Ok, I figured I should leave the intro the way I had it, but I just wanted to say that I'm revising this fic, after having so much luck with Like A Movie. I hate unfinished stories, which I have a lot of, and so I plan on finishing them all eventually. Have faith my trusty reviewers!
Well this is something totally different for me. It's an AU fic that takes place hundreds of years ago, in the time of dynasties and empires in Japan. In the prologue Bulma is eight years old and Vegeta is eleven. She is a princess and he is already a skilled warrior. I hope you enjoy it!! :D
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Gleaming ebony eyes scanned the lush green courtyard. The night guards would be out now, armed and ready for intruders. A shadowed figure scaled a steep vine covered stonewall with no effort, his lithe muscular body turning and bending with ease. He took another quick look around, then blotted across the lawn, diving into the shadow next to the building. He crept along the wall with his back to it, then stopped and looked around the corner. Everything was silent. Everything was still. But that didn't mean no one was around.
He stepped back slowly, and, all at once, jumped, grabbed the edge of the roof, and hopped up. There were still five more roofs to climb before he reached his destination. It only took him about five minutes to get there, though he could have easily made it in less than two, but he was constantly checking for guards and people moving around on the inside. He reached the right roof, only it was on the wrong side of the building. He sprinted across it and around the corner. Finally he was there; a small balcony, its railings adorned with beautifully detailed carvings and gold trim. He leapt over the short railing, stopping one last time to check for guards, before he proceeded without worries. The doors leading inside were large double doors, painted emerald green with precise gold and forest green designs. Instead of having windows, there were small slits, horizontal along its length. The dark shadowed person took a deep breath before knocking, three times, telling who was inside that it was him.
He listened intently at the doors, pressing his ear to one of them. He could hear some slight rustling, then a less than quiet groan. There was a little more moving around, then it was silent for a moment. He concentrated harder on listening. Nothing. Then suddenly the large double doors swung open, startling him, and he jumped back. Though it was still night, he could make out who the figure that stepped out onto the balcony towards him. A girl, eight years of age, with long aqua hair and bright glimmering blue eyes. "Why do we have to be out this early?" the child whined, rubbing her tired eyes with balled fists. She wore loosely fit black pants, black boots with leather straps that criss-crossed around her leg to her knee, and a baggy white shirt, tied with a beige belt. She was dressed as a man.
"You're the one who wanted to train," he said roughly. He was dressed nearly the same as the young girl. She stepped towards him, and he stepped back, into the moonlight. He was slightly taller than her, about three years older, with raven black hair that flamed up off his head. She'd always thought it was silly, and never failed to let him know.
"No you're the one who offered it to me. How could I say no?" she demanded. "I'm tired," she yawned, blinking her eyes open wider.
"Don't complain to me Onna. You're lucky I'm doing this. I'm doing you a favor."
"Don't call me that!" she yelled softly. If she was caught sneaking out, to train no less, her parents would ban her from leaving the palace until she was old enough to be woed and wed. She was a princess, a lady. Women training to become warriors was unheard of and those who did were not thought highly of. And not only that she was training, but the fact of who she was training with. The son of the most dangerous warrior in the area. It was an odd way they had come to be acquaintances. It had only happened a few months ago. She was taking a stroll by the pond outside the palace. She was all alone, for her parents trusted her as long as she was home safely when they told her to be, and she always was so there was no reason not to trust her.
FLASHBACK:
She was about to take a drink of cool spring water from the stream connected to the pond, when she heard a noise. Immediately she jumped into the water and stayed below for as long as her lungs permitted her to. When she thought whatever had made the noise was finally gone, she poked her head out of the water. Nothing was there. She took a deep breath, looking around one last time, then climbed out of the water. Her gown and hair were completely soaked, making it even more difficult for her to walk. She stood as straight as possible, looking around. Nothing. Whatever it was had left, she reasoned. She rung her dripping hair out with a few tight twists, then proceeded to return to the palace. She made it ten steps, before hearing the noise again. This time she knew she wasn't alone.
She looked up, half expecting to be attacked. She'd been a lot more cautious lately, with the threats on her family from the Yon-Han Empire and all. It was a very rocky time for them. But after scanning the land and trees above, found there was nothing there.
"Stupid birds," she sighed, picking up her pace a little. Soon all the rocks, bushes and grass were speeding by her. She picked up her pace to a run. She didn't know why, but something just wasn't right. Though she couldn't confirm it, something or someone was there.
"I'm no bird," a small, obviously boyish voice snapped. She stopped dead in her tracks. She'd heard the voice, and was terrified, though tried her hardest to remain calm and composed.
