Hey guys, thanks for taking the time out to come and check out my story. I would love to hear what you think, a lot of work went into creating the story line and writing the actual fic so even if you only leave an unsigned review it would really be appreciated. Any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome.
Hope you enjoy it
Kaibun
Another Life - inspired by "Lovesong for a Stranger"
The young woman, dressed in unflattering peasant's robes, reached out gently to the man in front of her, placing her hand delicately on his cheek.
"I love you," she whispered as he gently placed his hand on top of hers. The two of them stood that way for what seemed like eternity.
"I love you too," he whispered back gently, planting a small kiss on her forehead.
"My lady Briefs!" came a slightly indignant voice from seemingly far away. The young woman in question snapped her head up from her desk, hurriedly fixing her posture and smoothing the creases on her dress, adopting an expressionless face.
"I'm sorry ma'am. That was most inconsiderate and rude of me. I apologize profusely." The woman in front of her, a nun with a hard, skeptical face, surveyed the young woman from behind thick spectacles.
"I would suggest, Miss Briefs, that you take a little more care to at least appear vigilant in your studies."
"Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am." The nun frowned, turning away from the girl back to the black board in front of her. Slowly her dull, monotonous voice settled into a background noise and the young woman at the desk found herself again wandering into the territory of her imagination. She looked wistfully out the window of the stone wall, to where she could see the palace gardener tending her mother's prize flowers. Sunlight streamed from the window and she could just glimpse the blue skies from her position. The woman allowed her thoughts to turn back to the man and woman in her dream. She had no idea who they were, but she enjoyed entertaining the thought of them all the same. Somewhere down in the lower levels, the woman could hear pots banging and clattering in preparation for the evening's meal. A dark, fearful creature gripped at her insides, slowly clawing its way up into her chest at the thought of the night ahead.
Parthns. Altor.
"Bulma, my dear," came the highly false voice of the Earth Queen. The woman being addressed looked up as she entered the stone courtyard. She looked at the other woman with a plain expression.
"Mother," she regarded with little to no emotion. "May I enquire as to what I owe the privilege of your company?" She looked around the courtyard, surveying the other nobles scattered throughout, dressed in their best and talking with the same expressionless faces.
"I felt it was highly important that we should discuss the proposed order of events for this evening's dinner." The woman, Bulma, fought the urge to roll her eyes and her face remained impassive.
"As you request, mother. Please let us speak of these matters further in private." She indicated to the entrance to the royal gardens adjoining the courtyard. The queen accepted the offer with a slight inclination of her head and without another word the two of them walked gracefully into the gardens.
"Argh," the woman named Bulma sighed as soon as they were out of earshot. Her mother smiled gently as they walked between the hedges, admiring the roses, her mother's favourite flower.
"Am I to understand that you are not overly fond of your court face, daughter?" Bulma's sapphire blue eyes blazed in displeasure.
"Mum, you know I despise everything to do with the courts, court faces most of all! They're so… fake."
"Yes dear," the queen agreed, bowing her head slightly. "However as the future queen you must learn to accept that this is our way and to follow it to the best of your ability." Bulma rolled her eyes again as she bent down to take off her shoes. Her mother looked at her horrified. "My dear! What are you doing?" she asked, appalled. Bulma sighed.
"Mum, quit worrying. No one can see us in here and I swear if I have to wear those shoes any longer I will have blisters so big I'll never walk again! As for court faces, I hope you understand how repulsive I find the idea of being forced to act like that all day."
Taking a deep breath, trying to recollect herself and ignore the fact that the princess was barefoot, the queen spoke again. "Yes dear," she sighed. "I know how the prospect displeases you so. But this is not your choice. It has been our custom for as far back as the history books go. After your Oninaru, you are expected to remain emotionless and therefore strong in public."
Bulma became quiet, as she always did at mention of her Oninaru, as she walked through the gardens, the grass cold between her toes, her shoes swinging at her side. "Oninaru" was the 'becoming a woman' ceremony, held for every first class girl on her twelfth birthday. For most girls, it simply means changing the way they act in public but for the young princess, it had been a life sentence. Bulma looked slowly up at the sky and closed her eyes as the memory came forward.
Flashback
"Buruma chan, anata wa onna no hito ni nata koto ga arimasu. Ima kara, onna no hito desu."
Bulma closed her eyes, listening to the ancient words she didn't understand coming from the mouth of a priest she didn't know. She felt someone lift her right hand and slide a ring on to her fourth finger.
The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. Before long, she managed to escape the public and find her parents.
"Mum, Dad," the young twelve year old smiled. Her parents smiled back at her.
"We're very proud of you my dear," said her father. "You've grown into a beautiful young woman." Bulma frowned, looking at the sapphire white gold ring on her finger.
"I don't understand," she said unsurely. "What does this all mean?" Her father sighed and turned to his wife.
"We owe it to her. It's time to tell her." The two of them looked at Bulma who, without reason, seemed to feel that whatever she was about to hear would change her life forever. Her mother started.
"Bulma, you're our daughter and we love you very much. But you're a woman now. All those things you've done up until now with the boys; the sword fighting, the play fighting, riding spread legged, climbing trees, playing with bows and arrows. Bulma, it has to stop now. As of today, you are no longer allowed to do those things." Bulma looked up in fright, conflicting emotions dashing across her face.
"What do you mean?" she whispered. Her father took over now.
"Bulma, every young girl gets to a stage in life where she has to put those things behind her. That stage is now for you. There are some other things too." Feeling as though this couldn't get any worse, Bulma listened fearfully. "Now that you are a woman, it is expected that you will no longer show emotions in public. You will be taught a court face, which you are to wear in the presence of all others, excepting your mother and myself. No one is allowed to know how you are feeling. Gracie will teach you more about that later." Gracie was Bulma's maidservant. "There is one more thing, which is probably the hardest to hear of all of these." Bulma was in shock by now. She said nothing, just looked at her father. "You are betrothed."
"I'm what?" she asked in horror. Her father sighed and swallowed.
"Bulma, you're going to get married. Not for another five years. His name is Prince Altor; he is the prince of Parthns, and only a few years older than you. Earth and Parthns have been in negotiation to form an alliance together for a long time. We feel the best way to ensure this is to entwine our planets in the most permanent way possible." Bulma stepped back shaking her head.
"No. No. No. I won't do it." She continued shaking her head. "You can't make me. I'm going to fall in love. I'm going to meet someone. I'm going to marry for love. You can't make me marry this man. I won't." Tears began to fall from her eyes. Her world was collapsing right in front of her. "You can't," she repeated as she began to sob, "I won't." The King and Queen stood back.
"I'm sorry, Bulma," her mother said. "As awful as this is, you have no say in it. Before your eighteenth birthday, you and the prince will be married and you will be carrying the heir to the throne of both Parthns and Earth." Without another word Bulma tore from the room, tears streaming from her eyes. Her sobs echoed through the palace long after she had disappeared.
End Flashback
Bulma had long ago accepted her fate. It had taken quite a while, and even still she harbored an untapped anger towards her parents for taking away her right to fall in love and join in the activities she loved. She knew her parents loved her, but she also knew that they loved their planet and its people, a whole lot more.
"You're right mother," Bulma said, her stony mask up again. "The planet is the important thing here. I shall do my utmost to respect her and her traditions. It is the most important thing. I apologize for my insolence and bid you good day as I must go and prepare for the arrival of my husband to be."
"Excellent idea love. I shall stop you for only the briefest of moments to tell you that I have taken the liberty of setting a wedding date and sending the invitations to all royal families in the North Quadrant. I have set the wedding date at next Saturday afternoon. It is Tuesday evening now so I feel you will have ample time to prepare. Guests will arrive tomorrow." A tirade of emotions roared into Bulma's chest. But on the surface nothing changed and she remained calm.
"I am sure your arrangements will be more than appropriate and I thank you profusely. Good day my Queen."
Stopping only a second to pull on her shoes, Bulma walked gracefully, shoulders drawn back, from the gardens, leaving her mother alone.
Bulma looked up awkwardly as she placed a small forkful of chicken into her mouth, making sure to chew ten times before swallowing, and count to ten before taking the next bite. It was so second nature to her after all the years to eat that way that she didn't even notice she did it any more. She slowly stabbed another small coin sized piece and placed it in her mouth. She placed down her fork after chewing.
"I am afraid, mother, that I am sated," Bulma said as she addressed the woman sitting opposite her at the table. Bulma's mother looked radiant, her blonde her drawn up elegantly into a messy bun and wearing a cream coloured dress. Bulma surveyed the other people around the table, moving her eyes faster than normal past the Parthnian prince sitting next to her mother. However as she looked around the other numerous guests she felt her eyes inevitably drawn back to her future husband. He was somewhat handsome, with short dark, wavy hair and a nicely structured face. His royal armour and attire left much to the imagination by covering the majority of his body. The relatively exposed arms, covered only by spandex, were well muscled and bulky. In general he was pleasing on the eye. But Bulma knew enough about the Parthnian people to be hesitant of him. They were a race well known for their degradation and chauvinist attitudes towards woman. Indeed Altor's mother Carinsee sat at his father's side, her face fully covered except for her eyes and her head hung low, not speaking unless the king addressed her. A lump rose in Bulma's throat as she realized that this was the sort of existence and life that awaited her after her marriage to Altor.
Bulma caught his eye and he smiled a little. Or rather attempted to draw his face into a picture resembling a smile, as though he had seen one in a picture but was unable to do it himself. Bulma twitched her top lip in response. She looked away. Eventually she would have to talk to him. She was getting married to him. She sighed quietly to herself. Her father, sitting at the head of the table, caught her eye and nodded to her. It had been an awkward dinner. She and Altor had been introduced several hours earlier upon his arrival to the planet. It had been sufficiently strange and uneasy. However their families had seemed to get on like old friends, excepting Altor's mother who stayed quiet at the Parthnian king's side. Dinner had begun two hours before and Bulma was frankly sick of it. However a lady of the court did not just retire from dinner with her fiancé for no reason. Bulma turned to her father.
"I am incredibly sorry father but I have been taken somewhat ill and feel that my prolonged presence at this dinner may cause further malady to myself. If it is alright I would ask your permission to leave?" Her father observed her.
