A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. Thank you very much for the reviews, and a cookie with thanks to those that wished me luck on my exams. I'm off to do them tomorrow and will keep the luck under my belt. )

Last Time: Goten confirmed that the person dead was indeed Pan's fortune-teller and learned that the man he sent to Pan was the murderer. Pan already met the man on their way into town on horseback, and Trunks misdirected him to the middle of nowhere

"You Aren't Pan"

"You seem content," Trunks murmured, causing Pan to glance up at him. They were still riding horseback, now Trunks behind Pan, though he still held the reigns and Pan still leant against him. Instead of leaning fully forward into his back, as she had been before, she was mostly leaning back onto his chest. Her head was pressed against his upper chest so she could turn her eyes up into his.

"Content is a strong word."

"No it isn't. Peccadillo is a strong word."

"No, that's just a long word, which I doubt you even know the meaning of."

"I do actually, but you're avoiding the comment."

"The comment about the strength of words?"

"No," Trunks said with waning patience, "of your contentness." Sensing his reluctance to carry on, Pan decided to indulge him and answer. She turned her head back to facing in front of her. She leaned back into Trunks, having already explained before, that it was hard to ride without the reigns, so leaning against him helped her keep balance.

"I'm amused mostly," she said quietly. Trunks raised an eyebrow though she didn't see.

"Amused?"

"Yes. I'm just thinking of that poor man when he finds out he's walked a great deal of a way for no reason. I'm sure I'll feel guilty about it later though…"

"Don't. No one likes him."

"Yes, well, no one likes you either, but we don't send you off in wrong directions."

"Ha, you would if you had the chance. If you had caught me alone and lost a few days ago, you would have sent me on a goose chase. And your evilness doesn't end there, we must make him steal pies and beat him with brooms while he sleeps."

"Okay," she said, her voice filled with sarcasm. She had her head bent backwards on his chest so she was looking up at him, at such an angle that she thankfully couldn't see fully up his nose, but at such an angle that his eyes seemed to stand out drastically, and she briefly noted that he had thick eyelashes – something she hadn't noticed before. She wanted to see him while he slept now, imagining long lashes covering his admittedly striking eyes.

She shook her head slightly, dragging herself out of her thoughts and back to the conversation they were having.

"Okay," she said again. "Firstly, maybe I would misguide you, but that would be out of spite for your answer at the castle. Secondly, I making you steal a pie is hardly a sin when you had been doing it all day anyway. And lastly, I had every right to whack you with a broom. You were on my property." She returned to a more sitting up position, though still leaned back against his chest.

She rubbed her neck distractedly.

"You all right?" he asked, glancing at her kneading her neck.

"Yeah," she said quietly, "I just didn't sleep the best last night."

"I suppose that's my fault too." Pan looked up sharply to see the expression on his face, in order to determine if he were joking or serious. He didn't seem to be meaning it – she had been worried he was bitter about things, thinking that she was blaming him for everything. But whether he meant it or not she couldn't tell. He was just looking at her expectantly. She shrugged.

"It wasn't you. Just lack of sleep really…" she trailed off, remembering her complete lack of sleep before Trunks had come in. She had been laying in bed, fidgeting over the horrible storm outside, and too worried to do a thing including sleep. She thought she would be up all night, but then the prince had come in.

Without much permission he had plunked into her bed, and she was amazed at the difference it made. Whether it was because she had someone's company, or if it was just the prince in general, she wasn't quite sure.

But she knew that when he was beside her, not only did he provide a warmer bed because of his body heat, but also his chest was naturally something comfortable to lean against. But a good sleep or bad sleep didn't matter; it didn't take away form the fact that she got only a few hours the night before.

She idly wondered if dark rings were forming underneath her eyes. She had heard that stress could make you look years older. And she was relatively stressed the past few days. Because taking care of a temperamental invisible prince was the most relaxing thing in the world.

Heh – no.

Pan's eyes were dropping in the wonderful position that she was sprawled in. Leaning fully back against the prince who wasn't complaining yet. His own hands were rested in her lap holding the reigns.

