Chapter Nine:

Bulma woke up to silence, but it woke her like a gunshot and she bolted upright. She remembered everything in an instant, and reality set in before she could recall ever being asleep. But although she knew her own fate, she sighed because Chichi was safe. Nothing had happened to her best friend, and nothing was ever going to happen to her because now she had Goku…

Her mind immediately registered where she was—the prince's bed. She thought this kind of behavior ended when he assaulted her the other day, and forced her to lay there and watch him have sex with that whore… But that was probably too easy. He was probably planning on how he could make her suffer in her last month of peace.

"You say the strangest things when you sleep."

Bulma jumped and turned her head. The prince was lying in bed behind her, narrowing his eyes. How didn't she notice him before? And it looked like he'd been awake for a while, even though Bulma had the feeling that it was extremely early in the day, considering how early she'd fallen asleep last night. It couldn't have been much past sundown, which meant that the sun might not even be up yet.

"E…Excuse me?" Bulma asked. He was staring directly at her, almost flat on his back with his hands behind his head. She jumped when he lifted his knee and the blankets beside her moved with him.

"Makes me wonder what you were dreaming about," he said slowly, almost as if she'd done something wrong. But she knew that even if she tried her hardest, there was no way she could remember what she'd been dreaming about. She wasn't even sure that she'd dreamt at all.

"I… don't remember," she said flatly, and she felt like she was about to say something else, but instead a loud knock came from the door She watched the prince's face turn from not unhappy to angry. "I'll get it," she quickly said, jumping up and off the bed. She realized that she was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and Vegeta was wearing pants and a shirt, as well. She'd never seen him sleep with a shirt on before… But both of their clothes were disheveled. Hers even had some dried blood on it. But before she could think too much about it, the knocking at the door became insistent and she hurried to unlock it.

"My prince!—"

Bulma blinked a few times at the familiar face in front of her. She never thought she'd seen her again, or at least not so soon.

"You're not… oh, right. I remember you. You're friends with Chichi, right? I forgot you're the prince's little slave girl," the woman laughed. It was the gossiper that Maron was forced to replace in the kitchens so that she could go be a whore for the Saiyans. And she was certainly dressed the part—bright red clothes that left little to the imagination. But that meant that she was here to…

"What are you doing?" Vegeta asked, suddenly standing right behind Bulma. She froze, but realized he wasn't talking to her. "I didn't call for anyone."

"I know. My bosses tell me that you haven't called anyone in a few days, actually. They were getting worried, so they sent me to take care of you, my Lord." She did a little curtsy and Bulma gulped, slowly moving out of the way. "And I may be new for you, but trust me. I've had a lot of training. And most of it was especially to your tastes, my handsome prince."

There was a pause between the three of them that seemed to stretch on too long, and Bulma suddenly felt like it was her fault. She was in the way, right? It was only awkward for her because she didn't want to be involved. This was how it always was, and this was how it would stay.

"Servant woman," Vegeta finally said, and she looked up at him. He wasn't even looking at her. "You want to see that Earthling girl?" he asked, and of course she did, but she didn't know how to respond. "Go get me some food from the kitchens, and find yourself some proper clothes… And… take your time."

The kitchen gossip-whore suddenly beamed with delight and stepped under the doorway. Bulma just stared at her for a moment before giving a slight bow and stepping out into the hallway. She turned just in time to see the prince closing the door behind her. Their eyes met for a moment and she thought he was going to hold the door and say something, but he didn't. And the moment passed by like it was nothing.

Bulma took a long breath and tried to steady her heart and her mind. She had to stop getting weird feelings whenever the prince gave her a little attention that didn't involve something mean or selfish. Just because he did a couple nice things and said some nice words, that didn't make him a good person. She had to keep telling herself that. And she realized she'd been having to tell herself that a lot recently…

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"I'm sorry, Bulma…"

Bulma blinked at her black-haired best friend and it took her a moment. She'd just given her a big hug and told her how happy she was that nothing bad ended up happening to her in the end. Goku had apparently just taken her from the throne room pretty quickly after her and Vegeta had left. This was a good thing, so…

"What do you mean?" Bulma asked. "You don't have to be sorry for anything."

"But now… next month… Everyone is going to be…" Chichi lowered her head and Bulma jumped when she started crying. She didn't know what to do.

"It's not like it wasn't going to happen one day, anyway," Maron suddenly piped in, looking very unhappy about having to stir yet another doughy mixture for the bakery. She looked odd in the kitchen's apron-uniform, too. It would take some getting used to. "We all knew that Yamcha was going to end up sleeping with all of us eventually. Wasn't that common sense? I'm more surprised that it took them this long to do something about it…"

"You're crazy," Chichi suddenly replied, angry tears on her face. "You have no idea what you're saying. You weren't even there."

