A/N: see chapter one for disclaimer. After finishing the fifth Harry Potter book for the second time, I have come to terms with the death of my favourite character, gotten over the shock, and managed to write this chapter. My beginning attempts were all very depressing, so I had to wait a bit. Sorry. Enjoy anyway
Last Time: Pan and Trunks discuss stereotyping, Pan buys a new dress (Trunks approved), the spell-caster tells Bulma whom Trunks is with, though she discovered she could not directly tell the Queen what was going on. Trunks explains about 'prince school' and Pan admits her ambition. And Keipher put in a good word for himself with Vegeta, and the King will decide whether to sign the marriage forms by tomorrow.
"In a Tree House"
"You know, it's funny how you're so proud of your country," Trunks said conversationally to Pan, licking off the last remains of the pretzel from his fingers.
"That's funny?"
"Funny that you hate the city but love your wilderness, yet fail to prove why it's so much better."
"… What are you talking about?" she said, staring at him.
"I have yet to see-"
"If you want to see some landscape, just ask," she said pointedly.
"It's not that," Trunks said defensively. He looked at her from a crossed brow and frowned. "But when we get to the castle, we'll have a Ball. And that is a high-class social gathering. One of the highlights of upper class life. I will be showing you one of the biggest things my world likes to offer. I thought it might be fair if you got to show off yours," he said, inspecting a fingernail as if it were more important than the words coming from his mouth. Pan looked at him with surprise.
"You want to give me a chance to highlight my life."
"It only seems fair," he replied, with the same airiness, digging at a fleck of dirt beneath the nail. Pan smiled softly.
"That's fairly decent of you," she said, reaching out and thwacking him on the back. He made an odd 'oof' noise as she retracted her hand, and a blue-eyed glare was sent in her direction.
"Decent enough to warrant a beating, I see."
"If that's what you consider a beating, I would love to see you in a bar fight."
"Now that's not nice. I'll have you know I'm a wonderful fencer and combater."
"Oh?" Pan asked, an eyebrow rose along with her fists. She had moved to a sitting up position and placed her fists professionally one below her chin covering her chest, the other slightly forward ready to jab. He looked at her with eyebrows raised higher than hers.
"However," he murmured, reaching out a hand and lowering one of her fists. "I was also taught never to attack a lady." He seemed so serious about this rule of honour that she slowly lowered her other arm. He watched her reaction with scepticism.
"That's why you slapped me when we first met?" Trunk seemed to ignore that.
"Please," he said shaking his head, "don't tell me that men will pitch fights with ladies here."
"Not usually," she reassured him. "My Father made sure I knew how to defend myself though. It's quite easy to find yourself in a horrible position when some drunk crosses your path."
"Hmm. But I don't think any other girl I know, knows how to fight. I wonder why they aren't afraid of getting in touch with some drunk."
"Because all of the women from your world have escorts with them everywhere." Trunks nodded in agreement.
"Must be it."
"Right then," she murmured, sitting more fully up and pulling out her coin bag, counting the money inside carefully. "You want to see the best of my world…" she said softly.
"I don't want the best you can buy," he said, looking at her moneybag. "Because that's more my world, don't you think? The money?"
"Yes. I just thought I'd buy some food we can have for a meal while we're there."
"Where?" he asked, not following what she was saying, as her concentration was almost fully on counting, so her slow, quiet, and vague replies were only aggravating him.
"To my best," she said, finally replacing the coins she had taken out and sat in her lap. She tucked the bag back at her side and stood, looking down at him, making it clear he was to follow.
He stood slowly, stretching his arms above his head. She carefully slipped her shoes on, and he looked at her surprised, not remembering her having taken them off at all. She didn't waste time as soon as she had them on, but turned right down the hill and back towards the main street of the town.
He followed like a lost puppy. He didn't know the town well at all, and didn't even feel like running off from her. He might have thought it funny a few days ago, but he just didn't have the heart to waste the energy walking out of her sight.
Though, truthfully, it would be great fun to watch her search frantically for him, her anger rising and her murderous rage look flashing over her face. But it wasn't worth it at the moment, so he opted just to follow her wherever she planned to go.
