A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. My computer is away getting fixed. I loathe technology.

Last Time: The curse was lifted from Trunks, his fiancée is devastated to discover he loves Pan, Trunks isn't sure whether he loves her, though is beginning to think that he does. Pan is interrogated by Bulma, and Vegeta tells his son that he can marry whomever he chooses

"Without Consent"

It was late that night that Pan was sitting, rather numb and shocked on the large bed the guest room of the castle offered. It had been an odd day, contemplating back on it.

It had started with her father all but catching her in bed with a man. Had it not been for the fact that this man was cursed and lacking in visibility, she would have had quite the situation on her hands. Then there was the whole trip to the castle. Where the prince had refused to swim, though he promised. She scowled.

And of course her very uncomfortable interrogation with the Queen. It was bad enough that she had to speak to her alone, but under such circumstances…

She had heard much of the Queen before even arriving at the castle. She was well known for her innovation, fairness and proud rule. She was a very memorable queen, whom even the peasants had respect for. A true figurehead for the women.

It would have been an honour to meet her. An honour for the prince to, perhaps, officially introduce each other. But to be dragged into a room and glared at for information on her invisible son who chose at that moment to abandon her… it was horrible.

But now…

Now she was comfortable and cozy. Locked away in a large and rich room with assurances that her family had been informed of her whereabouts. In her hands was a thick piece of paper, a royal seal flashing across the top, and the tight script of the scribe running down the parchment. A letter of ownership, forever more of her farm. Never could the government try to take what her family owned in land again.

Tossed beside her were the documents deeming her the status of lady and a box filled neatly with the promised money. Pan all but ignored the latter two gifts, but could not help but finger the ownership deed in her hand.

This had been what everything had been all for. What she had suffered the prince's company for. Everything.

It felt heavy in her palms, as if it had been inscribed on lead instead of thinned wood. She head read the detailed notice at least a dozen times, but with the sun setting now and the only real light coming from a set of candle sticks, she couldn't satisfy her urge to read it again without squinting horribly. There was a lantern on the table across the room, but she found she was too tired even for that.

And no wonder, she thought. She hadn't slept the best with the prince around, and she had spent the days with him walking to town, dancing, riding to town, swimming… not exactly low energy activities.

She let her head fall to a pillow, closing her eyes. She tried to force herself not to sleep, but when she lifted her lids once again in a last effort, she was horrified to find the room bright, not with burnt out candles, but the mid morning sun shining through the window.

She groaned, realizing she had unconsciously slept the night away in her exhaustion.

She rolled over and tried to convince herself to get up and grace the castle with her presence. Surely they would have missed her… surely she should be up and about. But the bed was soft, and the bed was warm. And who would know if she just rolled over…

She rolled over once again, closing her eyes though not falling asleep, for certain this time, fingers still curled around her ownership deed. She never heard the door open or close lightly. She never heard someone tiptoeing over to the bed, or the hand placed over her mouth.

She shrieked but it was muffled.

"Eeh, I knew you'd do that. It's just me."

Pan rolled over at the removal of the hand and squinted up at the face of the prince. He was grinning slightly.

"I am in very close range of numerous pillows. What do you want?" she glared, discreetly making sure her clothes were covering everything that a boy the prince's age might find interesting. He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at his hands, as if they had suddenly become very note worthy.

"You weren't at dinner last night," he said suddenly, looking up. "I didn't think even you had the nerve to sleep through dining with the King and Queen."

"I didn't mean to," she said surprised. And indeed she wouldn't have on purpose – he was right, she wouldn't have the nerve.

"Hmm. I told my parents you had taken ill." Pan shifted onto her shoulder to become more level with him.

"Thank you," was all she could think to say. Trunks squinted at her, as if trying to inspect a freckle on her face, and opened his mouth so say something when he was interrupted by a very light knock on the door.

He paused and glanced at the door way.

"What is it?" Pan called, ignoring Trunks' frantic head shake. She shrugged her shoulders at him in confusion, but the prince merely looked exasperated. The door opened and a pretty girl walked in, a narrow box in her arms.

She almost dropped the box when she looked up, stumbling to catch it.

"My prince… I didn't know- err. Well, that… in Ms Son's room…"

Pan made a small chocking sound, catching on to why Trunks perhaps did not want her to open the door immediately and let the knocker in. He sent her an ironic smirk.

