A/N – These damn chapters keep getting longer. Enjoy!
.Disclaimer.
--.....--
.Chapter Five.
--.....—
Vegeta clipped the red cape onto his shoulder armor. He frowned at the mirror, the reflection showing the tension in his body. His stomach rolled uncomfortably; perhaps with nerves, or maybe apprehension. Whatever it was, all he knew was he wasn't looking forward to tonight.
It was the formal banquet.
Granted, he was a trained prince; protocol was ingrained into his bones and manners hammered into his subconscious. While he didn't enjoy the stuffy formalities, he was used to them. He was as comfortable in the spotlight as he was bored. Though, he had a feeling this particular formal dinner would be anything but boring, and not in a good way.
He pulled at his cape in agitation.
At one point he had looked forward to this dinner. It would have simply been a celebration of the end of the war. The first victorious feast in a series of many. The Princess would have been at his side, a public symbol of Tokoshimo coming under his rule.
With his orders, she would have been granted the protection and respect of a foreign dignitary, a representative of her planet. Not only would it of been a chance to show off her beauty and wit, but a chance for her to prepare and learn the ways of Saiyan nobility.
Now… It wasn't just a celebration of victory, but of his wedding. And that complicated things.
The Princess, as a political guest, or even as political hostage, if Vegeta order his Saiyans to die for her, they would (lest they die in a slow painful matter at his hands). His subjects, his elite, knew not to challenge him with such things. The nobility had tried when he was younger and Vegeta had more than proved himself. The Prince had not only met their challenges with his own strength, but with ruthless intelligence. His intimidation would have extended to the Princess and his subjects would have known not to mess with her.
Though, now she wasn't just his guest, but their Princess. His mate and officially their future Queen. There had been no chance for introducing her to the nobility as a consort, or even get the Saiyan elite used to the idea of bowing down to a Ningen Queen. Whether he liked it or not, she was being thrown to the wolves.
His Elite subjects were entitled to judge their Queen and see if she was worthy of ruling over them. She would be challenged. Not only was that worrying enough, Vegeta knew that many doubted his decision in taking a Ningen women, of all species. Not only because of the grudge, but of the lack of physical prowess. He had killed all those who were vocal in their opinions, but ultimately he knew that only she could remove their doubt, only she could prove herself.
It was with severe annoyance that Vegeta had to accept that this wasn't something that he could just order and will on his people. Respect couldn't be demanded, no matter the power. It had to be earned (Frieza was a grand example of this). He couldn't argue with it either or kill anyone that did challenge her. It was an unofficial tradition to test every new Queen in the manner of carefully worded traps of humiliation and disgrace.
His mother had gone through it and so would the Princess. She would have to prove both intelligence and an elegant sense of ruthlessness. While she was socially allowed to be warmer and more merciful to her subjects, she still had to have a brutality towards her enemies. A Saiyan Queen was supposed to be strong enough to be the support and aid of the King.
His elite expected such a women, and would see if the Princess could hold her own. If everything had gone according to Plan A, Vegeta would not have been worried. He knew the Princess to be strong, determined and intelligent, however, he also knew that she was kind and too trusting of the people around her. The only weapon she had was her own (unfounded) grudge against himself and his people. Though that was a double edge sword. She didn't have the power and intimidation to back up her arrogance and that razor-sharp tongue.
He couldn't help her now. The few hours they had had together, were not what he would call productive in strengthening their bond, or preparing her to handle Saiyan affairs. If the Princess wasn't so difficult, if she would yield to him and allow him to guide her… Vegeta let out a growl of frustration.
No, she blatantly refused him and now she had to face the wolves by herself.
--.....—
Vegeta sat at his Father's right hand. He listened with one ear to the polite conversation around him. His face was schooled into cold indifference, his body deceptively relaxed in his chair. His eyes were lit up with the smallest sense of anxiety and bore into the empty chair in front of him.
He tried to crush the apprehension in his stomach. Distantly, he wondered how exactly so many things got pushed onto this dinner. It was the first celebration of the end of the war, the first of his wedding celebrations and the introduction of his mate and the future Queen. His stomach spun uncomfortably as he noted that no matter the outcome of the dinner, there would be more of them to come.
He looked over the table, at the strongest of his Elite. A banquet of this prestige included the four Strategos. The planet Vegeta-sei was sparsely populated and therefore divided into five provinces. His Father ruled the main province and the Strategos ruled over theirs and reported to his Father. This was the highest of formalities within the circle of Saiyan nobility.
This was the one that really mattered. His mate had to do more than merely meet their challenges, her performance had to be high and above any Saiyan women to garner the same respect. Vegeta wasn't quite sure what he would do if she failed, but truthfully, he didn't really contemplate it. He just would have liked her to be as fully prepared as possible, that she would pull strength from him.
Though, they weren't on the best of terms at the moment. He was still peeved with her, and, well, maybe she had a bit of reason to be angry with him (now anyway). But that was between them, and in front of their subjects, they were to be united.
That was another reason to feel a bit of apprehension about her introduction. She wasn't happy with him and the Princess had never been one to be fake with her feelings. He did not want anyone to know of how she refused him so. How she had been… disgusted with marrying him. His countenance soured at the thought. Oh, yes, he was still incredibly irritated with her. He smoothed out his face back into the mask of apathy.
