"I could have loved you, Vegeta, loved as Yukio, the brat prince, the arrogant and demanding husband. There was something so pure and innocent about your anger. I know now that the reason behind it is the grief you carry for the death of your true parents; I am not the only orphan in this marriage…After such humiliation, however, I find I shall never love as I dreamed. Hate shall consume my soul as it has for years, and I will die unhappy and bitter with the life I have led." Her arms were around him suddenly, and for a moment he couldn't breath, couldn't think. "Had you not been my prince, lord," she whispered, her lips grazing his ear. "Had I never laid eyes on you, and had my heart not already begun its inevitable coarse to love…Death I can handle, Vegeta. Heartbreak, however, shall create a permanent shadow over my soul." She kissed him roughly, then pulled away and went for the door. "I thank you kindly for those first months of ignorant bliss. They may catch me if I fall."
And then she was gone, and he knew there was no winning her back.
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Vegeta sat on their bed for a long while, his mind as hazy as his vision. He wasn't crying, however. He did not believe he could ever cry, even if he tried to force it. His expression of emotions had somehow been damaged over time and so all his turmoil boiled and rotted within.
And then the scene enveloped him, bombarding his brain as if he were still living the horror of what he had done. When had he lost control like that before? When had innocent others taken the brunt? When had Frieza's tyrannous cruelty driven him so far?
But he knew the answer.
It was her. Her mere presence that pushed his sanity to the limits. Ever since the king had given his decree, that he was to marry Princess Nyoko, his soul had been shaken. Nyoko? Bulma? Her? No! Not her! That could not have been what the plan was about. But how could he, a mere child, prevent their evil schemes? But he had tried, hadn't he? He was going to train her an hour earlier that night in hopes of taking her as far from the palace as possible. That had been a childish plan however, for the princess was never meant to die; only the king and queen, and there was no possible way he could have saved them. Acknowledging that he knew of the treasonous plan would land him at the tip of an angry sword.
His frustration at the entire situation, at his entire pathetic life, had been taken out on his wife, his princess and queen, the girl he had trained into the fighter she was today. He had trained. He had…
He bowed his head, snapping his eyes shut tight. He had betrayed the woman he was supposed to protect. His true father had been a harsh man, to say the least, but he had strong loyalties to his family and his allies. The Briefs had been his allies, before he and his wife were slain in cold, ruthless blood. The night he died he had written an urgent letter to King Briefs, warning him of King Frieza's deception. Unfortunately, the message never went further than his writing table. King Briefs was never warned, and some five years later their kingdom was attacked and Bulma was kidnapped.
For so long he had blamed himself for her misfortunes. But slowly, over time, he had come to realize that, as a boy, he had no say in what occurred in his life. Though now those crushing thoughts were returning. He could have avoided this horror for her, this marriage to him, to the kingdom that had destroyed both their families. If he had taken his life, or charged into one of the many tiny battles that constantly raged throughout the kingdom. Mini revolts that were put down immediately. Then Bulma would be married off to some other prince, a man with no connection to her past, a man who could not hurt her so deeply when their past was revealed.
He wondered suddenly where she had stormed off to, and realized just as suddenly that it would undoubtedly be here training chamber. And while he knew that it was not right for a woman in her condition, he also knew that if she did not get out much of her aggression, and soon, she might very well harm herself and their ever-growing child.
And then his breathing came to a halt, his eyes snapped open, and he could not force himself to stay seated, to stay away from his wife. Of course an heir was something to be overjoyed about, but he was not in the way most kings were. Ever since he had come to live with Frieza, it was his wish that he could have a son that would be powerful and aid him in the destruction of his pseudo grandfather. A selfish and demanding wish, yet it was what he prayed for day and night.
That, and that Bulma could one day see that he had never meant to wound her.
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"Woman!" Vegeta called as he approached the training room. He tried to keep his voice low and measured, but it seemed the more he tried, the more his voice betrayed what he truly felt. "Wo—Bulma," he tried, his hand tugging open the door handle. "B—" But the room was dark and empty, the chains holding the punching bag still and untouched.