"Who's there?" she demanded, turning and facing the direction the voice came from. There was no answer. And for a moment, the forest path was silent. "I said, who's there?" Then slowly, inch-by-inch, a figure emerged from a treetop and jumped to the ground. It was a young boy, not much older than she, with deep black hair that stuck straight up. He was wearing a black warrior's training uniform. "Who are you?" the girl asked, fear completely gone from her voice. He looked completely harmless.
"A warrior," he said, his voice full of noticeable arrogance and pride, placing balled fists on his hips and straightening up. She raised an eyebrow slightly. Clearly he was a member of high society.
"Aren't you a little young?" Her young girlish voice squeaked in comparison to his.
"Of course not," he barked, sounding almost hurt. "Warriors need to start as young as possible if they want to get anywhere." If someone from the outside had been watching their conversation, it would have been quite a sight. Two young children, arguing about fighting. The older of the two acting as though he were the older brother and knew everything, and had to inform the younger sister and make sure she knew he was the boss.
"I'm going to be a great warrior one day," she proclaimed matter-of-factly, puffing herself up.
He simply laughed.
"What's so funny?" she hissed, stepping forward.
"Oh nothing. I just thought I heard you say you were going to be a warrior."
"I did!!" She was beginning to despise this boy.
"You'll be lucky if you even get a chance to train with all your womanly duties," he retorted, crossing his arms, almost insulted.
"Baka!!" she screamed, lunging at him with such force and surprise that he was to the ground. "You take that back!!" He growled at her from the back of his throat, forcefully shoving her off.
"Don't you ever do that to me again!" he yelled, jumping to his feet, glaring down at her. She was soon to her feet as well, feeling the same rage as him.
"What!? Don't denounce me because I'm female!" Her eyes were burning with anger.
He sighed deeply, then looked up at her, his head facing the ground. "Its not because you are a female," he said through clenched teeth. "I just don't see you as a warrior. You don't have any…any…what is it?…spirit." She glared at him, now at the peak of her anger, her fists balled, knuckles white.
"No spirit? No spirit!" She ran at him with such force he was to the ground again, and this time he would have not been able to stop her. "I'll show you spirit!" She brought her arm back, and swung at him, colliding her fist with his cheek. He looked up at her in shock. She'd actually hit him with enough strength that he felt a sting in his cheek.
"Onna…" he sighed. She scowled down at him. "I will train you."
"Don't call me that," she hissed. He was about to say something when she butted in. "Did you just say you'd train me?" He nodded, obviously annoyed. "Why?" she asked with suspicion.
"Because its obvious that you have a fighting spirit," he rolled his eyes, " and definite potential."
"My father forbids me to train…I train myself, which isn't going exactly how I planned..." she babbled on, the young boy drowning her out, picking at his fingernails.
"Done?" he asked, glancing at her. She nodded, a bit embarrassed for carrying on like that. "Alright, I pick the time and place. You will do as I say and only as I say. Is that clear?" She nodded happily, fluttering her girlish lashes at him. He growled in the back of his throat. He was definitely going to regret this.
END FLASHBACK
"Hurry up," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her over the railing.
"I can do it myself," she hissed matter-of-factly, then jumped from the roof they were on to the next one down. Within moments she was to the ground, though her companion had beaten her there.
"Ok, listen to me. Don't waste anymore time. You have a lot to do before sunrise," he warned, scowling down at her.
"I know that," she spat, crossing her arms over her chest and stomping in the direction of their secret training area. A small secluded field just outside the palace grounds. When they weren't training, she would go alone to think. There was a small brook that ran along some of the field's perimeter and lead to a clear water pond. She'd often swim there in the warm summer months.
"And be quiet," he scolded, grabbing her arm so she wouldn't stray from his sight. If anything happened to her, a price would be put on his head.
"I am being quiet baka."
"Well if we get cau-"
"I know exactly what would happen. And we won't get caught. We've been training for nearly six months now and no one has the slightest idea." For such a young girl she had an extensive and impressive vocabulary. She spoke to adults as though she were one herself. No one talked down to her, with the exception of her trainer, and those who did quickly learned not to. She was a true genius, her parents' most prized possession.
"Yes you know the consequences for yourself. But do you realize what they would do to me?" he asked with a slight hint of nervousness in his voice. He seemed especially edgy lately, which did not go unnoticed by the young princess. But she figured he was having troubles at home, so she wisely stayed off that topic. He wasn't exactly what you'd call a social butterfly.
"Yes I do. But you have nothing to worry about, because we're NOT going to get caught. Why must you tell me this every night?"
"So you'll never forget," he said smugly, pulling her closer to him, so that if someone did hear them he would already have a hold of her and could run as fast as he could.
"Trust me, I won't," she said through clenched teeth. She was tired of him treating her as a child, when she obviously had the intellect of an adult.
