Hello Guys,

After I had sent this to the lovely Frog Lady (who made amazing improvements to this story – thank you so much!) to check on it, she suggested that I could make a whole fic out of this. It would be amazing if you could leave a comment if you like me to write a whole fic out of it or not. We have already great ideas on how to continue this and I'm very, very tempted to write more for this one here

I hope you like it!

BlackSheep

The Sweetest Dream

15th May 767, 5.37pm

37 steps.

It takes 37 steps to walk from one wall to the other of the huge and ostentatious living room area. With quick, large steps, she walked from the blank red wall and passed by the mahogany table that was surrounded by cream seating furniture; the two armchairs and a u-shaped sofa big enough to sit at least 6 people comfortably.

She stopped for a moment and thought about how much she loved sitting on one of those extremely cozy armchairs with a blanket and her head phones, listening to her favorite music. Other times, she was content laying there to doze off to sleep, read or watch TV. And her favorite thing: watching out of the huge window into the fascinating, colorful sky.

Bulma had also spent many evenings sharing the sofa with Vegeta, just lying there with him, arm in arm as they savored the intimacy and closeness of other before they went to bed.

As she looked at the sofa, she remembered how that little ritual had started. It was maybe a half year or 9 months ago, after they'd had a huge fight about Bulma's thirst for adventure. She had gotten bored sitting around the palace all by herself and had gone out into the desert to get some soil samples to satisfy her scientific curiosity and to fight the boredom that had taken hold of her at that time. Unfortunately, she'd gone alone. Not the best idea since even she couldn't judge the safety of the area. So of course, it had to happen that the unpredictable weather changed rapidly and she found herself caught in the middle of a horrific sand storm that would have been lethal to her safety if Nappa hadn't found her just in time to rescue her.

Vegeta had been furious and Bulma partially understood why he had reacted that way.

Yes, she could have died. No, she hadn't told anyone where she was going. Yes, she needed to be reminded of that from time to time, but he had completely freaked out and had begun throwing a tantrum and since Bulma was always confrontational herself, the fight had escalated quickly and had ended up with Bulma refusing to share the bed with Vegeta, deciding to sleep on the big white sofa alone, rather than share a bed with Vegeta.

Because Vegeta is as stubborn as she is, he had ignored her behavior initially and had gone to bed all alone until he couldn't stand the cold of the empty spot beside him anymore. With silent steps, he walked over to the sofa and stood over her for a moment, internally fighting with himself over what he should do before he finally crawled in behind her under her blanket, carefully melting against her soft body; protectively hugging her and enjoying her warmth against his chest and eventually he felt her small hand stoking over his forearm lovingly, accepting his presence and accepting him.

Bulma shook her head as she reminisced and she continued walking over to the large window that spanned from the roof to the floor and was almost as wide as the wall itself. Behind the glass was a balcony with a beautifully detailed marble stone handrail.

She placed her cold hands against the glass and leaned forward slowly until her burning hot forehead touched the window as well, the cold material almost comforting her as she closed her eyes to stop the burning in her eyes. She relished in the silence for a moment before opening her eyes again, pushing herself forcefully away from the glass and started walking back to the red wall, pulling her hair in a desperate attempt to distract herself from the tension that was flowing through her whole body as she patiently waited for news for the past two hours.

Two hours.

Two hours had passed since she had been informed.

"My princess," the tall man began as he kneeled down in front of her, bowing his head respectfully, hoping to hide the sorrow that was painted all over his face and looked at her again as he reported. "We lost the connection to the prince's scouter. The last transmission…" he almost chocked on his own words, unable to speak out loud the horrific news lying on his tongue. She knew what it meant, but she didn't want to believe it. Her mind denying what her heart already knew. Her throat went dry immediately, her whole body was tense as her stomach clenched and a cold sweat ran down her neck and her back.

"The last transmission..?" She whispered. Even for his amazingly sharp Saiyan hearing, her words were almost inaudible to Nappa.

He still hesitated.

"Nappa! Answer me!" Bulma demanded in a loud and shrill voice that made her throat burn.

In a quiet voice, he eventually did as she demanded. "The last transmission showed him in an inescapable and hopeless fight. He was hit by an overwhelmingly strong attack. We… we..." he lowered his head to hide his face and therefore the emotions of fear, desperation and sorrow as he continued, "We sent a search party. Maybe his scouter was only damaged and he's alive, but there is little hope." His last words were only a whisper.

