A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. No severe plot development happening here, just some nice dialogues. Do enjoy.

Last Time: Pan found Trunks in her bed, and the two decided to have a contest to see who got to sleep in the bed. It was to swim across the water pool, and while Pan is wading in, Trunks is hating himself for admiring her. Bulma is desperate and her debate with Vegeta is coming to an end. Trunk's fiancée is waiting in the throne room.

"King Confessed"

"The water isn't going to get any warmer, you know," Pan called back to Trunks, who was standing at the every edge of the pool. His thoughts weren't directed to the chill of the water, but more towards the female that was standing in it.

He was shivering, not from the coldness of the liquid, because in all honesty - yes, it was cold, but instead was shivering at the thought he had just had.

Him. The thought had been his and his alone. He had created it, truthfully he had no idea where it had come from... alright, perhaps he did know where it came from, because there was some truth to it - wait, no there wasn't.

He shivered because he was rather disgusted with himself.

Pan had been fun to taunt, fun to make angry, and even fun to mockingly flirt with - but thinking what he thought went beyond fun and games. For what he had thought, while his gaze was locked on the girl waist deep in water, beckoning for him to join her, was that she, of all people, looked beautiful.

Definitely not beautiful in the fancy dress and tiara sense, yet beautiful just the same.

And he should never have thought that.

He was a prince, and she was... Pan.

Trunks shook his head to himself. He had thought he could have fun with Pan. Tease and mock, and in the end never see her again. But apparently his mind had other ideas. Beautiful, indeed.

It would have to end. He could not be close to this girl in any way, for fear of having some awful thought enter his mind. He could not even start to think she was anything more than some ticket back to home. He couldn't even regard her as a friend, as his little fiancée at home wished him to regard her as. He could not, and would not.

He would not sink into these female games. Pan and his fiancée were in cohorts together, he was sure.

He shook his head once more, taking a step backwards and out of the water his feet had been in. Pan tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow.

"Aww, is the water too cold for his majesty's wittle feet?" she mocked.

"Royalty does not swim with peasants," he said lightly, no teasing in his voice.

"Trunks, we have to swim for the bed," she replied, confused. Trunks shrugged.

"Oh, you can have the bed. I never wanted it in the first place."

"Then why did you make me come out here!" Pan hollered back, not moving from her spot, but her hands were held in fists at her side. Trunks didn't answer, but turned his back to her and started walking back towards the house.

He didn't look back, though he desperately wanted to see what Pan was making of all this. It was a good thing, he supposed, anyway. He didn't know how to swim. Swimming wasn't exactly in the list of prince's accomplishments. He could horse-back ride, fence, hunt - sure. But swim? No, it was more of a peasant sport as a fact.

He wondered briefly how angry Pan would be. He then wondered why he even cared, and was pleased to discover that he really didn't. It had been acceptable for him to bend his needs to her request and wait a few days for her family to return. It was royal manner to show gratitude towards those that did him favour. But he had begun acting out of place ever since the incident with the pie.

He should have just taken the pie with him when he had had the chance. Did it matter that the workers would think the place was haunted? No. Did it later matter that they might think Pan was some demon witch because she banished a pie-stealing spirit, and then went on to talk to herself? Again, no. He was leaning to her will, and he should not be. It was not his right to do so.

He was a prince. It was time he started acting like one.

Pan gaped at Trunks' retreating figure for a few moments, before the reality of what was going on hit her. If stealing her bed had not been enough, he had dragged her out there (alright, maybe she had done the dragging, but...), let her wade waist deep in the cold water and then just walked away from it. This, unsurprisingly did not bode well with her.

"You!" she hollered, marching out of the water, pausing only a second to grab her discarded cloak and roughly bring it around her shoulders. Her angered stomping quickly caught up to Trunks' lazy stroll towards the house. She stepped in front of him, placing a hand to his chest to stop him from walking any further.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go to sleep. It's late. And get your hand off me," he replied, emotionlessly, removing Pan's hand himself and stepping around her to continue to walk inside. He half expected a violent act from Pan to regain his attention, but it was a quiet voice that made him stop in his tracks.

"Why are you invisible?" she asked, so quiet it was only above a whisper. He stopped and turned to face her, though made no move to answer her question. Her dark eyes were scrunched in concentration, roaming over his face, into his eyes - trying to find an answer that he was not verbally giving out.

"Why are you invisible?" she asked again. Trunks frowned slightly.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Pan replied immediately. "If I have to deal with... with all of this, I need to know why."

