A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. Waah, thank you for all your reviews. Cookies to all. And thank you to everyone who wished me luck on my exams; very thoughtful of you. And Happy Canada Day, to… any Canadians. And I suppose, Happy July 04 in a couple of days to you Americans.

Last Time: A little Trunks/Pan cuddling on horse, Bulma corners Trunks' fiancee who decides to tell the queen what is going on, Keipher takes the matter of Pan's marriage contract to the king (who is desperately waiting the lunch bell), Goten runs to the Son farm to save Pan, who is now in a dress shop, wearing a wonderful dress that Trunks thought to be beautiful but not 'Pannish'

"School for Princes"

"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."

Pan blinked.

"Okay… that first bit was complimentary, right?"

"Unless you heard me wrong." Pan nodded slowly, looking at him strangely. She glanced down at her dress then back at him.

"… yes, but… did you call me beautiful?" Trunks rolled his eyes. He stood up abruptly and marched over to her.

"You girls are all the same. You can't take truth at face value, you have to have it said you again and again. If you're beautiful one day, you're still beautiful the next, I don't see why you need to be-"

"I know. But this is me we are talking about," Pan said, placing her palms firmly on his shoulders now that he was near her. "You, Mr I Hate Pan called me… Pan, beautiful."

"Just because I dislike you doesn't mean you aren't pretty."

"Hn, fine. But if a girl is pretty today or yesterday, why aren't I 'Pan' now as the same as five minutes ago."

"Because…" he trailed for a moment, looking up into her face. He had a fleeting moment when he thought that he should have just kept his mouth shut and not said anything, but contrary to what he had just said, he didn't dislike her. He didn't have an undying love for her, but she was starting to grow on him. And if there was something he had noticed about her from the few days together, it was her complete independence and individuality. And because of this, he really couldn't bare for her to walk around, just like everyone else.

It was as if she were trading in her identity for that of all the other ladies in the land. The dress was wonderful, but it belonged on some blonde whose greatest thought was about just how much spinning could be done without hurting any nails.

He felt a sudden fear of Pan dressing like that. Of Pan becoming just like everyone else. In essence, it would be as if because he had visited her, she had changed. He liked people to change because of him, but he wasn't sure he liked the idea of a smart girl conforming after meeting him. It irked his esteem for a reason he couldn't place.

He really couldn't explain why he didn't want Pan to be like that, so he couldn't offer any explanation to the expecting dark eyes that were bearing down on him.

"It just… doesn't suit you," he mumbled out. "It makes you look like… well, a lady."

"I'm sorry, I thought the point of dressing up was to look sophisticated and pretty."

"But not when you become unrecognizable! Wear that dress if you like. You will be an eye catcher for sure. But you will not be Pan."

"I'm still Pan, you can't change who I am by what I wear."

"No, but you can change the way you're seen."

"That's because I'm wearing a fancy dress. Of course it's a change from how I normally look."

"Pan…" he paused. "Who am I?" Pan blinked again, and straightened up, removing her hands from his shoulders.

"What?"

"Who am I?" he repeated.

"The Prince?" she asked dumbly.

"Right. And what is my reputation as prince?"

"A selfish arrogant brat."

"Exactly. The crown gives me that look, whether that's who I am or not. Your dress gives off a message of its own, and it's not one that says anything about who you really are."

Pan folded her arms.

"Why do you care?"

"Because… I know what it's like to be prejudged. Now, unless you want to become one of the nameless women trying to mesh in at court and look impressive, try choosing a dress that compliments you, not your body."

Pan looked at him oddly as he retreated to his previous seat. She shook her head slightly, almost dazed. Such an odd outburst from the prince… He was looking at her expectantly.

"Look, I didn't stand out it that awful sun yesterday teaching you dance for nothing. I taught you so that you would be at the ball, and that ultimately, you would dance with me. That you would dance with me. Not another look-alike lady."

Pan scrutinized him, her arms folded heavily over her chest.