There was an odd silence in the room while Trunks forced himself to be comfortable at being caught in Pan's room while she was still in bed, the servant waited to see if an explanation or a reprimand not to mention the scene to anyone would come, and Pan had the decency to look almost shameful at the whole situation.

Trunks broke the awkward quiet.

"Why are you here?" he asked with his usual class. The girl blinked before startling herself into the present.

"Ah, yes. Umm, it's merely a package for Ms Son," she explained. Trunks looked at the box before turning to Pan.

"Speaking of packages, and what is in your package, I should tell you my father has called the Ball this afternoon. He announced it last night but someone wasn't at dinner to hear it. Remember, you owe me a dance."

"You owe me a swim," she said saucily back to him. He threw her a grin before standing up and marching out of the room, not before giving a sweeping gesture to the servant, indicating that Pan's full attention was hers.

The girl shook her head and walked to a table to set down her burden.

"It is your dress, Miss," she said kindly, lifting the lid off the box and angling it for her to see from the bed. Pan smiled lightly.

"I see. Err, thank you," she said awkwardly. The servant smiled.

"You must be excited, Miss, if you don't mind me saying."

"Excited? I suppose I am. I'm glad everything worked out with the King," she said truthfully, fingering the deed to her farm.

"I imagine so. Though it was awfully tight for a moment, I was there," she said kindly. Pan felt compelled to smile back to her.

"Was the King so reluctant?" Pan asked, the details of the negotiations were never quite fully explained to her.

"I think he was just being careful. But your man argued for you."

"My… man?"

"Well… you know."

"Sorry," Pan said with a small laugh, climbing out of bed and walking over, "that's just a funny way of addressing him. I mean, don't let him hear you say that."

"I think he may humor it. You are very lucky, Ms Son, to be with someone who loves you so."

"Love? What? He doesn't love me," Pan said, eyes wide, voice gone slightly hoarse. Her fingers stopped their gentle outline of the green and gold dress and laid her full attention on the servant.

"Of course he loves you Ms Son. If he didn't prove it in the way he faced the King the way he did, he certainly does by the way he looks when he speaks of you. I apologize for being so forward, but when your name is said, his eyes light up so. It would be a perfect lie to say he didn't love you," she said with a smile.

Pan tried to wet her lips with her tongue but it had gone dry too. She couldn't believe what this girl was saying. That Trunks had fought tooth and nail for Pan. And that when she was brought up his eyes turned? It was impossible. Trunks didn't love her. Trunks couldn't love her.

It wouldn't be fair.

The girl was grinning crookedly, as if she was just in on a big joke. She patted the dress once and folded her hands in front of her.

"I trust it suits you well," she said, gesturing to the dress. "I should warn you that most ladies take quite the hours to prepare for things like this. Shall I send for help?"

"Do you think I need it?" Pan asked, looking at the dress.

"You want to look perfect, Ms Son, do you not? It is such a special day."

It's just a Ball, she thought wearily, watching her skip from the room in search of help.

The servant was smiling, heading to the women's quarters. She found it funny, how he never said he loved her, or must not have by the way Ms Son reacted to it all. For some reason it looked like Ms Son was shocked at the realization.

That was rather sad. It had always looked to her that Keipher loved Ms Son the most and was the kind that would tell their loved ones all the time.

But to each his own…

As she hurried down the hall in search of maids to help Ms Son ready herself for the big day, she couldn't help but feel a tad bit of envy.

Because Keipher was so sweet, and to be married to him… well. Though it did seem odd how the prince was in her room talking with her. She wondered if they were perhaps friends, but had never before recalled seeing her at the castle. Was it possible that they were lovers?

She frowned to herself. Who to pick, if Ms Son had to choose between Keipher and the prince. She thought Ms Son must have been hard pressed to pass up the prince and all he offered, but then again, Keipher loved her and her only. There would be no country to run getting in the way.

Yes, love would always be the proper choice.

Thus she envied Pan, and her pending marriage.

She only wondered if the prince knew her choice…

"Is she feeling any better, dear?"

Trunks stopped walking to allow his mother to catch up with him, her steps being careful and slow, so that he was rather impatient by the time she was by his side. Yet, dutifully, he took her arm and guided her through the hallway.

"Is whom feeling better, mother?" he asked. She threw him a look.

"Pan, of course. That is who you were just visiting, were you not?"

"What gives you that impression?"