Yes, the prince's chest was very comfortable. Her eyes weighed a tonne… but she couldn't possibly go to sleep. Trunks didn't know the way to town, and she wasn't in the mood to get lost when she woke up.

As though Trunks were reading her thoughts he looked down and patted the side of her face lightly.

"Go to sleep, Pan. You're exhausted."

"But-"

"But nothing. I'll follow this beaten down path so we can get there… I'll just hope the path leads to where we want."

Pan looked up to where she was, and that yes, if they took the current path they were on, they would get to town. It would take a bit longer than she had first thought, but it would still get them there. And she really wanted to sleep.

Deciding, she let her back relax fully, turned her head and let herself drift, the steady beat of Trunks' heart lulling her into a place that was already calling to her.

She ran her fingers over the bottle distractedly, feeling the smoothness and slight warmth that radiated from it. She had never really noticed any heat from the spell before, but then again, not only did she rarely make them, she also rarely kept them for long. Most people, who wanted them, wanted them right then.

She supposed that warmth from a love spell would be natural. Love in itself was warm wasn't it? Warm and cozy. She stuck out her tongue and lifted the bottle to eyelevel.

This love wouldn't be warm. She would have to change the prince's feelings… just because he would no doubt fall in love with Pan. She tried to think back and think if she had planned this. Had she? She couldn't recall. She couldn't remember if she had originally wanted him to just have friendship, as she had told the prince, or if she really had wanted him to fall in love with Pan.

Fall in love with someone eventually, yes. Pan? She shrugged. It seemed to just be working out that way. Secretly, she had thought the two of them might claw each other to death from their mutual hatred.

Secretly she thought Pan would have won.

But it wasn't much a matter now. He would come back different than when he left. He would be a changed person, and she shivered at the thought of throwing the spell at him. Why a love spell? A love spell for her no less?

It wasn't as if she wouldn't mind marrying him… he had all very nice qualities, except she didn't love him, and he would not love her. And whether her master, the king or even the prince believed in love didn't matter. She did. And she would not marry without it.

She felt a smile tugging at her lips, knowing that the King and Queen had had quite the squabble over the same subject just yesterday. It was funny how women were with the emotion.

She had always learnt that women were more in tuned to the forces… perhaps it's what made all women more aware of love then men… whether they were spell casters or not.

A sharp knock at the door startled her, and she had to catch herself before she dropped the bottle. As the door to her room creaked upon, she quickly pushed the love spell amongst other cosmetic lotions and threw a towel over the collection.

She turned on her chair where she was sitting, once eyeing the spell and herself in the mirror, and looked to the door. She wasn't entirely surprised to see the Queen standing there.

Bulma nodded once before entering the room uninvited. She closed the door lightly behind her.

"Your majesty," she whispered out, making a move to stand and pay proper respect, but the Queen held up a hand forbidding her to do so. She fidgeted in her chair, uncomfortable with the Queen standing in front of her, and herself just sitting by her mirror. She may be unwillingly plotting her son's overtaking, but she was still a citizen, and still felt the need to pay respect to her rulers.

"Will you tell me where he is?" Bulma asked suddenly, though quietly. She frowned. She had thought the Queen would have given up on this.

"I believe they will be here tomorrow, my lady," she said softly. The queen shook her head.

"So you've said, but I want to know where he is."

"Perhaps I do not know, my lady," she tried to muster up with innocence.

"Stop that," the Queen said with a quick wave of her hand, obviously fed up with pleasantry and proper honour due. "Just tell me where my son-" the queen stopped talking mid-sentence, her mouth slightly open, as if she had seen a ghost and was too preoccupied with it to remember to shut her mouth.

The princess blinked and followed the Queen's eyes to see what she was looking at. It caught her by surprise and fear when she realized that the clear blue eyes were directed to her cheek. With a horrible feeling she turned to the mirror and noticed that, yes, her efforts to conceal her still prominent bruise had yet to be reapplied. She had been staring at her love spell instead of hiding the price for her transgression.

She bit her lip at her reflection, wondering briefly if she could make up some marvellous story as to how a dark bruise was streaked across her cheekbone. She turned back to the queen.

Bulma had closed her mouth by this time, but her face was a mask of emotions. Concern, anger and fear were playing most prominently.

