Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters seen in the show, manga, movies, etc. But in the twisted world of my mind…well, that's a different story.
A/N: Okay, so I fibbed a little. I said in the last chapter that you would get lemon and….*ducks flying objects and holds up hands defensively*….and you will, you will! It's just not the full-out lemon yet. It's what I guess you can call "mini-lemon." I decided to break up the chapter a little differently, and the 'good stuff' is in the next chapter, definitively, but this should tide you over for a bit, I hope. Just a repeat of what I said in the first chapter: this is my first lemon fic, and I hope you guys like it. I really do appreciate the reviews I got (makes me get all bleary-eyed *sniffle*), so much so that I think I might do a little list of thank yous at the end of this fic ^_~. Anyway…enjoy, and please don't be too frustrated about the lemon; the 'good stuff' is coming.
Part 4
Vegeta dressed slowly, still trying to shake off the after-effects of the regen tank. He had been able to rest and now didn't feel quite as worn down as he previously had. The aides had brought him the traditional clothing worn by royalty, but he had disregarded the heavy over-shirt and stiff slacks and settled for a light open-throated shirt and loose training pants instead. He'd never be comfortable in all that frivolry. His father was welcome to parade around in it, but Vegeta opted for comfortable, serviceable clothing that didn't break you out in a sweat by time you reached the end of the hall. Living under Frieza's command for ten years tended to make you more practical.
He made it halfway to his rooms without disturbance until he spotted Nappa keeping a brisk pace in his direction, hailing him to make sure he wasn't ignored. Vegeta nearly groaned aloud. He hadn't wanted to speak to anyone yet, had only wanted to make it to his rooms and confront Bulma, but these inescapable incidents seemed to want to interfere with that simplistic plan. Nappa approached him, and after one of his long, elaborately drawn out bows, he got on with his purpose.
"Ouji-sama, the prisoner is awaiting your appearance. Shall we proceed there?" As much as Vegeta wanted to yell 'no' at the eager, importunate bastard and go to his rooms, he reluctantly realized that the sooner this business with the Kuraji king was finished, the sooner he would be able to forget about it. He nodded brusquely, and followed the bald Elite down a series of hallways until they reached a set of double doors. The sound of flesh hitting solid flesh and the muffled groaning that followed could be heard through the closed doors, and when the guard stationed outside opened the doors for them, the sound intensified. When they reached the room where the prisoner was being held, Vegeta moved in front of Nappa to enter first.
Yamcha, king of the planet Kuraji, sat tied to a chair, his face a bloody mess as the thick, crimson liquid congealed around his nose and flowed freely from the nasty wounds cut into his face onto his shirt. He looked unconscious, yet he managed to raise his head and glare at the prince as he entered the room. Vegeta stalked up to the battered prisoner, standing before him with crossed arms and looking down at him with a malicious glint in his eye.
"King Yamcha, how good of you to come back to Vegeta-sei. I'm afraid we weren't able to welcome you properly the last time you were here." Vegeta gave him a cruel smirk.
"It wasn't by choice, you arrogant monkey." Yamcha immediately flinched, expecting a blow, but Vegeta's smirk merely widened as he waited for the man to return his gaze.
"You know, the last person who called me that is now a pile of ashes. But then, you know of whom I'm speaking, don't you? Isn't Frieza the one you gave your precious Taji crystals to?"
"I don't give a damn about Frieza," Yamcha spat. "But if I could've given him something that would help obliterate you and your disgusting race, then I would have given him anything." Yamcha's voice was smooth and steely, despite his condition, and his piercing, black eyes narrowed defiantly at Vegeta. "You stole her from me, you bastard, and you deserve to rot in Hell."
"For taking Bulma from a life which she despised? For giving her a choice as to whether or not she wanted to be your whore? You think too highly of yourself, desert fool."
"And what have you been doing with her? Would you let her leave this hellhole if she wanted to?"
"You forget, baka, that it was I she turned to for help in the beginning. I was the only one who was there for her when you smothered her with your unworthy attentions."
"You think she wants you now?" Yamcha sneered. "Now that she knows what you are? You're a murderous bastard, just like Frieza, and after you kill me, she will know that for certain. She will never be able to love you because you're a monster in her eyes." This time Vegeta did strike him, and although he didn't use his full strength, it was enough to shut him up. Yamcha spat out the blood that filled his mouth and glared daggers at Vegeta.
