A/N: see chapter one for disclaimer. Also, there is a DigimonMovie quote flung in here; it was funny in context, so… yeah. This is a record, I think, on speed updating. I hope it appeases all of you update hounds. Thank you for all of the reviews last chapter, I got some of the best ever there. J

Sylver-Ajah: There is a thin line between hilarious and wrong. Making Trunks wear a corset flirts with that line. Though your eagerness to see Trunks in women's under clothing, that I can relate with. P

Last Time: Though the set up is there, Trunks doesn't kiss sleeping Pan; he observes her in sleep, as she later does to him as well. The castle-killer got his stuff and is heading out to see Pan. Pan almost realizes that she is falling for Trunks, but has made up her mind to not let it happen, because she doesn't want to get hurt. The two went apple picking and start to head into market.

"Misdirected"

Trunks was happily chewing on a dew-soaked apple that he had had to practically tackle Pan for. She had picked enough for them to each have two with one extra, so she was just being impish when she withheld his second apple in her apron. Thus, upon the refusal to give up an apple that was his, and one that she didn't want for any reason other than to deny it from him, he saw perfectly good reason to attack her.

Standing in the middle of the path, he had grabbed her around the waist, tipped her body into his arms and threatened to spin her around so the apples would fall out and he could grab them all. He didn't want to imagine what Pan would look like to anyone who walked by – a girl floating in mid air.

He wondered how far all the witchcraft rumours had spread around the farm since he had arrived.

After having her head hang lopsided over his arm, and being in the distressing situation of the blood running to her head and her skirt threatening to ride too far up, she hollered a truce and gave him the apple after being set right up.

"You shouldn't go against me," Trunks said thoughtfully, small sprays of apple bits spilling on his chin which he quickly wiped off. Pan turned around and walked backwards so she could look at him.

"I think it was just coming between you and food that was unwise," she commented. Trunks shrugged.

"It's not my fault I'm hungry. You don't eat much around here do you? I mean, what did I eat yesterday?" He raised his hand and made to start listing them off, underlining each point with a finger ticked. "Pie, pie, pie aaaaaand… pie."

"Maybe you're just used to too much food. It's a wonder you aren't fat as anything."

"I don't have an inch of fat below my neck," he said proudly. Pan stared at him before breaking into a grin. Pan's true smile did wonders for her appearance. Someone could be beautiful but still unattractive. Such was the case of Pan, on a higher scale. She wasn't ever unattractive, nor beautiful. She was pretty, and cute, but when she smiled, really smiled, the inner Pan that lurked around in her soul shown through slightly, and it made her prettier.

Trunks, personally, thought that when she wasn't scowling or joking… and sometimes even when she was… but when Pan was acting like… Pan, she was much more attractive. The slight dip under her eyes that might be permanent would fade, any skin aging due to the sun worked to her advantage.

He thought it odd, truthfully. How someone's face could change so quickly. He never thought Pan was ugly. She was pretty, and really, borderline beautiful… but he liked it when she was herself.

He wondered if everyone's appearance was hiked up when they let their personal emotions flash across their faces and open the window to whom they really were.

He blinked with a start at the sound of a snap.

Pan had snapped her fingers inches from his face and was looking at him questionably.

"You ran off their for a moment," she said quietly. He shook his head to get the last of his inner thoughts out of his head.

"Yes. I was thinking about your face," he admitted.

"Hum, well, think away. I personally try to forget yours."

"That's odd, because wasn't it just this morning that I caught you feeling up my face?" he asked, eyes turned in his head as if he were really thinking of the answer, his elbow held by his opposite hand, and his chin rested thoughtfully on his fist.

Pan rolled her eyes.

It wasn't until they had gotten to a shed that Trunks realized that they had been walking in the wrong direction. They were taking a different route than the one that they had taken last time they ran into the market, and he wondered briefly if they were going to a different market.