No one was to know that they had marital problems fifteen minutes into the marriage. Vegeta almost rolled his eyes in frustration at the conclusion. It really was fifteen minutes, wasn't it? He reached for his wine glass.
The grand madder-red double doors opened, stopping Vegeta mid reach as his head snapped to the side. All heads at the table were turned, and it wasn't the gold trim on the door they were staring at.
"Princess Bulma, former Princess of Tokoshimo-sei and future Queen of Vegeta-sei."
Her chin was held high, her shoulders thrown back and her spine straight. Her hair was down, brushing against her shoulders and hiding the base of her neck. The aqua ringlets caught the light from the massive chandelier, sparkling to a diamond blue. A multitude of thin bracelets hung around both wrist and wide bans of gold adorned her upper arms. Her dress was a strapless of the riches vermillion. The bodice was smooth and streamline, making her torso look long and graceful. Wrapped around and emphasizing her hips was scarlet chiffon, puckering around her curves and tied in a knot in the center, the loose fabric draping down the middle.
Vegeta's breath caught in his throat and his ears didn't miss the soft gasp that even the women took. It didn't even occur for him to be smug, she was so mesmerizing. Absolutely gorgeous. Though, her eyes were hard, dancing with latent hostility. They contrasted exquisitely with her long feminine lashes and the soft contours of her face.
With her chin tilted up and slightly to the side, her hooded eyes narrowed slightly, pinpointing on him. Vegeta's obsidian eyes widened a fraction and locked with her own azure. She sent him a smoldering glare, making his stomach jump with excitement and his skin heat with desire.
The room was tense, the occupants waiting on her every breath. Her presence was powerful and demanded nothing less than that. She looked away from him and marched forward with the fierce elegance of a goddess. Her hips swayed and her shoulders rolled back with arrogance as she stomped down on the black marble.
His Father stood up suddenly, causing everyone else to scramble up and out of their seats. Vegeta slowing pushed himself up, his eyes following her movements a she came to the empty chair in front of him. His Father pulled it out for her and once he sat back down at the head of the table, everyone else did as well.
For a long moment there was a thick silence as the people gazed at her in awe. Vegeta didn't notice, because now she was radiating anger and while her face was controlled into one of a diplomat, he could see the subtle dip of her brow, the tension in her jaw. She stared at him, a barley concealed glower. He relished in it, forgetting the audience.
He expected she was angry about her introduction. He knew her to be almost as prideful as he was, that former Princess of Tokoshimo stuff must have pissed her off. Which was why he requested it. He had done it out of spite. Petty move, he'd admit. But like he said, he was still peeved with her.
However, her fierceness in that red dress was nothing short of igniting. He allowed a smug smirk to roll lazily over his features. Her eyes widened momentarily before they narrowed again. He almost laughed out loud. She got mad so easily. His mood was getting higher and higher by the minute, his pride for her growing. Not only was she the most beautiful woman in the room, she managed to intimidate the Elite with only her confidence and presence. And he had been worried!
He supposed she startled them with her anger and hostility, and captivated them with her beauty. While everyone knew of the rumors of her aesthetic gifts, they didn't really do her justice. They had expected a young spoiled brat. Though, even that rumor didn't really prepare them for her stubborn will and her reckless arrogance. They must have been expecting her to come in like a shy mouse, that they would actually intimidate her. Vegeta almost laughed again.
"How was the tour, Princess?" His Father began cordially.
Her glare shifted swiftly from Vegeta to his Father. Then, like a light switch, her glower melted and her face was one of a polite ambassador. "Lovely."
Vegeta lifted a brow as his Father simply nodded. Was she going to play nice now? Perhaps she would simply be turning to a more passive aggressive approach. Either way, he was amused by her behavior and watched eagerly what she would do next.
"Was Kakarrot your guide?" Sorrel asked with a crooked smirk. He was the eldest and most laidback of the Strategos; which was why he was seated next to the Princess
She nodded.
"An oddly infuriating fool, isn't he?" Sorrel sent her a wolfish smirk. While he was more nonchalant than most Saiyans, he still had a cruel and sarcastic sense of humor. "Makes you wonder how in the world Burdock managed to sire such an imbecile."
"Though, Kakarrot is a constant source of entertainment."
Vegeta glanced at the elderly women beside Sorrel. While her ebony hair was beginning to turn a charcoal, her dark eyes were still vibrant with life. With a casual elegance she roped in her mordant mate. Sorrel sent Malva a grin, even in age his baleful recklessness was still bright in his black eyes.
"My Liege." A deep voice drawled. Vegeta didn't bother to turn to his right to see the bulky owner of the voice (not that he really could have seen over Eruca anyway). "In what manner do you wish to precede with the victory celebrations?"
Vegeta watched the Princess carefully. The test had begun. That jab was sent to rub in her defeat, try to knock her down a few pegs. Figures it would be Callion to attack her first, the arrogant bastard.
The Princess didn't even bother to look in Callion's direction. Her gaze lazily rolled over to his Father. The look she sent him was so high and mighty; it was as if she was expecting the King to ask her permission first. Vegeta smirked with delight at her audacity. Only the Prince himself dared to act disrespectful to the King of Vegeta-sei. That was a particularly dangerous line to tread, and the skill to balance on it could not be taught, but bred. Vegeta was very pleased with her.