"It would do me displeasure to see you further harmed daughter and so I permit you to return to your bedroom. Please take from all of us wishes of health." Bulma nodded to her father, stood up, curtsied to the dinner guests and made to leave.
"Princess Bulma!" came a voice. She stopped halfway across the floor, not turning to see who had spoken.
"Yes, Prince Altor?" The prince stood and looked at her.
"I would like to express my concerns that you leaving the table now would be unsuitable as there are many plans we must go through before you leave tomorrow." Bulma said nothing. He had a point. It was earth tradition for the bride to leave the palace for the two nights leading up to the wedding. They would traditionally go to a villa in the mountains with three maidservants where they would prepare themselves for the marital quest they were about to undertake. It was normally different though, women normally had to prepare themselves to be married to a man they didn't know. Bulma had to not only do that, but to prepare herself to be the downtrodden queen of a chauvinistic male-dominated society where she would have to cover everything except her eyes and would never be allowed to speak unless spoken to. She turned to Altor.
"I suppose you are right, sir. Now would be a most inconvenient time for me to leave. I ask your forgiveness for my moment of weakness."
"Not at all princess," Altor said with another attempted smile that did not reach his cold dark eyes. Bulma swallowed. She sat down, saying nothing, but staring back into her chicken.
"Prince Altor raises a good point about the wedding," started Bulma's father. Bulma sighed again, while not outwardly showing any emotions. It was going to be a long night.
Several hours later a distraught Bulma dragged herself to her room. The wedding plans were finalized. It was happening. She was getting married. And Altor had proved himself more like his father and his race than she had cared to imagine. Her future, she was finally realizing, was officially beyond her control. The way she saw it, she thought as she wiped a small tear from her eyes, there was quite literally nothing in her life she was looking forward to. What was the point? Bulma sobbed. She pulled her hair loose and stripped out of her dinner gown into her underclothes, climbing into her bed, crying black tears. There was a knock at her door.
"Princess Bulma? It's Gracie. May I come in?" Bulma permitted her entry. The old woman entered, dressed in her maid's outfit. She came and sat on Bulma's bed next to her. Given that her own mother had been so involved in the politics of the planet for her whole life, Gracie had taken the place of a mother for Bulma since Bulma had been a small child. She was the one Bulma always talked to, told all her problems to. But at the moment, no words were needed. Gracie knew Bulma's worries about her future and knew that there was nothing she could do about it. Instead, Gracie provided a shoulder where Bulma cried for the next few hours, unable to string a sentence together as the horror of her future hit her. Gracie simply patted her back as the young princess cried.
Vegeta smiled as he lifted his hand, obliterating his opponent in a bright flash of purple light. When the light faded, nothing but scorch marks remained. The Saiyan Prince dusted his hands and looked at the observers surrounding him.
"Who's next?" he jeered. "Who's brave enough to take me on?" The prince turned slowly on the spot, meeting the eye of each of the spectators. All of them looked away, not wanting to risk offending the prince and ending up like his most recent opponent; a scorch mark on the floor. The prince gave a sick twisted smirk. "None of you brave enough?" he chided.
"Prince Vegeta!" called a voice from the door of the training room. "Prince Vegeta your father requests your presence in the ship's main control room, sir. Begging your pardon for any inconveniences." Vegeta walked over to the man, an alien he did not know the name of. Vegeta picked him up with one hand, crushing his fingers around the messenger's throat. His eyes popped, his face turned a darker shade of purple than it naturally was, his tongue protruded from his face as he squirmed and his eyes begged Vegeta to stop. And then he went limp. Vegeta tossed the carcass aside, smiling smugly.
"I see no inconveniences. Not anymore." He turned without another word and strode from the training room, making his way to the control room where his father was.
The prince of the Saiyans was rather handsome. His hair swept up in an odd fashion, like a blackened flame. He had cold dark eyes that told more horrors than the world itself knew. His dark eyebrows always sat low on his face, providing his handsomely chiseled features with an unnaturally mysterious, yet attractive look. He was only nineteen, nearly twenty, but only the briefest of looks immediately betrayed that he had experiences and knowledge far beyond that of any regular nineteen year old. His body was that of a man much older, muscles carved like an artwork in stone, solid and defined. He was somewhat short in his stature, but the muscles that bulged from every part of his body combined with the intimidating, terrifying air that surrounded him, meant that Vegeta was a man who could walk into any room, and its occupants knew straight away that Prince Vegeta expected them to bow.
"Vegeta!" boomed the voice of the king. The young prince looked up.
"To what do I owe this displeasure?" he snarled as his eyes came to rest upon the form of his father. The two, while similar in appearance, shared no fondness nor care for each other.
"I thought you should know that we will be arriving on earth in approximately an hour and I expect you to be dressed in your uniform, not your training spandex as you are currently." Vegeta folded his arms and glared at his father.
"Oh because we do want to impress. God above don't tell me you're trying to impress these ki-less animals? I hardly see why we are bothering with attending this time waster of an event. Last I checked Liras still needed purging, a task far more befitting of a Saiyan warrior than attending the wedding and union of two planets, both of whom could be obliterated with a blink of my eye." The king glared.
"Vegeta if you were ever going to become king you would have needed to learn a few things. And one of those things is that you must utilize all the possibilities which present themselves. Both Earth and Parthns are far more advanced in terms of their technology than our race, and any weapon, Vegeta, is a good one."
"Whatever. It's a waste of time. Technology is an insult to Saiyan tradition and culture. You and you're disturbed views would have gone elsewhere if I ever became king like I was supposed to," he glared mutinously.
"There's a long time to go before you're on the throne Vegeta, if ever, and with where you're headed I would suggest you get a handle on that rapid fire tongue of yours."
"Don't tempt me old man. You haven't beaten me in a sparring match since I was fourteen. You're a pathetic excuse for a Saiyan warrior. You disgust me." Vegeta turned without another word, storming from the room. King Vegeta watched as he went.
"I won't be sad to see the back of that boy once he's gone to live on Freiza's ship. More bloody hot-headed than I was and a damned sight more stupid," the king growled as he turned to his servant. The servant said nothing, simply nodding in agreement.
It was the early hours of Thursday morning earth time when the Saiyan space ship finally landed in the palace shuttle port. The Saiyan king and his son were greeted by a servant who apologized for the absence of the royal family. They had had to go to sleep before the arrival. The servant showed the Saiyans to their room. Vegeta said nothing, leaving straight away in an attempt to find the earth training facility.
He was relatively unsuccessful in his quest, finding nothing except the courts for an earth sport called "tennis" and a pool. The sun was fully risen when he finally returned to the main palace. The smells of cooking food had sent the Saiyan's stomach growling and he set out in search of the banquet.
Bulma sucked in sharply as the whalebone brace was tightened around her waist. She felt Gracie's foot dig in to her back as her maidservant pulled the lace-up strings. Bulma looked down to notice that her chest was almost spilling out the top of the contraption.
"What's the point in this?" Bulma asked as Gracie pulled the strings even tighter. Her other maid was standing in front of her, attempting to squash more of Bulma into the top.
"It will make you thinner. Not that I think you need it," Gracie added, "but you know the king and queen. They insist." Bulma tried to sigh but found it decidedly difficult to exhale. Or to breathe at all.
"I suppose, painful as it is, that at least this way I'm not wrapped in a potato sack with a slit to see out of," she said sadly, thoughts going back to Altor's mother at dinner the night before. The two maids exchanged sad looks.
"Bulma dear…"
"Don't worry about it Lissy," Bulma said as she smiled bravely at the maid in front of her. "You don't have any control over it. No more than I do." Lissy sighed as she walked into Bulma's enormous lounge-sized wardrobe and pulled down her breakfast dress.
"I know. That's what makes me sad. You're only a year younger than me. I can't imagine being in your position." Lissy was the closest things Bulma had to a friend her age. All the girls in the court were impossible to talk to because of the need and demand for the maintenance of the 'court face'. Bulma smiled as she stepped into the dress.
"Unfortunately, Lis, neither of us can control it. But don't worry. We're going away for a few days and I don't want this to ruin it. I don't want to think about Saturday." The women nodded. In half an hour Bulma was heading downstairs for breakfast with the North Quadrant royal families. She subconsciously checked her reflection in the marble walls as she descended the staircase. She walked into the dining hall, properly greeting her mother and father and then taking her seat at her father's side, with him sitting at the head of the table.
Over the next half hour members of the royal families drifted in to the hall. Bulma sighed as she eyed them, an assortment of kings, queens, princes and princesses, all, she decided, looking like they had more to live for than she did. She took a deep breath and wiped the emotions from her face, then proceeded to sit, blankly staring.
"We are here, on this week, to celebrate both the marriage of Princess Bulma and Prince Altor, but also to celebrate the union of Parthns and Earth," the earth king began. Vegeta rolled his eyes. More earth traditions. He had been on the planet less than twelve hours and already he had encountered 'manners' which was more than enough custom for the arrogant, pig-headed young prince. As the earth king continued to speak, Vegeta observed the guests around the table and the surroundings. The room was large and lavish, not at all as cold, stone-like and brutish as the Saiyan palace. The floor was generally marble, as far as he had seen in the earth building. The walls were large and white with a massive ceiling far above, a giant crystal chandelier hanging in the middle and fat children with wings and harps painted on the roof. Vegeta shook his head. Everything in the place seemed to have a white or gold tinge to it. He shook his head again. The Saiyans too had a respect for gold and embraced it as a royal colour, but the symbolic red represented the blood-thirsty side of the Saiyans which was far more important to Vegeta.
The earth servants had suddenly appeared with food. Vegeta was relieved to see meat. If the earth people had been vegetarians it would have pushed his temper over the already crumbling edge. As the king signaled for them to begin eating, the giant golden doors burst open. In walked a lizard like creature, pink, purple and white in colour. Vegeta felt what had only happened once. His heart leapt to his throat with a slight tinge of fear. The earth king stood, followed interestingly enough by Vegeta's own father. This caused a sensation of whispers around the room. Vegeta felt anger rise in the place of fear.
"Lord Freiza," King Briefs regarded. The lizard king bowed his head and opened his mouth; an uncanny feminine voice came out.