"But we did all know… That was the whole reason Yamcha was brought here. Bulma," she said, turning to her, "You and I used to talk about how handsome he was and how we were happy that it was him, and not some brute or Saiyan or… anyone else. For real, though. Imagine if it had to be the Saiyan king or something terrible like that. I'm still happy it's Yamcha, if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't," Chichi spat.

"You have a point, though," Bulma said sadly, and Chichi looked at her like she had four heads. Bulma just shook her head at her. "I mean… since yesterday, all I've been feeling was fear and anxiety… But when you put it like that, then yea. I'm really glad it's not a cruel Saiyan or someone worse. It's just been bothering me… the way he looked. Like he wasn't all there."

"He wasn't," Chichi said, "He was actually mumbling something about having to do it "for him," which was really weird. I was trying to talk to him, but he was just like some kind of rabid animal. Like he couldn't hear anything I was saying, or he was programmed or something to act the way he was and… you know, do what he was told to do. It was creepy, under all the fear and desperation, I guess."

"That's what I thought," Bulma said.

"I heard you, you know," Chichi suddenly said, softly, a small smile showing on her face. "I heard you screaming for me, Bulma."

"I'm so sorry, Chi. There was nothing I could do. I tried…"

"I know. I know that if you could have done something, you would have. I was actually relieved when I heard you. I couldn't see you, but I felt a little better when I heard you."

"And I wanted to apologize… about saying bad things about Goku. I really… I just didn't know that there were any good Saiyans in the world," Bulma laughed. "But I'm so happy that he came for you. You have no idea how great it is to know that he's protecting you from all this."

Chichi smiled. "He really is great."

"Speaking of Saiyan boys," Maron said, exaggerating as she threw down her spatula and stopped stirring the dough mix. Chichi sighed. "How are things with the prince, Bulma?"

"What do you mean?" she frowned.

"Well, you like him, right?"

"What? No!"

"That's not what Chichi said the other day," Maron smirked, and Chichi rose her hands in the air. Bulma glared at her for a minute.

"Hey, I just mentioned that he started acting friendly towards you and that you started actually talking about him to me. That's it, okay?"

"That wasn't it," Maron laughed. "You totally said that she's into him."

There was a long moment of silence where Bulma just gave Chichi a slight glare, and her black-haired friend avoided eye contact. Maron just smirked at both of them.

"Well," Bulma said. "I'm not, so…"

"Oh, come on!" Chichi shouted. A few of the kitchen staff paused for a second to look over at her. "Is it really that hard to just say that you're a little friendly with him?"

"What does that even mean?" Bulma sneered.

"I'm just saying… that apart from about a month ago, you never even mentioned the prince. And now he's a normal conversation topic. So, something changed."

"Yea, and I explained it to you already. He almost died, and I thought, in a moment of weakness, that maybe I should try and get to know him a little better, or at least talk to him for once in my life, and then he started treating me like… a slave… So, now I have something else to complain about. That's all."

"And what about when he asked you to have breakfast with him for the first time? And when he started asking you to sleep in his bed with him? And I told you about those science experiments between Earthlings and Saiyans, didn't I? I was thinking that maybe has something to do with me and Goku, actually…"

"You're exaggerating—"

"It actually sounds more like the prince is into you," Maron said, "Not the other way around."

"That…" Bulma said with a long exhale, "Is even crazier than Chichi's opinion."

"But I see it, too," Chichi frowned. "He's so lenient on you when he has a reputation to just kill people that look at him the wrong way. And you sleep in his bed, Bulma! If you aren't going to agree with us, at least realize the facts."

"He makes me sleep in his bed because he knows it makes me uncomfortable. And for the record, when he asked me to eat breakfast with him, he ended up taking off my collar instead and I ended up in the medical wing. And those science experiments aren't facts. They're just made up."

"And you don't like him at all?" Maron asked.

"No!"

"How about you don't answer so fast and you actually think about it?"

"The answer is still going to be no!"

"I think she's in denial," Maron said to Chichi and Bulma shot her a glare.

"And what about him? You really think he treats you just like he treats everyone else?"

"Of course! If anything, he treats me like I'm some kind of a toy! He uses me for entertainment and that's it. If he's bored, he'll do something cruel. If he's not bored, he'll just ignore me. That's how it's always been."

"I think that maybe you should test out our theory for yourself," Maron suddenly said with a giggle, and Chichi quickly nodded.