And a bakery seemed to be where she wanted, because she turned quickly into a shop, the wooden door swinging closed after he managed to squeeze in.
Trunks recognized the bakery at once as the one he had been in earlier. The one where he had stepped inside and Pan had been also. Where she had back mouthed him, and he had tried to trip her. The first time she had seen him, though did not know that she was unique in doing so.
The same overweight shopkeeper was there, looking up at the newcomer and offering a wide smile to Pan.
"Miss Son. A pleasure as always. I didn' expect ye back so soon. Ye were here just de other day… planning' anotha trip to de castle?"
"Oh no," she replied, having walked up to the counter, leaning on it slightly and looking up into his bearded face. "I'm having a little picnic." He raised his thick eyebrows at her.
"Fer one?"
"No, two," she replied pleasantly, and he gave her a sly grin.
"Hope de bloke knows what he's getting'into," he said rather solemnly. There was a muffled cough from behind them, which the baker glanced at but disregarded. With his back turned, Pan took the opportunity to shoot a glare at Trunks. "Usual?" he called, shifting through racks.
"Please."
"So. Why ye have all of dis time to plan picnics, what with de right state ye are with de King."
"Actually the prince and I patched things up," Pan said with a grin. "My farm will not be a problem." He paused in packaging her bread and looked at her sullenly.
"Ye didn' kill him did ya?"
There was another poorly disguised snort from behind them. Pan shook her head.
"Though I may yet," she murmured loudly. She slid him the amounted coins while he was wrapping.
"Well, I'd hate ta see ye go. Your old man always gives me de best prices fer wheat," he said worriedly. Pan smiled softly.
"That's because you give him free sour dough every time he comes in here. He is such a sucker for it."
"Ah, did ye want some then?"
"Oh, no thank you."
"Well, take the bread free of charge at least."
"Absolutely not. It's worth every cent," she said, pushing the coins further along the counter and turning to leave, giving the baker no chance to argue. She walked out of the bakery with Trunks following, the small bell singing softly as the door closed.
"Why didn't you take it for free?" he asked incredulously. She glanced at him quickly.
"Because it is worth all the money. People offer charity like that all of the time. You learn when to take it and when not to. I'd be a brat if I took it every time."
"Oh. Why do people give free stuff? No wonder our kingdom's profits are declining."
"Maybe they're declining because your father likes to steal our land and charge more for things. You know, we have it pretty worked out here. The Queen bee just sits and has babies. It's all the worker bees that are smart and know what to do."
"What have bees got to do with anything?" Pan rolled her eyes.
"You're such an idiot," she said under her breath, walking quicker.
"No really, because I don't like bees. They sting you. And it… hurts."
"Imagine that."
"I get the distinct impression that you are mocking me in some way or form."
"Why would I mock you?" she asked, turning around to face him. She grinned at him and slapped his shoulder. "You mock yourself just fine."
Vegeta glanced up when the doors opened and heaved a sigh of relief. He was famished and would not have waited around for his wife much longer. He stood from his seat, as etiquette demanded, and watched as she crossed the floor to the table with her usual grace; hands folded lightly in front of her and eyes down turned.
She took a seat promptly, folding her skirts underneath her.
"Have you been waiting long?" she asked him, lifting her goblet and taking a sip. He made a noncommittal noise as he started in on his still hot soup.
"I was just hungry. Some low class plebeian was demanding a signed contract or something," he murmured in between spoonfuls. Bulma raised her eyebrow.
"A contract? Why were you handling it?"
"Because the original was signed by my father. It's a weird clause he's trying to pull. He had an engagement to a woman, who loved someone else, so he let her go of the hold he had."
"That was good of him," she said softly, catching her husband's eye. He nodded.
"Yes, well, she resents him for it. She's angry with him because the contract still exists, and she was angry he ever had a hold over her. So now her daughter and him want to marry, but her parents refuse out of spite for him. He wants to sign so that they will have to let them marry."
"And they love each other?"
"That's why he's so angry."
"Well… I don't know. It seems a little… odd. I mean, why would someone fall in love with a man twice their age?"
