My apologies all, time has been so, time consuming... But I have now finished chapter four. I give my thanks to all who reviewed for me, Thank You.
Today was my last day of school for the summer, and I've only another semester before I graduate, so I should be starting ch. 5 soon. I'll be sure to try to update much more than before, all I'm waiting for this summer is the next Harry Potter book, which comes out July 16. For any interested, it is called Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince.
I'm sure all are ready for me to shut my mouth so here is chapter four.
Something Lost
Disregarding of her surroundings, the figure ran. The pale sliver of moon that shone through the branches sat alight her hair as she ran. A giant shadow jumped from behind one of the trees and caused her to trip on a root.
Skidding across the ground, she was covered in dead leaves and dirt, and her body was stopped by hitting the base of a tree.
Slowly she sat up, ignoring the strain in her legs and the pain from the cuts and bruises caused from sliding face down across the ground. At a noise around her, her head snapped side to side looking around the dense forest.
Tall towering trees clouded the clear, but invisible sky and caused the forest to be the color of coal. Little wind blew through the trees, so when another rustle sounded near her, her bright eyes popped open further and her body tensed.
Slowly a dark figure descended before the trembling woman. As his feet touched the ground he step toward her, causing her to shake harder in fear.
"Who are you?" She cried, fat blue tears falling down her face. But the figure didn't answer, instead he moved closer to her, ignoring the terror on her face.
She didn't know who he was. She couldn't tell what features graced his face, or even if it was a man that haunted her. He was dressed all in black, with gloves on his hands, and though no garb covered his face, she couldn't see past the shadows caused by his thick black hair.
He stopped at her feet, and made no move to speak. Suddenly he knelt before her and raised his gloved hand to her face. Three fingers wrapped around her chin and brought her face inches from his own.
As close to him as she was, no details crossed her mind other than the dark hollow eyes that stared into her own blue ones. His warm moist breath on her lips caused her to shudder as if chilled. His face moved forward and stopped barely from touching her. Just as his lips touched hers, she screamed.
Her bed shook as she bolted up on her bed. Her sweating naked body glistened in the pale night light as she stared at the crescent moon.
'The moon looks the same as it did in my dream.' She thought. 'But who was chasing me. I know his eyes. They're so dark and cold, but I know that I know them.'
Shivering slightly, she crawled from her bed and crept to the pile of cloths sitting under the window. Silently she pulled a shift on, and walking gently so as not to wake the others, she left the room.
Noiselessly she snuck through the dead halls, finding her way to the front entrance, and into the night.
He stirred the moment she did, knowing at once the reason for which she woke. Shaking his head slightly to rid himself of sleep, he stood.
Flashing quickly across his mind, an image of the woman of blue eyes, scared and cold, and running. From him.
The last piece confused him, then caused a flash of anger to run through his body.
'Why must I constantly be plagued with thoughts of that woman? She's naught but a slave.' Though madness consumed him, doubts hid behind the shield. The carefully built, but fragile, shield that protected him.
You can never escape her. The voice sounded through his head, but ruthlessly he ignored it, and with the wave of need threatening him, he swept out of his room, and followed the hallway to the training room.
The thin figure slunk down the hallway, hiding in the shadows at any noise.
Suddenly she turned the corner to a wide hallway, and started to count ten rooms down. Taking a deep breath, she ran across the hall to the door that her finger had landed on, and without so much as a knock of intention, she opened the door and ran in.
She slammed the door shut as she stood in the dark room, causing the figure in the bed to jerk from his position.
"Flessen," She called softly, her voice thick.
"Bulma?" The man named Flessen mumbled; sleep causing his deep voice to be muffled. "Bulma, is that you standing by my door, as if you'd never been invited in before?"
Numbly she nodded, chocking back a sob, and when her hands moved back behind her back in reticence, her blue hair shine blood red from the clock sitting by his bed.
"Bulma come here." He switched into a sitting position on the edge of his bed and gestured for her to join him. "Talk to me."
She shuffled forward in admittance of her guilt of waking him in the dead of the night. Softly she sat, but the moment her head touched his shoulder, she became overcome by tears and sobs that threatened to break her fragile body.
His arms wrapped around her and pulled her onto his lap as she cried into his chest, not noticing once that he was naked as the day he was born. His soft words reached her ears and calmed her until her body slumped forward from the exertion.
As she fell asleep in his arms, he laid her back into his bed. Gently his fingers ran across her forehead and pushed wet hair from her face. He pulled up the covers to drape her shoulders, and just as good as any Saiyajin man; he sat himself in the chair sitting by his bed, willing himself back to sleep.
The little boy sat hiding in the dark corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, and his arms wrapped around his legs. His head bobbed side to side as the dark prince fought numerous men before him, but his eyes weren't focused. Instead his mind was concentrated far away, on a delicate woman, sleeping soundly in another man's bed.