"I thought you were not telling me out of secrecy or spite," she murmured, almost to herself. "But that's not it… you just can't tell, can you? You can not tell." Bulma was looking at her cheek with the utmost concern, her teeth running over her bottom lip.

She didn't reply, uncertain with what to do.

"You can't be treated like that," she said, walking over to her and bending to her eyelevel. "My husband is very strict about some things, and this," she gestured gently to her cheek, "is one of them. Did someone do this to you?"

She felt numb and relieved. She didn't know what she should do in this situation at all. If her master were here she would have more faith in herself. Deny deny deny. But he wasn't here; only she was, facing the queen, making horrible love spells, fingering an injured cheek…

She swallowed and felt the urge to sob.

She nodded to the Queen's question, strongly forcing the tears back down her throat. Bulma narrowed her eyes, though not towards her.

"Who was it? Please tell me…" she looked into her eyes, and she knew that whatever she said, the Queen would know if she were lying or not. It was an odd feeling and she couldn't quite say where it was coming from, but she knew this to be truth. But how could she tell the truth?

Maybe… maybe she could. Tell the Queen who had slapped her. Tell the Queen who it was. This would lead to how he had planned a love spell and she had spelled the prince to save him.

She had never considered telling anyone before because then her master could just punish her to the point of wanting to be dead. The contract bound her to this. However, the queen would be on her side. The king as well, so it seemed.

They would apprehend him, and could make him tell them her name. She was sure the royals would do that for her. She was bound to him as long as he had her name, but if they could get him to say it…

Why, he was a complete coward, he would cave in with her name in a heartbeat under the right sort of motivation.

It seemed too simple now. All she had to do was tell the Queen. Her master had never forbade her from it, had he? Tell her, and all would be taken care of. She smiled slightly, before it turned into a small grin.

She looked up to the Queen and opened her mouth to reply.

"Your majesty," he said meekly. Vegeta looked up, irritated and glared at the two men; one standing at full height, one of his councillors, the other with his head bent in a bow, dressed as low nobility.

"What?" he barked impatiently. The bell announcing lunch had to be ringing soon. He could feel it. The hairs on the back of his neck were raising… waiting. Waiting for that blessed tone that gave him leave of his throne and allowed him to go eat with his wife.

The councillor made a hand gesture towards the man beside him.

"This man has come to you with a need of a signature. A contract that needs to be renewed, my Lord." Vegeta looked mildly caring.

"So I'll sign it," he said impatiently, the man holding the papered document looking as if his birth date had come early. The councilman put out a hand to stop the man from advancing towards the king.

"Actually, my Lord, you need to decide whether it is lawful to be signed," the councillor explained. Vegeta sighed and rubbed his temple. Where was that bell?

"You want the king to look at a personal document?" he asked with exasperation.

"Well, sir, the original was signed by your father, and the conditions are…" he paused, sending a look to the man, "… odd. It is your decision whether it should be resigned or not."

"Is there a reason not to?" he asked, "Other than to spite my father?"

"It is more a matter of personal belief, you highness," he said quietly, though the glare he shot the man holding the document, gave Vegeta the impression that he didn't agree with what was needed to be signed.

Vegeta paused, praying for a bell tone.

None came.

"Very well, present your case," Vegeta ordered. The councilman bowed and walked from the room. The man took a step forward towards the king.

"Your highness, it is a matter of the sacred vows of marriage, and keeping contracts between fiancés true. Some parents trying to stop their daughter from upholding their end of a marriage bargain."

"Wait," Vegeta held up a hand. "This is all about some girl?"

The man shook his head.

"No sir, it's not about 'some' girl…" Keipher paused. "It's about a girl named Pan."

The bartender blinked at him.

"You sent him after… your niece? Do you know him?" he asked, his voice almost afraid, a tone Goten hadn't heard before and it made him notice the slight Celtic accent present in the voice. He was momentarily captivated by the odd pronunciation before he shook his head urgently.

"He asked directions before I had a drink… I sent him to where she lives," he explained. He cursed loudly. The bartender looked sympathetic.