Vegeta looked up at his wife sharply, setting his spoon down. He looked at her closely, wondering if he had heard her correctly. She was looking back at him, somewhat anxiously, her thin elbows propped up on the table despite table manners. Her light hair had fallen over her shoulders, and a delicate eyebrow was raised at him.
He cleared his throat.
"Are you, my dear, of all people, placing conditions on love?" he asked.
"What?" she asked in turn, taken back.
"Well, I wouldn't think with your reasoning, that age would matter."
"Wha- Well, of course it doesn't. It just rarely happens like that."
"Odder things have happened. I don't find your argument very persuading."
She frowned.
"But she hates him. The original fiancée. That's what's really odd." The Queen shook her head. "No, if you found a guy that was nice enough to break a contract in order to let you live your fairytale of love… no woman would resent that man. They would love them until they died."
"So the first fiancée loves him? That's why she doesn't want her daughter to marry him?"
"No. Why would she love him?"
"You said if they found a man that nice, that you would love them until you died."
"Love in a plutonic sense," she replied with a wave of her spoon. "I mean it Vegeta, something is off about the whole thing. I'd go to find some small piece of proof in support of the story before I signed anything… like why wasn't the girl with him?"
The king shrugged.
"I don't think she's even someone of importance. I didn't recognize the name. Pun? Pon? Pan?"
"Son?" she asked.
"No, it started with a 'P'."
"No, I mean, Pan Son?"
"Oh. Yes, that was it. Why, do you know her?"
"Only by name. Trunks is with her."
"What?" he asked, surprised, sitting back while a servant girl took away his soup bowl and placed some bread and cheese in its place. The Queen nodded.
"I was talking to his bride-to-be. There's something very mixed up going on – she couldn't even tell me all of it, but it's weird. And she said that's where Trunks was, but that he'd be back tomorrow."
"Our son traipsed off to have an affair with a girl who was in love with her mother's old fiancé?" he asked, with a hint of amusement.
"I told you, this whole thing is weird. We'll have to pay attention to this. So don't sign that contract until tomorrow. Pan will be here then and you can find the whole truth."
The King nodded his agreement to his wife's solution, and lazily munched on a block of cheese. He was actually somewhat looking forward to tomorrow, then. He would beat his son so hard…
He couldn't help but smirk.
Suddenly his day had gotten quite brighter.
"Pan, we have been riding for hours, where are you taking me?" Trunks whined. Pan turned, keeping a firm hold to the reigns.
"I'm taking you to the countryside, as requested," she said in patronizing tones.
"Stop complaining. Look at the sun. It's barely moved; we have not been riding for hours. We've been riding for minutes." She turned back around, keeping her eye on the road, knowing the paths well.
She could feel Trunks sigh heavily behind her and rolled her eyes. What a wuss. They had gone through the town a bit more, picking up some produce, cooked meat and wine. The prince had, typically, complained, though not overly so. He seemed to be complaining more now because he was restless. She could feel him fidget behind her, and it was starting to agitate the horse. She stroked its neck soothingly before glaring back at Trunks again.
"You aren't helping things, you know," she said calmly. He shrugged.
"How much longer?"
"Oh for heavens sake! Not much."
He sighed again, deeper this time, she could tell, with her back pressed against his front. He had a hand reached forward and resting on her thigh, set to curl at her stomach should the horse speed up suddenly. His other hand dangled uselessly at his side.
Pan took it in turns to lean away and lean back on Trunks. She liked leaning against him, mainly because it was comfortable. With two people riding the horse, her legroom was limited, so she couldn't sit as she normally would. Having him to lean back on made it easier on her back.
Besides being a physical comfort, it was obvious why she would like to just lean back against him. She liked the way his breathe tickled the back of her neck, the way his hand would tighten its hold when they did a sharp move or jump. She liked the beating of his heart, usually calm and in tuned with hers, but sometimes speeding rapidly for no reason. She liked the inconsistency.
Not that she would ever tell him any of that.