"You were a fool to listen to anything Frieza had to say, as I am sure you are realizing now. Whatever you told Bulma doesn't matter. She will have me, of that I am certain, but you, boyo, will never lay eyes upon her again. I have decided against killing you myself. I will let you stand trial for supporting Frieza, and I am sure the other planets that have suffered Frieza's wrath will be fair in judging your treasonous acts." Vegeta regarded him coolly before turning to Nappa. "See that he is given to the intergalactic council, and tell them that Vegeta-sei supports whatever decision they come to, short of releasing him unpunished." Vegeta turned back to Yamcha, his eyes banking barely contained fury. "If they do not execute you, and I find you back on Vegeta-sei for any reason, I will take my time in delivering the punishment you so truly deserve, desert fool." With that said, Vegeta left the room, trying not to let the desert king's previous words affect him.
The man's statement wasn't far from the truth; Bulma did hold him responsible for the destruction of her planet. It was the one thing standing between them and happiness that he couldn't seem to conquer, but hopefully tonight would change all of that. Bit by bit, he had been wearing down her defenses, and now that he had beaten Frieza and taken care of Yamcha, he was ready to tear down the fragile walls of her animosity completely. If only he could make it to his chamber.
Nappa rushed after him, earnestly trying to catch up with him as he quickly made his way down the hallway towards his chamber. The lumbering Elite managed to reach his prince's side and Vegeta threw him an annoyed glance, but continued walking. Nappa was like a buzzing insect he couldn't seem to avoid.
"Ouji-sama," the big man inquired hesitantly. "I was just curious as to why you spared the desert scum's life. I thought you wanted him dead after he threatened to come after the pleasure slave. Wasn't that the order you issued?" Vegeta halted and forced out an angry sigh as he gave Nappa a hard look. Nappa knew that he regarded Bulma as more than just a pleasure slave and he knew even better than to question his authority. The fact that he was chancing his life to ask such a hazardous question made Vegeta wonder exactly what the bald Elite was getting at.
"Yamcha is no longer a real threat to Vegeta-sei. The power crystals that he provided Frieza with were easily countered by the energy absorbers we obtained from the pleasure slave," he emphasized meaningfully, "that he wanted so badly. I originally thought that Frieza had disposed of him along with his planet, but I find that letting him stand trial and face up to all those he betrayed when siding with Frieza will be far less easy for him than a quick death."
"But with all due respect, Ouji-sama, no one will fault us if we dispose of him ourselves. It is possible that they might just imprison him. Don't the people of Vegeta-sei deserve justice against such acts of malice against us? He only helped Frieza to destroy us."
"As I mentioned before, Nappa, he will suffer more bearing his sins on his conscious. Since when did you question your prince with such insolence?"
"Since I ordered him to," came a voice from behind him, and Vegeta whipped around angrily to stare at an older, flesh and blood reflection of himself. "I wanted to see if that woman bewitched you beyond the point of reason." The anger Vegeta had been steadily keeping at bay burst within him.
"Stay out of my affairs, old man," he growled, staring his father directly in the eye. "As I told your lackey here before, they are none of your concern."
"As long as I am king, everything you do is my concern. The Kuraji king deserves to die, and I am surprised that you are not dealing out the punishment yourself. Even though his involvement was prompted solely by your abduction of his whore." Before Vegeta could even begin to express the fury and loathing sparked by his father's comment, the king raised a hand of dismissal. "We will conduct this in my chamber. Nappa, you are no longer needed." And with that, the king headed off in the direction of his chamber, leaving a still-fuming Vegeta behind to follow.
Vegeta was tempted not to follow him. He was through with his father's demands and orders and now that he was free of Frieza, he was no longer forced to live under anyone's control. But he had waited for this moment a long time, and now he had the perfect opportunity to tell his father every hateful thought that had been plaguing his mind ever since his abandonment. His only regret was that he would be keeping Bulma waiting longer than he wished to. She was no doubt pacing the room, planning a battle in her mind to accost him with as soon as he walked through the door. At any other time, the thought might have amused him. But he was ready to set all pretenses aside and deal with the real issue at hand. It was time for Bulma to recognize that what was between them was far stronger than just a mutual attraction. It went much deeper than that, and although he wasn't sure what that meant, he knew that there was little either of them could do to stop it.
Vegeta sighed and started off in the direction of his father's chamber. As eager as he was to finally bare his mind to his father, he was even more anxious to get to Bulma; but like the issue with the desert king, it would be wiser to get this all out of the way now. After a few twists and turns of the long, elaborately decorated hallways, he was standing in front of the open doorway of his father's chamber. Mentally bracing himself for the upcoming battle, Vegeta stepped in and faced the man whom he had learned to hate throughout the past ten years.
