hey guys! thanks for taking the time to read this... i was wondering if i should make this into a drabble series centered around Vegeta, Bulma, and Bulla ? tell me your thoughts in the review section! also, sorry for any typos (i wrote this literally two hours ago in a fit of writer's passion). all the love, america j
i do not own this series or these characters
By the gods, she looks just like her.
All those idiots got a laugh out of claiming that her forehead looks like mine, but I know for sure they must be blind. Her delicate bone structure is nothing like mine, and neither is her pale skin and matching baby blue hair and eyes. She is all her mother.
In her sleep she gurgles, kicking her legs. My eyes examine her closely, reading her ki to assure myself that she is okay. The only proof that she is my daughter is her ki- strong, with an underlying pulse of myself mixed with Bulma. There has not been a daughter born to the house of Vegetasei for generations. I know my mother would be immensely proud, despite her granddaughter being a half-breed.
In moments like these, my mind slips into the recesses of my memory to try to imagine the fate I was supposed to have. Me, sitting on a large throne in the grand palace of Vegetasei where I grew up, clothed in blue and red. The grown up version of girl I met once when I was a boy, her hair brown with a tint of red, sitting next to me as my arranged mate. My mind blurs the edges of what our children would look like, but they would bear the telltale characteristics of pure blooded Saiyans: dark and muscled with tails. I would train with my offspring and meet with the council and at night, sleep next to my mate in our luxurious room.
I shake my head clean of the visions and I am back in Capsule Corp, looming over my second born's bed, wearing earthling clothes and not the robes of Vegetasei royalty. Silently, I move to place my hand on Echalotte's head. Would I want that future of brown-haired, full-blooded spawn? Would I want that Saiyan woman next to me, wearing the crown of Vegetasei? Would Bulma be in my life at all? Sometimes, I entertain the thought that the woman would have found me in any dimension, despite the cold, vast distances of the universe, but then I scoff, ridiculing myself for giving her so much credit.
This head of blue hair beneath my hand contains the brainpower of one of the smartest women in the universe, and this little body contains the blood of Saiyan royalty. My Bra bears the name Eschalot well. Watching her chest rise and fall, I am without a doubt that this is the only fate I'd chose.
"She's beautiful." A warm arm wraps around my torso to stand next to me over the crib. My eyes widen a fraction, cursing myself for letting my guard down so much that I did not sense my own mate. We gaze at our daughter together, and I internally agree with my mate. I swallow hard, my forehead knitting together.
"Vegeta, I don't know why you have this tendency to frown at our children." She teases with a lilt in her voice as she presses her fingers to my forehead to smooth out the creases.
"I don't want her to look like you." I say and I know she is surprised as she steps back.
"Why?" Bulma asks, patience and luckily not anger echoing in her voice.
"The universe… it is not a kind place. Especially for women who look like you." I look towards the window, clenching the bars of the crib with my hands.
There is a pause of silence, until my wife chuckles.
"I love when you offhandedly acknowledge that I'm gorgeous. It reminds me you're not blind." She fluffs her hair and I roll my eyes, pushing away from the crib and moving toward the doorway.
"Wait, Vegeta." Her hand grabs mine and I allow her to pull me to her.
"You know, the universe has been plenty kind to me. And I know with a father like you and a mother like me, you best believe the universe better be good to our daughter or someone will have hell to pay for it." Her blue eyes glint like metal in the glow of the nightlight plugged into the adjacent wall, and I feel a surge of pride through my veins. What a terrifying queen this little Earth woman would have made, forcing her subjects to bow in reverence to her relentless intellect and all-encompassing willpower. But as my thoughts travel back to my daughter…
"You don't know the universe like I do, Bulma." The use of her name gets her attention. "I've seen what evil beings, tyrants like Frieza, do with woman like you, not to mention that Bra is my daughter. Do you know how many countless beings would like to exact revenge against me, and Eschalot is the absolute perfect target." I whisper harshly.
"Eschalot? Why did you call… Do you call her Eschalot?" Bulma tilts her head, looking from me to our daughter and back. I scowl.
"Since you didn't want to ask me what to name our daughter, I took it upon myself to give her a name worthy of the House of Vegetasei, considering she is Saiyan royalty." I mutter, crossing my arms.
"Oh Vegeta! That is the sweetest thing I've ever heard! What a beautiful name… Entirely fit for a princess!" My wife launches herself into my arms, blubbering and causing a commotion.
"Shhhhh…" I whisper into her ear, looking worriedly at our sleeping child as my ears grow hot at my wife's outburst. Bulma removes her hands from my shoulder and wipes her eyes with the edges of her nightshirt.
"Sorry, must be some lingering pregnancy hormones." She says hoarsely, but smiles brightly at me through her watery eyes, and I place my hands on her waist to pull her into my chest.
"You're an amazing dad, you know that Vegeta? And you would have been an amazing king." She says into my neck as I place my chin on her head to gaze out the window at the bright galaxies hanging in Earth's sky.
Someone, somewhere out there must be looking out for me.