Recap: As Bulma prepares to leave Vegeta's homeland, she is confronted by his mother about his state of mind. Despite setbacks, including his painful panic attack breakdown in Bulma's arms, the prince is trying to maintain perspective. Some see grander plans for their future together, while others would prefer that the lovers remain apart. A surprising revelation may do just the latter.


3:30 p.m. CET - Friday

Cerinthe, Hegemone

"Accept it"

Bulma proceeded with royal gracefulness down the mansion's extended portico, closely followed by an attendant carrying her bags. She was a breathless sight in white, as she had been when Vegeta's solemn, dark eyes first set on her visage when she arrived in Hegemone. She couldn't stop thinking about those deeply rooted windows of gleaming volcanic rock. She smiled modestly. The description was fitting, as well as cliché, considering how others liberally compared the prince's demanding character to terrestrial ruptures. He had also confirmed in her presence, once and for all, that his bark could have a deadly bite.

A tall, raven-haired attendant, who looked no older than twenty-one, clasped his hands and bowed. "Ms. Brief, the queen requests your company before departing. Your plane is on standby at the airstrip."

His soft-spoken appeal nudged Bulma from her musing. "Yes, of course. How are Queen Danae's spirits?" She uttered the last question somewhat hesitantly. Vegeta's younger cousin Turles had kept Bulma entertained at dinner the night before and, primarily, a watchful an eye on his aunt, who retired to her room shortly after dining. Bulma found Turles delightfully funny, smart, and easygoing. He couldn't hide his admiration for Vegeta even if he tried, which Bulma also found endearing. He also confided some concerns about the prince to her, after Danae and Tarble left, hoping that she would follow. She didn't say much, though, opting instead to steer him from the subject.

Bulma's escort eyed her, slightly surprised and pleased that she broached conversation about Danae. The mansion's elite staff had gossiped, of course, about how the fetching American woman had managed to capture the prince's attentions – as well as the queen's. Danae's sudden trust and fondness for Bulma had concerned a few quite strongly, in particular. Others found it interesting. General Nappa's relaxed response to the fashion designer's relations with their liege calmed their concerns, somewhat.

"She was feeling poorly again, I am told," the attendant said, holding out his arm. "That is why she did not have breakfast with you. She…has spoken with Prince Vegeta, however."

Bulma couldn't tell whether the otherwise polite helper was being nosy or attempting earnestly to anticipate her immediate concerns. Regardless, she had no plans to ask anyone except the queen or Nappa about Vegeta. She hadn't seen the prince since he left in a hurry the day before. He had not come home, either, having decided to stay a secret location with Nappa and some other advisers. It also had been strange that King Vegeta sent his greetings and well wishes after Bulma arrival - and, now, before her departure - but not once had the man appeared in the flesh.

"I am sorry to hear that about the queen," she said with concern, as well as a pang of guilt. Sure, she hadn't caused Danae's condition, but her presence at first had caused the queen stress, compounded by her kingdom and son's troubles.

Her escort nodded and opened a door leading to another secluded library. "You have nothing to worry about, Ms. Brief. The queen rallies – especially for those who impress her, which I take it you have, as much as you did with Prince Vegeta. This is where I take my leave."

"Thank you," Bulma said politely. "Also, I must say, you seem to make a lot of assumptions. I wonder what the prince would think about your openness." Her response had been more mischievous than critical, but it never hurt to draw a line of propriety about private matters. The younger man's disarming voice and gentle brown eyes were useful tools for establishing trust with another – and for gathering what could be extremely useful information.

Unexpectedly, he man grinned. "My fealty rests…with this great country, of which the prince is more than a mere figurehead. Good day, my lady. We should not keep the queen waiting longer."

Bulma rested her hand muff on a Moroccan lattice-style wooden chest before approaching Danae. The queen looked over her teacup's rim, taking stock of Bulma's exquisite clothing ensemble. "Impressive. I can see why my son is smitten with you, in more ways than one. You met him the airport dressed like this when you first arrived?"

Bulma's face flushed. Earlier, she had stood her ground with Vegeta's forthright mother and enjoyed her company. Now, again, she felt like a hesitant schoolgirl. She straightened herself and smiled. "I did. Actually, this outfit is more practical than it looks. The top coat is especially warm. It's perfect for this winter weather."

Danae appeared entertained by her new friend's gentle protests. "First, I want to apologize personally for my husband's purposeful avoidance of you. The behavior is unacceptable, and I make no excuses for his rudeness. Of course, King Vegeta is no fool either – most the time. The fact that our son brought you into our home was enough. The idea of Vegeta courting anyone other than a native Saiyan sets his dentures on edge."

