A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. MERRY CHRISTMAS.
Last Time: Pan realises that though she does love Trunks, it won't last, so must forget it. Keipher gets signed permission to force Pan to marry him. And Trunks' fiancée has a love spell just waiting to be used, and after ages and ages, Pan and Trunks finally made it back to the castle, and are just about to be let in
"Saying Good Bye"
"You will let her pass," came a voice from beyond them both. The guard spun around to see who had sneaked behind him and nearly fell over himself, sputtering out what he was saying.
Pan squeaked and bit her lip.
Trunks smiled.
He was home.
Trunks watched the new comer as her eyes danced with amusement, looking at the blubbering guard, and playing curiosity towards Pan. He imagined were she to see him, that those eyes would light up, and he would find himself in an embarrassing embrace.
But she could not see him, and he had to refrain from greeting her. It surprised him, now, that he could see her, just how much he had missed her. He had never thought it would be hard to be away from her, and indeed, his heart hadn't ached for her while gone, but being back brought a surge of longing.
Perhaps it was just the familiar face, or the love that she had always given him. Perhaps it was simply missing his best friend.
He smiled at his mother.
Bulma made a motion for the guard to stop flailing, and he quickly set to fumbling with the keys to the gate. Through the bars she was eyeing Pan with a deep curiosity and somewhat urgency. There was slight irritation underlining it all, though Trunks didn't know what over.
Finally the guard pulled the gates open, eliminating the barrier between the queen and Pan.
Pan, for her part, bowed her head and mumbled a greeting of sorts. Bulma smiled softly and motioned her in. Trunks wondered at Pan's sudden meekness, and why hadn't she been so proper when she was around him? As if reading his thoughts she glanced at him and shot him a superior look. One that told him there was a balance of respects, where she respected his mother, but… well, hadn't him. Didn't. Doesn't. Whichever.
"So you are Pan Son," Bulma said after a moment, turning around, her dress a swish of fabric, and walking steadily backwards to talk to Pan face to face. Pan nodded quietly. Bulma returned the nod.
"I was told my son is with you?" she asked, the slight urgency in her voice touching Trunks.
"Yes. He, uh- well. Yes. He'll be here soon… I just need to talk to his fiancée, the princess-"
"That won't be necessary."
"Actually, it-"
"She was very secretive about what was happening to my son. I'd prefer not to have you conspire," the words were said with frankness, but Pan had recoiled as if they were a flat out accusation delivered with no tact.
"I beg your pardon?" Pan asked, still calm enough to be polite, but threatening to cross the line of politeness.
"You have my son, do you not? What is going…"
Trunks didn't hear the rest of what his mother was saying. As the three of them walked, his eyes had caught something. A room that he knew belonged to someone he needed to see.
Walking away quickly, he let the voices of the queen and Pan drift off.
He didn't bother to knock.
The door he stood before creaked quietly as he slowly pushed it open. He was not completely without manners; not wanting to catch the occupant unawares and in a potentially embarrassing moment, he proceeded with caution. Finally pushing the door open its final distance, he stepped into the room.
He was met with light eyes peering at him from a desk to the side. She stood up so quickly the object in her hand tipped over on the table with a clatter. She smiled brightly.
"Prince. You have returned," she said sweetly, gathering the skirts in her hands and walking over to him. Trunks closed the door hastily and gave the girl a cold stare.
"Not so much thanks to you," he replied. She took in his narrowed eyes and stopped her approach. "Can you even imagine what the penalty would be for casting that kind of spell on the prince?" he asked.
She frowned. "You've changed. I know you have. You don't remember how you were before. You were bossy and selfish… and maybe you still are, but you have other things too. You have a sense of… compassion that wasn't there before."
Trunks sulked.
"You don't know what I do or don't have."
"I do. I can see," she tapped her temple to emphasise her point. It was this gesture that drew his eyes to her face. He wondered why her eyes were tainted red… as if she had been crying hard.
"You can hate me all you want, I suppose, but… didn't you have a little fun? Don't you feel more complete? I'm sorry for doing that to you, I just couldn't be with someone who didn't understand love, and you didn't. Now… now I think you do."
"I'm not in love with her," he protested loudly. She smiled wearily.
"I never said you were. I just said you understood love. Well, as much as love can be understood. I just… needed you to do this for me. I will not use magic on you again," she promised, hand tucked behind her back.
Trunks nodded slowly.