"King Briefs," he cooed. "Thank you so much for the extension of this invitation to celebrate the union of your planets. And King Altor, also." Vegeta felt his blood rush to the surface and he clenched and unclenched his fist, resisting the urge to fly at the beast.
Instead he turned his attention the other table guests as his father, King Briefs and 'Lord' Freiza engaged in conversation. Vegeta recognized most of the royals. The Saiyans had had a lot of relations with most of the planets in the Northern Quadrant. His eyes came to rest on two people he hadn't seen before, two people who were exchanging awkward, furtive glances across the table. The male, Vegeta assumed, was the prince of Parthns, bearing a striking resemblance to his father. The woman, Vegeta calculated, was the bride. He raised an eyebrow as his eyes came to rest on her. She was unlike any woman Vegeta had seen on Planet Vegeta. She was petite, yet the tight dress and corset revealed that she was a lot fuller figured than Saiyan woman. Her hair was the strangest thing, azure blue in its colour, pulled tightly into a bun at the back of her head. She was pretty, much more so than many of the harem women on Vegeta-sei. Vegeta turned his head away as his father took his seat next to him. The two exchanged a glare, but nothing was said.
Bulma sighed as she threw her small bag onto the villa couch. Her maids headed for the kitchen to prepare the evening meal. Bulma quickly stripped out of her morning dress, her undergarments until she was dressed in nothing but her bra and underwear, pulling out her hair from the tight elegant bun. Her long blue hair fell down her back and she picked up one hair tie, pulling it into a low ponytail. She reveled in the ability to dress how she wanted and do her hair as she pleased, most especially because she knew that that freedom was soon to be taken from her. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a pair of long brown trousers and a loose white button up shirt. She sighed as she sat down and pulled on a pair of moleskin boots, then made her way into the kitchen to see her maids.
"Bulma. That's… interesting," said Lissy as she noticed Bulma's attire. Bulma smiled as she grabbed a cloth from the sink and used it to wipe the makeup off her face, pulling out her earrings once she'd done so. She placed them on the window-sill of the kitchen window which looked out onto the grass lawn, surrounded by a thin forest and somewhere in the distance she could hear a river flowing. She turned back to her maids, leaning back against the sink.
"Yeah. Well. I figure if these are my last days of freedom I might as well enjoy it and do what I like." She smiled sadly. She walked over to her three maids, sitting at the table in the middle of the modest kitchen and took a seat with them, picking up a potato peeler and starting to peel.
"You know Bulma, my dear. I've often decided that your beauty is your curse." Bulma gave a small, sad smile. "I mean, since you were young your hair colour has naturally attracted attention. But as you grew from a small girl, you have become one of the most widely appreciated beauties not in only on earth but throughout the quadrant and beyond. While many people may envy you, Bulma, I am sorry that your beauty has brought this marriage upon you my lovely." Bulma smiled again at Gracie as she talked. She had often felt the same. Since she had found out about her proposed marriage at aged twelve, she had seriously contemplated, on many occasions, intentionally disfiguring herself to the point where she could no longer be used as bargaining tool by her parents. But she had decided, each time she considered it, that it was the weak way out, that she wasn't that easy and that she would keep going just a little longer. Now, it seemed, it was inevitable.
"It's alright Gracie. By birth I am destined to do what is best for the planet. I think I've accepted that. I think." The maids said nothing as Bulma put her potato peeler down and headed outside, sitting on the doorstep in the setting sun, looking quietly down the hill into the forest. A small tear slid down her face as she sat, watching, thinking.
Vegeta stormed into the palace kitchen, frustration oozing from his pores. He grabbed the nearest kitchen servant by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall.
"Who the hell is in charge here," he growled at the terrified human. The man said nothing, as if his voice box had stopped working and pointed to a man in a white hat at the fire grate. Vegeta dropped the man, who collapsed to the ground, clutching his throat and gasping. Vegeta smirked in satisfaction, wondering if the man realized how close he had come to having the life squeezed out of him. He stormed up to the man in the hat.
"Now I don't know what the hell it is with this planet but by god if I don't eat in the next five minutes I'm going to wipe it off the universal map!" he snarled at the man, who looked up, beginning to roll his eyes. However the human's face visibly paled as he recognized the Saiyan prince.
"M-m-my Lord Vegeta. I am so sorry. I shall get you some food right away. What would you like? Would you like us to cook you something, would you like me to cook it? What can I get you?" Vegeta felt a great sense of satisfaction as the main quavered before him.
"That's a bit better," he growled smugly. He then proceeded to list his desired food, the faces of the cooks and servants growing more and more despaired as the list grew longer and longer.
It was over an hour later when Vegeta finally sat back in the kitchen chair, contentedly full. The palace cooks had been shocked at the Saiyan's consumption level. He thought nothing of it, standing up and leaving without a word of thanks. The servants glowered after him as he left.
Vegeta walked, a little more relaxed now, through the main courtyard of the palace, running by chance into the Saiyan king himself, deeply emerged in conversation with the slimy Freiza. Before he could turn away to leave, Vegeta heard his name, uttered in a sickly voice laced with feminism.
"Oh if it isn't my dear Prince Vegeta." Vegeta felt bile rise in his throat. He had once spent a week on Freiza's ship with a purging mission. It had been the most awful experience of his life, and Vegeta had been far deeper than the deepest circle of hell in his life. From the minute the quadrant ruler had laid eyes on him, he had held a sickly obsession for the handsome young prince. Vegeta had only been fifteen at the time, but had had to endure taunts from the other warriors, all of whom had noticed Freiza's unnatural fascination with the young prince.
"Lord Freiza," he regarded through gritted teeth, barely inclining his head. The lizard and Vegeta's father walked over to the prince.
"Your father and I were just discussing the final details of your leaving arrangements." Vegeta said nothing, barely containing his hatred for the lizard. Vegeta's father and Freiza had been in negotiations for the past five years. Freiza was the overall ruler of the Northern Quadrant, but recently he had begun to fear the power of the Saiyans, and the threat they could hold to his rule. They had entered into a peace treaty which involved the Saiyans working for Freiza, less than three months ago. However that wasn't the problem for Vegeta. It was the other part of the deal, the part that affected him far more individually.
"I'm sure you were," Vegeta snarled. Freiza smiled sickly.
"Now, now, Vegeta. I think you should consider changing your attitude. After all. Come next week, we're going to be spending a lot more time together." The lizard ruler smiled, walking confidently away from the two. Vegeta growled as he left. He and his father stood. Once Freiza was out of sight, Vegeta let out a roar of frustration.
"Arrrrrgh!" he screamed, turning on his father, his eyes bright, wild and enraged.
"Vegeta," his father began warningly.
"Don't you start with me," Vegeta snarled. You have ruined my life you sick old man. You know what he's like, he's a monster!"
"Oh Vegeta, grow up. It's for the good of Vegeta-sei. You know that."
"Oh don't give me that 'for the good of Vegeta-sei' bullshit. You're just threatened. I didn't need to be part of your screwed up bargain. You just want to sit your old, weakening arse on the throne and throw Vegeta-sei into more turmoil than you already have."
"Vegeta," his father warned again.
"No," Vegeta said simply. "Don't warn me. Don't talk to me like I don't know what to do anymore. You're the one that needs to wake up old man." Vegeta stormed up to his father, wrapping his fingers around the man's throat, resisting the urge to tighten them and screw off his father's head. He looked him straight in the eye, menacing and infuriated. He thought he saw a flash of fear in his father's eyes. "Listen, and listen good," Vegeta snarled, loathing seeping from every part of his body. "You sold me to that monster. But by God I can rip you apart right now whether I can take the throne or not you pathetic excuse for a Saiyan." Vegeta threw his father, who tripped and stumbled backwards.
"Vegeta you get a hold on this right now or I'll have no trouble killing you." Vegeta laughed, cold and hard.
"Kill me? Wake up." King Vegeta threw his cape over his shoulder and made to attack his son. Vegeta held up a hand, eyes wide open and maddened.
"Don't. Don't even tempt me old man. I could destroy you in an instant and I have no qualms in doing so. Just leave me the hell alone!" Vegeta growled. He squatted for a second, launched into the air leaving nothing but a jet stream behind him. His father growled as he watched him go.
Vegeta felt the blood thumping in his ears as he headed for the mountains, the first direction that caught his eye.
His thoughts flew around his head uncontrollably, his insides burned with a desire for his father's blood. He didn't know what stopped him. Perhaps it was the fact that either way, he would be forced into a life of servitude to Freiza. It didn't make a difference. He threw a ki ball in frustration, torching a good squared kilometer of bush. The anger surged through his body, forcing him to fly faster as it threatened to explode inside him. He let out a giant yell which sent birds flying from the treetops and somewhere below he sensed a group of deer flee at the presence of his energy.
It was several hours later when Vegeta finally landed amongst dense bush. He stood, breathing deeply, his fists clenched at his sides. If the legend of Super Saiyan existed, he decided, he was just about there. Fury at his father's cowardly behaviour replaced the blood in his veins. The hatred was his life force, driving him in that moment as he blasted everything that dared move. He began feeling slightly better as the clearing he was standing in became bigger and bigger. After an hour or so of expending his frustration through energy balls, Vegeta began to walk, breathing deeply.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that when he stumbled upon a person he had not even picked up the ki signature. Then again, he reasoned as he searched for it, it was so small he would have considered in negligible and given his highly emotive and enraged state, it was not surprising that he'd missed it. He stood about a hundred metres back, arms folded, as he watched the person. He recognized her immediately, despite the fact that he'd only ever seen her once before. The bright blue hair was an obvious giveaway. As he observed the earth princess, he noticed her strange attire. She was dressed far more like a Saiyan woman. On Vegeta-sei the uniforms of men and women were not distinguishable from each other. And here, the princess wore a shirt and pants, far more like a Saiyan woman's day clothes. She was sitting on a rock, one foot in the water, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. He said nothing as he watched her. He didn't know why he watched her. But after a short time, his sensitive Saiyan hearing picked up her sobs. She was crying. Now that he heard them he noticed that her frame was hunched over and she shook occasionally. He walked over to her, intrigued by her crying. Her head snapped up as she heard his footsteps. She leapt off her rock, landing in the river with a splash and taking a step backwards.