She felt his chin come to rest on her shoulder and hitched her breath before looking. She had half a mind to think when she turned he would be grinning impishly at her. And why would he grin? He could read minds, couldn't he? He would be smirking at why she liked having him pressed against her. He would read deep into it… why shouldn't he? There must be some horrific reason she enjoyed the prince's body all of a sudden.
She swallowed and turned her gaze to him for a moment. So sure that he would be taunting her, she was quite surprised when she came face to face with closed eyelids and a slightly opened mouth.
He had fallen forward, in what must have been record timing napping. He had been speaking to her seconds before, hadn't he? How long had she been dictating inner monologues to herself?
She kept her dark eyes on his face, once again looking at the sharp angles, and resisting the urge to reach out and see how they worked. To feel the sharp bones underneath the skin, how someone could have such a strong face…
He mumbled something incoherent in his light sleep, not moving from his spot on her shoulder. The position was desperately uncomfortable, and she was worried that he might drool from his open mouth. She wanted to shake her shoulder roughly, waking him and shoving him off. His bony chin was digging in rather painfully.
But he was almost peaceful, sleeping there. Thick lashes brushing against his darkening skin. She thought about it, but decided she didn't really have the heart to shove him off. After all, he had let her sleep against him.
She sighed herself, and returned her gaze to the road, promising herself that if he drooled on her, she would allow herself a good slap when he woke up.
And wake up he did.
The prince snorted and blinked rapidly, smacking his lips together slowly to try unconsciously to restore moisture to his mouth. He shook his head, and gazed at Pan.
She had shaken her shoulder, where apparently, he had found a lovely chin rest in. He looked at her curiously, wondering why they were in such a position, knowing full well she wouldn't have pulled his chin onto her shoulder. He had obviously fallen asleep.
He leaned back from her and stretched his hands dramatically above her. They were both tired, he supposed. Pan had already had her nap, now he was taking his.
Or not. He looked over and was caught by her glare.
"What?" he asked her, prepared for an anger fit she would take.
"We're here," she said dumbly. Trunks raised his eyebrows and leaned away from her. He watched her promptly swing her legs and hop off the horse. He followed her lead. He stretched his legs to get the kink out of them while Pan tied the horse to a branch of a tree, feeding it a carrot from seemingly nowhere.
Trunks stood at his full height, and looked around him to see where 'here' was exactly. To see where Pan thought the highlight of her world to be. Marginally, he was unimpressed.
It was a dusty clearing in the forest, perhaps a little more lush then the ones around Pan's property, but nothing to write home about. He shook his head, slowly turning himself around completely, even going as far to look at the ground questioningly, trying to find what he was missing. What was so important about this spot?
He almost laughed at himself, as he came to the conclusion that obviously they were going to walk the rest of the way, or it was hidden a ways into the forest. But when he turned to Pan, it was almost apparent that they were not moving a great deal.
He couldn't control his eyebrows, as she ceremoniously dropped her dress, causing him to gape for a moment before harshly turning on his heel.
"Why do you do that?" he asked, voice shaken. He could feel her pause in her actions, and could swear she had turned to look at him. He imagined her eyebrow rose.
"Do what?"
"You know, just-" he made a wild gesture with his hand, "drop your clothes like that."
"Oh," she replied simply. "I didn't realize it bothered you," she said slyly, in a tone that suggested perhaps he did in fact enjoy it, and was not admitting to it.
"Right, but is there any particular reason you decided to strip right here?" he implored, back still turned to her.
"I can't climb in the dress," she said simply. Trunks ignored the clue to where they were going and folded his arms huffily.
"You climbed that apple tree fine enough this morning," he said pointedly. She laughed a bit behind him.
"I've been nicking apples from there forever though. And it's an easier tree to climb. What does it matter? Look, I'm not naked," she said with emphasis, and he turned at her slight command.
Indeed, she had not pulled all of her clothes off; though a more daring part of his mind had a brief fantasy that she had. She was standing, not as covered as usual, but still modestly so, in her under dress, which fell to her knees, hitched below her chest. She had further undergarments tying across her chest and down her back, leaving her shoulders bare.
She was crouched on her feet, that were now bare as well, and was slinging all the food they had bought in town into a bag that had been previously tied to the horse. She paused in putting the bread in to look up at him briefly.