"M-maybe… I mean… that's… that's possible, right? Right? He said it's a weak race, almost no technology. There is NO WAY they could possibly harm our troops, let alone Vegeta!" What started as a whisper turned into sobbing until she almost screamed in the highest pitch the Saiyan had ever heard. Bulma was a wreck.

Within seconds, it sank into her mind that she might have lost her beloved husband forever and while clutching her throat in fear, she dropped to her knees. Nappa was barely able to catch her before she blacked out.

37 steps...

17th May 767, 12.47pm

His pillow.

It was so soft and cozy and his smell that still clung to it comforted her for the last two days. Bulma lay on his side of the bed, his blanket rolled up into a long sleeve, one leg pulled over it like it was him. She was cuddling, hugging his pillow and inhaling his scent, with only her silent tears being a mute evidence of the emotional thunderstorm raging inside of her.

A light knock on the door woke her up as she was about to doze off again. She didn't care to answer.

Another knock. No answer.

The big mahogany door was pushed open gently and the slave who had been in her service this week took a shy peek through the door.

"My princess?" The soft voice of a woman called out for Bulma, who didn't bother to move or give any sign of acknowledging the slave's presence. "I... I have your lunch, my princess."

Only an annoyed deep sigh from Bulma was what the servant got in response.

Food…

Again…

When would they accept that she didn't want to eat? How could she? Vegeta was missing and was very likely dead and she was here eating and drinking and enjoying herself? Disgusting.

'The fuck? Just leave me all alone.' Bulma had no strength to speak the words out loud; the lack of nutrition and the emotional exhaustion beginning to take its toll and show their ruthless consequences already.

The slave stepped inside the huge living area, her chains clanking with every movement as she put down the plate of food - some fruit and sandwiches- before she picked up the untouched breakfast plate. The living area was only divided from the bedroom with a door that was always open. The slave knelt down at the doorframe. "My princess? I brought you your lunch. How may I serve you now?"

The young woman's skin was a beautiful light green like the young leaves on trees in the spring. Her hair was the most wonderful shade of lily's purples, her eyes blue as the ocean. She had once radiated pure life. Now she was a slave; malnourished, tired and worn out. Her dress and make up were beautiful and she was dressed up like a doll for the royals; even her chains matched with the golden hem of her dress. Tomorrow would start a new week and she would be allocated to the kitchen and would have to wear the old worn out gray and dirty scraps she had been wearing daily for years.

"Leave."

She hesitated. "Forgive me, my princess, are you alright?"

'My husband is dead, what do you think?'

"Leave…" came the very tired and exhausted reply, this time quieter, clutching the pillow a little bit tighter than she had previously.

His pillow.

19th May 767, 11.26pm

The sofa.

It was illuminated with the moon light when everything else sat in the silent dark.

Slow and heavy steps brought her to her favorite cozy and always comfort giving armchair in the living area, where her lunch still awaited for her on the table.

Bulma chewed on a dry slice of bread as she stared through red, swollen eyes at the sofa she had broken down on four days ago.

"11.15pm, Nappa, 11.15pm. It's already been eight hours since the last report. Do you still not yet have any new information? They, they… I mean… what if he's hurt? He needs medical help! Why is it taking so long?" Panic was taking her over, her movements were uncontrolled as she hectically stumbled uncoordinated from one spot to the other.

Bulma was a complete mess. Only eight hours and it felt like four days since she'd heard the horrible news. Eight hours of crying, screaming, denying and inner mental conversations in a pitiful attempt to convince herself that he could still be found alive. Eight hours of walking around in a restless panic through the living area of the rooms she shared with Vegeta.

"I... I do have. We just got a report from the search party..." He looked at her with a hurtful expression as a lump formed in his throat.

"Report, Nappa!" Knowing the answer but still hoping to be wrong, she shrieked hysterically at him.

"I... I'm sorry, his body was found, he's dead, princess Bul-"

Bulma didn't hear Nappa anymore, everything becoming a blur as she stumbled over the sofa just before she fell on it and blacked out.

The sofa she had spent so many intimate moments with her husband on.

22th May 767, 9.47am

She laid on his side of the bed. Again. Sobbing in his pillow. Again.

