A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. Stories are always so hard to write when it gets to the end of them. This story was no different. The end is quite near though, thanks for reading this far.

Last Time: After rescuing Pan, Bulma sends her and Trunks to bed but someone waits for each of them. After confessing her returned feelings for Trunks, Pan meets an angered Koslin with intents to kill him, Vegeta puts together Koslin's involvement and looks for him, and Trunks drinks the love spell made by his fiancée.

"You Should Go"

"No. No. No," she whispered under her breath repeatedly. Her lower lip was caught under her teeth, as she stared at the empty smashed glass at her feet. Empty. No wine left at all.

He must have drunk the spell. The love spell she decided not to give him.

Her breaths were coming in ragged gasps, and she fought the urge to hop from foot to foot, not knowing what to do. Her spell would make him love the first person he saw, and then…

She whirled around and stared at the prince.

"Close your eyes!" she screeched. Startled, Trunks looked from the glass shards directly to her face.

"Why?" he asked. She whimpered and let her knees give way. Crumbled on the floor, with shards of glass digging into her palms, she stared at the prince's boots.

"If you look at me you'll love me. I forfeited my life for you, don't you understand? I gave in so you could have Pan, and now…"

She looked up at him; miserable. She fought the urge to sniffle, because it was not fair for her to carry on this way. It wasn't fair for her to be crying and distraught when it was he who had his free will to love taken away. His choice of who to give his heart to had been taken from him and answered by her. She had no right to cry.

"I'm sorry, for what it's worth," she whispered. "I meant to stop you. He asked me to make a love spell so you would chose me as your queen no matter what. I'm so sorry… I thought I was strong… once."

She got to her shaky feet but refused to lift her stare from the ground. She could feel him standing only a reach away. She fought off a shiver when he took away the steps between them and brought his wide hands to grip her shoulders. She thought his hands were shaking until she realized it was just her.

When his fingers tilted her chin up she finally allowed herself to meet his gaze. He was staring at her with an intensity and ferocity that made her feel ill, and she had to swallow back a threatening sob.

"I'll try though… to make you happy. I know I stole your choices, but I'll make him pay for all of this… oh. Perhaps that would work? You'll do whatever I want because you love me, so I can keep going against his wishes until he gets so angry he kills me off. The spell might end in death. Maybe I could just…"

Her gaze to the jagged glass pieces on the floor was halted when he turned her face to his and joined their lips. He was slow and careful, and pulled back quickly to smile at her. Her blood felt like ice in her veins; freezing and cutting as it was pumped.

"Don't you dare say such things," he murmured. "As if I would condone suicide."

"You only think that because you love me now. If you knew what really-"

"I don't."

"Yes, you do think that."

"I mean I don't love you."

There was a pause so thick the orchestra from the ball room drifted to her ears. He was looking at her with an amount of pity and a sad smile on his lips.

"You have to love me," she whispered. He shrugged.

This was impossible, she reasoned. There was no logical way that he could not be affected by the spell. She had put it into the glass, and he had drunken it, and it had been perfect before the wine, she was sure, but- No.

She met his sad face straight on and felt like returning his kiss with a far more enthusiastic force.

"That spell was designed to make you fall in love with one person. But it couldn't work if that love had already been given to someone else. Completely to someone else… Don't you understand? I thought that you loved Pan, but I didn't know you loved Pan.

"You love her in a forever and always kind of way. You love her in a first and foremost kind of way. You love - then why did you kiss me?" She cried taking a step back.

"To thank you," he said. "For trying to make amends. And to say good bye."

She grinned childishly and cupped his cheeks with a quick jump. Her hands slid down his face, leaving thin smears of blood from the cuts on her palms. She had never felt so elated. Her spell had not worked because the prince was far too in love with Pan. She wanted to dance on the spot. But what would her master say?

"I won't let him hurt you for this. Whoever 'he' is," the prince said, as if reading her thoughts.

"He put his own spell on me a few years ago. He is someone you know from your father's court," she hinted.

"A name would be nice."

She shook her head so her blonde curls fell over her shoulder.

"I can't give a name. Only, he was the one that introduced you to Pan."