His Father simply gave her the same look back, a small smile sliding on his face for a moment. However, it was gone when he addressed Callion again. "I will leave that matter up to my son." The King did not elaborate. Though, Vegeta knew why.
It was him after all that had led the invasion. Not to mention, it was also him who would be dealing with the angry Princess after the fact. She was looking at him now, her eyes almost unnoticeably narrowed on him. On one hand, he could declare a two week celebration, the most extravagant of all celebrations. Which in turn, he was sure, would drive her even further away from him. He knew that would be like rubbing salt in the wound and dousing it with alcohol.
On the other hand, he could let this feast be the only celebration and simply give his people a week off. It down played the victory, but no one would dare argue with him. This route would soften her up more, make her more inclined to let her guard down.
"I wish to celebrate as soon as possible." Vegeta began tactfully, all eyes on him. "However, it is not only a celebration of the victory, but also of my wedding. Therefore more solemn festivities are in order. A boisterous festival is not suitable, neither is the bacchanalia those tend to end up being."
Vegeta glanced at the Princess to see one fine brow raised in his direction. "A week of respite for all classes will be held."
Vegeta disregarded the Elite's reaction to the tame celebration. He could careless what they thought. They could hold their own celebration and balls within their provinces (it just wouldn't be official nor would it be an annual event). The Prince watched her expression, her reaction. It was the only one that mattered.
Though, she wasn't smiling adoringly at him (not that he really expected that), but looking over him with barley concealed scorn. The fact that it was a formal dinner and he had been raised to act a certain way when attending one, kept him from calling her out on her blatant ungratefulness. He felt the tension of annoyance in his brow. Gah, the nerve of this woman…
"That sounds good." Agreed a causal voice. Vegeta looked a few seats down the table to see Kale. "My men need some rest after that mission on Dubai. They're still reeling from the effects of that atmosphere."
Callion sent the youngest of the Strategos a bored look. Almost as if he was disappointed that his comment had no hidden challenge to the Princess. Kale didn't really notice and Vegeta doubted that he even realized what kind of test was going on around him. Kale wasn't of noble birth; however the Prince did hold a certain amount of respect for the young man.
"My, has it already been four days since your men returned?" Drawled a sultry voice. Vegeta watched as Kale's eyes narrowed at the implication of the question. Before Kale could defend himself with logical facts, the sultry voice went on, "I assume that research helped destroy many of the weapons on Tokoshimo." Another stab at the Princess.
The Princess's gaze rolled over lazily, over Vegeta, Eruca and Callion, to settle on the speaker. Aralia, Callion's concubine. The Princess's eyes were hooded, her dark lashed obscuring the perfect blue. She spoke, her tone tactfully elegant and cool.
"Dubai's atmosphere is only the inspiration for the ki-draining weapons. Understanding how the gases in the air pull at the planet's natural ki to fortify its defenses against the sun," she explained, though, Vegeta knew it was mostly to show off her intelligence. "won't show any weakness in neither the defensive or the offensive machinery."
"Apparently it did." Aralia said, he could hear the gilded smile in her voice.
"Actually, an electronic pulse had affected the technology on Tokoshimo- Oh, do you know what that is?" The Princess asked innocently, her eyes fully open and her mouth in a small 'o'. Her tone perfectly measured between sincere concern and mocking sweetness. Vegeta smirked.
He wished he was sitting at the head of the table, that way he of could see the way Aralia's eye twitched. "A Pulse? Is that what did it? I'm disappointed." Her voice held concern that would have fooled Vegeta if he didn't know better. "Isn't Tokoshimo the most advanced planet in the universe? I mean, was?"
The worlds seemed to roll off the Princess like water. She didn't even blink, but countered "I saw that a Saiyan Space Station was stock full of Ningen Technology, depending on it really." Her voice was both icily accusing and tactfully polite. Then it shifted to the same innocently mocking one "Granted, it wasn't being used to its full potential, but it was a good effort on your part."
Vegeta's smirk faltered. He was hoping she would have kept her veiled insults personal, rather than a general one towards his people. That one got the whole table silently bristling.
Sorrel turned towards her "Ahh Princess," He began in a teasing tone, "You Ningens were always so paranoid, hoarding your machines like rats. But I guess I can't blame you, look what happened when your secrets got out." He gave her a puckish smile.
Callion joined in, while his tone was as if he was talking to an old friend, it was laced with malice. "It's alright Princess, it was a good effort on your Ningens part, after all it took a full day to conquer the whole planet."
Her eyes visibly narrowed on him. "Callion, was it?" She began her tone casual "You sent men to attack the eastern hemisphere a year ago… how did that end again?" She gave him a warm smile "Oh, yes. I believe your ship was the only one to make it back."
Vegeta could feel Callion bristling, even with a Saiyan between them. The Princess had delivered a massive blow to Callion's pride. Speaking of the defeat was practically outlawed in his province. Vegeta and his Father were the only ones that dared to ever bring up the topic with him.
Vegeta sent Bulma a grin of approval.
