--
She's a working girl, selling her company to make ends meet, never reaching that nirvana of accomplishment.
He is a man of influence that studies and trains to be better than he is, in turn, bettering his people and their planet.
Together they will inadvertently create the change their world so desperately yearns for, and release their kind from under the slavery and persuasive strength of alien forces.
--
Jaded Pill
Chapter IX. The Break of Dawn.
Her eyes fluttered open to the image of a distant grey sky stretching out from the white sheets of the unfamiliar bed. She blinked the sleep away from her eyes, sliding further into the down of the bedding as it wrapped her body in alien comfort. She allowed herself a moment of peace beneath the blankets, stretching her body along the length of the large bed as a feigned, silent noise of relief escaped from the back of her throat. The first hint of the early morning sun kissed the horizon and played on the far-off oceans, dancing along the water's edge and climbing the silhouetted mountains. She was so mesmerized by the simplicity of it's nature that the sound of footsteps approaching were distant, and ignored. She was pulled away from the sight when a thought had finally hit her: it's sunrise. Her breath stopped short, her eyes dragging along the floor in a display of guilt.
"Something the matter?" a voice broke through, the thick and heavy tone cracking away at her thoughts.
She looked up at the man she had spent the better part of the night with, noting how his face seemed much softer in the brilliance of the bland and simple colors of the room. His eyes were dark and empty, and a scowl graced his small lips. Nothing about his appearance in face and body, however, screamed the annoyance most people would assume. Bulma struggled with the words as her mind clouded over with images of the night before: the gripping of his hands around her thighs; the scratching and grabbing of her hands along the length of his flushed back; the consuming intensity of his stare as it dug into her entire being. "It's sunrise. I," she paused, flustered from the look he gave her, "I have to get back."
"You don't have to worry, you know," he said, watching as she climbed out of his bed, her bare feet barely touching the stained wood of the floor as the she rushed passed him, catching her eyes with his in the briefest of seconds. He followed her floundering movements with sharp interest. Despite how scattered and awkward they were, she still managed to move with stiff grace. He moved toward her as she began to slide the disregarded dress up her milky thighs and over her defined hips. His fingers reached out in mindless happening and assisted in hooking her into her dress, her hands carelessly cupping into his with surprise.
In her haste she forgot about the only other person she shared the room with and was no longer cognizant of her surroundings. She berated herself for allowing to be swept away into the overwhelming binds of passion and ignoring the rules she, as a woman of the harem, had to follow. How could she do something so intolerably out-of-character, and something so juvenile as breaking the rules? She was knocked from her revery by a clothed hand as it clasped around the hooks of her dress. She stopped her movements and for a moment watched his own, until finally glancing up to his face. His eyes were burning into her as he worked, causing her breathing to come in short, stalled breaths.
"Don't worry about Baini," he said after finishing with their silent distraction, "I'll take care of her." His gloved fingers traveled over her bare shoulder, twisting into the end of her hair as it lay haplessly against her skin. "I'll make sure," he started again as he stepped into her body and let his lips brush the lobe of her ear, "to not be so careless next time."
She felt the shiver run down her spine as his hot breath caressed her exposed neck, and they lingered in that spot a moment longer, their bodies blending in the fondling light of the rising sun. She reached a hand to his forearm, stealing a glance at his face as she shifted in his presence. He was looking at her with the same look, as if they were both watching to see if the other was regarding them with shifting, nervous, wanting eyes. She averted her eyes quickly, knowing if she continued to stare she would lose more of her own precious time. That's when, for the first time, she noticed the sealed letter in his hand, and that's when he broke the hold.
"Come," he said, moving away from her body and his hand sliding away from her hair. "We don't want to waste any more time." He loosely took her wrist in his hand and led her to the door she had entered the night before. It slid into it's pocket once again and they both stepped through the thresh hold. They steadfastly walked down the brightly lit hall until a small man in servants clothes came into view. "You can get there from here; I'm sure you know the way. Hurry, but don't run through the palace. It'll only waste more time." He watched as she bowed low to him, a gesture of her servitude. His eyes were fixed on her retreating perfection, even as he stopped the cleaning servant.
"Your majesty," he said and bowed on shaky legs.
"Take this," the prince started, holding up the sealed letter to the other mans face, "to Baini. Do not inform her of who it is from; she'll find out as she reads. Use any means necessary to get there before," he held up his other hand and pointed to the retreating woman, "her. Do you understand?" The man nodded soundlessly, his body still hunched in subservience. "Good. Go." The servant snatched the letter from the his hand and rushed down the hall, disappearing behind a decorative tapestry that hung limply on the wall.
- - - - - -
Baini stood at the doorway of her office-room, glaring over her steadfast ladies, many of whom were sleeping silently in separate corners of the room. She was seething in her lividity, fiercely digging her nails into her skin to keep from attacking the closest woman to her. She stared directly at Chichi, a notable confidant to the woman whom her rage was firmly aimed, as she shifted her sight between her lap and the door.
A light tapping came from behind her, the sound of knuckle hitting wood breaking her hold. She hesitated. Did she really want to know who, or what it was, or did she want to continue to lather herself in her broken authority? The rapping came again, a bit louder and far more urgent than before. She sneered as she hoisted her body from the open frame, turning on the hidden door with malice.