Apparently Danae was warming to the idea of a betrothal for her son, Bulma thought, and the queen looked like she had much more on her sharp mind. Exasperated, Bulma had to regain control, quickly, before their conversation crashed and burned. "Your majesty, I thought we moved on from that topic…"

"You are not leaving on that plane until I get the truth, so make yourself comfortable," Danae courteously ordered. "I spoke with my son already."

Bulma looked confused. "But I haven't lied to you about anything. Did he say something?"

"It is what he is not saying, my dear. How could either of you expect me not to know that he rushed in yesterday extremely upset? While I usually don't want staff to inform me about my son's every move, in this case one person was concerned enough to tell me. I shouldn't have to say that Vegeta probably would have this brave lad's head in a rusty, dull guillotine for telling me."

Bulma cringed at the queen's exaggeration of Vegeta's taste for vengefulness, which belied the depth of Danae's true concern. Once again, she had been cornered by her. Was everything a chess game with this family? Even if she had wanted to marry Vegeta, she was not nearly as calculating as Danae. Not by a long shot – not in this way, at least. She decided to play "honorable lady" again.

"Danae, let me ask you this," she said pointedly. "Put yourself in my boots. Would you not feel somewhat blackmailed by a discussion such as this? You have every right to be concerned about your son, as we discussed earlier, but I believe you both will have an easier time speaking candidly - after I leave Hegemone."

Frustrated, Danae struck her cane on the floor. "Come now, woman! What is it? Alcohol? Drugs? I suspect the former. Surely you can set aside these half-hearted attempts to preserve Vegeta's pride to inform me, considering your close… friendship with him."

Fed up, Bulma leaned forward and said, "Make a decision and stick with it, Danae. Either you respect me or not. I won't stand for having that part of my relationship with Vegeta thrown in my face whenever it's convenient for you."

Danae didn't budge. "And I told you he struggles. I am not so fragile that I cannot handle the truth. I chose you to deliver the message, because I know you wanted to after we met. Nappa and Vegeta cannot dictate when I reach the graveyard. As long as I'm still breathing, though, I will stand by my son to help him." She looked down to hide misty eyes. "I have... been foolish, Bulma, so incredibly foolish."

Danae's stricken look pierced Bulma's kind heart again. "Look, I know what it's like to watch a beloved parent's health decline, with death not far ahead. Trust me, you are Vegeta's inspiration. He has been ashamed of facing you, or anyone else, with his problems. My heart goes out to you both. I will say that he hasn't been drinking for some time, and he is leading. You can see that."

"Leadership means nothing if he dies by his hand," Danae said bitterly. "It is my job now to take charge. My strength is declining, but others still respect me." Realizing how this sounded, she tried to smile. "Hear me well. I have the utmost faith in my son."

Bulma studied her. "But your faith and trust do not extend to others looking to undermine Vegeta," she continued. "Therefore, all of this must be kept secret, you believe. You do realize, however, that Nappa can't protect him forever. You must accept it, just like I have now, despite my fears about what could happen. Vegeta was not in a good state when I first saw him yesterday, but he will be eventually. I also suspect that those who support him wholeheartedly will continue to do so."

Danae touched her chest. "What happened? How bad was it?" Bulma, who had been pouring more tea, felt the tiny hairs rise on the back of her neck. They weren't alone. She turned around.

"Both of you have talked long enough, I believe," a deep voice said from the rear. When he emerged from the shadows, Vegeta's eyes fixed on Bulma, who held his gaze without shame. His mannerisms were subdued, but the women could tell he was angry. Danae pointed at the settee, motioning for him to sit near Bulma. He didn't, opting instead to recline on the wall.

"What do you expect?" the queen pleaded. "I realize that I have pressed you too hard. Now it's confirmed. I am sorry, darling."

"Stop it, mother," Vegeta said quietly. His eyes returned to Bulma. "How much did you tell her?"

"Do not focus your anger on her," Danae said firmly. "I asked her to see me before leaving."

"I'm sure you did," Vegeta replied coldly, "but that does not make Ms. Brief less guilty for breaking our confidences. I have handled my…difficulties… appropriately for months. It will be a year soon enough."

"Yes, and we still have a referendum vote to manage!" Danae shouted. "People are bombing our capital city! Jackals are biting at your legs, including your good-for-nothing cousin! Son, you must step back, completely, for yourself as well as for Hegemone – for however long it takes. Nappa and I have sent mixed messages. I'm so sorry. Your welfare is paramount, above all else."