"Prince Vegeta," she regarded shakily. He didn't move. She had tears streaming down her face, crystal rivers, flowing with the speed of the water she stood in. She paused for a while, before moving to another rock, turning away from him and sitting down again. Vegeta stood behind her, arms folded, watching the river rush past. Neither of them said anything for a good five minutes. He could hear her cries still, and they filled him with disgust. She was so weak. After a while, she stood and turned to him.
"What are you doing here," she asks him. He raised an eyebrow.
"I could ask you the same thing woman." Bulma sighed.
"It's tradition on earth for the princess bride to spend the two nights leading up to her wedding in this mountain villa," she indicated to somewhere beyond the trees. "We're not supposed to see anyone but our maids…" Vegeta snorted.
"Like I care about earth traditions." She said nothing.
"I answered your question. So what are you doing here? What could the blood-thirsty Prince of the Saiyans want up here?" Vegeta shrugged. He took a step forward, he didn't know why. Bulma seemed to shrink back.
"Are you scared I'll kill you?" he asked, taking another step forward, their bodies nearly touching. Bulma could fill the heat of his skin through the thin white shirt. She drew her breath in and looked up at the Prince. He was handsome, no question. His dark eyes told so much, yet at the same time told nothing at all. His face was articulately sculpted, harsh and weathered. A rather large scar crossed through his left eyebrow and at an angle towards his hair. Her eyes raked across his face, observing his sharp plunging widow's peak, up to his ebony hair which swept up in a flame. Her eyes flicked back to his and the two looked at each other.
"On the contrary Prince Vegeta, I'm hoping for it." Vegeta blinked as he observed the woman before him. She looked amazing, even in her man clothes, with her hair strewn across her face and dirt on her cheek. There was something when he looked at her. A sense of, well, he wasn't quite sure what it was. There was a fire in those eyes, not unlike the feelings he felt sometimes. But there was something else, something else which drew him to her. Not understanding why he did it, Vegeta reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand. Her skin was soft against his hard, calloused palm.
Bulma felt her heart leap to her throat as he lifted his hand. He was going to strike her. Amazingly, he didn't. Not only did he not hit her, he reached out and touched her cheek gently, caressing slightly as he looked at her. Mind screaming that it was wrong, that she was engaged, she gently tilted her head to the side, closing her eyes. She reached out, gently placing a hand on his stomach. She opened her eyes and looked at him.
"What are you doing?" she whispered. Vegeta opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He didn't know. He didn't know why he had reached out to this weak human in the first kind gesture since he was three or four years old.
Bulma looked up at the Saiyan prince. Why was she responding to him like this? She had a fiancé. 'But you don't like him,' her mind screamed. 'This is different. Not like Altor.' Bulma shook her head, trying to ignore it. She tried to pull away from Vegeta.
"I don't think this is a very good idea," she said as she turned away. He reached out and grabbed her arm as she walked up the bank. She stopped, her head hung low. She looked at Vegeta, tears in her eyes. "Please, just let me go," she whispered. He followed her up the bank. He asked again.
"Are you scared, woman?" she looked up at him again.
"Not for the reason you think," she whispered as tears ran down her face. Vegeta frowned.
"Princess-"
"Please don't. I don't want to be a princess, Vegeta. I don't want any of this. Please don't remind me. Just call me Bulma."
Vegeta watched her as she walked slowly away from him. Vegeta, on some level, recognized a similar part of himself, the side that realized his life was the property of a tyrant, and that despite his pride and stubbornness, the course of his future was beyond his control. Up ahead, Bulma stopped for no reason. She turned and looked at Vegeta. He stood, looking back but saying nothing.
"You were angry when you arrived. Why?" Vegeta looked at her.
"Let's just say, I know how you're feeling, woman. Probably better than anyone else." He walked slowly over to her, listening to the birds and animals in the darkening forest, the river rushing by and the slight rustle of trees in the gentle breeze. He stopped just in front of her again. He could hear her breathing, feel it warm against his chest. She looked up at him and leaned forward. Without realizing what he was doing, Vegeta responded, reaching up and holding her face in his hands as he crushed his mouth against hers, kissing her passionately.
Bulma's mind roared as she felt Vegeta's mouth against hers. She had initiated this. What was she doing? Everything against her screamed in protest as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, responding as he kissed her. She had never felt anything like this, her whole body was on fire, and his skin against hers lit flames wherever they touched. Despite knowing that it was wrong, she couldn't pull away. Instead, she kissed him deeper, still not knowing quite what it was that made him so irresistible.
It was Vegeta who broke the kiss, his mind reeling as he stared down at the beautiful woman before him. She was beautiful, her creamy white skin framed by her locks of blue hair. Without makeup, it was plain to see that her natural beauty alone would surely ensnare the hearts of many men in the years to come. He was in shock. As he had kissed her, for the first time, he had felt… light. In a strange way. The normally calm, unshakeable Saiyan prince couldn't think straight. Bulma took his hand gently, neither of them knowing exactly why they were doing this. Vegeta said nothing, simply followed the earth princess through the forest.
"So tell me about the Saiyan, Vegeta," Bulma said as she lay on the sand on her back, hands behind her head and one knee drawn up. Vegeta sighed as he sat there, hands resting on his drawn up knees.
"What could you possibly want to know about our race, woman? We are as different from yours as black is from white."
"I know," Bulma told him. "That's why I'm interested." Vegeta raised a dark eyebrow and surveyed her as she looked out across the blue ocean.
"You humans are a very strange bunch," he concluded. He paused for a minute and continued. "Well for one thing, Saiyans don't talk much," he told her with an amused look as she blushed a little bit. She turned back to him defiantly.
"Well I'm not a Saiyan," she told him pointedly. The Saiyan prince smirked at her.
"That much is obvious. On Vegeta-sei everyone has dark hair. Normally black or dark brown. You'd stand out like you wouldn't believe. Colouring like yours wouldn't last long before you found your way into the royal harem." Bulma frowned at him.
"Harem? You still have them on Vegeta-sei?" Vegeta nodded.
"The royal harem boasts the most beautiful selection of concubines from all the quadrants of the galaxy. Men travel and pay millions for the use of the woman in my father's harem." Bulmas eyes darkened.
"Well I think it's awful. Slavery was abolished here more than a thousand years ago. We have servants, but no slaves. Certainly not pleasure slaves." Vegeta snorted and rolled his eyes.
"You have lived a very sheltered life woman. Where Saiyans are involved it's survival of the fittest and those who can't oppose our strength are forced to bow. If you're strong enough, you surivive. If you're not, you don't or you become someone's slave. We don't know mercy. For many of the concubines in the harem, woman, a lavish palace life where they are respected and well-treated is a far cry from the slums from which they were dragged kicking and screaming off their homeworld."
Bulma said nothing, not quite sure how to answer that. He had a point.
"I wonder…" she paused, thinking about how she was going to word it. "I wonder if Parthns has a… if Altor will have…" she trailed off. Vegeta looked at her.
"You're wondering if Altor will have concubines. The answer is yes woman. Their harem is also highly regarded amongst other planets as providing an exotic selection of bedmates. And I have met Altor's father several times. He frequents the harem and though I don't want to further depress you about your future, I have no doubt that Altor will follow his father's practice religiously." Bulma nodded sadly.
"Do you use the harem?" she asked somewhat cautiously. Vegeta shook his head.
"While I see nothing wrong with the way my father and other kings use it, the idea of being with a woman who has had God knows how many partners is somewhat of a turn-off. My training is far more important. I don't need to be losing my focus." Bulma nodded.
"You train a lot, from what I can gather." Vegeta nodded.
"Every moment I can. I should be training right now."
"Why do you train?" Vegeta paused for a moment. Eventually he answered.
"I don't know. To be stronger. Maybe… to defeat Freiza one day. I think that was the plan."
"You really hate him, don't you?" Vegeta glared at the sand darkly.
"You have no idea. I have done horrible things in my life that I'm unashamed of but him… Freiza is a freak. He's sick, twisted. More than any Saiyan I've ever met." Bulma said nothing.
"I have led a sheltered life, haven't I?" she whispered quietly. She thought of Vegeta's life. On the walk to the beach he'd told her a little of his childhood; how he had killed his first man at four, had been on his first purge at 13 and seen a bunch of Freiza's warriors using a garrison whore in the middle of a corridor. At fifteen he had seen Freiza torture a man to death for information and at sixteen he had done the same. At seventeen the prince had single handedly destroyed his first planet.
"Yes woman. You have. Because it's so far away Earth has not followed trends as the rest of the inner galaxy has. It is far more an individual democracy than a planet of the empire. For now." Bulma looked up.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Vegeta looked at her.
"Freiza's empire will own everything eventually. Even Earth here in the far reaches of the galaxy can not escape his tyrannical hand forever. Eventually, everyone will fall to Freiza. Even Vegeta-sei." He whispered the last bit so quietly she could barely hear him. Bulma sat up next to him, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. The Saiyan prince said nothing as she sat there.
"I sometimes think I was born in the wrong time," she whispered. "Maybe I should have been born further in the future. Maybe then I could ride horses and wear pants and sword fight. Maybe I wouldn't have to marry Altor. Maybe Freiza's rule would be over. Maybe I could have met you under another circumstance."
"Maybe I could have been born earlier, when there were still wars of blood to be fought by the Saiyans, not wars of words. Maybe if I was born in another time I would have been able to achieve Super Saiyan. Maybe I could kill my father and take the throne like I was supposed to. But maybe is no good, woman. It doesn't matter what might have been or what could have been. We can no more change the time we live in than change the fact that a Saiyan warrior will love blood from the minute it is born. There's no point deliberating on maybe's, woman.
Bulma looked up at the prince, his face still dark and largely shrouded in a mysterious shadow despite the dazzling afternoon sun. He looked back at her. The two leaned forward and kissed gently. Bulma looked at him searchingly.
"But sometimes," she whispered as she kissed him lightly again, eyes flicking across his face, "sometimes, it's nice to dream." She drew back and reached out for his hand. Vegeta said nothing as the two of them sat there, watching the waves relentlessly and dutifully crashing against the shoreline.
