Chapter 4

"Kakkarot!" Vegeta yelled in frustration as the other Saiyan dodged his energy attack. The two were sparring in an open field towards the Kiyama Ranges. Not a week after Vegeta had agreed to Kakkarot becoming his training partner, the two of them had destroyed the majority of the training compound inside the palace grounds and had elected to train away from the city. Two weeks on and the training compound still wasn't totally rebuilt.

"So how's the Buradean concubine?" Kakkarot asked as he blocked attack after attack from Vegeta.

"Excellent," Vegeta smirked, blocking as Kakkarot came on the offensive. "Harder to break than I thought, but I'll get there." Kakkarot nodded. "What about you, Kakkarot? Do you keep concubines?" Kakkarot shook his head as he blocked another attack from Vegeta and swung at the prince with his left fist.

"No. I was mated." Vegeta nodded. The Saiyan mating ritual was not something undertaken lightly. Once Saiyans mated it was for life. Subsequently it was not undertaken lightly. It was not uncommon for the death of one mate to result in the death of the other, and so most Saiyans did not tie themselves down to that inconvenience; they settled down with a mate, but never officially 'mated', so Vegeta was surprised to hear that a Saiyan as young as Kakkarot had made that choice. Once a Saiyan had mated they had no desire for another woman, regardless of how attractive she might be. "She died," Kakkarot offered in answer to Vegeta's unspoken question. "During the birth of our son; Gohan."

The death of a Saiyan woman during childbirth was a rare occurrence, though when Vegeta reasoned about the power the young Saiyan had displayed at the Dentoyoru, it was highly plausible.

"His power killed her; he was too strong," Kakkarot offered, confirming what Vegeta had been thinking.

"Unfortunate for you," Vegeta smirked as he finally sent Kakkarot spiraling into the ground. "You're missing out on the fine world of pleasure slaves." Kakkarot laughed and grimaced as he pulled himself off the ground and Vegeta descended to meet him.

"Leit, perhaps," he agreed as he stood next to Vegeta and dusted himself off. "But there is little I can do about it now."

"Prince Vegeta!" came a voice from Vegeta's right. The two looked up to see one of the palace servants. "Prince Vegeta your father requires your presence, he has something important to discuss with you." Vegat rolled his eyes.

"The sooner I get rid of that useless old bastard the better," Vegeta growled.

Fifteen minutes later Vegeta met his father outside the palace entrance. He was already conversing with Bardock.

"Prince Vegeta," came Bardock's voice, with a slight inclination of his head. Vegeta barely acknowledged him.

"What?" he demanded.

"Quit that arrogant tone with me, boy," King Vegeta snapped.

Vegeta growled. One day he would make his father pay.

Bulma sighed as she lay in the bed she had grown to hate over the past few weeks. No, that was not entirely correct. She had hated the bed immediately. Hated anything that reminded her of Vegeta or her new position in life, which was virtually everything.

Since discovering she was not the filthy Buradean piece of dirt he had initially assumed, Vegeta had used her body every night until his desire was full, which sometimes meant three or four times a night. He seemed to need no sleep, and as such she got none. It was only when he left during the day, imprisoned in his room by doors that were too heavy for her to move and escape, that she finally got some sleep. When she was excessively tired she managed to sleep, not quite peacefully, but without the nightmares that tormented her on most other occasions.

She had moved from the floor to her master's bed for sleeping. Her life had become a painful monotony of rape and sleep. Twice a day servants brought her food. For the first week Bulma had fought Vegeta's repeated ravishments of her body but to no avail. In the second week she had lay there for the duration of the episode, silent and unmoving, showing no response at all to Vegeta's ministrations. Again, it seemed to have no effect on him. His unnaturally high libido meant that she was at his beck and call, day and night, whether she screamed or whether she lay there like a lifeless doll. The worst times were the ones she was not expecting; when he came back in late morning after Council meetings, or in the early afternoon before the evening pomp and festival.

Killing herself had crossed her mind many times. The thought of the next fifteen years like this; for she assumed her appearance would remain attractive to the prince for at least that long, drove her to the brink of a mental breakdown. But she was not that weak. She would not dishonor her family by taking her own life and giving up.

It would not have been as bad, she reasoned, if he was not the monster from her past, and if he would actually treat her like a human being. But those delusions had long ago left her; she was a pleasure slave. Pleasure slaves did not get enjoyment, polite conversation or cuddling after sex. They got used and then ignored when they had satisfied their master's needs.

And all that aside, she could never get past the hate. It ran so deep she didn't know whether it was blood or her hatred for Vegeta that coursed through her body and drove her survival.