"You know how to climb, right?" she asked, squinting at him. Trunks blinked. He wasn't exactly sure. Of course he had climbed ropes and a few walls in his training. And all over furniture as a child. But she was referring to a tree, and he wasn't sure if he had ever tried to climb a tree before.
"I'm not sure," he said honestly. She raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
"Alright, that's fine," she said patiently. "Come right after me and place your feet and hands right where I do. And don't even bother looking up," she said, pulling at the hem of her dress. "There's layers underneath; you won't see much."
She nodded as if this settled an argument that had never existed, and flung the bag across her back, walking to the trunk of a particular large tree. Trunks looked up its length expectedly, and saw, to his surprise, half a dozen wooden planks stretched across some criss-crossing branches. He gathered they could be sat upon, and was briefly enthused about being able to sit on a platform in a tree. It would be an odd experience.
"Do I need to take off my clothes?" he asked jokingly as he approached her. She shrugged.
"If you like."
He blinked at her answer but ultimately just stood behind her, waiting for the climb. She nodded, sensing him ready, and reached up her bandaged hand to knot in the bark. She pulled a few times, and he wasn't sure if she was checking the sturdiness of the knot, or the strength of her own injured palm.
Either way, she seemed to like what she felt, because she hoisted herself up on that knot, shoving her toes against a curve in the trunk below. Moving as if she had scaled the tree many times in her childhood, and now was climbing based on a memory that was coming back with each step. Her hands moving to the next holds, physically remembering where to go, even though mentally she had forgotten.
Trunks was thankful for the pace she did. She paused with each new movement, giving him a chance to move to the place she had once been, and having time to look up and see where the next spot was.
All in all he found the climbing not too hard. Of course it was made much easier by Pan scaling ahead of him, showing him where to put his hands and feet, but it wasn't that difficult. His muscles were not weak, so the sudden pressured weight onto his limbs was not straining. The odd angles these limbs had to stretch to were, but it was bearable.
He glanced up, memorizing the next position, and for one moment, realized that the next stance was very crouched like, so that her legs were bent and low, spreading the fabric of her dress open.
Had he been a true gentleman, he would have closed his eyes and turned away. However, he was curious and not so gentlemen-like, so he let his blue eyes travel up and look curiously beneath her skirts. He felt somewhat guilty, remembering the time when he was four and he had climbed underneath some noble's wide skirt to see what on earth was underneath the hoops.
Two fat pale legs had surprised him, and he scuttled out from under the skirts, thankfully not noticed by the guest, but the horrified and angered expression of his mother had let Trunks know that she had definitely seen him. He got a severe talking to that night on how bad it was for boys to do that.
He felt the lecture seeping back into his mind, and hurriedly adverted his glance, but not without thinking how different Pan's legs were for the ones under the large skirt.
He thought back briefly, and then took another look, but sure enough, the differences were there. Pan's were anything but fat, as he knew they wouldn't be. He had seen her standing in the pool, her dresses clinging to her skin because of the water. He had known the shape of her legs, and appreciated them very much.
But they seemed very pale and… soft… now that he was so close up, and he had to resist the sudden urge not to run a finger over the length of them, to test how soft they were.
As if sensing that he was looking in places he shouldn't, Pan cast a look down at him, which he met with all the innocence he could muster, having already turned away from her skirts.
She gazed at him for a second before moving to the next position. Up and up they went, knot and curve after the other, until he looked up and watched her scramble into the flat surface of the boards.
She looked down and held out her good hand to help him up. He didn't take it, but hoisted himself up instead. His legs remained dangling over the side, and he kicked them lightly, looking at the horse below them.
They weren't that high up, but still, at a distance that should he fall, something probably would break. He turned his head, seeing Pan at the other edge of the board, half concentrating on taking the food out of the bag.
"So you came to show me your favourite tree?"
"This was my Mothers," she said softly. She stood up sturdily, and walked to him. "Your home isn't that far," she murmured and pointed. From his view, all he saw was a wonderful tree line, so with a small amount of fear, he got to his feet and stood shakily. She held onto his arm for support and pointed again.