She swung open the shed door, and a familiar bad smell reached his nose. One that wasn't pleasant but was very welcome at the moment.

"Horses," he breathed through his teeth. Pan glanced at him and nodded.

"The ground is really wet, and I don't want to walk through the forest paths when it's like that. But it won't be a problem for them," she explained her reasoning, walking into the shed towards a cinnamon horse. She ran her fingers through the horse's mane for a moment before making a noise with her tongue and unlatching the door.

Trunks decided to take a few steps inside and towards Pan. She noticed his movement and beckoned him closer, bringing the horse from its stall.

"You're not afraid of horses are you?" she called. Trunks shot her an undignified glare.

"Of course not. I learned to ride one as a small boy. I'm very good, so I can have a horse too." She looked at him.

"I'm only taking one horse, Mr. Invisible."

"Fine. Can I lead it?" he asked. She paused in her stroking of the horse's neck and bit her lip.

"Well… we're going through the wet forest. You can't gallop it, no matter how much you want to. And seriously, did you learn any type of riding other than for speed?"

Trunks nodded.
"I can ride a horse, ma'dam. Slowly if that is your desire."

"No, it's not my desire, but that's the way it's going to have to be," she said looking at her horse carefully.

She pulled on its reigns and lead it out of the shed, making sure Trunks was out before she pulled the deadbolt back on.

"Okay," she said almost in a sigh. If someone were to ask her why she was letting the prince, of all people, not only ride her favourite horse but lead it as well, she wasn't sure if she could give them an answer. It was just… looking at him, as he looked casually at the horses. It was as if some small part of his former life was back, and she would feel like a heel if she didn't let him enjoy it.

"Okay?" he repeated, not completely believing that she would let him.

"Okay, you can lead. Get up," she instructed.

Trunks was by the horse's side in a second, hoisting himself up with grace. The horse didn't make so much as a noise, which seemed to surprise Pan.

"I thought it would get upset about having weight, but no person…" she thought aloud. Trunks raised an eyebrow.

"You let me climb on a potentially upset horse. That's not very nice, Pan. Besides, I'm not positive, but I think animals can see me. When I was first coming here, a chipmunk stole my food."

Pan giggled.

"Animals can see you?" she asked.

"I think so."

"Then why can't you see yourself in a mirror? Ha ha ha… hah. Hmm, that wasn't very good."

"No, rather low class insulting. That's okay though, it's still morning. We'll excuse it," Trunks said, extending an arm down to Pan for her to hop up.

"Very generous of you," she said in comment to the insult, though declined his hand and hopped up on her own automatic jump. Years of horse training with her father had taught her how to mount a horse quickly and efficiently, long dress aside.

She moved forward, close to Trunks, giving the horse as much free back room as possible. Slightly fearful for the lack of reigns to hold onto, and images of herself going flying over the prince's head, caused her to snake her arms around Trunks' waist.

He stiffened momentarily then leaned back a bit so that her cheek was pressed into his back, her knees coming up to rest against his upper thighs, and her hands folded squarely across his stomach.

"Remember," she cautioned. "Slow. Just trot the horse."

He nodded in understanding, and within minutes the horse had gotten used to Trunks enough to obey his command to start heading for the path.

The money jangled at Pan's side, reminding her what she was going into the market for. To buy a dress for the ball. Trunks' ball.

She snuggled further into his back and smiled.

He hated how people would comment, whenever they were visiting from the market or a populated town, that the sound of the birds was one of the joys and comforts of the country. They enjoyed taking their vacation spots off in the middle of some harvesting hillside where the owl's hoots would lull them to sleep and the early birds would slowly drag them to the wakening world in the morning.

This was wonderful to the person who didn't have to live with the noises all their life.

It was odd for Goten, to have his early morning background played around with. As a child he was fully aware and familiar with the sounds of the wildlife outside. Especially a particular woodpecker that liked to peck by his window.