"You are angry, because I'm going to look like everyone else. Aren't you always telling me how horrible I am and that you wish I were like all the normal girls?"

"I never said that."

"Not in so much words. But you think it in any case."

"What?" Trunks asked incredulously, raising his hands. "You can read minds now?" Pan smiled despite herself.

"Yes, and I can see that you… want me to change my dress," she said thoughtfully. She turned around suddenly and all but flounced behind the screen and back into the fabric area.

He shook his head. With his head back against the wall, he waited once again for Pan, shaking his head from time to time.

He could hear Pan speaking to the woman.

"I've changed my mind," her voice called through the store. "I don't want to dress for the prince, I want to dress for myself."

He smiled sadly. For how smart she was, Pan could be awfully stupid sometimes. Was it that hard to believe that he just wanted her to be like herself?

Wasn't that what this whole thing was about anyway? He had been physically cursed until he could learn something about himself; he knew what it was like. He was discovering, some things he probably knew all along, about himself, and it was odd. How a few days away from home could change a person. He didn't think he wasn't made to be a prince.

No, his upbringing demanded it. It wasn't as if he stepped away from the crown for a few days and the knowledge and behaviour of that crown were gone. It wasn't as if all his life he had some wild rampaging child that was trapped inside – one that would change its personality rapidly when it was thrown into invisibility, the countryside, and the glare of a pretty girl.

No. That wasn't it. Whoever he was acting like today, wasn't who he always was. It was someone he could be, he realized. Walking around in the country, wearing borrowed clothes, making jabs at Pan and stealing pies… it had made him act like someone not the same as the prince. He knew he could be perceived as stuck up.

He was the prince – it was expected.

But wearing a new tunic and dropping his responsibilities gave a stronger light to the personality underneath the prince's. Not to say that this new one was the real one. It was just one of them. And it worried him slightly. That he could seemingly change so suddenly just by wearing someone else's clothes…

That's why he had to stop Pan. How long would she be wearing that lovely dress, before the sudden change of clothes, surroundings and expectations suddenly caused her to become the girl who wore that dress.

Just as if he wasn't careful, he would forever be the way he was now, even after all of the spells were through.

He sighed dismally.

A slight cough caused him to look up quickly. Pan was back, re-dressed, and looking much more shy than before. Now, he knew, she was dressing for herself. She was dressing as she thought she was. Her dress reflected how she, and the shopkeeper, viewed her to be. She was looking at him with wide eyes, waiting his opinion.

He looked her up and down.

He already saw an improvement, if only in the colour, which was a rich green. It was lighter material, covering more of her chest than the other dress, but defining it better. It gathered underneath and fell to the ground, a large slit up the front, which exposed a pale gold fabric underneath, lined with a pattern of ivy-like leaves along the hem.

She twirled the sides of her dress absently with her hands. The sleeves clung tight at her shoulders and spread out along her arms, so that her fingers were almost lost in the wide folds at the end. It was a charming collaboration of green and gold, and he gave a small smile to her, trying to calm her fidgetiness while he thought.

He didn't think there was a single dress that would convey what it meant to be Pan, however, this one at least looked as if she picked it out herself. And Pan seemed so content, shifting weight from foot to foot, flicking off nonexistent dust and repeatedly pulling her hair behind her ear. Content but nervous.

"That's much better," he said finally, which was rewarded with a bright grin and another twirl on her feet as she hopped back behind the screen.

He almost felt giddy himself. Tomorrow he would be home, and he could introduce Pan to his mother. The girl that had broken the spell. The girl that he would dance with. The girl that he…

He shrugged. He didn't think he would have to tell his mother anything.

Oddly, she just always seemed to know.

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

She shook her head. Bulma was knelt down beside her, her eyes shifting from her own eyes and the bruise on her cheekbone. She swallowed.

This was it, she told herself. She could explain about her master, his spell on her, his spell on her son… Pan, love, the spell she had just created… everything. The Queen would listen. She would understand.