The early morning training went on as usual. The children both received sufficient training, though the student had to try harder than the teacher, of course. Then, the same as every morning just before dawn, they had to end their training. The young princess had to be back in bed before sunrise.
"Ok," said the young boy, clasping his hands together as he bowed to his student. "You're improving." She followed suit, bowing to her trainer. "Now we must hurry. If the sun rises the guards will surely see us." He grabbed her hand, and the two jogged swiftly in the direction of the palace.
"Good night Vegeta," she whispered, backing into her room.
"Its morning Onna," he said with a smirk.
"Oh, you know what I meant. Now hurry home before your father catches you out."
"He's not my father."
"Uh! Kami Vegeta! Stop that, just don't get in trouble, alright?"
"Don't worry about me," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll be back an hour earlier tomorrow." Before she had time to respond he was gone, seemingly without a trace.
"An hour earlier? Kami…" she sighed, pulling the doors shut and latching the lock. She quickly changed into one of her many nightgowns and hid her training clothes under her bed. She unwrapped the ribbon from around her hair, letting it flow well passed her waist. Quickly she splashed some cool water on her face from a bowl near her vanity and then padded it dry with a clothe. Around all, but Vegeta, she was prim and proper and very lady like, the way she was expected to be.
She swiftly yet quietly shuffled across the floor to her bed and slipped under the numerous silk sheets. She sighed deeply, closing her eyes and drifting off into a peaceful slumber.
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"Bulma!" called a muffled woman's voice from outside her chamber. "Bulma its morning!"
"Nani? Uh…" she sighed to herself. It'd only been about two hours since Vegeta had brought her home. She was absolutely not ready for a long day in the life of a princess. "One moment!" she called in the direction of the door. "Alright, I'm up," she said as she opened the door and was face to stomach with her maid.
"Did you sleep well Madame?" she asked in a motherly tone, stepping into her room with a bundle of clothes. "You look tired."
"Oh, I couldn't fall asleep last night…Why do you have those?" Bulma asked with an arched eyebrow, pointing to the bundle in her arms. The clothes were far too fancy for everyday wear.
"Don't tell me you forgot. Your parents are having that gala this afternoon."
"Oh, it must have slipped my mind for a moment." She yawned, then proceeded to her vanity, where her maid followed, setting her clothes on a chair.
"How would you like your hair today, dear?" the older woman asked, as she brushed threw it.
"I don't care. Just keep it out of my face."
"Alright then," she huffed, struggling to brush threw a thick tangle of aqua hair. "I'll put this in to hold it back," she said, holding up a gold plated type of hair band, with several royal blue carved stones and diamonds set in it. It matched her dress perfectly. A deep royal blue number with trimmings of lighter blues and purples. The sleeves were long and loose fitting; they would nearly cover her hands. Around its middle her maid would wrap an ivory colored sash around several times then tie it into a large bow. Her mother, the queen, would be wearing a dress identical to her own, though much more form fitting and the sleeves would hang down off her shoulders.
Finally after about twenty minutes of pulling and fussing with Bulma's hair, the maid was done. It was pulled back tightly out of her eyes into two buns at the back of her head, held together with black chopsticks. The rest of her hair was wrapped once around each bun, then it hung down to her mid back. The few loose strands that would have been in her eyes were pulled back with the gold headband and they now hung along side her face by her ears. Her make-up had also been done. Thick white powder caked her face, her lips were painted a glistening bright red, her eyes were lined with black, and light purples and blues sparkled on her lids. She frowned as she looked in the mirror before her. She looked like a doll. She hated dolls.
Her dress was the next thing to be put on. She liked the colors well enough; they complimented her hair nicely and the sleeves were loose and comfortable. It was the rest of the dress she detested. It fit too snuggly for her liking and when the sash was added, she was short of breath. The whole get up made it very difficult for her to walk, forcing her to take small slow steps. She always complained about it and asked why she couldn't loosen it some. Her maid always would disregard her comments and shrug her questions. She really had no answer to give her.
The last things she had to put on were her jewelry and shoes. The shoes were simple black loosely fit slippers with thick tough soles. Her jewelry, on the other hand, was elaborate and eye-catching. She wore a thick gold necklace that stretched from almost the top of her neck to its bottom. Dangling blue and violet gems hung from it, resting on her collarbone. Her earrings were identical in color and hung down, touching her shoulders when she moved a certain way. She also wore matching bracelets and rings, though her sleeves covered them.
"Stand up so I can look at you," her maid said, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. "Wonderful…You're beautiful," she sighed with pride and admiration.
"Komii," Bulma said with a deep woeful sigh. Her maid turned to her at the sound of her name. "When is this celebration? And how long will it be?"
"Well, let's see. You have a calligraphy lesson in an hour, then breakfast, then…then the gala begins two hours later. I'd say it will be around six hours. Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering…May I go to bed right after?"
