A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. Don't kill me, I swear, for once this isn't late because I'm a lazy prat. My computer was virused (still is) and I lack a connection. As such, this is late, but comes with a friend. Two chapter update, whee!

Thanks for your patience, or lack of.

Last Time: Pan faints from many things. Trunks mildly tends to her wounds. She gives him an earful for kissing her. Trunks sulks as only Trunks really can.

"Fairy Tale Hope"

Trunks hadn't moved from his spot on Pan's bed. He had sat with the sleeping girl; guarding her as if she were the most precious treasure in the world. But now she was gone – he had somehow let that treasure slip through his fingers.

His elbows rested heavily on his knees, his chin cupped in his hands, as his brilliant eyes stared at nothing in particular. He wished he could pin point what he really thought about… well, everything. Everything so weird as it was, and then to add in the fact that he didn't even know what he was feeling. He didn't know what to feel about Pan.

Did he hate her? No. Did he love her? Certainly not. But maybe like? Was it possible that the silly little raven haired, simple peasant girl had twisted his usual reliable mind and was currently wrapping him around her slender finger?

What was it?

Was it just the combination of circumstances, as Pan seemed to think it was? Was he simply attracted to her because she was truthfully a pretty girl, and he was a prince and he and she were… here. And it was all too easy to just take advantage of being the almost imaginary friend to the teen and release some of the emotional stress that both of them were feeling in ways other than yelling, insulting or slapping each other.

Was it possible?

Yes.

Likely?

Definitely.

In fact, it was the most logical explanation to the entire thing, and Trunks was somewhat surprised he hadn't thought of it himself. There was a connection because the extreme circumstances they found themselves in, drove the connection to be there. He had heard the odd story at court, hadn't he? Two people who in a normal day would never be caught together, were found entangled in each other's arms; stranded in a cave. People who were utterly loyal to the crown, but would betray it in an instant when the right kind of object was threatened.

Every day people changed their personalities and habits to meld with those in the surrounding world. It was a wonderful solution, really. He, the prince, was merely attracted to Pan because of the bizarre past days of his life, and his dependence on her. And when he was gone, he would never think of her again and be cured.

Just as Pan had said.

It was odd… how he had taken Pan's accusations as slightly offensive at the time. That she had charged him with having no true intentions and that he just wanted to have a little fun. Well, she was partly correct, he was now concluding.

Did he just want to have a little fun?

Yes and no. Yes, because fun is fun, and you'd have to be a complete stiff to turn down fun. His father came to mind. But no, because he would never seek out 'fun' in the double-meant way she accused. He had too much honour as a gentleman to simply take advantage of her body, as if he needed to be physically satisfied every day of his life or he would go mad. He was no whore that needed the contact constantly.

It was almost alarming at how quickly the answer came to Trunks. As if he had not spent countless hours thinking over his entire 'Pan dilemma' coming up with absolutely no answers, which was infuriating as a whole, but more so as a prince who was used to having some sort of answer for everything.

The truth was: it wasn't that he wanted Pan, he only wanted Pan. His actions were not driven by some sexual drive. His kiss had not been of lust or desire. The gentleness had all but been proof of that.

He simply wanted to be near Pan. Because, thinking upon it, he was a prince, yes, but still really just a young man, who was invisible to the world, and with that curse came the always bearing down thought, that perhaps he could never turn back to visible. Maybe he would forever be stuck the way he was, and then how would he live? What about his crown? What about his family? What about his entire life?

But when Pan was near by, he couldn't think about that. Whether it was because when she was near, his thoughts automatically were shifted to other topics other than worrying about his curse, or he stopped thinking all together, which was sometimes the case with her. Or maybe it had to do with the curse in the first place. The one that could see him… perhaps Pan was supposed to be able to provide him comfort because of her place in the magic.

Did it matter? Did any of it really matter? The 'whys' and the 'hows'. Not really. All that mattered was that he had figured it out – he wanted to be with Pan because it made him feel safer and calmer, even when they were yelling at each other as if there were no tomorrow.

Trunks wasn't sure if Pan would ever understand that however. Understand that he didn't want to hurt her, take advantage of her, or woo her. He just wanted – needed – to be near her. Just to keep his mind at peace.

And he wasn't entirely sure, but he thought that Pan was feeling much the same. She never said it of course, but sometimes it would flash through her eyes, or the fact betrayed by a quirk of the lips.

The odd need that he felt. To be close.

It was a comforting knowledge, because although Pan had a stubborn pride that rivaled his father's, he doubted if she could put off him forever. He would not go mad at the lack of contact with her. He was not rabid to have her near… it was simply more pleasant. And if she felt the same way, how long would it be before she sought him out for the comfort he surely provided her as she did for him?

