Author's note. Please take a moment to read, if you would.

Welcome to Tempt of Fate, an AU V/B fic that's been in the making for about ten years now. This fic has taken so long to be completed because of a lot excuses I could list here, but most of all because I believe I wasn't the writer I needed to be to finish it. This entire idea came up out of a love for this couple as well as a terrific time-waster while I should have been concentrating on other things, but alas, I've stuck with it. Long stints of time between updates have been spent heavily editing this fic in its entirety, and while it's closing in on its end, I'd still love to hear your thoughts and criticism. Thanks as always, TYK

Tempt of Fate, Chapter One
The Arrival

…

She shivered under the silk shawl over her shoulders. The ship they boarded earlier that evening was crisp and clean, designed to transport to and fro without much worry about the warmth of home. It was easy to despise these diplomatic missions when she was forced on them, unable to stomach the behavior of other royals in nations abut to their own. But that was the fate of the King's wife. Technically a Queen, Bulma had been born to a common family but had served quite a bit of her life in the depths of royalty from the moment her parents sent her off in hopes she'd be the next choice for the throne one day. She hadn't seen them in so many years.

But she remembered life in the little village that brushed the outskirts of their kingdom and thus used her power as queen to do great things for the people she still identified with. As a Royal House representative, she loved problem solving for their community and seeing the fruits of her generosity as her planet flourished.

And so, her disdain for these diplomatic missions to other planets remained: always so cold and formal. Two weeks was enough to be gone from her home, leaving their Advisor Vellutini in charge of the day to day, but even though they were always greeted with open arms and nights of exquisite food and entertainment, Bulma wanted to be back home doing what she knew best.

Her husband, however, was a different story. King Atrono ruled as if there were a fleet of army ships waiting outside the gravity pull of their planet to attack at any moment, and his troops were trained well accordingly. His fleet was one of the best around, second to few—like Vegeta-sei—but sometimes it was to their disadvantage. Bulma sighed at the situation. He was the one hand that could overrule hers.

A metallic voice sounded above them in her native language, signaling their descent into unknown territory for her. Cabin fever had gotten to her in the few days she'd been forced to live on the compact ship, as it had for many of the crew members, but it all seemed so comfortable now that they were about to arrive. The landing area was already filled with the receiving diplomats, distinguishable by their clothing, but even she stood out among their ranks as her blue suit jacket and skirt—the perfect match to her hair and eyes—fluttered in the windy wake of the ships.

She'd never been to Vegeta-sei before, so everything about it seemed so different from her own kingdom. She'd studied many forms of language growing up to be able to rule and communicate with their allies and own, so she knew the formal, out-of-the-book dialect. She could understand the diplomats perfectly with their crisp and academic tones, but the servants who surrounded them spoke little and were more difficult to process. Bulma hated to see such a clear line drawn between the nobles and common folk of a kingdom.

To her surprise, they were told the King Vegeta wasn't present to greet them but would see them in the Great Hall that evening, which Bulma found to be rude and pretentious of a host of his caliber.

Strike one for this guy.

Her husband went off another direction as she followed one of the attendants to their suite for the stay. Atrono would most likely be gone for a few hours to rub elbows with Vegeta-sei's finest before addressing the King, but Bulma wasn't welcomed to their little meetings and was perfectly fine with that. Lying on the bed in her room, she enjoyed the arm space and breathing room their ship had not, but too soon she became restless and strode to the small set of French doors that opened to their small balcony. From her vantage she could see most of the city. The local ports far off to her left fed into the rest of the kingdom and were obviously constantly busy with people running around on their daily chores. Various types of clothing dotted the streets, an homage to the class system that looked oppressive between the nobles and untouchables. Her impression of the King was declining at an alarming rate—after all, how better to judge a ruler by the way his people are treated?