His head moved directly to the prince, as he stared intently at his face as the vision of her came to him. Their minds were undeniably linked, and he knew that everything he saw, the other man saw also.
A small smile graced the boy's mouth when he saw the odd glance of fury and desire cross his face when he caught wind of the boy's thoughts. But he fought the thoughts of the woman that demanded his complete attention, and in the moment of felt betrayal from the slave woman, the prince gathered a large ki in his hand and incinerated the man he sparred with.
The ashes hadn't even settled when he launched himself at a pile of punching bags, effectively destroying the whole bunch, and sending beaded rocks across the room.
The little boy flinched as the rocks hit him hard, though he barely felt them hitting his flesh.
You can never escape her! The words had hardly left his lips when the prince faltered in his punch, and missed the flying disk he had aimed for. He turned and ran for the little boy, growling all the way. He caught his neck up between his hands, and smiled viciously when his eyes began to water and his breath to rasp.
But his breath was caught also. With one last cruel squeeze on the boy's neck he dropped him, almost wincing at the pain in his own neck.
You know you love her. The words needn't pass through the boy's lips for the prince to hear them. Sneering callously at him, the man turned and left, but only in regards for his self.
Behind him the little boy face was worried as his body began to shimmer, and slowly fade out.
Just as his body faded out the prince gave a mighty shudder as his body lost much energy, but his energy recovered quickly.
Dawn hadn't even broken when the Saiyajin woke, sitting in an uncomfortable position in the hard chair. Slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping woman, he rose and began to dress. In just his pants, he stood beside the bed, staring at the woman.
When she sighed and shifted in her sleep the saiyajin's mind came back to the present, and knowing the time, he shook her shoulder until she woke.
"Mmmuphh humph hmm.." Her eyes fluttered, and softly she yawned as she rubbed her eyes with balled fists, looking to the saiyajin, like a child.
"Come on sleepy head, time to wake up." He laughed, and tussled her bright blue hair. "Come on lady, you've got things to do today.
Brightly she laughed, and swung her legs out of his bed, so she could stand.
"So Bulma, you never told me why you came in here. Was it that dream again?" He pulled a tight black shirt over his muscled torso, and ran one hand through his disheveled hair.
Slowly her head rose to meet his, and her eyes grew wide as she nodded. "I don't know why it won't leave me alone."
Smiling sweetly, he stepped forward and swept her into his arms. She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him back.
"Oh Flessen, I don't know what I would do with out you, your such a good friend of mine. It really does help to have at least one." She turned and gave him a loud resounding kiss on his cheek.
Letting go of him, and brusquely brushing the wrinkles out of her dress, she ran out of his room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Primal greed, bestial need. This searing, soulless hunger. The dark prince growled, his lips quivering from the sounds. His nose twitched under the decaying smell of human flesh.
Those near the prince recognized his odd temper as one not to be reckoned with. The last time they were graced with it, many had died horrible, inhuman deaths.
The prince, sitting hidden in the shadows of his throne, thought of the hunt. Running, chasing, claws piercing the skin, his teeth tearing the flesh, an odd howl to the red moon.
One Saiyajin guard, standing close to the prince, began to be very worried as he began to sweat, and his lips open and close, occasionally licked by his rather long tongue. He hoped and prayed to the Saiyajin deity that his life be spared for another day.
Suddenly the prince jumped forward onto his feet and stalked out the room, his dark eyes glaring at all he passed.
The numerous slaves scurried about the room preparing the endless luncheon meal for the saiyajin royalty and their guests. The floors were scrubbed, the table washed, and silver polished.
The long banquet table was set, and ceaseless platters of bayakon, hormenin, and the alien delicacy wildebeast were brought forth and displayed on the table.
The prince watched from the dignitaries' doorway as one small slave was burdened under the weight of one particularly large tray of wildebeast. Tiny wisps of blue hair bounced out from beneath her handkerchief, and her forehead was covered in droplets of sweat.
Her polka dotted dress was too small, and at every movement inched up her thighs, threatening to show tantalizing views of her feminine attributes.
The man salivated, thoughts of the hunt seconds before followed by thoughts of his prize, his dark fingers running up her white thighs, pushing the material up out of his way. To his right, a Saiyajin guard coughed, interrupting the procession of his thoughts.
"Sir, the men from the planet Madare are here, and waiting your arrival in the throne room." The dark prince snorted in the face of the taller man, and left the room.
The object of his attention sighed in relief at his absence, though her back was still straining under the weight of the meat she carried.
Coming to an empty spot, she bent her knees slightly so as to bring the bottom of the place to the height of the table and pushed it out of her grasp. She had just fixed the table preparations when the dinner bell ran in the room, calling all slaves to the back wall in a line.