Some days, she had come to find, were not so bad as others. Rarely, he took her only once during the night; when they first went to bed. But more often than not she was left crying in the bottom of the shower, huddled in fetal position when he left every morning. The feelings of guilt and filth and dirtiness now ran so deep she barely felt anything else.

And yet she still hadn't broken. She had not caved and become the willing submissive slave that Vegeta tried to shape and beat her into every night.

But even the strongest will has its breaking point. And as Bulma lay in the bed staring at the roof of the room that had become her life, she felt that that point was approaching.

"You," Vegeta snapped as he entered his sleeping quarters. Bulma looked up slowly, knowing the tyrant could only be speaking to her. She said nothing. Vegeta growled angrily and backhanded her across the face, knocking her off the bed. "You will speak when spoken to," he snarled. Bulma glared defiantly back at him, hand across her face.

"Or what," Bulma spat back at him. "What more could you possibly do to me?" Vegeta smirked as he stepped menacingly forwards.

"I can do so much more," he growled, forcing his mouth against hers as she jerked her head away. Vegeta growled angrily and shoved her backwards onto the bed, stripping her of her robe in one movement and making quick work of his own pants. Bulma kicked out at Vegeta and rolled away. Before she had taken a step Vegeta was behind her, and slammed her up against the wall so she was pinned.

Bulma cried out in pain as he once again forced himself upon her, letting her crumple to the ground as soon as he was no longer supporting her. Her body shook with a sob. Vegeta snarled at her as he pulled his clothes back on.

"I am going on a purging mission. I will return in four days. During my absence you are to live in the whore quarters with the rest of the harem. No man will use you while I am gone." Vegeta squatted down next to her collapsed figure and turned her head to face him. "You're still mine," he growled into her ear, then left without another word.

The slaves came for her not half an hour later. They told her to collect her belongings. Bulma wrapped the robe she was wearing around herself tighter and nodded at the slaves.

They lead her through a part of the castle she had not seen on her one occasion outside Vegeta's room; when she had been taken to him. What tiny bit of the castle she had seen, she had little memory of anyway. The palace was lavish in an old sort of way, with high roofs, far grander and more regal than anything she had seen on Buradea. Like everything on Vegeta-sei, the palace had a warrior feel to it. All too quickly they arrived at the harem.

"In here," the Saiyan grunted. He opened the door, Bulma walked in, and the door was shut behind her. She turned around to look at the room in front of her.

It was large, like a vastly, horrendously oversized lounge, with couches spread throughout it, covered with the most beautiful, exotic range of women Bulma had ever seen. She looked up as someone spoke to her.

"Wow. The rumours are true," said the voice. Bulma frowned, despite the kind tone. "You're the prince's new concubine right? Word amongst the soldiers is you're the best looking concubine anyone has seen, even the royalty. They weren't talking you up either. You're quite a catch." Bulma growled as she looked at the woman who could almost be a human.

"I'm no prize or possession," Bulma snarled, "and you have no right to address me so," she turned to leave, then felt the other woman's hand on her back.

"I'm sorry love, I meant no offence. Try and think of it as a compliment, a comment even. I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry if I did." The woman extended her hand. "I'm Zarna." Bulma looked at her skeptically before taking the women's hand. After all, she wasn't exactly in the position to be turning down friends in this place.

"Bulma," she offered back. Zarna nodded. The two women were of similar build; similar number of limbs as well surprisingly. Zarna's face was a strange pale yellow colour with black hair.

"Hi Bulma. I'm a bit of an old hand round here, I've been the King's favourite concubine since I was sixteen – I'm thirty now – but I have to say, in all my time with the King I never once spent a day in his quarters. Prince Vegeta sure must think a lot of you." Bulma raised an eyebrow slightly. Her appearance was beginning to draw a crowd. It made Bulma nervous and uncomfortable.

"Um, that's… great," Bulma supplied. "Listen is there somewhere I can wash up? I've had a pretty bad start to my day."

"Of course," Zarna smiled and Bulma gladly followed the older women away from the crowd. Zarna lead her to a bathroom just off the main lounge and it was a relief when she finally sunk into a hot bath.

When Bulma emerged from the bathroom an hour later, it was to find a group of girls hanging round outside the door, waiting for her.

"Excuse me" she mumbled nervously, pushing through the girls and finding her way to Zarna.

"Food?" Zarna offered, as Bulma found her sitting at a table in the harem lounge. Bulma nodded and sat down, not making a move towards the food.

"Why do those girls –"

"The ones outside the bathroom?"

"Yeah."

Zarna laughed.