She took a deep breath.

She would be free.

With that thought in mind she opened her mouth again, ready to start at the beginning, but nothing came out. She blinked, raised a hand tentatively to her throat and tried speaking again.

It was as if someone had taken a sword and shoved it down her throat, immobilizing her voice box. She tried repeatedly, but no matter what she tried to say, it didn't form into words.

She blinked again, carefully avoiding the Queen's confused look, and realization hit her.

"I can't tell you," she said softly. Bulma looked mildly annoyed.

"You have to. I need to know for Trunks, and I need to know for my home. I can't have someone who would do," she gestured to her cheek, "this running around the castle."

"No. I mean I can't tell you. I tried. But he must have prepared for this."

"What?" the Queen asked, perplexed.

"He's put a spell on me. I can't say anything that would endanger him," she replied. And it was true enough. When she tried to say anything about Trunks and the love spell, her throat just clammed up.

The Queen looked slightly horrified and her blue eyes were darting like mad, trying to figure out what she could possibly do. Whoever was doing this to her was dangerous.

"So you can't tell me?"

"Not about anything he's got me doing or he's done."

Bulma sighed in exasperation.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"That's alright," Bulma replied softly, pulling herself and her skirts to her feet. She brushed off invisible dust from the fronts. "Has anyone looked at that?" she asked, looking again at her bruise. She nodded. She had been able to deal with the cover up and ease of the pain. Getting the Queen involved would just add more questions that she wouldn't be able to answer.

"I can not say anything he has done or ordered…" she said quietly. "However, I think I can say what I did… I was the one that sent your son away."

Bulma raised her eyebrows and stared at her with a look that begged to be further explained.

"I sent him away from him," her last word punctured with a point to her cheek. "He is with a girl named Pan Son. He will be back tomorrow."

Bulma's face broke into a beautiful smile, leaving her to wonder if the King got to see that smile often.

The Queen all but skipped out of the room, while the girl looked back into the mirror. With a sigh, she re-checked the love spell, and after making sure it was damage or change free, she began to look for her spells to cover her bruise. She didn't want to be asked questions by people that just wanted to know the truth, but invariably would not be able to tell them a thing until her master lifted his spell.

She chewed softly on her lip.

Now that it was promised, Pan had better get back tomorrow.

Plastering the cream over tender skin, she wondered idly what the prince was doing.

The dress was a bought and sold success. Pan had happily handed over the required amount of coins to pay for the dress, the cost coming to something larger than she would have thought, and took a nice dent out of her savings, but she wasn't overly worried. Her savings could be replenished, and she had rarely ever bought something for herself. The vain, indulgent part of her brain was running a continuous slur of excuses why the dress buying was not only okay, but also necessary.

She was happy with her choice, and knew that Trunks was as well. He had said so. He had appraised her with a smile as proof of his liking, and the same expression hadn't moved from his face.

She looked at him sideways, walking through the streets casually. His mouth was set slightly inclined, not in a full out grin, but a definite pleased look on his face. His eyes were taking in the space around him, but they were held steadily ahead of him, so Pan knew he was not awed by the town, but he had a small interest in it, as anyone would with a new place.

She shrugged and stopped herself from skipping. She mused that she was too happy perhaps. She didn't like giving off conflicting emotions. It made people think she was moody, as her uncle would say with a look he thought to be 'knowing' and give her a sly wink. As if the lunk had any idea why she would be in a mood swingy phase. She would roll her eyes at him, stupid boys pretending to know how women's minds and emotions work.

Not that she thought Trunks knew what she was feeling. She didn't even think he thought to. The prince, for the most part, took her emotions at face value. What she wore on her sleeve was what he accepted as how she was feeling. He did look deeper sometimes, she mused, but on the whole, it was her sleeve's emotions that clinched her mood.

