even think of getting out of bed. For some reason, his arms ached slightly and his body felt unrested. He hadn't gone to sleep that late in the night, and he didn't recall doing any sort of exercise out of the ordinary. However a quick remembrance of last night, and he could make a guess as to why he felt so unrested. Bulma.
Out of all the years he had been with her, he couldn't remember any time when they had each forcefully not slept in each other's arms. They always slept right by each other... it was just the way they were. She understood that - there was no place for intimacy in public when they were the king and queen, but when they were alone, there was plenty of time. And they had always taken advantage of that time. Not once... well...
There had been the time when she was sick. Bulma had caught a virus of sorts and was feverish for days. At that time the healers had said to refrain from having any physical contact with her for fear of him getting it as well. It had been undetermined if it was life-threatening or not, so they instructed him to stay away from her. He couldn't even do that. Vegeta let out a small chuckle at the memory. He really was hooked. He had stayed with her, following the instructions of no contact, but sharing the bed so she wouldn't feel so empty and alone. Yet that morning he woke up with her entangled in his arms. Not even a virus could separate them.
Yet this could. Whatever it was she was so strung on about. Love. Didn't she understand? He showed passion and respect to her in his own way. She couldn't demand everything from him; he was the king! He turned his coal gaze over to his sleeping wife, always beautiful in her sleep. Her unstyled hair lay strewn all over the pillows and her back, she lay lazily sprawled on her stomach, her knees bent, her arms flung this way and that, yet she was still beautiful.
With a sigh he dismissed the urge to brush a strand away from her eyes. It was as if an invisible wall had been built between them. He needed to find a way to break that wall down. He simply could not run the country on his own. He needed Bulma to turn to at the end of the day - something to keep the country running for. He needed someone to lean on when things were going bad or unexpected. Like Trunks. His only child and heir to the thrown was missing, and he didn't even have his wife to support him. With a groan he slumped back down onto the bed and turned away from Bulma and the persistent light. He already knew...
... today was going to be a rotten day.
---
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