"Koslin?!" he exclaimed, after a moment's thought. She grinned to answer him. "He was the one that made you make me invisible?" She scrunched her nose at his ill-worded question, but shook her head to explain.

"He was the one that suggested me to your father so that we could marry. Through me, and ergo, you, he would be able to get anything he wanted. I have to do his bidding, but I didn't want to be stuck with you my whole life. You really were unbearable," she said with a small hint of a smile.

"Then you made me invisible on your own. To teach me to be more… bearable?"

"Well… yes. I picked Pan because you had been so mean to her before. I honestly didn't think that you would… but you did! I don't think you realize how impossible this all is. You broke my love spell because your love was stronger."

"Perhaps your spell was just a bit off-"

"Don't tell me you still don't think you love her."

"Oh, I love Pan, I think. But surely not as powerfully as you say. I just met her. I think I love her, but-"

"Oh prince, don't you see? Love, real love, isn't about stars falling from heavens or grand rhyming speeches. Real love is subtle; so incredibly subtle you barely know it's there. It hides in a smile, in a gesture or a quiet word. You love Pan so much that you don't even know it. It's just there, and always will be. It is the only thing that could have stopped my spell."

Trunks could do little more than stare at such a statement. He shrugged with a silly grin on his face that became rather infectious. She was soon smiling and tugging at his arm impatiently.

"But how am I ever going to tell her?" he murmured, reaching for the wine bottle for a comfort drink. He eyed it critically, and raised an eyebrow at her.

"It's not drugged," she said when she caught onto his hesitation. He nodded, and took an undignified drink straight from the bottle. His face scrunched up at the rush of cold to his head.

"I think you will have little trouble wooing her. I doubt very much she does not return your feelings. You've said so yourself you think she does… like… you…" she trailed off, looking at her palm strangely.

Trunks set the bottle down and watched her.

"There's cloth over there," he said, pointing to the wash basin. "Only I don't feel like tearing more tunics for you girls who have a talent for bloodying their hands. See Pan did, a few days ago… our first kiss. Sort of. It was- what are you staring at?" he demanded, standing up.

She raised her eyes and looked at him fearfully.

"Do you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked uneasily.

"Mine was not the only blood meant to be spilled tonight," she whispered. There was something of a wild terror in her eyes as she grabbed Trunks' arm and pulled him towards the door.

"What are you doing?" cried Trunks.

"Finding Koslin," she answered, slamming the door behind them.

"You want to kill me," Pan stated, eyebrows raised, and putting on a face of slight amusement; a clever cover for the enthusiastic beat of her heart. She prayed Koslin could not hear it charging against her chest.

"I don't want to, dear Pan, but you simply leave me no choice. As I said, I tried to offer you other ways for this to end."

"You tried to offer me Keipher. I'm not so sure it's much better," she replied good naturedly, edging away from the door, trying to put some furniture between herself and him.

Pan really didn't take to walking in her room and finding a creepy man in there intent on murdering her. She had had a horrible day as it was; what with almost marrying Keipher, and the prince constantly on her mind, she really did not need this.

Her mind was racing to create a plan, but none was coming forth. All she was doing now was stalling. Stalling for what, she did not know.

Stalling for Bulma to return, having forgotten to ask something. Stalling for a servant to offer her dinner. Stalling for Trunks to drag her outside and demand she go to the ball. Stalling for Keipher to barge in infuriated.

Stalling for something. Anything really that could save her from where she was.

"I do hope you understand, Miss Pan. You delayed my plans for much too long, and if I thought there was a way I could let you live… I would. But there isn't. We can't have your charming prince rescuing you from anything else. Can't have him being distracted from his fiancée by a slip of a girl like you. Oh no no.

"You should have stayed on your little farm, my dear. This will perhaps teach you not to stray from where you belong. You don't fit in with such finery as this, little Pan. You are a peasant, and you will die a peasant, no matter what sort of dress you've disguised yourself in. I'm sorry you will end here and not in the familiarity of your own home. I did try to find you there. Gypsies are so helpful."