As luck would have it, it was that moment that the food arrived. So the conversation naturally paused, and Callion ran out of time to retort a proper comeback. It would have been rather humorous for Callion to suddenly yell out "Your face!" now.
Vegeta paid no attention to the copious amounts of lavish foods that were brought. As always everyone waited till his Father took his first bite, then began on their own meals. He picked up a knife and began to cut into the tender meat. This was another thing he hated about formal banquets, you had to eat so damn slowly. If there was one person in his family linage that Vegeta would want to disown and vanquish of the planet, it would have to be the damn King that introduced "manners" and eating utensils to his people. Completely unnecessary.
He glanced up from his meal to see that the Princess was simply looking at her plate, as if she was trying to figure out what it was. Her gaze then shifted to the other Saiyans and she watched them eating with a subtle mixture of confusion and surprise. Apparently, she expected them to growl over their food and eat with their bare hands. Which really, on any other given day, Vegeta would of. So he wasn't offended.
"Was any of the research on Dubai put to use in the finale invasion?" Kale spoke up. Vegeta could tell he was genuinely interested. Though, if the comment stung the Princess that was fine by him
Eruca spoke, his deep voice piercing the air. Vegeta's eyes snapped to the tall Saiyan beside him. The man was always so quite, if it wasn't for his strong signature Ki Vegeta would have forgotten him completely.
"The research was instrumental in conducting the pulse."
It was at this comment that the Princess whipped her head away from her plate and locked onto Eruca. Her eyes were questioning and then quickly turned calculating. It was clear her mind was no longer on the people around her. Vegeta could practically see the gears turning in her mind.
Eruca went on, turning to Vegeta "We are currently updating the Genghis Fleet, using the technology gained from the war. The compatibility of the newer scanners and radars are proving to be a bit cumbersome. Is Burdock looking into it?"
Vegeta recalled an earlier conversation with the head of the Science Department. This was a meeting betweens heads of state, Burdock was not required to be there. "Yes. Though I know he was looking into updating the regeneration tanks first."
"Rather practical, that Burdock, isn't he?" Sorrel commented as he lifted his wineglass. "With the tournament coming up and all."
Oh yeah. Vegeta had completely forgotten about it. It was this year? His mind had been so occupied lately. This would be the first year that the Prince was eligible to compete. He smirked to himself. Vegeta looked over at the Princess. She still had that calculating look in her eye, clearly still caught on the last conversation.
"The preliminaries are going on in your province aren't they, eh Sorrel?" Kale asked enthusiastically, it would be his first year competing as well, having just missed the last one. "Any stand outs?"
"A few." Sorrel said with a careless shrug.
"Don't look so serious Princess, I'm sure you'll enjoy the tournament. After all, this year will have all those new Ningen updates. You'll feel right at home."
The Princess's eyes snapped up and focused on Aralia. And the test began again.
--.....—
She slammed the door behind her. Bulma was pissed.
She stormed over to the bedroom's sitting area. The entire dinner they were goading her, insulting her, she was on the edge of control. She had been so close to getting up on her chair and lunging across the table at so many throats. Everyone who knew her nature, would have been nothing but amazed at her self-control.
To be honest she was getting really good at controlling intense bouts of anger. Probably (much to her annoyance) because they had been happening so frequently. Not to mention she was in a formal situation, but even back home, if a dignitary would insult her, and actually think it would fly over her head, he was in for it.
She didn't sock him or anything (Mostly because Sixteen and her Father kept an eye on her, though, Marron and Eighteen always egged her on), but he got such a severe tongue lashing, pride so bruised, she might as well have. Every little comment those damn Saiyans made, just thinking about it made her blood boil! The way they said every thing, as if she was a stranger to the art of politics.
No, she wasn't as well traveled as they probably were, she didn't meet with many foreign dignitaries, she didn't attend intergalactic balls and other such stately events, but she was smart and she was trained to deal with it should the need arise. Bulma was a quick learner and once they began the game, she decided she would win.
However, she wasn't quite sure if she did. Hopefully she made them as mad as they did her. One thing that bulky Saiyan kept trying to do was belittle her intelligence.
They kept rubbing the war in her face. At one point, she wanted to throw a tantrum so bad, just start chucking food at people and yelling how it wasn't fair. Incredibly childish, she knew. Her Father would never forgive her if she gave in to such a thing, and she'd be horribly embarrassed once the last wine glass left her hand, but all that bottle up anger was overwhelming. She could relish a bit in the wine spilling over that Aralia's yellow dress (which was more like a bathing suit!).
That women! Bulma wanted to beat the crap out her. Every little mocking smile, the batting of her dark eyelashes, every sharp word covered in honey that left her mouth. Her audacity! Bulma knew women like that. The kind that had an attraction to power. The kind that saw other women as a threat and men as tools. There was more vanity in their veins than blood.
Bulma hated women like that. And you know what? Bulma was pretty sure that that Aralia was a concubine! The nerve to talk to her, a Princess, a future Queen, in such a disrespectful manner! Bulma was ready to go after her with the butter knife.