All completely unknowingly, of course.

A firm smile spread across his mouth as Trunks lowered his hands from his chin and let them dangle over his knees. He understood his own mind a bit better now, and it made him happy. And today, why, it was only half gone. He had the entire day to spend doing… whatever invisible princes do.

He shot up from his comfortable place on Pan's bed, smile still turning his lips.

He hadn't realized what burden his thoughts had been until he had sorted them out. He liked being in control of his mind and actions. But Pan and the kiss… no. That was not control at all. However, now… now he knew at least why he wanted to be with her. He could understand the reason he felt different when around her.

He walked the room in comfortable strides, his thoughts more at ease than they had been for a while. A quick glance out the window confirmed that the day was still brilliantly sunny, the air warm with slight breeze, evident by the gentle rustling of leaves brushing together. The smell of oak filtered through the room, given off by the aged one beside Pan's window. Trunks had no desire to stay hidden away in the house all day. He wouldn't mind going outside, perhaps wander over to the pool Pan had attempted to persuade a dip into the night before? It didn't matter, did it? He was as free as he had ever been at that very moment and intended to take his new found freedom by the hold and do whatever he pleased.

And if that meant finding a particularly nice bit of shade outside and sit sprawled beneath it for the day doing absolutely nothing, then so be it. Who was to stop him? A lazy afternoon was beginning to sound the ever more appealing, as the prince made his way to the door.

In no rush, he paused as a shelf of books caught his eye. With no plans, he could afford to abandon his walk to the exit, and instead turned back and stood before the book shelf. It was a small, pitiful shelf that could only hold about twenty books. Minuscule when he thought about his library at home, but the books that sat on the shelf looked well thumbed, something he could not say his own were.

Some of the titles he recognized, the more 'classic' of them, while others he never heard of, though could possibly own himself. He had never really gone beyond the books his tutors had ordered him to read. It was the final book on the shelf that caught his attention the most. He carefully slid the book off, and held it in his hands for inspection. The cover was much less faded than the others, giving him the idea that it was newer than the rest, however it's pages were more used, less tight and smooth. The age didn't seem to matter, as this book clearly was the most loved of the set.

Running fingers over the title, he carefully turned the cover over to have his eyes meet with an inscription written in an un-neat scrawl. Apparently the book was from 'Uncle G' and for Pan's eighth birthday. He had always loathed books as gifts, but maybe she didn't often receive gifts. Perhaps that was why this one was so treasured? He turned another page, and another pushing past an index. Here, in angelic calligraphy sat the beginning words to a children's story.

A fairy tale.

Trunks blinked. Perhaps this was where Pan got her extensive ideas for happily-ever-afters, dramatic endings and eternal love. She had a liking for fantasy, for make-belief… for the classic prince charming and damsel in distress.

Trunks tilted his head slightly before closing the book reverently and returning it to its spot on the shelf. He didn't really understand it. With all Pan had – her responsibilities, low class, old men chasing her - how could she possibly have any hope for a happy ending? How could she ever end up to be one of the smiling princesses by the end of the story?

It was then that Trunks realized why. All it was was hope. A vague hope for something beyond that which she had now. He had seen it when she had spoken so passionately about love the night before.

Pan had a hope for something special. And with a thought uncharacteristic of him, he hoped that Pan got her wish; her hope. Someone, he was sure, would marry her for love.

Yes. Someone…

"Someone, I am sure, will marry him for love," Bulma said softly, dipping light crusts of bread into her lunch soup. Light blue eyes turned to her husband and king across from her, awaiting his response. She was met with a slight grunt which she replied to with a roll of the eyes.

Bulma had gone straight to the dining room when the bell had announced the end of the council. She had been happy to hear it; enthusiastic to meet her husband again, now that they were on level ground once more, and she did not have to spend her life ignoring him. But the bell had also taken her away from the conversation she had just been having. With Trunks' fiancée.

She couldn't place her finger on it, but something had been… off about the girl. Not to say there was mentally something wrong. Bulma had met her share of brainless, all beauty girls who came flaunting to the castle to try and capture her son's attention. This girl indeed had a pretty face, and from what Bulma could tell, a sound mind as well. But it was something different… a sort of air around her that made her stand out. She couldn't place what it was at all, and then she had made it sound like she knew something. Something about her son. But that was impossible, wasn't it? But no, it hardly was… no one knew where Trunks had gone. But maybe this girl did?