Pan paused in her edging around the bed and squinted at him through the dull light.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"I apologized for going to kill you here and not at home," he said, offering a smile and following her jerky footsteps.

"You tried to find my home," Pan said quietly.

"Don't you listen well? Yes. I tried to find your home. As I said, the gypsy was so very-"

"What gypsy?" Pan asked dryly, swallowing frequently to try and get some sort of moisture on her tongue which felt like lead in her mouth.

"Ah, yes. I suppose you knew her, hmm? Nice smile, impossible hair, lots of colours…"

"You killed her," Pan said, her voice hard. And Pan remembered the feel of tears behind her eyes, and the horrible storm that stretched across the country, and the last words she had said to her friend.

Pan hated storms. Someone always died in the truly dire ones. And it was Koslin that had continued the tradition this year.

"You killed her," she repeated, as if perhaps he did not understand what he had done.

"Yes," he said, sounding quite pleased with himself. "And I am sorry, child, but you must follow." It seemed Koslin had become bored with talking to Pan, and began to follow her much more intently. The layers of robes did nothing to impede his walk, while her unfamiliar skirts were anything but a help. She stumbled slightly from the unaccustomed feel of the dress and the panic throbbing through her limbs.

She swallowed loudly, eyes shifting, and searched her mind for a way to stall the man. Nothing came to her, and it wasn't long before she had made an entire circle around the bed in attempt to distance herself from him.

He was following her with an odd pity on his face, though the cruelty in his eyes showed there would be no mercy for her.

"Why me?" she sputtered, now working her way back towards the door. He sighed, as if Pan were a petulant child and he was the father losing patience.

"Because the prince loves you, and we simply can not have that."

"Why, do you love him?" she retorted, making an ill jest.

"I admire your actions up until now, my dear, do not taint your image with such stupidity. I need my girl to be on the throne by his side. I need someone I can control as his wife, and you, girl, I think could be controlled by no one."

Pan fought a grin at that, despite the circumstances.

"He won't marry just anyone," Pan argued. "You can't make him marry this girl of yours."

"No. I can't. But she can. She's quite gifted with magic, as I'm sure you've seen. Why, if she can cast such an invisibility charm as she did, a love spell would require the mere snap of the fingers."

Pan stepped against the wall and began to creep along the edge of it; the wooden door only arms length away.

"You put a love spell on him?" she asked, pausing as this sunk in. A spell to make the prince fall in love with someone? Her mind reeled. She thought of the times he brushed her arm accidentally, the look he gave her when she wasn't looking, his quiet words… everything about him she loved, was all from a love spell?

"His fiancée is," Koslin explained. "As we speak. By the time he finds you, he will be too consumed by love for another to so much as take notice of your tragic death."

The texture of wood brushed her fingertips as she understood his words. Trunks was being put under a spell now, not before. This gave her little consolation. Koslin was steps away from her, and approaching fast now.

In desperation she lunged at the door handle and pulled with all of her strength. It flew open only to be slammed shut again by Koslin's thick hand. He threw himself against the door, so that her body was wedged between the two.

Pressed against her he tutted her actions. She felt his hand move from the handle and glide down the side of her face; brushing her hair. His other arm was securely blocking her in place.

He had won, Pan realized with a start. From her position there was no way she could escape from him now, and even Trunks could not rescue her. He was being drugged to not care at all. She would be dead, and he would be as good as.

Yes, Koslin had won.

She closed her eyes and turned her head at the stark realization of this. It wasn't fair at all. Things were not supposed to end up like this. Not when she had finally gotten her home back. Not when she had finally escaped Keipher. Not when she had finally fallen in love.

Not when she finally had her happy ending.

It was only the firm pressure against her throat that shocked Pan from her mind's wander. Her eyes flew open so she was face to face with a smelly grin.

His thumbs were placed at the small of her neck, pushing harder and harder inwards. She choked for breath, but little was able to pass through the constricting throat. She choked and spurted, but Koslin only chuckled at her.

His laugh was so mocking it infuriated Pan. She didn't care if she had no chance, if Trunks was to be torn from her. If she was meant to die, so be it, but Pan Son would not take dying like a lady, despite what her new title demanded.