"What doesn't?" There was a silence that was neither comfortable nor awkward, where only the shuffle of his feet and the trail of her dress were heard. The Queen picked up the conversation where she ended it. "You can tell… you've become close with her…"

"I lived with her all day every day for a good couple of… well, days. I don't think I've ever been so suffocated by one person's presence. I can still smell her for goodness sakes."

"Hmm," she murmured. "So, tell me Trunks. What did you do in your days?"

"She showed me her life. The life of her class, rather. It's… different, I'll admit. Much more…"

"Breathable."

"Oh… yes. That's one way to put it."

"Yes. You'll find most life outside of these walls is that way. It takes a bit to adjust." Trunks turned his head and regarded her seriously.

"How did you leave it behind?"

"The outside? It's… easier if you have someone to do it for. I knew I was giving up my old lifestyle, but in exchange for your father. It seemed right that way. Don't worry dear, I'm sure that Pan can adjust as I did."

"I don't know. She seems very- wait! No. No, no no. I meant me. How was I going to readjust to this place. Why would Pan need to? She'll be going home soon enough."

"Once she's feeling better?"

"Right."

"Mmhmm. And why do you need to ship her home so soon? Oh." She stopped walking and grabbed Trunks' arm tightly, her fingers digging. "She has a lover at home?" she whispered. Trunks grinned.

"Of course not." If he didn't know better, he thought his mother looked disappointed. "Well, when I first met him, I thought her uncle was her 'male acquaintance'." Bulma giggled.

"I wonder how a thing like her is still unattached then, hmm?"

"What are you implying, Mother?"

"Just that she is a very well rounded girl."

"I… erm, wouldn't notice," he said, avoiding his mother's gaze as she looked up at his red face.

"I meant personality wise, not figure wise, dear. I mean, she has a very… diverse person. She-"

"I know, Mother. She's different. She's just got this huge issue about love, which is probably why no one can get near her affections. She wants the fairy tale, and that sort of things is really hard to… oh. Oh! I forgot! She does have someone."

"How do you forget something like that?"

"You just do. Err, I do. Urgh. She doesn't love him, in fact she doesn't even like him. I might say she hated him. He's only after her because of some past contract with Pan's parents. It's complicated. But Mom, I promised I would see if I could do anything for her. I mean, in ways of marriage contract…"

"You seemed to have promised the world to this girl to get you safely back."

"I promised this promise as a friend," he said quietly. She raised her eyebrows at this but said nothing in regards to it.

"Your father did say he would hold to any promise you made her. I don't see it as being a problem, nullifying an old contract. You said it was with her parents? That means it probably wasn't even Vegeta that drew it up. It'll be a matter of signature to undo his father's. Don't fret, Trunks."

"I wasn't fretting."

"I know. But still, it is funny, the amount of things she needed to return you. She must not have thought very highly of you, as nothing about her strikes me as overly greedy."

"Yes, we really didn't get along in the beginning."

"And in the end?" she asked innocently.

"In the end I got back home."

"Yes. With a string of payments. Which is really why Pan is such a strange girl. Any others would have just asked for your hand."

Trunks made a noncommittal snort.

"Though perhaps she doesn't need to ask for it."

"What does that mean?" Trunks asked, narrowing his eyes at his mother. Bulma smiled sadly.

"Just that, perhaps, it is being given freely."

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Mother. Not now, or ever, have I asked Pan for her hand. Why would I? She's just a peasant and I'm the prince. No one would understand. And she's far too annoying. She complains about everything, stops me from doing things I want to, laughs at me, and frankly just makes my life… what?"

Bulma was shaking her head at him, her sad smile still on her lips.

"You love her," she said suddenly.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"I'm sorry, it's just… Trunks, trust me on this. Sometimes you just know when there is love. And-"

"No, mother. I have known her for half a dozen days. Love doesn't grow that fast."

"I loved you within minutes."

"That's different."

"Not by much."

"Why doesn't anyone listen when I say what she did to me those days. I hate her."

"Just as I hate your Father. Because he is a bully, and hurtful and too proud for his own good. But I can not picture things without him anymore. Trunks, can you picture things without Pan."

"Yes."

"… are they happy?"

"Quite."

She sighed.

"Trunks," she started, grabbing his arm. "It's okay to love her. I know you're scared. Because things didn't happen the logical way you wanted them to. It's okay. Just tell her, Trunks."

"Are you mad? She hits me just for thinking of kissing her. I don't want to know what she would do if I confessed love."

"So you do love her then?"

It was Trunks' turn to sigh.

