A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. If I said I was deeply sorry for this taking so long in coming out, would you believe me? I really am… December was hectic, school and Christmas and all. A mild writer's block didn't help. I appreciate all of the reviews (I'm over 200 now, I fairly died a happy shock, let me tell you), as well as the emails. Thank you and I hope this chapter is good reading. Something about it seems amiss to me, but whatever.

Last Time: Vegeta tells his council about Trunks being able to chose who to marry, Trunks steals another pie, Trunks saves Pan from a smooching wannabe-lover, giving her berries to make her feel better, aww, Bulma suspects Trunks' fiancée, and the fiancée is ordered to make a love spell.

"Telling the Future"

Trunks sat with his hands folded, sitting comfortably at the kitchen table, while Pan ate some of the last remains of the berries. Whether they were truly helping her or not, he wasn't sure, but she looked grateful for his help in any case.

She looked up to meet his gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you staring at me?" she asked, in an amused voice.

"No," he replied bluntly. He wasn't… really.

"Then you are deep in thought, and are staring vacantly ahead, and just happen to be staring in my direction," she said, pushing the bowl away.

"Maybe," Trunks said, somewhat surprised. He had been thinking, and found it rather perceptive of her to take such notice of it. Not that it was a landmark achievement that he was actually thinking, just that it was…well, perceptive of her to even look closely enough at him to-… was she staring at him? He looked up; her eyes were set on him, though he didn't think they had always been.

"So, what are you thinking about?"

"Well…" Trunks began. There was no reason not to tell her what was on his mind. It was a question for her anyway, so it might as well be asked. "Remember when you said that your mother got out of her engagement with that guy because she was in love with your father?"

"Yes," Pan answered slowly, with a nod.

"Well, does that mean that if you were to fall in love, you would be able to get out of the engagement too?" Trunks posed the question, one he had been forming ever since he had learned about Pan's would-be-fiancé.

"I doubt it," she replied softly. "He probably wouldn't want to wait for my daughter to marry. He's not going to get any younger… he wants to take a wife when he's still young enough to… do things that wives and husbands do." Trunks stared.

"How in the world can you speak so lightly about the prospect of you… and him… you know…?"

Pan laughed lightly.

"Maybe I'm counting on you to get me out of this situation," she replied, a smile on her lips.

"Maybe," he repeated back. "So, let me get this straight. I'm giving you gold, your land, a ladyship, and trying to get you out of your little engagement? What do I get out of this?"

"You're visibility," Pan replied dully.

"Oh… right. I suppose that is something… worth the price."

"Just maybe," Pan said, her face set in a soft smile, her eyes closed. Trunks gazed at her for a minute, her hair a mess, her cheeks flushed, and her clothes speckled with dirt from the ground last night and still damp from her wade in that morning. Sensing she was being scrutinized, she opened her eyes and looked over at him.

"I'll be glad to be back," he said quickly, not wishing to be caught staring at her. Pan made no reaction to this, merely nibbled on another berry.

"I suppose you miss being waited on every day and being pampered to you heart's content," she said after a moment of silence. Trunks narrowed his eyes and looked indignant.

"Yes, because that's all I do every day. It's not like I have to rule the country or anything."

"Hmm, I thought as much."

"That was sarcasm. You know, I do a lot at the castle," he said, defensively.

"I'm sure you do," she replied, in a half-agreeing tone. "But… don't you think you might miss all of this?" she asked, making a slight gesture with her hand.

"The kitchen?"

"No," Pan replied, sending him a mock glare. "This," she restated. "The almost... freedom of it all. I mean, I've seen how you all act up at court. Walk straight, eat with composure, speak politely, create small talk, look pretty… here, it's completely different. Not to say we're un-cilivilized barbarians or something, it's just… whenever I go to the capital, it feels like everyone is watching every move I make-"

"That's because everyone is. That's part of the game they all play. They watch to see someone screw up, they want someone to screw up; it gives them some gossip for the next day."

"You live your life under examination," she stated more than asked. He answered anyway.

"Yes. It's the price we pay for nobility."

"The only people who watch you like that here are potential lovers and the tax collector," she said with a grin. Trunks felt a grin tugging at his own lips.

"Truth… I think I will miss this place… vaguely. Just the… lack of pink."