He took a deep, calculated breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. It took all his willpower not to howl out in anger. He had to keep reminding himself over and over that it was his fault that she was upset, for the moment he laid eyes on the deserted room, he knew exactly where she was.
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Eizo stared in stunned confusion at the wet mess of a woman that stood on his fourth story balcony. How she had reached such heights in the beating rain, and that confining little dress, was beyond him. But now was not the time for such questions. She was here, and that was all that mattered at the moment.
With no more hesitation, he pulled her soaking body to him and into his lavish apartments. Her face was pink with cold, her plump lips trembling. But Kami! How beautiful she was! The perfect way in which her stunning aqua locks clung haphazardly to her face. Even the slight redness around her eyes was perfect. But she had been crying, and was crying now, and it was time for comfort, not ogling over the mere sight of her.
He led her hunched form to the bed, sitting her down gently, and then he sat beside her. There was nothing sexual in what he did; in fact, that was the furthest thing from his mind right now. Certainly it was not that they were banished from seeing one another, for his letter had come nearly two weeks ago, and if it had upset her this much she would have come instead of sending the messenger.
"Bulma, please," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Tell me your woes."
"I-I-I…" She took short, gasping breaths, her face buried in Eizo's rock hard robe-clad chest. "I cannot…cannot…"
"Cannot tell me?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain still. When had she kept secrets—His eyes fell to the floor and he sighed. Her name was Bulma, not Nyoko, and that had been the biggest secret of all.
"No, no," she whispered, pulling her head back and wiping her nose on her silken sleeve. He chuckled at the gesture; he loved her tomboyish ways almost as much as he loved her. "I cannot believe what has happened to me…"
"What has happened, my love?"
But instead of giving him the answer, she wrapped her arms around his thick neck and lowered him to his back. Pulling up her tight skirts, she straddled him, her mouth immediately clamped on his. He pushed her away almost roughly and climbed off the bed, leaving her confused and somewhat angry.
"Am I not good enough for you now?" she spat, rising from the crumpled sheets as well. And that was when she noticed it; the sheets were far too messed from their few seconds on the bed. And Eizo was still in his day clothes, so she could not have woken him from sleep. "You've found a new mistress already?" Suddenly she didn't have the stomach for a romp with her old lover.
"Don't you turn these events around on me, princess!" he hissed back, startling her. He had only ever raised his voice at her a few times in the long time they have known each other. And now it seemed he was always mad at her. The identity, the cancellation of their affair, and now this! "You have your king to share a bed with! And I have finally found love, Bulma! I, who have sprouted innumerable sweet words of poetry, gushing at the chance to love—I have found it and you shout at me!"
Bulma seemed frozen in terror for a moment, her lips still and straight, and then the most alarming thing happened. She began to laugh, throwing her head back and holding her stomach as if she would burst. Her eyes were watering again, but she was happy this time, or so it appeared. Eizo tried not to let his guard down; he kept his distance and watched her with careful eyes.
"Calm yourself, dear prince," she said, the laughter still behind her voice. She eased herself onto the bed and patted the spot next to her. Hesitantly he took a seat. "Forgive me. I have much on my mind as of late."
"No, forgive me," he sighed, curling his arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently towards him. "You came here seeking comfort and I could not deliver. Shall we start over?"
She laughed again, and this time he was able to enjoy it, breath it in almost like a lovely perfume.
"To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" he asked. Her eyes lowered suddenly and she shook her head.
"I need wordless comfort right now, prince," she whispered, her voice low and husky as she advanced on him, her pert breasts pressed hard against him.
He grabbed her wrists, and for a moment she thought he would reject her again, and then he calmly forced her on her back, whispering in her ear: "Do not call me prince, my limber queen."
"Then what shall I call such an expert?" she giggled, her breath become dotted with tiny gasps of mounting pleasure.
"My name," he breathed, pulling at the tough fabric of her soaking clothes that were clinging to her tight little body. After some rough tugging, Bulma finally offered her assistance, peeling the silk from her moist and hot form.