Bulma paused as another though hit her; concubines had a different status on Vegeta-sei, didn't they? She shook her head in dismissal. Bulma was still Princess of Tokoshimo-
Bulma's shoulders deflated at the very though and she slumped in the crème chair. Her heart panged painfully and she ran a hand through her hair. She took a deep breath. It wasn't over, they hadn't won. Her mind flew back to her introduction.
Former Princess of Tokoshimo.
So much indignation had surged in her, her pride screamed for justice. And it killed her that she couldn't do anything about it. It was their game, they controlled the situation, and she had to play by their rules. She felt pity and sadness begin to seep out of her heart and into her body; she pushed it back in and replaced it with a cool anger.
Justice would be met. They would regret ever letting her into their inner circle, challenging her.
She stared at the room around her, cursing everything in it. She was immensely glad that the arrogant Prince was not gracing her with his presence. Apparently he had to entertain the nobles a little longer, while she was allowed to go back to their room. Bulma rolled her eyes.
She sat in the arm chair brooding over the events. Her eyes saw a clock that read 10:25. She suddenly got very tired and fond herself drifting back and forth from slumber. When she realized that this might be the only opportunity to sleep without the Saiyan in the room, she walked over to the bed and laid down on the comforter. With her mind descending into a hazy fog, she dimly registered the scent on the bed. Memories of snowball fights and brown tails danced on the recesses of her mind and she was too drained and tired to push them away.
--.....—
Much to Bulma's annoyance, she wasn't left alone. Later, close to 1:00 AM, there was a knock at the door, waking her. Bulma stumbled over to the door. "Don't these people ever sleep?" She muttered.
Upon opening the door, a servant then informed her of the second banquet of the night, and if she was ready. Bulma gave him a scathing glare and promptly slammed the door in his face. She was half way to walking back to the bed when there was another knock.
"Princess." Even through the door, Bulma could hear the tight control of anger. She almost laughed. "Your presence is ordered by Prince Vegeta."
"Oh, in that case! Just let me pretty myself up, and I'll be down in a jiffy!"
No. Definitely not what Bulma would say. In fact, Bulma slowly turned her head back to the door and just stared at it, her face contorted in disgust. The fact that the Saiyan actually thought that that information would make even the slightest positive impact, was so ridiculous, that Bulma was stunned out of her groggy state.
After she got over the stupidity of it, she marched over the door, fully prepared to rip it open and say "You can tell that Bastard to shove it.", and slam it again. However, when she opened the door she was met with a big goofy grin.
"Wow! You look nice!"
The snarl fell off of Bulma's face like water. What the? She looked down the hall to see the other Saiyan heading to the stairs. She looked back to her former tour guide. She tried to summon back the snarl and yell what she intended to. Though, with his genuine smile and honest words, it proved to be more difficult than it should have been.
Her face twitched between confusion and anger. Her brows went up and down slightly and her mouth went between pulling her lips back and hanging open. After a good moment of silence and making weird faces at him, he spoke.
"What are you doing?" He asked with an amused smile. Bulma looked away from him slightly embarrassed, her face settling in the annoyed pout of a child. He laughed. Bulma scowled.
"Come on." He held his arm out to her "I'll be your escort."
"I'm not going." Bulma informed crossing her arms, leveling him down with a glare. There we go. She had now recovered and her guard was back up. She was really starting to hate this guy. The way he would throw her off every time she saw him.
"It'll be fun. Way better then the other one you had to go to." He said with a shrug, then gave her a fox grin, "I'll be there."
Bulma rolled her eyes. "I already went to one. Why is there another? I'm trying to sleep."
"Oh yeah, you Ningens need more rest than us, huh?" He asked rubbing his chin.
Bulma gave him a ya-think-look. Like all of her hostility, it went by ignored.
"You went to the formal one. Those are no fun, I'm sorry you had to go." He gave her sympathetic nod, "But this one is the fun one, I'll be there, Chichi, Raditz, Nappa, My dad, and way more food and way more wine. This'll be the good feast. And everyone will be themselves."
None of those names meant anything to Bulma, nor did she care to get familiar with them, but she did raise her brow. "More food?" That last one could have fed five platoons of soldiers!
He grinned at her response then closed his eyes and shook his head. Before she could react, he took her hand in his and patted it softly. "Oh, Bulma, Bulma, Bulma," He was beginning to chuckle a bit as she watched him, her eyes wide like a confused little kid.
"You have so much to learn."
--.....—
The dining room he led her too was much more spacious than the last one. The walls were a brilliant polished red stone. Enormous tear-drop-shaped columns lined the walls, they were a crème colored stone and beautiful designs were carved into them. The floor was a mirror-like black marble.
There was a group of musicians in one corner. Unlike the classical music that had been played at the last feast, this one was boisterous. The sound of drums and trumpets, strings and shouts filled the room. It was so much more lively and jovial. Energetic and wild.
In the center of the room was a long table, and smaller round tables surrounded it. However, the tables were spaced far enough to suggest that whoever sat at the round tables had nothing to do with who sat at the center table. Lining both walls of the room were two ludicrously massive buffet style tables. There were many Saiyans standing around talking and laughing, some dancing and celebrating around the ensemble.
There were women coming in and out of a big black door to the side, carrying enormous trays of food and taking out empty ones. Silver trays of food were taken to the two buffets around the room. All the while, golden trays that carried much more decadently embellished food were taken straight to the center table.