"Good grief!" Gracie cried as she noticed Bulma coming up the hill. "Lissy! Rachel! Come and look at this!" The other two maids dropped their tea-towels and rushed over to the window where Gracie was pointing.
"Oh my," Rachel exclaimed. Lissy sniggered.
"Wow, he's not bad looking." The other two reprimanded her. Lissy shrugged. "I'm sorry. I'm a teenager, I can't help it. He doesn't look much older than me and Bulma," she mused. Gracie glared a little.
"Bulma is not supposed to see anyone except us until Saturday. What is she thinking?" Lissy smiled.
"I bet you I know…" The other two glared at her reproachfully. "What?" she asked innocently as she looked out the window to Bulma and the mystery man who were standing there talking, just outside on the lawn. "I wonder who he is," she said as she watched the two. Gracie glowered.
"I'll tell you who he is. That's Prince Vegeta." Rachel raised her eyes. She was around 35 years old, old enough to know more than Lissy who just stared blankly at the name.
"As in, Saiyan Prince Vegeta?" Rachel asked uneasily. At the mention of the Saiyans even Lissy raised an eyebrow.
"The one and only. He's infamous for his bad temper, worse than his father's. He slaughters people like they're nothing. That man has more blood on his hands than the rest of the Saiyan Empire combined." The others said nothing, watching the teenagers on the lawn.
"I don't envy her life," said Rachel sadly. Gracie shook her head.
"Nor that of the Prince. I had the misfortune of meeting his father in my younger days, travelling with Lady Briefs and her husband to Vegeta-sei many years ago. The boy was beaten on a regular basis. The inquisitive young child I met more than ten years ago was beaten out of him, replaced by the cold, emotionless blood-thirsty man who stands on the lawn there."
"He doesn't seem that blood-thirsty. Not to look at him," Lissy commented. Gracie smiled sadly.
"The story of Prince Vegeta rivals that of our princess in terms of tragedies, unfortunately. Both those kiddies are victims of circumstances far beyond their control."
"They're not kids," Rachel commented. "I mean Bulma is getting married in two days."
"No. They're not kids in the eyes of the world. But to me, they will always be, especially Bulma, kids. Because I knew them both so young." The other two nodded.
"Quick, they're coming," Lissy hissed and the three of them scuttled around, attempting to look busy as the prince and princess entered the villa. They walked into the kitchen, Bulma giving a laugh as she did so. The two of them stopped as they noticed the maids. The young prince glowered at them and Bulma smiled.
"Hey guys. Listen. I need to ask you a big favour." The three maids exchanged glances. "Please, please don't ever mention this, Vegeta being here, to anyone. Ever. My mother or father. Most especially Altor. I need you to promise me that you'll keep this between us."
"It'll be a quick end for anyone who doesn't," Vegeta growled at them, glaring down each woman in turn. The three maids nodded solemnly. Bulma smiled at them.
"Thank you," she whispered. Vegeta left her side for a second, saying nothing as he moved silently into the lounge. Lissy came up to Bulma.
"B, what's he doing here," she whispered. Bulma smiled sadly.
"You know what Lis; I don't really know to be honest. He turned up when I was at the river. I just." She stopped. "I don't know what it is about him. The moment I saw him I felt weird. Like. I don't know. It was amazing. He kissed me. I mean I kissed him. I mean. I don't know. We kissed. And it was amazing, I've never felt anything like it," she laughed, unable to suppress a grin. Lissy squealed and hugged her. "I don't know," Bulma repeated as she stepped back from the hug. "I feel like I need to be with him today. I feel like I need to do this." Lissy smiled.
"Your secret is safe with us," Gracie said as she nodded. Bulma smiled at them.
"Thank you," she whispered again, before leaving the room to follow Vegeta. She found him sitting in the lounge, on a couch, staring blankly out the window.
"You better be confident those maids will shut their mouths or I'll shut them up for good," he growled as she walked into the room. Bulma smiled at sat down opposite him. Neither of them said anything for half an hour or so. Their dinner arrived not long after, and they ate in silence. The maids came and cleared their plates. Gracie rubbed Bulma's shoulder as the woman sat there. A sad look crossed Bulma's face, not unnoticed by Vegeta. She stood up quietly without excusing herself and headed upstairs. Vegeta watched her go.
"Go on," Gracie coaxed as she observed the Saiyan prince. "Follow her." Vegeta glared at the servant, like he was about to rip her head off, but seemed to think the better of it and headed upstairs, ignoring the old woman.
He found Bulma upstairs, on the balcony of the master bedroom. It was a nice room, Vegeta observed as he walked in. Everything was a shade of white or cream, a king sized bed the central attraction. A mirror and dresser with a vase of roses sat in one corner. On the other side of the room sliding glass doors opened out to a small balcony with a table and two chairs. The net curtains billowed gently in the evening breeze. Bulma was standing, leaning against the balcony, her back to him. He walked outside.
Bulma blinked back tears, but they refused to stay at bay. They rolled down her cheeks, dropping on to her hand which was resting on the balcony rail. She looked up, through what seemed like glassy binoculars. The earth was a wash of forest, rolling back until it met the ocean which had turned a strange, orange colour, reflecting the darkening night. The sun had nearly sunk, and even as she watched the orange colour darkened. She shivered from a nonexistent cold. She suddenly felt Vegeta's warm body behind her, his arms encircling her waist and his head resting gently on her shoulder as he kissed the side of her neck. Bulma choked back a sob as the tears flowed faster. She reached around her side and clasped Vegeta's hand, holding it tightly as she cried.
"Why do you cry?" he asked as her small body shook with crying. She turned around and looked at him.
"There are so many things, Vegeta. I don't know which one of them I'm crying about. I-I'm seventeen. I'm going to marry a man I've met once. I'm going to live on a planet of woman-haters where I'll be covered up like a disease, and ignored, no higher status than a dog. I'm losing my freedom. I'll never be able to do something just because I want to. My choices, my future, my identity. It's all gone. They're taking it all. My parents, Altor. I have nothing left," she cried, covering her face with her hands and leaning against Vegeta's chest. She pulled back, turning away from Vegeta and looking back to the ocean. "And now, to make matters worse, I meet you." Vegeta said nothing, simply clasping his hands and leaning over the balcony, resting his elbows on the top rail. Vegeta looked at her. The crying had slowed, though tears still remained on her cheeks. "What did you mean," she asked. "When you said you knew how I felt. How could you possibly know?" Vegeta said nothing for a while.
"Do you know anything about the Saiyans, woman. Other than what I told you this afternoon?" he asked. Bulma paused.
"I know a little of your history. Why?"
"Do you know anything about our relationship with Freiza?" She nodded.
"Only that you entered a treaty with him a few months ago. Why's that?" It was Vegeta's turn to pause.
"There's another part to that treaty. One that is not so well known. When we signed the treaty, Freiza demanded a token of goodwill, a bargaining chip as such." Vegeta felt a sick feeling begin to rise in his stomach. "It's me. My father has sold me to Freiza as a means to keep the peace between the Saiyans in Freiza. It involves me leaving Vegeta-sei, denouncing my kingship and becoming a lackey on Freiza's ship." Bulma looked at him.
"Oh. I see." Even after knowing him only a few hours, Bulma could tell that Vegeta's pride was struggling intensely with the concept of being forced into what was in many ways slavery, but not only that, forsaking his claims to the throne and in a sense, his heritage. She opened her mouth again, but Vegeta spoke first.
"What's worse. Is Freiza's …" he paused, unable to find the word, "fascination with me." Vegeta felt sick at his own words. He didn't know why he was telling her this. What did she matter? She was an earth wench who had no clue what it was like to be a Saiyan, to lose your heritage or to be seen as a means to satisfy someone's perverted ends. But deep down he knew that wasn't true. Deep down, he knew that she knew exactly how he felt. They were very similar, he was coming to realize. "Since the first time I met the beast, Freiza has harbored an insatiable….desire for me. I know what awaits me on the ship. A lifetime of pain, abuse, and twisted degradation. But I am stronger than that. I've lived through far worse. But having my heritage torn away… that will be harder to deal with."
"When do you leave?" Bulma asked quietly, not knowing how to, or even if she should, comfort him.
"The day after the wedding," he answered emotionlessly. "I go with him when he leaves. I'm never going back to Vegeta-sei."
"I'm so sorry," Bulma whispered as she stepped towards him, looking up. "I wish I could help you." Vegeta snorted and she took a step back, somewhat offended.
"Woman. I have committed so much evil and so many atrocities in my life that if you were to be shown even a fraction of them they would plague your nightmares all your life until it finally became too much and you would kill yourself to escape the memories. I neither deserve, nor want, your sympathy." Bulma looked up at him, her hand resting gently on his cheek. She couldn't explain it. Deep down, in the very core of her being, she understood Vegeta. They were so similar, driven together by a string of events that also caused the unspoken attraction for each other. Above that, she felt need. Need for this man who had suffered so much like she had, whose life faced the same horror that hers did. They were so similar. Maybe, she dared to allow the thought, they could help each other. Gently, she leaned up and kissed him.
He jerked back at first, shocked. But as he stood there, looking at her searchingly, he felt something stir, a sudden desire to be with her. Though he didn't show it, the consideration of his future just about turned him into a despairing wreck. The idea that in an instant he would lose his future, his birthrights, his choice, his Saiyan heritage, was enough to nearly destroy the young prince. Since he had found out about the arrangement three months ago, the arrogant young prince had fought a daily battle to prevent himself murdering his father. Had he done so, he would become king. As it was, Vegeta had delayed too long in the murder of his father and the king had impregnated another woman with the heir to the Saiyan throne, meaning Vegeta was no longer the only one who could assume the throne, and Freiza would insist on taking Vegeta, leaving the planet in control of the senators until the baby came of age to rule. Now, he was a prince destined to lose everything that mattered to him.
But somehow, he knew she could make that go away. He didn't know how, he just knew she could.
Bulma looked up at him questioningly as he pulled back from the kiss. She needed him. Though she didn't realize it, she was experiencing exactly what Vegeta was. She felt the desire, and the feeling that maybe, even if just for a little while, the Saiyan prince could offer a reprieve from the horrors of her future. Maybe, just maybe, he could give her a chance at happiness, if only for a night.