I shouldn't think like that, she chastised herself. What good was it of her to lump him into a category without even meeting the man? It was her job as a diplomat to understand others and form alliances and co-operations with the rest of the universe. She exited the room and stared down each length of hallway to her left and right and noticed the beautiful decorations of the palace décor. It was a classical and minimal approach between the grand wall hangings of historical events and the draperies of flowing fabrics that gave the corridors an organic feel as she padded one foot silently in front of the other.

Her indigo skirt matched the color of Vegeta-sei's royal crest, and she took note of the fact that she was a blue-haired beauty blending in with the décor. Yes, she agreed. I am beautiful. Everyone knows it—especially Atrono. While she wasn't fond of being judged by her looks rather than the impact on the world she was capable of, Bulma knew her looks were what got her to that position in the first place. And as any good ruler would use every attribute to their advantage, she was well aware of what kind of political men could be swayed by a woman who was easy on the eye.

It occurred to Bulma that she had no idea where she was going. The servant hadn't said much when she'd asked for a formal tour—at least she was fairly sure that's what she said. She might have been compelled to find the Great Hall where their formal meetings would be held, but suspected Atrono hadn't made his way there yet nor was she expected to arrive early.

Would I even be welcomed? I've heard the rumors about King Vegeta's sexism, as apparent by the few women I've even seen roaming the palace. And the ones she'd seen almost couldn't count from the looks of them—dressed in some suit of armor and every bit as masculine as their male counterparts.

"Well, things aren't supposed to make sense to you on another planet, are they? Everything is so different from what I'm used to, kind of exotic" she said aloud. Her verbal thought was interrupted by the sound of hard footsteps on the marble flooring around the corner, and she peeked around very slowly, though why she was hiding was a mystery even to her.

She could tell there were two men talking. They'd stopped for the moment, so only one of them was visible unless she stuck her neck out even further, but what would it do to have the visiting queen obviously eavesdropping? The only man she could see was tall, and his voice echoed softly against the walls as he spoke. His hair, even from behind, was a mess of tall strands spiking out here and there without reason. She glimpsed a part of the second man, much shorter and grumpier than this companion.

From the angle he stood mostly facing her, she could see his armored clothing and the crest that held his cape at bay on his chest. The royal crest of Vegeta-sei. His posture spoke of high breeding and the expectation of unconditional respect. Not that he was getting any from the taller man. The voices were arguing, but she could only make out the occasional 'dungeon' and 'capacity' before harrowing the next topic.

What a silly thing to argue over. The first man turned quickly and began to walk her way. She backed up a few feet away from the corner and prayed he wasn't approaching because she'd been seen, but he kept going down the adjacent hallway and through a set of grand glass doors leading off to a large room. Bulma craned her slim neck, curious as to what lay past them, but her exploration was short lived as the second man called out to her.

"I can smell you standing there, Woman. I demand you come out." His voice wasn't as gruff as she'd expected after having such a heated conversation, not that she found that thought of any comfort. With a small sigh, she straightened her spine and walked with head held high around the corner to stand before him as regal as the day she was crowned queen. She still kept a safe distance from him.

"Tell me why you felt the need to listen in on me." It wasn't a question in the least bit, and she didn't take kindly to this sort of treatment, especially from a man who not only inflamed her nerves but scared her in the slightest. The latter was a fact he knew very well.

"You have my apologies. I was wandering around the palace when I caught the sight of the two of you. I'll just be on my way now."

There was nothing in her voice or body language to suggest she lied or had been spying on them, the king noted. "Wandering."

Bulma noted mentally that the king didn't ask questions, just made demands in the same way her husband did to his subordinates. First rule of domination: a question left the subject open for discussion.

"I haven't gotten the full tour," she said. "Perhaps you'd like to show me to the Great Hall. I have to meet up with my husband—"

"I know who you are, Woman. There's no mistaking that. You stick out like a sore thumb who doesn't belong here."

Bulma narrowed her eyes at him. It was a true statement, but he said it with such condescension and disdain. Well, he wasn't going to intimidate her the way he was known to do others, no matter how weary she was of being alone with him. Not that he'd have the guts to do anything to her.