"Yes dear. Of course you can." Bulma sighed once more. She couldn't wait 'til then. She needed sleep so badly, especially since Vegeta was coming so early.
"Will anyone I know be attending?"
"Hmm…" Komii thought a moment, then shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know. But don't worry dear, you'll have plenty of fun."
"What? With all those arrogant, avaricious adults? I think I'd rather be a maid," she sneered, sticking her nose in the air prudishly, though she was no prude (Maid is referring to an unmarried woman which is looked down upon, not her maid/nurse).
"Now, now Madame. Don't get in a tiss. You'll find a way to smile." With that said she turned and walked away, quietly shutting the door on her way out.
"Kami," she sighed to herself, she still had an hour to kill while she waited for her lesson. She sighed again, this time longer, then wandered out onto her balcony. The city in the distance looked so simple and humble. She wished so badly that she could be a part of it all. Sure, palace life could be nice at times. But it was all about lessons and schedules, parties and etiquette. While girls her age in the city dreamed of more, she sat on the balcony railing, and dreamed of less. Less commotion, less clutter, and most of all, less publicity. Her and her family were always in the spotlight. Wooers were already beginning to visit the palace for her hand. Though she was far too young to marry, they still came and offered dowries to the king and queen in hopes of marriage in the future. She thought them to be pathetic, needing to buy their wife, instead of earn their love.
Just then, when Bulma was in the midst of her thoughts, she heard a noise. Cocking her head to the side she listened carefully. But before she could figure out what it was, an arm reached out around her waist, pulling her back. She would have screamed bloody murder if the person's other hand had not been covering her mouth. She panicked, flailing her arms about in all directions. Her heart raced. "Shh Onna," whispered a familiar voice in her ear. She ceased her struggling at once and relaxed. At the sight of her calmness she was released. "Now I know that's not how I taught you to react to danger," he said with a smirk.
"Vegeta!" she hissed as quietly as she could. "What are you doing?"
"What are you all dressed up for?" he asked, avoiding her question completely.
"This isn't all too dressy. And I have to go to a ridiculous gala tonight…What are you doing here?"
"I'm not allowed to come see you anymore?"
"No, its just I never see you unless we're training. You look good in the light," she said innocently "Anyway, why are you here?"
"I have to go Onna. I'll see you tonight." Before she could open her mouth he was gone.
"That was odd," she said to herself. She wondered what it had been all about, but shrugged it off. He was far too complicated to figure out.
Vegeta climbed down off the roof, making sure not to be seen by the guards. He trudged miserably through the tiny village to his home. "Don't get attached,"—he remembered his father saying. He sighed deeply. "Good luck Onna."
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"Good night Komii," Bulma yawned, stretching her tired limbs. The gala had been tiring to say the least.
"Good night child," she replied, kissing her forehead lightly then shutting the door. The young girl walked over to her vanity and began to shed the countless pounds of jewelry and clothes. She slipped into her silk nightgown, then crawled into bed and with in seconds was in a deep peaceful dream world. She couldn't wait to see Vegeta in a couple of hours.
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A cloaked figure dashed across the inner courtyard, and to the east wing of the palace. They went unseen by the guards, who were so conveniently taking naps propped against trees and the side of the building. The unknown person snickered inaudibly, dropping a small tube and a few poison darts to the ground. They would most definitely be in trouble for "sleeping" on the job tonight. The figure scaled the building effortlessly and was soon to their destination; the balcony of the princess's bedroom. They took a few cautious steps forward, then removed the hood of their cloak. Long silky black hair flowed well passed their hips. Their eyes, also black, shimmered in the moonlight. The figure was a woman, and a very well known woman at that. She was an extremely dangerous and ill-tempered assassin for the Yon-Han Empire, King Briefs greatest adversary. But, unfortunately for the Briefs', the Dark Princess as she was called, was well known for her cruelty among her people, not her warrior abilities. The famous and ruthless assassin was always thought to be a man, and so she was never caught. Only few knew the true identity of the Black Dragon.
"Princess," she whispered in Bulma's ear. Her eyes fluttered open wearily and by the time she realized there was a stranger in her room, it was too late. She'd been knocked unconscious with a quick blow to the back of the neck. "How naive you were to take a stranger as your master," she cooed at the unconscious figure in her arms, an evil smirk stretched across her features. "Master Vegeta did his job well."
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---Prologue/Chapter One complete and revised! Woo! I like this a lot better than the original. I wrote it so long ago. It was one of my first fics, and I really hated how I wrote it—I was such a bad writer then :P But I'm proud of it now. Hopefully you'll like it too! :) Revised Chapter 2 will be out very shortly.
