A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. It was asked last chapter (by Pannygirl, it so happens) if I got 'stuff' from the movie Ever After. I know when I plotted this fic, I didn't have that movie in mind, but the last chapter, it appears I did. I think I wrote Pan's spiel about love after watching that movie with my mom as a 'chick flick night'. Consequently, her line 'a life without love, isn't a life at all' which was generally a basis for the entire speech, was not mine, and do not wish to make it appear so. (I only stole that line, not the entire two paragraph or whatever speech, by the way). Thanks to Pannygirl for directly pointing it out, that line sounded familiar, because it was. On that note, Ever After is a lovely sappy movie. Go see it if you have not. And on a completely different note, on Nov. 1 we had our first snowfall, and it hasn't left since.

Last Time: Pan ranted about love and other things, the two shared a lovely pool side conversation, Trunks' fiancée angered her master, and Vegeta finally admitted to Bulma he, as well as Trunks, needed love. Aww.

"Swimming Lessons"

It had been a long and almost painful journey, but Trunks had finished his task. The overbearing mission of having to befriend Pan and then bring her to the castle was finally complete.

His fiancée, the young beautiful lady, stood waiting at the top of the stairs in the throne room, her golden hair shining in the pale candle light, a bright smile on her face.

"I knew you could do it, Trunks," she said, her voice sounding much more melodious then he remembered. Trunks smirked.

"Of course I could," he replied, with as much cockiness as his position entitled him to. Her smile grew.

"I wanted you to appreciate me. Won't you honour me more so, now that you've had to work to get me?" she inquired, her voice sickly soft, stepping delicately down the stairs. Trunks didn't reply. "And now that you're back," she continued, "we can get married. And I will be your princess... don't worry," she said, her voice breaking off into a light giggle. "I promise not to curse you any more."

"That's comforting," Trunks replied. She smiled all the more, and skipped the last few steps to land at the place where he stood.

"And now that I'm yours... I can finally tell you my name," she whispered, leaning over towards his ear. Trunks raised an eyebrow, slightly unnerved that he hadn't noticed she had not given him her name before.

"My name..." she whispered again, leaning further and further towards him.

"Trunks?" a voice called from behind, startling him slightly, but making his bride jump and leap back from their closure. Trunks turned to see who had addressed him, knowing the voice anyway, and knowing that few would address him so informally.

"What do you want, Pan? You can go home now," his bride interjected, walking around Trunks to stand between the two. Pan glanced at the blonde lady only momentarily, the realization of who she was dawning in her eyes, but made no mention of it.

"I... offered her a reward," Trunks stammered out, feeling suddenly that it was important to say this. The blonde girl's slight frown right sided itself, and she whirled to face Trunks, her light blue dress twirling around her.

"Okay then. I'll let you keep to your offer," she said, nodding and deserting her place as buffer between the two. Trunks nodded, and turned his eyes on Pan again. She was staring at him.

The two stood in their places, not moving further away or towards the relatively small space that was distancing them. She was gazing at him with almost pleading eyes, which not only made him fidgety, but also confused him on the whole. There was a painfully awkward silence, where neither said a word.

"Right... your farm," Trunks stuttered out, desperate to say something. She shook her head quickly, her ebony hair swishing over her shoulders, taking a step forward.

"Don't you see, Trunks?" she asked, taking another step. "It's not the farm I want," she continued, taking steady steps, her eyes never leaving his nor losing their pleading.

"...But, then what do you want?" he asked, blatantly aware that she was standing in front of him with the same closeness his bride had been minutes before.

"Don't be daft," she scolded lightly. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Pan... I don't know what you're-" but he was forgivably interrupted by Pan shaking her head, throwing her arms around his neck to bring his face to her level. Without so much as a glance to see if he would approve, she kissed him, none to lightly, throwing her weight on him.

"Trunks, don't you see?" she gasped out, pulling away from him, eyes scanning his blue rapidly, "I know we hated each other... but that night, with the pool, and the stars, and... oh, Trunks, I love you," she cried, grabbing his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist. "I love you, prince," she said, a goofy smile on her face. "Say you love me too," she whispered wildly, moving for another kiss, which by judge of her previous, he would be a fool to turn away from.

"Pan, I-"

"Am dreaming about me?" her voice filtered in, around his closed eyes.

"Every day, Pan, but what about her?" he asked, trying to get words in as she attempted to kiss every exposed area of his face, as well as loosen a hand from supporting the girl to point to the blonde behind him.