Bulma shook her head lightly, not being able to get anywhere with the girl-dilemma on her own, and made a mental note to bring the topic up to Vegeta. As soon as they had finished their current line of talk, which he had been staying some what out of.

"You think Trunks will have a problem finding someone to love?" Bulma asked, rephrasing her question. Vegeta looked up from cutting a piece of meat. He chewed it thoroughly before answering.

"Yes," was the simple, yet clear answer. Bulma scowled lightly.

"Why? What's wrong with our son?" she asked. Vegeta placed down his fork and set his elbows on the table, ignoring etiquette, and swirled the wine in his goblet slowly.

"Nothing is wrong with him."

"Well, then why won't he be able to find a girl?" she asked, her annoyance rising in attempts to defend her son. Vegeta shook his head.

"I didn't say that. He'll be able to find a girl, alright. Any girl he wants will be his no doubt. In fact, the council already sent a messenger to the towns to inform of a ball. All the ladies flock to those… perhaps he will find someone there… if he ever returns home. But finding one for… love," he seemed to scoff at the word slightly, "will be an entirely different story. I wish him luck in finding a lady that doesn't want him for the image, the bed or the power. Or all three."

Bulma blinked, taking a sip of her own wine.

"You're right of course. There really aren't that many… decent nobles." She sighed wistfully. When she had married, she never thought she would be getting gray hairs over worrying about the next queen in line, but here she was.

There was a small halt in the conversation, both king and queen eating slowly, both thinking things over in their minds. It was Bulma who spoke again first.

"What about his current bride-to-be?" she asked thoughtfully.

"She'll be excused, compensated for the let down. Why?"

"No, I mean… what about her now?"

"Now she can just wait. Wait until that blasted son of yours comes home."

"No," she repeated, "I mean… I was talking with her earlier. She seems… almost as if… she knows, things. She didn't say anything, just sometimes the look in her eyes…" Bulma wasn't sure how to bring what she had seen and thought about the girl into words. It was hard to process thoughts into speech when it was something she didn't even have a full grasp of in her mind.

Vegeta had stopped eating and was looking at her sharply.

"You think the boy told her where he was going?" he asked. Bulma shrugged.

"I don't know. All I'm saying is she seemed… agrh, I really don't know Vegeta. Forget I said it." But Vegeta was shaking his head, and twisting his jaw in thought.

"If you think there's something about the girl, there probably is. Your instincts are rarely off," he said, missing Bulma's smile at the compliment. "Why don't you talk to her again. See if you feel any different about things afterwards."

Bulma nodded at the idea. Now maybe she could find out where her son had gone. Wherever he was, she prayed he was safe and alright. Who knew what horrible tortures he could have gotten himself into…

"Glehhaa!" Trunks shouted, springing up from his former dozing position. For all of the sounds and prose sung about the utter peacefulness of the countryside, he was finding the written word very deceiving compared to reality. Blue eyes blinked up in annoyance at the figure above him.

Pan grinned.

Righting himself from the twisted arrangement of his limbs, he cast a mild glare up at the girl, which she apparently took to be an invitation to join him, as she sunk down to the ground beside him, knees tucked together. He looked at her for a moment, waiting for an explanation, but when none came, he decided to approach the subject himself.

"Any reason you kicked me in the stomach just now?" he asked cheerfully blunt. Pan blinked at him, then allowed her lips to curve into a sly smile. She offered no answer. "Right then. It's just one of those spontaneous urges to go and kick someone, whom I must note, was relaxing quite peacefully just now."

Her smile didn't falter.

"Actually, that was for your little kiss this morning," she replied, voice light and almost amused. He raised his eyebrows and switched his weight to his arm, leaning back on it.

"Give a kiss, get a kick. It's like some horrible moneylender's motto. I'd hate to see what a guy gets if they… never mind," he stopped, not quite brave enough to tweak her temper, seeing as her smile had melted, and a warning look crossed her narrowed eyes, fingers calmly picking at the blades of grass at her feet.

"Yes, well, we're even now."

"Oh?" he asked, eyebrows heightened again. She nodded, looking mildly embarrassed.

"It was horrible for you to do what you did, however-"

"For heaven's sake Pan, it was just one kiss," he retorted, exasperated. She stopped mid-word and looked at him with something akin to pity.

"I don't know how your system of royalty works, but here a kiss is pretty big. I mean, you don't just walk up to someone and plant your lips on theirs. It means things here… things that you didn't mean when you… well, anyway, it doesn't matter. Like I said; we're even."

"Alright then," he answered cautiously, not sure what Pan had said. How could a kiss mean more than a kiss? He wasn't sure how much more could possibly be written into one tiny kiss, when already he had learnt that it was a crime to give one away without encouragement or permission, and apparently, it held some deeper secret than what he knew.