"Most of the women in this harem are communal whores," Zarna started explaining. "You and I are a few of the lucky ones; we know where we're going each night, who we're going to, how it's going to be. We know we're safe to a degree. Them. They don't really have that security. Any soldier could come in here and use them and kill them without a second thought. Concubines have a ten year service, then if they're pleasing, they're released. Most of them don't live that long though."

"Are you saying they envy us?" Bulma asked incredulously. Zarna nodded.

"That's exactly it." Bulma leant back in her chair, watching the small group of girls that had gathered by her. Bulma felt a pang of sadness for them. But when her thoughts turned to her last encounter with Vegeta, she remember that her circumstances were not exactly ideal.

"Excuse me," came the voice of one of the girls. She looked younger than Bulma; only fifteen at the oldest. Bulma looked up.

"Yes?" Bulma answered, as politely as she could manage.

"We were wondering," she looked at the group of girls around her. "Well, we were wondering if you could tell us what the prince is like. You know. It's just. Well. Like Zarna said, we get used by whoever comes in here," the girl's blue face flushed a tinge of green. "What's it like to only have one man? It must be nice to know that it's him every night."

Bulma said nothing for a few moments. She thought carefully before answering the girl.

"Just because – Vegeta – " she forced herself to say his name, "is the only man, if you can call him that, that uses me, doesn't mean that my experiences or ordeals are any worse than yours my love," Bulma smiled sadly at the girl. The blue skinned girl looked up at her with purple eyes.

"But surely, I mean if he likes you so much that he keeps you in his room, he must treat you well?" Bulma sighed as she noticed all the girls looking at her. This was what it was really about. The other girls. They were jealous of her.

"Vegeta – I've met him before. He purged my home planet. He murdered my fiancé in front of my eyes. He's raped me repeatedly every night since I came to Vegeta-sei. On one of the first nights, he broke both my wrists. I have three broken ribs at the moment, just because of how rough he is with me. I'm not allowed out of his room; I'm not strong enough to open the doors so I can't even leave when he's not around." Bulma looked at the girl and grabbed her hand gently. "Don't envy my life," Bulma said gently to her. "It is no different than your own. In fact, you are almost luckier." Bulma looked around the room. "You have all the other girls, girls who know your pain and understand what you're going through. You're lucky to have friends. I envy you," Bulma told her. The girl gave Bulma a half smile. Bulma smiled back. "He might be a prince, but he's still the Prince of the Saiyans. Remember that, he's no Prince Charming," Bulma soothed. The girl's disposition visibly brightened. She thanked Bulma, and left with her friends. Bulma turned back to Zarna, who was giving her a weird look. Bulma questioned the other woman.

"Jarlia," Zarna answered. "She has been here three years and never once have I seen her smile before. It is good to see," Zarna nodded. Bulma looked at the girl's retreating back sadly.

"How old is she?" Bulma questioned.

"Nearly fifteen. She was brought here when she was twelve." Bulma shuddered.

"That's awful. She's so young." Zarna laughed.

"You're hardly old, my dear," Zarna commented. "You can't be a day over twenty?" Bulma sighed.

"On my home planet it was four months until my twentieth birthday. So I guess it must be coming up soon. I would have married after my twentieth birthday," Bulma sighed again, as she felt the familiar pang in her chest and stomach that she had begun to associate with Rainin. Bulma felt Zarna's hand reassuringly on her leg.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she commented. "I lost my husband and son in the purge of my home planet. Many times I wished I was just killed along with them."

"I'm sorry," Bulma whispered. Zarna smiled sadly back at her.

"It was a long time ago. I think about them all the time, but the ache dulls."

"Wait, you said concubines serve ten years then are free, but I'm sure I heard you say you've been here since you were sixteen?" Bulma questioned. Zarna nodded.

"I stay here now out of choice. King Vegeta treats me well, I am not abused like many of the women here, including yourself. It is a shame for you that the young prince does not share his father's higher level of respect for women. But as I said, the King treats me well, I have nowhere else to go. This has been my life so long now that it's all I know. But my main reason for staying is girls like you, and Jarlia. I hope that by staying here, I can help some of you girls get through your time here."

Bulma said nothing as she looked from Zarna to Jarlia, who was now sitting on a couch with one of her friends, talking quietly. As she was watching, the door of the harem opened. A young soldier, only a few years older than Bulma walked in. He cast his eye around the room, as though he was looking for a particular food he liked. His eyes came to rest on Jarlia, sitting with her friend. The soldier walked over to her and grabbed her by the arm. Bulma watch in disbelief as the soldier dragged Jarlia from the room without a word. The scared haunted look in Jarlia's eyes as the soldier led her away chilled Bulma to the core.