"I like her around me, despite what she does, she makes me laugh. She makes me think. She doesn't treat me like glass or like a spoiled god needing attention. She treats me human! And I don't want that person to go away, but I have no reason to make her stay. So I want to follow her, but I can't."

"Would you give up the crown to be with her?"

"… No. No, I couldn't."

"You could."

"I wouldn't."

"Ah. Then I suppose she will just have to stay here."

"She has no reason to, though. I couldn't make her-"

"Trunks, just tell her that-"

"No, Mother. She doesn't see me the same. I only like her because she makes me feel real. I don't do the same for her. I'm just another face in her life."

"Trunks-"

"No. She can't even say my name. She can't love me."

Bulma opened her mouth but was stopped by him.

"I have to get ready for the Ball. I must leave you here, Mother." He made a kissing gesture to her hand and stalked off. Bulma frowned and dropped her arms in exasperation.

"My son is a coward," she murmured to herself before going to search for her husband, mind reeling with thoughts. She would not let her son loose someone he loved. She hadn't expected him to find love (it was just too rare for royalty), but if he did, she would make darn well sure that he kept it.

Forever.

Hours later Trunks nodded briefly to the giggling group of girls that floated towards the ball room, his attention not on them but on the horizon of the hallway, eyes set on finding the girl he was intent on dancing with. He hadn't gotten sun burnt for nothing. In his gaze over a sea of dresses and ribbons he didn't notice the presence beside him until it spoke.

"Aren't you going in at all?" the Queen asked by his side, a navy blue dress lightly setting off her hair colour. Trunks shook his head absent mindedly, not looking at his mother.

"I'm waiting for her," he said stubbornly. Bulma smiled wearily.

"Girls like to do this to the ones they like. She's teasing you, dear," she said warmly. Trunks finally tore his eyes from the crowd heading into the hallway and looked at his mother curiously.

"She's what?"

"Teasing you. She wants to make you wait." She shrugged. "It's a girl thing."

"It's a stupid thing. I'm the prince; she can't make me wait," he said stubbornly, determined not to cross his arms in annoyance. His mother smiled beside him.

"Royalty doesn't immune you to the power of us, dear," she said in a comforting tone, lightly patting his arm. "Just ask your father."

Trunks knew that his mother was being good natured to try and calm him. She no doubt sensed that he was becoming irritated and jumpy at the wait, as most mothers are able to tell in their children. She kept her arm securely on his shoulder, grounding him to the location, and allowed her own eyes to sweep the incoming crowd.

"I could go and fetch her, if you like?" she offered after a moment. Trunks frowned, eyes still scanning, hoping for a glimpse of that dark hair or golden green dress. But none came into sight, so with a sigh he nodded.

"You'd better," he said, defeated. She nodded and turned her head, hand still on his arm. He was still looking as she called the nearest servant over to her.

"I'd like you to go collect Ms Pan Son. Do you know where her chambers are?" Bulma asked the girl. Trunks paused to watch the conversation between his mother and the servant girl. Her arms were filled with flowers she was no doubt spreading around the Ball Room. The girl had a pleasant face, which was underlined with her smile she wore, and he immediately placed her as the girl that had delivered Pan's dress. She was nodding, but then stopped, and Trunks watched as a confused look crossed her face.

"You want me to collect her?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes," Trunks replied for his mother. She looked between both the royals, the flowers lowering in her hands, and stuttered her words slightly when she spoke.

"But, begging your pardon, Ms Son is not in her chambers…" she said quietly. Bulma tilted her head and Trunks just frowned. Why wouldn't Pan be in her chambers? Why wouldn't she be in her rooms, taking a long time getting dressed. She certainly wasn't here. Where else could she possibly be?

After voicing this, the girl sighed and subtly shifted between her feet.

"My Lord… she is where your father commanded her to be," she said quietly. "I mean," she said, catching the surliness of her reply. "Where he granted permission for her to be."

"What are you on about?" he asked crossly.

"Ms Pan and her fiancé. They are in love and the gracious King signed the papers so they could wed. Her parents weren't allowing it… but he got your father's signature. Her parents have to let her. The law has to let her. Sire… she's being married to her love," she replied.

He vaguely felt his mother's hand drop in shock, vaguely heard an intake of breath that he couldn't be sure whether it was hers or his.

"Pan isn't in love," he said, his mouth dry.