He wondered if perhaps it merely meant more to them because they had such few pleasures in life, that the wondrous pleasures that kisses could bring, would naturally be considered something close to sacred. But another part of him wondered if it had something to do with Pan's adamant belief in love… and fairy tales.

Little Pan and her wish for a prince charming.

Trunks resisted a laugh.

He turned back to Pan, away from his thoughts, and allowed blue eyes to meet dark. She blinked slowly, in a way that held no meaning, long lashes brushing her lids. He shook his head fractionally.

"So, I'm forgiven for the kiss. But what about your hand, hmm? Do I have your forgiveness for that as well?" he asked, head tilted to the side, arms behind him supporting his weight. Pan looked surprised at the question, looking down briefly at her hand.

"Umm, yes, it was just an accident…" she trailed off, her awkwardness catching his attention. He hadn't exactly expected a pardon, in fact, he somewhat expected her to be beside herself at the mention of her hand. But a pardon he got, and a feeble look of embarrassment.

Acting on instinct, he let his eyes look towards the hand in question, but only caught a glimpse of it before she had hurriedly shoved it in her lap.

"So, what are you planning on doing today?" she asked, eyes looking beyond him. Trunks shook his head in annoyance at the change of subject.

"Pan… is your hand still hurting?"

"No, it's fine," she answered quickly.

"Let me see it," he said, eyes slightly narrowed, looking at the space behind her knees where he knew her injured hand rested. Pan shook her head quickly, dark hair swinging around her chin, eyes closed briefly.

"It's fine."

"You're sure?" he asked, completely unsure.

"Positive," came the reply. She smiled in a way she surely thought to be reassuring. Trunks nodded, then counted mentally to ten, waiting just long enough so that she would have put her guard down. Then he pounced.

In a second flat he had her on the ground, back against the grass, hands held tightly above her head with one hand, as his other hand held himself up so as to not lie fully on top of the girl.

Her face switched from surprise, pain, to anger.

"What are you doing?" she all but screamed. But Trunks wasn't looking at her face, and he was ignoring her protests at having him on top of her, holding her down. He was not paying any attention to the futile kicks and squirming she was doing. His eyes were on the hand he held above her head, the one that had been discussed moments before.

Fine, indeed.

He carefully moved to the side, getting off of Pan's body, while still holding onto her hand. He gently tugged on her wrist, bringing her over in a roll, before pulling her to her knees. She looked decently ruffled, her hair falling out more so than before, and a look of indignity plastered across her usual pretty features.

It didn't take long for his fingers to pry open her unresisting closed palm, and from what he saw, it looked like she hadn't done anything for the injury. The cut was etched across her palm in a straight line, the blood oozing up slower than before. She had washed it, yes, but he didn't think she had bothered to do anything else about it. He turned his gaze away from the cut to look at her face, now contorted in a kind of shame but still hard with annoyance.

"This is fine?" he asked quietly. She nodded and tried to jerk her hand away from his grasp. He held on tight. "Do you know how many sword cuts I've received in my life?"

"Do I care?" she retorted back. He threw a glare.

"A lot. And if I had just left it, you would be able to tell," he continued, ignoring her obvious lack of care. "It'll scar something horrible if you just leave it."

"Who says I would have just left it? I'll have you know-"

"Shut up, Pan," he replied kindly, bringing her wrist closer to him. Running a finger across the cut earned a slight flinch from Pan, but no additional blood. Good then, it wasn't so bad after all. He didn't think it would be – it was only a sliver from a knife. Without pause, he handed her wrist to his other hand, pulling the hem of his tunic to his teeth and pulling. The loud rip was oddly satisfying, and in a moment he had a strip of light blue material hanging from his teeth.

"You don't have to…" she stammered in protest, a protest he fully ignored. He experimentally let go of her hand, resting it carefully on his knees. She did not pull it back. Glad that he wouldn't have to force the makeshift bandage on her, he took his time, quite expertly wrapping the cloth around her fingers and palms. When a final knot was twisted, she slowly retracted the hand and looked at it with mild interest.

"It's not too tight?" he asked. She shook her head, glancing from her hand to his shirt.

"Do you think anyone will be able to see it?" she asked, head tilted, almost ignoring the fact that he had generously ripped his shirt to bandage her cut. Not that he minded… he had caused the cut after all. Perhaps now they were even on that account as well.

"See?" he asked, glad she wasn't yelling for any reason. She gestured towards her hand with her hand.