"Eizo," she cooed, lying back on his blue velvet pillows. How she loved this bed, how she had missed it. So much different from the bed she now slept in. "Eizo, come to me…" He obeyed, lying between her spindly legs, his lips pressed to her flat belly, kissing and suckling at the smooth clammy skin. She buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him almost violently to her face. "Who am I?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing viciously. For a split second Eizo believed she was angry.
"Bulma," he answered, dipping his head into the crook of her neck, to her sweet spot; her collarbone. "Bulma…" With one hand he was tearing off his loose garments, cursing silently to himself when buttons wouldn't work properly. "Bulma," he said again, finally getting his pants off. Without wasting a moment, she grabbed a hold of him, and shoved him fiercely into her, crying out in stunted pleasure; the friction seemed too much; the sadness consumed her. "B-Bulma," he breathed, his voice in the back of his throat. Oh, it seemed eons since they were last together. "Bulma…"
"Vegeta," she gasped, pressing into his lower back and meeting his thrusts perfectly.
But then he stopped, staring down at her, and she nearly choked on her fear.
Abruptly Eizo climbed off her and off the bed, snatching up his clothes.
"Vegeta?" he said, tugging on his pants. He jerked on his robe as if that were what he was upset with. "That is not the name of your husband, princess. Who else are you rolling around with?"
"Only my husband, Eizo, I swear," she said almost frantically, running to his side without care that she was completely nude. "That is why I came, Eizo. His name is not Yukio. His name is Vegeta, and we knew each other when I was a girl in my true kingdom. Please! You must believe this!"
Eizo stiffened at her touch, turning his shoulder to her.
"I betrayed my love for you, Bulma. I shared my bed with you only moments after she left, and these are the falsities you feed me?"
"Eizo, you must!" She was pleading now, dropped to her knees and pulling hysterically at his robe. "I tell nothing false, believe my words! He is a man named Vegeta! And I am with child and have never been more terrified in my entire life!" Her body collapsed on the cold floor; she was weeping.
"You are with child?" Eizo gasped, dropping to her side. He took off his robe and wrapped it around her crumpled, shivering form. The moment it passed her lips he knew what it could mean. "Who—"
"I do not know, my love," she whispered into the floor. "Your son may very well be growing inside me. Forgive me when I say I hope that is not true."
The words stung, but he knew she was right and it was for the best. That was the last thing their situation needed.
"Come." He lifted her off the floor and into his enormous walk-in closet. Not only did he have rows and rows of his finery, but gorgeous women's clothing as well, rich in color and soft to the touch. "We will dress and join my family at a late supper. Juri will be most gracious for your company."
"I wish—"
"You can and you must," he insisted, capturing her lips in that way only he could do; she would now do whatever he asked of her. "I have missed you so, princess…"
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"I know she is here," he said, stepping into the hall and out of the rain. The young servant seemed to tremble as he granted him entrance, not questioning the fact that he had come without a servant of his own. "Bring me to her and you shall be generously compensated."
"The Lady Nyoko?" the servant asked, just to be sure he was not mistaken. He would never betray his family.
"Yes, the 'Lady' Nyoko," he sneered, brushing past the servant and forging ahead without direction. He already knew that she would be in one of two places. He decided it best to seek her out in the less likely place; he would not admit, however, that discovering her in the arms of her lover would crush him substantially.
He rounded the corner, and came face to face with the guards of the banquet hall. The hum of voices beyond the door told him the king and queen were to supper. He did not care.
"I am sorry, sir," said one of the two guards, holding his staff over the entry. "I cannot grant you entrance without permission."
"My name is Vegeta Ouji, Prince of the Cold Empire. If I am not granted access immediately it will be your heads." The guards looked to one another, gulping loudly, then stepped aside. Though neither had even seen the prince, they knew that it must be he. They had heard many a story of his cruel nature, the way he made even the bravest of men tremble at the mere sound of his voice; he was definitely who he claimed to be.
And so they opened the doors.
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"We have so missed your company, Nyoko, since you have been wooed and wed," Queen Rina said, lifting her gem-stunned goblet in a toast to the visiting princess. The young Juri smiled sheepishly over at the woman she had idolized her entire life; oh how she missed her beautiful Tadao; she wanted nothing more right now than to pull Bulma aside and ask her what had gone wrong. "How are you taking to your new accommodations at the Cold Palace?"