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ReviewsMore Chapters)
Next time: Chapter 2 in all its glory :P
Note: I know I have a lot of fics out right now that I'm working on. The thing is that I have writer's block on a few, and they're very near the end, so I figured doing others was a good idea.
Well this is something totally different for me. It's an AU fic that takes place hundreds of years ago, in the time of dynasties and empires in Japan. In the prologue Bulma is eight years old and Vegeta is eleven. She is a princess and he is already a skilled warrior. I hope you enjoy it!! :D
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Gleaming ebony eyes scanned the lush green courtyard. The night guards would be out now, armed and ready for intruders. A shadowed figure scaled a steep vine covered stonewall with no effort, his lithe muscular body turning and bending with ease. He took another quick look around, then blotted across the lawn, diving into the shadow next to the building. He crept along the wall with his back to it, then stopped and looked around the corner. Everything was silent. Everything was still. But that didn't mean no one was around.
He stepped back slowly, and, all at once, jumped, grabbed the edge of the roof, and hopped up. There were still five more roofs to climb before he reached his destination. It only took him about five minutes to get there, though he could have easily made it in less than two, but he was constantly checking for guards and people moving around on the inside. He reached the right roof, only it was on the wrong side of the building. He sprinted across it and around the corner. Finally he was there; a small balcony, its railings adorned with beautifully detailed carvings and gold trim. He leapt over the short railing, stopping one last time to check for guards, before he proceeded without worries. The doors leading inside were large double doors, painted emerald green with precise gold and forest green designs. Instead of having windows, there were small slits, horizontal along its length. The dark shadowed person took a deep breath before knocking, three times, telling who was inside that it was him.
He listened intently at the doors, pressing his ear to one of them. He could hear some slight rustling, then a less than quiet groan. There was a little more moving around, then it was silent for a moment. He concentrated harder on listening. Nothing. Then suddenly the large double doors swung open, startling him, and he jumped back. Though it was still night, he could make out who the figure that stepped out onto the balcony towards him. A girl, eight years of age, with long aqua hair and bright glimmering blue eyes. "Why do we have to be out this early?" the child whined, rubbing her tired eyes with balled fists. She wore loosely fit black pants, black boots with leather straps that criss-crossed around her leg to her knee, and a baggy white shirt, tied with a beige belt. She was dressed as a man.
"You're the one who wanted to train," he said roughly. He was dressed nearly the same as the young girl. She stepped towards him, and he stepped back, into the moonlight. He was slightly taller than her, about three years older, with raven black hair that flamed up off his head. She'd always thought it was silly, and never failed to let him know.
"No you're the one who offered it to me. How could I say no?" she demanded. "I'm tired," she yawned, blinking her eyes open wider.
"Don't complain to me Onna. You're lucky I'm doing this. I'm doing you a favor."
"Don't call me that!" she yelled softly. If she was caught sneaking out, to train no less, her parents would ban her from leaving the palace until she was old enough to be woed and wed. She was a princess, a lady. Women training to become warriors was unheard of and those who did were not thought highly of. And not only that she was training, but the fact of who she was training with. The son of the most dangerous warrior in the area. It was an odd way they had come to be acquaintances. It had only happened a few months ago. She was taking a stroll by the pond outside the palace. She was all alone, for her parents trusted her as long as she was home safely when they told her to be, and she always was so there was no reason not to trust her.
FLASHBACK:
She was about to take a drink of cool spring water from the stream connected to the pond, when she heard a noise. Immediately she jumped into the water and stayed below for as long as her lungs permitted her to. When she thought whatever had made the noise was finally gone, she poked her head out of the water. Nothing was there. She took a deep breath, looking around one last time, then climbed out of the water. Her gown and hair were completely soaked, making it even more difficult for her to walk. She stood as straight as possible, looking around. Nothing. Whatever it was had left, she reasoned. She rung her dripping hair out with a few tight twists, then proceeded to return to the palace. She made it ten steps, before hearing the noise again. This time she knew she wasn't alone.
She looked up, half expecting to be attacked. She'd been a lot more cautious lately, with the threats on her family from the Yon-Han Empire and all. It was a very rocky time for them. But after scanning the land and trees above, found there was nothing there.
"Stupid birds," she sighed, picking up her pace a little. Soon all the rocks, bushes and grass were speeding by her. She picked up her pace to a run. She didn't know why, but something just wasn't right. Though she couldn't confirm it, something or someone was there.
"I'm no bird," a small, obviously boyish voice snapped. She stopped dead in her tracks. She'd heard the voice, and was terrified, though tried her hardest to remain calm and composed.
"Who's there?" she demanded, turning and facing the direction the voice came from. There was no answer. And for a moment, the forest path was silent. "I said, who's there?" Then slowly, inch-by-inch, a figure emerged from a treetop and jumped to the ground. It was a young boy, not much older than she, with deep black hair that stuck straight up. He was wearing a black warrior's training uniform. "Who are you?" the girl asked, fear completely gone from her voice. He looked completely harmless.