"I'm a prince, I don't ha-"

"I don't care," Pan interrupted, "what you do or don't have to do."

Her stare was penetrating through all of the walls he had clumsily rebuilt around himself moments ago. Her hands were gripping the fabric of her cloak around her shoulders, her face set in an expression he hadn't really seen before. It wasn't angry or impatient, though not cheerful... it was a simple genuine curiosity. And a determination to see that curiosity through to the end.

Trunks sighed.

"Because it's earth magic," Pan said slowly. Trunks raised his eyes from the ground where he had let them drop and raised an eyebrow.

"Earth magic?" he inquired, interested if Pan knew anything more than he did about the curse laid on himself. Pan shook her head almost impatiently, throwing off the importance of her statement.

"It just means... it's simple, light... almost innocent magic. It wasn't done with the intention to harm. That's why I want to know... why... and who?" Trunks tore his focus from Pan and chose to stare vacantly at the reflecting water past her shoulder.

Innocent magic? No intention of harm?

Almost numbly in thought, he walked past Pan back towards the pool. With little grace he sat down by its edge, watching the surface silently. He had, truthfully, wondered what the purpose of this whole charade was. She had said it was to teach him love, but... what if there was an alternative motive? In all honestly, who walked around putting spells on people to teach them things they had no use of?

But, she must have thought he had some use for this - love. But how could he be sure? What did his fiancée really want? Could Pan know...?

He made a half attempt to turn to face Pan, surprised to find that she had followed him to the pool's edge and had taken a seat down beside him. Some strands of her hair were beginning to curl in tiny ringlets from the exposure to water, slipping from her otherwise flat hair. The complete casualness of her appearance, the cloak still pulled tightly around her, eyes peering from underneath clear eyelids, gave off an inviting atmosphere for a person.

He marveled how seconds before he had wanted to keep as far away from Pan as possible, and now he wanted to confide in her. It was an odd and new feeling for him to actually want to seek out the trust and advice for something purely personal. A part of him wasn't sure if he liked the idea of it all. The other part told him he didn't care.

"It was the girl. The girl my father chose for me to marry," Trunks said, facing Pan. She raised her eyebrows slightly, her lips turning up a bit. Trunks frowned. "What?"

"Your fiancée cursed you? I marvel at your popularity."

"Look, if you're going to-"

"Okay, okay," Pan said, holding up her hands in defense. "Go on. Your fiancée."

"Yes," Trunks said, looking at her cautiously for signs that she would make any more smart comments while he was talking to her. "She said that... well, that she didn't want to marry me if I would never love her."

"How does she know you'll never love her?" Pan asked innocently.

"Because I told her I wouldn't."

"Oh." There was a pause while Trunks waited to be given permission to continue on, and was slightly surprised when she didn't grant him it, but instead asked him another question. "How do you know you'll never love her?" Trunks blinked, before staring at Pan for a moment.

"I... well, it's what I said at the time. I really don't know. I mean, royalty... they're not supposed to fall in love. We're just supposed to rule and give authority. We are defined by our position - we have obligations. The country doesn't need a ruler who will put a woman in front of everyone else's well-being." Pan tilted her head at this; frowning.

"Maybe..." she said.

"You disagree?"

"Well... yes and no. I, personally, disagree. It's like anything, really. Take my father. Some people may say that he could run a more productive farm, that makes more money or what not, if he did not care so much for his family. If he did not take a week here and there off the farm to go on trips with my mother - just because he loves her. If he did not spend endless hours when I was a child, teaching me to ride a horse, swim and run as fast as I could. If every decision he ever made, wasn't guided by how it would affect his family. However... I know better.

"I know that, while yes, it is a life-long commitment to love, and that everything my father does, reflects his will towards my mother and myself; I also know that he wouldn't be where he was today if not for us. I don't mean that in a selfish way, it would be the same with whatever family he might have had. The love we all share, backs him up, it keeps him living from day to day. I mean, he wakes every morning to see my mother sleeping beside him. It's what he, essentially, lives for. Without love, he would be living for material things... money, land... whatever. You can only look forward to each new day with those things in mind for so long before the world begins to become shallow and empty.

"A life, without love, isn't a life at all," Pan lectured, eyes fixed on the lake, talking rather quickly, and at such length Trunks was beginning to wonder how she talked so evenly without gasping for breath. She turned to him, with a slight guilt in her eyes for her speech.

"But... I don't think I can disagree. I am not, obviously, royalty. I'd like to think that the same conditions of love apply to everyone, but to completely honest, I'm just not sure. So... well, sorry, go on."