Sure enough, just above the trees, he could see, in the distance, his proud castle, standing on its hill above the town below it. It looked eerie from such a distance, and the overwhelming feeling to go home surprised him.
Almost as if she sensed this, she patted his arm lightly.
"We'll be there tomorrow." She changed the direction of her pointed hand, and moved it towards the estates below the castle grounds. "My mother used to live over there. She never saw much of her father; because he was always off… he was rather famous. However, whenever he was in town, he liked to go hunting. My mom said that he probably wished he had a son to go along with him, but all he had was Mom. None of the people he hunted with thought it proper for a little girl to go hunting, so he built this place in the tree. So that she could come along, and climb up here. She could watch him from a distance, and still spend time with him on the rides here and back."
Pan recited the story, as if she had heard it many times, but still enjoyed it nonetheless.
"Mom showed it to me, just so, I don't know, it didn't die with her childhood." Trunks nodded.
"So, this is your favourite place, because of what it meant to your mom?" Pan stared at him momentarily, and then shook her head.
"Sort of. But you wanted to see the best of the country."
"I know. But that," he gestured towards his home in the distance, "is my home."
"Then turn around," she said quietly. He did, and sucked in his breath. She walked him to the other edge of the platform. "This, your majesty, is my kingdom," she said in a whisper.
Spread out in front of them was a distance of land untouched by vast towns and fields. There were trees - lots of trees. All in different seasons of bloom it seemed, because some held rich green, but others were covered in blossoms so colourful, it was like someone had thrown water on hot steps, and the rainbow reflected in the misted water was now thrown across the trees.
They could clearly hear running water, and off to the side was a large waterfall that he could see the top of. It was much steeper and louder then the one tiny one by Pan's own property.
Trunks blinked.
He could hear the birds having mad conversations with each other, chirping away at each other rapidly, all different tones and pitches. The trickle of water was almost mesmerizing. He looked further along, and past the trees and waterfalls, began the steep incline of the rocky hills and mountains that surrounded his father's land. They steeped up like a boarder, keeping the entire majestic below from spilling out, like hands cupped around lake water.
"I can't…" he murmured, "I can't see this from the castle."
"No," she agreed.
"But… we have high towers, and-"
"Have you ever looked?" she asked quietly. He growled in frustration.
"Of course I've looked. They're my own windows."
"You can look without seeing," she said quietly. "Have you ever seen this?"
Trunks shook his head.
"I think, that there are lot of things I have never seen before," he said, almost bitterly, and sat down, Pan following after. Their legs dangled over, and each just looked over the scenery, neither really noticing that Pan's hand hadn't left his arm.
"I beg your pardon? Could you repeat that?" he asked, eyes narrowed. The woman looked flustered and ground her fists into her hips, apron soiled from the garden.
"Which part don't you get? This is not the Son farm. You are in the complete wrong direction. It is that way," she said, thrusting her large arm across some fields. He squinted, but could see no farm.
"I don't see it," he said. She threw her arms up.
"Well of course you don't see it. What, do you think we live next door?"
"Wait. This is a section of the Son farm, yes?"
"No. For the last time - no. This property line is the Regels land. If you want the Sons you'll have to walk half a day that way," she said, nodding again across the fields.
He made a screeching noise and stamped his foot angrily.
"She lied to me, the wench!" he cried, squeaking, jumping on the spot. The woman looked at him oddly.
"Right well. Good day," she said, vaguely worried, and backed away from the man.
Koslin straightened up and glared at the sky.
"Fine," he said aloud. "Fine. I will not play these games. They will come to the castle. I know they will. She is not as clever as she thinks, my spell-caster. So, I will just return home. And meet them there."
Nodding to himself, he distractedly pulled the bits of leaves and hay that littering his robes. Grumbling and muttering, he pulled his robes up and began the long trip back home.
And there you go. Now I am off to cross the border into USA. Woo. I'm going to NewYork until Monday. Goodbye Canada. pats homeland So I can't begin to write until I get back. Next chapter should be about a week from Tuesday, sadly. Sorry.
Angel Eevee