"What!" she shouted as she opened the disguised door, noting with sour spite that she didn't recognize him, other than his uniform. The man held a letter to her face, bowing with a desperate yearning to leave. Without hesitating she grabbed the letter from his hand, immediately shutting the door without saying a word. She turned the letter over in her hand and noticed the symbol of the royal heir on the seal, a sudden stab of curiosity overwhelming her thoughts. Why would she be getting a letter from the prince at this time of the morning? At that moment, before she could break the seal, a quiet humming rose from the women's living quarters and the muted click of a door closing an undeniable sign of what had captured the attention of the room.
She walked to the thresh hold of her door, the malevolent glare returning to her features as she saw the object of her indignation standing there. "Bulma!" she yelled, her outrage undeniable as her voice bellowed over the women's gossip from her perch. She could feel the other women eyeing her, but it didn't matter what they wanted to say, or do; her mind was directly set on the woman with an unexampled presence and stretched privileges. Baini stared carefully at Bulma, her fingers gripping at the letter she still held in her hand, a disquieted impression that the letter had something to do with her. "In here, now!" She continued to watch Bulma when she, without hesitation, or noticeable anxiety, turned in her direction and began the walk up to her door, eyes set firmly ahead of her. Shifting to the side, Baini allowed the other woman to enter, shutting the door immediately after her.
A minute passed between them without anything being said, or done, and the only noise was the muted buzz from the women in the next room. Baini stood at the door, dragging her eyes over the other woman's shapely body, catching glimpses of the reflex of muscle under the skin of her revealed calves and bare arms. She registered, with some surprise to herself, that this woman before her, despite the expected hardships she had while growing up, stood with an amazing and prominent quality of being with her head held high, her chin level with the floor with elegant exhibition. "Sit," she said, finally breaking the silence as she circled around her desk, a gift given to her by the King himself when she was given the title of Hostess. She had intended to give the fresh woman that now sat in front of her a few good lashings, until the unexpected surprise from the Prince.
She gently peeled the seal from the envelope, removing the letter from it with delicate handling. She read it carefully and as quickly as she could:
To Ms. Baini, the Keeper of the Ladies of the Palace;
Through this short note I convey to you my deepest appreciation for permitting
your newest, and certainly the most radiant of your young charges to enter my
chambers on such a festive occasion. I understand that it goes well beyond the
extensions of the practice that has been expected by you, and by His Majesty,
the King. I understand, as well, that the young woman shall be arriving back to
you at an unprecedented and unacceptable time. I do, however, wish to see this
woman in my rooms again through the time that I remain on-planet, and I do
not want her to be punished for what was, and will remain to be primarily my
inexcusable act. I give you my word of honor that it shall not happen again while
she is in my honored presence.
I request of her this evening, and the following night, as well. Expect my delicate
and subtle patronage while she is in your care.
Thank you.
Your Honorable Crown Prince,
Vegeta
Baini sat in a stunned silence, her mouth agape as she processed what she had read. The prince, though an imposing and nearly menacing presence due to his close servitude under Emperor Freiza, was an equally humble man. He was never one to visibly assist the poorest members, or the sickest fighters of the planet, but from his perch of royalty and his unquestionable knowledge of the government, he slowly made small progress for those that he could. And now, this man that stood so steadfastly on his morals and unwavering contempt for such vulgar rituals was calling upon one of her women for a second time, and apologizing on her behalf. One night seemed more than enough to bend any personal restraints he has set upon himself, but a continuing venture to challenge and control his original abhorrences seemed so farfetched that she nearly doubted it was the Prince's desire to begin with, and not some elaborate joke being played on her.
She sighed, setting the letter down atop the opened envelope and rubbing her temples to sooth her questioning mind. It was not her place to question, however, nor was it her place to go against a request because of her wavering skepticism. She decided, in the best interest of all parties involved, to give in. She, in her position of insignificant power, would send Bulma, a woman with noauthority at all, to a man that has more influence over the people than, dare she say, the King himself.
"Bulma," she finally said as she folded her hands in front of her and hunched over herself. "As determined as I was to punish you, and with great severity the moment you walked through those doors, I cannot, in good conscience, go against a powerful figurehead's request." She glanced at the woman in front of her and was nearly surprised with the humility that graced her features. She sat with her hands on her lap, her ankles crossed under her, and her eyes shadowed behind long bangs. "You have been requested by the crown prince, His Royal Highness Prince Vegeta, for tonight and the following night as well. Be wary, however, that though I do not have the power to go against a formal request such as that, I do have the power to penalize you. You shall be back in the main room before sunrise. This is your only warning; do not expect this type of leniency a second time. Is that understood?"
Bulma nodded, mute and stiff.
"Good. Now go."Baini watched with an unwavering sternness in her eyes as Bulma stood up from the chair, bowed, and left. Baini, although inclined to call her back and congratulate her on her looks, as it was obvious that was what drew the Prince to her, held her tongue and instead sat back in her chair and heaved a long and heavy sigh.
- - - - - - - -
Author's Note: I love how we're seeing little nuances of Bulma's character. She's not as distant as she comes off to be. She has a neurotic part of her that doesn't want to break the rules; she doesn't want to do anything that'll get her in trouble. Anyway, I'm really worried about the next chapter. I've managed to finish two within a week, which is great, but I knew what was going to happen. I have the major parts of the rest of the story figured out. It's all those little moments in between that have me confused on what to do. Like, the next chapter, I have NO idea of what's going to happen. I'll figure something out, something equally as good as this. And equally as good as the last chapter, but not quite as juicy. Yum, yum. )
Chapter title influence by Kamelot's "A Sailorman's Hymn."
Disclaimer: Nope. My hands are clean. I don't own anything.