Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just my Husband, laptop, my 2 Boxers, a Schipperke/monster thing and a very overactive imagination… Dragon Ball Z DOES NOT belong to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own twisted amusement.

AN: Here's my submission for the 2018 Vebegulocracy Community Big Bang Challenge!

Huge shout out to Sbubbia , the talented artist I was randomly paired up with. She's created two beautiful pieces of artwork to accompany this story that can be found on Tumblr and Archive of our Own (A03).

And a big thank you to BulmaSeeking Vegeta for being my beta. 3

Also, this version has been edited to abide by Fanfiction Net's policies. The full, unedited *cough*naughty*cough* version can be found on my A03 profile under the same pen name. I highly recommend checking out A03 because they've linked all of the submissions for this amazing event! Go check out some of the other pieces, I know myself I cannot wait to read the other works!

Without further delay…..

Enjoy!

Glorious

Chapter 1

Rose tinted view, and satellites that compromise the truth.

But I wanted more, with the cuts and the bruises.
Touch my face, a hopeless embrace.

Faith.
It drives me away, but it turns me on,
like a stranger's love.

It rockets through the universe, it fuels the lies and feeds the curse
and leads me to be glorious.

I need to believe,
but I still want more, with the cuts and the bruises.
Don't close the door on what you adore.

And faith.
It drives me away, but it turns me on,
like a stranger's love.

It rockets through the universe, it fuels the lies and feeds the curse

And leads me to be…

Glorious

Glorious- Muse

Bulma Briefs was always lonely. Ever since she'd been a child. She was the youngest daughter in a family of two daughters. Her older sister, Tights, was so much older than she was that by the time Bulma had been old enough to be interesting, Tights had been married off to some duke far, far away.

Having no one else to associate with, Bulma managed to find her own amusement fixing broken household items and assisting her father with many of his projects when she was allowed. Her mother discouraged her from that as much as possible. It apparently wasn't acceptable for a lady to learn to do anything besides poetry, sewing, singing and playing the piano.

It seemed she'd been doomed from the start that she hated to be alone, craving and dependant on the companionship of another, even if that other person was her father with whom she was very close. That dependency on companionship would lead to her eventual downfall.

She remembered feeling melancholy the day she'd been informed that Yamcha would be her future husband. He was a kind and incredibly handsome man, twenty years older than she herself was, though he had aged gracefully and appeared much younger than he actually was. He was a well-respected and high ranking general in the military with ambitious political aspirations. He had come for a visit, looking for investors to help him start his political campaign.

Many years ago, before Bunny had married Trunks Briefs, she had been betrothed to Yamcha. He'd loved her fiercely and the feeling had been mutual. However he had been sent to war and her mother's parents had received a better offer and so they had married her off to Trunks Briefs, a very wealthy, highly successful and innovative inventor. She'd had no cause for complaint. Mr. Briefs was a doting husband, showering his spouse with every luxury imaginable and so over the years, she'd gotten over her first love and put all her efforts into having a successful marriage and raising two beautiful daughters.

Yamcha, however had never married. He had been completely heartbroken over the ordeal and had never quite recovered from it enough to even give another woman a second glance or even a chance to win his heart. He kept in touch with Mrs. Briefs over the years, calling on her every once in a while if he happened to be in town and she was always generous enough to entertain him for an afternoon. Bulma knew of him and vaguely of the history he and her mother had shared many years ago, but she did not know him well.

It was on that day that her mother had summoned her from her father's workshop on a project she had been assisting him with, to have lunch with her and her old friend Yamcha. Bulma had thought it was odd, as she was never usually asked to attend or visit with Yamcha whenever he did come for a visit, however she never said no to her mother's demands.

"You are looking quite the mess," her mother criticized the moment she walked into the sitting room. Her plain, grey dress was dirty at the hem and her hair was falling out of the loose bun she'd put it up in that morning. "Could you not have taken a moment and done something with yourself? My apologies, Yamcha, I can assure you, she is quite the proper lady, most of the time."