Pan was ready to fight. She made a move to strike him, when a jolt behind her made her pause. The door shook and both glanced at it. Then, a call;

"Pan! Are you in there?"

Trunks.

There was a hollow silence that sifted up and down the halls, as Trunks stared at the door and waited for a reply. He glanced at his fiancée questionably before knocking again.

"Oh, Paaaan. I really need to talk to you. Could you open the door for a moment?"

"Are you mad?" the girl at his side cried, hitting his arm. "Don't you understand?! My master is in there to kill Pan, this is no time for permission."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Trunks asked, exasperated, not quite comprehending what he was being told.

From the other side of the door there was a muffled struggle and a thump against the door, its hinges shifting. Trunks took a step back, confused.

"She needs help!" the girl cried, and it was as if Trunks finally understood the urgency of the situation. That this was not simple spells and rebels he was dealing with. They were murderers.

He took a step back then flung his shoulder to the door. It budged but did not open. He rubbed his arm hurriedly before trying again.

"Just wait, Pan!" he said, "I'm coming."

Not coming quick enough, Pan realized wildly. She made another strangled cry but the pounding on the door did not become any more successful. Trunks couldn't get the door open… he could not save her… she had to do this completely alone.

With a distracting gasp for air, she wrenched an arm from his hold and brought it back swiftly across Koslin's face. Her elbow caught his nose, making his grip loosen for a moment, and she brought up her knee and kicked with all of her might.

She succeeded in knocking him down, but his grip on the door fell with him, so that as soon as he tripped over his robes Trunks was able to shove the door open with little resistance. With no resistance in fact, and the force he in turn was shoving at the door made him stumble at the sudden lack.

He ran through the doorway with no hope of stopping his momentum, and ran straight into a heaving Pan, who lacked the breath to hold her own. Down went Koslin, down went Pan, and down went Trunks on top of them all.

In a crumpled heap of tangled limps, Koslin whined, Pan gasped for breath and Trunks blinked up at the ceiling.

"That was rather un-heroic," he muttered, making no attempt to stand until a flailing arm of Pan smacked his shoulder. He pulled himself to his knees, giving a hand to Pan, while his fiancée stood just inside the doorway; a hand placed strategically over her mouth to hide what was surely a smile.

"Are you alright, Pan?" he asked, gripping her shaking shoulders carefully, while she massaged her throat. She nodded between coughs and glared wearily at Koslin who was righting himself. At Pan's lack of injury he turned to her attacker.

"How dare you?" he gritted through his teeth. But Koslin was not watching Trunks.

"Stop him," he ordered the blonde in the doorway. She edged away slowly, shaking her head. "You have to," he gritted out to her. She glanced between Koslin and Trunks, wondering if there was a way to disobey him despite her servitude.

Koslin's shoulders were shaking with rage at her indecision, and his clenched fists were twitching to impact on something. And from the glance of his eye, it would be on the still recovering Pan.

Gritting her teeth and jaw, she pivoted on her heel and dashed from the room into the hallway. Trunks watched her go with anger, but it was Koslin who was most enraged. He was angry at his servant, angry that the prince was here, but most of all angry at Pan who had to ruin everything. There was no time left for clutching the life out of her, so he charged at her with a much sharper object than his fingers.

Trunks moved to jump in his way but was distracted by his name being called.

"Trunks!" from the doorway, where his fiancée stood panting for breath, and a fencing sword clutched to her chest. In one awkward motion she threw him the blade, which he caught as a result of childhood training.

He whirled, prepared to use the sword to strike at Koslin, but Koslin had stopped dead at the sight of the weapon. His face contorted to the point of agony, and he whirled on his servant to seethe at her.

"How dare you, Marron!" he shrieked.

It echoed in the deadening silence that followed.

Pan stood quietly, hand still at throat, flickering eyes from one person to the other, not entirely sure what was happening. Trunks was watching his fiancée, but clutched the sword ready in case the startled Koslin made a move. But Koslin was staring at his servant no more.

He blinked, stammered, and shook his head silently.