"Earth to Trunks, it's just you and me," Pan said again, her voice laced with amusement. He snapped his eyes open, and was surprised, and mildly disappointed to have the image of a love struck, hormonal Pan vanish, and in replacement a normal, quite lustless Pan, looking down at him bemused.

Trunks took a long blink and mumbled some incoherent gibberish before reopening his eyes.

"So," Pan began, face still set in vague amusement, "you were dreaming of me?"

"Actually, I'd more classify it as dreaming about you, not of," he replied, sitting up, painfully aware by the cracks his back made in the process, that he had indeed slept on the ground the entire night.

"There's a difference?"

"'Of' implies it was more of a lusty dream, 'about' just implies you were in it."

"Ah. And dreaming about me, 'every day'," she imitated his voice to her best ability, eyes rolled to the top of her head, "doesn't imply lusty dream at all."

"Glad we agree."

"Then what was I doing?" she asked, hands on hips as Trunks painfully got to his feet.

"Being sacrificed to a Demon God," he replied mildly, in a lie of course.

"And the 'her' would be? The: 'what about her'?" Pan asked, trying to catch him off balance.

"Backup virgin," he replied coolly, casting his eyes tiredly around his surroundings, which looked quite different in the day light. "We were back at the castle... how many more days until we go?"

"Day after tomorrow," she replied, half-frowning with disappointment in her inability to get him to confess more of what he had dreamed about. She very much doubted he had entire dreams devoted to sacrificing herself in ritual cults to some demon, which meant he was lying about whatever his dream was. And if he wasn't lying, she would consider herself understandably afraid and not step a foot near his castle.

Naturally, there was no way to be sure either way.

The two stared at each other, bound to an awkward silence, as neither could think of anything in particular to say. It was Pan who first turned her eyes away and glanced around the scenery.

In the daylight, the area had lost none of its calming beauty. There were trees surrounding three sides of the pool, amazingly clear in the sun, rippling from the waterfall and carrying fallen blossom petals from a near by apple tree across its surface. The birds had already taken to the day, a few calling to each other from tree to tree.

While Pan had been the first to break their contact, she was also the first to regain it.

"You walked off really abruptly last night... when I challenged you to a swim," she said, almost thoughtfully, the beginnings of a smile forming on her lips. Trunks shrugged noncommittally. "You can't swim, can you?"

"Royalty doesn't take to the water much," he replied shortly.

"You mean you don't wash?" Pan inquired, with what appeared to be good humor. Trunks shot her a glare and shook his head.

"I mean we don't..." he trailed, paused, then sighed in exasperation. "Fine, you're right, I don't truly know how to swim. Surely not enough to beat you, anyway."

"I could teach you," Pan proposed, rather quickly. Trunks cocked his head to the side, slightly taken aback by her immediate offer.

"Why?" he asked. He had just explained that princes don't swim, so there wasn't any real point in learning to swim, since once he returned home he would never need to call upon that particular piece of knowledge. Unless of course the castle was overthrown by murderous mermaids intent on kidnapping the royal family and stowing them away to their underwater kingdom, and the only chance for his family's survival was for him to make a dashing escape, swim to shore and gather an army to storm the ocean...

"It's not like you have much else to do anyway," Pan pointed out. Trunks shook the idea of mermaids from his head, and returned his concentration to Pan.

"And you, Miss Son? Don't you have anything else to do?"

Pan shrugged her slim shoulders, and cast a weary glance towards her home.

"Maybe. But I can take the time for some swimming. So - you in?"

Trunks shrugged again, drawing a grin out of Pan and earning him a friendly slap on the back. "Great," she said with enthusiasm, before slumping to the ground.

Throwing his glance downwards, he looked at the small girl, crumpled on the grass, her knees bent and half drawn to her chest, arms laid out before her, hair tossing itself across her shoulders.

"Pan?" he asked, loudly, with a hint of possible panic in his voice. He dropped to his knees and tilted his head so it matched the angle of hers. "Are you okay?"

"Mmmhmm," she mumbled quietly.

"What are you doing then?" he said in exasperation.

"Sleeping," came a slightly muffled reply, which Trunks quirked an eyebrow at.

"I thought we were on a swimming binge right now."

"Look at the sun," she said, her voice strained with a whine. "It's not even six o'clock. I don't care what time royalty gets up, my parents are gone, and I want some more sleep." Trunks all but gawked at her for a few seconds. It was like she went through mood changes every quarter of the hour. He shook his head, causing stray lavender strands to impair his vision. Quickly batting them away, he addressed Pan.

"You are the most odd girl I've ever met," he said simply.