"A warrior," he said, his voice full of noticeable arrogance and pride, placing balled fists on his hips and straightening up. She raised an eyebrow slightly. Clearly he was a member of high society.
"Aren't you a little young?" Her young girlish voice squeaked in comparison to his.
"Of course not," he barked, sounding almost hurt. "Warriors need to start as young as possible if they want to get anywhere." If someone from the outside had been watching their conversation, it would have been quite a sight. Two young children, arguing about fighting. The older of the two acting as though he were the older brother and knew everything, and had to inform the younger sister and make sure she knew he was the boss.
"I'm going to be a great warrior one day," she proclaimed matter-of-factly, puffing herself up.
He simply laughed.
"What's so funny?" she hissed, stepping forward.
"Oh nothing. I just thought I heard you say you were going to be a warrior."
"I did!!" She was beginning to despise this boy.
"You'll be lucky if you even get a chance to train with all your womanly duties," he retorted, crossing his arms, almost insulted.
"Baka!!" she screamed, lunging at him with such force and surprise that he was to the ground. "You take that back!!" He growled at her from the back of his throat, forcefully shoving her off.
"Don't you ever do that to me again!" he yelled, jumping to his feet, glaring down at her. She was soon to her feet as well, feeling the same rage as him.
"What!? Don't denounce me because I'm female!" Her eyes were burning with anger.
He sighed deeply, then looked up at her, his head facing the ground. "Its not because you are a female," he said through clenched teeth. "I just don't see you as a warrior. You don't have any…any…what is it?…spirit." She glared at him, now at the peak of her anger, her fists balled, knuckles white.
"No spirit? No spirit!" She ran at him with such force he was to the ground again, and this time he would have not been able to stop her. "I'll show you spirit!" She brought her arm back, and swung at him, colliding her fist with his cheek. He looked up at her in shock. She'd actually hit him with enough strength that he felt a sting in his cheek.
"Onna…" he sighed. She scowled down at him. "I will train you."
"Don't call me that," she hissed. He was about to say something when she butted in. "Did you just say you'd train me?" He nodded, obviously annoyed. "Why?" she asked with suspicion.
"Because its obvious that you have a fighting spirit," he rolled his eyes, " and definite potential."
"My father forbids me to train…I train myself, which isn't going exactly how I planned..." she babbled on, the young boy drowning her out, picking at his fingernails.
"Done?" he asked, glancing at her. She nodded, a bit embarrassed for carrying on like that. "Alright, I pick the time and place. You will do as I say and only as I say. Is that clear?" She nodded happily, fluttering her girlish lashes at him. He growled in the back of his throat. He was definitely going to regret this.
END FLASHBACK
"Hurry up," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her over the railing.
"I can do it myself," she hissed matter-of-factly, then jumped from the roof they were on to the next one down. Within moments she was to the ground, though her companion had beaten her there.
"Ok, listen to me. Don't waste anymore time. You have a lot to do before sunrise," he warned, scowling down at her.
"I know that," she spat, crossing her arms over her chest and stomping in the direction of their secret training area. A small secluded field just outside the palace grounds. When they weren't training, she would go alone to think. There was a small brook that ran along some of the field's perimeter and lead to a clear water pond. She'd often swim there in the warm summer months.
"And be quiet," he scolded, grabbing her arm so she wouldn't stray from his sight. If anything happened to her, a price would be put on his head.
"I am being quiet baka."
"Well if we get cau-"
"I know exactly what would happen. And we won't get caught. We've been training for nearly six months now and no one has the slightest idea." For such a young girl she had an extensive and impressive vocabulary. She spoke to adults as though she were one herself. No one talked down to her, with the exception of her trainer, and those who did quickly learned not to. She was a true genius, her parents' most prized possession.
"Yes you know the consequences for yourself. But do you realize what they would do to me?" he asked with a slight hint of nervousness in his voice. He seemed especially edgy lately, which did not go unnoticed by the young princess. But she figured he was having troubles at home, so she wisely stayed off that topic. He wasn't exactly what you'd call a social butterfly.
"Yes I do. But you have nothing to worry about, because we're NOT going to get caught. Why must you tell me this every night?"
"So you'll never forget," he said smugly, pulling her closer to him, so that if someone did hear them he would already have a hold of her and could run as fast as he could.
"Trust me, I won't," she said through clenched teeth. She was tired of him treating her as a child, when she obviously had the intellect of an adult.
The early morning training went on as usual. The children both received sufficient training, though the student had to try harder than the teacher, of course. Then, the same as every morning just before dawn, they had to end their training. The young princess had to be back in bed before sunrise.