And so when he leaned in and kissed her, she threw down her wall and kissed him back passionately, running her fingers through his hair as she felt him crushing against her mouth. His hands ran rampant over her body, stopping against her back and pulling her tight to him as the kiss grew more and more heated. Vegeta stumbled backwards through the door into the room, not once breaking the kiss as they collapsed onto the bed, breathing becoming more intense, and hands wandering across each others bodies with a burning passion. Vegeta pulled away from the kiss, looking down at Bulma beneath him. Her hair had come loose from the band holding it and was splayed out, surrounding her face. He growled appreciatively and leaned down, kissing her mouth and trailing hot kisses down her neck as she arched against him. He kissed along her collarbone, stopping as he came to her buttoned shirt. After first searching permission in her eyes, then gaining it, he attempted to undo the buttons, but became frustrated and simply ripped it open, exposing the porcelain skin, toned and soft, begging for his touch.
Vegeta felt his desire for her growing with every moment. As their eyes met, each read in the other the mutual need for the solace they could offer each other. The strangest circumstances had brought them together, and who were they to turn down this chance to do something that felt right for once. Vegeta leaned down kissing her forehead, kissing the side of her neck, reaching her breasts as he slid his hands across the soft white skin of her neck. Bulma uttered a small cry, arching her back against his hand, allowing Vegeta to slip his hand under her back and unclip her bra. She all too obligingly allowed him to slip it off.
His hands worked wonders on her body, causing her to react so instinctively she barely knew who was in control of her.
He pulled his head up, an evil smirk on his face as he caught sight of Bulma's face. She opened her eyes, her face glowing as she observed him. She sat up and Vegeta leaned back. She ran her eyes across his face, leaning in and kissing him, pulling him down on top of her as she lay back down. She masterfully caught him off balance, rolling over so that she was straddling the Saiyan Prince. Vegeta smirked up at her as she ran her hands down his chest, making quick work of his chest armour and spandex top. In seconds they lay next to her shirt on the floor. She wasted no time in helping him to remove his trousers. As she removed the penultimate barrier, she breathed in a sharp exclamation as she took in the handsome body before her. Vegeta propped himself up on his elbows.
"Like what you see woman?" he growled in almost a purr. She said nothing, simply setting about with her hands, causing a pleasurable groan to escape the Saiyan prince's throat. She lowered her chest down, her mouth coming down to rest on his lips as the two shared in another kiss. Both of them burned with a blinding pain, a sense of helplessness. As Bulma's hands betrayed her fiancé, trailing themselves across the body of the Saiyan prince lying in the bed with her, she could think of nothing but the fact that the man before her could take it away, the pain, the despair. For even just one night, he could offer her a reprieve from reality. And as he opened his eyes to meet hers, she saw something in them that told her she could do the same for him. She felt something light inside of her. She was possessed by a sudden need to give Vegeta something. To give him what she felt he could give her. Bulma's hands had seemed to take on a mind of her own as they ravaged Vegeta's body, driving him to the point of climax before withdrawing her hands and mouth with a smirk
The Saiyan glared at her.
"You shall pay for that tenfold woman," he growled, sitting up with a snap and flipping her beneath him in an instant. Before Bulma could get a word in he began running his hands up to her breasts, teasing them for a few seconds, only just long enough to encourage a reaction.
"Vegeta," she groaned. "Please." He gave a satisfied smirk, as his hands worked wonders, his hands which he claimed had never touched a woman, made her feel things she had never imagined. The cry she gave was somewhat primal, raw and needing. It increased Vegeta's arousal, and he in turn continually pleasured her with his hand, her groans increasing in both frequency and intensity, nearly turning into cries.
"Oh," she whispered as she arched against his hand. At the last second, Vegeta withdrew his hand. Bulma gave out a cry if despair. Vegeta smirked as he observed her crestfallen face.
"Not so much fun when you're on the other end is it?" he growled. Bulma pouted for a second, before pushing Vegeta off and sitting up. She looked up at him, eyes gently searching his face as she ran a hand through his hair. He kissed her gently on the lips. Vegeta's groin throbbed with desire and a need for release. But he attempted to ignore it as he searched for the right way to word his next sentence.
"Woman…" He paused. That was a good start. "Listen. Before this goes… any further. I want you to be sure that this is what you want. There's no going back once we do this." They both knew what he was talking about. Bulma was a virgin. Not only that, she was due to be married the next day. In less than twenty-four hours. Her husband would expect her to be a virgin. Bulma looked up at him.
"I'm sure Vegeta. Here, with you, is more right than it would ever be with Altor. I don't know what it is about you. But I've always wanted my first time to be to be memorable; with a man I cared about, chose, and someone who I loved." Vegeta opened his mouth to protest, no doubt that neither of them loved each other. "I know, Vegeta. I don't love you. You don't love me. But I feel that if I had been given the chance, if Altor wasn't around, that I could easily have grown to love you Vegeta. You're the closest thing I've ever felt to actually being able to care about someone. If given the chance, I think I could have loved you. And that's more than I can, and will ever be able to, say for Altor. He's nothing to me Vegeta. You are. Despite having met you today I can't think of a single person I would rather give myself to. The rest of my life is headed for misery. But at least I will always have this one night, this memory."
Vegeta looked at her searchingly.
"So be it," he whispered against her neck as he gently lay her on the bed. After a little more foreplay, Vegeta positioned himself above her. The two looked at each other, eyes searching. Vegeta opened his mouth to say something, but Bulma pushed a finger to his lips and shook her head.
"Just do it," she whispered to him. "Please." Vegeta regarded her for a second, paused, and then entered her in one swift movement. Bulma gave a cry of pain and Vegeta paused, holding himself still inside her. Supporting himself on one arm, he wiped the two small tears of pain from her eyes. Then slowly, he began moving inside her, rocking his body gently.
The pain slowly gave way to pleasure, and Bulma began to move her hips in time with Vegeta as he moved above her. Eventually the pain disappeared, and she reached up, wrapping her arms around Vegeta's neck as his thrusts grew more and more intense, more and more needy. Bulma responded, bucking her hips beneath him as they moved together, each of them feeling something growing inside them as they moved in unison, more frantically and more desperately as they moved closer and closer to climax. Bulma dared open her eyes and chanced a look into Vegeta's. Their eyes contacted for a moment. Vegeta's shield was down. In his eyes she saw years of pain, years of abuse, horror and torment. She closed her eyes and threw her hips harder against Vegeta as he thrust harder inside her. Her cries of pleasure mixed with his increasingly loud groans.
"Oh, oh God Vegeta. Ah," she whispered as the speed increased and Bulma felt herself come to the edge. She screamed in pleasure, Vegeta gave a primitive sort of roar as the two of them climaxed together, their bodies sharing an uncanny timing. The two of them collapsed. Vegeta dropped down on the bed next to Bulma, the both of them breathing heavily. Bulma looked over at Vegeta. She said nothing at first, simply kissing him on the cheek. The Saiyan Prince didn't respond, except for a small smirk. Bulma closed her eyes and snuggled into his chest, Vegeta wrapping his arm around her as she lay on it. Though to the outside world Bulma looked peaceful, inside her thoughts were flying at a million miles an hour. Though her body was still basking in the afterglow of the amazing experience she and Vegeta had just shared, instead of enjoying it, Bulma was again resisting the urge to cry.
This time, it was different. This time, she was sad for Vegeta. And herself. As she lay there, curled into his chest, his warm body pressing against hers, her ear resting above his heart so that she could hear it steadily beating, she wished. She wished she had had the chance to know him. She wished she had had the chance to learn how to love him, to share a life with him. But most of all, she wished she could have the chance to choose him. To choose to share herself with him. To learn to grow with him. To go through the good and the bad with him. To be with him. She wished for the chance, she felt her entire body overcome by helplessness as she opened her eyes and looked into the eyes of the mysterious Saiyan prince who had come from nowhere and shown her the life she could have had, the man she could have loved. This was a man she could have argued with, could have cared for and hated, who could have challenged her and maybe even grown to love her one day. But fate had been cruel enough to deny her that chance. In fact it had been so cruel as to let her meet him the day before she was due to be married, to finally reveal this soul mate to her, and then rub it in her face that she would never truly have him. Yet something had been kind enough to gift her this night with him, with this man who shared everything she felt, who knew what it was like to have to sacrifice the life for the good of his planet, who knew what it was like to lose everything he cared about, to lose his choice.
How could life have made them for each other, yet done everything to ensure they would never be together past this single night?
It was well after dark now. Bulma snuggled deeper into the chest of her lover. The arm she was resting on tightened its hold around her. Bulma tried to turn the thoughts of the future from her head, thinking instead of enjoying the short time she had been gifted with Vegeta while she had it, because both of them knew it would be gone all too soon.
"I wonder what the maids are thinking," Bulma mused out loud as she trailed her finger gently around the outline of Vegeta's washboard stomach. The Saiyan prince snickered.
"Like I care woman. Like I said. A word out of any of them and it'll be the last word they ever speak." Bulma rolled her eyes and propped herself up on one elbow as she lay on her side. She raised an eyebrow at Vegeta.
"Aren't you a cocky shit," she laughed, bending down to kiss him. He folded his arms behind his head as he lay there and smirked back.
"When you're as good at everything as I am, woman, you can be this cocky too." Bulma laughed again as she stretched one leg over Vegeta and straddled him again, sitting on him, her legs bent back under themselves either side of her Saiyan prince. Vegeta ran his hands up her thighs and over her waist as she sat astride him, coming back down to rest at the widest part of her hips. Bulma gently placed her hand over his and guided it to one of her breasts as she leaned forward. Vegeta smirked as he allowed her to move his hand.
"Insatiable wench," he growled, but acquiesced and responded to her advances.
The next two hours passed in a blur of talking and touching. Though not making love again, the two seemed unable to keep their hands off each other, touching and caressing every piece of each others' skin they could get their hands on. It was well after midnight when the two lay there talking, the balcony door still open, the net curtains blowing gently in the warm summer night breeze. Over the quiet the dull roar of the ocean could be heard. The lights in the room were out but the moon and stars provided enough natural light that they were not needed.