"Thank you," came the quiet reply, before all conversation from the girl's end disappeared, as she herself drifted off into slumber. He could feel the pull of sleep tugging on his mind himself, but did not submit to it so quickly. He was slightly curious as to why they were suddenly so tired again. Shrugging, he decided it really didn't matter. It was still early morning, and they hadn't gone to sleep until very late anyway.

He let his gaze fall upon her again, his mind running his dream through his head. Dreams don't always mean anything, he reminded himself rationally. It didn't necessarily mean... well, anything, that he had a dream of kissing Pan. More Pan kissing him as it were, but either way - it just didn't matter. Dreams were dreams. He once had a dream that he was a giant blueberry muffin - that hadn't come to anything. Though he couldn't eat blueberries for months...

While the rational part of his mind was throwing off reasons why the dream meant nothing, the irrational part of his mind was trying to access exactly what was wrong with the dream. It didn't care whether it meant anything or not, it was simply trying to process the realism of it. For instance, would he have a problem with kissing Pan?

Yes, the rational part said quickly, distracting itself from its previous task. Pan was a nobody. Princes don't kiss nobodies.

They kiss pretty nobodies, the irrational countered.

Is Pan pretty?

Eyes feel on the slender sleeping girl, as he let all of his mind judge on the general overall look about Pan. He liked her hair, he would admit, long, dark and rather messy at the moment, small loose curls spilling this way and that. Her lips were pulled in a pout while she dreamt, though not one that suggested she was saddened or perhaps angered. It looked almost playful.

Her deep eyes were covered up by thin eyelids, tinged blue with a tiredness that wasn't noticeable while she was awake. Her skin was pale for someone who lived outdoors, and almost translucent in the early morning dawn. Across her cheek, the faintest makings of a bruise splashed against her bone. The off colour tinge certainly would not darken, but he vaguely wondered what had happened.

You slapped her yesterday, the rational mind mocked annoyingly.

Wasn't very nice of you, the irrational commented.

Shut up, Trunks promptly told it. Paused. Pretty, he inquired his mind.

Pretty, agreed the irrational immediately.

Pretty, came the reluctant reply of the rational, with bruise and all.

Trunks nodded to himself. So, if the time ever arouse, it had been deemed fair by all parts of his mind, that he could kiss Pan.

Didn't say that, rational argued.

Ha, neither did I, irrational said.

Trunks allowed an almost desperate moan to escape his lips before rolling his eyes and slumping to the ground, arms length away from Pan. He promptly shut his eyes, willing to sleep. When he started having detailed conversations with his mind, he saw it fit to acquire additional shut eye.

Without further thought or qualm against his mind, he feel into a light slumber, beside the already sleeping beauty.

"This won't go unpunished," she mimicked to herself, pulling a face and mocking her master. "Idiot," she muttered, taking glances at herself in the mirror every so often, to mimic a face or examine her own. She was busy arranging different creams and remedies before her on the table.

Various plants, seeds, powders and bowls were scattered before her, along side a larger bowl filled with water and a cloth.

He certainly had been angry, she recalled, gently pulling her blonde hair back and away from her face. He hadn't shown it by full out yelling fits, but she knew him well enough to know that the calmer he appeared, usually was an indication of how angry he truly was.

For cover's sake, as well as image and pride, he had chosen to punish her by nonphysical means. She had dealt with his little magic torture before, though never had it been so long and hard as he had made it for her. Pain... always a searing pain that did not ebb. A pain that did not exist on an arm or the stomach, or head - simply everywhere at once. A pain from the inside out, as if someone had decided to try to make your insides out and your outsides in. It was horrible.

All because she made the little prince invisible.

Oh well, she consulted herself, you knew there was a price to pay.

And, when he had finished with his little magic tricks, he had thrown one last blow at her. Lifting stormy eyes, she clearly focused on her image in the mirror. Dipping thin fingers into one of her bowls, she scooped the mixture that lay there, and smoothed it over her cheek.

Her master liked dealing with clean, simple means of punishment. But apparently had wanted something more permanent this time. For while the actual pain of her torture had passed, and all the remained was the bitter memory of it, this final punishment stood out on her face, reminding her of her transgression.

The deep purple bruise that had formed across her check bone from the man looked a great deal worse than it actually felt. Under any other circumstances, she probably would have just left it to heal on its own, not minding walking around with a purple streak of bruise splashed across her face.

Except she was stalking around the castle every day, and she had a good idea that her master would not want her to be seen with the bruise. Questions would be asked, stares given - a messy business in the long run. Better to just cover up the bruise and act as if nothing happened.