"What does that even mean? If I try anything, he's just going to punish me. I'm not kidding, guys. This isn't something to just play around with. If I do something he really doesn't like, he's just going to send me away or kill me on the spot."

"Like that! I think that he would never kill you," Chichi said.

"Yea, well… That's not exactly a test I'm willing to do, okay? Believe it or not with everything that's been going on around here, I do want to continue living. Suicide really isn't my thing."

"You could always just ask him if he likes you," Maron smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. "And I don't mean with words."

"That's disgusting," Bulma spat. "And I already know that he would probably sleep with me if I allowed it. It's not like he's never tried to have his way with me before, you know. That should be proof enough that he doesn't care about me."

"But he didn't," Chichi added. "That's what you told me. You said he stopped. He never really did anything to you like that, right?"

"Yea, because I put up a fight!"

"You think he stops with every girl that puts up a fight?" Maron asked. "Uh, hell no. He's Prince Vegeta. He does what he wants. Everyone knows that. So, the fact that he stopped is proof that he treats you like you're special."

"He just treats me like I'm in charge of cleaning his plate and preparing his baths. What's the point of talking about this stuff anyway?"

"Just think about it, okay?" Maron asked, and Bulma rolled her eyes. "No, we're serious. Right, Chichi?" The black-haired beauty nodded. "Just think about what we're saying."

"Okay, fine. I'll think about it. But what's the point? If he doesn't care, everything is exactly where it should be, and nothing changes. And if… If you guys are right, then what, huh? Then he treats me like I'm special. So, what? I'll still have to have sex with Yamcha in a month. I'll still be some weak Earthling girl. I'll still be the prince's chambermaid. Literally… nothing happens. I'm just a little less likely to be killed by him? Then, sure. I guess that's great. So, I'll think about it. Happy?"

"You like him…" Chichi said, but she was frowning. Bulma barely realized it, but she'd started crying. She frowned back.

"I really don't, Chi. He just makes me angry. And sad. There's nothing about him that's worth caring for. He doesn't treat me any differently than anyone else."

"Then why are you crying?"

Bulma wiped the tears off her face, grabbed the handle of her usual food cart and headed for the door. She turned around to see Maron and Chichi still staring at her.

"I can't, okay?" she said, pursing her lips. "We all know that even if I did care about him, it wouldn't get me anywhere. I would just end up hurt. That's all he ever does is hurt me. So, I can't. And I don't want to think about it, either, okay?"

They looked worried, but she couldn't keep talking about this. It was such a silly and pointless topic, anyway. So, she turned and left without another word.

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Bulma neared the prince's chambers with her head down. What were Chichi and Maron thinking, talking about things like that? Sure, it was all fun and games with her and Goku, because she'd been saved by him, and he was different from the other Saiyans. He was kind and compassionate and he acted selflessly to save someone that he cared for. In her case, the prince wasn't capable of that kind of caring. So, what was even the point or thinking about such things? Even if he thought she was worth keeping around for a while, that didn't make him a good person. Because he decided it was best to not have her tortured or killed… that wasn't caring about someone. That was insanity. He did what he wanted to her anyway. She'd been punished. She'd been sent to the infirmary because of him. Thinking about romance with someone like Vegeta was… it was just impossible.

"Help me!"

Bulma looked up and saw the whore sprinting down the hall towards her. She was naked… and bleeding. She cried out as she tripped and fell forward, and quickly stood herself up again, sprinting again.

"Whoa, what happened?" Bulma asked, putting her arm out. "What happened to you? Where's Prince Vegeta?"

"He's going to kill me," the woman cried, slowing just enough to say a few words. She kept glancing behind her, but no one was there. "I just… I didn't know, okay?!"

"No one is coming after you," Bulma said quickly, putting her hands up. "No one is going to hurt you. Just tell me what happened and I can get you some help."

"They told me not to," the woman cried, falling to the floor. But she glanced back again and immediately stood. "They told me! But I thought he liked me. I did everything right. He was really into it and I was so proud, because it was my first time with him and all. I just thought…"

"Slow down. Please. I don't understand." Bulma reached out her hand but the woman shrunk away from it, quickly glancing behind her again.

"I tried to kiss him! I'm so sorry! He's gonna kill me! I'll never do it again, I promise!" she screamed, tears spilling down her face. "He hit me! He shot my arm! He's coming after me! I don't wanna die!"