And suddenly, she was slightly thankful that she was limited to one Saiyan; that she knew what was coming and what to expect. Though far from ideal, at least Vegeta was constant. The thought and fear of having a different Saiyan use her body every time he felt like it, not knowing what diseases he was full of, how drunk he was, what sort of temper he had, how likely he was to kill her.

It wasn't much, Bulma thought as she stared at the door through which the Saiyan and Jarlia had left, but it was something.

The days in the harem passed slowly for Bulma. Able to sleep relatively uninterrupted, except for the occasional nightmare, she found herself no longer needing to sleep in the day, but with nothing to do.

She made a habit of talking to one new concubine every day. The worst day came when Bulma befriended a concubine named Tina. They had got on quite well, Tina was only two years older than Bulma. A drunken Saiyan had come for her that night when they'd been in the middle of a conversation. Tina told Bulma they'd finish talking when she got back, the two had hugged and Tina had left.

Bulma had sat up, talking with the other girls, early into the morning. When they finished talking around three am, nine hours after Tina had left, she had still not returned. Bulma fell asleep waiting for her.

At eight am the next morning, at the changing of the guards, three Saiyan men had walked into the harem, down the halls to Tina's small room and returned carrying her belongings, then left. Bulma had felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Zarna smiling sadly.

"Is she…" Bulma asked. Zarna nodded slowly.

"Yes Bulma. I'm afraid so. Toreton, who took her last night, has killed all but two of the concubines he has ever taken." Bulma said nothing, staring at the ground in shock. "Come on," Zarna said gently as she led Bulma away.

In the four days she had been there two other girls had been killed, and though Bulma knew neither of them their deaths and the harsh reality of their profession had disturbed Bulma more than she ever would have anticipated.

Despite the less than enjoyable tone of her stay in the harem, Bulma was full of regret and apprehension when the man she had begun to recognize as one of Vegeta's personal guards arrived to collect her. The four days without her own personal live-in demon had been the most pleasant since that fated day with Rainin beneath the tree on Buradea.

The guard marched beside her, leading the way to Vegeta's quarters. As they arrived just outside the door to the room that Bulma hated so much, the guard paused.

"Listen girl, I think you're alright. So I'll give you the heads up that Vegeta is in a bad mood, there were some complications during the purge, so I would advise you not to ask about it. It will be a rough night for you girl, but Vegeta will be gone all day. At nine I will send a servant by to collect you and show you to the medical wing."

"But what if he finds out?" Bulma frowned. She wouldn't have anyone getting on the wrong side of Vegeta, not because of her.

"It is in Vegeta's interest that you be healed, much more of what you have suffered and your body will give way. He will be brought around to the idea, you leave that to others." Bulma looked up at the kind Saiyan guard whose name she didn't know. It was the first time she had ever used that adjective to describe the species. Bulma made a motion to hug the Saiyan in thanks, but he quickly side-stepped her.

"I dare not," the Saiyan told her. "It would be a death sentence for both of us if Vegeta was to smell my scent on you."

"Smell your…." Bulma trailed off. The Saiyan nodded and opened the door for her.

"I take my leave," he said, bowing as the prince appeared at the door. Bulma turned around to look into those eyes that never left her mind's eye. The prince nodded to his guard and the guard left.

"Welcome back," Vegeta snarled viciously, grabbing Bulma's arm tightly, yanking her inside and slamming the door behind him.

Vegeta woke Bulma when he left for business the next morning, quickly satisfying himself with her already battered and broken body and leaving.

Bulma lay awake, breathing slowly and shallowly to avoid excess pain from her already broken ribs. The guard hadn't been exaggerating when he told her she was in for a difficult night. She could feel her insides, torn and pained and knew she must be bleeding. At some point during the night she had felt her shoulder dislocated by his repeated ravaging of her, the pain in her back was so intense she couldn't move. Her leg felt like it was broken and there was barely a clear patch of skin amongst the bruising that covered her body. As tears rolled down her cheeks, Bulma once again lost consciousness.

"….her ribs, I think four of them were broken. She had seven cracked vertebrae, compound fracture of the fibula, dislocated shoulder, severe third degree internal lacerations and many superficial scratches and bruising." There was the rustling of paper. "She would have been dead from complications in a few short days, particularly with that monster."

"Please don't speak about our prince like that," came another recognizable voice. "Just because I like you doesn't mean I'm not duty bound to kill you for your disloyalty to our prince," the voice warned.