She didn't shower and barely ate anything since… since… the announcement from Nappa that... he... She couldn't even say it to herself

The pillow still smelled like him, even after she wet it repeatedly with her tears, but something was different. His masculine and musky scent was mixed up with a sweet and stinging one. Was she making it all up? Did she just imagine the smell of death while thinking about him lying on this foreign planet dead in his own blood, while his tanned and beautiful skin would slowly darken as maggots and flies were dancing and feasting on his rotting body?

Disgusted and in an attempt to get rid of the horrific scene playing out in her head, she turned around, away from Vegeta's pillow. Clinging to it only seemed to put her imagination into overdrive with morbid thoughts, rather than pleasant ones. The putrid smell sticks to her nose like her blue, long, usually so full-bodied, but now oily hair sticks to her sweaty forehead.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when the heavy door swung open once more.

For days people kept coming in and out of her room. Talking to her, asking her questions, touching her. It all was becoming a blur to her. She didn't care anymore.

Three years ago she would have never thought she would even mind him being gone. No, she would have even been happy about his death that would have freed her from her invisible chains and responsibilities she had been forced to take on. Yes, only death, his or hers, would have liberated her from this special kind of slavery.

She had been taken away from her beautiful planet, stolen from her family's love, kidnapped from her home, abused, ravaged and sold like a worthless piece of junk until she had the misfortune to land on this godless lump that is, for her incomprehensible reasons, allowed to be called planet.

It was nothing like her home. No, instead it was the exact opposite and absolutely unbearable - excessively hot, soulless and dirty. Just like the inhabitants, she found.

The leader of the nastiness was the prince of the planet inhabiting race, Prince Vegeta! Urg. Not a living being, but a machine. His only purpose was to kill. Emotionless, soulless, ignorant, arrogant and extremely disobedient, much to his father's sorrow. He didn't think that she, this disgraceful slave named Bulma, was worth any attention so she hadn't dealt with sexual harassment like usual, but only when she was around him.

The King had tried his best to control his son, but it seemed that everything he did made it even worse. The prince was like a rebellious and immatureadolescent when it came to taking orders. During an intense argument, he threatened his son that he would marry him off to a slave. Bulma, who was ordered to serve the wine for the dinner that day, had flinched as Vegeta's loud laugher boomed through the huge dining room as he told the king he wouldn't have the guts to marry his only heir to the throne off to a worthless slave.

Bulma had wished she could just leave, like every servant in the room. The whole atmosphere was tense, everything looked like it was going to be a fight and no mortal, who clung on to even a tiny bit to life, wanted to be close when the Saiyans were engaged in the merciless and recklessness of their mortal combat.

Just as Bulma had finished pouring the king some more wine, she had noticed his expression change. The usual mocking and arrogant look on the face of the king showed how much those disrespectful words had enraged him, but quickly a smile replaced the scowl just before he grabbed the woman to his side and announced her to be the chosen bride for his son.

Prince Vegeta dropped his utensils, Bulma broke the glass she was carrying.

Back then, they were forced into that marriage and it had not been easy for either of them.

Finally, he started paying attention to her, but not the kind anyone would want to have. It hadn't mattered that she was a princess now, she had been a slave back then and he still treated her like one. He was cruel and disrespectful, even bullying her, letting out all his frustration of this forced marriage out on her. A child with another race, a half-Saiyan with impure blood would never be accepted as a legitimate heir to the throne and if he was not able to have an heir with his wife, then according to the laws of the Saiyan race he was not a legitimate heir himself. Which meant that his father had not only forced him into a marriage he didn't want with a worthless slave he did not even see as a living being with rights, the king also took everything he had ever wanted - to rule the realm of the mightiest race in the whole universe. Something he prided himself to have been a part of.

Everyone knew it. Everyone knew about the shame his father had brought upon him. He saw it in their mocking eyes.

Bulma was the one who had to pay for it. She had cried herself to sleep every night. She was trapped in that hopeless situation. She was convinced that only death could save her and more than once, she tried to convince herself that jumping from the balcony would be as sweet as flying. Other times she tried to eat so much until she exploded or at least puked herself to death, but the only result was that her stomach hurt and she was satisfied because she'd eaten the most delicious food. Being a princess had its advantages too.

It took them one exhausting year until he first started to treat her like a person with rights. An additional year later, they started to fall for each other and today...

Today she was desperately sniffing the last remaining particles of his scent and drowning in her grief, unable to move, to eat, to live.