"Pink?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"All the ladies, it's all they ever wear. When I was twelve years old I told a young girl that her dress was lovely. It had been pink. That's all they wear now." Pan giggled.

"How odd it must be for you, having whatever you say be practically law."

"How odd it must be for you, having whatever you say practically ignored," he replied. She had the decency to look un-offended, denying him the pleasure of seeing it.

"No one that matters ignores me."

"I ignored you," he responded. She smiled.

"Point proven."

Trunks opened his mouth to make a retort, but was stopped by the sound of horses outside. For one wild moment, he thought that it was a royal escort, sent to bring him home, but quickly realized that was not simply impossible, but also stupid.

Pan took the berry she had been nibbling on, and set it back into the bowl. She slowly rose from her chair and stared at the doorway, her fingers flexing nervously. Trunks wondered what she was thinking. Taking uniform steps towards the door, Trunks was surprised at her composure, considering it was all possible that the outside commotion was Keipher coming back for more trouble.

With that in mind, he followed her up and made his way to the door behind her. Pan pulled the door open and peered out. Standing quite near the house was a cart draped in bright colours and faded writing. It was being pulled by one horse, the horseman gazing back towards Pan with a worn smile.

Pan returned it, with a roll of the eyes.

"She back again?" Pan asked, shaking her head. The man merely held his smile, bending down to pat the horse on the neck. Pan shook her head again; her hands on her hips and turned back towards the house.

"I don't hold for this kind of thing," she said towards Trunks. "I'm not that gullible, but maybe you should give it a shot, if you can understand her," she said, her smile turned into a smirk, as she walked back into the house, closing the door behind her, as if to finalize her suggestion for him to stay out and…

He turned, looking at the cart again. What exactly was it that Pan didn't hold for, but that he might? Glancing back at the shut door, he shrugged and walked over to the fold in the cloth that marked the entrance to the cart. He slowly pulled it back enough for him to slip inside.

Trunks stepped in the covered cart, feeling extremely foolish as well as childish for his caution. A well scrubbed short table sat in the middle of the cart, behind which was the only occupant. The small form of a woman sat, rocking slightly, gazing at him with large eyes. An extremely bright blue cloak was wrapped tightly around her, more of the same brightness around her hair. As he began to wonder how such an obscure colour was even created, much less why anyone would want to wear said colour, his thoughts were interrupted as she made a small grunt, motioning him to kneel across from her.

Hesitantly, he sat. Casting a glance behind him, seeing no one, he turned back to her.

"You can see me?" he asked, quietly. Her eyes bugged, and she shook her head quickly. Trunks shifted slightly from his spot. "But you can hear me?" to this he got a frantic nod, the woman looked slightly un-composed, and was constantly rocking. "I didn't talk... how did you know I was here?" he asked, once again, uncertain why he was doing this. He had always known that people could hear him - his mother had, the people in town... but she seemed different. She didn't seem as unearthed as the others to be talking to thin air - somehow her rocking seemed natural to her.

But quite suddenly she stopped rocking. She slowly reached up and pulled the bright cloth from her head, which she carelessly tossed behind her, her cloak following soon after. With the brightness gone Trunks could see curly red hair tumble down the woman's back, a simple black and white ensemble now being worn. He raised an eyebrow at her, a gesture that she, naturally, did not see.

"I don't understand," Trunks said simply.

"Who looks outside, only dreams, who looks inside, also awakens," she said mistily, looking across from her anxiously. He knew one thing now, though not from the riddle – but the whole atmosphere in the cart and her attire. She was a traveling palm reader. Did Pan not believe in fates? Trunks shook his head in slight annoyance. This woman spoke in riddles - he would have to deceiver them to understand her. But he didn't even know where to start...

Sensing this, the woman pointed strongly at the bright clothes she had just tossed off, then towards her simple attire.

"Many complain of my looks, but none of my brains," she said, looking between herself and her cloak. Trunks stared at the blue fabric for a minute.

"No one complains of your fortunes... just..." he paused, looking around the cart. There were brighter fabrics lining the walls, neat piles of cards, stones, tea cups, swirling liquids and glassware lined low shelves. "... but some of your appearance?" Trunks guessed, knowing he was right. A person's view on what a person in tuned with the fates should look like varied. There was no one certain way she could appear and still hold the trust and money of all her followers.