(He had secretly named the bird 'Woodapeck' before his older brother came at it one day with a shoe, and his dear Woodapeck never came back.)

One got used to the noises… they didn't really like them, as the world seemed to, they just got used to it.

So, on the days when one was away from their familiar farm wakeup calls, one's entire sleeping pattern was thrown out while visiting someone else.

Goten stretched lazily and curled his toes trying to shake some energy into them. He had been surprised to wake up due to sharp light coming through the shutters. He was even more surprised that he could have slept in to where the sun was now.

Without the silly birds squawking their salutations, he was amazed at how long he could sleep for. Feeling slightly over-tired, he stretched again.

Goten paused, arms halfway above his head in mid stretch.

Perhaps his lay in was due to how much he had drunken the night before. He cast his mind back and recalled that he indeed had had a drink and…

Goten sat up suddenly. They had talked about a girl, one that he promised he would identify that day. He squinted through the window.

He could go check the body still. Find out for sure, and then come back to the inn keeper who said he would try and describe what the man who had supposedly drugged her had looked like.

Then he would have to deal with his little niece. If it really was her old friend there, he wondered how long he could go without telling her. He didn't think he would purposely avoid telling her… she would only be angry and upset in the end. And an angry Pan was never a good Pan.

With his mind set upon seeing the body, and either confirming or denying his fear of who it was, he was able to get dressed and ready quicker than usual. In almost no time at all he was standing outside the building he needed to be at.

He was waiting outside, just standing, almost waiting for an invitation in. A part of him feared looking, for Pan's sake, but also because it was a dead body, and he hadn't seen a dead person before, and was unsure if he could handle it. He took in a deep breath. The air was rich with moisture, and the fresh smell of grass, dew and a slight scent rosemary seemed to be in the air. He relished in the familiarity of the smells, and with this familiar background he was able to push open the door confidently and walk through.

There was a small bell on the top of the door that rang out as he walked in. The handful of men that were sitting in the room a bit away all turned and looked up sharply. One rose to greet Goten.

"I'm here to see the body," Goten blurted out, causing raised eyebrows from the rest of the group. Goten swallowed and closed his eyes. "Yes. I'm here to see the body."

Vegeta was agitated.

He had been sitting in the council room for nearly an hour now. Things had been discussed, and situations gone over, but some aspects had not yet been reached. There was always a list of things that needed to be addressed when they met. He never really knew what they were – that was the job of some other person. Someone on the council whose sole purpose was to know what they needed to discuss.

Never knowing what was going to be brought up had its severe disadvantages on the King. If it were for a new policy he would have to think of his opinion on the spot and back up proof to reinforce it. Sometimes if he thought for too long the council members would shoot him amused expressions.

As if they found his show of humanness to be funny.

He couldn't imagine how they would react if he said he wanted the night to think about it. He almost wondered if they would dare to laugh out loud.

Because of this, he always tried to make sure he had an answer for everything. It wasn't that hard after so many years of ruling. His wife had been the one that had instructed him. Simply know your values and morals she had said. Know what you think is right and what you think is wrong. What is acceptable and what is not. When change can be good, or bad. If he could lay out what he thought about things, she had said, to everything, then the answer would already be there, and he wouldn't have to think about it.

She had raised a hand to her chest, palm out, as if telling him to stop. He thought she might have been afraid he would contradict her and say she was wrong, hence her hand gesture, and then she continued.

"I'll make up my mind about what colours to buy and how much money I'll spend before going into the dressers. This means that when they start rolling out the gorgeous but expensive outfits I can say, 'no thank you, I've already decided no', instead of trying to dissuade myself or vice versa about what's being offered."

He remembered making a comment about price not mattering to a Queen.

He remembered she made a comment about pigs and kings.

But she had been right. He had applied her theories to himself. While diligently reading his written materials, he would always tuck away his opinion and decision when situations came up. So when they were later discussed in the council, he already knew what he was going to say.