And because of this, she hated changing moods too quick. She hated keeping the same one all the time, but change was worse. She didn't want Trunks to see her overly happy. And she was. She had never been as excited with a purchase, a dress no less, before. She imagined herself briefly, waltzing gracefully into the dancing hall, and Trunks would drop his wine cup. He would run to her, and say he had never seen someone more beautiful. And they would dance while all of the other girls were jealous. And he would pull her terribly close, as he did at the pond, and they would lean into each other and…

Pan shook her head. This was what she was worried about. She didn't want the prince to read what was on her sleeve, or probably written plainly across her forehead for anyone to read. She didn't want him to see that… she didn't hate him so much. That he had changed, if it were possible, in the span of two days. That she was beginning to feel smiley at the sight of his own grin, and actually… enjoy his company.

Who was she? She asked herself, furiously. She wasn't sure what she was, but she knew what she was not. And another girl ready to fling herself at the prince was what she was not. She expected things out of men, the ones that would matter to her in a romantic way, and sadly, the prince lacked some of those skills.

Love was certainly one of them. She had been all but shocked two nights ago when she confessed that she couldn't live without love, while he had seemed rather indifferent to the entire emotion.

The prince was still stubborn. The prince was still arrogant. He was still pompous, a pie thief, and a teller of hardly witty comebacks. However, there was a change…

… he didn't look down at her anymore. When he steered his deep blue eyes on her, he looked at her as if, almost, like an equal.

So while he was changed it wasn't enough. Nowhere near enough for Pan to consider… no. The prince just couldn't be. She could not fall for the prince. And so she tugged at her sleeve, more metaphorically then for a reason, flicking away whatever emotion was playing.

She was about to open her mouth to spark a conversation, being careful to look not jumping with happiness, simply neutral, when her nose decided to be open instead. The delicious smells of butter melting and the aroma of fresh bread caught her attention.

Apparently she wasn't the only one the smell caught, because after a quick glance at Trunks, he seemed to be looking around wildly to find the source of the smell. He also looked like he would jump the person holding said smell. Whatever was cooking, assumable some sort of bread or pastry, was attracting both of their attentions.

Well aware that they had a light breakfast and that there were still coins jingling in her purse, Pan decided to head towards the smell, in hopes of buying something divine.

It took a very short time to find the source of the delicious smell. The two came to a stop in front of a wooden stall that was once well scrubbed but was now flecked with white flour. There was an overweight man standing in the midst of the flour, grabbing handfuls of dough and stretching them expertly between his hands. In a second he whipped the strand of dough around in a knot and laid a perfect twist on a pan.

Pan moistened her lips, looking at the raw pretzels before turning to where there was a wood stove, baking more. A tin of butter was on top of the stone, being kept boiling and in liquid form. She knew that when they were finished baking he would take them out, spread the melted butter over them with his brush and sprinkle some salt on them.

She had had them before, and the heat of the morning sun was making her hungry, the sound of the butter crackling, the tantalizing baking smell… She shook her head slightly to clear it and turned a glance to Trunks. The prince was watching the man twist the dough with something akin to amazement, but when he caught her glance he raised his eyes pleadingly.

She didn't need to think twice before she excused herself and asked for two of the pretzels once they got out of the oven. He grunted and looked at the oven before returning back to work.

Pan and Trunks stood in amiable silence, the man paying no attention to them. Their want of the snack grew with every passing second, as they waited and waited. It seemed like an eternity when he finally turned to the oven, satisfied with his work, and brought the tray out. He seemed to take a very long time to brush the butter and sprinkle the salt.

But finally, he handed over two wrapped pretzels, which she passed her coins over to pay for. She took both of them, refusing to give Trunks his before they found somewhere to sit and eat them. She wanted to be far enough away, in case the pretzel didn't blend with him and she had a floating baked good that would surely draw attention.

The two walked quickly to a spot. In the end Pan found a tree to sit under that overlooked that part of the town. She sat down delicately, spreading her skirts around her. Trunks however plunked down, leaning back on his arms and gazed at her expectantly. She handed over his snack wordlessly.