No one in the castle needed to know that she was anything more than the future queen of the country. Though, to herself, she did hope someone would pay enough attention to her to guess otherwise.

Sighing, she returned her attention to her cheek. It was simple magic to mask it. She wasn't sure if she could fully heal it, considering who had dealt the blow. Had it been a normal man - fine, but him? She shook her head mentally. She couldn't fully heal it at that point, but she would have to do her best.

Preparing herself for the intense chill the remedy would bring to her face when she applied it, she leaned close to the mirror, and began her subtle magic.

Twisting a lock of hair around her finger, Bulma smiled. There was nothing specific that she had to smile about, but there was definitely nothing to frown about. She felt rejuvenated and free. She had a mad urge to fly. If she were able to...

Bent up emotions were feeding off her, making her feel almost giddy and hyperactive. She turned her eyes towards her husband, lightly sleeping beside her. His eyes were moving slowly behind closed lids, eyebrows turned downwards, mouth shaped in a thin line.

As if sensing he was being watched, he blinked once, and opened his eyes. Blue eyes met black, and Bulma felt her mouth drop slowly from its closed position.

"Bulma.," Vegeta greeted calmly.

Almost like a rippled affect, she giggled once, and was soon attacked into a full out giggle fit. Her body shook lightly, and she had to clamp a hand over her mouth in attempt to keep them from spilling out of her throat like bubbles in washing water.

Vegeta quirked an eyebrow, saying nothing, though silently inquiring.

She merely laughed more. Her hand covered mouth did no good, for soon the giggles spilt out, and she had to grab her sides to ease the cramp that was forming from the laughing. Tear filled eyes glanced at the man beside her, where she caught a glimpse of his puzzled expression which looked so odd on him, it only brought a wave of new laughter on her. Trying to edge away from him to go calm down, her leg got caught in a small twist of blankets, causing the foot to stay behind as the rest of the queen tried to slip away.

With one foot caught in the bed and the rest trying to make an escape, the forces were unbalanced, and she quickly reached the edge of the mattress, squealed before falling flat off the bed. She landed with a thump, her night dress falling up to mid thigh, hair covering her face save for a slit where her nose protruded, and her one foot caught up in a mess of covers.

She pushed her hair away from her face, glancing up at the bed, giggles gone. Vegeta's face soon came into view, looking over the edge.

"Have you gone mad?" he asked in a slight concern.

"Possibly," she answered, not being able to come up with a truthful answer either way.

"Oh," he replied, gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Do you mind telling me when you decide to go mad... just do I'm prepared?" he asked, eyes back on her.

She shrugged. "I could do that I suppose."

"Most generous," he replied, moving away from the bed's edge. Bulma broke into a small grin, shook her head, and turned her eyes towards the window, where the early morning light was seeping through, casting the room into a cheery atmosphere.

She giggled once more, before standing up, jumping un-gracefully back into the bed, prepared to spend the entire morning doing absolutely nothing.

It had the makings of a perfect day.

This time, it was Trunks who woke up first. Judging by the new brightness of the sky, it was a few hours later than when the two had first woken. He blinked lazy blue eyes up at the sky, not having any extreme will to move from his resting place. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out the prone form of Pan, curled up and breathing evenly.

For the first time since leaving home, he began to wonder how things were going back at the castle. He wondered if his mother was sick with worry. He hoped not. While he and his mother didn't share a platonic relationship, she stilled remained his mother, and he felt more than just a sense of honour and respect for her. He hoped that she was smiling.

As the thought struck him, it occurred to him odd that he did indeed enjoy his mother's smile. She had a very pretty one, as far as smiles go. One that never reached her ears, but gave off the impression of doing so. It radiated without looking silly. When she smiled, you smiled.

Then his thoughts turned to his father. Where was he? He would not waste his energies being worried about Trunks, though he may be upset or angered by his sudden disappearance. He would most likely be punished when he got back to the castle. Not that any of this was his fault - but just try and explain that to Vegeta.

Trunks grinned softly.

Did he miss home? He wasn't sure. He missed the routine of it. The comfort. Naturally, chasing tempered girls around a rugged homestead wasn't his idea of a vacation spot, but it was rather nice to step away from his every day life. Besides, he would be home soon enough.

Trunks wasn't long into his inner musings, when Pan began to stir beside him. He made no move to watch her, or even hint that he himself was awake - preferring to keep his eyes glued to the sky, and let her wake up on her own time.