He liked making the members of his council somewhat astonished at his knowledgeable, backed-up opinions.

He liked up starting them because they seemed to try so hard to make him look silly.

But he couldn't upstart today. He couldn't astonish people. Because the council member responsible for the next issue was not present.

It wasn't even a matter of tardiness, for it was much beyond the time to be late, fashionably or otherwise.

He drummed his fingers, losing his patience with just sitting there and not talking about anything. Where was that council member!

"Alright," he said, hitting the table. "Where the hell is Koslin?"

He didn't care how much he thought about how Pan's life had so many benefits. He didn't care that he was slowly almost not caring about going back. Trunks didn't even care that he was falling for a peasent – all he cared for at this moment, was the feel of the well worn leather between his palms, the familiar jolt of horseback and the small noises the horse would make every now and then.

It was so nice to be back in his element. To have a taste of home. This is what he wanted. He wondered if he could ever convey to Pan how much just letting him control the horse had turned to mean to him. He hadn't realized how much he needed this reminder of normal life.

Or maybe he just had not realized how much he really liked horseback riding. A few years ago he went riding every other day, but now he didn't go out as much. His father, as of late, had decided to give him more responsibilities on the kingdom. His whole charade wasn't real, and he knew that whatever his father assigned him was trivial and nothing he could royally botch up.

He didn't know if these princely assignments were for future training or if it was just another way for the king to infuriate his son. He had a million. His father liked to have the guards run their patrols outside of his window before dawn. He liked to make him read long and tedious books. He liked to make him copy long passages from said long and tedious books.

None of which was useful, only set out to bother Trunks. It hadn't taken long before Trunks realized this. He wondered if his father knew that Trunks was aware that all he was asked of was quite near meaningless. Some of the things; scribing, organizing trainees, hearing requests… Hum.

The one exception. The one day that something odd happened while listening to his citizens rant to him. Pan had showed up, and things had been quite flippy since then.

With the girl on his mind, he glanced behind himself to look at her. Her hair was being gently blown behind her, completely away from her face, which was a sight he hadn't seen much of. Her hair always seemed to be flying in her face.

Something he could relate to, he thought, brushing lavender hair away from his cheeks. Her eyes were closed, though he didn't think she was asleep. Every once and a while her grip on his torso would change, and she would shift slightly behind him.

Her hands were wrapped almost loosely around him. He faced forward again, looking at the twin arms practically resting in his lap. They were that balanced skin tone that Trunks had earlier commented on. How a girl who worked in the sun all day never got burnt or unlady-liked tan was quite beyond him.

Around her hand though was a tightly bond cloth, surely not still stopping blood, but more acting as a block against any new dirt or grime that tried to get into her cut. He truly was sorry about her hand. He hadn't really been looking at her hands when he went over to get a kiss from her.

He took one hand off the reign, and ran his fingertips like ghosts over the bandaged hand. He was about to run his fingers over her non-covered hand when he paused, fingers rose, and squinted ahead.

He could hear rustling… foot steps.

He was briefly startled about what to do. What if it was some thief? A murderer? Or maybe an acquaintance of Pan?

Pan!

Trunks turned quickly on the horse's back and patted Pan's head quickly to try and wake her up. She wasn't sleeping, so only a few pats were needed to pull her out of her state of drowsiness.

"What?" she asked, her voice clearly irritable. Trunks nodded ahead.

"I think someone's coming."

"So? People are allowed to go through the forest."

"I know but… they can't see me," he said. Pan sat up, her head jumping back from where she had leant on him. He briefly wondered if she had drooled on him. The realization that she was riding behind a person that didn't even exist in the views of someone else had hit Pan.

A brief flash of fear flashed across her face and she bit her lip.

"Okay," She said to herself mostly. She took her hands from around his waist and fidgeted with them in her own lap. She was muttering quickly under her breath, and glancing around. He hoped she was thinking about what to do. Because with the way they were sitting, it would surely look strange to a passer-by. Pan would have her arms stretched unnaturally away from her holding the reigns, and she would have to be leaning to the side to talk to them, because although they couldn't see Trunks, he certainly acted like a visible roadblock for Pan.