His father stood at a large, open window that stretched almost from floor to ceiling, overlooking the palace gardens. The tiny lines edging his eyes and mouth faintly hinted at maturing age, and the well-groomed beard that covered his chin carried scarce traces of gray; but other than that, father and son looked identical. Even the cool, passive expressions on both of their faces were alike, with the exception of their eyes. Where one's gaze carried a cool disdain, the other was churning with blazing emotion.
The king continued to look out of the window as he spoke, his voice as casual as his stance. "So was I right? Are you letting the woman turn you soft?"
"What does it matter to you, old man? You never cared about my well-being before."
"Shouldn't I be concerned about Vegeta-sei's future king?" Again, that nonchalant tone.
"You weren't concerned when you handed me over to Frieza," Vegeta replied venomously. "Were you planning on raising another heir to take my place?"
Now the king turned towards him, but his expression was still inscrutable. "I had always intended for you rule when I died. I knew the time would come when you would one day break free of the chains Frieza placed on you. It was only a matter of time before you tired of Frieza's domination and tyranny."
"So it was a test?" It was more of an accusation than a question. "You let Frieza humiliate me and beat me close to death just to see if I was worthy of the throne?"
"At the time there was no other way. You wanted to face Frieza head on and Vegeta-sei would have perished. I knew Frieza wanted us out of the way, so I thought if we complied with his demands for a while, it would buy us a little more time. And it gave you a chance to focus all that anger you had in you onto a significant goal. If I remember correctly, before you went to Frieza, the quantity of guards and slaves in the palace were considerably low due to your temper. You think I would have put such a hothead on the throne?"
"If this is meant to subdue me, old man, you're doing a pathetic job," Vegeta remarked sourly.
"It isn't meant to subdue. I'm just telling you the truth. I was well aware of Frieza's intentions, and I knew you thought me weak and gutless to send you to him. But in truth, I couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to see what you were made of. I knew that this was all you needed to prove that you had the potential to be a strong and capable king. Frieza was our greatest enemy, and you defeated him. You have proved you are worthy of the throne and I would gladly die knowing that you would succeed me."
If the king had chosen this moment to deal Vegeta a mortal blow, his own death still wouldn't have been enough to knock him out of the stupor his father's words put him in. Had he heard him right? His father was proud of him? Throughout most of his childhood he had waited to hear those words, and even through the beginning of adulthood when his thoughts were poisoned by hatred for his father, he had secretly wished that the king had never really meant to abandon him, that some day his father would miraculously appear and rescue him from the hell he'd put him in.
The king had momentarily turned back to the window, but now he faced Vegeta again, the light of the half-moon glowing behind him. "I am just concerned that you might be throwing it all away with your obsession for the woman. She is no more than a concubine and you are a future king. I don't fault you for being taken with her. She is a beautiful creature, and I myself have had my share of fixations for my pleasure slaves. But your insistence on making her your queen is foolish, boy. She will never be accepted among the people of Vegeta-sei."
"I don't care what the people of Vegeta-sei think. When I am king, my word will be law. They will have to obey."
"And if they revolt? What then? Will you kill everyone who disagrees with you? That would be at least three quarters of the planet."
Vegeta paused briefly, seeing the logic in his father's statement, but dismissed it immediately. He was his own master now; he had fought for his honor and respect and the people of Vegeta-sei would have to understand that. "They may not accept her, but they will have to deal with it. She will stay by my side no matter what."
"Until they send an assassin after her," the king reproved. "Think, boy. As a concubine she would not be perceived as a threat. You could take a queen, but keep the woman as a slave. Then you can have the best of both worlds."
"I don't want any other woman. She is the only one worthy of me and of the throne."
"Maybe, but being king is not about wanting, boy. Even being a man means accepting the fact that you must discard your childish ideas and take on real responsibility. You want to have her and keep her safe. I understand that, I even agree with it. She has been pivotal in this war against Frieza. The knowledge she provided us with made Frieza's defeat much simpler. She has value, and for that reason I would even extend my own protection to her, should she need it. But do not ask the people of Vegeta-sei to throw away centuries of tradition. You will fail if you try to. And the woman will die."
More of that damn logic, Vegeta thought irritably. His father was right of course. Bulma would be free of danger if he could just be content with the fact that Bulma would his concubine and not his queen. But was it really as simple as that? In the back of his mind, a thought continued to nag at him. How would she take being only his concubine? For nearly eight years she had been another man's concubine, and when he took her from Kuraji, he had promised her that she would never again be a slave. He wanted to give her the freedom she deserved, wanted her beside him when he took on the heavy, momentous weight of being king of a planet. But was it worth putting her life in danger?