It was that table that held some familiar faces. There was no grand introduction, rather her tour guide just waltz right in with her in tow. She ignored the gazes as she walk up. The room seemed to still as the occupants noticed her in their midst. Bulma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Usually she loved that effect, but it was mostly negative lately.
She didn't bother to march over to the table like she had arrogantly done so at the last banquet. Just a mask of cold indifference was on her face. It retrospect, it looked pretty funny with the cheery man guiding her.
Slowly the crowd went back to their merrymaking. It was an unwritten rule that at an informal banquet, they were not to interact with the Royalty that graced them with their presence.
Bulma was at the left side of the King and the Prince was one again in front of her at the King's right. Though, it looked like the rest of the seating assignments didn't matter. The cheery Saiyan sat down beside her, while she noticed a few of the Strategos further down the table talking animated amongst themselves and other Saiyans.
Bulma scanned the table quickly, noting with satisfaction that both Callion and his blasted concubine were not present. Out of all the Saiyans, it was those two that grated her nerves the most (besides the Prince, anyway). Plates three feet in length covered the table. Extravagant delicacies were elaborately displayed before hands reached out and tore them apart. The scent of the spices and meat was heavy in the air, mixing with the musky sent of wine.
She watched as the smiling Saiyan beside her piled food high on his plate without any reserve or hesitation. She watched with barley veiled disgust as he inhaled it. Her gaze scanned over the other occupants of the table and saw that they were eating in the same manner. The manners from the last banquet seemed to have disappeared.
A women came and placed a golden plate in front of her, and was gone as quickly as she had come. On the golden plate was a small roasted bird, various herbs and garnishes were placed on it. Bulma only stared at it. No one addressed her this time. Even her tour guide was wrapped up in telling a grand story to their half of the table. She didn't hear a word he was saying.
Why the hell was she invited to these celebrations? You'd think it would make the Saiyans feel awkward about celebrating in front of her. But that was assuming they had any decency. No, she supposed they enjoyed rubbing it in her face.
It was so frustrating and humiliating to have to be there, surrounded by soldiers and Saiyans that had torn her planet apart. Watching as they celebrated the fall of her family, her kingdom. Righteous anger seeped into her. No one dared to try to talk to her.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. She should have been celebrating her own wedding with her family and friends; she should have been in her own palace on her own planet. Not here. Not surrounded by Saiyans. Not married to-
The marriage was not valid. She refused. It wasn't possible. Marriage, to him? Bulma scoffed. It was inconceivable. He was a monster, no worse, a Saiyan. As if on cue, her neck began to throb as a bolt of pain shot up to her jaw. Bulma instinctively stiffened, making the pain worse. Bulma stared at her plate with nothing but anger.
Monster. It was their wedding night (please note the sarcasm), and that's what he had done to her? Fucking bite her, causing so much pain, he might as well have beaten the crap out of her. Her pride roared with fury, her mind screamed for vengeance, and her heart cried with betray-
Bulma clenched her eyes shut. There was nothing to betray. Nothing.
Almost desperately, she tried to steer her mind away from the rants. From the self-pity. If she kept thinking about her situation, she would drive herself mad with anger. Her pride wouldn't allow depression. Bulma looked around the table for a distraction.
She heard the deep voices of men telling war stories, jokes, and loud barks of laughter. They were all smiling, their black eyes crinkled with mirth and mouths open, long K-9s on display. They walked around the table to join other conversations or grab from a plate too far to reach (not trusting another to pass it down without taking a bite for themselves). They shouted across the table, giving each other a hard time and laughing at each others expense.
They were so… happy. It threw Bulma for a loop. Granted, the jokes they told were crude and cruel, the war stories graphic with gore and decimation, but… they were all happy. Each enjoying each others company and a sense of camaraderie was thick in the air. Bulma looked to see even the Royalty was listening to stories and throwing in their own witty quips and vicious jokes.
Then the anger came rushing back with alarming intensity. What right did they have to be so happy? Any of them?
Two days ago her life had been turned asunder. Her Father, friends, fiancé could all be dead for all she knew. It wasn't fair. None of it was how it was suppose to be. It was she who should have been home, cheery and happy, welcoming Yamcha's family on her planet.
"You going to eat that?" Someone slurred behind her.
Bulma sat stock still, frozen with so many overwhelming emotions. She willed herself not to let them show, not to let them control her. Then there was a sudden movement straight for her plate.
Looking back, Bulma would be disgusted with herself, but at the same time, slightly please. She'd blame the constant emotion, the constant anger in her. She would say that it was the last pebble on a mountain of boulders that ultimately pushed her to do it. That the food on her plate was hers, and Bulma would not allow another thing to be taken away from her.
Whatever it was, with incredibly fast reflexes, Bulma picked up her fork and stabbed the enormous hand that was grabbing the little bird off her plate. A yelp of pain pierced through the air, and the conversations at the table ceased and all turned to where Bulma sat. She glared fiercely at his hand. Her knuckles were white with the vice grip on the fork, the prongs were deeply dug into his flesh and beads of blood grew around the four punctures.
As if he had been frozen with disbelief at her action, he finally tore his hand way, ripping the fork from her grip.