She turned from him and started to walk away, their conversation finished as far as she was concerned. But the king wasn't one to let a woman walk away first. In an instant, a strong fist curled around her forearm. He'd come behind her without making a sound.

"You don't walk away from me. I didn't dismiss you."

"How dare you grab me?" At her incessant jerking to try to throw him off her, Vegeta simply pulled upward on her arm until the tips of her toes barely touched the floor and he lightly grabbed her neck to steady her now dangling frame.

Bulma seethed from the pulling pain in her arm but stopped struggling. He reminded her of one of those finger trap toys when she was younger: the more you pulled your fingers to triy and get free, the better grip it had on you. As futile as this situation seemed, there were only two ways she was going to retain the use of her arms after this. One required the sudden development of super strength, in which she'd beat the king at his own methods. The second was to bite the bullet and give him the apology he was looking for—whether or not she meant it. Bulma found the second option to be more realistic even though the very thought would take a severe chip out of her pride.

"Forgive me your highness. It was not my intention to disobey you. I hope we can get back on pleasant terms." The last bit was from the heart. Did she like the fact that she already couldn't stand the man? No. But there were fourteen days ahead of her that heavily involved interaction with King Vegeta, and not one of them was going to be anything short of aggravating if she didn't just bite the bullet then and there.

Bulma thought of how pathetic she looked but hoped it worked on him as it did to appease her husband when he was cross with her.

"Hn," was his only reply. It was more of a guthural grunt than anything said, but she took it as a dismissal nonetheless. His hand loosened, and she dropped very unladylike onto the floor.

She rubbed her sore joint and cradled the arm into her body but refused to sit there in submission. Her head jerked up toward him with a fiery intense gaze that said everything she couldn't verbalize for fear of more bodily harm. His black eyes—pits of unending darkness—looked void of emotion before, but in the long seconds she stared up at them, she could see there was much passion and emotion built up within than she'd assumed. I suppose a good king needs qualities like that.

"You'd do well to remember your place, woman."

I have a name, she screamed at him inside the walls of her mind but let the whole ordeal roll off her back as he turned and strode away, the cape strapped to his chest flowing regally behind him.

And thus, Bulma had her first encounter with the King of Vegeta-sei.

…

The evening wasn't much better. If she hadn't liked that planet before: the arrogant and chauvinist leader and the distinctly drawn class system, Bulma surely didn't enjoy dinner in the least.

There was no conversation. Small murmurs tossed back and forth between the diplomats at each end of the table, and Kings Vegeta and Atrono were content to simply grunt their responses. All others, including herself sat in the muted silence of the clink of tableware against plates. The very thought made her eye twitch. She was accustomed to loud, hearty noises in the grand dining room of their castle. She loved the liveliness that erupted from each corner of the room as feast and good intentions were abound.

She locked eyes with the king from her position to the left of Atrono. His dark gaze opened to reveal the boiling emotions behind his stoic façade. Regardless of the fact that she felt more than a little unnerved at his open appraisal of her, her pride made it difficult to look away as daggers passed back and forth between them. Atrono rubbed the soft skin of her elbow as he stood, her following suit. Thankful for the interruption, she joined her husband at his side and emerged gratefully from the dining hall where the air was just a little bit more fresh.

"You let her walk beside you." Vegeta said pointedly at Atrono, who merely smirked.

"The ways of my own, King Vegeta. Bulma is more of my partner than a subordinate queen. I doubt she'd walk paces behind me even if I commanded her to."

Although she didn't much appreciate them talking about her as if she wasn't there, Bulma threw a smirk toward the foreign king, who in turn stepped in front of her and squeezed by Atrono to start a conversation about the line of trade between their area of the galaxy.

Stupid king! She stopped in her tracks a few paces and cursed Vegeta to the heavens above.

…

TYK~ That's the first installment. Hope you enjoyed enough to move on to the second chapter.