Just outside the door, the bell rang again, this time loud and hollow sounding, vibrating off the empty hall walls, and voices of their king and others were barely discernable.
The king, followed by the prince and other world guests, entered the room for the meal. The king, with his tall forbidding stature, laughed loud and boisterously. Behind him, the prince stood short and quiet, his lips curled in a slight grimace, his eyes glaring at all.
The jolly, deadly king motioned to all to sit where they chose, himself taking the highest seat at the end of the table, his son the seat directly to his right. The men scurried to their seats, like rats the prince thought, and the king motioned for them all to begin on the meal before them.
Out of the corner of his eye, the prince spied his lovely little slave child, then almost chocked on the thought. She was standing nervously between two much taller women, both of who were obviously not very pretty, and whose fat was bulging around in their striped dresses.
Beside him, the king snapped his fingers, and the slaves scurried to the side table to fetch large pitchers of drinks.
His little slave was one of the last to fetch her drink, and was therefore forced to serve at his end of the table. As he saw what she carried, he decided that a hypnotic was exactly the drink he needed that night, and motioned for her with one finger.
She clenched when she knew she couldn't get out of it, and walked rapidly faster towards the prince. His eyes were dark and forbidding, holding in them something hidden that only made her head spin to gaze at.
As she neared him, and bent over close to pour his drink, she felt his stare on her neck, and his breathe on her arm. Something warm and fuzzy rubbed against her thigh, but she dared not look down. The prince growled slightly, and the warmth on her leg disappeared.
"Hey, what have you in the pitcher girl?" The king banged a fist down on the table and motioned for her to come closer. One of his large hands wrapped around her face and pulled her very close.
"Poor me a drink." The toxic smell of his breathe nearly chocked her, and she hurried to do his bidding. He snatched the glass from her, and upon taking a large gulp, he spit the mixture of drink and spit on her face.
He laughed, followed uneasily by the rest of the group in the room, even the servants. She was blinking rapidly trying to get the burning liquid out of her eyes when he took the pitcher and dumped the rest of the contents over her head and in her face.
"Now," he grabbed her by her hair and pulled her close to him. "If I wanted a warm drink, I would order a warm drink. Get me a COLD DRINK!" He dropped the bundle of hair and backslapped her down onto the floor.
The little slave jumped to her feet and stumbled backwards a few steps, then turned and ran to the drink table, all the while mumbling 'Yes your majesty, of course your majesty.'
Next to the prince, a small man sat very uncomfortably, feeling as though the hair on his one side was going to burn off. When he looked over at the prince, he saw his lips were twitching in a snarl, and his teeth were clenched.
As she was replacing his cup with one filled with a cold drink, the cook was announcing dessert.
"Your honorableness, and his guests, I am pleased to bring forth a special dessert, Kaohorton, from the planet of Castraban…"
Bulma stumbled wearily into her room, surrounded by many other tired women. Saiyajin tradition demanded of its slaves bathing every night so as to remove the stench of lower class races.
Women around the room were removing their dresses and kerchiefs, and filing silently into the bathing room, where they bathed together in a large pool of cold water, using a solution of lye and sand to cleanse their bodies that scratched the skin and burned their cuts.
Bulma, in an effort to stifle her yawning, washed quickly on one side, and left the bath pool, drying herself with the dress she was to wear the next day. She had two dresses to wear, both of which were too small on her, and she had to wash at night to ensure clean cloths to wear. But this night she was too tired.
Pulling her wet blue hair into a twist on her neck, she climbed onto the hard pallet she was too sleep every night.
But she couldn't fall asleep. Her mind was moving to quickly for her to calm down to sleep. A certain black prince wouldn't leave her thoughts. His tall, thick hair, such cold black eyes, what would it be like to touch his skin, soft or hard and calloused?
Shaking her head, she wondered where the thought had come from. But his eyes were so familiar, aside from the fact that they were her prince's. 'The Prince's,' she corrected herself. 'He reminded me of something I can't remember. Damn it, why can't I remember.'
She slammed her hands down on the bed, and irritably brushed away a few mostly dry strands of hair from her face.
She turned onto her side, hoping to get some sleep before she had to wake in the morning. Suddenly she thought she saw something from the shadows. Eyes, black, but not cold like her prince's.
She struggled to sit up, but the boy's mouth opened in protest.
"Sleep Bulma," he murmured, the thought echoing in her mind, lulling her to sleep. His voice whispered of forever and never, of beyond the eye, reminding her of something she couldn't remember.
"Please don't leave me alone." The agonized plea touched the ears of both man and child.
A.N. So we know who the slave is, and who the Prince is, but who is the little boy that visits them both? And just what can Bulma not remember?