"I…I will think on it, old man, but this in no way means that I yield to you. There is far too much that has yet to be resolved for me to forget the years stolen from my life." He then turned sharply on his heel, after seeing his father sternly nod his assent, and left the room, feeling strangely unnerved by his meeting with his father. It had not gone as he'd imagined. He had expected explosive anger, shouting, maybe a few ki blasts volleyed at one another, but not this frank, nearly civilized discussion in which his father gave him advice and told him how proud of him he was. Maybe his father had changed during the years he'd been gone. Or maybe…maybe it was he who had changed. Even through his anger, Vegeta realized his father had been right in his assessment of his youth. He had been hot-tempered and easy to goad into battle. And Frieza had certainly changed that. After six continuous weeks of Frieza beating him into submission, Vegeta finally learned the meaning of 'living to fight another day.' He hadn't actually submitted, just stopped fighting until Frieza tired of beating him senseless. Then when Frieza waited eagerly to hear Vegeta's heartfelt words of allegiance, Vegeta was steadfast in his silence. Frieza had become enraged, his violent vigor renewed as he beat Vegeta some more, so much so that he didn't regain consciousness for almost three days. Frieza began to start his days off with a good sound beating, that condescending leer of satisfaction frozen in place as he pounded Vegeta into the ground. He had been no good as a soldier during his first year in Frieza's service because most of the time, he could barely stand.
And after his time in close quarters with Frieza, his life as a member of Frieza's purging squad had been little better. True, he didn't have to suffer the violent attentions of the pallid bastard, but his squad member's taunts were almost unbearable. At least with Frieza he had unconsciousness to look forward to. With Frieza's men, every single one of them knew the conditions of his surrender and would not let him forget it. And Frieza had been sure to keep him in a squad where there were no other Saiyans present.
It had been a slow, excruciating battle to finally get them to stop baiting and harassing him. He had realized that even if he killed them all, Frieza would just keep moving him from squad to squad, and probably delight in his delinquency because it meant another beating by his hand. So, in the end, it had been silence that kept them from badgering him. He let them taunt him…and simply didn't respond. And after a while, he found that he didn't respond to much of anything anymore, whether he tried to or not. His face, though a portion of it had come from his Saiyan heritage, had become nearly expressionless. The mask of indifference that his people usually needed years to perfect, he had accomplished in less than a year and a half. Only someone who knew him well enough could sense the almost imperceptible change in his emotions by looking at his face. Bulma had been able to do it.
She had gotten to know him well in the short weeks they had met with each other on Kuraji. It had been a strange happening for Vegeta. He had not been used to sharing his thoughts and feelings aloud, but Bulma seemed to have no qualms about it. She had spoken her opinion so often and so openly in front of him, that he could not help but add his own occasionally. They had seen eye to eye on a lot of subjects, and debated on so many issues that Vegeta soon forgot to feel awkward around her after their coupling. She had brought out a part of him he'd thought Frieza had crushed, and gave his life a little meaning when he had felt lost within the insufferable, pride-bruising hell he'd been in.
And then it all changed when he brought her to Vegeta-sei. They argued, but it was never like it had been on Kuraji. Many times she argued with him just to spite him, but he soon realized that it was just her way of keeping herself focused on the anger she felt. The first night they had really quarreled, a few weeks after he brought her to Vegeta-sei, an odd thing happened. She had been angry, screaming at him, and he had kept his expression carefully neutral as she ranted and raved about some inconsequential topic. And then as she neared him and he felt the heat of her body radiating toward him, he had been completely stunned to find desire swirling in the blue of her eyes. He held her gaze for a long moment, then crushed her body to him when she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. The kiss was so hot, so sweet, that he felt his blood quickening and he hadn't even been aware that he was carrying her into his bedchamber until he had her beneath him on the bed and was tearing at her clothing and his own. The marvelous feel of her body arching under his was enough for him to disregard gentleness as he roughly pushed himself between her thighs and entered her, feeling her nails dig into his bare back as he filled her with himself. It had been too long since he'd felt her, tasted her. They strove against each other like sprinters in a race, pushing each other closer and closer to that pinnacle of pleasure until they could hold back no more and gave each other all they had to give.