"Ok," said the young boy, clasping his hands together as he bowed to his student. "You're improving." She followed suit, bowing to her trainer. "Now we must hurry. If the sun rises the guards will surely see us." He grabbed her hand, and the two jogged swiftly in the direction of the palace.
"Good night Vegeta," she whispered, backing into her room.
"Its morning Onna," he said with a smirk.
"Oh, you know what I meant. Now hurry home before your father catches you out."
"He's not my father."
"Uh! Kami Vegeta! Stop that, just don't get in trouble, alright?"
"Don't worry about me," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll be back an hour earlier tomorrow." Before she had time to respond he was gone, seemingly without a trace.
"An hour earlier? Kami…" she sighed, pulling the doors shut and latching the lock. She quickly changed into one of her many nightgowns and hid her training clothes under her bed. She unwrapped the ribbon from around her hair, letting it flow well passed her waist. Quickly she splashed some cool water on her face from a bowl near her vanity and then padded it dry with a clothe. Around all, but Vegeta, she was prim and proper and very lady like, the way she was expected to be.
She swiftly yet quietly shuffled across the floor to her bed and slipped under the numerous silk sheets. She sighed deeply, closing her eyes and drifting off into a peaceful slumber.
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"Bulma!" called a muffled woman's voice from outside her chamber. "Bulma its morning!"
"Nani? Uh…" she sighed to herself. It'd only been about two hours since Vegeta had brought her home. She was absolutely not ready for a long day in the life of a princess. "One moment!" she called in the direction of the door. "Alright, I'm up," she said as she opened the door and was face to stomach with her maid.
"Did you sleep well Madame?" she asked in a motherly tone, stepping into her room with a bundle of clothes. "You look tired."
"Oh, I couldn't fall asleep last night…Why do you have those?" Bulma asked with an arched eyebrow, pointing to the bundle in her arms. The clothes were far too fancy for everyday wear.
"Don't tell me you forgot. Your parents are having that gala this afternoon."
"Oh, it must have slipped my mind for a moment." She yawned, then proceeded to her vanity, where her maid followed, setting her clothes on a chair.
"How would you like your hair today, dear?" the older woman asked, as she brushed threw it.
"I don't care. Just keep it out of my face."
"Alright then," she huffed, struggling to brush threw a thick tangle of aqua hair. "I'll put this in to hold it back," she said, holding up a gold plated type of hair band, with several royal blue carved stones and diamonds set in it. It matched her dress perfectly. A deep royal blue number with trimmings of lighter blues and purples. The sleeves were long and loose fitting; they would nearly cover her hands. Around its middle her maid would wrap an ivory colored sash around several times then tie it into a large bow. Her mother, the queen, would be wearing a dress identical to her own, though much more form fitting and the sleeves would hang down off her shoulders.
Finally after about twenty minutes of pulling and fussing with Bulma's hair, the maid was done. It was pulled back tightly out of her eyes into two buns at the back of her head, held together with black chopsticks. The rest of her hair was wrapped once around each bun, then it hung down to her mid back. The few loose strands that would have been in her eyes were pulled back with the gold headband and they now hung along side her face by her ears. Her make-up had also been done. Thick white powder caked her face, her lips were painted a glistening bright red, her eyes were lined with black, and light purples and blues sparkled on her lids. She frowned as she looked in the mirror before her. She looked like a doll. She hated dolls.
Her dress was the next thing to be put on. She liked the colors well enough; they complimented her hair nicely and the sleeves were loose and comfortable. It was the rest of the dress she detested. It fit too snuggly for her liking and when the sash was added, she was short of breath. The whole get up made it very difficult for her to walk, forcing her to take small slow steps. She always complained about it and asked why she couldn't loosen it some. Her maid always would disregard her comments and shrug her questions. She really had no answer to give her.
The last things she had to put on were her jewelry and shoes. The shoes were simple black loosely fit slippers with thick tough soles. Her jewelry, on the other hand, was elaborate and eye-catching. She wore a thick gold necklace that stretched from almost the top of her neck to its bottom. Dangling blue and violet gems hung from it, resting on her collarbone. Her earrings were identical in color and hung down, touching her shoulders when she moved a certain way. She also wore matching bracelets and rings, though her sleeves covered them.
"Stand up so I can look at you," her maid said, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. "Wonderful…You're beautiful," she sighed with pride and admiration.
"Komii," Bulma said with a deep woeful sigh. Her maid turned to her at the sound of her name. "When is this celebration? And how long will it be?"
"Well, let's see. You have a calligraphy lesson in an hour, then breakfast, then…then the gala begins two hours later. I'd say it will be around six hours. Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering…May I go to bed right after?"
"Yes dear. Of course you can." Bulma sighed once more. She couldn't wait 'til then. She needed sleep so badly, especially since Vegeta was coming so early.