He nodded to himself, knowing he was right. Taking a look at the bright cloak which some may think typical of the fortune teller, he ventured a guess that, "but I don't need all your fake fortune telling façades." She nodded in agreement.

"I also don't need your riddles," he said matter-of-factly. She blinked at this; as if she were never informed before that her proverbs were annoying. Twirling a crimson lock of hair, she shrugged her shoulders.

"Alright."

"Alright, what?" Trunks asked. "No more riddles?" She shrugged again.

"I can try."

"Then, can you tell me how you knew I was here?" he watched her seem to think about this, no doubt formulating a riddle answer as she was accustomed to.

"Some ask to speak to the dead... they are in a similar form," she said, eyes gazing off at a spot behind him. "I can sense you... faintly. But you are not dead, you are different then them... what are you?"

"Cursed."

"Ah. Yes, by a lady friend."

"Yes..." he sighed. "I wish I had met you a few days ago, you could have warned me. But alas, a little too late."

"A little too late, is much too late," she responded almost automatically. Trunks narrowed his eyes, thinking of a retort, but deciding to just go on anyway.

"So, are you going to tell me my fortune?" he inquired, not seeing any other purpose the woman could have for him.

"Well…" she began, casting a discomforted glance at the empty space where she knew he had to be, before continuing. "I wish I could see your palm… it'd make it easier."

"You know, Pan doesn't believe in you," Trunks blurted out. The woman raised an eyebrow and turned her lips upward mysteriously, a reaction Trunks had not been expecting.

"I know. She has a mundane mind… she doesn't like things that are… unnatural…" she paused, eyes cast to a corner of the cart, "which really doesn't explain her feelings towards you then, does it?" she asked quietly. Trunks blinked, unsure if he had caught her soft voice correct.

"Feelings?" he inquired, before snapping his fingers. "Oh yes, she has feelings. She has high feelings of annoyance, contempt, really any bad description you can think of, she'll apply it to me."

"You think she hates you?"

"Oh… well, no. She says she only dislikes me. But that all kind of comes down to the same thing, doesn't it?"

She paused, thinking. "If you think she even goes as far as to 'dislike' you, your eyes are invisible along with the rest of you," she said casually.

"Is that another riddle?"
"No, that's me, telling you that you're stupid… in a polite way."

"I'm not stupid."

"Of course not…" she said softly, in a way a parent agrees with a child's imagination if only to calm them down.

"I mean it… I've been tutored by many great minds."

"You can lead a fool to wisdom but you can't make him think."

"Are you trying to fit in as many insults as possible?"

"I did not intend to insult you. Look," she said, "Pan is… well, she's special, you know?" she started, Trunks' eyes on her, realizing she had dropped her airy countenance and was leaning forward on her table, speaking frankly.

"I have noticed," he replied quietly. She nodded.

"She's got a head full of ideas and dreams, but is much too practical to put them into motion," she whispered, squinting her eyes at him, "much like you. She just needs someone to give her a little shove."

"You want me to push Pan?" he asked incredulously. She laughed.

"I want you to… go for it."

"What?"

"Don't play coy," she said with a sigh. She pursed her lips and continued. "Okay, forget Pan for the moment. What's your favourite colour?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Colour."

"Why-"

"I can't see your palms, I'll have to do this another way. Now, colour?"

"Erm… yellow?"

"A happy colour; peaceful, content, much like the sun." Trunks made a face.

"Maybe my favourite is black?"

"Saddened, angered… you need light in your life."

"Red?"

"Favourite food?"

"Pie," he responded immediately.

"Flower?"

"Rose?"

"Loud or soft?"

"… both?"

"So, it seems to me, that you want someone who is happy, content, though with deeper emotions, someone who is sweet, someone who is dangerous and always changing, though probably someone who is sure of themselves because you definitely are not."

"What does-"

"Well, I think that describes Pan nicely," she said with a nod of accomplishment. Trunks gaped at her for a moment before folding his arms like a defiant child.

"You could have twisted whatever I said to match Pan," he whined.

"Why don't you just take a shot at her? Tell me with complete honestly that you haven't considered her."