"I brought her back," he said uncertainly. His fiancée smiled genuinely and nodded; her blonde hair sliding from behind her shoulders. "Can you undo this then?" he asked, sweeping a hand in the mirror which was only showing one reflection at the moment. She smiled and walked the rest of the space between them.
She carefully placed her hands on his shoulders, manoeuvring him into a straight position. Her stomach was pressed to his, her fingers trailing down until they gripped his upper arms. Her cheek was smooshed to his shoulder blade, her eyes turned into his shoulder.
It would have been a tender embrace had he not been standing so rigidly, making no move to respond in kind. He left his hands dangling uselessly at his side, no matter how right it would have felt just to wrap them around her slender waist.
He was reminded of Pan, and when he had taught her to dance. Was it really so short ago? She had been horrible… but she had been easy to teach. And she was so warm, melded against him…
He was cold. A shiver was crawling up his back the pace of a caterpillar making him want to reach behind and shake it away. But she was holding him so tight, her mouth murmuring words that he did not understand.
And suddenly, it was like a gust of cold wind pushed him over. His breath caught and he had to consciously order his lungs to continue to inhale.
The pressure was released from his shoulders, and looking down he realized she had let go. He blinked at the girl now standing a comfortable distance from him again. He shook his shoulders distractively and glanced at the mirror.
Standing beside a grinning blonde girl was a young man. With lavender hair that was too long for his forehead, and black clothes that were not his, the beginnings of a light beard across his jaw line and a large smudge of dirt across his right cheek bone that Pan neglected to tell him about.
He found himself grinning at the messy excuse for a prince.
He was visible.
He was back.
"Why did you do that to me?" Trunks asked quietly, still looking at his reflection. His fiancée had the dignity to look abashed.
"You… you needed to learn love, prince. I knew no better way than to throw you into that… place…"
"I was gone for a matter of days. What makes you think I've learned anything?"
"Because," she said softly, "you are not demanding my death," she replied simply. Trunks turned to her, eyes finally torn away from his reflection. "Had it been like before, you would have," she said. Trunks blinked at her, not commenting.
This act of silence seemed to give her courage because she proceeded on.
"I only wanted you to learn friendship. How to give and take. The compromises sharing your life with someone brings. I knew Pan would condition your return and… I thought maybe it would help you understand… but. But you don't," she said, as if the realization had just hit her. Her fingers were knotting around a fold in her dress, hiding from the prince. He frowned.
"What don't I? I thought you said I did."
"No. You didn't learn friendship," she said, her eyes widening. "I had actually thought – no. You did. You skipped friendship. You are not friends with Pan are you?"
"No, I wouldn't say we are," he replied honestly. "I mean, we bicker all the time, and there are just so many things that-"
"You love her," she blurted out, her knuckles white against her dress.
"I most certainly do not."
"You do. Not unconditionally. But enough to… heavens," she muttered. She swallowed the lump that seemed to be wedged in her throat. "I didn't want… you do love her," she said, shaking her head.
"No-" he protested.
"When you look at her, can you imagine saying goodbye?" she asked, eyes turned to the floor, with her long lashes noticeably blinking against her cheek.
Trunks didn't respond. He didn't need to. They both knew the answer any way.
Pan kept her lips set in a strained smile, her fingers ice cold around the steaming cup they were holding. It was one thing to be around Trunks, who was just like an obnoxious boy really, but to be around the Queen, the very head of the country. She tried swallowing sips of tea but it all tasted like sand.
It really didn't help Pan that the Queen was judging her for all she was worth. It seemed like every time she lifted her eyes away from her tea saucer, the Queen was squinting at her, eyebrows narrowed and clear blue eyes searching for something written on Pan's face.
She couldn't believe that Trunks had abandoned her. How could he have done that? This was his house, his mother, his everything. And she had no business being there save it were to bring him back. Which was a great favour to him. Which she did. So the least he could do was to stay with her to make his hawk of a mother yield.
At the few glances she took of the Queen every sip or so, Pan was surprised by the look of her monarch. She had never seen the Queen before, and while she had heard many stories of the intelligence and grace of the woman, her face had always been a blur when relating stories.
Now that she had a picture of the Queen's appearance, she wondered if that face would ever blur back to nothing again. It struck Pan that the highness had the sort of face that was not forgotten quite so easily. Her face structure was more prominent than even Pan's, but despite this she was sure that the Queen's was more smooth and curved. Her nose was maybe a little too small for her eyes, but it levelled out her ears so nicely…
Pan wondered what Trunks would think if he knew she was melding a picture of his mother's face into her mind. She was about to take a look at the Queen's hands when she spoke up;
"So it seems my son is lost then?" she asked. Pan resisted the urge to put her cup down harshly. No matter how the Queen insinuated that she was hiding the prince somewhere, or that he wasn't here at all, all Pan could do was calmly tell her that Trunks had come back with her, even if he did abandon her. The creep.