"Tell the guards," the tender suggested, but Goten shook his head.

"They'll hold me up forever, and be very suspicious if I say it was a King's man that did this. You were right, I remember, he was from the castle. I had thought… my niece had been there a few days ago on business. I thought that's why he needed to see her."

"Well it could be… perhaps he never even meant to kill this girl," the bartender said, waving vaguely at the now covered body. Even though he was suggesting the idea that he wasn't going to harm Pan, Goten was disagreeing with it.

"She was a friend of Pan… my niece," Goten whispered. "There has to a connection. I don't know why he would want to get to Pan, but I have to stop him." He looked up with sudden ferocity, and the bartender shot his eyebrows up from the change in emotion.

"How do you plan to stop him? I think… he could hold magic."

"Yes, well, I have something stronger than magic," Goten said, punching a fist into his palm. "Besides, I know the roads better than anyone. I can get there maybe before he even does… round up all the help… they'll defend Pan…" he trailed off, forming a vague plan in his mind. The bartender looked slightly sceptic but did not say anything. Goten nodded to himself in confidence and all but fled from the guards' room. The bartender shrugged and made to return to his bar.

The bartender nodded to the guards and said that no doubt the young man would return. The guards had themselves a deep game of cards going, and simply waved him out. The streets were relatively busy, though he wasn't sure if anyone would really be looking for any of his drinks… after all it was still morning and the only ones that wanted to drink then wanted to drink all the time.

Nevertheless he walked back to his bar, stopping only to greet his passer-by's – a child with a large bag of nuts, and old woman who was complaining about bread and a young pretty girl who was glaring intently at the empty space beside her as she walked.

This young lady, of course, was not staring at an empty space, but more at the prince beside her who had once again opened his mouth and said something stupid.

Pan shrugged at him and made a point to ignore him. He returned her shrug, folded his arms and followed where she was walking. She turned quickly into a shop causing him to walk too far and have to halt and backtrack. It made him look silly, he knew, and was well aware of her reasons for doing it.

The two walked inside, and while Trunks dropped himself against the wall, Pan walked cautiously further into the store.

"You don't have to stay," Pan whispered to him. Trunks folded his arms and plunked himself on the window's ledge. By his sudden stance, it was apparent that he had no intention of leaving. Whether he truly wanted to stay and watch her pick a dress for the ball, or if perhaps he just didn't want to get lost in the market was uncertain. Either way, he had taken a seat, and was now positioning himself in comfort, as if he thought he could be there for a while.

Pan wasn't standing long at the door before the owner glided towards her, attracted by her youthfulness, and her eyes were casting down her body. Pan turned and smiled softly by way of greeting to the woman.

The woman herself held no smile directed towards Pan, though a smile was worn on her face. Her eyes were speeding over Pan's body, checking measurements and designs mentally. By the time the woman reached her, she had an eerie feeling that she knew more about Pan's body than she did.

"Let me be of service to you, dear," she spoke kindly. Pan looked at her carefully. She was past middle age, with the beginning of grey hair slipping in amoung her chestnut strands pulled back in a tight bun. Her own apparel was a step past simple and not eye catching. The woman's own wardrobe did not compare to what she made though.

Pan had cast a quick look around at the colours she could see, knowing that this was the place her own mother went when she needed something special.

"Is it for the royal ball?" she asked cautiously, disregarding Pan's non-nobility dress, disregarding station, only keen on finding a dress and making a sell. Pan nodded lightly.

"Yes, for the dance," she said needlessly. The woman nodded to herself.

"Well, let's find one you like, and I'll make sure to have it sewn up by the ball."

Pan paused in following the woman further into the store and blinked.

"What do you mean 'sewn up'? Can't I take the dress with me?" The woman laughed.

"Hardly. Then how would I fit styles to everyone? No. You can choose one and I'll copy it to the colours you want and to your more exact measurements. Haven't you gotten a dress before, dear?" she asked, coming to a stop in front of a row of fabrics. Pan shifted.

"Not like this," she replied. The woman looked at her sideways but said nothing.

"Alright. Well, you picked a good place to come. I can usually find first time what suits a girl the best," she said. She reached up and grabbed Pan's chin, pulling her face close.