She laid on his side of the bed, sobbing into his pillow again.

27th May 767, 2.31pm

Beep.

The sound of the opening button for the automatic door was beginning to annoying her. This sound usually meant someone was going to pester her to eat, speak, clean or do something else she had no energy for and honestly doesn't give a fuck about. And this time won't be any different.

She heard the footsteps that announced a person approaching her.

Tap tap tap. One after the other and every tap bugged her even more than the one before.

"Leave!" She demanded angrily but powerless, not even bothering to look at the intruder.

"But I just arrived," the person replied in an amused tone.

She instantly recognized the voice and turned around in Saiyan speed and looked at him with her eyes as wide open as the swelling allowed.

There he was! Hurt, dirty, tired, alive.

Alive!

His armor was broken, his clothes ripped, his body bruised, dried blood trailed down his temple along his jawline and left a dark line on his face, but he was alive.

Alive.

Bulma instantly jumped out of their bed, feeling instantly dizzy and tripping because of the lack of nutrition and movement the last two weeks.

She closed her eyes in full expectation of being reprimanded for neglecting herself in his absence. Her elation of his return was dampened somewhat with pain as she collided onto the floor in her excitement to get to him. Strangely enough, a severe reprimand over her condition never came. Instead, she felt one of his strong arms gently wrap around her slim waist, the other around her neck, keeping her head up and holding her firmly but gently, protectively, just as she had gotten accustomed for him to be. Her arms hung loosely at her sides and when she opened her eyes again slowly.

She found herself staring into his endless, deep black eyes. As he stared intensely back at her, she felt like she'd just been saved from the dragon that had pulled her deep into its pit of despair. She was looking back at her hero.

Bulma was lost in those dark eyes, believing she could look right into his soul and see the true person behind his well build up façade, but the moment he blinked, the magic was gone.

"You... are... how... Ve-?" Her eyes were wide and showed her excitement, her hope, her happiness and her exhaustion.

With trembling hands she touched his face, convincing herself that he really was there and she wasn't just imagining him. Convincing herself that he really was there and she wasn't just imagining him in her current mental state. His tanned skin felt so familiar under her hand. So warm, so soft, so comforting, so… so... real. She instantly had the biggest and happiest smile he'd ever seen on her face.

Bulma let out a shaky breath she hadn't known she was holding as her eyes filled with tears of pure and honest joy. Even in her state of unwashed, oily hair, swollen eyes, exhausted and underweight, every man would have thought the happiness on her face made her the most beautiful woman in the whole universe.

When she pulled herself closer to him, to be able to swing her slender arms around his strong neck, she was able to have a look over his shoulder to the door, where Nappa was standing. His genuine smile told her, she was not hallucinating, but this was real. Her missing in action and presumed dead husband was back!

"I thought you... You were...dead," she whispered in his ear as she sobbed, still hugging him as they stood there like that for a while. Vegeta not only let her hug him, but he also tightened his grip around her and squeezed her gently in return. "They told me your scouter was disconnected and the last transmission left no doubt that there was no way you could have survived. And... And... the rescue party… they…" slowly she loosened her hug on him only to cup his face between her hands and leaned her forehead gently against his as he mimicked her actions, still embracing her. "How is it possible...? Or is this just the sweetest dream I ever had?"

"It doesn't matter anymore, Bulma," his rough voice and the use of her name said more than his words. She knew instantly he himself was exhausted, hungry and glad to be finally able to hold her again.

Bulma gave him a sweet, loving smile, as her soft hands glided down as gently as possible on Vegeta's face, neck, over his shoulders and finally rest them on his forearms just below his elbows. After a short check on Vegetas injuries, she turns around to Nappa to gives him orders.

"Get a doctor over here with a first aid box and some regenerating fluid from the healing tanks and let's prepare a huge dinner for the prince, all in one hour." Her voice demanding, but also showing the joy she wasn't even trying to hide.

"Yes, my princess. My prince." Nappa bowed respectfully before leaving them.

The hot water hit his broad shoulders smoothly and ran down his back comfortably. The hot shower was just what his tense muscles had needed, Bulma assumed, as her clever hands gently massaged the soap into his skin from his hard chest to his flat stomach, carefully circling every bulge of his abdomen while avoiding his wounds as best as she could. A soft groan escaped his lips in reward and she smiled lovingly at him in return. Her gentle hands dancing tenderly over his skin until they found their way again up over his shoulders and neck to his hair, caressing his skull, which she knew he loved the most. She had found that out during the long, silent nights they had spent together cuddling and enjoying the closeness and trust of the other.