"Only in the castle," she said smartly. The Queen smiled slightly.
"He wasn't with you, though," she continued. Which had made Pan wonder how she knew that he was with her at all. How did the Queen know that her son was with her? How did the Queen know to look for Pan?
The only thing she could think of was that Trunks' fiancée had told her. But if that were the case than the Queen must know about the curse of invisibility. But what if she didn't?
Pan was analysing everything the Queen uttered to try and connect what she already knew, what she needed to know, and how to know which ones to be kept confidential. It didn't seem good that the Queen was doing much the same to Pan.
Pan bit her lip before forming another answer to the questions which were increasing in difficulty to answer without lying. Time was going so slow.
Time was going so fast.
Bulma grinned and tapped her feet merrily on the ground. There was some sort of sick pleasure in watching the girl in front of her fret away. She had begun to drill the girl almost immediately about her son. There were no alarms going off in her mind, no warning signals. She knew her son was alright. That where he was, was an okay place. But it still interested her where he was at that moment.
She supposed even more interesting was the girl herself. Pan. This was the girl her son had spent the last few days with. She didn't think they were friends previously, so he must have run off on state business… except Vegeta hadn't known where he had gone.
Well, whatever business he left to see her, she was now here, so he was obviously back. But she wouldn't tell her where. Bulma asked again, fingering her tea cup along the rim, why her son wasn't with Pan.
The girl was clinging to her own tea cup as if her life relied on the action. Bulma didn't think it was out of fear of being with the Queen. She didn't think she would be shy or grovelling in front of her if she had spent so much time with Trunks. Surely she could have gotten used to conversing with royals.
But she hadn't. Or there was something else, because the girl was certainly not at ease. She wondered, if she looked outside, if the sun had set already. It seemed like everything was in fast motion except her. She couldn't get Pan to stop strangling her cup and tell her where her son was. Bulma's insides were fluttering like mad. She had half a mind to just shake the girl when she was surprised by a small voice.
It was mumbled and quiet and she hadn't made the sounds of noise form proper words. But still…
The Queen leaned forward, fingers on the table, cup aside, and turned her ear discreetly.
"What was that?" she asked kindly. She could hear Pan swallow. A moment later and the same quiet, this time more firm, voice whispered past her lips.
"He's with her," she said. Bulma pulled back when her mind connected the sounds into the sentence, her cup rattling slightly from knocking it in her withdraw from Pan.
"He's with who?" she asked again. Pan looked up at her and narrowed her eyes. For a wild moment Bulma thought that Pan would lunge at her. But the raven haired girl paused, and looking somewhat startled, set her tea cup down and looked around the room. Their eyes met again.
Bulma could feel her knees trembling.
Pan could feel her knees stop trembling. She had been so stupid, she marvelled. She let her gaze fall around the room again. What was she so nervous about? Yes, she was having tea with the Queen. And yes, she seemed to be darn intimidating at the same time. But that's not who was asking her questions. It was not the Queen that was asking where the prince was.
What had once been awkward for her was now suddenly so simple. Why hadn't she caught it before? There was no Queen across from her.
Just a mother.
A mother who desperately wanted to make sure her son had gotten home safely. To make sure he was safe, and then to throttle him no doubt. How many times had she seen that expression on her own mother? That urgent, overwhelmed, maddening look? One of such fierceness masked in such calmness… the whole expression was eerie. But there it was. On the royal herself.
Her face so pale, and her fingers almost melding with the grain of the table from clutching it so hard. Pan could almost see her trembling.
This was just a mother, a very important mother, but not a person that Pan needed to fear out of respect or from impending punishment.
She sighed with a smile.
"With her," she repeated. "His fiancée. I am sure of it," she said firmly. The Queen stared at her blankly for a moment before a definite sparkle took residence in her eye.
"Thank you," she whispered, and Pan had no doubts of its sincerity.
"Let's go find him then, shall we?" she asked, standing. Pan joined her standing accordingly.
"Come," she repeated. "And tell me what my son was doing with you."
Pan smiled slightly, and fell beside the Queen, as they began their search for Trunks.
"I don't want to say good bye," Trunks admitted, "but that does not mean I love her." His fiancée shook her head.