When they had both found their release and he finally moved to her side to gather her close, he was genuinely surprised when she rolled away from him with her back to him. It was almost as effective as a slap in the face. He lay beside her, brooding, for the rest of the night, trying unsuccessfully not to let her rejection affect him, until he finally fell asleep in the early hours of morning. He awoke hours later to find a slender hand resting on his chest and a soft, warm body snuggled up beside him, and it was then that he came to a decision. Though she had tried, she hadn't been able to resist the chemistry between them. She had fought him constantly in the past few weeks, but she never once broached the motive behind her anger since the night he'd brought her here. He had refrained from mentioning it as well, somewhat glad that he hadn't had to deal with questions about his past that he wouldn't know how to answer. But maybe it was time to address that issue now, before it escalated into something more. Better to get all of her doubts and misconceptions out of the way now. What better time to do so than when she had just proven to both of them that her feelings for him were not as hateful as she would have him believe?
He waited for her to awaken, watching the play of emotions cross her attractive features as she slowly became conscious of their intimate proximity. As she looked up at him tentatively, he could see her deliberately schooling her features to appear as unaffected as possible, but he artfully stroked the soft skin of her back, sending shudders though her body and dissolving any doubt in his mind that she was impervious to his touch.
"We must talk," he said to her gently. Her response was to immediately roll away from him to the other side of the bed. He followed her, coming up behind her and placing a few light, teasing kisses on the curve of her neck. "You know of what I speak. You can not hate me after the night we've had together."
She suddenly turned to face him. "Can't I? This changes nothing, Vegeta."
"This changes everything," he advocated determinedly. She turned away from him again, causing him to frown. He grasped her shoulder and pulled her gently back to face him.
"Bulma," he hesitated, not quite sure what he wanted to ask of her. What did she want from him? "What…must I do?" It was a hard thing for him to even say this much, as close as he had ever come to telling her that he would do anything for her, if she would but ask it.
"Give me back my family, my world, Vegeta. Undo every sin you've made against the innocent people of the worlds you've destroyed. Besides that, there is nothing you could ever do to make me want you again." He stared at her a long while, first anger passing through him at her impossible demand, then despondency as he realized that she might not ever be able to forgive him for his past deeds.
The woman was being unreasonable. Hadn't he shown her how much he cared for her by honoring his promise and bringing her back with him? Hadn't he put up with two weeks of angry insults and bitter moods? Granted, she deserved to be angry, but why couldn't she understand that he hadn't been given a choice? His father had given him over to Frieza, and he'd been forced to obey or die. True, he had learned to detach himself from the killing, had let his instincts override the guilt of murdering senselessly. But he hadn't wanted to do it. And the only thing that had kept him afloat in that sea of misery for the past five years was the hope that he would one day break free, and after liberating her from her life of slavery, take her back with him to rule by his side. It was all he could do not to yell these things at her. But no, he could not ruin this, not at so delicate a moment. He would have to take a different approach.
"I can not change the past, Bulma, but I will try to prove to you that I am not as I was so many years ago." She gave him a blatantly doubtful look and her distrust in his words spurred him onward. "If there is nothing I can say to prove this to you, then let my actions speak for me." He reluctantly pulled away from her and left the bed, gazing down at her, trying to still his quickly-beating heart at the sight she created, the way her tousled hair and smooth, rose-tinted skin made her look like some revered goddess of passion. The sheet twisted indecently around her body, barely hiding her curves from his hungry gaze. He looked away, forcing himself to calm down and deal with the situation at hand.
"I will make you not hate me, by whatever means necessary."
She sat up, seemingly unaware of the sheet that dropped down and exposed the creamy-white skin of her breasts. "There is nothing you can do, Vegeta, short of erasing my memories. Nothing. I will not yield."
Vegeta noticed the determined set of her jaw, the clenched fists at her sides, but discounted it. She was challenging him to prove her wrong, to do what she deemed impossible in her mind, and he was more than willing to oblige her. Yes, if that was the only way he could win her over, then that was what he was going to do. He gave her a curt nod, and after pulling on some pants, he headed for the door. "We shall see, Bulma," he threw over his shoulder and left before she could dispute it further. If it was a battle of wills she wanted, then that was what she would get.
* * *
Next Up: Lemon, really! Vegeta wants an answer from Bulma, and it seems as though he won't take 'no' for an answer.
Reviews can help feed a hungry child in Istanbul…no, wait, that's money…well, then reviews can help solve all of the world's economic problems….no, that's money again….oh hell, reviews will help me sift through all this confusion in my head (or possibly a well-paid doctor…shoot, money again…)