Vegeta looked up as Bulma stood up, throwing the bedcovers off her naked body. She walked, naked, across the room, her back turned. She stopped at the mirror, lifting a hand and gently pulling a single red rose out of the vase and turned, walking back to the bed. She lay down on the bed, on her side, elbow bent and supporting her head as she rested it gently in her hand, facing Vegeta who was lying in the same position. She reached over with her free hand and dropped the rose on the pillow between them. The two of them stared at it for a moment. Then Vegeta leaned forward, picked it up and kissed Bulma gently on the lips, smirking. She sighed, rolling over so that her back was pressed against his chest. Bulma felt his arm snake around her waist, still gently holding the rose. He trailed the flower head up her side and along her arm, gently pressing the flower into her hand, closing his hand over hers and the flower. Vegeta gently kissed the back of Bulma's neck, feeling her snuggle against him and sending shivers down her spine.
"I don't want tomorrow to come, Vegeta. I don't want to lose you. When all this ends-" She didn't quite finish the word 'ends' as Vegeta silenced her with a 'ssh'.
"Don't," he growled, not in an angry way. "Don't taunt yourself with what is to come. The future will come soon enough, heedless of whether you worry about it. Just enjoy this while you have it." He felt her body sigh against his.
"You're right. Thank you, Vegeta," she whispered, her voice portraying signs of sleepiness. He said nothing, kissing her shoulder again. Neither of them said anything. Within fifteen minutes, Vegeta heard Bulma's contented, deep breathing which indicated she had finally fallen asleep. He sighed and rolled onto his back. Unconsciously, Bulma too rolled over. She lay asleep on Vegeta's outstretched arm as she snuggled into his side. Vegeta looked at her.
He had no idea what the next day would bring. In all his life he had never been struck by such stark contrasts in his feelings. His head screamed that he was the Prince of the Saiyans that she was below him. But everything else; his body, his soul, screamed back just as loudly that this was right. It felt right. And given what would come tomorrow, that which both of them could only speculate on, he was willing to embrace this small, fleeting pleasure in his life. He didn't know exactly what tomorrow would bring, but he knew what it would hold. Come hell or high water, he and Bulma could be separated.
But for now, he thought, as he closed his eyes slowly, for the first time he could remember, the Prince of the Saiyans was happy.
Vegeta's eyes strained open as the dazzling sunlight of the rising day radiated through the still open curtains into the bedroom. Somewhere outside the morning birds were calling. The whole forest was alive.
Vegeta turned to his lover lying next to him. She was lying on her side facing him, her long blue hair spilling across the pillow and her face gently contented. He placed his hand delicately on her cheek and ran his fingers down her neck and across her naked chest, her body unconsciously responding to his motions despite its sleeping state. He smirked as he kissed her neck, Bulma tilting her head back to make it easier. Vegeta trailed his mouth down her neck and across her collarbone, hand sliding gently down her side and round to the inside of her thigh.
Her eyes flew open as his hand grazed between her legs. His dark mischievous, mysterious eyes caught her innocent deep blue ones and a smile played her face as another smirk spread across his.
"Good morning, my Prince," she whispered, pressing her body against his and kissing his mouth vigorously. The kiss quickly erupted into another love making session; both lovers feeling their bodies tremble at the touch of the others'. Bulma gasped as Vegeta slid inside her again, the newly discovered pleasurable feelings racing through her body. As Vegeta moved inside her he began to realize that after this short time with her, no other woman would ever be able to satisfy him as wholly and as intensely as she could. No woman would come close. It was in that moment of realization as he moved inside her and she thrust up to meet his movements that Vegeta subconsciously made a decision to give her something he had never thought he would give any woman. As their bodies moved together, drawing indescribable pleasure from each other, without giving it a second thought Vegeta lowered his head and grazed his teeth across the top of her breast, biting gently. Bulma cried out in a mix of pain, shock and pleasure as he bit her. Without a thought as to why she was doing it, Bulma returned the bite, sinking her teeth gently into the muscle on his shoulder.
Intense waves of pleasure shot through her in all consuming bursts as she felt the touch of his mind against hers for a few seconds, experiencing his pleasure as well as hers. She knew he was feeling the same and as the two moved together with more intensity, their bodies climaxed together once more, the connection was gone and the two collapsed, breathing heavily again as their bodies basked in the pleasurable waves still coursing through them.
"What was that?" Bulma asked quietly a few moments later as she ran her hand gently across the teeth marks on her chest. Vegeta frowned as he looked at her.
"It won't go away. Ever. I shouldn't have done it. It's not fair to you." Bulma looked up at him, and then back down at her chest.
"What do you mean?" Vegeta sighed as they lay there.
"It's a mark. My mark. Normally reserved for Saiyan mating rituals. It's not my full mark, not a full bite. I didn't draw blood. If I had…. we would have been mentally linked permanently, provided that you had returned it. The Saiyan bond means that when one of the mates dies, the bond slowly kills the other. Neither of us needs that in our lives. I just… wanted to…" Bulma could tell this was hard for him to say so she said nothing. "To give you something. To let you know that no matter what happens," he looked up and his dark gaze that portrayed nothing stared at her intently, "you will always be the only woman I could have cared for. Like you said, a day is nothing. But consider this," he nodded to the mark on her chest, "a reminder of what could have been. "
Bulma said nothing still, savouring the kind words of her lover, the Saiyan Prince, words she knew somehow that no other living being would ever hear. She leaned over and touched her mark on his shoulder.
"If things had been different, Vegeta…" she said with a sigh. "Not a day will go by when I don't think of you." She looked up at him, her eyes as full of emotion as his were void of it.
They had only spent less than twenty four hours with each other, and it was not what had happened between them that had forged such a strong bond and sense of caring, but the sense of being kindred spirits, of being each other's refuges but most of all, the shared knowledge of what could have been in things had turned out differently, if they had met under different circumstances.
"Thank you," Bulma whispered to Vegeta as she curled into a ball and rested her head against the side of his chest. Vegeta leaned down and kissed her.
The two of them lay there for nearly an hour, enjoying the presence of each other's company in what they knew would be their last few hours together.
And all too soon it came.
A knock at the door.
"Bulma? It's me, Gracie. May I come in?" Bulma turned to look at Vegeta.
"Yes," Bulma called back, her eyes never leaving Vegeta's. The door gently clicked open and Bulma's maidservant peered around the door. She smiled as she saw the two lovers curled up in bed.
"I'm terribly sorry to intrude love, but it's time for you to prepare to leave. You're due back at the palace in just over an hour. You need to prepare for your…" she paused with a glance at Vegeta, "wedding."
Even an idiot couldn't have missed the look that passed between Bulma and Vegeta as they lay there on the bed. Both sitting up now, Bulma leaned to rest her head on Vegeta's shoulder, and he in turn clasped her hand a little tighter. The sadness in both their eyes was plain for Gracie to see, even in the eyes of the infamously emotionless Saiyan Prince.
"Thank you Gracie," Bulma whispered in a somewhat haunting tone. The maidservant smiled sympathetically at her, Bulma smiled hollowly back, and the older woman left.
Two tears ran down Bulma's face as she threw Vegeta's hand off and slid out of bed. He said nothing, watching her as she dressed in her undergarments. Still not looking at him, she turned to the wardrobe and selected the single dress that hung there, pulling it gently over her head and tightening the ties on the stomach of the dress. She pulled her wavy blue hair out and sat herself at the mirrored dresser, shifting the vase of roses aside. As she pulled her hair into a long plait, she saw Vegeta finally move from the bed. He dressed in his underpants and walked over to where she sat.
Tears ran unchecked down her face as her mysterious Saiyan lover ran his hands up her back, coming to rest on her shoulders. The two of them looked at each other in the mirror. Bulma shrugged his hands off.
"Please," she whispered to him, desperately trying to wipe the tears away. "Don't make this any harder for me than it already is." Vegeta said nothing for a moment, standing, watching.
"From the moment I saw you by the river yesterday woman, I thought you were weak." Bulma's sadness slipped away, replaced by a look of anger. She turned on her seat, looking up to Vegeta.
"How dare you Vegeta," she whispered, enraged. "How dare you?" Vegeta said nothing, turning away, pulling on his spandex shirts and pants, in the traditional Saiyan blue. He slid on the white and gold armour of his chest plate. Bulma was staring at him enraged.
"Let me finish," he growled at her as she glared daggers at him. "I was wrong. You are as strong as any Saiyan woman I have met, and I would not trade this one night with you, woman, for anything in the world." Bulma's crestfallen face lit up a little at Vegeta's words. She stood, so the two were only a foot apart. He stood a head taller than her, regarding her gently.
Bulma threw her arms around his waist as she began to sob again. Vegeta said nothing, encircling her in his arms as she cried.
"Thank you for this, woman. For last night. I'm sure that in the years to come aboard Freiza's ship, that this will be one of the few times in my life I can return to."
"I would have given you more Vegeta," Bulma whispered, pressing her cheek against his chest. "I would have given you everything."
"I know," he answered. The two of them drew apart, not breaking the eye contact. Bulma reached up and placed her hands on Vegeta's cheeks.
"I could have loved you," she whispered, trying to imprint his face, this last time with him, their last moments as lovers. She ran one hand down his neck, coming to rest on the bite mark she had put on his shoulder. His hand slid up her side, onto her stomach and up over her breast, pulling down her dress a little as he pressed his middle and forefinger against the grazed mark.
"You too," the Saiyan Prince answered with little to no emotion.
"I wish things could have been different," she told him. The moment was interrupted by another knock at the door.
"I'm sorry, Bulma. It's time to go." Bulma looked from Gracie to her prince. The Saiyan crushed his mouth against hers, his emotion and passion unchecked as she responded; deepening the kiss and using it to show him the feelings she would never ever have words for. They drew apart, with a last, desperate, pain-filled look, the Saiyan Prince pulled on his shoulder armour and boots, and walked through the open door to the balcony. Bulma followed. The two of them stood there for a fleeting second, before Vegeta leapt onto the rail, and bent down on one knee. He leaned forward, kneeling, at eye level with Bulma. He cupped his hand under her chin, kissed her once quickly on the lips and stood. Bulma's eyes flitted open, tears straining down her face. The Saiyan smirked at her as he stood and then nodded. And threw himself off the side of the balcony.