Trunks swallowed, eyes shifting around the cart, weighing his options. He could lie through his teeth, but he wanted to see where this woman would go with all of this. And he could not deny to himself that he had never thought about it. He had had an entire argument with himself just yesterday over Pan and her compatibility with him had he not? Somewhat reluctant, he replied;

"I can't say that I haven't."

"So, what is stopping you?"

"I have… obligations, and…"

"Just go for it, sir."

"Don't you ever give up?" he asked in exasperation.

"Quitters never win, and winners never quit."

"Ah but those who never quit and never win are idiots."

"Which makes it a good thing that I've won. Just give it a go, even if nothing comes of it, you will know, instead of living a lifetime with your magic-doing princess, and always wondering."

"Pan's engaged to- wait, how did you know I was cursed by a princess?" She stared vacantly ahead, a small smile on her face, but offering no reply. "… you know, I don't think you're as fake as Pan believes you to be."

"Just don't tell her that," she said with a laugh and a wink. She turned away from him, her red curls bouncing at the movement, and began to put her bright clothing back on. Trunks quietly stood up and walked to the exit of the cart. "Farewell, your majesty," she called back to him. Trunks paused briefly, then hopped out, slightly disconcerted at how she could have known… she had sensed him, known he was a prince… maybe Pan had set this whole thing up? Either way, it wasn't as if she could reap any benefits by playing the trick on him; she wasn't around, so he knew she had not been eavesdropping. But…

Maybe she did set the whole thing up, because… Pan wanted him to think it was his fortune to try and be with her. In which case, she had developed feelings that were different than 'dislike', and it would be safe for him to… but if the woman really just could tell things about him then… did he risk taking a chance with her?

Or could he go the rest of his life, never knowing?

He was jostled out of his thoughts by Pan, who had not spoken, but merely came into view. She had gotten dressed since he had last seen her. There were still traces of the berries around her lips, though her skin looked refreshed and cleaned. She had replaced the underclothes and cloak she had slept in last night with her usual white under dress, though she must have had several for it looked crisp and clean, and over top laid a heavy green material that defined the curve of her hips if nothing else.

To Trunks, it looked as if the ensemble would be too sweltering, especially when the afternoon heat set in, but if Pan was too warm, her face didn't show it. In any case, she seemed to have prepared consciously or not for the heat by tying her hair up and away from her shoulders and neck. It lay in a messy heap on her head, the curls from the water that morning, adding to the imperfection of the style. Somehow the sloppy style had a neat and complete fitting on Pan.

She walked past him without casting even a glance in his direction; so whether she saw him or not was undetermined. A smile spread on her face as she leaned an arm on the cart, transferring the apple and knife that were in her hand to the other, and gazing up at the fortune teller in amusement.

"You just never give up do you?" she asked in humor. The red head shrugged, pulling at a loose thread on her shawl.

"I just had a feeling I should talk to you… I had a feeling that it may be one of the last times I could," she replied, a far off tone in her voice. Pan tightened her grip on the cart and made her smile vanish.

"Why? Is something going to happen? Are you in trouble?" Pan asked, eyes wide.

"For someone who doesn't believe in magic, you sure sound concerned," she answered, her face in a smile, fingers twirling more loose threads. Pan scowled.

"Things have changed since we've last seen each other for me to put some slight faith in magic… however, faith in you," she paused, shaking her head. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, nothing 'wrong' at all," the fortune teller replied, casting a meaningful look behind Pan, sweeping her eyes in the vague area, trying to make eye contact with Trunks but having no sure idea of where he stood.

"But then why won't I see you anymore? Are you going away?"

"No, but you are," she responded. Pan made a mild face.

"That's true; I have some business in the capital once my parents return. But that'll only take a few days at the most."

"Perhaps. I think you are in for some changes, Panny, changes that if you accept them, will make you quite happy, I'm sure."

"What are you talking-" Pan began, a surprised and impatient tone taking on her voice for all of her friend's vague telling. The red head swooped down, and leaned towards Pan, her lips resting at her ears and she whispered something, too quiet for Trunks to pick up. She pulled back, and Pan's face was blank with surprise. A few silent seconds past before Pan looked up at her and questioned;

"Keipher?" in an unbelieving tone.