"Will anyone I know be attending?"
"Hmm…" Komii thought a moment, then shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know. But don't worry dear, you'll have plenty of fun."
"What? With all those arrogant, avaricious adults? I think I'd rather be a maid," she sneered, sticking her nose in the air prudishly, though she was no prude (Maid is referring to an unmarried woman which is looked down upon, not her maid/nurse).
"Now, now Madame. Don't get in a tiss. You'll find a way to smile." With that said she turned and walked away, quietly shutting the door on her way out.
"Kami," she sighed to herself, she still had an hour to kill while she waited for her lesson. She sighed again, this time longer, then wandered out onto her balcony. The city in the distance looked so simple and humble. She wished so badly that she could be a part of it all. Sure, palace life could be nice at times. But it was all about lessons and schedules, parties and etiquette. While girls her age in the city dreamed of more, she sat on the balcony railing, and dreamed of less. Less commotion, less clutter, and most of all, less publicity. Her and her family were always in the spotlight. Wooers were already beginning to visit the palace for her hand. Though she was far too young to marry, they still came and offered dowries to the king and queen in hopes of marriage in the future. She thought them to be pathetic, needing to buy their wife, instead of earn their love.
Just then, when Bulma was in the midst of her thoughts, she heard a noise. Cocking her head to the side she listened carefully. But before she could figure out what it was, an arm reached out around her waist, pulling her back. She would have screamed bloody murder if the person's other hand had not been covering her mouth. She panicked, flailing her arms about in all directions. Her heart raced. "Shh Onna," whispered a familiar voice in her ear. She ceased her struggling at once and relaxed. At the sight of her calmness she was released. "Now I know that's not how I taught you to react to danger," he said with a smirk.
"Vegeta!" she hissed as quietly as she could. "What are you doing?"
"What are you all dressed up for?" he asked, avoiding her question completely.
"This isn't all too dressy. And I have to go to a ridiculous gala tonight…What are you doing here?"
"I'm not allowed to come see you anymore?"
"No, its just I never see you unless we're training. You look good in the light," she said innocently "Anyway, why are you here?"
"I have to go Onna. I'll see you tonight." Before she could open her mouth he was gone.
"That was odd," she said to herself. She wondered what it had been all about, but shrugged it off. He was far too complicated to figure out.
Vegeta climbed down off the roof, making sure not to be seen by the guards. He trudged miserably through the tiny village to his home. "Don't get attached,"—he remembered his father saying. He sighed deeply. "Good luck Onna."
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"Good night Komii," Bulma yawned, stretching her tired limbs. The gala had been tiring to say the least.
"Good night child," she replied, kissing her forehead lightly then shutting the door. The young girl walked over to her vanity and began to shed the countless pounds of jewelry and clothes. She slipped into her silk nightgown, then crawled into bed and with in seconds was in a deep peaceful dream world. She couldn't wait to see Vegeta in a couple of hours.
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A cloaked figure dashed across the inner courtyard, and to the east wing of the palace. They went unseen by the guards, who were so conveniently taking naps propped against trees and the side of the building. The unknown person snickered inaudibly, dropping a small tube and a few poison darts to the ground. They would most definitely be in trouble for "sleeping" on the job tonight. The figure scaled the building effortlessly and was soon to their destination; the balcony of the princess's bedroom. They took a few cautious steps forward, then removed the hood of their cloak. Long silky black hair flowed well passed their hips. Their eyes, also black, shimmered in the moonlight. The figure was a woman, and a very well known woman at that. She was an extremely dangerous and ill-tempered assassin for the Yon-Han Empire, King Briefs greatest adversary. But, unfortunately for the Briefs', the Dark Princess as she was called, was well known for her cruelty among her people, not her warrior abilities. The famous and ruthless assassin was always thought to be a man, and so she was never caught. Only few knew the true identity of the Black Dragon.
"Princess," she whispered in Bulma's ear. Her eyes fluttered open wearily and by the time she realized there was a stranger in her room, it was too late. She'd been knocked unconscious with a quick blow to the back of the neck. "How naive you were to take a stranger as your master," she cooed at the unconscious figure in her arms, an evil smirk stretched across her features. "Master Vegeta did his job well."
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---Prologue/Chapter One complete and revised! Woo! I like this a lot better than the original. I wrote it so long ago. It was one of my first fics, and I really hated how I wrote it—I was such a bad writer then :P But I'm proud of it now. Hopefully you'll like it too! :) Revised Chapter 2 will be out very shortly.
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ReviewsMore Chapters)
Next time: Chapter 2 in all its glory :P
Note: I know I have a lot of fics out right now that I'm working on. The thing is that I have writer's block on a few, and they're very near the end, so I figured doing others was a good idea.