He looked at it for a moment before nibbling on the corner. He had the presence of someone who was being forced to try something that was normally beneath him, and when she thought about it, eating a greasy snack on the ground was something odd for a prince, surely. But his expression didn't hold – he raised his eyebrows at the taste and continued to take small bites. Pan thought his face showed he appreciated the taste.

She turned to her own and sighed in contentment as some stray butter slipped down her chin.

"So," she said between bites. "I guess we can head home now."

Trunks looked up sharply.

"I mean, my home," she said after a swallow. Trunks nodded as if that was what he thought all along. Pan didn't know what he was so eager about – she should be able to take him home in the morning.

"I wonder if Koslin will be there," he said thoughtfully. Pan grinned.

"So what is this guy's job anyway?"

"Koslin?" he asked, receiving a nod. "He is an advisor to my father. He… advises. And smells."

"Because the two go hand in hand," she said dryly. "So, your father has people to tell him what to do? Sounds tough."

"No," Trunks said, a note of edginess in his voice. "He has the advisors for other people's opinions and inputs. Ultimately he has to decide what to do. It's hard to make those decisions. You have to train hard to be a leader."

"What?" Pan asked, switching her position to lying on her stomach, her head propped up on her turned palm. "You have to learn to be a king?" she asked incredulously.

"Of course. You don't think we just sit on the crown and look pretty, do you? We have to learn which situations warrant which reactions. What to do in a crisis… leader stuff."
"So what, you get a tutor?" Pan asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Well," he started; glad to have a home base topic of conversation. "I've had tutors since I was a child on the basics of everything. But I will have to go abroad to learn to rule a country. All of the kings do it. You send off your son to another country and that prince will act as an advisor to their king. It gives them an active input in everything that happens, so that they can see what works and what doesn't. And it is easier to learn when the country is not your own."

Pan raised her eyebrows, obviously surprised at the antics of the royal families.

"I always thought they just shoved their sons under the crown," she said quietly. "So, is Koslin a prince?" she asked. Trunks choked and laughed.

"I would hope not. No. We don't have any princes with us right now, but we have before."

"And when do you have to go abroad?"

"I think my Father wants me to once I've chosen a bride. Just so that if anything happens while I am gone, the kingdom will still be secure." He gave a small shrug. "I'm not really sure. Soon I think."

"How long do you have to stay there?"

"Well, the longer one does, the better King they've been, it was usually found. I don't know. Some only stay for three years, others for fifteen."

Pan's eyebrows shot up.

"Fifteen years away from home?"

"Well, that was an extreme."

"Isn't that for a long time?" she asked, thinking how she would be able to handle being away from her home and family for that long. Trunks shook his head.

"You do it when you're young. So when you come back you're in your late twenties or early thirties. You wouldn't want a King younger than that, and the people don't want a prince around when he's going through that 'man stage' as my Mother calls it."

Pan nodded slowly. She could not fathom being away for that long, but Trunks seemed at ease with it. He probably knew since he was a small child that that was the fate that awaited him and that he had accepted it. Just as he found her life of farming to be primitive and unbearable, she found it to be fine and simple. Just because it was the life she knew and viewed the work and sweat as normal.

While she was staring at a blade of grass that was battling against the breeze, Trunks stared at her momentarily.

"Yes. So I'm off traveling to learn. What are your plans for the future? Going to just stay and run your farm? Hide away from you crazy fiancé?"

Pan shot him a glare at the mention of Keipher.

"I won't stay on the farm," she said softly. "Probably not anyway. I don't have an immense passion to stay. I wouldn't mind staying, but truthfully, there are things I would want to do away from the farm. In any case, it goes to my uncle after, not me. So there's not point in me staying."

"Well, what would you do if you were not farming?" he asked, aware that she was willingly talking about herself without getting edgy.

"I'm not sure. Something… political. Maybe I'll join the almost non-existent rebellion and fight to overthrow your father."