He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes; his features relaxed more than she'd ever seen before. While she was washing him, he relished it; appreciating her affections before his lips found hers for a deep kiss. This was not a sexual moment, but probably the most intimate one they had ever shared as a couple.

Exactly one hour after Nappa left, the doctor arrived and dinner was served, just as Bulma had ordered. The doctor checked Vegeta from head to toe and confirmed Bulma's impression, that Vegeta's wounds are just superficial, which the doctor already treated with the regenerating fluid.

Bulma was surprised that he hadn't complained about anything today. He'd let her hug him in front of Nappa, he hadn't tried to get away from her affections in the shower and he hadn't even growled at the doctor. It was so out of character for him, such a different behavior, but while smiling to herself, she decided not to question her luck as she tried to rationalize it to herself that it was because of his exhaustion and hunger and he was probably glad himself, even if he would never admit it, that he was finally back home.

The table was full of empty dishes and bowls and here and there leftovers like bones, shells and skins. On one end of the table was a very satisfied and pleased Vegeta and on the other end, a very happy Bulma who couldn't tear her eyes away from her husband. She walked over to him to take his hand and lead him over into the bedroom.

As they reached the bed, she placed her slender fingers on his broad chest and lightly pushed him. He allowed himself to sink into the edge of their comfortable king size bed before she sat down on him, straddling his lap. His tail wrapped around her slim waist instantly, their chests almost touching and she felt his body heat radiating from him, warming her body and her heart, as she started to softly massage his muscular shoulders, thick neck and made her way over to his ears, which she knew he loved when she lightly kneaded them, a soft moan and goosebumps confirming it again to her. From his ears, her hands wandered in gentle circles over his temples until she finally reached his scalp. When her slim fingers travelled through his thick mane and her nails scrapped smoothly over his skin, she could feel him relaxing against her, hugging her a bit tighter and squeezing her gently as he rested his forehead against her small shoulder.

When her hands wandered back down to his cheeks, she pulled away a little, just enough to be able to see him looking up at her as she leaned in closer to his face, letting her lips lightly ghost over his. They looked deeply into each other's eyes for a moment; the world around them disappearing, just before they shared an affectionate and tender kiss while they lay back on the king size bed.

That night she dreamt of their third anniversary, which took place a few days before he left for the mission. He had abducted her to a nearby planet, which looked like paradise. They inhabited a small but luxurious beach hut, surrounded by tropical vegetation. It was quiet, idyllic and isolated. The perfect place for a romantic vacation. Of course he would never admit it was romantic. It was safe, it was manageable, it was bla bla bla, everything but not romantic. It was for her and she knew he had done it for her. That was all she needed to know to be happy.

They spent the last whole day on the private, white sand beach, lying in the sun, enjoying the quiet; only the sound of the waves accompanied them, lulling her into sleep.

When Bulma opened her eyes again, she blinked against the bright light. The soft and comforting sound of waves turned into the annoying beep of a heart rate monitor.

Beep... beep... beep…

As she tried to shield her eyes from the quivering neon light, her movement is blocked by the I.V. in her hand.

Beep

Confused, she sat up slowly and tried to take in the room until she finally noticed that she was in the infirmary. 'Why am I here? What the hell had happened?' She tried to recall the last night and how she came to be there, when she was just a moment ago she was on the beautiful beach with her husband, but she couldn't remember; it was all a blur.

Beep

Nappa sat sleeping in a chair in one corner of the room, the door was closed. Through the window she could see the night sky. It was beautiful. She always loved that colorful night sky in which sat the stunning image of a Saturn-like planet. She admired the planet for a moment before she let her tired eyes wander through the room until she noticed the digital clock. For a moment her heart stopped beating, cold sweat running down her back and the heart rate monitor quickened up the frequency of the beep which she couldn't even hear anymore.

Beep beep beep beep beep.

Her eyes started to burn until a single tear rolled down her cheek and eventually dropped onto her hand.

Beep beep beep

She stared at the clock, unable to tear her eyes away from the green thick numbers, which were mocking her.

Beep

15th May 767, 9.39 pm.

Beep.