"That's quite alright," he replied nicely, standing up to greet Bulma. "I find it rather amusing. I am sure sewing and reading all day like you fine ladies do gets quite boring after a while."

"I suppose," Mrs. Briefs nodded, though still somewhat embarrassed by her daughter. She had just turned eighteen and had not had any offers of marriage as of yet, though she could understand why. Her other daughter, Tights, on the other hand had received many offers from the time she had been fifteen years of age and it had been difficult to decide who an appropriate match for her would be once she'd become of age. Yamcha had been the only one even remotely interested in Bulma and that had been because Mrs. Briefs had begun planting and nurturing that seed for the last few years. It was highly unlikely that anyone else of high stature would be interested in her youngest daughter with her tomboyish and somewhat unrefined ways. Yamcha at least could be trusted to care for her daughter and would ensure she would always be well provided for. Also, it would alleviate her conscience somewhat for choosing her husband over him all those years ago. While Bunny claimed she did not retain any old romantic feelings towards Yamcha, she did not regret her choice, but she did still feel guilty for how it had been handled by her parents and herself. He had not deserved to find out that their engagement had been broken off by finding out she'd been married off the next time he'd seen her.

"Bulma, I'd like you and Yamcha to get better acquainted, for you are to be married in a month," her mother abruptly informed her. She wasn't one for wasting time. "I cannot think of anything more glorious than a July wedding!"

"Excuse me?" Bulma asked, trying to be polite despite the shock, wondering if she had heard her mother correctly. Bulma didn't really have any interest in getting married. She was quite happy to stay here with her father and assist him with his inventions.

"We are to be married," Yamcha said to her with a soft smile, walking slowly up to her and presenting her with an obscene diamond ring.

"My goodness," Bulma exclaimed, looking at the frightful thing being held out to her, knowing full well she was expected to take it, accept it and be happy about it.

"Isn't it stunning?" Mrs. Briefs gushed, strolling across the room to get a better look at the engagement ring.

"It is," Bulma conceded, not knowing what else to say. It was beautiful and she knew that any other girl in the world would be over the moon to be offered such an extravagant engagement ring. Inwardly however, she was cringing. She had always thought Yamcha was a pleasant man, however he was much too old for her. What could they possibly have in common? Not to mention, she knew he still held deep feelings for her mother.

Yamcha stayed for a little while longer before making his departure; he still had several calls to make that day with regards to his campaign.

"I cannot marry him," she said to her mother almost immediately after Yamcha had left; she could still see his departing figure on his horse riding away from their home.

"Why ever not?" her mother asked in shock. "Yamcha is wonderful! I can't think of any reason why you wouldn't want to marry him. God knows no one else wants to marry you,"

"He's too old, mother!" she cried. "We have nothing in common!"

"You don't need anything in common to make a marriage work, dear," her mother shrugged, pouring her daughter and herself a glass of wine. "I had nothing in common with your father when we were married, and he was twelve years older than I was."

"Twelve years, not twenty!" she pointed out. "Besides, so what if no one wants to marry me right now. What if I don't want to be married?"

"Bulma, you'll marry Yamcha and be happy enough with him," her mother said sternly. "I will not do this to him again and break off another engagement."

"Great," Bulma deadpanned. "Sacrifice your daughter to keep your ex fiancé happy, thanks mother."

"You will be happy with Yamcha!" her mother insisted. "He absolutely adores you! He'll make sure you are very well taken care of for the rest of your life, you'll want for nothing."

"Except love," she said sourly into her wine glass.

"What was that?"

"Love!" she repeated firmly.

"Love," her mother scoffed. "Love is something that evolves over time. I understand how you feel right now, I too was very angry with my parents when they made me marry your father instead of Yamcha. It broke my heart initially, but soon I realized what a good man your father is and I couldn't help but fall in love with him. He's kind, successful; has a good reputation and is financially set, we have an amazing home, had two beautiful daughters together. What more could one want for? You may not believe me, Bulma, but in time you will realize that I am setting you up for success for a happy and very prosperous life.