Bulma was filled with a sick satisfaction, something she had never felt. Mute delight, relief even, at causing some else pain. For a moment, she realized with alarming clarity, she wasn't alone in the pain. Then, an even more disturbing thought entered her mind: it would have been so much more delightful if the pain she caused had been greater. Deeper, lethal. Permanent.
A few days ago, Bulma would have violently pushed such dark thoughts out of her mind. Been disgusted and horrified with herself. As it was, she embraced them.
Bulma stood up, all eyes on her. Unless she was going to do some more stabbing, Bulma did not want to be around the Saiyans. She felt a heavy gaze on her and looked up. She met the black eyes of the Prince and to her surprise he was giving her an approving smirk.
What the hell?! He didn't get to enjoy her outburst; he didn't get to join in on her shot of delight. This was hers. And he would not be part of it. She sent him a hard glare. He raised a mocking brow.
A few shuffles of feet beside her brought her attention to the Saiyan she had attacked. His black eyes were wide and his cheeks were rosy from too much wine. He was looking at his hand, still in shock. Then up at her with a bewildered look and then back at his hand.
Bulma opened her mouth to finally answer his question. "No, I'm not." Then turned her back on him and headed towards the door.
The crowd had been watching silently, the musicians struggling to pay attention to their instruments and play. They were not supposed to concern themselves with what happened at the table, and as if remembering, they began to talk and play the music again.
Though, above everything, she heard the Prince give a laugh and then the others joined in. By the sounds of it, they were desperately trying to hold it in before.
"It's goanna be okay, Raditz! We'll get you to a regen-tank in no time!"
"Shut your mouth, Kakarrot!" The whole table laughed harder.
--.....--
Prince Vegeta walked back to his chambers. Many were still in the dinning halls, enjoying the feasts, but he had cut out early. At the moment he was in very high spirits. He was more than please with the Princess. She had done very well in both banquets, though he would of like her to be more involved in the second one, but he didn't expect her to be.
His mind went back to when she stabbed Raditz. It sent him into another bout of cruel laughter. Raditz was never going to live that down. Ever. Not only had the Princess succeeding in humiliating the Saiyan by moving fast enough to catch him off guard, but also draw blood. In Raditz defense, he was severely drunk, but that didn't change the fact that she was a Ningen. A Ningen had, with nothing but a fork, drawn Saiyan blood. And the fact that it happened to Raditz, was just classic.
The poor Saiyan had a penchant for getting into odd situations like that.
Though, it also reflected positively on the Princess. What she had done was perfectly acceptable and in fact, expected. Raditz had made a move for her food, taking it off her plate, right in front of her. She had a right and obligation to defend what was hers. If she didn't, it would have showed cowardice, submissiveness and timidity. Which were all things that were unacceptable for someone of her station. If she hadn't done it, Vegeta would of ripped Raditz a new one. What was hers to defend, was his to defend.
He had been so worried that she would be intimidated by all the warriors around her, but she had held her own presence. He was more than please.
However, Vegeta also remembered her brooding form. He felt the tiniest pang of guilt that she had to be there. He could see how she might not take the celebration very well. It certainly was a blow to her pride. But he supposed she could use the humbling. And besides, she had to be there as the new Saiyan Princess. Otherwise he would have allowed her to stay in their room and he would have cut out early to accompany her. But as it was, they were now married, and she had to be there.
He did plan to set things right tonight. He didn't think about it at the time, but there were moments during both dinners when she would suddenly stiffen and sit perfectly still. He had only dawned on him later that it must have been from the bruise. Every time he thought of the bruise, his stomach would flip uncomfortably. Though, he was very glad that no one else caught on to it. He didn't want anyone to know of his shame.
His mind drifted to how he would go about making amends. He was rather new at such a thing. It was incredibly rare that the Saiyan Prince found himself in the wrong. He had come to terms that he was indeed guilty. There was no way he could get around what he did or reason it away. It was a bitter pill to take.
He was so impressed with her that he bit back his pride. He just wanted everything to be right between them. At this point, he found himself actually willing to allow her to vent at him. He would let her say all the ridiculous things she wanted to, no matter how idiotic or infuriating; she could throw another vase at him for all he cared. Then once she was done screaming at him, he'd make her scream in a whole different way.
That would be his apology. His pride wasn't humbled enough to actually vocalize one. Far from it. But he would put up with her nonsense. Vegeta sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable. Knowing the Princess, she would know just how to enrage him. He'd have to brace himself and keep his cool. He could do that. But hell, she better be appreciative. It was not often that Vegeta would willing subject himself to talking about her feelings.
Well, granted what he called talking about feelings consist of him allowing her vent out her anger and then comforting her physically. That's what women wanted, right?
Vegeta approached the stairs to the Royal Floor. The usual guards that stood there were given leave for the celebrations. He walked up, his mind on the Princess after she had vented and he could properly sooth her. He glanced out of the windows and out onto the dark garden that was in the center of the square.
He heard a door open and his head whipped forward.
--.....—
The doors closed behind her, but she could still hear the laughter at that Saiyan's expense. Bulma marched down the hall, glad that they were practically empty. It seemed everyone was in one of the dining halls, celebrating. She still couldn't get the anger out of her mind. She felt so wronged.