She didn't take long. Barely a minute had passed before the young girl was on her feet, slowly stretching out her limbs, eyes on the water. When she finally turned to look at Trunks, she pivoted on her toe so quickly, that even though he had moved his stare to her, all he saw was a mad twirl of messy hair and skirts. She automatically pulled her hair behind he shoulders and fixed her eyes on Trunks.

"We going to swim?" she asked, in way of morning greetings, a smile plastered to her face. Trunks sighed.

"I don't think I can learn within two days," he replied, casting a realistic light on the swimming proposal. Pan nodded, apparently she had already considered this.

"I know. I'm deeming this more of a 'get you in the water' type of thing."

"And what would you want me in the water for, Miss Son?"

"If you're trying to make some witty implication, it's gone over my head," she said evenly, stripping off her cloak. Trunks got to his feet and followed her towards the edge of the pool. Casting a look back to make sure he was following, she stepped out into the water once again, this time only going in knee deep to make sure she did not get completely wet in vain again.

Trunks had his eyes on the water - debating. It looked clean enough, the water was very clear, and there was no odour coming from it. Surely it would be all right to go in. Even if it was not the princely thing to do... it would still be fine. Because no one would ever know he had gone in a pool. In fact, it wasn't that big of a deal at all - to any one else's business, he was having a wash, but refrained from stripping fully, for the fact that a lady was present. Even with his conscious fine on the whole swimming extravaganza, a small part of his mind was half queasy about stepping in. He could plainly see the vegetation on the bottom, and it looked rather slimy. And was that a fish?

"Are there fish in here?" he asked, not taking his eyes away from the spot he thought he saw a small gray fish zip by.

"Fish do generally live in water," she replied, voice approaching sarcasm. "I hope you aren't afraid of a little guppy. I'm sure it's more afraid of touching your big feet than you are of stepping in."

"Never test the depth of the water with both feet," Trunks retorted, raising his eyes to look at her.

"And that means?"

"I don't know, but it sounded good at the time." With a shrug, he stepped in, saddened to find his thoughts on the slimy seaweed had been completely correct. His dislike for the plants between his toes was apparent by the look on his face. Pan rolled her eyes.

"The plants stop growing once you get further out," Pan said, taking steps further towards the middle.

"Really?" Trunks asked, following her lead, anxious to get out of the seaweed.

"Yep. Once it gets to the point where the sun doesn't reach the pool's bottom, the plants can't grow," she explained, stepping to where she was beyond waist deep. With a grin, she dropped her knees and sunk fully under water, spontaneously. Blinking, Trunks waited for her to resurface, keeping an eye on her under the water to make sure she didn't try and be cute and pull his legs or something.

But she came up for air soon enough.

"See. Now you go under."

"I don't think-"

"Don't tell me you're scared. Sheesh, one second you're mocha prince, and the next as cowardly as a little boy. It's one or the other, consistency is more than welcome."

"Hey, consistency isn't always good you know. Especially if you're consistently wrong."

"Or consistently annoying in your case," Pan retorted. Trunks opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by another voice, one not belonging to Pan.

"Miss Pan, Miss Pan," the voice addressed from the pool's edge. Trunks turned to look at the voice's owner. By the water's end stood a young boy, aged around thirteen, almost hopping from foot to foot with anxiety.

"What?" Pan asked, with a concern that had never been directed towards him before, and therefore had not known she had even pocessed it. The boy looked around the water for a moment before answering.

"Should you be swimming alone, Miss?"

"Are you blind? I'm here too," Trunks muttered, before he plainly recalled that he was in fact invisible and the boy could not see him. He hoped Pan had not heard his comment.

"And consistently stupid," Pan sang out.

Apparently she had.

The boy's eyebrows fell together in a knit before speaking again.

"Stupid, ma'am?" he inquired, slight hurt in his voice.

"No, no," Pan said, shaking her head. "Never mind. What is it?"

"It?" the boy looked puzzled for a second before snapping his fingers. "Yes. Umm, there's someone to see you. And the house, miss," he grinned, happy to have delivered his message. Pan nodded thankfully, wading back out of the water.

Shrugging, Trunks turned to follow. He wasn't immensely disappointed that there had not been any swimming. Besides, if Pan was making a trip back to her home, he could go with her and grab something to eat, With a painful realization, he discovered he was approaching being famished, and would not turn down another apple pie. Though he doubted Pan would agree to make him another.

Looked like the pie stealing devil would have to strike the kitchens once again.

Thank you all for your reviews. Some have been real inspirations, and I appreciate every one of them.

Angel Eevee