"No you dolt," came the response, followed by a meaningful glare. Pan blinked before gasping and bringing her free hand to her mouth, her face set in disbelief.

"Nooo," she drawled out with a smile.

"Yeeees," the friend imitated. Pan's smile vanished and she shifted her weight on her feet.

"But… but-"

"No 'buts' this time Panny. The cards have dealt you a hand, just work with what you've got."

"But I don't want to-"

"Yes you do. Don't bother looking at me like that," she chided, as Pan scowled up at her. "You deserve it," she said after a pause, her smile widening.

"And what have I ever done wrong to deserve-"

"It's not a punishment, Pan. It's a blessing… in disguise."

"A very good disguise," Pan replied with a scowl. The friend's reply was only an increase in her smile, if it were possible to get any wider. She nodded, her mind apparently set on what she wanted to do, and waved innocently down at Pan, and then behind her to Trunks. She turned back to go inside her cart, her bright skirts swirling around her bare feet.

There was a faint call from the inside, which set the horsemen the go ahead. Within seconds, the horse had begun to trot away, the cart being pulled behind it and the young fortune teller set off to new places to read palms and tea cups about love, life and no doubt the occasional death.

Pan stood immobile, apple and knife still in her hand, eyes cast vacantly at the disappearing horse and cart.

Trunks stared at Pan. The words of the soothsayer circling in his mind; Just go for it, sir. Over and over.

Just go for it, Trunks, his mind said, gently prodding him forward.

Oh nooo, can you imagine what Father would think? You, dodging the throne and gallivanting the country side to make love to annoying peasant girls, he argued back.

Okay, first off, we aren't here by choice so we're not 'dodging' the throne, second, one kiss isn't making love, and third, the best part of the whole thing is that Father would hate-

You are impossible.

Not as impossible as you-

But Trunks had, thankfully, learned to tune out his disagreeing mind long before this moment. He still had his blue eyes staring at Pan fixedly – thinking, though trying to think without the input of his ever complaining, ever imputing mind.

So what if some fortune teller wanted him to go after Pan?

So what?

So… it was time to forget about his father. Forget about his mother. Forgot that he was a prince, that he was invisible, that he was stranded in the country. Forget that he was engaged to a magical lady who had a will for him of her own. Forget that he had any obligations; forget that it was sunny out, that he would be going back to the castle evidently.

Just forget.

And finally do what he felt like doing. What he wanted to do at that exact moment.

For once in his life, be spontaneous.

With that will in mind Trunks took his eyes from Pan…

… and walked away.

Only to pause, blink, shrug, stamp his foot, bite his lip, snap his fingers, and finally give up to the will in his mind. Before he could think of the complications of his actions, before he could wonder what the other member of his mind would react, he went for it,

Just go for it, sir.

So the prince marched back to where he had stood, and kept on walking quickly beyond that point and over to where Pan stood; her curls and green dress swaying ever so slightly in the small breeze.

His part of his mind was begging for him to stop dead in his tracks, but he was fairly blocking out all thoughts of is mind. He reached Pan, grabbing her hand to turn her around. He was met with a slight scream from the girl. Unsuspecting this reaction, especially before he even did what he approached her to do, he blinked, glancing down to where her own eyes were turned. His own hand had a tight grip over her palm, which held the apple and knife inside.

Quickly releasing his hold, she opened her palm, revealing a jagged cut on her hand, blood slowly spreading from it. Her eyes were wide and she turned her face back towards him.

"Look what you did!" she half screeched. Trunks blinked, and stared at her wide-eye expression, the faint flush o her cheeks, and he subconsciously knew that a massive yell fest was approaching. Disregarding the blood (surely it was nothing too serious); he gave way to his spontaneousness, having a vague idea that it would not resurface again. He slipped his hand to the back of her waist, and before she could even change the expression on her face to questioning or yell at him to remove his hand or scream about the blood; he had brought her face up to his own, and placed his lips on hers.

I thought this a wonderful place to leave off. And subconsciously, I'm sure you do too. Woot, ten chapters and they finally kiss. But how does Pan react… I have no idea yet. XD

And as always, if you want an email to tell when this is next updated, request so in a review or email, and I'll add you to the list. Thankys.

Angel Eevee