"W-What?" Bulma stammered. She looked at the bleeding wound on the woman's shoulder for only a moment, red spilling down her arm, before she bolted down the hall. Bulma knew she had to get the food to the prince's room, but she wanted to get that woman some help… And how was she that afraid? What did Vegeta do to her? Over just a kiss—especially when they were probably doing much more indecent things than that… And that probably meant that he was going to be I a terrible mood when she got back. She looked up, half expecting him to be charging down the hall, but he never came. And she knew he wasn't coming.

Sighing, she rolled the food cart to the door of his chambers, unlocked it, and pushed it inside. Just as the door shut behind her, the prince stepped out of the bathroom, wiping his wet hair with a towel. He was, thankfully, wearing a pair of spandex pants, although he was shirtless, as usual.

"Did… something happen?" Bulma slowly asked, not meeting his eyes.

"What are you babbling about?" he grumbled.

"Nothing. I just thought… that girl would still be here. Usually you take a bit longer…"

"If you want to watch again, all you have to do is ask."

"No, thank you."

She quickly set up his usual spot at the long table and pushed the car off to the side of the room. It took her a couple minutes, and he came to sit down just in time.

"I'll prepare you a bath," she said quickly, looking for an excuse to not be near him. He wasn't openly irritated, but maybe he was just hiding it.

"I just showered," he replied tersely.

"Oh… Then, I'll… go get you some new sheets."

"You just replaced them yesterday," he said.

"Well, I thought… that your pillows were a little too thin last night, so I'll go get you some new—"

"The pillows are fine," he growled, and Bulma finally looked over at him. "And I'm sure you had other things to think about last night. I doubt the thickness of my pillows was what you were worried about." He shoveled some hot food into his mouth and glowered at her. Bulma gulped, not knowing what she was supposed to be doing, then.

"Is there… anything else I can get you?"

He didn't reply, and she found herself standing there, in front of him as he ate, for a good few minutes. It was silent, but a knock came at the door, immediately followed by the prince slamming his fist on the table. Bulma jumped, but moved to open the door. She heard Vegeta mumbled angrily about how people couldn't leave him alone for a couple hours.

"Yes?" Bulma said, finding a thin, wobbly-looking soldier in the threshold. She looked down and narrowed her eyes. "Hey," she said, noticing a familiar large bag. "That's my stuff!"

"Here you go, my Lord," the feeble soldier said, quickly bowing towards Vegeta and pushing Bulma's luggage through the door. He bowed again and left in a hurry.

"Hey!" Bulma called after him, but the door nearly shut in her face. She turned angrily. "What is this? Why is my stuff here?" she asked.

"Your room has been vacated for the time being. You'll be moving in here until I say otherwise."

"Excuse me?" she huffed, placing her hands on her hips and giving him a glare. "And for what reason, exactly?"

"So when my father sends someone to come get you for the mating, I'll know the exact moment when I'll have to replace you."

Bulma stood silent for a moment. She'd forgotten about the mating for a peaceful moment, and she couldn't find the will to argue once it entered her mind again. She lowered her head and looked at the floor. She heard the chair squeak along the floor as it moved, and she squeezed her eyes shut when she heard the prince step closer to her.

"Just… leave me alone," she whispered.

She gasped when he grabbed her arm and she looked up at him. She met his eyes and regretted it, as always. He was staring at her and it was intimidating. Was he trying to scare her? Of course he was… What else was new? She hoped his boredom wouldn't last too long this time.

"If I do this," he suddenly said, gripping her arm a bit tighter. She winced. "What would you do?"

"I'm really not in the mood for your stupid games—"

"This," he said, grabbing her other arm. He pulled her hand until it rested on his arm. "Dig your nails into my wrist, here." He moved her fingers along his skin and Bulma gulped again. "Between these two tendons…" She felt them under his skin. "And if I do this," he said, lifting her suddenly and shoving her against the wall. She gasped, but it didn't hurt. "What would you do?"

"Vegeta, cut it out—"

"Kick," he said, "When your arms are pinned." He reached down and ran the back of his hand over her thigh. She shivered for a split second, but then tried to kick him for real. He smirked and caught her leg. "Good," he whispered. "And if I do this…" He spun her around and the side of her face hit the wall. Bulma groaned and struggled, but his weight was pinning her against the wall. "You go straight down." He immediately lifted her into the air, and in the next moment he had her pinned down on his bed.

"Get off me," Bulma warned.

"If I do this," he said slowly, pinning her arms above her head with one hand and grabbing a handful of her shirt with the other. He pinned her legs with his own so she couldn't move. Bulma instinctively spit in his face. She expected him to respond by hitting her, but instead he chuckled. "No," he said. "You'll twist… here." The hand grabbing her shirt slowly moved down to her waist and he gently grabbed her, moving her where he wanted her to go. Bulma felt her face get hot. "Until one of your legs is free."