"But the Lord Keipher was-"

"Keipher!" he interrupted loudly, such that the few people walking past paused to stare. He could feel his mother's curious gaze on his face but ignored her, reaching out and grabbing the servant girl by the shoulders.

She gasped and let her flowers shower to the floor.

"My father married her to Keipher?" he demanded. She nodded weakly.

"He sighed the papers yesterday. But they are in love, my Lord."

"I assure you they are not," he said bitterly. "Do you know where they are?" he asked quickly. She nodded, frantically trying to ignore his tight grip.

"The church in the village. By the crossroads," she said breezily. He let her go in an instant, and she had to catch herself from not falling from the lack of his tight grip. Trunks was marching away from the Ball, his head pounding and the calls from his mother falling on deaf ears.

He had to stop this.

She had to stop this.

Pan looked frantically around for something to grab; something to hit him with. But even if she saw something suitable for mulling someone, which she didn't, Keipher had such a tight grip on her arm she wouldn't be able to leap and grab at it. All she saw was row upon row of crimson coloured seats, high ceilings, and a signed document glaring at her with intensity.

"You have to stop this," she hissed between her teeth, though it fell upon no deaf ears. The officiator paused in his reading, and Keipher looked at her sharply from the side.

"I can not change the King's will," he said apologetically. Pan flinched and jerked towards him, causing Keipher to tighten his grip, pinching at the once comfortable fabric of her dress for the Ball.

"You marry me to a man without my consent," she said heavily, accusingly. She felt no sympathy for the man clutching the scriptures in his hands, thick knuckles jutting from his hands, and trembling softly. She felt not compassion, though he claimed that he was doing this against his consent as well.

Pan knew that the document Keipher had produced in the chapel had been from the King and that no one could deny its words. However, there was a difference in denying the existence of words and the obedience of the words. Pan had been given orders from the prince frequently, but she did not follow them. Why should this be different? She demanded this of the man, but he only frowned and placed a thumb on the page to keep his mark.

"I'm sorry, my lady. But the King orders it."

"Hang the King," Pan said with an attempted jerk away from Keipher. She could see Keipher's surprised look at her words from the corner of her eye, and hear the gasp from the clergy.

"You know this isn't right! How can you be doing this?" she demanded, pulling against her captor with all her might, but his arms were locked securely under hers and she could not move.

There was no turn of minds in the room, and Pan could feel a chill run through her body. She was going to be put through this, willing or not. The only way to not get married would be to run, but she didn't seem to be able to do that either.

Pan's mind raced with ideas of how to escape, but she felt dull and slow. There was a pounding in her ears that sounded like her heart, and a strong burning rush behind her eyes that were forcing tears to gather.

This wasn't fair. This wasn't what she wanted. Why couldn't she think of a way out of it? Why couldn't she break free of his grasp? Why wasn't anyone coming to save-

"Stop!"

The doors at the back of the church swung open, the metal hinges moaning with rust and creaking as they smashed against the stone frame. The ceremony paused as the text was lowered and a comment made about him not being able to enter, eyebrows were raised, and Pan squirmed in her hold to see the face of the voice she recognized.

Trunks stood in the door way, hair disheveled, out of breath, and clothes wind stricken. If possible the grip holding her in place tightened as Keipher turned to look at the prince.

"My hero," he said mockingly, though not bravely enough to be heard by the prince. He glared down at Pan who was barely containing her glee and relief. "I suppose he makes the perfect prince Charming, doesn't he? Barging in all ruffed up to save the damsel in distress. He can't save you."

"I beg to differ," Trunks commented, now close enough to take part in the conversation. "Let her go."

"She is my bride," Keipher said with a blank voice, wisely not raising his impertinent voice to the prince.

"She is unwillingly," he replied, casting a quick glance to Pan to confirm her feelings on the matter. Her expression of horror and queasiness was enough to attest to her thoughts on the matter.

"I'm afraid it is law. The King signed the papers. Her willingness does not matter," he replied matter of fact voice. "Besides, she owes me. Her mother owes me. I deserve to have her. She is my payment, twenty years late."

Keipher jerked his head towards the other man in the room.

"Continue," he ordered quickly.

"Don't. You can not marry her to him when she so obviously is opposed. What sort of God would condone that?" Trunks asked. The clergy shook his head, his eyes down cast.

"I am bound by the Lord, but I am bound by the King as well. I break no rules with my Master in binding them, for it is well in His eyes. So I must follow the King."

Trunks scowled and crossed his arms.