"Not my prince," came the first voice in a quiet grumble, but nothing more was said.

"Look, she's waking up," came a third voice. Bright light burned into Bulma's eyes as she strained to open them. As her consciousness returned to her, she noticed that she was floating in a large amount of green fluid with an oxygen mask strapped to her face. Her heart began to race and she flailed as she panicked.

"Woah lass," came the first voice Bulma had heard, who she could now see belonged to a small red skinned man, reminiscent in age and appearance to Bulma's Buradean father, only smaller. He had a stethoscope hanging around his neck, a white coat and clipboard and appeared to be a doctor. Next to him stood the voice she had recognized; that of Vegeta's personal guard who had become a variation of a friend to her the other night. She couldn't see where the third voice had come from, but almost immediately the fluid began to drain and Bulma became cold. The door of the small tank she was now aware she was in hissed open as she fell to the ground, the Saiyan guard's warm arms wrapping a towel around her. It was only then Bulma realized she was naked. She blushed and mumbled her thanks to the Saiyan.

The grey haired, red skinned doctor approached her and began taking her heart rate vitals as Bulma stood there shivering.

"What happened?" Bulma asked, no one in particular. The doctor answered her as he continued his examination.

"Well I sent this here intern," he gestured at a small man of similar appearance to himself with brown hair, standing nearby "to collect you this morning and he found you unconscious and bloodied on the prince's bed," the man explained, the distaste apparent in his tone. "He came back here and we contacted master Kakkarot, who went to collect you." This time he pointed at the Saiyan guard. "Kakkarot brought you back here, where we placed you in the regeneration tank nearly 12 hours ago. Your wounds were severe, but nothing our tank couldn't handle." The doctor stepped back, apparently pleased with her recovery. Bulma was amazed to find no trace of pain as she moved.

"Thank you," she told him, and kissed the small doctor gently on the head. The doctor grumbled nonchalantly, but Bulma saw a slight blush appear in his cheeks.

"Your clothes," the intern told her, handing her a clean, folded pile of clothing. Bulma thanked him, then took her leave to get changed and returned quickly.

"We must get you back," Kakkarot told her. "Prince Vegeta will be back any time and will be indescribably angry if you are not there when he returns. Bulma nodded, swallowing the ominous feeling that the next time she woke up it may again be in the medical wing of the hospital. Kakkarot motioned for her to follow as she thanked the doctors.

They walked in silence for a while, then Bulma started conversation.

"What went so wrong on the purge?" she asked. "Why was Vegeta so mad?"

"Prince Vegeta," Kakkarot corrected automatically. "Well the purge went bad from the moment we arrived," Kakkarot told her. Bulma tried to hide her surprise that this kind Saiyan was involved in the hellish task of purging planets. Kakkarot clearly noticed her surprise but chose to ignore it. "Anyway, things weren't right when we arrived. The planet was quiet. Upon further investigation we discovered that the planet had been emptied of civilians, and we were met by a raggedy band of warriors, an assortment of races. We destroyed them eventually but two of our number were taken hostage. They clearly knew we were coming. It's most unsettling," Kakkarot told her as they arrived at the door to Vegeta's chambers. "He's not there," Kakkarot added, nodding towards the door. Bulma sighed.

"Thank you," she told him. "For everything." Kakkarot nodded.

"Take care Bulma." He turned without another word and left.

"It doesn't make sense," Kortinar frowned. "There is no way they could have known the attack was coming."

"Maybe it was just good luck?" Peris offered. "Maybe they assumed they were next because of our recent activity destroying planets in the area. That wouldn't be too difficult to guess." The council talked quietly amongst themselves while King Vegeta talked to his son at the head of the table.

"What of the two Saiyans taken?" came Srinak's voice. "Why would they want prisoners? They know we care little for hostages and don't bargain for their return." King Vegeta nodded.

"It is puzzling. We have never been a nation of hostage takers, nor people from which our enemies can gain something from hostages. Our Saiyan warriors are trained to resist torture, and our soldiers know little of value. Short of capturing royalty or a council member, there is nothing to be gained," the King mused. There was silence for a moment.

"Perhaps…" came Bardock's voice. The council looked at him. "It's not a vision, I have seen nothing relating to this," Bardock told them, "but perhaps there is a scientific motivation behind it; Saiyan specimens for research." Bardock shrugged. "It's just an idea."

"I certainly hope not," King Vegeta sighed. "Brute force can not fight science." Silence fell once more.

"This is going in circles. I tire of all this endless pointless talking. I take my leave," Vegeta told them, and stood and left without another word.

He needed to spend some time alone with his concubine.