"Get in front," Trunks whispered back to her. She stopped wringing her hands and looked up sharply.

"What?" she asked.

"Get in front," he repeated, motioning for her to almost switch places with him. She looked as if she were going to argue against something but ultimately chose not to. She jumped down quickly causing a protest from the horse. She dodged up to the front while Trunks scooted himself back. With an offered hand and a grip on the reigns, Pan hoisted herself back onto the horse.

She nudged it forward, and a slight noise from Trunks made her think that she was only driving the horse until the person was passed. She craned her neck to look ahead, and could make out the form of a man slipping and walking awkwardly over the root covered path, a supply pack falling uncomfortably from his back to his side.

She repressed a snicker.

The city travellers were always the easy ones to pick out. She felt a breathe against her check and turned her eyes to see Trunks' chin practically resting on her shoulder, as he also tried to crane ahead and see around her.

She was watching him, the horse still walking steadily along, when she saw his eyes widen momentarily then his mouth broke out into a beautiful smirk.

"I know that guy," he said quietly. "He councils my father. Koslin. I wonder if my Father sent him to find me…" Pan looked at him carefully.

"Do you want to talk to him?" she asked. "Tell him about the spell?"

"No," he replied, glancing at her as if she were mad.

"Well, okay then," she said shrugging her one shoulder, knocking his chin back.

The man had caught sight of them and was stumbling towards them at a quicker pace then he had been walking. She straightened her back and quickly tucked any bits of hair behind her ears. He stopped a few feet ahead of the horse and looked up at her.

To him, Pan was just a girl on a horse – no other person was sitting behind her. And certainly that certain someone was the Prince, the person he was probably searching for.

Pan raised her eyebrows, non-verbally asking what he wanted.

"Madame," he said, his voice sounding screechy even without the exertion he wasn't used to. "I am heading for a homestead, but wondered if you could further direct me so I'm sure I'm not lost."

Pan pulled on a pretty smile and nodded, keeping her eyebrows raised in wait.

"Yes, well, I'm heading for the Son farm. Where Miss Pan lives? Do you know her?" Pan froze in her spot, looking at the man cautiously. Her hands tightened in the reigns and she bit her lip. She was thankful when Trunks leaned forward and said silently in her ear to not tell him. She wasn't sure what she should or should not tell the man before her. She felt she had a reason to withhold him from things, but couldn't explain… but if Trunks ordered her, well, an order was an order.

"Oh yes, I know Pan," she said, watching the look of hidden glee cross his face. She fidgeted. "She's a bit of a brat," Pan winged on. He smiled at this, clearly waiting for a set of directions. Did she show him? Trunks had said not to tell him who she was, but what about where she lived?
Surely he didn't want to give up the opportunity to talk with someone from the castle. Relay a message, perhaps?

But Pan didn't need to think of an answer to this question either. From behind her Trunks grabbed her arm and thrust it to the side, pointing in a direction not of her house.

Pan straightened a finger so it looked like she was really pointing.

"It's about half a day's journey that way… on horse," she added. "So it may take a bit." The man, (Koslin was it?) seemed to accept this, and gave her a quick nod in thanks before heading in that direction.

Promptly Pan found the reigns being taken from her hands and strong arms looping around her waist to hold them. He edged as close as he could get, and she squeaked a bit at the feel of him up against her, his breathe brushing over her head. She supposed she couldn't make a fuss about his proximity since she had been just as close, if not more, when their positions had been reversed.

"So why did we do that?" Pan asked him, slightly leaning against his chest and looking up.

"Because he's a stiff that works for us. I don't like him much," Trunks said.

"Ah."

"Yeah. He smells."

"You don't like him because he smells?"

"No, I just don't like the hermit."