He stared at her for a moment before casting his lips into a small look of amusement.

"It must be tiring to run around all day with that ideology running through your head. Doesn't it tire you?"

Pan only smiled in response, raising her eyebrows to show he could continue.

"She said I would stay invisible to everyone except one person, whom I had to find," he explained, paused, and pointed. "That would be you. And that I should bring you back to the castle to lift the spell. It's... well, she said there was no way I would love her when I didn't know what love was. She wanted me to learn 'friendship'," he brought his hands up, bending his fingers in the rabbit ear formation, to show the quote of the word 'friendship', "first, and then I could go beyond that." He blinked rapidly, turning to face Pan. "Apparently," he added as an afterthought.

"Apparently," Pan replied, eyebrows raised. "So, let me get this straight. She sent you to find me, so that you'd learn friendship love with me, so that later you could learn the romance love with her?"

"Umm... I guess so."

Pan laughed.

"Ah, yes, that was a brilliant plan, seeing how well you and I get along with each other," she said, through small giggles. Trunks shrugged.

"I think she chose you because she knew you hated me."

"I don't hate you," Pan replied. "Per say."

"Per say?" he asked, eye brow raised.

"Well... it's like you're two people. There's the snobby prince I met the first time I saw you... the one I... well, dislike...and there's another person. One that is hidden by walls of annoyance and sarcasm. You have defenses to hide this person."

"What person? It's only me in here," Trunks said, pointing vaguely up at his head. Pan shook her head slowly, the few loose curls slipping from behind her back to in front of her shoulders.

"The person who sits with me by a pool and talks quite humanly and rationally, is not the same person that turned me away at his castle," Pan replied. She turned her face in front of her, gaze fixed back on the water, as if she didn't really expect a reply from him, knowing she was in the right. That was fine with Trunks, he didn't feel much like thinking up a reply for her anyway. He followed her gaze to the water and let his mind become unfocused.

His feet were spread out in front of him, leaning backwards on his straight arms. There was only a slight breeze - just enough to sweep by every once and a while and brush thin lavender hair across his face - tickling his nose as it went.

Pan had her knees brought up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting between her two knees. The breeze had much the same effect, and quite like Trunks, she was letting the wind have its way with her hair, brushing it over her face, partly obscuring his view of her features.

At length, he turned to look at her fully, blue eyes willing her to turn his way. Feeling the strong stare of someone, she turned and looked questioningly at Trunks.

"You're the same way," he said suddenly, though in a tone that said he had, in fact, been thinking about it during the momentary silence.

"What same way?" Pan asked, resting her cheek on her arms, her face permanently held in a position to face Trunks.

"With the two people. This girl here, who inquires of a poor invisible Prince, is not the same girl who stormed from my castle, threatened me, annoys me, tricks me, hits me with brooms, denies me food, slaps me... shall I continue?" he asked, smiling in an amused fashion. Pan was expressionless, not obviously amused as he was, though not angered by his comments just the same.

"We all react accordingly to those around us," she said softly, then closed her eyes. He tilted his head at her response. React accordingly? Surely she was not suggesting that she only acted the way she did because of something he did or did not do? But, in her favour, it could be true... he had no problem blaming his annoying behaviour on her - he only did it to make her mad. It was amusing to see her angry. She was the most alive then... so he had thought. There was definitely a new twist to Pan, as the quiet little girl with her feet pulled up close, her hair curling around her and her eyes looking off to the distance to a place where no one would see even if they looked.

His arms were beginning to cramp up from leaning backwards on them, so with a pained satisfaction that came from the sound of his bones cracking as he took his body's pressure of them, he lied down slowly on his back. Eyes cast upwards, he gazed at the sky.

He was almost immediately surprised with what he saw. It wasn't often that he really ever looked at the sky as a whole, let alone at night. It was a brilliant shade of navy blue, with tiny speckles of light dotting across it. Like a wide spread of expensive fabric, with scissor holes cut throughout it and held up to the light. They flickered down at him, as the wind crept by, and the distinct smell of nighttime filled the air.

It was almost unsettling. He desperately yearned for his warm, overstuffed bed back at his castle, yet at the same time, was captivated by the simple wonder of the heavens above him and the world on either side.

"I told you something..." Trunks whispered, eyes still fixed on the stars. Pan opened her eyes partly and looked at him.

"Pardon?"

"I spilt a little part of me. Is it not fair for you do the same?"

"I don't have some crazy lover's spell on me, Trunks," she replied, her voice creeping towards laughter.