"It doesn't matter what it means. Do I really have to convince you? I think you love her. You will anyway, if you don't dry out the beginnings of it. You have a start… you could end it but…"
"People don't fall in love in a matter of days! People don't even make friends in a matter of days!"
"Don't you get it? You have it! The seed of a love. And only you two can decide if you want it to grow."
"Why are you saying this? You don't want me to be with Pan. You're engaged to me," he pointed out.
"I sent you to learn love and you did. I'm responsible for this. Why can't you just admit that? Don't you know what love is?"
"Of course I do," he said sourly. She stared at him, her eyebrows raised. He had seen such a similar expression on Pan that he knew exactly what she was trying to convey in gestures. He frowned, and elaborated.
"Love… well. Love is… loving someone. Love is man and wife," he said. He felt disappointed to see her shake her head sadly.
"This is just so messed up," she whispered and pushed past him. She took
a morbid pleasure in the way her heels stomped angrily across the stone floor.
He was in love. She could see that now. She had known, but had tried so hard not to think about it, but there it was. And she had a love spell that would change all that. One move and he would fall in love with her. And it would be a fake, cheap love. If only he didn't love Pan… but then, he didn't even know what love was. There was at least something in that. If he couldn't even say what it was, it wouldn't be too hard to force a spelled one onto him.
Her hand was on the door knob before his voice spoke from the silence. It chilled her spine and caught her breath. His distant voice, hollow with memory, muffled from a back turned to her.
"Love is what keeps us living from day to day. We wake up and see Love beside us in the morning. It's what we essentially live for. Without Love, we only have money and land. And we can only look to those in the morning for so long… before it's shallow. Cold. Empty."
She had turned to him, her fingers still clutching the exit. He had slowly faced her in turn, looking almost dejected.
"See? And would Pan lie?" he asked.
"Pan told you all that?" she asked quietly. He nodded distantly.
"When we first met. She knows about love. And it kills her. Her family, her friends… her love for them is slowly killing her as they die. Love is pain. That's what I've learned. And when I look at Pan, maybe I can say good bye. Maybe I can never think about her again. But I know if I did let her stay, we would only get hurt. And if that means I love her, then so be it.
"But Pan knows more than I do, doesn't she? She's had fairy tales about love since she was a child. She cries over thunder-stormed murdered kittens for pity's sake. I think she knows more about love then anyone could ever hope to. So don't ask me if I love her. Because I don't know.
"Ask her," he finished. "Ask her."
He had marched quickly from the room, determined to have the last word, and wanting to get away from the thick atmosphere that had settled into the room. His bride stood motionless at the door, her knuckles white on the handle.
With a hitched sob she slid down the door and pooled in a heap on the floor.
She didn't want to force someone to love her. She just wanted Trunks to learn about love so he would have compassion. So that maybe with his help she could escape from under her own curse. With his help she could get her guarded Name back. And in return she would be a good wife, if the prince desired to keep her. It wouldn't matter; she would do whatever he wanted.
But now she couldn't even have that. She couldn't give Trunks what he wanted. She couldn't give Trunks the choice of what he wanted. Because she needed him to be unconditioned. Because now she had to force a love spell on him.
Trunks had no choice.
Because he had already chosen Pan.
Trunks stormed through the hallways. He was confused and irritable. All he had wanted was to come home and go back to his every day life. Well, maybe not every day. He was going to think about this Pan issue, for it really was an issue, and how to get around being away from her. He thought he would miss her. They had become a workable duo over the past few days. She was funny to be with. She was fun to be with. She…
… didn't treat him like a prince. Was that it?
Trunks stopped in his tracks, occupying the middle of the hallway. Could it be the simple fact that Pan treated him like a normal human being; a friend, a commoner. It was so different. To be able to say whatever and not have things taken at face value. To not worry about gossip or people trying to use him. Why hadn't he thought of it? That must be what made Pan so special. Because she treated him differently. She treated him like Trunks, not the prince.
Even if she wouldn't say his name.
He continued to walk.
Maybe… maybe if he just stayed away from Pan, things would work out. Like a drunkard trying to get over his addiction, he could just avoid her and this new want to be with her, this need, would slowly ebb away.
That was what he would have to do.
Stay away from Pan.
He nodded in resolve, and raised his head from his contemplating stance. It felt like grim satisfaction to come to a conclusion but it was one that had to be reached. Just to never see Pan ag-
He smashed into someone around the corner and heard a distinct squeak as the person fell. He quickly regained his balance and made to tell the clumsy fool off, but his scolding died in his throat. His resolve slipped through his fingers.