The prince's fiancée held the eye contact of her former master, her jaw slightly slacked, her breathing slowed, as if time had stilled for her and the ringing word that had just been yelled.

"What did you say?" she choked, a wide smile spreading across her pale features.

"I-I said noth-" Koslin began to stutter, but there was no front he could pull. He had said her name, the contract that bound her to him. She was letting out a wet sort of chuckle.

"Marron," she said quietly. "Marron is my name."

"Well, I'm glad someone knows it," was said from the doorway. All present turned their eyes to the open door, surprised, save for Pan who had become startling accustomed to the royal family arriving at the seemingly right moment.

The Queen, having just spoken, stood beside her husband, looking into the room, and glancing at the two girls and her son to make sure all was well. Vegeta, in turn, looked at none but his council member.

"Your majesty," Koslin began. And began was all he could manage. Looking wildly around at the drawn sword, Pan's red neck and Marron's elated expression, no lie to explain and contradict theirs could be created.

Trunks turned to Pan, now that his father was here and talking fiercely to Koslin. She looked stunned and slightly shocked, her fingers still rubbing at her neck.

"You're all right?" he asked again, resting a hand on her arm. She tore her eyes from the cowering Koslin to meet Trunks'. Her eyes danced over his face, searching for something as she had done repeatedly before, but it was this time she had seemed to find it. She squinted her eyes, and awkwardly blinked away the tears that were threatening to form. Before Trunks realized what she was doing she moved her own hands to grasp his arms and stood on tiptoe.

Their mouths almost met together, but Pan's hit the corner of his lips, making a rather lopsided kiss. She was quick to correct it, by which time the prince had come to the realization that Pan was engaging a kiss with him.

His arms only had time to clasp at her back when she pulled away. Her eyes went back to searching his and no amount of blinking could stopper the tears welling.

"Pan, what's wrong?" he whispered, body tensing with uncertainty.

"I'm sorry I never told you," she said, lowering her eyes to stare at his chin. "I should have told you, but I'm just so confused. And now…"

"Pan, I'm confused." She swallowed bravely before raising her eyes to lock onto his. There were many things she would not have the courage to do, but Pan refused to deny Trunks the right to look her in the eye when she said it. When she finally said what she felt. She breathed in a shaky breath and thought her will and body might crumble beneath her.

"I love you, Trunks."

There was no silence in the room, as the royals fought against a whimpering Koslin, and a elated would-be-princess was happily ticking off her master's misdeeds. There was the distant music of the ball, the sound of the night air, and the guards now outside the bedroom.

No silence. But Trunks could hear nothing but Pan's racing heart and her quiet breathing.

"Well," he managed, "I think… I love you. As well." Trunks breathed in relief, that both had finally said it; that the fact was finally said between them. No more misconceptions, no more avoiding things. Pan had finally-

"What?" Pan asked, jerking back and looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"I said I love you," Trunks said, a small smile on his face, and taking the step back towards Pan. She was shaking her head at him and walking backwards.

"You can't love me. He," here she pointed a shaking finger towards Koslin, "said that you were under a love spell. You can't love me…"

"Oh! Is that all? Have no fear, Pan, it didn't work properly so…"

"So you don't love her?" Pan asked incredulously. Trunks shook his head. Pan's expression turned from confusion to disbelief in an instant. She backed from the prince's welcoming embrace, shaking her head and swallowing the tears that still waited to fall.

"Pan…"

"I think you should go," she whispered, hand shielding her expression, and glance cast downwards. Trunks frowned and felt the beginnings of anger begin to rise.

"Go? Pan, you just told me you loved me, how am I supposed to just-"

"A lot has happened since I said that," Pan hissed back at him, matching his harsh voice.

"You said it just now! Nothing has happened!"

"Ooh, yes it has. You said you weren't under a spell, and that is something," Pan muttered, taking steps to avoid the prince's eye.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have said what I had said if I had known," she stammered out. Their voices were getting louder and faster with every attack.

"You can't take back what you said," Trunks said with a glare, and Pan glared back. She stopped stepping away from him, and raised her head to give him a full stare.

"Oh, yes I can," she said stubbornly.