Bulma watched as the Prince flew, watched until he was only a spec on the horizon, and then he disappeared.
He was gone. The one man in her life who had given her a glimmer of hope, happiness. He had given her a snippet of her childhood dream; to fall in love, to care about a man so deeply that she would give herself to him.
And now he was gone.
The short day they had spent together, the love making, all of it had been a torturous taster of what she would never have. She would never talk to him again, never again feel the warm touch of his hand against her skin or feel the desire she had felt for him. Never again would she feel that mind blowing feeling when his consciousness brushed against hers, when for a few seconds, their minds had been one. Her hand dropped slowly to her chest and the mark. As tears streamed down her face, she turned and walked from the balcony, back to the real world.
Vegeta sat silently, staring at the back of the pew in front of him. The dark mahogany wood held many hundreds of whorls and knots and patterns. Vegeta had traced each one of them with his eyes no fewer than twenty times. He couldn't think. Nothing seemed to be able to penetrate the immense concrete barrier in his mind. He was numb. He looked up. The church was filling quickly. The Saiyan prince had been sitting in his current seat since he arrived back that morning nearly four hours ago. He hadn't even bothered to see his father, finding his way straight to the church.
People crowded in front of him and around him. No one approached the Saiyan prince directly, fearful of the scowling, brooding look he was giving, until his father arrived only half an hour before the wedding. Vegeta said nothing as his father sat next to him. They were sitting in the middle of the crowd, and the middle of the seat on the right side of the church. From his position he could see Prince Altor, standing at the stage wearing his royal armour. Vegeta growled inaudibly before turning his eyesight back to the pew in front of him.
Bulma's face was stone, her arms dropped down by her sides. She could barely feel anything as Lissy lifted her left leg into her dress, then put it down and lifted her right in. Standing on her right side and Gracie on her left, the two maids pulled the dress up, sliding her arms into the sleeves. They behaved like they weren't even attached to her body; limp, rubbery fleshy blobs. Her maids gently pulled the multi-million dollar diamond studded wedding dress up over her shoulders, Rachel standing behind her to lace the corset up and tie the ribbons up. Her makeup was perfect, the result of an hour and a half in front of the mirror and her artist. And a further two hours had seen her hair put up in a most beautiful design, every inch of her glowed like the princess she was.
Except her face.
Her maids stood next to her, the four of them looking at her in the mirror, Lissy with her fingers knitted and resting on Bulma's shoulder. A single tear leaked from one of Bulma's eyes. Gracie wiped it away gently, careful not to smudge the makeup.
"You look beautiful my darling," Gracie whispered as she kissed her cheek. Bulma looked at herself in the mirror.
"Thank you," she whispered quietly. "Please, can I have a moment alone." The three maids nodded and left without a word, except a quick hug from Rachel.
Bulma sat on her footstool, head down in front of her dresser mirror. She looked up at herself. Slowly, she lifted her right hand and pulled down the neckline of her dress, running her finger over the mark. She felt her whole body tingle as she pressed it. She closed her eyes, imagining Vegeta's hands on her body, on his breath on her neck. As she opened her eyes, he stood behind her. Dressed in his royal garb, his black hair swept up in a flame. The scars on his face she knew so well after only a day. His dark eyes burned with emotion as he looked at her. Bulma rested her flat palm on her breast.
"Vegeta…" she whispered.
She closed her eyes and he was gone. A vision of her memory. A wish.
"Vegeta…" she whispered again. "Goodbye." She stood without another word. Slowly, with a last glance in the mirror, she pulled her veil over her face, turned and was gone without a backwards glance.
The music started. His head didn't move. The doors creaked open. His head didn't move. The church turned as one body to look towards the entrance. His head still didn't move. It was only when the footsteps passed his position, that he finally looked up. His gaze followed her back the whole way up the aisle. He couldn't even blink as he watched her.
"We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two lives and two countries…"
So it began.
For the whole ceremony, barely a hair on Vegeta's head shifted. As he watched, the expression on Bulma's face never changed from the mask of stone identical to the one he wore.
Bulma breathed in deeply, fighting with everything she had to keep the never-ending stream of tears banked up behind her eyes. She dared a glance at Altor, standing, emotionless. Again she remarked to herself the potential for him to be good looking if she didn't know what lay beneath. As the priest droned on, she heard Altor say his vows. They meant nothing. She couldn't even remember them. She spoke a rehearsed speech for her vows, Vegeta never leaving her thoughts as she watched Altor slip the ring onto her finger. Still desperately fighting the need to cry she resisted the urge to turn around and look for Vegeta in the crowd. She knew he was there. She could feel him through the weakening bond.
"If anyone has any reason that these two should not be married let them speak now of forever hold their piece."
'Speak,' Bulma whispered, 'say something Vegeta,' she silently begged, knowing it was fruitless. If she'd turned around, she would have seen Vegeta's face set in a grueling mask, his teeth grinding together.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." A light peck on the lips.
And it was done.
She was married.
It was done.
Vegeta was ruled from her life.
Altor was her husband.
It was done.
"King Freiza, Vegeta my dear," came the sickly voice Vegeta knew all too well. Vegeta closed his eyes and turned to face his future.
"Lord Freiza," he forced out.
"I'm terribly sorry Vegeta but things have changed and we must leave the planet immediately. I am needed on my home planet. We must leave at once." Vegeta and his father stood. Vegeta looked around the church for Bulma. She was gone. Though he didn't know it at that point, Vegeta had seen Bulma for the last time. The party made their way outside.
"Well son. I guess this is goodbye." Vegeta turned to look at his father, eyebrow raised. He snorted.
"Goodbye," Vegeta said emotionlessly. He followed Freiza across the courtyard.
She was back in her dressing room. She was back on her stool. She was back to the mirror. Only this time the tears weren't waiting. They were flowing. Free and unchecked. The mascara streamed down her cheeks in black rivers despite its claims of being "waterproof". Bulma looked up at her reflection.
How long since I spent a night in a twin bed with a stranger?
His warm arms all around me.
She blinked furiously, a fruitless attempt to stem the flow.
How long since I've gazed in the dark eyes which melted my soul down,
To a place I had only dreamed
How had her life come to this?
All of your history had little to do with your face,
You were mainly a mystery, with violence filling in space.
She hadn't seen her husband since she'd left the chapel. Fighting desperately against the tears she'd fled straight to her dressing room to gather herself.
I stood in the nude by a mirror and picked out a rose from the bouquet in the room
Then laid down again, beside you and you watched the rose on the pillow as it fell.
Her husband. Even the thought of it churned her stomach.
I sank and I slept in twilight with only one care,
To know when day broke, and I woke,
You'd still be there.
Knowing he wasn't going to be there, Bulma turned to look behind herself, just in case.
The hours, for once the passed slowly, unendingly by like a sweet dream on a field.
Your gentleness came down upon me, and I guess I thank you,
For when you caused me to yield.
This was it. She stood, drawing her shoulders back as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
We spoke not a sentence, took not a footstep beyond our two days together,
From nowhere, servants appeared to pick up her bags and took them from her room. Lissa, Rachel and Gracie appeared, all three of them crying. Without a word, the three of them undressed her, and slowly dressed her back into a court dress. Quickly rearranging her hair, the four of them stopped, looked at each other and stood. This was the last time they would see each other. Bulma would have her own Parthnian servants. She left with her husband tonight, to 'consummate' their marriage on Altor's home planet. With a thank you to each, head held high, fingertips resting gently on the mark on her breast, she turned and walked from the dressing room for the last time.
Not far off, Bulma saw the distinguishable shape of Freiza's ship, felt the ground tremble as it prepared for launch.
She closed her eyes, a last tear. And let him go. Her one night. Her prince. A dream. It was over. She turned to face Altor, bowing her head as she stood next to him.
Which seemingly too soon, were gone.
Vegeta said nothing as he walked up the ramp into Freiza's trembling ship, the lizard king next to him. A sadistic smirk came across his face.
"You realize it's over, monkey? This is your life now. I'm sure we're going to have wonderful times together." Vegeta stopped in his tracks, biting his tongue to keep from lashing out at Freiza. Instead, he looked down. "Good," Freiza cooed. "Now. I;m going to go inside. I suppose I'll give you a minute or so to compose yourself. Now when you come in, the Ginyu Force are going to be waiting to test out your strength. A bit unfair really. Because if you lose, which you will, your time beneath my rule will begin with a beating the likes of which you've never experienced." With another commanding smirk, the lizard walked from the doorway, leaving Vegeta standing at the top of the ramp alone.
Don't tell me of love everlasting, another sad song,
I don't want to hear.
He turned and looked back across earth. Closing his eyes, a gentle breeze swept through his hair. Subconsciously his hand reached up onto his shoulder and scraped across her bite mark.
Just tell me if passion is two strangers,
Who rescue each other from a lifetime of cares,
One night. One night in his life he could return to. For the first time, Vegeta wished he could have been given the chance to 'love'.
Cause if love means forever, expecting nothing returned,
Then I hope I'll be given another whole lifetime to learn.
Still standing still, he cast out for her ki. Feeling it, small as it was, perhaps only five or six hundred metres away, he attempted memorize the feeling of the connection and closed her off. Smirking sadly he looks up at the setting sun in the sky.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Cause you gave to me so many things, it makes me wonder,
How could they belong to me?
It was in that moment that he realized. His life was over, along with hers. Neither of them would ever escape their masters. He, Freiza and her, Altor. Both of them had known it for a long time and he now realized that their experience together only postponed the inevitable.
And I gave you only my dark eyes, which melted your soul down,
To share one night remembered for eternity.
But an experience, a night, a memory, that would live forever.
"In another life," he whispered. He turned his back on earth for the last time, entering the ship. He knew, as he did so he symbolically ended his own life. But he would always have the memory of that one night, with a stranger in his arms who made all the pain go away, if only for a flash. The doors began to close behind him, he lifted his head slightly, closed his eyes and exhaled deeply as he disappeared behind the door.
In another life.