"I know," he answered shortly. "I mean, I took the time to confess something about me, how about you do the same? A secret for a secret."

There was a stiff, yet not uncomfortable silence that hung in the air for a few moments, while neither of them made any move to answer. In the end, Pan sighed, and joined Trunks on the ground by uncurling her legs and lying flat on her back.

"A secret..." she whispered, more to herself than to Trunks. "Every girl dreams of her wedding," she began, softly.

"Ooh, let me guess. Long white dress, diamonds and love sonnets?" he asked, smirking. "You girls are so unoriginal," he added to himself. Pan glared lightly.

"If you don't want to know..."

"Oh? Is there more to it than that?"

"I don't care about the dress. Or the diamonds... I want to walk the aisle towards a man I do not love," she said, nodding her head as if confirming what she was saying. Trunks' eyebrows shot up and he propped himself up on one elbow to get a better look at her face. His eyes searched it quickly for any signs of playing him for humor.

"Are you joking? You just made a nice gallivanting speech on how people need love," Trunks said in half astonishment.

"I know."

"So... you don't believe in it?"

"When did I say that?"

"You said you don't want to marry for love," he replied. Pan shook her head.

"I said I want to walk the aisle to someone I do not love."

"... yeah. So you aren't marrying for love."

"Who said I was marrying him?"

"What? Pan, you aren't making sense," Trunks almost whined.

"I want to fall in love, and be married off to another," she said, not noticing Trunks grow fidgety beside her. He was beyond confused, and was beginning to wish he hadn't asked her for a secret. "And then, just as it comes to the right part, the one I love will charge in with 'I object, I object, I shall not hold my peace, this girl must be mine. I love her, oh please, marry me.'. And I can dash away from the nobody and into the arms of my love..." she said softly, taking a moment to glance at Trunks. He was staring blankly at her. "It's for the terribly romantic side of me, you see," she added. Trunks nodded dumbly.

"Why would any girl want that? I don't understand."

"I know," she said with a sigh. "I didn't think you would. But trust me, it's so intensely dramatic and memorable. You could be the most stubborn girl ever, and you'd still want a boy to show his love for you to the world... that's what it is, you see. It doesn't take much courage to stand before a priest and say 'I do', but to waltz in in front of everyone, knowing there's a possibility that she'll just scoff at you and keep on getting married to the man beside her. Knowing that you'll walk out either humiliated to the point of no return or with a girl on your arm... it's the risk they'll take you see? It's just... romantically heroic," she finished, her eyes closed again. Trunks blinked, and smiled.

"Who knew you had such a girlish whim in you?" he asked, rhetorically.

"If secrets could kill," she murmured softly. He tilted his head to the side, at her soft voice. Wondering slightly at her sudden even breathing. Trying not to laugh, he leaned over to Pan.

"Are you asleep?" he asked quietly. He got no reply. Leaning in further, he brought his mouth to her ear. "Pan?" he whispered. Her face scrunched slightly, and she turned over on her side - away from him, moaning softly while doing so. Trunks couldn't keep in a chortle at the ability for the girl to be talking animatedly one minute and the next conked out in sleep. On the cold ground no less.

He cast his eyes back towards the house, which he knew would be warm and much more comfortable than the ground out there. But it was such a walk for so late at night. And taking a glance at the girl beside him, he was reminded that while she may be the annoying farm girl that probably has too much to say than is good for her - she was still just a girl. And it would be beyond dishonourable for him to leave her outside, asleep, for the night. He vaguely thought of waking her so they could both go inside, or perhaps simply carrying her in himself.

But in the end, he opted to just stay put, and dropped to the ground, his eyes once again upon the star filled sky, and the only noise heard was the occasional rustling of leaves as the wind passed, the small trickle of water from the pool, and the rhythmic breathing of the girl slumbering less than an arm's length away.

She was woken rudely to someone harshly shaking her shoulders, causing her hair to slip this way and that, before she became annoyed and pushed the attacker away.

"I was asleep," she pointed out needlessly.

"I know," came the reply. Narrowing her eyes, she sat up straight on the throne where she had fallen into a light doze waiting for her master to show up.

"Well, you were late," she said, her lower lip pouting. His eyes remained in a narrowed position as she ran a finger through her long blond hair in attempts to make it somewhat presentable.

"I had business elsewhere, girl," he replied.

"Girl this, girl that," she mimicked, holding her hair over her shoulder. "It wouldn't kill you to use my name, you know."