"What are you doing?" she suddenly asked, but he ignored her and flipped her over in another motion. She got dizzy for a second. He pinned her arms behind her back and pushed her face into the pillows.

"Now, what do you do?" he asked, and she squirmed, but he held her arms tighter and she almost cried out.

"Stop! You're hurting me!"

He loosened his grip on her wrists, but she felt his face lean down next to hers. "No one is going to help you, you know," he whispered, flipping her over again. He was over her, but he didn't hold her down again. Bulma was panting. "But if you can knock him out, you can at least buy yourself some time."

"What?" she breathed. "What are you talking about?"

He paused, staring down at her for a few seconds. "I don't know. Whatever." He rolled off the bed and stood. Bulma stared at him in shock. Was this… about the mating? Was he trying to show her how to defend herself? How silly… if she tried, she'd just end up getting knocked out or held down by someone else… There was no point to this… But Chichi and Maron's words suddenly rang in her mind. Was this… did the prince honestly care? Or was this just some stupid fetish game to get her on his bed again?

"Wait," she suddenly said, and Vegeta turned back to her. What was she doing? "What if… my hair… What if someone grabs my hair?"

He lifted an eyebrow, but sat back down on the bed. He reached over and grabbed her hair. She thought he was going to hurt her for a moment, but instead he just held her aquamarine hair in his palm, sliding between his fingers like water.

"If anyone tries to rip out this hair, I'll kill them myself."

"W… What?"

"If I do that," he said, crawling back over her. He gently took a fistful of her hair. Bulma's eyes went wide. "What would you do?"

"I… I don't know," she whispered. It felt like she was losing her voice. Maybe it was from all the screaming she did yesterday. That had to be it…

"Forget about it," he said softly, almost sadly. "Let it get ripped out. Worry about it later. Just get away, however you can."

"And what if…" Bulma slowly tried to look at his face, but she couldn't do it. Her eyes rested on his collarbone and his throat. She didn't dare raise her gaze any higher. "What if… I do this?" she whispered, slowly bringing her hand up and placing it flat against his bare chest. Her heart was beating too hard against her ribs and her face was too hot. What was she doing?

He released her hair and just hovered over her, his elbows on either side of her. He didn't move and he didn't respond. But she knew he was looking at her. She could feel the heat from his eyes on her face. But she couldn't move, either. She knew she had to take her hand off him, but she couldn't.

"You… wouldn't do anything?" she suddenly found herself asking. She knew her face had to be beat red by now, but strangely enough, she didn't care.

"You tell me."

"What if I… did this?" she whispered hoarsely, slowly moving her fingers up to his collarbone. Then his shoulder, and the side of his neck, until her fingertips found the edge of his hair, and her hand was against the side of his face. She still couldn't look past his chin, and she couldn't even blink. God, what was she doing?

"What do you think I should do?" he asked, and her mind snapped a little back to attention from hearing his voice. She knew his tone meant that he was smirking at her. Was this all just part of his little game? This game he played because he was bored again? She was just a toy, wasn't she? God, she hated herself for letting him win. She drew back her hand and quickly folded her arms across her chest, turning her head to the side and waiting for him to get off her.

But he didn't move. And she found herself not wanting to give up, either. If she tried to do anything else now, he would be getting what he wanted. So, she remained still and silent, waiting. And it stayed that way for a couple minutes.

"What do you want?" she suddenly asked.

"What do you want?" he slowly replied. But his tone wasn't mocking or jeering. She wanted to look up at him to see his expression, but she didn't dare. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction this time around.

She kept frowning, staring at the far wall. He wasn't getting off her, and she felt like this was a stalemate. But she heard Chichi and Maron's words ring in her head again. Maybe the prince did treat her like she was special, but that didn't mean he cared about her. And maybe he didn't want to kill her, but maybe that was temporary, too. The truth was that she had no idea what was going on in his head, and now her brain was begging her to find out. What if Chichi was right—not about her liking him, but him caring about her? It was possible… right? In his own way, he had just been trying to help her before. That was about the mating ritual, right? That was about defending herself against Yamcha? Or it was just another one of his sick games, and she was very, very wrong. Everything about him confused her. How was someone capable of such evil also capable of caring? That was impossible… He murdered thousands, destroyed planets, and her friends honestly believed that he wouldn't kill her if she did something he hated…

And she didn't know why, but she needed to know now. She turned her head and looked right at him. He lifted an eyebrow, clearly unfazed, and Bulma glared at him for only a moment.

"What if I did this?" She reached up to his face, placed one hand against his cheek, and pressed her lips against his.