Having memorized the way back to the Royal Floor by now, she made her way there. She passed a large entry way and with sudden clarity she remembered it was the way to the docking bay. Her mind raced and she wildly saw herself hijacking a ship and saving herself. Getting away from it all.
Her mind instantly went through the details of the scenario, of what was necessary to make it happen. It seemed that most of the Saiyans were too busy celebrating. She knew she could get to the docks without much delay. The ships had Ningen technology, and even if they didn't, she knew she could figure out whatever system they ran on.
She scowled, she didn't have enough details. She didn't know what kind of patrol they had set up, inside the palace or out around the planet. She didn't even know where she would go. She didn't know how Sabia would receive her. She had no idea what state her planet was in, she didn't even know how people all over the universe were reacting to the news that Tokoshimo had been invaded.
Before another emotion could fill her sense, Bulma once again summoned anger, it was the only defense she had. A draining consuming defense.
Right as she was going to continue on her way, she caught a blur of white in her peripheral. A sudden shot of delight, happiness and hope rang threw her and with grand zeal she turned and sprinted down the corridor, her red dress fluttering behind her. Her footsteps padded on the rug and she called out "Frieza!"
"Bulma." He said as she stopped before him, her heart beating like a drum. "Just the person I came to see."
"Do you have any news?" Bulma whispered in a frantic rush. Her eyes were wide and she saw the faces of her loved ones.
With the nod of his head, Bulma's heart soared. "Do you know where we may speak privately?" He asked looking around the empty hall, as if someone would ambush them.
Bulma's brows drew together in thought. She nodded and began to lead him to the Royal floor. No one was allowed there unless summoned by the Royal Family, right? She knew that both Vegetas were at the banquet. That entire floor was empty. She led Frieza over to the elevators and the doors slid behind them.
The trip to the Royal Floor was short and they walked in silence. All Bulma could think about was what Frieza would tell her. Her mind completely occupied she led him to the Prince's Room.
He shut the door behind him and Bulma whirled around to face him.
"Interesting choice." He commented with a barley suppressed smile as he took in the room.
Bulma gave him a stupid look for a moment till she figured out what he meant. "Oh. No one will spy on his room." She dismissed. For a moment a dawned on her to take him to one of the other spare rooms, but she was too anxious to hear what he had to tell her, and she did not find a good enough reason to delay the news any longer.
"Well?" She pressed, her hands gripping the red chiffon fabric of her dress.
--.....--
Vegeta heard a door open and his head whipped forward. Just in time to see Frieza closing a door behind him.
The door to Vegeta's room.
In one nanosecond, Vegeta's mind swirled between a million conclusions. So many, that they jammed, and all he could do was stare with his mouth open and his brows furrowed.
"Oh, Vegeta." Frieza gave him a sugary smile. "How's the married life?"
Vegeta almost choked on his own breath. Anger rushing in his body like a wild animal that had no where to go. To add to it, Frieza was using that tone. That cheery mocking one. It was a tone Frieza seemed to reserve just for Vegeta.
He glared at the lizard, then bit out "Lovely."
Frieza's eyes lightened up. "Lovely?" Then he jovially went on "She made it very clear to me that you repulse her."
In an instant, Vegeta's body was filled with so much anger, he should have burst into flames. It took every fiber of his being not to lash out.
Frieza went on, his smirk smug and tone teasing. "Why is it that you wanted her so much? I see it's not for her beauty, since you haven't even taken her to bed yet."
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Vegeta's instincts ordered. Frieza was lucky there was so much vindictive fury flowing through Vegeta's veins, that he was frozen with it. His muscles so tense, he couldn't move them.
Then, with a flippant tone, but suggestive grin, Frieza finished with, "Don't worry though, I took care of her."
Vegeta's body trembled with the rage it contained. Even though he desperately wanted to deal Frieza a slow and torturous death, he couldn't move. A lethal ki-blast could have been careening at him and he wouldn't have been able to move. Frieza arrogantly walked past him as Vegeta stared at the place where he stood.
After what seemed like an eternity of seeing nothing but red. His mind began working again. He remembered back on the space station the Princess had looked at Frieza with such reverence and relief. Instantly his mind was assaulted with images of their bodies rolling over each other, slick with sweat. In revulsion he saw her under him, calling the lizard's name. More anger than Vegeta had ever felt in his life, drove him into a murderous rage.
Vegeta swore he was going to fucking kill Frieza.
But first, he was going to go find out from his mate's mouth, why the hell Frieza was in their room. And so help her if she lied to him.
--.....--
.To Be Continued.
--.....—
A/N – Wow. I have no excuse for such a horribly long delay. Only that I kept getting stuck on the formal banquet. Also sorry for throwing in so many OC's, I needed to build up some Saiyan nobility since Toriyama didn't do it for me. Hopefully I can make them tolerable.
I was wondering what you guys thought of the characterization. Like do you think anybody was out of character? Or was some people's train of thought, or actions, just not making sense? Tell me so I can make it clearer.
Also is anybody getting the jabs of humor? Or am I the only one that thinks my little quips are funny? ^^;;
Anyway. Thank you so much for reviewing (they really do get the muse going)!