"You can't take back love," he reasoned. "That's not fair, Pan!"

"Why is it not fair, Trunks?!"

"Because I love you!"

And then there was silence. Pan stared at him through blurred eyes, her face twisted in a mix of despair and bewilderment. Trunks glanced over to his parents, now openly staring at him; Koslin between two guards watching with a mild interest at the prince's sudden proclamation.

"Course you don't shut up when she says it," he muttered with sarcasm. Bulma took a hesitant step towards her son, but an arm from Vegeta halted her.

"I know," Pan whispered, catching Trunks' attention once again. He turned back to her; waiting. Waiting for the explanations that Pan would always come up with. Explanations that rarely ended in favour for him but always made such perfect sense that he could do nothing to argue it.

"I didn't think you could," she began, looking only at him, and if she were truly aware of the others in the room she showed them no regard. "Love me, I mean, not really. But… I hated you. So much. And something… you know you changed… I changed. But that doesn't change anything."

Pan scrunched her face at her explanation, aware she wasn't coming across as she wanted to. She searched the ceiling for an answer before sighing heavily.

"It doesn't change anything for me, I mean. I said that I couldn't fall in love with you because… it's been days, Trunks," here she closed her eyes at his name, almost foreign on her tongue. "Days, not weeks, or months, but mere days. I doesn't matter what you feel, or what I feel right now, because in a couple more days, it will… change… again.

"And that's not fair, Trunks. I do love you… I do. But not forever. You're a fairy tale prince; you protect me, and rescue me, and love me. And I love you because you were what I wanted. Don't you remember? I wanted someone just like you. But it's not enough, Trunks, it's not. I can't love you for days, or months, or years, and that's all this is.

"This is… this is a change. It's new, and it's alive… but once it fades, I can't be trapped here, Trunks. Don't you understand? Once this tale ends… once the villains are locked away, and the spells are ended, so will this. And it's not fair to us, to pretend it won't."

Pan ended to silence, bravely keeping her gaze on Trunks'. He was staring steadily back at her, no words coming to his mind. Indeed, it looked as if neither would speak again, until a voice interrupted the heavy silence of the room.

"Let me understand," Vegeta interrupted, looking at Pan. "My son, the prince, all but proposes to you, and you turn him down because you think this in one of his common whims? That's about it, isn't it?" He looked at his wife for confirmation who was glaring at him. Vegeta turned back to Pan with a bewildered look on his face. "Who are you?" he asked, the beginnings of content growing on his face.

"Vegeta," his wife hissed.

"No, listen, that girl just denied a prince with the best common sense I've seen in ages. I want to talk with her. I'll just-"

Before he could finish, Bulma had angrily grabbed his arm and dragged him from the room, much to his loud protests. All guards followed after, and Marron slipped out with the crowd, leaving Trunks and Pan alone though they didn't truly notice.

It was a stand off of stares, of pleas and of confusion. Trunks searched in Pan's face for something that would contradict what she had said. This was not a passing love; it couldn't be. It didn't feel like a passing weight in his chest, nor a passing weakness at his knees. He just didn't know how to make her understand…

"I don't believe you," he settled on saying. "You can't say you love me and then all but deny it."

"I'm not denying it. I'm just… not going to be hurt later for a passing romance."

"There is nothing passing about this," he said, repeating his own thoughts.

"How can you know? You've never been in love," Pan reasoned.

"Which is how I know!"

"That doesn't even make sense," Pan replied sadly.

"Neither do you. I know you love me, and I know you know this is real. Go on, Pan. Look me in the eye and honestly tell me that this will end. Honestly tell me and I will let it. I'll let it go, Pan. Because you can't, and-"

"It ends, Trunks," she said, her voice not wavering no matter how he willed it to. She gazed him in the eye and sadly smiled. "You have to go," she whispered.

He opened his mouth to reply but found that nothing would come out. His jaw hung uselessly for a moment, his eyes roaming hers for the barest trace of a lie.

This was not happening.

But Pan remained unmoved, her cheeks drying, the saddest smile gracing her beautiful face, and Trunks wanted to crumble at her feet and beg her to just let things go on. Beg her to let things take course, because never had the prince felt so sure about something before as he did now.