"It's your shirt. I didn't know if it would still be invisible," she explained. Trunks blinked. He hadn't thought of that. But no matter, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. If anyone saw her hand, they would only see a healing cut, and if worse came to worse, they would order her to have it bandaged properly. No harm done.

"Does it matter?" he asked, prepared to repeat his thoughts if she needed it. But she shook her head, then quirked an eyebrow with something close to amusement. Trunks was beginning to come to fear that expression of hers. Nothing good ever came of it.

"I can see your tummy," she said, smile spreading across her face again. He was, however, beginning to really enjoy her smile. He did not encourage it though, plastering a mock scowl on his face.

"I do not have a 'tummy'," he spat the word as if it were poison. "I have a 'stomach'," he corrected, looking towards his abdomen which was now bare. "And you're quite welcome to look," he added, a smirk grazing his handsome face, his hand gesturing widely at his exposed stomach. Pan looked away abruptly, making Trunks chuckle.

He kept his eyes on her, now that her own were turned away looking over the fields. Her jaw was set firmly, strongly, and it was one of the first times he noticed one of the most prominent physical differences between Pan and all the other girls he had ever met. Aside from the horrific personality, and that she blessedly did not adore pink, Pan had a body structure slightly different than those at court. Not that she was deformed in any way, her body was that of a woman, no denying, but while her skin still had a slight paleness to it, like the ladies at court, hers seemed more natural. He could only assume it was, finding it odd her skin wasn't darkened by the sun, whereas the whiteness of the ladies was mostly powders.

And of course Pan was slender – in fact she had a set of curves that he did not feel ashamed of for admiring, doubting that any man would fail to notice the figure of any woman, yet alone one that suited this girl so well. But she was slender in a way that was, once again, natural, muscle under toning every part of the girl, instead of looking half-starved as he had begun to think all woman were.

He wondered if she would look as such had she been born into a different family – wondered if her more natural beauty was a result of the genetic luck of the draw, or simply life style circumstances. He wondered if it mattered.

She was pretty. Not beautiful in the normal sense of the word, but more a classic type of beautiful. One that had to be seen by the beholder.

And that beholder was forced out of his musings as Pan turned her stare away from the fields. She fixed her own gaze on him, as he had moments before on her, as if she were silently sizing the prince up, trying to find something that may or may not have even been there.

"Pan?" he interrupted her stare, self conscious under her eyes. She blinked and focused her eyes on his. An eyebrow was raised.

"She told you to kiss me," she said suddenly. Trunks frowned.

"You know, I wish you would drop that subject, you said we were even-"

"Was that all she told you?" she asked, persistent. He unturned his lips, glad that she was bringing up the topic of the fortune teller, not the kiss again. But did she tell him anything? Not anything that mattered. She had told him to go for it, to go after Pan. And from that he had ultimately gotten a sore ear and a kick in the stomach. However, Pan wasn't waiting for a response.

"She told me something too…" she said, her voice thrown to a low whisper. Trunks thought back, remembering the girl whispering to Pan before she left. Whispering a secret to Pan that had made her surprised. Something she had thought to do with Keipher, if he recalled, but the girl had replied in the negative. Now that she brought it up, he was rather curious…

"Something that, I thought couldn't be true, but now I'm not really that sure," she went on, crawling up to him, her face now inches away from his own, her voice deep and quiet. Trunks had unconsciously begun to lean back further at the sudden closeness.

"Pan… that was only a few hours ago…" he replied, not sure what to say with her sudden change in mood. She blinked, as if just realizing this.

"I know… still…" she leaned back suddenly, looking strongly into his eyes. She nodded to herself and stood up, brushing hands down her skirt to shake off any stray dirt. Whether she found what she was looking for in his eyes or not, he wasn't sure.

"But she told you…?" he asked, when she seemed to refrain from continuing the topic. She had brought it up after all.

"I want some pie."

"She told you that you wanted pie?"

"…no. I mean I want pie now… oddly. I think you're having some horrible effect on me," she admitted, turning on her heel towards her house. Trunks stared at her, somewhat disappointed in himself that he had expected to get an answer out of her. Even only knowing her for the past day or so, he should have learnt that Pan was hypocritical and cunning. An enigma. And it suited her wonderfully.

She had already gone a dozen feet before she turned around and slapped her good hand on her knee.

"Come along, puppy. Don't you want some pie?" she called, as if her own joke amused her to no end. Trunks smiled despite himself.

As he stood up shamelessly to follow her in, he had the distinct impression that even the strongest minded person in the world would have had trouble resisting Pan's call.

Wai, you could leave a review here, yes you could.

Angel Eevee