"I'm not stupid, girl," he empathized, gaining a scowl from her. "You're name is the hold that I have over you. If I were to say it, it would let you go free of our little contract."

"I wouldn't call it a contract," she said almost with boredom. "It's more, you think you're supreme ruler, and I'm just the little wench you send around to do your bidding."

"Yes, well, that little wench as you deem yourself hasn't been doing my bidding at all. You were supposed to marry the prince. You are under contract to do as I say. I do not understand how you could have disobeyed me."

"Don't think too long. I didn't disobey you - I'm still going to marry the prince."

"But he's missing!"

"Yes... yes, he is," she said, almost fondly, casting stormy blue eyes to the other side of the throne room, avoiding the angered look from the man in front of her.

"You must have had something to do with it. You manipulated the rules of the contract somehow, didn't you? Didn't you?" he cried, almost shouting.

"Perhaps," she admitted quietly. "It doesn't matter much... don't get your robes in a knot. He'll be back in a few days."

"A few days?"

"Yes... I'd say... the day after the day after tomorrow."

"... in three days?"

She shrugged. "I suppose. Yes."

"You only delayed me what... four, five days? Was it really worth all that trouble, girl? Do you really hate me so much to do these things just to annoy me?"

"You've never given me a reason to like you," she said, calmly, gazing straight at him this time.

"Don't think your little trick will go unpunished," he said, deadly serious. She did not take her eyes of him - quite prepared to take whatever pain he would throw at her. It would be worth it in the end. When all of this was over, and Trunks was back. It would have been worth it. It just had to be.

Bulma stared, mouth gone horribly dry as she waited for her husband to reply. She had poured out her heart, her mind... everything she believed in about their relationship, and she just needed the words, telling her that he felt the same way. The charade was over - it was time to deal the big cards out now. This was it. Everything lay with this one last roll of the dice.

"Vegeta...?" she whispered again, a much more prominent plea in her voice. The urge to just give up the hope of him ever saying it, and to just crumble to the floor and sob was so overwhelming. Her knees were already beginning to fold, and she had no idea what force was keeping her on her feet, facing her husband.

"It's wanting and needing when there is nothing to want or need..." he repeated, so very softly, that she had to physically make an effort to stop her knees from shaking so she could divert all power to listening instead of trying to stand up straight.

"Is it not being able to function properly through a routine day, without you? Is it connecting every little thing in life to you? Is it thanking the Gods I don't even worship that I know you? Is it a constant need? A constant desire? Not for my own, but to catch a smile? To do something right in life, and do it for the soul purpose that you'll be proud... is that what your love is?"

Bulma stared at him wide eyed. He spoke, his face rather expressionless, eyes staring back into her own, telling so much more than what his face portrayed. She swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat.

"That's what love is, Vegeta," she whispered, hoarsely.

"Then it has always been there... always."

A silence trailed throughout the room, as he waited for a reply from her, eyes still focused directly on her own. She, in turn, was looking back at him, but not seeing him - tears blurring her vision. Her knees were shaking so much that they were hitting together, the vibration running up her spine and making her tremble slightly all over.

She had to savour this. She had to relish it. He never spoke to her like this. He did not verbally speak his emotions. He showed them through his actions, or a simple hold, a glance, a cocky smirk. He only placed words to emotions when she needed him to... like now. Had it really mattered all that much? She should have known - she did know. His love was there, as he said, always. Suddenly, the whole fight seemed so meaningless. The only thing holding her to her place was the core of their dispute. The very center, the line that opened the play, the action that launched the two in a battle ground of both avoidance and annoyance.

Her only son.

But Vegeta was intelligent, amoung other things. He did not blindly acknowledge his wife needing to hear those words. She wanted to hear them as much as she thought he needed to hear them from his mouth. She wanted him to admit that he loved her, so that in turn, he would admit it would be good for Trunks to need the same.

He knew this, and as seeing his wife, shaking before him, blinded by tears, and needing to be in his arms so bad, he wondered how they both remained where they stood - and he answered her.

"Yes, I need it," he spoke, knowing as well as she that those words may never be verbally spoken again. "And I think Trunks needs it to."

Bulma had won. She had won what she had set out to do - to insure the future happiness of her little boy. She had won an important battle over her stubborn husband. She had heard him confess his feelings in a way rarely done.

But she didn't care.

Letting a built up sob escape from her throat, she allowed her knees to finally give in, shaking and shivering in Vegeta's catching arms. To have him hold her, assure her, just be there. It was over, and she could love him freely once again.

That was all she cared about.

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Trunks can have a pie.

Angel Eevee