Trunks laughed, catching the humour in her tone. He was glad he had come to know when she was joking or not, because before he might have flown at her for thinking such treachery.

"Actually," Trunks said thoughtfully, "you might be good at advising and stuff. You're certainly outspoken enough." Pan laughed.

"Yes, but I can't imagine it actually working out. I'm just a daughter of a farmer."

"But I promised you the title of a lady. That gives you the proper social status… though I don't think there's ever been a girl on the council…" he broke off, thinking back. Pan shrugged.

"As I said, I don't know. They're just maybes, ya know?"

Trunks murmured his agreement, switching his own position to one of lying down like Pan. He munched on his pretzel a bit while Pan idly picked at the grass.

It seemed unreal that he wouldn't be able to do this by tomorrow. That he would be cooped up in the castle again, living in the lap of luxury, and having people see him again.

It seemed even more unreal that he would miss it.

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

Vegeta looked at the man nonplused. Keipher's expression deflated somewhat, as if he had assumed the world would know who this Pan was.

"Right. Pan Son. She… she is a very beautiful girl, spirited, strong willed…" he paused, looking at the King. Vegeta was showing mild interest, and Keipher knew why. Pan was very much like the King's own wife. Independent, vocal… and they had many of the same views. He had heard, from a kitchen girl, all about the squabble the royals had had over love, and he planned to use it to his advantage. He could portray Pan as the Queen, and play on the King's sympathies. Ordinarily, most of the kingdom knew that the king really didn't have any sympathies. But Keipher knew that if he put himself in the same nasty spot the King found himself in, it might just work.

"Because of prior engagements, I was given the hand of her mother, Lady Videl. However, she was madly in… love…" he choked the word, showing how small he thought it to be. "… with a farmer. The law gave me the right to marry her. And I wanted to, however… well, I'm sure you know women, your highness. Once they have their minds wrapped around the idea of true love and fantasies, there's no stopping them. If I had taken her, she would have run off in an affair. Women like her aren't very loyal.

"She hated me for having a legal hold on her. When I allowed her to marry the one she wanted, I was given no thanks. No appreciation. I had to live the rest of those years, seeing her and knowing that she was rightfully mine.

"However, that was twenty years ago. Since, I have overcome my personal ache for her, and am most delighted that her very daughter has taken her place. That would be Pan, sire. The two of us see each other often, much to the dislike of her parents. And I have plans to marry as soon as possible however… her parents would never allow it. Videl still hates me, despite all I did for her, and will try and keep us apart.

"But legally, this document," he brandished the letter in his hand. "Allows me to marry Pan, as Videl's engagement was passed on to her daughter. It just needs to be re-signed by you, your majesty, and then her parents would not be able to stop us from being together."

He finished, drawing air into his lungs. It was quite a story, and he was proud of himself for it. There was not a single lie in there. Everything he said was true. He had just neglected to say that Pan didn't want to marry him either. But what the King didn't know…

The king was regarding him thoughtfully, rubbing his fingers over his chin.

"You did a service to this Pan's mother," he said quietly. Keipher nodded eagerly. "And now she is stopping you from what is legally yours."

"Yes, your majesty."

"She does not have the power to do that."

"Does that mean your majesty, that-" he was cut off by a sharp tone that echoed through the room. The king looked up quickly from where he had been dully looking at his boot.

"It means I am going to dine," he said, standing up. Keipher sighed, guessing correctly that the bell was announcing a meal of some sort. "Leave your contract here. Pick it up tomorrow, signed or not."

Keipher felt agitated, wondering why the king wouldn't attend to it after his lunch, but didn't dare voice this question aloud. After all, it looked like he had the king in a position where he would sign the document.

The king had exited quickly, leaving Keipher with an unsigned contract in his hand, but content nonetheless. He had waited months for this. He could wait one more day.

And then no one could stop him from marrying Pan.

No one.

Tralala, that seemed like a filler chapter. Alas. Please review. )

Angel Eevee