"Hello Pan," he said dryly. She was glaring up at him from the floor, shaking her head. With as much dignity as possible she stood and proceeded to give him a proper glare which was interrupted by yet another woman throwing herself at him.
He was shocked and surprised to feel his mother's arms around him. His own arms were flailing at the side, making him look like a poor fish from water. He found himself awkwardly returning the embrace to his mother while Pan looked on wordlessly.
"I'm so glad you're back," he heard the murmur into his shoulder. And then she pulled away, her hands grasping painfully at his shoulder, shoving him arms length so she could get a good look at him. He raised an eyebrow.
"Just what did you think you were doing? Running off away from home? You didn't tell anyone, no one knew where you were, except your princess, who won't tell us anything by the way. I am so angry at you right now…" His mother was seething, and Trunks couldn't help but take an unconscious step away from her.
"Don't try to walk away from me, young man. If your friend here hadn't assured me of your safety, you would be in so much trouble." Trunks glanced over to the 'friend' Bulma had gestured to, seeing Pan watching the display, teeth between her lips in attempt to hold back a smile. He glared at her.
"Don't glare at me, sir," his mother was off again.
"Mother, I wasn't-"
"You just be glad your father isn't here right now. He wants your head. You can't just run off whenever you feel like it, Trunks. I just don't understand you…"
"It really wasn't my fault, mother," he explained.
"Well I don't see why it wasn't. You made the decision, and saw fit to tell no one but your fiancée. I just don't understand why you didn't tell us," she said with a sigh.
Trunks frowned. He didn't need this. He didn't need his wonderful fiancée accusing him of loving Pan. He didn't need his mother accusing him of abandoning her. He didn't need Pan pretending not to laugh at the situation. He just wanted to be home. He set his jaw and turned to his mother, taking a step from her grasp.
"First of all, mother, I did not tell my fiancée, she was the one who made me leave home. She cast a spell on me. One of invisibility. Only Pan could see me, so I had to go find her and get her to bring me back home. Because she wouldn't break the spell unless Pan was here. And now she is, and the spell is broken."
"So you knew too?" Bulma turned to look at Pan.
"Mother, don't you understand what I'm saying? My fiancée put a spell on me!"
"Is that so?" Trunks froze at the voice, and pivoted slowly on his heel to look at the owner of the voice. For the second time that day he heard Pan squeak at the appearance of royalty.
"Is that so?" he asked, budding into the conversation. He could see his son freeze and turn around to face him. There was a small noise of panic from the girl with him, who quickly bowed her head.
"Father," his son said with a slight nod. Vegeta frowned.
"How dare you speak to your mother in such a tone?" he asked finally. Trunks looked smacked from his question, his jaw inching downwards. Vegeta fought a smirk. Of all things to comment on, it seemed he had picked the one that did not settle with his son.
"Didn't you hear what-" he began but was interrupted by Bulma stepping in front of him. Trunks looked oddly exasperated and Vegeta had to wonder how many times he had been interrupted that day by his outgoing mother.
"Vegeta, it's not his fault. Honestly, think of what he's been through." She was brushing his clothes as if to get the trials and tribulations her son had gone through off his shoulders. Vegeta fought the urge to roll his eyes in front of Bulma.
"She put a spell on you?" Bulma asked at last, looking into Trunks' eyes. This seemed to be the topic his son wanted most addressed because he gave an impatient nod.
"Well no point in marrying a witch," he said calmly. Trunks looked at him with wide eyes, clearly uncertain where things was going with this, and how calmly he had said it in. Vegeta felt a certain type of power in causing these surprised reactions from his son. Though Bulma was looking at him with raised eyebrows as well.
"Choose whomever you want," he said with a flippant gesture of his hand. He turned away, intent on having the last word in the argument and walked off towards the dining hall, knowing the queen would soon follow and commend him on making the right decision.
On letting their son marry whom he chose and for whatever reasons. And he was able to convey this to him without using the word 'love' once.
No need to give the boy a heart attack.
Bulma found herself smiling at her husband's retreating form and made a note to follow him after she had finished talking with her son. Trunks was still watching where his father had exited with a clueless sort of look in his eyes. Bulma tried not to be amused by the look.
"Father said I could…"
"Marry who you wish, yes," she finished. She wondered if she imagined Trunks' eyes glancing to Pan next to them.
"I don't understand."
"Well neither do I. You were under a spell?" she asked, getting back to the real question at hand. How could this have happened? She knew there was something off about that princess but… could she really have cast a spell?