"Maybe I could… no, the cheekbones aren't exaggerated enough. The blue would offset the eyes – anything will go with that… oh, good lip structure…"

Pan swallowed, trying to avoid staring the woman in the eyes. She felt like an intruder that didn't need to be there, as the woman scrutinized her face.

She took a step back, letting her eyes roam a full body pose. She tilted her head before turning back to the sea of clothes again.

After a few minutes of rummaging she paused and glanced back at Pan. Pan was leaning to the side a bit, trying to get a quick glance at the outfit she was going to pick.

"Whom are you dressing for? For a date yourself, or for the prince?"

Pan bit her lip subtly, before casting a look behind her to where she knew Trunks would be.

He was still sprawled over the window ledge, one knee bent with an arm resting on it, the other dangling down onto the shop's floor. He was quietly inspecting his fingernails.

Pan fought to keep her face colouring neutral.

"Yes. I'm dressing for the prince."

"I thought so," she said, yanking out the one she had paused on.

Pan looked at it sceptically, all of the ribbons and ties she could see already looked uncomfortable. She reminded herself that no dress would be comfortable. She hesitantly took them from the arms of the woman.

"I know it looks hard now, but once you go layer by layer it's easy to see where things go. And I'll be here if you need help.

Pan smiled slightly while walking to the changing screen she had been directed to.

She had passed Trunks on his way and gave him a look. He had taken the hint, because he moved from where he was sitting to a spot near the screen, waiting to see what she would look like.

It seemed like forever that he waited, lightly drumming his fingers on his knee, a habit he had picked up from his father. After numerous curses and a few renditions of painful moans and grunts, Trunks wasn't sure if he should go behind the screen and save Pan from whatever that horrible dress was doing to her.

But he recalled rather vividly the day his father had accused his mother of having little patience and of weakness. She had stalked to her closet and flung him one of her best dresses.

'You put that on,' she had said 'and we'll see how strong and patient you are.'

His father had made a comment about wearing woman's clothes and asked his mother what she was implying.

Trunks didn't recall how it actually ended, but both of his parents had been in happy moods by the end. Or, as happy as his father got.

His parents had the oddest relationship, he thought while idly picking off specks of dust and dirt from his pants. They fought like anything but it never lasted for long. One always would yield when they needed to. It was odd. He liked the way his parents functioned, maybe not on some aspects, but as a whole he liked how they weren't angry at each other for long. He liked how outwardly his father was familiar if anything with the Queen, but he knew they had a much closer relationship behind closed doors. It was a kind of relationship he envied…

The sounds of the screen being pushed back caused him to drop his thoughts and straighten his posture. Pan stepped out and Trunks blinked.

Her feet were completely hidden under the layers of fabric, a thick intricate design of black spinning around the hem. There were folds in the wine red dress all the way to her waist, making her look very slim, and her skirt almost as if it were raining the fabric down in sheets.

Her stomach looked impossibly tight, though shapely; the same design weaving up to her chest, which was left generously exposed. The sleeves poofed out, and she was looking at them with some disdain.

Her gaze switched to him, and she raised an eyebrow for his opinion. He shot a quick glance around to make sure no one would be able to hear him, but he whispered just the same.

"You are a… beautiful girl, Pan," he started, gaining a shy smile from her. "I can see it in almost everything you do. What you wear, what you say… it's there. And that dress is well made, and…. gorgeous… but…."

Pan seemed to cringe at the 'but', nervously racking her hands in front of her, her fingers getting twisted amongst each other.

"But when you wear that…" he closed his eyes and exhaled.

She leaned forward to catch his answer, her head turned so that her ear would hear it. Her breath caught in her throat at his reply.

"… you aren't Pan anymore."

Now I definitely won't get another chapter out until after my exams. I won't even write any more until they're finished. I wrote this chapter during my study time; tsk tsk to me. I've still got to write Latin, Math and Chem, and try and speed through Harry Potter this weekend before anyone spoils it for me. Which means I'm not off exams until Tuesday; I wouldn't expect a chapter until at least a week Tuesday. nods at plans Happy Summer!

Angel Eevee