"Very well," she said, taking a sip of the deep red wine. Her head buzzed luscious for a moment and she smiled despite her unsettled soul. This family did not deserve to bear witness to her woes. "I am adjusting far better than I believed I would."
"That is how it usually happens, as I try to explain to my daughter," she laughed, the icy mist of tears just behind her eyes. She had adored Tadao as well, and the presence of Nyoko made it all the more difficult to move on and accept that he would never marry their daughter. "Your husband and his father are treating you well and a part of the family?"
"Yes, well enough." I want them dead!
"That is wondrous news, my dear. I do hope your good fortune continues. Perhaps there will be news very soon of an heir to the throne."
"Yes," Bulma said, bowing her head slightly. "Perhaps." Under the table Eizo grabbed her hand and squeezed it lovingly. Both feared, and somehow knew, that this very well could be their last meeting together in this fashion. Vegeta would figure out soon enough that she was missing from the palace and right away he would know where she fled. Nothing good could come from this, but she was not sorry for having come.
"To—" But the queen was cut off as the doors to the entryway swung open. Prince Vegeta, in all his finery, came dashing in and right up to the table without being advised. No one expected such courtesies from him. "Why, Prince Vegeta. To what do we owe this visit?" Inside she was brimming with anger. No royal of any kingdom much liked the Cold Empire, and especially not its king and prince.
"It seems my silly young queen has forgotten her etiquette," he said, looking directly at Queen Rina, who could not withhold her sneer any longer. She turned away to her husband. "My palace has been in an uproar in her absence. I was not informed that she was coming to pay a visit to her good friends."
"Do I always need your permission, husband?" Bulma asked haughtily, allowing only him to see the fire in her eyes.
"You have been ill for many days, my dear," he said, narrowing his eyes sympathetically. "I would have gladly escorted you here."
"I have done very well on my own. But I do thank you for your excellent concern." She turned away and took a long gulp of wine. "Now, what were we discussing?"
The table was silently outraged and somehow frightened. To treat your master and husband in such a way was unheard of! Vegeta and Eizo alone were unaffected by her attitude.
"Princess," Vegeta began, but Bulma was already to her feet.
"Very well, prince!" she snapped, bowing graciously to the king and queen and princess. Eizo quickly stood with her and stole a kiss on the cheek. "I shall forever miss you, my love," she whispered in his ear so that only he could hear. His sad smile told her the feelings were returned. "Farewell my friends. I shall come to visit again, if my good husband permits me to. Farewell."
Vegeta was raging with anger by the time they reached the carriage.
"Say your harsh words now and be done with it," she said, crossing her arms and sitting back.
"You are with child, princess!" he whispered angrily; he would not have the driver hear their brawl. "Have you no respect?"
"I have plenty of respect for those who respect me," she countered, not daring to look at him. She refused to fall victim to his smoldering looks and delicious full lips. She reminded herself that her passion had been quelled and she was beyond angry with this man beside her.
"You are as impossible has you have ever been!"
"How convenient that you should know such things about me."
"You are trying my patience—"
"And you are trying my soul!" she cried, looking at him finally. "Leave me be!" He had his hands around her waist before she knew it, his lips pressed wonderfully to hers. Give in, give in, give in…"Please, sire," she whispered, pushing him back. "Do not harm me anymore. I am carrying your child. Let that be payment enough."
"But I do not wish—"
"And I did not wish to be captured from my kingdom, given to another, and then sold to yours. My heart barely beats, my prince. I am so angry with you. Do not let that anger turn to hatred."
Vegeta opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again, saying nothing. He had been so afraid that she did hate him, but now that that was not the case, he could not press her any further tonight. Some day he would pay his debts to her. For now he would give her much needed space.
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---Chapter 9!! Well, well, well. Not much happened :P Ok, a little did. But more will happen later. This was a set-up chapter of sorts. :)
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Next time: A procession? Will the kingdom soon find out about the heir? And what of Bulma and Vegeta's relationship? How will she act around King Frieza now, knowing the truth?
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