A glimmer of hurt flickered in Vegeta's eyes, which soon extinguished. "You also have confided your worries about our livelihood in someone you barely know. In any case, I serve at the pleasure the king and queen. I will accept whatever you…and he… decide."

Danae looked at him sadly. "Apparently, Ms. Brief has a remarkable talent for gaining others' trust and respect. I do believe in you, Vegeta. I always will." Feeling light-headed from the stress, she waved for Bulma to pour water, who rapidly obliged.

Vegeta touched Bulma's shoulder to move back. "Your breathing is irregular, mother." He placed his palm on Danae's forehead. "This flare-up is worse. You feel warm. Let's bring in the doctor."

"I am not feverish," Danae protested grumpily. "For your information, I already consulted with her. Now remove your frigid, clammy hand from me before I bite it off. Honor me by escorting our understanding guest to her plane. You have not laid eyes on her in more than a day, and I am done entertaining on your behalf. Also, at my request, have a conversation – not an argument. We can finish ours later."

Bulma coughed lightly to avoid laughing. Vegeta turned around and smirked. "Having fun at my expense, Ms. Brief? Shall I don a court jester's costume and juggle apples for you, as well?"

Bulma curtsied demurely and replied, "Only if the act brings you enjoyment, your highness." His focus on her was becoming more hypnotic. She shook off the sensation.

In the midst of this, Turles cautiously peeked into the room. "You paged me, aunt Danae?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, boy." Vegeta rolled his eyes at him. "No one has a crossbow aimed at your thick skull, although I'm not sure if it would matter."

"I would have to disagree, cousin, considering that I am a fourth-degree black belt now." Smiling, Turles kneeled beside the queen. "How are you, beautiful? What can I do for you?"

Danae stroked his cheek lovingly. "My son only worries about your welfare, Turles, as I do. We also hold higher black belts and can use weapons. Think about that. You could afford to learn more skills. There is danger around."

"Understood, but right now my focus is you," Turles said.

"As it should be," Vegeta said. "See to it that she actually rests this time. And let's get something straight, boy. I am not worried about you. Never have been. I expect more from someone with your intelligence. Plus, you are far more patient than I will ever be. That could serve you well. Now get out."

Pleased with the compliment, Turles's eyes lit up. "Yes, sir."


Vegeta outstretched his hand to Bulma after exiting the library. She held his shoulder as they walked slowly together to the limousine SUV. She cleared her throat to avoid laughing again.

"Hn. What is it now?"

"Tell me, who trained you to slip between jackass and gentleman so well?"

Vegeta raised a brow. "You and mother do not make it easy." He paused and sighed. "What happened in your bedroom yesterday should have stayed between us."

"Or what, Vegeta?" Bulma crossed her arms indignantly. "Did you expect me to lie? Also, maybe you should ask me what I said first before assuming the worst. You didn't hear the entire conversation, which Danae dominated. I hadn't brought up the panic attack. She asked if you had an addiction."

"Do you think I enjoy keeping secrets from my own mother?" he snapped. "It's for her own good that she doesn't know everything."

"Is it really?" Bulma was incredulous. "She is an adult, like you, and fiercely independent. She's been your adviser her entire life, and now…"

"My battles with these ailments are not hers to shoulder, Bulma! She cannot win them for me."

"You're right – and maybe Danae feels similarly about her condition, with you and Nappa. But that doesn't mean you can't support each other, as equals. Share the pain you've gone through with her, and recognize hers. Let her support you – fully - so you can do the same."

Vegeta didn't speak for the rest of their snowy drive together. Trying to prod him from brooding was a fool's errand, so Bulma didn't engage further. She had said her piece. The sound vacuum surrounding the plane quickly enveloped the car as they approached the airstrip. A guard ran toward Bulma's door, while the prince exited from his side. Vegeta stood back and squinted as she climbed the jet's stairs. Bulma removed a hand from her furry muff and waved before entering. The prince touched his head, extending two fingers into a solemn salute before re-entering the SUV, alone, after ordering the guards to sit in the front and rear.

After a few minutes, he removed a small, black felt box from his pocket. He fingered the red Saiyan crest stamped before opening the container on a bar tray, next to a soon-to-be filled drinking glass. He compared the radiant shimmer of the diamond engagement ring to the swirling snow drifts. He had willingly called himself a fool in front of this magnificent lady. For no other would he have done that - ever. She told him where their relationship stood, with him agreeing that it was in their best interest to step back. Yet, here he was holding an exquisite ring, purchased on a whim, before sending her away. He closed the jewelry box before sipping from the crystal glass.