"I am the prince, heir to the throne, and future King. I demand that you release this girl," he said, voice hard, height imposing and a glare that was not of hatred but certainty.

"I'm afraid that your will does not over throw your father's," Keipher said slyly. Pan frowned.

"What are you talking about? He's the prince. If he says not to marry, you better do as he says."

"Except," Keipher injected, talking to Pan as if she were a child of four, "if he's ordering against his father, who has higher authority. Higher written authority. No one can break this law. Not even the King himself."

"That's not true," Trunks spat out.

"Actually, I'm afraid it is." The company of four turned to see the new comer. Pan let out a sigh of exasperation, and couldn't help but think, even under her circumstances, that the members of the royal family had a terrible habit of walking in behind people's conversations. It took a moment for her words to sink in, causing Pan to look at Trunks with dismay.

The prince was looking at his mother with narrowed eyes, surely angry at the predicament and not at her. The Queen walked up the aisle, fingers grazing along the pews. The large oak doors were being closed by guards, and escorted carriage peeping from the outside road.

Bulma looked calmly at the four of them; Pan looking as wretched as her son surely felt, the keeper of the church at a loss and the man grasping Pan eyeing her critically. Suspiciously. And with reason.

"My son can not undo my husband's words," she repeated.

"And neither can you," Keipher spat, harshly, close enough to Pan's ear that she flinched and leaned away.

"No. I can not." She could feel as much as hear Pan's shaky intake of breath, and did not wait to continue, though it would have brought her pleasure to do so. "However," she announced, watching the smug smile on Keipher's face falter, "the King can."

"He can not undo his words," Keipher stated, eyes jumping, worried that what he knew to be true, perhaps, wasn't.

"You are right in that also. But he can contradict them. My son's orders may not be able to dissolve his father's, but my son's word is still good. And he had given his word to this lady to abolish your marriage contract a few days ago. And in turn, my husband has agreed to keep to everything his son promised her.

"You may have written law from yesterday to be married, but the prince proclaimed that she would not be married today, before your law was created. Your law was only agreed to because the terms between son and father had not been fulfilled as of the time. I'm afraid, sir, that the prince promised Pan her freedom. And the king has signed it."

Bulma produced with a flourish a document, signed boldly by the king, delicately by herself, and from earlier that afternoon, Trunks as well. Keipher snatched the document and read it quickly.

"There is nothing about marriage here," he spat.

"It is granting Pan the terms promised, as the prince testifies to. So. Trunks, did you promise Pan her material freedom?"

"I-… I promised I would do all I could," he stammered. "Yes. I promised," he added, just to be sure. Bulma turned to Pan and repeated the question. She hastily nodded her head, knowing she would have nodded even if Trunks hadn't said he would try and break the contract. Bulma smiled.

"Then I see we are agreed. Children?" she gestured to Trunks and Pan.

Trunks wasted no time in grabbing Pan from Keipher and leading her away. Keipher was fuming and sprouting enough obscenities for the clergy to take a hold of him and attempt to march him out.

It was only when they were all in the safety of the carriage that Pan spoke up, gently rubbing the spot where Keipher had held so hard.

"Thank you," she said, and it was quiet. Bulma was unsure whether she was thanking herself or her son, but allowed it to be directed towards Trunks. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees to speak to her.

"Well, I thought I owed it to you, right? Don't you remember? You said you wanted to marry someone you didn't love, and then to have it be objected by-"

"You're so stupid, Trunks," Pan said shakily, folding her arms tight around herself as if she were cold, eyes avoiding his, but a small smile on her lips. Trunks sat back in surprise, and blinked evenly.

"What did you say?" he asked slowly. His mother was laughing gently and took pleasure in gleefully repeating it.

"She said you were stupid," she announced, heartened by the spirit of the girl her son had accidentally fallen in love with. She could see so much of herself in Pan, so much of a girl that would not sit in the side lines and would not bask in the title of royalty. But she paused when she saw Trunks was not reacting to the light insult, but rather staring at Pan waiting seemingly for her to repeat it herself.

She was surprised when Pan looked at her son fully, and let her speech be soft and firm, and there was no teasing in her voice.

"Trunks," she repeated, giving him the smallest of smiles, to which he returned the biggest.

Thank you to all those that didn't send me threats this past month while my computer was out of commission (and still is). And you know what? Thank you to those that did. Some were rather creative, and none failed to make me smile.

Angel Eevee