"Yeah," he said sullenly.
"So," Bulma said, the gears in her head turning as she worked through what was being said. "You were the one who made it possible to break this spell?" Bulma asked. She was looking at Pan who seemed rather impressed or surprised. Bulma wasn't sure, but she was looking at the queen with a sort of scepticism. As if she doubted that Bulma believed a word of what was happening.
"You allowed the spell to be broken? By returning here with my son?" she asked again, bringing Pan out of her short daze.
"I suppose so," she said quietly, "ma'am," she added. Bulma waved it off.
"Then I believe we are indebted to you?" she asked, keeping things open questioned in case she got something wrong. Pan didn't answer for Trunks did it for her.
"We are. I mean, I am… well," he coughed slightly. "See, Pan… Son, is the daughter of the owner of the Son estate. One of the ones that father is going to claim hold of. Pan had already pleaded for her land, but… well father said-"
"You turned her away, didn't you?" Bulma asked, a smile spreading across her face as if the irony of everything had kicked in. Trunks had the decency to look abashed. "Turned her away and then found out you needed her to break a spell."
"Curse," Trunks corrected. Bulma was shaking her head in amusement.
"Alright, lets have it," she said, looking at Pan once again, her arms folded. "What did my son promise you to break the… curse?"
There was a faint blush on Pan's cheeks, and it seemed rather obvious that she didn't want to say what was promised to her. Bulma wondered if it was something embarrassing or if she just didn't want to make demands to the queen. She raised her eyebrows at Trunks who would give her a direct answer.
"Well," he began, "I offered her money. And ladyship. But that wasn't enough." Here he shot a glare over to Pan, who after a glance , was sticking her tongue out at Trunks. "So… well, I granted her… her farm," he mumbled. Bulma blinked and slowly unfolded her arms.
"I see," she said quietly. Her fingers felt cold. "So, you promised her something that your father has control over?"
"It's our land!" Pan suddenly exclaimed. Her sudden outburst caught Bulma off guard as she was expecting it from Trunks, not her. "It has been in my family for decades, and the only reason the king wants it is because he thinks it could bring in more money than it does. But it's our land. Before he was even born it was ours. He can't keep it. Especially after the prince promised it returned," she finished, looking at Trunks with an apparent glare but what had to be a plea underneath it.
Trunks looked expectantly at his mother. Bulma sighed.
"It will be so," she said at last. "But I'm not taking the guilt for you, son. You'll have to convince your father of your actions when he discovers the news.
Trunks nodded with a grimace.
Bulma turned to Pan, her hands folded before her and a contemplative look spread over her face.
"Well Miss Son. It seems you have saved my son and been rather patient with a nutty queen's questions. You'll be staying of course? For a bit? So all of your rewards will be given to you."
It seemed that Pan was about to protest, but Bulma had already turned away from her.
"Give her a guest suite, won't you dear?" she asked of Trunks. She nodded without waiting for an answer and swept off to search for her husband. As soon as she was out of sight, Pan slumped and let out a huge breath.
"You're house is mad," she said quietly, staring at the floor as if it would give her strength. Trunks smiled wryly.
"Come on then, to your rooms," he murmured.
"I really can't stay, you know. My parents will worry about me." Trunks nodded.
"I'll send a messenger that you're staying at the capital to negotiate your deed. Alirght?"
"Alright," she said with a nod. "Thank you," she replied.
"Not at all," he murmured. He glanced down at her as they walked through the hallways. He could only see an obscured version of her face from the angle they were walking and the height distance. But the version he got was noticeable just the same. Her cheeks curved so smoothly, and he was beginning to wonder if they didn't dimple when she smiled.
Her face kept changing from subtle expression to subtle expression. She was fascinating to watch when she didn't know she was being watched.
He found himself surprised to see they had come to the guest suite he was going to give her. He stopped in front of the door indicating they were at their destination. She looked the door up and down before waiting for Trunks to speak.
"I'll have someone bring clothes and what not for you," he said quietly. Pan nodded. There was an awkward silence where neither of them said anything until she reached for the handle with her right hand.
"Okay, well, goodbye," she said softly and escaped into the room, shutting him out with a click. He stared at the silent door for a moment before letting out a shaky breath.
"But I can't say goodbye," he whispered before turning away.
Hum, I rather like this chapter. Which is odd, for me.
MERRY CHRISTMAS, again. And thank you, to you reviewers - each and every one of you make me smile.
Angel Eevee