"With his status and position, you will have achieved more in your eighteen years than most woman hope for by the age of forty. You'll be a baroness and rise far and above me too! It is the perfect match, you'll see that in time. Besides, with Yamcha you won't be lonely. We all know how your biggest fear is being alone. You should be thankful, not complaining."

Bulma sighed, but said no more and instead drank her wine. Arguing with her mother was fruitless.

-0-0-0-

Yamcha had called again the next day and the two had spent the afternoon together walking in her mother's vast gardens on the property. It was the ideal romantic setting for a young couple to spend the day, however it was awkward for the two of them; neither one knew what to say to the other.

Over the past few hours, Bulma had come to learn for herself that Yamcha was indeed a sweet, thoughtful and caring man and very much the proper gentleman, but, just as she suspected, they had nothing in common; she loved to read books on engineering and design and build things, he preferred to study history and art and talk about the battles he'd been in and his many travels, smoke cigars and drink his whiskey. Bulma had never been anywhere far from home, so she couldn't relate, nor did she enjoy whisky and she hated cigars. He wasn't mechanically inclined, so would simply smile and nod when she started telling him about some of the projects she was working on with her father.

"I regret that I will be leaving again first thing in the morning and will not be returning until the day before the wedding," he apologized to her.

"Duty calls," she shrugged somewhat, not knowing what else to say as panic flooded her. She had been relieved when he'd shown up to see her in an effort to get to know her and she assumed that he would be sticking around for at least a week or two so they could have some sort of courtship before being married. Apparently not.

"Do not worry," he reassured her. "I have written down my itinerary so you will know where I am expected to be. I will write you daily and all I ask is one letter a week in reply from you if are able."

Bulma bit back a heavy sigh of frustration. It was not ideal, but she could see that despite his work taking him away from trying to get to know his new bride, he was doing his best to make the effort to keep in touch with her. Perhaps communicating by letter would be a better way for them to get to know each other than in person, where she felt she had nothing of interest to say to him because he was the one with all the interesting stories and all she had to talk about was her home and whatever project she and her father were working on. "Yes, I will write to you," she agreed, taking the piece of paper he handed her of the addresses of where he would be lodging.

"Please send your personal things to my estate," he added. "The address is there as well, however your mother also knows. If there is anything specific you would like for me to acquire on my travels that will add to your comfort in my home, please do not hesitate to ask. I want you to feel comfortable after the move, it will be your home too."

"Thank you," she replied with a smile. "If I think of anything, I will be sure to let you know."

"Please do," he said sincerely. "Also, a big reason for my swift departure is to get as much done now so we may become better acquainted after the wedding. I will be taking six weeks off just to spend with you. I thought a honeymoon in Italy might make you happy."

"Italy?" she asked in surprise. "I've always wanted to go to Italy and see Sorrento and Venice and Rome,"

"Yes, I know," he grinned. "Your mother told me,"

Again, she bit back a heavy sigh of frustration. She couldn't help but feel like the whole courtship, engagement, marriage and honeymoon experience had nothing to do with her and she were nothing more than am obligatory participant. "I'll look forward to it," she said.

"As will I," he nodded, happy that she seemed content with the decision. "I have not taken a vacation since I could not tell you when the last time was. I look forward to spending it with you,"

"Well," she said with a smile. "This will be my first vacation ever, so I suppose it will be a wonderful time for us both."

"It will," he smiled back. "I have so many places to show you. I have been all over Italy many times, however it has always been for business, not leisure."

"I'll look forward to it, Yamcha," she said. "And I will respond if you write to me,"

"I surely will," he promised. "I will make it a priority."

They said their goodbyes a little while later and Bulma wasn't sure how to feel, knowing she would not see him again until their wedding. She did hope that he would keep his promise and write to her so she would not feel like she was marrying a complete stranger a month from now.