Never with such a burning ache did he know that he did not want to be without the girl before him. And something so strong could not be such a fleeting love. He closed his eyes briefly and gulped the dryness of his throat away.

There was nothing to do.

With a shaking hand he grasped Pan's left hand and pulled it towards himself. His fingers brushed the faint scar on the underside of her palm, and lips brushed the top.

"My lady," he breathed out, letting her hand drop to her side, and slowly turned and walked from the room, as he had promised.

He would let it go. He would let her go.

But nothing would make the weight in his chest go, and he had to pretend he did not hear Pan's tears as he closed the door behind him.

She stood along the edge of the gardens, where the night's cool air could brush through her hair and she could breathe in the very sense of freedom.

Free from Koslin, free from the prince, free from bondage.

Free to use her name.

Marron, Marron, Marron.

She closed her eyes and willed away the laughter that was bubbling up her throat. She hadn't thought she would be here. She had dreamt of it, of course, but she had never been able to picture what it would feel like, being free from him, and content with herself once again.

And best still, the prince did not love her. The horrid love spell she had been forced to create had failed utterly, from no lack of skill on her part. It had been all the prince. All of which she had was because of-

"Trunks," she gasped, startled from her gazing by his presence. She looked up to his hidden face, the shadows of the vines causing sight to be skewed. He shifted a little, the early light flashing over his features, so she was positive it was him.

She wondered what had happened between him and Pan, after scuttling out after her former master, she left them with tears and words to mend. In the better light, she began to suspect that perhaps nothing was resolved at all. Clasped in the prince's hand was a set of reigns which led to a dark horse. Saddled for quite a journey.

She closed her eyes and sighed heavily.

"Don't leave her," she said quietly, imploring him. "I know what she said, but she does love you."

"I know," he replied. "She assured me of as much. Yet still, she would rather ignore it and let it fade. It would be better if she did not return my feelings," he confessed sadly.

"Don't say that," she argued.

"She wants me to go, and I agree. I can't stay here. Not when everything will remind me of her. It will drive me mad. Until I can learn to push aside this like she has… I must go."

"Pan is hurt and confused, prince. I think… I think she will realize her mistake, and-"

"I can not idly wait. But… I know she is hurting. When her mind clears, she may…" he trailed off, casting a longing glance at his castle home before tightening his grip on the horse and looking at her with a determined look.

He reached out his hand, presenting her with a sealed letter.

"Would you give this to her?" he murmured. Marron nodded silently, taking the smooth paper into her hand. The prince smiled at her, tilting his head in a slight bow.

"Lady," he whispered respectfully, causing a small smile from her. Formalities aside, he turned to his horse and swung onto its back as a trained horseman. "Thank you," he said, carefully keeping the horse from trotting away. She knew he was not thanking her for the letter.

Marron nodded her acceptance and stood back.

"Where are you going?" she asked finally. "When will you return?"

"As soon as this can end better," he said with a gesture towards his home again. "Maybe I'll have to wait seven years, for that bad luck to run out. You shouldn't have broken that mirror; look how you curse me now."

"Wha- I did not break it. You did!"

"You made me," he bickered back.

"I most certainly did not."

"Goodbye," he interrupted, kicking his horse to gallop away. She only smiled when he called her name over his shoulder, just so she could hear it.

He was gone out the gates before she was ready. The letter he had entrusted to her felt like a heavy weight that would drown her. As if it held all the secrets to ending what had been started. As if it held the answers to everything. She fingered the edges slightly, gazing towards the east, where the sun would soon rise and start a new day. A day better than the one they just lived through.

A day where there would be no lies, and no love spells. A day where the prince would not have to save his beloved from betrothed and murderers. A day when farm girls would not have to break their own hearts doing what was right. A day where she could say her name freely and not be consumed by the guilt that had followed her for so long.

A day, perhaps, not so wretched.

--

There is still one more chapter to come. A conclusion of sorts. Thanks for all of your wonderful support so far. You all have been very motivational to me, not just in fanfic writing.

-Angel Eevee