"Geez, well, name one thing he's done to you."

"He brought you," Trunks murmured. She glared at him, but she had the feeling the glare went unchecked, because he seemed to be concentrating very hard not to look at her face at the moment.

Pan smiled.

"I wonder how long it'll take him to realize we so messed him over."

Trunks laughed, and because she was against him, it shook her body slightly as well. She couldn't help it, and it actually sort of puzzled her, but she wore a smile, and it didn't feel like it was going to fade away.

His jaw was set and he was unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fingers at his side. The officer took a step closer to him.

"Are you alright?" he asked cautiously. Goten nodded.

"Yes. Only… I've never seen…" he trailed off, eyes fixed almost un-blinki

ng on the stiff body in front of him.

The officer shot him a look of pity before placing a hand on his shoulder.

"There's a bar keeper here. Says he was going to talk with you?" the man asked, to which Goten nodded again. He did remember saying yesterday that he would talk to this man. He would tell Goten what her murderer looked like.

He wanted to know who did this to her. Who would do this to Pan.

The officer walked away, presumably to let the barkeeper in. Goten didn't make a move to turn around and wait for him. He just looked down at the girl.

Her vibrant red hair was pulled back behind her, and it looked so awful on her, as he was used to her rather wild hairstyle. It wasn't even just the style, but the vibrancy, the life… she screamed dead.

He had always thought that the dead would look to be in a cold sleep. That was how his own father had looked, hadn't it?

He cast his memory back, to years ago; the day when he found out his father would never be around again. It had hurt, he realized, but in an odd way. He had seen people cry over the loss of a loved one. He always thought that they were crying because that person was dead. But when his father had died, he realized the misconception.

People didn't cry for the dead. They were dead, away from this world, and probably in a much more pleasant after life. People cried for themselves. They cry because they'll never be able to talk to that person again, never be able to seek help from that person, see them, hear them…

He didn't cry after that first day. He refused to cry for himself. No more tears were spent on his father, and he always felt that, wherever he was, his father appreciated it. He could picture his father smiling. Even if that was not the face he was last imprinted with.

His father had been chilled, his skin clammy, and his eyelids turning a faint blue. But he was still his father, and had he not known he was dead, he might have mistaken him for merely sleeping. Of course he had died in his sleep… but either way.

The memory of his dead father's body was far off from the body in front of him. Her skin seemed to be stretched across her bones, her cheeks looking hollow. The blueness was etched across her eyes and mouth. Her expression seemed to be troubled.

Goten wanted to look away but was finding himself oddly entranced. It was the sharp noise of a door opening and closing that brought him out of his stare. He turned and saw the bartender in the doorframe. They locked eyes and remained silent for a moment, each waiting for the other to start.

"Do you recognize her?" he asked tentatively, breaking the silence. Goten nodded. "So… you would like to know who it was, yes? Mind you it's not fact that it was this man… it's more what I think and the guards may lean towards. I'd bet everything that it was him. Sometimes you just know don't you?"

Goten took a step away from the body and towards the man. He nodded that he wanted to know who it was, and after straightening his shirt he got ready to describe the man.

"Well… rather short, you know?" he asked, placing his hand at a level in the air beside him. "He had a voice that was squeaky yet… deep as well. He had a weird look in his eye… robes. He was wearing ro- oh! He had the royal crest. He was a messenger from the castle. Can you imagine? The king's council running around the country side killing people."

"Did he smell a little funny?" Goten asked suddenly. The man raised his eyebrows.

"As a matter of fact, I did notice that," he commented. "Hey! Are you okay?" he asked frantically. "You look like you've seen the ghost. If it upsets you we can take this conversation away from the body," he offered. Goten shook his head in a daze and gulped.

"It's not that, it's just… I think I sent that man to my niece…"

I'm not sure if I can write another chapter before my exams (June 19-24), as fair warning. I'm in cram mode from now until then.

Angel Eevee