The car's remaining passengers knew to keep their mouths shut from the moment the beautiful American left Vegeta's side. Like their queen, this, dedicated close group of watchmen secretly hoped that Bulma wouldn't vanish despite not knowing her completely. Then, maybe, their lonesome prince could find peace – and stop terrorizing them. Califula, the smart, impressive guard who helped at the hotel during the bombing, probably felt strongest about this.

"Hegemone has not seen the last of that woman," she told her partner Colla. "Ms. Brief could be the one who helps Vegeta navigate the difficulties our great nation is experiencing differently – in ways that other men surrounding him have not."

"Nonsense, Califula," the skeptical guard replied. "You sound like our government has no powerful, competent women working on Hegemone's behalf. Ms. Brief does not seem like the type - and, since it seems you have forgotten, she is not ethnically Saiyan! Have you lost good sense? I could accept a marriage, but beyond that her place would be solidly behind him. He is trying to share more of the monarchy's power with our people, not less. Throwing an American socialite into the pot will be hard enough to handle."

"She is the type to lead, ethnically Saiyan or not," the woman said confidently. "Vegeta has fire in his belly. The American has fire in her eyes! They are like Danae's. Mark my words: She will lead in some way. When she steps up, I will be there to protect her."

"Califula, I want a word with you! Now!"

Colla snickered, poking her with his arm. "OK, great prophet, the Saiyan lion has roared. Here is your chance to lay the groundwork for his romantic recovery."

Scowling at her friend, Califula activated the intercom. "Sire, how may I help you?"

Vegeta stared through his drinking glass. "This spring water you left here is quite good."

Holding back laughter, Califula smiled victoriously. "Actually, sir, Ms. Brief asked the staff to order three cases of it... for you."

"Of course she did," Vegeta said. "Even better. Carry on."

Sobriety was an uphill battle, but he would win – for his country, family, and for her.


3:30 p.m., March 4, Wednesday

Brooklyn, New York

"Adoption"

As promised, Bulma and Danae stayed in touch, talking two days weekly. Bulma realized now that the queen was officially using services as a pretext for keeping her close. The relationship was growing beyond her connection with Vegeta, also, and Bulma found herself wanted to talk more. While the queen had longtime friends and acquaintances from school, some of their daughters had been nasty and shallow. They sought her favor long enough to get in front of Vegeta, who barely paid attention – publicly. One night when he was in his early twenties, Danae was fed up with whispers about liaisons in their home. As he passed in the main hallway, looking disheveled and smelling of perfume and booze, she took a karate foot sweep, striking the back of Vegeta's knee until he tumbled. The message was clear. He was banned from dipping into the well of her friendships for his conquests, permanently.

Now the queen was "adopting" the American to share tales. Bulma's sister wasn't thrilled, feeling that she had been through enough with the royal family and Zeus's death. Tights and their cousin Olivier kept in close contact after Bulma returned from Hegemone. They had to steer the paparazzi away, as well, which regained interest about the prince's relationship with Bulma.

She hadn't been well the past week, attempting to shake off a stomach sickness. She couldn't hold any food down on this day, preventing her from working altogether. Like clockwork, Tights delivered a box of ginger tea, soup, and crackers.

"Maybe you should go to the doctor," Tights said. "You look like death."

"And you are a horned pit viper from hell," Bulma said weakly. "Give me the tea. These crackers taste like cardboard."

"And you're having one hell of a mood swing this week." Tights laughed and felt Bulma's forehead. "Well, at least there's no fever right now. I hope you didn't catch some deadly disease in Hegemone."

"It's been almost two months," Bulma muttered, "and it's not like Vegeta's country is prehistoric. Things seem to be getting better, too. No more bombings so far. Anyway, I am thoroughly exhausted."

Tights bottom lip jerked as her stomach suddenly churned from anger and fear. She had overlooked the obvious. Her eyes glided in a circle over Bulma's abdomen. She hadn't protected her baby sister in the way she should have. "I don't want to hear that man's name ever again. Damn it. Damn him!"

Bulma handed the teacup back. "What the hell is wrong with you, Tights? Now you look like death."

Tights looked up and exhaled. "Sweetie, I think… you're… pregnant."

Bulma's body froze. "You are wrong." She gripped her stomach. "Oh, god, I'm going to throw up again. Move!"